#i exist....... inside others brains. forgive me i have to go cry real quick

[vinegar-doppio-official]

,

[the-broken-truth]

Donna with a raven s/o trying to get Angie to like him (platonic) 🧑🐾

A Raven's Kindness - Donna Beneviento x Male Raven Shifter Reader w/ Angie [Platonic]

Broken Truth: For those who don't know - A Group of Ravens is known as an unkindness. Interesting fact, don't you think?

- Quick Key -

[Y/N] - YOUR FIRST NAME

[L/N] - YOUR LAST/SURNAME/FAMILY NAME

[H/C] - HAIR COLOR

[H/L] - HAIR LENGTH

[E/C] - EYE COLOR

[S/C] - SKIN COLOR

il mio corvo - My Raven (Italian) (Remember - Donna is Italian, not Romanian.)

"For the last time - I don't want it, you stupid bird-man!" yelled a small but feisty voice as the keeper of the voice something in the face of the man sitting before her, making him grunt suddenly and his large black wings to twitch at the sudden slap to his face. As he lifted his [S/C] hands to his face to remove the item, the sound of little feet running away made his heart heavy before he removed the item and saw the wedding veiled doll disappear around a corner. Sadness filled the man's [E/C] eyes as he looked down at the newly sown dress in his hands before he closed his eyes to keep from crying.

This man was [Y/N] [L/N] - The Raven Hybrid of the Misty Forest, and the Lover of the Head of House Beneviento, Donna. He was a tall man with a slim but muscular build - he had [H/C] [H/L] hair and [E/C] eyes with a few scars trailing along his hands and forearms with a few on his face. He met Donna when he found her in his part of the woods looking for some flowers that grew in the darkest part of the forest where the sun never shined its light; she was going to get attacked by a wolf pack that was starving but he was perched in the tree above her and swooped down and saved her. She invited him to come to Beneviento Manor to tend to his wounds and she offered him a place to stay. After sharing each other's secrets, a relationship developed between the two but there was one problem.

Angie.

No matter what [Y/N] did, he couldn't seem to get the doll to accept him as Donna's Partner - today was the latest attempt. He researched the arts of sewing and knitting to make Angie a new dress and she just threw it in his face. He opened his eyes - letting tears fall upon the new dress - when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he wiped his eyes and looked over his shoulder to see the face of his love and lady behind him.

"She didn't like it?" Donna asked.

"She threw it in my face." [Y/N] exhaled before he placed the dress on the table he was sitting at. "I don't know what to do anymore, Donna; everything I tried gets thrown back in my face or destroyed before me. She hates me, Donna, and I don't know how to get her to accept me." the man exhaled - obviously tired of trying over and over again only to be rejected and talked down upon.

"I'm sorry this is going on, il mio corvo. But I'm sure she'll come around soon and accept you - she knows I love you, I'm sure she'll come around to love you too." Donna gave a smile to reassure the man but for some reason - he thought it was going to get worse before it got better, if it did at all.

[Around Dinnertime]

[Y/N] placed Donna's plate in front of her before he went to his seat and sat in the chair before starting to eat. Donna took a sip of the tea [Y/N] gave her before widening her eyes and looked at the tea - it wasn't the lemon or black forest tea she was used to. It was more...minty but still very good.

'Love, what kind of tea is this?" Donna asked as she looked at the raven-winged man before her.

"It's peppermint tea." [Y/N] said as he stopped eating to look her in the eyes and speak to her. Before Donna could open her mouth to speak to tell him it was a perfect tea to add to the list, the wedding-dressed doll spoke up, or rather, yelled.

"Peppermint Tea?! Are you stupid, bird brain?! You know Donna only drinks Black Forest or Lemon Tea and you have the nerve to bring her

peppermint?!" Angie yelled as she glared at the man.

"The Tea Vendor was all out of stock with Donna's usual teas and I didn't want to come home empty-handed. He recommended the Peppermint Tea as a good 'before bed' kind of tea & Donna told me that she was having hard times sleeping." [Y/N] defended himself before the doll yelled again.

"For the last time - this is NOT your home! Your 'home' is the wilds where Donna found you before she decided to bring you here! You're not more than a guest - a guest who's more than overstayed their welcome!" [Y/N] couldn't take anymore.

"Then what do you want me to do, Angie?! You've done nothing but be rude and spiteful towards me since I got here and it's been worse when Donna and I told you we were dating! Nothing I do seems to please you! Just tell me - how can I make you happy?!" [Y/N] begged to know, tired of the back and forth, wanting a straight answer so he could make Donna's Porcelain Daughter happy.

"Isn't it obvious?! I want you to leave! I don't want you here! I don't want you dating my mother! I don't want you around our home! I want you out and never to return, you stupid bird freak!!!" Angie yelled as loud as her non-existent lungs would allow.

"ANGIE!!!" Donna shrieked in horror at what she just said to the raven-winged man, who just looked wide-eyed at the doll before his head lowered, his hair casting shadows that blocked his face. Donna watched in horror as [Y/N] rose from his seat and walked around the table and went up the stairs to the room that Donna let him call his own before they began sharing a room.

Donna rose to her feet, striding after the man, and turned the corner just in time to see the door to the room close and the sound of it locking. The Head of House Beneviento started knocking on the door, begging [Y/N] to let her in so that they could talk about it but the man didn't open the door, only telling her that they would talk in the morning.

Donna began sobbing as her forehead rested on the hardwood of the door, she was so consumed in her sadness that she didn't hear Angie walk up behind her.

"Why are you crying over that freak, Mother? He's not worth your tears." Angie scoffed but that scummy behavior went down her throat as Donna turned her face to glare at the doll.

"Don't you dare call him that - He's not a freak...You never call someone that - not when you know how it affected us all the time ago." Donna removed herself from the door. "I've never been so disappointed in you, Angie. After everything, he's done to get you to accept him and you treat him like that." Donna balled up her fist before she walked to her room and slammed the door, leaving the doll stunned in the hall.

[The Next Morning]

Angie floated down the stairs to meet her mother and the raven-man at the table for breakfast but once the table was in her sights, she noticed a few things out of place:

Her mother was at the breakfast table with a piece of paper in her hands and sobbing.

There was no breakfast on the table - there weren't even any dishes on the table.

There was no raven-man bring food out of the kitchen. Hell - there was no raven-man at all.

Angie floated to her mother and stepped on the table.

"Mother? What's wrong? Did that Raven-Man do something to you?" Angie asked. Donna said nothing just sobbed harder and handed Angie the note; the doll read the note and her eyes would have gotten wider if they could.

"I return home. Please forget me, Donna. Angie, please take care of your mother and forgive me for overstaying my welcome."

- Raven-Freak.

'He... He actually left?' Angie asked herself as she read the note again. She looked at her mother's crying face - able to feel her sorrow through the bond they shared through the Cadou. Angie reached out to give the dollmaker and comforting touch but Donna moved away from the doll, glaring at her with tears rushing down her face before she stood and rose to her feet and ran upstairs to her room, locking herself inside.

"Mother?" the doll whimpered.

[3 Days Later]

It had been 72 Hours since [Y/N] left and things weren't the same: The house seemed quieter, Donna rarely spoke to Angie; she didn't even play with her or the other dolls. Even a good number of the dolls stopped talking to Angie or even playing with her - angry at her for making their 'Bird Dad' leave House Beneviento.

Angie couldn't understand it - it was just a raven-freak; how could it make almost everyone turn against her when she had been with them since Donna's Father built her.

"You don't get it, do you, Angie?" Asked a weak male voice, Angie turned around to see it was one of the male dolls dressed as a clown.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything wrong." Angie pouted.

"But you did. Think about it - all the people that have ever come to House Beneviento ran away either out of fear of the dolls or Mother's Scar; all of them except for [Y/N]. He stayed with us, never judged us, and treated us with respect and love, just as he's done for Mother. He would read to us, fix our clothes, make us knew clothes, talk to us; as if we were real children because he thought we were, we are mother's children and since he loved her, he loved us and accepted us. Don't you see what you took away from mother? Away from all of us? We finally had a family - a happy family, but you had to destroy that because of what?" The male doll asked.

"I...I...I didn't..."Angie tried to defend herself.

"But you did. Name one person who really loved mother for her." The male doll said.

"Mother Miranda!" Angie was quick.

"When was the last time Mother Miranda came here to spend time with her adopted daughter? Never. All she wants is her blood daughter back." The male doll said.

"What about Alcina?" Angie asked.

"Never gave Mother the time of day, not even at the lord meetings; none of the lords have." countered the male doll.

Angie tried to say something but she knew her brother was telling the truth - no one has loved her mother as [Y/N] did, has been there for her mother as much as [Y/N] has, held her mother as much as [Y/N] has.

'What have I done?' Angie's heart shivered as she floated out of the doll room, down the stairs and out the front door, through the estate gate, and down the path into the Misty Forest - where the sun never shined its light.

"[Y/N]! WHERE ARE YOU?! [Y/N], PLEASE COME OUT! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!!!" Tears would be running down Angie's face if she had a human body, she came to a clearing surrounded by trees as she fell to her knees, sobbing at the fact she's destroyed her mother and siblings' happiness by being jealous and afraid that [Y/N] would take her mother away from her and she would be along. The doll quietly sobbed to herself when she heard growling all around her - she lifted her head to see she was surrounded by wolves, at least 8 of them...and they looked hungry.

Angie began to shiver in fear - without the pollen or things to control, she wasn't able to defend herself. She closed her eyes waiting for the end until she feels something shielding her from the wolves, as well as hearing the wolves whimper in fear. She looked and gasped when she saw familiar wings circled around her in a protective way.

A familiar scarred hand picked her up and she was lifted into the air as she began floating back in the direction of House Beneviento.

Upon returning - the figure holding her placed her on the ground after descending; she turned to see [Y/N] looking down at her with concerned eyes.

"Angie, what were you thinking going into that part of the forest? You could have been hurt." [Y/N] said with worry laced in his voice. The doll jumped into his chest, making the raven-winged man gasp and hug the doll so she wouldn't fall. "Angie, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for yelling at you! I was jealous! Scared that you would and mom would have a child and forget about me! I didn't want to be alone!" Angie cried into his chest.

"Angie..." She looked at him, "Donna would never leave you, plus I care for you and all the dolls as if you were my own kids. I just wanted you to accept me so that you would feel comfortable around me; I want to be good for your mom and you, along with your siblings." He explained.

"You...You aren't mad at me?" Angie asked with a shaking voice.

"Of course not!" [Y/N] hugged the doll tightly. "I love you, Angie."

Angie hugged the raven hybrid and sobbed her little heart out, completely unaware of her mother and siblings watching them.

After all that happened, [Y/N] moved back into House Beneviento and Donna returned to normal...except Angie was always riding on [Y/N]'s Shoulder and started calling him 'Papa', never waiting to be apart from him. Donna started wondering if [Y/N] was going replace her as Angie's Favorite Parent.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 6.(Part 1)

The main female protagonist who, has been the “mother /psychiatrist/ fixer/curse-breaker” for 57 eps & 2 seasons, has finally had her own “I’m a real person with my own issues” ep !!!! YESS! So happy!!! also, so underwhelmed. Tohru has been painted to be this utterly selfless & altruistic character for long, that when she’s finally a balanced character it’s presented in half an episode? Don’t get me wrong, I like the ep, but there’s also the same feeling of bullet train that I felt in momiji’s ep! ugh!! I hated that feeling! Go away~ oh well.. I’ll quickly state what I didn’t like, before jumping into what I liked, in order to end with a happier note~

What I didn’t like:

Tohru’s monologue after leaving shigure & Isuzu felt more like a background exposition more than a true character’s thoughts. The reason is that It is quickly narrated with quick flashbacks from the past with intentional pieces missing from the flashback. Pieces like” how did Kyoko hurt tohru? She said to kyo, in se02, ep “ I feel like I’ve only caused her sadness” &  tohru’s flashbacks in se02 of her mother leaving/ closing a door. All these things not included in tohru’s 1st ever personal monologue made it seem like quick fill in for the audience more than tohru’s main struggle. Compare it to Yuki’s 3 ep monologue in se02, filled with all his own background info, hence, we as audience sit back & just feel. With tohru a little brain work is needed of putting things together in the puzzle is needed because NOTHING abt her trauma has ever been explained to us prior to her monologue . Also, compare this kyo. A character who ONLY have 2 eps dedicated to him in 57 eps, yet even without monologues & with hidden secrets for climax purposes, his emotions are clear cuz his background was explained early in se01, ep24 & se02, ep9. Compared to them both, her monologue felt a bit lacking.

What’s up with the following scene? Her crying & kyo comforting her mid-street. He saw her crying, asked what’s wrong & she couldn’t say & he gave her a comforting advice. All good. Kyo always give the most needed advice for tohru to be herself & feel comforted. Se01, “complain more, be selfish” Se02, somen table scene & asking her abt her future plans & the hiro incident. Kyo has tried to guess whats wrong first. Here he saw her cry in the middle of the street & just gave her an advice? couldn’t he at least guess wrongly if it is her granpa? school? anything? This scene is AMAZING but it feels off a little.

Kyo’s “ now I remember” EXCUSE ME?????? se01, ep14, valentine ep, he got a nightmare, then when shigure talked to him, we saw a quick flashback that we didn’t now what it is but now it IS kyoko. se02, the entirety of ep9 & the “ I won’t forgive you” & the flashback of young him with kyoko talking abt tohru. se02, ep 22 his fight with yuki & the clear face of kyoko telling him abt something regarding the hat. His entire shutdown of tohru IS abt kyoko NOT abt him being a monster cuz tohru accepted monster kyo in se01 ep 24! so.. REMEMBER WHAT????? the accident?? I feel like being hit with a rock. I mean, it makes sense that kyo will get PTSD after seeing the hat, cuz he remembers the bloody accident vividly. But it is the dialogue that IS weird. “ I remember” ?? it makes no sense? unless it is another hidden secret & will be revealed later. If so, then forget this point.

Kagura (more on her below). Now, let’s talk abt what I liked!

-Grief (the most difficult theme to express in literature): Excellent writing!

Grief is one of the most diverse human emotions. ppl who grief a loved one either erase everything abt them in order to cope with the pain of loss & live on, or drastically engrave everything, not want any memory to slip away, or hold the deceased on a pedestal, or hate them irrationally in order to forget abt them, some deny that the loved one is gone, others talk to them daily, some act & live normally for years & suddenly it hits them that this loved person is truly gone & they breakdown. Others, direct their disbelief of losing a precious one into the envy that other bad ppl are still living, why my precious one is dead?. Thats why, it is a difficulty emotion to understand by others. Ppl watching you will always think that comforting you is enough & that the longer you take, the more impatient they are with you. Tell me, watching tohru this ep, didn’t you feel that:

Come on. tohru, you can love your mom & kyo! who says only ONE person can be your precious?

Umm, why she cries for her mom NOW? 2 years after her death? Is she over it already?

Tohru~~ your mom aint going no where cuz you loved a guy? she’s in your heart, girl. Ugh!

Compared to yuki who was abused by his parents & kyo whose mom commit suicide in front of him, tohru’s trauma is meh~

Feeling this way abt tohru is exactly how many feel abt ppl struggling with grief. You are NOT a bad person if you felt this way. It means that thankfully you weren’t struck by grief to tohru’s extent or that your grief went about differently than tohru. Grief is a crippling feeling. It is valid, strong, overwhelming, paralyzing & above all very unique to the person themselves. Tohru feeling that her mom is slipping away from her memory is so realistic & utterly heartbreaking. Grief hurts & moving on from grief hurts more!!!! The more you go on & live your life, the more you feel like you betray your loved one.

Tohru’s entire existence is for her mother & so her mother LIVES inside her:

Finishing high school cuz it’s her mother’s request.

Getting a job to sustain herself cuz she has no one to support her financially.

Giving her mom’s wisdom & teachings abt life to others.

imitating her dad’s speaking style to prevent her mom from “leaving”.

Being the perfect girl in order to portray that her mom, who is a gangster & is hinted by the ugly relatives to be unfaithful to her husband due to tohru not taking after her dad, actually raised a respectful girl!

Talking to a dead cold lifeless picture as if it is a living human being & going into panic attacks when she looses such pictures.

Suppressing all her true “ ugly, negative” emotions & only giving the fake smiles & positive attitude.

She fears that ppl will leave her if she isn’t “comforting, happy”, hence, the whole facade of “ i’m okay, I’m okay”.

Immersing her self in ppl’s issues so she won’t face her own feelings of utter loneliness, fear of the future, & being left behind when everybody moves on with their lives.

Thinking that having selfish desires contradicts the “ hopeful, kind” girl images, hence, the fear to actually wants sth for herself. Everything HAS TO BE for the sake of the others.

Tohru is deeply traumatized & her complex, unhealthy but extremely realistic attachment to her mom must be broken. Tohru must learn to LET GO.

-Kagura’s character’s assassination. aka (violence heals y’all!)

The show wanted to express the emotion that kagura is still in love with kyo, but is learning to let go & accepting kyo/tohru love. I love that. Her speech with kazuma abt not being able to face tohru cuz her face will show her emotions is so relatable & it hit ME personally. Loved that. Then, she learns that tohru truly loves kyo & should confess to him not talk to Isuzu & I get that, it make sense that she lashes on thru & teach her the value of being open abt your feelings & dont loose him. all cool & understandable. BUT:

How dare you slap tohru like that? you don’t know what she’s going through? tohru is wearing funeral clothes for God’s sake! she just visited her dead mom, you insensitive woman! How dare you assume that all tohru is struggling with is love love, romance romance yay~ confess, kiss, be happy?

Tohru & kyo’s issues are deeper than typical, normal, shallow shojo love. It is related to child trauma & abuse. To their own individual identity & self-image! Their romantic love is meant to guide them towards better choices for the future, not magically heal everything. Their mutual love is NOT the answer to their issues.

How dare you slap someone to make them go back to their senses? this is such an anime move! ugh!~ it cheapens the emotional weight of character’s emotions.

“ I’m not apologizing to tohru. We communicate thro fists” excuse me?  you arent even communicating with kyo thro fists! he sees you & run! the only time he thanked you for, was when you didn’t “ communicate thro fists” & played with him as a child! Not only make her hit tohru but not apologize??

No one told her off? are you foreal?? Isuzu pouting lips is no match for Isuzu powerful emotions when she’s embarrassed, & kazuma! where you at? Happy at the “ open confrontation”? Why do you kill kagura’s character like that?

Side Notes:

I hate how this went by in half an ep like they did with machi!! tohru is THE main character for God’s sake! But it looks like the show is not so fond of the true tohru who wants stuff & screams & talks to herself, alas she isn’t the angelic, innocent girl that is saturating the heck out of all shojo amines. Oh well~ perhaps tohru’s issues will be visited again in the finale?

Kyo gets PTSD reaction in front of tohru. great. Now what’s next? I won’t ever forgive the anime if next ep, kyo & tohru are all normal or worse the episodic theme prevents the continuation & jumps elsewhere. Nearly all the eps that didn’t end with a happy note, started the next ep somewhere & totally forgot the cliff hanger. such as, Isuzu’s ep in se02, it ended with tohru’s nightmare & next ep started yuki’s issues with tohru all smiley & bright. Another example, the Cinderella play ended with kyo/tohru torn symbolism where each is awkward with the other, next ep machi !!!!!! & kyo/ tohru all normal in kazuma’s house. But this time, it will be an epic mistake to do the same. Kyo going full traumatic in front of tohru to the point of her screaming is not sth you skip & start over erasing. Don’t disappoint me show! you can’t screw that, can you?

I love the symbolism of kyoko disappearing from the picture & the crack of her framed pic at the end with it still continued in he ED. Good job.

They are building for a hug clashing scene between kyo & tohtu. it must hurt. It is designed to hurt. I wanted it to hurt. It is not abt romance. It is abt mental & emotional trauma. I’m excited. But I’m scared. After today’s ep, I can confidently say I don’t trust the director. I’m an anime-only, but tohru’s part in the story is the least touched upon, the quickest to get over with & has the wackiest animation. They just don’t know how to depict an emotional tohru~ sigh~

Tohru is written to be a unique protagonist in the sea of innocent, selfless & always happy shojo heroine & opposed to the badass, physically strong female protag in shonen. She is the most realistic, but so much of her potential is wasted so far~~

“ saving the sohma’s. breaking the curse for others is a lie, in reality I wanted to do it for kyo” This line is supposed to be liberating for tohru cuz for once she is putting herself FIRST! It is not abt kyo. It is abt herself! it is cuz SHE wants him. See the difference? See how this line gives tohru the biggest character development!! but still sth is missing. I duno..

I have lots to say abt tohru, kyo, shigure, the grandpa, kyoko, Isuzu & even kazuma! I’ll do that in part 2.

I still liked the ep tho. It is solid. I”ll like it MORE if they continued from here & didn’t cut it cold.

[sophierose002]

The Real Mindtrap

Requested by @silentwriter28 

Warning for some violence

I kind of went a little crazy with this. What was supposed to be around 2,000 words turned into over 9,000. There were just so many aspects of Quirin and Varian’s relationship that I wanted to explore. Please enjoy!  

________________________________________________________________

                                             The Real MindTrap

Varian gasped upon hearing the shouts of panic coming from the opposite side of the vast throne room. I wasn’t even gone that long! He thought, as frustration ticked like a clock inside his brain. “I’ll be right back!” He hurriedly, yet gently, said to his father, who was lying peacefully still. After Varian’s stunning mechanism had overcharged Quirin’s mind into unconsciousness, the young alchemist had situated his father comfortably in the corner of the throne room. I should have known something like this would happen! It was so foolish for me to leave that machine unsupervised. Varian bit his lip in fear as he sprinted towards the chaotic screams. I bet it was Lance; he never listens to my warnings! He knew he was an over-the-top organizing freak, but he had better reason then most to be an insufferable “safety first” individual. He had had “accidents” in the past with unforgettable consequences. Even though he had moved on and the world seemed to forgive him, he still suffered from chilling nightmares and random panic attacks. Most of these he managed to keep hidden from his friends, but they still lingered in the back of his mind. He could see it in his shadow, like a ghost haunting him.

Still, he couldn’t afford a mistake right now!

Zhan Tiri wasn’t going to mess up, so he couldn’t either. He couldn’t let anyone down. Not again.

By the time Varian’s short legs had reached the opposite side of the throne room, the bright colors had vanished inside the portal to Limbo. “Lance?” The alchemist breathlessly asked for his friend who was no where in sight. Suddenly, a deep weight slammed down inside his chest as dread threatened to crush him to the floor. “No, no, no, no.” He chanted softly to himself hoping that his voice would keep him grounded in reality. “This isn’t happening!” Reaching the machine, Varian actively scaned the massive portal desperately searching for an explanation.

That’s when he saw it.

The lever. It had been moved. Subconsciously, the young alchemist swallowed a nervous gulp of air. Gone, they’re all gone. I can’t mess this up. No! I won’t mess this up. I can get them back. Unfortunately, Varian had been short on time and had only focused on how to get the warlock into the portal, not on how to get anyone out.

Without Ruddiger’s presence to steady the alchemist, he felt a deep, hollow pit form in his stomach. Determination prickled his brow as he dropped to his knees. All of Corona was in an alternate dimension, and he was the only person who could fix this. Tightening his fingers around a wrench to the point that his knuckles turned white underneath his gloves, Varian took a controlled breath before getting to work.

He wasn’t sure if pulling the lever would get them out in one piece. It was also possible that instead of freeing the people of Corona, he would be sucked in the portal, leaving their situation completely hopeless. He had to figure this out. With his free hand, Varian reached for the Demantis plans.

After studying and comparing his work with the instructions (or rather guidelines) Varian’s clever mind put the pieces of the puzzle together. It was possible to reverse the portal. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could do it.

Immediately diving into his work, Varian became submerged in his tweaking and tinkering. In other words, he didn’t notice the ferocious warrior creeping up behind him. It wasn’t until his shadow loomed over the small scientist, that he noticed the man. Whirling around just in time to dodge an outstretched arm, Varian dove out of Hector’s reach before scrambling to his feet and clutching the wrench as if it were his lifeline.

Why didn’t I bring my combat belt? Varian was furious with himself. How had he been so unprepared?!? He was fighting for all of Corona and instead of bringing his alchemical weapons and potions, he relied on everyone else to keep him safe. He should have prepared for the worse. Now, he was going to pay the price.

After slapping himself mentally for this unreadiness, he dashed away from his work. All would be lost if Hector damaged the portal. Leading the brainwashed warrior away from the valuable machine, Varian sprinted to the other side of the throne room. Maybe, just maybe his father would be in an able condition to help him; however, when he reached the corner, the blankets that were laid out for Quirin were empty.

Oh no! After the shock of his father’s disappearance settled, Varian noticed that he was slowly being backed into a wall.

Hector was trapping him!

Varian knew that any attempt to talk Hector out of attacking him would be useless. He hadn’t known that the Brotherhood even existed until a few months ago. In fact, the only thing Varian knew about Hector - other than him being part of the secretive Brotherhood - was his name.

Despite his lack of knowledge, Varian found himself speaking. His options were shrinking and becoming more hopeless with every passing moment. Perhaps speaking up would buy him some time. Every second was vital to the brilliant alchemist. He just needed to come up with an idea and quick! “Mr. Hector, please! You fought with my dad. He’s fond of you; he wouldn’t want you to hurt me!”

The unnaturally blue-eyed man slightly hesitated before speaking, briefly halting his steps. “So, you’re Varian?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Varian hadn’t noticed the hint of surprise in Hector’s facial expression until it had straightened into one of indifference. Within seconds, the warrior had returned his menacingly brisk pace towards the boy.

Luckily for Varian, his sharp mind had come up with a plan. Before his back could be pressed against the wall, the young alchemist rushed to one of the tapestries that was majestically hung up, ripped it from it’s decorative position, and managed to throw it over Hector at the correct angle, wrapping him in it. While the warrior was thrashing under the ginormous tapestry, Varian made a run for it.

Eugene, where are you? The distressed alchemist knew that he had to find the former thief. If the brainwashed warrior could be distracted just long enough for Varian to reverse the portal, they might still stand a chance in this fight. Rapunzel was undoubtably searching for Cassandra that meant the only reason Eugene wouldn’t return soon was if Zhan Tiri…

Varian didn’t want to think about it.

The alchemist was charging towards the throne room’s exit. Maximus was guarding outside. He just had to get to the door. He was so close.

Four more steps.

Three.

Two.

One–

Varian’s gloved hand hovered over the handle before being violently pulled back. Expecting to see Hector’s maniacally face, the alchemist swung the wrench directly at the figure. Of course, his untrained muscles were no match for the burly hands, which gripped the tool easily, yanking it out of his grasp. Before Varian could get a good look at the attacker, he felt a sturdy knee slam into his gut. Doubling over as an unexpected pain overcame his abdomen, the boy urgently fought to regain air in his lungs but found it incredibly difficult to do so. When the boy raised his head, his vision was slightly blurry. Assuming that he must have been hit harder than he realized, Varian could have sworn that Hector looked identical to his father.

Wait.

“Dad...?” There was so much hurt and anguish in the small, squeaky voice.

Quirin looked emotionlessly at his son as he dropped the tiny body, allowing it to crumble to the floor. The broad-shouldered man was no longer wearing his helmet. His genuine brown eyes had transformed into a spine-chilling, light blue. The bright color was abnormal. Varian couldn’t fight the wetness circulating in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was the fierce aching in his lungs or the shock of seeing that his father had caused it.

“Please, Dad, I know you’re in th-” A strong kick to the face interrupted the boy’s pleas. Everything was moving so quickly. Too quickly. Before Varian knew it, his father had gripped him behind the collar and dragged him effortlessly away from the door.

Even though the injured genius was overwhelmed, he knew one thing: Maximus was outside the throne room door. “Max, help!”

That’s all the young alchemist needed to do to alert the calvary.

Varian’s head was pounding, and his peripheral vision was fuzzy. The sweet comfort of sleep was edging into his vision. I ha- have to st-ay a-awake-

A black blanket smothered the young alchemist who had suddenly become tired. Unable to prevent the darkness that flooded into his brain, Varian slumped against his father’s rough hand. Dropping into a numb state, the last thing he heard was a piercing sound of a door opening and a vicious neigh that resembled a battle cry.

*****

Varian couldn’t stop gripping his hair and pulling it until it hurt his head. He had to find some sort of relief from the emotional pain overwhelming him. It was too much. Throughout the entirety of his time in prison, Varian secretly feared what would happen if he did free his father. He would have to tell him everything that happened. More precisely, what he had done. Would his father forgive him just like the princess had?

No. He’s too strict. Varian had guessed. It was so difficult to breath. His short, shallow inhales were becoming more and more difficult to control. I can’t do this. The young alchemist chanted like a mantra in his mind. Rapunzel had graciously offered to stay with him as he told his father, but Varian explained that he had to do this himself. “Dad might feel pressured to side with me if you’re here, and I need to know his honest answer. No matter how painful it is.”

Hardly able to believe it, Varian stared at his father who was now free from his amber prison. They were sitting at their dinning room table. There was a flickering candle at the center of the wooden surface, which instead of being comforting, added to Varian’s anxiety. It was a dark night. After everyone celebrated Princess Rapunzel’s return that day, Varian and Quirin had returned to their home in Old Corona.

It was a mess. Quirin had so many question, most of them being sparked by the aftermath of the Battle of Old Corona, which had not been cleaned up yet; however, he had impressive self-control and had promised to wait till that night to ask Varian his questions. His son deserved one enjoyable day.

But that day was over now, and the two were sitting across from each other, holding mugs with hot coco, which Ruddiger had made. Quirin wanted to know why their home and all of Old Corona seemed to be deserted and left to rot. If Varian wasn’t living at the house, then where had he been staying for the last seven months? Several things were not adding up, and Quirin found his vigilant calmness to spike with anticipation. It wasn’t helping that his son was insufferably stalling to explain anything.

Quirin loved his son - but right now - he was annoying him to no end.

Something very important had happened, and he needed to know.

“So, I guess I should start at the beginning, huh?” Varian’s voice was cracking more than usual.

Quirin nodded in response, avoiding any interruptions as he knew his son would eagerly welcome them and go off topic.

“About seven months ago, during the blizzard, I asked the princess for help.” The tense boy took a moment to slow his breathing before continuing. “Corona was in a state of emergency, and - long story short - she was unable to help me.”

Quirin had expected that. Their family was beneath the royals. Even though the princess had seemingly befriended his son, it wasn’t her priority nor her duty to personally help them over the kingdom.

But, of course, fourteen-year-old Varian didn’t understand that at the time. To him, a promise was a promise.

“The thing was,” His son continued, holding his mug to hide his shaking hands, “I was desperate and the guards mistook me for attac- I mean, I was wasting the princess’s precious time during the middle of a crisis. So, they dragged me, well not exactly, they brought me out of the castle and left me in the snow.”

Quirin knew his son. When you only lived with one person it was natural to be overly observant and memorize each of their tics and fidgets, so it wasn’t very hard for Quirin to realize that his son was lying to him. “Varian.” It was a warning. Tell me the truth. His brown eyes commanded.

“Uh, well they didn’t ‘bring’ me out of the castle. They kinda, sorta dragged me out against my will and threw me into the blizzard.”

Quirin nodded, his face remaining stern.

