#apparently the whale is still around and it's making us all nervous

[louisdotmp3]

it's too sunny and beautiful to be at work today i have to GO. i need to be laying on a beach reading a book doing my crochet u know

[hundredandsix]

loser!ellie headcanons

✩ I haven't been able to get loser!ellie out of my head so...here we go. I love that this is basically the same thing as canon!ellie. Slutty thoughts at the end so mdni (18+) ✩

✩ I don't think she would be the first to make a move. She would do little, very subtle things like hold the door open for you and then panic because oh no that was too much! You're going to know!

✩ She would think she's being obvious, and she is, but not for the reasons she believes. Let's just say her brushing her hand against yours is not nearly as obvious as the way she follows you around and the way your smile makes her face turn red all the way to her ears.

✩ Speaking of her following your around, she is so unintentionally clingy, even before you get together. You would get up to go to the bathroom and when she realizes where you're going, she tries to play it off like she wasn't about to trail after you. When you bring it up to her, she's genuinely confused because no, she is not following you around on purpose. She would never do that.

✩ It would take her forever to realize you're into her, but when she finally picks up on it, that confirmation gives her confidence. She wouldn't be as afraid to make her feelings more apparent.

✩ Has such terrible rizz that it somehow comes full circle and makes her even more charming.

✩ She LOVES bossy, confident women. Ellie is not afraid to ask for what she wants, and she is definitely not the type of girl that would have you ask the waitress questions for her. But there's something about a woman that could put her in her place that she loves.

✩ At first, Ellie is always rubbing the back of her neck or playing with her fingers when she talks to you. She doesn't want to look like a dork, but she can't help it because you make her so nervous.

✩ She's literally the definition of a golden retriever masc. She's got the beat-up truck (that's actually Joel’s, but you don't have to know that), an outrageous amount of flannels, and carabiners to provide it.

✩ When she gets really excited about something, her brain moves faster than her mouth. She'll fumble her words and stutter. She gets really annoyed when this happens and has to take a deep breath and start over.

✩ She loves to rant about her interests to you. Don't you dare seem like you're not listening because she'll get really quiet and upset.

✩ I could see her having issues with being treated like "the man" in past relationships. It confuses her at first because she wants to protect her partner and care for them, but she also wants to feel that same love and desire toward her. She would be so drawn to you if you don't treat her any differently because of the way she dresses or presents herself. Obviously, she presents as more masculine, but she still wants to be treated like a woman.

✩ She has sooo many playlists. There are some about you of course but she also has some that are so highly specific. When you go on your first date, she has a playlist for picking you up and two different ones for dropping your off, depending on how it went. She definitely has the classic "depressed gay longing" playlist.

✩ She has exactly two pictures on her Instagram. One is her and Joel on his birthday and the other is a selfie she uses as her profile pic for everything.

✩ When you follow her back on Instagram, she loses her shit and starts fantasizing about what it would be like to be with you. She's screenshotting every selfie you put on your story and thinking about them in ways that are not very appropriate.

✩ She's the queen of "this reminded me of you" and will bring you literal rocks because "it looks like the whale from the aquarium we saw last week." Whether it's modern!ellie buying you little trinkets or jackson!ellie bringing you things from her patrols, she loves seeing you in all parts of her life. Even if you're not physically there with her.

✩ I love the pages of her journal we get to see in the game because they show us peeks at her internal monologue. They show us she is still very much the eccentric, starry-eyed girl we see in the first game. She's learned to hide it. Maybe to fit in or maybe because she's learned that wearing your heart on your sleeve can hurt. It's literally canon that she writes about her romantic feelings in her journal, so I think she would have little drawings and blurbs about you. She for sure has a stupid grin on her freckled face as she draws the highlights of your eyes and maybe even the dip of your hips. It's the only way she can think of to get you out of her head.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✩ She's an ass girl. She loves every part of you and will literally kiss your eyelashes if you let her, but she has to physically hold herself back when you bend over.

✩ I can't think of who posted it, but I remember reading something about Ellie fake fucking you when you're bent over and she would totally do that at the absolute worst times. You'd swat her away and look at her with a raised eyebrow, but there's no stopping her because she thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

✩ The first time you kiss is an out-of-body experience for her. She's panicking because she didn't think she'd ever get this far. She wants to touch you but she doesn't know where or what you would like, so her arms are stuck at her sides. She's ����until you grab her hands and move them to your waist.

✩ Has a huge obsession with your neck. Loves to leave marks if you'll let her. Will come up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist while leaving wet kisses all down your neck.

✩ I could see her wanting to be both the big and little spoon. It depends on the day and the context. When she's the big spoon she'll jokingly hug you so tight you can barely breathe and wrap all of her limbs around you like she's trying to suffocate you. When she's the little spoon, she likes it when you play with her hair.

✩ Is an absolute slut for you playing with her hair. She's an insomniac and it helps her fall asleep. When you're arm gets tired and you want to stop, she'll whine and pull your hands back to her head.

✩ She would be more comfortable topping and doesn't want to admit that she likes to bottom just as much. She's a service top that would do anything to make you feel good.

✩ Girly is so shy when she bottoms. She'll get all blushy and tries to cover her face with her hands/arms. She loves it, but it feels so foreign to her to have someone's sole focus be on her.

✩ Loves eye contact, especially when your mouth is on her. If you look up at her from between her legs while giving her head, she has trouble thinking straight.

✩ Likes it when you pull her hair during sex and will groan for you to pull harder. Just move her wherever you want her because she thinks it's the hottest thing ever.

✩ I think she'd use a strap if you wanted her to, but it's not her instinct to grab for that. She rather you come apart on her fingers or mouth.

✩ If you wanted to use a strap on her, I think she would let you, but again, it's not something she would ask for. To Ellie, It would be more about pleasing you than her.

✩ Absolutely passes tf out after sex. She always tries to stay awake, but as soon as both of you are cleaned up, she's dozing off and letting out cute little snores.

✩ In summary, Ellie is the switchiest switch to ever exist and I will be taking no criticism on this

[queensharotto]

Honeymoon Vol. 14 Translation

Listen to the audio here!

Ayumu Kaidou (海棠歩, Kaidou Ayumu)

Voiced by: Nobuhiko Okamoto

Age: Early 20s

Job: Publishing Employee

Country: Okinawa

For the translation, view below. Note that it isn’t 100% accurate.

🐠 Track 1: Prologue

Did I make it in time?

It's not 12 o'clock yet, is it?

*nervously* Thank goodness...

When I heard that the train was delayed, I really didn't feel alive.

It's not an exaggeration. In the first place, I was supposed to have today and tomorrow off, but I was rushed to support the autograph session and left you alone for your birthday.

I know. I guess they say that I'm working hard is the best gift of all.

It seems that I'm more suited to go around bookstores by myself.

But it's because of you that I've come to feel that way.

He told me that even if I wasn't an editor, I could deliver this emotion.

That's why I'm here now.

Besides, wiping the butt of juniors was also a good job, and he didn't catch a cold because he liked it.

But today was going to be a bad day! What's more, it's Kyoto, it's a bullet train, and when I came back to Tokyo, the train stopped because of an accident.

I couldn't help it, so I ran to the back door of the station and caught a taxi, and when I told the driver about the situation, he took advantage of the loophole and sent me off.

Oh? Just go as it is?

It's my lover's birthday, but I left her alone. He was stubborn and said she wasn't lonely, but he definitely thinks she's crying alone!

It would be sloppy.

It's late, but happy birthday!

*kiss*

For being born and for loving me, I thank you for that.

It's too early to cry, I haven't given you my present.

This is it.

Not many.

It can't be helped, I'm here.

On the left, lend me.

Okay, it fits perfectly.

breathes in, breathes out

I like you, I love you.

Will you please marry me!

It's ok?

Really?!

Good!

*playfully laughs*

My heart is pounding

Don't make a surprised face, I'm nervous too.

After all, the big event of life is 2 days

I thought that if you didn't stay by my side from now on, there would be no point in living.

It's obvious. Why don't you propose?

*kiss*

I'll definitely make you happy.

🐠 Track 2: The First Day at the Churaumi Aquarium

It’s pretty crowded even though it’s a weekday

Uh? Yeah! The breeze feels great and it feels like we’re in Okinawa!

I know it’s a little late for our honeymoon, but we have a week to make up for it

Enjoy the bus stop to our heart’s content!

Well then, let’s start with… Oh!

A whale shark monument!

What? Don’t laugh! I know what you’re saying, but the aquarium is a recommended photo spot

Oh! That’s why, I’m not talking about whale shark tension crap

No pun intended, no monument

Shut up! With sharks and orcas, men are romantic

Look, I’ll take a picture here. So don’t be so mean and just stand next to me

*Timeskip to the aquarium*

Woah! Amazing! The aquarium is insanely huge!

Apparently the whale sharks, manta rays and thrush sharks are swimming about

Only the largest one has a name

The name is Jinta

Just like that!

*laughs*

What?

They called him “Jinta Kun” in a friendly manner, but you don’t call me by my name very often

It’s too late, people still call me Kaidou kun, even though you’re now Kaidou yourself

Wait, are you being shy or do you have children?

Well me too. It’s funny to see your reaction like that, from the scene

Don’t worry, just get used to it little by little, after all we’ll be together forever after all

There’s a lot of people near the tank, so hold on tight

Woah~ Why is it that the current making the pufferfish look like it’s moving in that direction? Isn’t that just how it is?

This is good

Wha- Uh?! Don’t change this now and blush l! You’re embarrassing me too!

*laughs*

What are we doing? Trying to go back to when we first started dating?

I mean, I see

That’s right, just because we got married doesn’t mean everything suddenly changes

I think it’s best not to rush and just get used to it little by little

So I think it’s not a bad idea to enjoy the newlywed feeling

Don’t laugh again!

*laughs again*

It’s okay. My hair just got a little fluffier

Don’t worry

You’re always cute

What do you mean, they’re too busy with the tank to look at us?

Yes, yes, I’ll be more careful from now on

Correct, once we leave the aquarium, I don’t know though

🐠 Track 3: Second Day at the Blue Cave

Is that the blue cave?

Hey come over here too

You heard our guide, we can use these life jackets as floats to get into the cave

Snorkeling is only for underwater observation and the cave is tunneled, so you can always surface anytime

You’re still on guard, it’ll be fine

They don’t dive that deep. Apparently the deepest part at the entrance is only about 6m and the deepest part at the back is about 3m

I had to check it out so that someone wouldn’t get scared

It’s absolutely beautiful and I want to see it with you

If you hold my hand, you won’t be scared

Yeah, leave it to me

Yes! We’re coming!

Well then, shall we go?

Amazing! The seawater really shines blue

Plus the water is so clear, you can even see the fish swimming

I’m glad you came

The guidebook has a lot of pictures on this place

I wanted to show you this mystical view for sure

That face of yours is foul

It’s nothing!

Hey, don’t move

*attempts to kiss you*

Oh yeah, I’m wearing a mask

That’s it, the rest is up to you

*laughs* You’re too surprised

You laugh so adorably, I can’t help it

If you thrash about the fish will swim away

Now that your tension has been relieved, let’s have fun in the ocean again

Well then, let’s go! One, two!

Sorry, the vending machine near me was just refilling

Don’t be so fascinated by the view that you’ll spill it

*sipping his drink*

Ha… where to go?

I heard from someone I was talking to that you can see humpback whales from the observation deck here, but apparently you can only see from February to March

It’d be nice to come back for that season next time

Tomorrow I’ll definitely have muscle pain

I got to feed the fish, I got to watch you get more excited than ever, and a little muscle pain is a small price to pay

Oh, me too? No, no I can’t compete with your excitement!

I guess, but *yawns*

I was probably pretty good, too. I guess

I got it, don’t burrow my knee

Okay, just a little bit

I was so excited last night that I couldn’t sleep

What? It just shows how much I haven’t lost my boyish mind. Damn it!

As a laughing bus, wake me up in 10 minutes

*mumbling*

No

On the contrary, I felt more awake

Ah damn it, I guess you shouldn’t do anything you don’t know how to do

Wait, you want me to play? I don’t know if I should ring it on a regular basis

I’m your interpreter, so I’ll be practicing kneeling starting tonight

Don’t worry, I’ll lend you my lap too

*kiss*

Our life rhythms are so different that I’ve never even had the chance to rest my head on your lap, so I’m determined to be very affectionate with her during this trip

You know, I can spoil you even more now

What do you want me to do? Think about it

🐠 Track 4: Third Day at Shuri Castle

Let’s see, the red thing is Shureimon, and after passing through it and visiting the stone gate, you will arrive at the main hall of Shuri Castle

There are also singing stones around there. I heard a song about a place of worship in the progression of the Ryukyu Kingdom

What? Is that a rental costume? The hat with the red flowers on it? Hanagasa right? That’s what they’re dancing in.

Are you curious? Well, why don’t you take a picture as a souvenir?

I’d like to go to places beyond the Ryukyu Islands, but the pictures just don’t do it for me

Come to think of it, the only time we ever took a real picture together was at our wedding

It can’t be helped, everyone has at least one thing they’re not good at

That’s not what I meant when I said yesterday that I would spoil you more…

Yes! Intersect in structure!

How can I refuse a face of such expectation? Damn it! Why is my wife so cute?

Are you done changing?

Wow, beautiful

Oh, look out!

Are you okay?

You’re really making me nervous

Thank goodness you’re okay

Hm? A photograph? Ah!

Oh, sorry to keep you waiting! I’ll have it ready in a minute!

*whispers* come on, let’s go

It’s okay, just hold my hand properly. Even a short distance makes me worried. If I look at you for a moment, you’ll be in danger and nearly fall, I really can’t take my eyes off you

Is this area okay? Hey, what are you leaving for?

Come here more

Don’t worry about it, it’s not like we’re making out to show the gallery. It’s a memorial

I won’t get any closer than this, so just look at the camera! Look, smile, smile! 3, 2, 1!

*camera shoots*

I think it came out pretty well!

I might as well take a picture once in a while from now on, I’ll take photos more often than before

If you tell me first that you don’t want to be surprised, I’ll kiss you and take you

I’m just kidding, but your embarrassed face is too cute, I want to take a picture of it!

Next time we’re alone, let’s take lots of pictures of us making out

🐠 Track 5: Fourth Day at Kokusai Street

We’re going to Ishigaki Island tomorrow, so I’d rather have less luggage. We’ll buy some souvenirs and send them home firs

Apparently about 70% of Kokusai Street consists of souvenir shops, so you can get almost everything you need here

Plus, you can enjoy eating your way around!

Sightseeing is great, but eating delicious food is one of the best parts of traveling, right? Sata Andagi, right? Okinawa Soba and Ice cream? I heard there’s a good ice cream shop nearby, but it’s a little off the beaten path of Kokusai Street. What should we do?

I thought you’d say that! Let’s go, this way!

Here you go, don’t drop it. I wonder if it really should have been mango, since we had bitter melon.

No, for me who likes citrus fruits, it would be Shiikuwasha (Okinawa lime)

Delicious? That’s great, then I’ll do it too!

It’s delicious but it’s very sour

It’s true, you should try some too

It’s okay, no one’s watching now, right?

Here, Ah-

It’s sour, but delicious!

Huh, no? I’m not? I didn’t know that my words would come back to me… Got it? Ah~

For a while please don’t look at me

My face is red, that tells you about the heat doesn’t it? Yeah! No, it’s hot as hell today!

*proceeds to gobble up his ice cream*

Cold!

Can you afford to laugh at people? The ice cream is quickly melting…

Oh, it’s dripping! *licks*

What’s wrong? What’s the matter? I was just helping you eat

And while I was saying that, you got it on your finger too

Let’s just take this for now, and we’ll wash it later

*laughs* There’s no way I’m getting left out

*whispers* Thank you for the meal

Well then, shall we go back to Kokusai Street?

Oh, it’s mealtime and there’s a lot more people around, so hold my hand so we don’t get separated- Huh, what?

She hasn’t been drinking since I told her, she went to wash her hands or something?

Should I just call her?

*phone ringing*

She’s not answering…

Damn it! Where did she go?

Calm down me, she’s the one who felt more anxious, so she went back the way she came…

Huh, that back view…

Thank goodness, there you are!

I was worried because you suddenly disappeared

And the liquor store isn’t even that strong, so why?

The person who called out to you was a guy?

You got picked up idiot! Let’s go!

No, not again!

Huh? Me?

So you were picking out the alcohol for me?

But it would’ve been nice if you said something to me before you left

Huh? Were you called?

My bad…

I’m sorry, can you forgive me?

Thank you

*kiss*

Should we go to that store again?

You’re gonna get me drunk, I’m looking forward to it

🐠 Track 6: The Fifth Day at Ishigaki Island (Part 1)

I was told that if I go to Ishigaki Island, I should see Kabira Bay, but to be

This is the design

That’s amazing!

They say it’s been selected as one of the 100 series in Japan, but it’s unfortunately banned

Huh, why am I wearing a swimsuit? Because I personally wanted to see it

I’m joking! That’s the half

Therefore, it’s now going to be skeletonized

Is this your first time? The bottom of the canoe is made of glass, so you can see into the ocean

Don’t worry, it’s for two people

So could you help me push the canoe?

I’ll hold it back, so you get in first

Can you get to the front?

Oh that’s good, that’s good. Just sit down and face me like that

Are you okay? I’ll be riding next time, so hold on tight

Shall we leave then? Don’t get to excited and fall off

If you get a little more oriented, you’ll see some coral reefs

That’s right, there’s no tropical water to swim in there

Well, two people rowing together will get there quicker than one.

Can you knock the oar over?

Idiot! Don’t force me to turn it!

You’ll hurt your arm that way. The trick is to shift your weight when you row the oar

Ah, it’s easier to understand if I actually do it and show you. Can you give me this one?

Oh, slowly, slowly

Just like that, between my legs

Ah well done!

Well then, let’s go home

First, hold the oar so that the tip is perpendicular to the water. Then lean forward and push it back evenly

Oh yeah, that’s it. Not bad, right?

You didn’t have to wave your arms around to move forward properly

*kiss*

So, why is your neck red? Oh your ears are red too

This is a problem, I’m so worried that I can’t put the oar down

Me? Look, I was born a man, so there’s no need to reiterate that

No, no, no I’m not embarrassed

Don’t look at me! So that, the canoe would be facing away from me!

That’s not cool!

You’re always laughing too

*kiss*

You’ve known for a long time that I’m a man

If you learn from this, don’t get too agitated

*kiss*

🐠 Track 7: The Sixth Day at Ishigaki Island (Part 2)

I got sunburned again today. As you said, I was right to bring my parka. If I hadn’t, I might have been burned on the canoe. After a short break, we’ll have dinner…

I… Crap! I think I forgot something!

No, it’s fine, it’s my own, so I’ll go by myself. Can you get a massage while I wait for you? I’m sure there’s a spa here too

Sorry to leave you alone, I’ll be off!

Wow, it’s going to be hot again today

You look so refreshed, that aromatherapy massage you had yesterday, it seems to have worked

Huh, if it’s that good, I might take it too

But, I’d rather have you massage me anyway

Of course I’d do it to you as well, all over your body until I’m done yesterday

I know! I’m just kidding!

You said you wanted to go to the glass workshop right? They’ll ship the works you make to you later

Since we’re here, let’s make a pair of glasses. And after that…

We’re here!

Good job! This is the tip of Ishigaki Island: Uganzaki!

Some of the signs say “Oganzaki” but the locals refer to it as “Uganzaki”

The sunset seen from the lighthouse is said to be one of the best spots on Ishigaki Island, so be sure to enjoy it to the fullest

Ah, don’t look at me! You’re not looking at the sunset

Just listen to me while watching the sunset

It was yesterday, but when I said I forgot something, I actually lied

I went to the glass workshop today and they were making this necklace

I tired to capture the ocean and sunset of Okinawa

I don’t take many photos with you, and I can’t do what you asked me yesterday, but I’d like to bring something that will be a memento of the trip

It was made by an amateur, so if you don’t like it-

I see, that’s good

I though to myself that I was doing something that was out of character for me, but a honeymoon is a one time thing, so if I get embarrassed now, there’s no point

Sh-shut up! I’m blushing, I know! That’s why I told you to come here!

*kiss*

From now on, please keep smiling next to me like that. I love you

🐠 Track 8: Night of the Sixth Day

I’m done cleaning up the bathtub

You’re welcome! The hibiscus is huge though, so it wasn’t that hard

I wonder what they’d do with a rose bath? *laughs*

Uh, what about you? You almost done packing?

There’s no need to rush, we’ll check out in the afternoon

We’re already leaving tomorrow

Well, when it’s this cozy, you don’t want to go home

And I’ve never been able to spend so much time with you before

The seat next to me is empty

We can pack up tomorrow morning. Let’s just take a break on the sofa

Ah~ It’s soothing

You never say you miss me or that it’s hard for you when I’m away from home a lot for work

I’m really grateful for that, but to be honest, it makes me a little nervous

Like, are you okay without me or do you not want to be either me? I’m thinking about this and that

But during this trip, I realized that you miss me when I’m not around, and that when you see me off with a smile and tell me everything is okay, both of those things are true

Huh, is that kind of wrong?

It’s not that she’s okay without me, but that she’s trying to be okay without me

Hey, do you know the meaning of the hibiscus flower?

Every day, a new flower blooms, so there’s always something new and beautiful, something elegant, something brave

Why, I saw it on the card earlier

Look, it was on the bath towel, wasn’t it?

There’s a lot to be said for the language of flowers

By the way, it also said “You believe”

Seeing that made me think that I should have more faith in your strength so that you would believe in me and wait for me

*kiss*

And you’ll have to depend on me more. Okay?

What’s your answer?

Well then, you’d better spoil me quick

It’s your fault for smelling nice after a bath, even though you might be greedy

*kissing*

It’s getting in the way

What is it this time?

You don’t want to do it on the sofa?

I’ll carry you, so hold on tight

Now then

Well then, this time I guess I’ll be the one to spoil you

It shouldn’t be that difficult. Where do you want me to kiss you? What do you want me to do?

Just tell me honestly, I’ll make it all come true

If you don’t sleep, you’ll be put on hold forever

*laughs*

I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m being mean to you

So what do you want?

Where do you want me to kiss you?

Hey, time’s up! If you can’t choose, it can’t be helped, it’s a full body course

*kiss*

Let me love all of you

*kissing*

🐠 Track 9: Epilogue

*alarm rings*

Crap!

9 o clock?! Seriously, we’re totally late

Did you wake up?

*kiss*

Good morning

Don’t be mean, it’s 9 o’clock! It’s a job decision

Huh? 9 AM?

Oh I see! I applied before the trip because I knew I would never be able to get up

What? Well, then you can still take it easy

I can’t hear the waves so it feels a bit strange

We’re really back home

Well, where do you want to go next? You’ve been to the south, so maybe Hokkaido?

Ah, it doesn’t have to be domestic

To be honest, I’m fine with it as long as I can be with you

*kisses*

Breakfast can wait, I want you

You say silence is emperor

I’m so happy *kisses*

Together forever

[havenoffandoms]

Shrimp (Eskel/Geralt/Lambert/Aiden)

Pairing: Eskel/Geralt/Lambert/Aiden

Summary: 

“Hey, what about this one?” Aiden suddenly exclaims, pulling a stuffed seal from the back of a shelf and holding it up in triumph, a cheesy smile plastered on his handsome face. “Remember last week when Eskel almost cried watching that nature documentary where the baby seal almost got eaten by a killer whale?”

“A seal?” Lambert and Geralt parrot at the same time, exchanging a dubious look. “Look how cute it is. The big blue eyes.” Aiden points at the blue dots sown into the fluffy white seal’s head. “I know exactly what Eskel will say when he sees them. They remind me of Lambert’s eyes.”

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff

Eskel always takes care of his lovers.

Geralt, Lambert, and Aiden all know they are lucky to have someone like Eskel in their lives. For one, Eskel is a feeder. His boyfriends are always the first to sample his new baked creations, though you will never catch Geralt, Lambert, or Aiden faulting Eskel’s baking. The man is simply a genius with his hands, double entendre intended, but Eskel is his own harshest critic despite the years of hard work and continuous on-the-job training he endured to get where he is today. Even though his online bakery only recently started taking off, people are crazy for his baked goods, and some of Eskel’s more elaborate creations can go for a few hundred dollars apiece.

Eskel is not only a god in the kitchen, he is always attentive to his three partners’ every need. When Lambert works late at night on a case and forgets to eat, drink, or even sleep, Eskel is there to remind him to take care of himself. He will bring up dinner, chilled bottles of water, and even drape a blanket around Lambert’s shoulders when it becomes apparent that his hard-working boyfriend won’t come to bed, too invested in a difficult case to find sleep that night. When Aiden’s old war injury plays up, causing his right leg to seize up, Eskel will make Aiden sit in the chair by the radiator, and bring him cups of steaming tea and buttery strawberry tarts - Aiden’s favourite - to cheer him up. When Geralt experiences one of his anxious days, Eskel will tolerate having his lover stuck to his hip all day, delighting in the needy kisses Geralt seeks from him and returning the affections in kind.

Eskel is, hands down, the best man either three of his boyfriends have ever known, and they all love him to the moon and back. Even so, they tend to forget that under the soft and loving walls Eskel puts up lies a man who has struggled far too many hardships in his life, a man who is still plagued by many unhappy memories that occasionally come back to haunt him with a force. Eskel rarely shows this weaker, more vulnerable side of himself, instead focusing all his energy on making sure his partners are taken care of and happy, often at the expense of his own well-being.

Today is one of those days, where Geralt, Lambert, and Aiden can just tell that Eskel is not in the right headspace, but refuses to speak to them. Only today, unlike their usual tendency to simply let Eskel work through whatever dark thoughts are taunting him on his own, his three lovers decided to grab the metaphorical bull by the horns. This is why they all decided to drive to the mall in Lambert’s Camaro on a bright Saturday afternoon, leaving Eskel to stress bake in their shared kitchen and work off some of the pent-up frustrations weighing him down. The mall is heaving, which does precious little to appease Geralt’s social anxiety, but having Lambert and Aiden walking at either side of him, shielding him from the crowd, helps a little.

“You alright?” Aiden asks softly, bumping his shoulder with Geralt’s. “If you’d rather wait in the car…”

“I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles in response, keeping close to Aiden. Lambert’s hand on his elbow is an added comfort in the general chaos of the shoppers pushing past them in a hurry.

When they reach their destination, Geralt reminds himself why they came here and why he is enduring the mob of people. He glances up at the sign above the store, blue letters against a yellow background reading “Build-a-Bear Workshop”. It was Geralt’s idea to come here, and he felt foolish for suggesting it, and yet here they are. Will Eskel even like getting a teddy? Will he laugh at them? Or worse, fake his excitement when they present him with his gift?

“Hey,” Lambert squeezes Geralt’s elbow firmly, but with an underlying softness in his tone that undermines the stern gesture, “I can hear you panicking from here. Stop that. He’ll love it.”

“He’s not a child,” Geralt objects weakly, feeling his confidence waning by the minute, “what if he-”

“It’s Eskel we’re talking about,” Aiden interjects all the while leading Geralt and Lambert into the busy store, “big, fluffy, cuddly Eskel who coos at baby goats and always bakes treats for his clients’ kids which he gives out for free . That Eskel will be ecstatic with this gift.”

“If anything, he’ll be upset that we didn’t take him with us to pick his favourite teddy,” Lambert adds wisely, looking around the store with wide, nervous eyes. “Shit, there are so many options. What’s Eskel’s favourite animal?”

“That’s like asking Geralt to pick a favourite horse,” Aiden jokes, gently reassuringly nosing Geralt’s cheek.

“My favourite horse is Roach,” Geralt deadpans, raising a challenging eyebrow and his lips quirking slightly at Aiden and Lambert’s exasperated groans.

“See what I mean?” Aiden tells Lambert while pointing demonstratively at Geralt.

