#but that one is more widely forgiven. hmm wonder why that could be

[pochapal]

I feel the response to my ask was "disingenuous as fuck". Your original post was mad that the writers lost their jobs & blamed the fandom for not continuing to pay money for writing that many viewed as genuinely trans/bi/black-phobic. I don't think they deserved death threats or hate, but criticisms are valid. I don't get why you defend them and act like a fanbase of mostly lgbt+ who are probably hurting for money during the pandemic should be throwing money at writers that treat them like shit.

over a thousand members of the fandom WERE still paying money to the patreon is the thing though. i’m not arguing with you about what exactly kind of harm homestuck^2 did because i don’t know what exactly you want me to say? i’m not qualified to talk about the issues homestuck has with race but writing kind of spotty queer rep is in no way comparable to material anti-lgbt harm being inflicted on real people, nor did hs^2 at any point textually encourage violence against said marginalised groups. 

but there were people who were still willing to financially support the team and the wider fandom harassment campaign directly led to these people no longer being able to donate money. also no one was being forced to donate to the patreon? the people who donated did so because they wanted to and because they were in a financial position where they could do so.

i defend the writers because they really aren’t these malicious actors bent on inflicting abuse on poor helpless lgbt fans like they’re made out to be. to be specific the writers who were pushed out of the team before now were all marginalised and were reviled for the apparent crime of representing their perspectives in line with homestuck’s narrative (thinking here specifically about the backlash towards pesterquest roxy and literally anyone who had any creative input on the direction of vriska’s character). the only evidence of those people treating the fans like shit is when they defended themselves and got mad about the literal online dogpiling they faced. if i was being 24/7 hounded by entitled fans i’d probably call them some rude things too! these were people doing a job that was comfortably financially supported that they had to walk away from for their own wellbeing. they did not owe the fans anything and even if they did they still had a large number of fans that supported their work and now it’s all gone because of a moral crusade by people who never liked post-canon homestuck and never intended to. that’s pretty much why i’m mad at the fandom.

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

kiss it better

Everyone in my inbox was asking for some hurt/comfort today and I figured a little Jaskier whump tossed in wouldn’t make anyone mad.

tw: blood, stabbing, canon typical dumbassery and violence

---

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s voice sounded gurgly and wet. That wasn’t good. That was very incredibly not good. The Witcher whipped around and looked for his bard in the crowd. When his gaze landed on Jaskier, his blue eyes were wide, panicked and tearful. Geralt glanced down and saw his pale hand clutching at… clutching…

The hilt of a dagger stuck proudly out of Jaskier’s abdomen. 

---

“You’re traveling with the white-haired Witcher, aren’t you?” a high, snooty voice asked over the market din. Jaskier turned on his heel and came face-to-face with a somewhat familiar young nobleman. 

“Why yes, I do travel with Geralt, the White Wolf of Rivia,” the bard bowed with a flourish. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

“I should hope I look familiar,” the man sniffed. “Your Witcher friend insulted me rather rudely in front of my Father’s entire court no more than two months ago. I’ve been sent on a fool’s errand while the rumors and shame dissipate in my absence.”

“My apologies, Milord. Geralt isn’t always good with his words. A fault, I am afraid, that belongs to many in his line of work.”

“Are those in his line of work any good at healing, do you know, bard?”

“That depends on the Witcher, Milord. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. I hope that your White Wolf is one such educated mutant,” the Lord sneered. There was a bright, surprising flash of silver and a sudden sharp pain bloomed through Jaskier’s abdomen. The noble waved his bloodied, gloved hand dismissively towards the market’s center. “Better go find your Witcher before you pass out or bleed to death.”

---

Geralt scooped Jaskier into his arms and ran as fast as his frantic instincts would allow, sprinting all the way through town to the well-marked apothecary’s stall. He pushed through the doorway of the shop and glared down the middle-aged woman behind the counter. “I need a healer. Now.”

She was about to protest his tone of voice when she saw the dagger still embedded in Jaskier’s midsection. The woman gasped and stuck her head behind a curtain that spanned the wall behind the counter, shouting clearly: “Fetch Elana! Fetch Elana, quickly! Have her meet me in the surgery!”

“Where should I put him?”

“Follow me,” the woman instructed, ducking through one of the doors on the left wall of the shop. Geralt followed closely behind, Jaskier now limp and unconscious in his arms. He could feel the bard growing lighter as precious drops of blood flowed freely from his wound. 

When Geralt found whoever did this to Jaskier, that person was going to pay dearly. 

---

“He was embarrassed at court so he stabbed you?” the healer asked again, shocked. Jaskier nodded. 

“Where’s Geralt?” he asked.

“Your Witcher friend?”

“I don’t exactly know that he’d call me his friend,” the bard smiled sadly. “But yes, my Witcher.”

“Ah, one of those, eh?”

Jaskier blushed furiously and shook his head. “No! No, nothing like that either. Geralt doesn’t…you see, since he’s a Witcher he doesn’t...”

“He doesn’t what?” a gruff voice asked from the doorway, urging Jaskier to finish his sentence. The bard flinched in surprise and winced when the movement agitated his wound. 

With a rush of unexpected movement, Geralt was at his side. Two broad hands settled against the bard’s shoulders and pushed him gently back into the mound of pillows. Two untamed eyebrows pulled together and several prominent lines appeared on the Witcher’s forehead. Jaskier was confused; Geralt seemed genuinely concerned with his comfort and wellbeing.

Once the anxious Witcher was sure that Jaskier wasn’t still bleeding to death, Geralt took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, “What don’t I do?”

“Consider me your friend.”

A sharp pang of something shot through Geralt’s chest. His hand found Jaskier’s where it rested atop the duvet and gripped it firmly but not roughly. “You’re my best friend in this entire world, Jaskier. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear sooner. I could have lost you just now and the thought of such a tragedy.. well, it’s terrifying.”

The bard’s jaw dropped. Geralt barely spoke three words to him on a good day and here the Witcher sat, spouting poetry at his bedside as if Jaskier was dying. “Are you alright, Geralt? Are you sick? Have you been hexed or cursed or poisoned?”

“No?”

“Then why are you saying all these kind and lovely things to me?”

Geralt pretended not to notice as the healer slipped silently out of the room and closed the door behind her. Now they were alone, and the Witcher felt safe enough to confess. He laced his fingers tightly with Jaskier’s and sighed, meeting the bard’s frightened gaze with his own. He opened his mouth to speak but the bard shook his head.

“Don’t,” Jaskier breathed, “Don’t say anything you don’t mean, Geralt of Rivia, or my heart may really, truly break for good. Don’t tell me that I mean something to you if you’re going to be all silent and solemn again tomorrow, dear heart, because I won’t be able to survive it. A broken heart I can handle. A stab wound I can live through. Both at once may kill me for good.”

“I love you, Jaskier.”

“Oh, Geralt-”

“When I saw you in the square, bleeding and terrified, the rest of the world went dark. There was you and only you. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe again until I knew you weren’t going to leave me alone in this world. Without the sound of your laughter and singing, the Path would be so horrifically silent. Without the sight of your smile every day, why would I ever want to open my eyes again? The light you shed brightens the world, my lark, and there would be no point in going on without you at my side.”

Jaskier’s eyes shone bright with tears and he squeezed the Witcher’s hand. 

“Geralt, my sweet, kind, and deadly Witcher,” he managed to gasp out, “The course of true love never did run smooth, did it?”

“I suppose not.”

---

Geralt laid him back against the headboard of their inn bed and took a nervous step away. Jaskier reached out for him automatically and groaned when the stretch of his movement pulled his stitches. The Witcher immediately moved back within reach. “Sit down you enormous fool,” Jaskier instructed.

Geralt took a hesitant seat at the edge of the lumpy mattress and let the bard take his hand. Jaskier fiddled around with his fingers, caressing up and down each one as he spoke softly.

“I know you’re going to feel all kinds of guilty over this, aren’t you?”

The Witcher nodded.

“Well I hate that!” Jaskier announced, tugging at Geralt’s hand to get his attention. The Witcher looked up and saw the grim determination in his bard’s shining cornflower irises. “So this is what’s going to happen, alright? Every time you feel tempted to mope or self-flagellate or whatever other stupid shit you do when you’re overwhelmed with regret and angst, you’re going to give me a kiss instead.” 

“Hmm?”

“That’s right. I want you to kiss me every time you start feeling guilty that I’m hurt. That way you’re doing something useful with all those pent up negative emotions. I’ll know you’re thinking about me and I’ll get free Witcher kisses.”

“How is this a punishment?” Geralt asked, looking down at the floor, shame written plainly across his handsome features. 

Jaskier used the tips of his fingers to tilt the Witcher’s head back up. Only once their gazes had locked did he speak again. He did so firmly, with strong conviction behind each and every clearly enunciated syllable: “You are not being punished, Geralt of Rivia, because you did nothing wrong. A stupid noble made a stupid mistake and took out his misplaced anger on me and you. We are victims, Geralt. We are not to blame at all, whatsoever.”

“But-”

Jaskier leaned forward, face twisting in pain, and pressed his lips against Geralt’s almost harshly. He fell back a second later, pale and panting, and clutched at his side. 

“Kiss me when you feel guilty, Witcher, or I won’t go back onto the Path with you when this is all over.”

“...Alright.”

“Good.”

“Rest, now, Jaskier. You need sleep so you can heal faster.”

“Lay with me, then,” the bard insisted. He scooted forward and allowed Geralt to slip into bed behind him. From there the paranoid Witcher could watch the door and hold Jaskier close. 

A few moments later, Jaskier felt a delicate kiss press against the nape of his neck and he smiled. He closed his eyes and settled against the pillows, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his abdomen and side. Another kiss dampened the back of his head. Then another. He squeezed Geralt’s hand. Several more followed in quick succession, leading from the back of one shoulder blade to the other. A dozen kisses of apology. Perhaps more.

Jaskier pressed one kiss of his own to the back of Geralt’s knuckles. He heard the Witcher’s quiet gasp and smiled to himself. 

“You’re forgiven, Geralt. I love you very much and I refuse to be parted from your side from this day forward. Now, quiet that busy Witcher brain of yours and rest with me.”

[13uswntimagines]

Put a Little Love on Me (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: Emily x Reader Based on Put a Little Love on Me by Nial Horan

Author’s Note: So Im gonna be honest here, I actually had an entirely different, much angstier plan for this, but i just couldn’t seem to get this image out of my head. I hope you enjoy and that I hit the request enough! Hit me up with questions or comments, it gives me life to know what y’all think. 

The word you would use for you and Emily was inevitable. Like two magnets always being drawn to each other for better or for worse. Your careers weren’t really conducive. You were always on the road with your music and she was always on the road with her soccer, and where those roads crossed was few and far between. 

Distance was hard, and the main cause of issues in your relationship. That and the media was hell-bent on having you date every human being you interacted with. The fight had been stupid, she knew that. It was a bad mixture of Jealousy, exhaustion, and longing that had led to the two of you being at the same award show and not speaking to each other. 

Emily sighed wiggling in her uncomfortable seat, waiting impatiently for the stupid commercial break to be over. The quicker they got through this, the quicker she could talk this out with you. You were only sitting 3 rows ahead of the team, but so far you hadn’t spared a glance in their directions, not even when you had left to go get ready for your performance. She fucked up, she knew that, but it still hurt to have you blatantly ignore them. 

“What happened between you and hot stuff?” Lindsey asked, bumping Emily’s shoulder. You were avoiding her as much as you were avoiding Sonnett, and she needed to know why. She was your best friend too. 

Emily looked down, picking at a loose thread on her red dress. 

****

“It’s not like I have a choice Emily,” You growled back, your hand ripping frustratedly through your hair as you paced the living room. 

You were only in town for the next 36 hours and you wanted to celebrate with your girlfriend, but she was too hung up on a stupid music video. A stupid music video that was currently number 1 in the world. 

“But you do. You didn’t have to do a sexy dance with your duet partner,” She growled back from her place on the couch. You were the big name in the diet with Camila. You were the one with all the control. Maybe Camila wasn’t your type, but that hadn’t made watching her dance all over you any easier. 

“Emily…” You huffed, slumming back onto the couch and scrubbing your eyes. It was complicated. Yes, you had some control, but the pressure had been insane. Camila was in a committed relationship with her bandmate, and you were in love. You had given in because you didn’t want another fight with your managers. And you didn’t want them to take away the already limited time you had with your girl. 

“Don’t Emily me! The entire world thinks you’re fucking her and you decided to let her grope you in your fucking music video,” She growled back dangerously, allowing her frustration with the media and her jealousy take complete control. Hiding how much it hurt to watch you do some of those moves with Camila. To watch her whisper senorita in your ear. Emily knew she didn’t call you that, so who was?

“I’m not cheating on you Emily, I fucking love you, and I just wanna enjoy the time I have with you,” You sighed, just so tired of all of this fighting. Was one quiet night with your girl too much to ask for? 

“What, just so you can go running back to her?” Emily spat, and you winced. 

“We’re on tour babe, she’s my opening act, nothing more, and you okayed it, so I don’t know what your problem is. I love you,” You explained slowly, emphasizing the word you. You only wanted her, why wouldn’t she believe you? 

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Your face stayed buried in your hands, and Emily’s chest heaved. If you couldn’t understand why she was upset that another woman was all over you, then maybe you didn’t care about her as much as she cared about you. 

“Well, if you can’t grasp it, then why don’t you just go?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, and your wide eyes snapped to her. It felt like your whole world was caving in on you, if you lost Emily, you didn’t know what you’d do. 

You opened and closed your mouth several times, finally only a feeble “What, Em-,” squeaked past your lips. Her face remained impassive, as though shattering you was easy. 

“Get. Out.” She gritted out, pointing towards the door. 

You stood, pausing only to stare at her for a few more seconds. The silence between you was heavy, like mud seeping into your bones. 

“I love you, Emily, only you,” You sighed, hanging your head in defeat, and walking out the door. You spared her a glance, wondering how this night had turned out like this. You had been high on the excitement of finally getting to see her, and now you were crashing back to reality. You waited for her to respond, shaking your head when she wouldn’t even look in your direction. 

****

“We had a fight,” Emily huffed, pulling around the loose strand. The fight was stupid, but she never thought you’d actually leave. That you’d walk away instead of staying and fighting for her. She had sulked all through the first days of camp until the first letter appeared. 

“Hmm, is that why you’ve been getting so many letters?” Lindsey smirked, and Emily rolled her eyes. 

“No, that was because I wouldn’t pick up my phone,” She snorted, remembering the words that had accompanied the first page. You had said that maybe you could be like Noah from the notebook. That if she wouldn’t answer your calls, then you’d write her a letter every day. And then maybe she’d be like Allie and come back to you. 

You had kept your word. Every day between then and now you had written her a letter, and sometimes she wrote you back. You made up and “talked” out your issues, and now it was time for the reunion. At least she hoped that's what you were thinking. 

“Gotta admit, she’s got game,” Kelley snorted from beside Lindsey. You were a true romantic at heart and that never ceased to amaze them. You were essentially apologizing with Emily’s favorite movie.  

“And she’s totally in love with you Emily,” Alex added over her girlfriend's shoulder. No one sent almost 100 letters unless they were super in love. 

Emily nodded, she knew you loved her and only her. It also helped that Camila was cuddled up with her own girlfriend 2 rows in front of them. It was hard to be jealous when you saw the person of your ire being utterly lovestruck with someone else (and she was pretty sure that the only person Camila wanted to call her Senorita was Lauren). 

****

“You ready kid?” Your manager asked, straightening the collar of your suit. 

You nodded hesitantly “I just hope she dances with me,” you mumbled. If she stayed in her seat, you didn’t know what you were going to do. You had planned this, and the only person who didn’t know was the main component. 

You sighed. You wondered about her every day, where she was, how she was doing. You knew you loved her, and you were about to show her. 

“She’d be an idiot not to,” You manager smiled, patting your back, and you gulped. You hoped so. You were pretty sure she would, she had forgiven you. She had even replied with I love yours, so hopefully, this all worked out. You had so much love for her that you could only pray it would be enough. 

*****

You looked breathtaking on stage, standing in that navel blue suite. The performance was simple, just you and a mic in the spotlight, a piano playing in the background. It was odd for you not playing your accompaniment, but you did everything for a reason. Emily bit her lip, unable to take her eyes off of you. The spotlight mixed with that color made you look… so suave. Almost like the female James Bond. 

“She looks sad,” Lindsey mumbled, patting Emily’s leg lightly. And Emily leaned forward, looking closer. She took in the furrow of your eyebrows, how you bright Y/E/C orbs were slightly dulled. 

“The song is sad,” She huffed. She knew how much this song meant to you. She had asked about it frequently in your letters, and you had been honest about how much pain you were in. 

“Not the ending,” Lindsey smirked, and Emily nodded. The two of you had made up and the end of that song reflected that.

“I wonder what her plan is, she never does anything this simple,” Emily murmured, smoothing out a crinkle in her red dress. If you weren’t playing the piano, then you had to have something big up your sleeve. 

You Unhooked the mic and began wandering down the steps. 

“She’s coming this way,” Lindsey said shocked, and suddenly, Emily’s hand was balling the material of her dress in her fist, and your eyes met for the first time that night. All of your attention was on her. 

You walk slowly down the aisle, the bridge ringing through the room. The audience stared at you in awe, but you only had eyes for one woman. A woman who you had pulled several strings to have sitting on the end of the row. 

You stopped in front of her, just as you got to the acoustic section right before the final chorus. Reaching out a hand and sending her a pleading look when she didn’t immediately take it, praying to God that this wouldn’t backfire on you. She stared at you wide-eyed, frozen at the suggestion. 

You bit your lip as the tension in the room seemed to grow. The eyes on you waiting with bated breath to see what Emily would do. Lindsey nudged her, snapping Emily out of her daze. 

You smiled encouraging down at her, and just as the final chorus began, she delicately placed her hand in yours. You pulled her up into you, her arms wrapping around your neck as yours landed on her waists, and the two of you began to sway in a slow dance. 

“When the lights come up we’re the only ones dancing, I look around and you’re standing there asking, you’re the only one I need,” You sing quietly conscious of your proximity, staring into Emily’s bright blue with so much love as the lights flash on, and you’re the only two dancing. 

She leans in close to you, just as you get the final line, her breath fanning across your lips, your foreheads touching. 

Her lips press against your own, stealing the final note. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and wolf whistles, but you don’t hear any of it. All of your attention focused solely on the woman in your arms. The woman that you loved so dearly and were so terrified of losing. 

“I love you, only you Emily,” You breathed out, squeezing her side lightly. 

“I know. I love you too,” She smiled, pecking your lips again. It felt so nice to hold her close, to have her right here in front of you. You reluctantly pulled away as the announcers called your name. You shot over your shoulder, before reconnecting your forehead with Emily’s. You just wanted to live in this moment forever. 

“go, I’ll see you later,” Emily whispered, nudging your nose with her own and pushing you lightly in the direction of your impatiently waiting team. 

You laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her with you. “You’re coming with me babe, you’re the only one I need,” You shoot her a goofy thing, kissing her knuckles. 

“Put a little love on me,” She hummed back, wrapping her arms around you and kissing just behind your ear. 

You loved her and she loved you and that was all that mattered. You were magnets, always trying to find each other, always pushing and pulling, always connected. You would talk about the details later, for now, you would just bask in being together again. 

[trashmouthnerd]

Cactus Juice - Zukka

Fandom: Avatar, Zuko x Sokka

Summary:

Part 1/1

The heat was suffocating, every minute felt like an eternity. The group took a second, arms coming up to block the wave of sand the wind had sent pelting their way.

Zuko sighed, wiping away the beads of sweat from his forehead. It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe by the second. He knew blindly following these idiots around the world was a bad idea..

If it was this excruciating for him, he didn’t dare to think of how it felt for North Pole natives. Personally, he’d grew up surrounded by fire and heat and this detour was painful enough for him.

"Why are we doing this again?" Sokka groaned from beside him. Fists clenched at his side as he tried his best to keep from falling straight onto the heaps of sand that were devouring each step he took.

"Blame Appa! He's the one that landed here for no good reason!" Toph exclaimed, nobody hated the desert more than she did. She couldn't see a single thing here and the guilt she felt from the last time hadn't faded - even if she and everyone else knew there wasn't much else she could've possibly done.

"He was exhausted! We've been flying for days alright, he needs rest and so do we" Aang pitched in, explaining he'd find them shelter for the night and to keep walking north before flying off in to the distance.

"I'm so thirsty" Sokka complained moments later, hoping his remark would be enough to tug on his sisters heart strings but he’d be a fool to truly believe that.

"Sokka, no! If I keep giving you all the water we're going to run out" Katara stated firmly, shaking her head at her brothers annoying complaints.

"He can have my ration" Zuko said, offering Sokka a small smile. The smile was returned ten fold, a wide thankful grin plastered stupidly on Sokka’s face.

"You'd really do that for me?" Sokka stopped, his eyes dangerously flirtatious but Zuko knew this was just how he acted. Though god bless him for the period in time where he hadn’t quite understood Sokka and his playful nature. He’d never been closer to dying in his life and that’s saying something.