Varian felt like he could throw up. His father’s expressions and hardness weren’t making this any easier. “Everyone was evacuating, but I came home. When I got there you- you were-” Varian choked. Hoping to hide how upset it was to relive these memories, he brought the hot coco to his lips.

Watching his son’s attempt to seem unbothered by the whole matter would have been comical if it was a different situation, but Quirin found himself becoming more impatient by the minute. He was struggling to feel empathy for his son, mainly because he didn’t know what was wrong. Despite these feelings, Quirin couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with concern.

After placing the mug on the table, Varian found it impossible to stare at his father as he continued, “I was broken when I found you like that.” His voice was so soft it held an eerie ghostliness to it. “I was so upset, but it’s hard to explain. My sorrow turned into this– anger.”

Something about the way he said the final word caused Quirin to sit up straighter.

“Dad, it was so- so- I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I couldn’t stop it. I was furious with myself and the princess for turning her back on me. I wanted to make her pay for abandoning me.” The boy’s blue eyes were glossy as he sunk into his nightmarish memories becoming detached from reality. It was as if he had forgotten his father’s presence. “It wasn’t that she didn’t stick to her word that made me so mad. It was because she left me. She didn’t check on me! It was like she didn’t care! Maybe I’m a fool for trusting her again, but I was so tired of being everyone’s enemy!”

“Son, slow down!” Quirin had to put a stop to Varian’s indecipherable train of thought.

“Sorry.” The boy felt tears prickle in his eyes, but he fought to push them back. No! He wouldn’t cry. He needed to be strong. “Rapunzel left me by myself for an entire month! During that time alone, I- I-” There was a slight pause before his shaky voice finished, “Something in me snapped. I was so desperate to save you. So desperate not to lose you! I couldn’t! Because it would be my fault! And I couldn’t live with myself if-” This time, the young alchemist was incapable of continuing as an unexpected sob escaped his throat. It was odd that he was crying and yet no tears fluttered in his eyes.

Quirin didn’t know what to do as he watched his son cave in on himself. The boy was obviously traumatized, but he didn’t know how to comfort him. The tough man never understood the importance of physical touch. Whenever one of the members of the Brotherhood was upset, he would stay with them. Sometimes the warrior would vent to him, and other times they simply needed someone else’s presence to know that they weren’t alone.

But this was different.

This was a fifteen-year-old child who’s hurt went far deeper than some mature fighter. He was inexperienced to this kind of pain and loneliness. The boy had no one for God knows how long! How was he supposed to help his son in this situation? Quirin decided on staying silent. He didn’t want to do anything to make Varian worse, so doing nothing and just allowing his presence to calm the boy was the best he could do.

Upon noticing the stiff man’s reaction, Ruddiger lowered his tail in concern before scampering to his boy. Climbing up the chair with ease, the raccon nuzzled his head into Varian’s chest and let out a soft, heartening chitter as if to say, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Somehow the raccoon had given the alchemist just enough strength to keep going. “I had never felt so alone before. A rumor that I had attacked the princess had spread throughout Corona. Of course, there was no proof, but that didn’t stop anyone from throwing rocks at me whenever I showed my face in public. I knew I had to take matters into my own hands because no help was coming, so I did something really, really bad.” Varian’s hands began to tremble against the mug, so he dropped them into his lap, hiding them in Ruddiger’s consoling fur. “I tricked Rapunzel into committing treason, stole the Sundrop flower, and drugged the entire castle’s staff. My experiments on the Sundrop flower were illegal and unsuccessful.” The young alchemist rushed through his words, hoping to get it over with. Guilt repeatedly stabbed his stomach, and he kept his eyes firmly on Ruddiger’s reassuring one’s, not daring to look at his father.

He could already imagine the disappointment on his face.

Instead, Quirin’s lips parted as he suddenly lost control of his facial muscles. He knew something bad had happened, but nothing near as drastic as this! Despite his desire to the opposite, he kept himself from asking questions or reprimanding the boy. Something inside of him suspected (and feared) that the worst was yet to come.

“After being announced as an enemy of the king, I found out that the power I needed to free you was inside of Rapunzel. The only way that I could possibly get to use her hair, was to do it forcefully. I- I convinced myself that since everyone saw me as the ‘bad guy,’ I had to play the part. I turned Ruddiger into a monster, tricked the kingdom into thinking I wanted to harm them, and-” The next words would have caused Quirin to yell at his son if it wasn’t for the obvious suffering and regret lingering in the boy’s voice. “I kidnapped the queen.”

It took all of Quirin’s willpower to contain his emotions and let his son finish.

“I used her to lure Rapunzel to my lab. Then, I made these ancient robots, called automatons, to fight the people of Corona.”

As the boy painstakingly continued his story, Quirin somehow knew certain things Varian said, he had never told to anyone before. Things like how he was frightened of the king, so he continued to mock him and pretend to be someone else in order to feel more comfortable in his skin. It was easier to do bad things when you were posing to be someone else. Things like how emotionless he felt as he watched the amber hungrily reach its nasty fingers towards the queen, and how disturbed he was by his own heartlessness. Things like how his rage and bitterness towards Rapunzel was simply a way of coping with how much he hated himself.

Varian was disgusted with his actions and that guilt was eating him from the inside out.

“I was in prison for six months while the princess was away.” Abruptly, the alchemist stopped speaking as if wondering if he should tell his father what happened during that time.

Quirin tried to get more information out of his son, but it was like trying to climb up a slide. Eventually, he gave up.

“Let’s just say,” Varian clutched his raccoon closely to his chest, “Let’s just say, if it wasn’t for Ruddiger, I don’t think I would be here.”

While Varian explained his mistake about opening up to Andrew, Quirin noticed that neither of them had hardly drank any of their hot coco. Both drinks were cold by now, and the candle between them had lowered a great deal. The starlight night dragged on and a certain coldness settled in.

This wasn’t the first time, Quirin felt detached from his son. They never shared a strong connection, but they pretended that they had a solid bond – or at least Quirin thought they had pretended. He never knew how much Varian adored him.

Varian was such an unusual child, and Quirin privately resented him for it. The boy was always different and was nothing like the respectable village leader. Quirin knew he wasn’t father material, but his wife had wanted a child more than anything. Naturally, he thought he could do this with her by his side.

But when she died–

It was just father and son.

It was perfect versus eccentric.

It was stern versus chaotic.

It was safety versus danger.

It was father versus son.

           Quirin’s greatest fear had come true. He was a successful leader, an incredible role model, but a failure of a father. He had let Varian down. He had led his son astray.

He had to fix this!

           “I- I thought if I could make them forget everything, then they would forgive me. But of course, it’s not that easy.” Varian still had not looked up at his father.

“You wanted forgiveness.” Quirin said more to himself than to his son.

At his father’s voice, the alchemist cautiously peaked up, “Yeah, revenge doesn’t quite have the desired effect like most people thought.”

“Who’s ‘most people?’”

“The- the other pri-prisoners.”

“Oh.” That was all he could bring himself to say. He could sense that questioning his son made him more nervous (if the stuttering was any indication) but there were so many questions he was yearning to ask. Still, he had to wait patiently. The story was nearing its end.

Once Varian explained the prison break, Rapunzel’s return, and the Seporian’s betrayal, he noticed his father for the first time. It was like a war was going on inside the brawny man. It was Quirin’s turn to avoid eye contact now.

The man’s thoughts were preoccupied with the exact moment when he was freed from the amber. Quirin was proud that Varian had found a way to save him at the time, but now that he knew the entire story, was he really proud? The truth: no. His son had a long way to go to make up for his mistakes and actions, but he couldn’t stand by and watch his son take on this journey alone. No. It was high time that he played an active role in his son’s life. Quirin wasn’t proud of himself. He had failed his family. In fact, he was one of the many reasons that had led to his Varian’s fall. The road ahead would be far from smooth and would tread deep into Varian’s scars, more than likely adding salt to some of his wounds. Things would get worse before they would get better.

But they would get better.

“Varian, we need to promise to each other, right here, right now, that we will not keep secrets from one another. We need to be on the same page because what’s coming isn’t going to be easy. I’ve made mistakes in my life Varian. Some I haven’t told you about and some I haven’t admitted to anyone – even myself. That changes today. No more secrets from either of us. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They would do this together. As a team.

*****

An excruciating pain ripped Varian out of his unconscious state like a page being torn from a library book. The second light entered his sensitive, baby blue eyes, the boy tried to raise his hand to shade his face but found that his wrists wouldn’t budge. Turning around, Varian’s eyes widened when he noticed that his wrists were mercilessly wrapped in a rope, which was irritating his skin. Where am I? The young alchemist urgently strived to regain his thoughts. Wherever he was, it was still in the castle because the rocks were still decorating the floors and walls, sticking their indestructible, black fangs into the building. His face stung where he had been kicked previously. Groaning at the nausea swirling in his stomach, Varian bit his lip in an attempt to keep the sickness at bay.

There was a faint sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The alchemist twisted his arms in a weak effort to escape but found that it was hopeless to break free of the secure bonds. The door swung open with such force that the air whistled. “Dad.” There was a certain trepidation to his tone – almost like he had suspected who the figure would be but was still heartbroken at the reveal. “Dad, please this isn’t you!”

It was like Quirin couldn’t hear him. With daunting brutality, the larger man advanced purposefully towards his son who he appeared unable to recognize. Roughly and heartlessly, he hauled Varian to his feet. The boy would have fallen back down if it had not been for the sturdy, yet cruel, support of his father. The alchemist’s shaky legs wobbled on the ground as the room continued to spin. Violently pushing the boy in front of him, Quirin remained silent.

“Dad, please. We’re supposed to be a team. We made a deal to always support each other. You don’t want to do this!”

Apparently, speaking wasn’t allowed as Quirin slammed his knee into his son’s rib cage. Varian fell to the ground, vomiting what was left in his stomach. Nausea overwhelmed his entire being and his conflicted emotions exhausted the boy. “Help me–” He whispered before falling into darkness.

*****

Quirin whistled as he pushed a wheelbarrow that contained juicy, freshly picked apples. Smiling from ear to ear, the leader of Old Corona greeted the villagers he passed, knowing each and every one of their names. Old Corona was still in the process of being repaired, but everyone’s enthusiasm to remake their homes spread a contagious joy. Even Varian had helped Quirin during this time.

Trying to relate to his son, Quirin had asked, “Do you have any inventions that could help?”

“Yes, but I think I’ll just do it by hand. I don’t think I can afford another accident.” Had been the answer. “Besides, you can never be too careful.”

Understanding his son’s overcautiousness, he decided not to push the matter, instead he enjoyed the grueling hours of work the two had done together.

Quirin was a quick learner. People knew he was a good man; however, they often overlooked his intelligence. Yes, in comparison to his son he wasn’t anything special, but compared to the average person, he had an impressive sharpness to him. It didn’t take long for the man to realize that leaving his son alone, was not an option. It wasn’t that the boy couldn’t be trusted by himself; it was the villagers couldn’t be trusted around the unprotected boy.

It seemed after several months of trying to redeem himself, the people of Corona were rigid in their acidity towards the alchemist. Forgiveness wasn’t an easy thing, especially for people who thought he was fully in the wrong.

There were several occasions that Quirin had found his son crying in secret. Varian struggled to share his emotions. It was clear to his father how desperate Varian was to seem fine with everyone’s rude comments towards him, but sometimes it was too much for the young child. He was his worst critic and having everyone else never give him a break–

Quirin sighed. His son deserved better than this.

Luckily, Rapunzel was helping him. The only time Varian ever left the house on his own was when Rapunzel would come by and convince him to. The first time Varian had left, he came back with exciting stories about a cursed treasure, friendly competitiveness, and a new friend. Quirin was overjoyed to learn that Xavier and Varian had warmed up to each other. Since that day, Varian would occasionally visit the blacksmith, always returning with a smile and with new invigorating tales to tell.

It was good to see his son have a chance to be a kid.

There was another time when Rapunzel invited Ruddiger and him to help two young girls reform. Kiera and Catalina were thrilled to have an ex-convict help them finish their last step on their journey to redemption. Of course, they ridiculed him in a joking manner, but by the end, Varian found himself becoming quite fond of the two girls. They had done wrong too and were trying to turn their lives around just like him. He was in so much deeper, but he still enjoyed helping someone else. When Varian returned, he was obviously touched by the whole endeavor; unfortunately, it had brought several unsettling memories to the front of his mind.

Despite seeming refreshed by his adventure, he had woken up in the middle of the night screaming.

Quirin’s heart broke upon seeing his son’s frantic movements, his shivering, and his hands clinging to Ruddiger as if he were an infant and the raccoon his mother. Sitting on the side of the bed, Quirin watched as his son trembled with sobs. He wanted to help him but had no idea how. The two sat silently using each other’s company to comfort one another. After the weeping had stopped and turned into dry heaves, Quirin gingerly asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The boy shook his head, “I thi- think I’ll just go back to sleep.”

Nodding, Quirin tucked his son in bed before leaving the room, feeling defeated and useless. He didn’t know what to do, which bothered him to no end. That night, unbeknown to the small family, neither father nor son slept.

This morning, Quirin took in a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying the sweetness of the outdoors. It wasn’t until he noticed his son standing in the doorway to their home that he hollered up a greeting. “Morning, Son!”

Varian managed a smile but turned to his raccoon who was comfortably set on his shoulder. “What is it, Buddy?” He asked.

As the two ran off, Quirin continued his work, wondering what he could do to help his son. The sweat droplets that had formed on Varian’s forehead and the boy’s messy hair were both symptoms of the aftermath of a nightmare. I hope he’s okay. Quirin thought to himself. Parking the wheelbarrow further down the road, the protective father made his way back to Varian who looked like he was preparing to leave.

“Where are you headed, Son?”

“Oh-heh- hi, Dad!” The alchemist seemed a bit surprised over his father’s sudden presence. “Yeah, I’m headed to the capitol to visit Xavier. I- I mean if it’s okay with you?” His voice curled into a question as he asked his father for permission.

“Of course, just be back in time to complete your chores.”

“Okay, I will!”

This was the first time Varian had asked to go to Corona on his own. Unsure of how he felt about this, Quirin decided to let the matter go. Perhaps, this was exactly what the boy needed.

Later that day…

It was almost evening and Quirin was starting to get worried. Word that several strange red rocks had appeared in the capital had reached Old Corona. Unable to leave the village, Quirin excruciatingly waited for his son to return. Dread gripped at his heart as he wondered if Varian would be okay.

If anyone had the right to be afraid, it would be him.

This wasn’t a pleasant thought in the slightest. My duties as village leader should not outweigh my job as a father. He tried to convince himself of the fact. Compassion didn’t come naturally for the man, but he knew the importance of keeping his only family safe. The usually decisive man struggled with this thought. Finally settling on going to the capital, Quirin temporarily put one of his trusted friends in charge before rushing off to Corona.

He noticed the red rocks right away; however, before they had any effect on him, they slithered back into the ground like a serpent fleeing from God’s sight. What is going on? He questioned. It seemed like forever until he reached his destination. The citizens all seemed like they were recovering from a good scare, but they still smiled upon seeing the Old Corona leader.

“Quirin, old friend! Did you hear the news?” Xavier waved from outside his smithy.

“Xavier!” The man greeted the pleasant blacksmith. Where’s Varian? He said he would be here! Keeping his thoughts to himself, Quirin allowed his friend to finish his thought.

“Your son is quite the hero!” The blacksmith couldn’t stop grinning.

“Varian?” He wondered if he was hearing correctly or if he had another son that he was unaware of.  

“Ah, yes! He saved Corona from the red rocks! The princess said so herself!”

So many thoughts spiraled like a tornado inside his mind, “Where is he?” He decided to ask.

Before Xavier could point, a young voice called out. “Dad? What are you doing here?” Quirin was so relieved to see his son that he didn’t notice Ruddiger’s absence.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, no, I’m fine! I’m better than fine actually.” A genuine smile sparkled off of Varian’s young face. He seemed exhausted but clearly high on adrenaline.

“Good. I’m glad.” Quirin couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Before we go home, I need to find Ruddiger!” Varian scratched the back of his neck idly. “He should be fine, but I want to make sure he can get home.”

“Okay.” Quirin suddenly noticed that he was out of breath.

“Goodbye, Xavier!” The boy waved before leading the way to the center of the capital.

As the two walked side by side, Varian explained to his father what had happened. It was terrifying, but therapeutic. A strange combination to Quirin, but he gently smiled and listened to his son’s excitement.

“If it weren’t for Rapunzel I’d be-” His son’s tone shifted so swiftly that it caught Quirin off guard. “Ruddiger!” Upon finding his boy, the chubby raccoon chittered happily and climbed up Varian’s shoulder. “Hehe, good to see you, Buddy!” Before the reunion could get any cuter, a piercing noise came from behind them.

Quirin remained tranquil as Feldspar thanked Varian for the previous events. For the first time in a while, Quirin was proud of his son.

He wanted to show it to him… but how?

“Just doing my part.” Varian watched as the odd man walked off. Ruddiger nuzzled into Varian which made him giggle.

That’s when an idea struck him. Hesitantly at first, Quirin placed his hand firmly on Varian’s shoulder. When the boy turned to look at his father, Quirin immediately thought he had made a mistake. His son looked surprised at the physical touch, but then his expression melted into a shy grin.

Varian’s heart fluttered in his chest. He had craved for physical touch for so long! Now that he had it, he wasn’t sure he liked it. He didn’t know if it was making him uncomfortable or at ease. He honestly couldn’t tell the difference at this time. Little did he know the next big step in their relationship was about to take place: reaching his muscular arms around his son, for the first time, Quirin embraced Varian.

Silently, both father and son decided that physical touch… it wasn’t so bad.

*****

When the young alchemist awoke, he nearly yelped at the face inches away from his own.

“Shhh! Kid, I’m trying to get you out of here.” Eugene’s handsome features were tense with nerves. He was hurriedly untying Varian’s wrists. Maximus was standing guard over their shoulders. “Listen, kid, my father… he’s part of the Brotherhood just like Quirin. In order to stop them we have to destroy the Mindtrap which I’m fairly certain is in Cassandra’s creepy tower.”

Feeling a release of tension behind his back, Varian was able to move his hands in front of him, rubbing the rope burns gingerly. His nausea had subsided; however, his throbbing headache had worsened greatly. Understanding that it was time to move, the young alchemist managed to push himself to his feet. Eugene grabbed his shoulders the moment he noticed the boy sway. “You okay?”

“Ye-yeah, just lightheaded, that’s all.” Came the shaky reply.

Eugene led his injured friend towards Max’s back, and the horse, upon seeing Varian’s serious state, lowered itself so the boy could climb up. Curling his fingers into the horse’s mane, Varian leaned forwards as he felt Eugene’s arms wrap around him. “Hold on, kid!”

As the three raced out into the night, the air cracked and whipped against their faces, stinging their skin and rushing their ears. The eclipse above illuminated across the broken plains creating a tense environment and sense of urgency. Aside from Max’s rhythmic steps, the air was completely silent as if all the birds were afraid to sing and the crickets were too nervous to string their violins. Varian couldn’t fight the feeling like they were inside a timer. They were trying to climb up to the top, but the sand was ruthlessly falling down on them, making everything – moving, thinking, and breathing – more difficult.

So many thoughts rattled through his tortured mind. I have to save, Dad, but how can I break him from the Mindtrap? He obviously doesn’t know what he’s doing, because he would never hurt me. Even though he’s a stern man, he’s not hateful. He always drew the line with physical abuse that’s why he never touched or hugged me before; he was afraid he would lose control. This isn’t just my worst nightmare, this is his! He’s not trapped in the stone; he’s trapped in his own mind!

“Varian?” Eugene’s concerned voice rose over the wind, “You haven’t spoken in a while, which is kinda unusual for you.”

The alchemist took a moment to steady his breathing. “Let’s save our family.” The boy whispered with determination.

“Sounds good to me!” The former thief’s confident reply added to their adrenaline.

This was going to be an unforgettable night.

*****

The moment Varian returned home, Quirin knew something was horribly wrong. His son was trembling and keeping his eyes on the floor as if he had something to hide. Quirin was good at picking out when Varian was trying to keep a secret, but this? It was like part of his son was dying to come clean and the other half dreaded it.

Odd.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t come home at all the following day. Quirin had been asking around the capital and Old Corona for his son, but it appeared he had simply gone missing. He trusted his son and expected that there was a valid reason for him not coming home at all, but it was going on two days now and recentl, Ruddiger had returned to their home without his master. Varian had been working long hours in the Demanitus Chamber trying to decipher the scroll for the last four – almost five – weeks. It was an important job, and they both took it very seriously. Quirin was accustomed to his son coming home late, but this? By the position of the moon, it was far past midnight. Quirin idly paced back and forth knowing full well that sleep was useless. He was just about to head to the capital, when he heard the front door open.

Even though his son looked perfectly fine physically, he had an unusual paleness to him. His freckles were more prominent against his ghostly white skin, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. A burnt smell wafted through the air, but his clothes seemed relatively clean. What is going on? The man wondered.

Immediately, once Varian put his backpack on the kitchen table, Quirin raced towards his son and embraced him. Gratefully, the boy melted into his father’s chest. The leader of Old Corona could feel his son’s exhaustion and gradually helped him to his bedroom. As they walked, Quirin put his bare hand into his son’s hair, brushing through the dirt and grime, and gently taking his goggles off. This entire time, neither spoke. Once the two reached the alchemist’s bedroom, Varian took off his gloves and apron, and Quirin placed his son’s goggles on the dresser. When Varian finally sat down on his bed, he kept his eyes low to the ground.

“I missed you.” Quirin decided to start the conversation with a sweet sentiment. The Lord knows it’s all going to go downhill from here. Quirin muttered soundlessly to himself.

“I missed you too.” Varian gripped one of his arms, hugging himself. Quirin identified this as another sign of discomfort.

“Varian, why are you so late?”

“I was helping Rapunzel celebrate Eugene’s first birthday.” The boy’s ungloved hands clenched his upper arm tightly. There was a brief pause before Varian dug his nails mercilessly into his flesh.

“Varian!” Quirin rushed towards his son, taking his hand away from his shoulder in shock. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly finding his bed very interesting, Varian lowered his face and allowed his midnight black bangs and blue stripe of hair to fall into his face. Not putting up with a moody teenager, Quirin brushed his son’s hair out of his face before letting out a soft gasp.

His son was in tears.

Varian’s face contorted with excruciating intensity almost like he was being abused. “Dad, please,” His voice cracked, “Don’t ask me any questions!”

“But, Varian, something is clearly wrong and-”

“Just wait until tomorrow. Please!” His son begged as more painful tears steamed down his cheeks. “Just, not now!” Varian clenched his hands into fits hoping to find someway to relieve the pressure.

Normally, Quirin would listen to his son, but red lights were going off in the back of his mind. “I’m sorry, Varian, but I can’t do that.”

A look of pure horror washed over Varian’s tear stained face.

“Varian, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Was the quick response. Within a second, however, the boy convulsed violently before rapidly stringing words together, “I got drugged with the truth serum that I made almost a year ago to trick the guards into telling me where the Sundrop flower was.” Once the last word escaped his lips, the boy withdrew his hands from his father’s grasp and covered his mouth. Briefly, his body relaxed almost with something like relief; however, it was short-lived as he stiffened up again.

Quirin felt a rush of something between a protective hostility and emotional wariness bubble in his chest. “Who?”

“Dad, please!”

“Who did this to you!?!” His voice raised in volume and took control of the situation as more tears tracked out of his son’s eyes. It was clear that his son was struggling to keep his mouth shut.

He groaned and protested, but was unable to stop the drug, “Cassandra. She kidnapped me, knocked me unconscious, and held me prisoner in her tower for two days.” He rubbed his red and puffy eyes    

“Did she hurt you?”

“No- ugh, yes.” He continued to wince in agony, “She hit me with some of the black rocks, and then I fell out of the tower, but it’s okay; Lance caught me.” Before he could stop himself, Varian explained all of Quirin’s questions about the previous days. Some of the kind-hearted boy’s thoughts were loving and sweet, while others were of a genuine fear. “I thought I was going to die, when Cassie, uh, Cassandra brought Eugene and I back into her tower. I mean, she was attacking everyone, and I’d never seen her so furious. She looked like she was capable of anything – just like I did when I was the villain.” The last part of his sentence was hushed and sincere. “Dad, I know where she’s coming from, and I want to help her.”

“I know, son. I know.”

Varian leaned against his father and allowed Ruddiger, who had randomly lumbered into the bedroom, to snuggle into his lap. As the night continued to pass, wounds began to heal, and trauma found its ways into the shadows and out of the light. Quirin realized that the boy was becoming drowsy and less reactive. Whether it was the aftermath of the drug or the excitement losing its effect, Varian found his limbs becoming impossible to move as it seemed they had gained several pounds. Quirin was idly running his fingers through his son’s hair before he decided to speak in a soft, carrying tone. “I have more questions, but I understand that you are tired. We can resume this conversation tomorrow, but I want to ask you one more thing.” Gently leaning his son back so that they could look into each other’s eyes, Quirin continued, “Varian, I’m giving you the choice if you want me to ask the question or not. I want to hear the answer, but I want to hear it from you, not the truth serum. Would you prefer I ask tomorrow? I understand if you do.”

Varian thought about it. What did he want to know? His question could go a number of ways. The young alchemist’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned, deep in thought. He trusted his father, and he was convinced that his father trusted him too, but if this was so, why was it intimidating to be an open book?

It shouldn’t be.

“We made a deal: no secrets.” His frail voice bloomed through his tired smile.

Quirin took in a deep breath before asking the question that could very possibly ruin so much: “Why did you not want to tell me?”

Whether it was the drug or the boy, the response was quick, “Because Cassandra wanted more than anything to make her father proud. If I told you what she’s done–” He paused abruptly as if searching for the correct words, “It’s your duty to tell the Captain of the Guard, and I would never forgive myself if I was the reason their relationship could never be repaired.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?”

“Because I know what it’s like to disappoint your father.” Once he had started, the boy couldn’t stop. Bottled-up emotions gushed out just like the tears on his face. “I know that gut punching feeling when you see his face after you try so hard to impress him. I know how it crushes you because each time you do something good you get your hopes up only to be smashed back down again. I know how frustrating it is to see how your own father – the only person that matters in your life – looks ashamed of you. I know the horror that comes when you watch his face flush with embarrassment when you’re seen with him in public. I know what it’s like because every moment of every day all I can think about is making you proud, and every day I let you down. I’m tired of being trapped in this hopeless, endless cycle, and I don’t want her to be broken like-” The trembling alchemist was unable to finish as he hugged himself, crying openly. Not even the truth serum could force his worn-out body to finish his thoughts.

Noticeably upset and wanting to comfort Varian, Ruddiger whimpered inside his beloved boy’s arms. Quirin watched his son and the raccoon in complete shock. His mouth slightly open and his eyes suddenly wide and blurry.

In between the sobs violently shaking his body, Varian detected two warm, loving arms wrapping around him, engulfing him with security and the sweet smell of his father. “Varian, you don’t need validation. You need to be proud of yourself. I’m just a man, and – if anything – I am the one not worthy of your greatness. You don’t need to impress others. Know why? Because I am proud of you Varian, and I mean it, and I will say it as many times as you need to hear it. But there is so much more potential inside of you. You should achieve great things because you want to. Don’t be selfish, but do things for yourself, because Varian you are worth it. You don’t understand now, but you are more valuable than all of the gold in this world! You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Throughout his father’s words, Varian’s sobs turned into quiet whimpers until he fell asleep. The last emotion his conscious mind could recall was a sense of lightness and ease. It was like a weight that he didn’t know existed was removed.  

*****

Eugene, Varian, and Max had reached the black rock tower and were halfway up the windy steps when they heard the silence finally break. The entrance to the tower opened and several heavy footsteps clattered up the stairs. Mind controlled Hector, Edmund, and Quirin were on their tails.

“Come on Max, let’s pick up the pace,” Eugene commanded his second-in-command as he pushed his heels firmly but gently into Maximus’s strong sides. Varian gripped the horse’s neck tighter as they sped up. Once the three reached the top of the steps, the young alchemist felt a chill on the back of his neck. Petrifying memories flooded these blackened, angry walls. He didn’t want to be back here, but he would do anything to save his father. This was their only option.

“Stand guard.” Eugene said to Max as he and Varian hopped onto the cold ground. Team Awesome studied their surroundings through the dimly lit throne room. The blue, hateful flames that lit up last time they were here, had vanquished leaving them in a twisted enigma of darkness. Eugene was the first to notice the Mindtrap softly glowing on and off – similar to the steadiness a heartbeat – next to Cassandra’s throne. Varian attentively watched as his older friend reached his hand out only to be kicked back by a fierce looking female warrior. Her face was pale on one side showing a calm, coolness to her, and the other side was painted red resembling blood. Varian suddenly felt dizzy.

Without hesitation, Adira grasped the Mindtrap and pointed her sword at Eugene. Immediately, Varian raced to his rescue, until he realized he was completely unarmed. Oh, you’ve got to be joking! You know for someone with my brains, I sure can make the dumbest mistakes! As the alchemist reached his friend’s side, he stared courageously at their friend turned foe. Glancing briefly at Eugene, Varian noticed the uncertain, almost torn, expression on his face. This “Adira” lady may not have been his family, but he was noticeably dreading to fight her. It would only be a matter of time before the rest of the Brotherhood outnumbered them. Max was strong, but could he hold off all three remaining members?

Clenching his fists, Varian prepared for whatever they would have to do to get the Mindtrap and save his father.

The fight didn’t last long. Adira was far more skilled than both the new Captain of the Guard and the weary alchemist. Varian was frustrated when he realized how useless he was. Without materials or anything to work with other than unbreakable black rocks, there was nothing he could do of significance. After a surprise kick, Eugene managed to gain the upper hand and pushed her back. Suddenly feeling cornered, Adira launched the Mindtrap behind both alchemist and captain. Whipping their heads back to follow the vital item, both members of Team Awesome instantly felt a sharp ache of dread penetrate their stomachs as they watched none other than Quirin catch it.

Max, who was busy fighting off Hector and Edmund, was unable to take on all three at once. Quirin, snatching the Mindtrap, hid it inside his armor, before intimidatingly moving his sword into an attacking position. Before either Varian or Eugene could react, Adira launched herself at Eugene from behind. Both tumbled to the ground and continued their scuffle, thus leaving Varian to face his father.

Okay Varian, the desperate boy tried to spark an idea in his mind, Think outside the box. Don’t think like an alchemist; think like a son.

“Dad!” He shouted.

His father didn’t falter in his advancing movements. There was a disturbingly blank stare covering his face.

“Dad, you’re being controlled.”

As if his son’s words meant nothing, Quirin ignored him and slammed the handle of his sword into his son’s tiny frame.

Falling to the ground, the boy curled into himself as pain spread throughout his body in agonizing waves. Still, he did not give up. “We’re in this together, Dad. You didn’t give up on me, and I’m not giving up on you.”

No response.

Slamming his foot into his son’s side, Quirin remained emotionless – completely unaware of what he was doing.

Tears gathered in Varian’s eyes, and he recoiled at the disgusting, metallic taste in his mouth. He knew better than to look at the liquid dripping down his face and around the corners of his lips. He was already dizzy enough.

He needed a different tactic. He couldn’t say obvious things; he had to say what was on his heart. Through his dotted vision and tormented body, he managed to raise his head and look into his father’s eyes. “Dad- ” He had to spit blood in order to continue, “Dad, these last six months, you’ve helped me forgive you and more importantly- ” He coughed, a nasty sound, “I’ve finally forgiven myself.”