“I’m sure we can think of Eskel’s favourite animal. How hard can it be?” Lambert picks up the nearest stuffed animal in the shape of a chocolate lab, eyeing it suspiciously. “Does he like dogs?”

“Who doesn’t like dogs?” Geralt picks up a stuffed horse from one of the shelves to his right, “this one looks like Roach.”

“Which one?” Aiden asks sarcastically, pointing his words with an eye roll, “besides, we’re not here for you. We’re here for Eskel.”

“Being around people makes me anxious, I need an emotional support teddy,” Geralt pouts, holding the stuffed horse close to his chest, “it looks just like Roach.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lambert huffs in exasperation, “Geralt, I promise to buy you this stuffed teddy tomorrow, but today is about Eskel.”

“Hey, what about this one?” Aiden suddenly exclaims, pulling a stuffed seal from the back of a shelf and holding it up in triumph, a cheesy smile plastered on his handsome face. “Remember last week when Eskel almost cried watching that nature documentary where the baby seal almost got eaten by a killer whale?”

“A seal?” Lambert and Geralt parrot at the same time, exchanging a dubious look.

“Look how cute it is. The big blue eyes.” Aiden points at the blue dots sown into the fluffy white seal’s head. “I know exactly what Eskel will say when he sees them. They remind me of Lambert’s eyes.”

Continue reading here.

[maxwell-grant]

Charlie Chan. Who is fascinating, because he was created explictly to be an anti-Yellow Peril character. Unlike most Chinese characters of the time, he's both intelligent, physically capable, and unambiguously heroic. In the novels, he's simultaneously proud of being Chinese AND proud of being an American citizen. He gives orders and instructions to white people, and the narrative treats this as perfectly normal and acceptable. There's a bit in the first book, when an attempt to trap the..(1/2)

(cont'd)There's a bit in the first book where an attempt to trap the protagonist fails, because a message supposedly from Charlie clearly isn't because Charlie's English isn't broken, it's like poetry. Etc. The movies made him more stereotypical, & played by white actors in yellowface, but still, he's a heroic Chinese man, who is as capable and patriotic as any white man. Nowadays, he's thought of as racist caricature. Which he is, but still, it makes one think.

I'm not nearly as acquainted with Charlie Chan as you are (and I definitely suspected he was less racist in the original books because that's nearly always the norm when it comes to pulp characters) but yeah, that "Which he is" is forever going to be the most unfortunate and saddest part of it all when it comes to Charlie Chan. For all the virtues that can be bestowed on Charlie Chan, for everything great that the character had going for him and inspired, the fact that the least offensive image of the character I could find to put here for illustration's sake is from the Hanna-Barbera cartoon kinda exemplifies the big elephant in the room when it comes to Charlie.

Charlie Chan is a great example of two things: One is the way progress is never a fixed quantity and often what was progressive and forward-thinking in it's time can become something outdated and backwards and downright offensive given enough time, and the 2nd is my constant stressing that this is all the more incentive to reclaim the pulps and either highlight or fix aspects of them, instead of dismissing every aspect of them based on the preconception that everything about it's history is unforgivably bigoted and must be handled with the nuance of a sledgehammer.

I stress time and time again the need to highlight and understand the prejudices that went into pulps, because either ignoring them or wielding them as a weapon to attack them does no favors to anyone. The pulps weren't exceptionally bigoted - look at literally any medium in it's time period and you'll find bigotry and prejudice and hatred - and they were exceptional in the number of POC heroes and heroines. Pulps were a medium of experimentation and cheap entertainment that gave way to much, much more varied kinds of protagonists than were permitted in films, serials, novels, comics and radio serials of the day. Imagine if no one was allowed to bring up and discuss superheroes without mentioning the Superman Slap-a-Jap posters or the Captain Marvel story so horrifingly racist it was recounted by an American ambassador after it deeply offended a friend's son and a major influence on the 1950s anti-comic trials. "Pulp fiction had deeply, unforgivingly racist depictions that deserve intense scrutiny and cannot be ignored" and "Pulp fiction was significantly ahead of every other medium at the time in regards to authors and editors striving to publish stories about heroic POCs, this cannot be dismissed and is something that needs to be perpetuated" are not exclusive facts. "A product of it's time" is not an excuse and never was, but it's a fact nevertheless.

Every time someone speaks favorably of Charlie Chan in any capacity, they have to start with a long preface of everything positive that the character had going for him. Yes, he's a deliberate subversion of the Yellow Peril, he's a heroic protagonist, he's plump and good-natured and humorous but far from a joke, he's friendly and pleasant and well-educated and wise, he's a good dad and family man and a terrifically sharp detective who's so good at his job he gets called to solve crimes all over the world, and none of these traits are apparent to people who have to google the character and repeteadly see a white man in awful make-up into every single image of the character, who watch the movies and cringe at the broken English. It's hardly relevant in the face of all the Asian-American critics who acknowledge the character's virtues but rightfully point out that this fortune-cookie spouting caricature, acting subservient to whites and whose virtues are based around his proximity to a white American ideal, doesn't represent them and they shouldn't pretend it does.

Which isn't to say that to like Charlie Chan is "wrong", a lot of East Asians love Charlie and the character's obviously got fans in Asian Americans. It's a complicated subject and I obviously cannot begin to vouch in a subject so heavily based around perceptions I cannot experience. And I deeply detest the idea of speaking for others on their particular experiences on this kind of matter, which is something Americans do a lot everytime they talk about representation in media.

So instead, I'm going to tackle this on a roundabout manner by going on an unrelated tangent to bring up an example of representation that isn't quite representative of what it's supposed to be, has a lot of issues that have been dissected by critics among the people it was supposed to represent, and none of that stopped the character from being popular and beloved and from being claimed anyway. And it's a Brazilian fighting game character, which means it's completely within my ballpark.

Yeah, obviously Blanka doesn't look like anyone who lives in Brazil (whatever resemblance he bears to redheaded jungle protectors of Brazilian folklore is purely accidental). Obviously neither Jimmy nor Blanka are Brazilian names or even exist in the Portuguese lexicon. Obviously there are issues in Street Fighter's approach to representation across the board, sure, and I'd actually say Laura is much worse than Blanka in that regard (again, my opinion, obviously not universal), but the fact remains that Blanka is and has always been pretty controversial. Obviously there's Brazilians who took offense to Blanka and they weren't wrong to do so, and I obviously do not speak for everyone here, that goes without saying.

Obviously the idea that Brazil's major representative in a global cast of characters, the first big name Brazilian character in videogames, is going to be a freakish jungle monster who roars and bites faces has problems, as is the fact that all the others get to be regular people representing fighting styles from their countries while Blanka doesn't. None of the Brazilian SF characters represent Capoeira, which is kinda shitty to be honest. And there's a whole stereotype of Brazil as a backwards land of beasts and savages that Blanka's creation played into. There's no shortage of ground to criticize Blanka's representation and Ono actually apologized in an interview once, but then he learned one teensy little thing:

Street Fighter is very popular on Brazil. Would you like to leave a message to the fans from there?

"Ono: Yes, I'm aware. At the time of Street Fighter II a lot of the arcade machines produced went there, so I knew we had lots of fans there. A message to Brazilians, well, I'd like to apologize. I know Blanka's a weird character and I don't want any Brazilian to feel uncomfortable with that.

When Blanka was conceived, we knew there were forests in Brazil, and so we thought he could look like that. I was actually kinda nervous knowing I'd meet Brazilian journalists. Still, this is the first Street Fighter in ten years, so we'd like all fans to play, including Brazilians, which are many.

Thanks. Well, but you should know that Brazilians love Blanka

"Ono: Ah, good! I was scared of getting beat up if I ever went to São Paulo! (laughs)"

(That's from a 2012 tv special called The Greatest Brazilian of All Time where over a million viewers voted to elect whoever they wanted, and Blanka was going to win. He was polling ahead of Aryton Senna and PELÉ, fucking Pelé, yes this happened. He wasn't even disqualified for being a cartoon character, it was an open poll, he was disqualified due to canon stating he had been born in Thailand, which I think may have been retconned since then. Again, A MILLION BRAZILLIANS voted for this contest, and Blanka was going to win.)

Blanka is great and sweet and lovable, he made the best out of the incredible shitty hands fate dealt him and became a cool and strong green man who shoots lightning and flies, a self-taught warrior who rides whales and planes to fighting tournaments, and he loves his mom and friends and kicks ass and after he's done he dances in joy and gives the kids of his village piggyback rides, and Brazil loves him. He doesn't represent any existing person or fighting style, he's rooted in a negative stereotype and incorrect assumptions, he's not even really Brazilian, and he's our boy and nobody can take him away from us.

No criticism of Blanka, no matter how in-depth or even right it is, is ever going to affect that, because regardless of what was wrong or misguided and offensive about him, we claimed him and loved him so throughly that Capcom kept playing up Brazilian representation in every subsequent game post Alpha, and because of Blanka's impact and reception in such a big game, Brazilian characters have become a staple of fighting games, and that's how we got much more diverse representatives in those games. Fighting games have more Brazilian representation than LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE on media not produced here. It started as BAD representation, with way less thought put into it than Charlie Chan, and it still mattered to a lot of Brazilians who reclaimed it and made it better than it was ever intended to be, and as a response to it, it gradually became better. 

Progress is not a fixed quantity, it's an uphill battle, and it's not unwinnable. Everything's gotta start somewhere.

The Good Asian is a ongoing comic that I think does the best job I've seen yet of handling an Asian American detective protagonist, which is not really a high bar in the first place, and more to the point, The Good Asian illustrates the 2nd part: the reclaiming. The Good Asian deals a lot with the realities that a 1930s Asian-American detective would run into, the strained circumstances and relationships between said character and the world around him, because it's born from an author who took a look at Charlie Chan and Mr Moto and the like and recognized the potential in those stories that could not be fulfilled in it's time period by the people writing said stories. 

The Good Asian pays little reverence to Charlie Chan, but it acknowledges that it cannot exist without Charlie Chan, and it reclaims the Charlie Chan premise at the hands of someone more adequately equipped to tell a gripping story that goes places none of Charlie's contemporaries would ever go. Regardless of how good or bad of representation Charlie Chan was, Charlie Chan mattered and was beloved and inspired a better example for others to improve on or rebel against.

I desperately wish that I could google Charlie Chan without having to look at a guy in yellowface, and the ONLY way that's going to happen is if the character ever gets meaningfully brought back and reclaimed for good by people who can meaningfully tackle the character and present him as he should have always been presented.

And then, I imagine it would be a lot easier to show people on how swell Charlie really is. A true, positive role model and hero, who no longer has to look like a gross cartoon to be able to exist at all. Who can finally be what he was always meant to be, and always was deep down.

[cozy-the-overlord]

For the Lobster of Loki

Summary: Exposure to terrigen mist during a mission-gone-wrong results in you developing some newfound aquatic abilities. Unfortunately, this opens the door for your Avengers teammates to make use of the bane of your existence: fish puns. 

Word Count: 2,850

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader (first person)

A/N: I can’t believe I actually wrote this.

For those of you wondering what the hell this is: a few weeks ago, I had autocorrect change the word "love" to "lobster" while writing a fic. I found this hilarious and made a joke about it on Tumblr and it kind of turned into a meme on my blog. A couple of my friends told me I needed to turn this into a story and so now I present to you the stupidest thing I have ever spent precious time creating. Also, I usually don't like writing in first person at all, but my go-to third person limited just did not feel right with this nonsense, so I decided to experiment with a different style

Thanks for reading! :)

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

I was going to murder Tony Stark. I was going to murder all of them, but I was going to murder him first because he was the one who started this nonsense and now it had been going on for two weeks and I was one fucking smirk away from scalping myself.

It all started when I woke up with gills. Waking up with gills is a strange experience. Don’t get me wrong—I realize all things considered, I had it pretty good. I’ve heard about some really horrific transformations since I experienced my own— people who came out of the midst having lost their eyes or their limbs or their minds. There have been people who came out of the mist looking, sounding, and feeling like completely different creatures than when they went in. And there have been people who don’t come out at all.

No, I know damn well I was lucky to come out of the experience with nothing more than a pair of gills stuck in my neck. Still, it was an odd feeling—there was a heightened awareness every time I breathed in, pinprick chills trickling across the newfound ridges as I exhaled. It didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel wrong either—it was a stiff feeling, a bit like putting on a new pair of shoes for the first time, if that makes sense. I didn’t know what to make of it.

When I woke up, there was about a hundred doctors hovering around me, each with some new sterile terminology to throw my way about my condition, none of which made anything close to sense. I was losing my mind until Bruce showed up. He was able to put it simply: during the mission, I had been exposed to terrigen mist. Instead of killing me, it triggered a transformation in my DNA. I was inhuman.

My inhuman gift, it seemed was the magical blessing from the Black Lagoon. I had gills now—that was the most immediate realization—but there was also the fleshy webbing between my fingers and a weird film over my eyes that I didn’t notice until I tried to rub them with the heel of my palm. All of these wondrously fishy attributes added up to one glorious result: I could swim like a fish.

That was the first thing they tested. As soon as the doctors said I was good to go, SHIELD dumped me in a pool and told me to have fun. And I did. I had never been a fantastic swimmer or anything—the extent of my swimming knowledge came from the lessons my mother had forced me to take as a kindergartener because she was afraid I’d fall into the pond at the park down the street from our house and just die, which … fair. I still hated those classes. But now, now—oh, it was a completely different experience! I cut through that water like a knife, like Michael Phelps who? I was a bullet, shooting back and forth across the pool and just hanging water for as long as I liked.

Because I could breathe underwater now. That’s what gills are for, I guess, although it doesn’t really feel like breathing. Like, I’m not inhaling water while I swim. I’m just … I don’t know, my lungs are still filling with air, my chest is still going up and down, but it’s not through my nose. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s weird. But it’s really fucking awesome.

The team was very supportive of everything. I had only been living at the Tower for a little while, so I had still felt like something of an outsider—I didn’t have powers, and I certainly didn’t have the years long rapport that they had with each other. But they were really cool! Tony designed me a sleek new suit that was able to move well in water while still offering protection, and everyone had the time of their life trying to think up a pithy new code name for my newfound superhero status (we still haven’t quite decided, but I’m leaning towards Torpedo, because isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?). Everything was great.

Well, almost everything. There was one thing that was kind of bothering me. Loki hadn’t talked to me since I got hit with the mist. That might sound like a weird thing to get hung up on—oh no, the psychotic extraterrestrial terrorist is ignoring me!— but Loki’s not really like that. He doesn’t really talk about the whole New York thing much, but he’s said enough to make it clear that it’s not something he did of his own volition. If you saw it you’d understand what I meant, the way he tenses up whenever someone brings up the Chitauri and his eyes go all glassy like he’s not really there behind them. You can just tell that whatever had been waiting for him on the other side of that portal, it wasn’t good.

We never talked about New York, but we talked about other things. I’m not really sure how that happened. He does this thing where he acts all annoyed with everyone, like he’s just so over everything, and it irritates everyone so much that they all avoid him like the plague, which of course is what he wants. I guess I just didn’t avoid him when I arrived—I was too busy avoiding all the other superheroes who made me nervous to bother trying with him—and he grew to tolerate my presence.

We started talking about stuff one day, random shit like the purpose of nutritional facts on the side of poptart boxes and the boiling point of water on Earth vs on Asgard because apparently that’s different. And then we’d do things like make fun of the way Steve talks because he’s just so easy to make fun of, and Steve would overhear and tell us to knock it off and that would just make the whole thing funnier and Loki would mimic his voice and say something stupid like “I can feel the righteousness surging!” and Steve would just shake his head and walk away while we laughed like idiots. So yeah. We were friends. Or at least, I thought of him as a friend.

But I was starting to think that maybe he didn’t see me in the same way. We had been partners on the mission where I got hit with the terrigen mist, but he didn’t even come to visit me while I was still in the hospital. And literally everyone came to visit me. Friggin’ Director Fury came to visit me, although I’m pretty sure that was more because he wanted to see what my transformation had entailed and not because he had any particular interest in my wellbeing, but still. And then when I got out, he never said a word to me and everyone else wanted to talk to me so I didn’t say anything to him, but I was worried about him just the same. He was avoiding me too—he wouldn’t ever look at me when I was looking at him, and a lot of times he’d get up and leave the room if I came in. And I didn’t know what was going on.

I probably should’ve asked, but I don’t know … I was afraid, I guess. Like, what if he was really mad at me for something, and just me trying to talk with him would make him upset? So I just didn’t say anything—went through my day pretending everything was normal and ignoring the ache in my chest constantly reminding me that it had been weeks since I got my powers and Loki still hadn’t asked me if I was okay.

But I kind of forgot about all that when Tony started this bullshit. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t start it sooner, because it was the type of low hanging fruit that had his name written all over it, but once he started it there was no going back.

He started it one day when we were in the kitchen. I had been making a sandwich (tuna fish, because I’m a cannibal) and Tony was leaning over the counter watching me, and we were just talking about my general fishiness.

“I’m jealous, really,” he was saying. “It’s definitely something that would come in handy. You need to get something underwater, you just dive down—no tanks, no masks, no suits. Very sophisticated.” His eyes lit up, which is never a good thing. “Sofishticated!”

I groaned. “Stop it.”

But Tony was cackling. “Sofishticated! That’s rather gilliant, if I do say so myself.”

“Tony …”

“It doesn’t get any betta than this!”

I waved the bread knife in his face. “I will throw this at you.”

“Alright, alright.” Even as he held his hands up in surrender, he was giggling like a child. “I’ll stop.”

He did not stop.

The next morning, it was fish puns. Everywhere you turned, it was fish puns.

“Can you get that report back to me soon, or do you need more time to mullet over?”

“Just let minnow when you’re ready to try on the new suit.”

“Don’t trout your abilities, we all know you’re fintastic.”

It was only breakfast and I was inches away from crushing my face against the china cabinet.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “What the hell have I walked into?”

Tony grinned. “It’s fish puns!” he said. “Because, you know—” he gestured vaguely in my general direction. “It’s her brand.”

I moaned, face in my hands. “Just kill me now.”

Clint perked up. “Don’t you mean krill me now?”

Laughing, Tony gave him a high five over my head as I writhed in pain. “That’s the spirit.”

I don’t know how he did it, but in the matter of hours Tony had the whole damn tower on the pun train. Natasha was joking about how she was having a whale of a time with this new game. Clint was telling me to clam down and enjoy the fun. Steve asked me if I could get kraken on my o-fish-al business. Even Bruce—Bruce, who always made a point of staying out of Tony’s nonsense—even he was coming up to me with shit like “Cod you come help me with somefin in the lab?”

I glared at him. “Why would you ask me that?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Well …” Bruce inhaled. “Salmon had to.”

I stormed off as Tony roared with laughter from behind the corner.

It was inescapable. Wherever I went there was someone armed with some new fishy atrocity. You’d be surprised at how many fucking fish-related words exist in the English language. JARVIS was so overloaded with the amount of Internet searches for “fish puns” that he started bookmarking lists for easy access. It was an absolute nightmare.

“Don’t play koi, sweetheart,” Tony teased one night while we were waiting for Clint to choose a movie. “We know you lobster it.”

“Lobster?” I scoffed. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

“You just don’t appreciate my ingenui-sea.”

“OH MY—”

“Ignore them, my lady.” Thor smiled gallantly “They are only jesting. You should just relaks.” He grinned, stepping back as he waited for a reaction. We all just blinked at him. He frowned. “You understand, yes? Re-laks? Laks? That’s a fish!”

“Lak is not native to Midgard,” Loki interjected without looking up from the book he was reading. I jumped. He had been so quiet I had forgotten he was in here too. “Their oceans are too warm.”

Thor was surprised. “Truly? But I thought we’ve tasted lak since we’ve been here!”

Loki rolled his eyes, still without looking up. “That’s salmon. It tastes similar, but it’s much smaller.” He turned the page, muttering something that I didn’t quite catch. I was suddenly struck by the fact that it was the closest we had come to talking since before the mist, and that ache came back, gnawing at the edges of my heart. He didn’t look at me. I didn’t say anything.

About a week later, it was my birthday. I don’t really like birthdays in general, but I had really been bracing myself for this one all week because there was no way in hell these morons weren’t going to something infuriatingly stupid to mark the occasion. I guess I didn’t do enough bracing, because when I walked into my bathroom that morning to find a big fat lobster scuttling around in my sink I nearly had a fucking heart attack.

Across the mirror, someone had scrawled a message in red lipstick.

Sending you birthday fishes and lots of lobster!

And that was the moment I decided I was going to murder Tony Stark.

I stormed out into the hallway with no weapon, no plan of action, nothing except the pajamas on my back and the lobster in my hand. Additionally, this was the moment I decided that I hated lobsters more than any other creature on this earth. This thing looked like something from outer space, with its antenna and its bulging eyes and its spindly spider legs—that what it was, an overgrown spider in a slimy red shell. It was disgusting.

I was on my way to Tony’s floor, so engrossed with this half-baked notion of busting down his door and throwing this extraterrestrial arachnid on his face while he snored in bed, that I didn’t even see the Asgardian prince until I walked right into him.

Luckily, Loki grabbed me before I stumbled backwards, because I recoiled so quickly I probably would’ve gone flying. He raised his eyebrows as he took in the sight.

“I assume there’s a reason for the crustacean?” he asked.

There was something ever so slightly condescending about his tone, and I bristled. “They left this thing in my room! I swear, I’ve had it up to here with this fish bullshit—”

He hushed me, pulling the lobster from my grasp. With a wave of his hand, it was gone.

I inhaled. “You didn’t kill it, did you?”

“Oh no. I merely moved it to a more preferable location.” He frowned at the moisture left on his palm, conjuring a handkerchief to wipe it off with. “You know,” he said slowly. “The more visibly upset you allow yourself to become over this, the more encouraged they’ll feel to continue.”

“I know, I know. I just—” I sighed. “It’s so annoying. It’s been going nonstop, for two damn weeks! Puns are the absolute lowest form of humor, it’s just obnoxious.”

Loki only nodded as he turned to make his way down the hall. “I’ll take your word for it.”

And just like that, it was back to ignoring me. I watched his retreating form, the ache in my chest quickly bursting in to flames.

“Why are you avoiding me?” I snapped.

He froze, slowly turning around. “Pardon?”

“Why are you avoiding me?” I repeated. “You won’t talk to me anymore, you barely even look at me— did I do something wrong?” Maybe the fish jokes really had fried my brain, because I was dangerously close to tears. “I don’t get it Loki, I thought we were cool and now you just hate me!”

“I don’t hate you!” he said. “I just—”

“Just what? What is going on with you?”

“You could’ve died!” Loki yelled. I had never heard him speak that loudly before, and guess I was shocked into silence. “With the mist, on the mission. It was only pure chance that you didn’t.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“I was supposed to cover you. I should’ve realized sooner that they were using terrigen crystals. Instead I miscalculated and you nearly died.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead. When I found you, enveloped in that shell …” His voice trailed off and I realized with a start that his eyes were glistening with tears.

“Loki …” My gills tingled on my neck as I reached out for him. Is that what this was all about? Guilt? “Loki, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. And besides, I’m fine now. It all worked out in the end.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see yourself. You were gone, I was certain you were gone—”

I griped his hand. “I’m here now though. I’m here and I’m fine. Stop beating yourself up about it. I want to be friends again. I—” For a moment, the words caught in my throat. “I missed you.”

He gulped. “Truly?”

“Of course! Besides, I need your help getting back at these idiots.”

He smirked. “Oh, I’ve already started on that.”

A high-pitched scream broke out across the floor. “How did the fucking lobster get in my shower?” Tony bellowed from his bedroom.

We exploded into laughter.

“Oh,” I wheezed. “That was fucking perfect!”

Loki grinned, squeezing my hand. “Only the best for you, my lobster.”

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Make the day better.

summary: Y/N's son turns five and Harry doesn't know what to give him.

word count: 2.5k

Based on these requests:

"could you do artemis first bday with harry or christmas??"

and

"Love your writing. I have a request please, celebrating a birthday, could be Y/N, Harry or Artemis birthday"

and

"Can you do a blurb in the single mom series where Artemis is watching videos on YouTube but he sees harry in his 1d days and watches those vids and Artemis really likes and thinks one of the 1d boys are cool and stuff so harry does stuff to make Artemis happy, like maybe call that member or something? Sorry if it's trash I don't mind if you just throw it in the bin😂"

and

“I have an idea! For my shy little boy, could you do something about the moment that makes Harry realize he wants to keep y/n and Artemis forever and decides he’s going to marry her and hopefully adopt the little boy one day? Love your writing!!”

you can find more of my shy little boy here

a/n: saw these pictures and immediately thought about our little family. enjoy!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

December, 2018.

Artemis has discovered something new.

He has discovered old videos from Harry from when he was in the band. At first, he was confused as to why Harry wasn’t alone in the videos he watched like in the ones he was used to see. So Artemis did what always did when he was confused: ask.

Conveniently, Harry was invited to dinner at their house, and the first thing Artemis did when he crossed the door, was tell him. “Harry, I saw you on the TV!”

“You did? Did I look good?” He asked cheekily, sitting next to him on the sofa.

“Watch!” He turned on the television and pointed to it.

Harry chuckled when he saw his young self in the Best Song Ever music video along with the rest of his former band mates. “That’s you!” He said excitedly, clapping with his small hands.

“Yeah, buddy. I was in a band before.” Harry was happy Artemis seemed interested.

“What’s his name?” He asked, pointing one of the guys.

“The blonde one?” Harry questioned, receiving a nod from the small boy beside him. “That’s Niall.”

“He’s so cool.” He commented, kicking his legs back and forth on the couch. “He does music like you?” He asked.

“Yes, he does, mate.”

“He’s my favorite.” He decided.

“Oi! I am supposed to be your favorite!” He pretended to be offended, taking him in his arms and tickling him and making him let out a belly laugh.

“Stop! Stop!” He said in between giggles. “Harry, I’m gonna pee!”

“Say I’m your favorite.”

“You’re… you are… I can’t talk!” He laughed again and Harry stopped but didn’t let him go. “You’re my favorite, Harry.”  

Harry smiled, pleased with himself for getting the validation from an almost five year old. “Go wash up, it's almost dinner time." Artemis ran to the bathroom in the hallway as Harry walled towards the kitchen where Y/N was.

"I was a little behind but it's ready now."

"I'd help you, but you banned me from the kitchen the second i got in." The curly-haired man wrapped his hands from behind around Y/N's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"It was because Artemis has been wanting to tell you he saw the band on the TV all afternoon." She giggled, putting the knife down and turning around to face him. "He asked why your hair looked weird."

"Wha'?" He asked, his accent getting noticeably thicker. "What was wrong with me hair?"

"He didn't like the long haired look." She passed a hand through his now much shorter curls.

"And apparently Niall's his favorite, can you believe?" Harry asked in a fake offended tone.

"Artemis likes blondes because he has blonde hair, kid's logic."

"Should i dye mine?" Harry's tone now was playful, grabbing a couple of his curls.

"Please, no."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

A week after dinner, Harry was scrolling down his phone desperately, trying to find the perfect gift for Artemis.

He had invited Harry to his birthday party, and although he was nervous to meet the rest of Y/N's relatives, he was more excited to spend this day with his girlfriend and her son. It would be the first time he was there to celebrate Artemis' birthday, so he wanted it to be perfect.

And a perfect day required the perfect gift.

He just didn't know what to buy. "Doesn't he like Legos? Buy him a set." Mitch said, trying to help. They were currently in a break from a writing session and almost everyone was out to get food.

"There isn't a set he doesn't have." Harry groaned, running out of options.

"What else does he like?"

"Books, robots, music..." He paused, suddenly getting an idea. "He likes music!"

"Buy him an instrument or something." Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a he's five to Mitch. "So?! Better start them young."

"Perhaps. But for now i think i have the perfect idea." Mitch looked confused, but Harry’s smile only grew bigger.