Katara shook her head. Zuko was an idiot to offer up his share, this journey was about to get unbearable if Aang didn't find shelter soon. They couldn't sleep in this heat and Appa needed rest if they ever planned on getting out of here.

Zuko nodded sternly, not understanding what the big deal was. Sokka was his friend, he'd helped him understand kindness in a way only his uncle had ever done so previously. He didn't mind returning the favour once in a while.

"I'm moved prince Zuko, but I must decline.. you're gonna need it trust me" Sokka started his sentence with a teasingly light tone but ended it with anguish. Oh how he longed for a drink.

"Alright, but the offers there" Zuko finishes, his mind having not being changed in the slightest. In truth he'd do the same for any of his friends. They'd all helped him grow in ways he'd never thought possible.

Momo chirped, jumping from Sokka’s shoulder before flying off to the west of the group.

"Momo, dearest momo.. wait where is he going?" Sokka pondered, wondering if perhaps he should follow. They all stopped momentarily, awaiting their friends return.

"Alright you two stay here, Toph and I are going to go to the top of that hill and see if we can find Aang" Katara said, Zuko nodded but Sokka wasn't paying much attention. He'd already fallen to the floor with his hands covering his face from the sweltering sun.

"You're gonna make me climb a hill? I can't see you know!" Toph exclaimed, hoping that for once this card might work on Katara.

It didn't. She just softy grabbed Toph’s arm, muttering something about how dumb it would be to leave Toph and Sokka unattended together. It really didn't have a good track record.

"This. Is. Hell." Sokka cried out. Zuko tried his best to block the sun from his friend but realised he couldn't do much else. Momo returned soon after with a strange looking cactus, flying a little lower and sloppier than usual. Zuko frowned, something was wrong with him.

"Oh momo! I knew there was a reason you were my favourite!" Sokka beamed.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, trying to examine the strangely juicy cactus in Sokka’s hand.

"This my friend, is drinkable and I'm going to drink it.. So what if maybe it didn't go so well last time I'm sure not every cactus here is as weird as that one" Sokka says, he looks as though he's talking himself into that. Looking at it hesitantly for a second before taking a sip from the top of it and offering it to Zuko.

Zuko went to take it, unsure as to weather or not he would drink it yet when it was suddenly knocked from Sokka’s hands.

"Sokka! You have got to be kidding me!" Katara screeched, standing on the cactus that had fallen to the ground.

"I'm sorry Katara, I'm just so thirsty" Sokka said before falling back to the floor, his pupils dilating as he giggled at nothing.

"What was that?" Zuko pondered, looking down at the crushed cactus he thought he'd be getting a taste of.

"Cactus juice, last time we were here those two idiots drank some of it and were out of it the rest of the day.. I guess you'll see" Katara sighed.

"Anyway, Aang is just up ahead and I think I see structure’s so let's keep moving" Katara instructed, taking Toph’s arm as the two took the lead. Zuko followed close behind, trying to keep an eye on Sokka who had become rather slow and distracted. He was jumping up and down like an idiot trying to catch Momo’s tail.

"What is he doing?" Zuko asked, completely bewildered by this entire day and how calm everyone was being about it.

"Oh just leave him, it's his own fault and he'll be fine by tomorrow, Momo too"

Zuko sighed, looks like it would be his responsibility to look after the idiot. Great. As if he didn't have bigger things to worry about than the cute boomerang lunatic.

Zuko went to grab Sokka’s arm to guide him in the right direction but stopped when Sokka reached straight past his offering hand and directly for his face.

Zuko felt his cheeks heat up considerably as his friend's fingers tugged at them.

"Hmm, scary fire prince guy" Sokka said and Zuko stepped back a little. Perhaps he'd forgotten the last few weeks in the state he was in. Or perhaps he’d messed up so much in the past that he’d always be known as that person to Sokka and many, many others.

"Always trying to catch us"

"Yes, I'm truly sorry for all of that" Zuko frowned, he'd thought everyone had forgiven him, he'd thought Sokka had forgiven him.

"Yup! Now pretty fire prince is on our side! Momo did you hear that? We've got the best looking fire bender on our team!" Momo chirped and Zuko hid in his hands. Katara laughed.

"Sorry, guess he's very lose lipped when he's drugged" She smiled. A gust of wind hit them suddenly, Zuko parted his hands slightly, peaking through his fingers he watched as Aang came into view.

"There's a group of earth benders not far from here, they said we could stay the night in their barn" He exclaimed. Flying happily on an air bubble.

"That's great Aang, I'm not sure Sokka could last much longer" Katara said, motioning over to her brother. Her bother who's arms were wrapped around Zuko’s neck as he smiled up at him.

"Oh.. okay then. Let's make our way there then" Aang laughed, he'd known about Sokkas feelings for a while now so this was far less of a surprise to him than it seemed to be for Zuko.

The group made their way straight towards the earth benders, following behind an excitable Aang.

Katara shared the last of her water around when they were about ten minutes away, figuring they could stock back up once they arrived. Sokka, on the other hand, continued making flirtatious comments to Zuko all while chasing Momo around and paying far much attention to every single thing.

"I found this rock, it's hard around the edges but look the inside is smooth!" Sokka beamed, handing the newly discovered rock to Zuko.

"It reminded me of you, pretty boy" Sokka winked and Zuko blushed, rubbing his finger over the rock before placing it in his pocket. He kept telling himself to ignore Sokka, he was high and he didn't really think any of this. But still, he couldn't force his heart to stop fluttering.

Soon after and they'd safely made it to the earth benders. A man dressed head to toe in beige clothing and bandages stepped forward. Slowly unwrapping his face protection as he smiled.

They were greeted warmly, given food and water and told they were free to stay as long as they'd like.

"We'd be honoured to house the Avatar" The man had said, bowing his head before showing them to their spare barn. It was nice enough. Piles of hay, a roof, lots of water for Appa and that's all they really needed. They just had to wait for Appa to sleep then they could get out of here and onto land where breathing wasn't as hard a task.

Though Zuko thought the desert air was fine to breathe through in comparison to Sokka’s remarks and sudden close proximity.

They all did their part in setting up the base, no fire was necessary for once but still, sitting on the floor was never comfortable.

Aang disappeared momentarily before returning with some blankets for everyone to sit on, smiling though a story as he placed each one down in a circle formation.

Sokka’s blanket had originally been placed between Aang and Toph, everyone thinking it a good idea to keep him as far from Zuko as possible. Zuko tried not to sulk, it was annoying Sokka had to be so far from him after being stuck to him for the last hour.. But it was definitely for the best.

Sokka on the other hand didn’t like this arrangement at all…

"No! I wanna sit with Zuko!"

"Sokka no! You're being weird you're going to make him uncomfortable!" Katara said, gulping down some water before using the rest to fill up her water bending pouch.

"Oh.. I don't want him to be uncomfortable.." Sokka frowned, looking down at his hands and Zuko felt a pang in his chest. He picked up his own blanket and placed it ridiculously close to Sokka’s. Who needed logic when your incredibly cute best friend was pining over you.

"Hey, I'm not uncomfortable" He smiled and Sokka beamed. His hands reaching for Zuko’s own and lacing them together.

"hmm good.. you're the best!" Zuko’s chest tightened, oh how he hoped Sokka actually meant this.

"But make sure you drink this alright? It'll make you feel better" Zuko said, placing a water bottle in Sokka’s free hand.

Aang smiled at how carefully Zuko was treating his friend and felt his heart warming at how much Zuko had become a member of the group. At how much he'd changed. There was a point where he'd wanted nothing more than to hunt them all down, now he was smitten with the boomerang guy.

"Uhhh no! I already feel great, you're here!"

"Gross! Why's he so soppy when he's high" Toph fake gagged. Sokka’s face was enveloped in a pout and Zuko frowned.

"Don't listen to her. Drink this and I'll stay here all night all right?"

"With me?!" Sokka bounced when Zuko nodded. Gulping down his water as though his life depended on it. Then he threw the water bottle, looking towards Zuko for his praise.

"Ow" Aang frowned. "I see, no regard for your other friends then!" He joked and Sokka glared at him.

"Hey! I love you all, but Zuko is hot! Ahh! Don't tell him I said that" Sokka shouted towards Aang. Whisper shouting the end part but it wasn't even close to being an actual whisper, and even if it was Zuko was still going to hear it, what with being right next to him and all.

"Oh! Fire prince! Didn't see you there... How ya doin'?" Sokka winked when he turned to face Zuko again.

"You think I'm hot?"

"Did Aang tell you! No loyalty I'm telling you!" Sokka shouted. Earning a small "heyy" from Aang.

Zuko smiled, newly found confidence seeping into him. He'd never felt like this before but Sokka’s sincerity made him feel safe and secure enough to do anything.

He pulled at the hand he was holding, Sokka’s face flying forward and he caught it with ease, his mouth grazing Sokkas ear as he whispered.

"Not so bad yourself" Sokka screeched, nearly taking out everyone’s ear drums on his way before wrapping his arms around Zuko’s neck, his legs overlapping Zuko’s own.

"Guys!! Hot stuff likes me back!" Sokka smiled.

“Um.. What exactly does he mean?”

“He means he’s been trying to get your attention for weeks and apparently it hasn’t been working” Katara says, shrugging.

“Now he thinks you do feel the same, which we all knew of course but he’s an idiot” She finished and Zuko quite literally felt as though he could explode.

“Will he even remember this?”

“Probably not”

“Oh” Zuko looked down, Sokka’s head was in his lap, fingers tracing along his jaw and Zuko caught them.

“Hey! Lemme touch youuu” Sokka whined and Zuko knew he couldn’t exactly say no to those eyes. He let go of his hand expecting it to go back to his jaw but instead it fell and hit Sokka straight in the face.

“Ouch” Everyone laughed at that, everyone except Zuko and sokka.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you’d-“

“Shh, you’ll get worry lines on your perfect face!”

“I’m sorry, I really did think my brother had a little more integrity than this.. A little but not a lot..”

Sokka huffed, his arms crossing on his chest.

“I think it’s brave. He’s very open, takes a lot of courage” Sokka smiled again, tugging on Zuko’s shirt and going up to kiss him.

“Okay no kissing me while drugged” Zuko stated, he definitely wanted it more than anything, but not when Sokka wouldn’t even remember it…

“I’m sure it doesn’t take any bravery when you’re that high” Toph scoffed, shoving some of the food they’d been given into her mouth.

“I’m super brave! Me and boomerang could rule the world!” Sokka yelled. His hand slamming into the air as he made a throwing motion.

“Aren’t I invited?” Zuko frowned down at the head on his lap, which gasped and sat up, just barley avoiding a collision on his skull Zuko readjusted.

“Of course! Zuko, sokka and boomerang! Dream team”

“Sure, dream team of doing nothing! It’s the three of us that have kept us alive this long..” Katara says scoffing.

“Ahh let him have it Katara, I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time” Zuko smiles at that comment. He doubts it has anything to do with his arrival but a guy can dream.

Hours had passed and Sokka still wasn't regaining any form of normality, he'd been attached to Zuko all night. Everyone had found it all very amusing, but Zuko hadn't felt this alive before. He'd never have thought that the water tribe boy would've liked him back, never mind this much.

Sokka hasn't gone ten minutes without calling Zuko pretty or beautiful in some sort of way, he felt a little guilty about it but Zuko really didn't want this to stop. He didn't want Sokka to wear off from the drug and say he didn't mean any of it, he was just high.

It hurt too much to think about that, so he shook his head. Besides if that really were the case then wouldn't it be best to make the most of tonight?

"Hey hot stuff? What ya thinking about? Is it me.. are you thinking about me?" Sokka smirked, resting his head on Zuko’s shoulder.

"It's a little hard not to when you're all over me" Zuko replied, earning only a "hmm" from Sokka - who had seemed to take this as a request for him to get even closer. He pushed Zuko down onto his blanket, then fell down onto it himself. They were face to face and Zuko swears he hadn't actually had any oxygen in an hour.

Sokka smiled, moving closer and burying his head in Zuko’s neck. The rest were all asleep now, luckily for sokka as they would likely tease him about this for weeks.

"Sleep with me" Sokka mumbled and Zuko jumped, pulling his head away.

"What?!" Zuko sat up, stunned. It had came out a little louder than expected but there were only a few stirs.

"I'm tired and you're warm.." Sokka smiled, pulling Zuko back to him and pushing a leg under Zuko’s - who had just been brought back down to earth in realising Sokka didn't mean what he thought he meant.

"Goodnight Sokka.." Zuko smiled, his hand holding Sokka’s head as his breaths got slower and deeper. Zuko didn't want to sleep, he wanted to cherish this moment incase he never got another like it.

Yet the warmth and the safety was more than he'd ever felt and soon enough sleep was overtaking him.

———

"What the -" Sokka screamed, jumping out of Zuko's grip, legs taking him as far away from the sleeping Firebender as they possibly could. He turned to look at his friends who were all staring at him with raised brows.

Then he whispered.

"Please tell me why I just woke up entangled with the fire prince!" He whisper shouted and Zuko stirred. He walked closer to his friends so as not to wake the very subject of his confusion.

"Because, you idiot, you decided to drink cactus juice again.. you know, because it worked out great last time" Katara scowled. Sokka shook his head, wanting an actual answer.

"Yeah, then you clung to fire fingers over there the entire night. It was gross, you kept calling him pretty" Toph turned up her face.

"It was cute, Zuko looked after you the whole time.. but you're gonna have a lot to talk about when he wakes up" Aang smiled warmly and Sokka felt his insides churning. He was mortified, no way had he fallen asleep in Zuko’s arms.. no way had he spent the whole night calling him pretty..

"Please someone just kill me now" Sokka whined. He was about to step outside for some air before remembering they were in a giant desert and decided against it. Clearly he didn't mix well with the desert.

"Morning sleepy head" Toph said when a eerily quiet Zuko came towards them. He was rubbing his eyes and his hair had fallen in front of his eyes.

"What are you staring at? Aren't you going to call me pretty today?" Zuko teased, unaware that the cactus juice had most definitely worn off.

He certainly caught on to this development when Sokka’s face was overcome with horror. Zuko’s own cheeks reddened and he let out a quick "oh" before returning to his blanket to wake up properly. Sokka looked between his friends and Zuko, each of them pointing with their heads to talk to him.

Sokka took a deep breath and ventured forward. Taking a seat beside Zuko, smiling cautiously when Zuko looked at him.

"Sorry, I thought you were still... You know" Zuko said, looking down at the water in his hands and taking a quick drink of it.

"Yeah about that.. the gang just told me what I did and I'm so sorry"

"No! I mean.. it wasn't bad.." Zuko said, trying with every fibre of his being to keep a straight face but get his point across properly. Sokka raised a brow, realisation dawning that perhaps Zuko felt the same. After all, he had let Sokka sleep with him..

"oh.. well in that case, you look adorable this morning" Sokka smiled, reaching over and pressing his lips to Zuko's cheek. Laughing fondly when he saw the heat rising to them.

"Yup, definitely adorable"

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five: A Wonderful Turn of Events

Word Count 3.3k

Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of blood

Hvitserk woke up from a light slumber when he felt the sunrise reach his rosy cheeks. He looks behind him, hoping to see your body laying in the bed but of course, you are not there. He looks around in the chambers and remembers that Ivar and Ubbe are in the palace. He sighs and rolls his body out of bed and he gets dressed. He makes his way out the double doors and the first sight to reach his eyes are your dragons flying back to the kingdom. A smirk forms on his lips as he admires the magical creatures that fly before him. "I still can't believe you are real.." he whispers to himself before walking ahead. 

Ivar himself, did not sleep very well last night. His mind was wondering, making it almost impossible for him to relax enough to actually fall into a deep slumber. So he held you in his arms, watched your shoulder's rise and fall as you breathed in and out. He smiled to himself because he missed you so, but then he remembered that all that time away from him, Hvitserk had you all to himself. Yes, he allowed everything between you and Hvitserk to happen but does he love it? Of course not. He hates the fact that you have to be shared in order for him to become a father of some sorts. He hates that he cannot please you the way his brother can. He hates thinking of all of the things Hvitserk probably did with you while you were in his bed and he was in Kattegat all alone. So he tossed and turned all night, frustrated. Hating himself. So when you wake up and find your husband wide awake, you are taken back.

"Ivar? You are awake..?"

Ivar "Mm, could not sleep."

"Why is that?"

Ivar "Just thinking, my love."

"Well tell me wha-"

Ivar "No." You rose your body and leaned your weight onto your shoulder. 

"No?" Ivar looks away, "What has you so upset? You were so happy before I slept.."

Ivar "It is not you, Y/n. It is me." You roll your eyes, "No, it really is me! I hate knowing everyday that I cannot be everything that you need." You look into his eyes and see sadness. Not sadness that comes from loss, but sadness that comes from frustration. 

"Ivar, you are everything to me and more-" he scuffs, "much more." He looks at you, "I know that you do not see yourself the way that I do, but I will spend the rest of my life telling you how much I love you until you believe it in the fullest." He caresses your cheek as his eyes relax.

Ivar "Why do you love me so?"

"Why are you asking such a question?"

Ivar "Because I am a cripple. I could not give you that child in your belly. I cannot be-" you slam your hand over his mouth so that he stopped talking instantly. 

"Look, I don't understand why you are saying such horrible things about yourself, but there is no need for such conversation. Just because you are a cripple does not mean that I see you as one. Just because this child is not yours does not mean that you aren't her father. You are my king, my husband and I love you with my whole being."

Ivar "I love you, my love." He pulls your face to his and kisses you softly. "I am sorry..I have just been feeling this way since you left."

"Because I was with Hvitserk?"

Ivar "I am not mad, sweetheart. Truly I am not. It is not your doing, it is my own head."

"Listen to me, I love Hvitserk and he means a lot to me but he is not you. You are my world Ivar." He smiles the most pure smile that you have not seen since you told him that you were with child. 

Ivar "We should get out of bed, since we are heading home today."

"Mm, I am looking forward to that."

Ivar "Me as well, my sweetheart."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar got himself dressed and left the chamber room before you did. He may be a cripple but you are carrying a child in your womb that is ready to enter this world very soon, hence you not being able to move very quickly. Ivar helped you with the back of your dress but then he headed out the door. You sigh as you watched him leave. You do not know where this morning's conversation came from. It startled you, to be completely honest. You have known since day one of how he perceives himself, but he has not spoken of the matter in quite some time. You hate to hear him talk so poorly about himself given the fact of how highly you feel about him. Hopefully one day, he will believe your words fully and true. 

You make your way down the hall of your palace, taking in everything like you did on the very first day of your return to Wessex. You admire every detail with a proud smile. You must have been staring because you did not notice the man walking next to you. He bumps into you at full speed, knocking you to the ground. You wince out in pain, not completely from the fall but because the weight from your child felt like it crushed every organ inside of your tiny body. 

"O-oh my God..MY QUEEN!" You cannot fully respond to him, just make eye contact when he gets down to your level. "I am so-"

Daario "Y/n?.." you look up at him and see him running towards you, "Y/N! Are you alright?!" He shouted as he made his way to you, holding your belly. 

"I-ah...I'm fine." 

Daario "What have you done?!" He said, looking at the young man.

"I didn't mean to I-I was not paying attention!" He pleaded. 

"Neither of us were..it is alright."

Daario "It is not alright..what if you had broken a bone?!"

"I have not yet made that determination as of yet.." his eyes got wide. 

Daario "Please, let me help yo-"

Ubbe "Y/n?" You look behind Daario, seeing your brother. 

"Ubbe.." 

Ubbe "What has happened here aye?! Did you hurt her?!-" he said, grabbing Daario's collar. 

Daario "No, it was not me! It was the boy." Ubbe looked down at the boy who was tending to you on the ground, letting go of Daario very forcefully, making him lose his footing a bit. 

Ubbe "What have you done?!" 

"Sir, I was not paying attention-"

"We bumped into each other. I am fine Ubbe."

Ubbe "You are on the ground, crying out in pain-"

"I am alright, just need to sit for a second."

Ubbe "Pay attention next time kid, or you won't be so lucky."

"Run along boy, all is fine."

"My queen, please forgive me I am so sorry." He said with tears in his eyes. 

"You are forgiven." Daario and Ubbe give the boy a stern look as a warning for him to run along before they physically made him. 

Ubbe "Come here.." he lifted you up from the ground and did not put you down until you gave him the 'go ahead'. "How does that feel?"

"Like I fell nine months pregnant.."

Ubbe "Can you walk on your own?"

"Let me try, just catch me if I can't..will you?-"

Daario "I should get Ivar-"

"No, he will kill that boy..I will be fine." He sighs and walks backwards a few paces to give you room to walk. You take a few steps and it is sore but bearable. Your back will surely bruise but you have been through so much worse, so you can handle this. 

Ubbe "Is she kicking?"

"Not right now. But I am sure that she is well. I did not fall down the stairwell Ubbe."

Ubbe "Thank the gods." You nod and take a deep breath and decide to change the subject. 

"Is there anything that we need to discuss before I leave you, Naharis?"

Daario looks at you, "You are leaving today?"

"I am. I miss my home."

