#i know she's a little underweight but she's slowly getting where she should be

[barksbog]

Kork is the most majestic lizard

her head so full of thought

[messers-moony]

Nothing Left | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Everything crashes within seconds and Sirius doesn’t know where to go. 

Everything went downhill so fucking fast. How was that even possible? Everything was perfectly fine a year ago, but it seems that within that year, everything had collapsed onto the helpless boy. It was like being beneath a crumbling concrete tower that fell with no warning. Like being slapped in the face unexpectedly. Like getting doused in freezing water on a Sunday morning. 

In retrospect, it sucked. 

Sirius Black would know first hand. His entire life had been a screw-up from the beginning. It started with his parents, who - at the start - loved him. But when he turned out to be the child they never wanted all that love had vanished. They tortured him, broke him piece by piece, they built up trauma that took years for him to express to his friends. It wasn’t until third year when they heard him crying alone in his four-poster bed and asked what was wrong. He could remember the comforting embrace James Potter had given him. 

Nevertheless, it never ended there. The summer going into his sixth year, Sirius decided it was enough after too many Cruciatus Curses and body binding curses; enough was enough. His hands were trembling after enduring just ten minutes of the torture curse, and it was a struggle, but he packed everything he could. His heart broke at inevitably leaving his little brother behind. He could only hope that Regulus would understand. 

It took a Knight Bus trip to the Potter residence in Godric’s Hollow. The sky could’ve resembled how Sirius felt. Back at Grimmauld Place Twelve, the sky was always cloudy and rainy. Godric’s Hollow allowed the sun to shine past the fluffy clouds, but tonight was different. The sky was dark and thick, black clouds covered the stars. Rain poured from them, and it pittered on the stone roads. Sirius was instantly drenched when he stepped off the Knight Bus. 

Hesitantly he made his way to the door, where he knocked softly. The house was two stories and was a relatively big family home - not bigger than Grimmauld Place - but an average family home. The house was a mixture of grey, dark purples, and brown. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ patched jumpers. Sirius could hear movement from behind the plum door, and it opened to reveal a familiar face. James Potter with his messy hair, hazel eyes, and long limbs. James was muscular, but he was also tall, not Remus tall but taller than Sirius. 

James didn’t speak and ushered him inside. The following morning at breakfast, Euphemia - Mrs. Potter - had given Sirius the excellent news of his new forever home. The Potters would never forget the way Sirius lit up and how a smile had taken over his face. Sirius didn’t remember being this happy except for when Regulus was born. 

But his forever home was not forever. 

In seventh year, James’ parents had died, and nobody had comforted Sirius except one person who attempted. James had Lily, and that was enough for him. Perhaps it was selfish to think that James should be comforting him. It was definitely selfish. Sirius was doing really good at hiding how he felt until he crumbled behind a tapestry near the dungeons. 

Sirius didn’t know if it was good or bad luck that Regulus - his prefect Slytherin brother - had found him behind that tapestry. Regulus had pulled back the fabric slowly with his wand lit. His face had softened at his older brother sobbing with his knees to his chest. Regulus allowed his wand light to extinguish before sitting in front of him in the same position, allowing their socks to touch at the tips. 

They sat there for a couple of minutes before Regulus moved closer, albeit hesitantly to sit beside Sirius. Regulus had his back against the concrete, and Sirius curled up onto him while the younger Black brother rubbed his older brother's back. Sirius cried harder and harder. It took an hour before he subdued to sniffles and whimpers, but Regulus took it as his time to speak. 

“I know they meant a lot to you,” Regulus stated, still rubbing his older brothers back, “And I don’t blame you for grieving them.”

Sirius sniffled, “I ought to be grateful for them, really.” Regulus released a sound that sounded like a chuckle, but it was so foreign to Sirius he couldn’t tell, “They kept you safe. Kept you away from mother and father. They gave you a home where you could finally be you.”

“And no matter how mad I want to be at them for taking you away from me,” Regulus admitted, “I just can’t be because they gave you everything you wanted, and I’ve never seen you happier in my life.”

Regulus didn’t stop talking, “You know… I- I found my own James Potter.”

Sirius looked up at Regulus with flushed cheeks, but his facial expression was baffled, and Regulus presented him with a small smile, “Okay, maybe she isn’t my ‘James Potter’ per se because I don’t see her as a sister but rather she’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s- What’s her name?” Sirius croaked; his throat was so raw from crying. 

“Y/n L/n.”

“A- A Gryffindor?”

Regulus made that sound again, “Yeah. A stupidly brave one too. Even worse.”

Sirius smiled, “I know her.”

“Don’t tell me she was one of your conquests.” Regulus grimaced, and Sirius chuckled, snuggling back into Regulus’ chest, “No, she wasn’t. It turns out she has the hots for the other Black brother.”

Regulus smiled, and they allowed the silence of the castle to consume them. It was dark in the corridor on the other side of the tapestry, and Regulus could see the faint moonlight peaking out. He could also imagine the stars glittering beautifully in the midnight sky. He could see the star Sirius shining brighter than ever, and he just wanted his brother to feel the same. 

“I plan to marry her.” Regulus said before he could stop the words from falling from his mouth.

“What happens then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mother and father will never approve.”

Regulus scoffed, “I’m done with their bullshit and have been for quite a while.”

Sirius met his brother's eyes again, “I left right after you. It turns out there is no more heir to the Black family name.”

The older Black brother smiled brightly and tightened his grip on his younger brother. Regulus couldn’t remember feeling this warm since they were little boys running around the backyard. Sirius was practically on top of him, and that was okay. For now, everything seemed okay again. Maybe Euphemia and Fleamont were gone, but even in their deaths, they managed to benefit Sirius’ life. 

Now it all seemed fruitless. 

Only a couple of months later, Sirius and Regulus had gotten into a huge kerfuffle. It ended with screaming, raw throats, tears, and flushed cheeks. Sirius could remember how Regulus playfully mocked his and Remus’ relationship. He didn’t know exactly what happened, just that he was pouncing for his little brother, and Remus was holding him back. Sirius had yelled some very awful things that he couldn’t take back. 

She hadn’t done anything. She didn’t even know that an argument had happened. Y/n had been reading in the common room when the book was flung out of her hand, and she was pushed against the stone wall of the Gryffindor Tower. Y/n met eyes with stormy grey ones, not unlike her lovers, but these weren’t her lovers. These were his elder brother's eyes, and he had lifted her off the floor against the wall until James had pulled Sirius off her. 

Y/n hit the floor with a thud and repeatedly coughed, hands on her throat. James had stormed into the boy's dormitory with Sirius with him. She didn’t even understand what was happening not until she met up with Regulus in the prefect dorm, and he saw the marks on her neck. Sirius had taken it too far, and Regulus was furious. They were no longer on speaking terms. 

Now Sirius had someone entirely different to grieve. 

Sirius had felt like his heart hit the floor when he was forced to move out of James’ house with Lily due to Harry being born. Remus had moved away to take care of his sick mother and asked for privacy. The funds that had previously been in Sirius’ account had been squandered, and now he was paying the price. 

He had absolutely nowhere to go. Truthfully, there was one place he could go, but he didn’t think he’d ever be accepted there. He had said unforgivable things, but James had given him enough confidence that it would be okay. Reluctantly, Sirius Black took the Knight Bus to the suburbs in London. The community felt so modern and new. It was different then Godric’s Hollow which had been around for so many years that it began to weather and erode. 

The deja vu was hitting him like a brick. Their house was a mixture of grey, black, white, and maybe blue - Sirius couldn’t tell in the darkness if it was white or pale blue. Perhaps he’d find out tomorrow if he was even welcomed inside. Sighing and shivering, Sirius knocked on the door. He could hear little squeals of delight that sounded much like a child. He also heard talking, but he froze when the door opened. 

Regulus Black, at the age of twenty-two, looked good. His hair was to his jaw, and it was wavy at the ends, whereas Sirius’ was much more straight. His eyes had turned silver over the years. His cheeks looked much fuller, and he looked a lot better. Regulus was no longer looked underweight, but he was still slim and skinny. Black family genes, Sirius supposed. Sirius couldn’t meet his brother's eyes. 

“What do you want, Sirius.” 

His name falling from Regulus’ mouth instead of a nickname hurt more than he expected, “I had nowhere else to go…”

Regulus scoffed, “James finally kick you out, eh?”

“Yeah, he did.” Sirius sounded so distant, “Perhaps it was about time, and here I am, at your doorstep.”

“Come on, Sirius.” Regulus motioned for him to come in, and Sirius did. 

The house was much cozier inside. The floors were dark wood, almost black. The living room - on Sirius’ left - was a darker turquoise color with grey furniture. The dining room - on Sirius’ right - was a light grey. The furniture was a marble table, white wood chairs with cushions, and a beautiful light fixture. Regulus led him to the kitchen, which was straight ahead in the hallway. 

It was a beautiful mint green color with black and white furniture. The appliances were primarily black and the furniture primarily white, but regardless, it was beautiful. They had another table in the kitchen that was a grey wood instead of the shiny marble in the dining room but nevertheless screamed elegance. Sirius sat at one of the barstools at the L of the counter. Regulus slid him a cup of tea. 

“Your house is beautiful.” Sirius complimented, and Regulus placed the cup back into the saucer, “Thank you. My wife picked everything out for the most part. I either built it or painted it.” Regulus smiled. 

“Your wife?”

Regulus hummed, “Y/n Black. Ring any bells?”

Sirius swallowed, “Yeah.”

They both took a sip of tea, “I have two kids too. Both boys.”

“Two?!“ Sirius nearly spat out the liquid he had just taken a sip of. 

“Twins. Fraternal, thankfully.”

He placed the cup down, “What’re their names?“

“Perseus Regulus Black and Leo Alphard Black.”

“Perseus and Leo, huh?“

Regulus blushed, “It wasn’t my idea. It was Y/n’s.”

“I like them,” Regulus looked up at him, “The names. I’m sure they fit them too.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t long until footsteps began to echo coming down the steps. Y/n had grown up too. Her face was sharper and her curves more defined. If Sirius was honest, she didn’t look like she had kids at all. To be fair, he wasn’t really staring at Y/n but more so his brother. Regulus had a starstruck expression as his wife walked towards him. He had a dopey smile on his face and stars in his eyes. Regulus really loved her, and Sirius could tell, hell, anyone could. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks at seeing Sirius, “What’s he doing here?” 

Regulus placed an arm around her waist, “He came looking for a place to stay. While I was waiting for you, I decided to catch up with him for a little.”

Sirius looked guilty, “Ultimately, I’m leaving this decision up to you.” 

Y/n sighed and looked at both brothers. She thought of what he did back at Hogwarts. She thought of how Regulus had cried and ached for his brother, wishing for their relationship to be back the way it was. She thought of her two children who always asked about their Uncle Sirius, who was never around. 

“Sirius,” Y/n began, and Sirius held his breath, “Where will you go if I were to say no?”

Sirius looked at his lap, “The streets.”

He couldn’t hear the footsteps that approached him until soft hands lifted his head where he met soft e/c eyes, “I’m willing to look past everything that happened at Hogwarts for the sake of my children. They deserve their uncle. But I need you to show me that I can trust you and that you won’t cause trouble.”

“I’ll do anything.” Sirius complied, and Regulus smirked, “Don’t say that. She’ll have you remodel something.”

“You’re an asshole.” Y/n whirled, and Regulus continued to smirk, “I told you to use magic, and you said we should do it the Muggle way.”

He shrugged, “We got good memories out of doing it the Muggle way.”

“If getting paint all over me counts as good memories, then sure.”

“It does.” Regulus smiled, “Your face was priceless.”

“Dickhead.” She muttered. 

Sirius grinned, “Well, Sirius. If Y/n lets you stay, then you’re welcome here. What I did back at Hogwarts was uncalled for, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mocked you and Remus.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.” Regulus countered solemnly, “Had I not done that; then we could’ve had a better relationship. For that, I’m sorry.”

Sirius stood up and hugged Regulus tight, “New beginnings?”

“New beginnings.” Regulus smiled. 

Regulus led Sirius up the wooden stairs up to the second story. It seemed to have had four bedrooms and two bathrooms, one in the master bedroom, one in the hallway, not including the one downstairs. On the end of the left side was a door leading to the master bedroom. On the right end was a cabinet and two doors across from one another. Then in the middle of the back was a door leading to another bedroom which Regulus had opened. 

The bedroom was spotless and beautiful. It was painted a grey with purple undertone with a queen-sized bed. Most of the furniture was white, and the bedding was black. Sirius had brought his trunk to its normal size and placed it at the end of the bed. Regulus smiled as Sirius looked around. 

“This is yours for as long as you want it.” Regulus stated softly snd Sirius had tears in his eyes, “Thank you.”

Sirius hugged his brother again, “I really mean it, thank you.”

“I love you, Sirius.” Regulus confessed, “You’ll always be my brother. The one who held me during thunderstorms. The one who sewed up my teddy bear when it had gotten ripped. The one who took the blame so I wouldn’t get punished.”

Sirius was gripping the back of his shirt tightly, “That stuff doesn’t just go away.”

They parted, and Regulus smiled, “Get some sleep. I’m sure you’d like to see the boys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to meet my nephews.” Sirius admitted smiling brightly. 

“Get some sleep, Siri.” 

“You too, Reggie.”

[echoghost1]

Out Of This World (And Into The Next)

Word Count: 6,062

For: @theaxolotkween & @rayghosts/@ghostsray

Summary: What if when Danny first fought the Lunch Lady ghost she actually noticed how young he was. What if she didn't know he was more than just another ghost? What if when she commented on how underweight he was, she decided to help him?

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

“Don't you see?” The lunch lady screamed as she holds Danny upsidedown by just his ankle, “This is why you need meat! You're skin and bones!” She holds him up higher and really looks at him before addressing him directly in her calmer tone, “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“Uh,” Danny started intelligently as he tried to ignore how odd it was that all the blood wasn’t rushing to his head, “This morning?”

It must be a ghost thing. If he could float then gravity wasn’t really affecting him the same.

“Yeah, I had cereal.” he nods, then adds to himself as an afterthought, “Didn’t finish it though.”

“What?! You didn’t! What about lunch then? It’s past noon!”

“Well this is my lunch hour,” he shrugged, “and I was about to eat, but uh,” he couldn’t help the wince as he finished, “then you showed up?”

She gasped and immediately let go of him.

He dropped about a foot before he flipped in the air and floated back upward right side up.

“Well, that simply will not do!” She looked over him with an expression that Danny wasn’t sure if it was pity or concern. He’d seen Jazz make that face at him a lot, that was for sure.

“Here, eat this!” she said as she shoved a piece of cake straight into his mouth.

With no other choice but to accept, he swallowed it. He wiped his lips for the remaining frosting with his thumb as the flavor of the cake made itself known. It was probably the best piece of cake he had ever had in his life. “Wow, that was delicious!”

He eagerly licked his fingers clean before looking back at her, “Do you have more?”

She smiled, “Certainly child. Right this way.” she held out her arm and gestured him to follow her.

They floated over to the back wall and she opened the door to the walk-in freezer. Only when she opened it, it wasn’t a freezer on the inside. It was the ghost zone.

He stopped in his tracks as he felt the chill from the freezer portal slowly edge its way towards him.

She turned back holding her hand out to him but stopped when she noticed his reaction, “What’s the matter, dear? Aren’t you coming?”

“I,” he hesitated slowly shaking his head, “I can’t go in there.”

She stared at him for a moment before a look of realization crossed her face, “Have you never crossed into the veil before?”

He assumed she meant the ghost zone so he shook his head no.

“Really? Odd, you feel just like it.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he didn’t say anything.

She smiled again and floated closer to him, “You haven’t been a ghost for very long, have you?”

He didn’t see the point in lying, so he didn’t. “It’s only been a month.”

She was close enough to gently run the back of her finger down his cheek, “And yet you’re so fully-formed? Even without crossing? You must have a very strong will.”

He was so confused right now. Not even five minutes ago they were throwing punches and now she was comforting him? Were all ghosts this weird?

“Is your family still around?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they know you’re still here?”

“Of course they do! I live with them,” he answered totally perplexed as to what she was asking him. It seemed like there was some meaning that he just wasn’t understanding.

She gasped, “You’re haunting them?”

His hands sprung up on instinct and he waved them around trying to get rid of that line of thinking completely. “No, no, no! I can’t be haunting them! I’m not a ghost.”

She raised an eyebrow and floated back just a hair to completely get him in her view, “Hate to break it to you, Sugar, but,” she gestured to all of him or more importantly the fact that he was glowing and floating and looked exactly like a ghost right now.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean I am right now, but not all the time!”

She pulled him into a hug, “It’s okay, Sweetheart. I know it’s confusing. Especially with how young you are.” she leaned back and examined his face with that same Jazz-face she had made earlier, “You had an accident? It happened fast, didn’t it?”

How did she know that?

“Where was your family?”

He looked down towards his boots and rubbed his arm, “Jazz was upstairs. In her room, I think?”

“And your parents?”

He tried to think back to that day. It was only a month ago, but some of the details were a little fuzzy.

Had his parents just gone upstairs or were they out that day? Hadn’t they just tried to turn it on? No, it was a few days after that, right? Had he been alone or were Sam and Tucker there?

His head started to hurt as he tried to remember. It was like someone had taken an egg beater to his brains and scrambled them.

The lunch lady ghost pulled him into her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I wasn’t sure how much you knew. Or how much you could handle.”

He pulled back, resting his hands on her broad shoulders, “Do you know?” he was so confused right now.

She smiled gently, “No honey, we only just met today.”

“Oh yeah,” he knew that.

He grimaced as the throbbing from his headache flared up. As if he was going to forget about that anytime soon. He rubbed his fist into his forehead trying to soothe the ache.

He thought he heard someone calling to him but he couldn’t focus.

“Why don’t we get you something to eat. That should make that nasty headache go away.” she patted him on the back and pushed him back down towards her shoulder.

The coolness of her body felt so nice that he closed his eyes and hummed in contentment.

“That’s right, just relax,” she whispered.

He could feel her move, the gentle sway as she floated was at just the right rhythm for him to let himself drift off to sleep.