Quirin raised his sword directly above Varian’s head ready to slam it down on him. Somehow, Varian’s head, which was beating like a speeding war drum, made out Eugene’s voice screaming his name from the opposite side of the room. Ignoring his fear, Varian bravely spoke to his lost father, “But that’s just it, Dad. You’re not trapped because of the Mindtrap; you’ve trapped yourself inside of your own mind, and you haven’t forgiven yourself for it.”

Nothing.

The boy’s father stood frozen with his sword ready to pierce his son’s skull, but he didn’t move and neither did the boy. They stared at each other until–

Until, the unnatural blue light in Quirin’s eyes flickered like the candle that stood between them that night they were reunited. Just like that candle’s wax, the barrier between them had finally melted. Their hard work, their strenuous journey of redemption, and their hope to rebuild their bond, had finally been completed.

Building off of his son’s strength, Quirin used the sword that was supposed to take his son’s life and stabbed the Mindtrap. Kneeling down to see his bloodied and beaten son, Quirin realized that he had never found his son more beautiful than he was in this moment. Scooping the boy up, Quirin pressed his forehead against Varian’s, unbothered by the fact that his son’s blood was dripping on him. All those years before, Quirin was rigid in his belief that his wife was the love of his life even past her death, but something in him had shattered.

Now, the love of his life was lying securely in his arms.

“Who cares about pride?” He spoke through tears, “I love you, Varian.”

Varian smiled and, if he wasn’t this exhausted, he would have let out a laugh of pure joy. He thought nothing could feel better than to hear his father say he was proud of him.

He was wrong.

This was the first time Quirin told him that he loved him, and something told Varian that it wouldn’t be the last.  

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

[bird-in-a-cage]

Zombie

Do not provoke the patient.

Do not touch the patient.

Do not ask any leading questions that could cause trauma to the patient.

If the patient touches you at any time you will be pulled from the room for decontamination and not permitted to return.

Do not pass anything to the patient. If caught doing so you will be arrested and charged with tampering with government properly.

Steve stared down at his hands on the table, under two layers of latex up to his elbows. He'd been forced to wash them three times until they were pink and raw. Thoroughly decontaminated.

When Max had handed him the very official looking letter, shaking with tears right in the middle of Family Video he knew it was serious.

He didn't think it would be this serious.

The room he'd been taken too was plain. Had no windows and only two doors. A table in the middle with two chairs. All of it bolted to the floor. It was cold stainless steel, not that Steve could really feel it through all the layers. Opposite was a large mirror that took up most of the wall. Clearly two way. The room behind probably full of officials and scientists, all very proper looking with ID badges and miles of abbreviations after all their names.

Apparently Neil had wanted to burn the letter. Ignore it completely like it never existed. Max had snatched it away and ran. Skitched behind a bus nearly the whole way with little care for safety. Robin read the letter first. Let Steve try and calm Max down somehow. The full severity of the situation hit home even harder when Robin's eyes blew wide, like she couldn't believe what she was reading.

Billy Hargrove was alive.

The room smelt overly sterile. Steve tapped his sneakers in plastic bags on the floor, waiting. They bounced hollow with no squeak. The door he hadn't come through was pushed open, and someone wearing a lab coat and a white mask walked inside with the ‘patient’. Set him down in the opposite chair on the other side of the table, and left without a word or even a passing glance.

Steve was shocked into silence.

This wasn't Billy Hargrove.

He remembered Billy being full of life and fire, eyes that could pierce at a thousand yards, a dangerous tanned frame, and a quick tongue within a mouth that was too smart for his own good.

The person in front of him was none of those things.

His hair was completely gone. Shaved short. His eyes looked black and bruised with fatigue, those once deep ocean blues sunk in and hidden, staring down at the empty table top. He was pale. Thin. Gaunt.

This wasn't Billy Hargrove. This wasn't the boy he'd known, had a whole secret life with away from the gossips of high school. Had spent nights with at the quarry getting high, drinking and talking, listening to mixtapes in each others’ cars. Playflighting about Billy’s love of metal and Steve’s love of anything that wasn’t. Making out in backseats in the rain.

This felt like meeting a stranger.

"I had a feelin' she'd ask you to come," Billy spoke. His voice cracked like it hadn't been used for a while. He raised his head and dared to smile, but it didn't look right. He felt forced and it was too big for his new face. Wasn't bright or menacing. Just felt like a mask. Hiding the pain underneath.

"She tried. Wasn't allowed in." Steve just watched as Billy rolled his shoulders in a silent laugh to himself, pulled his arms up with some effort to rest them on the table. They were lined with white scars and tracks, poked with obvious needle marks. His wrists were thin. Steve could see the tendons shift in the back of his hands when he moved his fingers. Rolled his hands into fists and released.

It made Steve’s heart fall into his stomach.

"H-how have you been?" Steve winced at his own question. It was obvious to see how Billy had been but he couldn't think of anything else to ask. Two days ago he, and the rest of Hawkins, believed Billy had died in Starcourt. The town chose to ignore the whole thing, not knowing the true story. It was just a terrible electrical fire that had spread too wild before it could be controlled. The government forbade Steve from talking to anyone about it aside from his specially appointed therapist once a fortnight.

It didn’t do very much. 

It’s hard to talk through being tortured by Russians in a secret underground base in the town that used to be your home but now just feels like a shell and all the memories you made there feel like lies. It’s hard to talk through fighting monsters and having to make split second decisions to either save your own life or a bunch of kids’ you barely know. It’s hard to talk through nightmares that are just endlessly long tunnels and a snarling noise and rows and rows and rows of teeth dripping slime clamping around your face and eating you alive soft parts first.

It’s hard to talk through losing the one person who understood you inside and out, even if you never completely opened up to them, but you just didn’t have too because you were both on the same page of the same chapter of the same book somehow. And that was all that mattered.

Steve had slowly made peace with the fact he was never going to see Billy again. Quietly. Alone in his home that he now felt like a ghost walking through. Acting like nothing had happened. It had taken months but he was slowly getting over his fear of the dark again. Was getting over waking up alone again.

Seeing Billy though, even as small and un-Billy like as he was sat on the other side of the table in a strange building it had taken three hours driving through the middle of nowhere to get too, with Max in the passenger seat bouncing her knees and going between wanting to throw up, cry or just scream out the window, had ripped open every wound Steve had tried to let heal.

It was the most alive he’d felt since July.

“I’ve been better,” Billy answered, with a small coy smile. “Been worse too.”

Steve blinked and he was back at the mall. Back when it was all over. The air thick with gunpowder and smoke. A single wail of despair echoing from a soul too young to deal with something so horrible.

They were all too young to deal with something so horrible.

Billy on the ground. Lifeless. Nearly torn in two. Cold eyes at the sky. Covered in black and blood. Laying in a puddle of indistinguishable fluid.

Yet here he was. Clean. Breathing. Alive. Eyes still bright despite obvious pain. It was a miracle.

"How?" Was all Steve could think to ask next. 

Billy shrugged, bony shoulders within hospital clothes. A pale mint coloured loose fitting top and matching pants. He didn't have shoes.

"I try not to think about it. They say it's not good for me to think about it. Causes too much stress."

They. The government. Doctors. The Russians. The monsters that could still very well live under Hawkins. The monster that was inside Billy the whole time unseen by those who should have cared enough to notice.

Steve would never forgive himself for that.

"But I fell asleep there. And woke up here. Only way I can put it."

It was November now. Thanksgiving was in two weeks. Billy had been three hours away for five months. If the letter had never been sent no one would have ever known. If Neil had burnt it no one would have ever known. His eyes flashed dull for a moment, dragged down to the table keeping them apart, looking at his own reflection or trying not to get pulled into remembering something awful Steve couldn’t tell.

His fingers itched within the layers of latex. To just reach over and touch and confirm this was all real and not some crazy hallucination. To feel Billy, alive Billy, breathing Billy again. Hold Samson and will his power back. Will all of this to be over for good. Kidnap and smuggle him out of here somehow so they could run away from nightmares and monsters and Hawkins forever. Start again somewhere where it never got cold. Where they could both get tans and be happy.

“Max says hi,” Steve said instead, keeping his hands between his knees. “Well, she says more than hi…”

Billy chuckled like a cough, matching Steve’s eyes. “I figured.” He slowly rubbed his chest like every heartbeat was aching.

Do not ask the patient about any procedures.

You have been asked to come here to stimulate cortexes within the patient’s brain. Sight alone should be sufficient but we understand you may wish to exchange a few words.

“Do you know if you’ll ever be out of here?”

Do not ask any leading questions.

Billy’s face fell. He tapped his fingers on the table. Thinking. His voice was small and sad. 

“No.”

Steve released his hands from being clamped down where it was safe and put them on the table, slowly inched over until it just barely touched Billy’s fingertip. Blue eyes sparkled a little. Felt like home seeing them like that again.

Do not touch the patient.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, forcing down a self pitying sob, focusing straight ahead. He heard a door behind him swing open. Billy rolled his hand over the latex. Squeezed tight. The door behind Billy swung open too. The doctor started coming towards them.

Do not touch the patient.

“I miss you too. Tell Max I love her, okay?” Billy smiled so genuinely as he put his hands up in surrender. Looked like he was practiced in that movement now. He was marched away without a glance back. The door was closed sharply and it was like nothing had ever happened. 

Steve had just spoken to a ghost.

Outside in the car Max was still in the passenger seat, waiting for news. Steve’s hands were even pinker after more decontamination cleaning. They tingled but he still felt the weight of Billy’s hand somehow. Felt the slight compression. She stared wide eyed at him getting in and slipping the keys into the ignition so they could return to Hawkins and pretend none of this had ever happened once again. One more lie wouldn’t hurt.

“He’s okay.” 

[hananario-oh]

My Dearest.

The snow was cold. Well, obviously. It was snow. This snow however, was biting. Most of her legs were numb. The few bits that weren't, prickled with sharp tingles that probably weren't good.

Twelve hours. Twelve long, hard, cold hours. Were they even coming back? Was it worth leaving? The tent wasn't enough to keep her warm and the fire, though probably the only reason she was still alive, wasn't enough. The storm was slowly picking up again. The wind would soon blow out the pathetic flames of the little fire, if it could last much longer on the last of the firewood left. More embers now than wood.

Had they left her? The thought again crossed her mind. As sharp as the pain in her cheeks, as scary as the idea of the storm hitting full force. No. They wouldn't, couldn't have left her. It was a death sentence to be left out here, miles away from town. Up in the high woods, secluded. Granted, those people seemed... Foolish. Immature even but surely they knew if they left someome up here in the snow with a storm brewing with nothing but a tent and a dwindling fire that they would die?

Or maybe, she was the fool. For trusting people she'd met not even two days ago. For agreeing to go camping without even checking to see the weather. For not seeing anything wrong with them leaving to fetch alcohol. For waiting so damn long before questioning why they had not returned. By car, after all, it was half hour on a straight path.

They should have returned. But they weren't going to, were they...

At that thought, the fire caved in on itself. The bits of wood charred and broken, unable to burn any longer, gave way. The smoldering bits left offered no heat, simply smoke and little crackling noises that proved it was over.

That was it.

Standing from the entrance of the tent, a last glance around to see if anyone had returned. If anyone had left anything to come back for. If anyone was... If anyone was here to save her. But no.

Alone.

Abandoned.

And the storm was going to hit soon. By foot, an hour would easily pass before the walls of town would come to view from the tree line.

Leaving camp would be a risky game, but staying would be loosing without even trying.

It only took a few minutes before the tent was out of site. Before the trees got thicker, providing some shelter. Luckily the path was clear enough. Thick enough. If luck was on her side...

Not that it was though.

No more than ten minutes in something was wrong. Something felt wrong. Dangerous even. Why were things so quiet? A stupid question to ask in the woods but it felt wrong. There was a lack of noise, the wildlife was silent. Because of the storm perhaps? Maybe even the animals weren't dumb enough to be out in this. Maybe it was just her.

Lost in thought, it was a shock to suddenly see the car they had all travelled in ahead. The relief was unbelievable. Like a rock had been lifted from her chest and dark clouds from her mind. Smiling, she couldn't help herself as she started to run towards it.

Of course they hadn't left her! They were on their way back! They were- stopping, something was still wrong. Relief suddenly became awareness and confusion.

The car. The car was facing away from her. Towards town. Not coming back. And the doors, two were open. A quick glance around and there was more wrong with the picture. Off to the side, a boot led alone and covered with a thing layer of snow.

No. That wasn't... This wasn't right. What was going on here? Slowly, approaching the car, fear was starting to crash down inside her chest. The anxiety building like a knot in her stomach. The cold all but forgotten. The doors in the front were open and the windows in the back were smashed. The engine still turning over, as if it had been left in a hurry. Around the car were footprints but the other marks, like drag marks, seemed so prominent. Claw marks away from the car into the bushes.

Backing away, the feeling of a panic attack was rising. What the hell had happened? Were they attacked? By what? They weren't that far away from camp and in a car. What thing would be able to stop the car and drag them off like that?

Were there bears here? Wouldn't they be hibernating? Or was it too early or late? Hell, how would a bear even stop a car?

This couldn't be happening. Shaking her head, the feeling of the blood draining from her face swept over. This was some kind of prank, surely. The process of thought kick started. There had to be a reason. A set up or something. It was strange enough that a random group of college students took a liking to her, the lone one who liked classical music and art, let alone invite her to go camping.

No, this was... This had to be some TV show or youtube prank or blog prank or something.

Turning around, she looked into the trees.

"Guys," her voice travelled, bouncing in the empty trees, "guys come on. Zeke? Marie? Uh, you there?" God, what were the other two names? The tall guys name slipped her mind, and the other girl, Beth?

Suddenly it dawned how little she'd knew about the stangers she'd gone off with. The stupid thing was that it had felt natural almost to give in to the urge to be with the popular type kids and go with the flow. Yet all she knew was that it had gone wrong and now there was no name to a face she had trusted, just the knowledge that she'd fucked up and something was terribly wrong. Why had she even done this? What was wrong with books and music and movies and just being her secluded self?

Lost in thought, it was the ice cold chill that run down her spine that spun her, attention now on the tree line to her side, where the drag marks led to.

Oh god. What had she done? If something had dragged them off, she had called out and led it back to her!

Fuck!

Frantically looking about, there was no where to hide. The car, while some protection normally, clearly didn't stop it. Still, alone in the woods there were few options.

Something was there, she felt it. Climbing into the car, over the glass on the back seat, it was all she had in her to hide in the leg space. Heart pounding, the drum noise echod inside her own head. This nightmare, this disaster, was it real? In the quiet, footsteps fell. Gentle but firm, crunching. In the haze of doubt in her brain that this was even real, all focus numbed, her eyes staring unknowingly at the stain on the car seat. Dark and splattered, the finger marks clear. Dragged away out the window. Blood, drying and frozen at the same time. Beating faster, her heartbeat louder and louder, head swimming in numbess and fear. Unknowingly tears slowly fell.

The cold, back again, felt heavy. The energy to move left her, leaving it easy to stay tucked away. Ignoring the cramps of hiding in such a small space. Eyes still locked on the dark red patch, heart pounding. The air so cold in her lungs. The footsteps, so much closer. Gently, her eyes closed. The red stain still there, hauntingly bright behind her lids.

Glass, gently grunched under foot. Holding her breath, mind suddenly clear, she felt the soft touch of a hand on her cheek, gliding under her chin, pulling her head back. Marble. Soft yet hard, smooth and cool. A touch like no other.

Eyes flying upen, the light of the sun behind them blinded her, only to fade away and leave shadows again. The mist of her breath floated up towards him, almost shrouding his face, only to fade to nothing before it reached him.

Red orbs, glinting brightly despite the cover of the car he leaned into, red and stunning. Dangerous though alluring. Blurry with tears, she saw them. She saw him. Stunning and real, a devil on earth who stole the form of man. A beauty to behold, handsome and beautiful. Enough to lure.

He leaned forwards, his eyes never leaving hers, his lips parted slightly, a distraction she never tried to fight.

"To my suprise I lose a meal. Yet gain something far more valuable. My dearest, don't cry."

His hand moved, leaving her face to gently wipe a tear, then reaching down to her hand, pulling her up. Without a struggle, he pulled her out. Neither he nor herself came into contact with glass, one swift move with strength beyond expected. Stunned and confused, she couldn't look away. He moved a lock of hair away, tucking behind her ear. A deep breathe and he smiled. Fear was gripping her insides, yet she stood, enveloped in this mans existence like he was the air she needed. Another stranger, dangerous and something else. This time though, it was no choice. Deep inside stirred, an instinct and she knew, he was something for her. Good or bad, he was for her.

"I returned for desert, yet found blood that sings to me. How precious you became so quickly. Forgive me please, for your friends and the life that is about to befall you, forgive me..."

Shaking her head, the fact he implied he did something passed in her head, the notion of things to come held attention.

"They... They weren't my... I hardly knew them. Befall me?" Her voice quivered. Something of fear and unknown, yet excited and stunned. The feel of his hands on her back, the cold, different to the coldness of the snow, brought life to the skin beneath her clothes. It was like a spell had been cast. Why wasn't she afraid like before, why wasn't she trying to run?

He smiled, something that caught her by suprise. Her heart lurched at the sight. Had she made him smile?

He looked off to the forest, looking off far as if he could see through the darkness.

"Then I suppose you'll bear no grudge for what we did. Now, come. They wait for me, for us. My name is Demetri. This will not be easy for you my love, but it must happen now. My dearest."

And like that, the car was gone, he held her as he ran through the trees, blurs of greens and whites, ground and trees. This was dangerous, but better than being alone. All she could do was grip him and hide. What was to come?

Demetri...

Demetri...

Oh lord.

[izaswritings]

all that’s left in the world | chapter eight

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: cursing, referenced current character death via Reaper’s Game, references to past character death, friend drama, and self-worth/self-esteem issues. If there’s anything in the chapter you feel I missed, let me know and I’ll add it on here!

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AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

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part eight: eri

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Eri and Beat’s first day of casing Shinjuku—what’s left of Shinjuku—goes poorly.

They arrive late, and search until the sun starts going down and turns all the buildings into gothic, spooky silhouettes, and if Beat had his way, would probably have continued searching after dark if Eri had not loudly and firmly put her foot down. (No matter what Beat says later, it was not because the moment the lights went out, Eri had gone stiff and pale and jumpy at the slightest noises. It was not. Eri doesn’t believe in ghosts, not even in the apocalypse, and she is, most certainly, not afraid of the dark. So there.)

Night falls fast and quick, and in the end, they find an empty shell of a café stand and settle down for the night. When the talking finally dies down, and Beat gone to sleep, Eri lays there in the dark for a long time, feeling young and stupid and missing her bed, because it’s the petty things that keep her mind from the frightening things—how hollow Shinjuku has become, how cold, how Shiki hasn’t answered any of her texts at all… how none of Eri’s texts have reached her.

Here are the cold hard facts: Eri has no idea what’s going on.

Beat had tried to explain—Reapers and Games and UGs and whatever—but she suspects he doesn’t really understand it fully himself, and no wonder. There’s so much Eri feels like her head is going to explode, this rising scream in her ears like an instrument out of tune, and if she focuses on it too long she thinks she might cry. That first night, she curls up with her Mom’s old brass knuckles clenched tight in one fist, and doesn’t sleep well at all. In the dark nightmare city, her dreams have turned faint and blurry, almost feverish, a distorted echo of her room and her father opening the door, his face fallen in grief, saying, “Eri, honey, I’m so sorry... Shiki is...”

When the sun finally rises—or at least, when the ash gray sky gets a little lighter— Eri wakes up with her eyes dry and aching, and Beat leaning down over her with a frown. “You okay?” he says, when he sees she’s awake. “You were making noise.”

Outside the café stand, the sky is pale gray and dim; the light barely reaches inside at all. Her mouth feels cottony and her throat tight; dust drifts in the air like snow. Even Beat, brash and bold and bright like a really annoying flare, seems faded here—his pale hair near colorless, his clothes greyed and the colors turned weak and subdued.

Eri sits up, and scoots away. She doesn’t dislike Beat, mostly; doesn’t really know him, besides the fact he’s part of that weird group of friends Shiki picked up from nowhere and then couldn’t be separated from. “Fine,” she says.

She’s not. There’s dust in her hair and smearing all across her pretty green skirt—the one Shiki stitched her—and the night has left a crick in her neck, her side, the back of her leg. Eri stretches out her leg and takes a breath. “Fine,” she says again, stronger now. “Day two?”

Beat doesn’t look like he believes her, but he leans back, and that’s good enough for Eri. “Yeah,” he says. Hesitant, maybe, and looking like he wants to ask, but in the end, he just shakes his head. “Day two, yo. Ready to go?”

“In a minute.”

“Alright.”

She watches him wander off to repack their stuff and check the surroundings, or some other survival shit she should probably be thinking of, and exhales shakily. Day two. Ugh. She’ll say this for the nightmare-land Shinjuku: if nothing else, it’s convinced her that whatever’s going on, it’s very, very real. Bizarre monsters aside.

Eri works on getting up, stretching out her arm, and tries not to shiver at the memory. Noise, Beat had called them, and Eri still isn’t sure if that’s meant to be ironic or something, because frankly those things hadn’t made a sound. She hasn’t quite mustered the nerve to ask. Those monsters were just…

They would have been beautiful, Eri thinks, in any other circumstance. Those swirling designs and colors, the bold strokes. Even their resemblance to animals… but maybe it’s the resemblance that makes them so unnerving. Their limbs too long, proportions all off, eyes blank and fuzzy like the white static on broken TVs. God. It still makes her shake to think about.

The fact Beat has fought them before—that Shiki has probably fought them before—doesn’t help matters at all. What happened that month, when Shiki was ignoring her? How could Eri have missed this? Her best friend was fighting for her life while Eri… what, sat and moped at home?

It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t fit. She knows they had that fight, but… surely Shiki must have known Eri would have come to her side in a heartbeat, right? Even if their phones didn’t work or whatever, couldn’t she just have told Eri straight? Shiki must have known Eri would help, right? …Right?

(Her fingers curl tight over the brass knuckles. In her head, her dad’s voice echoes. Eri, honey… Shiki is—)

Eri hates this city. Shinjuku: officially on her shit list! Forget the creepy apocalypse aesthetic, ignore the blood-red clouded sky and the cloying taste of ash. Damn the broken rubble and everything. Eri could handle all of it, but these stupid Games and stupid monsters, and all the questions they bring with them… yeah, no. That, Eri can’t forgive.

And the silence—god! The silence. It hadn’t bothered her too much at first, but the longer this ordeal goes on the more it itches at her. The Noise, too… their bright colors all dull and ashy like everything else in this ghost town, and as Eri had watched them stalk the streets, the lack of—anything—click of claws or snarling or even static—had made something knot in her throat. This place. Just, this place.

Café-man should have sent Mom here instead of me. Her mom would laugh and laugh if she knew Eri was getting freaked out by the quiet; deafness, an automatic defense mechanism against the apocalypse. This place and its creepy silence would barely phase her, though the sheer destruction would probably still make Mom look twice.

Ugh, and now Eri’s thinking about her parents, and missing them, and missing home all over again. Stupid brain. Mom isn’t here, and even if that absence of her—of anyone— aches more than even the silence, Eri just has to deal.

She finishes stretching out her arm and moves on to rolling her shoulder. Ow. Café stand floors are so not comfortable resting places. Which, speaking of…

“I can’t believe I slept on the floor,” Eri mutters to herself, rubbing at her neck. Shiki owes her for this. Shiki owes her… a reply and a call back, maybe. It’s not her phone, Eri’s pretty sure—she’d called her parents last night, said she was staying at a friend’s place, and learned in the ensuing conversation that according to the rest of the world, Shinjuku had never existed in the first place. What are you talking about, Eri? Ha, ha, ha.

This is so not how Eri wanted to spend her summer.

She takes a moment to cover her eyes and breathe, and then she rises to her feet and smacks the dust off her skirt. That’s probably as good as she’s going to get. It’s time to face the day.

Beat is waiting by the entrance, rubbing absently at his wrist. Eri comes up beside him. He eyes her. “You ready?”

She shrugs, and fusses a little with the bangle on her arm. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He frowns at her, a little. Eri stares coolly back.

“If you say so,” Beat says finally, and hands her a protein bar before heading out the door.

Eri takes the bar with a grimace, and follows after him. As they walk, she peels the bar open, chewing it glumly. Second worst thing about this endeavor. She’d been so shaken by, like, everything... she’d forgotten to prepare. No supplies, no food… no water.

Or so she’d thought, anyway. She’s still not sure what to make of the backpack of supplies they found when they stopped to rest, or of the way Beat lit up and went “Thanks, Coffee Man!” but like. After yesterday? It’s fine. It’s whatever.

She checks her phone—no messages getting through to Shiki, okay, okay—and then crumples the wrapper in her hand. Go time. Maybe she isn’t the fondest of Beat (or Rhyme, or Neku, but—) but, Eri can do this. She can. For Shiki, if nothing else. Eri’s feelings on the matter don’t mean shit in the face of yesterday: the way Shiki had gone dead white, the way her eyes had gone lifeless and blank and far-seeing at that phone call. The way she’d stared right through Eri— right through her, like she wasn’t there. Like nothing was there. Like for a moment, for Shiki, the whole world stopped turning.

And yeah, thank god, it hadn’t lasted long. Shiki had hung up the phone and gone scary intense instead, before running off to do—whatever it was she was planning. But Eri... Eri doesn’t think she’ll forget that look anytime soon.

And that matters too. Eri isn’t the fondest of Neku, but she’s never wanted him dead, and—and if that’s what Shiki looks like when Neku is gone, if that’s what taking Neku away does to Shiki... then yeah. Eri’s here. She’ll play this weird fucking murder game for dead kids and she’ll help skater-boy track down the cutesy girl with the gun and Eri is going to do whatever she can. Whatever it takes. Whatever’s needed to make sure Shiki never has to make that face again.

It just. Galls, a little. A tiny bit. Neku. Beat, Rhyme, etcetera. Why them? Eri knew Shiki longest. Eri has known Shiki for like, ever. Where did these people even come from? And why—why are they so—?

It’s not jealousy! Eri tells herself, now out on the streets proper and squinting up into the glaring white foggy day. Eri isn’t jealous. She’s not. It’s just weird, is all. It’s just— it’s always been just her and Shiki, before. She’s not sure where these strangers fit into that. She’s not sure why they have to.

She kicks a rock, somewhat vindictive. It bounces away very pitifully. Eri tilts back her head and sighs. Ow, daylight. Burning her cornea. Another thing she forgot: sunglasses.

She can’t see the sun, but this dead Shinjuku is bright anyway; it’s like it is reflecting the light tenfold. Makes sense, in a way. Empty buildings and blank screens—what else is it supposed to do if not reflect? It’s not like it’s got any image of its own to show.

Eri kicks another rock. It doesn’t even make a sound. God, this place is so creepy.

“Hey, uh...”

She resists the urge to sigh at him; her fingers clench. “What?”

Beat is walking with her, now, fallen back to match her pace. He rubs at his shoulder like he’s trying to press out an ache, and squints at her like she’s the sun. “You, uh... you sure you okay? ‘Cause like—”

“I already said I was fine.”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“Look,” she says, losing her patience. “I’m in a nightmare city in a nightmare place looking for fucking Neku Sakuraba and we’ve been here for hours and nothing’s happened and so far I think I’ve been holding together pretty damn well, so could we just—” She throws up her hands. “Can we not!”

She pauses, breathing hard. Beat looks away first. “Whatever, yo,” he says, a little stiff, and takes off down the street. “I won’t ask again, alright, I got it.”

There’s a brief flare of shame—he hasn’t even done anything, and here she is, yelling at him like he’s the cause for everything—but Eri is tired, and she’s just woken up, and she’s thinking of Shiki now, Shiki with Beat and Neku and Rhyme, the way Shiki smiled. And suddenly she doesn’t feel sorry at all. “Good.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say a word, just checks in another building. Turns away, and heads to the next one. Conversation apparently over. Well, that’s just fine with Eri.

Beat heads over to another ruin, though, and Eri lingers back, hand on her hip, starting to frown. He’d done this last night, too, before it got dark; Eri makes an incredulous noise. “Are we really checking every single building for this Reaper girl?” He’s not even checking them properly—one glance through the windows and gone.

Beat’s expression sours a little. “Yeah? So? Man, why aren’t you lookin’?”

“I don’t think we’re going to find her like that,” Eri informs him. “I mean—isn’t she—that’s too easy.”

“You got a better idea?” he says, but it seems rhetorical, because barely a second later he shakes his head hard, fists clenched and says, “Bah, figures,” which makes no sense at all, and then he makes a sharp, angry noise in the back of his throat, puts down his skateboard, and starts rolling away.

“I—you—what?” Eri stares after him. He gets further away. What the fuck? “Seriously!? Where are you going!”

He ignores her. “This is taking too long, yo!” He puts down his foot and stops with a jolt, and shakes his fist at the bleeding morning sky. “OI! Reaper girl! Coco! Get the fuck out here, man!”

Holy shit. He’s—he really just did that, Eri realizes. He left in the middle of her talking. He’s speeding away on his damn skateboard and yelling for the murderous Reaper with a gun while she—

Ugh.

What does Shiki see in these people?

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Eri cries, ineffectually, and jogs after him. He’s stopped, thank goodness—staring up at the sky with a scowl, hands curled to frustrated fists. His lip is getting worried through his teeth. His foot is tapping. “Oh my god. What were you thinking? What if she—and you—do you ever slow down?”

He blinks at the clouds and then turns and blinks down at her. “Nope,” he says, though he sounds a bit sheepish about it. His shoulders slump a bit. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave in the middle of the convo, just… ah, it’s just getting to me. Phones used to— anyway, sorry about that. I just thought...” He trails off. He stares with a furrowed brow over the city, and makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Man. You really don’t like Phones, do you?”

Eri has to mentally rewind their conversation for a few minutes until she gets it, and then she flushes a dull red. In a nightmare city in a nightmare place looking for fucking Neku Sakuraba… possibly, maybe, a bit obvious. Whoops. “I— look, I’m just frustrated. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Beat only shrugs. “Alright. If you say so. Rhyme always says I jump to conclusions…” He trails off again, and then shakes his head. “Well, anyway.” He takes a deep breath. “OI, COCO—”

Eri muffles a scream behind her teeth and lunges at him, dragging him back. Beat yelps. “Come on! You’re just drawing the attention of all those monsters to us! There’s obviously no way that’s actually going to w—”

Their phones ding at the same time. Eri chokes.

There’s a long moment of stiff silence. Beat reaches for his phone first.

“Don’t—”

He’s already opened it. Eri covers her face.

“…Damn,” Beat says, finally. The anger has fled from him; he sounds tired now, worn and a little frustrated. He presses a hand over his eyes. “She’s just messing with us.”

Eri warily reaches for her own phone—first café guy, and now this murderous Reaper, how do these people keep getting Eri’s number—and flips it open.

Her hand tightens at once. This is… what even is this? Eri has a set font for her phone, meticulously installed settings and everything, and somehow this text message has defied all of them. Coco has mangled the look of the kanji something awful; Eri wants to strangle her partly for the poor aesthetics and partly in revenge for her eyes.

Next to her, Beat shakes his head. “Argh, this doesn’t make any sense to me, yo. Hey, can you read this shit?”