Daario "I see."

"Well? You have not answered my question."

Daario "No I do not think so, my queen."

"Well please see me if you can find something to ask me before I leave, yes?"

Daario "Yes of course."

"Good, Ubbe." He looks at you, "Do you know where our boys are by any chance?"

Ubbe smiles, "Last time I saw them, they were in the front yard."

"Alright, would you like to eat breakfast with me?"

Ubbe "Absolutely, I am starving!" He offers you his arm and you gladly take it. 

Hvitserk walks around the yard, chatting with your people and helping out in any way that he can. Ivar sits in his spot, watching and observing his brother like a hawk. Seeing how he interacts with them. Hvitserk walks closer and closer to Ivar, so Ivar makes himself known by standing up and walking right in front of him. 

Hvitserk "Hello Ivar."

Ivar "Hvitserk."

Hvitserk "What is it?"

Ivar "Oh nothing, just been thinking."

Hvitserk "Oh is that right?"

Ivar "Yes. I have been thinking about you and Y/n." Hvitserk chuckles for a second before he attempts to walk past Ivar, but only gets blocked by his crutch. 

Hvitserk "And what about her, hmm?"

Ivar "What all did you do together, while I was in Kattegat?"

Hvitserk "Why are you asking?"

Ivar "Because I deserve to know."

Hvitserk "Well lets just say I kept her safe and warm." Ivar snickers, grinding his teeth. 

Ivar "I want to know of the things you did to her." Hvitserk pauses and looks at his brother in almost disbelief. 

Hvitserk "How could you ask me that-?"

Ivar "You know, you may be the father of that child in her belly but I am her husband. And that child will know that she is mine." Hvitserk looks down at the ground and walks closer to him. 

Hvitserk "She will know that I am her father Ivar," he gets in his face, "and I will make absolutely sure that she knows that from the day that she is born." Ivar does not respond, "How dare you say that to me, Ivar? That is my daughter!" He shouted but not loud enough for anyone to overhear. 

Ivar "Because I deserve this child just as much, if not more than you."

Hvitserk chuckles in disgust, "Funny how you say that when Y/n almost lost her life.." Ivar looks at him, "multiple times while being married to you." Ivar takes a step back in shock, "How many times have you told her that you would keep her safe and days later, she would get hurt huh?" Ivar does not respond, "How many times?!"

Ivar "You were ther-"

Hvitserk "I have done more to keep her safe then you ever have Ivar. So do not tell me that she is your daughter when you know damn well that she is mine and mine alone. You gave me that permission."

Ivar "Do you really think that Y/n loves you, huh?"

Hvitserk "What kind of question is that?"

Ivar "She will never love you as much as she loves me." Hvitserk took that to heart and it broke it. Not completely down the middle, but a crack can do just as much damage. 

Hvitserk "That may be true, but she does love me Ivar-"

Ivar "I think that you just tell yourself that." Hvitserk has had enough and shoves Ivar, almost knocking him over. 

Hvitserk "What has come over you huh?" Ivar does not respond with words, just his fist. Clocking Hvitserk in the jaw. "Alright. You want to fight me? Then fight me!" They hit each other so hard, leaving them both on the floor. But of course, Ivar can not beat his brother. 

Hvitserk "Listen to me little brother, do not tell me those things ever again, do you understand me?" Ivar looks at him with a fresh scar on his face, "Our daughter will love you, and she can think that you are her father until she is old enough to understand but when that day comes, she will know the truth." Ivar spits the blood out of his mouth, "I will not discuss this with you any further. This shouldn't have happened.." he realizes the events that just occurred and acknowledges that you will notice the major scar and bloodshot eye on your husbands face. So he offers his brother a hand up off of the ground and hands him his crutch. 

Hvitserk "I do not know why you hate me this morning, nor do I know why you wished to have this conversation..but we both love her, more than anything." Ivar wipes some blood off of his face while he listens to his brother speak, "So either we make her life a living hell by fighting over her or we can live like we have been since the beginning.."

Ivar nods, "She does not deserve this."

Hvitserk "Get yourself cleaned up before she sees you like this." Ivar agreed and struggled to make his way to the palace. He tried to be as discreet as possible but it was quite hard because he was bloody. 

"My king, are you-" 

Ivar "I am alright, can you take me to get aid? I do not know my ways around here.."

"Oh-of course. Right this way." She takes his arm and leads him to a room dedicated for medication and external care. The maiden's cleaned him up as best as they could but there was no way for them to heal his bloodshot eye and the inflammation around his fresh wound. 

"Ivar, may I ask who did this to you?" She asked politely.

Ivar "No, no you may not. Have you seen my wife?"

"She is in the dining room with your brother, I believe."

Ivar "Ubbe?"

"Yes."

Ivar "Huh, well..thank you for helping me."

"It was no trouble." He smiles and walks out the door, to find you. 

…

You walk your plate back to the kitchen while Ubbe finishes off the few scraps that he had left on his plate. The breakfast was delightful with delightful conversation. Ubbe talked to you all about Torvi and her life before she married him, about the children Torvi had but awfully died before you got the chance to meet them, and how proud he is of you for all that you have done since he has known you. He is such a kind man, and it warms your heart to know that you get to call him your brother for as long as you should all live. You smile as you remember this morning, but that smile soon fades when you see your husband struggling to walk and a bloodied face. You rush to him, trying not to hurt yourself, and cup his face. 

"Ivar?! What has happened to you?!"

Ivar "Do not worry about it-"

"Do not give me that, what has happened to you?!"

Ivar "It was just a little fight between brother's." 

You sigh, "Hvitserk did this to you?"

Ivar "I kind of antagonized him. But yes."

"And what did you say to him to make him hurt you-"

Hvitserk "Just everything that involves you and our daughter." You turn to face him and see that he is unharmed, just dirty. 

"What about me and her?"

Ivar "I was just jealous..I shouldn't have said anything."

"Does it have to deal with what he discussed this morning?" He nods, "Look Ivar, I can't tell you enough how much I love you. Please stop acting this way, don't I show you enough love?"

Ivar "Of course you do, my love."

"So please believe me when I tell you that I love you!" He hides his emotions because he does not wish for you to see him cry. 

Ivar "Yes..of course." He forces a smile, "Please forgive me Hvitserk." 

Hvitserk nods, "It was not like you, brother." Ivar knows that to be true. He thinks that because of Daario gawking at you constantly and the knowledge of you being away from him for so long just set him over the edge and into a downward spiral. 

Ivar "I think we all just need to go home."

"Yes-ah.." you feel a sharp pain in your lower belly, but it was not a kick. 

Ivar "Y/n?" He says, grabbing you. 

Ubbe "A servant boy bumped into her while you two were having a go at each other..she fell."

Ivar "What?! WHERE IS THE BOY!?"

"Enough. That is why I did not tell you..we both were not paying any attention while we were walking. It is both of our fault."

Ivar "Where does it hurt?"

"Where would you expect it to hurt?"

Ivar "The baby?"

"I am not sure. We should go home Ivar, in case she wants to come today..I wish for her to be born in Kattegat."

Ivar "Hvitserk, go get our horses and bring them to the front. And Ubbe, the dragon's-"

Ubbe "Yes, I'm on it." 

Hvitserk "Keep her in there kitten.."

"I will try, now go." You watch him run out the door and then your eyes connect to your beloveds. "She will be here by nightfall..I am sure of it."

Ivar "Sweet, you are worrying me."

"Why? This is a wonderful turn of events, is it not?"

Ivar "It is, but I am not looking forward to seeing you cling to life..again."

"Ivar, we all know what childbirth will be like..I know what I have to go through but it will be worth it to have her-" in that moment, you felt wetness drip down your legs. 

Ivar "Y/n?"

"My water just broke-" without moment's hesitation, Ivar put your arm around his shoulder and supported your weight onto his own and practically dragged you out the doors. You find your dragons in a frenzy, trying to get to you without killing everyone in their path. 

Helga "Y/n?!"

"The baby, she is coming. I must go! Where is Naharis-"

Daario "I am here, my queen."

"I must go-ah.." you winced out when the baby kicked, "This place is in your hands until further notice. Take care of them, keep them safe. I will write to you when I get the chance." He took your hand that was free and kissed your knuckles. 

Daario "I swear it, Y/n. I will make you proud, I swear." You nod. 

Helga "Go, my sweet thing." She kisses your head and said a quick prayer before letting you go. 

"I love you." 

Helga "I know, now go." 

"Ivar, help me.." he looks at you and disagrees. 

Ivar "I think that you should ride with me-"

"I need them, Ivar..please!" He complies and he and Ubbe helped you to mount Eldr: the most gentle and easy to ride. 

Ivar "Go, I will see you soon."

"Please hurry Ivar, I don't know how long I can-"

Ivar "I will not miss the birth, now go." You nod and look and Hvitserk in a way that he knew what you meant without using your own words. 

Hvitserk "Go, I love you." He said with a nod. You commanded your dragons to fly and you were out of there in a flash. Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk and the guards took off as soon as they had clearance. Ivar looked up at the horizon, watching you gain distance very quickly and he prayed: "Please Odin, let me make it in time."

Hvitserk "Come on..come on, I cannot miss the birth of my child." He screamed out in fear. Ubbe stayed silent and focused on getting all of them to Kattegat for the birth. But he knows that Torvi is home, which brought him much comfort. Meanwhile, you are barely clinging to consciousness from the pain but your dragon's are being very loud, trying to keep you awake. 

"Hang on little one, just a little longer..please." 

@astrape-the-weatherwitch

@hvitserkmarcosource

@youbloodymadgenius

@heavenly1927

@ivarsgoddess

@saldelys

@readsalot73

@houseoftoomanyfandoms

@dreamycream17

@a-mess-of-fandoms

@nevlahhh

@krissydclayton93

@conaionaru

[bellemorte180]

Winners of the Wanderlust Betting Pool- Eils-blog

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in the Wanderlust Betting Pool. In return, @klavscaroline​ and I decided to make a mini drabble and edit of their choice for the winners.

Prompt: mates AU: hybrid Klaus and human / untriggered werewolf Caroline. Klaus tries to get Caroline to trigger her werewolf curse and win her over to take her rightful place by his side

Written by @bellemorte180 | Edit by @klavscaroline

The body laid in the middle of the abandoned road; mangled and torn. Blood was spattered all over the pavement; the blood glistening silver in the moonlight. Her heartbeat was racing and adrenaline pumping through her veins. The car door was hanging open, a dinging sound echoing through what would be a silent night.

They lied to her. They all lied to her. She had known that for weeks, but at that moment, their lies seemed so much more real.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. I have you. I have you.” Klaus’s voice soothed her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She could not explain it. There was something that made her want to bury herself beneath his skin. She felt a burning inside her that made her want to claw her way into him; she felt safe and wanted as he held her. She had just killed a man, an accident on her part, but the outcome was still the same; the man’s distorted body rested lifeless on the ground with his head turned at a wrong angle. Caroline still could hear the snap as he hit her car.

This was her senior year. It was meant to be magical; not supernatural. Prank night was supposed to be fun; the only drama being finding a way to avoid her ex-boyfriend, Matt, not learning that she was fated to be with the oldest vampire alive. Or that vampires, werewolves and all manner of supernatural beings were real- and that she was one of them.

She didn’t trust them, not anymore; not even her own mother or father who kept such a secret from her. Or her friends that lied to her over and over again about what was going on; or the fact that her nightmares about a man with blue eyes were slowly making more sense. The only one who had been honest with her, was Klaus.

And the truth was terrifying.

“I killed him. I didn’t mean to. He was just standing there in the middle of the road and wouldn’t move. I didn’t mean to hit him. Oh god…oh god.” Caroline could feel the panic swell up inside her as she looked at the body on the ground again; the sight of blood would never leave her now. Yet, Klaus was there; holding her, telling her that it would all be okay. Then it clicked. “You did this. You wanted me to trigger the curse; you wanted me to kill him. You did this to me. You made me a murder!”

The last words came out as a scream; hysterical and loud. It echoed amongst the trees, not a single soul around to hear her anguish. She narrowed her eyes at Klaus. She knew he was a monster. From the moment he stood in the middle of the science lab and turned Tyler into something she did not understand. She did not like Tyler, for he never supported the relationship she had with Matt but that did not mean she wanted to watch as his neck was snapped. Klaus’s soulless blue eyes met her icy ones and the world got sharper; colors shined brighter and all that mattered was him.

“No, Sweetheart. I made you stronger.” Klaus’s soothing voice reached her, his posture ridged and on guard; as though he was approaching a rapid animal. The change was happening and Caroline could feel in her bones, she supposed she was stronger; but that did not make the truth any less real. “I made you better. The full moon is in three days. You’ll turn. It will be painful; I will not lie but I will be there for every moment your bones break and crack. We will run under the moon. Then, I will collect some of Elena’s blood and I will gift you with immortality.”

“But he is dead.” Caroline waved to the corpse on the ground.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you he was a rapist? I know how you detest those.” Klaus flashed her a whitening smile that sent chills down her spine. For months she had been having nightmares; terrifying blue eyes, a cruel smile and raven hair. Over and over again she ran from him and yet he continued to pull her back into his grasps. She knew that she dated Damon and that he was cruel to her; but the memories were fuzzy. Only in her dreams did everything begin to make sense again.

Apparently, compulsion was feeble when it came to werewolves; even untriggered ones.

“Why can’t we just go now? Hmm? Elena will give me her blood. She feels guilty for lying to me.” Caroline still had not forgiven Elena for the lies she had told. If, perhaps, it had just been a lie to protect Stefan and Bonnie, she might be forgiving…. but never for Damon. “I don’t want to change. Tyler told me how it feels. What he goes through. I can’t go through that.”

“I need you to change at least once. Just once. I need to know that you’ll become a hybrid like me. I couldn’t turn you before you trigger your curse because I don’t want you ending up like the wolves I tried turning before.”

“But why? Why do this to me!?”

“Because I can’t lose you!” Klaus all but screamed out. Caroline was taken aback, staring at him wide eyed; not being able to process the words he was speaking. His eyes looked terrified and broken; gone was the confidant man who blew Caroline’s entire life apart, all the while putting it back together. “I never expected to find you so quickly, or at all. Triggered wolves always find their mates. I wasn’t sure if I would find you because part of me wondered if you were alive while I was human. If I did find you, I never thought that you wouldn’t have already triggered your curse. But here you are; untriggered and perfect.”

“I’m perfect Klaus. I killed a man.” Caroline whispered. “I will have to live with that for the rest of my life. No matter how horrible he is or what he has done. I killed him.” Klaus gave a deep breath and walked over to Caroline; placing his hands on her shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. Caroline knew that she should push him away; scream and slap at him for what he had done, for what he had turned her into. But she couldn’t. She wanted nothing more than to let him hold her. “What do we do with the body?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Klaus told her, kissing her on the top of her head again. “Go to the manor and I’ll meet you there. I’ll have someone fix your car. No one will know what happened here. Okay?”

“Yeah.” She gave the body one last mournful look and turned back to Klaus. She thought on what he said, about him being a rapist. She thought on the victims and what they would think on if they knew he was dead. If someone told her Damon had been killed, she would celebrate. Caroline clung to that feeling. “He was a bad man?”

“Very.”

“Okay.” Caroline moved towards her car and looked over her shoulder at Klaus. She did not like this. She did not like the idea of being a murder, but she wasn’t surprised. Klaus had been telling her for weeks that he wanted her to trigger her gene; that he wanted her forever and that tugged at her heartstrings; especially since she was giving Bonnie and Elena the silent treatment.

“Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“In a thousand years this moment will only be a blimp. You’ll look back on it and you won’t even remember his face.” Klaus told her and she knew it was meant to be comforting but Caroline could not imagine a time when that man’s face will not haunt her. “You’ll be a queen Caroline and all those who wronged you will be dealt with.”

Caroline heard the promise in his words and really smiled for the first time since she hit that man with her car.

“And how do you know I’ll be around in a thousand years?”

“Because I’ll ensure it.”

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Old friend': New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Old friend"

"I'm proud to be who I am now, of my thoughts and to be with the woman I love,"

Chapter Summary: Yirina is moving, without having eaten, to Century House to apologize to Park for her behavior from last night but things will lead her & Park to be meeting...a old friend in town...

Link of the Picrew used !

To read it on AO3, click here!

Words : +3700

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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I didn't eat anything when I stepped out of the apartment, not even a simple slice of bread with jam on it, not even after Zasha told me to do so, and honestly, right now, I did not want to eat until I've got to sort off something...and that something was to go see Park herself at Century House and apologize for my actions last night, I'm the one to blame because I didn't say anything to the moment I go out of Peter's apartment until this morning, I'm the one to blame to be acting like that, I can be stupid...and I was stupid during that moment.

That was the only thought that was crossing inside my brain at the moment I started to walk outside the building through the streets of London...I needed to forgive myself, that's the main thing for me to do now. I couldn't look myself at the numerous windows & mirrors around me, prompting me to keep my eyes away from them until I was in front of the MI6 building, this time avoiding everyone's look on me and not putting my eyes on the others, keeping my mind focused to excuse myself.

Once the elevator was on the floor of our office, I didn't let the doors getting fully open that I was already out of it, walking almost as if my life was depending on how fast I was doing it to reach the office and I arrived in front of the door, opening but then, as I thought that I would see Park at her desk working, no one was actually here in this room, she wasn't here and the only thing I could perceive is the silence of the room...a silence that was interrupted every one second by the white clock on the wall near my desk.

My mind at the moment was trying to not panic at not seeing Park in here as I walk inside the room that was still looking the same when we came here to grab the necessary things before leaving for Peter's place: nothing was removed, nothing was new on our desks despite the boxes that the cleaning crew had to bring here, that was very weird...

"Excuse me?" The voice of a woman interrupted me as I was leaning on my desk to look over Park's desk, making me turn my head around to the door, discovering a woman with glasses, brown hair, and wearing a big leather jacket, sounding a bit german in her voice. "Miss Grigoriev?"

"Yes?" I whispered in a low voice at her.

"Hmm, sorry to bother you but there are some reports miss Park asked about Harry Stone," She announced, showing me the files that she was holding in her arms.

"Good," I simply said, my eyes moving away from her, almost sounding annoyed. "You can put them on her desk, I don't know where she is actually," I suggested, pointing with my hand towards Park's desk and it's without a word that the woman complied, walking inside the room to reach the desk and putting the reports on the only empty space on Park's desk.

"Here you go," The woman breathed after she put them on the desk, turning around to look at me but then, I've got a flash in front of my eyes, remembering something...

"Wait, do I know you?" I asked her, moving away from my desk. "Are you called Sam?" I demanded, starting to remember to have seen that woman a long time ago and it was in here, in that very building.

"Yes, that's my nickname," She replied with a smile to me, starting to go back to the door as I was intrigued by this 'Sam' "Name's Samantha but...I assume that you don't need to know more about me," She added before she got her hands on the door to close it, seemingly leaving alone but I needed to know.

"Wait!" I raised my voice to stop, walking fast to reach the door and open it, wanting to stop her to go away as her presence and her words were intriguing but when I open the door, she wasn't at my sight, as if she vanished into thin air...as if she never existed..."What the hell?" I mumbled to myself.

Confusion was the only word of that little weird situation while I was closing the door, wondering who was this woman I saw once a long time ago without remembering when but that's strange: a brown-haired woman sounding german, disappearing like that...that's strange...Without any other thoughts, my attention got into the reports she brought here on Park's desk, and to try to forget that situation, I decided to see them closely.

In fact, instead of multiple reports as this Sam claimed to be, there were actually only one but looking pretty big & rather combining a bit of everything and I took a look at it: it was mostly talking about Stone's family and that wasn't good to see: he had two siblings who disappeared at a young age, his parents died when he was imprisoned, and then, his choice of either spending his time in prison or joining the SAS, he took the latter one.

Then, after I closed the report, finding nothing else, my eyes went suddenly on a little yellow note that was on a document and I took it...'We need to talk, come to the underground parking, the same car we used last night, it's urgent! P.' That note...it was written by Park herself, recognizing her own handwriting on it.

"Dammit," I said, discovering that Park was in fact here but she was waiting for me somewhere else, causing me to take the jacket that I took off before that 'Sam' came in and left the office.

If she wrote this and she wasn't here, that means it's very important but it was still strange that she was doing it like that. I tried to figure out what's wrong by using the stairs to go down instead of using the elevator despite it was faster, exhausting me a bit before I arrived at the underground parking floor, walking towards the parking place that the car that I & Park used was, her waiting for me over there.

I then got delighted on my face for a few seconds when I saw Park in that car, sitting on the driver's seat, the delight going away when my original thoughts came back, my apologies needed to be done as I approach the car at its front passenger side.

"Park?" I said as I open the door, hearing the radio of the car on and, staying neutral on her face, not saying a simple word or turning her head at me. "Hey, Park, are you alright?" I asked her but no responses from her before I installed myself on the passenger seat, finally reacting as she shut down the radio that was going to pass some news.

"You're okay, Yirina?" She spoke up, sounding worried but looking outside at the wing mirror of her side.