He hadn’t even realized he was that tired until then.

Being a ghost was exhausting.

===============================================

Danny opened his eyes and was greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. It was very high and the plain white paint was interrupted with large wooden cross beams.

He sat up immediately and floated a couple of inches off the bed. He looked down and found he was still in his ghost form.

He had never woken up that way before.

He looked back at the bed. It had a blue metal frame with one side that arched up along the wall, it reminded him of the bed he’d use whenever he’d visit his grandmother’s house. He had to think for a moment but then remembered what it was called, a daybed.

Why was he sleeping on a daybed?

“I’m supposed to be at school!”

He flew towards the door, but hesitated before he grasped the handle. He slowly reached out and tried to phase his hand through the door.

His hand just ran into the door as if he was solid. But he could feel that tingly feeling in his hand which meant he was using his power.

So why wasn’t it working?

He shrugged and went to open the door normally.

It opened.

He peered out and saw a short empty hall. The brickwork that was in the room he had woken up in, carried out into the hall as well.

There was a familiar scent wafting towards him and floated silently into the room at the end of the hall.

“Grilled Cheese?” he asked softly.

In front of a large flattop grill, like the kind in restaurants, was the Lunch Lady ghost and she was in fact, making a bunch of grilled cheese sandwiches. He looked around the room and found no one else there. Why was she making so many?

She turned to face him and smiled, “Well hello there Sweetpea. You feeling any better after your nap?”

“Uh, yeah?”

And he did. His headache had gone away. Although he was still really confused. Was this where she lived?

It looked like a studio loft apartment and an industrial kitchen had a baby. Weird, but it did fit her.

“Good to hear. You hungry? Lunch is just about ready.”

“Yeah okay.”

If he had slept wouldn’t it be time for dinner?

She put a couple of sandwiches on a plate for him, they were cut into triangles. “Milk?” she asked as she pushed the plate across the counter towards him.

He climbed up onto the barstool and just agreed to that too.

Why not? He couldn��t think of a reason not to. Besides he was hungry.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” he asked as he carefully picked up the hot triangle of cheesy goodness.

“No.” She set a large glass of milk down for him. Much larger than he would have poured for himself.

“Okay.”

This was so weird.

She didn’t think he was going to eat all of those, did she? There had to be at least ten sandwiches on the grill. She already gave him two to start with.

It felt like she was trying to fatten him up.

He really hoped this didn’t turn out to be some Hanzel and Gretel situation.

He took his bite and once again was overwhelmed by just how amazing her food was. It wasn’t just that it was perfectly grilled crispy bread, or that the cheese was just the right kind that it got stringy as he pulled it apart, it even had thin slices of lightly browned deli meats. The first one had ham but the next one was chicken.

Before he could even think to stop himself he had cleared his plate and downed half the milk.

She smiled and filled his plate again. “Don’t be shy now, have as much as you like.”

And he did.

After several minutes he finally pushed the plate away. If he even so much as thought about food, he’d explode.

He groaned and leaned back in the chair. It was so good, but his eyes must have been bigger than his stomach.

“Aw come here, you cute little bean,” she said as she floated around the counter and picked him up to place over her shoulder like he was a little kid.

“Hey!” he protested weakly while still feeling lethargic.

She ignored him and started to pat his back.

He hoped she wasn’t doing what he thought she was doing.

And did she get taller or something, because he didn’t think he was that much smaller than her.

Before he could fully process the situation he burped.

“Ah, that’s a good boy.”

Oh my god, she was doing that!?

He squirmed in her arms. He was not about to be treated like a baby. Absolutely not!

“Hey now, stop that.” she lightly scolded as if he wasn’t any threat to her at all.

Then again, he hadn’t been doing very well in their fight at the school.

“You,” he burped again, “stop it!”

He did not like this one bit. Even if burps made his tummy hurt less.

Wait, did he just think the word tummy?

He meant stomach. He was a big boy, he was supposed to use big boy words.

Wait, no!

“What are you doing to me?!” his voice came out a lot squeakier than he wanted. It was higher pitched than it was this morning too.

“I’m not doing anything,” and the look on her face showed she was telling the truth.

He looked down at his hands. They were so little now.

Somehow, he's gotten younger.

“Why am I little?” he said and his voice sounded even tinier.

She rested him against her hip, seeing as he was now about half his age, and smoothed back his hair, “that’s just what the veil does to some folks. It helps you learn about being a ghost I think. It’s easier to start from the beginning and all that.”

She walked away from the kitchen and back towards the room he had started in.

His room.

“Now I think after all that excitement, we best get you to bed.”

“But I’m not tired,” he said with a betraying yawn.

Or at least he hadn’t been a minute ago.

She tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Sweet dreams, Cupcake.”

“Night night,” he mumbled already falling asleep.

===============================================

The next time he woke up he was much too small to get out of bed on his own. Or at least he didn’t want to risk it. The bed was very tall and he didn’t want to fall down.

“Ready for lunch?” she asked as she picked him up, “I made spaghetti.”

“Sketti!” he cheered and clapped. If her cheesy sandwiches were yummy he’d bet her noodles were just as good.

For just a moment as she set him in his high chair he thought it was a little odd that they were having lunch again.

Maybe it was always lunchtime here?

He forgot the thought the second she handed him his sippy cup. Apple juice was his favorite!

He was halfway through his second plate of spaghetti when he got bored and decided he’d rather play with the floppy noodles instead.

“Oh okay, I think it’s time for Nanna to just take that away now,” Nanna said as she did just that.

He pouted but then pulled his foot up through the hole in his chair just to see if he could.

He could! Fun!

The buckle was looser than it was before, despite his full tummy.

Nanna turned around and gasped, “Oh you’re getting sauce everywhere!” he floated up out of the chair as she approached, his legs disappeared into a tail as he moved.

He looked down at his new tail in awe.

Then immediately stuck the tip of it into his mouth just to see what it felt like.

He didn’t like it.

Nanna chuckled and plucked him out of the air like an apple from a tree. She cleaned up his face and hands. And feet! As soon as he figured out how to make them come back.

“Alright, beddy-bye time.”

He flinched. The last time he went sleep he got little. If he went sleep again would he keep getting tiny? What if he got so little Nanna couldn’t see him?

He burst into tears and started bawling.

“Oh? Oh no! What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t answer her. He was much too upset. Also, what were words? He didn’t know how to.

She rocked him in her arms and did her best to soothe him.

He started to get sleepy from the motion but that just launched him right back into hysterics.

“Are you scared to go to sleep?”

He rubbed the tears and the sleep out of his eyes as best he could as he nodded.

“Oh pumpkin, you’ll be okay.”

He shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

He slowly clapped his hands together once, to show getting small. Then he said, “poof.”

She blinked a couple of times then nodded in understanding, “You’re not going to get any smaller. I think you’re done. Now we get to see you grow up again.”

His eyes went wide with surprise.

“Yeah, you’ll be big. And even better, we get to find out what you love the very most.”

He didn’t really understand that last part. What could he love more than Nanna? He hugged her so she would know.

===============================================

He was just staring out the window when she came in to check on him.

The window didn’t use to be there, but sometimes things like that happened. Nanna could change the size of the things in the kitchen to whatever she needed them to be. Whatever food she wanted to cook she always had the ingredients.

He hadn’t been able to change anything before, but he was older now.

“What’s out there?” he asked as he gazed at the swirling green void. There wasn’t much to see, but there had to be something else right?

“Come on, Sweetiepie, it’s time for lunch.”

He sighed and followed her out. “Can I go outside after lunch?” he asked as he sat at the counter. He was happy he was finally big enough to sit on the tall chairs. He liked being able to kick his legs while he sat.

“I don’t know, you’re still so young.”

“But Nanna! I’m seven now! Isn’t that big enough?”

“You were fourteen when I brought you home.”

He scrunched up his nose as he pouted. It’s not his fault being here turned him into a baby and he had to grow up again.

“No more pouting.” she chided as she pinched his chubby cheek affectionately.

He sighed and wondered if Boxy was going to come over again. The Box Ghost didn’t visit all the time, but he was fun to play with when he did. Maybe Boxy would let him go outside.

He just wanted to know what was out there.

===============================================

When he was eleven, Nanna tried to help him find what she called, his Spark. The thing that he loved the most.

He still wasn’t sure what that meant.

“What’s your Spark?” he asked while he was stirring the batter for the cookies.

“Why that would be lunch of course.” she ruffled his fluffy white hair, “And you’re a close second.”

“So other people aren’t Sparks?”

She sprinkled in the chocolate chips as he continued to stir, “I think they can be sometimes, but that’s pretty rare. Sparks form around ideas or things. I don’t think it’s very healthy to have one for another person.”

He just stared into the batter as the chips slowly sank into the thick creamy dough. Something about it looked familiar.

“How do I know what my Spark is?”

“It’s hard to say. It’s different for everybody. For me, I knew right away. I always had a passion for cooking, and lunch was always my favorite meal of the day.”

She pulled out the baking sheet, set it next to the bowl, and handed him a spoon to scoop out portions.

“Basically, there’s something for you out there that fills you with joy and wonder and purpose. Something so wonderful and amazing that you want to do it every day, or you want to always have it with you. Maybe even start a collection of the thing.”

“Like how Boxy is with boxes?”

“Exactly!” she smiled happy that he was starting to understand.

“But how will I know what I like if all I know is here?” he dropped his cookie dough ball onto the sheet and looked up to the kitchen window.

There was a window in every room now. Always ready for him to see into the void of green.

It was never enough.

“Do you think this has anything to do with the windows?”

Nanna stopped, looked up, and just stared at the nearest window. It almost seemed like she hadn’t noticed it before now.

She hummed thoughtfully, “You know, you might be on to something.”

He perked up, floating high enough to be eye level, his tail swishing in excitement, “You think so?!”

“Maybe we can go out for a picnic the next time Box Ghost stops by.”

He flipped in the air as he clapped.

He couldn’t wait.

===============================================

It took much longer than he would have liked for Boxy to finally show up again. He hoped it wasn’t on purpose.

Nanna packed the biggest basket for their picnic that he had ever seen and Boxy carried the checkered picnic blanket.

Nanna told him he had to stay close, but she didn’t make him hold her hand the whole time so that was nice.

He was twelve now so he was old enough to know how to stay close and not get distracted.

Even if there was just so much to look at. Mostly everything was green outside of Nanna’s house, but sometimes there were bands of darker or even light greens. Occasionally they would pass by purple doors.

Nanna made sure he knew what her door looked like before they headed out into the abyss.

“If you get lost you just head home okay. You just go inside and wait for me.”

He nodded as he memorized her door. It was purple, like all the others, but it didn’t have a handle. It was the kind that just swung open when you pushed it. Whether you were on the inside or the outside, it always swung outward. The bottom third of the door was metallic and shiny enough for him to see his own reflection. Above that was a little circular window, like a porthole on a ship.

He wasn’t sure why that made him smile.

Once she was confident that he could recognize the door they made their way out.

They flew for a while amongst the endless green sky until they came across a doorway. He hesitated for just a moment. The frame looked familiar. Very familiar.

“Are you sure it’s safe to go in there?” he asked as he hovered closer to Nanna.

“Of course, Dumpling. It’s the most stable gateway.”

He knew that.

“Did you want me, the Box Ghost, to go first and scare off any nasty humans?”

Danny nodded and took the wrapped-up picnic blanket from Boxy and hugged it to his chest.

Boxy came back after a few minutes, his head the only thing poking back on their side of the portal, “The Box Ghost has found no one!”

The trio flew out of the portal and straight up through the house until they were outside.

The air felt so different here and he didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed the difference sooner. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky above. It was pitch black and he could barely make out a few twinkling stars. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face when he saw the crescent moon above.

How could he not smile when it smiled at him first? He wasn’t sure if it was a waxing or waning crescent.

He paused and wondered if this was it. Was this his Spark?

He followed Nanna and Boxy to the park and they had a lovely time with food that was delicious, as always.

He couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting up to the sky whenever there was a lull in the conversation.

“What’s on your mind, Honey?” Nanna asked as she packed up the last of the, now empty, food containers.

“I found my Spark,” he said in barely a whisper, eyes still trained on the sky above.

===============================================

Now that he had found his Spark it felt like everything was moving so fast. His powers came to him more easily. The outfit that he always wore changed to better suit his Spark. He found new things that only he could do.

He loved every second of it.

Then before he knew it, he was fourteen again.

“I think you’re ready now,” Nanna said after a particularly quiet lunch.

“You think so?” he floated out of his seat and helped her with the dishes.

She set the plate down on the counter and took his gloved hand in hers, “Yes my little explorer. You were made to roam.”

He was beyond excited but he had spent so much time with Nanna that he knew he’d miss her, “How about I leave after lunch tomorrow?”

===============================================

He floated in the basement invisibly. He had meant to just pass through, but the room hadn’t been empty.

He just floated there and watched her work.

She was completely oblivious to his presence.

He hadn’t thought of her once while he’d been away.

He had to smother himself when he audibly gasped at the realization.

She flinched and looked around. She never looked to where he was floating.

He was about to just float back inside the portal, about to just call the whole thing off and go back to Nanna’s.

He was, but she shut the portal doors before he could slip back through.

She reached for her hood and slipped the red-tinted goggles over her eyes.

He flew away before she could do anything else.

He found himself in the park. The same one he had found his Spark in.

He looked up to the bright sunny sky. It wasn’t as lovely as the night sky, but it had its own charm.

He floated up and sat in the nearest tree as he tried to decide what to do from here.

Nanna said it wasn’t good to linger. She said not to haunt people. Not to cling to the living.

But that was his mom.

He looked down at his white gloves and wondered if he could still do it. He wouldn’t go back if he couldn’t.

===============================================

He could.

He wasn’t sure why though. This ability had nothing to do with his Spark. It made no sense

Unless he was right before and he wasn’t just a ghost? But wouldn’t Nanna know that?

He stood on the front steps of his childhood home and hesitated. His hand raised to knock on the door, but it was his house wasn’t it? Maybe he should just walk in?

But how long had he been gone?

He should have checked that first.

He dropped his hand and turned around trying to think of the best way to figure that out while also trying to remember what day it was when he left.

The door opened behind him and the person stopped mid-word to gasp, “Danny?”

He turned and felt like a deer in the headlights.

His sister.

God, he hadn’t thought about her either.

He was a terrible brother. A horrible son.

He should have never come here.

She hugged him and all his thoughts stopped.

“Danny, where have you been?” she pulled him tighter before pulling back to really look at him. Checking to see if he was hurt.

His eyes started to water, which was not something he wanted. He didn’t want to cry in front of his sister and he definitely didn’t want to do it on the front steps where anyone could walk by and see him.

“Oh, it’s okay! Come here,” she pulled him into the house and he didn’t resist.

He was too busy trying to keep all the liquid in his face to stay in its proper places.

They sat on the couch but she didn’t let him go. It was like she was afraid that he’d disappear if she wasn’t touching him.

That was a silly thing to think. He could disappear anytime he liked. Human contact had nothing to do with his ability to be perceived by the human eye.

Seeing his normally level-headed sister have such an irrational thought helped him calm down a bit.

“When Sam and Tucker told everyone that you’d been taken yesterday I never expected you to just appear on the doorstep.”

His mouth dropped open slightly but he couldn’t find his voice. Yesterday? He had an existential crisis, was taken in by a nice ghost grandma, figured out the point of his continued existence. Oh and had regressed into a baby and grown-up again, in only one day?!

“How?” the word was so soft Jazz didn’t even notice.

She just kept on talking, “I mean the weird story about a meat monster spiriting you away was definitely original, but obviously not believable. Well not believable to anyone but mom and dad of course.” she looked him over again with a more critical eye, “Where were you anyway? Did you try to run away again?”

He didn’t know how to answer her. He wasn’t sure if he should lie, tell the truth, maybe even just let her believe whatever it was that she wanted to believe.

He just hugged her again. His face burrowed into her shoulder all he could think to do was say he was sorry. So he did.

Over and over and over again.

Was he sorry for disappearing or for being a ghost? He didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

He didn’t know if it was just a coincidence or if he had been crying loud enough, but his parents were soon there too and everyone was hugging him tightly.

His breaths came in shuddering gasps and it took him several minutes before he could calm down again. Everything just felt so much. He felt so warm and alive.

He still didn’t know what to tell his family about why he disappeared. Or what he really was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tell them.

When they finally asked he said he didn’t know. He just acted like he didn’t remember anything at all.

He was saving the true story for his friends.

===============================================

He had to wait until the weekend because his parents refused to let him go to school until they figured out who had taken him.

But he couldn’t tell them now. They’d hurt Nanna.

They might hurt him too.

He remembers the stories his mom used to tell. The ones about changelings. How angry she would look just thinking about them.

He was just glad all the tests she tried didn’t tell her he was different. That as far as she was concerned he was human.

The tests only proved that he was the original.

I guess it was nice that she didn’t assume the worst.

He was sitting on his bed with his blankets purposely fluffed up around him. He needed to hide the fact that he wasn’t actually touching the bed, that he was floating a few inches above it.

He was always floating at Nanna’s and it just felt weird not to.

There was a tentative knock on his door and he flew over and silently landed before opening it.

His friends instantly tackled him with affection. The trio was on the ground in a tangle of limbs and apologies.

Once they finally stopped talking over each other and untangled themselves, Danny closed the door as they each took their favorite seats. Tucker in his computer chair and Sam on the windowsill.

Danny took his spot on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. It had been over a week and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain what happened. He still had a hard time figuring out how he had spent so long away in such a small window of time.

“So do you really not remember or is that just what you’re telling your folks?” Sam asked as she kept her eyes trained on him. It was like she was looking for any hint at all for the truth.

“It’s hard to explain.” he started simply.

“Just start at the beginning. What happened after the lunch lady napped you?” Tucker prepped as he anxiously fidgeted in the desk chair enough to wobble it.

“I fell asleep? And when I woke up Nanna was making lunch.” he couldn’t help the fond smile, “She always makes the best lunches. She only makes lunch. It’s only ever lunch. Good though.”

“Nanna?” Tucker asked as he shared his confused look with Sam.

