#been trying to use these as practice for breaking down things into shapes and blobs

[shitty-yokai-watch-a-day]

Day 284 – Gnomey

[buckybarnesbabydoll]

Lost and Found: Chapter 4

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Warning(s): use of blasters/shooting? but nothing big

Word count: 4.1k

Summary: Mando gives the Client what he wants, but afterwards it doesn't sit right with either of you

Chapters: Chapter 3, Chapter 5 (Not up yet!)

Note(s): Up on my Ao3!

The sound of stern modulated voices makes you open your eyes. Blinking away the blurriness, you look around to unfamiliar surroundings. You’d expect to feel panicked as if you’ve been deceived by the Mandalorian and were sold off to some slave traders.

But you didn’t. In fact, you weren’t able to move at all. You weren’t restrained or had any weapon held to your head. You were just standing in the middle of a poorly lit room, the only source of light seeping through thin windows all around. It was enough light to notice the movement of walking...blobs? You could tell the moving shapes were humanoid, pacing around the room as if slowly stalking you like prey. Everything you were trying to process was still blurry, you blinked more to get a clearer image, but an elder man's voice turned your head forward.

“Extreme...importance...I had...to ensure it’s delivery,” perhaps because he was closer, his face was clearer than the other forms around you, whose eyes you can feel burning into your skull. However, the man's sentences were jumbled and unclear. The few words you can make out only made this entire scene more confusing. What was happening?

You look down to see a spherical blob floating in front of you vertically split open, that’s when you recognize the child’s pram. You can see his wide, thin ears poking out from each side, while his round head sits on the bundle of beige clothing he wears.

“What are you doing here…?” That’s what you wanted to say, but your lips didn’t move. Despite trying to make some noise, nothing was coming out. So, you resigned to quietly listening, getting as much information as you could out of this strange fever dream. Was this even a dream? It couldn’t be, it felt too real. Shortly after, the experience seems to break up into fragments. Every time you blink, time jumps forward a little bit, the man standing in different spots every time you open your eyes. Once he’s standing in front of you, then, another man with round glasses is at his side, holding a thermometer up to the child's head. You had no clue what was going on, or why everything was going so fast. Perhaps this experience wasn’t going too fast, and you just couldn’t keep up. While musing over why you were having a weird dream like this, you see the man with glasses start to walk away with the pram trailing after him. You want to call out, to tell him to stop and stomp up to him. Demanding an answer to why he’s suddenly taking off with the child. But all you do is stand there, following the floating pram with your head until he passes the threshold to another room, and the elevator doors shut.

You don't realize you’ve fallen into a deep sleep until you feel the gentle nudging on your shoulder, luring you from your dream. You look around blearily, fortunately, your surroundings come into focus pretty soon. You look up to your right at the Mandalorian standing over you. His armor seemed to have (finally) been cleaned of the dry mud from the mudhorn a few days prior, and his helmet was shiny again, given the near mirror level quality when you looked at it. That reminded you, you should probably shower too.

“We’re on Nevarro. I’ll be back in a little bit, so please watch the ship while I’m gone,” you nodded as an answer, rubbing your eyes. Satisfied with your response, the Mandalorian turns and leaves the cockpit, sliding down the ladder. Since you worked on basically putting the entire Razor Crest back together, he had a feeling you didn’t need to be told where the facilities were. Fortunately, he was right. You sit in your seat for a moment, pulling yourself together, before hauling yourself up and following suit down the ladder. Instead of sliding down the ladder as Mando does, you opt to climb down like normal. You didn’t need to find out if you were going to smack your chin on the rungs today.

You glance around, making sure he’s completely gone before picking up your bag and heading into the refresher. Not that you were worried he would invade your privacy, you just didn’t want a funny situation to make things awkward right off the bat. Slipping into the refresher, you lock the door as the sensor lights come on. Just the thought of taking a shower was enticing. You turn on the water, quickly peel your clothes off, and step in.

The warm water is nearly orgastic on your skin, after cleaning the hours of sweat off you rest your hands on the wall, letting the sensation run over you. You swear you could probably fall asleep again in this shower. That is until the water starts running cold. The cold water on your back is like raining thumbtacks, and you arch to get away from it, nearly yowling from the freezing terror.

You quickly switch off the water, looking at the handle in horror. Okay, maybe you were being a bit over dramatic. But you silently pray you didn’t end up using all the hot water for the day, or else you might be the next bounty the Mandalorian hunts down.

Patting yourself off with the towel, the shower has definitely woken you up now. You chuckle, shaking your head at your reaction. Then it slowly mounts into full laughter, all at how you screamed like a cat from some cold water. You throw on another clean set of clothes, one that Kuiil neatly packed for you. You shifted around in the back to find he also included everything else you might need.

“Boy, guess he really had a good feeling about this…” still smiling, you close up the bag, stepping out of the refresher. Despite the abrupt wash of cold water. You look around the ship and realize, you don’t really have a place to sleep.

You press a finger to your lips, looking around the interior in thought. You had a few ideas of what would make a decent spot, but you weren’t sure if they would be practical. In the cockpit? No, that would be uncomfortable. Near the back? No, you’d probably wake up rolling out of the ship. You spend a few more minutes pondering on a good spot when you finally see one.

While you’re working on a decent cot, you can’t help but wonder what became of the child. You wanted to believe the child was being taken back to his family, and they would be relieved to finally pay off the bounty and be reunited with their wrinkly baby. But after that dream… all it gave you was a sinking sensation in your gut. You had a strong feeling there wasn’t anything good in store for him, especially because he was a force user. That was why so many bounty hunters were sent after him. But you didn’t want to question Mando, he had a job to do, he got it done, and that was the end of it. You didn’t want to rock the boat as soon as you got on board.

You finish putting together the cot and stand up, admiring your work with your hands on your hips. Before you can think any further on the issue concerning the child, the hangar of the Razor Crest opens up. You turn at the waist to look over, and you whistle when the Mandalorian walks up. He comes into the ship in a shiny new cuirass that matches his helmet, so that was the payment for the bounty.

“Look at youuu, fancy man,” you looked him up and down, walking around him in a circle to get a good look while his helmet nodded.

“Thought it was time for a new look,” he glances down at himself, before heading off into the cockpit. However, his tone didn’t match what he said. He sounded...guilty. After he left, you glance at the closing hangar, the same feeling in your gut hitting you again. You walk closer to the ladder of the cockpit and lookup.

“Hey, Mando?” You called, climbing up to join him. He hums in acknowledgment, slowly flipping switches that make the ship start to life. You pause, standing between the two passenger seats. You set your hand on the headrest of the right seat, looking down at it. Where the child used to be. “...What did you do with the child?” A moment of silence passes and feeling some regret for bringing it up, you sit down in the other seat, prepared to never get an answer.

The Mandalorian seems to also be prepared to never give one, despite his reluctant movement, he holds onto the lever, pushing forward on it. You watch him as he just… looks at it. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Just looking at him while you stiffly waited, you wanted to go up next to him, turn off the ship and tell him to hear you out. Tell him how hesitant you felt about leaving the child behind, but you weren’t even sure if your dream was accurate. Or just a summary of intrusive fears you had for the child. But it seems like he shares the same feelings because he pulls the lever back. Reversing all his actions to the ship, he shuts it down and quickly rises from his seat.

"Something I shouldn't have done."

The Mandalorian quickly leaves the ship and you hightail it after him.

“Mando?” You pick up the pace to keep in stride with him as he walks back into the town. The main city on Nevarro was similar to the town on your little desert planet, clamoring and full of different aliens and people. However, it felt...colder. More serious, like people didn’t come there for fun.

He leads you down alleyways and paths that descend until you’re sure you’d be lost without him. But it was worth it, you knew whoever had placed the bounty on the child's head was surely someone ill-intentioned. Knowing that you were going to get the child back, you couldn’t help but think of that sweet child's eyes, with big pointy ears that contrasted his spherical features. It motivated you to push through the strange atmosphere this hidden area gave you, as creepy as it was. Mando instructs you to follow close behind him, and he checks around every corner as he starts walking around a certain structure. You don’t question it, not until you see him pass a dumpster and pause, then you both look inside.

The chilling sight of a discarded pram sits before your eyes, everything was tossed out, even the child's small brown blanket. Your brows furrow in guilt, how could you have done this? What was even happening to him now? Was the child still even alive?

Your racing thoughts are stopped when Mando’s modulated voice cuts in, “Come on,” he tilts his head to follow him, and you go.

You trail after him behind a building adjacent to the one with the child, following Mando up to the rooftop. He lies down closer to the edge, gesturing at you to sit further behind him. He takes out his rifle, pointing it towards the building, and fidgets with the side of his helmet. You lay down on your stomach next to him, patiently waiting to see what he's going to do next. You stay like that for a minute or two, until he lowers the rifle.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," the Mandalorian fills you in on the conversation he overheard between the Client and a presumably scientist. It sounded like the child was still alive, so there's hope. Although he doesn't want to put anyone else in harms way, Mando knows you'll refuse just sitting on the ship for this. So what he does is points you towards a staircase jutting out on the side of the ex-imperial headquarters and orders for you to hide above the entrance. When you’re ready, you watch Mando walk over to the door, which activates the sensors for the security eye to pop out. He grabs the base of the eye and rips the end off while the droid shrieks, stalking off into the shadows.

You watched him leave, Wow, you thought, I wish I could be as calm as that. Your silent awe at the Mandalorian’s steel composure is interrupted by the blue door sliding open two stormtroopers stepping out. You wait until they are far enough that the door closes, and then you shoot at them twice, taking them out. A small explosion promptly follows, which you knew was Mando’s doing. As much as you wanted to contribute more to the retrieval, you listened to Mando and chose to stay put, figuring that getting yourself involved would cause more harm than hurt. While you wait for him, you take out any more stormtroopers that exit out the front. Fortunately, only two or three came out while you waited.

Just as you begin to start worrying if the plan went wrong, you see the Mandalorian leave the headquarters, a bundle of fabric tucked in his left elbow. He nods for you to come down, the coast was clear, and it was time for you three to get the hell out of there. Together, you walk back to the Nevarran town, not exchanging a single word as the tension rises. Paranoia continues to seep into the back of your mind as you walk on the cobblestone path, unaware of the men casually following behind you. Just as the Razor Crest is finally in sight, your worst fears come true once you see other people moving out from the shadows, raising their blasters at you two.

While the Mandalorian seemed calm as ever, only glancing around to read the situation, you were beginning to internally freak out. So this is how I die, you thought. You’ve never been in a situation like this, not ever on your cozy little desert planet, where trouble used to be miles away. But it seems like you finally made the trek to the dangerous part of the universe. Oh, the irony. You wanted to leave so bad, but now you wanted to kick your younger self in the ass. Although you were certain imminent death was near, this seemed to be another evening for Mando. You hadn’t even processed another man speaking until you saw him come into view.

“Step aside, I’m going to my ship,” Mando says

You put the bounty down, and perhaps I’ll let you pass,” Karga says, looking between you two. It was easy for him to see your inexperience, the insecurity of your ability to make it out of this situation alive. Despite your attempts to steel yourself like your Mandalorian boss, it was an attempt easier said than done.

“The kid’s coming with us,” you glance up at Mando, for some reason, you’re surprised at his wording. You look back at the Razor Crest, the relieving sight now becoming a mockery of your attempt to do the right thing. The metal was lit up underneath by landing lights to guide other crafts, but at the moment you wanted to perceive it as a beacon of hope.

“If you truly care about the kid, then you’ll put it on the speeder,” Greef nods his head to the speeder piloted by the R-Unit, who looks back, definitely the most confused one out of this whole situation, “then we’ll discuss terms.”

The Mandalorian is silent, gauging the situation, “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Because I’m your only hope.”

A moment of silence passes before Mando tentatively walks over to the speeder. You slowly walk beside the Mandalorian, feeling your hands begin to tremble. Is he really going to do this? You look down at the child in his arms, the child's eyes can be seen between the folds in the fabric. He looked so small, so helpless. At that moment you knew, you would go to the ends of the universe for this small child.

“Go under!” is all the Mandalorian says, before he snatches out his blaster from his side and shoots at one of the bounty hunters. You don’t waste any time clamoring underneath the speeder while Mando jumps into the top. Using the speeder as cover, you crawl through to get into the alleyway, stumbling off into the city maze. You’re not quite sure where you’re going, not fully confident that you could make it back to the ship like this either, all you can hear is the firefight going on behind you, and praying that those two make it out alright. Although your mind is running miles a minute, you notice someone who looks...familiar.

“Hey!” The person doesn’t hear you, moving aside some curtains before descending into the shadows. You hesitate at the curtain, fear gripping your heart. But you shake the nerves away, you have to try. So you swing the curtain aside and follow them down. But you’re a little lost once the curtain blocks out the moonlight, carefully trying to maneuver your way down a flight of curving stairs. Once you reach the bottom, you’re met with lit torches lining a long...hallway? From the looks of it, it appeared to be the city sewers. But that was not the only thing you were greeted with, along the hallway, there were many people dressed in armor. Mandalorian armor. They all look back at you, the black T-shaped visors burning holes right in your skull. It makes your hair stand up.

“An intruder!” One of them in blue, tattered armor says, standing up quickly. The panic surging in your chest forces you to find your voice again.

You raise your hands quickly in defense once they start drawing their weapons on you, “No, wait! I need your help-” you’re cut off by a tall Mandalorian, one whose large stature matched his voice. He strides over to you, making you look puny in front of him.

“How did you find this place?” You’re not sure where to look on the helmet, you’re panicking because you might already be too late and you’re about to get your ass handed to you by Mandalorians. Speak. Speak!!

“Please, my-my friend is a Mandalorian--like you! He has shiny armor, he’s really good at shooting, and he looks just like you! Except, smaller,” you shake your head, getting back to the point. “He needs your help, he’s about to get killed!” You see another Mandalorian approach you, this one wore a golden helmet and a furry coat. When she spoke, her voice was calming, yet firm.

“He needs help, you say?” You nod hard at her question, noticing the visor on hers is shaped differently compared to the others.

“Yes, please. I-all I saw was someone that looked like him walk down here and I thought maybe--maybe you could help,” you stressed to get your intentions out to her. Her golden helmet shares a look with the large man in front of you, they give a firm nod to each other before the woman turns back to you.

“You are brave for coming in here, alone at that,” she says looking at you, “not many can do that and come out alive.” You see the big Mandalorian turn to the others who have since stood, watching the ordeal go down, and wave at them to follow him.

“Does that… mean yes?” The female Mandalorian nods at your question.

“This is the Way.”

Mando was starting to run out of options. He didn’t know where you went, for all he knew, you could have gotten taken out by another bounty hunter lurking around in the city. He tried using his blaster, his rifle, and his flamethrower in his arm brace. But none of them were enough to stop the hunters from closing in on him. He moved over the child, who was beginning to stir from the commotion. The child looked up at Mando with those bulbous brown eyes, and the wholesome sight made the sound drown out around him. As Mando was sure this would be the farthest he’d get, he’s brought back by the sound of a missile careening overhead. The missile hits dead on, taking out a bounty hunter on the rooftop. Mando can’t help but look on incredulously, the only people who could aim that good with a missile were…

Figures rose into the sky, fire-spewing from the bottom of their jetpacks lit up their silhouette as some descended to the ground. Mando briefly looked up in awe, it was nearly a perfect parallel to the biblical image of the first time the Mandalorians came to save him. He’s brought back to reality when he feels an arm clamp down on his arm, which he quickly raises a blaster in the direction of.

“Whoa whoa whoa, don’t shoot!” You pull back, then Mando drops the weapon, “Shoot them, not me!” You shoot at some of the hunters before Mando hops off the now broken speeder.

“Come on!” He shoots behind you a few times as you sprint off together into the Razor Crest.

“One day, one day I’m off the planet and this happens!” Before Mando can ask what you did to make that miracle happen, you hear the same voice.

“Hold it, Mando,” you both stop and turn. Just when you thought the worst was over, it seems you needed to get ready for a lot of curveballs to be thrown at you. Greef Karga is standing in the middle of the ship, holding a blaster at Mando. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but then you broke the code.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but it would be really nice if you’d just-” you yelp as Mando shoots his grapple at the carbonite freezer, making the spray cloud everyone’s view. He grabs your tunic to pull you behind him as Karga lets loose some blaster shots, before returning one of his own. The shot knocks Karga off of the ship, you see him lie still in the dirt when Mando hands the child to you, quickly climbing up to the cockpit before anyone else climbs aboard. You slowly followed up after him, sitting in the left passenger seat as the ship took off.

You look out of the window towards the ongoing fight, the scene becoming smaller until it's enshrouded by the clouds. The ship is silent as cool sunlight trickles in the large windows, the light reflecting off of the Mandalorians’ armor. Worn out from the fight, you feel your eyelids begin to drift close. But you’re awoken by a whoosh that comes up from the side of the ship, putting you on edge again, until you see who it is.

It was the same Mandalorian that intimidated you when you asked for help, but this time he came in peace, simply giving a salute. You waved with a small smile on your face, to your surprise, the man gave a small wave back to you. The gesture made you grin widely, watching him turn away back to Nevarro.

“I gotta get one of those,” Mando says to himself, glancing over at you. The cogs roll around in his mind for a moment, before it clicks. “Did you ask the Mandalorians for help?”

You look at the back of his helmet, “Oh! Yeah, after I escaped, I saw one of them when I was trying to navigate the alleyways. So, I followed them.“ The Mandalorian shook his head, chuckling to himself. He couldn’t believe you unknowingly sauntered into the Mandalorian Covert to ask for help. But it seemed to work out in the end, unfortunately, the Covert will have to be relocated. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Mando shakes his head, “No, you did the best thing possible. Thank you,” it was only one day, but you’ve already managed to save his life. He realized he might have to pay you more than he thought, especially if you kept up with this quick thinking.

Once the ship was flown off the planet and jumped into hyperspace, Mando got up from his seat. “I’m gonna use the refresher. If we run into more trouble… I’m sure you can handle it.” You chuckle, getting up after Mando leaves to take a shower. You place the sleepy child in his seat, carefully strapping him in before slumping back in your own seat. The sliding strips of blue and white around the ship made you feel calm. Your second try at relaxation is interrupted again by the Mandalorian calling your name from the lower level. “Did you use all the hot water?”

Taglist: @startrekkingaroundasgard

[writtenonreceipts]

A Throne of Glass Fanfiction. Rowaelin.

8k words later and everything hurts.  I just kept writing and writing because I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to happen or how to end it so here we are...part four? i seriously don’t know if i can or should fix it at this point, hahaha...ha. ha?

Warnings: angst. it hurts.

Based on a prompt I received here and you can find part two is here

PART 3

#

December 18th

“How are you today, Aelin?”

The was, without a doubt, her least favorite question.

Picking at her nails, Aelin shook her head.  There was so much to say and most of it wasn’t significant.  Did she talk about how she hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in over a month?  Or how she couldn’t concentrate at work for more than ten minutes?  Or maybe she could talk about the fact that her best friend and cousin were getting married and she was asked to play the piano as Lysandra walked down the aisle.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up.

Across the room Yrene didn’t look convinced.  Her curly brown hair framed her lovely features and accented the golden-brown light of her eyes.  She was a beautiful woman and Aelin had to wonder why she didn’t have a ring on her finger.  She was obviously successful, kind, attractive, and when Aelin wasn’t being stubborn—easy to talk to.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave now,” Yrene said.  She leaned back in her seat and clicked her pen as she watched Aelin.

Sighing, Aelin ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how I am.”

“You don’t want to be here, we can start with that,” Yrene suggested.  She smiled knowingly and Aelin rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want to be here because I know it’s a waste of time,” Aeline said.

“But you came anyways.  Why?” 

“It’s what everyone expects of me,” Aelin said with a shrug. “So, I may as well get it over with.”

“So, you don’t think anything is wrong?” Yrene pressed. “There’s nothing keeping you up at night?  Your tapping foot is just a random occurrence?”

Aelin’s foot stopped.  She pursed her lips and glared at Yrene who smiled serenly.

“When we are in uncomfortable situations we have tells, unconscious ticks,” Yrene explained.  “I’m not trying to intimidate you; I hope you know you can be honest with me.”

Intimidate.  Yrene was not intimidating.  Not really.  Aelin just didn’t want to spill her problems out like this.  Not now.

“Why, despite everything, did you come today?” Yrene asked.

There’s no point lying.  Not when Yrene can point it out so easily.  Not when she doesn’t get much satisfaction out of it anyways.

“If I didn’t come, I would have had to go into a work meeting,” Aelin said, “and Sam would have been there.  And after that stupid party—I just can’t be around him right now.”

“Why do you think that is?” Yrene prods. “Are you embarrassed by what he may have seen with you and your friends?  That was the first time he really met any of them, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean, we only got together a few months ago after I left,” Aelin replied, her foot began tapping again and she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist. “But why should I be embarrassed by him?  He treats me well; he cares about me.  But it was my first time seeing everyone in so long and I didn’t think he would have come.”

“You didn’t want him to meet everyone.”  Yrene’s words were innocent as they tried to make sense of Aelin’s rambling.  For which Aelin was grateful, at least one of them knew what was going on.  And yet...and yet they sent a chill through Aelin’s body.

“I didn’t want him to meet everyone,” Aelin agreed.  She met Yrene’s eyes. “Because as soon as he did everyone would try and assume that I was fine.  And dammit, fine is the farthest from what I am feeling.”

#

When she started therapy, Aelin had been back in Terrasen for all of twenty-four hours.  November twentieth was her first session with a woman who had a private practice and a website that declared her specialties lied in healing from trauma and working through anxiety and depression.  It was a simple profile.  One that Aelin wasn’t sure why she went for it, but in a spurt of desperation she’d made an appointment.

Almost a month later and at times, bi-weekly appointments, Aelin didn’t know if she were any better off than when she first stepped off the plane from Paris.

Sitting in her office near the end of the workday, Aelin scrolled through social media on her phone.  She really had to stop doing so, but staring at a computer screen full of fashion sketches or marketing reports was not appealing.  She unfortunately stumbled across a post Fenrys made not twenty minutes ago.

It was a simple picture of him, Lorcan, Conall, and Rowan.  Each dressed in a suit and tie.  Each handsome in his own right.  Of course, Aelin’s eyes lingered on Rowan.  Of course, she couldn’t help but imagine what he had done with himself over the past year.  Of course, she knew it was stupid of her to do so.

Landed an epic deal in Wendlyn! Got the best team around.

Aelin was surprised to see Fenrys had managed not to cure on the page, even if it was a work-related post.  Just as she was surprised that he had kept his innocuous verbage kept simple using only one “epic” and not a single “dude” or “rad.”  

The knock on Aelin’s door had her looking up and she found Sam staring in at her.  He had a handsome smile and his bright eyes watched her with interest.

“Hey,” he said, “you almost done here?”

Aelin glanced at her screen where numbers and approvals still needed to be inputted.  She was a terrible person.  How the hell had she been selected to go to Italy, let alone Paris, for those work assignments?

“Chock it up to the Monday brain, but I’m going to need to make it a late day,” she said regretfully.

Sam frowned and Aelin knew he could see right through her.  At least mostly.  He might not have seen everything going on in her mind, but he knew her enough to take an educated guess.

“Let me order take out and I can stay and help you,” he offered.

An unexplainable stab of emotion filled Aelin as she looked up at him.  He was too good to her.  Too good for her.

“I thought you had plans,” she said after she was able to school herself.

Sam smiled sheepishly.  “Just with your cousin and Dorian.  They invited me out for drinks.”

I didn’t want for him to meet everyone.

Just as soon as she’d swallowed down her emotions, the panic began to rise again.  Hell.

“Go.” She said.  The response surprised her.  It was the absolute last thing she wanted to say but the simple word slipped her lips before she could stop it.  “Go.  I’ll be fine.  It’s not much anyways.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely,” she lied.  

And because Sam was too good, he couldn’t hear it.  He couldn’t see the subtle shake of her foot or the way she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist.

Instead he crossed her office and leaned over the desk to kiss her.  Slow and languid.  He pulled back much too soon.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” he said with a heart wrenching smile on his face.

“Yeah,” she replied and watched him go.  

It wasn’t long before five o’clock rolled around and he stopped by again to make sure she was fine working late by herself.  After she convinced him to leave, she waited.  She waited until the last of the interns and admins left before she pulled out her phone and made a call.

They picked up on the second ring.

“I’m going to send you an address,” Aelin said, “can you bring a few things and meet me there in an hour?”

#

“I thought I was mortal enemy number one on your hit list.”

Chaol Westfold.  Tall, muscular, handsome, and an ass.  

“Did you bring the cake?” Aelin asked.

He hefted a plastic bag up. “And the beer.”

“Then congratulations,” Aelin replied, “you are now welcomed back into the fold of friendship.”