Eri doesn’t grit her teeth, but it’s a near thing. Damn, she knew he’d ask. She flits her gaze back to the text message—big and ballooned and pink-lettering like the writer was trying to be cute, with so many hearts it makes the designer in Eri wrinkle her nose and sniff, tacky. Plus, she thinks—is that short-hand? Oh, fuck.

If she’d had better sleep, if she wasn’t exhausted, if there wasn’t a headache pounding behind her eyes, then maybe Eri would have some success parsing through it. As it is, she flips her phone shut. “No,” she says stiffly, but when Beat just nods and sighs and turns away, she relaxes a little. “Can you?”

He mutters. “Game… welcome… I think she’s asking us to play? Definitely from that damn Reaper girl, though.” He scowls, and flashes the signature at her; COCO, written out in English with a big and scrawling font.

Eri looks back to her phone with a clench to her gut.

Beat groans and snaps the phone shut. “Whatever, yo. Who cares what shit she has to say. Probably just a stupid game. Reapers love that stuff.”

Eri bites her lip and opens her phone again. No. Language still not computing. Still... “If it’s from the girl we’re tracking down, there might be a clue. Shouldn’t we—”

“Nah, it’s cool.” She frowns at him, but Beat grins back, wide and a little brash, and punches his fist into his palm. “Look, trust me on this one. I’ve got this, yo! They want a game, I’m not gonna play. Works every time.”

That doesn’t seem quite right to Eri. “Um.”

His smile falters a little. He rubs the back of his neck. “...Look, I—I, um, I’m not the smartest, I don’t get things sometimes, I get that, but— I dunno, it’s worked before, alright? People like Miss Chiff, you know, they want... they need people to play. And when I was in the Game...”

He makes a noise, waves his hand, as if trying to find the words. “I mean, they erase you if you don’t do the missions, sure, but shit like this is different, yo! When you don’t play, turns out they end up coming right to you. Get them mad, and then hit ‘em when they’re distracted, and bam! Reaper down!”

There’s a pause. Beat trails off at Eri’s stare, turning red, and looks away. “It, uh, worked for me and Phones, so I... never mind, you’re probably right, it’s stupid. Let’s—”

“Erase you?” Eri echoes, hollow, and Beat stops mid-word and blinks at her. “What do you mean, they erase you?”

Beat blanches. “Uh.”

Eri’s mind is whirling. “Do you mean—if you fail a mission, they kill you?” But then… “No. No, that doesn’t make sense, then why would it be erasure? That’s just murder.”

“Well, yeah, it is,” Beat says, looking uncertain. “But we were kind of already—”

He stops. Eri stops. Beat’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” he says, and then he starts waving his hands, laughing loudly and nervously. “Never mind, yo, t-that’s not—anyway, what about this weird-ass text, right—”

Eri isn’t listening anymore. “Already,” she says. Neku, shot dead by the murderous Reaper—he’s in the Reapers’ Game, a contest to come back to life, isn’t that what that weird café guy had said? And on second thought, with what she knows now: isn’t that odd? Isn’t that strange? Doesn’t that mean…

“Already,” she says again, and her breathing picks up. Oh no. Oh no. “But then—if that means—you have to be dead to get into the Game? But you were in the Game. I don’t understand. If Neku is—and you—but then, that means—”

The dream comes back to her. Eri claps a hand over her mouth. She falls to her knees.

“Woah, woah, woah, I— Eri— yo, you okay!?”

She should have realized this sooner, Eri thinks. She should have connected the dots as soon as Beat explained the Game to her, as soon as he’d said he was a Player too. That awful echo of a dream. All those questions about where and how and when Shiki met Neku, met Beat, met Rhyme.

“Shiki died?” she asks, and her voice is very small.

“Oh, shit,” Beat says, and kneels next to her, hands fluttering over her shoulders like he doesn’t know what to do. Eri has the same goddamn tick. Somehow that hits her hardest of all; she starts hiccupping. The alarm on Beat’s face deepens to panic. “Oh man, no, I— she’s not! Anymore! We got out, yo, we all came back. Good as new!”

And now, at last, she has a better idea of why they all called it the Game. She thinks she might be sick. She wipes at her eyes. “Y-you won?”

“Well, that’s... y-yeah.” Beat looks away. Then he looks back at her. “Shiki’s alright. And she’s strong. Whatever she’s doing now, she’s probably kicking ass. Maybe even beating us to Phones, or the Reaper girl.” His smile is weak and false, but it stretches wide on his face. “I don’t— I don’t know much. Sorry. But she’s okay, yo, I can feel it. And when this is done you can go and yell at her all you like.” He awkwardly claps her shoulder. Eri presses her hands against her eyes, the sudden crying fit fading as quickly as it started. “You... uh...”

She exhales, slowly. Her head pounds. “F-fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She brushes his hand away—kinder, this time—and rises unsteadily to her feet. Games and Reapers and Shiki dying. She supposes she understands why Shiki went so blank in the eyes, before. It feels a little like getting hollowed. “Let’s... let’s talk about something else.”

“Uh... well, okay, but—”

“Plan,” Eri tells herself, and rubs at her cheeks. Ugh, makeup smeared everywhere. She rubs at it harder. It’s already faded from the night—and who cares how put together she looks right now? It’s the damn apocalypse, or something. “You said you had a plan?”

“Well... nah, never mind it, it was kind of stupid—”

But Eri remembers it now, and she rubs at her face one last time and takes a deep breath, thinking. “Don’t play their games. Anger her into coming to us.” She exhales carefully, and swallows down the last stray sob in her throat. “That... that could work.”

Beat brightens at once. “Yo, you think so?”

“…Yeah.” Her breathing is settling. She blinks and shakes her head and straightens. “Y-yeah. If we—I mean, this message... she responded to you. She’s paying attention. She’s trying to make us do something. and if we don’t do it...” If they just ignore it entirely, or do something so out of bounds ridiculous... this is a girl who was willing to kill someone for this, whatever her goals are, right? So she’s taking this seriously. She’s got plans.

The more she thinks about it, the more it clicks. Because really, Eri thinks. What better way to draw the mastermind to you, than to treat the mastermind in question as irrelevant? She’s pretty sure she saw it work in a movie once, or something.

And hey, even if it doesn’t work... at least they tried. One option down.

She feels a little more settled now. She tugs at her skirt hem and gives Beat a weak smile. “Hey, works for me.”

“Really? Aw, hell yeah!” He punches the air. His face tightens, a brief flash of pain, but Eri blinks and a second later its gone. Beat shakes his head and laughs it off. “Man, I was worried for a second there. I know you don’t like me, so I thought that you’d—”

“—What?”

“—shut me... what?”

“It’s not... I don’t... I don’t dislike you,” Eri says, and feels it burn in her cheeks like heat.

He frowns at her. “I don’t mind it,” he says, slowly. “But you think we don’t see the looks you give us? Me and Phones?” He rubs at his hat. “Now if it was at Rhyme, that’s nuts, but it’s whatever, I guess. Can’t like everybody. We’re cool, man.”

Some part of Eri is horrified. “You—” They noticed? Oh god. Had Shiki noticed? Oh no. “I don’t hate you,” she says, and she means it, but she’s bright red anyway. Ughhh. “And I—I wouldn’t shut you down even if I did. I wouldn’t. You have some pretty good ideas sometimes.”

Beat looks back at her with raised eyebrows like she’s said something silly and it actually hurts, a little, to see that. “You do. I mean it. Maybe you don’t think things through, and maybe you rush ahead a lot, but that’s—that’s not—” She doesn’t have the words for this, the language, and she bites her tongue hard and shakes her head. “I actually kind of— can I tell you something?”

He blinks at her. “Uh… ‘course.”

“Thanks.” Eri takes a deep breath. “I want, more than anything—I’ve always wanted to be a designer.”

He nods. “Like Shiki!”

“Yeah.” The reminder of Shiki warms her. She imagines Shiki’s smile, her quiet encouragement, the way she took scribbles and half-hearted dreams and turned them into something real, something Eri could hold in her hands and look at and really, really see. I can do this. With you, I can do anything.

She wonders if Shiki will ever know just how much that moment meant to Eri. Maybe not.

“Yeah,” Eri says, more decided now. The things Shiki gave to Eri… maybe she can pay it forward. Give it to Beat, too. “But some people—I mean—trends are fickle. So is design. And, and I’ve had people tell me… that I’m an airhead, I’m vapid and s-self-centered and fake because I like clothes and I like how they make me look and wanting to make clothes isn’t—isn’t—well. You know.” She makes her voice high and mocking. “It’s a bad idea.”

Beat is staring at her. “What, seriously? Why? Look, trends don’t make much sense to me, but staying on top of them—making shit that a whole lotta people wanna wear—” He shakes his head. “That’s amazing, yo!”

“I know,” Eri says, and smiles a little. “I�� um, confession time, I guess? But I’m not too good at math. And… I— I have a lot of trouble reading. Um, anything. It’s just brain stuff.” He’s watching her, intently, and her eyes drop and skitter across the ground. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I get it. Not… getting things. If that makes sense. But that doesn’t make me—doesn’t make you—we’re not—” She struggles for the words. “I’m never going to just… Argh!”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, I—”

“I hear you,” Beat says, a little quieter, and Eri shuts up and looks at him fully now, scanning his face, trying to make sure he means it. He grins at her. “Rhyme says it too, and they’re plenty smart; if both of you are telling me, I guess there’s gotta be some truth to it, huh?”

“Guess so,” Eri echoes. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t just shut you down. I’ve been listening. I promise.” She hopes so.

Beat shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, yo. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you wouldn’t… just, I don’t really have something I’m good at. Not like you and Shiki, or even Phones. And Rhyme, man, you should see them go, they’re good at everything. But me…”

He pauses. “I haven’t found… what clicks for me, yo.” Beat stares at the ground. “Never did, even before this whole mess. Guess I’m just a little nervous I won’t ever find it.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Listening,” Eri says, awkward, and shuffles on her feet, thinking back to last night. “Really… really hearing people. I think you understand what’s important, Beat.” She offers him a weak smile. “I’m sorry for earlier. I’m not mad at you, I didn’t mean— it’s not you. You’re fine. I just, I don’t know. Shiki cares a lot about you guys. And you always make her... she always smiles so much.” The way she trusts Neku. The way Beat will say one thing and Shiki’s eyes will light up, bright with fondness. The way the very sight of Rhyme is enough to make Shiki smile. “I wish I could do that too.”

“Understandin’ what’s important, huh?” He rubs the back of his head, looking almost bashful. “Y-you think so?”

There is a memory in the back of Eri’s mind—faint, distant, watery as a dream. You aren’t meant to be a designer and the way Shiki’s face had fallen flat, like Eri had stabbed her instead. If Eri could have listened better, maybe she would have seen it earlier. Maybe she could have understood why it hurt Shiki to hear that. And maybe, just maybe, she could have known what Shiki needed to hear instead.

“Yes,” Eri says. “I absolutely do.”

Beat smiles at her, bright and beaming. Eri looks back at him, quieter now, and for a moment she tries to see him fully. Tries to see what Shiki must see in him. He’s a kind listener. He’s brash and bold and loud. He’s got a good heart, even if he fumbles with it.

Maybe she’s got this all wrong. Maybe she really hasn’t been listening, or seeing him, the way she should. Maybe Eri can do better, be better, and take a chance to know this person who has found his way into Shiki’s life so perfectly, and see how maybe he can start fitting into hers too.

Maybe, she thinks. Maybe.

But for now, she loops her arm with Beat’s like she does with her friends, and offers him a more genuine smile. “Let’s give that Reaper girl hell,” she says, and when Beat throws back his head and whoops in agreement, fist raised, Eri taps his fist back with a grin stretching ear to ear.

And just maybe, she thinks—maybe she can do this after all.

[saint-of-los-angeles]

Key to Your Heart

Summery: Keying your ex’s car is somewhat of a ‘rite of passage’ when you find out that your boyfriend is cheating on you. Just remember to make sure that the car is, in fact, your ex’s

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Warnings: THERES SMUT IN THIS ONE YALL. WHO AM I?

Listen I wrote this with @merryy-go-round and can I just say I fucking love her? She’s so talented and inspires me to write so GOD BLESS HER CAN I GET AN AMEN?

Tommy wasn’t an insecure guy, honestly. But there’s something about walking into the bathroom to take a piss, and seeing your boyfriend of almost a year, the one that brought you to the fucking party in the first place, with some chick bent over a toilet that makes you want to die.

In his hazy state of mind, he didn’t know if he was more hurt, or more livid.

But as he shoved his way through the drunken, sloppy party guests, and listened to Michael desperately calling his name behind him, he decided that yeah. He was pissed.

Tommy had always tried to be a good boyfriend, he cooked Michael dinner after a long day at work, never complained when Mike was ‘too busy’ to make it to one of his band’s shows, and he always fucking put out for him, even when he got nothing out of their sex life anymore.

But his loyalty and efforts had clearly gotten him fucking nowhere, and as he pushed his way out the front door, he tried to take a deep breath of the warm California night air to convince himself that this was fine.

Tommy took his time walking down the darkened LA roads, he had no real destination in mind- where the fuck was he gonna go anyway? He sure as hell didn’t want to go back to the apartment he shared with Mike- that was out of the question, too many memories of happy times before shit started going south.

Instead, Tommy just turned down roads he had never heard of, just walking and walking with the hope that the farther away he got from Michael, the smaller the hole in his heart would get.

Tommy isn’t that fucking lucky though, and as he turned the corner to yet another nameless street and his eyes met the bumper of a car he would know fucking anywhere.

A quick glance around his surroundings had him hit with the realization that he was standing outside of a liquor store, and isn’t that just fucking typical.  Parked right in front of him in the small alley next to the shady store was the black Volkswagen that had driven him to the party to in the first place.

Not only did Mike humiliate him in front of a party full of random strangers, fuck some drunk chicks brains out over a toilet, and completely shatter both his pride and his heart in the same fucking day, but after that he decides to go get some more alcohol to keep the party going?

Fucking asshole.

Tommy didn’t know if it was the heartbreak and rage boiling inside his guts, or the alcohol that was making his head swim, but either way he wasn't even consciously controlling his actions as he pulled out the key to the apartment he shared with his ex and dropping to his knees to carve his sorrow and anguish into the dented metal.

For him to give up on chasing Tommy to go get more booze? Was he really so easy to give up on? A year of his life he wasted on that guy, who clearly couldn’t be bothered with Tommy’s heartbreak. Pure anger and loathing was coursing through his veins, and maybe it was childish, but fuck it. If Michael wants to act childish and immature, then he would act childish and immature right back.

———-

Nikki wanted nothing more than to just go home and relax after the grueling shift that he had just endured. Getting underpaid to argue with drunks, junkies and stupid fucking teenagers all day? Not exactly what Nikki had planned for himself, but a job is a job. Besides it beats working corner jobs, and he prefers to be able to afford to buy actual food.

He walked out of the rear exit, door slamming behind him as he walked towards the parking lot. He had been in the middle of stuffing his lighter in his pocket, freshly lit cigarette resting between his lips, when he stopped in his tracks.

Who the fuck was messing with his car?

It wasn’t like he had a fancy car. He had bought it after his Chevy Bel Air had died on the interstate, and half the time the engine wouldn’t even turn over, but who was this fucking stranger to think he could just get away with fucking with Nikki’s shit like that?

His first instinct was to alert the scumbag to his presence, and maybe kick his ass, but his curiosity won out. So instead he stood back to look at the man who was now carving a very shaky ‘t’ on his driver side door. Upon further inspection of the scribe he could make out the words ‘Fuck you for breaking my heart’.

Wait, what? Nikki’s anger melted into confusion as he looked at the man again. Who was this guy? Sure he wasn’t a ‘settle down’ kind of guy but he couldn’t recall any recent conquests that would be the cause for someone to claim heartbreak?  Nikki’s mind was reeling, but before he could dwell on this for too long the younger man shakily stood up.

As he stared at the lanky form, who was now standing back to admire his  artwork, Nikki couldn’t stop himself from commenting, “Babe, I don’t remember breaking your heart, and trust me I think would remember that ass.”  

At Nikki’s gruff voice, Tommy jolted as if he had been hit by a bolt of electricity. Turning around Tommy began to look back and forth between the, now damaged, car and Nikki. Dropping the key that was in his fist, he threw his hands up to cover his face, but not before Nikki could catch a glance at his mortified expression paired with the swollen features that clearly came from crying.

He was young, probably younger than Nikki, but only by a few years. Face framed in brown, curly hair, Nikki took note of the red rimmed eyes and felt his chest tighten. This fucker just keyed his car. Why the fuck did he care? Nikki didn’t know, but the kid just looked so distraught, and Nikki found himself wanting to change that.

“This cannot be fucking happening. Oh my god, dude, please tell me that this isn’t your car, I am so fucking sorry. You’re totally gonna beat my ass, fuck fuck fuck-” As the curly headed strangled continued to ramble, Nikki slowly started to step closer and decided to put an end to the younger man’s tangent.

Nikki was no stranger to getting caught doing stupid shit, and he wasn’t going to make this guy feel worse when he was clearly acting out of heartbreak.

“Chill out man, I’m definitely not going to beat you up. Just stop freaking out.” Tommy’s panic fueled words were cut short immediately, and he slowly lowered his hands from his face. Still holding his breath out of instinct, ready for the first hit that he was still expecting.

Instead his eyes were met with the sight of Nikki barely containing a smile as if the situation was hilarious. “What is wrong with you? Some stranger fucks up your car and you don’t even yell at them?” Tommy half-shouted in exasperation. His arms were flailing as he talked and he stumbled back a bit, and Nikki’s smile grew a little when he realized the man in front of him was probably drunk. This poor kid was fucking adorable.

“Well, would you like for me to yell at you?” Nikki replied in a teasing, light hearted tone at the sight of the other’s inner turmoil. He was too fucking cute. “I mean, no, but, like-” Tommy started again, before he could get too worked up again, Nikki was quick to redirect.

“I promise I’m not mad, it was a mistake. Besides, I'm not one to pick fights with pretty boys like you.” He stated with a wink. Not giving the other man time to react to his words, Nikki continued.

“Besides this car is a piece of shit anyways, and so is anyone who would be stupid enough to hurt you.” As he spoke he held Tommy’s gaze and hey when did we get so close?

They were close enough to where Tommy could smell the cigarette smoke on the raven haired man’s breath, surprised to notice that his heart was absolutely pounding out of his chest, and not for the fear of being beat up anymore.

This guy’s eyes were green, deep, and so confident as he looked at Tommy like he was looking at the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Tommy found himself edging closer, despite the fact that he didn’t know this guy’s fucking name. Something was pulling Tommy toward him, like he had his own gravitational pull, something that exists inside Tommy needed to be closer to this mysterious stranger.

Tommy took a shuddering breath and looked down at the others lips, maybe he was reading the situation completely wrong or he wanted to get back at Mike, or maybe he just needed a fucking ego boost after having his confidence completely shot, but at this point he didn’t care. He had to go for it at this point, because he would never forgive himself if he ignored this magnetic feeling, it was too special to walk away from. With one more deep breath Tommy lunged forward, and kissed this beautiful stranger full on the mouth, feeling the other inhale sharply in surprise.

But none of that mattered, because after a couple beats of shocked stiffness, Tommy felt the other man pressing closer, and his lips were moving against his and his hands were pulling at Tommy’s hair like they knew exactly what to do, like they did this all the time, and Tommy was in absolute fucking heaven.

He didn’t know what this even was, he had never felt this exhilarating feeling from someone he had just fucking met, but the sparks he felt in his chest chased away every doubt the younger man had. He could think about the consequences later.

The raven haired man was pulling away then, backing Tommy up to press his back against the car, nipping at his lip in an almost shy manner, perhaps the only apprehension Tommy had sensed up until this point.

Tommy’s hands seemed to move on their own as the slipped slightly under the raven haired man's shirt to pet at the warm skin of his hip in reassurance, an encouragement that served its purpose, because then the stranger was shuddering at the sensation, brushing Tommy’s hair off of his shoulder, and trailing his lips down to press kisses to Tommy’s exposed neck.

Tommy couldn’t help but to let out an absolutely sinful moan then, because this was fucking hot, this guy was fucking hot, he was unattached now anyway and honestly, he was always a horny drunk.

Tommy felt a chuckle brand itself into his neck then, and he couldn’t help it as his lips let out “I feel like I should at least know your name, dude.”

Those green eyes were pulling back to look at him again, the same confident glint in them that he had admired in them before, but they were almost softer now.

“It’s Nikki.”

Fuck, even his name was hot. If Tommy wasn’t a goner before, he definitely was now.

“Tommy.” He managed to choke out without sounding too breathless. Nikki smiled at the airy tone and returned his lips to Tommy’s throat. “Well Tommy, I think I can make you feel good enough that you won't even remember your ex’s name… that is, if you want..”

There was that insecure tone, it was back, hidden under a mask of fake confidence, but it was there, and even though Tommy didn’t know this guy, had no reason to feel any sort of emotional attachment to him other than gratitude for not beating his ass over this situation, Tommy decided he really didn’t like that tone to Nikki’s voice. Nobody that fucking beautiful should feel insecure about anything, ever.

Tommy didn’t think he could choke out a reply anyway, so he bucked his hips against Nikki’s, feeling a shot of pride go through his chest when Nikki’s eyes rolled back slightly and the grip on his hips tightened enough to bruise.

“Are you sure?”

The slight disbelief in Nikki’s voice made Tommy’s heart skip a beat and his cock pulse harder, somehow. It was like he couldn’t believe that Tommy was willing to do this, with him, in this alley, but in reality this is all that Tommy ever could have wanted for this night.

This man was beautiful, and Tommy could see the kind soul under the rough exterior, and right now all he wanted to do was feel the passion that he had always been missing with his ex, and something in him told him that Nikki could provide that for him.

In a burst of sudden confidence, Tommy was rolling his hips, pressing his hard cock against Nikki’s thigh and somehow managing to choke out: “Pretty damn sure.”

From there, it was all hands, all over his body. Tommy felt lightheaded at the feelings this man was bringing out of him, the anticipation of the pleasure he knew was to come was suffocating him as Nikki’s gentle hands pushed him down to lay in the backseat of the old beat up vehicle.

Tommy was somewhat surprised at the gentle caress of Nikki’s hands so far, he would have expected Nikki to be much rougher, but something told him in the way Nikki’s hands shook that he was holding back for him, and that the best was yet to come.

But for now, Tommy was being driven crazy. Nikki was taking his sweet time, pushing his hands under Tommy’s shirt so deliberately, and the kisses being pressed into his neck were so soft, Tommy thought he was going to lose his mind before they got to the actual sex.

Tommy could feel the warm moist heat of Nikki’s breath as his shirt was pushed up and off of him completely as Nikki turned his attention to kissing down his chest, stopping for a minute to gently lick at each nipple. Each flick of Nikki’s tongue, each nip of Nikki’s teeth sent electricity into Tommy’s nerves, lighting them up and sending Tommy to heaven.

Nikki was palming his cock over his jeans now, and Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy could hear himself moaning and grunting with this voice that was dripping with pure sex, Tommy didn’t know if he had even made any of these sounds before.

His body was demanding more friction to sooth the pulse that was pounding between his thighs, to the point he was almost considering begging because he needed this.

Nikki’s mouth had worked its way down to Tommy’s stomach by the time his vocal cords gathered the control to choke out a strangled “please”, and Nikki’s face warped with a mixture of pure pride and lust, all thoughts of going slow abandoned as Nikki went to work on the button on Tommy’s jeans.

While Nikki rid Tommy of the confines of his jeans, Tommy decided Nikki was wearing entirely too many clothes, and pulled the shirt over the older boy’s head, sighing happily as he ran his fingertips over the warm, pale skin of Nikki’s chest.

The entire world had narrowed down to the inside of this car. Nothing else mattered, not the chatter of pedestrians a dozen yards away, not Michael, nothing else existed except for him and this raven haired stranger that was looking at him with the most worshiping eyes that Tommy had ever seen.

Tommy hissed as the cold air hit him when Nikki managed to slide his pants the rest of the way off. Nikki flat out groaned as he took in the sight before him. Tommy seemed to have thrown any hesitation that he might have felt out the door. He was locked in a pleading gaze, eyes begging for more, for anything.

It must have worked because Nikki seemed to take pity on him and didn’t leave him waiting for long. Their positions were awkward and cramped, okay yeah, Nikki definitely lost feeling in his right leg, but neither of them seemed to mind. The younger boy let out a shout when Nikki suddenly lowered himself to take the younger man’s length in his mouth.

Okay, fuck, Nikki is good at this. Tommy was in pure ecstasy as Nikki drug his tongue along the swollen vein of Tommy's cock, fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward and choke the other man.

Tommy whimpered in surprise when he felt a lubed finger circling his entrance.

Where the fuck did that lube even come from?

Tommy couldn't help it, he was pushing himself down onto Nikki's finger, begging him to keep going, give him more more more.

One finger turned into two, then three and Tommy was a writhing mess under Nikki.

Nikki let out a groan as he took in the sight of Tommy fucking himself down onto his fingers. “Come on baby, take it, that’s right.” He huffed out before pulling his fingers away completely, heat rushing to his lower stomach at the whining that ensued.

“Nggg, Nikki- more- please-”

And yeah, okay, Nikki wasn’t going to be able to deny this kid anything, not when he’s begging like that with that voice. Not wasting any time, Nikki pushed down his own boxers and thrust his leaking erection into the younger boy’s aching hole. Leaning down Nikki crashed his lips into the Tommy’s, capturing the noises that were slipping from his lips, and swallowing them down.

Nikki couldn’t contain his moans for long though. Moans turned to half-shouts as the older man began thrusting, deep and fast. Tommy felt dizzy with pleasure and the adrenaline that came with fucking a complete stranger on the Sunset Strip, where anyone could catch you.

Tommy may have been longer but Nikki was so thick. He relished in the burning stretch causing him to clench around the other’s pulsing member. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so turned on. He had grown used to the boring, lights off, half asleep, sex that he had grown to accept with Mike.

No this, this was uncensored, raw pleasure. This all felt so new, and he couldnt help but fucking relish in the look in Nikki’s eyes, like he was barely holding it together, like the sight of Tommy alone was enough to make him come. It was hot, but it was also sweet, in it’s own way. He couldn’t help but bury his hands hands in the raven locks as the other man moved to bite at his exposed throat.

Tommy’s moans gradually turned into various versions of Nikki’s name. What started out as “Nikki”, had shortened to “Nik”, and eventually morphed into just sultry moans that vaguely sounded like the older boy’s name.

“You like that, baby?” Nikki whispered as he ground into Tommy’s prostate, causing the younger man to see stars. Tommy couldn’t respond with words, he was choking on his reply of yes, yes he fucking likes it, yes he fucking loves it, he could die right here, being fucked to death in the back of this shitty car in this shitty alley and it would be just fine with him, what a fucking way to go.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, babe, goddamn-” Nikki’s praises were spurring Tommy on, in a way that he had never experienced before. He had never felt so worshiped during sex, and it made him want to give Nikki a show. It made him want to make Nikki feel just as fucking adored as he was making Tommy feel.

With that thought, Tommy was pushing Nikki off of him, Nikki’s eyes growing wide and confused at the turn of events. Tommy watched Nikki’s mouth open, no doubt to apologize, ask what was wrong, something along those lines, but before Nikki  could get a word out, Tommy was straddling his thighs, teasing Nikki’s cock with his entrance before pushing down and  sitting himself flat on Nikki’s lap.

Nikki’s eyes were wide in awe, his mouth forming a perfect o shape, his head thrown back against the seat, as he hissed out a ‘fuck, baby’, and Tommy was fucking proud of himself.

Tommy grabbed a handful of dyed black locks to steady himself as he started bouncing himself on Nikki’s lap. As his movements increased in speed, and his prostate was hit dead on with every thrust, he could feel honest to god tears in his eyes at the pleasure, he was so close, so fucking close, he needed Nikki to touch him.

He opened his mouth to say something- anything- to convey what he needed, but as it turns out, Nikki knew, somehow he just fucking knew, and he was bringing his shaking hand up to fist Tommy’s leaking erection, pulling in time with Tommy’s movements.

“I- I’m close- do you want me to-”

Tommy knew what Nikki meant, “do you want me to pull out”, and no, no he fucking didn’t, and he just sped up his movements impossibly faster in response. As close as Nikki was, Tommy was closer. He threw his head back and let out a cry as his muscles spasmed, and he came on Nikki’s hand and chest. He fucked himself through his orgasm, and the sight of Tommy’s release was enough to drag Nikki over the edge as well.

Releasing Tommy’s cock, Nikki’s arms coiled themselves around Tommy’s back, pulling him closer and burying his head in Tommy’s shoulder as his body spasmed and his mouth opened to scream a silent cry into his lover’s shoulder.

After a few minutes of labored breathing, Tommy lifted himself off of Nikki’s lap, allowing Nikki to slip out of him, and collapsed down on the bench seat, pulling Nikki on top of him. Nikki let out a startled laugh, a smile permanently etched on his face as he continued to try to catch his breath. Not wanting to crush the younger man he forced himself to sit up a bit, but Tommy was quick to pull him back against him. “Just- just for a minute.” Tommy grumbled out sleepily, eyes still closed. At the softly spoken words Nikki couldn’t help but to oblige. His chest tightened at the implications of the other man asking him to stay. Maybe the other man felt the same magnetic pull that seemed to overtake him the moment he laid his eyes on him. Not wanting to overthink things and be that person Nikki resorted back to the cocky mask that he wore so well, “Still can’t get enough of me, babe?”

But Tommy was looking at him, dark brown eyes scrutinizing and analyzing him, as if to see past the mask that Nikki has been accustomed to wearing all this time. It made Nikki squirm, he wasn't used to people looking at him like that, wasn't used to people caring that much, but he could get used to looking at those brown eyes, that was for sure.

"I mean, that was some pretty great sex, Nik."

Nikki choked out a laugh against Tommy's shoulder as he buried himself into it, pausing for a second to grab the blanket he had stashed under the passenger seat and covered them up. He tried not to let his mind dwell on how fucking good the nickname sounded spilling from Tommy's lips, but the thought had a smile playing on his lips anyway.

——-

Several years later, Michael was just a distant memory, and Tommy was living his best fucking life every day with his lover and best friend on stage, every night, in front of thousands of people. Tommy’s hair was darker, Nikki had bulked up a little bit, both were littered with more tattoos, and neither one had ever been more happy.

Neither had expected that night so many years ago to lead to this. Keying someone’s car, and then fucking them in the back seat of that same car isn’t exactly a fairytail way of meeting, but to both Nikki and Tommy, they lived their own fairy tail every day they were together.

Countless interviewers asked them how they had met and become a couple, and it was always the same bullshit response they gave everyone, they ‘met on the streets of LA and they just clicked instantly’, which wasn't exactly a lie, but not the full truth. With their entire lives being put in the spotlight now, they both agreed they wanted to keep this one memory for themselves only.

Though Tommy was used to the tattoos that riddled the bassist’s skin, his eyes always ended up focusing on the, honestly not very well done, tattoo that rested over his heart. When Nikki had drunkenly told Tommy that he wanted to get a key tattoo one night, Tommy decided then and there that this was his forever. There was no one else in the world that he would rather spend his life with.

Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight, or maybe it was, but it was Nikki and Tommy, and that’s what mattered.