“Yeah. that’s just what I call her. I don’t think that’s her name.”

“Okay? But why call her that?”

“Because she’s my Nanna?” he tilted his head to the side and realized that this was already getting hard to explain and he hadn’t even gotten to the weird stuff yet.

“Like your grandma?” Tucker asked like he was grasping at straws.

“Yeah!” Danny pointed excitedly at Tucker, glad to have a word for it. “She’s my ghost grandma!”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“She literally kidnapped you.”

“No, she didn’t kidnap me. She just took me home with her.”

“Did you want to go home with her?” Sam asked slowly like he was a toddler again.

He did a quick check and he was in fact still a teenager. “It was more like I was abruptly adopted.”

“Is that a thing?” Tucker asked with the most incredulous look.

“Yeah, it’s a ghost thing. Nanna says that older ghosts can adopt any child ghosts, or in my case, baby ghost, that they come across. Luckily, I’m a teenager now! Again?” he put a finger to his lips as he thought about whether or not it would be ‘again’ or not.

Tucker snickered, “Hold on, you’re a baby ghost?”

“Former baby. I’m done with that now.” he sighed and looked away as he mumbled to himself, “I’m so glad that’s over.”

“Excuse me, what?” Sam exclaimed wide-eyed.

He chuckled nervously, “Remember when I said it was hard to explain. That’s what I meant.”

“Wait, hold up.” Tucker stood up from his perched on the edge of his seat position and started to pace, “Are you saying that you were a literal ghost baby or???”

Danny winced and visibly leaned away from his friends, “yeah… it was super weird. Also,” his shoulders were nearly touching his ears with how much he was trying to edge away from the conversation, but knowing he just needed to tell them already, “I think I was gone longer than a day.”

“WHAT?!”

Oh boy, he had a lot of explaining to do.

===============================================

After a very long and snack-filled conversation later, it finally seemed like that they were all up to speed on what had happened to Danny.

“Man, I wish I could have seen you’re baby form.” Tucker chuckled as he set his chip bowl aside.

“Why? It was just me, but littler?” then he suddenly remembered that his ghost form had changed after he found his Spark. “Oh, that’s right! I got an upgrade! Wanna see?”

“Yeah, man!” Tucker said at the same time Sam said, “Of course!”

Danny smiled and transformed.

Both his friends just gasped as they looked at him.

And then they kept staring.

His smile faltered and he bit his lip.

Sam gasped again and shot up to point right at him, “Fangs!”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Also, hold on?

He ran a curious tongue over his teeth and yeah she was right, his teeth were a bit sharper now. “That was probably from all the meat I ate.”

“Also you’re green,” Tucker added helpfully.

He floated over to his mirror and just stared at himself. Nanna didn’t have any mirrors and he never really thought to check.

His skin was green but much paler than Nanna’s was. He also had bright glowing freckles dusting across his nose and cheeks. It didn’t take much looking to see the constellations they could make. His hair was still white but now it moved like it was being blown in a soft breeze, or maybe it was more like he was underwater?

No! It moved like solar flares! Strands arcing and bending as if he was being affected by cosmic winds.

He smiled and saw his fangs. They weren’t too sharp or scary looking, thankfully. They looked more like slightly dramatic canines than true fangs. He’d seen a few actors with teeth like this so it wasn’t too inhuman.

But he was literally green and glowed so he wasn’t sure why he was worried about that.

Although he was surprised that no one had noticed that he was not as skinny as he was before. He’d gained, as Nanna would say, a healthy amount of weight. Then again, he did wear pretty baggy clothes. He supposed it would be easy enough to overlook that they weren’t exactly loose anymore. And his face still looked the same when he was human, he’d always had chubby cheeks.

Besides, that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was his outfit. Which his friends so rudely hadn’t mentioned yet.

The suit he wore wasn’t so clingy and form-fitting anymore. It was puffier and looked like the ones he’d seen in pictures. Except his was cooler because it had stars on it.

He was an astronaut. Just like he had always wanted to be.

[johannstutt413]

(Inspired by this)

Gavial was finally done with her shift, and it was about time, too. Not that she didn’t enjoy her job, but eight check-ups in one day AND two surgeries? It was a bit rough, and on days like these, she knew exactly where to go.

“Hey.” He was waiting for her on the balcony, his mind on the same wavelength as he leaned back against the railing.

“Hey.” The Archosaurian approached him. “Isn’t that dangerous with your leg?”

He shrugged. “No more dangerous than spending the night with you.”

“I can fix that; you splattered on the deck is...I don’t want to think about that. How was work?”

“It came and went. Miss Ch’en stopped by to ask about some jurisdiction disputes between her and Fang’s team - a Lupo being territorial, imagine that - and I had my performance review with Amiya, so I basically just didn’t work the second half of the day. We had a good conversation about the difference between active and passive force prevention; I think she learned a lot, because I even learned a little. You?”

She sighed, leaning over the balcony next to him. “Two operations and a full day of measurements and scans. Found out Ceobe’s been forgetting her meds, so we had to give her hell for that, and little Suzie thought she might have been bitten by a slug but it didn’t leave any new crystals to grow from, so we dodged a bolt there. I’m just lucky we didn’t have any trainings today.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, expression hidden by a mask. “So you’ve been busy today. Tired?”

“Yeah, *yawn*, you could say that.” Gavial stretched as she yawned, leaning back with her arms above her head.

The Doctor smiled to himself as she rested her head against his arm. “Want to take a nap before dinner? Whenever you’re ready, we can head back inside.”

“That would be nice.” Her voice softened, eyes slowly blinking. “You don’t mind cooking tonight, do you? I’ve seen enough red meat for one day.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He turned away from the balcony, pulling the Archosaurian close for a hug.

To an outsider, Gavial and the Doctor were made for each other because they were cut from the same rough cloth in bold colors; in fact, after her first performance review, the Doctor might’ve agreed with that analysis. During his first check-up with her as his physician, however, he realized that wasn’t entirely true.

He’d been held up by a meeting going long and found her in a sour mood because of it. “Good afternoon, Doctor. Mind telling me what kept you?” Her tail’d started swishing slowly, menacingly, behind her when he opened the door to her office.

“Strategy meeting went long; I tried to explain, but they refused to let me leave.” He shook his head as he unzipped his jacket to hang on a rack near the door. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Doctor; it’s your health that’s at risk, not mine. Although, looking at your records, you’ve kept rigorously to your treatment schedule.” There was an interesting note to her voice as she said that - almost gratitude, as if she hadn’t expected him to have followed the plan he’d been prescribed.

He shrugged. “I was given that for a reason; no reason not to follow it. Height/weight or blood pressure first? I’ve had it both ways since I got here.”

“Height/weight. Whoever did it the other way must’ve been confused.” A couple measurements later, and the Archosaurian frowned. “Underweight. Are you eating properly?”

“I eat three meals a day,” the Doctor replied as he sat on the half-folded examination table.

Gavial took a few notes before grabbing the blood pressure cuff. “Full meals or microwave food?”

“Both,” he shrugged. “Don’t have time to make breakfast and lunch properly, but dinner’s a different story.”

“You don’t have time? That’s an easy fix - just get up earlier.” Cuff in place, she watched him as she waited for it to pressurize and deflate.

He similarly watched her. “I would, but any less sleep and I’d be completely non functioning.”

“That’s even worse.” The Archosaurian sighed as she noted the reading. “132/84. We need to bring that down, too...What’d the last person you saw tell you to do about this?”

“They said it was ‘within the acceptable range’ and left it at that.”

She cursed under her breath. “Damn it, what kind of physician doesn’t notice that? Take off your shirt.”

“Sure.” Shirt: gone, reduced to a pile on the stool next to the exam table. “Scar check?”

“Yeah...Interesting.” More fit than she’d expected, considering the biodata. Gavial pulled a glove over her right hand while she held her reference/scanner in the left. “Trunk, left side - no change. Neck, right side - no change. Left forearm, radius side - no change. Any weirdness anywhere?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Nothing to report.”

“Good. Pants, now...No previous crystal growth, and nothing new to report.”

“That’s a relief.” He pulled his pants back up as he watched her go back for her second glove. “Any reason you didn’t put them both on the first time?”

She gave him a look. “I need to come back over here to make notes. Your infection isn’t getting worse externally, and the scanner didn’t pick up any changes internally, either. So far, my only concerns are for your general well being and not your untimely death, which means you’re in the upper percentile of patients.”

“Lucky me...If I remember my HR files, you’re infected, too?”

“That’s right.” She walked back over to him. “Is that an issue?”

Another head-shake. “Not at all. What’s left?”

“ENT and respiratory; should be rather quick. Look straight ahead...Left is good...Right is good. Tilt your head back...nothing to worry about there. Might want to blow your nose when we’re done.” She smirked at that.

“Sure.” The Doctor stopped craning his neck. “Anything else?”

Of course - the part most people gave her shit over for not doing earlier in the check-up. “I need to feel you breathe. Something wrong?”

“No, go ahead.” He’d tensed up as one hand touched his back and the other rested against his chest.

“Alright, take a deep breath in...Out...In...Out...In...Out- Good, no issues. Just need to take a blood sample and we’re done here.”

...From a medical standpoint, yes, but while he was here, the Doctor did have a few questions. “Do you have another patient to see after this?”

“I’m actually going to lunch after this.” The Archosaurian took a few notes. “Why do you ask?”

“Mind if I eat with you? Couple of things I’m curious about.” Things only she knew for sure.

Gavial shrugged. “I won’t stop you. Right arm since you have that scar on your left.”

“Gotcha.” He glanced over at his shirt as he asked, “Cafeteria?”

“I eat in my apartment.” She walked back over to him with a lancet.

The Doctor made a quick calculation. “You want me to get my own food or-”

“I’ll cook for both of us.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I know my way around a kitchen. Hold out your hand. *click* And done...Hmm. BOCD’s down from your last check-up. Good. Now if we can just get your lifestyle in order, you’ll be able to enjoy the long life you have ahead of you.”

“Sounds good. You want me to pay you back?”

The Archosaurian shook her head as she cleaned up her workspace. “No need - I’ve got a spare steak I need to cook anyway. You can put your shirt back on.”

“If I have to.” He smirked as her tail slapped the ground once. “It’s refreshing talking to someone straightforward. Feels like everyone else around her plays games, but you just keep to the facts and the best way to say them.”

“Doctors and soldiers should be direct; you lose time, you lose lives. Appreciate the compliment, though; most people think I’m too blunt.”

He hopped to his feet as she turned to leave and followed her out into the hallway. “That’s a thing?”

“Apparently.” Gavial shrugged. “If it didn’t bother patients, I doubt they’d say anything. Saria doesn’t get any complaints, after all.”

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Why would he complain about finding a kindred spirit, after all?

And in the months since that first meal together, he’d never even come close.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

I struggle with my weight, I'm underweight and everyone treats me like I'm delicate could I please ask for a Loki X female reader who has is like me in a way and Loki treats her kindly but like she's delicate and would break please and has to try convince her to eat, but it nice and fluffy and cute❤️ would that be okay? But if it's not I totally understand thank you ❤️

A/N: Hi nony, of course this request is okay🥺❤️ I was unsure exactly how to write it, but this became the definition of fluff so hopefully I don’t disappoint you. xx

𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓋𝑒

On Asgard time never mattered. The gods had aeons on them to live a life they desired. Loki had lived that life, but now he couldn't understand how he had managed. Managed to never look at what time it was further than day and night. To not have days to look forward to more than dates of feast and honouring. He didn't understand how he couldn't have looked forward to moments like this.

Saturdays. A day you always spent together from the moment you woke, to the second he fell asleep. Thus that was how it always had been. He woke before you, early at dawn. You fell asleep after him, late after nightfall. Today was no different.

Loki's gaze travelled from looking out the balcony windows, where the sun found its way to illuminate the room, to instead watch you. Your face rested on his chest, lips slightly parted to catch his skin by with every breath of his.

With a serenity he guessed only a resting person could possess, your features were softer then usual. They held no knit between their brow, no worry showed in a pursed mouth, neither gaze filled with consuming thoughts.

It was as he gently lowered and angled his head to kiss the uppermost part of your forehead, were your hairline tickled his nose, that he felt his thumb catch slightly. He didn't need to raise the duvet to see your barley covered form underneath it to know what his hand, which had sneaked under your shirt to lazily draw patterns against your skin, had felt. It was the light swell of your ribs, stretching the skin over your upper body.

Now, when recognition had entered his mind, he was able to distinguish the repetitive pattern until his finger had traced to the sharp jut of your hip. His finger pursued their way upwards once more, feeling how the sensation changed beneath the pads of his finger as you took a deep breath. Soon after, your unconscious sigh travelled over his skin, closely followed by you snuggling tighter against him.

A mere second later than it started, he stopped a movement he hadn't noticed. His arm which already encircled your body had tried pulling it closer on instinct. It was lucky he caught himself stopping a move that would've crushed you against him. Now instead, he resumed stroking your back and side in aimless patterns, satisfied with how the smooth skin felt under his touch.

Once more, he went back to study your face, the face of his little dove. Delicate but able to soar as high as the other birds. Without reasoning, if it would wake you from your sleep or not, Loki shimmied down to position your head more on his shoulder. Afterwards he turned gently, to prevent you from slipping under him without the capability for him to hold his weight off of you. He stilled in the new position, raising his other hand to cup your face.

Lightly he trailed kisses from your forehead, to your cheeks and from there to your nose. He noticed how a furrow entered between your eyebrows and nose crinkled as soon as he planted a kiss on it, but he continued nevertheless.

At first, he only touched the side of your lips with his, feeling them stretch into a smile while doing so. Not until you didn't try hiding it anymore, did he peck your them, an action you answered. It didn't evolve any further, no exploring of tongues or teeth, as it only stayed sweet and affectionate. Although, at the sound of your giggle, Loki's gaze drifted to you, watching how your eyes softly fluttered open.

"Good morning, dove", though you had just arisen from a blissful sleep, you smiled groggily at the nickname.

"Good morning yourself", your chuckle altered from your normal one. Now softer and alluringly warm. At your comment Loki couldn't help but kiss you again, eliciting another wave of the sound. "What's the reason for earning such an awakening?" You peered at him, seeing that he still hadn't been awake long enough for his smirk to turn mischievous.

"Do I need a reason other than to have you laying here?" It was your turn to slowly lean closer, mostly because of the sleep still rocking your body, to peck his mouth as mumbled charmer passed your lips.

Leaning away but not too far as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in his distinctive scent, you started a conversation to get your voice used to the fact morning had come.

"What are the plans for today?"

"None if I recall", he enjoyed the vibrations your laughed created against the places your skin touched his, a tingle spreading in its wake. "Though I thought of making us a breakfast", he immediately felt and heard the difference in your exhale, before words even left you.

"I'm not hungry", he glanced down at you even though you couldn't meet his eyes, face still fitted against the column of his neck.

"You may not be, dove, but everyone needs to eat. Including you and me", he hummed and though he wished to spare you the thought everyone else already had, he couldn't hinder his mind from travelling there. You should eat. You needed to eat. He knew you didn't do it consciously, refrain from eating or in general eat less then what one perhaps should, but that didn’t stop his concern. However, he, for obvious reasons, didn't voice the thought passing his mind.

Bringing him out of his thoughts though, was your sound of further protest. Holding in a sigh he knew was anything but what this conversation needed, he instead kissed the crown of your head.

"I know it is tough my dove and rather unpleasant to eat this early in the morning, but can you not for my sake join me when you have woken fully", this pushed you to escape the warmth of his nape and prop yourself up beside him.

His gaze met yours and you searched for any of the false pretence others always had when complaining you should just eat. But he hadn't complained, he never did. He only gently urged you it would be better to than not. Thus this, like all the other times you searched, you didn't find any traces of the tiredness of continuing to convince you. Sighing for letting yourself believe the man before you would push you in a way other's often did, your head fell to rest on his side.

"Sure", at your answer you felt him shuffle and soon beginning to rise from the bed but not before stopping halfway up and making you raise your head with a finger under your chin.

"Take the time you need", he said as he kissed your lips sweetly. "You know I'll wait", as he let go and ventured around the room for appropriate clothes, you relaxed your arms to fall down onto the mattress again. 

You followed him with your eyes, the fuzzy feeling he always created inside you lingered when you thought of how lucky you are. To have someone that truly cares and tries to help you the best they could. That was when Loki stopped before the exit and glanced over his shoulder, smiling your way before disappearing.

[ayoitsnic]

Crowley x Reader x Lucifer

Part 1

*Based loosely around 12x15 but Ramsey kills Gwen and gets away

Word Count: 2.6k

Trigger Warnings: Injured animal? Idk? If you think something should be added to the TW list drop a comment or DM me

Summary: Humans aren’t supposed to see hellhounds, so what happens when y/n finds an injured hellhound and brings it home to care for? 

*Disclaimer* Lucifer will be introduced in the 2nd part which should be up by Saturday 4/3/2021

It was almost midnight when y/n got off of work. She was exhausted after her shift at Regional West Medical Center in Nebraska. As she trudged through the parking lot to her old, beat up 2002 Suzuki she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her, like something was watching her from out in the darkness. Fumbling with her keys she turned to unlock the driver’s side car door (The remote to unlock the door was broken. The car could only be opened with the actual key.), only to freeze in place when she felt the hot breath and heard the heavy breathing of some sort of animal behind her. “Dear god, please let it be my overactive imagination.” she prayed silently, knowing it was no use. Whatever stood behind her was very much real.

Very slowly she turned to face whatever it was that was sniffing her, her keys moving between her middle and ring finger in case she needed to defend herself. Instead of being met with what she thought for sure would be a small bear or a rabid coyote, she was met with a very large dog. A very large dog that looked like it had been through absolute hell. Its fur was matted and caked with dried mud and dirt, and it was covered with cuts and what she naturally assumed was its own blood. It was hard to tell through the thick, matted fur but it also looked very underweight. “Oh you poor baby….” Y/n’s heart melted upon seeing the creature.