"Listen, I'm sorry about...last night," I went straight to the subject, avoiding her question and wanting to apologize to her now. "It was stupid to not talk and tell you what's wrong but...I wasn't feeling alright," I continued, her not willing to stop me in my words. "Seeing you...in that state and what I saw in that place...that make me bad but I'm the one to apologize,"

"You know well that I'm the one that start it, you just said it yourself," She told me, releasing a little breath out of her mouth.

"I...no, you're not the one to blame, I am," I exclaimed, looking at her while putting my arms down on my lap. "I'm just trying to..." I was then interrupted when Park moved her right hand above my left one. "I...I'm sorry," I muttered, trying to find my word at this, her touch feeling a bit different than before.

"I am too," She whispered, finally turning her head at me, seeing her eyes that were almost dried up, as if she cried a lot. "I'm accepting everything from you but is my forgiveness acceptable?" She demanded and I nodded.

"Listen, it's been months that I said that you were forgiven, stop telling yourself that you're not forgiven, you...are," I reminded her, giving her a little recomforting grin that she managed to do on her face. "Just...stop about it, okay?"

"I will," She muttered before she moved in for a kiss that she was supposedly meant to be on my cheek but my head was still looking at her, making it a kiss on the lips that surprised her. "I...thanks for that," She said, sounding better in a few moments after the kiss, passing her hand through her face to remove the bit of hair on it.

"It's okay," I smiled at her after the kiss, blushing a bit before my eyes went on the front to look outside the car, wondering now why we were here and not in our office. "So, why are we here?" I asked directly.

"It's important," Park responded, moving her hands on her lap and tapping with her left fingers on her legs. "After what I learned, we can't talk in our office and Zasha's one," She added.

"Why that?" I demanded.

"It happens that the CIA has some...bugs inside our respective offices," She answered, my eyes going wide at this revelation. "They've been listening to us talking about Perseus & the situation since a long time,"

"Ears & eyes everywhere in London," I mumbled, remembering perfectly this 'Alex' words to us when he met with us two days ago. "They weren't joking on it," I said loudly.

"Five minutes after our cleaning crew got away, guess who arrived at the same place," Park moved her right hand to reach something behind on the backseat before taking in it, a simple picture she shows to me, seeing on it this 'Alex' with some people arriving at Peter's apartment. "One of our men forgot something and I had to go back before he saw them arrive, he took a picture and got away before been caught," She explained the context, keeping the picture in her hand.

"That's how they manage to know about the situation: by listening to us," I guessed as Park got the picture back behind us. "But if they know that, they know other things like...Liliya's origins and more..." I presumed, thinking that this little bugs problem is occurring for a long time.

"I guess that too," Park joined me on that idea, taking a deep breath after saying that. "Instead of having the boxes from Peter's place in our office, I decided to move them in a safer place," She gestured with her head towards the back of the car. "Put them in the trunk of the car, the only place the CIA can't look at,"

"Better than nothing," I admitted, looking with her at the back until I resume to look in front of me. "Are we going to study them now?" I questioned her but she shook her head.

"No...not for the moment," She replied as she moves her hand again on the backseat to grab something. "Before, we have to talk...to an old friend," She added before she put on my lap a medium-sized black bag like that without telling me more, prompting me to open it, discovering a tracking device, along with a little tracker.

"What is it for?" I asked her, taking in my hand the little tracker.

"Remember Lukas Ritter?" She asked me back, making me turn my head slowly towards her in curiosity, remembering that man perfectly in my head as I nod to her. "I was told by some MI5 agents when I arrive here that they managed to find a place that he always goes every morning in London," She explained, putting back the tracker in the bag. "So, I gathered some useful equipment for us and I'm sure that he can help us to...know where Stone & the other Perseus agents are hiding,"

"Yeah, can be very useful indeed," I smirked at this as Park was already starting the car engine, ready to drive away. "Where is it by the way?"

"In the Farringdon neighborhood," She responded, putting her hands on the steering wheel and starting to move the car. "I'm sure that we will get what we need," She affirmed as I put the bag at my feet, now wondering how that improvised mission will happen.

Even with that new thing to do, I was still astonished to learn that our offices were rigged with micros by the CIA, realizing how they succeeded to know about Stone & the situation in London: just by installing micros in Century House and hear us talking about it, very simple...and more like a big bad move from them, wanting to cut their ears off once we go back in our office but it would be tempting and not the best thing to do...for the moment now.

Now, I was in a car with Park after I managed to apologize along with her in the streets of London, going into the direction of where our 'insider' Lukas Ritter used to go and the means of proceeding on how we could manage to get the tracker on him was going to be discussed once we got at our destination and that destination was in fact a pub called 'The Old Bank of England'. Park got ourselves in a good parking space that was in sight of the pub's entrance.

"He should be coming soon," Park observed the entrance, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel before she stopped doing that. "Here is he," She discreetly pointed near the entrance, seeing Lukas Ritter in the same clothes the day we first met him, looking alone.

"What now?" I demanded.

"Well, that's the thing, how should we proceed?" She demanded at me back, turning her head around at me. "He can recognize us the second we step inside that pub," She added.

"Yeah, he can recognize us," I repeated, letting a little sigh out of my mouth before something turned on in my head. "Of course, he doesn't know that we know,"

"Uhm...I'm not following you here," Park narrowed her eyes at me, holding the steering wheel as I got myself well to look at her.

"We know that he lied to us and fled our control in Moscow but...does he know that he's wanted by us?" I suggested. "He proclaimed that he needed to go into hiding and if he's here, maybe that...he would like to 'talk' about defecting," I continued on that idea, thinking that Lukas doesn't know that we're seeing him as an enemy.

"Oh...I see," Park was like enlighten to hear me out. "You're saying that...one of us should go in there, saying things to make him convince that we're dumb to continue to buy in his lies and put the tracker on," I nodded at her to that.

"I'm going in," I volunteered myself, leaning to open the bag at my feet to take the little tracker with me.

"Are you sure? I can go if you want," Park proposed.

"Nah, I'm fine, don't worry," I told her with a smile, putting the tracker inside a pocket of my jacket before opening my door. "I'll not be too long, don't worry," I reassured her, making a little wink to her before I close the door, leaving myself outside to join the pub.

I took a deep breath before I could bring myself to walk away from the car and to engage myself on the pedestrian crossing to go to the pub that was on the other side of the street and without any hesitation when I arrived in front of the entrance that I open it, discovering a very traditional place and very charming to see, filled with people but that wasn't the main thing to think here, now trying to find Lukas around and that wasn't so hard to do, he was sitting with his back against me at the end of the main room as a waiter was finishing to bring him something to drink & eat.

"Ein guter Kaffee zum Start in den Tag, [Good coffee to start the day,]" I heard him speaking in German when I was arriving behind him at his table, observing a little muffin with him.

"Can't say better about that matter," I spoke up, getting myself at his sight and as I thought, he was looking to get chocked himself with the sip of his own coffee.

"What the..." He tried to say, taking a little tissue in his hands to clean up his lips, his eyes focused on me. "How...miss Grigoriev?" He was still sounding shocked to see me standing near him.

"I'm surprised to see you here as you are too with me," I exclaimed before pointing out at the seat in front of him. "Can I sit?" I asked him.

"Uhm..."

"I'm pretty sure that you don't want to make a scene in here, right?" I presumed, seeing him hesitant to let me sit before he nodded, gesturing with his hands to the seat. "Good, that's better," I said with a smile before sitting down on the seat, not removing my eyes from him. "So...Lukas, what a pleasure to greet you in England,"

"I'm...how did you find me?" He demanded, his hands trembling before he pulled them on his lap below the table.

"We can thank the MI5 for that," I replied, starting to act as the perfect dumb agent that still believes in his innocence. "Said that our insider in the KGB entered England but we don't know exactly why," I explained, getting my hands on the table for that. "And besides, hanging out in a pub where some of their agents are going, not a good idea," I lied, trying to find in my head some ideas to make him believe that we don't really know about him.

"Scheisse! [Shit!]" He cursed, mumbling with a low voice as he turned his head to look at the people in the pub, thinking some of them were MI5 agents...good lie indeed..."And I thought that I was discreet," He sighed before turning around again. "Okay, I'll tell you,"

"Then, tell me," I breathed, seeing him clear his throat to talk, knowing that what he will say isn't true.

"Well, Perseus...managed to find out that I became a snitch even after I had to go into hiding," He started, taking a sip of his coffee as I was staying attentive. "I escaped one of their bases in Russia but I had to travel through some countries before reaching London, Perseus having put a price on my head," He resumed, taking a look outside for a second.

"So, if I heard right, you're asking for us to protect you from Perseus, right?" I presumed and he nodded at me clearly. "Hmm, I don't know if it's believable but your presence shows that you're saying the truth," I told him, putting my hand below my chin, fainting to think about it.

"Oh, thanks," He breathed, sounding relieved. "You don't know how much it's meaning to me," He added another lie, knowing he was here for another reason than to 'defect'.

"You helped us well, that's a lot from you," I exclaimed, grabbing the tracker discreetly with my right hand before I move it to tap on his shoulder, mimicking that he did good and taking the chance of putting the tracker in a good place: right below the collar of his jacket, a place that was out of sight of anyone. "You maybe want to know that Stone isn't longer alive, we killed him in Cuba," I decided to get into acting even dumber, giving him the illusion that we don't know about Stone's resurgence.

"Oh, good," Lukas simply said but his hands around his cup of coffee started to look a bit to hold the cup firmly, urging to crush it with his hands...Stone is certainly close to him...."Guess that it's good riddance for you & miss Park," He admitted, getting his eyes on me.

"Of course, it's good," I confirmed to him before looking around, having done my job here. "Well, why don't you...come to Century House when you're willing to? We can sort off your situation and protect you," I proposed before my eyes went on that muffin he took, having not eaten since I woke up. "Uhm...can I take it? I can even give some money to have another one," I demanded.

"Uhm...why...why not?" He reluctantly agreed on my little proposition, sighing before he gave me his own muffin with some chocolate chips on the top of it. "And...giving me your money?" He demanded.

"Sorry but I don't have my wallet now," I excused myself, having never got a wallet since...a long time with me. "Maybe I can give you the money when you will come to Century House," I suggested, taking directly a bite on the muffin and that, it was so good to taste something today. "Now, I'll leave you to your own coffee, remember that we don't forget what you did for us," I muttered to him before I decides to walk away from him, not even waving at him and having managed to steal his own muffin...what a chance...

Not only that but the tracker was now on him and by luck, it could bring us right to the lair of where he & his little friends of Perseus are hiding in London and I was simply smiling about it, enjoying my muffin on the way back to the car Park was waiting for me and I only got inside at my seat that I saw her with the little tracking device with a green dot blinking multiple times...

"It's working, the tracker is ready to..." Park said before turning around to see me taking a bite of the remains of the muffin. "Uhm...how..."

"I managed to stole it from Lukas before leaving, didn't eat anything this morning," I replied before she could even ask her question to know how I got my hands on that precious muffin. "Well now, we'll know where he is going to hide," I exclaimed, getting my eyes on the tracking device.

"Yes but now, we should go back to Century House, we'll be better," Park suggested before she hand over on my lap the device, letting her control to start the car, putting our seatbelts first as I was thinking of what happened in that pub...

I love when a little improvised plan comes together...

[bluejaywriter]

The Sun and the Moon - deleted scene

This scene was supposed to take place after Hippolyta and Martha became engaged, but there was already too much angst about Hippolyta’s old lovers and Jonathan Kent, so I axed it. I found it again and added a bit more to the end as a gift to you all. (It ended up longer than expected, as per usual, haha). Happy pagan tree day! 🎄

______________________________________________________________

The lone figure of Martha Kent is not one that often graces the edge of the training field, but it is a welcome sight, nonetheless. Antiope smiles as she notices her silhouette against the sun, looking lost and uncertain, surrounded by these fierce, half-naked warriors.

“Welcome, My Lady,” Antiope says as she strolls over, offering up what she hopes is an encouraging smile instead of the tell-tale smirk her sister complains about so often. “Are you here to begin your training at last?”

Martha lets out a nervous laugh, managing to look both frightened and amused at the same time.

“I—no, that does not sound like a good idea, for you or for me,” she says, blushing and glancing away as the women marching past on the field greet her with wide smiles and murmurs of, Good morning, My Lady. “I wondered if we might talk… in private.” 

Antiope raises an eyebrow, but she gives a short nod toward one of the armored warriors who is standing guard, then leads Martha off the field. They walk a short distance down to one of the lowest buildings of New Themyscira, almost a hut set into the limestone. Martha follows timidly as Antiope swings open the door and waves her forward.

The inside of the building is snug, minimalist, almost cabin-like: a sheer contrast to the open and airy rooms of the palace. A simple bed lies tucked against the wall, and an even smaller kitchen is set beside the door.

“On Themyscira, just as much of our training was done in the city as in the wild. Menalippe and I had no use for elaborate rooms or carved hallways. We made our homes in the places where we laid our heads at night, whether it was upon feather pillows, stinging sand, roots and stones.”

Antiope brings out a chair and gestures for Martha to sit. She does, folding her hands into her lap, then she takes a deep breath and tries to force herself to relax, or to at least keep her knees from shaking.

“Now.” The Amazonian general seats herself and leans forward. “What has my foolish sister done this time?”

And Martha gives a small smile, shaking her head.

“It’s nothing foolish, it… I just don’t know who else to talk to, who else to ask.” Martha glances away, wringing her hands. “The Queen and I are… engaged. We’re going to be married.”

Antiope doesn’t react.

“Well done.”

Martha nods once and goes on.

“Yes, but… before, we had this long discussion about—I don’t even know. She seems so concerned about what I want, about making sure that I’m not unhappy, and it’s almost to the point of, she… she gives me what she thinks I want, instead of what I say I want. It’s not quite that, but it’s something similar. It’s like she’s hyper-worried about me being unhappy.”

“Hmm.” Antiope’s startlingly blue eyes—lighter than her sister’s, sharper, somehow—gaze back at her for a moment, then she turns in her seat and seizes the pitcher of water from the wooden shelf behind her.

“Is that a bad thing?” she says casually, pouring herself a glass and offering one to her guest. Martha shakes her head with a murmured, No, thank you.

“I mean, no, not in theory,” Martha says quickly. “But it’s not realistic, no one is happy all the time. And especially not me.”

Antiope drinks, but her eyes never leave Martha’s face. She doesn’t speak, and Martha stumbles on,

“I mean… I am very happy here. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And Hippolyta is wonderful, I love her, and I can’t wait to be married to her. But I can’t seem to get her to understand that I’m here by choice, that I want to be with her, that… that her entire world doesn’t have to revolve around me, and making me happy. I’m not that high maintenance, I was on my own for years, I don’t need to be coddled. And it’s not—it’s not that she’s coddling me. That’s not fair. It’s just… I’m afraid of showing some sides of myself to her, because I know she’ll try to fix it. And sometimes I don’t need someone to fix it, I just need someone to listen, and be there. Sometimes that’s enough. Do you…?”

“I understand, Martha Kent,” Antiope sighs, leaning back in her chair, stretching out her legs in a way that almost seems nonchalant. “I’ve heard it before. Why do you think Diana trained with me instead of with her?”

But Antiope waves her hand impatiently before Martha has a chance to form some meaningless answer.

“The Queen… is very protective. She was before the Amazons’ enslavement, but after… it became unbearable to her, the thought of any of those under her protection being in pain. It took centuries for her nightmares to stop, centuries of Mena staying up with her, praying over her, plying her with sleeping draughts. The Amazons know, and they understand, and they love her for it. None of us blame her for what happened, we all welcomed the men with hope and optimism. But she took the weight of what happened upon herself, and for so long, love and pain—romantic love—were one and the same.

“She has loved no one since Heracles, did you know that? In order to truly understand her, you must understand the depths of her rage at his betrayal. If her had wronged her only, perhaps… but he overtook her country, enslaved her people, stripped her of her rule for a hundred years. And she has forgiven him now, of course, it has been thousands upon thousands of years—do not think for a moment that she is still living in the shadow of a man. But it changed her, frightened her. I urged her constantly over the years to move on, to allow a woman to soften her, forgive her, to let go of this damned guilt. We were free. It was time for her to live as a free woman, to enjoy the life that we fought so hard for. And I do believe she tried. She truly tried. But until you, she found no one who could love her and soothe her like you apparently can. So you are the one who must be patient while she deals with all of these issues that she has not faced since Heracles.”

Martha stares down at her knees; they’re trembling now for a different reason.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“It is very likely that she didn’t want to upset you,” Antiope replies, rolling her eyes. But her face is not unkind as she reaches out and grips Martha’s hand. 

“She may be a Queen, Martha Kent, but she is still a warrior. Get in her face and tell her, and do not back down when she tries to withdraw. She will listen to reason if you persist, but not a single moment before.” 

Antiope rises and tosses aside her empty glass of water, apparently finished with this conversation, but she pauses and glances back down at Martha’s miserable figure.

“But… do it in private. The Queen hates being accosted in public. It is a lesson Diana never learned.”

____________________________________________________________

Martha finds her target in her office that night, sitting at her magnificent desk, reading through a stack of scrolls: reviewing the business of the day, scanning through the business of tomorrow. She looks up when Martha steps in, and gives a small smile of welcome.

“Little one.”

“May I… I’m sorry to bother you, I’ll wait til you’re done, I just wondered if I could speak with you.”

“You can always speak with me,” Queen Hippolyta says, an eyebrow raised, concern seeping into her expression, but Martha reaches over and lays a hand over hers.

“Hippolyta—darling. Finish your work. I’ll just be right here.”

And the Queen studies her for a moment, then she nods slightly and goes back to her scrolls. The engagement ring looks so beautiful on her hand, and for a moment, there’s a lump in Martha’s throat as she seats herself on one of the low benches along the limestone walls, and it’s because she put that ring there, she picked it out, and knelt before her, and put it onto that finger, and they’re doing this, they’re in it for the long run, and sometimes they’ll be running with the wind at their backs, holding hands and laughing as they fly together toward the sunset, but other times…

Hippolyta’s hand is a blur, and the next thing Martha knows, the sound of rustling parchment is startling her, and Hippolyta is facing her, opening her arms.

“Come here.”

And Martha goes to her and sits in her lap, wraps her arms around that long neck, and kisses those red lips.

“Now, my patient one… tell me what it is that has put these lines of worry over your forehead.”

And Martha wants to snuggle closer, to say, Oh, it’s nothing, and enjoy her lover’s touch for just a little while longer, but she knows she must speak, and so she sighs and raises her head to look the Goddess of Death in the eye.

“I… went to see Antiope today.”

“Oh? What did my reckless sister do this time?”

“You know, she said something quite similar about you,” Martha says with a faint smile.

“I’m sure she did,” Hippolyta says, but her face is open, expectant, and Martha stumbles on.

“I… I want to tell you something. And I want you to listen, don’t—just let me finish. Okay?”

Hippolyta looks mildly surprised, but she nods and waits as Martha bites her lip, then begins.

“I’ve been unhappy a lot. For a lot of my life, just… so many deaths, and not being able to live and express this part of myself freely, and... it was a lot. And it got even harder after Clark died, it just felt relentless, one bad thing after another, the farm, and the house. When… when I went to see Lois in Metropolis, I was at the end of my rope. I was ready to give up, I was ready for it to be over. My family was gone, the farm, my husband’s legacy, everything, it was like I was at my wit’s end. 

“And maybe if my life had been easier from the beginning, I would be a happier person. And I’m not saying everything was horrible but… it was a struggle, and it took its toll. I’m not a naturally happy person, Hippolyta. Most people aren’t. And sometimes… it feels like you don’t give me permission to be unhappy. Like, it’s natural to not be happy all the time, it’s natural to have bad days. And I feel like you’re afraid of that. And I want you to know there’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m right here. I’m staying right here, in sickness and in health, on good days and bad days. I want to be with you. You could give me a—a magic scepter right now that would let me fly back home, and I wouldn’t go. I’m with you. I want this. And I need you to believe that, or at least try. I just… I can’t have that conversation anymore, that conversation of am I happy, and is this really—I’m happy, and if I’m not, and there’s something you can do to change that, I promise I’ll let you’ll know.”

Hippolyta gazes back at her, and for a moment, Martha thinks that her eyes are beginning to get watery, but the magnificent Queen only pulls her a little closer and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, as if to kiss away her wrinkles of worry.

“Very well.”

Martha waits, but apparently Hippolyta isn’t planning on adding any more.

“‘‘Very well’, that’s it?” she says, her voice a bit too cranky, but Hippolyta just leans back a little so she can tuck a strand of hair behind Martha’s ear.

“All you have said is true, little one. It is your truth, and I have not wished to see it. And perhaps I have been too careful with you—Antiope told me countless times when Diana was a child that I was too protective of her, that my love was suffocating her, stunting her growth, limiting her potential. And with you… you are a human, Martha Kent, and you are fragile as all humans are, and this has not been easy for you: I have seen your discomfort amongst my warriors, your doubts at your place at my side, your longing for your homeland.

“But you are also strong. You are stubborn, and you are determined, and willing to work hard at this, at us, and this… this is something we will do together. We will lead each other, and grow together, and we will speak honestly with one another when things are amiss.”