He wrapped up the session early and called a friend to see if they could catch up while having some drinks. His right leg shocked in anticipation, looking around trying to find that one familiar face he hasn’t seen in a while.

“Styles!” Harry smiled at that unmistakably Irish accent. “It’s been so long!” The pair hugged each other.

“Far too long. How have you been?” They took a seat on the table Harry was previously sitting on.

“Pretty great actually, tour ended a little while ago but stills feels very fresh.” He sighed. “What about you? Heard you’re dating someone.” Niall sent him a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Harry breathed a laugh, touching the bridge of his nose. “I am, met her at the beginning of the year. Her name is Y/N.”

“Look at you, you’re blushing!”

“Stop it!” Harry giggle, followed by Niall. “She has a kid, he’s great. They’re great.”

“I’m happy for you, H.” The blonde man gave him a genuine smile. “Is it serious?”

“Pretty much. So Artemis, Y/N’s son, is turning five next Saturday and I’ve been trying to get him the perfect gift.”

“Any luck so far?”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“How can I help?” He readjusted himself on his seat.

“Well, I wanted to ask you a favor.” He paused. “The other day he found the band and said, for some reason, you were his favorite.”

“Ooh, and that how made you feel?” Niall teased him, knowing he didn’t like to be second in anything, especially talking about his girlfriend’s son.

“Delightful, next question.” He rolled his eyes playfully and Niall let out a big laugh.

“So want do you want me to do then?”

“Are you free next Saturday?”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Niall's appearance was a surprise, even for Y/N. He'd arrive later than Harry, just in time to sing happy birthday to Artemis. In the meantime Harry had to make sure everything else was perfect.

He was in charge to pick the cake up from the shop before heading to Y/N's mums' house. He already knew Ally and Ella, and they seemed to really like him so he felt a little less nervous.

Y/N told him a bunch of her friends were gonna be there, including Adam and his family so that was also nice. Harry wasn't very familiar with all of her friends but from what she always tells him, they're good people who care for her and Artemis.

Harry didn't have a key or anything so he knocked the door with one hand while holding the cake with the other. Ella opened the door, grinning at him right away. "Harry! It's so good to see you, love."

"Likewise, Ella." The woman pinched Harry's cheeks before letting him in. "Where should I put this?"

"In the kitchen! There's kids running around and we don't want them to drop the cake."

He did what she said and walked towards the kitchen, finding Ally decorating some cupcakes. "What do you think?" She took one out of the plate and showed it to him.

"Looks great. You've been practicing with the fondant." The cupcakes had a little whale on top of them, made with blue fondant.

"I made turtles, whales, crabs... Oh! Look at this little octopus!" Ally was so excited every single decoration turned out perfect, as her designated was getting the pastries done. "Y/N's changing Artemis's clothes in the guest room if you want to go upstairs with them."

He nodded, heading out of the kitchen and taking a quick look to the backyard. There were some people sitting on tables and a couple of children running around, but no one he knew so he listened to Ally and went up to look for his loves.

He knocked the door and heard Y/N say 'come in!' so that's what he did. "Harry!" Artemis exclaimed, trying to run towards him but Y/N stopped him.

"Stay still, baby. I'm trying to tie your shoes." She was knelt down in front of him, putting his shoes on. “Hi, honey.” She looked up at Harry as he bent down to give her a little peck on her lips.

“How’s the birthday boy?” Harry sat next to him on the bed and wrapped his arms around him gently.

“Did you see everyone, Harry? They’re here for me!” He said excitedly. He might be say, but he sure as hell likes the attention of his loved ones.

Harry chuckled, messing up his hair a little. “Happy birthday, mate. Couldn’t wait until it was time to open the rest of the presents, so here’s mine.” He handed him a small box wrapped nicely with a bow on the top.

Artemis took it excitedly and was about to tear the wrapping paper apart but Y/N took his hand gently. “What do we say to Harry, darling?”

“Thank you, Harry!” Artemis threw himself at the older man. “Can I open it?”

“Of course, it’s yours.” Artemis offered him a toothy smile, opening the box. Inside there was a package of professional colors, there was one in every shade. “I know how much you like your color books, and these are the best colors ever.”

“Wow, thank you, Harry. I love them.” The small boy hugged him one more time. “Look, mummy!”

“I see, they’re so pretty.”

Artemis hugged Harry once more before hopping off the bed. “Can I go with nana Ally now?”

“Yes, but leave your gift here, okay?” He nodded before handing his mum the box and running out of the room and off to find his nana. “Did you seriously buy professional colors to a five year old?” She asked with a smile, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What? He loves to paint.”

“Thank you.” Y/N said, kissing Harry’s cheek. “It was very sweet of you.”

Harry gave her a dimpled smile. “You look stunning, love.” Y/N was wearing a long, white summer dress with little sunflowers on it, paired with some heels.

“So do you.” She gave him another kiss. “Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Going around greeting everyone, Harry had a hold on his phone all the time making sure Niall had the right address to get there in time. Y/N’s mums made a perfect job decorating the backyard, there were balloons everywhere and the tables had different marine animals on the center.

Artemis loved the ocean a lot, considering he lived in London and there wasn’t many beaches to go, he liked watching pictures and documentaries of it. So Y/N thought that instead of taking him to the ocean, she brought the ocean to him.

“Harry, sweetie, would you take the cake out of the fridge and bring it to the table?”

He nodded and went inside again. At the same time he was crossing the door, someone rang the doorbell so Harry went straight to open it, eager for Niall to arrive. “Didn’t want to show up empty handed so I bought the lad a little something. It’s a train set.” Niall said as soon as Harry opened the door.

“I’m glad you made it, mate.” They hugged and Harry closed the door behind them. “We’re about to cut the cake, he’ll be so happy to meet you.”

Harry was so excited for this surprise, ever since Artemis ‘discovered’ his band, he’s been obsessed with Niall so the curly-haired man couldn’t wait to see the look in Artemis’ face when he sees the blonde man walking into his party. He grabbed the cake before leading Niall outside where everyone was.

Y/N was the first one to notice the new man walking in, and her eyes grew wider when she recognized him. She walked towards them with a confused smile on her face. “Harry?”

“You must be Y/N.” The Irish man said with a grin. “Hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s great. Nice to meet you.” She offered him her hand for him to shake.

“I brought Niall to surprise Artemis.” Harry said proudly.

“Oh my, he’s going to be so happy, let me bring him over here.” Y/N went off to find her son. She’d never expect Harry to actually bring Niall for Artemis but it was a very sweet, thoughtful thing. “Honey, come here. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

The five year old stopped running and walked towards his mum to take her hand and let her lead him to where Niall and Harry were. When he spotted Niall, he got all shy and hid behind her legs, like he always did when he got nervous.

Niall noticed it and crunched down to his eye level. “Hi, bud. A little bird told me you liked my music.” Artemis looked at him with big doe eyes, curious to know what was in the box Niall was holding. “Happy birthday, mate.” He handed him the gift and Artemis shyly took it from him.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Niall said, looking up to Y/N and Harry. “Call me Niall, okay? It’s nice to meet you, buddy.”

Artemis finally smiled at him, letting go of the hold he had on his mum’s dress. He came closer to Niall and started talking, Y/N and Harry looked at each other as she took one of his hands in hers to intertwine their fingers.

It was time to cute the cake and Artemis was stood on a chair behind it with Y/N by his side and everyone around him. She motioned Harry to come stand with them and he gladly did so. They sang happy birthday to Artemis and the boy had a big, toothy smile on his face the whole time.

Eventually the guests started to leave, but Artemis didn’t let Niall go before giving him a big, tight hug before making him promise they’d see each other again. Just before all the guests left, Artemis fell asleep and Harry had to take him upstairs to the room Y/N’s mums had for him. When he came down again, everyone was gone and his girlfriend was just finishing picking up some things outside so he went out to help her.

“Did you see how happy he was the whole day?” She said.

“Yeah, he enjoyed it.”

“It was really thoughtful of you to bring Niall, you know?” Y/N walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “He was very excited for it.”

“It was my pleasure, love to see him smile.”

“Thank you.” She told him, cupping his face with her hands.

“For what?”

“Today was good, but you definitely made it better. So thank you.”

Harry smiled happily before leaning down to capture her lips on a sweet kiss, making her smile against his lips. It was good to finally feel he belonged somewhere, and slowly started to feel they were becoming his own family. He’d never deny the way his heart skipped a beat every time Artemis laughed, or when Y/N smiled. Harry found himself wanting to be forever there for the two of them, for every single birthday, anniversary, everything.

He was in love not only with Y/N but with Artemis too, and he knew that feeling was never gonna go away.

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep @la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20 @fineline-hs1 @stephaniemalvie @immajustreadwritereblog @jadert15 @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @abundanceofsoph @harrysthicccthighs

[ecmlol]

Dick in daddy mode part 3

It's Wednesday

Dick is a little bit nervous about Bruce's visit. Conner is still on the fence about everything. Dick has tried gentle  persuasion on him. kory "nicely "told him to back off".

Dick and kory in the training room practicing when Bruce is walks with a trail of kids behind him talking his ear off.

Dick and kory stop the little game of dodge the flame ball.

Wow live round practicing I'm impressed.

Kory takes off her blindfolded and turns around.

Bruce is surprised how big kory is because from the back you never know but dick did say 2 more months

Kory you are as beautiful as ever

Aww that sweet of you bruce

Right shes so glowy rachel say

Thank rach I feel like

A beached whale all the kids in to room says before kory can say it.

Dick laughed with everyone else in the room

Kory burst into tears. The boy all quickly leave

I am a beach whales?

Kory hey no your not you just say it a lot .dick say as he hold her face in her hands.

I'm not huge ?

No not yet dick say

Dick ! Rachel say

Excuse my son he has a problem with putting his foot in his mouth

Kory start to cry even harder

I'm sorry I didn't mean, I meant she going to keep getting bigger

Dick come on rachel say as she pulls kory away from dick hold.

I'm sorry kory dick say again as he tries to follow her out.

Bruce puts a hand on Dicks chest.

I see you still can't read the room very well

Dick frown

She's been doing this a lot lately dick says

It's hormones . Her body is going through a lot dick.

I know and I'm making it worse dick say as his eye get misty

And I'm a mess too I haven't cried this much sense my parents died.

It happen sometimes bruce says

And I have been eating so much I have gain so much weight my suit is so much tighter then normal bruce. It's all going to my ass .god I cant wait for her to be here and our life's can go back to normal

Hate to tell you this but your life will never be normal. Bruce says

Dick sigh

How was your flight ? Are you hungry?

It was good. I could eat a little something.

They head out of the training room and head to the kitchen.

Kory is walking out with a bowl of popcorn and a few Reese pieces.

Dick stops

Kory ?

She looks up

He hugs her from behind and rubs her belly

I'm sorry my queen I was having a dumb dick moment how can I make it up to you .

Do that thing for a 1 minute

Not a problem I have you dick says before slowly lifting the weight of her belly from the bottom

She makes a noise that dick is use to hearing behind closed door.her head falls back to his shoulder and she stops eating . The kids are moving all around them like it's normal a few steal her popcorn while her eyes are close.

Very funny Gar next time your eating anything I want some.

Tim sticks his tongue out at him because he didn't get caught.

How did you know it's me?

Dick shots him a look.

Come on I know how you smell.

Oh Gar says as he smells himself

Connor laughs at him

Thank you so much.

Anything for me queen. Dick say after he kisses her neck and gentlest let's go of her belly.

Kory laughs

What's so funny dick ask

She always like to wiggle after you do that kory say.

She so still when I do it. I wish she move so I can feel her. Dicks says

I guess she enjoys it as much as I do.

Dick is standing in front of kory now talking to her belly

Hey in there it your daddy how are you huh are you having a good day. Dick says as he tries to find her head.

Are you trying to find her head again?

Yeah always

Want some help Conner says from the couch as he reads his book.

Do you mind kory? Dick asked

No go ahead it's been a few weeks I'd say it's about time to take a look go for it.

Connor give them he proximity growth difference from last time.

Kory what did you say the length of pregnancy on your home planet is?

6- 7 months is fully term but you said she look like a normal human pregnancy last month

Well apparently I was wrong kory

What do you mean we have a few months to go.

No I wouldn't say that she looks like she's good to go dick.

Good to go? Dick say

Yeah don't be surprised when she drops kory

We arent ready. Kory says. Kory looks completely panicked

Bruce is standing in the Door way with a bowl of popcorn .

Ok don't panic what's left to do?

Finish painting her room putting her furniture together . Putting all of her clothes away stocking up on diapers and wipes and other supplies .Kory say

Getting a birthing tub,figuring out where to put it . Dick says.

Ok dick I know your both stress out right now but let's get your head in to the game. Connor your over building the furniture is that ok dick ?

Yes sure

On it Connor speeds out the room

Gar and Tim can you paint ?

Sure they both said and leave the room

Ok Rachel take kory to sam or Costco for wipes and diapers . She doesn't need to be here when they are painting

On it rachel say

Dick you and I will deal with the birthing pool and anything else.

[katsuki-goodness]

<= Part 4 =>

Summary: If he wanted to come, he could have.

Tagged: @todosweetheart @afuckingunicornn

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote anything so I'm sorry for the inconsistencies. I made sure to look over it so I am hoping everything is okay lol Also, Val, I had forgotten you changed your name XD But I hope you enjoy this regardless. My writing isn't what it use to be but I only write when I feel in the mood so I hope you both enjoy this, and everyone else too~

"She is bruising up! She is losing too much blood! Y/n! Please!"

"Deku...!" Izuku stood up in front of his classmates, looking out to the stadium below where your body was lying motionless for everyone to see. You had not been hit by Todoroki regardless if that was the intention. He was trying to win and you had the same excuse, but you pushed yourself. You couldn't get a single scratch on him until he had assumed that he won. You were able to put him in the ground but he rolled away in time before you had the chance to smash him into the rocky floor. Your body began to wear out, your arms were giving up as they began to loosen upon you and that's when you began feeling wet. Something felt weird but it wasn't the water of any sort that was covering your arms, but the blood that was forming inside your arms. They began to bruise but you didn't think much of it and used your quirk to attack him again.

It took just a few seconds for you to feel the sharp pain, making you fall over and whale in pain. You had pushed yourself so hard that it popped some blood vessels and tore a ligament in your shoulder. Todoroki looked panicked but he didn't know what to do. Izuku quickly screamed out in fear, calling your name as the teachers stopped the match. Katsuki stood up from his seat, his eyes in utter shock. This couldn't be happening to me is what he thought, and his anger took over more and more until he jumped down to the lower levels to get to you. You were picked up and getting ready to be taken away but he caught up, his eyes angry, watering as if he felt like he was going to lose you.

"You damn idiot! Why the hell would you push yourself so hard, huh?!" His voice cracking but he continued to keep his anger to topple his worry and sadness.

"Bakugou, please, go back to your seat," Nightmare had asked which got ignored by the blonde.

"Were you trying to prove a fucken point by what, hurting yourself?!" He got closer to you, the stretcher holding your limp body. He was stopped by Todoroki who only held him back with a hand on his shoulder. The blonde looked back with blind rage but the heterochromatic eyes that looked back at him told him to calm down and that's all it took for Katsuki to growl under his breath and leave the stadium.

-

You were quickly rushed to Recovery Girl and were diagnosed. You had to rest in bed for quite a while until your arms could properly heal. Since popping a vessel can be healed in short of a few days with the help of medical professionals, what will be a hassle would be the shoulder that you tore. It wasn't a massive tear but it wasn't something that shouldn't be taken lightly. After all, you should have lost both your arms if they tore even more, and no thanks to you who wanted to push yourself against Todoroki. Really, it might have sucked but you tried.

Your thoughts might have been running a lot but they all stopped once you blacked out, and once you woke up again, they came back. The headache was intolerable making tears roll down your eyes as if they paused until your mind was able to process what was happening.

The first thing you saw was the walls. You recognized them. Of course, you felt stiff and a lot more pain than you anticipated, but at least the silence got you to sigh in relief.

"It seems like I couldn't make it, huh," You had asked yourself with a sigh coming right after. You wondered if Todoroki was disappointed in his victory or was he glad about it. There was no reason for him to not be glad but what do you know. I'm sure as heck that I don't.

A sudden sound of a door sliding open caught your attention. You assumed it was Recovery Girl but the familiar green hair and expression made your eyes soften, remembering how those same eyes were still very much the same as the ones looking back at you right now.

"Your arms," He had said, walking in and closing the door behind him, his eyes still trailing the bandages on your arms. Your smile was forced but you did it to not worrying him which only made him worry even more.

"I'm okay. I was told to rest. My arms aren't as bad as they seem.” If you moved then maybe the pain will come back for a split second. It felt a bit suffocating to feel Izuku here but who else was going to come aside from your classmates?

“Y/n, you’ve been noticeably pushing yourself and you make it seem like everything is okay.”

“Because everything is okay.”

“But you’re hurt, Y/n. Do you not see that?” Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to push your limits in this case even when it is just for fun. Has it ever stopped Izuku from doing the same? You watched him how he destroyed himself just to make a point and win against Todoroki but he lost, and his wounds were more severe than you’d had seen. You don’t know how the boy in front of you got a quirk but he did and he was now telling you the same advice you were sure he was told.

“How about you take your own advice, Izuku,” You had told him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “I understand you are worried but I’m fine. Really.” You were able to tell that he was not satisfied with your response. He walked closer to you and sat at the chair that was near your bed. It was only there because Recovery Girl was talking to you as she made sure you were okay. You had focused on the boy, not realizing that he had begun to talk again.

“I understand how you feel about Kaachan but he is truly is worried about you.”

“I can’t really say that’s true when he doesn’t show his feelings towards anyone. All he does is get angry.” It went silent again and neither one of you said a single thing, not even when Izuku left the room to let you rest. Your thoughts were cloudy and you weren't sure if the only reason you felt like that was because Izuku came to see you. He mentioned Katsuki knowing that you felt some sort of way about him. Of course, he knew. 

It had been a while of just sitting around, seeing a lot of your classmate enter and disappear, going back to the probably rowdy lunch room. You were astonished by the student coming in and out, questioning you whether or not you were okay. Your sadden eyes took notice of the look on some of their faces, showing signs of worry and you hadn't felt cared for in this way for a long time. It was even more apparent in Izuku's eyes, the way his lips tried turning upright into a smile but quickly turned into a frown.

Going through the many possibilities of what to do as you rested, the groans came out each time you tried adjusting yourself, your arms aching, becoming stiff when you moved them on top of your lap. It was getting late at this point, noticing that the sun outside was now setting, the beautiful oranges and pinks painting the sky. It looked very out of the ordinary but it was beautiful nonetheless. In the short time it took you to be mesmerized, recovery girl had entered the room, her clipboard in hand and someone else following her. It was Todoroki and Kirishima, looking guilty and you right away noticed it. You wondered if they were gonna apologize when it wasn't even their faults.

"Heyy," Kirishima's nervous voice elongating his greeting. Todoroki didn't say anything but you meeting his eyes was enough of a greeting to you. "How're you feeling?" The red headed added, coming closer to the bed with Todoroki trailing behind him.

"I'm okay. I should recover pretty soon," You answered with a soft smile.

"Was it serious?" Todoroki was the one to ask this time, and you tilted your head slightly to the side.

"In a way? But I'm fine." Your short responses only gave the boys knots in their stomach. Kirishima wasn't here for himself but he also wanted to apologize to you, remembering that the reason he was here was because of Bakugou.

"Hey, um, I'm sorry you ended up like this. I'm also sorry Bakugou caused a scene."

You shook your head. "I'm used to it. I've known him for years. It's not the first time he caused a scene like that especially in front of that many people."

Kirishima gave you a small smile, and rub the back of his neck. "I actually came on behalf of Bakugou. He was suppose to come but he didn't have the courage to do so. I'm sorry, he said he didn't want to but knowing him, I know it's because he's too shy."

Katsuki? Shy? Since when? You were completely confused but you felt as if asking would just make you sound dumb. The blonde was an aggressive Pomeranian who never thought and just acted on his feelings. You couldn't remember much of what happened but you heard his voice, and it was worrisome, which troubled you greatly. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to get your hopes up when it came to Bakugou. It will turn bad if your hopes just became that, hope.

You shook your head in disbelief and lightly smiled to Katsuki’s friend, making him a bit nervous when you tried adjusting yourself. “By the way, who won?” Both boys looked at each other, and Kirishima decided to respond for the both of them.

“It should be a given. He won a second time in a row.” You didn’t know whether to jump in joy , and even the faces of the boys seem off to you that it felt like they wanted you to be happy for the guy. You told yourself that you shouldn’t be but… maybe this time-

“I’m… glad he won.” It should have been convincing enough, but maybe not entirely, either way, Todoroki and Kirishima took the hint and didn’t press on, their now nervous expressions becoming softer. After the awkward silence, Kirishima smiled and reassured you that everything with Bakugou will be okay. Todoroki didn’t really know how to say goodbye so he nodded with a light blush, walking out before Kirishima. They were gone and the room became quiet again.

You hadn’t realized that you had been holding your breath, exhaling and letting the heaviness of your heart finally deplete as you laid back into your pillow. “Am I really glad he won?”

You had left the infirmary with a brace holding your arm in place. You went home with you parents, walking into your room and sitting on your bed with your mind very much occupied with the events that happened today. You looked around with your eyes pinpointing a small plush that was gifted to you at a young age. It was nothing too weird, just a regular cat plush that a particular blonde had gifted to you. He was sweet back in middle school, even if he was bullying Deku all the time.

You walked over to it, looking it over and inspecting it with the saddest eyes and smile. You let it go, playing it next to your old instruments you don’t play anymore. It will gather up dust if it stays there, but that’s okay. You felt like this was better than letting him get to your head. He rarely came to you unless it was to fight and argue, and even Deku was no exception. They aren’t your friends anymore, but you’re glad they are striving, and you have to do the same.

[not-wholly-unheroic]

Viewing Disney’s Peter Pan Through the Eyes of an Adult

Recently, I’ve seen several posts floating around talking about how Disney’s Hook is difficult for people to take seriously and is much too comical for what Barrie had intended. I grew up with Disney’s Hook. He was my first introduction to the character and the reason why I became interested in reading classic literature, writing fanfic, and seriously delving into the analysis of complex villainous/antagonistic characters, so he has a very special place in my heart and I’m prone to be quick to defend him. Rather than writing a long-winded reply to these individual posts, I decided to just make my own explaining why Disney’s Hook can be viewed as just as tragic and sympathetic as any other version. (You can also read some of my earlier posts defending Disney’s Hook here and here.)

*takes a deep breath* *cracks knuckles* Buckle up kiddos! You’re in for a long ride!

My view of Disney’s Hook as a tragic character lies primarily in my sympathy for him when he switches from a proud, elegant, dangerous character to a shivering mess of a man when the crocodile comes around. Let me attempt to elaborate--but first, a bit of a necessary digression.

Every film/book/play, etc. can be viewed from several perspectives. Typically, there is one character that we are meant to like and who becomes the primary focus of the story. Anyone who opposes that character is automatically an antagonist, if not a villain. Usually, even if the point of view is omniscient, we can still tell that it is not, perhaps, entirely objective in its portrayal of certain characters. This sort of situation happens all the time on the evening news--the interviewer is, in theory, supposed to be a neutral reporter on an incident, but it is often obvious that they favor one side of an issue over another, and as a result, the public's view of the situation and those involved is skewed. The lens through which we view a certain character tends to do the same thing. For instance, in Les Miserables (another favorite story of mine), Javert is viewed as an antagonist because the book is primarily concerned with the redemption story of Valjean; however, if the story was flipped and instead focused on the inspector's character and his transition from a strict legalist to a man so broken by the idea of morality that he commits suicide, he would, perhaps, be viewed instead as a tragic HERO instead of a tragic ANTAGONIST. Javert likely does many GOOD things in the name of the law as well during his career, but we don't see most of them because he isn't the main focus of the book. Similarly, I think Disney’s Hook can be more greatly appreciated as TRAGIC instead of COMICAL when we consider the lens through which we are viewing him.

Disney has always been geared toward children, so naturally, when they tell a story, they want the material to be attractive to a younger audience. This means not only that certain more frightening or upsetting elements of a story may be left out, edited, or altogether changed, but also that WE VIEW THE CHARACTERS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD. (For example, in The Little Mermaid, King Triton's opposition to Ariel going to the surface world is presented in such a way that he seems extremely harsh when, in reality, he is father trying to keep his daughter safe. True, he DOES overreact, but remember, Ariel is only sixteen--not even LEGALLY an adult--and wants to run off with some guy she hasn’t even had a conversation with. But kids can relate to overbearing parents who, in a moment of disagreement, seem like they are being "mean," so that is how the audience sees Triton.) Peter Pan, especially, with its protagonist(s) as a child/children, really magnifies this perspective to the point where, unfortunately, some of the characters become almost caricatures of themselves. When children are legitimately afraid of something, they react one of two ways: Either they run from it/avoid it altogether, or they make-believe that whatever is frightening them is actually a lot less terrifying than it is so that they appear brave. I remember when I was younger, I used to be TERRIFIED of Monstro, the whale from Pinocchio. I couldn't watch the film without getting nightmares. But I didn't want to be afraid of watching the movie, so with my overactive imagination, I decided that I could fix that by turning him into a less scary version of himself and making him into an imaginary friend who more closely resembled Willy the anthropomorphic opera-singing whale from Make Mine Music than the terrifying creature we see in Pinocchio. Anyway, getting back to the point--I overcame my fear of the character by choosing to imagine that he was less scary than he was. This is what a lot of children do, and I think it's why Disney's Hook comes off as being comical.

The first time we see Disney Hook on screen, he actually comes across as pretty terrifying. He literally shoots his own crew member just because he didn't like the guy's singing! Rarely do we actually see Disney villains successfully kill another character on screen, but Hook does not even five minutes into his introduction. Immediately, we get the impression (or at least, a child should get the impression), that Hook is a genuinely dangerous guy. He also seems to regard his loss of a hand as "a childish prank," which further gives us the impression that he apparently has a pretty high pain tolerance and isn't afraid to do horrible, gruesome things to his enemies. If chopping someone's hand off is "childish," then what sort of serious damage does he inflict on his victims? However, this is Disney, and rather than having Hook gut someone or do something else which might scar a kid for life, we soon see he has a weakness...the crocodile. At this point, the Darling kids have been watching Hook for several minutes from their perch up on the cloud and are, probably, starting to have some second thoughts about fighting real pirates when they seem so scary...so what do they do? They do the same thing I did and turn him into a less-scary version of himself. They find his weakness and latch onto it. And since we're viewing things primarily from their perspective, that's how WE start to see Hook too. Hook's fear of the crocodile becomes comical for the audience because the Darling kids are trying to focus on that aspect of him so that they are can forget how terrifying he really is. We see this more frightening side of Hook come out a few more times, such as when he plans to blow up Pan's hideout...and at this point, we even catch a brief glimpse of the more sinister part of Smee when he asks Hook if it wouldn't be more humane for them to slit his throat...AND THIS IS SMEE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!!! The LEAST frightening of the pirates in ANY version. But I think Disney throws this in just to remind us that Smee is still a pirate, and if HE'S willing to do something THAT bad, Hook is a thousand times worse. However, for the most part, Hook still remains a rather softened, comical version of himself because we are viewing him through the child-lens. Remove that lens, though, and things become more complicated.