Chaol looked as though that were the last thing he wanted, but he entered her office and shut the door behind.  He muttered under his breath about this not ever happening again as he unloaded the cake and beer.

Aelin immediately went for the cake.  Chocolate hazelnut with a creamy frosting.  It was the first thing she ate after getting back from Paris.  It had to be the best creation in the world.  She grabbed a plastic fork from one of the drawers in her desk and immediately dug in.

“Are we going to talk or am I just your cake supplier now?” Chaol asked.

Reluctantly, Aelin dug another fork out of her desk and tossed it to him.  He accepted, but he didn’t eat.

Aelin licked a blob or frosting from her fork. “Do you know why we broke up?”

“We lied to each other about everything,” Chaol answered.  Slowly, he scrapped a bit of frosting on his fork.  He contemplated his next words before continuing. “And we never talked about it either.”

“Right,” Aelin said, nodding. “Do you ever regret breaking up?”

That was the question that drove Chaol to a real bite of the cake and Aelin had to smother a laugh watching the sight.  Chaol never ate cake or chocolate or anything that wasn’t specifically for keeping in excellent shape.  So the sight of him actually enjoying eating the cake was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

“Of course I do,” Chaol said.  “At least, I regret how we broke up.  You’re the first woman I ever loved, Aelin.  The first one who really...I don’t know taught me how to live.”

She shook her head. “Nah.  I dragged you around into trouble.”

They sat in silence as they ate the cake.  Aelin ate far more than her share.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Chaol asked.  “Or tell me how the hell you still have my number?”

She grinned viciously.  “I had to keep you in my contacts in case I needed someone to frame for murder.  And you were just the asshat to fit the bill.  Until you brought me cake.”

He rolled his eyes at her and cracked open a beer. “Why am I not surprised?”

Cackling, Aelin stuffed her face with more cake.  She knew that she couldn’t ignore his original question for long.  There was a reason she had called him and only him.  Maybe this was something she should have talked to Lysandra about.  Or even Yrene.  But there was something about her friendship with Chaol that no one else could fill.

“Rowan cheated on me,” Aelin finally said.  Chaol nearly choked on his beer.  She grabbed a few spare napkins to toss at him before continuing. “That’s why I went to Europe.  I had to get away.

Chaol sat quietly as she continued. She told him everything about the fight she had with Rowan, returning to his apartment, hearing what he did.  She told him about leaving.  About Sam.  About the party.

“He said he still loves me,” Aelin finished. “But if he does, if he ever did then why did he do what he did?”

It was a lot to put on Chaol.  He’d never cheated on her.  But he’d lied about various things.  She’d lied too of course, but they’d been fresh out of high school trying to live their lives.  She’d certainly loved him enough to have sex with him for her first time.  

And then they’d drifted further and further apart.  To the point that Aelin never knew who she was when she was with him.  It was unfortunate really because his friendship had helped her through the hellish years of high school and on into that first year of college.  And then it was gone.

“Have you talked to him?” Chaol asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Aelin could see the rise of his brow and knowing glint in his eyes.

Aelin sighed dramatically. "You should meet my therapist. All the two of you want me to do is talk."

"Aelin," Chaol said, his voice growing just a tick more serious.

"What is there to talk to him about?" Aelin stabbed at the cake, suddenly feeling ill which was far too disconcerting. "I know how I feel on the matter. So does he."

Chaol grunted unconvinced. "I doubt that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the second beer he brought and settled in to mock him endlessly.

#

December 19th

"It's seven in the morning." Yrene frowned as Aelin pushed herself into the office.

"And yet you're already here," Aelin said.

She hadn't slept the night before. Not really even after talking to Sam who's had a riotous night with Aedion and Dorian. And all she could about was her conversation with Chaol. 

"To get ready for the rest of my appointments," Yrene said slowly, still watching Aelin with obvious confusion.

Settling down on the couch, Aelin looked up at Yrene. "Why do I still love him?"

Yrene pursed her lips and shut the office door before crossing to her own chair. She said nothing and simply waited for Aelin to continue.

"I mean, he hurt me, betrayed what I thought we had together, what we could have had together...and all he can say is I don't know what happened. Am I that replaceable to him?"

Yrene continued looking at her, quiet. But she had opened up her notebook and began taking notes on what Aelin was saying.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Aelin added, “and I have not talked to him yet.  I don’t think I can.”

Silence stretched through the room and Yrene clicked her pen as she stared at Aelin.  The latter woman staunchly avoided looking up from her nails.  It wasn’t until Aelin’s phone buzzed with an incoming text that she sighed heavily.

“Where do you feel safe, Aelin?” Yrene asked suddenly.  She leaned forward in her chair and fixed Aelin with a long look. “Where do you feel like you are in control and confident?”

Aelin made a face and shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “Serious answer?  There’s this dumpy little apartment that the company rents out for storage.  I go there when I need to get away.  Or the coffee shop down on Fifth.  A friend I met in Paris has family that owns it.”

“Okay,” Yrene said with a slow nod. “If, and only if, you feel comfortable I think you need to talk to Rowan.  You deserve closure on what happened.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Aelin asked.

Yrene smiled. “I really think you deserve more than what you are allowing yourself to have.”

Glancing at her phone Aelin sighed. “I need to get to work.  Let me know how much I owe you for this.”

Yrene assured her that she would and Aelin slipped out of the office.  

By the time she made it outside, a light snow began to fall.  The thick white flakes assaulted her and clung to her hair and coat.  Aelin muttered a curse.  She really did not miss the snow.  Nothing about it.  Not the cold, the ice, the distinct scent of pine that always seemed to come when the chill did.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Aelin hurried down the walk towards her work building.  Thankfully Yrene’s office was close to her own so Aelin was usually never late for work or gone long when she had her appointments during lunch.

She texted Sam and he met her in the lobby of their work building, coffee in hand.

“Hey babe,” he greeted with a kiss to her cheek.

Aelin smiled warmly and accepted her coffee, grateful to the immediate warmth that spread through her fingers.

“Thanks,” she said.  She leaned into his side as they made their way to the elevators. “You have fun with the guys last night?”

“They’re great,” Sam agreed.  When he glanced down at her a strange expression flashed on his face.

“What?” Aelin asked. “Dorian didn’t shove you into a rose bush, did he?”

Frowning, Sam shook his head. “No?”

“Never mind,” Aelin said quickly.  “He just does that sometimes.”

Sam still looked utterly confused and it was such an endearing look that Aelin rose on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“They just mentioned something,” Sam began slowly, “it’s just, ah, they mentioned Rowan.”

Aelin nearly choked on her coffee.  Sputtering, she covered her mouth. “Rowan?  Why the hell would they?”

“It’s nothing,” Sam said quickly, “he was at the bar and they—I don’t even know what it was about.  It’s not a big deal.”

Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything as the elevator opened on their floor and a group of interns was already waiting for Sam to sign off on orders and marketing issues.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Sam called over his shoulder as he hurried off towards his office.

Aelin could only wave weakly as he disappeared.  Sometimes she wished she’d thought through starting a relationship with him a little better.  But after everything that happened with Rowan...Sam had been something new.  And she’d believed that something knew was just what she needed.

It didn’t help that sometimes Aelin could still feel Rowan’s hands on her, his lips ghosting hers.  She could still feel the rumble of his laugh when they spent late nights together and woke up early.  

Her stomach churned with acid.  The coffee was not sitting well in her empty belly.  At least she still had chocolate cake hidden in her office from her chat with Chaol.

But Aelin certainly didn’t want to feel this way.  Not anymore, not when she had been trying so hard to move on with her life.

So as soon as she got into her office, she pulled out her phone and sent a text.

#

Rowan without a doubt hated himself.

He had for a long time and without a doubt fully deserved it. So when he got a text from Aelin he promptly threw up in the nearest trash can of the office break room.

Fenrys laughed at him, absolutely pleased with how the morning was going.  Over the passed year they’d been working together, diving into a business management system to help companies and the likes from going bankrupt.  The only reason it was going so well was because Rowan did nothing else but work.  

"Dude, did you get wasted on a weekday again?" 

Rowan flipped him off and grabbed a cup to fill with water. He took a long drink before he glares at his friend.

"Aelin texted me," he said, "she wants to meet for coffee later. To talk."

"And your first response was to vomit?" Fenrys asked, brow quirked.

"Yes," Rowan affirmed.

"If you're looking for sympathy, you're not finding it from me," Fenrys said. He pulled a soda from the fridge and cracked it open, "I'm a sucker for Aelin and would choose her over you any day."

Rowan scowled. "Thanks man,"

"Anytime," Fenrys said. He ripped an invisible hat as he left the break room.

Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew that Fenrys was right. It was a miracle he'd even managed to hold onto any of his friends.  For some reason, they’d all stayed with him.  For the most part.  Elide and Lysandra were the exceptions.  Neither of them, no matter the situation, even bothered to look at him.

One year.

He didn’t blame them.

So now Rowan had the chance to meet with Aelin and, hopefully, talk to her.  If she yelled that was fine.  If she threw things at him that was fine too.  As long as he got the chance to be around her at least once more.

Oh hell he actually had to talk to her didn’t he?

It was going to be an impossibly long day full of Rowan hating himself and coming to terms with the fat that Aelin was going to kill him.  

And despite the fact that he’d had a year to prepare for this, Rowan couldn’t have been further from being ready.  In all honesty all the scenarios he’d come up with in the last year had not prepared him for this in the slightest.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Rowan barely got anything done throughout the day.  Every time he would start on something his mind would begin to wander and he’d find himself on Aelin’s social media pages.  Which consequently would make things worse. 

Photo after photo were of her and Sam.  Italy, Paris, white beaches, and blue waters.  She was a goddess in each and every picture.  And the smile in each picture, Rowan had to remind himself, weren’t meant for him but for another man.  A man who knew how not to screw up the greatest thing in his life.

As he left his office, Rowan took care to avoid running into Fenrys, Lorcan, or any of the others.  He knew full well that Fenrys wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut and Rowan wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone else telling him he was an idiot.  Even Lorcan had avoided talking to him for several months after the incident.  Lorcan whose least favorite person was Aelin.

Granted Lorcan was a better man than he was on so many levels.

Brown shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he headed down the street towards the coffee shop Aelin had indicated.  It was a small place Rowan had passed by several times but had never bothered to go in.  The shop was small and had such a niche ambiance that Rowan never felt like he could go in.

Now as he entered the small space with its rich scents of chai and chocolate, Rowan’s concerns were confirmed.

A woman with chin length black hair and warm, bronze skin greeted him from behind the counter.  As Rowan glanced over the menu, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Aelin chose this place.  Half the menu was devoted to pastries.

“He wants a black coffee, Nesryn,” a soft voice said from behind him.  

Rowan winced and turned to where Aelin sat at a small table tucked into a corner.  She already had a large slice of cake in front of her.

Nesryn fixed Rowan with a glare and nodded while muttering under her breath in French.  He had no doubts that she knew exactly who he was.  Death was most certainly in his future.

Rowan waited until his coffee was finished and paid for--a generous tip added to the jar on the counter—before he joined Aelin.  

He didn’t know what to do other than pull the other chair out from the table and take a seat across from her.  They sat in silence like that for a long time.  Aelin slowly ate her slice of cake and sipped on her own drink.  Rowan was startled to see that it was a cup of tea instead of her standard double shot of espresso with hemp milk and cinnamon.

“You wanted to talk before,” Aelin said slowly.  It had barely been three days since that party and she couldn’t believe that she had actually let herself meet with him so soon after being staunchly against it.  She kind of hated herself for it, but she would deal with that later. “So let’s talk.”

She still didn’t look him directly in the eye.  Rowan could see creases in her makeup lining on her eyelids.  Her lipstick had long since worn off and he could tell she’d been chewing on her lips like always.  A habit that even a year hadn’t taken away.  She was still beautiful of course.

“I’m sorry, Rowan said immediately.  

Aelin flinched at his words and dragged her teeth over her fork as she scraped as much frosting off the tines as possible.

“And,” Rowan continued, “I can’t...I’ve never forgiven myself for what I put you through.”

Soft classical music played overhead.  It reminded Rowan so much of what Aelin liked playing--the gentle folds of notes blending together until they reached a crescendo of sound, of feeling.  And then slowly fading bad into those gentle folds.  

It wasn’t until a new track started that Rowan continued.  There was so much he wanted to say to her, but given with what he did he wasn’t entirely sure what good any of his words would do.  Perhaps they would at least help him move on.  Maybe.

“I never wanted any of this to happen.  I never wanted to hurt you.” Rowan stared at his coffee.  His words sounded hollow to his own ears and he couldn’t imagine how Aelin was handling his ramblings. “It just seemed for the longest time we were never on the same page.  Nothing was changing and we...we were barely treading water together.”

Aelin pushed the plate of cake away and crossed her arms over her chest.  Rowan could feel her eyes digging into him but he was too much a coward to look up and meet that gaze.

“So you left,” Aelin said.  “Instead of waiting and trying to make our relationship work, you ran.”

“I’ve regretted it every day,” Rowan whispered.

Music continued to play overhead and a few people trickled in to order drinks or dessert.  No one lingered long however, despite the empty tables, the warmth as compared to the outside.  In and out.  In and out, the customers drifted.

Aelin’s phone buzzed on the table.  She glanced at the message and sighed.  Barely sparing him a look, she stood grabbing her coat and pulled it on.

“I need to go,” she murmured.  

Finally, Rowan glanced up at her.  Her eyes were rimmed red, yet she hadn’t shed any tears.  Instead the sorrow on her face turned fierce.

“Aelin,” Rowan began, he started to rise, but Aelin held a hand up.

“My boyfriend needs me,” she said.  And then she spun on her heel and left the little shop.

Rowan stood next to that little table in the back corner of that shop and watched her go.  He watched through the front window until she crossed the street and disappeared around the corner.

He would never get over the idea of her walking away.

#

Sam was waiting for her in the kitchen of her apartment. He smiled brightly as he looked up from the stove. He was making something that smelled like spices, and warmth, and home.

"Alright, so this is something my mom used to make around Christmas," Sam said. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a dopey sort of grin on his face. "And I know you've had a long week."

Aelin can't help but smile gratefully. She hangs her coat up on the hook beside the door and drops her purse on the small side table there too.

"It smells wonderful," she said. Coming into the kitchen she took a seat at the counter so she could watch Sam as he chopped vegetables and slowly stirred the pot.  From what she could tell is was a stew of some sort.

"How was your day?" He asked. As if he didn't know. She'd told him that she was going to meet with Rowan, and while he might not have known what had transpired in that relationship, he'd known something. And especially after the conversation she’d had with Chaol, Aelin knew she had to open the doors of communication and honesty.

And it sucked.

“It’s better now,” she said.

He smiled softly and poured her a glass of wine.  It was different from what she usually drank but she was just grateful he was even here that he’d stayed.

When they first got together almost six months ago it had been something haphazard.  Slow but quick.  Random but natural.  And after everything with Rowan...Sam had helped her pull herself together. 

It had been something she’d never thought possible.  She’d thought that Rowan was her soulmate.  That he would always and forever be her person.  

As she sipped her drink, Aelin watched Sam work.  He talked endlessly about winter nights where he’d helped his mother with cooking dinner for the family.  The stew had been his favorite comfort food and thus figured it would be something she might enjoy.

And then he told horrible stories of other occasions where he’d burned dinner too.

Aelin cackled at the idea of him setting off the smoke alarm and having to wave a towel around like a madman.  

“I swear I was banned from the kitchen for a full month after that,” Sam laughed.  He set the table, simple settings of Aelin’s mismatched bowls and cutlery.  

“Well you can’t do anything worse than what I could do,” Aelin said.

Grinning, Sam pressed kiss to her forehead and took a seat next to her.

Through the meal, Aelin was able to press everything else about her day away.  She could forget Rowan.  She could forget the past year.  She could see herself changing.

Maybe it was that notion that caused her to lose her appetite.

“So, what prompted you to make me dinner,” she asked, pushing her half-eaten bowl away.  “Your text sounded off.”

Sam shrugged halfheartedly.  He’d removed his tie long ago and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.  He looked so relaxed and at ease that the slight pang of panic Aelin had felt just moments ago returned full force.

“I’ve just been thinking about you,” he said honestly.  He smiled again in that same delightfully silly way that he had.

Aelin knew that wasn’t all that was on his mind.  She rolled her eyes and kicked him beneath the table. “And?”

He opened and closed his mouth before taking a large bite of stew to get out of answering.

Aelin stuck her tongue out at him and rose to get a start of dishes.

“Nope,” Sam said, he snatched a hand out and grabbed her wrist.  He swallowed his bite of food and shook his head. “You have no responsibilities tonight.”

“Oh?” Aelin arched a brow.  “None at all?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then why the hell am I not in my pajamas yet?”

Aelin ran her fingers through his hair and hurried off to her room, more than ready to be out of her work clothes.  And, in all honesty, needing to get away for a breath.

There was something about the way that Sam looked at her just now.  Something about how he’d been acting recently.  It wasn’t anything bad, but it was enough to make Aelin’s breath catch, her pulse race.  There was something about him.  The man.  

She’d never really noticed it before.  Not in all the time that she’d been dating Rowan.  But when she and Sam had been in in Paris working on the extended project together.  She’d seen in then.  There was compassion and honor written all along the threads that made Sam who he was.  And now...now those threads were becoming more and more noticeable.

By the time Aelin had changed, Sam was already started on the dishes.  He topped her wine off and allowed her to help him dry what wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

“Aelin,” Sam said after they’d started the dishwasher and left the last few items out to dry.

“Hm?” Aelin hummed taking a long sip of wine.

Sam stepped closer, placing his hands on her waist.  He was trim, lean, and obviously in good shape, but not bulky or broad like other men.  It didn’t deter Aelin’s attraction to him though.

She leaned into him, willing herself to play on those subtle emotions building in her body.

Sam pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth before hovering just before her--waiting to give her a longer more meaningful kiss.

He’d been patient with her the last six months. Never pressuring her into sex or anything more intimate than she was ready for.  And Aelin would be forever grateful to him for it.  But she also couldn’t help but wonder how long that patience would last.

As Rowan had shown, men had their limits.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut.  She would not focus on him.  Not now.  So she closed the distance between her and Sam and kissed him.  It was somewhat sloppy as he’d not been expecting her to move so suddenly, but Sam was quick to recover.

She could most certainly get used to him.  Every little thing about him.

“I love you,” Sam said.  So carefully his lips moved against hers as they sounded out the words.

I love you. 

I love you.

Aelin’s hands froze at the lower buttons of his shirt.  She’d gotten a little out of hand, not that she was too sorry.  But his words just reminded her what was really happening.

She opened her eyes and stared into his golden gaze.  Her throat constricted as she found herself pulling him closer, closer.

“You love me?” she whispered.

Sam nodded once, firm and definite.

Aelin felt her breath slip out too quickly from her lungs as she kissed Sam again.

December 20th

It was ten o’clock the next evening when Aelin was knocking at the door. Someone swore behind it and Yrene answered. She was still dressing for the day, still wearing makeup. Still holding her case notes in one hand.

"I'm going have to start charging you extra if you keep showing up like this," the woman said. But she let Aelin into the office all the same.

"Fine by me," Aelin replied. 

The office was dimly lit by a single lamp and a pile of take out containers from an Indian restaurant took over the table.

"So do you live here or what?" Aelin asked. She turned a lifted a brow at Yrene.

Snorting, Yrene ignored Aelin and crossed to the chair she usually took over and sat down.

"What are we talking about tonight, Aelin?" Yrene asked.

Why was she here? Aelin had no idea. She just knew she didn't want to go home. If she went home, she knew Sam would be there because he was too good for her. He was planning on a late night of hot chocolate and cheesy Christmas movies. And Aelin should want to be there. But she was the idiot who went out for coffee with her ass of an ex. An even bigger ass than Chaol had been.

"I talked to him," Aelin said. "At least I listened to him."

"And? Do you feel better?"

"No." Aelin answered immediately.  “Because my current boyfriend who is the best man I could ask for after the hellhole that is Rowan Whitethorn.  My current boyfriend told me he loves me.  And what do I do but give him a kiss and tell him thanks.  He barely left my place half an hour ago before I came here.”

Yrene gave her a bland look. “Don’t you have friends for this?  This is girl talk Aelin.”

Aelin cursed and pushed herself off the couch.  She stood there for several long moments. “Why can’t I love him?  I want to.  Dammit, I want to.  But, I just…”

“What?” Yrene prompted softly when Aelin didn’t continue.  “But what, Aelin?”

“But what if it happens again?” Aelin asked.  She looked at Yrene and shook her head. “I thought I could trust Rowan and then he cheated on me.  I think I can trust Sam.  But I just can’t go through it all again.”

Neither of them spoke as Yrene makes a note in her little booklet.  She lets Aelin stand there breathing heavily and collect her thoughts.

But Aelin isn’t thinking much aside from being angry.  Angry at Rowan especially.

“He had no right to tell me he still loves me,” Aelin said suddenly.  “If he’d really wanted to talk why would he do that to me?  Why would he put me in that position?”

“Would you have listened any other way?” Yrene asked.  Aelin shot her an angry look and Yrene held up a finger. “All I’m saying is that he might not even know how to deal with it all either.  Have either of you moved on?”

“I’m trying,” Aelin whispered.

“And I am so proud of you for that,” Yrene said with so much conviction that Aelin felt tears prick her eyes. “But I also want you to consider what else might be holding you back.  You talked to Rowan; you made that step.  What else can you do?  Do you think you could—”

Yrene cut herself off and frowned.  Aelin watched her have an internal battle.  

Finally, Yrene shook her head. “Do you think you could forgive him?”

Aelin cursed and stalked to the office door, closing it with a loud snap.

#

December 23rd

Rowan decided that he hated the holidays.

And he did not have to explain himself for it.

Besides, everyone basically already knew why he did.  And that it was his own fault for being in such a miserable state of existence.

Because of course he’d tried.  He’d tried to reach out to Aelin in the past year, just for some sort of reconciliation.  He’d never gotten anything in response.  Connall told him to try therapy.  Lorcan told him to try drinking himself to oblivion.  Fenrys had ignored him for the better part of the year.

And now they were in the holidays and Rowan had to at least try and not be a “broody old buzzard.”

As Aelin would have said.

He was a fool.  An utter waste of a fool.

“Remind me again why you’re having another holiday party?” Rowan asked Dorian that night.

Unlike the last party, this one was far more casual with far more alcohol and far less dress code.

“Because this one will actually be fun,” Dorian told him lightly.  

The man still didn’t like Rowan, of course, but he had been gracious enough to allow Rowan to join his other friends to the invite.

“Especially when Aelin gets here and skins you alive,” Doran added.  With a feral grin that he’d likely learned from Manon Blackbeak, Dorian slapped Rowan on the back with far too much force and left him alone.

He needed a whisky.

As Rowan went to get a drink, he heard more guests arrive.  He glanced up to see Elide Lochan give a squealing hug to Lysandra.

Elide, he knew, was a longtime friend of Manon’s as well as a somewhat potential girlfriend of sorts to Lorcan.  Rowan wasn’t sure and didn’t really want to ask knowing Lorcan would likely punch him.  Elide was also a friend of Aelin’s so he would also be avoiding her.

“Oh look, it’s the ass,” Elide said as she calmly slipped past Rowan to grab a beer for her and her friend.

“Lochan,” he said looking down at her.

She fixed him with a sharp smile that was mostly teeth and derision.  Lorcan better pray he never get on the woman’s bad side.

The night was progressing far too slowly for Rowan’s tastes and he debated to simply walk out.  No one really wanted him there anyways.  He had to squash that plan when Aelin entered, her new boyfriend at her side.

As always, Aelin looked phenomenal.  

Her hair was straightened and pulled into a low ponytail so it hung down her back.  Her makeup was simple with only bright red lipstick as the biggest accent.  If Rowan hadn’t already been screwed over by the sight, the tight black dress she wore did the trick.

Hell she was glorious.

But he shouldn’t look at her like that.  He had no right to.  Not anymore.

Rowan knocked back his whiskey and refilled his drink.  What was he even doing here?

Aelin was laughing too loudly at something Manon said.  The two it seemed had the potential of becoming friends which in and of itself should terrify everyone.

He knew he must have been staring too long and too intently because Aelin chose that moment to look at him.  The light that burned in her eyes snuffed out almost immediately and Rowan felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

He was a damned fool.

#

Like everything else in her life, tonight wanted to screw her over.

Aelin found Rowan staring at her.  Blatantly.  A slight haze of panic wrapped around her, until her felt Sam’s hand cup her elbow and pull her into his side.  For that she was grateful.  Grateful for that small ounce of support.  Even though she couldn’t quite focus on anything, she could focus on Sam and the fact that he was there.

“Oh, we’re so excited,” Lysandra said, pulling Aelin from her tunnel vision of self-doubt. “It’s a miracle there was even an opening at the venue, but it’s going to be perfect.”