Martha tucks her head underneath Hippolyta chin, so she can feel the Goddess’ cold collarbones pressing against her skin, and Hippolyta tilts her head just slightly so then her cheek is resting against the top of Martha’s head, and she pulls her a little closer, and it fits, it just fits, they fit, and it’s good, and it’s comfortable, and Martha doesn’t want to be anywhere in the world but right here, just… right here—except, maybe they could move to a soft bed, and they could hold each other even closer, that would also be nice—

“I do have a suggestion, though, little one,” Hippolyta’s voice rumbles against Martha’s fragile human body, and she shivers.

“Uh oh,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t mean it, not really, not half as much as she minds when Hippolyta gently pushes her back a few inches so that she can look her in the eye.

“There is a priestess, an Oracle from the days of the Gods, a healer of the mind. I think it would be beneficial if we spoke with her, both together, but also separately. She is wise in the ways of humans and other sentient beings, and is deeply compassionate; she has helped me and many of my sisters in our healing process, as well as many others in their transition from life to death.”

Martha doesn’t like the idea of telling a stranger all about her private life, but it’s a good one and she knows it.

“Fine, I’ll go see the shrink,” she sighs, but she kisses Hippolyta’s cheek and seizes her hand as she hops off her lap, tugging her away from the desk. “Honestly, I probably should’ve gone a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Hippolyta asks curiously, without a single shred of judgement in her voice, but Martha just tugs harder at her hand.

“We can discuss that with the marriage counselor, Queen Hippolyta,” she says, practically dragging her down the hall toward their bedroom now. “There are other things we can do now to strengthen our future marriage...”

[moodykylo]

Of Experiments and Exhaustion

Wowie! It’s been a hot minute hasn’t it, well I once again have another favorite character so you all get a fic!! This will also be cross posted to my ao3!! without further ado my first tangled the series fic!!

To say that Varian felt awful would be a hilarious understatement. 

He had been feeling off for a few days but thought nothing of it, he always felt like something was wrong anyway, but now there was no denying that the ache in his stomach wasn’t just hunger, or that the heat radiating from his body and sending rivulets of sweat down his face, overexertion. He was undeniably sick. 

 But of course, Varian would ignore every last symptom until he couldn’t anymore, just like always. Only this time he was working as the royal engineer in the palace. 

Varian was working on an invention for Corona, getting fed up with the tremors that would rack his thin frame, leaving him indisposed and dropping his tools. He groaned in annoyance and maybe, a little bit in pain. 

Varian wiped the sweat off his face, shivering. He was freezing but still felt like his brain was cooking in his skull. He sighed in exhaustion, the sigh eventually turning into a coughing fit that scorched his lungs with an agonizing fire. 

When the fit subsided, Varian’s vision blurred, the world a smudge of colors. He grabbed onto the lab table that he was working on, his legs weak and unsteady. 

“You’re okay, you’ve got this.” Varian told himself for the umpteenth time that day. He repeated the mantra over and over again as if it would magically make all of his symptoms go away. 

Once Varian’s vision cleared he let go of his desk and got back to work, or at least tried to, it was pretty hard to focus as his body shook with convulsions, and his stomach churned dangerously. 

With a low moan, he wrapped his arms around his abdomen, willing his nausea to pass. When it didn’t, he sunk to the floor whimpering. “Come on Varian. Y-you’ve got this.” Varian said, pulling himself off the floor. He quickly sat in a chair near his desk, placing his burning and all too light head on his desk. 

He sighed, comforted by the coolness on his skin. He was still shivering, teeth chattering, but his skin was on fire. He placed his head in the palms of his hands for a moment, nausea and dizziness gripping his entire being. 

He stayed this way until he heard the door to the lab open. Upon hearing the creak of the door he quickly lifted his head up and grabbed something to make it look like he was working.

“Hey, Varian!” The voice belonged to princess Rapunzel, the living embodiment of sunshine. Varian heard the soft patter of her bare feet on the floor as she padded closer to his desk. 

“Oh! Rapunzel! H-hey!” Varian stuttered out, cringing at the way his hoarse voice cracked. He did not look at Rapunzel in fear of her noticing something was wrong.

“How’s the invention coming along?” Rapunzel asked, looking over Varian’s shoulder at the slew of messy notes and scattered tools. 

“It’s um… g-great!” Varian said through gritted teeth. He resisted the urge to whine as he felt coursing white pain bounce around in his head. 

Rapunzel smiled widely. “That’s wonderful!” Rapunzel placed her hand on Varian’s shoulder. At the sudden touch, Varian jumped and Rapunzel giggled quietly. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Rapunzel said sweetly. Varian only shrugged feeling his throat tighten with the threat of a coughing fit. Rapunzel noticed him tense. “You okay?” She asked, concerned. Varian nodded at this, still afraid to speak. 

Rapunzel felt like something was off with the young alchemist but she wasn’t sure what, she was sure about one thing though; Varian needed a break. 

“Hey, you’ve been down here awhile… why don’t you join me for a walk?” Rapunzel suggested, beaming. Varian knew he wouldn’t be able to handle a walk so he quickly thought up an excuse. 

“Oh, I uh- I have a lot of work to d-do so I can’t!” Varian stammered. He felt a tickle at the back of his throat and deep in his lungs. He held his breath to avoid a fit of hacking. 

Rapunzel pouted. “Please? Just indulge me?” She pleaded, eyes wide. She wanted Varian out of the lab. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even seen Varian out and about, which was concerning, to say the least. 

Varian couldn’t say no to Rapunzel, even though he really wanted to. He huffed and then nodded. Rapunzel squealed excitedly and grabbed Varian’s gloved hand, pulling him up. 

Varian stumbled, head reeling from the motion. He discreetly grabbed his chair until the world was steady. Rapunzel thankfully didn’t notice, too busy chatting about something, 

He released his tight grip on the chair and followed Rapunzel out of his lab, wheezing from the exertion of having to walk up the steps. He desperately tried not to cough but failed and a few painful and congested sounding coughs escaped. 

Rapunzel stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing the young alchemists choking. “Are you alright?” She turned around and rushed over to Varian’s side as he caught his breath. 

“M-me? Oh! Yeah! I’m fine, just uh dust from my lab!” Varian knew his excuse was terrible but it was the best he could think of with his hazy mind.  He made sure to avoid direct eye contact with Rapunzel. 

Rapunzel seemed skeptical at first but then nodded, turned back around and continued walking, babbling about something that just sounded like static in Varian’s head. 

Rapunzel would glance back to Varian every so often as they walked, his lack of conversation was worrying her. Varian always rambled about new inventions when he had the opportunity, but after 2 minutes of silence, Rapunzel was beginning to get anxious. 

“Varian?” Rapunzel's voice made Varian jump. His head was pounding and his vision was blurring. “Hm?” He looked up to her, shivering profusely. 

“You sure you’re okay? You’re really quiet.” Rapunzel said concern evident in her tone. She slowed her gait to allow Varian to catch up. 

“Mhm!” Varian couldn’t even see Rapunzel’s face anymore, his vision was getting darker by the minute. He was overwhelmed with heat but also freezing simultaneously. His head was pounding in time with his quickening heartbeat. Varian struggled not to groan as another wave of nausea pulsed through his stomach. 

“If you’re sure..” Rapunzel replied, uncertainly, but continuing to walk. 

Varian followed, his consciousness being clouded by ever-growing darkness and disorienting dizziness. He felt himself swaying with every step. The sweat pouring down his face sent shivers up and down his spine. His head felt like it was splitting open. 

Varian stopped walking, panting heavily. “I uh, Rapunzel?” Varian stuttered out, his words shaky. “I don’t… I think I-“ Varian’s vision was fading quickly. 

Rapunzel turned just in time to see Varian pitch forward, his face deprived of all color, except the scarlet flush on his cheeks.  

She quickly reached out, catching Varian before he could hit the ground. It was only now she realized how utterly ill he looked. 

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead, frowning worriedly at the heat that quickly warmed it. She then palmed his cheek, wincing when she felt the same heat that had radiated off his forehead, on her hand again.

“Oh Varian..”  she cooed quietly, going to get help in carrying Varian to the infirmary. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, no! It isn’t my fault I d-didn’t, I didn’t… it’s not my fault!” 

Rapunzel felt her chest tighten at Varian’s fevered mumblings, his voice sounded anguished, he was still hurting, he had told her that everything was fine, it obviously wasn’t. 

Rapunzel was pulled out of her thoughts by Varian waking with a strangled sob, followed by a pained moan. 

When Varian came to, he was immediately bombarded with pain and discomfort. His body felt heavy as lead, a stark contrast from the lightness of his head.

Despite the light feeling, he felt like someone was crushing his skull with a tight vice. He was dizzy and disoriented, he had no idea where he was. 

Varian looked around, the white walls of the infirmary were too bright, he whimpered and shielded his eyes with his arms. 

“Varian?” Rapunzel’s voice broke through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. 

“R-Rapunzel? W-what? Where am I? What happened?” Varian sat up with a wince, coughing harshly into his fist. 

“The infirmary, you fainted, you’re burning up with fever. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Rapunzel’s eyes held sadness and concern, it made Varian’s stomach twist. 

“I uh… I didn’t think it was a big deal. I’m fine! It’s nothing really…” Varian rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

“Varian you passed out! It’s not nothing!” Rapunzel frowned. “You’re allowed to not feel well. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” 

Varian didn’t want to tell Rapunzel anything, he didn’t deserve her kindness. “I know but…” he was cut off by a violent coughing fit that left him wheezing and struggling to catch his breath. 

Once Varian’s breathing was steady and he didn’t feel that he was at risk of fainting again, he spoke. “I… I didn’t want to bother you, I don’t deserve help after everything I did to you…” Varian looked away from the princess. 

“Oh, Varian.” Rapunzel pulled Varian into a tight hug. Varian was puzzled, she wasn’t mad at him? 

“Varian, you only did those things because you were hurting, I've forgiven you a long time ago, maybe it’s time you forgive yourself hmm?” Rapunzel smiled sadly. 

Varian didn’t know if it was the fever or just how awful he was feeling, but he buried his head into Rapunzel’s chest, sobbing. 

Rapunzel was taken aback by the outburst but comforted the boy nevertheless. She cooed soft reassurances to him until his sobbing was nothing more than small hiccups. 

When Varian finished crying he was exhausted. “I… I’m sorry princess, I don’t… I don’t know what happened I-“ 

Rapunzel shushed him gently. “It’s okay Varian, something tells me you needed that.” Rapunzel gave the alchemist’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You should get some rest, you look absolutely exhausted.” 

Varian nodded, laying down and shutting his eyes. Rapunzel’s words echoing in his fuzzy mind. 

Rapunzel stood from the infirmary bed, but she was stopped by Varian’s hand grabbing her own. 

“Thank you, Rapunzel, for… for everything.” Varian’s voice was soft and weak, but he sounded peaceful. 

Rapunzel smiled. “Of course Varian, now get some rest.” 

Varian nodded and fell asleep, his dreams, for the first time in a year, sweet.

[flipomatic]

Shortcuts Chapter 11

Author Note: When I started working on this chapter, I felt like I was doing Ed a disservice. As a result, I split the chapter into two parts, which will increase the total chapter count to 14. That being said, this one is shorter than usual.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

_________________________________________________________

By the time Emira made it home, she was able to dry her tears. She didn’t feel any better, in fact the longer she dwelled on what happened the worse she felt.

She cast an illusion spell before entering the house to cover up her splotchy red eyes. This wouldn’t stop her parents from noticing, but it would keep them from asking questions. They would be far more proud of her for covering up any imperfections than they would be concerned about what was wrong.

Luckily, neither of her parents were roaming the hallways of their large home when Emira walked through it, and she was able to reach her room without incident. Her siblings were probably in their rooms, but she didn’t know for sure. She couldn’t stand to let Mittens see her like this and after what Ed did, she didn’t want to see him.

Emira just went into her room, closing the door behind her. The sun was setting, so minimal light came in through the windows. She didn’t bother to turn the light on before putting her bag on the desk and then collapsing onto her bed. It offered welcome respite from the events of the day. Emira sat with her head in her hands, taking deep breaths to try and focus her thoughts. She let the illusion spell fall away.

How could this all have gone so wrong? In an instant her friendship with Viney fell apart, just like that. It felt like they were finally friends, but clearly that had been an illusion. It was so easily shattered by one event. Emira wondered if she could’ve prevented it, but no matter what she did Viney would’ve found Ed in the passages anyway.

The door to her room popped about a foot open, drawing Emira from her thoughts.

“I thought I heard you get back. I’m really sorry about what happened earlier.” Ed was poking his head through the door, letting light from the hallway in with him.

“Go away…” She muttered, which he ignored. Typical of him.

“Why’s it so dark in here?” He stepped the rest of the way into the room, flicking the light switch on. The sudden light stung her eyes, causing her to squint as they adjusted.  Ed shut the door behind him. His eyes were wide as he looked at Emira, over at her bag on the desk, then back at her. “What happened?”

Emira rolled her eyes, “You happened.” She spoke quietly; she didn’t have the energy to raise her voice. She felt burnt out, listless.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t’ve been in there.” Ed frowned as he apologized again, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s right.” Emira replied. She wasn’t going to forgive him that easily. “And I’m furious with you”

Ed shook his head. “You made that clear earlier, but I also know that my bad decisions aren’t enough to make you cry.” Ed walked across the room to sit next to her on the bed. “I can’t remember the last time you did.” He said in a lighter tone. Emira couldn’t remember either, perhaps it was when she broke a limb as a child? It didn’t really matter right now.

“I…” Opening her mouth to speak about it brought the pain back to the surface, a fresh wave of sadness washing over her. “After you left, Viney kicked me out.” Emira paused, not wanting to devolve back to how she had been at the school. Ed didn’t say anything, waiting for Emira to continue. “I took advantage of her, she hates me now.”

“We didn’t even get to use the passages, not properly.” Ed replied with a sigh, completely missing the point as usual.

Emira turned to glare at him, a new wave of anger sending a surge of energy through her. “And who’s fault is that?” She used the words like a spear. “If you’d listened to me, none of this would’ve happened. What were you thinking, going in there?”

Ed raised his hands defensively. “I thought it would be fine, honest.” He said, then lowered his voice to mutter. “Didn’t think I’d get caught.”

“Well, you were. And you ruined everything.” Suddenly, Emira’s burst of energy faded and she returned to feeling exhausted. She looked away from Ed, casting her gaze on the wall. “I’m not upset about losing the passages, you know. It’s not about them.”

“It isn’t?” Ed asked, though he didn’t sound too surprised.

“Only at the start. Once I started spending time with her, I didn’t want to stop. I even went to the library, me, at the library.” Emira hadn’t told Ed about that when it happened.

“To play pranks? Aren’t we banned?” He asked, looking up as he tried to remember.

Emira shook her head. “No, to read of all things. I sweet talked my way in and even checked out books so I could help her with this crazy complex healing spell.” Ed let out a dramatic fake gasp, the perfect response. “I feel like I’m drawn to her, like I can’t stay away. I don’t know how to explain it.” Emira looked down at her hands, letting out a harsh forced chuckle. “It’s over now, she’ll never forgive me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Ed replied, drawing Emira’s gaze right to him. He shrugged, “Maybe she just needs time to cool off.”

“I hope so.” Emira sighed.

Ed didn’t know when to let something go. “Besides, she must like something about you, to put up with you for this long.” He said with a smirk.

“Shut up.” Emira nudged him in the arm in protest, but couldn’t help the glimmer of warmth she felt at his words.

“I could talk to her to try and fix it.” Ed offered, shifting back to a serious expression.

Emira shook her head. “That would only make things worse.” There was no way Viney would talk with him.

“Yeah…” Ed slumped forward slightly.

The two sat in silence for a minute, thinking about what to say. Again Emira noted how tired she felt, the weight of the day sitting on her shoulders.

Ed broke the silence. “Did I say I’m sorry?” He asked.

“You did, but hearing it again doesn’t hurt.” Emira almost cracked a smile as she replied. “By the way, how’re you going to make it up to me?” She asked, trying to bring her tone up. She kind of succeeded, but knew Ed would see through it.

“Hmm.” Ed rubbed his chin as he thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

Emira thought too, wondering what he could do that would even remotely help. “Oh I’ve got it.” She suddenly had an idea. “The next 5 times we get caught, you deal with our parents.” This was brilliant, absolute genius.

Ed scrunched up his nose. “5 times? They’re the worst.” He complained with a grimace.

“Exactly.” Emira nodded. “Do we have a deal?”

Ed pouted for a moment, but then nodded. “Yeah.” He said glumly.

“Fantastic.” Knowing that she wouldn’t have to cover for them the next 5 times they were caught breaking the rules finally lifted Emira’s spirits, if just a little bit. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, but it helps.”

Ed nodded, “I get it.” He then rose from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m gonna go, want the light on or off?”

Emira thought for a moment. “On.”

“Alright.” Ed opened the door, waving once and then exiting the room. He left the light on and closed the door behind him.

Emira stood up, moving over to her desk. She opened her school bag, looking at the library books inside. They drew a new pang of sadness, but not as strong as earlier.

She thought about taking them out, leaving them at home.

She left them in the bag.

_____________________________________________________

End Note: Took a little detour here, but I think it’s worth it.

Next Chapter

[capsicle13]

Bad Hair Day (Stony/Superfamily)

Hey, guys! I posted this on my AO3 page, but decided to post it here on my tumblr as well. This is my attempt at writing more fluffy Stony stories since a lot of mine are full of angst. I tagged it, but just to warn you, mpreg is implied here. Just briefly mentioned. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it!

*******

Having a child was a life-changing experience, but having a daughter was another experience all on its own. They had no clue how to be parents, especially when starting a family was something they never considered. They were Avengers and in their job, a baby just didn’t fit in the equation.

That all changed and they welcomed their baby girl, Morgan. She was everything they could have hoped for and more; she was their pride and joy; their entire world.

But nothing could have prepared them for raising a daughter. Before Morgan was born and before they learned they were expecting a baby girl, Tony had been hoping for a boy. He knew how boys worked, having been one himself at one point in his life. Boys could be difficult but their actions made sense. Steve on some level agreed, but if he was being honest, he didn’t care as long as their baby was healthy.

Then Morgan was born and everything changed. There was no disappointment or regrets; she was perfect in every way. She mostly resembled Tony with her dark hair and dark eyes to match, but there were bits of Steve in her as well. Where else did her stubborn attitude come from?

Like all new parents they struggled. The early morning feedings and lack of sleep were the hardest, but it had all been worth it. Morgan was the most important thing in their lives.

It got easier as she grew up. Whatever fears and doubts they had about raising a daughter began to diminish. They knew how to comfort her when she was scared or angry; they knew what made her laugh and smile. It became second nature.

But despite all of the things they got right, there was always going to be something to screw up on. They had just anticipated it would be later in Morgan’s life.

It’s a quiet afternoon in the Stark-Rogers residence, something that rarely takes place. Usually their private quarters were filled with some type of noise, whether that be from the sounds of Morgan playing or Tony working on a new project.

The silence is nice and for a change, Steve and Tony are able to enjoy their afternoon. For once they’re not needed to save the world. Morgan is quietly playing in her room, while Tony works on his Starkpad and Steve sketches.

“You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” Steve asks, not even looking up from his sketchbook. Tony hums in response. One look his way has Steve rolling his eyes. “Tony, did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” Tony gives up on the schematics he’s working on, head snapping up at the sound of his husband’s annoyed tone. “Wait, did you ask about dinner because you know I can’t cook.”

Steve sighs in annoyance. “Tomorrow? Ring any bells?”

“Oh picture day! Yeah of course I remember. How could I forget?”

“Just checking. You almost missed her birth.”

“I said I was sorry!” Tony cries out. Steve can’t help but chuckle at the outburst. Although it had been five years since that day and all has been forgiven, Steve still liked to give his husband a hard time.

“I know,” Steve smiles and he leans over to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “I still love you.”

“I won’t screw up again,” Tony promises. They both know it’s a promise that can’t be kept. Screwing up was going to happen sooner or later.

“Daddy? Papa?” Comes the soft voice of their daughter. Morgan pokes her head out from the hall, almost as if she’s afraid to approach. Tony and Steve share a look.

“Come here, Maguna.” Tony waves Morgan over, smiling when she runs into the room and plops into Tony’s lap. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tony asks, gently pushing back a strand of dark hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I want to look good for school tomorrow,” Morgan says, her words only confusing her parents even more. They had spent a majority of the weekend getting everything prepared for her first picture day. Now they’re starting to wonder what they did wrong.

“What do you mean?” Steve is frowning now. He remembers Morgan already picking out her outfit for tomorrow. “Honey, didn’t you pick out something?”

“You picked the suit I made you, right?” Tony asks, getting a glare from his husband. “What?”

“She is not wearing the suit,” Steve warns, then his voice is taking on a much softer tone when he speaks to his daughter. “Morgan, what’s going on?”

“I just want to look good. I really liked the way Auntie Nat did my hair and I want…” Morgan pauses, glancing down at her lap and wringing her small fingers together in a nervous fashion. She mutters something both Steve and Tony don’t understand.