Forget, for a moment, that we are supposed to be rooting for the Darling children and Pan, and look again--not as a frightened child who is trying to laugh in the face of danger but as an adult who can feel Hook's pain. I remember one time when I was driving back from the airport in a busy city in the dark and the road was icy...I'm not used to driving in ice, and I'm a naturally nervous driver...At one point, I skidded into the next lane... I literally spent about the next hour hyperventilating, practically rocking myself back and forth, praying, and trying not to cry because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to see the road. It was horrible... Take that sort of feeling, and I believe it's what Disney Hook is experiencing when the crocodile shows up. Through the "child-lens" it may be funny to see a frightening character in a vulnerable situation, but viewing it as an adult who understands just HOW helpless and terrified one feels in such a situation, you can't help but empathize with Hook. Every move he makes, every tremble in his voice, every look of absolute horror in his eyes tells you that he is not mentally or physically really functioning at the moment. He's on autopilot--he's in survival mode like a wild animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen by the approaching predator. Take away the crocodile's obviously silly "theme-music" and Hook's slightly overdone expressions, and you're left with something similar to what we see Hook experience in the novel near the end of the chapter, "The Pirate Ship." ("Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap...he crawled on his knees along the deck as far from the sound that he could go...'Hide me,' he cried hoarsely.") Now we can start appreciating him for the tragic villain that he is supposed to be.

Viewed through the eyes of the Darling children, Hook represents all that is frightening and bad about the grown-up world. If Peter is ice cream parties and summer vacations and catching fireflies in the dark, then Hook is cancer and broken dreams and being worried about being able to make enough money to put food on the table. Barrie, however, tells us that there is much more to both characters than that. Peter has a dark side--a selfish streak that forgets all pain at the cost of never learning from the past, never growing from his experiences and becoming a better person. He is stagnant not only in physically growing up but also in mentally facing reality, which is just as damaging as Hook's attitude of regretting a childhood apparently gone too soon. Hook, too, has a lighter side that loves soft music and flowers and other such things (representative of the good things about being an adult--falling in love, pursuing one's passions in a professional sense, having children of one's own). Disney, of course, doesn't quite do this to the same extent as Barrie since we're given a skewed view of the characters, but it DOES still make a few points which, when stripped of the "child-lens" effect, gives off a similar impression. Peter, for instance, brags to the mermaids at one point about cutting off Hook's hand and feeding it to the crocodile. Though we never get to hear him finish the tale, it is rather unsettling to think that Disney's Pan is capable of such horror. (Personally, no matter WHAT the circumstances of the situation were, I think any real-life child who took such great pleasure in slicing off a body part of another person and then having the presence of mind to feed said body part to a dangerous wild animal would probably be considered a psychopath in need of some SERIOUS counseling.) Disney, of course, glosses over this little inconvenience by having Hook show up before he can really get any further into the story. Again, the child-lens is going up; Wendy doesn't want to see this side of Peter, and neither does the child-based audience, so they choose to look away. However, we see a brief glimpse of this side of Pan again at Skull Rock. First, we see it resurface when he hands Smee a gun and then flies up directly in front of Hook--knowing that he can move out of the way in time. Again, through the child-lens of the audience, it seems funny to watch Smee doing his best (and failing terribly) to aim at Pan...but when you think about it from an adult's perspective, it's actually pretty disturbing. Peter legitimately wants Hook dead and doesn't care if it happens to be at the hand of one of his own crewmen (and arguably, in the Disney universe, Hook's only real friend). When Hook "dies," Peter simply takes the hat and says nonchalantly, "What a pity, Mr. Smee. I'm afraid we've lost the dear captain." It doesn't even phase him that a man might have just died and poor Smee is probably feeling absolutely HORRIBLE because it was (sort of) his fault. Even Wendy's child-lens falters a little here... While Peter is celebrating Hook's death, she at least, has enough of an adult's heart to have compassion on their fallen enemy and turn her face away with an, "Oh, how dreadful!" It happens again a few moments later when Peter is getting ready to kick Hook's hook off the ledge so that he falls into the waiting jaws of the crocodile. (The captain, at this point, is of course, squirming like--to use Peter's phrasing--"a codfish on a hook.") Again, Pan has no sympathy, but Wendy, who is starting to gradually open up her eyes to the truth that maybe staying a child forever isn't all it's cracked up to be and maybe adulthood isn't entirely bad, is losing her "child-lens." Not entirely. Not to the point where she doesn't continue to view Hook as comical to keep from being afraid. But enough to know that what Peter is about to do is wrong. She expresses this verbally when she shouts, "Oh, Peter, NO!"

It is at this point, shortly after the crocodile chase, that we start to see Hook become more of a legitimate threat (and a legitimately sympathetic character) again. Why? Because Wendy, as the protagonist and the one whose eyes we are looking through even more so than Pan, is starting to grow up and face reality for what it is--scary or not. As she sings "Your Mother and Mine" and tells her brothers that they NEED a mother--that Neverland has been fun but they NEED to go home--Hook is throwing Tinkerbelle in a lantern and planning to kidnap the kids and blow Pan to smithereens. And then we get the "slit his throat" reminder (mentioned above)... Also, as a side note, when Hook is ill after the crocodile chase, we hear him lamenting how Pan has made him look like a fool yet again. This is also something that I think we can appreciate more as adults. All Hook's crew wants is to go back to haunting the Spanish Main, but Hook refuses to leave Neverland because he feels that he has to remain there until he can regain his pride...which in and of itself is admirable, since many people who have been played the fool simply hang their head and walk away in shame. Here's this guy who has been bested by a child no more than twelve or thirteen--and possibly much younger... How must that feel? I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship where I was constantly reminded how I couldn’t do anything right, and it felt SO degrading. I literally just wanted to go hide away in my room and cry because I felt so incompetent and useless and just plain stupid. So how does Hook feel? Probably the same way. But he doesn't give up. If there's one thing we can say for sure about Disney Hook, he's a fighter. So, I guess you could say that, in part, one reason I find Disney Hook so sympathetic and tragic is because I can identify with him in his crippling reaction to fear and admire him for his bold attempts to reclaim his pride.

Anyway, getting back on track with the storyline... As we near the end of the film, Hook once again appears to lose face at the final showdown. At first, this doesn't seem to make sense if Wendy is, in fact, beginning to lose the child-lens. However, although Hook is defeated, we are never actually shown that he dies (and obviously, from the second film, in the Disney universe, he doesn't). I remember reading somewhere that when they were originally working on Peter Pan, Walt Disney chose to keep Hook alive and just have him "going like hell" rather than actually dying because, "the audience will get to liking Hook." And by this point, we have...those of us still looking through the child-lens love to hate him as a character we can laugh at, and those of us who are more grown-up love him for being just like us--an adult who is STILL growing up, in some ways, who is STILL afraid of certain things and hasn't always learned his lessons and isn't perfect but also isn't willing to give up even when everything is against him and everyone is laughing at him and nothing seems to go right.

Now, I said that at first, it doesn't seem to make sense for us to view Hook in a comical light in this scene if we are viewing the movie primarily through the eyes of the Darling children--particularly Wendy, who is starting to grow up and realize that adults are supposed to feel things like compassion for one's enemies. However, Wendy is still a child. She IS still afraid of growing up. In fact, she's terrified. And that comes out when the kids are all mocking Hook. He's still frightening to them. They still need the security blanket of pretend sometimes, of focusing on his more comical, vulnerable side...but they don't defeat Hook by killing him in this version, and I think that's significant. As representative primarily of the "scary" parts of growing up, Hook is temporarily cast aside and shoved to the back of their minds, but he IS NOT DEAD. The kids (and even Pan) know he may come back. They know he isn't gone for good. One day, they will have to face adulthood. One day, Hook--in the guise of mortgages and taxes and wars and sickly older parents--will return. But for now, they have defeated him...not just by pretending but by choosing to accept the responsibility of growing up eventually, in their own good time. Even Peter starts to reflect this theme by beating Hook, "man to man" without the use of flight. Wendy, who wants to be the good grown-up but who isn't quite ready to let go of childhood, warns Peter against it, thinking that it may be a trap. She even goes so far as to shout at him to fly when he has the chance even though he has promised not to. But Disney Pan is a bit more mature than some (maybe Wendy's better judgment is wearing off on him), and he keeps his word. He beats Hook "like a man" NOT like a boy. Pan's victory here symbolically reflects the Darling children's decision to face adulthood by going back to London. Thus, Hook is defeated because adulthood is no longer an obstacle which causes a fear is so crippling that the kids can't face it. When Wendy returns home, we get one last glimpse of this truth in Mr. Darling--the real-world representative of all things frightening and frustrating about growing up and, as I'm sure you know, also (significantly) voiced by Conried--who has done some "growing up" himself. Mr. Darling, it seems, is willing to allow Wendy a bit more time to enjoy life as a child, remembering his own childhood fondly, even as Wendy has chosen to accept the responsibility of growing up. Mr. Darling, who much like Hook, was viewed previously by the kids (and by extension, the audience) as a bit of a bully and an object of ridicule, is now the object of Wendy's affection as a mutual understanding is reached. Adulthood is frightening in many ways, but Wendy has also come to realize that it is necessary to take responsibility for one's actions and feel compassion for others just as Mr. Darling has realized that sometimes, it's okay for kids to be kids and enjoy the moment. Essentially, what I'm saying is--borrowing the idea that Hook and Mr. Darling are two sides of the same coin--Hook in Neverland, chased away by the crocodile, appears as comical in the last scene only because he effectively gets one last serious scene through his London counterpart, staring wistfully out the window with a loving wife and child by his side. Wendy isn't quite yet grown up, so she still sees through the child-lens on occasion, but she is learning, gradually, to embrace that which she once feared. She no longer needs Hook, an imaginary figure, to personify that fear. She now has her father back, and though she now RESPECTS what he stands for, she is no longer so terrified of growing up that she can't appreciate the GOOD side of the future (such as having a husband and a family of her own someday) and look forward to it.

[thewildomega]

Second Chance Ch.13

The first thing you noticed as you came to was the strong scent of Edward. That cedar smell mixed with the saltiness of the sea and something that was all him. Parting your still heavy eyes you could make out his chest and neck, some golden strands of hair laying across his skin. There was only a little bit of early morning light but you glanced up to his face to see him still sleeping, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. Smiling at the handsome giant as the memories from last night flooded your mind you felt an immense warmth spread in your chest. He loved you, he had told you he loved you and you loved him. Blushing you let out a soft sigh before going to ease out of the bed, just now realizing you would have to crawl off the end or over top of him since the bed was against the wall on what was apparently your side. However you were quickly stopped when a strong arm pulled you back down. 

Humming he wrapped his arms around the woman and held her to his chest, turning back over to his side. "Too early to get up lass." he told her with his eyes still closed, his voice thick with sleep. 

"Don't you want breakfast?" smiling softly at how cuddly he was being. 

"Mmmmm. Rather have you here in my arms." 

Giggling you pushed your face into his chest and hugged him. With the sound of his strong heart and his soothing warmth you quickly felt yourself falling back asleep but shook your head some and moved to try and wiggle out of his arms, you had things to do today. Hearing a deep groan you sighed as he only tightened his arms, wrapping his legs around your own. "Ed I have to get up." 

"No." 

"I have to. I have to help Mrs. Gia organize her store." 

Lifting his lip he continued holding her, "Why?"

"Because she was telling me and Zella the other day how she hadn't done it in years and how it needed to be done, how she was dreading it because her back and knees ache so much afterwards." you explained. 

"Still doesn't explain why you have to do it." 

Turning him to his back you lifted your head to look down at him. "Because I don't mind and it's the right thing to do." 

Humming he looked up at her. "Old bat's back might not hurt so bad if she hadn't have chased me all over the island when I was little, beating me with the broom." 

Giggling you propped up on his wide chest and looked down at him. "I'm sure you deserved it." 

Tilting his head he smirked, "Probably, I put a skunk in her store once, place stunk for a week." 

"That's so mean." you laughed. 

Chuckling he smiled up at her bed hair and her sparkling eyes, her large smile. Keith had told him once at the bar how he was happy to see her smiling so much now, something apparently she had never done that much before he had showed up. She looked beautiful to him and a swell of pride came over him when he remembered last night. She loved him and he loved her. He had loved her for a while but it was nice to be able to tell her and know his feelings were reprocritated. "What's something bad you have done darling?" 

Humming you tried to think back. "When I was living with my grandparents they used to make fun of me for my hair not being as nice as their family's line so I poured out their shampoo and refilled the bottle up with Nair." Seeing his confusion on the product you grinned, "Hair remover." When his eyes went wide and he laughed you nodded, "Yea it was pretty bad, it didn't even all come off evenly it was like big patches for the both of them... my grandfather had this long goatee and yea that got it too." 

Laughing he smiled up at her. "Is Zella helping you as well?" he asked and saw her nod. "Do you know about what time you will be done?"

"Should be a little after lunch. Why?"

"No reason." he lied. 

"Your sons should be here by tonight shouldn't they?" 

"Yes." Humming he reached up to brush her hair back, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I'm excited for them to meet you." 

"I'm excited too, a little nervous but excited." you admitted. 

"You don't need to be nervous, they will love you." Seeing her smile softly and look down he knew she still felt nervous and he understood, meeting new people made most people nervous but he also had a hunch she also felt that way because of her own insecurities.

"Maybe I'll just have to make pizza to win them over like I did Marco." you told him and heard him laugh. 

.......................................

Wiping the sweat from your brow you restacked the items on the now clean shelves. Once you were done you stood back and smiled, giving a firm nod. 

"It looks wonderful dear, thank you, both of you." Mrs. Gia spoke. 

Smiling you looked down to the elderly woman. "You're welcome. Glad to be able to help. If you ever need anything else just let me know." 

"Yes." Zella smiled, nodding as well.

Leaving the store you walked back beside Zella towards the market when she said she needed to pick up a few things. Talking about this and that you agreed on the both of you cooking for everyone tonight. Deciding on curry since it was rather easy and could be made into a large batch. You were just in the middle of going over the list with her when you felt a hand wrap around your waist. Startling a bit you snapped your eyes over to see Ed standing there smiling. 

"All done with the store?" he asked and saw both of the women nod. "Good. Mind if I take y/n away Zella dear?" he asked his daughter. 

Smiling Zella looked up to her father in law, "Not at all." 

"I'll be there to help you later okay." you told her and saw her smile and nod. 

Spinning her around he walked her towards the sea. 

"Where are we going?" you asked. 

"It's a secret lass." he told her with a smile, taking her hands and spinning her around to his back. 

Smiling as he carried you you kept your arms wrapped around his neck, his large, warm hands holding your thighs. "So what have you been up to all morning?"

"Helped Marco get things ready for when Izo, Vista and Jozu arrive." 

"Me and Zella are going to make curry for supper." you told him and heard him hum making you smile. You had quickly found out it was one of his favorite foods. 

"Sounds good darlin'." Coming up on the Whaleship he felt her head perk up some. "Hold on."

Tightening your hands you leaned closer into him as he jumped off the rocks and onto the deck of the ship. You still had no idea how he managed to jump so high, even being as large as he was. Once his feet were on the deck he swung you around to his front but didn't put you down. Now even with his eyes you smiled softly, a light blush coming to your face at the way he was looking at you. "You know, you keep carrying me around all the time and people will think I'm a cripple." you joked. 

"Let em' think whatever they want. I hold you because I'm afraid if I let go I'll wake up and you will have been nothing but a dream."

Hearing his sweet words made that fluttering in your chest increase tenfold and before you could think twice you were pressing a kiss to his cheek. Realizing what you had done you pulled away and kept your eyes from his. Swallowing hard you chanced a glance up to his face and saw he was still looking at you, his warm yellow eyes now softer if possible. "I won't disappear until you want me to." 

"That's never gonna happen." he assured her in a deep voice. Seeing her give him that gentle smile he sighed. Remembering what he had planned he carried her over to the middle of the deck and set her down but kept his hand on her back. 

Looking over the top deck of the ship you grinned then looked up at him. "So the Moby Dick was kinda like this one?"

Nodding he looked down to her at his side. "For the most part, the Moby Dick was larger and the whale on the front was white instead of blue. This one is also a paddleship where mine wasn't." Seeing her nod he took a deep breath as the memories came back to him, the memories of that day. When he heard her speaking he snapped out of his thoughts and looked down to see a look of concern on her beautiful face. 

"You okay?" you asked him, worried when he had zoned out and a darkness overcame his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath he nodded. "Just a lot of memories lass. Now what was it you asked before?"

Still looking at him for a moment you saw that light return and turned your eyes back to the ship. "I asked if most ships have the same layout?"

"Depends really, I've come across some that are completely different but all of mine mostly had the same." Glancing up to the deck and then back down to her he smiled, "Come on, I'll give you the tour." he told her and saw her smile. 

For the next hour he showed you around the ship. He took you all over the deck, telling you what each thing did before you both moved bellow deck. Seeing the cargo hold which you noted was full of barrels and wooden crates along with cloth bags you were walking around with him when something bumped your foot. Reaching down you picked it up and saw it was a coconut and grinned before holding out for him to take. 

"I told them boys to stop leaving shit out like that." he grumbled, finding the create with the coconuts in it and dropping it back inside. Turning back he saw her smiling and grinned. "What?"

"Nothing. You just... well you sound like a dad." you told him with a smile that grew hen you saw him blush lightly. Feeling his large hand come back to your back, taking up the whole lower half you walked with him towards another area. There was the brig which he told you mostly stayed empty.

"I used to lock the boys in there though if they started fussing too much, made em' stay in there until they sorted it out." he told her and heard her laugh.

The large room on the second deck held a mess hall where everyone ate, beside it being the kitchen. There was the crew quarters, a large room filled with bunkbeds and dressers. A floor that he referred to as the gun room, cannons and such lining the walls. Other rooms were here and there each having their own purpose until he opened the door to a room in the back of the ship...

"And this is the captain's quarters." opening the door and allowing her to step inside before he moved in behind her. He had already looked over the ship the week they had arrived back in his world so he knew everything was in order. 

Looking over the large room you saw a desk, a couch, a wardrobe and a large bed. They were all made of the same dark wood, the couch a deep blue color matching the bedding. It was all simple but nice. "Was your cabin like this as well?" you asked as you looked at everything, your eyes finding refuge on the wall that held many built in shelves lined with books and other things. 

"For the most part. Bed was a bit bigger and I had a little more things inside." he told her. Looking down at her he saw her eyes looking over it all, taking it in. When her eyes looked to the bookcase he saw delight fill them and grinned, he knew she loved books. Oddly though he noticed her stay right where she had been standing beside him and tilted his head. She had been the same way in his home, she never went out of her way to touch anything other than when she was straightening up. Now that he thought of it if someone was to go into his home they wouldn't even be able to tell she lived there. Did she not feel comfortable? He knew that she had never been welcome anywhere growing up and now that he thought back he realized she never called her own house, home. She had always referred to it as 'the house'. He didn't want her to feel like that with him. He wanted his home to be their home. He knew her well enough to know that he couldn't just tell her that though. Blinking he saw her still looking to the books and placed his hand on her back to give her a small push forward. 

Looking to him when he pushed you, you saw him with his head tilted forward a bit and a relaxed grin on his face. Turning back to the books you slowly walked over to them and read over the different colored spines. 

Seeing her so caught up with the books he chuckled softly and moved over to sit in the chair at the desk. Glancing over the paperwork there he was looking at the maps when he saw her out of the corner of his eye walking towards him. Seeing her holding a book he rose a brow, "What caught your attention darling?" 

 Walking over to him you held out the green book and went to tell him when you were lifted up and placed down on his lap. Feeling your cheeks and neck catch fire you raised your eyes to him and saw him just grinning like he was. Feeling a warmth in your pelvis you bit the inside of your lip. Swallowing thickly you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked down to the book, holding it out for him to take. 

"The history of the underwater world" he read aloud. This one wasn't his, must have been one of his sons'. Humming he held it back to her. "Fishman Island has a interesting history, should be a good read." 

"Fishman Island?"

"An island at the bottom of the sea, it's where the fishmen and mer race live." 

Smiling you took hold of the book but kept your eyes on him. "Mer race, like mermaids? Your son Namur is a fishman right? Have you ever ben there? What's it like?"

Chuckling at her interest he wrapped his arm around her, placing his hand on her hip and pulling her more into him. She had relaxed now, her eyes shining in excitement as she looked to him. "Yes lass, mermaid and fishmen alike live there. Namur is a whitetip shark fishman, all of them can be different types. Been there many times, in fact it used to be one of my territories..." 

.........................

Getting out plates and such you set the table, your hands shaking. Marco had went to meet his brothers at the port while Zella had went to make other arrangements. From what Marco had said he thought it would be best if he had a moment to talk to his brothers before he brought them over to see their alive father. So here you were trying to help get everything set up so all of you could have supper. Ed had went to take a shower after you had said you had everything under control. Truthfully you were still very nervous about meeting three more of his sons. Even more so now that the both of you had confessed your love to one another. You weren't sure if Marco knew yet, if Ed had told him anything but he had at least been able to meet you before hand. Ed had said that they would love you but he couldn't know for sure. If they didn't like you, you weren't sure what you would do. You would never make him choose between his family and you. No. If for some reason they didn't like you or you being here made things awkward then you would have no choice but to leave. Just the thought made your heart constrict painfully and your eyes water a little. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, silently begging that they liked you. 

Quickly looking over everything you made sure everything was perfect before going back into the kitchen to wash up the few dishes. So caught up in your thoughts you didn't hear the door open or the voices before a very deep voice spoke, startling you and making your hands jerk, the knife you had been washing slicing open your palm. 

"Who the hell are you?" 

Snapping your eyes behind you to the opening you saw a group of men there, Edward's sons. Quickly grabbing the rag to wrap around your hand you clenched it in a tight fist and held it behind your back. Knowing them from the pictures you knew the tall one was Jozu, Izo was the one dressed in the kimono and vista had the curled mustache. Quickly noting that Marco wasn't with them nor Zella you looked to all of their confused and possibly angry faces. Instantly all of your self doubts came smashing back into your mind and you felt your heart hammer in your chest. 

"Who are you and what are you doing in our pop's house?" Jozu asked in a gruff voice. 

Swallowing hard you opened your mouth to speak when you were cut off, this time by Vista. 

"Jozu don't be so gruff with the young lady..."

"Shut it Vista. I want to know who she thinks she is making herself at home in our late father's house." 

"I agree I would like to know whos she is." Izo spoke. 

"Is this what Marco said he needed to speak to us about?"

"Maybe that's why he didn't want us coming in yet..."

Looking from one to the other as they spoke you licked your lips. 

"I don't care who she is I don't want her staying here." 

Curling up a bit you could feel your hands starting to shake again, it was what you were afraid of, they didn't like you. 

"What is your name?"

"Jozu you're scaring the poor girl."

"M...my name is..." you started in a whisper but were cut off again. 

"Speak up woman..."

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Snapping your eyes over to where the voice had come from behind them you saw Ed standing there. He stood tall, his large arms crossed over his wide chest that was bare per usual, his damp hair falling down his shoulders. He wore his tan pants with his scarf tied about his waste but his feet you noticed were bare. Looking back up to his face you saw his brows and lips set in a firm line. His yellow eyes were still warm but there was also this edge about them. He looked dangerous and you found yourself blushing as you realized the warmth settling in your pelvis. 

"P...pops?" The three said in unison, their voices breaking.

"I told you three to wait a damn minute!" Marco grumbled.

"That's not..."

"How..."

"No... no it can't be..."

"Maybe he's a zombie?"

"He can't be a zombie he's not even old anymore."

Hearing his sons all start conversating with themselves and then turning on Marco he rolled his eyes and looked back to see her still standing by the sink. She looked stiff and her eyes were focused on the floor. Taking a breath he walked across the room, past the men still bickering and over in front of her. Curling his finger under her chin he lifted her eyes to his. 

Slowly raising your eyes to his you took notice of the drops of water running from his hair. Seeing it go over his extremely toned chest you felt that warmth turn into a tingling that dropped between your thighs and swallowed hard. No. No, bad y/n. Meeting his yellow eyes you saw him simply stare at you for sometime, like he was reading you. Feeling his warm, calloused thumb brush your jaw and cheek you gave him a small grin. 

Returning her grin he moved his hand down to her lower back and stood beside her before looking back at his sons. "Are you all done then?" he asked them. When they all stopped and turned to look to him he saw Marco move to lean against the wall, Zella moving to stand beside him.

Relaxing a bit when Ed stood beside you, pulling you into his side some you moved your hands in front of you, glancing down to the towel and seeing the blood had thankfully not soaked through. Still holding it in your hand to hide your stupid injury you looked back to the group of men as Ed spoke.

Raising his chin he looked to each of their faces and smiled. "Now I am sure you all have plenty of questions that I will answer over supper. To answer your first question Jozu this here is my lass, her name is Y/n and she saved me." Feeling her eyes lift to his he rubbed her back with his thumb. 

[thestraggletag]

The Game, a Rumbelle Chess AU

Summary: Inspired by The Queen’s Gambit. When Arran Gold first lost a chess game against Belle French, he thought that nothing would feel better than wining against her. But the more he lost, the less he minded, and more eager he was for their next game.

AN: Look, it’s a bad summary but a good fic, I promise. Also both games described in the fic are real games that can be played. Here, for example, is their last game.

Rating: Explicit.

He couldn’t recall exactly when the tradition had begun. Long ago, when he had only owned about half the town and had yet to adopt his more refined image. A tenant, a once-wealthy businessman who had once had “old money” and had wasted it away in reckless business ventures, had challenged him to a game of chess in lieu of the rent. He had likely thought that Mr Gold, a lowborn Scotsman with a thick brogue and brusque manners, was unlikely to even know the rules of chess. He had trounced the fool in less than twenty minutes, and only because he had toyed with him first.

Chess, after all, was something he knew well. His aunties had taught him as a child, but it hadn’t been till university that he had gotten to love the game, after finding out there was a veritable underground circuit of contests and tournaments that could pay his way through law school. He had developed an irreverent yet aggressive style, completely unpolished but completely brutal. In spite of his quickly-gained reputation he had never lacked opponents. There were always posh idiots who were sure their sophisticated gameplay could beat his street smarts. They were never correct. He had developed a nickname, over the years, given to him in honour of his savage style of play and his ruthless approach to the game: Beast. He considered quite a compliment.

He had thought about going pro, entering formal tournaments and acquiring a ranking, but the life of a chess player, and even that of a grandmaster, wasn’t particularly profitable compared to practicing law or going into business and he aimed to accumulate wealth and power as much of it and as fast as possible. He had kept up with his secret hobby, though, sometimes catching televised tournaments or reading about them later, enjoying the process of dissecting a game, sometimes thinking of how he would have won against a particular opponent. But it had never occurred to him to play against anyone in Storybrooke till the challenge came. It had attracted lots of attention at the time and people had turned up at the library that Sunday to watch them play.

Though he won, other people sought to challenge him, to the point where he had decided to establish an event of sorts. A chess day, once a year, in which anyone could challenge him. If they won he would forgive their rent for an entire year. There was no penalty for losing, at least none outright, but the shame of defeat meant most people challenged him only once. Besides it kept everyone from complaining during rent day for the rest of the year. And, he had to admit, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed playing cat and mouse with people, exerting power over them, watching as people’s confidence shrunk down and melted away.

He always looked forward to chess day, though that year perhaps less so. Storybrooke had acquired a new librarian around eight months before and, in spite of all of his efforts, she did not think ill of him. Belle French was, apparently, immune to the gossip of the town about him and his own brusque manner and dark humour. She even seemed to enjoy the later, which made him uneasy and… nervous. A strange, unsettling form of nervous.

It didn’t help that she was insultingly kind, surprisingly sarcastic and delightfully witty. The sort of person that could spar with words and make it look effortless. And smart enough to know that though he pretended to hate it, he loved it. She was also, regrettably, gorgeous. Smaller than him, with reddish brown hair and electric-blue eyes. An accent that wrapped around his name like a lover and an actual sense of fashion, which was almost unheard of in Storybrooke and the only thing most people seemed to hold against her, the town matrons disapproving of her short skirts and high heels. There was also a disarming quirkiness about her, a sense that she was somewhat otherworldly, like she belonged half to the mortal plain and half to the realm of stories and fantasies. He had seen her more than once walk around town lost in a book, dreamy-eyed and clearly miles away from the little town. He was always fascinated by how dreamlike she looked, how otherworldly.