“That vineyard is so beautiful,” Elide agreed.  She wore her hair long with her straight-line bangs finally growing out to the point that she could part her hair properly and style her hair the way she wanted to.  Aelin had tried to convince Elide that getting bangs was not a good idea.  But Elide had been drunk and on a mission.

“You’re going to make me play the piano outside?” Aelin complained. At least she could somehow contribute to the conversation even though she was lightyears away from the party.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Lysandra insisted.  She sent a wink Aelin’s direction as if to prove the worries were unfounded.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

This was normal.  She could do normal.  She could do easy and relaxed.  All of her friends were here.  All of the people she knew and loved.  With of course the one exception.

“I just can’t believe you guys were able to squeeze your way onto the top of the list,” Manon said.  She not so subtly thrust a drink into Aelin’s hand.  Something that would most definitely get her drunk, no doubt.

There was the briefest of pauses where Lysandra and Aedion exchanged a look that was so quick and practiced that Aelin first thought how wonderful it was that they knew each other so well to communicate the way that they did and then a terrible sense of foreboding.

It was seconds.  Seconds spanning years.

“Rowan helped,” Lysandra finally admitted.  The guilt on her face was evident.

Aelin immediately took a sip of the drink Manon had made her.  Oh yes, it was certainly going to make her forget about the night.

“He knows someone who knows someone,” Lysandra added.  She glanced over her shoulder to where Rowan was still hiding near the kitchen.

His feature’s in their perpetual scowled lightened only for an instant. “My friend, Ren owed me a favor.”

“Ren?” Aelin couldn’t help but burst out.  Ren was the last person she would have expected Rowan to interact with.  Even though she was part of the reason the two even knew each other. “He hates you.”

“I became one of his managers in his company,” Rowan said softly.  He met Aelin’s eyes. “Helped him from going bankrupt.”

Her mouth went dry and she had to fight against her automatic instinct to drown the rest of the hellish drink in her hand.  Instead she nodded once.  Stiffly.

Well here’s to doing something right, she wanted to say.  She wanted to scream.  She wanted to do anything but stand there and tell Lysandra and Aedion how excited she was.

But what else was there?  She would not make a scene.  Not so close to the holiday.  Not when somehow everyone had moved on with their lives.

And then as a saving grace, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Deliberately, she leaned up to kiss Sam on the cheek before excusing herself.

By the time she made it to the hall outside the apartment, she’d missed the call entirely.  Aelin scowled to herself and headed downstairs.  As long as she had escaped, she would make the most of it.  

Outside, the wind had settled.  At least she had a coat this time.  Her coat with the long sleeves and deep pockets.  

The missed call was from Yrene which made Aelin roll her eyes.  Now who was bothering who?  But she called back all the same.

“Hello Aelin,” Yrene’s calm voice came on.

“Are you upset that I made it one day without bothering you?” Aelin asked with a low chuckle.  

She walked a few steps down the block, careful to avoid chunks of ice from a brief dusting snow last night combined with the sudden chill of last week.

“I just like checking in on my people,” Yrene said.  The line went silent for a minute. “Are you okay?”

Aelin let out a long breath, glad Yrene couldn’t see her.  But it seemed that the therapist could read people well enough without actually seeing their face.

“I’m fine,” Aelin said.  She tilted her head up to the dark sky and watched as the first few flakes of snow began to descend.

Yrene made a disbelieving grunt on the other end, but remained silent.

“I am,” Aelin insisted.  “I’m surrounded by my people.”

“Alright,” Yrene said, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Aelin promised.

As she hung up, she took a long breath and told herself it was fine for not going into everything with Yrene.  Because she was fine.  Really.

She turned to head back inside and came face to face with Rowan.  He remained a few feet off, just descending the steps from the apartment building.  At first, it seemed he didn’t even see her.  Until he turned.

They stood there, feet apart.  Worlds apart.  So far from where they had been.

“I was just leaving,” Rowan said.

Aelin stared.

“I didn’t even want to be there anyways,” Rowan continued.

Snow continued to fall.  The large flakes weren’t that imposing.  It would end quickly, at least that’s what Aelin had always heard.  A large snow would come and go, but the small one always lingered.

“Why would you even be there?” Aelin asked.  She shook her head, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “You don’t even like Dorian.  And Lys and Aedion will tie you to a spit and burn you alive.  Why—”

She cut herself off before saying something truly unnecessary.  Collecting her thoughts, Aelin breathed in the bone chilling air. 

“Don’t you realize how hard this is for me?  I’m done trying Rowan.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Try?  Did you try Aelin?  Or are you just like me, running away.  It’s what you did back then too.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” she hissed.

Aelin drew herself up so close to him.  Close enough to smell his cologne.  It hadn’t changed in all this time.  Close enough to see the dark flecks of his green eyes.  They were just as bold as before.  Close enough to remember.  

Tears sprung to her eyes as she stumbled back.  Too close.  Too close.

Rowan cursed and ran both hands through his hair.  The longer bits fell into his face, cutting across his features.

She wanted to tell him good-bye.  Wanted to say that this was it.  She was done.  Because she was, wasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” he said.  So soft that the words were almost swept away on the snowflakes curling past. “I didn’t mean that.  I just...Dammit Aelin, I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t know how to erase myself from your life.  From my life.  When even after all this time it’s always been you.  It’s only been you.”

The snow fell around them.  The thick tufts turned into tiny specks.  There was so much that Aelin almost lost sight of Rowan, even though she stood mere feet from her.

Bastard.  Bastard for doing this to her again.  

Because all she could see was that woman, Lyria, leaving the apartment building.  A smug, secret sort of smile on her face.  And the woman couldn’t have been more different from Aelin.  Dark hair, tanned skin.  Small and petite.  And all Aelin could see was Rowan’s hands roving another woman.  His lips…

Aelin shuddered.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting what happened,” Rowan continued.  He was the one coming closer now.  He reached out to catch her when she turned away, his grip soft enough that she could have left if she’d tried.  “I’ll spend the rest of my life hating me for what I did to you.  To us.”

His words were too soft, too gentle.  Aelin found herself staring up at him with the tears in her eyes that she would not let fall.

She would not break.  Not now.  Here she was falling into the sense of love and life he always provided.  Hell.  What couldn’t she just let him go?

Aelin pressed a hand against Rowan’s chest.  The sweater he wore was thick but she could still feel the steady thrum of his heart beating an uneven rhythm.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life hating you for that too,” she said.

And then she pulled away.

#

Seriously though, idk what happened here. Oh boy, ooooohhhh boy.  thanks for reading my dears.  love y’all!

AND I promise that I do have stuff in the mix that’s not so angst ridden.

tags, if i missed/you don’t want to be tagged-- let me know, I’m trying and failing at getting my life in order.

@ladywitchling  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow​ @sjmships  @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

[eurydicees]

for @falling-pages​! it’s probably a bit ooc and not super funny but i had so so much fun writing this, and i hope you enjoy!

the great escape

summary: the hosts go to an escape room. they break up into two teams, each competing to get out first. it goes... less than stellar. but also, they have fun anyways. 

(group a: tamaki, hikaru, and karou. group b: kyoya, haruhi, honey, and mori.) 

pairings: none

words: 2586

warnings: none

GROUP A: 1 HOUR TO GO

“You said today would be fun,” Hikaru mumbles, stepping into the locked room. 

“It will be,” Tamaki says, insistent. He turns to the ground with a grin. “Alright, we have an hour to get out of here.” 

Kaoru sighs, looking around the room that they’ve just entered. It’s small, built to look like the living room of a simple house. “Let’s just try and get out of here before I start getting claustrophobic.” 

“That’s the right attitude,” Tamaki says brightly. 

“Sure,” Kaoru says, not really paying attention. He steps farther into the room, beginning to walk around the edges. He runs his hand over the frame of a chalkboard. On the board is a “who am I?” riddle. 

Tamaki frowns at it. “What is that?” 

“It’s probably a clue,” Hikaru says, not looking at it. Instead, he’s looking at a cabinet. He jiggles the handle, but it’s locked by some kind of panel of light up colored buttons. “Everything is a clue.” 

“Not to be dramatic or anything,” Kaoru says. “Now, where do we start?” 

Tamaki shrugs. He starts wandering the room, picking up the little knick knacks pressing random spots on the wall. “I dunno. Are there buttons, or something— oh! Secret passageways? Bookshelves that are actually doors?” 

“There aren’t any bookshelves, boss,” Hikaru says. He’s abandoned the cabinet to instead look at a safe that sits on a table next to the couch. Instead of numbers, the keypad is made up of nine buttons with little shapes marked on them. “I bet the key is in here.” 

“So what’s the code?” Tamaki asks. 

“If I knew that, I would have opened it already.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tamaki hasn’t lost his grin. Instead, he joins Hikaru and Kaoru to look at the safe. “So, let’s figure out the code. It’s a bunch of— shapes? Triangles?”  

Hikaru nods, pressing the keys at random. “It’s a number combination— or, a shape combination. We just have to guess the right one.” 

“Do you have any idea how many combinations there are?” Kaoru asks. He turns away from the safe, looking around the room. “There’s got to be a clue somewhere. Guessing is going to take too long.” 

“We have an hour,” Tamaki points out. “Let’s get to guessing!” 

GROUP B: 1 HOUR TO GO

“Okay,” Kyoya says, stepping into the escape room. Haruhi, Honey, and Mori follow him, the door clicking shut and the lock catching just as Mori steps in. “We have an hour to escape.” 

“This should be fun!” Honey says brightly, looking around the room. “It can’t be too hard, right?” 

Haruhi smiles at him, beginning to walk around the room. They’re in a living room, one that was advertised to be identical to a second escape room, where the rest of the hosts are. The first one out, the group had decided, is the winner and gets to choose the cosplay for the next week. Haruhi has very little faith in Group A. 

“We should just start by looking around,” Kyoya instructs, “and figure out what we have at our disposal.” 

“Kyoya, this is supposed to be fun,” Honey says. “Relax a bit.” 

Kyoya glares at him, the light catching on his glasses and sending shadows over his cheeks. “I’ll relax when we’re not in a locked room.” 

“Oh hey,” Haruhi calls out, having stopped at the safe by the couch. “I bet the key to the door is in here. Looks like there’s some sort of combination. It’s made of shapes, though, not numbers.” 

“What shapes?” Kyoya asks. 

Haruhi glances back down at the safe. “Square, triangle, rectangle, hexagon, circle, pentagon, an arrow, a heart, and— a weird blob-like thing.” 

“I think it’s a flower,” Honey says, standing next to her.

Mori stands next to them, peering over Haruhi’s shoulder and frowning. “Maybe a sun?” 

“I can see that,” Haruhi says, tilting her head and squinting. “It’s so small, though.” 

“Does it really matter?” Kyoya asks, turning away from them. He’s standing by a closet, and he pulls at the handle a couple times, testing it. “This is locked as well.” 

“One of them has to have the key,” Honey decides. “We just have to figure out the codes. There’s got to be clues somewhere.” 

Kyoya nods, dropping his hand from the knob of the closet. He turns back to the group, then looks around the room. “Okay, so we each take a side of the room— look for keys, buttons, puzzles, anything might help.” 

Haruhi grins. “We’re definitely going to win.” 

GROUP A: 45 MINUTES TO GO 

“We’re definitely going to lose,” Hikaru groans, dropping his head against the safe. He’s been pushing buttons in random combinations for the last fifteen minutes, while Tamaki and Kaoru wander around the room, searching for other things to play with. “This is terrible.” 

“Oh this is fun,” Tamaki says, looking at a locked jewelry box and ignoring Hikaru. “More locks!” 

Kaoru glances over from the other side of the room. “Any keys over there, though?” 

Tamaki seems to deflate at that, shoulders slumping. “No, no, and no. Aaaaaahhhhhhhh.” 

“Okay then, Detective Tamaki, that is not helpful.” Hikaru lifts his head to find Tamaki sitting in the corner, the gloom and disappointment practically radiating off of him. “Come on, boss, pull yourself together. You sound like a bad acapella singer who just lost a competition.” 

Kaoru snickers. “He can’t find the right key to sing in.” 

“I thought he was confident in us,” Hikaru says, a grin coming over his face, his eyes suddenly bright. “I thought he was a believer—” 

“—but then I saw his face,” Kaoru sings. 

“I hate you both,” Tamaki mutters. But he’s perked up, smiling, turning to the jewelry box with a renewed vigor.

GROUP B: 45 MINUTES TO GO

“I think I found something,” Haruhi calls out, the excitement coming out in the wide grin she sends Kyoya. “Here, there’s something rattling in this jewelry box.” 

Honey walks over to her and she hands the box over to him, so he can shake it. Something rattles— it’s small, but makes an audible clinking sound. “Could be a key.” 

Mori, standing at the other side of the room, gives a shout, not very loud, just enough to get their attention. “I got it.” 

Honey bounces over to him. “Great job, Takashi!” 

Mori just nods. He pulls open the cabinet door. “You just switch the colors of the buttons to the colors of the painting over there.” 

They all turn to look at the painting; a modern art piece with a series of stripes in different colors. They match the colors on the lock that Mori had just opened. 

“Awesome,” Haruhi says, a grinning spreading over her face. “What’ve we got inside?” 

Honey reaches into the small cabinet. “It’s a… plastic triangle?”

He hands it off to Kyoya, who has joined him at the cabinet. Kyoya turns it over in his hand, fingers running over the blue plastic. “There’s a number on the back— three.” 

They all ponder that for a moment, looking around at each other. 

Honey frowns. “Triangle. Three. Plastic. Blue. What?” Then he starts laughing— “Oh, of course! It must be the third shape in the lock to the safe.” 

“I bet,” Kyoya says slowly, looking down at the triangle, “that if we open the rest of the locks, we’ll find three other shapes with three other numbers—” 

“ — and that’ll be the code to the safe,” Haruhi finishes. “Brilliant.” 

“Let’s get working,” Kyoya says. He’s smiling. 

GROUP A: 25 MINUTES TO GO

“I got it!” Kaoru yells, making everyone else wince. 

“What is it?” Tamaki asks, walking over. He’s still holding the jewelry box, no progress having been made in opening it. 

Kaoru pulls open a drawer that had been hidden in a desk at the corner of the room. “The lock was a word— the answer to that riddle over there.” 

“What riddle?” Hikaru stares at the drawer, pulling it open. “Ooooh, this is new.” 

“On the chalkboard, next to the weird painting with the lines.” Kaoru picks up the object in the drawer— a small plastic square. He turns it over to find the number one etched into it. “What do you think this means?” 

Hikaru reaches over, taking the square away from Kaoru. He runs his finger over the number, feeling the hills and valleys of the carving. “Maybe it’s the code to the safe— like the square is the first key to push when opening the safe.” 

“Hikaru,” Tamaki says, “I’m going to hug you now.” 

GROUP B: 25 MINUTES TO GO

“We’re running out of time,” Honey moans. “And we’re no closer.” 

“We’ve got three of the shapes,” Haruhi says, shrugging. “We’re doing fine, I think.” 

Kyoya fiddles with the lock on a drawer. “We’ve got two, three, and four. We still need the first number. Arguably the most important one.” 

“Key word being arguably,” Haruhi says. “You’re too stressed, we just have that one drawer left. What’s the riddle again?” 

Honey glances over to the chalkboard, hanging next to the door. “I have branches, but no fruit, trunk or leaves. What am I?” 

“Branches,” Honey says, flopping down on the couch. “Fruit. Gross. Trunk. Leaves. What? Branches. Fruit. Tru—” 

“Repeating it isn’t helpful,” Kyoya snaps.

“I’m just trying to help,” Honey protests, rubbing at tired eyes. Mori puts a hand on his shoulder and Honey just sighs. “Okay, Kyoya, what do you think?” 

Kyoya sighs, head falling back to stare at the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut. He’s quiet for a few moments, nose scrunched up. Then he opens his eyes, chin dropping. “I have no idea.” 

“Wow,” Haruhi teases, “Kyoya doesn’t know something.” 

“I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident,” Kyoya says dryly. 

Haruhi just rolls her eyes. “Let’s just think about this. What has branches?” 

“Trees,” Honey says. “Plants.”

“Businesses!” Haruhi yells, voice much louder than she had meant it to be. She snaps her fingers, staring at the keys on the lock, tapping her chin. “What corporations are four letters long?” 

They’re all quiet, looking at each other. No one says anything. 

GROUP A: 10 MINUTES TO GO

“We’re screwed,” Hikaru says, glaring at the clock. The offending clock ticks on, ignorant to Hikaru’s frustration. “We’re absolutely screwed.” 

“Incorrect!” Tamaki says, raising a hand. “We’ve got two of the four shapes, we just need two more! We can—” 

Kaoru sighs, and that’s enough to cut him off. “We’re not any closer to figuring out the other two locks, boss. We’ve got nothing.” 

“Well, maybe if we stopped arguing—” 

“We’re not arguing—” 

“Just cooperate—” 

“Kaoru—” 

“I’m gonna—” 

“Stop it! This is about working toge—” 

“Kaoru—” 

“Stop arguing!” Kaoru yells. Tamaki and Hikaru stop, turning to look at him. “We’re not gonna get anywhere if we keep arguing. Just think.” 

“We could probably just guess the last two numbers,” Hikaru points out. “There’s only so many combinations.” 

Tamaki wrinkles his nose. “But that’s not how the game works.” 

“It is when you only have ten minutes left.” Hikaru walks over to the safe, starting to punch in random combinations of shapes. “Okay, well, it’s not square/heart/rectangle/blob. It’s not square/heart/circle/arrow.” 

“You could at least do this methodically,” Kaoru says, joining him. He starts pushing at the numbers too. “It’s not square/heart/rectangle/circle. It’s not square/heart/rectangle/arrow, either. It’s not—” 

“You’re never going to get it like that,” Tamaki says with a sigh. He turns over to the nearest puzzle— the cabinet with colored lines. If you push the key up, you get different colors. He’s pretty sure he just needs the right of colors, but he has no idea how to get that combination. “We only have ten minutes left, guys.” 

GROUP B: 10 MINUTES TO GO

“I got it!” Kyoya says, an exclamation louder and more excited than Haruhi had ever heard him before. “Try BANK. It’s not a tree, so not fruit, trunk, or leaves. But it has different branches.” 

Haruhi punches in the numbers. The four of them wait in a strained silence, hopeful, all of them leaning forward on their toes, waiting. Then— the lock clicks. They let out a breath. Haruhi, carefully, slowly, opens the door, drawing out the last shape. 

“It’s a square!” she shouts. 

Honey runs over to the safe: he punches in that four squares, and then tugs at the handle.  

It opens. 

Inside, is the largest key that any of them have ever seen. It’s ornate, more decorative than anything else, but Mori grabs it and shoves it in the door. With a little bit of rattling, the door, slowly, so slowly, opens. 

GROUP A: 3 MINUTES TO GO

“Well,” Tamaki says, sitting down on the couch. He stares up at the ceiling. “This has been fun.” 

Hikaru laughs— not cruelly, but genuinely entertained. “I hope the other group is just as stuck as we are.” 

“You know they aren’t,” Kaoru says, sighing. “Think about who’s in that group.” 

Hikaru sighs, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. He sits down on the couch next to Tamaki, their shoulders pressed together. “We probably could have taken this a bit more seriously.” 

“Probably,” Tamaki admits. “Turns out that an hour is actually not that much time.” 

“Who would have thought?” Kaoru sits down on the couch, Tamaki between him and his brother. He presses himself against Tamaki, nudging his shoulder. “We tried.” 

“We kind of tried,” Tamaki says. He smiles, though, pushing back against Kaoru. “Do you think they’ll really lock us in here forever?” 

Hikaru laughs. “You know that they have Game Masters who have been watching us the whole time, right?” 

“Wait, what?” Tamaki frowns. “The whole time?” 

“Yeah,” Hikaru says with a nod, “just in case something goes horribly wrong. You can also ask for hints if you need them.” 

Tamaki stares at him, face blank. “You mean that we could have been asking for hints this whole time?” 

“Pretty much,” Kaoru says, shrugging. “But that’s not as much fun.” 

Tamaki leans back against the couch as the alarm rings, their time being up. “Damn it.” 

GROUP B: 3 MINUTES TO GO

Kyoya, Haruhi, Honey, and Mori stumble out of the escape room and into the hallway. Haruhi and Honey are laughing, Honey gripping onto her arm with a bright smile. 

“We deserve a reward,” Honey says with a giggle, “I vote for cake tonight.” 

“I vote for two pieces of cake,” Haruhi says. Her eyes are bright, excited. 

Even Kyoya is smiling. “And we get to choose the theme for next week.” 

“We do?” Haruhi asks. “How did the other group do?” 

Mori points towards their door, where one of the Game Masters has a key and is letting out a sheepish Tamaki, the twins behind him, rubbing the backs of their necks in unison. “They got stuck.” 

GROUPS A and B: 30 MINUTES LATER

They’re sitting in a pizza place, laughing over the three pepperoni pizzas that they’ve ordered. Honey had objected to broccoli, and Tamaki had demanded something more than just cheese, both of them agreeing on pepperoni. They’re all reaching over each other, grabbing food, laughing, pointing at each other. 

Haruhi glances around the group, eyes settling on the other hosts for a moment each. She can’t help but love them all. Honey catches her eye, face red with laughter. “Are you okay?” he mouths. She just nods, and smiles. Yeah, she’s okay. 

[snaileer]

Chips & Salsa, Chp 8

Keith had decided that Altean medical beds were the worst thing to curse the universe since the discontinuation of 2-in-1 hair products.

At least he definitely thought so from the last 30 minutes he’d spent sitting on one. Coran was still looking for the right salve or something for his bruises. He’d tried to get out of it but Shiro had stared him down all the way from the armory to the Medbay.

Even Keith wasn’t immune to ‘The Look.’

“Aha!” Coran jumped in triumph, holding up a small container like treasure, “I found it!”

Keith tried to get off the bed again, “I told you, Coran, I don’t need any treatment or-”

“Sit.” Shiro rumbled.

“But I-”

“Sit, Keith.” Shiro glared back. Keith would never admit that he pouted as he settled back on the medical bed, it was only a little childish spitefulness. His brother sighed again, “I know you hate doctors but it is only by the grace of god your nose isn’t broken. He almost-”

“Actually, his face is mostly unharmed.” Coran piped in as he got closer. Shiro raised an eyebrow in confusion as the Altean started applying the cream to Keith. “Yes, Lance certainly did a number on him, but there is a degree of restraint. His nose is bruised, a little bloody sure; but it wasn’t hit with anywhere near enough force to break it.”

Keith winced at a bloom of pain on his jaw and growled, “Then why does it hurt so much?”

Coran scoffed and moved to collect more salve as he mumbled, “Probably because I chose the one without pain relievers in it.”

“Coran…” Shiro gave him a stern look, but Coran shrugged it off and kept applying the cream.

“What? I’m not team leader, I have no problems showing favorites,” He said incredulously, “And besides, restraint doesn't mean he didn't hit hard. He just avoided your important bits, y’know, eyes and such. Could be much worse. In fact, this one time Alfor and I had a nasty run-in with some street thugs on a Gaali planet. Nearly ripped my ear off those fuc-”

“Not the time, Coran.” Shiro stepped in, handing Keith his jacket as he hopped down from the bed. “Keith, you need to talk to Lance.”

“What!? He hit me!”

“I don't want to hear who started it Keith,” Shiro followed him out of the room, “You and Lance have always been at each other’s throats, but this is different.”

“It really isn’t, Shiro.”

“Yes, it is. We both know that Lance wouldn’t have commented on your scoff, wouldn’t have taken it that far.”

“Yeah, obviously, I got that. So, what? You want me to just shut up? Stop talking to him?”

“No.” Shiro sighed, “We don’t need to be walking on eggshells around him, god no; but we still have to recognize that he’s gone through something traumatic. Is still going through it.”

“So did you Shiro. And he took advantage of your sympathy. I’m not going to give him mine, because clearly, he only cares about himself.” His voice grew in agitation.

“That’s not true, Keith, and you know it.” Shiro said, trying to convince Keith to just stop being so stubborn.

“Then why can’t he act like it!”

Shiro looked back over his shoulder, then over the other.

“What the hell are you doing, Shiro!?” Keith shouted. He was sick of his brother always-

Shiro crossed his arms and glared down at Keith, “I’m trying to find who you think you’re yelling at, because I know for damn sure it’s not me.” 

Keith growled and grit his teeth, “I’m not up for your stupid-”

“Try again.”

“I don’t-”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? I was trying to-” Keith threw his hands in the air at Shiro. Shiro and all his stupid vagueness.

“I mean, no. You don’t get to write him off this quickly. I want you to give him a chance.”

“I already did!”

“Then give him another one.”

“Why!?” Keith shot back.