“What? Little Miss, say that again,” Tony tells her and Morgan lets out a small sigh.

“I want you to...do my hair…” Morgan glances up, brown eyes darting back and forth between her parents, nervously waiting for their response.

Steve clears his throat and speaks first, “Oh...um yeah. Yeah, honey we can...do that. Tony?” Steve turns to his husband for back up, nudging him in the knee with his own when Tony refuses to catch on.

“Yeah! But if Auntie Nat did such a good job on it last time maybe she can-” Tony is cut off when Steve shakes his head, clearly not impressed with the answer. “I mean, yeah we can do that.”

“Really!” Morgan’s face lights up and she wraps her arms around Tony’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy!” She pulls away to press a big kiss to Tony’s cheek.

Tony smiles. “No problem. I think Papa needs some love too.”

Morgan agrees and she jumps out of Tony’s lap, rushing into Steve’s open arms and planting a kiss similar to the one Tony received on his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

She runs back to her room with a huge smile on her face. Steve cranes his neck, watching as she disappears down the hall, and when he hears her bedroom door close, he turns toward his husband, a small frown showing up in his features.

“What?” Tony questions. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We can’t do her hair!” Steve hisses.

“Why not? We just told her we would.”

“Do you know how to do hair? Because I don’t!”

“I think you’re overreacting. It’s just hair. We’ve done it before.” Tony shrugs casually and leans back in his seat.

“Yeah once! Tony, there’s a reason Nat does the hair thing,” Steve reminds him.

“Okay well maybe it’s time we do it. I mean, we’re Morgan’s parents. How hard can it be?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Maybe you’re right.”

Turns out, doing their daughter’s hair is much harder than they anticipated.

With picture day literally hours away, there is no time to be wasted, and the once peaceful afternoon shifts into one of utter chaos. Maybe that was too dramatic, but that calmness that was once surrounding their home disappeared the moment they sat Morgan down in the bathroom and attempted to do her hair.

She had been so excited to have her daddies do her hair. Ever since Steve failed miserably when Morgan was two, it was always Natasha doing the styling. That was going to change, though. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

“Ow, Papa that hurts!” Morgan cries, squirming in the chair that had been set up for her to sit in. Steve sighs harshly, cursing under his breath when the brush he was using refuses to untangle from his daughter’s hair.

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s..a..little...stuck…” Steve says while trying to pull the brush free. He tugs a little too hard and Morgan cries out again.

A chuckle on his left reaches Steve’s ears and he turns toward the bathroom entrance, finding a very amused Tony lingering in the doorway. “Need help?” Tony asks, another chuckle escaping him when Steve glares.

“No,” Steve replies firmly, and he turns back to the task at hand. “It’s fine. Her hair is just super thick. Dammit, Tony this is your fault!”

“Are you referring to the idea or the hair? I did have thick hair as a kid.”

Steve sends another glare his husband’s way. “Shut up. Can you…” He gestures at the mess he’s made of their daughter’s hair, a sigh of frustration escaping him.

Not needing to be asked twice, Tony steps into the bathroom and comes closer to inspect the damage. “Yikes,” he winces at the mess Steve had managed to make in less than five minutes. “How the hell did you get it stuck?”

“It’s stuck!” Morgan cries, turning her head to try and see for herself.

“No, no!” Steve assures. “It’s just a little...Tony, do something,” he hisses.

Tony smirks. He goes in as gently as he can; his goal is to get the brush untangled from Morgan’s hair without hurting her or ripping any out in the process. “Damn,” he says through gritted teeth. “I did not know your hair was this thick.”

Morgan emits a whimper when her head is repeatedly tugged in every direction. “Ow, Daddy!”

“Sorry,” Tony apologizes. “Blame your Papa.”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s tempting to fire back with a snarky reply, but Steve bites his tongue. He’s too focused on his daughter and the guilt of putting her in this situation.

“Almost got it,” Tony announces after a few more minutes of fighting with the brush. There’s a loud rip when Tony pulls a little too hard, and Steve’s eyes are widening at the sound. Tony, too absorbed in his victory, fails to notice that he had taken some of Morgan’s hair out along with the brush. “Aha! Got you!” Tony holds the brush up proudly, then he’s noticing the dark wad of hair attached to the brush. “Shit!”

“What!” Morgan’s eyes go wide and she scrambles to turn in her seat. Steve quickly steps in, rushing toward her and spinning her back around.

“It’s nothing, sweetie. Daddy is just...that’s just his favorite word,” Steve tries to assure, knowing that he’s failing miserably. Their daughter was no idiot.

“Is it gone?” Morgan asks, using one hand to reach behind her to feel for the brush. A small smile forms over her face in relief when she realizes it’s no longer stuck to her head. “Thank you, Daddy! You fixed Papa’s mess!”

“Sure did, Maguna,” Tony tells her, shrugging when Steve narrows his eyes at him and gestures angrily at the brush. “Let me try and comb it now okay? I’ll be gentle.”

And by gentle, Tony means cautious as hell. He goes as slow as he possibly can, praying each time he brushes through the dark strands that there’s not another repeat. It goes well, and soon Morgan’s hair is no longer resembling a rat’s nest.

“There! All done!” Tony leans down and rests his chin on his daughter’s shoulders, watching her reflection in the mirror. “Looks good right?”

Morgan frowns and their eyes meet in the mirror. “You didn’t do anything. It looks the same.”

“Actually, it looks better. You should have seen what your Papa-”

“Okay,” Steve intervenes, growing tired of the constant reminder of his screw up. “But Tony, she wanted it…” Steve pauses, turning toward his daughter. “Morgan, what did you want?”

“A French braid. Like Auntie Nat does sometimes.”

“What the fu-I mean what is French braid?” Tony asks, the question more so directed at his husband.

“It’s a really pretty braid. Auntie Nat did it for me one time,” Morgan smiles. She reaches up to play with her hair, oblivious to the confused looks her parents are sharing behind her.

“I think we better get Nat-” Steve begins to suggest, but Tony is quickly shutting that idea down.

“No way. We can do this French braid thing. Now hand me the brush.”

Steve sighs and grabs the brush, placing it in Tony’s hand. “Please don’t mess up,” he mutters to himself.

Tony of course messes up in the first couple of minutes. Luckily the brush didn’t get stuck again, but the hair ties were becoming an issue. Morgan cries out whenever Tony ties it too tight or when it gets tangled in a few strands of her hair. With a huff, Tony steps back.

“You give up?” Steve asks from his spot on the edge of the tub.

“Nope! I just need something,” Tony explains, then he’s rushing out of the room.

“Don’t get the suit!” Steve calls out, then he’s groaning and burying his face in his hands.

“Papa?” Morgan’s scared voice captures Steve’s attention and he’s snapping his head up in her direction. “Daddy isn’t going to be Iron Man when he does my hair, right?”

“God I hope not.”

Tony returns a few minutes later, thankfully not dressed in the familiar red and gold suit. “Needed my tablet.” He holds it up for a second before propping it up on the sink and typing something on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Steve grows curious when another voice fills the room and he comes over to investigate. The video Tony has playing shows a girl with a bubbly personality demonstrating how a French braid is done. “Does this work?” Steve asks, gesturing toward the screen.

“It’s supposed to. People watch tutorials all the time,” Tony answers, then he’s turning his attention back to the video. He watches the full thing, then he’s shutting it off, feeling confident that he can pull off the same look the woman demonstrated.

“That’s it?” Steve asks when Tony immediately jumps back in at styling Morgan’s hair. “You’re not going to watch it again or keep it playing and following the steps?”

“Honey, I got it. I’m a genius, remember? I only need to watch it once.”

Tony could not have been more wrong. He had felt his confidence surging within when he first started working on Morgan’s hair, but little by little it was starting to diminish, leaving him feeling that he was doing a worse job than Steve.

Separating the strands had been the easy part, but when it came to twisting and forming those strands into the pretty braid shown on the video, that’s when Tony lost it.

“What the hell?” He grumbles to himself, gritting his teeth in frustration when he fails to get Morgan’s hair just the way she wants. Morgan whimpers when he tugs too hard and he quickly apologizes.

“Daddy, maybe we can call Auntie Nat,” Morgan is starting to sound like Steve. Tony doesn’t know how many times Steve had suggested the same idea during the past ten minutes.

“Nope. Daddy’s got this, sweetheart,” Tony assures. “Give me another thing,” he gestures toward the sink.

“Another thing?” Steve questions, brows drawing together in confusion. “What thing?” he asks, when he fails to understand what his husband is referring to.

“The thing! The-the little tie things!”

“A hair tie!”

“Yes!”

“Daddy…”

“I got it,” Tony promises. He takes the little pink hair tie Steve offers and carefully ties together the strands of hair. “I think it’s working.”

“You think?” Steve is skeptical, craning his neck to get a better view of what his husband has been doing for the past thirty minutes. He frowns at the results. He doesn’t remember that from the video. “Tony, are you sure that’s right?”

“Yeah,” Tony sounds so sure of himself. He takes a step back to examine his work, humming as he takes in the final result. “Looks good to me.”

Steve frowns. “I thought she wanted a long braid. You have…” Steve counts silently to himself. “Three...four braids? And this one isn’t even. It’s-”

“Do you want to try?” Tony snaps. “Go ahead, Steve try! See how difficult it really is!”

“Maybe Auntie Nat-”

“No!” Steve and Tony both say simultaneously.

“Move,” Steve growls, nudging Tony out of the way. “I’ll do it.”

*************

The last thing Natasha expected was to hear her doorbell ring. It wasn’t terribly late, but no one rarely came to her door in the middle of the night, unless it was of course an emergency. She frowns as she makes her way toward the door, the confused expression only growing when she opens the door and reveals her two best friends and niece.

“What is going on?” Natasha asks, then she notices the state her niece is in. “Oh my God what did you do to her hair!”

Morgan whimpers, bottom lip jutting out and trembling and tears in her dark eyes. The hair atop her head is a complete disaster, twisted in some areas and tangled in others, colorful plastic ties decorating each strand of the dark locks.

“We tried,” Steve is the first to explain. Tony holds up the brush that they had been using, and Natasha’s eyes widen at the large hairball the brush had collected.

“Tried what exactly? What is this!” Natasha reaches outs and examines one of the failed braids. “Do you hate your child?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Tony exclaims. “Can you just help us out? We obviously suck at this hair thing.”

“Obviously,” Natasha says, then she’s directing her attention to Morgan. “Hey, sweetie, I’ll fix it okay? Go into the bathroom and I’ll be right there.”

Morgan sniffs and nods her head, then she’s disappearing down the hall toward the familiar bathroom.

“I swear we tried,” Steve tries to explain when Natasha is sending them another disapproving look. “It’s just...we’re…” He looks at his husband for help.

“We’re guys and we’re stupid. Please help us before our daughter really does hate us and wants to move in with you,” Tony says.

A smile breaks across Natasha’s face. “She doesn’t hate you. Though after tonight, she might want to live with me. I’ll convince her that she’s better off with you two morons.”

They’re invited in and they make themselves comfortable on the sofa while Natasha attends to Morgan’s hair down the hall.

“I think we think we’re horrible parents,” Steve says.

Tony hums in agreement. “I know we’re not perfect, but damn I thought we would get this right. This can’t be the worst thing we’ve ever done, has it?”

“I don’t know.” Steve tries to think back to anything they’ve ever done that could top this. “I don’t think so. Just wait, though. Something worse will come along.”

“Jesus,” Tony groans and he leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “Wait till she’s a teenager.”

Just that thought alone makes Steve sick to his stomach. “Oh God and boys. And other things I really don’t understand.”

“You’re dealing with that one!” Tony points a finger in Steve’s direction.

“I don’t want to think about it. She’s still our baby.”

“She’ll always be our baby.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees.

A few minutes pass before Natasha and Morgan are entering the room. Both Steve and Tony jump to their feet when their daughter approaches them. She no longer has tears running down her face, and instead she’s wearing a bright smile.

“Look! Auntie Nat fixed your mess!” Morgan spins around to show off her perfect braid.

“How the hell did you do that?” Steve asks and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, it’s not rocket science.”

“You’re right,” Tony says. “Rocket science is much easier to understand.”

“You look beautiful,” Steve smiles down at his daughter. Morgan throws her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“I know you tried,” Morgan stares up at him. “I still love you.”

“Hey. What about me?” Tony fakes being hurt and Morgan giggles, rushing toward him to give him a hug. Tony picks her up and she hugs him tightly.

“I love you 3000!”

“Hear that?” Tony says. “She loves me more than all of you.”

“Go home,” Natasha teases and she walks them toward the door. “You know you can always ask me for help, right? I don’t mind doing her hair. It’s fun.”

“We know,” Steve says. “We just wanted to give it a try.”

“Well, come by tomorrow and I can show you boys how it’s done.”

Natasha opens the door and Steve steps out first, but Tony lingers in the doorway. “Oh! Since we’re on the topic of help, can you help us with another issue?” He asks.

“What is it?” Natasha raises a questioning brow.

“We’ll let you know in seven years.”

[yankyo]

accident

Chamie has a very bad day

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, blood, not a very happy time 

@realmonsterboyhours is to blame for encouraging me 

   He didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to. But what did that matter when you were hurt and your blood was dripping from his claws? The clone curled in deeper in himself, already purple and blue hair turning black even as the other clones around him began to swarm around you both, shouting and pushing him away from you. The day had started off so well. How did it quickly become this?

   When he had woken up that morning, he awoke to his comfortable nest of stuffies and stolen clothing. Well, stolen was a stretch, it seemed you had realized he liked things that smelled like you and would wear stuff you didn’t mind him taking. Every week his nest would be deconstructed, everything would be washed and he would have a new round of clothing to curl up against.  You did so much for him, you were the most patient and caring and just the best. You deserved to be treated just as well if not better than how you treated everyone else and with that thought, Chamie got up early that morning to cook you breakfast. Eggs and toast shouldn’t be that hard, right? And a cup of coffee was the simplest thing! He had seen you brew coffee for weeks with the greatest of ease in preparation for this and he was certain he had it. Well, certain until he found himself with a watery cup of half cooked grounds and the charcoal remains of what was once food. One lecture from Ren later and a banishment from the kitchen while the mess was cleaned up, Chamie was left pacing the living room.

   OK.... cooking had been an abject failure, but that didn’t mean he should give up? Right? There was other ways he could help around the house! You had said that you needed to vacuum the other day, so while everyone else was busy in the kitchen, he dragged the vacuum into the living room and got to business. This was fairly easy! The sound was grating but he liked seeing the crumbs disappear and the dirt swirling up in dirt home was entrancing. So entrancing in fact that he didn’t realize he was vacuuming up one of his balls of yarn and the vacuum had begun to smoke until another shout from Ren caught his attention. Another lecture later and your disappointed face as you realized the vacuum couldn’t be fixed, Chamie hid away in the cupboard until it was time for you to go to work. Task one and two ended in screaming failure but that didn’t mean he should give up? Right? There had to be something that even he could do right? .........right? There was a feeling in his gut he knew very well, it was the same feeling he got whenever boss would take the other clones on a job but leave him behind, it was that feeling he got when the others would take a task right out of his hands and finish it themselves. It was this bitter, useless feeling that made him want to curl into a tiny ball and just disappear. But he hadn't tried hard enough yet! There was still something he could find around the house, still something he could do to help your day be easier! He just had to find it! So with that motivation, Chamie crawled out from the cupboard and began his search for a purpose.

   The kitchen was still a no go, he could hear Bee's and Wasp's voices from inside as they cleaned dishes.

   "What made him think he could cook today?" Bee muttered, "damn this is just baked on, we might have to let it soak and hope it didn't stain the pan..." the bitter feeling tightened his chest for a moment, but Chamie quietly pressed forwards. The living room was not much better, Cici and Ren were there still fidgeting with the yarn.

   "How did that idiot not see he was vacuuming up his own shit. Who even let him have the vacuum to begin with?" Cici grumbled as they used their claws to shred the tangled yarn from the vacuum.

   "You know how Chamie is. Once he gets an idea in his head, he goes through with it, no matter how disastrous the consequences." Ren's response made Chamie twitch, wanting to defend himself but unable to think of anything he could say back... after all, it was true he was an idiot. Everyone knew that. So instead he tiptoed past the pair into the next empty room he could find. The laundry room. You did have to clean everything up soon and you always washed his nest, so why not clean this up for you! Maybe if he got the laundry done and everyone came back to the fresh, neatly folded, clean clothes all of his mistakes that day would be forgiven!

The washer had a bunch of buttons and a large dial in the center that the demon stared hard at for a minute, trying to figure out what it all meant. Well.... the hottest water was the best, right? So he pressed that button a few times. Spin? What did that mean? He chose high, just in case. Soil level.... hmm... heavy?? With that completed Chamie looked through the various cleaners neatly set up against the wall. He knew which one bleach was because when he had attempted to drink it way back when, you had screamed because you thought it was dangerous. He gave it a cursory sniff now, licking his lips at the smell, but he couldn't drink now! If he drank it, when you got home you couldn't give him a kiss until every last trace of bleach was gone! So he set that aside and grabbed the big green bottle he deemed to be the clothes soap and poured that into the open mouth of the washer before he grabbed the clothes hamper and started stuffing in the dirty clothes. Once not a single sock more could fit, he grabbed the creamy looking liquid and poured that on top before he closed the lid and pressed start. For a minute, nothing seemed to happen, but before his eyes water started pouring in from seemingly nowhere and the clothing began to rock back and forth as it got wet. Interested, Chamie pressed closer to watch the show and between the pleasant warmness of the washer and the rocking sensation, he soon fell asleep right there.

   “Another one? Lawrence how many of these damn things you plan on making? It’s bad enough I gotta deal with your needy ass all day long.” Juno peered at him over her thick rimmed glasses, disdain clear on her face. “What’s this one even good for?” The question made the newly formed clone shiver, shrinking back under her cold gaze as his hair flashed between colors he didn’t yet understand. All he knew was this lady was bad news and he wanted to be far away from her.

   “I don’t know.” By his side, his little boss was trembling too, but his gaze was focused on the ground instead, his hands tight fists at his sides. “He just... showed up today.” The new clone wanted to hold the boss’s hand, so without thinking, that’s what he did. The hand was small like his, and similarly cold, but the child glanced his way with wide eyes, a tiny grateful smile curling at his lips at the gesture.

   “Oh I see, he’s more of that stupid sentiment you keep clinging too.” the snark made both of them jolt and back away but before the clone could escape her grasp, he was grabbed by the shoulder and yanked forwards.

   “Mom!” Beetlejuice shouted, “Please don’t!” The clone closed his eyes tightly and braced himself, but what good could that have done him when that heavy hand that dragged him along threw him back against a wall.

   “How many times do I have to teach you this lesson! Demons don’t need this kind’ve crap! I swear the only thing you manage to do is fuck everything up! No wonder even your useless father jumped ship at the mere sight of you! I wish I had done the same!” The clone knew he had broken bones, could feel them trying to reattach themselves but the sound of the crying child made him want to crawl forwards. He had to comfort him. He had to stop his tears. His limbs didn’t want to listen, but with great effort, the clone dragged himself by sinking his claws into the grounds and pulling with all his strength, inching forwards bit by bit. “great, now this stupid thing is smearing it’s blood all over my floor!” Juno’s voice was close, but it echoed as if it were far away. The clone ignored it, he had to get to boss. A sharp heel slammed into his back, the ripping pain making the clone yelp. The heel dug in deeper, tearing flesh and crushing bone, but the clone reached for the child, wishing he could stop his crying.

   Chamie jolted awake, his hand reaching for his back as if expecting to find a hole, but when he found nothing, the clone settled back down with a huff. It had been a while since he had that dream... after all, when Boss met you and trusted you enough to meet them, the clones all seemed to be rid of the nightmares that once plagued them all. All good things had their limit, he supposed and tried to shake off the memory, but he couldn’t help but scratch at the old scar that lay on the small of his back. The washer seemed to be done, at least it wasn’t shaking anymore so Chamie reached in to grab the wet clothing. They weren’t super wet anymore and they seemed to have some soap still on them, but that was probably just what happened sometimes so he threw the mass into the dryer anyway and pressed start once more. The house was fairly quiet so as the dryer sputtered to life Chamie stepped out of the laundry room to see where everyone else was. Boss was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t weird. He always bounced from place to place, this time Chamie supposed he had gone back to play with Lydia or something. The other's were gone and he didn't hear your voice so he assumed they were off on their own errands and you were probably still at work. That left the house to him for the time being, so Chamie looked around to see what else he could do. Living with nine other people tended to make a mess, even if the others came and went as they pleased and Ren followed after with a dustpan, so Chamie set to picking up the mess laid around.