Obviously the dog had been out on its own for a very long time. Y/N took pity on it. It seemed so sad, and it didn’t appear rabid or vicious. It looked like it just wanted help. Reluctantly she reached down to check for a collar. There was a collar but it was in a foreign language. One she’d never seen before. Unlocking the back of the car she coaxed the dog in with some leftover food she had from her lunch break. She knew the poor thing must be starving. Being hurt it took a little help getting in. Little did she know how dangerous that dog really was or that there was a man out right now searching for it.

The K-9, which y/n decided to call (Dog’s name) had fallen asleep on the car ride home, snoring softly over the radio that was playing some Green Day song. Pulling into the driveway, (Y/N) stopped the car and turned off the radio. Almost on queue (dog’s name) looked up to see where they were. A light was on outside, illuminating a large porch (Which could probably use a new paint job, if we’re being honest) with 2 rocking chairs, a small table and a plethora of healthy, brightly colored plants. She picked up the injured dog and carried it inside, planning on taking it to the vet in the morning to see if it was microchipped.

She was going to let the dog sleep in the basement for the night, unsure if it would destroy the house or not. She remembered her aunt’s German Shepherd who took pleasure in tearing up sofas, and eating her plants. The dog also really needed a bath and she didn’t want it on the furniture until it got one. Unfortunately around 3:30 am, y/n felt a dip in the bed and then something making itself comfy by her feet. Looking over, she found the dog curled up in bed with her. Way too tired to deal with it now, and knowing she had to wash the sheets anyway she just fell back asleep let the dog stay with her so long as it stayed at the foot of the bed.

~

The next morning, Y/N got up early to go to the pet store and get stuff for the dog. She called up the local vet, making an appointment, she washed the sheets, and most importantly she began trying to wash (Dog’s name). At first the dog resisted, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the water. Y/N knew exactly how to deal with this though. Placing a glob of peanut butter on the side of the tub to keep the dog preoccupied, (Dog’s name) happily entered the bathtub. A trick y/n had learned from that aunt with the poorly behaved German Shepherd. By the time y/n was done with the dog she’d had to drain and refill the tub 3 times before she gave up and kept it drained, just using the shower head. She couldn’t believe how much blood and dirt had come off this dog.

Around 2pm the doorbell rang and this dog who was once so sweet, albeit a bit skittish turned into an absolute beast. Running to the door, loud deep barks and growls left it. The dog seemed ready to tear the stranger on the other side of the door to shreds. It was almost like it had turned into a completely different dog. “(Dog’s name)!!!” Y/n shouted as she raced down the stairs after it, hoping to get to the door before the dog did. “NO!!!” She yelled. Even hurt and underweight, (Dog’s name) was really big. If it wanted to break that door, it probably could. Without thinking, Y/n quickly grabbed the dog by the collar to stop it. “I said no!” She told her firmly with a pointed finger. The dog whined, tail between its legs as it hurried back up the stairs to the bedroom to do that thing dogs do when they roll around on the rug to dry themselves.

The front door had a glass window looking out so y/n could see the stranger. He was short, and wore a nice suit. He seemed only slightly concerned about the interaction. The man didn’t even flinch as the massive hound lunged itself at him. It seemed like this was a normal day for him. Actually, he seemed more unnerved after she called the dog off. Opening the door, y/n apologized profusely for the dog “I am so sorry about the dog! I-” Before she could continue, the man squinted at her, clearly confused about something. “What are you?” He questioned in an English accent.

“Hellhounds? Really?” She questioned with a quirked eyebrow and a small grin, crossing her arms and constantly turning to keep facing the man. It was obvious she didn’t believe him.

Obviously his question confused y/n as she gave him a look of confusion back “What do you mean ’what are you?’” She stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her “I'm human”

“Yes, really.” The man continued, as serious as a heart attack “You especially shouldn’t be able to control that bitch. I’ve only ever known one person to be able to control Ramsey and you and not that person.”

“Oh really? And who might that person be then?” Y/n asked, beginning to think this was some elaborate prank being played on her by a friend or coworker.

Remembering what the demon said about her being able to control the hound, y/n gave it a shot. Raising a hand she firmly commanded “Ramsey stay.” Not only did the dog stop dead in her tracks, she laid down and waited for further orders. Now most people would be a little freaked out by this; finding a hellhound that they didn't know was a hellhound, and now being visited by a demon sent to collect said hound. Y/n however wasn’t afraid. Actually she kind of got a Déjà vu feeling at this.

“No you can’t be. Humans can’t see hellhounds, much less control them.” Normally Crowley would just collect the demonic hound and leave, with humans being none the wiser that the rogue canine was even there, but not only did this woman know the hellhound was there, she was taking pretty good care of it. Even stranger, the dog was letting her care for it. There was something different about this woman, something special. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet. Crowley circled y/n, inspecting her. He was trying to find any indication of her not being human.

“Lucifer.” Crowley responded

At that, y/n was done. “Look pal, I don’t know what kind of kool-aid you’re drinking but I’m not buying it. Now’s the part where I tell you to get off my property.” she turned to go back inside, closing and locking the door behind her. As she turned to head upstairs though, Crowley was standing right behind her, his eyes red. She let out a screech, jumping as far back as she could (Which wasn’t far as the door was right behind her). Again, the dog that the demon in front of her called ‘Ramsey’ came running to her defense.

~

“The name’s Crowley. King of hell.” He introduced himself “May I ask who you are?”

“Y/n y/l/n.” she responded before telling him “Queen of this house.” This was crazy. Y/n was standing in her entryway conversing with a demon king. “Could I offer you tea ‘your highness’? Maybe Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she addressed Crowley as 'your highness' She wasn’t gonna hand over the dog so easily, and something told her the demon wouldn’t be leaving without Ramsey.

“.....Who are you?” Y/n asked the man

Y/n and Crowley sat in her kitchen, sipping tea and chatting. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” The demon who sat across from y/n questioned “Most people would run, or beg for mercy if a demon showed up at their doorstep. Not invite them in for a drink.”

~

If it weren’t for the fact that y/n could sick Cujo on him at any moment, Crowley wouldn’t be being so patient with her. He wouldn’t be trying to convince her to send the dog to her death. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you take that dog back.” Y/n told Crowley. For some reason she felt bonded to that dog, with the overwhelming need to protect her.

“I’m afraid I must insist. She’s dangerous and unpredictable. It’s for the best that she be put down. She’s killed a lot of people who weren’t on hell’s hit list while she was topside.” Crowley explained “A pup like that out and about isn't good for business. It makes it look like I’m not in control.”

“Do you want me to beg for mercy?” Y/n asked with a smirk and a small, dry chuckle. “Sorry but you’re not very scary so forgive me if I’m quaking in my shoes.” She would never be seen begging for mercy. Not in a million years.

“I thought you were the king down there.” Y/n questioned “A king answers to no one. You could turn, walk right out that front door, and pretend she vanished. That you weren't able to find her. Or you could go back and tell your people she attacked you and you killed her. Besides, you’re a demon. You don’t really care about the people she’s killed, do you?” Y/n definitely cared and felt bad, she just didn’t believe Crowley did.

“The Winchester’s. They hunt monsters. Vampire’s, werewolves, demonkind, et cetera.” Crowley explained “They’re ruthless, and if they find out that dog is here they will show up and kill her. Painfully. If you hand her over I promise her death will be a painless and merciful one.” Of course he would make the boys sound worse than they were. In reality they’d kill it as quick as possible if they could. He’d say anything to get her to give up Ramsey. 

“Of course I don’t, but some hunters I know care a lot about the people that were killed. If I don’t collect this dog, they’ll come and collect her for me and they’ll be far less inclined to sit and chat over hot beverages.” Crowley explained

“Tell me about these hunters.” Y/n asked, genuinely interested. "I assume you're not referring to people who shoot buck in their free time."

“Let them come.” Y/n spoke after quietly mulling over what was just told to her. Whether she was underestimating these hunters or just didn’t believe what Crowley was telling her he was unsure. “She may be in a weakened state now but she’ll get better. She’ll get stronger and when she does I’ll be the only one who can stop her. If they show up, I’ll be ready and they’ll have to go through me. When they get through me, she’ll be ready for them too.”

“Y/n I know you think-” Y/n cut off the demon king, her patience wearing thin. She had all the leverage she needed in this situation and she knew it “You said I was the only one who could control her. Now I don’t know how or why that is, but that means there’s nothing stopping me from sicking the dog on you. If she really is as vicious and dangerous as you claim she is, I would be afraid of the one person who can send her after you. I’m telling you to walk away. I’m giving you an out. I strongly suggest you take it.”

Thinking about it later though, she was actually kind of sexy. She knew she held the power and the leverage in that situation and she knew how to use it. Not only that but she was bold enough to try and intimidate not just any king, but the King of Hell. And she didn’t need to raise her voice once while doing it. She was clearly a strong, intelligent, woman. He liked that.

~

After he was gone, y/n was in fact a little freaked out. If there was a hell that meant there was a heaven. Would she be going to hell just for harboring this animal? And better question; how do you even properly care for a hellhound? She imagined it would be a lot different from taking care of your average, run of the mill Pitbull.

Crowley stood his ground, calling her bluff. He didn’t believe she would actually do it. “Ramsey!” Y/n called “Ramsey c’mere girl!” she whistled as the Hellhound came barreling from upstairs “Ramsey, hurry up! Go get him! Get the demon!” Y/n told Ramsey in the same sickeningly sweet baby voice most humans use to talk to animals they find cute. Before she could get to him though, Crowley had disappeared into thin air.

After hours spent searching on the internet y/n got her first lead. Okay so it wasn’t really a lead. It was more of an idea. It’s not like she could just log onto wikipedia and pull up a page on 'How to take care of a Hellhound'. She did however find instructions for summoning and trapping a crossroads demon. She didn’t realize there were different types of demons but to her, a crossroads demon was still a demon so good enough right?

Late that night y/n put Ramsey in the car with her and drove to the nearest crossroads. Spray painting a ‘devils trap’ in the road she buried a box in the center. It contained a photo of her, some graveyard dirt, and the bone of a black cat. No, she didn’t go out and kill a cat. She was able to get that from a wiccan shop on the outskirts of town.

After burying the box, she stood and read the incantation she had written on a scrap of paper “Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae!” She waited a moment and when nothing happened she thought she might've gotten a word wrong. That was until she heard a woman speak behind her “What can I do for you tonight?”

Jumping a bit she turned to face the demon. “I just need some information.”

.....To be continued....

[chaosangel767]

Nightmares and Scars - Edgar Bright x Echo Steele (OC)

I decided to join in on @toloveawarlord little Edgar’s Birthday countdown.  Meet Echo Steele, one of my OC’s that has an unreleased story.

Prompt: Edgar’s birthday countdown Day 7

Type of One-shot: Angst mixed with Hurt/ Comfort 

Pairing: Edgar Bright x Echo Steele 

WC: 1529

Warning: TW - slight mention of depression and inability to process emotions

Summary: Echo and Edgar both have pasts that haunt them. After promising the King and her Twin that he would help her, Edgar finds Echo and shows her how to process emotions like regret and guilt in a healthier manner using a river and a little trio of Ducks.  

The moonlight spills through the halls as Edgar makes his way to the courtyard in search of a friend, upon finding the infirmary empty he heads for her favorite bench in the courtyard. As he exits the building, he hears a soft violin playing, the notes being lost to the moonlight. He silently approaches, and stops a few feet away from the figure, watching her fingers dance across the violin. The figure makes no indication of feeling his presence and continues to play the piece, the melody haunting and beautiful. Edgar finds himself captivated as he listens, a deep emotion that he doesn’t understand running through his veins. As the last notes fade into the night the figure turns her head his way, acknowledging his presence. 

“Caught me again I see” He muses, stepping closer to the figure as she places the violin away, completely ignoring his existence. Edgar lets out a rueful chuckle at her lack of response and he sits next to her on the bench, studying her profile. This is the one person other than his Uncle that he can’t sneak up on, no matter how hard he tries, it is a fun game, one that he has lost so far. 

The woman before him was slightly smaller than he is, still underweight from her time in the tower. Her seafoam green eyes stay focused ahead, still ignoring him as he studies her. Her hair is a little more even now that it has been cut to her shoulders, the teal and purple tips seem to glow in the moonlight. The wind blows her hair off her neck revealing the scars of her past, the ones that made her who she is. 

“Aren’t you curious how I found you out here?” Edgar prompts, trying to get her to strike up a conversation, but she ignores him, staring out at the garden, her body tense, waiting to see what he wants. 

“Echo” Edgar tries to get her attention again and succeeds for the briefest of moments as she meets his eyes before flicking her gaze away. Edgar notices the slight tremble of her hands in her lap, and her flightiness only meaning one thing. 

“Another nightmare?” He asks quietly, choosing to divert his gaze in hopes that she would talk to him. He hears the soft hum in his mind. 

Yes. It is better for me to not sleep. 

Her voice rings in his head and he sighs softly, shaking his head. He understands where she comes from, the guilt from her past eats away at her just as his does. No matter how much he washes his hands, the memories are still there, the victims by his hand. The same pain is reflected in the women's eyes next to him.  Edgar knows that he is the only one who can break the walls of the woman, promising the King and her twin that he would reach her heart.

“Everyone needs sleep Echo, you can’t hold it off forever.” He calmly tells her, watching her face for her reaction. 

What else am I supposed to do? Whenever I close my eyes they are there, haunting me. 

Edgar looks down at his gloved hands, remembering all the times that he would wash his hands trying to get rid of the blood. Remembering every time he had a nightmare and would wake up to scrub his hands till they were bleeding, trying to get the blood off of them. 

“When you wake up what do you want to do?” Edgar asks slowly, trying to pinpoint her guilty action, maybe he can help ease the guilt, the gloves did help him after all a little. 

My scars, no matter how much I cover them, they still burn, they need to be cleansed.  How do you sleep? How do you stop them from haunting you? 

Exhaustion tugs at the words in his mind as she continues to talk to him. Even though he longed to hear her voice out loud, at least she still spoke to him, even if it was telepathically.  He thinks for a moment, the question catching him off guard. How does he cope with the guilt and the nightmares? A thought tugs on his mind and he stands up, offering his hand to the women. 

“Come, let me show you. They still should be up” Edgar gently holds Echo’s hand as he leads her down the path to the river behind Headquarters, carefully guiding her as neither made a noise in the night. Edgar looks over with a smile as he sits down on the river bank, tugging her down with him. Echo doesn’t let herself get tugged down and resists his pulling with  glare. Edgar quickly drops his hand and pats the grass next to him. 

“Sit next to me Echo and I will show you the best way to relax” Edgar looks up at her and she cautiously sits down, clearly uncomfortable.  Edgar makes a call and after a few moments 3 ducks appear from the bushes, Edgar chuckles to himself as he notices Echo’s eye grow wide and immediately soften.

“Echo, meet the Creek's. They are my family of ducks and they are amazing when you have nightmares.” Edgar watches as Echo reaches out to the ducks with a childlike wonder. 

Her eyes hold a sparkle to them that he only sees her have with animals and he chuckles as Creek Jr. hops into her hand and starts trying to groom her sleeve. She gently reaches out with her finger and grooms his wing, causing him to lean into her touch affectionately. The hum of their connection closes off and Edgar pets Mr. Creek as he watches Echo start to relax, soon a hum leaves her throat. 

The hum of their connection opening fills Edgars brain and he tilts his head looking at her and waiting for her to speak, but the words never come. Looking down, Edgar sees why. She is lost in her own thoughts, Creek Jr is on her lap while her fingers are digging into the healed burn, her brand of her past. Emotions flicker in her eyes, but neither of the ex-assassins know quite what to make of these emotions. 

Edgar carefully places his hand behind him, lacing his fingers through hers carefully and slowly, giving her time to pull away, but to his surprise she only flinched and tensed. Pressing his shoulder against hers the two figures stay by the river in the moonlight surrounded by the little duck family, embracing the silence and pulling strength from their past scars.  

“I promise we will find a way to atone our sins, we will heal our scars and together we will find a new destiny.” Edgar promises the women and she raises her eyes, uncertainty and pain swirling within their depths. 

What do you mean together? You have nothing on the amount of people I’ve killed, you are still so innocent. There is no atonement for me, only death and destruction. 

Edgar pauses at her words, the usually cold and rage tone is filling them, and he looks down at her. He knows what she is doing, her mask is going back in place, she can’t process the emotions and so she is shutting them down. 

“Don’t hide, you are shutting down the emotions in your heart, that is why the nightmares are so consistent. If you work through the emotions, the nightmares will come less and you will feel better.” Edgar advises her and she looks up at him, a snarl forming on her lips, but the pain was still there in her eyes.

Edgar watches as the pain and exhaustion in her eyes seems to take over the rage in her body and tears start to run down her cheeks. Carefully so he doesn’t startle her, Edgar pulls her into his arms and wipes the tears, the Creeks adjusting themselves around the pair, offering comfort.  She reaches up to see why he was touching her face and looks bewildered at the tears, looking up shocked at him. 

Why? 

“Relax, its natural and good for you to cry. Come here, I won’t let anyone else see you cry” Edgar pulls her into his lap and buries her face into his chest, feeling the sobs rack her frame. Edgar keeps his emotions at bay, watching her fall apart. How much more did she go through that she didn’t tell us? How long has she been suffering alone? 

Edgar waits until her sobs have stopped before pulling her back a little to see her just watching him. He carefully hands her his handkerchief to wipe her face and stands up. 

“I promise Echo, if you ever need to process emotion tell me, I’ll help you and never leave your side. You’ll always have me” Edgar promised as he leads the exhausted woman back towards the infirmary to rest. Kyle will have a fit in the morning if he finds out about the little meetup. 

I promise I will fight through your nightmares with you until you can fight them yourself. We will be okay as long as we are together.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: walk the golden skies, rise above- Summary: In a world where Force-sensitive people have wings, Anakin Skywalker still burns. (But before that, he rises above them all.) AN: I finished my wingfic! Shout out to @shatouto, @khapikat22 and @kyber-erso for motivating me to finish this in a day instead of procrastinating :D I hope you like his! Also on AO3 for those who prefer to read there!