Though he had tried to make her hate him for the first few months of their acquaintance, he had grown used to failing, and admitted to himself that it felt nice to have someone who would smile genuinely at the sight of him, who would treat him with kindness, who would be eager for his company and did not consider talking to him to be a chore. So he wasn’t looking forward to Miss French being exposed to angry tenants who called him names when he beat them, and wasn't really looking forward to her seeing him dash people’s hopes ruthlessly.  

It couldn’t be helped, though. And perhaps it was for the best, to have her see what everyone else saw. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. So he washed and shaved carefully that day and had a hearty breakfast- chess day tended to take up all of his morning and most of the afternoon, and he did not like having to take a break to eat, knowing that his stamina added to the image of him as some larger-than-life monster. He dressed with care, picking his favourite purple striped shirt and matching paisley tie. He added his sleeve garters and square cufflinks, though he was not expecting those to be visible at any point during the day. It still felt nice, empowering, to be impeccably dressed. 

By the time he reached the library there was already a crowd there, as well as the customary barren table, awaiting his chess set. He always played with the same set, an ebony and boxwood one from House of Staunton. It had the classical Staunton look and the hand carved pieces had a nice heft to them. He had bought it years ago, one of his first purchases after beginning to make serious money, costing him well over a thousand pounds back in the day. Not by any means among the more costly of chess sets, but the price spoke of its fine quality. 

He set the board down and opened the box with his pieces, arranging the whites on the side of the board furthest from him and setting the blacks on his side, careful to properly align the knights and position the pawns at the centre of their squares. He took out his clock next, which he had cleaned and serviced the day before, and sat down on his customary, throne-like bergère, the one that usually was the focal point of the Ancient History’s reading nook. In contrast the chair opposite him was one of the plain, serviceable ones that populated the study room at the library. He hoped, for his own amusement, that whoever had set up the place had picked the wobbly one.

It wasn’t long after he settled that a crowd formed around him, but it took almost half an hour for the first challenger to present themselves. It was, surprisingly enough, Dr Whale. The good doctor was one of the few people in town that made a nice, tidy six-figure income, mostly from his private practice. Whale, whoever, did like to live above his means, and it seemed it had finally caught up with him. Though he did not rent a house from him, he did rent his private office from him. It was large and well-located, and likely to detract quite a bit from his overall profit. 

The doctor looked cocky, in spite of Mr Gold’s infamous reputation around town as a chess player. And he didn’t even have to speculate as to why. Victor Whale was the prototypical Ivy-league alumnus, likely played chess for Dartmouth, his undergraduate alma mater, or Brown, where he had acquired his MD. He may perhaps once been ranked, if his smug grin was any indication. He took pains to hide his own savage smile, not willing to give his prey any hint of the carnage to come.

He drew it out, both for the audience and for the sheer pleasure of watching all of the doctor’s confidence and arrogance melt away, leaving an increasingly obfuscated and delightfully sweaty mess behind. And once he knew that he had pushed him as far as he could go he had gone in for the jugular, watching in delight as his opponent toppled his king. The crow murmured, unhappy. When he dragged a game out sometimes people got the idea that he might be struggling, that his challenger might actually have a chance. He enjoyed dashing that hope every single time.

As he rearranged the pieces back to their starting positions he caught a glimpse of a tweed flare skirt swishing about a familiar set of tight-clad legs. Miss French, as always, was impeccably dressed, the black sheer floral blouse a bit daring, perhaps, but carefully hidden by the demure cardigan she had over it. Her hair was in a French braid, the end tied together with a lovely silk ribbon in the same muted plum colour as her cardigan. He wondered at her clothes, which he recognised as high quality, likely expensive as hell. It cemented his idea that she came from money, and likely worked out of a genuine passion for books rather than necessity. Just as he studied her earrings-lovely gold studs in the shape of blooming roses, she turned her head, catching his eyes. He saw interest and curiosity, but no fear or disgust. Perhaps Whale was too unlikeable a victim to elicit sympathy from her.

Frederick Knight was next, playing not for a reprieve from his own rent- his teacher’s salary might not be impressive, but his wife pulled some major money working from home for a law firm in Boston- but for the pet shelter he volunteered out. Briefly he wondered how it all worked, how he could volunteer at the shelter run by his wife’s ex-husband, who had cheated on her with one of Knight’s own colleagues, causing the divorce that would eventually leave her free and available for them to meet and fall in love. Gold thought it was all rather unseemly.

The lad was smart, he would give him that. All that strategizing for baseball clearly carried on to chess, to a certain extent. Mr Knight clearly saw at least a few moves ahead, even if he did not have the skill to plan and anticipate more than that. In the end, because he was a decent enough bloke, Gold put him out of his misery quickly. It felt bad to drag it out unnecessarily. The man was gracious about defeat as well, something that was rare, offering his hand for a quick, firm shake, before leaving the board, no doubt to sink into the welcoming arms of Ms Midas. Though married, she had chosen to keep her last name, after the hassle it had been to change it back after the divorce. And yet there was no doubt that she loved her new husband more than she tolerated her ex, which even the strictest traditionalist in Storybrooke had to acknowledge. 

More people challenged him, as was the norm. Out of all of them only Mr Prentice put much of a fight. Gold could tell he was a man of some talent, and an old hand at the game, but too by-the-book to beat him. He implemented moves and strategies well, but did not have a creative bone in his body. A pity, really. He was the only one after Mr Knight to be mature in defeat, sadly. By the time four o’clock rolled around three people had upended the board after they had lost and at least one had made a move as if to punch him in the face. 

He reset the board with little expectation of playing again. It was late, the crowd was thinning, and people’s enthusiasm had died down considerably. He excused himself to go to the restroom, enjoying the brief walk after hours of sitting down. When he went back to the board, however, he froze up. Sitting on the challenger’s chair was the librarian herself, carefully unbinding her hair as she half-listened to something Miss Lucas was telling her.

He hadn’t foreseen this, the notion that the librarian might wish to challenge him. He had become resigned to having her smiles dimmed when they were directed at him, but nothing more. Certainly not this. 

“Miss French, I didn’t know you played.”

His voice was, by some miracle, even. The librarian smiled, shaking her hair out and wrapping the now unused ribbon around her fingers.

“I used to, some time ago. Still do, sometimes. In my head.”

She said that last part quietly, only for his ears.

“Well, what are the stakes going to be? Rent forgiven from the library for a year?”

“Oh, not, that would be too much. And I’m not sure that would be good for the library. That much money would surely go to what the mayor considers more… lucrative pursuits. But I thought, perhaps, that you could lower the rent of the library by a certain percentage, enough to cover for my apartment. I could use the extra money to refurbish the children’s section, and replace some stock. I could do without another brawl about who gets the last copy of The Polar Express come Christmastime.”

He smiled in spite of the cold spreading across his chest, constricting his lungs. He would be quick, he decided, better to have it over as soon as possible, so that afterwards perhaps Miss Lucas could coax Miss French into a consolatory drink or a slice of apple pie, her favourite. It wouldn’t be too bad, he convinced himself, and it would endear her to the other townspeople, that she braved the beast in pursuit of better reading experiences for their children.

He started her watch, a bit surprised when she moved right away, dragging a pretty white pawn to e4. He counted with his opposing pawn, and in his next move he captured his first piece, another pawn she had likely moved unsuspectingly into the line of his attacking one. She took out her knight then, and later a bishop, but he played more conservatively, using mainly his pawns, waiting for the moment where he could unfurl some of his more devastating attacks. He was startled by her castling her king. It gave him a firm idea that she was no amateur, and he adjusted to this new insight accordingly. He advanced his pawns further, seeing little overall sense and reason to her movements. She had her queen out, as well as a bishop, but had taken her knight back in and her pawns were scattered about, presenting little challenge.

And then she moved her bishop, lightning fast, and suddenly he was in check and the game did not look as it had a second before. He studied the board more carefully, instincts telling him there was danger in there. What once had looked devoid of logic now seemed elegant and strangely coordinated.

Like a dance, he thought. And somehow familiar.

He moved his king, and noticed people suddenly paying attention. She took her bishop away, looking amused, and he pressed on with his queen’s pawn, losing his first piece one move later. Feeling his hackles rising he took one of his bishops out, losing another pawn a second later after she took one of her knights out again. He disposed of it in the next move, thinking he had finally seen her make a mistake, but her rook advanced, threatening his king and bishop. He moved the former, thinking he was sure to lose the other piece, but surprisingly she moved her queen instead. Far from putting him at ease it was that move that made him aware that he was in front of a person that could likely beat him. And, almost against his will, the thought rose the competitive beast in him. 

He went savage, increasing the aggressiveness of his moves to an obscene degree. A chance look at Miss French, however, let him know that she found it amusing. She leaned over the board with interest, head tilted to a side and the fingers of her non-dominant hand tangled in her hair ribbon. Her eyes, barely visible from beneath her thick lashes from the way her face was tilted towards the board, sparkled, letting him know she was enjoying herself. Thoroughly.

He, on the other hand, felt strangely angry. Defensive. Exhilarated. He watched her as she made her bishops dance across the board, forcing him into another check and into a few defensive moves with his rooks, before her queen made her presence known once again, sliding across the board with both elegance and devastation. He took off his jacket, feeling too hot, and looked at the board again.

It was all so familiar. The style of play, he had seen it before. Like a dance, spontaneous yet choreographed, forcing him to respond in a certain way, backing him into a corner. He took one of her bishops and then a rook, when it came sliding into his side of the board, but it only made him feel more anxious, more like a creature trapped. Soon he was without his rooks and both his queen and his one remaining knight were in peril. But as he focused on them he missed the slow advance of a white pawn along the side of the board, flanked by the white queen and the remaining white rook. He sent his own queen out, trying to regain some semblance of control, but there wasn’t much the piece could do. In the end it was the queen, aided by the unassuming pawn, that forced his king into a checkmate. 

“I believe the game is over, Mr Gold.”

The librarian’s accent softened the blow of those words. She looked up at him, happiness and excitement written across her face, as if she had gone through some marvelous experience. But it wasn’t the smile of a winner, but rather the smile of a conspirator.

“I believe the game was over ten moves ago, Miss French.”

He could admit that now, even as people cheered around him, rubbing salt on the newly-opened wound. He watched as Miss Lucas briefly enveloped the librarian in a side-hug before turning her attention to other people celebrating. Miss French, however, didn’t seem to want to join. She simply stared at the board and then at him as if this was their own private thing, their shared, secret joy.

It felt too intimate, and it made him even more angry, that she seemed to think that he had somehow enjoyed getting his arse thoroughly kicked by her. Brusquely he stood up, putting his jacket and coat on quickly before a well-placed snarl opened a way out from the mass of people gathered around the chessboard. He would go home and lick his wounds and figure out a way to repair the damage to his reputation after he reached the bottom of his half-drunk bottle of Balvenie Tun 1509. 

It wasn’t until he was well and truly hungover that he realised, with a shock, that he had left his chess set behind. He left a message in Dove’s phone to have him call him back on Monday, so that he could instruct him to retrieve it for him. No need to go into the library for a few days. Or weeks. Might as well not step foot in it for the rest of the year, really. And no need to ever again think about the game, ever.

But after a couple of Tylenol and a lot of water, he found himself rethinking that last decision. There was something nagging at him about that game, and it would not let go of him. He knew he had seen that style of play before, but he could not recall where. He pulled up his collection of saved games, recreated from tournaments and world cups, and began analysing each of them, trying to find the same dreamlike, flowing style of play, like dancing. It wasn’t in the latest World Cup, or the one before, or in any of the recent tournaments. Not in the London Classic, or the Sinquefield Cup, or the Tata Steel. Not in any of the major American or European tournaments, so he branched out, looking at the Asian championships, the ACF Grand Prix and-

Something about the ACF gave him pause, so he went back through the tournaments he had saved, year after year. It wasn’t until he hit the 2006 Grand Prix that he saw it, a match where the blacks moved like in a ballet. He saw the name of the player, I. Avon, and did not recognise it at first. Then he searched for the recorded video of the match and realised why: I. Avon was Isabelle Avon, and she was usually known in internet circles by her nickname, Beauty. And the 2006 ACF Grand Prix had been her last major tournament. She had disappeared shortly after, and had caused a bit of a stir, specially amongst Australian chess enthusiasts, who thought she had the makings of a Grandmaster and even a top five world player. 

And yet, somehow, she had ended up as a librarian in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Maine, living under a different name, for some fucking reason.

He wouldn’t let it go once he knew, trying to piece the puzzle together. He had never seen pictures of Beauty, there were no headshots to be had, likely because she had been an up-and-coming player at the time and a minor for most of her active years. He had seen videos of her playing, but her hair tended to obscure her face in most of them. She had not won her nickname on account of her looks- though how painfully fitting it was, considering how attractive she was- but because of her playing. People praised her for her beautiful moves, how she built this gorgeous ballet of a strategy that was as effective as it was enchanting.

She had been described, in the few articles that talked about her personality, as quirky. Odd. A calm player, given to the occasional smile and never able to lift her eyes off the board, a dreamy look on her face. Quite unsettling, some people had said. 

She had dropped off the face of the chess world at age twenty, in 2006, and no one had heard from her again. Some people claimed to have played against her in an online tournament, but there was never a way to know for sure. He was sure now that at least some of these people were likely right. He delved more into whatever he could find about Isabelle Avon, but there wasn’t much. Though she had been at the time considered a chess prodigy she had been sheltered from press scrutiny likely by her parents, and had not given many interviews nor posed for many photographs. The few that circulated on the internet were of her as a very young teen, likely fifteen, when she had made her debut. He recognised her electric-blue eyes immediately, but the librarian’s fine bone structure was hidden behind layers of baby fat still not ready to peel off and her hair was a few shades lighter than it was now. Her mother was always with her in the pictures, as good-looking as elegant as her daughter had grown up to be, but her father was only in one of the pictures, a rather portly man that was rendered striking rather than dumpy by his height, which was considerable.

He found nothing to explain her retirement from chess, at least nothing official. He did find, however, a funeral notice in The Australian for a Colette Avon, neé French, dated December 2006. He felt sure that he had stumbled across the reason for Beauty’s fall from the chess circuit, and the origin of her new name. Why she had felt the need to create a completely new identity was, however, still unexplained.

And it bothered him, he found out soon enough. The more games of hers he saw the more he could appreciate her artistry, her craftsmanship. He could not conceive anyone having such talent, such passion for the game, and quitting, even over a personal tragedy like the loss of a beloved parent. He remembered how she had looked when she had played him, alive and excited, her pleasure obvious, and it cemented the idea that there was something he was missing. And he didn’t much care for it.

That’s how he found himself in the library weeks after his defeat, confronting the librarian. She was wearing a pretty burgundy shirtdress, prim and proper if not a wee bit short, and her hair tumbled down her back in a mess of curls, which was to be expected, since the library hours had ended twenty minutes ago. She wasn’t surprised to see him, nor did she appear hostile or otherwise on edge. Quite the contrary.

“Mr Gold, I’ve been expecting you.” She smiled up at him, and it felt a bit different from her previous smiles. Those had been lovely but this one felt more… personal. Intimate, somehow. Like they shared a secret. He supposed, in a way, they did. “You left your lovely chess set here. I’ve been holding onto it for you, keeping it safe. It’s in my office, do you want me to go get it for you?”

“Why did you change your name?”

He didn’t mean to blurt it out. He meant to build up to it. But there was something about her that utterly unsettled him, made him anxious in a way that wasn’t wholly unpleasant. Her smile turned somewhat cautious and sad, and he hated himself for provoking that reaction out of her.

“That’s a rather personal question.” 

“You owe me.” He tried to stop himself, but he found he somehow couldn’t. “You played against me under false pretences. You owe me at least an explanation as to why.”

Miss French raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed at his emotional outburst or the questionable logic of his assessment. A moment later, however, she tilted her head to a side, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes, as if considering something.

“It’s a rather big secret. Would you play me for it?”

That sounded very much like a deal, and it made him feel more comfortable with the situation, more in control. Deals were his specialty, after all.

“And what would you wish for if you win, Miss French?”

She smiled, the picture of innocence.

“A secret for a secret sounds fair. Let’s say… your name.”

Nobody knew his first name. He appeared in all legal documents as “A. Gold”, which caused all manner of speculation around town. His name would be a high price, indeed.

“Oh, I wouldn’t tell others, just as I trust you would not tell others what I told you if I lost. I just want it for myself.”

Her words sent a frisson of something down his spine, leaving him tingling and on edge.

“That sounds acceptable. Do fetch my set, if you please, and I’ll get the board.”

They had the board set and ready in no time, flipping a coin to decide who would be whites. Miss French, having won, started the game, and from the beginning he read her moves differently from before, knowing they were those of a chess prodigy. He moved aggressively, trying to create too much chaos to allow her to build her beautiful moves, but soon began to second-guess himself, struggling between being too bold and playing it safe. He lasted longer, forcing her to pause and consider her next move once or twice, which she had not done during their first game. He took in those few seconds of uncertain contemplation with eager interest, watching as she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, the apple of her cheeks red with an enticing blush.

In the end, however, her rooks trapped his king too soon, forcing him to topple the piece. She smiled at him, offering her hand for him to shake. He did so, marveling at how delicate it was. And cold. The whole building was cold, he realised. Apparently the mayor demanded the heat be turned off the library the moment it closed, to save on the heating bill. 

“We can do this again sometime, if you still wish to know, Mr Gold.”

He nodded, leaning on his cane in order to rise from the chair, making no move to gather his chess pieces.

“I’ll take you up on that, Miss French. And the name’s Arran.”

.

He returned a week later, with a tin of oolong tea to keep the cold of the library at bay. Though the librarian seemed to have been expecting him, with the board and chess set already laid out at the customary table, she did not seem to be in the mood to play right away, inviting him instead to her office so she could prepare and pour them both a cup of tea in the adjoining kitchenette. Though she did not seem to want to speak of whatever had happened to her in 2006 she did not seem reluctant to talk about her chess career in general. She told him about learning the game at six from her mother, and playing in the park against adults as a ten-year-old, shortly before entering her first tournament, for children. She would soon outgrow those, reluctantly.

“Children are more creative players, I find, and I missed that in professional adult tournaments. It’s what I like about your playing.”

He told her in turn about his own chess experience, so vastly different from hers. It was a part of his life he had not shared with anyone before, and it felt nice to do so, especially with someone who could understand chess like he did, could see the beauty and the sense of it.

By the time their tea was finished over an hour had passed, and it was getting almost too late for a game. This one lasted a bit longer, and felt more… playful. Though he lost, he enjoyed himself more than he should have. He could make more sense of her playing style now, and it made him respond in kind, to soften his moves a tad, make them less savage and more complimentary to hers. It was the first time in years he altered his playing style, but it gave him more of a fighting chance and it seemed to amuse and thrill her to no end. In the end when he lost she asked about his aunts,  and he told her about how in love they were, even though the times were different and they could not express that love in the open like people could now. As he talked he realised how much he missed them and how nice it felt to share a bit of their memory with someone else.

Though he left the library defeated, it was difficult to conjure any negative feelings about the evening.

At some point, he realised he had stopped playing to win. Well, not necessarily. He still played with the intention of seeing her king toppled and extracting the secret of her retirement from her, but it was about more than that now. Perhaps it was their now customary tea break right before the game, which lasted up to an hour and now included cookies and several cups per person. It was a strangely-relaxing ritual and led them to talking about things that he would usually not discuss with anyone else, things that felt too personal. She shared in kind, with the exception of talking about her father, which he understood tacitly was a no-go subject. To be fair so was his, and she took pains to never ask him anything about him. 

Playing her, he had to admit, had become exhilarating. Once the sour taste of defeat had been taken out of the equation- it didn’t feel like losing anymore, or at least not the way losing usually felt to him, cloying and humiliating- all that was left was the thrill of the game, the excitement of thinking on one’s feet and seeing long strategies come to fruition on the board. He caught her chewing on her bottom lip more and more as he learned to thwart her moves and bring a sort of organised chaos to the board that she found difficult to navigate around.

He got so used to losing, and so comfortable in it, in the notion that losing only meant he got to return to the library, have tea and spend a few pleasant hours with someone who was interesting and treated him with kindness, that he did not consider the fact that he might win at some point. And when it happened, one evening he saw it, checkmate in two moves with his remaining knight and one of his rooks, plain to see. He had been working at leaving her king adrift, too exposed and with her queen distracted enough to not be able to stop the attack. She saw it too, he realised, and there was a bittersweet smile when she toppled her king. The sound the small piece made was deafening in the sudden silence of the library and he stared at the board for the longest time, as if he had been struck dumb by his win. In reality he was trying to process how disappointed he suddenly felt, how utterly unhappy he was about having won. It made no sense.

“As you perhaps know my mother died in 2006.”

“Miss French, please, you don’t have to-”

“Belle, please. I’d like to believe we’ve transcended such formalities. Especially considering what I’m about to do.”

She paused, letting the silence stretch between them. Though she seemed determined to tell her tale, whatever it may entail, she did not seem to know where to start, or even where to look. He thought about getting up and downright refusing to listen to her, anything to take away the sudden air of vulnerability about her, but stopped himself. She was a grown woman who would not appreciate him trying to decide things for her.

“You must know my mother died in 2006. It was very sudden, a stroke, and was very hard to accept. We were very close, especially because my chess career kept me from socialising much with my peers. I was sad for a long time after her passing, kept recreating some of our favourite matches on the chessboard she had given me for my twelfth birthday. I didn’t want to eat, or go out much, and I guess… My dad grew worried. We had always struggled to communicate, never had much in common. He didn’t get chess or me, so he didn’t know how to reach me, or talk to me, or even understand what I was going through.”

She paused, picking up a white pawn and staring intently at it. He itched to reach out to her, though he was not very good at comforting people.

“He thought I needed professional help. And he was right, I did need to speak to someone. But he thought it best to-” Another pause, where Belle looked like she was trying to find the words to explain, or excuse, what came next. “He had me hospitalised.” He did not need to ask what kind of hospital she was referring to. “It was a nice place, on spacious, green grass and under the supervision of an order of nuns. I’ve read that other places can be more… unpleasant, and less safe. Still, I don’t remember much of it. I was drugged most of the time, they were pretty liberal when it came to medication, and I hated it. Took me a while to figure out how to behave in a way that was considered normal, how to grieve within the bounds of acceptable behaviour.”

He was surprised by the white-hot rage that took over him. He tightened his grip around the handle of his cane, eager to hurt someone with it. Belle’s father seemed like a prime candidate, or any of the doctors involved in her care, who could not see that what they had in front of them was a woman trying to grieve in her own way. He ached to do harm, to hurt, in a way that unsettled him, that spoke about primitive instincts he had spent years mastering, or at least trying to. He tried to calm himself, focusing instead intently on her, watching her walk the pawn across the board and exchange it for the white queen after it reached the other side.

“Once I was out I changed my name and applied for university in the US. My chess career and my mother’s care of my finances gave me financial freedom, so I went to school, then did my masters at Columbia, and took on as librarian here when the position opened. And I never participated in a tournament again. At first it was because being active in professional chess circles left me exposed, made it so my father would likely know where I was, but later on I discovered I just did not have the temperament for big tournaments anymore. Crowds of strange people looking at me make me nervous, and playing chess in public makes me feel… unsafe, I suppose.”

Her fingers closed over the white queen, as if testing the strength of the piece.

“I still love it, though. Used to play at Bryant Park when I was a college student, though never in tournaments. And I still play online, sometimes for money, because it’s safe. But it’s been nice, playing face to face against someone again. I’ve enjoyed it immensely.”

She put the white queen back with the rest of the pieces inside its box, closing the lid securely before offering the set to him. Instead of taking it he stood up, taking a few steps backward to make sure she knew he had no intention of taking his chess set home. 

“I thank you for your candor. I will keep what you have told me in confidence, of course. Same time this Saturday?”

She looked up at him, confused for a second before a wide smile spread across her face.

“It’s a date.”

.

Though he had made the journey to the library dozens of times in the past couple of months it felt different that day. Instead of the customary tea he brought he clutched a tote bag with an unopened bottle of Highland Park 18 and two crystal tumblers. It was a particularly cold afternoon, which he told himself called for something more bracing than a strong cup of tea.

Belle did not seem against the whisky, though she did warn him that she had no affinity for it and would not know good scotch from bad.

“You’re calling it scotch, so that’s a good start.”

She seemed more intrigued about the tumblers, running the pad of her thumb across the designs on the glass.

“Thistles.”

“I’m nothing if not a walking stereotype.”

She laughed, telling him to pour while she set the board. By the time they sat down to play it was dark out, and Belle had turned off the zooming fluorescent tubes, leaving instead the soft, warm light fixtures in the reading room on. It was a cosy, relaxed setting, and yet the air felt strangely electrified, like something was going to happen, something big. His nerves felt raw, exposed, but the feeling wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

“So, what should we play for tonight?”

He startled, the tumbler halfway to his lips. She was right, there were no preconceived stakes anymore. Before he had wanted to know something about her, something valuable, so they established an arrangement whereby whoever won could ask a question of the other. That arrangement no longer applied. A sudden flare of panic travelled down his spine. What if he couldn’t think of anything? What if they both discovered that, without stakes, there was no sense in playing again at all? What if-

“I have an idea. It’s… a bit unorthodox. Always wanted to try it, but never got the chance to.”

The librarian looked intently at her glass of whisky, running a finger across the edge, but there was a sort of mischievous air about her. Playful.

Flirtatious, almost.

“Do tell.”

“Well, I’ve read about strip chess. Obviously I never actually played strip chess before because for most of my years playing chess in front of people I was a minor. But I always thought it sounded… fun.”

She chanced a look at him from beneath her eyelashes, biting her lower lip the tiniest bit. He must have looked rather stupid to her, sitting ranmrod straight and wide-eyed, with the look of a rabbit that has just spotted a wolf nearby. A man a few years shy of fifty looking stupidly terrified of a woman more than ten years his junior.

“What would be the rules?”

“A piece of clothing for every captured piece. Something small for pawns is allowed, but bigger pieces merit more important sacrifices. Things in pairs are to be removed in pairs. Jewellery and such are considered pieces of clothing. We play until either someone wins, or someone is completely naked.”

He took a gulp of scotch, hiding a grimace as the liquid burned a path down his throat. He took a quick stock of the librarian, taking in her few pieces of jewellery- earrings, a ring, and a simple necklace-, and her clothing. A skirt, no belt, a shirt tucked into it, a cardigan, stockings and a pair of booties. He imagined all of it on the floor at his feet and his blood simmered.

“That sounds… acceptable. You got the coin?”

He was glad he sounded unbothered by the new arrangement they had just entered into, nonchalant. He lost the coin toss, so it was Belle who opened, moving the queen’s pawn two places. He moved more conservatively, a pawn to c6, and a couple of moves later she took her first pawn, leaving the piece to be taken by another pawn of his.

“My earrings for your cufflinks?”

It was a fair exchange, so they paused to relieve themselves of their pieces of jewellery. Belle’s next move gave him a chance to capture another pawn and he discovered that he had to physically restrain himself from making the move, reminding himself that he was supposed to be playing for win. It added something extra to the game, the tension between what the best move was according to whatever strategy he was struggling to make, and what could get him more pieces. It made the game tense, as they both considered their moves and braced themselves for the possible occurrence of another piece taken. 

When it finally happened, a white pawn taking the place of a black one, he surrendered both his shoes, but not before using one of his knights to take the place of the newly-moved white pawn. Belle bent down to unlace her booties, removing them and placing them to the side with care, letting him know that she did have a thing for shoes, as he had always suspected. 

Nothing else happened for the longest time, the game unfolding without much action. They both moved their bishops and castled their king, pretending for a while that there wasn’t a likelihood that one of them would end up naked before the night was out. He kept the scotch nearby, refilling the drinks every now and then to give himself something to do other than think about all the exposed white pieces. Finally, when he thought he was going to crawl out of his skin if he didn’t do it, he took a white pawn with his knight. 

“Wondered when you were going to do that.”