[interludcs]

          BENEDETTA   PORCAROLI   ,   CIS   FEMALE   ,   SHE   /   HER   →   according   to   the   school   records   ,   GIOVANNA   ELOISA   ARGENTI   has   been   attending   sacred   heart   for   the   past   two   years   .   i   last   saw   them   hanging   around   stan's   place   ;   i   think   they   were   tying   cherry   stems   into   knots   .   at   twenty   -   one   ,   gio   has   been   studying   classics   and   get   this   ,   i   heard   that   her   bloodline   has   long   been   cursed   to   succumb   to   inevitable   madness   and   it’s   been   the   cause   of   many   mysterious   deaths   in   the   family   already   —   figure   it’s   true   ?   everyone   around   here   always   associates   them   with   biting   into   an   apple   only   to   realize   it’s   rotten   ,   a   bloody   nose   dripping   onto   silk   stockings   ,   and   the   distorted   screech   of   a   violin   coming   from   another   room   .   in   the   time   since   these   strange   happenings   ,   they   have   encountered   unexplained   occurrences   .  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :   giovanna   eloisa   argenti

nickname(s)  :   gio   ,   gigi   (   although   she   likes   to   think   she   outgrew   it  )

zodiac  :   scorpio   sun   ,   gemini   moon   (  click   !  )

sexuality  :   bisexual   .

occupation  :   student   &   heiress   .

birthplace  :   rome   ,   italy   .

current residence  :   sacred   heart   academy   . 

pinterest   :   (   click   !   )  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !  (   tw   :   depression   ,   murder   ,   suicide   &   drug   abuse   )

born   in   1953   to   one   of   the  wealthiest   families   in   italy   !   the   argenti's   posses   a   ridiculous  and   tbh   kinda   disgusting   fortune   because   of   their   distant   ties   to   the   old   italian   monarchy   ...   and   are   also   long   rumored   to   have   been   cursed   hundreds   of   years   ago   as   divine   punishment    for   the   sins   of   a   past    family   member   . 

the   family    has    a    long   and   gruesome   history   —   good   husbands   turning   into   killers   ,   more   than   one   argenti   woman    flinging   herself   off   one   of    the   many   balconies   in   the   family   estate   ,   children   who   hear   voices   in   the   night   .   more   often    than    people   care   to   count   ,   these   fits   of   madness   are   seemingly   inexplicable   .        

giovanna   was   born   on   chilly   autumn   night   .   she   would   be   her   mother’s   first   and   last   child   ,   but   lucianna   argenti   saw   her   baby   girl   as   anything   but   a   miracle   .   when   she   was   only   five   months   old   ,   a   nanny   discovered   the   woman   trying   to   drown   giovanna   in   the   bathtub   ,   stuck   in   a   trance   she’d   later   have   no   recollection   of   being   in   .   long   in   denial   of   the   family   curse   ,    marco   argenti   hired   nearly   every   notable   doctor   in   italy   ,   but   none   of   them   could   find   a   sound   explanation   for   the   violent   and   nonsensical   trances   his   wife   would   experience   for   the   next   three   years   before   ultimately   taking   her   own   life   .        

leaving   giovanna   to   grow   up   all   alone   in   the   too   big   family   estate   at   the   hands   of   nannies   ,   marco   argenti   would  spend   the   better   years   of   his   only   daughter’s   life   traveling   all   around   europe   ,   desperate   to   shake   the   ghost   of   his   wife   ,   but   never    succeeding   . 

despite   all   the   tragedy   early   on   in   gio’s   life   ,   she   had   an   almost   typical   upbringing   for   someone  in   her   socioeconomic   circle   .   a   childhood   devoid   of   the   love   her   parents   were   supposed   to   give   ,   nannies   who   gave   in   to   the   rotten   demands   only   a    wealthy   child   and   sole   heir   could   conjure   up   ,    a    house   that   never   felt   like   a   home   .

by   the   time   she   was   a   teenager   ,   gio   had   grown   up   to   be   a   different   kind   of   monster   —   not   the   madwomen   her   classmates   would   snicker   about   when   speaking   ill   of   the   blood   that   flowed   through   her   veins   ,    but   something   perhaps   more   dangerous   ,   a   selfish   girl   too   clever   and   too   beautiful   for   her   own   good   . 

on   the   eve   of   her   18th   birthday   her   father   makes   his   grand   return   home  ,   gone   so   long   he   mistakes   his   daughter   for   a   maid   before   a   groundskeeper   politely   informs   him   of   his   mistake   .   causing   more  tension   still   was   the   brand   new   gold   band   on   his   ring   finger   ,   as   well   as   the   announcement   that   he’s   selling   the   estate  ,   and   that   gio’s   to   come   live   with   his   new   wife   and   three   small   children   in   france   .

the   day   giovanna   argenti   turns   18   is   a   day   she   can   no   longer   remember  save  for   waking   up   in   the   remnants   of   a   burnt   down   home   ,   ash   caked   underneath   her   fingernails   ,   smoke   burning   her   lungs   .   servants   who   have   been   loyal   to   the   argenti   family   for   decades   will   later   testify   that  there   had   been   a   terrible   accident   lighting   the   birthday   cake   that   night   ,   that   marco  argenti   had   never   returned   home   the   night   before   ,    and   that   the   family   of   four   in   paris   crying   murder   were   nothing    but   scammers   after   the   family   fortune   .

gio   spends   the   next   year   scrambling   to   piece   together   the   mysterious   events   ,   a   tiny   voice   inside   her   head   insisting   something   wasn’t   right   with   the   story   she’d   been   fed   by   the   people   who  raised   her   ,   albeit   confused   as   to   why   they’d   hide   the   truth   if   something   sinister   had   indeed   happened  that   night  .  she   could   have   sworn   the   memory   of   her   father   coming   home   was   a   real   one   —   until   she   gets   a   letter   in   the   mail  ,   signed   marco   argenti   ,   polaroid  attached  ,   a   blurry   shot   of   a   man   who   bears   the   family   resemblance  standing   in   front   of   the   statue   of   liberty   .

cue   the   drug   abuse   (   coke   being   her   poison  of   choice   )   ,   the   reckless   and   dangerous   stunts   all   in   the   name   of   having   a   good   time   ,   the   mind   numbing   sex   with   strangers   .   heart   heavy   with   the   idea   that   she   was   indeed   going   insane   ,   following   in   the   footsteps   of   all   the   argenti’s   that   had   come   before   her   ,   giovanna   was   left   with   the   haunting   sensation   that   her   life   was   already   doomed   ,   and   so   she   might   as   well   make   the   most   of   it   .  on   the   flip   side   of   this   she   also   came   to   the   realization   that   she   could   pretty   much   ....   do   whatever   she   wanted   and   get   away   with   it   ?   people   already   thought   she   was   cursed   and   crazy   ...   might   as    well   act   the   part   ...   a    little    self   fulfilling   prophecy  ...   as   a   treat   <3      

in   a   feeble   attempt   to   save   her   from  an   untimely   and   rather   stupid   demise   ,   she   is   shipped   off   to   sacred   heart   academy   ,   a   place   a   distant   cousin   once   attended   .   mind   clouded   by   addiction   and   unresolved   trauma   alike   ,   giovanna   can’t   be   sure   the   strange   happenings   at   sacred   heart   are   real   at   all   or   just   a   product   of   a   dark   and   overactive   imagination   .   

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

first   &   foremost   ...   gio   was   inspired   loosely   by   some   sexy   women   including   miss   effy   stonem   from   skins   ,   choi   sooji   from   tempted   ,   ludo   from   baby   ,   villanelle   from   killing   eve   &   lady   macbeth   minus   the   murder   (   ...   unless   ?   😏   )   ,   as   well   as   more   lana   del   rey   songs   than   i   care   to   admit   so   we   won’t   be   talking   about   it   aha   x

yes   what   i’m   trying   to   say   is   she’s   a   little   unhinged   ...   but   in   that   fun   sexy   way   like   when   amy   dunne   gives   the   cool   girl   speech   in   gone   girl   .

speaking   of    cool   girls   ...   gio   is   one   😌   you   would   think   growing   up   with   a   last   name   that’s   literally   famous   for   being   cursed    would   have   put   a   bigger    damper   on   her    popularity   among   people   but   there’s   a   certain   fascination   gio   holds   and   she   knows   it   .   this   isn’t   to   say   she’s   got   a   lot   of   friends   because   she   definitely   doesn’t   ,   she   just   knows   how   to   get   people’s   attention   .

at   her    core   she   is   clever   ,    charming   ,    everything   someone   who   grew   up   with   money   is   bound   to   be   .   but   unlike   the   selfishness   of    other   trust   fund   babies   ,   gio’s    operates   on   a   different   scale   .   she’s   self   obsessed   ,    not   because   she   views   herself   as   better   than   anyone   else   ,   but  because   she’s    so   haunted    by   the   idea   that   something   terrible   and   wicked   exists   inside   of   her   and   it’s   only   a   matter   of   time   before   darkness   takes   over   .

in   an   effort   to   counter   that   weight   ,    she   breezes   through   life   without   taking   much   seriously   .    toying   with   people   ,   the   mind   games   she   plays   ,    it’s   all   an   effort   to   distract   herself   ,   to   entertain   her   brain   with   thoughts   that   somehow   seem   lighter   in   comparison   to   her   own   inevitable   self   destruction   although   the   people   she   plays   with   might   say   otherwise   . 

consequences   should   scare   her   more   than   they   do   ,   but   honestly   she’s   got   a   penchant   for   doing   the   things   deemed   bad   for   her   .   on   one   hand   she   figures   little   matters   if   she’s   truly   cursed   ,    on   the   other   hand   she   figures   if    she   is   cursed   than   whatever   consequence   comes   her   way   is   deserved   .

flirty   ,    but   most   of   the   time   it   never   means   anything   .   she   is   prone   to   intense   infatuations   ,   however   ,   all   of   which   have   ended   tragically   so   far   so   proceed   with   caution   .

she’s   definitely   someone   most   people   would   know   of   ,    as    she’s   got   an   almost   bad   habit   of   striking   up   conversations   with   whoever   ,   but   ask   someone   to   name   her   favorite   color   or   any   profound   fact   about   her   and   they   probably   wouldn’t   be   able   to   .

very  nosy   due   to   her   childhood   of   people   watching  and   intensely   studying   the   adults   who   raised   her   ,   and   so   the   habit   has   carried   on   into   her   adult   life   .   she   won’t   outwardly   pry   ,   but   if   you   catch   her   interest   she’ll   unabashedly   observe   you   like   she’s   an   actor   trying   to   better   understand   their   part   .

tons   of   fun   at   parties   ,   but   also   in   class   ,   considering   she’s   snorting   enough   coke   on   the   daily   to   treat   school   like   it’s   one   big   social   gathering   .   life’s   a   beach   baby   <3

studying   classics   because   she   likes   how   intense   the   stories   and   history   are  ,   but   she’s   surprised   herself   by   being   rather   good   at   the   language   aspect   of   the   major   .

deep   deep   down   ...  there   is   the   desire   to  be   understood   and   loved   despite   whatever   uninhibited   thing   she’s   convinced   lurks   around   inside   her  but   that   is   constantly   in   conflict   with   the   idea   that   she’s   fundamentally   undeserving   of   real   affection   ...   just  girly   things  you   know    🥺

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     WANTED  CONNECTIONS  !  (  all  open  to  all  genders  )

 my   brain   is   quite   literally   all   rot   rn   im   just   gonna   list   stuff   with  minimal   elaboration  please   vibe   with   me   ...

people   she   gets   high   with  <3   

ex   infatuations   that   ended   tragically   lets   get   that   angst

spare   parental   figures   ...   any   professors   out   there   want   a   demon   child   who   will   idolize   u   but   not   know   how   to   deal   with   that   so   they   just   act   up   all   the   while   hoping   for   forgiveness   and   the   attention   they   never   got   from   their   own   parents   </3      

speaking   of   professors   i   will   play   into   the   problematic  trope   of   a   student   being   obsessed   with   a   professor   -___-   solely   because  i   would   lov   to   have   gio   go   full   throttle   crazy   ...   as   a   treat   ...   this   has   nothing   to   do   with   that   one   line   in   lorde’s   writer   in   the   dark   u   know   the   one   truly   this   does   not   have   to   be   reciprocated   at   ALL            

a   confidant   /    someone   she   probably   considers   her   closest  friend   who   she   is   constantly  disgusted   with   herself   for   opening   up   to   but   also   truly   not   able   to   live   without   so   it’s   a   fun  cycle   of   push   and   pull   but  truly  she’d   probably  die  for   them  just   don’t  ask   her   that   she’ll   say   no   

i   think   it   would   be   fun   to    have   someone   who   knows   about   the   supposed   argenti   curse   maybe   their  family   had   some   associations   to   gio’s   or   maybe   they   spent   some  time  in  italy   at   some   point   growing   up   and   met   her   there   idk   im   cute   not   smart   ...

we’ve  all   been   begging  and  begging   i   will   jump   on   the   bandwagon   and   ask   for   a   sexy   rival   doesnt   mean   anything   if   u   say   i   hate  u   after   hooking  up     

someone   she   keeps   bumping   into  when   she’s   sneaking   out   past   curfew   or   cutting   class   and   at   first   it   was   like   dude   seriously   do   we   have   to   start   alternating   but   now   it   turned  into   like   wow   i   really   hope   we   bump   into   each   other   again   would   u   like   a  cigarette   wanna   listen   to   some   music   together   

 someone   she   sees   a   lot   at   stan’s   place   .   perhaps   on   campus   they   have   a   very   different  relationship   but   off   campus   they  feel   free   to  have   another

current   hookups   we   love   to   see   it   there’s   so   many   directions   to   go   in    maybe   its   purely   a   casual   thing   ,    maybe   it’s   casual   for   gio   but   not   for   them   ,   or    maybe   gio’s   the   one   like   worm   maybe   i  would   like   more   than   sex   ,    maybe   it’s   like   a   we   only   hookup   when   we’re   high   at   parties   thing  ,   perhaps   it’s   a   secret   hookup   thing   so   it   gets   angsty      

maybe   a   rival   or   someone   she   swears   she   hates   and   they   swear   the   same   but   they   accidentally   bond   along   the   way   and   it’s   like   well   i   thought   i   hated   u   but   perhaps  we   are   more   similar   than   we   thought   but   also   we   only   know   how   to   be  enemies  so   how   do   we   even   move   past   this   ...

perhaps   someone   gio   goes   to   when   she’s   especially   fucked   up   and   they   take   care   of   her   /   start   to   resent   her   for   seemingly   caring   so   little   abt   her   own   well   being   and   she   resents   them   for   caring   too  much   bc   it’s   not   liked   she   asked   but   she   keeps   showing   up   at   their   door   and   they   keep   letting   her   in   

someone   she   can   be   in   cahoots   with   ...   go   absolutely   bonkers   with   knowing   they   won’t   judge   her   and   she   won’t   judge   them

perhaps   someone   she   can   be   a   bad   influence   on

also   someone   who   makes   her   want   to   be   a   better   person   bc   we   need   balance

a   group   of   girls   gio   can   be   like   men   r   disgusting   with   but   then   they  catch   her   hooking   up   with   said   stinky   man   and   it’s   just   a   cycle   like   please   get   some  help  luv   

a   dealer   mayhaps   ?   

someone   whose   favorite   pen   she   stole   but   blatantly   lied   and   said   she   didn’t   steal   it   but   she   uses   it   everyday  in   class   so   u   know   she   did   in  fact   steal   ur   pen

ok   she’s   out   of   juice   i’m   she      

i   wont   lie   to   u   ive   been   writing   this   all  damn   day   …   but   we   finally   made   it   baby   😭😭😭   im   sosososo  sorry   for   the   length   &  the   wait   …   also   i   feel   like   my   charas   always   change   a  lil   once   i   actually   start   plotting   &   writing   so   sorry   again   if   u   see   me   finally   writing   as   giovanna   on   the   dash   and   ur   like   lit   rally   who   is   that   …  JSDBWJBDWBDJ   also   side   note   i   promise   u   im   almost  done   word   vomiting   all   over   the   place   but   it   must   b   said   ...   u   know   how   there’s   that   trope   that   supposed   insanity   is   like   not   always  real    like   how   female   hysteria   was   a   whole   as   thing   or   like   how   in   haunting   of   hill   house   where   the   charas   weren’t   really   haunted   by   ghosts   at   all   more   so   by   their   trauma   ...   that   was   my   whole   inspo   with   the   argenti’s   like   are   they   even  cursed   at   all   ?   who   is   to   say   ...   PLEASE  come  message  me  on  discord  to  plot   !   @ you are my soulmate ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172   maybe  …   give   this   a   like   if   u   wanna   …   do   that   hehehe   thank   u   for   reading   all   this   ur   so   brave   for   that   stay   sexy   stan   loona  x  

[cosmicpeko]

Tool ㅡ Chapter 2: Beauty

Word count: 1,688

OTP: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x Peko Pekoyama | Danganronpa 2

Additional characters: Hiyoko Saionji, Nagito Komaeda, Ibuki Mioda, others implied

Story type: Fanfiction

Short summary: Peko Pekoyama dives into her most precious memories in an intimate journey to self-love, trying to live with emotions she can’t control and to discover what it’s like to be a real person. More notes at the end.

Read on AO3.

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Quick notes before you start: More characters will be mentioned in this chapter and the plot will be a little more consistent this time - while still keeping Peko’s introspective style and thought processing. Remember this is a collection of memories, so the story will follow a timeline, but the episodes are not related. Enjoy!

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My lips whisper: I am a tool. I was brought to this world to be by his side; I shall fulfill my purpose.

« Remind me why we joined this lame-ass party in the first place. »

I awaken from my dissociation. I forgot where I was ㅡ I don't know how long I was absent.

« Well, for one: you need to step out your yakuza royalty zone and stop being an uptight asshole; for two, this isn't a party, it's an extra-class briefing and as long as class rep wants you here, you come here. Are you afraid we see your momma come pick you up? » « I will fucking slit your throat, you nasty pigtailed bitch. » « Do it, pussy. I'm waiting. »

Conversations float above my head, never touch my ears. Crimson eyes mix with peach and tangerine lights of a summer sunset. Rays filtered by the see-through texture of the room's curtains. Dust flies around bothered by the slightest movement. Hazy comfort.

"Are you having fun, tool? Are you relaxed?" Hands stop mid-air, vainly attempting to catch a rivulet of light for myself. To steal it ㅡ they are now cold, uninhabitable. "You are failing, I see," heart shakes, "at keeping your priorities in check." Head immediately turns around, facing the inside of the room. Analyzing every face. Looking for guilty expressions. Fingers reach for the sword bag, then stop once again. Body is all tensed up. Pure anxiety ㅡ need to control. "Do not let your guard down. Protect your Master."

In no way I was going to be at peace.

« AAAHH!!! I can't believe this sewer rat grabbed my kimono!!! Pekoyama, come get your fucking boyfriend!!! » « Imma kill you right here, right now, or I swear my last name is not fuckin' Kuzuryuu! » « Yakuza is societal filth that can't live in the civilized world and I hope you know that very well!!! » The sight of a rather normal teenage scenario unraveling before me ㅡ it's soothing. This is what 'young' looks like. An inaudible sigh leaves me.

« Fuyuhiko. Is there something bothering you? » calm voice keeps a secret ㅡ I would be ready to kill anyone who touches him. First sight is enough to me. « You even got your girlfriend to hate me? Fine! You two smell too fishy. Are you yakuza too, four-eyes? » I refrain to reply. Just at first. Blonde hair floats on traditional clothing. Face too pretty. Mouth too lousy. « I have no reason to hate you, » I wouldn't know how. « You have been screaming for a while now - it's wrecking my ears, and everybody else's in this room. »

« Oi, Saionji. » something in that call alerts me, too. I immediately turn ㅡ to hear soft chuckles. Hands waving innocently. Pale and sickly. His walk is unbalanced in a way that disturbs me. « I advise you not to provoke the swordswoman in any way. She might hurt you real bad, » he lowers his sight, « ...hehe- and I mean, serious boo boo. You wouldn't mess with such a wonderful couple anyway, would you? » Something about this person is not healthy, both physical and mentally speaking. He reminds me of a haunted house ㅡ terrifying. Abandoned on its own pity. With empty rooms and hollow hallways ㅡ inhabited by ghosts only he can see. « What's this? A congregation of rats?! And like, aren't you fucking dead already? » « You're right, » chuckles, « I should be. I wonder why that hasn't happened to me already, given my circle of luck- »

« YOOOOOSHHHH! We now announce you - we?? Well I, me, myself, Ibuki Mioda - I'm bored!!! » Everything in the room ceases to exist for a minute, overshadowed by this loud screaming entry. Mioda ㅡ overwhelming. Personified hyperactivity. Too much energy unchanneled. « Since this meeting seems to come to nnnooouu~ conclusion whatsoever, »  Mioda has this way of speaking that would make my sword terribly easy to wield. "We - we?? No I, me, myself, Ibuki Mioda - decided to start having fun - in the girls' way!!! » « Oh, here we fuckin' go- » « SHUT UP!!! We're hosting a makeover!!! I'm gonna make you shine with a perfect look!!!" her expression changes drastically in a fistful of seconds, « I need a volunteer though. » I find myself even more puzzled. I wouldn't quite know how this would be fun. In fact, I am convinced I have ever experienced that kind of amusement in any way, at this point. Only the thought of it ㅡ a context where I do not possess self-control. Where I am not focused enough. Uneasiness inducing thoughts ㅡ they make me frown immediately. « Oh??? And why is Komaeda even here?!? The boys spent the entire afternoon looking for you- » « I've always been inside this house. » eerie man speaks again. Voice is incredibly pacifying. It clashes with his spectral look. « Besides, I would rather not spend all my time with those idiotic peasants. To be fair, I'm here to get away from them. May I share a suggestion for who you should do this makeover to? » His eyes wander for a little more just for the suspance. Greyish and dull. They find me very soon, and try to lock into mine. I secure an exchange of glances before I retreat into something more comfortable ㅡ like afternoon warm rays posing and reflecting on the almost unsettling white of my skin. I tried to outrun him. In vain.

« Pekoyama Peko, perhaps? Will you have the guts to accept the duty? »

I can hear my Master gulp from a distance. « YOOOOSSHHH!!! Then it's settled!!! » she took the suggestion before I could reply. Komaeda grins like he defeated an enemy. « I'll gather all the girls here!!! Take a seat and enjoy the ride~! » Anything that happens in between the moments is way beyond my knowledge. Eyes immediately to my Master as soon as my classmates push me into the project. A part of me needs to let him know I am fine, in every context. Istinct. Pure guts.

Hands and tools start unbraiding my hair, let it flow on my shoulders. Some other are on my face. I close my eyes. Panicking. Uncontrolled discomfort. Every inch of my body is ready to fight back the danger. But there is no danger. The danger is an illusion. And this illusion ㅡ I feel it wrecking me. Making me paranoid, and at the same time, always ready to protect. A machine, brought to life to be forever on the edge. Walking on the thin layer between total control and madness. This, this will make me mad.

« Peko, you have the longest hair ever. It's a pity you always braid them!!! You reaaaally have this beauty potential- I'm sure Fuyuhiko agrees with me!!! »

I feel my eyelids snap open. No one is allowed to even breathe his name. I frantically look for him. I can't see between the many bodies. I can't keep in control of things. I start to panic even more. I never felt this. Never. But control needs to be the first thing. My Master needs to be the first thing. My life is in forever duty. His safety is my duty. I do not have time for this. I do not have permission for this. I do not deserve-

« WE DONE!!! Classmates, be gone. Let the girl admire the Gods' work!!! » Mioda's high pitch in distance shuts everything silent. In my brain. In the room. Bodies have left my side, letting light fill my now-closed eyelids again. I can feel its warmth. And I don't want to wake up from the dream of ignorance. But voices urge me. Impatient vibes torture my spine. I need to confront it.

I decide to ㅡ so blood-shot iris anxiously point the picture on the mirror before me. And they don't recognize it.

On the other side, mirror Peko's hair is completely free, fallen gently on her shoulders, on her back. Sweet curls rest on her body. Face is filled with light makeup, to contour, to refine ㅡ the beauty of the picture, and the ugliness of the inside.

I can not handle this. This is so new, so unexperienced. So beyond my knowledge of reality. My image has drastically changed ㅡ I can not see the pain anymore. I can't feel the hardness of the skin anymore. The sorrow. The solitude. The constrained acceptance of my fate. Tool. Mumblings inside my head are gentler. Tool. Faces all around me are gentler. Tool. The world feels lovely to my heart. Tool. Tool. Tool. Tool. Tool. Tool. Tool. Tool. Tool.

« Well? Peko???! Moshi moooshhh??? » I can't help it. I can not help but struggle to live with this new truth that is unraveling before me. I need to go back to reality.

How dare I. How dare I. How dare I-

« Will you shut the fuck up? Both of you! Mioda, Saionji, and even Komaeda - yes I see you! Fucking stop!!! » A splash of freezing water leaving me breathless ㅡ His voice. His rushed breath, his running towards me. His hands on me. Everything is just right the moment he comes back to my side. I sense him reading me, like the title of an old book lying on a low shelf.

He knows something I don't know. He sees something I can't see.

Something I need.

« Peko. You really are beautiful, » he says. Not even a flinch on his face ㅡ he wouldn't dare to show weakness in public. But I can sense it. His true self. « You deserve this moment. »

My mind loses it, slowly, entering a coma of self-soothing mumbling. I feel my eyes water instantly. Painful drops suddenly tear my skin.

« What??? What the heck?? You made her cry!!! » « I said close your fucking mouth or I swear to God- » « You're not supposed to make her cry!!! Oh Lord of make up- please forgive him! » « Mioda, one more word!!! » « You made your girlfriend cry!!!! Watch her being desperate and know it's your fault! » « Ah...the hope and despair born from love...how strangely beautiful...how terrifying... » « You really should be dead already!!! »

Voices fade, as I close my eyes again, indulging myself in a moment of wet abandonment.

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Soooorrryyyyyy for keeping you wait! This is the second chapter of our dear Peko’s memories collection! I really want to thank you for the overwhelming support I received for the 1st chapter. I did not see that coming!!! Thank you so much ;_;

Ps. I might need to call off the weekly update restriction, cause I find it kinda...limiting? I really need inspiration to work, I can’t afford to feel pressured on this too ;; sorry guys. But I’ll still be quick cause I already have the story aaaall in my head. See you soon with the next chapter! Also, any kind of sharing and support will be deeply appreciated!

Next chapter hints: We’ll get a bit more into something we’ve already seen in Danganronpa, both the story and the game. Even with the episode being canon, I’ll describe it using something out of my fantasy. Hope you’ll love it!

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 6 full draft

Sitting in the hospital waiting room, Lance's couldn't sit still. Bouncing on the ball of his left foot, his whole body was wracked with nervous energy. Keith had promised him he'd be at his appointment today. He'd messaged his husband the previous night to triple confirm it, then twice again that morning, only for Keith not to reply. But that was ok. His husband had sworn he'd be there... he'd sworn it and Lance believed him. Keith had missed his last major appointment two phoebs ago, though that hadn't been his fault, and the Cuban would completely forgive everything, provided Keith arrived within the next 10 doboshes... 9 doboshes... Dios... his thumbs hovered over his comms as he simply sent Keith "Keith?", for the third time that morning. It was bad enough he'd had to come to Altea for this appointment... and with Keith supposingly meeting him there, he'd left Daehra and Lucteal at home. He'd promised Coran they'd catch up after his quick scan... so where the quiznak was his husband?

  When his name was called by the nurse, Lance was quick to ask if the next person in line was already there as he was waiting for his husband. The nurse was all smiles as she assured him they were... only, when two vargas had passed after the original scan time, Lance knew he couldn't keep putting it off. The look in her eyes had shifted from friendly reassurance to pity, leaving Lance feeling like the biggest quiznakking fool on the planet. Rushing out the hospital, he barely made it to the bushes by the door before throwing up.

 That was the whole reason he was there.

 He'd been warned that the injections to help ease him off the painkiller would leave him weak for up to 6 phoebs after it stopped, but now he barely had the strength to get out of bed. No matter how much he slept, his eyes burned like he hadn't, or he'd be throwing his guts up for vargas at a time. He wasn't stupid. Despite what anyone else might say. He'd done the math, and he'd done 5 different brands of tests, yet none of it felt real and he really didn't know how to cope with the idea of being pregnant with Keith's child. They were supposed to find out today. He was supposed to be there for the scan. He'd lied his arse off to everyone over why he'd been so sluggish and unfocused. Part of him desperately wanted to believe the lie and blame it all on the medication... even if he couldn't get away with it. If he was pregnant, he'd barely be a phoeb along by outside time. It'd been a phoeb and a half for him since his heat and his period had never come. When he threw up over his bowl of cereal, because the scent was all wrong, he'd taken the first test to simply ease his mind, knowing that it'd be one of the first things a doctor would ask.

  Releasing he was throwing up at the front of the hospital, it really wasn't a good look. With tears spilling down his cheeks, he wrapped an arm around his waist as he stumbled the 50 or so metres to the first edge of the building where he could hide. Tugging his comms out, he tried Keith's number, sinking to his knees when his husband failed to answer. The rejection he was feeling from the call ringing out was nothing to soul breaking pain of being ignored by Keith when he needed him the most. This was their baby. He'd built it all up in his head. He didn't even know if Keith wanted kids or if all the talk about kids during his heat was because they were both high on the need to breed. Curling around his comms, he screamed at the stupid device before jerking back and moving to throw it, then stopping at the last tick. What if Keith had been hurt on his mission? What if his husband was laying somewhere bleeding out, unable to tell him? Feeling his breathing catching, he needed to know. He needed to call someone... Keith couldn't be hurt. He couldn't... he couldn't do this without his husband. This was Keith's baby... his husband had to know that it existed... he had to come back to them...

  Trembling hard as he fought to breath, his tears dripped onto his comms screen as he found Shiro's name in his contacts. Keith had made him swear that if he couldn't contact him, he'd call Shiro if he needed anything. Not knowing he'd hit video call, he broke down into open sobs as Shiro's face filled the small screen

"He-... Whoa! Lance, hey... What's going on buddy?"

"Ha-Have you... heard from Keith?"

Wiping at his stupid leaking eyes, Lance sniffled and sobbed at the same time

"He's on a training mission for the next... three quintants with no coverage. Didn't he tell you?"

Shaking his head, it dimly lit a light somewhere in his brain that his husband did have a training mission coming up, but Keith had promised him. He'd messaged the previous night and promised

"I... he said he'd be here... he p-promised!"

"Lance, where are you? Are you at the outpost? You're having a panic attack and you need to calm down for me"

"He said... he said..."

Unable to breathe, his breath was stolen by the awful suffocating feeling that needing to vomit brought on. Throwing up by side, he whimpered as his stomach cramped in protest

"Lance. Lance, where are you right now?"

Collapsing back against the wall of the hospital, he sniffled, his throat burning and his nose feeling blocked as he did

"A-Altea"

"Altea?"

"Have... an appointment... Keith was supposed to be here"

"Lance, can you move? I don't want to end the call, but if you can't get to Coran..."

He didn't want Coran's overly happy personality, or the man fussing over his condition

"Don't want Coran... Keith... Keith said call you... I can't... can't move Shiro... I don't know what to do... I don't want to... I don't think I want to be alive anymore..."