“Because he deserves it,” Shiro answered, his words solemn enough to shut Keith’s mouth with a snap. “Don’t you think, that after everything, everything we’ve been through, everything he went through, everything he went through for us.. don’t you think he deserves another chance? Don’t you think he deserves a few chances?”

“But I- But he- We can’t just-” Keith shuffled through refusals, but each one fell short. 

“I’ve been where he is, Keith. And it isn’t as easy as ‘go back to normal.’ Surviving that… it takes everything.” Shiro took a deep breath to steady himself, “You can’t afford to be kind, or caring, or selfless. And even when every, single, part of you rushes to save somebody,” He paused and made eye contact again, “You have to push it down.”

Keith stood silently for a moment, looking back at Shiro. Sorrow, guilt, regret washed over his face because he hadn’t been able to save Shiro.

Not just Shiro, his brain reminded him. 

Keith shifted his eyes away, staring at his shoes. “Is it really going to be that hard to get him back?” He said softly, the air fragile.

“We still have to try.” 

Keith twitched his lips back and forth, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Rolling the debate over his tongue. He hated to back down from an argument.

“So?...” Shiro questioned, raising an eyebrow and leaning back on his hip. Keith sighed dramatically.

“Fine.” He threw his hands up for good measure, “I’ll give him another chance.”

“Finally! God, I thought I was gonna have to bribe you or something.” Shiro dropped his arms from his chest in exasperation, “I swear, for how much you two care about each other, it’s ridiculously hard to get you to just talk.”

“What?”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to sigh, “Nothing. Just… trying to get this team to function is like pulling teeth. And I very specifically refused my parent’s desire for me to become a dentist.”

Keith gave a breathless laugh, “Ha!” He looked Shiro up and down, “Like you’re any better.”

An affronted look grew across Shiro’s face, “I’m not-” 

Keith took that moment to dash down the hall, away from any more lectures.

“I’m not that bad!... And apologize to Lance!” Shiro shouted out after his rapidly disappearing shape. Keith threw back a rushed ‘will do!’ as he made his escape.

Shiro stood in the hallway, unmoving for a second. Thinking.

“Oh! Number one, you’re still here,” Coran walked out from around a corner, “Did you need something? Why are you just standing in the middle of the hall?”

“No reason…” Shiro paused, “I think I’m just now understanding why my grandmother got paid so much to be a matchmaker.” He stared off into the distance; his face the picture of resignation.

“Ah! A noble profession indeed! Y’know, one could say that I’m responsible for Alfor and Melenor getting together. Pah! The kingdom would have fallen without me!”

Shiro resisted the sudden urge to remind him that it did.

Instead, he listened to Coran regale him with tales of how he saved the castle (“more than once, might I add”), while they walked, side-by-side, through the corridors.

-x-x-x-

Lance ran his hands across the grass. Trying to pick out each blade of green beneath his fingers. He couldn’t.

It made sense, honestly. In a weird sort of way. Same reason the clouds never moved across the picturesque blue sky. Same reason that though he could see the wind shift the grass, he couldn’t feel any breeze on his skin.

It was fake. A hologram. The wonders of alien technology to create a world that seemed so real and yet-

Wetness dripped onto his cheek. 

Lance squeezed his eyes closed tighter and tried to ignore it. To relish in the momentary sense of peace. 

The peace that always came after a fight. As petty as it’d been, his fight with Keith had helped. He needed it; to fight, to fight without restraints or routine practice. Just to fight, to grapple for the right to exist like he had in the-

Something blocked the light in front of him, casting a shadow over his face. He peeked open an eyelid… Just in time to see a blob of saliva dangling right above his eye.

“Kaltenecker!” Lance flung himself out of the cow’s drool range. He groaned, awkwardly rubbing his cheek against his shoulder in a desperate attempt to wipe it off.

“That’s so disgusting!”

“Mooooo,” Kaltnecker glanced up with half-lidded eyes as she continued to eat at the spot where he was just laying.

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this! Oh, the pain!” Lance put his hand to his forehead dramatically, “How ever will I go on?!” 

Kaltnecker, seemingly unbothered by him, continued chewing. Lance tried to sneak a glimpse at her without breaking character, disappointed to see her lack of reaction.

“Oh, tough crowd, huh?” 

She turned to the side, flicking her tail at him dismissively.

“I bet…” he paused and got to his feet, “THIS’LL change your mind!” Lance jumped at her, aiming for surprise, “Raahhh! Oof.” He hit her side like a brick wall, Kaltnecker sparing him no more than a look.

“I think I’d forgotten how hard it is to mess with cows.” He narrowed his eyes at her, then shrugged and smirked, “Oh, well.. Guess I’ll just have too....” Lance took a couple steps away, before turning back, “Lay on you instead! Ah-Ha!” He leapt onto the cow’s back like a starfish, searching for enough grip to stay attached.

He leaned his head down to her eye-level, “Still nothing, huh girl?” She blinked at him, smacked her lips, …. And then kept chewing.

“Lance?” Both cow and paladin’s heads shot upright at the voice. Hunk stood in the doorway with a bucket and a weird container next to him.

Kaltenecker found this infinitely more exciting than Lance’s efforts at bothering her and a loud ‘MOOO’ came from below Lance. 

Uh oh.

Kaltenecker galloped for the door, suddenly full of energy, hauling Lance along with her as he held on for dear life.

She finally stopped in front of Hunk’s feet, pausing for a moment until-

“Hoe, don't do it-” Lance scrambled to get off her in time, but failed as she plopped down on top of him. Sitting like a dog. 

Lance groaned at the sudden weight, resigned to trying to keep her tail from slapping him in the face.

“Hey there big girl! Excited to see me?” Hunk’s words only served to make her tail slap harder. Lance struggled to lean around her enough to see what he was doing.

Hunk pulled a package of some type of ‘alien-hay-feed’ out of the container at his feet. Hefting it into his arms, he carried it over to the small stall they had for the cow, Kaltenecker following behind him dutifully. Finally releasing Lance.

“Are we sure you’re not giving her too much of that stuff?” Lance groaned and rubbed his sides.

“Nah, Pidge calculated the perfect amount, I just don't think you're supposed to have cows sitting on you.” Hunk waved him off as he emptied the food into the trough. Hunk perked up like he’d remembered something, “Oh! Pidge! I promised her I’d help fix the glitches in the-” 

“Then go, I’m sure Kaltenecker will be fine,” Lance assured him as he got closer.

Hunk glanced from the cow, to Lance, to the bucket he left by the door, “But I have to-” 

Lance followed his line of sight, “Oh! I can do it buddy! Just go do your computer thing,” He smiled at him and went to grab the bucket.

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz I can stay if-” Hunk’s hands started fidgeting as he crumpled up the feed package and came closer.

“Gooo. I’ve done this before! Or did you forget who taught you?” Lance got behind him and playfully started urging him out of the room.

“Who? Your Uncle Leo?” Hunk said as he dug his heels in.

“No, me!” 

“I think I distinctly remember Leo teaching-” Hunk caught Lance’s eyes, joking glare and all, “Fine. Fine, I’ll go. But I’m making ice cream for dessert so make sure to bring the milk by the kitchen so you can help before dinner.” Hunk smiled back at his friend as he was pushed out of the room. It was nice to have someone take over with Kaltenecker, he was finally free to work on stuff with Pidge like he’d been putting off.

Behind the doors, Lance picked up the bucket and faced Kaltenecker with determination. 

“Now you have to pay attention to me, pretty girl.”

-x-x-x-

By the time Lance had finally, finally gotten Kaltenecker to cooperate enough for him to milk her, he’d already wasted half an hour.

So he had absolutely no qualms about leaving her alone in her ‘pasture’, and he was definitely not sulking.

Still, the whole process satisfied something in him. Something about the actions just brought him back to his childhood trips to Uncle Leo’s dairy farm.

And yeah, they were in space, not south eastern Cuba. And yeah, the cow they had was definitely genetically or hormonally modified by aliens to keep producing milk.

But it is what it is. And Lance would take what bits of home he could get.

Home.

A surge of homesickness rattled through him. It ached. A bone deep ache that he hadn’t paid attention to in so long and-

It was quickly pushed out by ringing.

Right. That.

Lance pulled his mind away from thoughts of his family, of any happiness he used to have. It was all gone for him now, and the ringing seemed to hate any happiness he even tried to scrounge together for himself.

Something clicked. If the ringing grew every time Lance thought about his family, or his home or-

Ow. 

With the Galra, when he’d thought the ringing was self-inflicted, that it was his punishment; it’d made sense for his happiness to make it worse. Why should he get to be happy, when he’d taken that from somebody else? Why should he get to keep his family? When he’d ripped someone away from theirs, permanently.

And he’d thought hearing the screams of his opponents, his fights, his kills, his victims was fair. Justified. Why should he get any peace when he’d taken any chance of it for them?

No.

This wasn’t on him. Yes, he deserved the guilt he felt. And yes, one day, he’d see retribution for his actions, but that wasn’t what this was.

This was Haggar.

Haggar trying to rid him of his memories. Of his home, his family. Of his team. Haggar trying to rid him of his hope.

Rid him of weakness, a voice whispered, No weaknesses, nothing to chance.

The memory of that phrase made him grit his teeth. 

Haggar was such a bitch when she was being condescending.

Lance took a break from his thoughts to peek his head into the kitchen. Still empty, thank god.

He loved Hunk, he really did, but there was no way he was sitting through another awkward team meal. Especially not right before they did something potentially hazardous to his mental state.

Again.

He quickly dropped the milk on the counter and left as fast as he could. He had somewhere to be, things to do, and a theory to test.

But first, a change of clothes.

x-x-x

Keith was sick of looking for Lance. I mean, seriously! The guy is over six foot, he shouldn't be that hard to find! Keith grumbled as he turned another corner in his search.

It was just his luck that he’d been chosen to ‘collect’ Lance. Shiro wasn't even subtle about it! ‘Give him another chance’ ‘He deserves it’ ‘blah de blah de blah de blah.’ 

“Hey Dipshit,” Keith glanced down at the phone in his hand, not at all surprised to see Pidge’s face on the screen.

“Yes?” He said irritably.

“He’s in the pool room.”

“Fine. Meet you guys in the Lounge room.” Keith quickly shut off the phone and spun around to go the right direction.

Of course Lance would be wasting time swimming while they were all waiting for him. It was becoming unfortunately normal for him to skip team meals. And everybody else just let him! Shiro never let Keith skip meals. 

Keith opened the pool doors fully ready to shout at Lance, --

Only to find himself stopped short and mesmerized by the blue paladin.

Now, one thing you have to understand is, Keith grew up in a desert. He didn’t really like pools. The community pools were generally cesspits of germs and packed to the brim during the Arizona summers. And that’s if he could convince a foster parent to bring him along.

This was decidedly not the case for Lance.

Even from the doorway, Keith could tell where Lance had haphazardly thrown his towel to the side before jumping in. And based on the amount of water collecting on the sides of the pool, he’d been here for a while.

Keith watched as Lance flipped off the wall, turning into yet another lap, without even a pause. He hadn’t even realized how close he’d gotten until he felt water splash his boots. 

He growled at the wetness soaking into his feet. Shouting it was then.

“Lance!” Keith yelled. Nothing, “Lance! Lance! LANCE!” 

There! A stutter in the smoothness of his actions.

Lance flipped around at the other end of the pool and started back towards Keith. 

“Finally!” Keith crossed his arms and waited for Lance to finish. Meaning that he’d completely missed Lance’s smirk forming under the water. And that he was utterly unprepared for Lance to kick an entire wave of water at him the moment he was close enough.

Now Keith really shouted.

“What the hell Lance!” He yelled, then continued trying to get his jacket off before it would be ruined.

Lance scoffed playfully as he hefted himself out of the water, “It was worth a try to see if that mullet was any sort of salvageable when wet,” He grabbed his towel and turned a cursory glance at Keith, “News Flash: the answer is no, there’s no hope at all for the mullet, it’d be a mercy just to cut it all off now.”

Keith was left a little shocked by the almost normal comment from Lance, before he finally registered what he’d said. 

“My hair is not that bad,” He growled, “And your hair’s not any better now. So there,”

“Oh, I’m well aware my hair is a disaster but unlike you, I don't make a routine of hacking it off in the bathroom.”

“It’s efficient!” Keith threw his hands up.

“It’s ratchet at best, Keith. But still, I am going to have to cut it soon, it kept getting in my eyes on my free-stroke.” 

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t swimming for like 3 hours straight.” Keith said snidely. Lance paused to glare at Keith, then went back to wrapping the towel on his head.

Once he’d finished he started walking towards the door, making Keith follow, “Did you know that as it turns out, the pool’s easier to access when you actually go through the elevator entrance? Rather than some off-ramp vent airway?” Insert pointed look at Keith. Insert Keith blatantly ignoring said look.

“It was your idea that got us up there.”

“It’s not my fault you’ve never seen Emperor’s New Groove. Besides, I actually have a reason for swimming this long.” Lance answered as the aforementioned elevator started moving. 

Keith scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure you have plenty of excuses, Lance. And yet, you still missed dinner, and you’re still late to the team meeting.”

This time it was Lance who growled, “Let me talk, Keith, I’m serious, this is about the ringing.” That made Keith pay attention. He looked at Lance next to him, startled a bit by how stern he looked. Especially with a towel piled on his head.

“I’ve always loved swimming, and it’s been years since I’ve had the opportunity. The Garrison only allows the pool to be used in simulations, not for leisure.”

“Really? You call doing a hundred laps ‘leisure’? Wow, Iverson must’ve been so upset.” Keith rolled his eyes and ignored the look he got from Lance.

“Swimming makes me happy, it reminds me of my family, my home, everything I love about earth.” Lance said wistfully. But Keith’s eyes caught the slightest wince at the end of his statement. “And something that I’ve just now realized, is that Haggar didn't just want me to fight, she wanted me to lose hope too. So every time I think about my family, or I think about Earth, or even you guys, the team, I-” another wince, “The ringing gets worse.

Keith stopped dead in his tracks, not even noticing that the elevator had opened to let them out. Lance turned back to hold the door for him, and Keith rushedly stepped out, once again following Lance mindlessly.

“So you mean-.. Haggar tried to-” He couldn’t figure out how to phrase this. Was there really any good way to say, ‘Hey, an evil witch tried to make you into her own personal death drone,’?

“Yeah. And it worked.” Lance said softly. Keith hated that tone, he was becoming uncomfortably familiar with it, and much preferred Lance’s sarcasm. 

“I mean, I think it worked. Not so much now that I know, but.. When I was still there… Before I knew what the ringing was… I thought it was fair that I wouldn’t be able to think about my family without it hurting. I caused so much pain there, it was only fair I felt some as well.”

“Lance, that’s not-” He started through clenched teeth, but Lance cut him off.

“And I’ve always known what it takes to get rid of the ringing. I needed some time to think. And I needed to get away from the ringing for a while. Swimming does that for me. It makes me work hard enough to drive back the ringing, but I still love it, I can still enjoy it. It’s the one thing I have that hasn’t been ruined by all of this.” Lance’s fists were clenched tightly and he stopped walking.

“And you needed three hours for that?” Keith asked doubtfully. He hadn't realized they’d already reached Lance’s room.

“Like I said: it gave me some time to think,” Lance turned to face him fully, sucking in a deep breath, “I realized that I shouldn’t have fought you like that. I was desperate, but I crossed a line. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I wish I could’ve stopped myself because you didn’t deserve that from me. Not saying you don't need some sense knocked into you, but that wasn't my place.” Lance gave a small smirk, but it faded quickly, “I can’t keep lashing out at you guys like this. First it was Shiro, and then you. Who’s next, Pidge? Hunk? Coran?” Lanced sighed heavily, “I really am sorry about all of it. And you don't have to say anything back, I just didn’t want to leave it like this.” Lance barely waited before stepping away into his room, letting the door slide between them.

Keith stood there for a second.

He was really getting sick of doors closing between him and Lance. It’d happened three times today alone!

And what the hell was he supposed to say to Lance apologizing? The suspiciously Shiro-sounding little voice in his head could shut up about ‘just forgive him.’ No way.

But it was just… ugh! Every time Keith tried to think of the reason why he couldn’t, it was an actual reason. Keith hated excuses. They made him sound pathetic and weak. And honestly, screw that.

He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Before. When Keith could argue with Lance and not nearly get his nose broken. No matter what Coran said about it.

They’d been on the road to a tenuous ‘friendship’ or whatever Lance kept calling frenemies. And… and… and he kind of liked it. Being friends that is. Because he’d never had friends. He had people he fought with. And that wasn’t what he wanted Lance to become. He wanted more than that. He-

“You’re still here?”

Keith would deny to the day he died that Lance Mcclain had actually managed to startle him. “Yeah….?” Keith said slowly, then furrowed his eyebrows, “What, did you think I’d leave?” 

And for Keith, all the excuses in the world fell flat against the tiny, half-surprised smile on Lance’s face.

“Then let’s get going, Mullethead, there’s no use making them wait for both of us.” Lance said as he smiled and turned down the hallway.

“You’re the one that made us late,” 

“Pffff, I made me late, you just decided to stick around and you should know by now that I have no problem being late.” Lance propped a hand up on his hip.

“Oh believe me, we’re all very knowledgeable about your timekeeping skills, except I don't understand how you’re late at all, considering you’ve got legs the size of giraffes.” Keith may have grumbled through that last statement. 

But really, every step he took was easily double the size of Keith’s, it was ridiculous. He kept having to shuffle to keep up with him!

“What can I say? I’m just pumped to get to work,” Lance plastered on a sarcastically fake smile and gave him a tight thumbs-up.

Keith crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes, “You know we have to do this, it’s the only way to-”

“Yeah yeah, spare me the lecture. I get it already.” Lance waved his hand at Keith like he could physically swat the conversation out of the air. 

“Who’s lecturing Lance?” Pidge’s voice cut in when the automatic doors opened at their presence.

“Nobody. Absolutely nobody,” Lance said as he made a bee-line to the couches, “We’re going to do this, get it over with and then put it all behind us. Good? Capische? Great. Let’s fire it up, Coran.”

“Don't you dare. Fire would ruin the headbands irreparably.” Coran said, clutching the headbands to his chest.

“Relax, Coran. It's just a figure of speech. It means Lance wants us to get started,” Shiro patted him placatingly as he passed the man to sit down next to Keith.

“Yeah, only time Lance’s ever been in a rush and he still wasn’t on time. Go figure. Worked out for me though, more time to process my code.” Pidge finally pulled herself away from her laptop, relinquishing Hunk to sit next Lance.

He whispered something about ice cream and new milk to Lance that Keith couldn't really hear, but Coran was already passing out the headbands. 

“I’ve already modified the quintessence modules in each of the headbands,” Allura moved towards the group, “But I’ll still need to activate yours individually, Lance, so that you all end up on the same plane.” 

“You won’t be joining us?” Keith added when he saw Lance hesitate at the request.

“No,” Allura paused, “Unfortunately, this will require that I act as a guide from the outside. Coran will help me monitor your quintessence levels so I can keep them stable and stay focused.”

“I’m sorry, guide? That implies the ability to get lost; is that a possibility? I mean, we’ve been to the astral plane before, right? So it should be just like that, we’re not going to get blindsided by some evil-astral creature, are we?” Hunk rattled off the random worries flitting through his head, some of which were slightly valid. At least to Keith’s perspective. Can’t be too prepared, right?

“None of that, we just need to keep the headbands from bouncing back like they did last time. Allura is simply guiding the quintessence stream around all you.” Coran chipped in as he went back to the princess’s side. Hunk visibly sagged in relief.

“Lance?” Oh right, apparently Shiro was the only one who remembered Lance still hadn’t answered Allura’s question. She’d need to get really close to him for this, something they’d all subconsciously tried to avoid.

“You can trust us, Lance. You have to for this to work.”

“I know.” Lance sighed and placed the band on his head. As Allura approached, Keith watched Lance rub his finger over something on his other hand. And yet it looked like every muscle in his body went taut at Allura’s touch.

Keith could barely catch a glimpse of Lance’s breathing picking up before the world in front of him exploded with stars. The astral plane.

It’d been a while since an astral projection had been so stable. Keith looked out and could see his teammates standing around him. Even Lance, to a degree, though he was shrouded by a thick fog. They could see it now, because unlike last time, they were actually in the astral plane, not just mentally. However, they could still feel the gap in the Voltron link. 

The gap where Lance was supposed to be.

“Guys?” Lance’s voice sounded anxious, though it edged into frantic surprisingly fast, “Guys? Guys, I can't see anything, why can’t I-” 

“Lance, calm down buddy, we’re here.” Hunk’s voice echoed across the void. Keith could hear it in the astral plane and through his actual ears. Hopefully Lance could too.

“Why can’t I feel any of you? Or see you?”

“Just-- give- me--  a minute-- I-” Allura’s voice was tense with effort. Keith watched in amazed confusion as the fog around Lance started to shift. 

The rest of the team approached it and Keith followed. He tried to put his hand through it, as if he could just reach through and pull Lance out. But his hand hit a barrier.

The light blue fog finally whirled itself into a more distinct form as it settled.

A wall. 

The outside shimmered as magic seemed to ripple across it.

“You all will have to take it from here.” Allura’s strained voice cut through once again, “I was able to shift and gather the quintessence of the block but I fear I do not have the ability to do more without losing my grip on it. It’s up to you, Paladins.”

“Absolutely, Princess,” Keith turned back to the wall with determination. 

Hunk and Pidge had already started pushing on the barrier. Yellow and green magic shimmered across the surface where they touched it. All of it eventually fading back to blue as it spread out farther.

Keith’s hand caused red to join the colors. And he could see black start to ripple from Shiro’s position as well.

But all of the color seemed to disappear too quickly, none of it touching each other. Just evaporating into the shifting blue of the barrier.

“I can only barely feel you, you guys,” Lance’s voice came from the other side, “You still just look like blurry shadows. Are we sure this is gonna work?”

“Lance is right, this isn’t working, you guys.” Hunk’s voice cut in.

“Then keep trying,” Keith ground out, “We’re not just going to give up.” He clenched his jaws tighter, his teeth starting to ache under the pressure.

“No, we’re not. But maybe…” Pidge leaned away from the wall, placing her hands on her hips and looking up at it. She suddenly snapped her head to their leader, “Shiro, we need to connect all of our energies. Instead of trying to put pressure on the entire thing, we just need to concentrate on one point. If we can crumple one part, maybe the rest will come down with it.”

“That sounds like a big maybe, Pidge, I don't know…” Hunk added as he pulled back as well.

Shiro looked at Pidge with a question in his eyes. Keith had seen it enough to know what it meant, ‘Are you sure?’

Pidge nodded with pursed lips.

“Alright, everybody, come over to me and Keith.” Shiro slipped right into leader mode, bringing the rest of the team closer, “We need to connect all of the magic we’ve been setting off and we need to make sure it works.” He motioned Keith even closer.

Keith briefly stepped away before placing his hands back down about a foot away from Shiro’s. The red light flowed out, just as it had before, moving towards the black tendrils.

They collided harshly, but stuck together. The magic fused to each other and Keith found he could no longer pull his hands away. By the look he got from Shiro, it was the same for him.

“Wow, I felt that,” Lance’s voice abruptly cut in, “What the hell was that?”

“We’re not quite sure. But we’re about to do it again, be ready.” Shiro beckoned for the other two paladins, “Pidge, you next, right below Keith’s.”

Pidge cautiously placed her hands down and they all watched as the green reached out for Keith and Shiro’s. It snapped into place with a flash of light, the wall shuddered allowing Keith to catch a glimpse of Lance through the fog.

He looked…

“Lance, what’s wrong with your face?”

“Nothing’s wrong with my face! What’s wrong with yours?!” He said incredulously.

“But I saw…” Now Keith was just confused, “I saw a glimpse of you through the wall…. You looked injured.”

“What? But I’m not-”

“Injured how?” Shiro said sharply.

“Like he’d just gone ten rounds with a blender and a sentient punching bag, Shiro. It didn’t look good.”

“Excuse you, I look fabulous no matter what.” Lance’s affronted protests were heard through the wall.

“Lance, do we need to stop?” Shiro asked, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine Shiro,” Lance’s eye roll was audible, “Keithy-boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Shiro looked at him warily, “Keith?”

“If he says go for it, go for it. Who am I to police the actions of an idiot?” Keith tried to sound casual as he shrugged, but he still wished he could see Lance instead of just hear his scoff.

“Alright.” Shiro gave a short, decisive nod, “Hunk, get over here, Lance get ready again, we’re going through with this.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” 

Keith could visibly see Shiro glare Hunk and Pidge down from responding back with ‘I can’t hear you.’ He, of course, would also deny having the spongebob song stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

Hunk hesitantly placed his hands to the wall, surprised when it jerked him closer like a magnet. 

Yellow started flowing out, reaching for Pidge, then Shiro, then finally making contact with the Red of Keith’s own. Each time glowed brighter than the last.