He watched her as she shimmied out of her cardigan, letting him see more of the blouse she was wearing. It was slightly sheer, letting him know she was wearing a black bra. He wondered if he would get to see it.

“It’s a pity about your knight, though.”

She moved one of her own knights to take his, making it the first major piece to be taken. She held it in her hand for a while, studying it.

“I’ll accept your jacket and tie, if you have no objections.”

He reached automatically towards his neck, tugging on the silken knot around his throat. He must have drunk more than he realised, because his fingers felt clumsy, uncoordinated. After a few ineffectual tugs and some choice expletives muttered under his breath Belle rose from her chair, gently pushing his hands away and untying the tie herself. She tugged on it until it was off and tossed it on the back of his chair. She then wordlessly prompted him to remove his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair as well. 

“That’s a lovely colour on you.”

She ghosted her fingers across the silk of his shirt. It was one of his favourites, a deep navy blue silk jacquard with a contrasting pattern of leaves. He had worn it because he had noticed she tended to favour blue, which had felt stupid at the time. Now it felt inspired. Emboldened by the touch and the compliment he dragged his bishop across the board, knocking her knight off its place.

“I’ll take your necklace and stockings, if you please.”

His voice was rough, with little of the cultured diction he usually employed, but between the alcohol and the simmering sexual tension there was little he could do to change that. She took her necklace off without much protest, making sure to fasten it close before she looked at him right in the eye, smiling innocently and extending a leg till her silk-stockinged foot found his knee. 

“Help me?”

It was embarrassing how fast he dragged a hand across her leg, pausing only to notice the quality of the material, and reached beneath her skirt, till his fingers came across the scratchy lace of the top of the stocking. With slow, steady precision he peeled the stocking off her leg, letting the tips of his fingers slide across the soft underside of her thigh and calf, trying to memorise how soft and warm her skin felt, so he could replay it over and over again each night. He repeated the process with the other stocking, delighting in the goosebumps the dim light of the room revealed in Belle’s skin. After it was done he folded the stockings neatly and presented them to her.

She moved her bishop next in a direct challenge to his castled king, meaning he had no other choice but to take it. He did it with shaky hands, trying not to look as eager as he felt.

“Shirt or skirt, I suppose. May I choose?”

Her voice was soft, playful, undeniably coquettish. He nodded, following her movements as she stood up, unzipped her skirt and let it fall open around her legs. Her shirt was long enough to cover anything but the barest hint of her underwear, something black and lacy and the slightest bit sheer that had him reaching for his glass. A second later she sat down, dragging her queen to take his bishop.

“Quid pro quo?”

With all the grace he could muster he stood up, refusing to show even a hint of apprehension or shyness as he undid his belt and pushed his trousers down, carefully stepping out of them before sitting down and reaching for the scotch bottle, filling up their glasses again. He took a long, fortifying sip and moved his knight to take her remaining one.

“That lovely blouse is gonna have to go, dearie.”

Belle smiled, looking bold and strangely pleased, and made sure to look at him square in the eye as she plucked every little button free of its hole. It was an invitation to watch, and he accepted it greedily, leaning forward and holding tightly onto his cane to keep himself from doing something stupid like try and touch every new bit of soft, pale skin that was slowly revealed to him. When she reached the last button she shimmied out of the shirt and carelessly tossed it at him. He caught it one handed and tried to not notice how the fabric retained the warmth from her body and the scent of her skin. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, we’re about to get even.”

She moved her queen to take his knight and leaned back on her seat, one hand cradling her tumbler of scotch and an expectant look on her face. He reached up and unfastened the buttons of his shirt with practiced nonchalance, trying to keep the shaking in his hands from being too obvious. When that was done he paused for a second, trying to gather up his courage, before shrugging out of the shirt. With a gallant little gesture he handed it to her.

The next few rounds were intense, but no pieces taken. Arran was having a hard time concentrating on the board and not on the way Belle’s fingers caressed the silk of his shirt, tracing the pattern of leaves absentmindedly. It was a safer bet than focusing on her balconette bra, a delicate, impractical little thing made almost entirely out of leavers lace, with dark flowers woven into the pattern to keep him from seeing the rose pink of her nipples. He wondered if she had worn the set with their game in mind, if she had selected it just so he could see it.

At some point he took his queen out, and she did the same with one of her rooks, both of them seemingly in agreement that the status quo was not to be borne. It wasn’t until her rook put pressure on his king, forcing him to set his queen in the middle, that he began to feel cornered. When her bishop got too close he had no other option but to take out her rook. Though from a strategic point of view that was a desperate last-ditch effort, he could not help but feel strangely ecstatic over it.

“Oh, dear.”

Belle moved her hands towards her back, seeming to struggle with the fastenings of her bra. 

“I think one of the hooks is snagged on the lace. Will you help me?”

He narrowly avoided biting his tongue. He managed a croaked, barely-intelligible “aye” before she stood up and turned around. He tried not to look down, but it was almost impossible, taking into account the panties she was wearing were made almost entirely of sheer black lace- leavers as well, clearly she was wearing a matching set-. With hands that felt clumsier than usual he felt around the clasp of the bra, delicately pulling the offending hook from the lace before unclasping the bra altogether. Slowly he lowered the straps from her shoulders, noticing the red indents they left behind on her skin. Then she was turning around, bra safely in her hands and her glorious breasts bared. He hoped that she wasn’t expecting him not to look, because it felt impossible to avert his eyes. As he had imagined- and he had not realised how often until then- her nipples were the perfect shade of dusty pink, framed perfectly by pale skin a shade lighter than the rest of her. 

“I know I’ve lost on the board, but right now I feel like a winner. Like the luckiest bastard on Earth.”

His accent was shot to hell, thick and incomprehensible, as if he had never left the dodgy part of Glasgow. But it did not seem to be a problem for Belle, who kissed his cheek, tugged on his hair a bit, called him a “sweet boy”, and thanked him for the compliment.

“Let’s finish this, Arran.”

Her Australian lilt turned his name, which he always thought rather charmless and rough, into a soft caress. He sat down, something considerably uncomfortable to do all of a sudden, taking into account his painful state of arousal, and struggled to focus in the game. He was done for, he knew it, but he owed it to her to try. To lose with as much dignity as possible. Or so he thought, till her queen took his in one simple move.

“I’m afraid your underwear must go.”

The silk boxers were doing a pisspoor job of hiding his raging erection in any case, but it still felt uncomfortable to peel them off and be naked in front of another human being for the first time in years. Well, nude, technically, since he still had his navy socks on.

“Let’s finish this, then.”

He took his rook out, forcing her queen to retreat and then getting his other rook to cover for his king. For the next few moves they danced around each other on the board, with Belle trying to close her trap and Arran fighting tooth and nail to remain standing. His moves weren’t elegant at all, more like the savage swipes of a cornered beast, but they were effective. He managed to snag a rook, which gave him the pleasure of sitting down and staring intently as Belle shimmied out of her useless little panties. She flashed her watch at him to remind her she was not completely naked as per the rules of the game and continued to press him. She had only her queen and a few pawns, but the board was laid out in her favour all the same. Still he gave her a run for her money, and it took her twelve more moves to checkmate his king. Feeling irrationally expectant he toppled the piece, watching it roll around the board for a few seconds before coming to a stop.

“That was exciting. Though I’m afraid we forgot to agree on what the winner got. Quite an oversight on our part.”

He watched her as she reclined on her chair and stared at the board, a rosy tinge on her skin that he realised travelled past her neck and to the tops of her breasts. She looked at ease, comfortable in her own skin, and surprisingly he noticed that he did not much care about his own nudity either. In the low, almost romantic light of the library his skin acquired a golden colour that he thought rather becoming. He was tanned for a man who spent most of his time indoors, a direct consequence of his propensity to laze about in the sun whenever possible in the privacy of his backyard or his cabin. And in such a light his wrinkles were less obvious, his scars less visible. He felt anxious, yes, tense, but it was not an unpleasant sort of tension.

“What is it you want, Miss French?”

He affected the persona of the devious dealmaker, noticing the spark of heat in the librarian’s eyes when he called her by her last name. She made a show of thinking about it, though he had the distinct feeling she had thought about something ages ago.

“How about a kiss?”

He took her left hand, kissing the back of it.

“Like this?”

When she shook her head he reached further, kidding the underside of her elbow.

“Higher, Arran.”

He tugged her closer, trying to disregard the rapid beating of his heart, and softly kissed her shoulder. Her skin was soft and smelt faintly of something citrusy, something that somehow managed to tug both at his heart and his groin. 

“Higher, please.”

She took his head in her hands, tilting it upwards till their lips met. It was a soft, tentative press of the lips at first, unhurried and unassuming, but it grew firmer and more insistent. When he pressed her she opened her mouth to him readily, letting him curl his tongue around hers with a moan of approval. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders at some point, fingers sinking into his hair to pull him closer till he was flush against her, skin against skin. His hands roamed her back, tracing the ridges of her spine, pleased at the way it made her shiver.

Reluctantly he let go of her lips, pressing his mouth against her sharp jawline, down her long neck until he was tracing her collarbone with his tongue and dipping down further into the swell of her breasts. He felt her fingers dig into his scalp, pressing him closer, tugging on his hair to guide him towards a puckered nipple. He accepted the unspoken invitation gladly, closing his lips around her flesh and sucking with embarrassing enthusiasm. His hands roamed the rest of her, one caressing her back while the other pressed against a soft, round thigh, aching to move just a few inches and cup her sex. 

When she stepped backwards, out of his arms and the reach of his mouth, he felt a flare of panic that she was having second thoughts, or he had done something wrong. It was on the tip of his tongue to apologise- for fucking whatever, he didn’t care- when she tugged on his arm, urging him a little ways across the room to a reading nook next to the folklore session. There was a faded divan in there, usually full of pillows and throw blankets meant for readers to take to their seats if they were uncomfortable or chilly. It was old and likely uncomfortable, the type of couch that looked like it had lost most, if not all, of its padding and most of its support capabilities a long time ago. At the moment, however, it looked to Arran like the most luxurious of beds. He let her push him onto it, glad when the springs beneath him groaned but held steady. A second later she was on top of him and all thoughts of structural stability fled from his mind as he kissed him thoroughly, asserting a dominance he was more than happy to submit to.

He had to struggle to concentrate between the kissing and the groping to understand her when she asked about protection, muttering that she was clean and on the pill but she had condoms just in case, from the sex-ed talks Miss Blanchard gave every now and then. Briefly he contemplated the notion of using one of those condoms, thinking of Miss Blanchard’s absolutely scandalised look if she ever found out, but the idea of being bare inside Belle was too good to pass. He told her he was clean in as clear a voice as he could muster that he was clean too- he recalled his last annual check-up, which he drove to Boston for, since he would rather die than let Dr Whale anywhere near any part of him- before she was straddling him, grabbing his stiff, aching cock with one hand and guiding it to her entrance. He could barely register the sudden wet heat on the tip of him before his entire member was engulfed in it. He sunk his blunt nails on Belle’s back, trying to call forth every last shred of self-control he possessed not to come then and there. Thankfully Belle didn’t move, looking overwhelmed and in need of a moment to adjust.

“You’re big.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t tell me something like that if you want me to last.”

It was taking everything he had not to come like a fucking schoolboy. Later, much later, he might me in the right frame of mind to replay her involuntary compliment. Over and over. He tried to recall the names of all the subs of the Celtics, in fucking alphabetical order, till he somehow felt more in control. Slowly, lovingly, he captured her lips with his own for a long, lazy kiss, feeling as her own tension melted away, leaving only a simmering sort of excitement. Tentatively she began to rock, trying to find a comfortable angle and motion in the restrictive confined of the divan. He tried to help her as much as possible, holding onto her hips and trying to thrust up as much as he could, given his precarious perch on the furniture and his lame ankle. Slowly but steadily they found something that worked, a rhythm that had him hitting a sport deep inside her that he could tell was, blessedly, the right one, given how Belle sunk her nails on his shoulders and tried to muffle her cries against the side of his neck. He tried to talk, to tell her how gorgeous she was, how wet and warm and perfect she felt around him but it all came out as unintelligible grunts and low, feral moans.

When he felt himself near the edge he gritted his teeth and gathered all of his remaining willpower, dragging his right hand down her stomach to the small nest of curls that framed her dripping cunt, delving inside till he found a spot that made her gasp when he touched it. 

“Come for me, sweet girl.” He didn’t know whether she could understand him over the thick mess of his accent, but he hoped at least the cadence would convene his meaning. She keened in response before he felt her flutter around his cock, the rest of her tensing with the force of her release. When he muffled her scream against the side of his neck he let go, his own orgasm almost uncomfortable at first, too much at once. He clutched her close, hoping against hope he would not send them both toppling to the floor, feeling like he was walking a fine line between pleasure and pain. Pleasure won out in the end, sizzling on his veins before slowly fading into a pleasant simmer. Tiredly he wrapped his arms around a barely-awake Belle, feeling the cooling sweat on her back and grunting in protest. He looked around, spotting a throw on the floor in his reach. He grabbed it quickly, managing to wrap it snug around both of them. Later, much later, when he could remember his name or how to walk, he would insist on them finding some better place to sleep, for her sake. At the moment, however, that seemed beyond him, a faraway concern to be dealt with at a later time. He was loath to give up his queen too soon into the game, in any case.

[tloujm]

Part III: Birthday Surprise

Author’s Notes: The plot and setting may look familiar to you guys in this. I mixed Abby’s trip with Owen with Joel’s trip with Ellie. While I could have made the museum romantic, I figured the Aquarium was more so. Also, this takes place several months after the 2nd chapter. To help imagery, it is late Autumn/fall. It’s cold and flurries of snow fall but not a full fledged winter yet.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: It’s your birthday and Joel has a surprise for you. Despite being distant with him, you decide to go along and feed into your feelings for him. If you were waiting for cute, romantic Joel, this is it. This is the beginning.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Joel has loved you since he made the choice to leave the hospital with you in his arms. That was when he admitted it to himself at least. He constantly tried doing little things to make you feel better, especially after having a fight. Sometimes, that just meant giving you space. He held on tight to the moments he got to have with you that did not involve you bringing up the incident. In those moments, he caught a glimpse of what life could be like with you and he had a strong desire for that. All he wanted to do was protect you and forget about the Fireflies. 

The day before your birthday, you responded to a knock on your door only to find a wood carved version of your horse with a note attached sitting on the ground. You could tell it was from Joel by his handwriting. It explained that he had a surprise for you and it involved an early start. It was your birthday, so your positive disposition allowed you to accept his surprise.

He wasn’t kidding when he said early start. Joel was at your door knocking before sunrise. You groaned before lazily throwing your legs over the bed. He knocked again with more force before you made it to the door. He wished you a happy birthday before walking into your makeshift living room. Your eyes were tired, but you gave him a smile nonetheless when you thanked him. He sat on the couch, rubbing his hands together in front of your space heater while he waited for you to get dressed. Apparently, the surprise involved a hike to get there so you dressed in layers. 

By the time the two of you made it past the gate with your horses, the sun had begun to rise. It was not often that you got up while it was still dark. Sunsets were more of your thing. Watching the sun rise, however, was a different kind of beautiful. The sky turned brighter shades of blue as the two of you rode through unbeaten paths. At one point, the woods became too thick for the horses and you two had to start hiking. Joel secured both of the animals before guiding you in the direction of the surprise. 

“Alright, c’mon.” Joel said.

“I’m going to start guessing now.” You stated.

“You want to spoil your surprise?” He asked.

“I’ve held out long enough.” You responded. “Is it an alien crash site?”

“Stop trying to guess. I ain’t tellin’ you.” He said with his back to you.

“Okay.” You let silence fall between you before guessing again. “So is it a nice, new car? With heated seats and one of those tvs that hang from the ceiling to watch movies on?”

He sighed playfully. “You’re not gonna guess.” You fell quiet, trying to think of something even more outrageous. The two of you approached a ledge as the path grew narrower. Joel pushed back a bare branch to give you just enough room to scoot by without falling over the edge. “Mind your step.” He warned as he gestured for you to go first. 

The walkway was so narrow that there was no other choice but for your backside to brush up against Joel’s body as you walked past him. You took it slow as to mind your step. He was so close, you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Back in the day, you would have used this opportunity to flirt with him just to watch his face go red. After safely making it passed, you did the same for him and held the branch down while he walked across. 

“Fuck it, I’m done guessing.” You spoke up, filling the air with sound. 

“Oh, good.” He replied.

“But really though, is it a movie or something?” You got really excited before he could answer. “Don’t tell me you found some old abandoned theater and dusted off the projector and somehow figured out how to power it back up.”

“Um, no.” He said, slight disappointment in his voice. “Would you have liked that?”

“I would like anything you give me, Joel.” You replied genuinely. After a few more minutes of walking, the two of you come upon a clearing riddled with frozen over puddles. In the middle of it all was a huge temple front building. You approached the steps ahead of Joel. “Is this it?” You asked with a smile on your face. You didn’t quite know what it was, but having earned an art history degree, you had a penchant for big, old buildings.

He nodded. “Yes.”

You run up the steps like Rocky during his famous training scene in Philly. The grand doors had a faded logo painted on. It appeared to be of a dolphin and a whale swimming together like the Pisces sign. You waited for Joel to catch up with you before opening the doors. He watched as you made your way inside the large lobby. There was an enormous whale hanging from the ceiling with two grand staircases on either side leading to separate wings. The dead remnants of overgrown plants decorated the dark blue walls. As you walked closer to the information desk in the middle of the room, snow began to fall from the ceiling. You looked up and noticed that part of the roof was missing. It looked dilapidated rather than the result of an attack. It allowed in the only source of light, bouncing off the walls to cast a grayish-blue atmosphere. As you made your way further in, you found a mural on the wall of different aquatic animals.

“I think this is one of those zoos but for fish.” Joel quipped.

“Shut up.” You said playfully. He chuckled.

You walked up the stairs and immediately became attracted to a room with a shark head adorning the doorway. You headed in that direction first, but Joel warned you not to. You asked why, barely giving him the time to answer before you ignored his plea and continued to the door. It looked like a lounge room for adults. The walls were really just floor-to-ceiling windows. It gave an amazing view of the small lake behind the building. There was a bar, a large tv and multiple couches. You made your way around one couch and realized why he didn’t want you to go in the room. A skeleton, mostly decomposed, was lying on it, resting, waiting. 

“I didn’t want to move the body.” Joel spoke up. “He looked too comfortable.” He referred to the pillow behind the skeleton’s back and the blanket draped over the legs. You notice a piece of paper lying on his lap; his boney fingers keeping it in place. “(Y/N), no.” Joel protested as he watched you reach for it. 

“If it wasn’t meant to be read, then it wouldn’t have been written.” You responded. The paper had all kinds of stains on it, most likely from the decomposition of the body. The writing was faded and barely legible. “ ‘I’m taking Max away from here. He can’t spend his life inside this rotting building. All he’ll do is take on your weaknesses. I want Max to see what it looks like when people are willing to stand up for what they want. The world is harsh. It’s up to us to change it. Maybe we’ll come back someday. If we do, I hope you’re not still sitting in your stupid, fucking chair’. Wow. His kids ran off and left him.”

“Jesus.” Joel mustered.

The two of you go back downstairs and eventually find a doorway shrouded by dead vines. You pushed passed them, holding open a space for Joel to follow. Painted in large white letters are the words “Max’s place”. On the other side of the doors was the gift shop. You guessed that Max used this as his room while his family stayed there. Joel let you look around the pamphlets and trinkets. He watched on with a wide grin before he beckoned you over to the open elevator. 

“C’mon over here.” He said.

            You approached the opening and looked down. “If I knew you’d brought me out here to kill me by pushing me down this shaft, I would have stayed home”. 

“I’m not gonna kill you, darlin’, but we are going down.” 

“You’re joking.” You said flatly. 

“Nope.” He popped the “P” sound playfully as he climbed onto the ladder against the elevator shaft. He held out his hand for you to take. “It’ll be ok.”

“It better be.” You whined. He took your hand and guided it onto a rung. He began to climb down and you followed. 

He jumped off the ladder first, causing the elevator wires to shake. It made you nervous but you persevered. You gently hopped off the ladder onto the elevator roof and followed Joel through the opening of the new floor. It was very dark save from the light coming through the glass windows. You were in the basement level because there was nothing but water on the other side of them. You walked up to the plaques in front of them and read about the animals that were no longer there. You wondered if they’d been hunted or simply died when there was no one left to take care of them. Joel stayed until you were done reading. He followed you around the corner and stopped in front of a large fort made of cardboard boxes. It had a child’s touch as it was painted over with cartoonish figures. 

“Solid fort, Max.” You said.

Joel approached the entrance. “Ladies first.” He held the flaps open. You got on your hands and knees to crawl through. 

“Oh my God, Joel!” You exclaimed in a breathy tone. “You gotta see this! Have you seen this?”

He nodded. You turned to him in disappointment. “I had to secure the place before I showed it to you. ‘Sides, it’s your surprise, not mine.”

“How did you find this place?”

“I found it a few months back when it was warmer. I was on patrol with Nick. We came in from back where the lake is.” Joel explained.

“This place is beautiful, Joel.” You said, almost in a whisper. The room that you had entered was semi-circular and it was all glass. Even below your feet was glass. You couldn’t lie, it scared you for a moment. You were taken off guard when a small school of fish swam by underneath you. “Joel! Did you see that?”

“I sure did.” He replied with a smile. Through the algae and seaweed covering the windows, light peeked through and projected a dark blue glow. As the water on the other side moved, so did it's reflection on your skin. Joel gazed at the sight before him. You looked ethereal and it damn near took his breath away. He watched as your eyes filled with wonder. It was the purest thing he’d seen since the world fell apart. He allowed himself to gaze at you a few moments longer before he slid his backpack off his shoulders. “Now, this took a mighty great effort to find.” He said to get your attention. You turned around as he reached into his backpack. He pretended to dig around to prolong the suspense.

You rolled your eyes. “Joel!”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. Here.” He pulled out a light brown ukulele. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).” He watched as your face broke into a smile. It was a wholesome experience and it made him warm inside. 

She whispered a thank you and took the ukulele. “I can’t believe you remembered. You said that you’d teach me how to play the guitar and I said--”

“You said you didn’t want to play the guitar. You wanted to learn how to play the ukulele and I said I didn’t know if I could help you with that.”

You looked up at him and met his eyes. “But you said you’d try.”

He took a step closer and watched as you fiddled with the strings. You experimented with the sound of each one before making up a little, silly tune. It was not perfect, in fact it was far from it. Still, you enjoyed playing. You even did a little dance as you plucked the strings. You twirled around and caught a glimpse of a shadow. You knew it wasn’t Joel; it moved too fast. The high pitched sound of the ukulele faded out as you stepped up to the glass. There it was again! Was it a large fish? It was too small to be a dolphin. What could survive in this cold water? You watched and waited. Joel came up behind you and did the same. A seal swam out from its hiding place and swam up to you. It's big black eyes gazed at yours. You were probably the first person that it's come across in a very long time. You let out a breathy chuckle as you watched it swim away.

“I do okay?” Joel’s voice filled the room. It was the softest you ever heard him speak. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You turned to him with a smile. His grin spread wide to match yours. “Thank you, Joel.”

He continued to gaze at you with loving eyes. It made your heart flutter and stomach do back flips. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next but all you knew was that the atmosphere was perfect. You wanted to kiss him, but was too scared. He took another step forward and you let him. Now, the two of you were close enough to touch. He leaned down and closed his eyes as he did. You saw what he was doing and you wanted it so bad but…

“Joel.” You said his name while pulling your head back. 

“I’m...I’m sorry.” He looked down at his feet. 

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not you. I just...I’m scared.”

He playfully scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“No, it's not that.” You paused for a moment. It sounded logical in your head, but you were afraid it’d sound stupid out loud. “But what if I infect you?”

Joel looked taken aback. “What?”

“I’m a carrier of the disease. What if I'm contagious? I can spread it to you from a kiss like it was a cold.” You spoke with genuine worry.

He let out a small laugh. “You know how many times you’ve sneezed in the house without covering your mouth? If spores would have come out. I would have breathed them in and I’d be long gone by now.” 

You look down in shame before laughing yourself. “I’ll remember to cover my mouth next time.” 

Joel caressed your cheek, prompting you to look back up at him. You smiled, inviting him to try again and so he did. Joel leaned down and this time, you reached up and met him in the middle. You took his bottom lip between yours. His beard brushed against your skin but it was a welcome feeling. The two of you stopped for a split second before going in again for another kiss. Joel was the first to pull away. He knew it was the first time that the two of you had kissed and didn’t want to ruin the moment by going too far. He looked down at you and realized he was ready to go as far as you’d take him, however far that was. Kissing you was a heady sensation and it was something he’d been wanting to feel for a while now. 

******

You start to let Joel in more. Your romantic feelings for him overcame your apprehension. It still lingered in the background, but you convinced yourself to focus on the present. What happened at the hospital had already been done, right? You thought to yourself. What if Joel was telling the truth? You rarely allowed yourself to play that angle. Joel and his brother respectively left the Fireflies for a reason. Maybe they did something that rubbed him the wrong way and he didn’t want to stay there and wait for me to wake up. You couldn’t help but trust Joel after he fought to keep you alive during the journey out west. He must have had a good reason, whatever it was. 

Preparing for the Jackson winter was harsh but focusing on the present was easy and your present was with Joel. He walked you up to your door the night you two came back from the aquarium. He stood there awkwardly as if he wasn’t the one who initiated a kiss from you first. The long ride back showed you that you hadn’t infected him after all, which gave you the confidence to pull him into a goodnight kiss. You caught his eyes widening in shock as you pulled away. It was so different from the Joel that you were used to. Moments like these excited you in discovering more about him. 

It’d been a very long time since you were in a relationship and quite honestly you weren’t in many of them especially after the zombie apocalypse. You could only imagine it was the same for Joel given his guarded demeanor and the fact that he never talked about any past relationships. The morning after your birthday, he made you breakfast. He did a damn good job with what little he had in the fridge. It was easy to tell how much effort he put in it between setting the table and plating the food. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of attention. You were never good at hiding your feelings, but with Joel, you didn’t want to. People in the settlement noticed the change in your demeanor. The glow on your face. The pep in your step. Lynn definitely noticed and she wouldn’t let it go. You spilled everything to her. She soaked it up like a sponge but couldn’t believe it. “Joel?” She kept asking. Unlike you, Joel was much better at concealing his feelings. He always came off as a tough nut to crack. After a year and some change in Jackson, the townsfolk found him easier to get along with, but he was still a closed book. It made you wonder if even his own brother would be surprised by how gentle he could be. 

You didn’t see Joel again until later that night after his shift had ended. You left a note on the fridge door letting him know that you’d be down at The Watering Hole, the only bar in Jackson, if he wasn’t too tired to meet you there. You sat around waiting for him, nursing your gin and tonic. You missed cell phones for this very reason. If he was running late out on patrol or was too tired to come out, he could just call or shoot you a text. This blind waiting was almost too much to bear. You figured that you would just meet him at home and come back out later if he was up for it. Just as you got up, however, you spotted him walking through the door. You watched as he said hi to the barman before scanning the crowd. He smiled when his eyes found yours. You beckoned him over with your finger. 

“Perfect timing,” You began as he sat across from you. “I ordered you a dinner a while ago, so it should be out here any minute.”

“Thank you.” The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled. You noticed that he looked tired.

“We could go home as soon as the food comes if you’re tired.” You suggested. 

He waved his hand at the idea. “No, no. I want to be here with you.” He laid that same hand down on the table, palm up, encouraging you to lay yours on top. You did so and his fingers enclosed your smaller hand, giving it a squeeze. It was his first public display of affection. On the outside, it didn’t look like much, but it meant a lot to the both of you. 

“Joel,” You paused, not knowing how to start the conversation burning in your mind. “I, um....” You were nervous and you didn’t know why. What happened to that confidence you had on your birthday. Just as you decided to begin again, the barman came over with Joel’s food and drink. 