He didn't. Not if Keith wasn't, and not if Keith was going to reject him and their baby. He'd rather be dead than see the look of disgust on his husband's face

"Fuck. Lance, stay on the line for me. Ok, buddy? I'm leaving right now, so stay on the line for me"

  Dropping his comms next to him, Lance curled back in on himself. He knew being married was going to be hard with their jobs, but this was the second big appointment of his that Keith had missed. He'd promised to be at the first one, but had to put his team first. He'd promised to be at this one too, but now was nowhere to be seen. They barely saw each other as it was. Maybe Keith was finally sick of him? Maybe he didn't want him anymore, and didn't know how to tell him? They'd spent his heat together... and it'd been hard on his husband when Lance couldn't explain everything he was feeling when he was feeling it. He'd never shared his heat willingly before... Maybe Keith was so busy lately because he'd been scared off by how fucked up Lance's body was? He wanted his husband. He wanted Keith to love him like he loved the half-Galra, but did even deserve to be loved like that? Maybe Keith was picturing Klearo and his men fucking him like the slut he was? Would his husband believe it was his baby? Lance had slept with more people than Keith had...

  When Shiro found him, Lance was still hidden just off the main gravel path in front of the hospital. Whimpering at the touch, his burning nose scrunched up the stench in Shiro's scent. It wasn't Keith's. It wasn't Keith's at all, forcing him up to kneel, Shiro pulled him against him, rubbing his back as he hushed him, reassuring him that he had him. Burying his face into Shiro's jacket, Lance could only continued to cry. His breathing still all over the place, but the universe hadn't been kind enough to let him pass out. Instead he was left with lungs that felt useless and an aching chest that felt filled with glass. Rocking and hushing him, Lance had no idea how long they remained like that. He knew his mouth was moving between sobs, but the words weren't reaching his ears. Or rather, the sound of his own fear had rendered him deaf to anything but his pulse rate.

  When Lance's body finally went lax against Shiro, Shiro lifted him with ease. Ashamed of what had happened, and ashamed his brother-in-law had dropped everything for him, Lance hid his face against Shiro's neck as the man began to move from their hiding spot. The whole would was probably watching. They were probably all watching and laughing at the fucked up ex-Paladin who missed his husband. Carried inside, the next thing he knew was that he was being laid down on an examination bed. His eyes closed to guard against the burn, but mainly to hide from the shame of being there without Keith. Shiro took his right hand in both of his, as Lance was forced to let him go of him with a whine

"Shhh. You're alright. I'm here..."

  Nodding at Shiro, Lance was beyond exhausted before the stupid attack. The bags beneath his eyes so dark that he almost couldn't remember how they used to look. His head was throbbing from crying so much, yet his left hand had moved to protect his lower belly. As it if could save his child from its messed up mother

"I'm sure Keith's just fine"

"He... didn't come"

Coming out as a broke whisper, Shiro released his robotic hand from the hold to stroke Lance's hair back. He hated the touch, but revelled in the comfort, unsure how that could happen. Speaking softly, Shiro didn't seem to be patronising him as he replied

"It's a movement long training mission. Are you sure he messaged you?"

Sniffling, Lance nodded. His throat still felt ruined. His mouth all cottony

"Check my comms... the code is Keith's birthday"

Coughing at the dryness, Lance whined in discomfort, Shiro well into "Space Dad" mode

"Excuse me, can we get some water over here?"

  Shiro's request was filled, and a few moments later the man was helping him sip through a straw, then cruelly removing it before the taste of vomit was gone from his mouth

"You'll be sick again if you drink too fast"

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry you came all the way out here..."

"Hey, I've got a wormhole generator. It's no big deal"

"It is! Keith... Keith was supposed to be here. I had the whole thing planned... he promised, Shiro"

"I know, but I'm here. What were you here for?"

Squirming, all he wanted to was curl back up. He wanted to be home on the outpost, in Keith's arms

"Abdominal scan... I've been sick lately... it was supposed to be at 10 in the morning... I waited... I kept saying he'd be there..."

"Shhh... there's a nurse who's going to go check to see if we can do that scan now. Is that ok?"

Nodding, Lance turned his head to try and hide his face against the pillow beneath it. There were a few moments of silence, before Shiro's soothing voice was back again

"She's going to find out what's going on. How long have you been sick, now?"

"I've been tired for the last 4 movements, my time..."

"About 3 our time. And your stomach? You've been throwing up?"

"Mmm... I know what's wrong... this was supposed to confirm it... I'm so fucking scared that Keith is going to hate me"

Hiccuping, his bottom lip trembled

"Shhh... my brother could never hate you. He adores you"

"We hardly see each other anymore and I miss him... but he's so busy I can't tell him because I want him to be happy... I'm so tired Shiro... what if he wants to break up?"

"Did you overdose? Is that what's wrong with your body? It's ok if you did, we can get you help..."

So Keith had told Shiro that he'd dump him if Lance shot up again... His husband had promised to be there, no matter what. He was trying so hard... and it was hard...

"Didn't... didn't overdose"

"Lance..."

The firmness was there, Shiro questioning if it was lie, yet telling him that it was alright to admit that it was

"I didn't... I didn't..."

He didn't even want to take anything for his headache or for the nausea

"Ok. Ok... ok, shhh. I'm sorry. I had to ask"

"Keith was supposed to be here"

"I know kiddo. Maybe he thought he'd be back in time"

"I haven't... seen him in 5 movements my time..."

"But he calls you, right?"

"He does... but he has so much work... when he's home, he's thinking about work... We said a deca-phoeb, but it's barely been 6 quintants and now this... he's going to be so mad"

"Keith isn't going to be mad. He'd be madder if you didn't take care of your health"

"I try..."

"I'm sure you do... The nurse is back, do you feel up to answering some questions? She's holding a holopad"

"Yeah... sorry... I'm sorry"

"It's ok, you don't need to be sorry. I'm happy you reached out to me instead of trying to cope on your own"

   The light of the room stung at his tender eyes as Shiro helped him sit up better. The nurse wasn't the same one he'd assured Keith was coming, easing some of the embarrassment he felt over this whole fiasco

"Hey, Lance. I'm Meria. I see you're in for a lower abdominal scan today. Now, I've got all your notes and I just need to confirm a few things with you, is that alright?"

"Can Shiro stay?"

Meria nodded with a smile

"Of course he can. These questions might be a bit intimate, is that alright?"

"Shiro knows most of my medical history on file"

"Very good. Ok, so I see you listed the reason for the scan as suspected withdrawal side effects from drug use. Is that from the BXP-269 you were using?"

The fancy name for the medication he took to come off the yellow stuff

"Yeah..."

"Did you complete your three phoeb course?"

"Yes... There should be confirmation from Erathus..."

"We have it listed, I just need to understand a little bit better so we can interpret your result accurately. Now, this is due to the DFP-260 in your system. It says you were using it on a serious recreation level for the past 2 decaphoebs?"

"Yes..."

"And you haven't taken any of the DFP since then?"

"No... I swapped to the BXP daily injections. They said my body might start to break down coming off them..."

"And the other recreational drugs in your system?"

"Haven't been taking them..."

  The red stuff had been horrible to come off of. Worse than the golden DFP... he hadn't even know the names of what he'd been using, not the medical names at least

"Sorry to interrupt, but I don't understand. I thought you were going off your injections, that's what Keith told me"

"I did... Erathus had a safe way from me withdrawal without dying, but it meant three phoebs of injections so my organs didn't shut down... I haven't... I haven't taken anything like that in two phoebs now"

Shyly staring at his lap, he winced as Shiro took him by the chin and forced his face up to look at him

"That's amazing. I wish I'd known. I'm so proud of you kid. Why didn't you or Keith tell me?"

"Keith had to go help on a mission. He missed the last appointment... I don't know if he knows... or even cares"

"I'm sure he does, and I do. That's massive progress"

Those were the words he wanted to hear from Keith. This his husband was proud of him for sticking out the generally crappiness that came with it all. Not just a full encompassing "I'm proud of you"...

"It's nothing... but sometimes there's side effects and stuff... I don't think that's it... but... that's why my marks are back"

"Whatever's wrong, we're going to get you the best possible help and care available"

Redirecting his attention to the nurse, Shiro's hand released his chin and moved to gently squeeze his shoulder

"I'm sorry for interrupting"

  Meria took it all in her stride

"I assure it's quite fine. I only have a few more questions then we can take you through for you scan. How does that sound?"

It sounded to him like he was about to dig his own grave, but he wasn't strong enough to face this alone

"Ok..."

"Excellent. Now, in the last deca-phoeb, how many sexual partners have you had?"

"One. My husband"

"The same answer for the last 6 phoebs?"

"Yes"

"And when was the last time you engaged in sexually activity?"

"About... 4 movements Altea time. I live on a planet affected by time dilation, so 5 to 6 movements for me"

Nodding Meria tapped away on her holopad

"Alright, last question. Is there any chance you might currently be pregnant"

Lance's breath caught in his throat, his cheeks growing warmer as he nodded, ashamed. He couldn't even bring himself to try to look to Shiro. He knew he'd be confused, then hurt that no one had given him the full details of what Allura had done to him. Clearing his throat, Shiro started

"Males of our species..."

"Shiro... don't. I know what she said"

"Lance..."

"Please... please don't... I took... a test and it was positive. Can Shiro stay for the scan? My husband... is on a mission..."

Meria's already soft expression softened further

"Of course he can. Being pregnant, that does limit some of the scans we can perform. I think in this case a standard scan of your abdominal area should suffice, which means good news for you because we can bring the portable scanner to you instead. Now, I need you to slid your shirt up, and unbutton your pants. Metal may read on the scanner and we don't want it looking like you have a tumour when you don't. I'll go get the scanner while you make yourself comfortable"

"Thank you..."

  Shiro had to help him lay back and pull his shirt up. He fumbled the button on his jeans so badly that his Space Dad took pity on him

"Lance..."

Shaking his head at Shiro, Lance didn't want to hear it right now

"If something was done to you..."

"A-Allura changed my body to be more compatible with Keith's... I don't want to talk about it... Please... later... it's all I can do not to start crying again..."

"This is why the scan was so important?"

"I... didn't want to... believe the tests... but I'm... I'm so fucking scared"

"You don't need to be. I'm here... and no matter what the scan says we can work it out"

Lance blinked up at Shiro, confused as quiznak

"Why... are you being so nice? Aren't you... revolted? I'm not supposed to be able to conceive... I can't... I can't go through losing..."

"You're not going to lose Keith, and you don't know if you are yet"

"I don't know how to tell him"

"We'll work it out. The first thing we need to do is get through this scan, alright?"

Lance sniffled as he nodded. Everything about Shiro physically felt wrong. His body was too big. His scent was scaring him. His touch while warm and soft, made his skin almost burn with rejection, but his Space Dad had come so far, with no idea what was even happening. He'd dropped everything to be there for him

"Thank you... I didn't know what to do... Coran... I can't... not right now"

"You're working yourself up again. Concentrate on your breathing"

"I feel too sick... I'm so tired... I just want to home"

"We'll get you soon... listen to my breathing and try to match it. You only have to hold out a little longer"

  "A little longer" ended up being around 5 doboshes before Meria came back with the device and another nurse. To Lance it looked like a breakfast tray, especially when they placed it over his lower abdomen. Activating the device, it synched with the holoscreen on the wall directly opposite them. Tapping on her holopad, Meria adjusted the scanner to focus on his abdomen, Lance wanting to hide his stomach from everyone's prying eyes. There was way too much focus on him...

"What do the scans show?"

Asking the question Lance was afraid to voice, Shiro squeezed his hand a little too hard

"It's excellent news. As you can see..."

Zooming in on two dots that looked like all the other normal black blobs, Meria continued

"... we can see two foetuses, both with heartbeats... and if we do this..."

The blobs became less blob like and more like blobby sea horses about as big as his fingernail...

"According to your species guide, I would estimate you to be approximately 5 movements along... Would you like a copy of your results printed?"

 Staring at the screen, Lance didn't know what he'd thought a baby would look like while still so early in the pregnancy. It was more... kind of creepy... like an alien thing had taken up residency in his body

"Yes, please. For the father"

"We'll take a few vials of blood for sampling, and set you up with a doctor's appointment in two movements to monitor you. It says you have your own personal treating physician, so it may be worth talking to her about your options when it comes to treating morning sickness, or if you wish to terminate the pregnancy. You'll need to rest and monitor your health carefully. Are you headed straight home after this appointment?"

They done a very basic once over when he'd first turned up for his initial appointment. They'd wanted to give him medication for his lack of sleep and vomiting. But he'd refused. Now he was staring at the woman like she'd grown another head. He kind of got what she was saying, but his head didn't have a firm grasp on "the English". The woman could have been speaking Spanish to him and he would have been just as blank

"Yes, he is"

"Excellent. Make sure he rests. He's obviously deeply distressed. You'll need to monitor for seizures, given his history. Try not to leave him alone until he's emotionally settled. He needs to sleep, and if possible make sure he eats two decent sized meals today. If portion size is an issue, try making sure he has six smaller sized meals, but don't wake him to force him to eat. We'll just take these samples and you'll be off"

  For someone who'd injected so many drugs, it was still uncomfortable to have the samples taken. Being so tired, his body was overly sensitive. Whimpering as the needle broke the skin, Shiro stroked his hair as the vials were taken. To Lance it felt like Shiro didn't know what to say. His condition wasn't exactly common... Shiro was probably passing from being in shock to disgust. His body was so far from normal... Keith was... Keith wasn't going to be happy... Keith had barely survived Christmas and New Years with his family... oh, Dios... What was his mami going to say? She... she didn't know... his papi... they were going to be so mad... He... as scared as he was, he'd been silently excited at the idea of having children with his husband. Of a tiny miniature Keith with all his looks and attitude...

"Shhh, it's over now. Let's get you home. I'll do you pants for you, you just relax"

Mistaking his mental pain for physical, Shiro started fussing over him. Doing his pants up, and pulling his shirt down for him. Bowing at them the both Meria and her assistant left them

"Can you stand?"

Nodding, Lance wasn't too sure he could. Shiro was already holding the prints from his scan, helping him dress and keeping him calmish. He should be able to stand on his own... Helping Lance up, the moment his feet met the floor, his knees crumpled, the room spinning violently as his body denied him any form of dignity he might have been able to scrape together by walking out unassisted.

  "Whoa! Up we go"

Hefting Lance up into his arms like it was nothing, Lance hid his face against the man's neck. He was pregnant and Keith wasn't here. He was pregnant and Keith wasn't the first to know

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I don't blame you if you hate me..."

"I don't hate you. You heard what the nurse said, you need to calm down and rest"

"It's unnatural... Keith... was supposed to be here"

Gripping Shiro's shirt, his fingers hurt despite the weak hold

"Keith would have been here if he could have been"

"Don't tell him... don't... tell the others... they think it's side effects"

"I won't. It's your news to tell... We're going to work this out"

"I'm sorry"

"You don't need to be sorry"

     *

Shiro was at a loss over what to do. He'd never thought Lance would call him out of nowhere to ask for his help. Not when he seemed to be doing so much better now that he was running his outpost. Apparently, he'd been blind to Lance's pain, and as oblivious as Keith seemed to be over it. Keith had said that Lance had his times when he was distant and distracted, but given he was still attending therapy and surrounded with support, Keith had chalked it down to the chronic loneliness that he also felt. He knew for a fact that Keith wasn't happy to leave Lance for movements at a time. He'd called more than once to ask for his advice. Sure, his younger brother was enjoying his time training the new Blades, he'd even made friends with them, but it wasn't the same as being home with his husband. On top of that, Krolia and Kolivan had both placed more responsibility in Keith's hands, his workload only increasing. He already wasn't sure he'd be able to keep to the one deca-phoeb deal he and Lance had.

  Leaving his pod on Altea, Shiro took Lance's. With the wormhole capabilities of the Atlas, it was far easier for him to retrieve his pod than it was for Lance to return. He had the feeling that Lance would be avoiding Altea and Coran for the foreseeable future. Surprising Daehra with his unplanned visit, Shiro smoothly covered for Lance, respecting that he didn't want anyone knowing his news, not when it was so fresh. Assuring her it was simply the after math of a panic attack, he nearly got lost as he traced his way through the maze inside the outpost, Lance would of course insist on having the furtherest and most private wing of the outpost for him and Keith. Carrying the younger man, he used Lance's limp hand to unlock the door, smiling at how homely he and Keith had made the place. If someone had asked him if he'd ever believed Keith loved sleeping under a mess of overly fluffy blankets 10 years ago, the answer would have been a firm no. Lance's side of the bed had a framed photo of him and Keith, while Keith's side had a framed photo of Lance and Kosmo. With scents being so important to Lance, he settled him down on Keith's side of the bed, Lance sluggishly climbing beneath the covers and pulling one of Keith's pillows up to his chest as he buried his face against it, whimpering out Keith's name. Not wanting to intrude, Shiro didn't know what to do, not until Lance reached for sleeve, quietly asking him to stay.

  Sitting on Lance's side of the bed, Curtis had been blowing up his comms over his sudden disappearance. Assuring his boyfriend he was safe and well, he briefly explained that Lance had called requesting his help. His next move was to check Lance's comms. Lance was completely shattered over Keith's broken promise, but Keith wasn't one to make promises lightly. Feeling like he was invading the younger man's privacy, he only opened Keith's messages, trying to squint and mentally ignore everything else on the small device. He'd been hoping Lance had simply dreamt it, yet Lance had been right. Keith had promised to be there for him, Lance even stating that it was an important appointment that required both of them being there. That made things a little more awkward. Shiro didn't want to interfere, but Lance had been so scared that Keith had been injured. Maybe if he could confirm that Keith was safe and that mission was still on, Lance would feel better about Keith not showing up, due to the mission and not injury. Messaging Krolia was his own comms, he didn't word his request to talk properly. Krolia jumping to worst case mode over his "Can you talk, it's urgent? It's about Lance". Yeah. He really could have worded that better.

  "What's this about Lance? What's happened? Is he safe?"

Mentally wincing, Shiro nodded. Krolia loved Lance like he was her own flesh and blood, she looked a tick away from sending all the teams under her command to ensure Lance's safety

"Sorry, Krolia. Lance is alright, he's a little upset so I was wondering if it was possible to contact Keith?"

Visibly relaxing, Krolia let out a deep breath

"You had me worried! Don't do that to me. Keith's on a training mission. He isn't due to return for another three quintants"

"Lance had an appointment today on Altea. I thought he was supposed to be out of contact, but when I checked Lance's comms, he'd replied that he'd be there"

Krolia frowned

"It was supposed to be a silent mission... He wasn't supposed to breaking protocol, even to talk to Lance. I did give him permission to take his comms in case of an emergency..."

"Lance is pretty shaken over it. He's worried that Keith's been injured. I was wondering if there was a way you could confirm his status?"

"That idiot son of mine... it might take some time, depending if he has his comms with him. Will Lance be alright to wait? Or..."

The "or" was her asking if he was mid panic attack

"He's sleeping now. Asking for Keith in his sleep. It was an appointment over side effects from medication. Keith missed his other appointment, so him missing it again..."

"I'll see what I can do. Leave it with me"

"Thanks, Krolia"

  True to her word, barely 15 doboshes passed before Keith was calling him. His younger brother looked exhausted. Not Lance's level of exhaustion, but completely done with his mission

"Shiro, what's going on with Lance? Mum wouldn't say, only that I needed to call you immediately"

Was it wrong that for a split tick Shiro was slightly happy that Keith had panicked? Given the state Lance had worked himself into over his husband. Moving his comms, Shiro tilted it down to capture Lance's worn face. Even asleep the emotional pain and exhaustion was written all over his face. Tilting it back up, he wore his best "unimpressed dad" expression

"What happened? Did he have a panic attack?"

"He had an appointment today on Altea that you didn't show up for"

Drawing his brow, Keith jerked back slightly

"How could I show up when I was on a mission?"

"I don't know. He was scared you'd been hurt when you didn't show up. Did you know he's been sick?"

"He didn't tell me he's been sick... I know he's been pretty tired. He said it was side effects, but I haven't been able to get home. Mum has me training the new recruits..."

Lance wouldn't tell Keith that he suspected being pregnant, not unless it was face to face. He must have pushed everything down and aside so he wouldn't be a burden on Keith. He didn't want to be mean to Keith, but Lance saying he was sure he wanted to be alive had scared the absolute shit out of him

"He called me today, crying his eyes out and convinced you didn't care. He couldn't get through to you, so I went in your place. You missed his last big appointment. You didn't tell me he'd worked hard to get off the drugs"

"Shiro..."

"When you get back to Daibazaal, ask Krolia for some time off. I've already told Curtis I'm going to stay with him here. He's not in a good place right now"

Keith hung his head, scratching at the back of his neck

"Fuck... I didn't mean to let him down. I haven't been able to see him in movements as it was. Daehra said he was acting strange, but I haven't been able to check in... You know what he's like. He tries so hard and pushes himself too far... I thought he was working hard because he was enjoying his job. He always tells me all the major things that happen there... He always messages me to check in each quintant... Why couldn't he... he tell me he's been ill?No. No that's so like him... the idiot wouldn't want me to worry... Right. I'll be home in three..."

Whining Keith's name, Lance hugged the pillow tighter in his grasp. Lance needed rest, he didn't know how he'd react to find him talking to Keith when he felt that Keith was ignoring him

"Quintants. I know. I'll take care of him for now. But Keith, if he snaps at you, go gentle on him. He's really not well at the moment"

"I should be there... Thanks, Shiro... quiznak... I've got to go. I left them making a fire, and now the whole clearing... sorry... uh... tell him I love him... or don't... I don't know what to say..."

"I'll tell him your safe, but that's it. This is between the two of you"

 Cutting the call, Shiro placed both their comms onto Lance's bedside table. He wanted to do something to help Lance out, especially given that he was pregnant. It seemed so surreal that something like that could happen. Then again, his soul had been stored in Black before being transferred into his murderous clone. What had once been thought of as indisputable facts of the universe had shattered the moment they ended up in Blue. Pulling the prints of Lance's twins from his jacket pocket, Shiro couldn't deny he also wasn't jealous. He biologically couldn't give Curtis kids... they'd talked about adoption, but what if that didn't work out? What if they fell apart? Even if Keith and Lance fell apart, they'd always have that blood bond. Propping the envelope up against the photo frame, Shiro then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His personal feelings needed to be set aside, for the sake of Lance.

[writerdarlin]

No Luck?

A/N:I apologize for taking so long in finishing this. I had some writers block for weeks, but here it is part two to Bad Luck. All my love! - w.d.

Pairing: Fem Reader x Peter Parker, includes Ned and Michelle

Prompt Synopsis: Part Two to Bad Luck. The tables have turned with luck as Peter forgets his best friend’s birthday. He saves her as Spider-Man but will he be able to repair his relationship with her as Peter?

Word Count: 1,886 words

Warnings: Angst and mention of almost kidnapping.

(I don’t own the gif, credits to the owner.)

Naive decisions and stupid adolescent mistakes laid up Peter’s alley way. In his mind he believed time would be on his side. A quick training session with Mr.Stark about his new spidey suit, and then onto celebrate his best friend’s birthday. He had it all planned weeks before; from constantly reminding Aunt May that he’d be at his internship the whole week, to buying (Y/N) the pendant necklace she had talked about. He spent a good amount of time and half his savings in making sure everything went to plan.

Days approaching went in Peter’s favor, until the day before. Mr. Stark called him early at 1am to tell Peter there was a small Avengers Mission-Opt in California. A mission that they could truly utilize Spider-Man in. Peter flustered by this sudden request, didn’t receive time to think about his choice. Mr. Stark had to know there and than, because Peter would have to leave at the exact night.  

“What time do you think we’ll be done with the said Mission?” the question blurted out.

“Well it’s not about how fast it’s done, it’s the quality. It depends, are you in or out kid?” Mr.Stark responded.

Peter conflicted with this, took no hesitation to answer with, “I’m in.”  It’s taken Peter a whole lot of trial and error as a neighborhood Spider-Man, this mission would be a game changer. His adrenaline built up thinking of assisting a mission as an Avenger. When the team needed Spider-Man, the person who needed Peter Parker faded from his memory.

Now Peter found himself relaxing on a quinjet flight back home to New York. Exhaustion was an understatement to his body. On the plane ride over he barely got a two hour nap. It then escalated to quickly changing into his suit, and to jumping out of the plane to the rendezvous point. Peter didn’t know the time of day when him and Black Widow reached ground in San Francisco. It was for sure past dawn but had no time to find out. The goal of the mission was clear as night and day. Find the secret operative base of mutant slave trafficking, stop all operations, and set the imprisoned mutants free. They need Spider-Man for the mutant slaves escape route and for his young pop-culture ideas if something unplanned occurred.

The Mission-Opt took a little longer than Peter anticipated but he didn’t mind. In the moment of his actions it felt like a sugar rush. The mission was successful, they retrieved information on other base leaders and freed all of the 15 slaves. From this mission Peter walked away with improvement tips, and an accidental bruise on his abdomen both from Black Widow. As he relaxed in the quinjet he was met with a young mutant around the age of 8 or 9. Silence was shared but Peter sensed he wanted to share something with him.

Peter sat himself up turning to the kid beside him. “What’s up bud?”

“I-I want to, I want to thank you, Spider-Man sir” the boy said with tears forming in his eyes.

“Aw, buddy you’re welcome, but no need to cry your safe now,” Peter was flustered by the boy’s tears so he pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you sir, I was almost sold to strangers on my birthday,” the kid hug Peter tight and backed away to wipe his tears.

“Well happy birthday, I’m glad I was here to help you,” Peter smiled then ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Thank you sir, you were my good luck present today,” he said before he went back to what could be his older sister. Peter felt good about his actions and went back to relaxing. He kept repeating the boy’s last sentence over and over. He was good luck for somebody today. Until it finally struck a nerve in Peter’s brain. (Y/N).

Shit he forgot about her birthday. All the days leading up to day were constantly making sure this would be her best birthday yet. Now he might’ve ruined it. He checked his phone to see that it would be around 6pm back home, with 4 hours to go he’d get home around 11pm. Peter felt horrible, and was about to text her an apology birthday message. After a revision of his message he deleted it and sighed; knowing it could make it worst. His phone started to buzz and (Y/N)’s face popped up. If he answered he wouldn’t know what to say and she was smart enough to probably figure out he was on a plane. So, he didn’t pick up letting the phone ring. It pained him to ignore the call but he had to fix this in person. He couldn’t listen to the voicemail. It would drive him crazy.

Peter spent the last 4 hours in agony thinking of what he was going to say to her. She was probably with MJ and Ned at the bowling alley. She was probably having bad luck the whole day, and he couldn’t do anything at the moment to fix it. It was obvious that (Y/N)’s birthdays weren’t the luckiest. As (Y/N)’s best friend he was always there to make the day better. He planned that today he was going to man-up and tell her how he felt about her. She was oblivious to his feelings for years, and hoped he’d have luck on his side. Him forgetting (Y/N)’s birthday made him believe good luck was not with him today.

On the contrary, at the bowling alley (Y/N) and her friends were having the time of their lives. Spending time with good company and smack talking each other the whole night. Laughs and snarky inside jokes were shared. Good food and snacks were eaten.They spent four hours on four rounds of bowling, at the end of the night they named Ned as the King of the alley. (Y/N) she was having the time of her life. Here with Ned and MJ, she almost forgot Peter wasn’t present; almost. (Y/N) walked with MJ and Ned to their separate apartment complexes. Both insisted to walk (Y/N) home first, she denied wanting to take a walk alone. Once she walked with both of her friends home, she strolled around a bit stalling. Checking the time on her phone left her to sigh; 11:45. Still no call or text from Peter. A simple apology text would have made her to stop worrying about him. It just never came.

Peter arrived back in Queens at 11:48 with Mr. Stark in front of (Y/N)’s apartment complex.

“Is this where your girlfriend lives?” Mr. Stark asked raising an eyebrow. He didn’t let the flustered Peter answer and followed up with, “Is that why you wanted to know how long the mission would take?” Peter nodded. Tony laughed and opened Peter’s door for him. He thanked Mr. Stark as he got out of the car. Peter looked up at the building hoping she’d be willing to talk to him. Before Peter could enter the building he heard a familiar voice shriek. As if his blood ran cold in his veins, (Y/N) was in trouble. He quickly suited up to the nearest alleyway and used his senses to find her.

“Please, please someone help!,” (Y/N) cried. It was too good to be true that today was bad luck free. She should’ve known better to walk around at night alone. Distracted by her stupid friend ignoring her. All lead her to a random dude with a knife, to dragging her to an alley. She was kicking and trying to scream louder but was knocked out.

“You sure got a pretty face but, an annoying yapping mouth,” the man rolled his eyes as he continued dragging her body.

“That’s not how you talk to a lady, is it?” Spider-Man landed in front of him. The man propped up (Y/N) and pointed his knife at Peter. Peter got on his knees pretending to be afraid.

“Just let me and the girl go, no one has to get hurt,” his voice gave of his nervousness backing up to a wall of a building.

“Is that a real knife dude?” Peter faked cried.

“Yes it’s real,” the man kept pointing the knife shaking.

“Oh no, my weakness is small knives,” he said then rapidly shot a web to the man’s hand holding the knife. The man was pushed back to the wall and dropped (Y/N). Peter hurried to (Y/N)’s body.

“Let me go man,” the man yelled only making Peter web his mouth shut and webbing his free hand. Peter’s attention went back to (Y/N). She started to wake up to see flashes of Spider-Man in front of her. (Y/N) wanted to open her eyes again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating but, she had a tremendous headache to do so.

“Spider-Man?” she softly spoke.

“It’s okay mam, you’re going to be okay,” Peter carried her bridal style back to his home. He let her sleep in his bunk bed below and changed out of his suit. Peter grabbed a wet toilette and cleaned her small cut on her head. His eyes stared longer than they should’ve, bruises formed on her arms. He felt so stupid, but grateful he was there to save her. If he hadn’t got there, she could’ve been-, Peter didn’t finish the thought. She was here and safe. Exhaustion took over him that made him fall asleep in his chair.

-Next Day-

(Y/N) woke up startled by her surroundings, she was in Peter’s room. Yesterday could’ve been a nightmare that never actually happened. Then her eyes realized the bruises on her arms and her hand touched her existing cut. How does this explain, why she’s in Pete’s room. Peter was nowhere in the room. (Y/N) slowly sat up, looking around the room still bewildered. She got up to see a note from Peter on his desk, alongside a velvet black box.

Good Morning Beautiful, I promise I’ll explain everything soon. Firstly I want to apologize. I’m an incredibly stupid idiot to ignore you on your birthday. I forgot, which there is no excuse to forget an important day. I got the pendant necklace you talked about a while back. I know you might forgive me quickly, but I’ll keep saying sorry and doing my best to make it up to you. You mean the universe to me and my actions yesterday don’t represent how I feel about you. I want you to know, I felt bad luck without you. None of these words are good enough (Y/N). Right now, Aunt May is helping me make you breakfast. It’s highly not going to go well, so we’ll probably go to your favorite cafe. Happy belated birthday. I...well I’ll tell you when we’re alone.

-Peter x

The bacon was burning and the smoke filled the apartment. Peter laughed with Aunt May as she panicked with a towel. He heard his bedroom door open, he stood face to face with the person who made his weak knees. An astronaut would be able to see his smile from space, that’s how grand it was. She was there standing ever so beautiful wearing the pendant and smiling at him. Luck could never be the reason that this moment happened, it all occurred because it was love. Pure love.