The first thing Qui-Gon Jinn noticed about the boy were his massive wings. He was young still, probably couldn’t even fly yet, but despite the complicated leather restraints on his back, there was no hiding the size of the black wings. Qui-Gon’s wings were on the larger side, as were those of his Padawan, but he was fairly sure that if the boy reached maturity, he’d surpass them both without trying.

Qui-Gon furthermore doubted that would be the case if the boy were to remain on Tatooine as a slave. He was small and underweight, his wings dragged through the ground behind him when he walked and many feathers were broken or missing. Regardless, Qui-Gon knew that Anakin Skywalker was meant to be a Jedi, the same way his mother should have been going by her wingspan. Her light brown feathers had been clipped, she likely wouldn’t ever be able to fly again. Those without the Force, whose wings were so small they could only ever dream of flying, could never understand what precious thing was stolen from those who could.

“You should be very proud of your son,” he told Shmi Skywalker. “He gives without any thought of reward.”

“Well, he knows nothing of greed,” Shmi replied. Her voice had a sharp edge, almost bitter.

Anakin had been born and raised a slave, he didn’t know anything about freedom or being greedy when he’d never been allowed to act on such thoughts. It was sad that such gentle behavior hadn’t been taught but forced upon him by circumstances.

“He has a good heart,” she continued, fiddling with the small white feather hanging from her necklace. In the sunlight, it almost flickered gold.

“He is strong in the Force.”

It was a miracle Anakin was still with his mother. While Jedi used wingspan as a rough determiner of Force-strengths, other cultures had different opinions on why every intelligent species grew wings. Everybody agreed though that those who stuck out of the masses were special.

“I’ve noticed, his wings are much darker than yours. Who was his father?”

Force strength was an inheritable trait. Certainly, if Shmi and his other parent were so strong, maybe that would explain Anakin’s exceptionality.

“There was no father,” Shmi said. “I carried him, I gave birth, I raised him, but I can’t explain what happened.”

The midichlorian count the test provided after only confirmed what Qui-Gon already knew. Anakin wasn’t just strong of the Force, he existed because of it. He was the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force. That night, while he was sleeping in the Skywalker’s house, he dreamed of a man with black wings and woke up haunted by the feeling that a new era was upon them.

(Qui-Gon never lived long enough to know that Anakin’s wings were anything but black.)

X

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one who cut through the leather cords restricting Anakin’s wings. He was also the first to see how truly massive the black feathers were. He was a little surprised to notice that in-between all the black another color, a lighter one, stood out when Qui-Gon had only described wings as dark as space. Trust his Master to make a mistake concerning precise details.

However, Obi-Wan was not the first to notice that Anakin Skywalker’s wings were not, in fact, even mainly black. He wasn’t even the second or third or fourth person. No, he was the tenth person to be informed of that and likely wouldn’t have even been number ten if his Padawan hadn’t had a panic attack in the Halls of Healing because too many Jedi were crowding around him. Another apprentice had come to pick Obi-Wan up, urging him to leave his final exam behind and come see to his Padawan immediately.

When Obi-Wan arrived in the Halls, he found Anakin sitting in the corner of a room, his wings curled around him so that you actually couldn’t see the little Padawan.

“What is going on here?” Obi-Wan asked and marched promptly through the Masters assembled in the room. Any other time he probably would have thrown a fuss at the utter disrespect he was showing Council members, but if Ki-Adi-Mundi decided that towering over his obviously overwhelmed Padawan, then Obi-Wan was going to tell him off.

He planted himself between Anakin and the other members, his arms crossed and his back turned to Anakin. Something touched his leg and he glanced down long enough to see black primary feathers brushing against him.

“Your Padawan was found ripping out his own feathers,” Vokara Che said seriously.

Obi-Wan slowly let out his breath and forced himself to not start cursing. He knew Anakin tended to do that. On Tatooine, it had been better to take out broken feathers than to attempt healing them and risk infection. He’d been shocked the first time he had caught Anakin doing it, but he thought Anakin had understood that it was unnecessary after their talk.

Obi-Wan decided to turn around to his Padawan and crouched down in front of him. He spread his own fiery red wings to give Anakin a sense of protection.

“Padawan,” he began to say. “Everything’s alright. You know you don’t have to take out your damaged feathers, we can heal them. And if we can’t, you certainly don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

“His feathers weren’t damaged,” Vokara said. “But their color-“

“Please don’t send me away!” Anakin suddenly blurted out. He opened up his wings, almost sending Obi-Wan toppling over, and threw himself at him. “Please, I promise I’ll behave. I just couldn’t get any japor oil and keep it hidden. I promise I’ll do better, please keep me-“

“Slow down Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “And you’re my Padawan. You’re not going anywhere without me. Everything is alright.”

He tried to blend out all the Masters in the room with them. He gathered the Force around himself, grounded the two of them and calmed. He had to keep a cool head for Anakin. Obi-Wan could have his own private freak out when he was back in his own room away from too many Jedi who thought he shouldn't be teaching Anakin.

“But- but I couldn’t keep it hidden!” Anakin stuttered.

“Keep what hidden?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

Anakin bit his lip, then he pushed his hands, curled to fists, into Obi-Wan’s and opened them, revealing soft and small feathers that likely would have grown into covert feathers, had Anakin not ripped them out. What shocked Obi-Wan the most about them though was not the dried blood clinging to them, but the brilliant golden shine.

“Are those yours?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded. “Mom always made me drink japor oil so they wouldn’t grow in that color. If Masters knew I had big wings and golden ones, they’d have taken me away.”

Obi-Wan could see it in startling clarity. A small boy, much younger than Anakin was now, being ripped out of his mother’s arms so they could take his wings.

He felt like throwing up.

“They’re beautiful,” Obi-Wan told his Padawan earnestly. “You don’t have to hide them here, I promise.”

“Really?” Anakin’s eyes darted to the Jedi standing behind them.

“Yes.”

Anakin looked down at his hands, before he lifted his head once more, hesitant determination taking over. “You can keep those. They were the first to grow back.”

(On Tatooine, the only people you gave your feathers to were family members. Obi-Wan wouldn’t know this until Beru stood on his doorstep, Luke sleeping soundly in her arms, and quietly asked him to accept the fledgling feathers she handed him and to give Luke one of his in turn.)

X

It took almost two years until even the last of the black feathers was gone. Likely, it would have taken even longer if Anakin didn’t have a knack for getting injured and breaking off feathers that just happened to be the black ones. Anakin’s wings at thirteen were certainly a sight to behold. They seemed to reflect the light, their gold shining almost white in the illuminated meditation halls while they took on a fiery red color when Anakin was sun basking in the highest towers, the evening light hitting him just right. Even though Anakin was already a Padawan and had been for years, he still couldn’t fly. He never seemed to have enough space to unfold his wings completely before he crashed to the ground again.

“This is a terrible idea,” Aayla muttered.

She liked Anakin, he was fun and not so much of a stuck up as other Padawans his age. Besides, their Masters were befriended, though Aayla wasn’t so sure if her Master hadn’t just dragged Obi-Wan into his life and declared them friends. It certainly sounded like something he would do.

“But you can catch me, can’t you?” Anakin asked as he peeked over the railing of the highest tower.

The thing was, Aayla got it. She couldn’t recall much from her time before she’d been taken in by the Jedi. She’d been four already, on the older side of the scale when it came to younglings, but those four years hadn’t been enough for Aayla to keep all her memories. Still, she remembered the fear and pain from all those whose wings had been big enough that they might be able to fly whose wings had as a consequence, been clipped, forever denying them flight. Amongst slaves, being able to fly was the greatest ability.

Of course the inability to do so hurt Anakin.

“I’m sure it’ll work,” Anakin said, took a running leap and jumped off the tower.

Aayla followed him quickly, her own light blue wings flattering steadily as she watched Anakin trying to catch himself in the wind. For one very terrifying moment Aayla thought he wouldn’t make it, and then Anakin began to rise. The strokes of his wings were immediately powerful and likely just as exhausting, but he was flying.

Watching him soar in the sky told Aayla all she needed to know. Anakin had been born for this. She loathed to imagine what would have become of his wings if he hadn’t been brought to the temple, even if she had to suffer through a stern talking to after Anakin's first flight for letting a junior Padawan attempt such recklessness.

(It wasn’t the reason Aayla kept quiet about the clones whose wings started to grow larger than those of their brothers, but it was one of them. She helped them hide, she let them use bacta to heal the cuts they had to make.)

X

Out of all of Padmé’s handmaidens, Eirtaé was the one with the largest wings. They weren’t tall next to those of the Jedi, but they were the biggest Padmé had ever seen. Her own were small by comparison, could fit easily beneath the tunics they wore to hide them away entirely. Sabé’s wings on the other hand were the most similar to Padmé’s. They were bright red as well, though a shade darker. It was the reason she was Padmé’s main decoy. If kidnappers thought to check beyond facial recognitions, they’d find what they expected.

It certainly helped them when the Trade Federation staged their assault.

Padmé still remembered how fascinated she had been by the Jedi. Even when she had been sick with worry for her family and her planet, she had been curious about the Jedi.

Everybody whose wings were large enough to fly could be a Jedi, or so they said, but that knowledge hadn’t truly settled in until she’d seen Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time.

Now, looking at Anakin, all grown up and somehow still the kind boy she recalled, Padmé wasn’t sure if she had truly understood it back then when people spoke of Jedi and their unnaturally large wings.

“Ani?” Padmé asked, unable to hide her astonishment. “My goodness, you’ve grown. And your wings!”

For all that Anakin was obviously trying not to take up too much space, his treasure golden wings were already blocking off the area they were standing in. She wanted to ask him about their color change, whether that was a part of being a Jedi or something special and inherently Anakin Skywalker. He blushed and smiled sheepishly.

“So have you... grown more beautiful, I mean! And, eh, much shorter... for a Senator, I mean.”

He was fumbling through his words, but it was endearing nevertheless. Padmé still resented the fuss they were throwing about the attacks on her. She was not a helpless little girl. She had never been allowed to be such with the weight of millions of lives on her shoulders. But perhaps she could stand being protected by two Jedi if it were those two.

(In the future every time she looked at Anakin’s prosthesis, she’d hate herself a little. She knew Anakin picked up on it, but didn’t know how to hide or communicate that it wasn’t him she was uncomfortable with. Padmé simply blamed herself for his pain.)

X

Anakin’s mother had been a slave with a considerably large wingspan. She had been stolen away from her family when she was six. She had been too young to fly then, but when she’d been eleven, she had dared to stand on the rooftop of her Master’s house and wonder whether she would be able to fly if she just jumped and spread her wings. When her Master had spotted her, he had screeched and pulled her away from the edge. He and another group of men had pushed her to the ground and tore at her wings until a loud crack had resonated through the air. Shmi had been screaming, begging and crying then. She wouldn’t have jumped. She hadn’t known the first thing about flying and there was still a detonator in her body that would blow her up as soon as she went too far away.

The men hadn’t cared of course. They had broken her wings and watched in satisfaction as they healed wrongly.

She’d never be able to fly again. They had clipped her wings. Perhaps in Republic space, they’d be able to save them, but nobody would waste such expenses on a slave.

Years later when the Tuskens took her, Shmi was unable to fight them off or reach the skies for freedom. It should have been obvious to them from the angle her wings rested against her back that she might be a Skywalker but she’d never be able to walk the skies, and yet they hadn’t cared and violated her so cruelly for the second time in her life.

Her only relief before her death was seeing the golden color she had last laid her eyes upon almost two decades ago. Her son was free, wasn’t forced to bind or dye his wings.

(Shmi Skywalker didn’t die peacefully. Her body gave up on her after enduring weeks of torture. Hatred lingered in her bones. It was forged into the marrow of every slave, it gave them endurance beyond their nature, but even hatred ran out. In the end, the only kind thing she could feel was the love for her son.)

X

The first time Anakin saw Padmé’s wings were in that horrible arena on Geonosis. His mind was still full of grief for his mother, the fear for his Master and the horrible guilt eating away at him.

Padmé’s shirt tore, revealing red wings. They reminded Anakin of the robes she’d worn a decade ago when they recaptured Theed first, then of Obi-Wan’s wings second. But where Obi-Wan’s wings were the red of sunset, sunrise, and fires, Padmé’s carried victory, passion and love in its most extreme forms.

They were not enough to carry her as she fell out of the ship and Anakin was once more forced to watch, his heart screaming.

(Anakin knew most people were fascinated by his wings. He had never met or seen another sentient with the same coloring, but he decided then and there, in the aftermath of the beginning of the end, that red was his favorite color. He wouldn’t mind seeing it for the rest of his life.)

X

CT-7567, Captain Rex, hadn’t known what to expect of the Jedi that would lead him and his brothers. He had certainly heard several things from the other troops so far. They spoke of reckless warriors, flying through blaster fire without any regard for their own health, as long as they could make sure that the war ended a little sooner, that more sentients were saved.

Rex’s wings fit neatly beneath his armor.

He knew it wasn’t always the case.

There were brothers the Kaminoans decommissioned early on because their wings developed too fast, too large. Rex’s were standard, the same brown and white mustering, hardly noticeable when he forced them beneath his undersuit. Rex had never wanted bigger wings unlike some of his batchmates who had quietly exchanged thoughts about how neat it would be to fly. The advantaged they’d have in battle would be much larger.

Rex hadn’t seen the point right up until Commander Skywalker and yelled “Down!” and a huge shadow had settles over their heads. Rex and his brothers were pushed down by the massive weight of Skywalker’s wings.

The dust, dirt, and blood clinging to them didn’t do anything to diminish their shine and Rex found himself caught off-guard.

(He’d freeze a second time like this when yet another Commander Skywalker would push them down to the ground to save them.)

X

The war carried on. It took its toll. Suffering became apparent in every corner of the galaxy. People were tortured, cried out in pain and slowly but steadily suffocated on their own hopelessness.

Sidious hummed in content.

The miasma in the air, the taint as the Jedi would call it, was the finest treat. The dark side was growing stronger every day and soon victory would be his.

“You wanted to see me, Chancellor?”

Sidious smiled friendly as he took in the sight of his young apprentice. Anakin Skywalker was truly a gift of the Force. He was incredibly strong and would be Sidious’s greatest tool in the creation of his Empire.

The boy’s wings were a hindrance of course, but not one that couldn’t be dealt with as soon as he fell. Sidious had cut off his wings himself. His Master had been impressed, falsely assuming that Sidious had done so to please him. He had let Plagueis believe whatever he wanted. Sidious had merely taken his fate in his own hands. He wasn’t going to rely on another to complete the ritual that would truly open his mind to the dark side of the Force.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” Sidious said. “I am so glad to see you.”

(And Sidious would be celebrating when he came to mold Vader into his weapon. Kenobi had truly given him a gift, ruining his Padawan’s wings himself.)

X

The thing Ahsoka hated the most about being stuck on the Resolute was the lack of space. She had large wings and could only practice flying in the hangers. While the clones laughed and whistled when she did her spins, she knew she was actually disturbing them and interrupting their work. The non-clone officials on board certainly thought so. Ahsoka thought that if it were just Jedi and clones together, they wouldn’t have any problems, but as soon as the rest of the military or politicians got involved, the fun was over.

Ahsoka stretched her wings and winced when she hit the side of a cabinet with them. There was simply no space anywhere!

“Master,” Ahsoka complained on the training mats. “How do you do it?”

Anakin stopped carefully treading his hands through her feathers. “Do what?”

“Stand the space! The Temple is so much wider. I can’t wait to be back home. Or planetside, whatever comes first, I guess.”

Ahsoka craned her neck so she’d be able to look at her Master’s face. He was smiling only slightly. Far more prominent was his frown and the way his mech-hand twitched. The first time she had seen her Master look like that, they’d been on Tatooine.

“It’s just a matter of getting used to,” Anakin finally answered. “And to your luck, we already have a new mission taking us to a planet that is covered by cliffs and canyons.”

Forgotten about her Master’s behavior, Ahsoka fist-pumped the air. “Yes!”

The last time they had had the chance, she had gone cliff diving with her Master. It had been awesome, just like jumping from the Temple towers. Ahsoka couldn’t wait to do it again.

Then, suddenly, Ahsoka winced as Anakin tugged at one of the feathers she’s injured in the last fight. “Skyguy! That hurt!”

“Sorry,” Anakin apologized, and soothingly ran his hand over her back. “I don’t think this feather is salvageable.”

Ahsoka sighed. She’d already asked Kix if he could help her, but he had given her the same reply. She had hoped Anakin would be able to heal it.

“Is it a pretty one?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yes.”

She looked up again at her Master and the three feathers he kept braided into his hair. One was Obi-Wan’s, the other belonged to Ahsoka and the third, a light brown one, she didn’t know. Anakin had never really told her why he did it, only muttered something about traditions from his homeworld. The precise reason didn't matter, Ahsoka decided, as long as she knew that it meant she was important to him.

“You can switch it out against my old one then,” she decided and watched happily as he did so.

(Later, she’d wish she had asked her Master what it really meant when your wings were restrained. Zygerria left its scars on them in more than one way. In the aftermath, Anakin ensured Ahsoka would have plenty of space to unfurl her wings, but she never forgot the feeling of the heavy leather cords covering her white wings. As Fulcrum, she didn't know whether that experience was a blessing or a curse.)

X

When Anakin killed Dooku, his wings felt like a dead weight right up until he was back in Padmé’s arms. He was exhausted and hurting, but with her as the center of his world, everything would be alright. With Dooku dead, it was only a question of time until the war was over. He’d resign from the Order and move to Naboo with Padmé where they’d raise their child together. Obi-Wan could visit them and maybe they could track down Ahsoka as well, wrangle her into the flying lessons their child would undoubtedly need.

“Oh?” Padmé asked playfully as they fell into their bed. “So sure our son is going to take after you?”

Anakin smiled and pulled the blanket over them both before covering them additionally with his feathers.

“Our daughter,” he said, his emphasis not going unnoticed, “will absolutely take after me.”

“Alright, alright.” Padmé laughed. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to learn how to fly by jumping off a building.”