The world around them rumbled.

“There! I saw him!” Pidge shouted out.

“I saw him too! Keith was right, he looks hurt!”

The fog had gaps in it now, places that were thinner than others, and some thicker spaces were shaded a darker blue.

Through one of the gaps, Keith could see Lance drop to one knee.

“Lance!” “Lance! What’s wrong!?” “Are you okay?!”

“I- I’m fine you guys. That blast just knocked me off my feet.” Lance lifted his head to look at them, “I always knew Keith would give me a killer headache, but I never expected it from the rest of you,” He gave them a grin that looked like it should hurt. But it seemed like he didn’t even notice the injuries on his face. 

“Wait, the injuries, they keep changing,” Pidge pointed out, “Why do they keep changing?” Keith looked closer, she was right. The injuries faded in and out on Lance, never the same.

“Seriously guys, I have no idea what you’re talking abou-”

“AS GREAT as it is to see you speaking as a team, I don't think the Princess can hold all of you in the Astral Plane for much longer.” Coran’s voice echoed around them, followed closely by Allura’s.

“It is true, my grip on the quintessence is slipping, something is interfering with it. I fear I may not be able to keep it stable for-”

“What the hell is that!” Hunk’s shout forced Keith’s head to snap towards him as he watched in horror..

The pale fog surrounding Lance was starting to change color. Purple leeching across the surface, like ink in water. It trampled the blue, growing as it surged towards the team.

“Guys, you’re starting to fade out again. What’s going on? Why is it going dark? You guys?” Lance’s shouts jumped through the barrier, but no one could spare a second to respond. The world rumbled again.

A splotch of purple got close enough to touch a tendril of black, seeming satisfied when it leapt away from the color in time with Shiro’s jerk.

“I know what this is,...” Shiro answered, fear building in his voice, “This is druid magic! It’s trying to get to Voltron!”

Keith caught a final glimpse of Lance’s worried face, before the wall started to close off again. And the purple got stronger as Lance pulled back.

“Shiro! We can’t let them get Voltron! She can’t-” Lance sounded more desperate than before.

“I know Lance. Everybody! Channel your lions, we have to push this back.” Shiro’s statement ended with a growl as he pushed more into the quintessence of the barrier. Keith followed suit and could see his team do the same.

Voltron’s colors rushed out against the purple. Even if the Black seemed to push from behind the others, Keith could feel his team hold strong against the ominous pressure.

The entire wall of fog swirled with color now. Not just blue, but Red, Yellow, Green, and Black all curling across each other in smooth cooperation.

Keith had to grit his teeth to keep the flow of power steady. And by the looks of it, everyone else was in the same boat.

“Shiro, it’s taking everything we’ve got just to keep the druid magic back, how are we going to break the wall?”

“I don't know, Keith,” Shiro raised his voice to rise above the barrier, “Lance, we’ve got the druids pushed back, for now, and we’re holding strong!,” The fog returned the thinned state it had been in before, revealing Lance in the middle, curled in on himself. He looked up at them, seeming more weary than he had before.

“Is there anything you can do from your side?”

Lance shakily stood up, almost losing his balance as the ground shook around them. Keith watched Lance steady himself before reaching for the wall. 

The wall glowed a bit brighter, and Keith could feel the pressure even out across the five of them. The bond grew stronger. 

But it wasn’t enough.

“Paladins! You must hurry! If we are to do this, we must do it now! I cannot hold it for much longer!” Allura’s words made Keith look up to see she was correct. The world, the Astral Plane, was quite literally falling apart around them.

A loud thumping sound shook them as shards of the sky fell to the ground.

“Hey, uh- guys,” Hunk’s leg shot out to kick incessantly at his shins, “Hey, guys, guys, guys!”

“What, Hunk!?” Keith snapped as he looked at him.

“I think something’s coming towards us!” Hunk shouted. Keith turned to follow his line of sight. Sure enough, there was a growing blue light at the horizon, slowly getting bigger as it got closer.

“What is that?” By now the whole team was looking at it, Pidge trying to get a proper look with her short arms still stuck to the barrier.

The thumping sound got louder, mixing in with the rumbling of the collapsing Astral Plane.

“Focus, team!” Shiro ground out beside him. The pull of quintessence from Keith got stronger as Hunk and Pidge’s focus shifted. It almost hurt to keep the flow open.

“What are you guys seeing? Is it something bad?” Lance’s voice sounded in his ear. When he looked back, Keith was surprised to find Lance almost right against the barrier, their eyes meeting.

“We don't know what-”

“Is that-?” Pidge asked in an unsure voice.

“I think it is!” Hunk sounded giddy, making Keith look away again, “It’s the Blue Lion!”

The thumping sound grew louder as the Blue Lion’s shape became clearer, now recognizable as the sound of paws running towards them.

Hunk cheered, losing focus even more, and Keith nearly stumbled under the weight now resting on Shiro, Lance and himself.

“Pidge! Hunk! If Blue is coming, then we need to be ready. Focus on the barrier!” Shiro commanded. Pidge immediately turned back to help them. Hunk…. not so much.

“She’s not slowing down. She’s not slowing down! I repeat, she is not slowing down! We are about to be crushed by a giant charging Space Lion!” Hunk’s signature anxious voice filled the air. Pidge looked back.

“Actually, I think she’s getting smaller…she’s almost normal sized.”

‘Normal-sized’ was an exaggeration. Blue was still several times larger than a normal ‘Earth’ lion. A fact becoming readily apparent as she got closer, and again, did not slow down.

“The Blue Lion knows what she’s doing. Get it together you two, we need to keep this wall stabilized.” Shiro used his Galran hand to forcibly turn Hunk’s head around to the wall. The purple had already started to come back the moment the team wasn’t pushing at full strength.

“Yep, uh huh, got it, focus on the evil purple magic, not the giant lion. Can do, boss man. Can, do.” Hunk rambled under his breath, still sneaking glances out of the corner of his eyes.

The thumping of Blue’s feet was deafening; and when she roared, every paladin, even Shiro, had no choice but to look back at her in reverence. 

She charged forwards with all the might of a mother, crashing towards Lance without pause for the wall between them.

All remnants of purple were pushed out of existence as Blue’s magic rushed through the barrier, scattering the world around them. 

The paladins were thrown back into the real world with a shock, Allura stumbling backwards into the waiting arms of Coran.

Lance was laying on the floor in front of them, a smile on his face. There were even a few joyful tears gathered at the corner of his eyes

“Lance?”

“She’s back.” He whispered, the words coming out in disbelief. “She’s back. I can feel her again.” If possible, Lance’s smile grew even bigger as he sat up, the tears falling down his cheeks. “Blue, I missed you so much, girl. I missed you so much!” A rumble echoed through the castle, very clearly originating from the hangers.

“Don’t worry Lance, I think she missed you too,” Hunk smiled back. The pure happiness radiating from them was contagious, despite how exhausted everyone felt.

Pidge moved closer, peering up at Lance curiously.

“So, Lance,” She paused,

“Do you remember?”

First Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/613092735756402688/chips-and-salsa-chp-1

Next Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/653555387542405120/chips-salsa-chapter-9

[leam1983]

On Grief

This is a long one. You're under no obligation to push further if you don't want to. It's a personal post, so I'll more than understand if this isn't to your tastes. The normally-scheduled pedantry, commentary and memes will resume shortly.

One of my relatives was diagnosed with ALS. What started as an odd case of palsy in her left set of vocal cords that could've been far more benign was just confirmed by her referred physician. It's Lou Gherig's, and with her age and current condition, her prognosis is of three to five years, tops. Sure, Stephen Hawking blew his own prognosis out of the water, but a combination of notoriety and luck enabled him to eke out as much existence as medical tech could've possibly allowed.

We knew things were suspect when my aunt, a marathoner with a monthly sub to Runner's World, stopped running. Her food intake dropped like a stone, and she soon took to increasingly simple painting and drawing styles. At first we thought it was just her wanting to explore simpler rendering techniques, but then...

Then we noticed the twitching. How awkwardly her pens and brushes were set in her hands. She was in great shape and didn't mind living in the ass-end of Sutton, basically in the open country and with a path leading up to her front door that was all in rough cobblestones. She broke a hip against them, last year.

Her speech started to slur, lately. Her last bike trip also landed her in the ER. She doesn't bike anymore. She doesn't run, and being a gourmand by nature, feels obligated to restrain herself, for fear of gaining weight. She's aggressively vegan. Not towards others, but towards herself. No meat, no eggs, nothing. Most of us ovo-lactos and omnivores in the family know her constant snacking meant her seventy-plus body is desperate for energy.

From the look of things, it feels like the diagnosis broke through her bullshit reasoning for being vegan. She wasn't vegan for the sake of limiting her carbon footprint or making more responsible choices at the grocery store, but because she, as a lifelong anorexic, thought she was ugly and needed to lose weight. That's been a constant with her. Age catches up and skin sags? She mistakes it for a love handle, cuts out virtually all sources of protein and carbs safe for tofu, seitan and bean-based preps. Of course, like a lot of anorexics, she'd have bulemic episodes. I used to sleep over at her last bachelor pad, as a teen, and I remember her pantry was loaded up for bear with Danish cookie tins, Nutella jars and whipped cream. I remember she invited me over specifically when she intended to cheat. Then it was back to yoga, pot-smoking, meditation and shopping runs - and she probably kept her purging for when I was gone.

So yeah. I'm betting Belgian Asshole (see one of my previous posts) convinced her to break her vows and went looking for a "slice of authentic Tikka Masala", to quote his email. The entire family is made up of ethnic food diehards, so we spam-flooded his inbox with recommendations. Looks like she'll be eating meat again, soon. Her own email mentioned concerns of strength and stamina, so I get it.

Otherwise? We're gobsmacked. Imagine spending an entire weekday both at work and off work, aggressively goofing off because you're trying as hard as you can not to think of your favourite aunt's mention of assisted suicide as an option.

Three to five years. Maybe one, or two good Christmases. After that, her condition should probably have started to deteriorate quickly.

I'm not close with a ton of my own family. I love them all, but it's more a sense of polite respect than anything involving solid bonds. The only two folks I know I'll be devastated for when they'll die are her, and my youngest cousin on the other side of the family.

I'm mostly okay now. No doubts, no crisis of unbelief, no anger, no rage... But then I'll see her in a more diminished state, one of those days. How am I going to take to it?

Part of me keeps a tally of the deaths in the family. First, it was my uncle on my mother's side. Ruptured abdominal artery, with a leak small enough to pool into the gut's cavity for months. Decay settled in, guy got anesthetized for an intervention...

They didn't even bother sewing him back up.

Second one was my other paternal aunt's new husband. First one was great, but left the country in the seventies to go live in Stockholm with his medical assistant. Second one was a geologist and physicist at the same campus she taught as. French guy, the son of innkeepers four generations down. It showed, too. Our Christmas tables haven't been the same since he left us his recipie books, all his corny jokes on provincial eating habits, and his obstinate focus on turning every 25th of December into a Roman orgy probably befitting of the old Saturnalia traditions. I mean, when's the last time you've had an eight-course meal, outside of Thanksgiving?

Tumors in his mesenteric artery lined the blood vessel's inner walls, deposited virtually everywhere in his body. He was diagnosed in June and dead by August. He'd always been the lanky type, bone-thin even if he hoovered food like he'd never have enough. He looked even thinner in his hospital bed.

Then, my maternal grandpa bit it. Decades of casual alcoholism, cirrhosis more or less jumping on him around his seventy-sixth year. He looked a bit like John Keston, the actor who played Gehn in CyanWorlds' Riven. Same hairline, same hawkish nose, same eyes - just more Cajun and less New England-esque. I don't know if it was youth or stupidity or - anything, really, but I dropped by to see him, just two days before he died. I didn't realize he was tallying my life, asking me if I had everything in order, if things were planned.

Now, I understand.

Next one on the chopping block is Aunt Doris, still on Mom's side. She of the serial mooching, she of the concept of not needing much to get by if you were the cute one of the family. She was pretty enough in her prime, sure - if by pretty you meant "cigarette-butt blonde with a discount Farah Fawcett blow-up and an unfinished High School degree". First husband was an abusive ass who gave her an uncommonly sensitive son, second one figured she'd stick to the minimum-wage circuit while he tore out rotator cuffs or busted his C7 while on his outboard like clockwork. By the end, she roped my grandmother into living with her, spent her days sloppy-drunk and died on her ratty couch while falling asleep and choking on her own vomit.

Before them all, the youngest of my uncles died at age two. Cancer. Never knew which one, was told it didn't matter. You didn't survive much of anything cancerous, back in the late fifties.

Ping-pong this back to three years ago, and my oldest paternal uncle dies. Paul, who smoked like a chimney for most of his life and successfully stopped after discovering Champix. He got to live five great years as the high-IQ oddball he'd always been, smoke-free. Paul was the weird bird in the family, the type to remember a really engrossing story at two in the morning and making a note to call you up first thing in the morning to share it. He always had a project of some sort to work on, like a simulated investors' tank for young entrepreneurs looking to learn the ropes, or a Byzantine arrangement of coaxials allowing four of his lakeside neighbours to pirate his cable sub. He'd invite us over for dinner, gather all the ingredients we'd need for whatever it was he wanted to treat us to - and then he'd let us cook it - just sitting by the sidelines, chatting away.

He was also a bit of a narcoleptic, and looked a bit like William Howard Taft if you'd worked him out of these old sack suits and into modern shirts and suspenders. He fell asleep practically everywhere, with his more wakeful environments being his workshop and his property's dock. He took me out fishing, once, and knew what the entire family expected.

"Oars're here, Gremlin, fish're that way. Wake me up when you've got a bite."

At this point, it wasn't even a point of concern; it was just an Uncle Paul Thing, the exact thing you'd have expected out of this kind, eccentric blob of a man whose idea of fishing involved pushing his hat over his eyes and basically all but ensuring that his roaring snores would scare prey away. He'd been a supposedly high-IQ type, terminally bored with almost everything, only really getting agitated and interested back when I asked him for help for my Junior High Computer class's Javascript calculator. Once the syntax hit something familiar and he realized that JS has some similarities with FORTRAN, he was on a roll, acting like someone had snuck a Red Bull in his coffee.

Well, fibrosis caught up with him. His last hours were spent directing us on how to cook what would've been his last meal. I think he really just wanted to know we were alright, that we still could exchange laughs around the kitchen counter. He clocked out the way he always did, except he had an oxygen tube running under his nose. His head bobbed down, he snored loudly for a few minutes, then turned increasingly quiet...

And that was it.

And now there's Isabelle. The marathoner, my partner-in-crime when it comes to professing to have a healthy diet while occasionally cheating in glorious, weekend-defining means, my gateway to cannabis and also the first person who took my cringy self-insert fanfic fodder and went No, that's worth it! Push it, develop that universe of yours!

I wouldn't be almost two-thirds of the way through my first decent manuscript, if not for her, and I wouldn't be shopping for publishers with the same energy you'd reserve for weekend-grade Facebook putzing-about. I owe her part of my self-acceptance, and part of my discovery of what defines my routine to this day. Isabelle was my first meditation coach.

And in three to five years, she might be gone.

I just thought grief might be... noisier, is all. Louder. Right now, it's just germane to confusion, and it's sitting there. There's a pinch of fear in it, too. My parents are in their mid-sixties. How long do I have left with them?!

And the family and I just covered that up with jokes and, well, cooking. I've been told I'd make a half-decent therapist but - navigating your own emotions is hard work...

I don't know. I guess I needed to put this down somewhere.

[fairytsuk1]

despite everything, it’s still you | (a)

character: tommyinnit

genre: angst

words: 1.8k

summary: tommyinnit is sent to the afterlife after being killed by dream, his experience as a broken soul in the afterlife is different than he'd imagined.

warnings: head injury at the beginning and it’s a bit graphically described! also depersonalization with the afterlife

notes: a bit different from my usual stuff but i had this idea and wanted to do it!

     The last thing Tommy's present body feels is his brain practically leaking out of his ears. The force with which his head is knocked into the ground is too strong, and he instantly blacks out. Dream's fists collided into him much harder than he thought, and it was even harder to try to block each hit as he was instantly overpowered by the godlike man. He just couldn't seem to get away. His soul might have even been connected with Dream's at one point; how could someone live every day of their life and always go back to the one who caused so much pain?  It's not a peaceful end; it's gory and sticky with blood splattered on the quickly growing pale skin. When Tommy opens his eyes, there's no Tubbo or blue sky; it's just white. The first thing he realizes is that he's not breathing, but he's not dying because of it. Because, well, he's already dead.

"Dream?..."

     His thoughts are there, at least the most important ones. There are some of them that blur together, like watching a movie on fast-forward and not pausing. He couldn't remember his life so far up to his death, and the panic was setting in; what man didn't remember their own life? Was he even Tommy?  A thump beats in his chest but looking down...there is no chest at all. In fact, there is no skin, bones, no solidifying figure that could tell him, "ah, I was a person."  Tommy doesn't even want to think about what would happen if he didn't know his own name. Would he be lost to time forever?

"What the fuck is going on…?" his finger jabs at the translucent blob of a figure, he's still got limbs, but he looks like a bucket of slime rather than a fleshed-out human, "Hah! I'm like fuckin' Charlie Slimecicle…"

      His humor hasn't left him, which warms his heart. Well, he supposes he has no heart as Tommy continues to poke and prod the gelatin-like substance he was hosting. It was weird seeing the ghostly shape of your own body, long legs, and big yet bony hands...it was freaky.

"This is just disgusting, actually. Fuckin' hell…"

     He stands and tries to ignore the way he feels weightless; it's depersonalizing. Makes him nauseous to think of how he doesn't exist in the mortal realm, but instead, he's here in some sort of blank space.

"Wilbur!"

     Walking, he realizes that he feels loose and lets out a laugh when he twists his body and finds it going farther than any human could. His ghostly capabilities were kinda cool! He had to focus though he needed to find a way to jump back down to Earth if he was dead. As much as he enjoyed being able to touch his toes and squat with his feet flat on the ground, the loneliness was starting to get to him.      Though he didn't say anything out loud, being dead was starting to get a little scary. Of course, the lead-up wasn't nice, and he's glad to be pain-free (though he does jerk out of shock once he realizes his head is caved in). There's something about being alive that is just so...he misses it, that's all.

"Wilbur!...Schlatt??"

     Tommy walks for a while with no changes to his atmosphere. For a moment, he thinks that he hasn't even been walking with the lack of environmental changes. That train of thought simmers to a stop as he spots a bench in the distant future, running towards it at lightning speed. There's no sound when he runs; his voice doesn't even echo. It's as though this afterlife has nothing in it at all. Like it's made of nothing. Like he's made of nothing.       He relaxes into the bench and smiles widely; if only he had his favorite disks! It's like being with Tubbo again, like being kids again! The warm touch of affection kisses his cheek as warmth spreads through him. When can he go back? He's so ready to go back.

"You know, Tubbo, I hope you're not all focused on Ranboo to forget about me! I mean, I'm that one that, you know, died!"

     Who is he speaking to? This afterlife is really getting to him, there is no Tubbo here, and there is no Mellohi. The smile fades as he glances around, white on white: white walls, floor, ceiling.

"Whoever the God here is, your heaven is shit."

     He shouldn't have said that. The bench rumbles, and he's shocked to see it crumbling underneath him. Chips of wood fly into space, and he scrambles off of it, watching it decompose his very own eyes.

"Ah, ah, wait! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry! Give it back! Give me my damn bench back, you bitch!"

     A bigger piece flies off and slices his hand, a glob of his fingers falling off and melting into the ground as he stands panicked. There's no blood, but it suddenly hits him. He isn't even human; this is all he has left. He's lucky to have his thoughts. That is his last tether to all he knows. If he lets himself be broken down, he'll never be human again. His time is limited. He has to find a way out.      

     His feet take off before he can even realize it, sprinting as he shouts for Sam, Tubbo, Wilbur, and even Phil.      

     But nobody came. No-one scooped him up and rescued him like they should've. He's only a child, for god's sake!

"What have I done to deserve any of this!? Let me go back! I want to go back!!"

     His voice is shaky as he spins, decomposed and blocky trees forming around him like corroded pixels. He could cry, but he's holding it back; Dream instilled that in him. The less you care, the better the ending. The trees fall in shards, and each one that touches him breaks off a piece of him. He's practically melting as he runs through the rain of pixels, each one hell-bent on destroying his soul.      Right now, he's no human. It's his soul in the purest form. His feet stick together before pulling apart, and he collapses onto the solid white ground. Everything jiggles, and he thinks he might pass out with the pure shock of taking in everything around him. His body ripples like water as he hears a faint and distant voice call for him.

    "Tommy?"

     A memory.         "My first decree, as the President of L'Manberg, the EMPEROR, of this GREAT COUNTRY! IS TO REVOKE! THE CITIZENSHIP! OF WILBUR SOOT AND TOMMYINNIT! GET 'EM OUTTA HERE!"

      Is that his savior? The one who's come for him? The one who caused his life hell in the first place? Well, maybe it was Wilbur who did that. Or Technoblade. Or even Dream, but Dream was his friend even though he struck him so hard he sobbed for someone to help him—

     "Hey, Tommy! What the hell are you doing, kid? Where the fuck's your body?"

     He's being hoisted up by his arms, and he pushes into Schlatt's chest as he cries and cries. The Ram hybrid grunts and mumbles something before pushing him back to hold his shoulders. He was never one for affection.      When Schlatt looks at Tommy, he knows this is the book's doing. Dream, the current owner of the book, had done this all in preparation. The easiest way to bring someone back was to only let their pure soul transfer on, everything else remaining the same.

     "It's easier than moving a whole body, right?"

"Whatever, just take the fucking book, man. I'm busy."

     Tommy's damaged. He's deformed, and his soul is hot to the touch. He's in agony. He didn't know he could sleep till it was over or relax. He tried to fix things and find a solution like he always does. Now, he was broken like he always was.

"Schlatt I...how do I go back? I don't want to be here anymore! It's fucking shit! And, and it hurts! This isn't some heaven; it's fuckin' hell!"

     Dream sat on the prison floor after arranging Tommy's body in a relaxed position, the book open in front of him.

     "Time to come back, Tommy."

     "Hey, hey! You listen to me! That fucker Dream, you have to be strong! He's messed you up, but this isn't the Tommy I know! You don't fucking cry, and you don't fucking get scared! You're the bravest kid I know!"

     Tommy feels flashbacks come to him, slowly but surely. Him rowing to fight Dream, the bravery he had when he fought him one on one. The first disk war...he was so brave.

     When he looks up at Schlatt, he sees the man he fought so hard against and won. He clocks in at that moment.

     I used to be someone. Now, I'm just like everyone else. Scared and weak.

     "You used to be someone, Tommy! You are someone! You just have...believe and know... you're stronger…!"

     Schlatt gets all twisty and turny, his vision fading in and out as he feels himself being dragged away from his arms. For a second, Schlatt reaches out, seeing his son in a box. He retreats and opts to yell out as Tommy fights to regain himself.       The strength is unrelenting as the young boy's head twists to see his arm pulled like taffy towards a glowing light. It's so pretty; he could almost just touch it and forget it all.

     "You are stronger than anyone else, Tommyinnit!"

     His head whips back, and he extends a jelly arm, his fight coming back to him.

     "If you fucking lose yourself, you'll lose everything!"

"If I lose myself, I'll lose everything…"        "You were made to beat this world, and don't you dare fucking forget it!"

     It makes Schlatt grin as Tommy's widened eyes get pulled as he's compressed into a singularity. There's a sudden pop, and Schlatt's knocked back as the white walls envelop him. He wants to yell more, but Tommy's already back where he belongs. He's already gone.

     "Tommy? Hey, Tommy!"

     His cerulean eyes open like he'd just drank an energy drink, a smiling mask staring up at him. For a moment, he wants to shrink back into the floor.

     "How was it? How was the afterlife?"

 If I don't beat him, how could anyone else?

     He snickers, "awful. I'm never going back there again."

     Tommy feels determination settle in his soul. After everything, he's still him. If he loses himself, he'll never be able to bring it back. So, the only other option is to fight.

     If I win, maybe then, I can know who I am.

[transformationstuck]

Amalagam Story

Jane was practically sick of trolls at this point. Ever since the entire fiasco had went down, her father gone, and the rise of complaints against her campaign by the majority of the troll population, she wanted them gone from this Earth. It had been a single month since she had deported most of the trolls using small legal constraints to other planets, where they’d continue with their meaningless banter of trying to disobey her. Why, she had been trying her hardest to conform the trolls to her ways, and look where that got her! Nowhere. Frankly, the next time she was going to see a candy corn horn, there was going to be a reckoning.