    Jazz had a little music station to work at whenever he wanted to make a new song and in his creative process, papers and things ended up being tossed to the wayside so Chamie organized the papers to the best of his ability and took the crumpled balls off towards the trash. Better already! Cici, on the other hand left books everywhere. They would start reading one, get bored of it and leave it by the wayside to get back into later, so Chamie looked all over for their books to put them all up in the bookcase. There were a few that didn’t perfectly fit, but with a bit of extra strength and determination, Chamie was able to shove each one into place. Next came Jay’s toys. Jay left his puzzles all over the place, so to clean up, Chamie gathered up the puzzle pieces and found a box that looked like what it came in to put away. His toys were stacked neatly in his corner by Chamie’s own nest and the demon took a moment to look around the living room with satisfaction. Cleaner already! Why didn’t he do this more? This cleaning stuff was easy! He did hesitate when stepping into the kitchen, because he was sure his banishment was far from over, but he could see some unwashed dishes in the sink! Wouldn’t it be good for him to clean those up? Surely even Ren wouldn’t have any complaints if he did that!

    The dishwasher was an interesting specimen that he still was unsure of how it worked. He assumed it ate the remaining food off of the plate and licked it til it was shiny, but when he suggested that to you, you had merely giggled. The mystery still stood. But loading the dishwasher wasn’t hard at all, all he had to do was cram a dish where it fit and keep on moving! When it came time to put the shiny pod in the hole, he paused. Wouldn’t it be better if he just put soap? What was this shiny pod doing? Wouldn’t it be better if the monster in the dishwasher had soap on it’s tongue? With a silent nod to himself, Chamie instead ate the pod himself and poured in some of the soap into the hole instead. Next came finding which button to push to tell the monster it was time to start. Chamie just started pressing until he could hear a hum from the dishwasher and the sound of rushing water. Success! With things looking much cleaner, Chamie curled back into his nest to await everyone’s return home, snuggling up to a long pillow you had put one of your hoodies on to sink into your scent. Nightmares would never hurt him when he had your smell with him, after all.

    There wasn’t any telling when he had fallen asleep, but he was awoken with a start as he heard an anguished yell. The clone all but leapt to his feet to see what the matter was, but only found his fellow clones standing around the living room, all looking rather put out.

    “He ruined my puzzle! I’ve been working weeks on it!”

    “You don’t just cram them in, you moron, that ruins the cover! If even one of them rips, I swear I’ll-“

    “Where the fuck is the rest of it? I was gonna serenade Songbird on our date night!”

    “What the hell did he do? What’s with all these bubbles?” There was too much shouting. It was hurting his ears. He didn’t like it. But even as he tried to cover his ears and sink down into his nest, he was dragged out by his ankle by a very pissed off looking Jazz to face the rest of the clones, each a glaring red as they looked down on the cowering Chamie. He wanted to wail, to tell them that he was just trying to help, but as they bombarded him with questions he could feel himself retreating back further and further into his own mind. What were you thinking? How stupid can you be? You ruined everything! We’re going to have to clean up your mess again! Why can’t you just do something useful for once? His lower lip trembled, unshed tears stung his eyes, seeming unwilling to fall as the clone curled into a ball and tried to appear smaller. He wanted to disappear. Distantly, he heard the sound of the door. Heard a new voice over the chaos of the other clones. A female voice. Eyes that were no longer truly seeing what was in front of him stared blearily onwards, only really catching the motion of what looked like a hand coming at him. Don’t hurt me! He swung without thinking, baring his teeth at the threat as he scrambled back up against the wall, but instead of hearing Juno’s enraged shriek, instead he heard a pained yelp that made his world stop spinning. The fear he had once felt turned ice cold when he registered you sitting before him, your arm bleeding from where his claws had torn your skin open. His fault. His fault. The other clones swarmed the both of you, helping you up to your feet even as they shouted at Chamie, even as they gave him horrified and disgusted looks. He felt the same.

    It was an accident, but what did that matter? He was just doing what he did best, after all. Chamie’s ruined everything.

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 20

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3153

A/N: Welcome back to a new chapter of AASB! Again, sorry for taking so long with posting this, but shit happens. Am I shooting myself in the foot by posting this at noon on a Sunday? Potentially. Am I just so damn excited to release this that I can’t wait any longer? Absolutely. Feedback is always appreciated and, if you enjoyed, I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblog.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20: Word to the Wise

If you had thought the Underworld to be vast before, discovering there’s an entire cave system beneath Hell smashes your former mental blueprint to bits. At this point, nothing about the Underworld, or anything involving Michael, should surprise you, but it still manages to catch you off-guard. Michael grips your hand as you stumble down the uneven ground, eyes fixated on the crystals that seem to grow from the ceiling of the caves.

“Y’know, when you insinuated your friends weren’t Greek, I thought you were actually giving me a hint and we’d go somewhere exciting, like Norway,” you say before nearly tripping over a rock.

“And I thought you would know by now that I’m almost never going to tell you the truth when you ask me to reveal something.”

“A girl can only hope, Michael.” The cave seems as if it’s never-ending, and you strain your eyes to see in the semidarkness. “Who lives all the way down here, a hydra?”

“Yes, but not in this particular area.”

Your eyes widen. “Damn, I was joking, but that’s good to know.”

“How much do you know about the Moirai?” At the bemused look on your face, he elaborates. “The Fates?”

“They...control peoples’ fates?” you say slowly, knowing that Michael will be happy with any answer you give him, even if it’s the wrong one.

“They write out the strands of fate for everyone, mortal or god.”

“Well, guess that philosophical debate has now been solved.” Michael snickers quietly. “So, we’re going to see what they know about different ways to go about this whole immortality business?”

“I’m hoping that if I call in a couple of favors, the Fates will give us a small glimpse of your future. Just enough to know where we need to be going in order to find immortality.”

Michael stops you in front of what, at first, looks to be a dead end. You’re about to turn to him and ask where a wrong turn was made when you notice small cracks that form a square. 

“Secret door?” you can barely contain your excitement; out of all of the wild and fantastical things you’ve gotten to see and do since Michael whisked you down the Hellmouth, exploring secret doors was not one of them.

(Secret hallways, yes, but that was a disaster that you never want to relive)

“Yes, a secret door,” Michael smiles at you. “Would you like to do the honors?”

If Michael thought your wonder upon seeing the Underworld’s library was childlike, that hardly compares to the guileless surprise on your face now. 

“Seriously?” He nods, and you stifle a squeal that wouldn’t be very becoming of the future queen of this realm. 

Placing your hand on the rock, a simple push is all that it takes for the door to swing open as if it’s made of paper, revealing an entire warehouse inside of what you thought would be a small cavern. There’s shelves upon shelves of what looks to be rows of film, are stretching back for at least a mile. While it seems like an operation so large would be hectic, it’s actually quite calm. Some upbeat 80s pop music plays in the distance, and a small woman with dark skin and wild curls sits at a large desk in front of you. She’s hunched over an enlarger, forehead creased in concentration as she sifts through some film. It’s only when Michael clears his throat that she looks up, gasping in excitement.

“King Hades!” she greets, eyes flickering to you. “And you’ve brought your consort!” 

Michael begins to shake his head. “No, not yet, remem-” but the woman is in front of you in a flash, almost bouncing in excitement.

“We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, (Y/N),” she smiles widely at you.

“So long, in fact, we were beginning to worry that we were going to be wrong about something for the first time in history!” a voice chimes in from the back, the sweet soprano tone echoing through the shelves. Although you try not to laugh, Michael’s red cheeks ruin that gimmick for you.

“Clotho,” Michael calls, “always one to hide where I can’t see you when you decide to make one of your infamous comments.”

A younger girl with her curls done up in a bun, although still identical to the one gripping your hands, skips out from between the shelves of film. “Oh my, she’s even prettier than what was prophesied!” 

Now it’s your cheeks that heat up. “You flatter me, really.”

“(Y/N), these are two of the three Fates. Clotho,” he gestures to the teenage girl, “is assigned the present. Lachesis,” the one holding onto you, “works solely on the future. Where’s Atropos?”

“Hmm, she’s around here somewhere,” Clotho says, scanning the room for any sign of the missing Fate.

“Sister!” Lachesis calls out. “Sister, come say hello!”

“One moment!” A door opens off to the side of the shelves, and another girl, even younger than Clotho, beams at you. “Hello!”

“Atropos,” Michael greets the Fate, who looks to be only 10.

“So you control the past, then?” you ask, watching her curls bounce as she nods. It makes sense, then, why each girl is younger than her sister. Place the three chronologically and it’s three different stages of development: past, present, and future.

“What brings you to our domain today, Hades?” Lachesis asks.

“We were hoping you could help us with an answer we’re searching for.” Michael follows the three as they walk towards the desk, leaving you no choice but to follow with them.

“And what question are you looking to have answered?”

“You’re all probably aware that I can’t stay here for an extended period of time,” you take over the explanation.

Clotho nods. “Yes, although it was very impressive to watch you complete the Seven Wonders with so little formal training.”

“Then you know that we’re currently searching for a more permanent way for me to stay here?”

“Of course we know, we’re the ones that wrote out how this would go,” Clotho says haughtily, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be rude, sister,” Lachesis quips, “mortals don’t learn about us like they used to.” 

“Remind us, (Y/N), what methods have you already sought out?”

“Besides the Seven Wonders? Just the pomegranates that grow on the banks of the River Styx, but I worry that I’ll lose my humanity and my ability to go back Above if I eat a fruit that binds me to the Underworld.”

“You were right to be wary,” Atropos says. “We’ve seen far too many mortals eat the entire fruit, not being aware of the consequences.”

“Which are?”

“Being bound to the Underworld is a big one, but you also lose claim over your soul.”

You look at Michael with accusing eyes. “You knew, and yet you still offered that pomegranate to me!”

“I was hoping that it would affect you differently, being that you’re meant to be Queen of the Underworld,” Michael attempts to explain patiently.

“Great, so you were potentially risking my soul based solely on a hunch.”

“I figured that, if that were to occur, I could simply give your soul back to you. There’s not exactly an instruction manual for mortals coming into my kingdom and eating the fruit from one specific tree that would then keep them here.”

“Your theory doesn’t make me feel any better about possibly dying once again, Michael.” One of the Fates awkwardly clears her throat, and you can feel embarrassment welling in your stomach like a balloon. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have been fighting like that. Are...are there any other possible solutions besides the pomegranate?”

The three sisters look at each other, having a silent conversation that seems to stretch on for decades. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, we’d like to discuss this privately. There’s certain parts of a future that we cannot reveal, but we do want to help you,” Lachesis says apologetically. 

“Please, take as much time as you need,” Michael murmurs, waving off their apologies. The Fates disappear through the door the youngest sister came through minutes before, Michael’s eyes on you the moment the door shuts.

“I’m not mad at you, Michael,” you say quietly. 

“You should be. I was careless, and I got ahead of myself without thinking of the possible consequences. I put your life, your soul, at stake, simply because I was...I was…”

“You were being stupid is what you were doing.”

Michael nods. “Yes, because I was being stupid. Very stupid, in fact. I’m not used to mortals, my darling, but that is no excuse. I need to learn, especially if we are to be together and you are to retain your humanity. I apologize for my actions in tempting you to eat that fruit, without knowing of the possible effects.”

“I told you that I wasn’t mad at you. I’m just frustrated; you need to learn that we are a couple, and that there are two of us involved in whatever decisions you may make from here on out. I love you, Michael, but my life is much more fragile than yours. I don’t want to take a risk and die and lose you forever.”

“Am I forgiven, then?” Michael’s blue eyes are wide as he pleads with you to not hate him.

“Of course you’re forgiven.” Michael grips your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gratefully. “But don’t do something like this again, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Michael smirks at your unintentional pun, but nods. “Never, love.”

The door opens at that moment, and you and Michael both step apart to resume your previous positions, albeit this time holding hands. Although the eldest is able to conceal her feelings well, her younger sisters prove to not be as well-versed in this skill.

“We have reached an agreement,” Lachesis says, while at the same time Clotho gleefully notices that “you two have made up, then?”

“As if you weren’t aware that this would happen?” You quirk an eyebrow towards the sisters, although you couldn’t be mad at the smiles on their round faces.

“Sometimes there needs to be a bit of conflict in order for couples to become stronger,” Clotho proclaims cryptically. You can’t possibly question the motives of the people who dictate how your life will go, so you simply nod.

“As to the issue of alternate possibilities for immortality?” Michael asks.

“All we can advise you is to ask Hera about golden apples.”

“Golden apples?” You’re visibly confused, and Michael looks to be as well.

“Surely there is something else you can tell us about what else we can do?” Michael prods.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s not.”

“In that case, I thank you for your wisdom and advice with this matter.” The three Fates bow their heads gracefully as Michael leads you out of the cavern, knowing there’s nothing else that they can say.

“What was that even supposed to mean?” you ask incredulously after the door is closed once more and the wall goes back to looking solid. “Ask your sister about golden apples? Are they tripping on acid or something?”

“I can assure you that they are not partaking in any sort of drug usage. The rules on what they can and cannot divulge, however, are extremely strict.”

“Sort of like Back to the Future, then.” Michael looks confused. “It’s a movie, basically he goes to the past and, when he arrives back to the future, everything’s screwed up because of his actions in the past.”

“Yes, then the rules are the same as that in your movie. We must work with what we have, although I’ve never heard anything about Violet and golden apples.”

You shrug. “Let’s go ask her, then! Where does she live? Olympus?”

“No, actually. She prefers to live like a mortal in Oregon.”

“Sounds like Violet.”

Michael smiles. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Can we come and go as we please, now that Satan’s trapped in Cocytus?” Michael’s eyes twinkle with excitement, and he pulls you towards him.

“Show me the Above, beloved.”

Michael transmutes you Above, since you have no clue where in Oregon you’re supposed to be going. You’re in an alleyway, the gray overcast sky lightly sprinkling rain on you. At first, you’re not sure why you’re secluded, but then you look down and realize that you’re both still in the fine dress of the Underworld. With barely a passing thought, you change your outfit to a cozy pink sweater and a pair of light wash jeans, toes flexing comfortably in a pair of sneakers. Michael’s still dressed in all black, and looks as if he came out of a business meeting, but it’s enough of a change that nobody will cast a second glance at his attire. 

“You look cute,” Michael says with a small smile, “this style of clothing suits you.”

“Cute enough for you to relax your rules about me only wearing dresses made Below?”

Michael doesn’t say anything as he begins to walk out of the alley with you, but the glance he gives you is confirmation enough that jeans and t-shirts are in your future. Walking through the glass doors into an apartment building, you shoot a smile and a wave at the security guard, who waves back. 

“What was that?” Michael mutters, waiting as you press the button for the elevator.

“Basic human decency.”

“Ha,” Michael laughs dryly, standing awkwardly in the elevator as you look at him expectantly. “What?”

“Which floor does your sister live on?”

“Oh, yes.” He jabs at the button to the top floor, which is not at all surprising.

“Should we have called ahead? I feel a little rude just showing up unexpected.”

“Knowing Violet, she’ll be on the other side of the doors when they--” the elevator dings and the doors open, proving Michael right when you’re both faced with Violet’s sweet smile.

“What a surprise!” She nearly dislocates your shoulder as she pulls you into a hug, trying to get out a muffled greeting with her hair in your face.

“Violet, you’re going to smother her,” Michael chuckles, pulling his sister away from you so that he can hug her as well. She gives him a one-armed hug, her other hand holding her large-brimmed hat to her head. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Nonsense, it’s never a bad time for either of you to show up. Come,” she begins to walk down the hall, swinging open the door to a large, airy apartment.

The floor-length windows allow muted sunshine to fill the apartment, helping to grow the variety of plants that sit on tables and the floor. Music plays softly from a record player, and you can smell some sort of citrus wafting from the kitchen. A meow has you looking down at the ground, and you grin when a black cat with green eyes comes to rub up against your legs.

“Forgive Morrissey, he loves guests.”

You crouch down to pet the friendly animal between the ears. “I didn’t peg you as a Smiths fan, Vi.”

“I like the melancholic, angsty artists of the 70s and 80s.” The cat doesn’t offer any resistance when you go to pick him up, so you gather him in your arms and follow Violet and Michael to the living room. “So what brings you to my home today?”

“We were actually led here by the Fates,” Michael says as he accepts a cup of tea from Violet. You shake your head when she offers one to you, and she takes it for her own instead.

“Oh?”

“We went to them seeking answers about another potential alley for (Y/N)’s immortality, one that doesn’t involve her losing her humanity and also allows her to leave the Underworld for Above at her leisure. Obviously, if she ate the pomegranate that grows on the banks of the River Styx, she would most likely be bound to the Underworld forever.”

“How did I become involved in your conversation?”

“They said to ask you about golden apples, but that’s all they would say,” you speak up, Morrissey leaving your arms to curl up on Michael’s lap.

“Well, there’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a while. After young Heracles attempted to steal them from me, the world forgot about them, which is for the best.”

“Why are they so dangerous?”

“The golden apples that grow in my garden and are protected by the Hesperides give immortality to any mortal who takes a bite.” You gasp, and even Michael stiffens beside you.

“There’s no restrictions to it? It’s just...immortality?” Michael asks in disbelief, Violet nodding begrudgingly.

“Yes, but…”

“‘But’ what?”

“I’m wary of divulging the location of these to you, to anybody. People have misused and abused these apples for centuries, even leading to wars.”

“Violet, I’m your brother,” Michael hisses.

“And Heracles was my husband’s son!” The cat growls in warning, hair standing up on his back as he hops off of Michael and hides at the tension growing thick in the room. Violet breathes deeply before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but you need to understand that these apples could cause the end of humanity if they fall into the wrong hands.”

“What if,” you think out loud, “what if you were to get the apple for us, Vi? Neither Michael nor I would know the location of your garden, and you’d be doing us an immense favor.”

“It’s a good idea, sister,” Michael chimes in.

“Yes, but there’s a million things that could go wrong on your way back to the Underworld.” You frown, but Violet’s eyes suddenly widen as she gets an idea. “Hold on. What if I did get the apple, and then had Hermes deliver it to you? That way, the location remains a secret, and it’s almost guaranteed that it will be delivered safely to you in the Underworld.”

“Oh, Violet!” You can’t help yourself from throwing your arms around her. “Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me!”

“You have no idea how much this means to us,” Michael amends.

“As I’ve said before, (Y/N) will make a wonderful queen, and a wonderful addition to our family.” You pull away from her, allowing her to stand up and drift towards her bookshelf. “It will take me a day or so to acquire the apple. I cannot transmute as you and Michael can, so it will take a combination of meditation and other methods to get the apple. The moment I do, however, I will send it with Hermes to the Underworld.”

“What will we do while we wait?” You ask, not too fond of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs as you wait.

Michael smirks. “Enjoy your last day as a mortal, of course.”

//

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[rwbyvein]

Rainbow Menagerie: Kali's Wish

Jaune: *head down, working in the pool's pump house*

Velvet: Master?

Jaune: *pulls his head up*

Jaune: Yes, Bun?

Velvet: Can we talk?

Jaune: *sticks his head back down*

Jaune: As soon as I'm finished here. Let's do it in the living room. Make tea.

Velvet: Yes, Master.

* * *

Jaune: *walked into the living room and sat on his chair, only to find all three of his pets sitting opposite him*

Jaune: *picks up his cup and takes a sip*

Jaune: So, what do you want to talk about.

Blake: *looks about nervously*

Velvet: It was something that Mrs... Mo... Kali... said to me...

Jaune: *sips his tea*

*pregnant pause*

Jaune: *gestures to Velvet*

Velvet: I... have to say... how much things means to her...

Blake: That's an understatement.

Ilia: It's probably the thing that means the most to her.

Jaune: *sips his tea and puts it down on it's saucer*

Jaune: So, who's going to tell me?

*pregnant pause*

Jaune: *breathes deep while running a silent version of eenie-meaning-minie-moe*

Jaune: Dyke.

Ilia: *clears her throat*

Ilia: Kali... it seems... wants grandbabies.

Jaune: *deep inhale*

Jaune: *deep exhale*

Jaune: *deep inhale*

Jaune: *deep exhale*

Jaune: *closes his eyes for a moment*

Jaune: Blake, how do you feel about this?

Blake: Master... I...

Jaune: Do you want to be a mother?

Blake: *quickly grabs her stomach*

Blake: What would their life be like?

Jaune: Three loving mothers.

Jaune: *shrugs*

Blake: What... would we do?..

Jaune: We have quite the nest egg. As it is, we could certainly survive on the income of a single huntsman.

Ilia: Master?

Jaune: *picks up his teacup and gestures to her before taking a sip*

Ilia: Pardon me, master, but?.. all three of us would be pregnant at the same time?!

Jaune: You could.

Jaune: *gestures to Blake*

Blake: It's not like we would have 100% control over it.

Jaune: Let the fates fall where they may. But, we have to be ready for all three of you to get pregnant at the same time, and you would be forbidden from going on huntress contracts while pregnant.

Velvet: *delightfully raises her hand*

Jaune: *gestures to her*

Velvet: It's not like being huntresses is the only way we can make money. I can actually make good money with my photography. Most artists have to spend all their money on their studio... but mine is already paid for.

Jaune: Excellent. You just earned yourself some headpats. Any other suggestions.

Ilia: I could... grow food in the garden.

Jaune: Excellent idea. So long as we have enough room to work out. Blake, you look disturbed.

Blake: I'm... sorry... Master...