Anakin pulled a face. Retrospectively, perhaps Obi-Wan had been right to lecture him with an ashen face after Anakin’s brilliant – and successful! – attempt at learning how to fly by jumping off a tower. Imagining his own child pulling a stunt like that was terrifying. Ahsoka had already known how to fly when she’d been assigned to Anakin. He hadn’t had to worry about her.

“They won’t,” Anakin mumbled. “We’ll all be there.”

(Princess Leia of Alderaan had been ten when she decided she wanted to fly. She hadn’t cared about the fact that it was as good as a death sentence if an Imperial knew you had the ability. Dressed only in her nightgown, standing on the balcony of their vacation estate high up in the mountains, Leia took a leap of faith. Halfway across the galaxy, a boy threw himself off the cliffs in Beggar’s Canyon in the exact same moment and for the split of a second, they connected.)

X

It wasn’t an easy choice, it was no choice at all.

It was over a decade of careful grooming, a Sith Lord running his hands over golden feathers, pretending to help preen the spaces Anakin could never reach on his own. It were the lies, the distrust, the pain, all the mistakes, anger and frustration and a childhood bound in chains Anakin had never been able to break entirely.

He needed to save Padmé and his unborn child. He had to protect them from harm, his nightmares come alive, so he took his ‘saber and marched to the temple, his army at his back.

(Some of their shots hit his wings, but in the void darkness of the Force, Vader didn’t even register it. He didn’t think of the younglings that used to beg him for lessons or let out delighted shrieks when he submitted to their pleas and let them brush through his feathers and keep the ones that broke off or came loose. He didn’t think because he was drowning, choking on his own tears, hoping it would all be over soon.)

X

Vader could hardly fly on Mustafar. It gave Obi-Wan a considerable advantage, but he had trained Anakin to be able to handle any possible disadvantage. He tried not to linger on the thoughts of his former Padawan, the boy he had raised and adored, as he battled the Sith Lord in front of him. The ashes of the volcanic planet settled on their wings, dragging them down until Ana- not Anakin, his brother was dead, Sidious had ruined him, until Vader was lying on the ground, screaming. He was tearing at the remnants of their bond, sharp claws tried to cut into Obi-Wan’s mind.

He wanted to reach out. He wanted Anakin back.

“You were my brother Anakin! I loved you!”

And if he were a better Jedi, he wouldn’t have watched Vader’s torment but taken his blade and ended the Sith’s life.

(But he couldn’t. He had told Yoda that he wouldn’t be able to kill him and he couldn’t bear to linger as he watched the once so beautiful golden wings burn.)

X

In the aftermath, while Yoda told Bail what to expect when raising a Force-sensitive child and how to hide little Leia’s presence, Obi-Wan sat curled up in the corner of the space station, holding both children close his chest. It should be no surprise that they’d take after Anakin, and yet Obi-Wan had been shocked still when he’d seen the soft gold color of their wings. He knew they wouldn’t keep their color for long, likely never actually see it themselves.

Alderaan’s royalty ate white hibiscus flowers that dyed their wings the same color and Luke would be fed japor oil on Tatooine as Anakin had once been.

Nobody would ever know that these children had survived and lived. They would be safe.

(On his way to Tatooine, Obi-Wan took great care that nobody saw his own red feathers or Luke’s golden ones. It didn’t occur to him that he’d be better off tainting his wings as well until he actually arrived on the doorstep of the Lars homestead.)

X

When Vader woke up again for the first time, even Sidious was surprised at the level of pain, fury, rage and despair that was tearing at the Sith’s mind.

Traditionally, Vader’s wings would have to be cut down, but it would prove much more futile if that darkness engulfing Vader wasn’t allowed to lower.

“Put him under again,” Sidious ordered.

The Jedi were either already dead or dying. It was only a question of time and the dark side taught patience so very well. Sidious didn’t have to concern himself with his Empire for a moment, no, he could focus on his apprentice fully.

His wings weren’t entirely ruined. The bones still remained, as did some feathers.

“Keep the skeleton,” Sidious mused as he imagined what he wanted his Lord Vader to look like. “Encase them in metal. Give my apprentice wings befitting of his station.”

Skywalker was dead. There would be no more Jedi claiming the skies for themselves and putting their precious light above Sidious’s throne and Vader would spent his every second remembering it through pain.

X

Force-sensitive people didn’t just stop being born because the Empire willed it so, but more children died or lost their wings in infancy than ever before.

It would be a lie to say that the few Jedi that remained didn’t consider mutilating themselves for protection.

What use were wings if you could never fly again unless you wanted to risk your life?

And yet there were enough who treasured the gifts they had been given, always hoping and reaching for a future where the darkness would cease dragging them down.

X

When Obi-Wan decided to die for the galaxy’s future, his wings were as black as his Padawan’s once had been when he was young and Obi-Wan had hoped to never see the color again.

Luke and Leia looked like two halves of the same being, not just physically but also in the Force. Obi-Wan was relieved to see how strong they were, already connecting and reaching out despite being unaware of their relationship. Separating them when they were young had been the right decision. Vader would have found them too soon.

Now all Obi-Wan could do was focus on the opponent in front of him, let all hope escape.

He had been aware of Vader’s presence ever since he had stepped on this monstrosity of a weapon. It mirrored Vader’s appearance all too well. Obi-Wan had heard stories about Vader had made out of himself, but seeing it in person almost took him back to Mustafar and the smell of burning flesh.

Darth Vader’s wings were massive metallic blades, clicking eerily with his every move. It was impossible to ignore the whirling sound of the machinery that made them functional. Vader’s wings were terror, they looked like bones encased in durasteel coffins.

They were nothing like Anakin Skywalker’s.

The wingspan was the same, larger than anybody else’s, but that was where the similarities ended. These wings had never covered an entire squad of troopers to protect them from debris, they had never been touched by something that wasn’t blood and gore. They looked as unnatural as they felt.

They were what horrified Obi-Wan Kenobi the most about his former apprentice’s appearance. He used to be so proud of Anakin’s beautiful golden wings, had spent hours helping his young charge groom them until Anakin had fallen asleep, his much too large wings draped over Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

(This would haunt him past his own death until he could run his fingers through golden feathers again. He had stood aside as Anakin’s wings, his soul, had burned on the shores of Mustafar and he had turned away.)

X

Luke Skywalker stood out in every room he was in. It wasn’t just his ridiculously large wing size, he simply seemed to draw people in. Leia especially enjoyed being near him. He knew all about the rumors crawling around their bases about the two of them and had Leia not been raised a princess, she would have thrown at least one punch.

Spending time with Luke reminded Leia of all the times she had been able to spend lazy mornings with her family. It felt like coming home, a balm that calmed the phantom pains that had haunted her since her childhood.

She was the first to see that Luke’s black wings were as much of a lie as her white ones. Leia hadn’t had any of the white flower tea since her imprisonment on the Death Star and she wasn’t used to grooming her wings herself. She knew her wings looked terrible and she knew some of her original color, of which her parents had never informed her, was starting to come through in some cases. Leia kept her wings bound, protection against the Empire, so she hadn’t actually paid as much attention to it until she found Luke staring at a gold feather lying innocently on the floor.

“Is this your original color?” Leia asked him and picked the feather up.

Luke slowly nodded and opened up his wings. The newest feathers stood out against the dark black. They were the same gold as the one in Leia’s hands.

“Yes,” Luke answered. “But that feather isn’t mine.”

With gentle hands he helped her brush through her wings, get rid of all the old and broken feathers she had damaged and hadn’t thought to take care of because she was busy fighting a war.

(In the end, it was no surprise to learn they were siblings. The Alliance had been calling them their golden twins for years already by then as both had shed their old colors and stopped pretending they hadn’t been made for the skies.)

X

The memory of Bespin, of clinging to the pole while he was forced to listen to Vader’s wings clicking against the metal railings and horrible truth he revealed, would haunt Luke for years. He injured his left wing while escaping and lost his hand in a fight that never should have happened. Back on Tatooine, his family had always told him not to draw too much attention, that it was dangerous for him, but had gotten so used to flying while he was staying with the Alliance.

If he fell here, he wouldn’t be able to fly away.

He chose to do so anyway, all while begging Ben to tell him why had told him such cruel lies, wondering what kind of person could stand to watch another burn.

(He had hoped Leia would catch him, but he didn’t expect her to look like a vengeful goddess, the orange and red of the skies reflecting on her wings like blood.)

X

Darth Vader died the same way he was born, in agonizing pain. He broke out of the Emperor’s hold and Anakin Skywalker took the monster that had enslaved the whole galaxy and killed him with slow, aching breaths. Luke was grieving, trying to drag Anakin’s heavy body down to the ships.

“Luke, help me take this mask off,” Anakin rasped.

Luke’s wings flared up. He’d been informed of their golden color, the same as that of the princess. He hadn’t dared to entertain the thought that perhaps it was not just one child, too afraid of what that would mean for his actions.

“But you’ll die!”

Beneath his mask, Anakin smiled. He didn’t deserve his son who was so kind he could even cry for a broken man like him.

“Nothing can stop that now. Just for once… let me look on you with my own eyes.”

Luke hesitated for a moment, then he slowly pulled the mask of Anakin’s face. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw his son for the first time. He was beyond stunned how much he looked like Padmé. His wings behind him illuminated the darkness of the hall like the sun.

He was beautiful.

All Anakin had dreamed of and more. He was glad that this was the last thing Anakin got to see. Everything would be well, there would be peace.

(And when death came, Anakin didn’t resist and scream and beg. He smiled, threw himself into Obi-Wan’s arms, the wings on his back lifting him to the skies as he watched the light shine.)

X

The sun was high in the blue afternoon sky and the air was so thick with excitement, tension, cheer and joy that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

Excitedly, they were all standing at the platform on top of the temple. From up here, they could see the pilots getting their fighters, people going about their day and, most importantly, a rather large group of Knights and Padawans and family members standing below them, cheering.

“Alright, Initiates,” Jedi Master Ezra Bridger said. “Today’s the day. Are you ready?”

“Born ready!” A very bold Trandoshan youngling said while the Togruta boy next to her only eyes the edge of the platform with a vary look.

“This is an age-old tradition,” Ezra continues as he slowly walked backwards. “My Master taught me how to fly like this and the Masters Skywalker and Organa learned how to fly the exact same way.”

The younglings looked at the other two Masters that had accompanied them to the very top, seeking their agreement. Leia stepped away from the back and walked to the front to her brother, letting her wings brush over the heads of the assembled children, causing them to giggle.

“We did learn that way,” Leia said, smiling in amusement. “Only we didn’t have anyone to catch us at the bottom should it go wrong.”

The group looked at the Jedi Master with big eyes. They couldn’t imagine making this jump without anybody ensuring them they’d be saved and would be caught before they hit the ground.

“Don’t worry,” Luke said as he stepped off the platform. “We won’t let you fall.”

(And no child of this new age did.)

[6ftslytherin]

Another fic

Ismelda comes over, but Marie's family is weird.

(Trigger warning for bipobia.)

Marie was on pins and needles. She needed this to go well. Her and Ismelda had been dating since April. Sure. Ismelda had been over once before, but that was as a friend and she didn't have the chance to introduce her to her family. Now things were completely different. Marie would have to introduce them to each other. Unfortunately, her family was being their normal selfs at the moment.

"Guys, are you sure we need a cake?" Marie asked as she watched her parents put together a silver and black three layer cassata cake. "Oh qizi, we're just so excited for you! We didn't think you would have a partner until your mid twenties." her mother Regina said with a small dab of frosting on her cheek. "Marigold, you need to stop being so cute." her father Robert said before kissing the frosting away. "Robbie!" Regina put down the bag of frosting she had been using. She grabbed him and gave him a dip kiss.

"Yeah... Uh... Could you guys... Not be so... Touchy feely while Ismelda is here?" Marie asked as her parents seemed to be posing for a cheesy romance paperback. "What do you mean?" Regina asked while holding Robert's butt. "Ismelda is coming over as my girlfriend for the first time. You guys are used to doing this lovey dovey stuff but we've barely held hands. You're gonna freak her out!" Marie tried to calmly explain. She knew for a fact her and Ismelda had kissed three times, but telling her parents would just get them to want talk about it like school girls.

"I agree. You inherited your swooning powers from me. It's only natural that you would scare the poor girl." Said a handsome blond twenty-something that was reading The Daily Prophet with a cup of tea. Marie set her sight on him next. "And uh... grandpa Ford? I'm not going to ask you to take off the youth illusion, but could you at least not dress like a gigolo?" She asked. "It's not my fault the Italians make a great suit. It's also not my fault I make them look better." He said. Marie scratched at her own hair. "She's going to think we're insane." Marie quietly said. Then she noticed two missing elements.

"Where are Jimmy and Conan? Are they looking for frogs?" She asked. "Probably." Robert said. Marie scratched her hair more. "Why? We are having a guest over and you let them go play in the mud?" She asked. Regina had stopped kneading Robert's dough and walked over to Marie. She put her arms around her in a big hug. "Marie, everything is going to be alright. Flipping out is just going to make you stressed." Marie didn't like to be touched by anyone she wasn't close with. A tight hug from her mom was something that made her feel all warm inside.

Then her dad came over and picked them both up in a bear hug. Not that hard to do since Marie was chronically underweight and her mother was small. He was clearly sniffling. "My baby girl, going out into the world and finding a girlfriend of her own." He said with tears of joy in his eyes. Marie knew what was coming next. She was unable to protect herself from the coming attack. Robert gave Marie a bunch of stubbly kisses on her cheek. "Dad!" She loudly said as she felt her skin becoming irritated. "Could you at least shave before Ismelda gets here?" "I think he looks ruggedly handsome." Regina said.

"Do you need help?" Marie's blood went cold. She looked over to the doorway to see her girlfriend Ismelda. It was easy for Marie's pale skin to show blush. This time she could have been been mistaken for a ripe tomato. She was so embarrassed she didn't notice that her feet were back on the floor. Her legs felt like they had the bones removed. She tried to regain her composer and ignore the urge to chew on her hand.

"I-Is. I-I didn't k-k-know you were h-h-here yet." Marie said, cursing her nervous stutter. "Yeah. They let me in." Ismelda said pointing out the window. Marie was horrified to see her half naked brothers, coated in mud, heading to the outside showers. Marie just about fainted. Why did her brothers have to have such an interest in reptiles? Why did it have to rain last night? Why did her family have to be weirdos?

"Marie!" Marie snapped back to reality. Ismelda was slowly pulling Marie's hand from her mouth. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" Ismelda asked. "Y-yeah. I'm fine. My family's j-just a bit m-m-much." Marie said. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see her parents looking worried. "Are you okay? Are you overwhelmed? Do you need to sit down?" Regina asked. Her father was holding a chair. Grandpa Ford was holding a glass of water.

Marie scratched her hair. Even if they were goofy, they cared. "I think she just needs to go to her room. I'll take her." Ismelda said as she lightly pulled Marie to the door. "Yeah. I think some privacy would be good." Marie said as she walked out the door with Ismelda.

They got to Marie's room. Ismelda closed the curtains as Marie flopped face first on her bed. She put a pillow over her head. Marie felt Ismelda rubbing her back. For some reason, Ismelda was one of the few people who's touch made Marie feel relaxed. Ismelda always managed to find just the right spot on her lower back. "You doin okay?" Ismelda asked. "Yeah..." Marie said through the pillow.

Marie turned her head for clearer speech. "I'm sorry for that..." "For what?" "My family. They're just like that." "At least your family cares about you. I don't think I've been hugged in years. At least not when my parents didn't need to look like they cared to other people." Marie remembered when she had gone to Ismelda's house. Her parents hadn't even looked up from what they had been doing when Ismelda introduced them. She had said without hesitation that Maire was her girlfriend. All that was said by her father was, "tell us when your done playing queer."

Marie couldn't believe what he had said, but Ismelda explained that they didn't believe she was bisexual. Her sister had been the one to find out first (read her dairy,) and told their parents. They demanded answers. When confronted about her newfound female attraction, she explained she liked men and women. Her parents assumed she was doing it for attention. Her sister however had started to make fun of her for being a lesbian. For some reason they couldn't understand she liked both. Now she keeps a hidden dairy and a decoy she 'hid.' Her real diary was in the form of puzzle box that turned into a book when solved. She was tired of people reading it.

When Marie told Ismelda both her parents were bi themselves she became very interested in meeting them. Must be nice to know older people with the same identity. Where was Marie going to find a middle aged lesbian? The only gay women she knew were her cousin Sabine and her friends. She couldn't consider them her elders in the non-heteronormative community.

Marie rolled on to her back, Ismelda's hand now resting on her lower abdomen. "I think I've calmed down enough." She said. "Good. Though, your cute when you panic. Not that you are panicking. I didn't mean it like that. But the little things you do." Ismelda said as she played with hem of Marie's shirt. Her face turned a bit pinker. "Like when your face gets all red and your ears do too." Marie thought about the same thing happening to Ismelda. Yeah. It was cute. Ismelda started to use her free hand to play with her hair. Also cute. Ismelda started to move in for a kiss.

The door opened, she froze. "Qizi, the cakes done." Regina said as she poked her head in. "Oh." She said, seeing her flushed daughter on the bed and her also flushed girlfriend who was holding the bottom of her shirt while leaning over her. Regina shut the door faster than she had opened it. "Well... When your done we can cut the cake. Internal condoms and dental dams are under the bathroom counter. Use the water based lube. Should be right next to them." She said on the other side of the door before audibly walking away.

At that point all Marie wanted to do was disappear. Her mother thought they were going to need contraceptives?! She appreciated the offer, but Marie did not need them! She put a pillow over her face and screamed. She heard laughing. "Did she think we're 'getting busy?' Oh my god! And you guys keep that stuff in stock?!" Ismelda said as she laughed so hard she was snorting. "Your family is insane, I love it!" Marie removed the pillow. She couldn't help but laugh as well. "Yeah, I love them too." She reached up and finish the kiss Ismelda had started.