And yet there was no avoiding it. The twelve initial trolls who had assisted in the beta session remained within the galaxy. Some were taken care of, however discretely. She had devised Nepeta’s ship to crash into one of the deadliest planet to ever live in, and while she expectantly made herself the apex predators against all the face-sucking, marrow-gnawing monstrosities that lived on the planet, she had no way out. Kanaya was permanently disposed off with Rose after an indefinite honeymoon, with a small gift. Perhaps calling it small was the wrong thing, but she sure hoped Rose enjoyed pounding onto her wife like an animal in heat, because that’s practically what those two would be. Both Aradia and Vriska were off the books, considering the former was always missing and off doing something and the latter was currently the leader of the rebellion against her. Terezi and Feferi were far too important people in her campaign to even consider removing their existence, so she would have to simply tolerate them. After all, any legal issues regarding trolls would be pushed by the Pyrope and the former Heiress gave her such political power with her blood color. That left, coincidentally, all the male trolls.

And wasn’t it John’s birthday soon anyways? Might as well prepare him a gift.

——–

The first one was easy. All it took was two drones, a burlap sack, and there was a rather large lump of troll in front of her desk, with two ridiculously large horns protruding out of it.

“I didn’t ask for him to literally bring him to me. Look at the mess he’s making on the carpet! That’s just vacuumed! Get him out of here!”

The drones obeyed, though finding themselves difficulty immediately upon a certain conundrum.

“Tilt him sideways. SIDEWAYS! Why are you rotating him vertically? I meant horizontally! I know the horn is stuck. Just back off, don’t use brute force and…”

CRACK!

As Jane felt a pressure build on her neck, she decided that whenever trolls were involved, so were her migraines.

———

“… What did I tell you about bringing him to me LITERALLY? Again with the carpet? Do you know how difficult honey is to wipe off a carpet? Have you even baked before? Obviously you haven’t baked before, but I’ll do it myself this time. Just… dump him! In the vat! Now shoo!”

———–

“… Just put a sock in his mouth and get it over with.”

———-

“Yoo hoo, handsome. I got a surprise for you~.” The hallway was empty save for a lumbering figure, who seemed rather confused and tilting his head quizically, to the point where his head was rotating in a perpendicular manner. That was most certainly not the way a head should rotate, and the fact that she was wearing nothing but a single sheet of apron was already making her feel more vulnerable.

“Come on, handsome. I know you want it.” She held up a pie, which was green and what she would consider the complete disregard for basic culinary needs. A single whiff was more than enough to make her feel disgusted, and she wondered how anyone could even take a bite off of it.

Still no response, which meant that she had to bring out the big guns. Taking a deep breath, Jane winked, twice, and each wink followed by a short honk.

That did it, as the juggalo basically launched himself, erect cock showing through his stupid codpiece, and Jane found herself wanting to fall for the same mistake of letting the clown in her bedsheet again.

Click.

As Gamzee fell down the trapdoor she had long since set up in case something like this would ever happen, Jane sighed with relief, rubbing her head, and massaging her boob. “God, I actually should get a dick some time soon… And preferably not a clown’s…”

———

“… Excuse me, correct me if I’m hearing this right.”

A rather muscular troll, sweating profusely and smelling like a hung horse and a broken engine sat in front of her desk. The poor furniture was now drenched, and already a dark circle was forming underneath the carpet.

“You want in on this project. After I kidnapped you friends? Condemn them to a horrible experiment that’ll leave their body gone, potentially the mind, and you want in on this?”

A nod. And a sigh from her direction, before she tugged lightly on the rope that was currently binding Equius’s neck.

“You know I was going to disregard you since you were somewhat helpful, right?”

Another nod. Another tug. The troll’s face began to glow bluer by the second, but that deranged smile of him absolutely wanting this behind the leather restraints made her think of all trolls were like this.

Especially when he had been like this for the past three hours.

“I swear, trolls…” She waved to her drones to take him away, but it seemed like the ingredients were complete.

Though she felt like she was forgetting something, she was sure it wasn’t that important if she could remember it.

———

In front of her stood approximately 1000 lb of troll flesh, complete with 5 pairs of horns, 5 pairs of misplaced arms and legs, the most obvious bulges ever, some obviously aroused, and few facial features which she proceeded to shut up. The process was going to be painstakingly simple, as she started to channel the Life into the body.

It hadn’t taken much for her to channel the five into a single blob majorly for safekeeping. She couldn’t risk any of them breaking out and spoiling her plan, so she had made them into what was a large meatball, feeding them all the surplus baked goods until they grew fat and complacent, and practically no traces of bone structure remained from the excessive flesh gained from consumption.

Push, knead. Push, knead. Minute by minute, the flesh began to sink underneath her hands, folding and mixing until gray became pink, round shape forming into more humanoid, a thousand pounds now beginning to dwindle into approximately one tenth of its original weight.

It was then that she called John.

“John.” She said with a quick, snappy tone that immediately informed her ecto-grandson that she meant business. “If you were looking for a relationship, what would you look for in a woman?”

“… What?” A click of her tongue immediately made John regret questioning Jane. There was something about her that intimidated him ever since her campaign began, but still, the question remained. “I mean… Nice, I guess? If you are asking about her personality o-”

“I meant a sexual relationship. Jesus Christ, get on with it!”

“Right, right. So uh… huge boobs.” Silence from her end was interpreted as a signal to continue as she proceeded to knead whatever was left over into a round shape, over the currently very flat chest with little to no definition. “I mean, some serious honkers. A real set of badonkers, packing some dobonhonkeros. Massive dohoonkabankl-”

“John!”

“Right… Uh… Big ol’ tonhongerekoogers.” With that, John paused, and added, “And some thighs please. I like them thick.”

———–

It wasn’t long before Jane was done, staring at her masterpiece she had taken three hours of pure Life to create. An hourglass figure, melon-sized titties, and the very definition of thunder thighs. It wasn’t long before they started moving, which, at that point, she wasn’t exactly sure what happened. One moment they had been lying down unconscious, the next thing, they were, and each limbs proceeded to move completely independent of each other. It wasn’t until she stuffed the horse-dildo in their seemingly very aroused entrance with rough force did they proceed to break out of her lab through sheer willpower.

It wasn’t long before she found her, though not directly. She had left her be for now, and it seemed that, as intended, John had found her first.

The various names mixed together had mistakenly led John to believe she was named “Etiquette.” Though a strange name, she had come a long way from being five different trolls to one hot little body. Sure, disjointed complaints and moans of pleasure occasionally seemed to confuse John, as well as her habit of talking to herself, but once she got in bed, he had no complaints. Sometimes she demanded a larger dildo stuffed down her ass. Sometimes she wanted to do nothing but videogames. Sometimes she started honking like a clown as she rode John cowgirl style, which obviously terrified John as much as it aroused him. It did leave Jane to wonder if they all shared an internal voice, or argued over what to do next, seizing control or each other? Or perhaps they got adapted to controlling their body in a uniform style? Or perhaps all of their personality got melded into one. Jane could potentially find out, but decided against it. As she closed the feed of John pounding Etiquette to the next pleasure-town, the way her fingers and toes twitched, her arms and legs occasionally moving as opposed to how she was acting, she knew that at the very least she got rid of an eyesore.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

It’s Not Easy

Summary: Everyone talks about soulmates, but no one told Hoseok what to do if it ended.

A/n: another installment of my bts soulmate au for @if-i-rise-with-yoongs!

Warnings: unprotected sex, some biting, mostly angst, soulmarks, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, this is mostly feelings with a side of smut

Word Count: 1643

Hoseok never thought he'd find a soulmate. When he does, he's absolutely gobsmacked by it.

There's this birthmark he has, right in the middle of his chest, and it's just a red blob, formless and unremarkable. Then he meets you at a club, dances with you once and then the middle of his chest is on fire.

When he looks ever he looks in the mirror the next day, it's different, the shape of a sun, fiery red like a brand.

It's not long before he sees you again and he spots the bright red sun on your inner forearm and it's so easy after that.

At least, until it's not.

Everyone talks about soulmates, about finding them, about how to deal with the connection but no one talks about what to do if it all goes wrong.

There's no article or experience giving him advice on what to do when the two of you start arguing every day, when you get further and further away from him on the bed, all stiff hard lines when he tries to hold you. No one tells him how to handle it when his soulmark is aching so much he can't focus, when he comes home after practice and you're gone, every trace of you, as if you were never there at all.

His mark starts to fade into that shapeless blob again, but the pain doesn't go away. There's no relief from it, the way it burns, stinging when the fabric of his shirt touches it but he doesn't really know the difference, everything hurts, everything seems wrong and you're not answering his calls.

Hoseok changes along with the mark, losing focus, losing ambition, just going through the motions.

Everyone notices. Everyone tries to talk to him about it but what would they know? They have their soulmates sitting pretty at home, don't have this endless ache that seems to vibrate in his bone marrow.

Jungkook and his bells, Namjoon's compass on his collarbone, always pointing to his soulmate, Yoongi's song he can only see on his lover's skin. It's easy, for them, and it should have been easy for him too but instead he's left with the memory of you and that ache in the middle of his chest, like pain from a phantom limb.

Hoseok gives up trying to contact you after awhile, it only makes the ache in his chest worse when you don't respond, and it's weeks before he sees you again.

He doesn't see you right away but the burn in his soulmark starts to get worse, so bad that he pulls his shirt away from his skin. Then he sees you, turned away from him, swaying on the dance floor.

He can't see your face but he'd know the lines of your body anywhere, had traced them with his fingers, his mouth. Someone else's fingers are lighting on your hips and he feels like he can't breathe around the pain in his chest.

He sits there for the longest time, watching the way you move, every time your dance partner shifts his hands on your body making the soju he's been drinking roll in his stomach.

When you turn, you're laughing and you're so beautiful it makes his heart seize in his chest. When you meet his eyes your face changes, goes blank and he feels frozen in place, watching as you walk toward him.

He doesn't speak when you sit next to him at the bar, doesn't know what he'll say that he hasn't said on voicemails and late night texts.

"You look good," you say softly, and he's been looking at the sheen of sweat on your skin, trying to remember how you tasted under his tongue.

"So do you," he manages, and his voice is strained but doesn't break and that's something. He can't leave it at that, though, can't bear the thought of you heading back out to the dance floor like you never meant anything to each other, so he wraps his fingers around your wrist.

He turns your arm, sees your soulmark glowing red.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, and when you nod, wide eyed, he brings your forearm to his wrist, presses his lips to it, and you hitch in a breath.

Everything suddenly seems easy again and it's like second nature, pinning you against the wall with his body when you head towards the bathroom.

It's like muscle memory, how his hands know just where to touch you to make you gasp out his name, it's all the same but it's all so different because that mark on his chest keeps throbbing against his shirt.

He's barely spoken to you all this time, just follows you, follows that pull he's always had to you, like a moth to a flame from the first moment he saw you.

You're laughing into his mouth when he drops his keys trying to get you inside and he thinks it might kill him, this hope fluttering inside him.

When you tug off his shirt and press your lips to the mark it shoots something like electricity down his spine, makes him stiffen and this sound almost like a growl comes from his throat.

Hoseok can't wait, can't make it to the bedroom, he bends you over the kitchen counter and you totter a bit on your heels when he shoves up your skirt, kneels to press his tongue into your cunt and you taste just like he's remembered.

"Sometimes I dream of you," he murmurs, biting marks just under your ass, can't get enough of the way your flesh gives between his teeth.

You don't answer other than a mewling moan and a push back against his fingers when he teases at your entrance.

"Used to wake up with the taste of your cunt in my mouth and my soulmark burning," he goes on, moves to kiss a line up your spine.

He couldn't speak to you at first and now he can't stop speaking, can't stop spilling out everything he's wanted to say to you for weeks.

"It was worse when I stopped dreaming," he continues and his voice is shaking now even as he pumps his fingers into you. "Worse when I forgot how you tasted."

"Hoseok…" you whimper, and God, he's missed the way his name sounds on your lips and his cock is pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. 

He keeps finger fucking you instead of pushing into you like he wants, slips his thumb over your clit over and over until your thighs tremble and his name comes out of your mouth again as you pulse around his fingers.

He kisses along your shoulders as you come down, waiting for your breathing to even.

"Has there been anyone else?" He asks, and the second he asks it he's sorry because he doesn't want to know, doesn't want to dream about someone else's face between your thighs.

You don't answer right away and the air seems thin, his breath short. He presses his fingers deeper into you, keeps them there as you pulse with aftershocks and when you whisper, "No," he finally takes in a gasping breath.

"I'll do better," he promises, nuzzling against your neck. "I'll do better, and then you'll come back, yeah? You'll love me again?"

"I'll always love you, Hoseok," you whisper, and he doesn't like the defeated tone of your voice so he finally frees himself from his jeans and pushes into you slow, biting into your shoulder to keep from fucking you hard and fast like he wants.

"Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok," you chant and it sends an ache through his soulmark that lessens when he presses against your back and thrusts up into you.

He wants it to last, wants to let out all the emotions he's had bottled up since you'd left but you're so hot and wet and pressing back against him that it's not long before he's spilling inside you with his hand cupping your pussy, thumb pressing on your clit so that you come with him.

"Stay with me," he pleads into your ear and he means tonight and forever.

When you nod he leads you to bed, doesn't want to stop touching you even for an instant.

He thought it'd be impossible to sleep with everything racing through his mind but it hurts so much less, his soulmark and his heart, that the next thing he knows daylight is streaming through the window on your bare back as you sit up in bed.

There it is, again, the burning in the middle of his chest and he rubs at it absently. 

"Don't leave me again," he blurts out, half asleep, no dignity left if he'd ever had any at all.

You stiffen and he scrambles up, slots himself behind you with his arms around your waist, holding tight.

"Please," he whispers, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder. "Please, don't go."

You heave out a shaky sigh. "We already tried, Hoseok, we tried so hard-"

"I'll try harder," he insists, desperate, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I'll do anything, baby. Y/n…" He moves his hand to your left forearm, traces where your mark is. "You're supposed to be mine. I'm supposed to be yours."

You turn your head, eyes wide and wet and when you kiss him your tears taste like salt on his tongue.

The thing they don't tell you about soulmates is that it isn't always easy. You still argue, there are times when you yell and when he storms out, there are times when both of you are stubborn and stupid. It isn't always easy, this thing, but it's worth it, and he always comes back and you always apologize and it always ends up with you laughing into his mouth and your soulmarks glowing red.

[mordenheim]

Fictober 2020 29:  “Back up!”

A disaster, this whole thing was a complete disaster.  Half of Ponyville was buried under a thick, gelatinous black mass that had burst forth from the Castle of Friendship.  Several royal guards had been sent to oversee the cleanup project and to try to locate Princess Twilight.

“Alright everypony, back up!”  a sturdily built pegasus stallion was marching back and forth in front of a yellow wooden barricade.  His smartly clean beige fur and shaved white mane marked him as one of the elite guard, even if he hadn't had time to get fully into his uniform.

He trotted along, barking orders to unicorns using their magic to pile up sandbags to stop the flow.  Ever hour or so he needed to move the barricades back a few more feet as the thick, gloopy stuff spread out further.  It bubbled and popped sending chunks of the foul stuff flying seemingly at random in all directions.

Turning to gaze upon the huge mass, the guard pony froze.  The surface of the substance was shiny and iridescent, almost like an oil slick.  Layers of thick sludge oozed and roiled over each other as bubbles and other weird shaped rose up to the surface.  The stallion shuddered as he occasionally saw what looked like a pony face surface, opening its mouth in a silent scream before tearing itself apart like a bubble popping in slow motion.

Shaking his head, he looked up to the sky as he muttered under his breath, “Princess Twilight, what in Celestia's name were you working on?”

The blob was advancing towards the barrier once more.  Trotting over, he started pulling them back when a large bubble of the glop popped and splashed onto his flank.  Almost immediately he felt a change come over him. He tossed the barrier down on the ground and started walking away, his head hung down.

One of the other guards came running up to him, shouting, “Hey!  What are you doing?!  We need to move these barriers back!”

“What's the point?” He snapped at his colleague, “We didn't make this mess! Twilight Sparkle did!”

“Hey, we don't know that for sure..” The stallion suddenly rounded on the other guard, the black splotch on his flank expanding, starting to sting a bit.  He poked his hoof into the other stallion's chest as he spoke, “Don't we?  She's constantly messing with things she doesn't understand, causing trouble, making messes.  How many of her damned magical mishaps have we had to clean up so far this year? Over a DOZEN by my count!”

The other guard was slowly backing up away from the raging stallion, “Uh, okay, just.. calm down, I can take your spot while you go take a break.  I mean, this mess isn't going anywhere.  Maybe grab some coffee, cool off a little.”

“Cool off?!” He shouted, “I don't need to cool off!  I... you know what?  I QUIT!!!”

Taking flight, the stallion grimaced in pain as the black sludge seemed to be feeding off of his anger, covering his form rapidly in its burning, stinging ooze.  He struggled in the air high over Ponyville, slapping and scraping at the sludge covering him until it finally engulfed his wings.  Spinning out of control, he hit the ground with a bone shattering crunch as the crowd parted!

The broken form of the pegasus squirmed and melted in on itself, completely engulfed by the black slime.  It bubbled and swelled before finally bursting, scattering droplets of the thick tar like substance everywhere, splattering the ponies nearby.  They too started snapping and shouting at other ponies nearby.  Pushing, shoving and yelling ensued and it wasn't long before it was practically a riot.

The other guard had backed up to the point that he nearly tripped over the discarded barrier.  He never saw the tendril rise up above him, thicker than his body is wide.  He didn't see the top form into a maniacally grinning, melting caricature of Twilight Sparkle's face.  

The last thing he heard before being flattened beneath the melting, quivering tentacle as it smashed down upon him was the distorted voice of the Princess of Friendship burbling out, “SSSSMMOOOOOOOOOOZZZE......”

[miraithislife]

Miraith Part 3 <3 (little long oop)

“Did you...ever have a family...?” She asked in a soft, curious voice. Wraith had been nestled warmly by the fireplace in Mirage’s private condo. It was filled with pictures, collectibles, and posters of him, of course, along with all of his trophies and medals from the Games, fan mail, fan art, comics, and practically anything else related to him. 

“My family?” Mirage repeated in surprise, not really expecting her to ask that of him. He was in the kitchen, making them both some warm mugs of hot chocolate to treat the increasingly bitter cold from which they’d just sought refuge. “Well, yea. I have a family. I’m the youngest of four. Four boys. Had to screw around to get attention, you know.” 

Wraith scoffed, “Bet that wasn’t hard for you to do.” She brought the blanket (with a full length Mirage printed onto it) more snugly around her shoulders, having replaced Mirage’s coat, which was hung neatly in the closet by the front door. 

Mirage grinned, “Nope.” He laughed. “We were definitely a handful for our parents.”  

Wraith bit her lip embarrassedly and looked to the crackling flames when realizing she had no idea what those were. She knew everyone had them, she’d heard the term before. Something about it was vaguely familiar. She wanted to ask, but the words stopped in her throat. Would she sound weird for asking such a ridiculous thing? 

What would he think of her if she did? 

What if he thought she was joking?

What would he think when realizing she was being serious?

A pit grew in Wraith’s stomach as her anxieties grew, and she began to get a headache from overthinking. 

It’s Mirage. He’ll understand. She self-consoled. 

Wraith took a breath and asked (after conjuring up the bravery) in a voice soft as silk, “What are parents?” 

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?” 

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.” 

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly. 

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature. 

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory. 

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.” 

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.” 

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first. 

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell. 

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.” 

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.” 

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t. 

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!” 

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.” 

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch. 

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer. 

Her heart raced. 

There was so much she wanted to tell him. 

So much he needed to know. 

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible. 

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.” 

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--” 

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove. 

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why. 

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.” 

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks. 

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled. 

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.” 

Mirage gently took her hands from his face and cherished them in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles several times, not breaking eye contact. “Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

[jay-me-says]

Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER ONE: The Protagonist Returns

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo fidgets with the buttons on his suit jacket, the shiny gold a pretty contrast to the forest green fabric. The notion seems utterly laughable to him, but he’s nervous to see Tommy.

It’s been a while since the blond was last in L’manburg. A few weeks after Tubbo became president, Tommy had left. “I just need to clear my head for a while. I’ll be back,” he had said. Nearly a month had passed with no Tommy and no word from him. Until a few days ago, when Tubbo had received a message via carrier parrot. It was from Tommy, saying he was okay and would be home in a few days.

Tubbo had felt happy at first, but now he was nervous out of his mind. The past few days had been spent making preparations for Tommy’s return. Everyone wanted to make his homecoming special, so the whole nation had pitched in to decorate and prep food to welcome Tommy back with a feast. The entire time he was helping prep, Tubbo had felt like a blob. A wobbly, wiggly version of himself that had no solid shape and was made only of nerves and worry.

He was terrified that something might go wrong, or that he hadn’t done enough to welcome his dear friend back home. Even with the entire nation covered in banners and candles and lanterns, Tubbo kept wondering what else he could do. He’d even been tempted to temporarily lift the ban on explosives to allow fireworks, but in the end decided it wouldn’t look good for a president to go around breaking his own laws.

Presently, Tubbo is standing about ten feet from the gates of L’manburg. One of the first things the country had done after the revolution against Schlatt (after tearing down and replacing the hideous obsidian flag of Manburg) was build a wall around their territory to prevent attackers from waltzing in freely. Along with that project had come a large gate. It was made of spruce wood and opened with a pulley on either side, requiring two people to lift it.

Watchtowers dot the wall, where people often take turns scanning the terrain beyond. Mainly, they watch for invaders from the Dream SMP. In the short time Tubbo has been president, there hasn’t been much activity. Just a scout every now and again. They keep watch anyways, on edge after a history full of war. Fundy is sitting in one of the towers closest to the gate, keeping an eye out for Tommy. Eret and Puffy each stand by one of the pulleys, talking. Everyone else mills around, staying close to the gate while talking to one another.

The air in the nation has been filling up with anticipation since Tubbo made the announcement about Tommy’s return. It feels like electricity, energizing the clusters of people, making them more alert. Every slight noise from outside the gate turns heads.

Tubbo, zoned out while worrying his mind and his button, doesn’t notice Niki approach. When she places her hand on the president’s shoulder, he startles, drawing in a sharp breath and snapping his head to look at her. Seeing that it’s just his fellow council member, the tension drops from his shoulders and he slowly exhales. After the Second Revolution, Tubbo had decided to alter the way L’manburg’s executive branch ran. Instead of a single president, he wanted there to be multiple leaders. Soon after the coup, before Tommy left, there was an election that voted himself, Niki, and Tommy in. Fundy has been acting as a stand-in for Tommy since he left.

Niki’s brow is creased slightly in concern. “Are you alright, Tubbo? You look nervous.”

He doesn’t try to hide it. “I am, Niki. I really am. It’s just,” he pauses for a moment and sighs, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. What if he’s changed a lot- what if I've changed- and we don’t get along?” Tubbo keeps fidgeting with his button, eyes locked on Niki’s.

Niki uses her hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to gently turn him to face her fully. She puts her free hand on his other shoulder and squeezes. Tubbo catches the sparkle of her promise ring to Puffy in his peripheral vision. “I can understand your worry, Tubbo, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Even if he has changed, you’re Tommy and Tubbo, L’manburg’s favorite dream duo. You’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.”

The way Niki’s gaze locks onto Tubbo comforts him. She looks so certain. Like she’s telling Tubbo that the sky is blue. It settles him some, but he still grips the button on his jacket. His fingers have stilled, though.

“Thank you, Niki.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.”

Right as Niki finishes speaking, Fundy hollers from his tower. They both glance over as he yells, “Tommy’s back!”

Tubbo looks back to Niki, eyes wide with excitement. The other council member is grinning. She squeezes his shoulders again, then gives him a soft shove towards the gate. “Go! Go meet him!”

Nerves temporarily forgotten, the brunette takes off. The built-up electricity crackles through the air and into his body, making his limbs lighter. In that moment, Tubbo is sure that he has never run faster.

Eret and Puffy have started pulling up the gate and Fundy is scrambling down from the tower, rushing to join the crowd that has gathered a few feet away from the wooden bars. They are packed in tightly, already calling hellos to Tommy. When they notice Tubbo, though, they move and let him barrel through.

When he gets to the front of the crowd, stumbling to a stop, Tubbo’s eyes finally land on Tommy. His hair is ruffled and he’s smiling, eyes lit up as he scans over the crowd of his friends. When his gaze falls on Tubbo, he grins even wider. At the same moment, they take off running.

Now, Tubbo is sure, he’s never run faster. The boys nearly bowl each other over as they crash into a hug. They grip each other tightly. An observer would swear they’d never let go.

Relief and affection pools up inside of Tubbo, filling him to the brim and making him feel warm. Tommy is safe. Tommy is here, in L’manburg, in his arms. No more wondering where he is or if he’s okay.

“I missed you so much,” Tommy breathes, the hint of a laugh tangled in his syllables.