He thanked him before turning back to you. “I know there’s somethin’ here, (Y/N). I’m not alone in thinking this am I?”

You shook your head fervently. “No, Joel. I want this, whatever this is, to be something.”

“Whatever this is, huh?” He repeated. “Well how about this,” With his hand still grasping yours, his voice turned serious. “Go steady with me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Go steady? I don’t think the kids say that anymore.” You lightly made fun of his wording. Still it was everything you wanted to hear.

His face broke into a half smile. “Well, we ain’t kids are we?” The smile turned sly as he watched for your response. 

You shook your head. “Not at all.” You said coyly. 

[justkeeptrekkin]

Wrote a little Good Omens/Star Trek crossover

.... for the awesome @comicgeekery​. Thanks for the inspo!

5th April, 2063

“--historic day for humankind. For this is truly the first time that we have been able to refer to ourselves as such with the certainty that there is, in fact, life elsewhere in the perceivable universe.”

It’s a balmy, spring afternoon in London when Crowley rolls out of bed and turns on the television. Honestly, he’s fairly used to ignoring the news; it’s only on because he’d left it on channel one last night for a nature documentary that he and Aziraphale have been watching about whales. That’s why he pays very little attention to the picture on his projector screen.

“-- quite extraordinary. It seems as if this was all triggered by Zefram Cochrane's attempt at warp-speed flight, and er-- just coming in now, these beings call themselves Vulcans, Jane, and-- aha-- well, they’re not quite saying that they come in peace, but if our translators are correct, they’re offering us a long and prosperous life--”

Crowley slams his mug on the counter. He’s run out of coffee. He could very easily conjure up some more now, right here, but miracle-coffee is never as good as the nice Costa Rican stuff he buys. Or, more accurately, that Aziraphale buys for him, because he’s just that much of a kept man, apparently.

A knocking at the door. A light rapping that Crowley recognises immediately, and it would usually make him humiliatingly happy except for the fact that he’s just woken up from a--

He checks the time on the TV screen.

 -- from a two week nap, he hasn’t got any coffee, and the TV is blabbering on far too loudly. Waving a hand at said TV until it is muted, Crowley slides over to the door, dressing gown belt flapping about against his leg, and opens it with a flourish.

 Aziraphale has that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed look about him: never a good sign. “Crowley--”

Crowley plants a brief kiss on his cheek, then immediately retreats back into the kitchen, shoulders heavy with sleep. “I’m going back to sleep, angel. World’s too loud still.”

”Crowley--” the sound of the door slamming, very purposefully, Crowley thinks, as Azriaphale continues: “I have been trying to call you all morning. I thought you left your phone on vibrate for such things.”

 “I did. Didn’t I?” Crowley scratches his head. He’s sure he’d changed the ring tone for Aziraphale’s phone number specifically so he’d wake up when only he called. “Apparently not, sorry Angel-- any news?”

He sees the way Aziraphale is rolling his eyes and flapping about when he turns back around from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. His hands are fiddling with each other in that excitable way that they do, a happy nervous way that he’s come to adore. Crowley hands him a cup. Aziraphale takes it with a pointed raise of his brow.

“Any -- any news? Really. You could not have asked a more absurd--”

At that point, apparently, he’s lost for words. More frustrated than Crowley realised, and so he begins to take Aziraphale’s bright eyes and bushy tail a little more seriously. Particularly when Aziraphale puts down the cup of tea of all things, and gestures to the television, one arm outstretched and gaze still fixed on Crowley.

The screen remains muted. However, Crowley gathers what Aziraphale is gesturing at fairly quickly. He’s so used to letting the news blend into the background, tired of feeling depressed by the human race -- especially with this World War III nonsense -- that he’d completely missed that something, actually, rather important has been happening.

It looks like the research base in San Francisco. Crowley knows only a little about this; as the angel who created a fair few of the stars in the sky, he takes interest when humans start pointing their big magnifying glasses at them. Zefram Cochrane, the inventor of warp-speed engines, and a few other important looking men (who may well be important, what does Crowley know? He hasn’t been paying attention) welcomes three people. People, except they’re not human. Humanoid, perhaps, but human? No. Crowley can spot an alien a mile off.

“Crikey,” he mutters, hovering in his sparse living room with his dressing gown open and tea steaming.

Aziraphale nods fervently.

“Which ones are these?”

“These are the Vulcans,” Aziraphale explains. “Do you remember? Our colleagues -- oh, I forget their names -- a few of our colleagues helped set up. Erm.” Aziraphale purses his lips. “Well, their version of Eden.”

“Something like Sha Ka Ray, if I remember,” Crowley mutters, unblinking as he watches one of the Vulcans raise their hand in a v-shape, the humans mimicking.

“That was it! Sha Ka Ree.”

They’re wearing long, heavy cloaks. Even expressions, but glints in their eyes, as if they are taking some professional enjoyment out of this. The humans, barely containing their own excitement -- and probably a good dose of apprehension. Human beings, finally meeting an alien species who could take them down a notch, teach the buggers a couple of things. Crowley and Aziraphale certainly never managed to, much as they’ve tried. Far too stubborn.

After a while of sitting and watching the proceedings-- the beginnings of a new, enterprising delegation-- Crowley gives a long exhale.

“Those bowl cuts are questionable.”

Stardate: 53459 (17th July 2269)

“What? Just give them a quick ring? Give the flagship of Starfleet’s exploratory expedition a cheeky call, just to check in? ‘Hello Enterprise, nice to meet you’?”

“Yes. Why, do you not think that they’d appreciate it?”

“It’s less that they won’t appreciate it and more that it might blow their tiny minds, Angel.”

“They’ve met plenty of extraordinary species by this point -- extraordinary by their standards, anyway. A call from us will be -- how do they put it -- ‘a walk in the park’--?”

“Not the point. That’s -- that’s actually the bit that I’m struggling with, here. What is the point, exactly? What are you aiming to achieve? You looking to freak them out or…?”

“Well, I thought perhaps we could… ah. Tell them who we are.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley. Red hair tied up, ringlets around his face; silver eye-shadow; a black jumpsuit in the style of the Terran fashion that really leaves very little to the imagination, with cut-outs here and there all over his body. Legs crossed, foot bouncing impatiently, arms sprawled across the back of Aziraphale’s sofa. In his old bookshop, Crowley always sticks out like a sore thumb, and he’s always loved that about him.

He tilts his head. “Really,” he drawls, vaguely amused.

“Yes. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

“IIIII dunno…” Crowley sucks air through his teeth contemplatively. “Never ends very well. Tell humans that angels and demons roam their planet and they get all agitated. Don’t need to tell you that, you remember how much it traumatised dear old Hieronymous. Couldn’t stop painting us, the poor bastard.”

Aziraphale sighs. “Yes, well, that was different. That was almost a millennia ago, now.”

The bookshop is still just as dusty as it has ever been. Crowley has been urging him to at least install a proper computer -- one that will answer to him, rather than sitting there stupidly, looking like a brick. But he is quite happy with it as it is, especially when he has Crowley here, lounging about as he’s always done, draped across the furniture like he’s still wrapped around that apple tree. And drinking more wine than is good for them.

“Right so -- let’s just role-play this--” Crowley’s glass makes a decisive clink against the table, “-- we patch into their network. Right? I find their frequency and just, try and call from my PADD.”

“Yes,” he confirms, not liking his partner’s tone of voice.

“So then they answer, all, military-like and ready for some sort of diplomatic… situation.”

“Mm…”

Crowley’s leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating a enthusiastically. “They see us, they’re all, ‘oi, how did you get this number?’ and we’re all, ‘sorry, just thought we’d pop in and introduce ourselves, we’re your new neighbours,’” he wrinkles his nose mockingly, “‘Cept we’re not new at all, not really, we’ve been here since the dawn of time, but don’t worry too much about that’.”

“Well--”

“So they’re all, ‘ah, immortal beings from outer space!’ and we have to explain that, actually, we’re not really from space at all, we’re the ones who made space, and no, sorry, we’d love to patch you through to God, except She’s been a little busy for the past six thousand odd years, no can do, just got us boring old sods’.”

“Crowley, really. Don’t you think you’re being a little reductionist?”

“No.” Suddenly serious. “I don’t. They’re humans. They’re brilliant, but they’re also humans, which means they’re also thick as shit.”

Aziraphale purses his lips, electing to ignore the love of his life for this moment. Sitting up properly, linking his hands in his lap. “I think it’s time.”

“And what do you think they’ll do?”

“Perhaps it will bring about some new, interesting philosophy. About the nature of the universe, of the overlap between science and faith.”

Crowley’s brow quirks, yellow eyes staring, wide and disbelieving. “Some ‘new and interesting philosophy’? Books. You’re talking about books. You think you’ll get some nice literature out of this.”

Aziraphale flounders. “Well, that’s not exactly how I’d put it--”

Crowley scowls. But then, he’s taking out his PADD from his purse, making aggravated noises as his fingers fly across the screen.

“You’re doing it?” Aziraphale asks hopefully.

“Yes, yes. You got all happy as soon as you started talking about it and-- I was never really going to say no, was I? You know how pathetic I am by this point, surely.”

He’s not looking at him, but Aziraphale is gazing with those big, angel-eyes that Crowley’s told him he uses sometimes. They drive him insane, but he can’t help it, not when Crowley’s being so unintentionally romantic. “Oh, Crowley.”

“Shhhht. Stop. I’m not doing anything nice, I’m--”

“Not nice, I know.”

Aziraphale smiles serenely. Crowley’s scowl deepens, just as the PADD begins to ring.

The screen is propped up against a wine bottle, just in time for the image to reveal a man. A man in green and gold, sand-blonde hair swept back and a look of cautious curiosity in his hazel eyes. Behind his chair, a woman in red is leaning over the controls. The captain’s head is angled slightly, tilted as he seems to consider his situation -- consider the two strangers who have called their starship.

“Greetings, this is Captain Kirk of the Starship: Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, how exciting,” Aziraphale whispers, nudging Crowley a little. Then, more loudly, “Greetings, Captain Kirk! My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

Crowley sighs, seeming very put upon.

Aziraphale nudges him again. “Well! Don’t be rude, Crowley.”

“Yes, hello, how very nice to meet you,” he simpers accordingly.

“This is a secure line, gentlemen. How did you access our co-ordinates?”

“Ah, yep, sorry, my fault,” Crowley waves a hand. “I’m -- well, we’re, er… we can do stuff. Lots of stuff. He’ll explain later.”

He shoots Aziraphale a glare, which seems to be a warning that this could go horribly wrong. Aziraphale, ever the opportunist, elects to ignore this.

“That I shall,” Aziraphale adds, pointedly.

Kirk thinks. He thinks, sitting so still as he leans towards the monitor, that for a moment, Azirpahale thinks the screen has frozen. Then, turning his head to his right, he notes that he is talking to someone. A certain someone who then appears on screen, a royal blue shirt and hands clasped behind his back. A Vulcan. The two converse with a silent look.

Ah. Aziraphale knows that look very well. 

“Be that as it may,” Kirk continues, turning back to them, “it is technically a federal crime to trace Starfleet co-ordinates and to contact a ship without first organising an official meeting. That is, unless it is an emergency.”

“Oh, yes, I have heard of your ship’s adventures, captain,” Aziraphale rushes. He puts down his glass of wine. “You’ve done an awful lot of good, helping those in need.”

“We… do our best,” he says with a slow nod.

“Sorry. For the, er… illegal call,” Crowley says.

Another moment where both men share a glance. And then, the Vulcan in blue tilts an inquisitive chin.

“Sir, may I enquire as to the colour of your eyes? They do not appear to be contact lenses.”

It takes a moment for Crowley to realise that he’s the one being addressed. Then, “Ah! Bollocks. Forgot the sunglasses-- see Aziraphale, this is why we don’t call Starfleet when we’ve had two bottles of Rioja.”

“Awfully sorry, dear--”

The captain looks up at his colleague with a wry smile and a raised brow. “Spock, don’t you think it’s a little rude to as a stranger questions about their appearance?”

“A stranger who has made contact with Starfleet’s flagship outside of legal parameters.”

“Still, politeness can go a long way,” he adds with a smirk, and a look in his eyes that’s, quite frankly, obscene.

Crowley clears his throat. “To answer your question-- although, seems like they’re more interested in each other,” he says to Aziraphale as an aside, “- to answer your question, yeah, they’re real. Snake eyes. Unfortunate accident involving a bastard called Lucifer.”

A pause. The man named Spock tilts his head. Kirk leans forward in his seat.

“Lucifer, you say?”

At that, Crowley gives a wicked smile. Aziraphale sighs. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined this conversation starting.

Stardate: 51650 (9th May 2271)

“My point is -- my point is -- tribbles. Tribbles, now -- whose idea were those, then? Who thought they were a good idea? They’ve -- they’ve not got faces, they’ve not got hands or feet or paws or anything, just, little balls of fluff that just poof! Reproduce, until you’re up to your tits in furballs.”

“Now, tha’s what ah been tryna tell yeh, captain. And you mind what he’s saying, too, Lieutenant Uhura! I know you thought they’s adorable, but they’re terrors.”

“Pointless, they’re pointless. Don’t know what they were thinking of when they made tribbles, whoever they were.”

“Aye! See, straight from the mouth of an angel!”

“Er, former angel.”

”Them wee bastards’ve been cloggin’ up my ship’s engine, would ye believe?”

 “Our ship, Scotty.”

 “Oh. Well, o’course, captain… I didnae mean no disrespect, captain--”

 “In Russia--”

“I swear, if you’re about to say that Russia invented tribbles, Chekov, I’ll kick you out of this here bar faster than you can say Alabama Slammer.”

“Alright, now, Bones, it’s shore leave. He can say what he wants. We’re all here to relax. Isn’t that right, Spock?”

“Yeah, he sure looks relaxed there, Jim.”

“I am not accustomed to frequenting such establishments.”

“I would like to state, for the wecord, sir, that I was not going to say that Russia inwented tribbles.”

“I -- ah -- actually, I have a bit of a confession to make in that respect…”

“Angel. Please. Please don’t tell me that you’re… Christ, you didn’t…”

“You are the angel responsible for creating the tribble species?”

“You have a lot to answer for, Aziraphale.”

“It wasn’t intentional! Or, rather, the intention was to simply create a creature so lovely and adorable that no one could quite resist it. And, I suppose, what with evolution and how that may have changed their, erm, reproduction process…”

“You bastard.”

“Crowley -- for Heaven’s sake, it was simply an accident! You can hardly say that it’s worse than some of your creations.”

“I invented Luton airport. You invented the universe’s most irritating pest. Honestly, I figured some lower ranking demon had been the one to come up with it, but now I feel, sort of… betrayed.”

“Don’t say that! May I remind you that you are the one who came up with the M25? Which nearly destroyed the universe as we know it!”

“I beg your pardon? Would you care to rewind and just, explain that last bit, Aziraphale?”

“Oh -- er, it’s a long story.”

“A very long story that would mean another round. Angel, you are definitely bloody-well buying.”

Stardate: 43897 (24th November 2366)

“You know, when you said that you wanted to check-in with Picard and the team, this isn’t what I imagined.”

Their call isn’t immediately picked up. However, when it is, the first thing they see is a large barbershop quartet. They’re all wearing pink, candy-stripe suits and wicker hats. The bridge of the Enterprise looks much the same as it did under captain Kirk, if not for this barbershop quartet, and perhaps a few technological tweaks. And, of course, the current captain who sits in his chair, face in his hand.

“Er.” Crowley looks at Aziraphale, who looks back at Crowley. “This doesn’t look like a good time.”

“No, by all means,” Picard gestures to the screen, other hand still covering his face. “If you have any advice to offer, then I will happily take it.”

“What…” Aziraphale trails off, purses his lips. The, trying to affect something light and airy, “What seems to be the problem, captain?”

Picard looks over the edge of his hand. “Are you aware of the being that calls itself ‘Q’?”

He’s about to say that he isn’t -- perhaps Crowley knows this Q?-- but before they even have a moment to deliberate, the tallest of the barbershop quartet members steps forward from the throng and hops down the steps to Picard’s side. Dark eyes that have seen too much, brightened by mischief. And for a moment, there is the faintest flicker of recognition as he doffs his hat to the screen, leaning against Picard’s captain chair.

“Good day to you, gentlemen. Did you like my song?”

“No,” Picard says quite firmly. “Now, would you please leave and take your pestering elsewhere!”

Q tuts, rolls his eyes. Pokes his thumb in Picard’s direction. “He’s just grumpy because he hasn’t had his morning cup of Earl Grey.”

“You…”

It’s Crowley that says this. Leaning forward on Aziraphale’s sofa, snake pupils narrowing. And it’s then that Aziraphale realises that this is absolutely someone they know. He just can’t put his finger on it, whilst Crowley clearly has.

“You know him?” Picard says, with the smallest flicker of hope.

“Wait. Wait a second now,” Q points his finger at Crowley, frown deepening. He miracles his hat away, cradles his chin. “Now, we worked together a long time ago, didn’t we?”

That makes Aziraphale stare back at Crowley.

There’s some hesitance. “Oh. Sure, probably. Long time ago, now, wasn’t it? Who knows. Worked with lots of people.”

“No, no, no -- we did a lot of creating with each other. Some fun messing around you know?”

“Er. Not sure. Might have a different person in mind--”

And then those eyes widen. A wicked grin on his face, and Aziraphale can only imagine that this Q must be a demon.

That’s when Aziraphale finds himself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise. Jean-Luc Picard looking up at them despairingly, whilst the rest of his crew work as diligently as they can with a quartet serenading them. Data, notably, is working with the utmost focus, whilst Wharf looks like he’s two seconds away from ripping something in half bare-handed. Riker looks no more patient.

“Oh,” Aziraphale remarks. “You’ve -- you miracled us here!”

No use, Q is far too preoccupied by Crowley. Pointing a finger in recognition. “You’re Crawly! I remember you! Oh, we got up to some good stuff together, huh? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of the guys from the Milky Way neighbourhood. You guys really like to keep to yourselves, I never understood it. Totally obsessed with your ‘Eden’ as if the rest of us don’t exist.”

“You o know him,” Picard says with some accusation.

Crowley looks, to put it lightly, a little embarrassed. Hands sliding in his pockets and averting his snake-eyed gaze, “Yup. Long time ago. Hung out with a different crowd, then, you got to understand…”

“Qasphiel.” The name bubbles up on Aziraphale’s tongue from nowhere; memories of a gaggle of angels who called themselves the Q Continuum, who were cast out for blasphemy. Creating your own little gang was never something that The Almighty did like. “You’re Qasphiel. You know, I do remember you, now that I think about it.”

Q looks Aziraphale up and down once. “I don’t remember you. Were you one of the more straight-laced types? Yeah, we wouldn’t have hung out, much.”

“Excuse me? I… I’ll have you know, that since then I’ve become quite the rebel--”

“What’re you doing here, Qasphiel?” Crowley interrupts with some exhaustion. “Coming in here and getting on everyone’s nerves -- believe me, I get that it’s fun for a while, but, come on. You must be a bit knackered of it now, no matter what the others are getting you to do.”

“Ah, but I don’t work on anyone’s terms any more. Not even the Continuum’s,” Q smiles smugly.

“That’s awfully nice, but the alternative is buggering off, so the rest of us can get on with our lives.”

He narrows his eyes at Crowley. “What’s in it for me?”

A weary sigh. And Aziraphale considers just how kind Crowley has always been, even if he doesn’t always see it. “Listen. How about -- what about a catch-up. Grab a drink on some planet in the Omicron Delta quadrant. Talk about old times? Big Bang and all that?”

“Ah yes,” Q sighs. Then, apparently distracted, “You know, I don’t recall the yellow eyes,” he gestures to his own. “The demonic thing. Did you fall with Lucy and the others, Crawly? Bad luck.”

“That’s a story that needs telling over a drink.”

There’s a long moment -- too long a moment -- where Q considers this offer. Picard is leaning back in his seat and watching the interaction over steepled fingers. Even Data has stopped to listen, head tilted in interest.

Then, Q shrugs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

And with that, Picard’s bridge is once again empty of divine or immortal beings. Or barbershop quartets. It is extraordinarily quiet.

Picard lets out a long exhale. “Never a dull day.”

 Stardate: unknown

Three suns set upon the horizon of Alpha Centauri. Palm trees wave in the breeze; planted there a few decades ago when this planet first became populated by humanoid species. The air tastes like salt and smells like ozone. A burning orange sky, a deep purple scattering of stars directly above them. Small, clay houses, their shutters closed in the late afternoon heat. Mountain ranges in the distance, seeming so small from their little balcony.

“Total tourist trap,” Crowley mutters into his glass of Romulan ale.

Aziraphale stifles a burp. “Sorry?”

“Look at it. Tourist trap.” Crowley crosses his legs on the railing of the balcony. “All of it. Built like a Terran city, as well. Palm trees and all that bollocks. Shops and restaurants, Christ, it couldn’t get more human if you tried. When will they stop colonising and just learn to appreciate?”

“Mmm.”

“Remember when we could come here and not be harassed by people selling sunglasses? When it was just a big, ol’ expanse?”

“Empty,” Aziraphale remarks. Then, wide eyed, “Hot.”

They watch the first sun dip behind the mountain ranges. The Romulan ale burns Crowley’s throat nicely.

“D’you ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”

Aziraphale takes a slow, indulgent breath. And Crowley knows that he understands what he’s asking. “Sometimes. But I think it’s better that we didn’t run away. We did save the universe, after all.”

“I know, obviously. But do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t?”

Of course he does. They both have. Images of a war-torn universe, of all of this: gone.

Crowley drops his hand, finds Aziraphale’s. Their fingers link, and they absorb the light of three, alien stars.

[artificialqueens]

Everybody Knows You're High, 3/4 (Rajila) - Dartmouth420

Summary: Raja’s attempt at self-awareness uncovers some… feelings. Manila gets paranoid, there’s another party, and a big old miscommunication.

A/N: we now truly enter the idiots portion of this friends-to-idiots-to-lovers tale. this has been fun to write, thank you to everyone for your enthusiasm :)

tw: weed, mild jealousy, alcohol, vomiting

“So, Manila thinks I lack self-awareness,” announced Raja to the kitchen as she stirred a large helping of weed into the pot of melted butter on the stove. She wanted to get a second opinion on the matter, and her roommates were a great place to start.

Delta and Carmen burst out laughing.

“Yeah, no shit,” deadpanned Delta, who was next to her at the counter, chopping vegetables.

“What? Come on… ” complained Raja, turning away from the stove. Apparently the second opinion was mockery.

“You’re one of the least self-aware people I’ve ever met,” added Carmen, who was sitting at the kitchen table with her knees up and drinking tea, “Like, it’s kind of charming but also maybe worth a psychological study, you know?”

“Well you’re a Psych major, write a paper on me or whatever.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea…”

“So wait, you’re still into her?” said Delta, with exaggerated concerned, “Raja, how long has it been?”

“A while… ” replied Raja vaguely, stirring her concoction with a wooden spoon. The smell of weed infusing into butter permeated the room.

“That’s for real? I thought it was a joke,” said Carmen, putting her tea down, “This isn’t normal for you.”

“I’d even say unprecedented,” added Delta, with a smirk at the edge of her mouth.

“Ugh, stop it,” whined Raja, pouting.

When Raja decided the infusion was sufficient, she took the weed butter mixture and dumped it through a strainer into a large bowl, then turned back to the stove and put several squares of baking chocolate in the same pot, leaving it to melt over low heat.

“I just want to… ” said Raja, trying to gather her thoughts and feelings into one place. She got out the eggs, sugar and flour. What she felt for Manila was a wonderful and frustrating mixture of friendship and attraction. It wasn’t much different from the way she felt about her other friends, but it was stronger and a lot more distracting. There wasn’t any good way to express it. “…I don’t know, make out with her.”

“That much is obvious,” laughed Delta. “So do it already.”

“I’m trying but she thinks I’m joking, she keeps making fun of me! I don’t get it, what am I doing wrong?”

“Well if you want more than a casual hook-up, then maybe tell her that… but like, in a subtle way,” said Carmen, sipping her tea, “You’ll have an opportunity today, I invited her over for a Mario Kart rematch-“

“No!” exclaimed Raja and Delta at the same time. Mario Kart was banned at their house for a reason.

“Also,” continued Carmen as though they hadn’t spoken, motioning at Raja’s bowl, “Are the special brownies just for you, or for everyone?”

“Everyone,” replied Raja, wondering if Carmen was right, maybe she did want a little more than just a casual makeout session with Manila. She mixed the sugar and melted chocolate into the butter with a whisk. But what did more even mean? “They’re for that party at Morgan’s this weekend.”

“Oooh, that’ll be fun.”

-

Luckily Raja and Delta managed to convince Carmen and Manila to avoid a friendship-shattering Mario Kart rematch and they all played Super Smash Bros as usual while the scent of baking brownies filled the apartment.

Manila seemed more relaxed today, squashed into the couch with the three roommates. Raja had been defeated first, she put her controller down as her character died and tilted her head to rest on Manila’s shoulder.

“Guess what I did last night?” said Manila out of the blue, her quick thumbs jabbing at the controller and building up combinations of moves to strike at Carmen on the screen, to Carmen’s frustrated grumble next to her.

“What?” asked Raja lazily, while on the screen Carmen and Manila teamed up to rip Delta’s character to shreds. Manila smelled like lavender conditioner. Would her neck taste like that too?

“Yara started Snapchatting me, apparently she’s mad at Alexis now,” said Manila, in a self-congratulatory tone, “And it got a little sexy.”

“How sexy are we talking?” asked Delta immediately, her voice full of intrigue.

“Yeah, how sexy?” added Carmen, trying to get her character back up onto the platform as Manila turned on her.

A weird feeling swirled in Raja’s stomach. She frowned, still resting her head on Manila’s shoulder, almost afraid to look at her expression. On the screen, Delta’s character died and Delta dropped her controller, clearly far more interested in the story than she was in the game.

“We might’ve…” drawled Manila, suggestively, “Exchanged a few pictures and videos and uh, you know.”

“Oh my god, you did that with Yara?!” exclaimed Delta, delighted. “While she’s still dating Alexis? Whore.”

“Mmm,” said Manila smugly, nudging Raja’s leg with her own, while on the screen she summoned a thunderbolt and attacked Carmen. “You know what I like about her? She’s incredibly self-aware-”

“I think the brownies are done!” exclaimed Raja, leaping up from the couch and walking furiously out of the room into the kitchen, to the laughter of her three friends.

Raja paced around the kitchen, fuming. The joke had gone too far at this point, and Manila was just rubbing it in and being mean. Raja wasn’t even that jealous of Manila’s interaction with Yara, she just didn’t understand what was so appealing about someone on the other side of a screen, when Raja herself was a warm, living, breathing human and right here!

Raja mourned how incredibly unjust the whole situation was, and took the brownies out of the oven. She waited for them to cool, listening to the conversation and the noise from the TV as Manila once again royally defeated everyone in the room and Carmen complained that she’d win if they were playing Mario Kart…

It hit Raja like a lightning bolt. Maybe she could just tell Manila how she felt, ask her directly what she wanted, and see if it made a difference and would make the stupid joke stop. Raja beamed at her reflection in the window and posed victoriously. She was self-aware as fuck.

But first, weed brownies.

Raja sliced the still-warm tray, taking out four pieces so there was one for everyone if they wanted. Raja’s recipe was potent so it was best to be careful and start small. She put them on a little plate and brought it back out into the living room.

“Who wants to get wrecked?” asked Raja with a big grin, coming back around the corner to where Delta was stretching, Carmen had a competitive look on her face and Manila was gently taunting her.

“Me!”

“Me too.”

“Same.”

“Wicked,” said Raja, and plopped back down in her spot on the couch, offering the plate. Everyone took a piece, and complimented her on the taste. What a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

“It’s not working,” complained Manila, after another few more rounds of Smash Bros, “We’re gonna need more.”