Tag List:  @justmesadgirl 

-W.D.’s MASTERLIST-

[generousqueen21]

Always

Requested by Anon - Heya! Would you be able to do a young justice fic? So it’s a Dick Grayson/reader and the reader has powers like scarlet witch. Thanks 😊

I love the idea! I added a little of fluff, even though it’s mostly angst.This is my first imagine on Tumblr - so tell me how I did!

DIck Grayson x Reader

Summary: After missing for a few months, Dick finds you as an anti-hero - but is happy none the less.

Word Count: 1585 ( Alot? I got carried away)

Warnings: None

“Alpha, find the bug and deactivate it with the code. Beta, focus on getting information. Try the left stairwell, and take out the eight guards stationed on the third floor.” Dick whispered into his comm. “I’ll find their leader.” “Copy that,” Wally said, “Over and out.” Dick hesitated for a moment, waiting for the team to disperse before sprinting to the second floor, switching his comm link. “Wally? Dude, where are you?” “Sorry about that.” Dick jumped, turning around to glare at his best friend. Wally was leaning against the wall, a smirk written on his face. “We have to go before the others find us, or her,” Dick snapped. If the others found you before him, you would both be in some hot water. Wally rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re crazy about her. You got to tell the team eventually.” Dick smiled, distracted for a second before returning to reality. “Let’s go. For real this time. Search every floor, and find her.” Dick ordered gently. Wally darted out of the room, not without screaming, “You owe me, dude!” Dick sighed and ran downstairs, escrima sticks in hand.

Dick had met you, a little over a year ago. Dick, with his team back on Mount Justice and you, with your metahuman powers, had hated each other. Boy Wonder, being the Golden boy he was, didn’t understand you in the least. Batman, being Batman, had ordered the team to find you on several occasions. But you always had gotten away. The Dynamic Duo was no match for a telepathic metahuman with telekinesis. The more Dick learned about who you were, the more he tried to find you. He remembers, that day he had finally found your home deep in the streets of Gotham. You had thrown him against the wall, nearly suffocating him, when he saw you clearly for the first time. You were fierce, but deep in your eyes, you were vulnerable. You were scared, really scared, that someone would find who you were, your powers, and turn you in. Dick soothingly called out, as much as he could, explaining that he only wanted to talk to you. He remembers your laughter, when he told you his name was Dick, after many late nights with you away from the terror that filled the cities. Your smile, when he would reach your hideout in a warehouse that seemed to be his second favorite place in Gotham. Your blush, when he excitingly invited you to join the team, how you would have been perfect. Your telekinesis and telepathy skills nearly at the same level of M'gann, would be put to good use, and the empty pit in your heart could have gone away. Could have. It had been month’s since Dick had seen you until finally, a mission in Gotham had popped up. Among the enemy, was you. He didn’t need to ask about your disappearance or your sudden change of heart. He knew all too well he needed to see you, to tell you that he hadn’t given up on you before it was too late. 

“Damn it!” You cried, throwing two guards out of the way with a violent red burst. You and the rest of Fury Clan’s plan had been very simple; get the files for the antidote, and leave. Somehow, the team had tracked your whereabouts, and getting in and out turned out to be trickier then you’d expect.

“Red Sparrow, give me a lift!” scream Tabitha. Tabitha was an ex-assassin had found you on the streets and was one of the few reasons why you had supposedly gone missing. Like anyone who cared was genuinely looking for you. You doubted people even knew you existed. Going over to the dark side wasn’t difficult, not with all the fun and cash that came with it. It even made you wonder why you had ever considered joining a clan of teenagers in Halloween costumes. Frightened, lonely, (Y/N) was a thing of the past; Red Sparrow was better at robbing banks anyway. “I got you!” You yelled, lifting Tabitha’s body and dropping it back over the railing where she had fallen. Tabitha had been the reason the Fury Clan had even been able to enter the building, let alone have a chance to escape. The mission was nearly completed, with one last objective remaining. “Red Sparrow! You know what you have to do!” Tabitha cried out while shooting a guard it the head and throwing an uppercut at another. “Get the files for the serum. Now!” You didn’t wait another second. Dashing toward the lab, you threw the remaining guards out of the way and drew a gun into your hand. Creeping down the hallway, you held your hands steady, fingers on the trigger. The pounding in your heart was making you anxious. Was he not coming?

A blurred flash sped by you, telling you otherwise. 

Dick trekked up the stairs. You had sent him a secret message to meet you at the lab, after discovering some confidential information. He knew that meeting you was risky, but he had to see you. It had been too long, and the guilt was eating him alive.

Arriving on the fourth floor, Dick grabbed his escrima sticks, loose in his hands. After years of quick reflexes, he knew he would never forgive himself if he hurt you. Dick hadn’t planned to see you just to see you again. If he was convincing enough, instead of asking you to return to Gotham, you might join the team. The secrets could stop, and - Dick jolted. “What the hell, Wally?” Dick was so caught up in his thoughts; Wally had to slap him to get his attention.“I could have hit you!” Wally shrugged. “I’m Kid Flash? Anyway, I found her near the lab. She has a gun by the way.” Dick cringed at the thought of you shooting, even killing someone. You were too good of a person to do that. It wasn’t you at all. Even back when you were alone on the streets, your definition of ruthless did not include murder.

Dick whispered to Wally quick instructions.“I’m going to find her. Stay here, and if anyone on the team finds you, tell them I found the boss. Keep an eye out, and also-” “Just go find her, man. I got you.” Wally reassured, leaving Dick to it.

You were becoming impatient by the minute. Nightwing was here, and you knew it. If he didn’t hurry, Tabitha would find you empty-handed, and there would be extreme consequences.

“Red Sparrow? Do you copy?” You mentally swore. You had forgotten to turn the comm off. You tore the earpiece off, throwing it to the ground and crushing it. Hopefully, Tabitha would have too much of a headache from the static noise to go looking for you.

Even in the dark hallway, you sensed footsteps. You almost forgot what you had come for. Slowly, you turned and saw the mask.

“Nightwing.” You muttered, with panic starting to bubble in your chest.  

“(Y/N)?” Nightwing whispered. It almost hurt to look at you. Almost. The speech he had planned to convince you to join the team was suddenly forgotten. All he saw was you.

You regained your composure, putting on a mask to hide the way your heart was crumbling inside. “Disable your earpiece. Do it now.”

“There’s no one on the comm link. I - ” Dick took a sharp glance at the gun in your hand and hesitated, before pulling the earpiece off. Should he be happy to see you? Or should he be turning you in?

You could feel his doubt, knowing he had forgotten you were telepathic. “Don’t even think about turning me in. You know why I’m here.”

Dick finally looks at you. You try not to fall victim to his eyes, but you fell quite a long time ago. Good thing he can’t read your mind.

“I know you’re reading my thoughts,” Dick said quietly. “I won’t turn you in. I wanted to see you. I didn’t just come because you asked.” His silent plea just to hug you, touch you, feel you again have not been enough. “I miss you.”

Your lip quivers, as you try not to break. But the look on his face had brought back too many memories, and your heart, your heavy heart didn’t want to listen to your brain.

Dick stepped forward toward you, with his arms out. Stepping forward, you accepted his embrace. He ignores that tears have started to silently fall down your face, knowing that if he tells you to stop crying, it will become harder for him as well. You pull away, rubbing your eyes, as you try to breathe steadily again.

Dick’s own eyes aren’t dry. “We don’t have much time, (Y/N). Please, come back.” Dick murmurs, pulling you back into his embrace.

You look at him with bright eyes, before your hopes come tumbling down once again. “I can’t, Dick. They know I’m the enemy - I was working with the Fury Clan!”

Dick sighs. “It’ll take time, but we’ll work it out like we always have. Ok? Besides, I think Wally’s kinda impressed by you.”

You nod, smiling for what seems to be the first time in months. “After all this time?”

Dick looks down at you, bringing your hand up to his cheek and whispers, “Always.”

[theunderdogwrites]

Ten "Suggestions" For A New World

I was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. Went to church every Sunday with my family from the time I was four until the age of 19. I was baptized, received my first communion and attended CCD classes (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). And just for fun and out of curiosity, I've read the bible (New Testament) three times. [I want to quickly share with you the meaning of the word "confraternity": 'a lay brotherhood devoted to some purpose, especially to religious or charitable service'. Already its clear women are not really welcome.]

Once I was free to make my own choices, I stopped going to church. To be honest with you, I couldn't hear myself think over the constant propaganda being served to me by an elderly ornery priest wearing a $2500 robe and asking me to kneel at a $10,000 marble alter while attempting to guilt me into giving the church money to help feed the poor. I've never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew something wasn't quite right with this religion. A friend of mine introduced me to the term "recovering Catholic" and I've adopted it as my own.

Do I believe in God? What... a terribly complicated question. In short, yes. In length, I believe in something I can't put my finger on and it has a name. I know I talk to this Universe character a great deal, maybe that’s it? Anyway, the God I believe in... that something with a name I can't accurately put my finger on - is about kindness and compassion, respect, acceptance, tolerance and love. And I mean, for real. Not just because it sounds good in your mouth.

Have you ever looked up the meaning of TOLERANCE?

‘allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one does not necessarily like or agree with) without interference’

The fact I’ve not yet killed anyone, means I am a highly tolerant being. Ego stroke.

You may have your own opinions and beliefs; in fact, I encourage you to form your own opinions and sift through what you do and don't believe. But let other people find their own way. Be who they are to be and if it's a different path than yours... don't tell them they're going to Hell. All that does is stress Satan right the fuck out.

I was taught to pray from an early age. Kneel down beside the bed at night, make the sign of the cross and talk to God. Ask him to bless the people you love, show compassion for those who wronged you and be thankful for everything you've been given. End with the sign of the cross. Although I no longer kneel at the side of my bed or make the sign of the cross, I do still pray. I've never had an issue with prayer. It's a form of communication and communication is king. Even if you believe no one is listening, it truly does help to just have raw dialogue with yourself.

Have I ever used prayer to help me out of a tough spot? Absolutely.

Have I ever prayed for something and promised something else I knew I most likely wouldn't follow through with? Yes. Have I ever prayed then become angry when things didn't go my way? Definitely.

Have I asked for forgiveness, mercy and wisdom? Yes.

 I'm not ashamed of any of those admissions. But I'm not going to print them on a t-shirt and strut around either. I don't feel I am any different than anyone else when it comes to prayer. Evidence of this are the religious contestants on Survivor who ask God for assistance in winning a million dollars so they may do good with all that money.

Currently, for me, prayer is an open-ended conversation that takes place in my soul. There's yelling and screaming. Blame. Crying and swearing. The launching of projectiles and ever so often... peace, laughter, approval and cookies. There's chaos and harmony and somehow, I manage to cultivate enough intelligence to string together a bunch of words to make a half decent sentences from time to time.

This brings me to: The Ten Commandments. Take a quick gander at this so you can get your bearings:

https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/topics/ten-commandments-list

In a nutshell, these are "God's standards" which he wants you to live by.

Going to confession was the worst. Especially as a typical 15-year-old girl. "I am not telling you shit" was pretty much my life's motto so to expect me to open up to an old priest and share my sins and secret thoughts so he may shame me with a mini lecture and an act of contrition, was insanity.

Every time I went to confession, I used the same three "sins":

I disobeyed my Mother and Father                                  

I took the Lord`s name in vain

I lied

I figured this to be believable for a girl my age. If you look at the commandments, I wasn't going to covet my neighbor`s wife or his ox and I certainly wasn't going to get myself another God to worship considering I already couldn't figure out the one I'd been given. And murder? I probably didn't even know what that meant. I mean, until the guidance counselor at my school pointed out to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was even possible to do that to yourself. I wasn't stupid, but rather innocent. And isn't it funny that it took a person of "authority" whose intentions were being governed by a higher power, to bring those kinds of ideas into my brain where they once didn't exist? Something to ponder.

Let's be honest, the Ten Commandments... as they stand right now in current society... a little outdated, right? Technology is rapidly changing how we communicate and behave. And it's time to modernize in order to keep up. I'm not proposing we abolish the original document. I'm not trying to offend anyone or stamp out their beliefs. I know the Ten Commandments is a sacred collection of words that many believe is straight from the mouth of God. Attempting to rip up or shit on something with that much power over so many people... is suicide. (Look Ms. Foster! I learned another way one can harm themselves other than dragging a razor over one's wrists! Your job wasn't meaningless after all!)

I'm merely proposing that someone (ME ME ME) take a stab at writing up a new set of standards which people (YOU YOU YOU) should SERIOUSLY consider following if they wish to achieve a pleasant after life. And the only person you must believe in - yourself.

The first thing I want to do is change the word "commandments" to "suggestions". It's less aggressive and more light-hearted, even though you're still expected to comply. No one wants to be told what to do, not really, and by "commanding" them in a preachy way to curb behavior... well, you're just asking for trouble. Imagine the success rate if Moses had come down from the mountain and said:

“Hey... hi everyone, look, God spoke to me and mentioned something about these ten suggestions He'd like us to seriously consider if we want to get into Heaven. He was pretty adamant that we pay attention and do our best to not ignore this list. I think He spent a lot of time coming up with this stuff... so we really do owe it to Him to try and give this all we got. Ok, thanks everyone... back to not raping women and making false idols out of gold".

I just feel that by changing the wording and therefore tone of this document - you're not alienating the more cantankerous, free-spirited or stubborn people of the world with a menu of demands you expect them to blindly obey.

The second thing I want to do is provide a brief explanation for each "suggestion". There is nothing worse than treating people as though they don't deserve further information when you'd like them to do something that wasn't their idea. Communication is comforting and reflects respect. You can't say: "Because I told you so" or "Just do it" and expect to be well received. All this is going to get you are responses such as: "You're not the boss of me" and "Go fuck yourself".

So, without further ado, I give to you:

The Ten "Suggestions" For A New World

 Please do not update your Facebook status message more than once a day:  This is a sign of vanity, a deadly sin. And it's really annoying to the point where people secretly want to kill you for repeatedly mugging their news feeds with updates in increments of 32 minutes, on the broad details of your existence. No one actually cares here, on planet Self Absorption.

Please do not kill: This is the only original "commandment" included on this new list because it has stood and always will stand the test of time. There are loads of shitty, stupid, selfish & servile individuals in the world and relieving them of the burden of breathing seems like an all-around great idea, but it's actually a terrible idea. Why? Well, for starters... it's not your place to end a human life. It's just not. Life is special. You - not so much. Plus, it causes debilitating pain for a great many people. When you take someone's life away you create a hole inside the people who love them. This hole can never be filled. It will never get smaller. These people will never heal. They might be able to carry on... eat food again one day, maybe buy a new couch, laugh at a joke - but they will never heal. They will walk around, unhealed and with a hole in their heart till their dying day. Don't make holes in other people.

Please resist from being a complete douche bag: (Traditionally the term 'douche bag' is     usually gender specific and applies to men, but for this  "suggestion" it also applies to women, because women can be douche     bags as well. This does not apply to cats. The lives of cats are based upon douche-baggery, but it's cute and therefore exempt)  Being a total jerk is in your bloodline. Eve was a jerk to Adam. Adam was a jerk to God. The snake was a jerk to Eve. God was a jerk to the dinosaurs. And the dinosaurs were jerks to everyone. So... this  "suggestion" is going to be a difficult one not to fail at from time to time. The idea here isn't to be perfect, because that isn't unachievable. But rather, genuinely compassionate and generous when you see someone who wouldn't benefit from you running your truck into their fence and then driving off like a douche bag coward. And the state of being a douche bag isn't always limited to actions befitting a little scamp, no it can also be in the way you dress (Underwear above the pants line? Come on!) Or how you tell uninterested parties about your drunken antics and the loss of your favorite pair of really expensive shoes. Or  tweeting/texting the person next to you while you're in a group setting. Now you can see why pretty much everyone will be unsuccessful at this "suggestion". We're douche bags.

If  you open a bottle of wine - please finish it: This really shouldn't require much explanation. Drinking two-day old wine is the equivalent of sucking on week old doughnuts. Even hobos understand this concept. If you save your wine, you're stealing food out of the mouth of a grape stomping child. Is that what you want? No. Drink your damn wine already.

Please flush the toilet after you poop / wipe the seat off if you urinate on it: No  list of "suggestions" would be complete without a mentioning of bathroom etiquette because so many people are unable to recognize and execute proper manners in this area. I reckon 74% of the population does not want to see your excrements. And the other 26% need to seek out some counseling. Immediately. Leaving your shit in the toilet for others to    view does not make you regal, it makes you a filthy barnyard animal. And it's not funny or clever. Neither is urine on the seat. And this applies to both men and women. Take ten seconds, grab some toilet paper and WIPE THE SEAT OFF. Your pee is not liquid gold. No one wants to bottle it to sell on eBay or Etsy.

Please do not use social media to draw attention to your drama: This     is a tough one, I know. We all suffer from drama and when we feel severely slighted by the Universe, a person or even a business... we just want to share our pain in hopes of others being able to relate to us and provide some words of comfort. And what better way to reach your 472 "friends" than screaming out on Twitter or rapidly posting about your discomfort on Facebook. But the problem is... you're not actually connecting to anyone. Not really. You can't see their expressions. You can't hear the tone in their voice. And you definitely cannot count on their sincerity if they don't contact you privately and not in an open forum for all to witness. And, it's awkward. Once people see your drama, they can't un-see it. Even if you delete it, you don't get to delete it from their minds. And as a sub-section to this "suggestion" - also try to avoid saying stuff on social media that you wouldn't say to a person's face. This is just a fancier version of talking behind someone's back while doing it in front of their face without them actually realizing that it's being done.

Please do not text and drive: If you own a car you probably spend a     decent amount of time in that car, driving. Probably so much time that it     feels automatic, like blinking.  And because it's automatic you will rarely think about what you're actually doing - operating a 4000-pound killing machine. What is more important than taking your eyes off the road to check in on your game of choice? Or answering that text about where     you're going on your vacation? Your life. The lives of others. (please see "suggestion" number two) Chances are you're already deeply distracted by your real life, there is no reason to add to that list fumbling around with a cellphone so you can tell someone what you thought about last night's episode of Spring Baking Championship (is that just me?).

Please leave your ego at the door: People love confidence; they hate     arrogance. Arrogance is phony. Intimidation and strutting around like an erect penis OR vagina won’t hide the truth - that you’re afraid and maybe a little underwhelming in your own mind.  There is nothing wrong with     having flaws... accepting those flaws... flaunting those flaws. It builds     character. But if you must insist on being an arrogant tool, then you must  also accept that you're not only unhealthy to yourself, you're toxic to     others.

Please do not give others false hope: If someone has posted an ad on     Kijiji or Craigslist - don't express interest and give them a date and time of when you're going to show up to purchase the item if you have no intention of making an appearance. Forget about it being rude and full of    atrocious manners; it's downright cruel to let someone believe they've     just sold their dining room table when in fact - they haven't. (Yes, I’ve been scarred).

Please remember, you're not always right: Unless you're me. And even then, you’d only be operating at a success rate of about 32%.... so, just be yourself.

[sophierose002]

The Real Mindtrap

Same story as before, I’m just using the “Keep Reading” thingy so it won’t destroy your blogs. (Yes, I’m a writer, and I said, “thingy.”) 

Warning for some violence

Quick heads up if it’s your first time reading: the word count is over 9,000. Just so you know what you’re getting into... 

                                          The Real MindTrap

           Varian gasped upon hearing the shouts of panic coming from the opposite side of the vast throne room. I wasn’t even gone that long! He thought, as frustration ticked like a clock inside his brain. “I’ll be right back!” He hurriedly, yet gently, said to his father, who was lying peacefully still. After Varian’s stunning mechanism had overcharged Quirin’s mind into unconsciousness, the young alchemist had situated his father comfortably in the corner of the throne room. I should have known something like this would happen! It was so foolish for me to leave that machine unsupervised. Varian bit his lip in fear as he sprinted towards the chaotic screams. I bet it was Lance; he never listens to my warnings! He knew he was an over-the-top organizing freak, but he had better reason then most to be an insufferable “safety first” individual. He had had “accidents” in the past with unforgettable consequences. Even though he had moved on and the world seemed to forgive him, he still suffered from chilling nightmares and random panic attacks. Most of these he managed to keep hidden from his friends, but they still lingered in the back of his mind. He could see it in his shadow, like a ghost haunting him.

Still, he couldn’t afford a mistake right now!

           Zhan Tiri wasn’t going to mess up, so he couldn’t either. He couldn’t let anyone down. Not again.

           By the time Varian’s short legs had reached the opposite side of the throne room, the bright colors had vanished inside the portal to Limbo. “Lance?” The alchemist breathlessly asked for his friend who was no where in sight. Suddenly, a deep weight slammed down inside his chest as dread threatened to crush him to the floor. “No, no, no, no.” He chanted softly to himself hoping that his voice would keep him grounded in reality. “This isn’t happening!” Reaching the machine, Varian actively scaned the massive portal desperately searching for an explanation.

           That’s when he saw it.

The lever. It had been moved. Subconsciously, the young alchemist swallowed a nervous gulp of air. Gone, they’re all gone. I can’t mess this up. No! I won’t mess this up. I can get them back. Unfortunately, Varian had been short on time and had only focused on how to get the warlock into the portal, not on how to get anyone out.

Without Ruddiger’s presence to steady the alchemist, he felt a deep, hollow pit form in his stomach. Determination prickled his brow as he dropped to his knees. All of Corona was in an alternate dimension, and he was the only person who could fix this. Tightening his fingers around a wrench to the point that his knuckles turned white underneath his gloves, Varian took a controlled breath before getting to work.

He wasn’t sure if pulling the lever would get them out in one piece. It was also possible that instead of freeing the people of Corona, he would be sucked in the portal, leaving their situation completely hopeless. He had to figure this out. With his free hand, Varian reached for the Demantis plans.

After studying and comparing his work with the instructions (or rather guidelines) Varian’s clever mind put the pieces of the puzzle together. It was possible to reverse the portal. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could do it.

Immediately diving into his work, Varian became submerged in his tweaking and tinkering. In other words, he didn’t notice the ferocious warrior creeping up behind him. It wasn’t until his shadow loomed over the small scientist, that he noticed the man. Whirling around just in time to dodge an outstretched arm, Varian dove out of Hector’s reach before scrambling to his feet and clutching the wrench as if it were his lifeline.

Why didn’t I bring my combat belt? Varian was furious with himself. How had he been so unprepared?!? He was fighting for all of Corona and instead of bringing his alchemical weapons and potions, he relied on everyone else to keep him safe. He should have prepared for the worse. Now, he was going to pay the price.

After slapping himself mentally for this unreadiness, he dashed away from his work. All would be lost if Hector damaged the portal. Leading the brainwashed warrior away from the valuable machine, Varian sprinted to the other side of the throne room. Maybe, just maybe his father would be in an able condition to help him; however, when he reached the corner, the blankets that were laid out for Quirin were empty.

Oh no! After the shock of his father’s disappearance settled, Varian noticed that he was slowly being backed into a wall.

Hector was trapping him!

Varian knew that any attempt to talk Hector out of attacking him would be useless. He hadn’t known that the Brotherhood even existed until a few months ago. In fact, the only thing Varian knew about Hector - other than him being part of the secretive Brotherhood - was his name.

Despite his lack of knowledge, Varian found himself speaking. His options were shrinking and becoming more hopeless with every passing moment. Perhaps speaking up would buy him some time. Every second was vital to the brilliant alchemist. He just needed to come up with an idea and quick! “Mr. Hector, please! You fought with my dad. He’s fond of you; he wouldn’t want you to hurt me!”

The unnaturally blue-eyed man slightly hesitated before speaking, briefly halting his steps. “So, you’re Varian?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Varian hadn’t noticed the hint of surprise in Hector’s facial expression until it had straightened into one of indifference. Within seconds, the warrior had returned his menacingly brisk pace towards the boy.

Luckily for Varian, his sharp mind had come up with a plan. Before his back could be pressed against the wall, the young alchemist rushed to one of the tapestries that was majestically hung up, ripped it from it’s decorative position, and managed to throw it over Hector at the correct angle, wrapping him in it. While the warrior was thrashing under the ginormous tapestry, Varian made a run for it.

Eugene, where are you? The distressed alchemist knew that he had to find the former thief. If the brainwashed warrior could be distracted just long enough for Varian to reverse the portal, they might still stand a chance in this fight. Rapunzel was undoubtably searching for Cassandra that meant the only reason Eugene wouldn’t return soon was if Zhan Tiri…

Varian didn’t want to think about it.

The alchemist was charging towards the throne room’s exit. Maximus was guarding outside. He just had to get to the door. He was so close.

Four more steps.

Three.

Two.

One–

Varian’s gloved hand hovered over the handle before being violently pulled back. Expecting to see Hector’s maniacally face, the alchemist swung the wrench directly at the figure. Of course, his untrained muscles were no match for the burly hands, which gripped the tool easily, yanking it out of his grasp. Before Varian could get a good look at the attacker, he felt a sturdy knee slam into his gut. Doubling over as an unexpected pain overcame his abdomen, the boy urgently fought to regain air in his lungs but found it incredibly difficult to do so. When the boy raised his head, his vision was slightly blurry. Assuming that he must have been hit harder than he realized, Varian could have sworn that Hector looked identical to his father.

Wait.

“Dad...?” There was so much hurt and anguish in the small, squeaky voice.

Quirin looked emotionlessly at his son as he dropped the tiny body, allowing it to crumble to the floor. The broad-shouldered man was no longer wearing his helmet. His genuine brown eyes had transformed into a spine-chilling, light blue. The bright color was abnormal. Varian couldn’t fight the wetness circulating in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was the fierce aching in his lungs or the shock of seeing that his father had caused it.

“Please, Dad, I know you’re in th-” A strong kick to the face interrupted the boy’s pleas. Everything was moving so quickly. Too quickly. Before Varian knew it, his father had gripped him behind the collar and dragged him effortlessly away from the door.

Even though the injured genius was overwhelmed, he knew one thing: Maximus was outside the throne room door. “Max, help!”

That’s all the young alchemist needed to do to alert the calvary.

Varian’s head was pounding, and his peripheral vision was fuzzy. The sweet comfort of sleep was edging into his vision. I ha- have to st-ay a-awake-

A black blanket smothered the young alchemist who had suddenly become tired. Unable to prevent the darkness that flooded into his brain, Varian slumped against his father’s rough hand. Dropping into a numb state, the last thing he heard was a piercing sound of a door opening and a vicious neigh that resembled a battle cry.

*****

Varian couldn’t stop gripping his hair and pulling it until it hurt his head. He had to find some sort of relief from the emotional pain overwhelming him. It was too much. Throughout the entirety of his time in prison, Varian secretly feared what would happen if he did free his father. He would have to tell him everything that happened. More precisely, what he had done. Would his father forgive him just like the princess had?

No. He’s too strict. Varian had guessed. It was so difficult to breath. His short, shallow inhales were becoming more and more difficult to control. I can’t do this. The young alchemist chanted like a mantra in his mind. Rapunzel had graciously offered to stay with him as he told his father, but Varian explained that he had to do this himself. “Dad might feel pressured to side with me if you’re here, and I need to know his honest answer. No matter how painful it is.”

Hardly able to believe it, Varian stared at his father who was now free from his amber prison. They were sitting at their dinning room table. There was a flickering candle at the center of the wooden surface, which instead of being comforting, added to Varian’s anxiety. It was a dark night. After everyone celebrated Princess Rapunzel’s return that day, Varian and Quirin had returned to their home in Old Corona.

It was a mess. Quirin had so many question, most of them being sparked by the aftermath of the Battle of Old Corona, which had not been cleaned up yet; however, he had impressive self-control and had promised to wait till that night to ask Varian his questions. His son deserved one enjoyable day.

But that day was over now, and the two were sitting across from each other, holding mugs with hot coco, which Ruddiger had made. Quirin wanted to know why their home and all of Old Corona seemed to be deserted and left to rot. If Varian wasn’t living at the house, then where had he been staying for the last seven months? Several things were not adding up, and Quirin found his vigilant calmness to spike with anticipation. It wasn’t helping that his son was insufferably stalling to explain anything.

Quirin loved his son - but right now - he was annoying him to no end.

Something very important had happened, and he needed to know.

“So, I guess I should start at the beginning, huh?” Varian’s voice was cracking more than usual.

Quirin nodded in response, avoiding any interruptions as he knew his son would eagerly welcome them and go off topic.

“About seven months ago, during the blizzard, I asked the princess for help.” The tense boy took a moment to slow his breathing before continuing. “Corona was in a state of emergency, and - long story short - she was unable to help me.”

Quirin had expected that. Their family was beneath the royals. Even though the princess had seemingly befriended his son, it wasn’t her priority nor her duty to personally help them over the kingdom.

But, of course, fourteen-year-old Varian didn’t understand that at the time. To him, a promise was a promise.

“The thing was,” His son continued, holding his mug to hide his shaking hands, “I was desperate and the guards mistook me for attac- I mean, I was wasting the princess’s precious time during the middle of a crisis. So, they dragged me, well not exactly, they brought me out of the castle and left me in the snow.”

Quirin knew his son. When you only lived with one person it was natural to be overly observant and memorize each of their tics and fidgets, so it wasn’t very hard for Quirin to realize that his son was lying to him. “Varian.” It was a warning. Tell me the truth. His brown eyes commanded.

“Uh, well they didn’t ‘bring’ me out of the castle. They kinda, sorta dragged me out against my will and threw me into the blizzard.”

Quirin nodded, his face remaining stern.

Varian felt like he could throw up. His father’s expressions and hardness weren’t making this any easier. “Everyone was evacuating, but I came home. When I got there you- you were-” Varian choked. Hoping to hide how upset it was to relive these memories, he brought the hot coco to his lips.

Watching his son’s attempt to seem unbothered by the whole matter would have been comical if it was a different situation, but Quirin found himself becoming more impatient by the minute. He was struggling to feel empathy for his son, mainly because he didn’t know what was wrong. Despite these feelings, Quirin couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with concern.

After placing the mug on the table, Varian found it impossible to stare at his father as he continued, “I was broken when I found you like that.” His voice was so soft it held an eerie ghostliness to it. “I was so upset, but it’s hard to explain. My sorrow turned into this– anger.”

Something about the way he said the final word caused Quirin to sit up straighter.

“Dad, it was so- so- I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I couldn’t stop it. I was furious with myself and the princess for turning her back on me. I wanted to make her pay for abandoning me.” The boy’s blue eyes were glossy as he sunk into his nightmarish memories becoming detached from reality. It was as if he had forgotten his father’s presence. “It wasn’t that she didn’t stick to her word that made me so mad. It was because she left me. She didn’t check on me! It was like she didn’t care! Maybe I’m a fool for trusting her again, but I was so tired of being everyone’s enemy!”

“Son, slow down!” Quirin had to put a stop to Varian’s indecipherable train of thought.

“Sorry.” The boy felt tears prickle in his eyes, but he fought to push them back. No! He wouldn’t cry. He needed to be strong. “Rapunzel left me by myself for an entire month! During that time alone, I- I-” There was a slight pause before his shaky voice finished, “Something in me snapped. I was so desperate to save you. So desperate not to lose you! I couldn’t! Because it would be my fault! And I couldn’t live with myself if-” This time, the young alchemist was incapable of continuing as an unexpected sob escaped his throat. It was odd that he was crying and yet no tears fluttered in his eyes.