Tubbo sinks deeper into the hug. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re back.” He grips the other boy tighter, if possible.

Their words are muffled, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. Tubbo could stay like this for hours and not mind.

But they do break apart. Tubbo tries not to feel a little sad and grins up at the taller boy, who grins back. He’s not sure he would ever admit this out loud, but Tubbo had missed those bright blue eyes of Tommy’s.

The taller boy grabs Tubbo’s right hand in his own and squeezes. The look he gives him sinks into the brunette’s soul, conveying words he hasn’t said aloud. We'll finish this later.

Tubbo nods and gently lets his friend’s hand go. As he walks away, it feels like something is missing. Like Tubbo has taken his hands off a warm mug and the cold is seeping into his skin. He can practically hear Tommy saying, “Clingy bitch.”

Tommy is greeted like a hero returning from slaying some vexatious beast. The crowd jumps on him, each person gripping him close in turn and welcoming him home.

As Quackity is greeted with a yell of “Big Q!” Tubbo finally notices the dog. Really, he’s unsure how he missed it in the first place. It’s about as large as a small bench and fluffy beyond belief, with fur the same color as the quartz blocks that make up the Prime church. Tubbo’s heart melts a little when he sees the familiar green bandana tied around the dog’s neck.

The dog barks in excitement, running around, picking up the crowd’s energy. Many L’manburgians are already dishing out pets. It’s a challenge, though. The dog only stays still for a few seconds before running more laps around the group.

Tubbo also notices the parrot, then, flapping around nearby Tommy’s head. It’s mostly green with just a little smudge of a lemony yellow on its forehead and wings. It’s the same parrot that delivered Tommy’s message. Tubbo had sent the bird back to Tommy afterwards, bearing a response letter and a little pouch with a few cookies made by Niki.

The light, energetic feeling vanishes from Tubbo’s limbs when he sees Tommy stood in front of Wilbur. The tall brunette looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and picking at the hem of his gray sweater. For a few seconds, they do nothing but stand across from each other, staring. The scene sucks the electricity out of the air, hoarding it all and turning the pair into a greedy storm cloud.

Finally, Tommy reaches out a tentative hand. Wilbur glances between the hand and Tommy’s face, then carefully takes it. They shake and Tommy moves on quickly, finishing his greetings. The stolen electricity slowly leaks back into the atmosphere.

The group had moved outside of the wall earlier, following Tubbo after he booked it out to meet Tommy. Now, they lead the blond into L’manburg, towards the spruce platforms where the podium once stood. A long table has been set up and covered in food and dishware. Tubbo snags a seat next to Tommy and lets himself get swept away in the energy of the group. They loudly tell stories, taking turns updating Tommy on what’s happened since he left and listening as the blond regales them with tales from his time away. Being around everyone like this, eating together and talking about anything and everything, warms Tubbo’s heart. He feels happy. By the time the sun sets, his cheeks are aching from so much smiling.

The L’manburgians stay at the table well into the night, orange light cast from lanterns keeping the mobs at bay. But as the moon traces a path through the sky, the group slowly thins out and people return to their homes for the night. Eventually, there are only a few people left at the table.

After Quackity leaves, clapping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he walks by, the blond nudges Tubbo to get his attention. “Do you want to head back up to your house? I’m pretty tired.”

Tubbo agrees and the two say their goodbyes, leaving Eret, Philza, and Fundy as the final three at the table. Tubbo privately wonders where Wilbur has gone, figuring he would’ve stayed with his father and son, but thinks better than to ask. It seems like a charged question, and he’d rather not ruin the mood.

As Tubbo and Tommy make the short walk home, the dog and the parrot trailing along behind them, there isn’t a single quiet moment. They chatter back and forth about everything and nothing. Tubbo once again feels warm. He’s missed this, all of it. Everything that he couldn’t do with Tommy while he was gone.

When they reach his house, Tubbo opens the door and gestures for Tommy to go in first. The dog follows, parrot sitting atop his fluffy head, then Tubbo enters. Tommy, of course, has his own home in L’manburg to stay in. He was around long enough after the revolution against Schlatt to build one. But they had decided via carrier parrot that he would stay with Tubbo for a few days, giving the pair time to catch up and see each other more.

While Tommy gets settled in the guest room, Tubbo sits in a wooden chair near the bed and they keep talking. Tubbo never seems to run out of words with Tommy around.

“So, what’s up with the dog?” Tubbo inquires as the great, fluffy wolf sits in front of him. It places a large paw on his lap, so Tubbo scratches its head.

Tommy flits between his bag and the wardrobe, putting away his armor and spare clothes. “That’s Walter. I had set up camp for a bit in some woods and he came to check it out. I gave him some steaks and when I went to leave, he followed. He’s been with me for about half the time I’ve been away, I think.”

“He’s massive.”

Tommy cracks a smile. “Seriously. A child could use him as a pony.”

Still petting the dog, Tubbo turns his gaze to the parrot sitting on the headrest of the bed. He makes a mental note to bring Tommy some things for it tomorrow. “Did you name the parrot?”

“Yeah, Henry II. What’s up with the parrots anyways?” He pauses in putting away his things and looks at Tubbo, brow creased in confusion.

“It was Ponk’s idea. He figured it would be nice to have a way to send messages, so he’s been training up parrots. He runs a little mail building where most of them are kept. Got built a week or so after you left.”

“Has it actually been helpful?” An edge of doubt creeps into Tommy’s voice, but he seems rather curious.

“I mean, it was helpful to get some warning before you got back, so we could prepare to give you a big welcoming. Besides that, it has been pretty convenient. I’ve been using the system to send people notes. It’s sort of nice to not have to go to peoples’ houses to communicate with them.”

Tommy hums in response as he resumes putting away his things. As he finishes, shutting the wardrobe, he says, “That was really nice, by the way. Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did. We all wanted to. Although, the decorations were mostly Wilbur. Man barely stopped working on them since we got word you were coming.”

Tubbo realizes too late that he probably shouldn’t have brought up Wilbur, especially after how tense Tommy had been back at the gate with him. Kicking himself, he hurries on, “By the way, Tommy, you’re still invited to take back your council seat. I’m sure Fundy will be thrilled to be relieved of his post. He’s been working really hard, but he doesn’t enjoy it all that much.”

Tommy pushes the tip of his shoe into the floor and glances off to the side. “Er, yeah, about that, do you think he could stay on just a little while longer? I- I don’t know if I’m feeling up for that yet. Everything is so different, and I just need some time to adjust if…if that’s alright.” He looks at Tubbo again on the last sentence. Tubbo is a little surprised but understands. “I’m sure you could ask him about it. I was planning to show you around tomorrow anyway, so we could stop by his and Phil’s and Wilbur’s house and speak with him. We could invite Niki along, as well.”

If asked, Tubbo would say he wants to invite Niki because she’s also on the council, and conversations about the council should involve her. And that is partly true, but he also wants another buffer in case they end up talking to Wilbur.

Tubbo tries to start up the conversation properly again, but it’s not quite the same. Tommy still seems somewhat tense, and sort of withdrawn. The brunette wishes he hadn’t brought up Wilbur like that. The comment had turned the air thick- it almost felt hard to breathe.

When he thinks he might suffocate by staying in the room any longer, Tubbo says goodnight, wanting out before his tongue can dig him a deeper hole. “I’m just down the hall if you need me,” he adds as he gets up from the chair.

Before he can leave, Tommy crosses the room and grabs his friend’s arm, tugging him into a hug. Tubbo squeezes back, again glad that the boy is in L’manburg and within his reach once more. A small smile tugs at his features.

“I really did miss you, Tubbo. Thank you for the party,” Tommy murmurs against Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Of course, Tommy. We were glad to do it.”

The boys break apart and say a final goodnight before Tubbo goes to his room. As he gets ready for bed, he thinks about how Tommy is acting about Wilbur; he sort of shut down after the mention of him. It worries the brunette, but he tries to brush it off. Surely, it’ll be fine in a few days. Tommy just needs to get used to being back and sort things out with his brother.

‘

You can also read this on Ao3! | Next Chapter Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - XLVI - The Ringing

The monster stalks closer to the building, rolling over the grass and leaving a greasy path behind it.

"It's like a giant, gross slug," America comments.

The thing keeps getting closer to the house ominously. It emanates a strange gurgling. The ground rumbled as it slithered over the grass. Soon, it looms over the first windows.

'And the second story windows,' Russia assumes.

Russia backs up, hunching over into a defensive stance. He holds out an arm to herd the kids and America away from the windows. He glares out the window, masking his fear as best as he can.

He tries to see anything out the window other than the blob and he notices the shape flattening against the glass.

'S***.'

He ignores the sore spots on his hip and the pulling across his chest as he readies himself to fight. He snarls, baring his teeth. He clenches his hands into fists, ignoring the stinging it causes, and scans the windows, watching for breaks.

'I will not let anything hurt the states.'

America walks up beside him and takes on an offensive stance, knees bent, and eyes narrow. There is a shout upstairs, but before Russia or America can react, a loud CRACK takes over his thoughts.

Russia's head whips from the stairs back to the windows. he scans them and sees the window he had been standing at not stands with a huge crack. The fissure starts at the top of the frame and creeps down, growing as it does.

Russia's mind races and his eyes grow wide.

'What do we do? What do we do?!'

He looks to America, whose eyes light up with an idea.

"Georgia! Get the biggest plastic bin you can, now! York, get the salt. Lousiana and Mass, magic the plastic and make sure it won't break. Del, make sure the inside is completely coated in salt. The thing didn't like salt before, so it definitely won't like it now. Let's GO!" America orders, clapping his hands to punctuate his demands, his voice ringing out over the panicked talking and shouts of the states.

The states scramble over each other in a panic to follow the directions.

The window screeches as the cracked glass rubs against itself. The window bends inward, and Russia holds his breath. The crack spreads from just going down to completely spreading across the pane, looking almost like a spiderweb.

"STAND BACK!" America demands, causing the remaining kids and countries in the room to scramble to the back wall.

Massachusetts rockets into the room with a glowing transparent box, leaving a trail of salt.

"DAD!" Massachusetts shouts, throwing the bin.

The plastic soars over the heads of those in the room and America spins around and, with a practiced motion, catches it and covers the window with it.

"Russ, help me," America tells him.

Russia doesn't need to be told twice.  He braces his weight against the plastic bottom. He can sense the magic radiating off of it, and leaning against it makes him feel the static of the conflicting magic swirling around it.

"Flo!" America shouts.

Florida sprints forward and, with something Russia doesn't recognize, goes around the edges as if to seal the bin's edges to the wall.

America nods before directing Florida back to the group with an exaggerated head nod.

At first, Florida doesn't respond.

"Flo, get your a** back here, now!" Delaware shouts, having taken charge of the states.

Florida scrambles back and America glares at the window. Russia hears it crackling and readies himself, bracing himself and planting his feet onto the wood floors.

CRASH

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLATTER

The window shatters and its pieces fly. The glass tears against the bars on the window and is immediately forced back to the back of the container by the thing filtering through the window's cage and pressing into the house through the newfound opening.

There is running upstairs and screaming, but Russia doesn't pay them much attention, putting all his effort into keeping this thing out. It bangs against the plastic, and the bin bends. Russia uses his shoulder to fight against its weight. He groans and the thing surges forward.

He can hear muffled sizzling as it touches the salt, and can see its skin begin to bubble at the contact. A deafening screech rings out from outside, but Russia ignores it. He closes his eyes and strains, afraid that if he loses his footing, even for a moment, he would be shot back into the group of states.

Russia clenches his teeth, his hip throbbing.

'I will not die today,' Russia decides, 'I have people to protect.'

With a surge of determination, he rams his weight into the bottom of the bin, forcing it back, if only slightly.

"DIXIE!!!" Someone shouts from upstairs, their voice cracking and full of pure, unadulterated panic.

Then automatic gunfire and the shriek surges in intensity. Russia's ears ring.

"Help!" California shouts from the second floor, "YORK!"

New York leaps over the back of the couch and bounds up the stairs the way a large cat would. After a moment, New York and California come rushing back down the stairs with an unconscious Dixie slumped over their shoulders. Russia can hear Texas shouting upstairs and Brazil disappears from view shortly after.

Russia doesn't have time to think about the potential consequences when the force against the barrier doubles in force and Russia shouts. America braces it with his shoulder and his hand, forcing it to stay in place, his eyes screwed shut and a grimace marred on his face. Russia snarls at the pain and desperation on America's face and forces the mass back.

"YES! BACK WITH YOU, YOU_____!" Brazil cheers from somewhere upstairs.

The shrieking swells before suddenly, the ringing overtakes it. The incessant ringing drowns out any other noises around Russia. Something warm drips from his ears and down his face. He ignores it.

Russia scans the room for any other danger and sees New York and California trying their best to get Dixie to be responsive, but their attempts haven't been successful in doing anything but make Dixie thrash under them, his mouth open. That's when Russia realized that he can't hear anything. He mutely watches Dixie scream in a daze.

Suddenly, the bin bends underneath Russia's weight and he stumbles. He looks out only to see the creature recoiling. He leans on his hands, now pressed against the back of the container, and watches cautiously.

Water pours from somewhere above and the thing stretches up, but it seemed less massive than it had before. Then, it shivers and seems to recoils. He can see pieces of it flying off, and the telltale holes of gunfire quickly growing in number across its surface. Another bucket full of water hits it and it folds in on itself.

It then suddenly shoots toward the broken window. Russia can feel himself scream, but the ringing drowns out even his own voice.

America rams his shoulder against the bin and the thing slams into it with enough force to set off a car alarm. Russia grits his teeth and pushes back. His legs shake and the injury in his hip feels like it's tearing itself apart, but he refuses to let that be the reason that he would fall back. His chest and stomach burn.

Then someone runs up beside him. To his left, he sees Wyoming pushing against it, and other states swarm them, trying to help keep the seal intact. As soon as he no longer has to push on it, he slumps against it, heaving and shaking.

New Jersey pulls him from the crowd and he stumbles, unable to convince his leg to cooperate. Then he sees flashes of movement on the stairs as Finland sprints toward the front door with Texas on her tail, both with guns swinging in their hands as they run. They burst out the front door and open fire.

Alabama, Mississippi, Kentucky, the Carolinas, and New Hampshire rush out to follow, grabbing any firearm they can get their hands on before sprinting out the door. They fan out and fill the creature with lead.

Motion catches Russia's eye and he turns to see Brazil dumping water over Dixie. Dixie springs up as if having just woken up from a nightmare. His eyes are wide and frantically scanning the room. Then, he sees Dixie turn to Brazil and start speaking at a rapid pace, but Russia couldn't be sure if he was saying anything at all.

Russia turns back and sees America stumbling over to the gun safe as if to follow Finland outside. He struggles to his feet and staggers over. He grabs America by the arm and draws America back. America weakly tries to pull away, but Russia manages to keep him from arming himself.

America tries to stand a little straighter, as if to tell Russia to stop, only to sway dangerously, his eyes unfocused. Russia watches, knowing he is unable to help, dread in his throat.

But when America falls backward, it isn't to the ground.

Russia looks up to see Canada holding America upright, having hooked him under the arms. Canada hoists America up and drags him one of the completed cots the provinces are setting up in the living room. Ontario takes Russia's wrist and sits him down on one of the adjacent cots in the room.

Ohio tries to ask him questions, but the combination of lip-reading and English words make it impossible to understand. The look of confusion must have been obvious because Ohio soon gives up, frustration and worry on his face. Then, Russia is guided to lay down and obliges, turning his head to see America asleep. He looks back up and a flurry of movement surrounds him, making his head spin.

But still, all he can hear is that horrible ringing.

~

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[star-and-the-motherverse]

Chapter 5 - Forget-Me-Not

The Butterfly Who Lost Her Wings

Word Count: 3409 | AO3 Mirror | Previous | Next

Summary: While Moon and River try to get some answers, Star gets lost.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♦ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Are you ready to speak with him, your majesty?”

Moon nodded once, certain. It had taken a day or so to find the time, but she now felt able to finally confront Ludo about his involvement with the way things had spiraled out of control. What she needed was answers, and nothing so far had given her any clues. The only item that was recovered on his person was his skull-shaped dimensional scissors, which Moon highly suspected had been stolen from the Avarius family, just like he had stolen their castle about a year ago.

River had insisted on accompanying her, and she was grateful to have him back by her side. He was doing a far better job of holding himself together, much of which she believed was for her sake.

Upon her confirmation, the guard unlatched the door and pulled it open towards them. The cell was quite dark and gloomy, but Ludo’s yellow eyes were easily visible in the darkness, catching the light that flooded in through the doorway. His arms were cuffed together in front of him with a long chain running from him to the wall—he was too short in stature to use the wall shackles. He watched them both carefully from his seat along the back wall, choosing not to make a move.

“King River…” His shrill voice carried a lilt of surprise. ”You’re back?”

River narrowed his eyes at him. “Yes… with no thanks to you,” he muttered.

“I’m surprised you were able to find your way back so soon,” Ludo mumbled, half to himself, before remembering the situation he was currently in and going completely silent.

Moon approached him in a few steps. “Ludo.” He flinched under the sound of her commanding tone, so she made an effort to soften her voice. “It’s in your best interest to cooperate with us.”

He glanced between the both of them several times, attempting to read their faces. “I don’t know what happened to Star, if—“

“It’s not that,” Moon interjected. “You have information that may be of use to us. You were the last person in possession of the Book of Spells. We’re here because it is pivotal that Glossaryck is returned to us.”

“Glossaryck?” He looked away guiltily, slouching his shoulders. “I-I’d almost forgotten…”

“What did you do with him?”

He drew in an anxious breath, shrinking as far into the wall as he physically could. “He’s… he’s gone. I burned the Book of Spells.”

Moon practically did a double take, completely caught off guard by his transparency. She couldn’t help the incredulous anger that immediately overtook her. “You what?!”

“Toffee goaded me into doing it!” Ludo was quick to try and deflect her ire, holding his hands up in front of himself as a defense mechanism. “He was inside of my wand! He convinced me to do it!!”

“I don’t care about your excuses—do you have any idea how important that book was to my family?!”

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!”

Moon buried her face in her hands, groaning. Of course… it was foolish of me to assume anything would be easy.

“Oh, sure!” River chimed in, equally frustrated with Ludo’s excuses. “And I’m sure you threw me into the sky on complete accident, too!”

“Well, no, that was definitely intentional. B-but not everything was!!”

“You don’t get to pick and choose what you’re guilty of!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” Ludo leaned forwards and glowered at both of them, his fears completely forgotten amidst his outburst. “Nor do I have any idea of what you expect to gain from this conversation.”

Moon let out a slow breath, attempting to calm herself down. “Why did you do it?”

Ludo blinked. “W-what?”

“Why did you burn our spellbook?”

“I told you, I didn’t—“

“Just tell me why you think you burned the book.” Her patience was hanging on by a dangerously thin thread. “I’m... I’m not mad. I’m trying not to be mad. I just want to know.”

The monster hesitated for several moments, thinking. “Th-the book, it’s— once you have it, it’s yours, right? You own it?”

She was a bit lost on where he was going with this, but she nodded anyways.

“And only the owner can write in the book?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“O-okay, well… I don’t know why, but the book wouldn’t let me write in it. I thought that I deserved to have my own chapter, but the book wouldn’t give me one! Glossaryck said it wasn’t mine anymore.”

Moon had never actually seen the book behaving in such a way, mostly because ownership of the Book of Spells was never a problem. It was always inherited along with the wand on the heir’s fourteenth birthday. Sure, it had been misplaced once or twice, and earlier incarnations had been lost to time, but the actual book had never been successfully stolen by someone until now.

“I thought he really started to understand me, but all he ever did was laugh at my failure!” He was getting angry again, this time at the unpleasant scenes he was revisiting. “I was just so frustrated… I felt like the only way I could feel powerful again was if I took that stupid book down a few pegs.” He straightened his posture and looked up at them, a slight frown on his face. “I can’t do anything about the book. I’m… I’m sorry. There, I said it, okay? I’m sorry.”

Moon and River exchanged curious glances with one another, equally surprised to hear his apology so clearly voiced after trying to deny any blame.

River was the one to break the silence. “Did Glossaryck say who the book belonged to, if it wasn’t you?”

“Not a word.”

Moon began to pace, lost in thought. “Perhaps there is something you can help us with, if not the book…”

“Huh?”

She turned to him. “What do you know about Toffee?”

Ludo’s mood immediately soured and he scoffed loudly. “What about him?”

His disdain for the septarian was clearly evident in his tone. If Toffee truly had betrayed Ludo and taken complete control of his agency, it was no wonder that Ludo regarded him with such contempt.

Moon stooped down to level with him, hoping that she could convince him to listen. “It’s incredibly important that we find Toffee as soon as we can. He needs to be held responsible for what he has done, and you can help us achieve that.”

Averting his gaze, Ludo crossed his arms and huffed, like a child stubbornly holding onto a grudge.

“Do you have any idea of where he could have gone?” Moon continued. “What has he set out to do?”

He shook his head. “I knew nothing about him from the very first day I hired him to work for me.” His voice took on a petulant, almost jealous-sounding undertone. “What did he even do? Why does everyone care about him so much?!”

“Toffee,” she said, practically spitting out the word as if it were poisonous, “…is guilty of regicide.”

Her fists clenched at the mention of his name. She felt River place a hand on her back comfortingly, and she caught a glimpse of a sympathetic frown on his face.

The change in atmosphere, however, was lost on Ludo. “I don’t know what that means.”

“He killed my mother.”

Immediately, his face paled. “Y-your… oh…”

“I think you’re beginning to understand why this is so important to me, aren’t you?” she asked icily.

“Y-yes, your majesty… um, I’m very sorry—“

“I don’t want to hear any more apologies from you,” she sighed. “I just need you to tell me what you know about him. Anything could be of use.”

His stubbornness had all but disappeared as he nodded nervously. “Um, well… I really do wish I knew more… I thought he was only looking for payment when I hired him. But he took advantage of my monsters and tricked them into betraying me! He stole my castle and my men!”

Despite her better judgement, Moon still found herself feeling some kind of pity. “You had no idea how dangerous he was, did you?”

“No… I had no idea that he wanted to get to Star. Even after he overthrew me, I was sure he only wanted the wand for its power.”

As she listened, Moon found herself stricken with overwhelming guilt. Star must not have known any better, either… I should have told her about him sooner. If only she knew how dangerous he was, she would have known to tell me.

Apparently, Star and Marco had ran into him well before Moon was aware he had emerged again. When she had listened to Marco recount all of their past encounters with Toffee, she was quick to realize that there was a lot Star had opted not to tell her. I suppose that’s what I get for not being honest with her about what happened to—

No, she should have told me that she was in such danger regardless.

Moon was doing everything she could to avoid assigning all of the blame onto herself—this situation was far more complicated than that—but it was hard not to feel like she had been complicit in endangering her daughter’s life by allowing herself to forget about Toffee. She had been so desperate to move on from her past that she foolishly let her guard down and suffered the consequences for it.

She hoped that she could one day learn the reason why her daughter, arguably one of the most outgoing people in the world, was so distant with her.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♥︎ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Star hummed to herself as she continued to walk along the strange and unusual place she had found herself in. She wasn’t sure when exactly she had said her goodbyes to Glossaryck and set off on her journey, but she’d lost sight of him long ago. What had started as a pathway made of amorphous blobs of color had shifted into a bed of big, pink clouds. The surrounding sky was a pale blue, which was much more comforting than the sickly green it had been before. It was quite pretty, but she was beginning to worry that she might be getting lost.

She held her hands up to her face to form a makeshift megaphone, shouting “Hello!” into the void. “Anybody out there?”

I guess there are worse places to be all alone, she mused. It could be a lot creepier.

There also was the comfort that Glossaryck was here, too, even though she was still trying to stay mad at him. At least there was something familiar within all of the weirdness.

As she blinked, she caught a glimpse of something moving in the corner of her vision. Her initial impression was that it was just a cloud, but as it continued to happen and she repeatedly failed to get a good look at whatever was darting around, her footsteps slowed to a halt.

“Okay, weird magic dimension, what are you playing at?”

The dimension, of course, chose not to respond. At least, not in a way that she would understand.

“You…”

“Huh?” Is someone there? she wanted to ask, but she found herself doubting that she’d heard anything in the first place.

She was suddenly all that more aware of the complete silence. There wasn’t even a faint ringing in her ear, or a soundless breeze passing through. It was absolutely still, the only noise being her long hair brushing against her back as she looked around with increasing franticness.

“Hello?” she called out, unsure of if she wanted to receive an answer or not.

“You…” repeated the ghostly voice.