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling it,” added Delta.

“Just give it time, you two are so impatient,” said Raja, rolling her eyes.

An hour later Raja was thoroughly couch-locked, lying on her side, a deep relaxation throughout her body. Her thoughts were slow and gentle, like great blue whales moving in the vast Pacific. Manila sat next to her, slumped back, her expression glazed over. Delta was flat on her back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Carmen was curled up in the easy chair next to the couch, her caramel hair spilling over the arm.

The Smash Bros theme played over and over from the opening menu on the TV, but the controllers were completely abandoned.

“Do you think they’re spying on us?” whispered Manila, staring straight ahead.

“Who?” asked Raja, squinting at her.

“I dunno, the CIA?”

“I mean, probably.”

“No… ” groaned Manila in response, bringing a hand to her mouth, “I don’t want that.”

“Are you getting paranoid?” asked Raja, slow concern rising in her body.

“No… ” said Manila, and looked around, her expression growing nervous, “But, they could be, right? Anyone could be. Do you think they have cameras like, in our phones?”

“Yeah,” replied Raja, blinking glacially, “There’s cameras in our phones, duh. How else would we take pictures?”

Manila scrunched her eyebrows together and whimpered, anxiously pushing her phone off the couch so it clattered on the floor.

“No,” managed Delta from next to the coffee table, “I don’t think-”

Raja loosely realized that Manila was heading in the direction of a bad time. Raja sat up, shifting her slow, heavy limbs to pull Manila up too so that they sat cross-legged on the couch, looking at each other. Manila’s pupils were huge, and her lips were slightly parted.

“No one’s watching you,” said Raja, attempting confidence, “Uh, no one that matters, anyway.”

“What if I fail all my classes?” whispered Manila.

“You’re not gonna.”

“But what if I do?”

Raja reached forward and took Manila’s face in her hands, and said, “Then we’ll drop out together and become… drag kings. Or entrepreneurs. We’d be good at that.”

Manila let out a tiny laugh, but her eyebrows remained worried. Totally spaced out, Raja just smiled at her and hoped it helped.

Manila reached out and took Raja’s face in her hands as well, stroking her thumbs across Raja’s cheekbones. The action was so oddly intimate and animal that, in a flash, Raja understood exactly why and how human beings were descended from apes, and before that, how fish had first crawled out of the vast, primordial ocean onto land.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Manila, her voice soft, her pupils huge. Her hair was a curly cascade down her shoulders.

“Whales,” murmured Raja in response, and in her minds eye another blue whale of thought rose up, carrying with it the idea that it might be lovely to kiss Manila right now-

“That’s beautiful,” whispered Manila, with rare earnestness.

“Do you wanna make out?” murmured Raja. Manila’s face was warm, and the scent of her lavender conditioner drifted from her hair into Raja’s nose again.

“Yeah, but Delta and Carmen are right here,” said Manila, dropping her hands from Raja’s face to rest on her forearms. Raja let go of Manila’s face as well, resting her hands in her lap as Manila’s positive response slowly registered in her mind. Her fingertips almost tingled.

“They don’t care.”

“We totally don’t,” agreed Carmen from the chair, where she’d shifted, now upside down with her legs draped over the back of it, “That might be kinda hot, actually.”

“We should paint the ceiling…” whispered Delta, awed, from the floor.

“We can make out in the future,” said Manila, patting Raja’s arm in a reassuring way, and reaching for the bag of chips on the table.

“The future?” said Raja, a whale of concern surfacing in her mind, “Like, with global warming and Mars colonies?”

“Yeah, then.”

Later, when Manila had stumbled home and Raja was a bit less high, she remembered that Manila had technically said yes, and considered it to be good progress. In fact, now that she’d truly registered it, excitement was growing in her chest. Finally, her proposition had worked! She couldn’t wait.

-

Manila awoke the next day to the pure adrenaline and terror that can only be brought on by the violence of a loud alarm clock after too little sleep. Manila slapped at the stop button on her alarm and willed her heart to stop racing. It was just the weed, she reasoned to herself as she stared at the ceiling and still felt high, it was just the weed that had made her say yes. Raja’s fucking weed brownies. Raja wouldn’t even remember the conversation. Hopefully. Not that touching her face and staring into her deep brown eyes hadn’t been nice, really nice.

Raja was a lot more… attentive, lately. Affectionate. Caring. Maybe a little jealous, as proven by Manila’s complete and utter lie about Yara, which she’d strategically employed to test the waters. Raja was acting the way you’d act around someone who was maybe more than just a friend or a casual hookup…

But Manila wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that information.

Manila supposed she could’ve just told Raja how she felt, as she willed herself to get out of bed, but she sensed that once she started talking she wouldn’t be able to stop and it would all come out. All those painful feelings she’d been storing away since they’d met. There was no humanly possible way to be chill about it.

More immediately, there was the matter of getting to her morning class. It was the only other class she shared with Raja, and Manila didn’t believe in skipping class except in the circumstance of dire illness. Manila got dressed, put on some mom jeans and tried to find all her stuff, then hurried outside to find Raja waiting for her on the sidewalk out front, with a big grin, saying, “You’re late.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Raja stared at her for a long time, and Manila stared back and blinked. Even in the morning, with dark circles under her eyes, unbrushed hair, those stupid yellow sunglasses and an ugly, oversized camouflage T-shirt, Raja still looked impossibly sexy. Ugh. Manila hated her, and herself, for a split second.

“You’re still high,” stated Raja, her grin growing like the Cheshire Cat.

“Just a little.”

“I am too.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-do for us.”

“Mm-hmm,” hummed Raja smugly, and they walked down the street towards campus, falling into step.

Manila knew she had readings to do later, but maybe she’d take a break and play Legend of Zelda this afternoon. Zelda always made her feel better, and maybe if she beat the Water Temple she’d feel a little less head over heels in stupid, unrequited love with Raja. Raja slung a lazy arm over her shoulder as they walked and Manila decided that it may as well happen, and wrapped her arm around Raja’s back, because human contact was nice and it made her feel a little less annoyed about everything.

-

Everyone at the party at Morgan’s house (except Raven) cheered when Raja put the plate of weed brownies down on the kitchen table and announced, “Alright bitches, they’re special and potent, and they take about forty-five minutes to kick in, so start small.”

But Raja hadn’t indulged in her own creations tonight. Instead, she sipped some wine and watched as Manila played an incredibly loud and competitive round of beer pong with Shangela and her dancer friends. Raja had decided to go right back to what Manila had first told her on the day she’d freaked out at the grocery store and had her little realization, which was to ask her when she wasn’t high. And to tell her how she felt. With like, words.

She’d discussed her plan thoroughly with Delta, who thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous and someone should probably just lock Raja and Manila in a room together until they figured it out. Unfortunately it wasn’t up to Delta. Raja laughed as Shangela victoriously sunk the ping pong ball again and Manila grumbled and drank up.

Raja went out on the deck, leaning on the railing and looking out at the yard. It was a warm night with a gentle breeze, and Raja felt the urge to light up a joint but pushed it aside. In the opposite corner of the deck, Manila’s gym buddy, Willam, was talking to somebody. Raja nodded to her, and she nodded back and continued her conversation. Music and light spilled out of the house.

Raja smoothed down her shirt and waited. She’d told Manila she’d be out on the deck for a while and hopefully Manila would come find her after she inevitably lost to Shangela at beer pong. Shangela had the hand-eye coordination of a heart surgeon, even a few drinks in, and while Manila was great at Smash Bros, and liked to run and work out, her depth perception in real life had room for improvement.

So Raja waited, and tried not to sweat nervously. This whole self-awareness thing was challenging, and it was awkward not being high at a party. Perhaps what Manila had said about Raja being kind of an anxious bitch was right…

A couple minutes later Manila stumbled out onto the deck with a red solo cup in her hand, laughing at something happening behind her. Unfortunately, Willam caught Manila’s eye before she noticed Raja lurking in the corner like a gremlin, and she went over and talked to her. Raja glanced over at some antics happening on the lawn, until Manila finally turned around and sauntered the few short steps across the deck to her.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Shangela beat me again,” complained Manila, leaning on the railing next to Raja, “She wins like every time!”

“See how it feels?” teased Raja.

“Whatever bitch, you deserve to be last at something,” replied Manila, nudging her and giving her a tipsy grin.

Raja chuckled and took a moment to gather herself. She’d never had to tell anyone she actually liked them before, and really wasn’t sure where to start. Normally, most people wanted to make out and leave it at that and if they caught feelings then Raja would either go along with it or let them down easy. Raja snuck a glance at Manila. Her hair was up a high ponytail again tonight, brushing the back of her neck, and her little smirk had a knowing edge to it. Her tight black shirt was… low-cut. Raja quickly looked back up at her face.

“You’re not smoking your usual blunt,” observed Manila, bluntly, after a moment of silence.

“Oh yeah, no,” said Raja, twisting her hands together. This would have been way easier high. “I didn’t feel like it.”

“So you had some of your brownies earlier.”

“Nope.”

“Ooh, so you’re drinking tonight,” said Manila with a conspiratorial smile, gesturing at the mostly untouched red solo cup balanced on the ledge of the railing next to Raja, and raising her own.

“Not really.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” asked Manila, scrunching up her nose, as cute as she was incredulous, “We’re at a party.”

Raja wasn’t entirely sure why she was so mercilessly sober at this party either, but then she remembered the task at hand.

Dodging the question, Raja clutched at her cup and said, “So, I kind of wanted to tell you something.”

“What?” asked Manila, turning around and leaning back against the railing, resting her elbows on the edge.

“Uh,” said Raja, and let out an awkward laugh, “Well.” She took a deep breath and tried her best. “I’ve been thinking about uh, our friendship and about you, like, over the past little while.”

Manila looked confused, but motioned for her to continue.

“I really like you.” There, Raja had said it, but the words kept tumbling out. “You’re pretty and hilarious and smart and you actually look after yourself, which is like, responsible and kinda hot. And we already know we get along, so maybe it’s a good place to, uh, start dating… in a low-key kind of way?”

Manila still looked confused, even borderline distressed, like she was trying to wrestle a very difficult philosophical concept. Raja realized that she hadn’t been very clear.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, uh,” finished Raja, biting her lip and laughing awkwardly again, “Do you wanna make out?”

Manila’s face was on an emotional journey, which Raja watched with a combination of amusement and nervous anticipation. Maybe Manila would make fun of her for this too, and she’d just have to live with it. Maybe it didn’t matter how Raja felt, it would remain a joke forever. Or maybe, just maybe, Manila would feel the same way…

“Uh,” said Manila, nodding to herself. Her eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief, and she didn’t even tease Raja for being a total dweeb, which Raja had expected. “I mean…”

Raja waited, trying not to fidget and totally failing.

“Yeah,” said Manila, with a heavy, relieved exhale, “Yeah, I think that could be really great.”

A big smile stole over Manila’s face and she straightened up from where she was leaning on the railing and shuffled closer to Raja. Raja stepped forward too, her heart beating fast. She was so happy, so relieved, now that she’d admitted her feelings and Manila seemed to return them, she wanted nothing more than to make out with her, finally.

They leaned towards each other, excited and cautious. Manila touched Raja’s shirt, running her finger over the buttons. They were very close together. Raja could smell the alcohol on her breath and that lavender conditioner as Manila leaned in closer, tilting her head up to meet her, their lips just about to touch-

But at the last second Raja couldn’t resist the urge to mess with Manila, as she had with her before.

“Mmm, you know what?” said Raja, pulling back and flipping her hair over her shoulder, joking, “You missed your chance, I’m not interested anymore.”

Raja grinned. But instead of smiling back and maybe smacking her arm in mock-offence, genuine betrayal and disappointment crossed over Manila’s face. She stepped back, gave Raja an awful, disgusted look, turned on her heel and she stomped off the deck and back into the house.

Raja’s stomach dropped right out her body and through the deck, through the grass and the dirt and the crust of the earth right into the magma underneath.

Oh shit.

-

Manila had known, she’d just known that it was too good to be true.

And of course, she was right. It was entirely bullshit. Raja was just messing with her but it had gone to too far and it wasn’t funny anymore! Before, when it had just been silly, casual offers to make out it was fine, but Raja lying about having real feelings was cruel. Manila breathed in deeply and pressed back tears.

Manila stalked through the party in to the crowded living room, where there was a folding table covered in bottles of alcohol and mix. Manila took a random half-empty bottle of Absolut™ vodka and put it to her lips, gulping back as much as she could. It stung her throat. Manila should never, ever have let herself admit that she cared, let herself be vulnerable-

“Hey,” said a voice next to her, “That’s my vodka.”

Manila lowered the bottle, which was significantly emptier, and saw Raven with a frown on her face, her blunt bangs just brushing her neat eyebrows.

“Sorry,” muttered Manila and put the bottle back down on the table.

But Raven just took it and poured two hefty shots into two conveniently located shot glasses, and offered Manila one. Fuck it. Manila took the shot glass. With a smirk, Raven raised her glass and Manila clinked them together, then slammed it back. Manila eyed Raven as she lowered the glass, her stomach twisting against the sudden onslaught of alcohol. Raven wasn’t really her type but she was attractive enough, and the betrayal and anger rolling around in Manila’s body needed to go somewhere-

“Let me guess,” said Raven, with a knowing smile, “You were talking to Raja, right? She has a tendency to break hearts.”

Manila nodded bitterly, trying to put the glass down on the table, and momentarily lost her balance. Raven grabbed her arm and steadied her, letting out a low, amused chuckle.

“Do you wanna make out?” asked Manila impulsively, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Raven blinked with surprise, and laughed, “Sure? I always thought you were cute-“

“Great,” interrupted Manila, stumbling in to Raven and wrapping her arms around her neck. The kiss was sudden and sloppy, the taste of vodka mingling on their mouths.

-

Raja stood all alone on the deck. She’d fucked up.

Raja hadn’t been thinking, she’d rashly assumed the joke would be harmless, and that Manila could take it. Manila had done practically the same thing to her a few weeks ago…

But maybe it wasn’t quite the same, because that time Raja had just been offering to casually make out, not like… actually attempting to express her feelings and propose that they try to date or whatever. Hmm.

Spurred by her own foolishness and the sudden fear that Manila would never talk to her again, Raja walked quickly off the deck. She re-entered the party, and scanned the kitchen. The plate of brownies was picked over and the music was loud and it was even more crowded than before. But Manila wasn’t in there, and Raja looked round for Delta or Carmen to ask for help. Carmen was nowhere to be seen, and Delta was in the corner, flirting with some guy.

Raja would have to deal with this herself.

Raja moved through the crowd of people towards the living room. She passed Shangela, Morgan and some guys and then entered the crowded room. Raja craned her neck to see over the crowd, and froze.

Manila was by a table covered in bottles, locked in an embrace with Raven of all people!

They were by the edge of the crowd, their bodies flush together, Manila’s arms around Raven’s neck, and Raven’s hands on her waist… betrayal and hurt flooded through Raja’s veins.

“Hey!” exclaimed Raja, hurrying across the room, “What the hell, Manila?! You can’t just make out with my ex!”

Raven and Manila broke away from each other, and both glared at her. Raven’s stupid red lipstick was smeared across Manila’s lips, staining the perfect corner of her mouth.

“I can do what I want!” objected Manila, slurring her words and turning back to Raven, trying to kiss her again, but Raven was still glaring at Raja, her expression annoyed.

“I told you like four times you’re not invited to parties here anymore!” snapped Raven.

“You know I don’t read your texts,” retorted Raja, trying to get Manila to make eye contact with her as Manila pawed at Raven, trying to pull her back in, “Manila, come on-”

“You’re such a bitch,” said Raven, rolling her eyes and batting Manila away from her. “Back off Manila, I don’t want to be involved with whatever this is-”

“Don’t go-” managed Manila, trying to hang on to Raven, but Raven slid out of her grip and quickly escaped across the crowded living room into the hallway.

Raja and Manila stared at each other.

“Look, I didn’t mean it-” began Raja.

“Whatever,” interrupted Manila, shaky, trying to push past her and follow Raven, “I know you didn’t mean it, obviously.”

“No,” said Raja, shifting in front of her, and trying to get her words out properly, “I meant the first part, the part where I said I like you. But not the part where I said, uh, that I didn’t. Like you.”

Even Raja could tell that was basically incoherent. Manila tilted her head to the side and her mouth fell open in annoyed confusion. Raja didn’t know what to say, the hurt and regret swirled inside her. But she desperately wanted Manila to understand that what she meant was, well… not serious, exactly. But important, significant. She should’ve had some weed to take the edge off.

“Wait, what-” began Manila, reaching out to steady herself on the table.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” asked Raja, noting that Manila seemed significantly drunker then she’d been a few minutes ago. “Also, are you okay?”

“I had some vodka,” muttered Manila, and then nodded, “Yeah, let’s uh, go outside.”

“Right,” said Raja, and let Manila lead her unsteadily through the room and down the front steps.

Outside, Manila started walking down the familiar sidewalk in the direction of where they both lived. The noise of the party faded behind them. Raja walked next to her, trying to gather her words again.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you at the Halloween party just ‘cause you wanted to make out,” apologized Manila, in a small, tight voice, “But I- I just couldn’t deal with it. I can’t deal with you, you make me feel like I’m going insane.”

“Well… yeah it kind of hurt, but it’s okay,” said Raja, trying to make sense of the second part of what Manila had said, and figure out what to say next. Manila sighed deeply, her expression scrunched up, sad and frustrated, power-walking with unsteady determination down the street. Raja had to hurry to keep up.

“But like I said, uh,” continued Raja, unsure as to why they were practically sprinting, “You’re my friend and I care about you. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re insane or whatever-“

Their hands brushed together. Raja caught her fingers with Manila’s and held her hand, her grip gentle, hoping that maybe this would show how she felt better than words could.

A single tear dripped down Manila’s face, but she kept walking, squeezing Raja’s hand in return.

After a minute or two, Manila stopped abruptly and Raja jerked to halt a couple steps past her, their arms stretched out between them.

“Uh-” said Manila, and paled, her eyes widening.

She turned and threw up in the neighbour’s yard.

Raja rushed over and held her hair back while Manila puked up vodka-tainted bile into a giant hosta plant that Raja recognized as the one Manila had pushed her into a week or two ago. Manila groaned pathetically and straightened back up.

“Are we near my house?” whined Manila, spitting on the ground and wiping her mouth.

“Yeah,” replied Raja, suppressing her laugh and pointing barely fifteen feet away, “You live right here.”

“Oh.”

With that, they walked the few steps down the sidewalk and up the stairs to Manila’s house. Manila unlocked the door and flicked the light on, kicking off her shoes. Raja snuck past her and made for the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. Admittedly one of them was in a mason jar, because the dishes situation seemed a bit out of control. Manila followed her through and they both sat down at the kitchen table.

Raja handed Manila the water and Manila sipped it. She looked haggard and sad, her lower lip pouting more than normal. Raja reflected in the silence, thinking over what had happened and wondering if they’d ever manage to get involved at this rate. Maybe by graduation. Manila stood up from the table and got some saltines from the cupboard and they ate them, and drank more water. Then Manila stood up again, and paused awkwardly in front of Raja.

“I need to go to bed,” said Manila, biting her lip and not quite making eye contact.

“But I wanna make out,” whined Raja with a joking smile, before realizing with hot embarrassment that it was beyond stupid to make yet another joke about it-

“With my vomit breath?” replied Manila dryly.

Raja laughed, and so did Manila, dimples appearing in her cheeks. Raja stood, relieved, and they surveyed one another awkwardly. Raja darted forward and hugged Manila, pulling her in close for a moment and breathing in the smell of her hair. Manila seemed surprised but hugged her in return.

Raja stepped back and said, “Let’s talk tomorrow?”

Manila nodded, crossing her arms and looking tired and pathetic in lousy yellowish light of her kitchen. Her hair was everywhere, her eyes were puffy, and Raven’s red lipstick still stained the side of her mouth.

Well, thought Raja mildly to herself as she left, this is the woman I’ve chosen to love.

Love. Hmm.

[hunterguyveriv]

Hidden Beauty

Here is my submission for Days 1(First Sunrise/Set) & 2(Late Night Adventure) of Kacxa Week I had this plan to do quick ficlets for these 2 days but no matter what I did they merged into one and Kind of ties in with “The Promise.”

This post would have been up sooner, but I kind of pepper sprayed myself. Harvested hot pepper seeds from plants I grew earlier and apparently I didn’t wash the oils off well enough xD xD xD 

Anyway, here is my submission for days 1 & 2 titled Hidden Beauty

"Let me take you somewhere in which you will feel young and take your mind away from all this..."

It was nighttime on Verolgah-VI. The two planetoid moons did their annual dance across the evening sky as shooting stars streaked the upper atmosphere. The devastated planet's temperature was chilly, but nothing like what most of the Paladins were used to, save for one.

He looked to the lions with 3 out of the 5 charged up, Red was in the final stages of charging up. He let out a sigh; some things were going to plans, but he had to remain on edge as the leader. Shit tends to hit the fan when one least expected it, and with friends still about 2 maybe 3 more days away, anything could go wrong.

Since they first landed on, well, more or less crashed when the lions collapsed from low energy, the Paladins all slept in the cave with Acxa. But tonight was different; it was cold enough to drive them to the lions that were charged. Hunk, Lance, Shiro, and Coran were sleeping in the Yellow Lion. Allura, Pidge, and Romelle were sleeping in Green, with Blue-Powered down to preserve power. Krolia and Keith's wolf were snuggled up in Black, which was somewhat comfier than the ground from the Star-whale, but nothing close to temperature.

Keith only grabbed his red & white jacket from Black's storage locker, from when he grabbed what little belongings he left on the Castle when he took a sabbatical from the Voltron-Force. Krolia was ready to get some sleep when she asked if he would turn in. His response was he had too much on his mind and was going for a walk. When his mother saw Acxa walk out of the cave, she gave him her sly "mother knows all" smirk and responded with "you kids don't stay out too late" before turning and taking his wolf with her.

Blushing and stammering at her, he turned to see Acxa wearing something similar to an Earth styled tank top in the moons' light, which her blue skin radiant. When he got within range of her, she gestured her head to follow her. He threw his jacket on which even over his Paladin Armor slightly loose. He put his belt with his Marmoran blade on and started walking with her. She took him to her favorite spot in silence. It had been three long years since she saw him last and even though she had so much to tell him, opening up was something relatively new for her. Even taking him to a spot she had grown to love in her mind was a huge gamble, that she was surprised she was doing.

It was one of the most stunning sights next to her that he had ever seen. It was a massive valley with a small creek like waterfall leading into a small shallow lake. Further behind were some of the most gorgeous mountain ranges he had ever seen with millions of stars. Even the nearby Argola nebula was just barely seen. Its blues, greens, purples, & reds intensified by the planet's atmosphere. His mouth agape, Acxa finally broke her silence. "I found this place about a year and a half after I was left here by the coalition."

Keith walked forward, taking in the beauty of the water, reflecting the moons and stars. The water droplets flying into the air reminded him of fireflies he used to catch with his father when he was a small boy, "It's beautiful." She walked up to match his location, slowly wrapping her arm around his. She sensed him tensing a little and then relax, but she knew he was much like her. Both introverted warriors, just starting to let their feelings show on the surface. "In the morning this spot reminds me of my homeworld, before it was officially... 'indoctrinated' into the Empire."

He looked to her, seeing a sorrowful look on her face. "Tell me about it?" She looked at him softly, smiling, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She started to sit down, but he stopped her taking his jacket off, laying it on the ground gesturing for them to sit on it. She slowly sat down on his coat. She looked at him. "Won't you get cold?" He shook his head, "Nah, I grew up in the desert for the most part. I am used to brutally hot and brutally cold temps."

Acxa nodded and looked up to the stars and looked back at him. "From what I remember, it wasn't like this planet. For the better part of a deca-phoeb the planet was a relatively fridgid planet, but it was no barren froze wasteland. My mother's people were born in a region in which it was neither barely above freezing or frozen. The closer you got to the planet's polar region the darker blue their skin got, towards the equatorial sections they were either a lignt blue almost white color almost like that little girl & those two Alteans. But regardless of our skintone we all loved Aaenergola..."

Keith continued to listen to the Acxa tell him of her homeworld. The architecture, the lore, some of the history, the customs, and so much more emphatically. But when it came to the story of the Empire coming to her world, her demeanor and tone changed. Her planet had fought the best it could but ultimately was indoctrinated into the Empire.

She revealed her father was a doctor and her mother a Galra Lieutenant who he had saved from dying. Both harbored no ill will towards the other's race. When she was born, both parents wanted her yo have a decent education despite being a half-blood. But it wasn't until she got to her parents' death when she was 9 that she became bitter. When Aaenergolan Terrorists executed her parents for helping Galran citizens while Aaenergolans were starving. She trailed off as she remembered coming out of her hiding place. Finding her father brutally murdered, protecting the area she was hiding.

Keith, for the first time, saw tears streaking down her face and her lip trembling. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to scoot closer to him. He had asked if she wanted to stop, and she nodded her head, wiping some of her tears away, asking about his homeworld.

As she did to him, he told her of Earth and his life on the distant planet they were trying to get back to. Of the blue skies and oceans, everything that made the planet one of the most beautiful he has ever lived on. Growing up with just a father before he died fighting a fire. His life before his adopted brother Shiro came into it.

Keith told her it wasn't until he was on a Blade mission did he learn who his mother was and later on in the Quantum Abyss, the reasons why he grew up without her in his life. Just hearing his voice caused her to relax and snuggle up to him. He felt her wrap an arm around his waist, prompting him to wrap an arm around her shoulders. When he stopped talking about Earth, she was fast asleep, snoring softly on his shoulder. Not long after, he fell asleep after repositioning, so her head was on his chest armor.

Many Vargas later, Acxa sat right up as one of the suns started to rise. She was expecting to be alone, which typically happened when she let her guard down, showing a side people typically never see. But was relieved seeing Keith still sleeping next to her. She pulled her legs to her chest and started watching the suns rise.

He started to stir, feeling the warmth on his face. When he woke up, he saw Acxa sitting up, his jacket draped over her shoulders. He slowly sat up and beheld one of the most stunning sights as the twin suns started to dance across the sky. The water, especially the waterfall, looked like it was molten lava. Like the sky, the vegetation itself looked like it was ablaze, swaying in the wind with colors of reds, blues, greens, and purples.

Both half breeds talked a little while enjoying the beauty of the sunset heads perched against each other. When the bottom of the second sun was just barely over the distant mountains, they decided it was time to head back to the group. But before leaving, he took one last look at their surroundings and turned to her.

She had a nervous look on her face, "About last night..." He had a delicate look on his face and softly smiled, "I want to thank you for last night. You bringing me to this beautiful place was as if you were opening your true self to me." She closed her mouth, being a little surprised at being thanked; she started to blush purple. "It takes great courage and trust to open up to someone, and I hope I am worthy of both."

Almost 2 hours later: The group was starting to freak out that Keith was nowhere to be found, nor was Acxa. Most of the group was searching the compound, while others were searching the immediate area. Some were worried that the pirates took them, one worried that their host handed him over to the pirates, while another knew all too well where they were. She refused to answer anyone's questions about why she wasn't worried. But Coran soon put two and two together, once being a parent himself.

When the group regrouped, it wasn't until his wolf snapped his head up, ears perked that everyone put their attention elsewhere. With their leader and hostess missing, The Paladins drew their bayards ready for anything. If it were an ambush like last time, they'd be prepared to fight.

Two figures were walking towards them with the suns at their backs, nearly blinding everyone. When the wolf bolted and teleported, everyone got on edge, waiting for the inevitable attack. But it never came. Instead, they could barely make out one figure stopping greeting the wolf and the three of them walking back.

As they got close, enough everyone realized that it was Keith with Acxa wearing his jacket. But what really caught their attention was that they were both holding hands and that their demeanor was different. It was no longer of two socially awkward Galrans who tried hiding there was something there to clearly having broken the ice with each other.