"So what kind of cake?" Ismelda asked. "Cassata." "Any reason for that type?" Ismelda asked as she cupped Marie's face. "I might have said it's your favorite. It's their first time making it, so don't get upset if it's not up to your standard." Marie said. "Maybe I'll try the speciality next time. What would that be?" "That would be either kurabye cookies or shekerbura. My dad learned Azerbaijani cooking to impress my grandparents." "No idea what those are." "Kurabye are jam-" Marie was cut off by Ismelda saying, "Actually, I want it to be a surprise. In fact, I want a full course meal with only the finest cooking. Completely a surprise as well." "No problem, but we should probably get downstairs. Before my parents think we really are 'getting busy." "Can't wait to be formally introduced."

Bonus:

"We weren't doing anything." Marie said as she finished her last bite of cake. "I wasn't doing anything either, that's how you got here." Regina said before sipping her tea. "But we're both cis women. How would we conceive?" Marie said, setting down her fork. "Safe sex should be done regardless of what parts you and your partner have." Regina said. Marie groaned as she started to scratch at her hair.

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 9

part [1] / [8]

read on: [ao3] [ffnet]

---

Danny glared at the space where his hand should have been, concentrating on the light tingles that ran throughout his fingers like tiny electric beads of energy. He felt the current in his fingers waver, and his hand flickered back into visibility.

That was no good. He pulled his eyebrows tighter together, willing his hand back out of the visible spectrum. 

Danny sighed in relief and allowed his arm to fall to his side. He closed his eyes, and his body relaxed into the soft carpet below him. He could feel the stress leaking from his muscles. Even his chest, which seemed constantly at war against his fried nerve endings, felt at ease.

Much better.

Danny couldn’t remember ever feeling so fake . He spent the whole day with his core under lock and key—feeling physically more human than ever—yet surrounded by teens who couldn’t see him as anything more than Phantom.

The rest of his day at the PHP had been even worse than Danny thought it would be. With each new therapy came a new opportunity for the therapists to try to get Danny to open up. And when that happened, so did the stares and the tense silences which made him very much not want to speak, but then if he didn’t speak he would have to return to inpatient, but that resulted in more stress which caused his voice to clam up and then he was stuck right where he started.

His physical therapy session hadn’t come soon enough, and when Danny finally got to the clinic, he made sure to push himself as hard as his body would allow and then some. His physical therapist had commended him on the “great day,” but Danny couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

No matter what, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Because he was still trapped.

Footsteps sounded from the staircase. He bolted upright and glanced at his wheelchair beside him. 

This was bad. This was really bad. The government was back and he had no way of escaping.

Goddamnit, if only his parents had given him access to his core, he could phase out of here and fly away. But he couldn’t do that now. He could hardly keep his fingers invisible for over a minute without breaking a sweat.

He made motions towards his chair as a plan formed in his head. A very ill-formulated plan—one that was sure to cause him to lose a few teeth—but a plan nonetheless. But just as he touched the wheels of his chair, his door flung open.

He turned, fully prepared to use what little muscular strength he’d managed to build up in his legs to launch himself over to his captors, but he froze.

The people at the door weren’t tall men in white suits and black sunglasses. There were no ecto-guns pointed at his face. There was no glowing green inhibitor ready to be clasped onto his neck.

It was Sam and Tucker, staring shyly at him in a way that reminded him of how they used to act around each other before they truly became friends.

“Hey, Danny.” Sam gave him a small wave.

“Oh.” Danny dropped his hold on his wheelchair. “Hey. Hi, guys.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Sam stared at him with eyes that were progressively getting shinier by the second, and Tucker stood with his mouth hanging open, as if he couldn’t believe Danny was there.

Danny fidgeted. There was so much unsaid emotion happening. The atmosphere was suffocating, and suddenly Danny was hyper aware of how uncomfortably he was sitting. He shifted so his legs were crisscrossed under each other and placed his arms in his lap. Maybe that would solve it. Maybe his posture was the source of his discomfort.

“Dude,” Tucker said. “Holy shit.”

“I—yeah, uh…”

Tucker shook his head. “You look...damn, what the hell did they feed you in there?”

The red package flashed in his mind, and Danny felt the blood drain from his face.

He wanted to snap at Tucker, to shout that he wasn’t a dog and turn invisible because he hadn’t seen his friends in weeks and the first thing they were going to bring up was his biggest point of shame and destruction in his life? Something so embarrassing that he hadn’t told anyone about it?

Oh. Wait.

If he hadn’t told anyone about it, then Sam and Tucker wouldn’t know about it either. He was safe, then, and Tucker wouldn’t have been referencing that thing. So then what was Tucker talking about?

He creased his eyebrows and looked down at his hands. He didn’t think he looked any different than usual. Even though the Guys in White had forced him to consume... that, it hadn’t drastically altered his appearance in the same way that his eyes would give off a light glow if he accidentally ate one of his mom’s ectoplasm-infused dinners in human form. 

His arm looked the same. It was a little thin, and his skin was a little pale, but it looked like a normal human arm. There were no globs of ectoplasm dripping from his skin, no inhuman glow encasing his form, nothing. It was just a normal arm.

He must have looked lost, because Sam supplied, “You look really healthy, Danny.”

Oh. 

Right.

He was reading too far into this. The last time Sam and Tucker had seen Danny, he was so underweight the doctors told him it was a miracle his organs were still functioning. He was on a special high-calorie diet filled with vanilla protein shakes, all with the goal of helping him regain what he lost.

It seemed like so long ago now, but it had only been a month since Danny had seen anyone outside the hospital. And so much had changed in that time.

“Oh...um, thanks?” He said, peeking at his friends from under his bangs. “I—uh...they had these...the protein—protein shakes. Made me drink them.”

“Well, you look amazing,” Sam said.

Danny felt like his face was on fire. He attempted to settle the topic with an “I’m glad you think that.”

If anything, that made their reactions ten times worse.

“Oh, Danny.” Sam sniffed, bringing one hand up to cover her mouth. “Wow.”

“What?” He blindly reached over to his wheelchair again, hoping that maybe some height would make him seem less pitiful. But before he could pull the chair closer to him, Sam sank to the floor.

“I’m sorry. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this. I promised I wasn’t gonna cry.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Ugh, sorry.”

“No—it’s. Um. I just...I just—” Danny tried to look at Tucker for help, but Tucker was avoiding eye contact with him now.

“I’m sorry?” Danny tried.

Sam’s eyes snapped over to his. “No! God, Danny. Don’t apologize. Please.”

“I don’t...I don’t…”

“No, it’s me, Danny. I’m sorry, it’s me.” Sam sniffed again and brushed unshed tears away from her eyes. She took a few deep breaths before glancing back over to Danny with that same damn shy expression as before.

Just what was going on right now?

“I know you don’t like being touched anymore—”

Danny grimaced. It wasn’t his fault that none of his nerve endings responded the same to physical stimulus anymore.

“—but would you mind if I hugged you? Just for a second?”

“Uh…” Danny trailed off. Since when did his friends ever ask him if it was okay to touch him? Normally they just barreled right into him, intangibility be damned. But, thinking back to his interactions with them a month before, he hadn’t really allowed them near him, did he? Of course, they invaded his room anyway, no thanks to Jazz. But even then, they always sat a respectful distance away from him on separate chairs rather than piling on his bed like they would have done before his time with the GiW.

Something churned in Danny’s gut. Had he really been that bad before that he made his own friends feel like they couldn’t have physical contact with him now?

“Sure?”

She leaned into him slowly, raising her arms up towards him as if he would break as soon as she touched him.

But he didn’t flinch, his eyes didn’t waver, and when she finally made contact with him, he didn’t pull away.

But he wanted to.

Arms wrapped around his waist, resting lightly on his back, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him with such care, such tenderness. He knew his family was still keeping their distance, still unsure about how much contact he could handle, but he didn’t realize it had been this long since anyone had just...given him a hug.

And it bothered him. 

The first time he woke up in the hospital, his parents had wrapped their arms around him similarly to this. Then, he felt nothing. He spent weeks after that mulling it over, wondering if maybe deep down inside he had been angry at them for letting the Guys in White force him away. Maybe he was just another Pavlov’s dog, and he was only able to associate touch with pain now. Or maybe it wasn’t that serious, maybe he had just been too drugged up to be able to process even a simple hug.

But it couldn’t be the drugs from the hospital, because it still felt different to him. He still felt nothing.

He tried to melt into her embrace, pulling his own arms to fit around her slim body. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the familiar smell of her coconut shampoo, the one from that vegan company she liked so much.

“Danny,” Sam’s shaky voice sounded from his shoulder. “I missed you.”

He felt something wet touch his neck, and he tightened his hold on her, desperate to ground himself in the moment. But the dampness from her tears reminded him of the way his skin felt for those last few weeks in his cell. Never dry, always trickling with loose ectoplasm.

Get a grip, Fenturd.

“Yeah. I missed you too,” he managed to choke out. 

Sam shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t—”

“I—we tried. We tried so hard to get you out sooner. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

He paused, then pulled back. What were they talking about? Hadn’t they organized that protest for him? What more could he have asked from them? “It wasn’t...it wasn’t your fault. I know you tried.”

Tucker shook his head. “No, dude. Like, we tried tried. We had a whole team of people—Ember, Frostbite. Hell, even Skulker—but nothing.”

“Wait, hold up.” Danny tilted his head, glancing between the duo with raised eyebrows. “Skulker? How did—how did you get Skulker? And, and Ember?”

“You remember that time last winter that Ember came over to listen to that band’s new album? ‘Cause she couldn’t do that in the Ghost Zone?”

“Yeah...she...oh, she almost got...right? The Guys in White almost got her then?” 

“Right, and you remember who came to save the day?”

“Um...it was...it was…” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. That day was fuzzy. He remembered that Ember came over, and they were listening to the album up on the roof of the Nasty Burger while eating some fries some drunk teenager handed him in the parking lot. But then, a net came out of nowhere and grabbed Ember.

And after that, everything was blank, as if someone had burned a hole in the middle of his memory.

“Skulker, I guess?”

Tucker nodded, his face contorting into an expression that Danny couldn’t read. “Skulker came. He’d been watching Ember the whole time. Didn’t want her crossing over by herself, I guess.” He grinned. “Though, if you ask me, I’d say he has a crush on—”

“Ugh, Tucker! Gross! Don’t even joke about that!” Sam scowled.

“Right, you keep thinking that!”

“No, we’re not having this conversation again!”

“Sure, Sam…”

Danny blinked, head turning between them. For the first time ever, he was on the outside of their bantering.

It felt...odd.

“Point is,” Sam continued. “Ember almost got kidnapped, and neither of us were there to help you guys. And they had the whole building surrounded in no time, mind you. But Skulker of all ghosts actually showed up, blew up the Guys in White’s van engines, freed Ember, and got you both away from there.”

“Oh. Whoa.”

“Yeah, whoa. So when he heard you were taken, he actually came to us wanting to help.”

Danny’s fingers twitched. He started to raise his arm, but then, thinking better of it, lowered his fingers down to run along the carpet. His movements were rigid, and when he spoke, his voice was tight. “And what did...him and Frostbite...what did they think they could do? Find me? Break me—break me out? And then what?”

Their silence, as well as the blanket of unease that had settled over the group, was all Danny needed as a response.

His shoulders sagged. “You couldn’t...there was no way. I tried, and that didn’t...it doesn’t matter.”

Danny felt a hand drape his shoulder, and he looked up to see Sam’s eyes fixated on him.

“It does matter, Danny. You matter to us. And we would have never forgiven ourselves if we didn’t try to get you out, even if it was impossible. You’re our friend, and we care about you.”

“Yeah.” He broke eye contact. “I’m sorry. I put you through so much and I—I didn’t think. You guys didn’t know. I mean...what—what do you guys know now? Has—has Jazz told you anything? About what happened in...in there?”

“Uh…” Tucker started. His gaze flickered over to Sam. “I mean...Jazz told us some stuff. Other stuff I think we were able to infer. Like uh...your...you know…”

Danny could feel the looming presence of his wheelchair and walker next to his bed. And apparently, so could Sam and Tucker, because suddenly their eyes were flickering between Danny and his wheelchair, and he could see the inevitable question on their lips.

Maybe they wouldn’t ask. But then again, if they did, would it really matter if they knew? They were his best friends, and friends were supposed to tell each other these things.

Hell, they’d been there for the portal, they were there during all the time’s he’d been bitten or stabbed by all sorts of unsavory characters.

Maybe it would be okay.

He took a deep breath. “That’s what happened when I tried to escape.”

Tucker froze, and Sam ripped her arm off his shoulder and brought it to her mouth, her eyes growing in size by the second.

“Holy shit, dude,” Tucker breathed.

Danny lowered his head. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have told them. They were only going to pity him more than they already did.

“It’s fine, I’m pretty over it at this point. It’s...wanna play Doomed instead?”

“Oh...Danny...”

“How did—I mean, what did they—”

“I—I can’t remember when it happened,” Danny said.

This was a disaster. He was going to have to tell them now, which is something his therapist would be proud of because that would mean he was being open and honest with his loved ones. So he should be fine telling them, right? This shouldn’t be a big deal. 

He just had to power through this. “Everything kind of...blurred together at some point. But a guard—the guy who gave me dinner—he opened the door and I had this...this protocol…” He was fine. He could do this. 

“What was the protocol?” Sam asked.

“Um it was...it’s not important.” He remembered it too well. Stand in the back of the cell, against the wall, facing the agent. Refuse and be punished. “But there was a...he—the guard would shut the window and unlock the door. And in that—that moment, when he opened the...the door and I push—pushed him. I pushed him down. He fell, and I ran.”

“Oh no…”

“It was stupid.”

“Danny, no it wasn’t.” 

Sam went to wrap her arm around him again, but he shrugged her off, turning his head away from her.

“I wasn’t thinking. He still had his...communi...communication device in his ear. So when I turned down the—the hallway, he told...told...uh...it was over. I was—was ambushed before I knew it. Electrocuted. Dragged to a room with Operative...the head operative, and he had a metal...a metal bat I think, and it was over.”

“And they left you like that? Just beat you to the point of paralysis and then left you to rot?”

“Sam,” Tucker hissed.

“No, that’s—that can’t be legal! That’s torture! They can’t do that, even if you are half-ghost. They can’t do that!”

He frowned. “I mean, was it really a secret? What did you—did you think? When you saw me in the hospital?” 

“I don’t know.” Tucker said. “Obviously we knew something happened. It felt like every time we talked to Jazz, you were in the operating room undergoing another surgery, or you were recovering from a surgery. So we knew something happened.”

“And my speech. It’s not...not the same.”

There was another awkward silence, before Sam said, “We didn’t wanna ask. But it seems better. Than the last time we saw you, I mean.”

“It’s fine.” Danny shrugged. This was exhausting. “They think I...I, uh fell asleep on a concussion...at some point. It wouldn’t...surprise me.”

“It was that bad,” Tucker said.

“It…” Danny’s voice trailed off. He had been ready to deny it, but the proof was right in front of them. 

They were his best friends. He needed to trust them. 

Sam and Tucker were silent, probably processing everything that was happening. How all their worst fears about life inside a secret government anti-ghost compound were likely coming true. Danny could see the last of their denial leaving their face. They’d tried their best to find him, even going to Danny’s enemies like Skulker for help, with nothing but speculation to go off of, and for what? 

He’d already talked about the paralysis incident with his parents in therapy extensively . Not willingly, of course, but it was something he had to do before they would release him, and he’d really wanted to be released so he could get access to his core back.

Lot of good that did him now. He was home and still sans powers.

He thought back to that day. The therapist had already told his parents what happened—to prepare them, she’d told Danny—but that didn’t matter. They both started crying the minute Danny started the story.

It was funny how time worked. That therapy session seemed like it happened months ago. 

But even then, there were things he didn’t talk about, like how for the next few days he lay in his cell, surrounded by a pool of his ectoplasm, passing out and waking up so often that he didn’t know how much time had passed. He remembered the chilling feeling as he realized that no one was coming to help him, that he really might die there. And then he remembered when the click of the door finally sounded, revealing two operatives who stood there, ordering him to “get up, ghost.” But he couldn’t stand up, they knew he couldn’t do it. 

They had taken their time with him that day, mocking him. He was weak, pathetic, disgusting. 

“You really thought your little Houdini act would work, ghost? I know you lot are stupid, but that’s just sad.”

“Hah, are you gonna cry, ghost? Are you crying for Mommy and Daddy right now?”

He remembered that morning, and he so desperately wished he didn’t, because when the operatives were finished having their fun with him, they punished him for not following orders.

For not standing up.

Danny frowned. He still hadn’t told anyone about that. He couldn’t…

Oh, right. Sam and Tucker were still here, still living with microscopic breadcrumbs of knowledge of Danny’s reality.

What was the question again?

Danny glanced up at Tucker. “Don’t you have homework?”

“Nah,” Tucker said, waving him off. “Lancer was nice to us today.”

Danny stared at Tucker, his lips twitching upward in some poor attempt to grin, just like the old times. “You’re such a—a shit liar. You know?”

“Must be a new ghost power. Nobody can see through my charming gaze.”

Danny snorted, his mind wandering to last night. He thought this would be so easy last night, but he hadn’t exactly been in his right mind then. He was happy and full of bliss, but it was all a lie. 

Last night, he thought that telling them wouldn’t be so hard. Hell, they had seen him bloody and beaten more times than he could count. Just because this time it was done by the government, and not one of his ghostly foes...

But now the drugs had worn off, and reality was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He knew he could tell them about some things. He could tell them about how the Guys in White would strap him down in a tube chamber, testing different chemicals on him to see how his body would react. He could tell them about how one day they surrounded him with blood blossoms to try to harness the electricity from the flowers and use it for energy.

Danny was almost thankful that one was a dead end. It turned out his ectoplasm was more powerful than the blood blossom electricity. 

But there were some things he still couldn’t say. Like the time he was strapped to a table, conscious—though barely—and taunted with metal knives and other sharp objects. He couldn’t tell them about how just minutes later, the knives were brought to his skin and he had to lie there helpless and watch the ectoplasm trickle down his chest and pool around his sides, dripping off the table and splashing against the tiled floor. How the room started blurring and then, before he knew it, he was forced into consciousness by the feeling of fire and the sight of green-stained gloves inside his body, groping around for his core.