Star felt her heartbeat quicken as she suddenly grew anxious. There was that inexplicable part of human—or, in this case, mewman—nature that allowed someone to recognize when they were somewhere they did not belong. Despite the similarities, it wasn’t fight or flight reflexes. There was no way it could be, because she didn’t feel like she was in any sort of danger. She certainly felt out of her element, but this place wasn’t anything particularly special. And yet, she was getting the impression that she was not welcome here. Whoever was watching her was not here out of intrigue, but obligation.

She hugged her arms to herself nervously and set off again, hoping that the strange feeling would go away once she’d distanced herself from this place. But as she walked, the voice followed, infrequently calling to her. A second voice soon appeared, and then a third. Whispering, disembodied voices that hovered just over her shoulders, like spirits that she was never quick enough to catch a glimpse of. It was at that point that she stopped trying to count how many individual voices there were, in an attempt to calm herself down.

“Am I losing it?” Star asked aloud, as if it were going to make her case look any better. “I think I might be losing it.”

The voices continued to speak, both amongst each other and to what she assumed was herself. “It’s her… You’re not supposed to be here… I never was your wand—”

That last one rattled her to her core. Have I heard that somewhere before?

Despite how unsettled she felt, she continued walking.

“Save yourself…”

“F-from what?” Please don’t tell me that there’s something here! Her encounter with Toffee had already been frightening enough. She seriously hoped that she wouldn’t be stumbling into a similarly dangerous situation. “Is someone here?”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

She combed through her hair nervously with her fingers. What are you sorry for?

“I’m sorry for all the horrible things I’ve said and done... remember me, remember me...”

A suffocating chill went up her spine and she froze in place. Those were her own words. It was the exact incantation for the Whispering Spell—the one that her mother had taught her several years ago. “Who are you?! What do you want?!” she shouted, growing more frightened and angry by the passing second. Were they mocking her?

The voices continued their echoing round, reciting more of the Whispering Spell as if it were nothing more than a cryptic poem. “One to remember me.... I’m one to worship out of nothing, out of nothing...”

She put her hands over her ears, but it didn’t block out the noise. “Stop it!”

”I never was your wand.”

“STOP IT!”

Through the cacophony of voices, a single, haunting word stuck out to her, threatening to bring her to tears.

“Run.”

That was exactly what she did. Before she could think, she took off in the direction she happened to be facing, taking one last fleeting glance behind her before she fled for good.

Nothing was there to follow her. She was still alone. But her feet kept moving, carrying her faster and faster into the unknown.

That was when she tripped on something she couldn’t see, and then she was free falling, too shocked to make a sound.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♦ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“We don’t have the Book of Spells, or Glossaryck, or the wand…”

Moon was pacing back and forth in the foyer while River watched on, uncertain. Her hands were held behind her back as she mulled over their incredibly limited options. “Or the High Commission…” she went on, her frown deepening.

“Is that because of the magic being broken?” River asked.

“No, it was Toffee. He was using some kind of dark magic that allowed him to tear their souls directly out of their bodies.”

“That sounds… painful.”

“It wasn’t, really.”

River’s eyes widened, horrified. “That happened to you?!”

She recalled her short conversation with Ludo in the Monster Temple from the week prior. At least, she’d thought it was Ludo. It could have just as easily been another one of Toffee’s mind games. But she liked to think that she had gotten through to Ludo, at least somewhat, before everything had started to fall apart.

“He caught me off guard.”

Her brief explanation did nothing to ease her husband’s worries. “But you’re okay now? You’re not still hurt?”

Again, that day came back to her. She wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. Life had suddenly returned to her, and she awoke to see the High Commission members limply scattered around the room with dark, empty eyes. Lekmet’s frail hand was holding onto hers, and within seconds, he’d collapsed into dust. She could only assume that he had overused his powers trying to save everyone. She was the one who was granted a last chance, and she had taken it, fleeing as fast as she could, setting out to find Star before Toffee ever could.

She realized that she was wringing her hands together and made a conscious effort to stop it. “The only reason that I’m still here is because Lekmet gave his life to save me.”

River’s worry was first replaced with surprise, and then an eventual frown. He rarely met with most of the High Commission outside of formal gatherings. Even if he hadn’t been around Lekmet very often, he still appeared saddened by the news.

“He seemed like a nice guy… even if I never had any idea what he was saying.”

She felt as if she should have been more affected by the loss, too, but with how emotionally drained the past few days had left her, it was hard to tell how she felt about it at all. All she could think to do was nod in acknowledgement.

River slumped against the wall, moving to sit on the floor. “I don’t know much about this ‘magic stuff,’” he admitted. “I wish that I did, so that I might be of more help.”

Moon still found herself at a loss for words. They’d talked about Star for hours, and Moon had done her best to make it clear that what had happened was none of their faults—even though she still was having difficulty believing she wasn’t responsible in some way. I can’t begin to imagine how he must really feel about all this…

“I’m just so grateful that you believe me,” she admitted. “For a while there, I thought no one would.” The only other people who had witnessed what happened were Marco and Yvgeny, neither of which would be seen as reliable sources of information by any of the castle staff.

“Of course I do!” He exclaimed, taking her hand in his. “You always know what’s best.”

She gave him a thankful smile. “We’ll get through this. I know we will.”

“And Star knows it, too.”

“Besides,” she digressed, “it’s not as if the kingdom hasn’t faced hardship before.” It’s only that I wished it wouldn’t happen to me, not again… “I think that we should close our borders.”

“What for?”

“As long as magic is unreliable, so are our safety precautions. I feel that we should turn our focus solely on the kingdom’s stability and defenses, in case any rogue monsters get any funny ideas.” Or if Toffee decides to drop by for an unwanted visit, she noted. Really, septarians were the only monsters of serious concern during a magic outage. Their regenerative capabilities proved to be incredibly dangerous, and if any of them had any particularly malicious intent, there was a high chance that the guards wouldn’t be able to chase them off.

River nodded earnestly. “That is a fantastic point, my dear! We can’t have those scoundrels attempting to steal from our cornfields during this crisis.”

“That, and… well, I want to slow the spread of these unhelpful rumors as much as I can,” she confessed. The unspoken reason was well understood between them both. Neither of us have any idea how we’re going to explain what’s happened to Star…

“Wait… does this mean we’re cancelling the Silver Bell Ball, too?” River normally would have been elated to find a way out of attending a formal event, but he sounded much more cautious than usual.

She blinked in surprise. The annual ball had completely escaped her mind so far. The Silver Bell Ball has gone on every single year, uninterrupted, for decades. Won’t cancelling it just draw more attention to our problems? Surely the other kingdoms will realize that something is wrong…

A weighty sigh escaped her. “I suppose we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Every Coffee Cloud Has A Silver Lining

Lena was staring down at the depressing ‘1,483’ on the corner of her mail app as she pushed through the door to the little cafe. She flicked through her emails, deleting most of them immediately as she moved through the queue. When she got to the counter she rattled off her order without looking up and stood to the side to wait.

Lena liked spending her breaks at this cafe. It meant she could continue working on her laptop without Jess being there to tell her off for not actually taking a break. It was small and normally quiet, with windows all along the front that let the warm sunlight come pouring in. The smell of coffee and fresh pastries permeated the air and soft jazz was played through little hidden speakers.

A few minutes later she heard her name called out and grabbed her coffee. She was about to take a sip when she paused, looking down at the drink in her hand. Where normally there would be a pretty leaf design or something, there was a squiggly shape with blobs of milk foam.

Lena turned back to the counter with a raised eyebrow, more amused than anything.

The woman at the counter gave her a sheepish smile and adjusted her glasses. “Would you believe me if I said it was a new abstract style of coffee art?”

Lena tried to stop herself from laughing. “What was it supposed to be?”

The woman (or ‘Kara’ as her nametag proclaimed her) huffed and pouted. It was far too adorable. “It was meant to be a leaf. I’m sorry - I’m new.”

Lena laughed and Kara smiled brightly at her but there was still a small queue and Kara had to get back to work.

Lena sat at her usual table in the far corner and relaxed back into the comfy chair, blowing gently on her coffee to cool it down and smiling at the blobs on top.

———

Lena was back at the same time the next day and smiled when she saw Kara was there again.

“Lena!” Kara beamed at her.

She raised an eyebrow. “You remember people’s names after just one coffee? Impressive.”

Kara chuckled and adjusted her glasses. “No, not normally. I guess you’re just memorable.”

They both blushed and ducked their heads and Lena almost walked off without ordering her drink.

When Kara called her name again, she went up to the counter and looked at her coffee.

She smirked. “Let me guess - it’s a cloud.”

Kara laughed. “That’s exactly what I was going for - see, I’m an excellent coffee artist.”

Lena shook her head in amusement and went to her table.

It was only when she went to throw away her cup as she left that she saw the little smiley face Kara had drawn by her name. She couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. (The strange look Jess gave her was probably unrelated.)

———

Lena found herself in the cafe more often after that. She told herself it was because she was having a stressful time at work and needed the time to relax. She didn’t believe herself.

Kara occasionally stopped to talk to her while she went around wiping tables (most days trying to convince her to try a caramel frappe instead of her ‘boring adult drink’) and Jess kept looking at her as though she knew Lena hadn’t been able to do any work and had actually had a break.

Lena was thrown when Kara wasn’t there one day. Her coffee had a beautiful leaf pattern on but it didn’t come with the Kara Danvers Smile.

She was sitting in her usual corner when she saw Kara come stumbling out the door from the back, tying on her apron. The redhead that had served her coffee looked unimpressed as Kara said something and got a cleaning cloth thrown at her in return.

Kara lit up when she caught sight of Lena and made her way over. She frowned down at her coffee and pouted.

“Aw, someone else already made you coffee? I feel so betrayed, Lena.”

She laughed. “It’s not my fault you weren’t here. Although, I have to say,” she picked up her cup and looked at it, “I think your dinosaur yesterday was better.”

Kara grinned. “I knew it looked like a dinosaur!”

Lena gestured to the seat opposite her. “You know you can sit down if you like?”

Kara fiddled with the cloth in her hands and glanced back at the counter. “Alex probably won’t be very happy if I don’t do any work at all but will you still be here in 15 minutes?”

Lena was supposed to be back at the office in 5. “Sure.” She probably didn’t have any important meetings.

Kara grinned and skipped off to wipe tables. Lena quickly sent a message to Jess to tell her she’d be back a little late. She ignored Jess’s following interrogation.

Kara flopped down into the seat opposite 15 minutes later with a huff and flicked the towel onto her shoulder.

Lena smirked. “You cannot possibly be tired. You only got here 20 minutes ago.”

Kara whined and dropped her head back against the chair. “I’ll have you know I had a very tiring night.”

She raised an eyebrow and Kara pouted.

“I did! And it wasn’t even my fault - it was Mike.”

Lena looked down and brushed imaginary dust off her laptop keyboard. “Who’s Mike?”

“Oh,” Kara made a face and waved her hand. “He’s- I don’t know he’s not even really a friend - he kind of just tagged himself onto our group. I had to spend all last night making sure he didn’t get himself into trouble because he’d got so drunk.”

Lena frowned. “You’re way too nice. I would’ve left him to get himself in trouble.”

Kara laughed. She waved happily at Alex who was glaring at her from across the cafe.

She turned back to smile at Lena. “So what are you doing?” She nodded to Lena’s laptop.

Lena waved her hand and closed the lid. “Oh, just some work.”

“Oh gosh,” Kara sat forwards in her seat, making to stand up. “I’m not disturbing you am I?”

“No!” Lena reached out a hand as though trying to push Kara back down using The Force. She winced slightly at how loud her voice was and cleared her throat. “No, it’s fine. I was finishing anyway. And I like… spending time with you.” Where was not-so-socially-inept-CEO Lena when she needed her most?

Kara smiled shyly and adjusted her glasses. “I like spending time with you too.” She tilted her head at Lena’s laptop. “So where do you work?”

Lena picked up her coffee and took a sip to buy herself some time to calm her nerves. “Um… L-corp?”

Kara laughed. “That sounded more like a question.”

Lena watched as recognition took over from her amusement and downed the rest of her coffee.

“Wait - Lena as in Lena Luthor?”

Lena gulped and nodded.

Kara’s eyes lit up which was definitely not what Lena was expecting. “Golly, how did I not realise! The Lena Luthor? You’re incredible!”

And thus began the most unorganised, excited, politest rant Lena had ever been on the receiving end of. She sat and gaped at Kara until she trailed off, nervously adjusting her glasses.

Kara cleared her throat. “Sorry. You probably came here to relax and here I am telling you things you must have heard a million times.”

Lena looked down and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Nice, actually. Not a lot of people are willing to look past the Luthor name.” She shrugged at Kara’s look of confusion and outrage.

“Well those people are dummies.”

Kara looked so certain of this mildly phrased fact that Lena was a little taken aback. It reminded her of how Lex used to defend her and made her heart clench.

She smiled politely at Kara and started packing up her things. “Well, I should probably be getting back.”

Kara stood up with her, looking slightly worried she’d said something wrong.

Lena bit her lip and fiddled with the strap of her laptop bag. “I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

Her smile became a little more real when Kara brightened and nodded enthusiastically in answer.

When she looked back as she left the cafe, Kara was still standing there watching her with a smile on her face.

———

Lena was not having a good day. She had just finished an emergency meeting that had run from 6:00 that morning and had another in half an hour. She pushed through the door to the cafe, lost in her thoughts, planning to grab a coffee and head straight back to L-corp to sit and be stressed until she had to go into the next meeting.

Kara seemed a little nervous as she took her order and asked her to wait to the side but Lena was too stressed to take it in. When Kara called her name, watching her come up to take the drink and biting her lip, she barely took notice of it. She quickly smiled at her and grabbed the drink, turning to leave immediately.

She was halfway to the door when she noticed the name on the cup wasn’t hers and went to turn back to the counter.

“Oh, I think I’ve got the wrong…” It was only then that her brain actually processed what she was reading. Instead of having her name on, the cup read ‘Kara’ and underneath was a phone number.

She looked up at Kara who was twisting her hands together and looking as though she might run away at any moment. Lena looked back down at the coffee. On the top was a perfect heart.

“I um…” Kara adjusted her glasses. “I’ve been practicing.”

A smile started to spread across Lena’s face and the stress that had been so prominent in her brain five minutes ago melted away. She bit her lip and ducked her head.

Alex chose that moment to enter through the back door. She looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes, turning and leaving again immediately.

Lena approached the counter again. “Hi.”

Kara swallowed. “Hi.”

Lena tapped the counter and looked up at the menu boards. “Do you do reservations and preorders?”

Kara frowned. “...Yes?”

“I’d like to reserve a table for the same time tomorrow with my usual and a caramel frappe, please.”

The brightest smile Lena had ever seen spread across Kara’s face and Lena couldn’t help but mirror it. Kara Danvers was like her own personal ball of sunshine and she was pretty sure she was halfway in love with her already. Jess was never going to let her hear the end of this.

[miraclesnail]

Stolen Hoodies and Chicken Notes

Summary: Most people wake up to their significant other giving them a sweet, morning kiss. Maybe a cuddle that’ll devolve into a tickling fest. Maybe a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Will wakes up to his hoodie stolen.

Relationship: Travis/Will 

Rating: G

Warnings: Brief mention of trauma/nightmares

Length: 2k

ao3 link *** ffn link

fic under the read more

At the first light, when the dark skies give way to navy blue and one can just barely see the wisp of sunlight, that’s when all Apollo's children wake up. A gift from their father, he guesses considering his role as an Olympian is to pull the sun. 

Start the day early, get the most out of life. 

Some hate it, waking up so early, a full hour before they really need to get ready for the day. Will can hear some of his siblings groan and shift in their bed, most falling back asleep. 

He used to hate it too. Hate waking so early and having to just lay there until it’s really time to get up. 

Now he cherishes this little gift their father blessed them with. 

Most people wake up to their significant other giving them a sweet, morning kiss. Maybe a cuddle that’ll devolve into a tickling fest. Maybe a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. 

Will usually wakes up to his hoodie stolen and a chocolate chicken sitting on top of a piece of paper.

Travis is weird that way. 

And today is no different. 

Will wakes up from his internal clock and takes a second to gather himself. Then he rises to his elbows, looks to his night table, and sees the faint outline of the chicken from the nightlight. It’s hard not to smile as he gingerly takes the chicken into his hands and grapples around in the dark for the note that always accompanies it. He finds it and from that cursory touch, it feels like a standard flashcard.

Will flips around and silently wiggles his way to his drawer at the foot of his bunk bed. A quick check inside confirms one out of the two hoodies he owns is missing. 

He never knows when Travis does this. He tried staying up all night to catch him in the act. But a little blink and maybe a five-minute doze, and poof, the items were on the table and his hoodie gone without a trace. Locking the door. Locking the window. Setting a tripwire or a net or flour all proved to be ineffective. 

Will sinks back onto his bed, reaches for the flashlight he hides in the space between the mattress and the frame of the bunk bed. Then he ducks under his blankets. 

He switches the light on, stifling a laugh as he gets a view of the chocolate. The expression on the chicken is definitely getting more detailed. Before it was just a single dot for the eye, no beak, and just the general shape of a baby chick. Now, the chicken is much more complicated. He can see the details of the feather. Can count the number of tails feathers. Can see the claws of the chicken. 

It’s so stupid. Adorably stupid. 

Will shines the light on the notecard. 

There’s three lines of text, the top two in Japanese. He knows for sure the top line says, ‘Good Morning, Beautiful. You know who it is :D’. The middle line he isn’t too sure. And the third line, like always, is the romanization translation, ‘enpitsu’. 

Will reaches under blindly and pulls out all the dictionaries he has under the night table. A little quick check and he has his translation. 

“He’s so extra,” a voice whispers.

Will turns his flashlight off and lifts the blanket. On the bed next to him, Kayla is grinning fondly, laying stomach down and her cheek against her pillow.

“I think it’s cute,” Will whispers back as he stands and looks around for a pencil. He finds it on the window sill his night table is against. With practiced ease, Will opens his drawer, removes his only other hoodie, a blanket, and sneaks out of his cabin. 

***

Will doesn’t know why it started. He never told Travis about his father’s gift. Or maybe he picked it up during the week or so gap Apollo usually has before claiming his kids. Travis is certainly observant for that despite the general consensus the camp seems to have about Travis and Connor sharing one brain cell. Either way, Travis knows and Travis somehow uses it to make a game. 

The first time it happened, Will didn’t even catch it until Kayla pointed it out for him late in the morning as he searched for his hoodie. 

“Hey, Will, what’s this?”

A blob of chocolate sits at his night table with a flashcard. 

“Guess who! :)” Will translates from the Greek text. On the back, it also says in Greek, “I took your hoodie.”

And from there it evolved. 

The chocolate blob becomes more refined, more chicken-like. 

The notecards change language every day. Greek one day. Latin the next. Spanish. French. Chinese. Korean. Arabic. 

Will acquires his needed dictionaries from Annabeth and a low-power flashlight from Leo. 

It became a fun little game to wake up and translate the text while nibbling on the chicken. 

“Good morning”

“I finally learned how to bake!”

“I named the chicken Pip.”

“I’m also learning how to make coffee latte art.”

“Guess how many languages I know.”

“Do you mind me stealing your hoodies?”

Simple. Harmless. Little things he can do while he waits for the time to really start the day. (Much, much better than just lying in bed and thinking about the war, about Lee and Michael, about the friends he lost, about the friends who left, about the people he couldn’t save, the people he had to kill, the people he—)

It’s nice. 

To focus on something else. 

Then it stops becoming simple and harmless. (“It’s still pretty harmless,” Travis would probably argue.)

“Come to Zeus’s Fist?”

Leave the cabin?  Before curfew is over? That’s breaking the rules. He can't. 

It takes a whole fifteen, agonizing minutes before Will finally stands up and puts on his sneakers. 

He gets to Zeus’s Fist after another 15 minutes. Before he could climb the pile of rocks though two voices, similar in tone and pitch, say, “Oh my god, he actually did it.”

“What? Who? Will?”

Will glances up to find Travis and Connor, hopping down Zeus’s Fist. One smiling. The other frowning. One wearing his hoodie. And the other wearing not his hoodie. 

Will hates to admit it, but he still can’t tell them apart even though he’s dating Travis. 

“You actually did it,” the one wearing his hoodie says with a bright smile. He turns to his brother and holds out a palm. “Where’re my five bucks, Connor?”

Connor grumbles and stuffs a crumpled bill in Travis’s waiting palm. “You couldn’t be a good boy for once in your life like you always are, huh?” Connor says. “Had to sneak out of your cabin like Travis asked.”

“If it makes you feel better, I got caught by a harpy,” Will offers with an apologetic shrug. 

“How did you get her to let you go?” 

“When you have a good reputation, you can get away with anything.”

It takes all about two seconds for Connor to figure it out. “Oh my gods, you lied to her!”

Will flushes as Travis wraps a shoulder over his arm and laughs. “Aww, we’re such bad influences on you. Next thing you know you’re going to be the third person in our pranking schemes. Come on, since you’re here, want to watch the sunrise with us?”

And it evolves more from there. 

More complicated messages. More dictionaries. More detailed chocolate chickens. More sneaking out. More losing his good reputation with the harpies. Then having lessons on sneaking out. Having lots of lessons on sneaking out. Becoming extremely good at sneaking out. 

No more encountering the harpies. No more endangering his good boy status though that may be questionable now with the way he keeps breaking the rules. 

But like Travis always says.

Everything goes as long as one doesn't get caught. 

***

Translate the note. Get the item. Make it to Zeus’s Fist. 

That’s the game. 

“You know my dad’s animal is the raven? Not the chicken?” Will says as he trudges up to Zeus’s Fist. 

Travis’s head pops over the rocks and even down below, Will can see the smirk and his stolen hoodie on Travis’s lean body. 

“No entry until you brought the secret item,” says Travis in a dramatic, booming voice. 

Will waves the pencil. 

“Alright, you can come up.”

It takes a few minutes for him to climb Zeus’s fist. Travis is standing at the top with a hand to help pull him up. 

Will says it again, “My dad’s animal is the raven, not the chicken.”

“What?!” Travis gawks at him. “They’re not? Really? Really? So all this time, I've been making the wrong animal?”

And it’s so stupidly cute, but Will maintains his composure. “It’s fine though. I mean, it’s cute.” 

Will looks around, noticing the lack of a third person. 

“Where’s Connor?”

“Sleeping peacefully for once. No nightmares tonight I guess.” 

“Nightmares?”

“From the second titan war, you know?”

Will’s throat dries. “Ah. Right.”

He coughs into his fist. “Do you, uh, get them too?”

Travis fidgets with the hoodie, chuckling. Will comes to learn something about Travis. He’s not the open type of a person despite him being such a talker and as good as a liar he is, he has certain tells that give him away. 

“Sometimes,” Travis chuckles, looking down and scraping the heel of his shoes against the rock. Translation: every day. “ But it’s nothing too bad you know.” Grinning after flexing his hand. Translation: it’s pretty bad . “I keep myself busy though. It’s easy to not think about it when you’re busy.”

Hence this. Hence the nightly escapades. Hence the little games. Distractions. They’re all distractions and distractions work great. 

“Well, I brought the blanket.” And Will holds it up. “Wanna watch the sunrise?”

“You know it. Oh! Let’s have a competition. Whoever can name the most constellations.”

“Sure.”

Will lays down the blanket and sits, leaning back on his arms. Travis sits down beside him, dropping gracefully and resting his head on Will’s shoulder. 

“But before that, why don’t you try speaking to me in Japanese?” Travis says with a cheeky grin, “You got the basics down already, right? I can supplement what you don’t know.”  

“It’s going to sound pretty awful. My pronunciation will probably be all wack,” Will snorts.  

“And I told you that it is fine, buddy,” Travis says, nudging him with his shoulders. “Let me hear it. I can help you with the pronunciation. Plus~” Will doesn’t have to look over to know Travis is wiggling his eyebrows, “I know some pretty nice, interesting facts about Japan culture too. Like, did you know on Christmas Eve, couples go out for fried chickens and exchange presents?”

“And you want me to buy you fried chicken.”

Travis grins charmingly. “I mean, we would share, but yes! I do want you to buy me some chickens.” 

Will takes a breath, digs deep in his memories, then says in Japanese, “‘ I want to go to Japan one day.’”

Travis is silent for a moment, eyebrows furrowing, mouth moving like he’s saying the phrase himself, before beaming. “Nice! Pretty accurate. Pronunciation is pretty good. But change the particle ‘de’ to ‘ni’.” 

“So what about ‘ I ate cake yesterday’? ”

Travis hums. “Not as accurate this time. Move yesterday to the front of the sentence. But still pretty good pronunciation.”

“Then what about my name? How do you spell that in Japanese?” 

“Let me see your palm?”

Travis takes his hands and writes the katakana on his palm with a pen. “Here you go. One more sentence. Use the word pencil in it.”

And that’s how it goes.

Will sneaks out, breaks a couple of rules, attends a language class 101, and watches the sun rise. 

And for one hour, he forgets it all and lives like nothing is wrong.