Quirin didn’t know what to do as he watched his son cave in on himself. The boy was obviously traumatized, but he didn’t know how to comfort him. The tough man never understood the importance of physical touch. Whenever one of the members of the Brotherhood was upset, he would stay with them. Sometimes the warrior would vent to him, and other times they simply needed someone else’s presence to know that they weren’t alone.

But this was different.

This was a fifteen-year-old child who’s hurt went far deeper than some mature fighter. He was inexperienced to this kind of pain and loneliness. The boy had no one for God knows how long! How was he supposed to help his son in this situation? Quirin decided on staying silent. He didn’t want to do anything to make Varian worse, so doing nothing and just allowing his presence to calm the boy was the best he could do.

Upon noticing the stiff man’s reaction, Ruddiger lowered his tail in concern before scampering to his boy. Climbing up the chair with ease, the raccon nuzzled his head into Varian’s chest and let out a soft, heartening chitter as if to say, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Somehow the raccoon had given the alchemist just enough strength to keep going. “I had never felt so alone before. A rumor that I had attacked the princess had spread throughout Corona. Of course, there was no proof, but that didn’t stop anyone from throwing rocks at me whenever I showed my face in public. I knew I had to take matters into my own hands because no help was coming, so I did something really, really bad.” Varian’s hands began to tremble against the mug, so he dropped them into his lap, hiding them in Ruddiger’s consoling fur. “I tricked Rapunzel into committing treason, stole the Sundrop flower, and drugged the entire castle’s staff. My experiments on the Sundrop flower were illegal and unsuccessful.” The young alchemist rushed through his words, hoping to get it over with. Guilt repeatedly stabbed his stomach, and he kept his eyes firmly on Ruddiger’s reassuring one’s, not daring to look at his father.

He could already imagine the disappointment on his face.

Instead, Quirin’s lips parted as he suddenly lost control of his facial muscles. He knew something bad had happened, but nothing near as drastic as this! Despite his desire to the opposite, he kept himself from asking questions or reprimanding the boy. Something inside of him suspected (and feared) that the worst was yet to come.

“After being announced as an enemy of the king, I found out that the power I needed to free you was inside of Rapunzel. The only way that I could possibly get to use her hair, was to do it forcefully. I- I convinced myself that since everyone saw me as the ‘bad guy,’ I had to play the part. I turned Ruddiger into a monster, tricked the kingdom into thinking I wanted to harm them, and-” The next words would have caused Quirin to yell at his son if it wasn’t for the obvious suffering and regret lingering in the boy’s voice. “I kidnapped the queen.”

It took all of Quirin’s willpower to contain his emotions and let his son finish.

“I used her to lure Rapunzel to my lab. Then, I made these ancient robots, called automatons, to fight the people of Corona.”

As the boy painstakingly continued his story, Quirin somehow knew certain things Varian said, he had never told to anyone before. Things like how he was frightened of the king, so he continued to mock him and pretend to be someone else in order to feel more comfortable in his skin. It was easier to do bad things when you were posing to be someone else. Things like how emotionless he felt as he watched the amber hungrily reach its nasty fingers towards the queen, and how disturbed he was by his own heartlessness. Things like how his rage and bitterness towards Rapunzel was simply a way of coping with how much he hated himself.

Varian was disgusted with his actions and that guilt was eating him from the inside out.

“I was in prison for six months while the princess was away.” Abruptly, the alchemist stopped speaking as if wondering if he should tell his father what happened during that time.

Quirin tried to get more information out of his son, but it was like trying to climb up a slide. Eventually, he gave up.

“Let’s just say,” Varian clutched his raccoon closely to his chest, “Let’s just say, if it wasn’t for Ruddiger, I don’t think I would be here.”

While Varian explained his mistake about opening up to Andrew, Quirin noticed that neither of them had hardly drank any of their hot coco. Both drinks were cold by now, and the candle between them had lowered a great deal. The starlight night dragged on and a certain coldness settled in.

This wasn’t the first time, Quirin felt detached from his son. They never shared a strong connection, but they pretended that they had a solid bond – or at least Quirin thought they had pretended. He never knew how much Varian adored him.

Varian was such an unusual child, and Quirin privately resented him for it. The boy was always different and was nothing like the respectable village leader. Quirin knew he wasn’t father material, but his wife had wanted a child more than anything. Naturally, he thought he could do this with her by his side.

But when she died–

It was just father and son.

It was perfect versus eccentric.

It was stern versus chaotic.

It was safety versus danger.

It was father versus son.

           Quirin’s greatest fear had come true. He was a successful leader, an incredible role model, but a failure of a father. He had let Varian down. He had led his son astray.

He had to fix this!

           “I- I thought if I could make them forget everything, then they would forgive me. But of course, it’s not that easy.” Varian still had not looked up at his father.

“You wanted forgiveness.” Quirin said more to himself than to his son.

At his father’s voice, the alchemist cautiously peaked up, “Yeah, revenge doesn’t quite have the desired effect like most people thought.”

“Who’s ‘most people?’”

“The- the other pri-prisoners.”

“Oh.” That was all he could bring himself to say. He could sense that questioning his son made him more nervous (if the stuttering was any indication) but there were so many questions he was yearning to ask. Still, he had to wait patiently. The story was nearing its end.

Once Varian explained the prison break, Rapunzel’s return, and the Seporian’s betrayal, he noticed his father for the first time. It was like a war was going on inside the brawny man. It was Quirin’s turn to avoid eye contact now.

The man’s thoughts were preoccupied with the exact moment when he was freed from the amber. Quirin was proud that Varian had found a way to save him at the time, but now that he knew the entire story, was he really proud? The truth: no. His son had a long way to go to make up for his mistakes and actions, but he couldn’t stand by and watch his son take on this journey alone. No. It was high time that he played an active role in his son’s life. Quirin wasn’t proud of himself. He had failed his family. In fact, he was one of the many reasons that had led to his Varian’s fall. The road ahead would be far from smooth and would tread deep into Varian’s scars, more than likely adding salt to some of his wounds. Things would get worse before they would get better.

But they would get better.

“Varian, we need to promise to each other, right here, right now, that we will not keep secrets from one another. We need to be on the same page because what’s coming isn’t going to be easy. I’ve made mistakes in my life Varian. Some I haven’t told you about and some I haven’t admitted to anyone – even myself. That changes today. No more secrets from either of us. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They would do this together. As a team.

*****

An excruciating pain ripped Varian out of his unconscious state like a page being torn from a library book. The second light entered his sensitive, baby blue eyes, the boy tried to raise his hand to shade his face but found that his wrists wouldn’t budge. Turning around, Varian’s eyes widened when he noticed that his wrists were mercilessly wrapped in a rope, which was irritating his skin. Where am I? The young alchemist urgently strived to regain his thoughts. Wherever he was, it was still in the castle because the rocks were still decorating the floors and walls, sticking their indestructible, black fangs into the building. His face stung where he had been kicked previously. Groaning at the nausea swirling in his stomach, Varian bit his lip in an attempt to keep the sickness at bay.

There was a faint sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The alchemist twisted his arms in a weak effort to escape but found that it was hopeless to break free of the secure bonds. The door swung open with such force that the air whistled. “Dad.” There was a certain trepidation to his tone – almost like he had suspected who the figure would be but was still heartbroken at the reveal. “Dad, please this isn’t you!”

It was like Quirin couldn’t hear him. With daunting brutality, the larger man advanced purposefully towards his son who he appeared unable to recognize. Roughly and heartlessly, he hauled Varian to his feet. The boy would have fallen back down if it had not been for the sturdy, yet cruel, support of his father. The alchemist’s shaky legs wobbled on the ground as the room continued to spin. Violently pushing the boy in front of him, Quirin remained silent.

“Dad, please. We’re supposed to be a team. We made a deal to always support each other. You don’t want to do this!”

Apparently, speaking wasn’t allowed as Quirin slammed his knee into his son’s rib cage. Varian fell to the ground, vomiting what was left in his stomach. Nausea overwhelmed his entire being and his conflicted emotions exhausted the boy. “Help me–” He whispered before falling into darkness.

*****

Quirin whistled as he pushed a wheelbarrow that contained juicy, freshly picked apples. Smiling from ear to ear, the leader of Old Corona greeted the villagers he passed, knowing each and every one of their names. Old Corona was still in the process of being repaired, but everyone’s enthusiasm to remake their homes spread a contagious joy. Even Varian had helped Quirin during this time.

Trying to relate to his son, Quirin had asked, “Do you have any inventions that could help?”

“Yes, but I think I’ll just do it by hand. I don’t think I can afford another accident.” Had been the answer. “Besides, you can never be too careful.”

Understanding his son’s overcautiousness, he decided not to push the matter, instead he enjoyed the grueling hours of work the two had done together.

Quirin was a quick learner. People knew he was a good man; however, they often overlooked his intelligence. Yes, in comparison to his son he wasn’t anything special, but compared to the average person, he had an impressive sharpness to him. It didn’t take long for the man to realize that leaving his son alone, was not an option. It wasn’t that the boy couldn’t be trusted by himself; it was the villagers couldn’t be trusted around the unprotected boy.

It seemed after several months of trying to redeem himself, the people of Corona were rigid in their acidity towards the alchemist. Forgiveness wasn’t an easy thing, especially for people who thought he was fully in the wrong.

There were several occasions that Quirin had found his son crying in secret. Varian struggled to share his emotions. It was clear to his father how desperate Varian was to seem fine with everyone’s rude comments towards him, but sometimes it was too much for the young child. He was his worst critic and having everyone else never give him a break–

Quirin sighed. His son deserved better than this.

Luckily, Rapunzel was helping him. The only time Varian ever left the house on his own was when Rapunzel would come by and convince him to. The first time Varian had left, he came back with exciting stories about a cursed treasure, friendly competitiveness, and a new friend. Quirin was overjoyed to learn that Xavier and Varian had warmed up to each other. Since that day, Varian would occasionally visit the blacksmith, always returning with a smile and with new invigorating tales to tell.

It was good to see his son have a chance to be a kid.

There was another time when Rapunzel invited Ruddiger and him to help two young girls reform. Kiera and Catalina were thrilled to have an ex-convict help them finish their last step on their journey to redemption. Of course, they ridiculed him in a joking manner, but by the end, Varian found himself becoming quite fond of the two girls. They had done wrong too and were trying to turn their lives around just like him. He was in so much deeper, but he still enjoyed helping someone else. When Varian returned, he was obviously touched by the whole endeavor; unfortunately, it had brought several unsettling memories to the front of his mind.

Despite seeming refreshed by his adventure, he had woken up in the middle of the night screaming.

Quirin’s heart broke upon seeing his son’s frantic movements, his shivering, and his hands clinging to Ruddiger as if he were an infant and the raccoon his mother. Sitting on the side of the bed, Quirin watched as his son trembled with sobs. He wanted to help him but had no idea how. The two sat silently using each other’s company to comfort one another. After the weeping had stopped and turned into dry heaves, Quirin gingerly asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The boy shook his head, “I thi- think I’ll just go back to sleep.”

Nodding, Quirin tucked his son in bed before leaving the room, feeling defeated and useless. He didn’t know what to do, which bothered him to no end. That night, unbeknown to the small family, neither father nor son slept.

This morning, Quirin took in a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying the sweetness of the outdoors. It wasn’t until he noticed his son standing in the doorway to their home that he hollered up a greeting. “Morning, Son!”

Varian managed a smile but turned to his raccoon who was comfortably set on his shoulder. “What is it, Buddy?” He asked.

As the two ran off, Quirin continued his work, wondering what he could do to help his son. The sweat droplets that had formed on Varian’s forehead and the boy’s messy hair were both symptoms of the aftermath of a nightmare. I hope he’s okay. Quirin thought to himself. Parking the wheelbarrow further down the road, the protective father made his way back to Varian who looked like he was preparing to leave.

“Where are you headed, Son?”

“Oh-heh- hi, Dad!” The alchemist seemed a bit surprised over his father’s sudden presence. “Yeah, I’m headed to the capitol to visit Xavier. I- I mean if it’s okay with you?” His voice curled into a question as he asked his father for permission.

“Of course, just be back in time to complete your chores.”

“Okay, I will!”

This was the first time Varian had asked to go to Corona on his own. Unsure of how he felt about this, Quirin decided to let the matter go. Perhaps, this was exactly what the boy needed.

Later that day…

It was almost evening and Quirin was starting to get worried. Word that several strange red rocks had appeared in the capital had reached Old Corona. Unable to leave the village, Quirin excruciatingly waited for his son to return. Dread gripped at his heart as he wondered if Varian would be okay.

If anyone had the right to be afraid, it would be him.

This wasn’t a pleasant thought in the slightest. My duties as village leader should not outweigh my job as a father. He tried to convince himself of the fact. Compassion didn’t come naturally for the man, but he knew the importance of keeping his only family safe. The usually decisive man struggled with this thought. Finally settling on going to the capital, Quirin temporarily put one of his trusted friends in charge before rushing off to Corona.

He noticed the red rocks right away; however, before they had any effect on him, they slithered back into the ground like a serpent fleeing from God’s sight. What is going on? He questioned. It seemed like forever until he reached his destination. The citizens all seemed like they were recovering from a good scare, but they still smiled upon seeing the Old Corona leader.

“Quirin, old friend! Did you hear the news?” Xavier waved from outside his smithy.

“Xavier!” The man greeted the pleasant blacksmith. Where’s Varian? He said he would be here! Keeping his thoughts to himself, Quirin allowed his friend to finish his thought.

“Your son is quite the hero!” The blacksmith couldn’t stop grinning.

“Varian?” He wondered if he was hearing correctly or if he had another son that he was unaware of.  

“Ah, yes! He saved Corona from the red rocks! The princess said so herself!”

So many thoughts spiraled like a tornado inside his mind, “Where is he?” He decided to ask.

Before Xavier could point, a young voice called out. “Dad? What are you doing here?” Quirin was so relieved to see his son that he didn’t notice Ruddiger’s absence.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, no, I’m fine! I’m better than fine actually.” A genuine smile sparkled off of Varian’s young face. He seemed exhausted but clearly high on adrenaline.

“Good. I’m glad.” Quirin couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Before we go home, I need to find Ruddiger!” Varian scratched the back of his neck idly. “He should be fine, but I want to make sure he can get home.”

“Okay.” Quirin suddenly noticed that he was out of breath.

“Goodbye, Xavier!” The boy waved before leading the way to the center of the capital.

As the two walked side by side, Varian explained to his father what had happened. It was terrifying, but therapeutic. A strange combination to Quirin, but he gently smiled and listened to his son’s excitement.

“If it weren’t for Rapunzel I’d be-” His son’s tone shifted so swiftly that it caught Quirin off guard. “Ruddiger!” Upon finding his boy, the chubby raccoon chittered happily and climbed up Varian’s shoulder. “Hehe, good to see you, Buddy!” Before the reunion could get any cuter, a piercing noise came from behind them.

Quirin remained tranquil as Feldspar thanked Varian for the previous events. For the first time in a while, Quirin was proud of his son.

He wanted to show it to him… but how?

“Just doing my part.” Varian watched as the odd man walked off. Ruddiger nuzzled into Varian which made him giggle.

That’s when an idea struck him. Hesitantly at first, Quirin placed his hand firmly on Varian’s shoulder. When the boy turned to look at his father, Quirin immediately thought he had made a mistake. His son looked surprised at the physical touch, but then his expression melted into a shy grin.

Varian’s heart fluttered in his chest. He had craved for physical touch for so long! Now that he had it, he wasn’t sure he liked it. He didn’t know if it was making him uncomfortable or at ease. He honestly couldn’t tell the difference at this time. Little did he know the next big step in their relationship was about to take place: reaching his muscular arms around his son, for the first time, Quirin embraced Varian.

Silently, both father and son decided that physical touch… it wasn’t so bad.

*****

When the young alchemist awoke, he nearly yelped at the face inches away from his own.

“Shhh! Kid, I’m trying to get you out of here.” Eugene’s handsome features were tense with nerves. He was hurriedly untying Varian’s wrists. Maximus was standing guard over their shoulders. “Listen, kid, my father… he’s part of the Brotherhood just like Quirin. In order to stop them we have to destroy the Mindtrap which I’m fairly certain is in Cassandra’s creepy tower.”

Feeling a release of tension behind his back, Varian was able to move his hands in front of him, rubbing the rope burns gingerly. His nausea had subsided; however, his throbbing headache had worsened greatly. Understanding that it was time to move, the young alchemist managed to push himself to his feet. Eugene grabbed his shoulders the moment he noticed the boy sway. “You okay?”

“Ye-yeah, just lightheaded, that’s all.” Came the shaky reply.

Eugene led his injured friend towards Max’s back, and the horse, upon seeing Varian’s serious state, lowered itself so the boy could climb up. Curling his fingers into the horse’s mane, Varian leaned forwards as he felt Eugene’s arms wrap around him. “Hold on, kid!”

As the three raced out into the night, the air cracked and whipped against their faces, stinging their skin and rushing their ears. The eclipse above illuminated across the broken plains creating a tense environment and sense of urgency. Aside from Max’s rhythmic steps, the air was completely silent as if all the birds were afraid to sing and the crickets were too nervous to string their violins. Varian couldn’t fight the feeling like they were inside a timer. They were trying to climb up to the top, but the sand was ruthlessly falling down on them, making everything – moving, thinking, and breathing – more difficult.

So many thoughts rattled through his tortured mind. I have to save, Dad, but how can I break him from the Mindtrap? He obviously doesn’t know what he’s doing, because he would never hurt me. Even though he’s a stern man, he’s not hateful. He always drew the line with physical abuse that’s why he never touched or hugged me before; he was afraid he would lose control. This isn’t just my worst nightmare, this is his! He’s not trapped in the stone; he’s trapped in his own mind!

“Varian?” Eugene’s concerned voice rose over the wind, “You haven’t spoken in a while, which is kinda unusual for you.”

The alchemist took a moment to steady his breathing. “Let’s save our family.” The boy whispered with determination.

“Sounds good to me!” The former thief’s confident reply added to their adrenaline.

This was going to be an unforgettable night.

*****

The moment Varian returned home, Quirin knew something was horribly wrong. His son was trembling and keeping his eyes on the floor as if he had something to hide. Quirin was good at picking out when Varian was trying to keep a secret, but this? It was like part of his son was dying to come clean and the other half dreaded it.

Odd.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t come home at all the following day. Quirin had been asking around the capital and Old Corona for his son, but it appeared he had simply gone missing. He trusted his son and expected that there was a valid reason for him not coming home at all, but it was going on two days now and recentl, Ruddiger had returned to their home without his master. Varian had been working long hours in the Demanitus Chamber trying to decipher the scroll for the last four – almost five – weeks. It was an important job, and they both took it very seriously. Quirin was accustomed to his son coming home late, but this? By the position of the moon, it was far past midnight. Quirin idly paced back and forth knowing full well that sleep was useless. He was just about to head to the capital, when he heard the front door open.

Even though his son looked perfectly fine physically, he had an unusual paleness to him. His freckles were more prominent against his ghostly white skin, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. A burnt smell wafted through the air, but his clothes seemed relatively clean. What is going on? The man wondered.

Immediately, once Varian put his backpack on the kitchen table, Quirin raced towards his son and embraced him. Gratefully, the boy melted into his father’s chest. The leader of Old Corona could feel his son’s exhaustion and gradually helped him to his bedroom. As they walked, Quirin put his bare hand into his son’s hair, brushing through the dirt and grime, and gently taking his goggles off. This entire time, neither spoke. Once the two reached the alchemist’s bedroom, Varian took off his gloves and apron, and Quirin placed his son’s goggles on the dresser. When Varian finally sat down on his bed, he kept his eyes low to the ground.

“I missed you.” Quirin decided to start the conversation with a sweet sentiment. The Lord knows it’s all going to go downhill from here. Quirin muttered soundlessly to himself.

“I missed you too.” Varian gripped one of his arms, hugging himself. Quirin identified this as another sign of discomfort.

“Varian, why are you so late?”

“I was helping Rapunzel celebrate Eugene’s first birthday.” The boy’s ungloved hands clenched his upper arm tightly. There was a brief pause before Varian dug his nails mercilessly into his flesh.

“Varian!” Quirin rushed towards his son, taking his hand away from his shoulder in shock. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly finding his bed very interesting, Varian lowered his face and allowed his midnight black bangs and blue stripe of hair to fall into his face. Not putting up with a moody teenager, Quirin brushed his son’s hair out of his face before letting out a soft gasp.

His son was in tears.

Varian’s face contorted with excruciating intensity almost like he was being abused. “Dad, please,” His voice cracked, “Don’t ask me any questions!”

“But, Varian, something is clearly wrong and-”

“Just wait until tomorrow. Please!” His son begged as more painful tears steamed down his cheeks. “Just, not now!” Varian clenched his hands into fits hoping to find someway to relieve the pressure.

Normally, Quirin would listen to his son, but red lights were going off in the back of his mind. “I’m sorry, Varian, but I can’t do that.”

A look of pure horror washed over Varian’s tear stained face.

“Varian, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Was the quick response. Within a second, however, the boy convulsed violently before rapidly stringing words together, “I got drugged with the truth serum that I made almost a year ago to trick the guards into telling me where the Sundrop flower was.” Once the last word escaped his lips, the boy withdrew his hands from his father’s grasp and covered his mouth. Briefly, his body relaxed almost with something like relief; however, it was short-lived as he stiffened up again.

Quirin felt a rush of something between a protective hostility and emotional wariness bubble in his chest. “Who?”

“Dad, please!”

“Who did this to you!?!” His voice raised in volume and took control of the situation as more tears tracked out of his son’s eyes. It was clear that his son was struggling to keep his mouth shut.

He groaned and protested, but was unable to stop the drug, “Cassandra. She kidnapped me, knocked me unconscious, and held me prisoner in her tower for two days.” He rubbed his red and puffy eyes    

“Did she hurt you?”

“No- ugh, yes.” He continued to wince in agony, “She hit me with some of the black rocks, and then I fell out of the tower, but it’s okay; Lance caught me.” Before he could stop himself, Varian explained all of Quirin’s questions about the previous days. Some of the kind-hearted boy’s thoughts were loving and sweet, while others were of a genuine fear. “I thought I was going to die, when Cassie, uh, Cassandra brought Eugene and I back into her tower. I mean, she was attacking everyone, and I’d never seen her so furious. She looked like she was capable of anything – just like I did when I was the villain.” The last part of his sentence was hushed and sincere. “Dad, I know where she’s coming from, and I want to help her.”

“I know, son. I know.”

Varian leaned against his father and allowed Ruddiger, who had randomly lumbered into the bedroom, to snuggle into his lap. As the night continued to pass, wounds began to heal, and trauma found its ways into the shadows and out of the light. Quirin realized that the boy was becoming drowsy and less reactive. Whether it was the aftermath of the drug or the excitement losing its effect, Varian found his limbs becoming impossible to move as it seemed they had gained several pounds. Quirin was idly running his fingers through his son’s hair before he decided to speak in a soft, carrying tone. “I have more questions, but I understand that you are tired. We can resume this conversation tomorrow, but I want to ask you one more thing.” Gently leaning his son back so that they could look into each other’s eyes, Quirin continued, “Varian, I’m giving you the choice if you want me to ask the question or not. I want to hear the answer, but I want to hear it from you, not the truth serum. Would you prefer I ask tomorrow? I understand if you do.”

Varian thought about it. What did he want to know? His question could go a number of ways. The young alchemist’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned, deep in thought. He trusted his father, and he was convinced that his father trusted him too, but if this was so, why was it intimidating to be an open book?

It shouldn’t be.

“We made a deal: no secrets.” His frail voice bloomed through his tired smile.

Quirin took in a deep breath before asking the question that could very possibly ruin so much: “Why did you not want to tell me?”

Whether it was the drug or the boy, the response was quick, “Because Cassandra wanted more than anything to make her father proud. If I told you what she’s done–” He paused abruptly as if searching for the correct words, “It’s your duty to tell the Captain of the Guard, and I would never forgive myself if I was the reason their relationship could never be repaired.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?”

“Because I know what it’s like to disappoint your father.” Once he had started, the boy couldn’t stop. Bottled-up emotions gushed out just like the tears on his face. “I know that gut punching feeling when you see his face after you try so hard to impress him. I know how it crushes you because each time you do something good you get your hopes up only to be smashed back down again. I know how frustrating it is to see how your own father – the only person that matters in your life – looks ashamed of you. I know the horror that comes when you watch his face flush with embarrassment when you’re seen with him in public. I know what it’s like because every moment of every day all I can think about is making you proud, and every day I let you down. I’m tired of being trapped in this hopeless, endless cycle, and I don’t want her to be broken like-” The trembling alchemist was unable to finish as he hugged himself, crying openly. Not even the truth serum could force his worn-out body to finish his thoughts.

Noticeably upset and wanting to comfort Varian, Ruddiger whimpered inside his beloved boy’s arms. Quirin watched his son and the raccoon in complete shock. His mouth slightly open and his eyes suddenly wide and blurry.

In between the sobs violently shaking his body, Varian detected two warm, loving arms wrapping around him, engulfing him with security and the sweet smell of his father. “Varian, you don’t need validation. You need to be proud of yourself. I’m just a man, and – if anything – I am the one not worthy of your greatness. You don’t need to impress others. Know why? Because I am proud of you Varian, and I mean it, and I will say it as many times as you need to hear it. But there is so much more potential inside of you. You should achieve great things because you want to. Don’t be selfish, but do things for yourself, because Varian you are worth it. You don’t understand now, but you are more valuable than all of the gold in this world! You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Throughout his father’s words, Varian’s sobs turned into quiet whimpers until he fell asleep. The last emotion his conscious mind could recall was a sense of lightness and ease. It was like a weight that he didn’t know existed was removed.  

*****

Eugene, Varian, and Max had reached the black rock tower and were halfway up the windy steps when they heard the silence finally break. The entrance to the tower opened and several heavy footsteps clattered up the stairs. Mind controlled Hector, Edmund, and Quirin were on their tails.

“Come on Max, let’s pick up the pace,” Eugene commanded his second-in-command as he pushed his heels firmly but gently into Maximus’s strong sides. Varian gripped the horse’s neck tighter as they sped up. Once the three reached the top of the steps, the young alchemist felt a chill on the back of his neck. Petrifying memories flooded these blackened, angry walls. He didn’t want to be back here, but he would do anything to save his father. This was their only option.

“Stand guard.” Eugene said to Max as he and Varian hopped onto the cold ground. Team Awesome studied their surroundings through the dimly lit throne room. The blue, hateful flames that lit up last time they were here, had vanquished leaving them in a twisted enigma of darkness. Eugene was the first to notice the Mindtrap softly glowing on and off – similar to the steadiness a heartbeat – next to Cassandra’s throne. Varian attentively watched as his older friend reached his hand out only to be kicked back by a fierce looking female warrior. Her face was pale on one side showing a calm, coolness to her, and the other side was painted red resembling blood. Varian suddenly felt dizzy.

Without hesitation, Adira grasped the Mindtrap and pointed her sword at Eugene. Immediately, Varian raced to his rescue, until he realized he was completely unarmed. Oh, you’ve got to be joking! You know for someone with my brains, I sure can make the dumbest mistakes! As the alchemist reached his friend’s side, he stared courageously at their friend turned foe. Glancing briefly at Eugene, Varian noticed the uncertain, almost torn, expression on his face. This “Adira” lady may not have been his family, but he was noticeably dreading to fight her. It would only be a matter of time before the rest of the Brotherhood outnumbered them. Max was strong, but could he hold off all three remaining members?

Clenching his fists, Varian prepared for whatever they would have to do to get the Mindtrap and save his father.

The fight didn’t last long. Adira was far more skilled than both the new Captain of the Guard and the weary alchemist. Varian was frustrated when he realized how useless he was. Without materials or anything to work with other than unbreakable black rocks, there was nothing he could do of significance. After a surprise kick, Eugene managed to gain the upper hand and pushed her back. Suddenly feeling cornered, Adira launched the Mindtrap behind both alchemist and captain. Whipping their heads back to follow the vital item, both members of Team Awesome instantly felt a sharp ache of dread penetrate their stomachs as they watched none other than Quirin catch it.

Max, who was busy fighting off Hector and Edmund, was unable to take on all three at once. Quirin, snatching the Mindtrap, hid it inside his armor, before intimidatingly moving his sword into an attacking position. Before either Varian or Eugene could react, Adira launched herself at Eugene from behind. Both tumbled to the ground and continued their scuffle, thus leaving Varian to face his father.

Okay Varian, the desperate boy tried to spark an idea in his mind, Think outside the box. Don’t think like an alchemist; think like a son.

“Dad!” He shouted.

His father didn’t falter in his advancing movements. There was a disturbingly blank stare covering his face.

“Dad, you’re being controlled.”

As if his son’s words meant nothing, Quirin ignored him and slammed the handle of his sword into his son’s tiny frame.

Falling to the ground, the boy curled into himself as pain spread throughout his body in agonizing waves. Still, he did not give up. “We’re in this together, Dad. You didn’t give up on me, and I’m not giving up on you.”

No response.

Slamming his foot into his son’s side, Quirin remained emotionless – completely unaware of what he was doing.

Tears gathered in Varian’s eyes, and he recoiled at the disgusting, metallic taste in his mouth. He knew better than to look at the liquid dripping down his face and around the corners of his lips. He was already dizzy enough.

He needed a different tactic. He couldn’t say obvious things; he had to say what was on his heart. Through his dotted vision and tormented body, he managed to raise his head and look into his father’s eyes. “Dad- ” He had to spit blood in order to continue, “Dad, these last six months, you’ve helped me forgive you and more importantly- ” He coughed, a nasty sound, “I’ve finally forgiven myself.”

Quirin raised his sword directly above Varian’s head ready to slam it down on him. Somehow, Varian’s head, which was beating like a speeding war drum, made out Eugene’s voice screaming his name from the opposite side of the room. Ignoring his fear, Varian bravely spoke to his lost father, “But that’s just it, Dad. You’re not trapped because of the Mindtrap; you’ve trapped yourself inside of your own mind, and you haven’t forgiven yourself for it.”

Nothing.

The boy’s father stood frozen with his sword ready to pierce his son’s skull, but he didn’t move and neither did the boy. They stared at each other until–

Until, the unnatural blue light in Quirin’s eyes flickered like the candle that stood between them that night they were reunited. Just like that candle’s wax, the barrier between them had finally melted. Their hard work, their strenuous journey of redemption, and their hope to rebuild their bond, had finally been completed.

Building off of his son’s strength, Quirin used the sword that was supposed to take his son’s life and stabbed the Mindtrap. Kneeling down to see his bloodied and beaten son, Quirin realized that he had never found his son more beautiful than he was in this moment. Scooping the boy up, Quirin pressed his forehead against Varian’s, unbothered by the fact that his son’s blood was dripping on him. All those years before, Quirin was rigid in his belief that his wife was the love of his life even past her death, but something in him had shattered.

Now, the love of his life was lying securely in his arms.

“Who cares about pride?” He spoke through tears, “I love you, Varian.”

Varian smiled and, if he wasn’t this exhausted, he would have let out a laugh of pure joy. He thought nothing could feel better than to hear his father say he was proud of him.

He was wrong.

This was the first time Quirin told him that he loved him, and something told Varian that it wouldn’t be the last.  

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Thank you for reading!