Jaune: *gestures to Blake*

Blake: It's just... you implied... that you would be acting as a huntsman by yourself...

Jaune: I could just take lower-yield local contracts. Lower pay, much lower risk, and I could come home within a day or two. As it is, we're taking full-team contracts, and most people don't take full-team contracts.

Velvet: We've actually had problems finding enough four-huntsmen contracts.

Jaune: *nods his heads*

Blake: So, you promise... you'll be alright... without us?

Jaune: We do have friends in town here, and local contracts can always call for a posse or the constabulary for reinforcements... or even subcontract to other huntsmen...

Blake: . . .

Jaune: *breathes deep*

Jaune: I promise to run my contracts by the three of you. I can't die here; I have a family to take care of. Feeling better?

Blake (smiling): Yes, Master.

Jaune: And, Kitty, did that answer your question?

Blake: One of them, Master. What would it be like... raising children... in our family...

Jaune: Once they are old enough to realize our family dynamic is... different... we'll explain to them you do this because of your own choice. Teach our daughters how to find a man to take care of her properly.

Velvet: And our sons?

Jaune: Teach them to be these men. We are a loving family... and that's more than some people can say... Do you feel any better?

Blake: Some...

Jaune: Then we can let you think it over... bring this up later... but for now, do Bun or Dyke have any objections?

Velvet: I love the idea.

Jaune: Dyke?

Ilia: . . .

Ilia: If I can be truly honest.

Jaune: *gives her a piercing gaze*

Jaune: You must ALWAYS tell me the truth.

Ilia: . . .

Ilia: *bows her head*

Ilia: I'M SO SORRY, MASTER!

Jaune: *puts down his teacup and stands up, walking over to the couch*

Jaune: *gently places his hand on the back of Ilia's bowed head*

Jaune: You are forgiven.

Ilia: *looks up at him with fear and longing*

Jaune: *grabs her chin and kisses her before turning back around the table to his chair*

Jaune: *sits down and looks back across at Ilia.

Ilia: I... am so... frightened... about all of this... I was raised in!..

Jaune: Stop.

Jaune: *stands up and walks over to the couch*

Jaune: *shifts Ilia over on the couch, the other two squishing over*

Jaune: *sits down and squeezes Ilia into his lap while looking at the other two*

Jaune: *kisses the side of her head*

Jaune (whispers): Speak, but softly, and remember I'm here.

Ilia (quietly): I was... raised in the mines...

Jaune (whispering): The Schnee mines in Atlas...

Ilia: *nods*

Jaune (whispering): the very ones Blake fought against...

Ilia: *whimpers*

Jaune (whispering): You... lost your parents...

Ilia: *shivers*

Jaune: *pauses as he holds her close*

Jaune: Kitten.

Blake: *quickly stands up*

Jaune: Hold her hands.

Blake: *grabs Ilia by her hands*

Velvet: *snuggles up as close as she can*

Jaune (whispering): You're afraid of what kind of mother you will be?

Ilia: *shivers less*

Jaune (whispering): Well, you have us. We will be here with you. You, and Blake, and Bun worked long and hard to make sure what happened to you won't happen to anyone, ever again. That's the wonderful thing about this. Besides, worse case scenario, I'm sure Ghira and Kali would love to come over to help.

Velvet: We'd probably have to tie Kali up.

Ilia: *eyes grow wide*

Ilia: And just why does that give you a hardon, Master?

Velvet: If you are having trouble remembering, I could alway get the group photo...

Jaune: I would love to see it again.

Velvet: *quickly stands up, moves to run away, before stopping and turning to her Master*

Jaune: Before you go, how do you feel about this?

Velvet: With all four of us here, and our friends and family, I doubt we will have any problems doing this... or at least any problems we cannot solve. I would also absolutely LOVE being a mother. If you'll excuse me.

* * *

Jaune sat on the couch, cuddled up and petting his three pets.

Blake: Master?

Jaune: Hmm?

Blake: I have...

Jaune: *gently kisses the side of her head*

Blake: I... agree.

Jaune: I think I know what you're trying to say, but you're going to have to say it.

Blake: I... I've thought... I feel... I want... I want to be a mother...

Jaune: Two of three. Dyke?

Ilia: *nearly shrieks*

Jaune: *squeezes her close*

Jaune: How are you feeling?

Ilia: Better... Master... If I can... of course I can... I'm sorry for...

Ilia: *breathes deep*

Ilia: So content here... Promise me we'll continue doing this...

Jaune: Of course. The kids might just want to join in...

Blake: We're going to need a bigger couch.

Velvet: Or designated cuddling station.

Blake: *rolls her eyes*

Jaune: *scratches Velvet's ears*

Jaune: Dyke.

Ilia: *nervous response*

Jaune: Do you want to do this?

Ilia: I... I... of course I... of course I want to do this... but I'm so... so very...

Jaune (quietly): You want to know a secret?

Ilia: *affirmative groan*

Jaune (quietly): I'm incredibly nervous too... but... I'm not going to be my family, my parents... I'm going to believe in our kids... and teach them what they need to know to do whatever is it they want.

Ilia: *contented groans*

Ilia: I reserve the right for a few panic attacks.

Jaune: *kisses the side of her head*

Jaune: I'm still going to have to spank you.

Ilia: I know... it will have snap me out of it...

Jaune: *kisses the side of her head*

[strawberrymeriadoc]

Saturday afternoon

Merry went to get dressed and brush his teeth. Pippin sat looking out the window. A fine start to my morning he thought. After about 15 minutes, Merry came over, standing in the doorway between the living room/kitchen and the short hallway to their bedrooms. “I was wondering...would you like to go hiking today?” he asked, half expecting to get shot down. “Would I?! Oh yeah, I’d love to” Pippin exclaimed. The boy thought it was a splendid idea. He was really feeling claustrophobic surrounded by Minas Tirith’s many walls. Merry breathed a sigh of relief. He was thankful for his friend’s reaction. That’s one of the things he liked best about Pippin--he was always down for just about anything and he made everything fun. 

[“Alright, then where should we go?” prompted Pippin. Merry hadn’t thought of that yet. He hadn’t really expected to get this far. “Umm, we could take the train to the foothills of Mordor. Or possibly the trolley up to the top of the city and then hike around the peak of the mountain. There are also trails along the river at Osgiliath I believe-”  “I say Mordor!” interrupted Pippin “I must get out of this stifling place. I’ll go buy us some train tickets online. Think you can be ready soon?” “Perfect! Just give me 15 to eat a quick lunch and I’ll be ready to go” 

The train was a relatively recent addition to Gondor’s transit system. Where before there were only roads for horses and later for automobiles, there was now a high speed train line that spanned between Mordor and Rohan, connecting Gondor to its neighbors. Sadly the train line for now did not go past Rohan or else Pippin would be using it to visit Frodo in Rivendell often. Or perhaps see his friends Treebeard and Quickbeam in Fangorn forest. 

Merry and Pippin walked down the winding street past Merry’s favorite flower shop which was closed. Then they walked by Pippin’s favorite cafe. He told Merry about all the different types of teas they had there from all over the world. How he particularly enjoyed the unique flavor of a particular Southron tea. Now Merry absolutely loathed tea, though he knew a decent amount about it considering. He was always interested in things that could be categorized. It felt fun and like he could actually understand something for once and hold it in his mind. Pippin continued about the most recent green tea he had tried: “It was so good I actually bought a bag of it to take home. That’s what I’ve been drinking this week in the mornings.” 

The pair arrived at the station just outside of the outer wall with 15 minutes to spare. Though it took them almost as long to find the platform and then two seats together. The train left the station and the yellow Fields of Pelennor blurred as they seemed to run alongside the train. The ride was exceptionally smooth and the two marvelled at how fast they sped along. Merry got a bit dizzy from the poles that they passed at regular intervals. Something about the regularity of it stressed him out. The train stopped at Osgiliath. The town seemed older than Minas Tirith. But not in a quaint way, at least not to Merry. Pippin was looking out and marvelling at the Anduin, the large river they were about to cross. As the train went over the bridge, Merry saw two white egrets on the shore of the river. That must be a good sign, Merry thought a little self-consciously. Next the train stopped at Minas Morgul. After a while, they came to their destination, the Ephel Duath stop. This was also the last stop on the train although many engineers were working on designing a way to get the train up over the mountains eventually.

The two boys stepped out. Pippin put his arms above his head and stretched. Feels good to get some fresh air, he thought. There was really not much civilization at all. And that’s why it was perfect to Merry. There was a synagogue at the top of a rise. And before it were four or five houses along a narrow, curved track. The hamlet was on the foothills that quickly gave way to the grey rock faces above. Merry marvelled at the trees that were starting to turn. There were pockets of pumpkin orange and amber amid the cooler green trees. “Right! Where’s the trail then” Pippin exclaimed, breaking the silence. Merry was suddenly hurled out of his ponderings. “Oh, well, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve been here before either, Pip” he snapped . Pippin looked hurt. “I-I’m so sorry, Pippin,” Merry stammered, “I really didn’t mean that.” Pippin looked down and walked further ahead. Merry’s instinct was to apologize again but he worried he would be doing it more for forgiveness than for Pippin’s sake. He knew Pippin didn’t have to forgive him. Merry should just sit with the veracity of what happened. 

Where did that come from, Pippin thought, I was just making conversation, I didn’t mean anything by it. He just continued walking up the one track towards the synagogue which seemed to be the only landmark around. Merry decided to stay where he was since Pippin clearly needed some space. He dissociated and stared at the ground. It was light blue gravel. It made him think of a zen rock garden. Pippin turned the corner on the track and was shocked to find a clear path entrance and a small display with a map. “Welcome to Mordor” was written in large black letters above the map of trails in the Ephel Duath. Pippin studied the map for a few minutes then ventured to the trailhead. He realized he didn’t know where Merry was and even though he was still hurt, he didn’t like the idea of leaving him behind for potentially hours. Pippin took a deep breath and turned around to head back down to the station where he guessed Merry would be. Pippin rounded the corner and saw Merry standing in the distance. He was gripping his hand tightly and staring at the ground with his head down. “Found the trailhead. It’s just around that bend there,” Pippin announced hesitantly as he came up to him.

Merry looked up. “Oh really? That’s great!” he said trying to sound encouraging, “Um, do you still want me to come? I really understand if not, I can hang here until the train comes”. “No it’s alright, let’s go” Pippin said though he sounded a little defeated. “I’m terribly sorry, Pippin. I have PTSD and sometimes I just...change suddenly. Especially if I’m startled...I’m not saying it as an excuse, I’m just trying to explain what happened” Merry hoped Pippin wouldn’t think less of him. But on some level what was done was done. He knew Jamie wouldn’t have forgiven him. 

“Thanks for apologizing,” Pippin said, “I was a bit hurt to be honest” “I promise I’m working on it,” Merry added “I’ve been going to a therapist for a few months and I hope that will help…” Pippin gave him a warm smile, “I understand. I forgive you” “Thank you,” Merry said earnestly. “Alright let’s get on this trail!” Pippin exclaimed.  

Pippin and Merry set off on the trail. The path was not wide enough for them to walk abreast in most places, so they walked single file with Merry taking the lead. The trail was of dirt littered with large brown roots and white quartz stones they gingerly walked over. Slowly they wound their way up the mountain. The mountain rose up steeply to their left and dropped off suddenly to their right. Down the incline, there were yellow, battered-looking birch trees. The two companions walked silently except for when Merry would point out birds that he spotted with his keen eye. Pippin knew more about insect identification, but they were harder to spot for him while walking on the trail. 

Merry was enjoying himself. He felt freer being surrounded by trees rather than walls. There were great solid oaks and tall red chestnuts. It was all grander than anything he had seen in the Shire--though the hills, streams, and farm fields would always have a special place in his heart. 

Pippin was thinking about all the new sounds he was hearing. There was a loud knocking sound that seemed to be following them up the mountain. Merry informed him it was a woodpecker: “Probably a Pileated from the sound of it.” Pippin noticed the melodious rustling of leaves overhead and how the leaves were just starting to turn. He relished the oranges and yellows. He thought he could hear a murmuring stream far off in the distance. 

“Hold it! Hold on a minute,” called Pippin to his friend who was getting ahead. “I need a breather and to drink some water.” Merry realized that he too was thirsty and drank some water from the blue metal bottle he had brought. The place where they stood had a beautiful view of the rolling foothills of green and blue below them. Pippin took the time to stretch a bit and Merry, although feeling self-conscious of copying, followed suit. He wasn’t as in touch with his body as Pippin always seemed to be. He admired that about his friend even if he was a tinge envious. Or, rather, he wasn’t so much envious himself, but it was exactly the kind of thing his parents would point out to him and note his clear inferiority. 

After a few minutes they restarted their hike. “How much longer were you thinking of going? I’m not quite tired yet but thought we ought to have a plan,” Pippin advised. Merry looked at the clock on his phone. Hmm it’s getting on towards 5, he thought, and sunset should be around...7. And we’ve walked about a half hour… “Want to go for another half hour and then turn back? That should give us at least thirty minutes before sunset and it’ll all be downhill,” Merry offered. Pippin agreed and they headed further up the mountain. 

Just then two dwarves rounded the bend. They had long braided hair and beards. “Hullo there!” one called. “Hello!” the hobbits answered. “Lovely day for a stroll on the mountain, eh?” said the dwarf adjusting his large backpack. “Yes!” They both answered. “We’re just here on a short hike,” Pippin continued, “We came from Minas Tirith this afternoon.” “Did you come from Minas Tirith as well?” asked Merry. “Aye, that we did, laddie” responded the other dwarf. “Though before that we came from Moria. We wanted a chance to see the mountains while we were so close here in Gondor” “Lovely!” said Merry, “I’ve never been to Moria. I’ve heard it’s very interesting,” “Oh well then you’ll have to come some day. The great halls are spellbinding as the bright light of day streams in and hits the glittering stones.” the dwarf said. “I’m Lon by the way. And this is my friend Goni” he gestured to the other. “I’m Merry,” Merry said. “And I’m Pippin,” Pippin cheerfully piped in. “Well we best be going but it was good to meet you Merry and Pippin” he said, bowing. “Likewise!” “Yes!” said the hobbits in unison who were flustered by the bow but quickly responded in kind.  

“Well they seemed nice,” said Pippin quietly after they had walked further on.

“Yes! I haven’t really had a chance to speak to many dwarves. There aren’t that many in Minas Tirith and those that are are usually just passing through. I wonder if there will be any in my humanities program.”

“There’s a few in the science department though none currently in either of my classes.”

“Interesting! Well, still better than us. Far as I can tell we’re the only hobbits in the whole school.”

“I guess there aren’t that many of us to begin with, and even fewer who decide to leave the Shire.”

The companions came to an old white marble statue. It had a tall rectangular base and above it was the form of a man. But his head was missing. The hobbits wondered what king or warrior he had been. They looked around, but any inscription that had been on the statue’s base had long ago worn away.

As they went higher up the mountain, there were more evergreen trees. Orange pine needles covered the trail and cushioned their footfalls. Merry loved the soft feeling of the needles. After a while Merry took out his phone again and noticed that it had indeed been a half hour. “Well, looks like it’s time to turn around,” he said. But the two were reluctant to turn back. They looked out over the view of the mountain range ahead and the foothills below. They could see the Anduin glittering in the sun. 

Merry felt full somehow. Full of a love not only for the place he was in, but the progress he had made in life the last few months. He was healing. And he was growing. He knew there would be many more obstacles to come, but he at last was beginning to feel like himself. Like he was a person at all. He looked at his companion and smiled. “Thanks for coming on this hike with me, Pippin. I really needed it and it was so lovely to come with you,” he said. “I-I had a good time too,” Pippin responded, “I often have a really good time with you. You make me feel... happy.” “You make me feel happy too,” said Merry.

Merry was filled with a desire to kiss Pippin. But at the same time, he didn’t know what he would want to do once that moment had passed and he felt it was a point of no turning back. Kisses had this terrible weight in Middle Earth. It felt like a contract that was supposed to mean the same thing to everyone and to be a sign that one was romantically and sexually interested in that person. I wish kisses could mean this loving, intimate, loyal thing, Merry thought, I don’t want it to necessarily lead to anything else. But in Merry’s experience, it always did lead to something else: groping, invasion of physical and psychological privacy, a feeling of total non-separateness with the other person, expectations of further kisses, and sex. I want it to mean “I love you. I care about you. Your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance to me.” Like a pact of love and trust, Merry thought. Merry realized it was such a specific desire, he’d really have to explain himself. He wondered if perhaps Pippin would be amenable to that or might even feel the same way. 

The moment stretched out. It was silent save for a robin singing in the distance. Merry gathered his courage: “Pippin, I want to kiss you. I know that can mean many things. It usually means you feel romantically towards a person. But to me it means I care about you and want you to feel safe and happy…and I love you. Would you like to?” Merry’s confidence immediately sank back into the earth and he was left feeling vulnerable, unreal, and ashamed. He looked down as he realized Pippin was silently judging him and his outburst. 

In truth, Pippin was trying to think quickly. It was unexpected but at the same time it felt...right. The day was beautiful, they had just hiked up a mountain together. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it in the back of his mind. But he too was conflicted. A kiss on the lips? That’s what people do when they’re dating! Is Merry asking me out? But Pippin remembered Merry’s words and realized that was not what he was saying. This was unchartered territory for Pippin (and for Merry). But he wanted to kiss him and what he said had resonated. 

“Let’s try it,” he said after pondering all this for a few moments. Merry looked up, surprised. “Yeah? Ok” he said hesitantly. He took a step towards Pippin and clasped both his hands. Then Merry kissed him. It was a very soft, sweet kiss and after a while they both melted into it. Then Merry pulled back. “Was that alright?” he asked, sounding concerned. Pippin grasped his face softly and kissed him. “Yes,” he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Merry felt warm and his heart melted. He leaned his forehead onto Pippin’s and they stood like that for a few moments. Then they looked out over the valley. Merry put his left hand in Pippin’s right. They could see the clustered tops of trees below in greens, oranges, and yellows. Along them rose a steep indigo peak with some exposed silver rock faces. The mountain cast long shadows in the valley, and Merry became aware that it would soon be getting dark. “It’s a shame to go but it’ll be getting dark soon,” Merry ventured, “Shall we head back?” “No,” said Pippin, leaning in to kiss him. He waited for a smile from Merry and then kissed him lightly on the lips. “Ok, now I’m ready,” Pippin added. 

The two turned and started down the mountain, traipsing over blankets of burnt orange pine needles. Merry had enjoyed kissing Pippin very much. But he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. This sort of thing never ends well for me, Merry thought, I hope he won’t treat me differently now.

“You know who else we don’t see much of?” Pippin asked.

“What?” asked Merry, unsure of what Pippin was talking about.

“Elves!”

“Ohhh. There’s just one professor in the humanities department I know of--Professor Arwen. She occasionally teaches Elvish and I think a few other classes”

“Did you know I think she and Professor Aragorn in the Earth Sciences division are married?”

“I had no idea!”

“My friend Frodo is studying Elvish right now. He’s staying in Rivendell at the moment.”

“Oh wow, I’ve heard Rivendell is beautiful!”

“It looks really nice in the Fall. Frodo’s been posting a lot of pictures of it. He also has an account of just fountain pen handwriting in Elvish. I could show you when we get back if you’d like to see it?”

“I’d love to! G-d I wish I knew Elvish. I wish I knew a lot of languages. I’m supposed to be studying Rohirric for the first time this quarter. I haven’t studied a language in almost 10 years and I’m worried I’ll be really bad at it.”

“You? No, I’m sure you’ll do great”

“Thanks” 

Merry gave Pippin a warm smile. It seemed his friend was treating him normally after all. They passed the marble statue and continued along the trail. It was faster going downhill, but with the thick cover of trees, it was starting to get darker than Merry had anticipated. Still, hobbits have keen eyes and they made their way among the roots and stones on the trail. The dwarves must have known how dark it would get soon and that’s why they were heading back so early, Merry thought, internally scolding himself. He was expecting to be held accountable for this like he would have at home. But Pippin didn’t blame him or yell at him so he relaxed a little. Merry looked out. The last of the sun was still hitting the Anduin which glittered like so many fireflies. Eventually they came far enough down that they were closer to the foothills than the mountain ridges above. “Hey, look!” called Pippin as he pointed ahead. There was the trailhead and the sign with the map. The sun finally set behind them, leaving a thick line of orange and pink clouds just above the purple mountains. 

The two companions made their way past the synagogue on top of the hill. It was white with brown shingles. There were a few yellow lights on the outside keeping it lit, but there seemed to be no one inside. I suppose they don’t start Havdalah for another hour, thought Merry. Or maybe the congregation is too small to meet for it. The hamlet was silent. Or at least it seemed so until Merry and Pippin had reached the base of the gravel path close to the train station. Across from it they could hear the sounds of voices and of a fiddle. It was a tavern. “So that’s where everyone is,” noted Pippin. Merry was inclined to go in, realizing how hungry he was. But he remembered the time and the limited number of trains. “We should find out when the next train is,” he said. Pippin had already started towards the tavern. He let out a sigh “Oh, I suppose you’re right.”