And just how violated he felt. Like the last of his innocence had been stolen from him right along with the chunk of his core they extracted. And that was the real reason why he wasn’t allowed access to his ghost core, because it was scarred and damaged now just like the rest of his body.

Ugh, he was stupid for inviting them here. He couldn’t tell them what they wanted to know. 

This wasn’t a typical ghost fight. This wasn’t a time where he needed a few stitches in his arm, some Advil, water, and a good night’s sleep to heal. 

This was permanent.

And then there was another matter entirely, the one with the red bag. And the sight of it, the smell, and the taste and—

“Earth to Commander Fenton! Do you copy?”

Danny’s head jerked up, and he realized where he was again: in his room, tense, with two concerned faces hovering over him.

He forced his shoulders to relax. “Yeah—yeah, sorry. Just, the timeline...weird.”

Sam gave him an encouraging smile. “I know it’s a lot, but we’re here for you. We’ll stay as long as you need, homework be damned.”

“Fuck homework,” Tucker agreed. 

“Yeah.” Danny sighed. 

Reality sucked. 

“Um...”

“Danny, how did they get you?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“When they kidnapped you. I mean, what even happened?”

“They ambushed my house. You know—I heard it made the news—and...they dragged me away. Into the van.”

“We, uh…saw some footage of that. Videos people took. You know,” Tucker said.

Danny pretended not to hear that. “My parents tried to fight them, but they pinned them down. Shot a bullet in the floor next to...to my dad. I couldn’t...fight back. Couldn’t fight back. So they put the inhibitors on me and that was it, I was done.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t all bad…”

Sam wiped her eyes. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

That almost sounded like their confrontation before Danny was admitted to inpatient, before Dash caught him in the middle of a breakdown and got Lancer involved. 

“I was in my cell most of the time.”

In the darkness, with the smell of ectoplasm and the red bag permeating the air, cold and shaking, constantly fighting against his body’s pain receptors or the clawing hunger in his stomach.

“And the rest of the time?”

Danny shrugged. “It depended. Most of it wasn’t...wasn’t horrible. They didn’t do much.”

Tucker raised his eyebrows.

“I mean…” Danny shifted. He needed to give them something, or else they were just going to accuse him of lying again. “I...uh, how do I say this...at first, they mainly just wanted to understand ghost—ghost biology. You know? Typical stuff. And they had other—uh, lower level...ghosts to compare me with. Tested my ectoplasm against theirs. They realized my ectoplasm was more...potent. Because my body is more dense than an—an average ghost. I don’t know. But they would have me flat on a table...and there would be a—uh...they would take some. I would just lie there and they’d have a tube in my arm. It was...boring.”

“And then?”

“I tried to escape...and things changed. They got worse. I don’t remember most of it, but they made me...I wasn’t—I couldn’t eat anymore. I could barely move, and one of my arms was busted. I couldn’t eat, so they would...granola bars, and...it—it was red, like one for, you know—and it...they...and…” 

“There’s a good dog,” Operative O’s voice hissed in his ear. “See, was that so hard?”

Danny’s throat burned. He felt something trickle down his cheeks. Was it ectoplasm? Tears? Bile? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

It was too hot in here. But he was so cold.

“I’m only doing my job. If you were a better trained dog, we wouldn’t have to do this, now would we? It’s not my fault we’re in this position. Don’t you get it?”

“—what was red?”

Danny flinched, startled.  “Huh?”

“The red thing?” Tucker asked. “With the granola bars?”

“Granola bars?” Danny breathed. “I don’t...I don’t remember. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up. It’s not...I don’t remember why they brought the bag in. It was probably just to collect samples. For storage. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look with each other. Another silent conversation.

“Everything is jumbled. I don’t remember most of it.”

“It’s okay.” Sam plastered an obviously fake smile on her face. “We can do something else if you want?”

Danny looked down at his hand. It was shaking.

“You up for some Doomed? Or think you’re too rusty to take us dweebs on?” 

“Yeah,” Danny forced out. “Doomed sounds great. Let’s...let’s do that.”

He was fine, after all. Reality sucked but he was here and alive and with his friends who cared about him very much. He could play Doomed with them. It was his favorite game, right?

So why did he feel like there was a wall in between them? 

---

They could hear the yelling as soon as they stepped out of the elevator.

“Oh dear,” Maddie said, hesitating beside Danny. “I hope everything’s alright.”

Danny hummed in response and focused on the voices. Stretching his sensitive hearing, past the muffled babble, he was able to pick out one distinct word.

“...Ghost…”

“I think we should wait out here,” Maddie said. “At least until it’s calmed down in there.”

Danny pushed himself forward. Had he heard wrong? 

No, that was impossible. He knew what he heard.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, trying to ignore the way his stomach squirmed.

Ghost. 

“Danny, I’m not sure…”

“All I have to do is sign in, anyways.” Danny pushed himself closer to the door. The voices were getting louder on the other side. He could pick out more words now from the muffled yelling.

“...unsafe...vicious...”

“It’s not like we have to—to hang around the lobby.”

“Wait, I don’t think—”

But Danny had stopped listening. His hand was already on the door handle, his heart was already thumping in his chest, and his head was already swimming with pain from his chest and back and everything else going on.

“I thought you were running a professional clinic here!” the woman’s voice on the other side cried out.

There, that was all he needed to rip open the door to the lobby, where he immediately locked eyes with the owner of the raised voice.

The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “My daughter came here to heal. I can’t sit quietly while I know she’s here with that—that thing putting her safety at risk!”

Whatever Danny was about to say, whatever half-baked plan he had constructed in the corners of his curiosity vanished in an instant. He looked up at the woman twice his height, her finger extended out to him, scorn etched on her features, and Danny shut down.

That thing, his brain echoed. He was just a thing. Just some piece of trash kicked off the sidewalk into the street where cars could run over him.

He used to be something back before he stupidly outed himself on national television. Someone admired by most in the town. A ghost, sure, but a ghost with a purpose. 

But not anymore.

The therapist swiftly moved between them. “Danny,” she said gently. “Please wait out—”

That thing.

He wasn’t human. Hell, he wasn’t even a ghost. What was he? What right did he have to be here?

“How dare you,” came his mother’s voice from behind him. “That is my son you’re talking about. How dare you imply—”

“And you, what the hell were you thinking? Enrolling your science experiment in—”

“He is a child!”

No. No he wasn’t.

Danny felt someone push him away from the raised voices, but he couldn’t see where they were going. All he could see was the expression the woman had on her face.

Disgust.

Repulsion.

Fear.

That was it. She was afraid of him, wasn’t she?

Maybe...maybe Operative O was right. Maybe all those days being tested and tortured were for something. Maybe they were all right back in the compound.

Maybe he was just a rabid dog.

A door closed behind him, and one part of his brain played the sound of his cell doors shutting in the Guys in White facility—that soft click bouncing off the walls of his mind—while the other part of his brain reminded him that he wasn’t there he was outside the compound where the government couldn’t get him, but then that was a lie too because he would never escape them, not really.

There was a therapist in front of him now. She was talking to him, Danny was sure of it. He could see her lips moving and he could hear a voice in the room but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. The words didn’t make sense together. It was just noise, just like everything else. It didn’t matter. It was noise.

His core thrummed in his chest, and he could feel the prickles of intangibility dance along his fingertips. More than anything, his core wanted to escape. To get away. Fly out the window and soar through the sky. Who cares if anyone saw him? It wasn’t like his leaving the hospital was a secret any longer. By tonight, the woman from the lobby would be all over the news, telling the story of how she only narrowly escaped the sharp claws of that rabid animal known as Danny Phantom. The disgusting, vile ghost masquerading as a human teen. How horrid that he’d managed to infiltrate a PHP program to prey on the defenseless, traumatized teens.

Everyone was going to know about him now.

Nothing mattered.

The therapist moved in closer to him, her lips still moving. He made eye contact with her, and she nodded encouragingly. But it didn’t matter.

There was no more hiding. No more running away.

Danny Phantom was back.

He was a monster.

“There’s a good dog.”

<previous / next>

[myaekingheart]

138. Rock and Roru

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

TW for eating disorder talk. *flings fluff at you* ENJOY THE CAVITIES BECAUSE THESE TWO ARE JUST TOO DAMN CUTE. A little detour to expand on Roru and her team, based on what Sekkachi mentioned to Rei in the previous chapter. I promise all of this is going to come back around and tie into Rei and Kakashi's story, so just bear with me for a second haha

               Roru Fumeiyo swung her legs back and forth idly as she gripped the edge of the bench in the hospital courtyard. The sun was far too bright and the birds were too loud. She heard the footsteps of a young couple down the hallway, laughing in disbelief as they swooned over their baby’s first ultrasound. Sick. How could anyone be happy on a day like this?

               Roru tilted her head back against the back of the bench and huffed. She couldn’t comprehend how something could turn so sour so quickly. She almost scorned herself for having woken up that morning feeling optimistic. She should have known better. Now everything was ruined, and it was all Suisen Unohana’s fault.

               Team Tekuno had been working hard to prepare for the chunin exams. With two weeks left before the written exam, they were really getting down to the wire.

               “How about I take you girls out for some ramen after this?” Tekuno had asked during a brief respite. His students sprawled out across the grass, guzzling water and fanning their faces. It may have been hot, but they knew this would be nothing compared to the unforgiving summers in Sunagakure.

               To say that Tekuno had been proud of his students was understatement. He had never expected these girls, so whiny and weak in the beginning, to become so strong and capable. They each had their own merits that, when combined, forged an indomitable alliance. Roru was agile and determined, Hoseki captivating and clever, and Suisen was smart and skilled. Tekuno couldn’t help but laugh, likening them to the famed Dorimuchimu led by Chikara-sensei. Tekuno had never paid much mind to the original all-girl squad in his youth, rolling his eyes at their sense of feminism, but now that he was in a similar position, he had garnered a newfound admiration for the old team. Especially with Roru under his wing, the younger cousin of Dorimuchimu’s Sekkachi Fumeiyo.

               Leaping to her feet, Hoseki brushed the little blades of grass from her puffy pigtails and shot her sensei a sharp smile. “Just one more sparring match first” she insisted. “I want to feel like I’ve really earned it.”

               A gleaming smile touched Roru’s lips as she nodded in agreement. Suisen rose slowly, cautiously. She was outnumbered and therefore had no room to protest. Chuckling, Tekuno took great pride in his student’s determination and agreed to let them have one more match. The girls crouched into their battle positions, awaited Tekuno’s signal, and then they were off.

               A sharp smiel touched Roru’s face as she lunged for Suisen, not unkindly. Suisen’s violet eyes bugged in and out and she began to rock back and forth on her heels until suddenly, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumpled onto the ground. Roru froze. This was not her doing. After a split-second of initial shock, she whipped around to glare at Hoseki. “What did you do?!” she shouted.

               Hoseki narrowed her eyes, offended at the insinuation. “Don’t look at me! I did nothing!”

               Meanwhile, Tekuno raced in to intervene. Deep down, he knew that something was very, very wrong. He brushed Suisen’s long, dark hair out of her face, pressed a hand to her pale forehead, checked her pulse, frowned. “Go get a medic-nin! Now!” he insisted.

               Hoseki gave a single nod before racing off, not an ounce of hesitation in her limbs. Roru watched her disappear and the weight of the situation slowly descended upon her young shoulders. Suddenly Suisen looked so weak, so helpless. What have I done?

               She stood there completely paralyzed as Tekuno propped Suisen up in his arms, pulled a scroll from his utility belt, summoned a first aid kit, worked steadily to support her until the medics came. When they did, the quickly transferred Suisen’s limp body onto a stretcher and rushed her away.

               “What the hell are you doing?” Hoseki shouted at her, whacking her comrade on the shoulder. She grabbed Roru’s hand, tugged her onward. “Let’s go!”

               The waiting felt endless as Roru and Hoseki sat slumped in the waiting room, watching Tekuno pace back and forth. And then Suisen’s parents arrived, her sweet mother hysterical and her father’s face stony with concern. Tekuno explained the situation to them and Shirayuki Unohana immediately broke down, her hands shaking and knees faltering. Without even a diagnosis, she was already hysterical. Her husband wrapped an arm around her in support and guided her to a seat by the window, assuring her that everything would be fine even though he wasn’t very convinced of it himself.

               None of it made much sense to Roru. Suisen was fine, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like she was diseased. Perhaps it was just heat exhaustion, or exhaustion in general. They had been working extremely hard lately. Tekuno pursed his lips and wondered if this was his fault, if he had taken things too far. But the girls wanted to work hard. They were the ones setting the schedules, pushing themselves. Perhaps he should have regulated their training better, forced them to take a step back when they were on the verge of going overboard. Either way, he felt as if he, too, was to blame.

               After nearly an hour, the doctor finally emerged from the emergency room. He was a rather tall and skinny man with angular features and taut lips. Nothing about him was very reassuring—he had the type of face from which you would expect to hear that you only had three weeks to live. A shiver ran down Roru’s spine.

               The verdict? Anorexia.

               A cold chill unanimously rushed through the lot of them. Suddenly it was as if the room was completely empty save for themselves, the walls closing in and the air ice cold. Dr. Gon explained that once Suisen had come to, they conducted various physical and pscyological examinations on her, and that was their conclusion. Anorexia.

               Words like underweight, malnourished, anemia, and treatment all circulated through Roru’s head. It just didn’t make any sense. What reason did Suisen have to be anorexic, anyway? She had a happy home life with parents who loved her. She was smart and skilled and capable as a shinobi. She wasn’t even fat. It didn’t make any sense.

               Dr. Gon continued to explain that due to how severe a case she was, they would have no choice but to admit her to their inpatient program for treatment. He then turned to Tekuno-sensei, muttering, “Which means your involvement in the chunin exams is now null and void.” Roru’s body went cold. She gripped the edge of her seat and suddenly the room began to spin.

               After all her hard work, all her blood and sweat and tears, this was how it was going to end? No. Absolutely unacceptable. Roru cursed Suisen under her breath. How dare she do this to her. It just didn’t make any sense.

               And what the hell was an inpatient program? Roru’s mind immediately flickered back to ghost stories told at the academy, of strait jackets and large needles and tranquilizers and the shrieks of the mentally insane. She couldn’t fathom picturing sweet, shy Suisen in a place like that.

               “It’s really not that big of a deal” Hoseki said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “My cousin is up there in the same place as we speak.”

               “You mean Kagami?” Roru asked. She had only met Kagami Kenshin a handful of times and each time she had, he gave her the creeps. He was a quiet, fidgety guy with mismatched eyes and a nasally voice. He constantly looked displeased with the world, so much so that he decided to spend all his time in others—that is, the worlds housed within books.

               Hoseki nodded disdainfully. “That idiot’s head got all out of whack to the point where he tried to kill himself” she explained. “Mama found him passed out on the floor with a bottle of pills. And now he’s laid up in the same place that Suisen is. It’s just what happens when people are messed up in the head.”

               Roru pursed her lips. She didn’t particularly appreciate Hoseki’s bluntness, but Roru knew that she did not know much better herself. After all, in the back of her mind all she could think about was how Suisen had ruined everything. None of them would be making chunin this year.

               As Suisen’s parents struggled to comprehend this new information, and Tekuno attempted to console them, Roru took the opportunity to slip away from the chaos. She needed fresh air and distance. She needed to sit with her bare feet in the courtyard grass and implode in on herself, completely alone and defeated. She should have done something. She should have paid closer attention. She should’ve seen the signs. Roru pressed a hand to her anxious stomach and reminded herself that she was not much better.

               No wonder she couldn’t realize that Suisen had a problem. Roru’s relationship with food wasn’t exactly perfect, either. But Roru was different. She didn’t restrict on purpose. She thought of her family, of the curse laid upon them, the hereditary stomach ailments that they all faced. Restriction was merely a precaution. She was intolerant, defective, diseased. Her actions were for the sake of her own health. And still, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was partially to blame. If Suisen saw the way she avoided food and followed suit. Girls their age were so easily influenced anyway. But Suisen was smarter than that. She could tell the difference, couldn’t she? Roru hoped that was the case. If not, then Suisen was a damned fool.

               Roru paid no mind when the door from the hospital lobby creaked open. If it was Hoseki coming to nag her about sulking, she didn’t want to hear it. If it was Tekuno-sensei coming to explain things to her delicately, like she was a dumb child, she didn’t want anything to do with that, either. Instead, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a bizarre green blur. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating and therefore had no other choice but to turn and view her interruptor fully.

               “Hello! What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked. Standing before her was a boy, tall and lanky with his shiny black hair cut in the most ridiculous bowl cut she had ever seen. Even more ridiculous was the green lycra jumpsuit he wore, complete with vivid orange legwarmers. He looked straight out of an 80’s aerobics video. No doubt about it, this was Might Guy’s protégé.

               Roru had nothing against Might Guy, truthfully. In fact, she was rather fond of him. He was bright and enthusiastic and got along splendidly with her family. She was sure Uncle Hakai had hoped at some point that he and Sekkachi would get together, but they all knew Sekkachi was not the type. Still, to see them together was always bizarre. Sekkachi was so blunt and cynical, whereas Might Guy was everything she was not. Roru wondered if the boy standing before her now was much the same.  

               Unfortunately, Roru was not in the proper headspace to show him the kindness he deserved. “What do you care?” she asked flatly, turning her gaze away from him.

               “Because you look like you are upset! I know it is hard not to be upset in a hospital, but you are like a beautiful angel who deserves to be happy and smile!” the boy replied. Roru cocked a brow in confusion, though deep down she hated to admit that she was flattered. No one had ever said such kind things to her before. At a time like this, it felt especially nice. The boy then sat down on the empty seat beside her and continued, “Now please, tell me what is wrong so I might be able to make you feel better!”

               “Y-you…would really do that for me?” Roru asked. “But I don’t even know you.”

               The boy paused then, blinked despondently, and then bowed his head in deep apology. For a moment, Roru was certain that heavy tears were flowing down his cheeks. “Where are my manners?! I am so sorry, Guy-sensei! I have failed you in the art of introduction! My name is Rock Lee! It is an honor to meet you!” He quickly took hold of Roru’s hand then and planted a polite kiss on the back.

               “Um, nice to meet you…Rock” Roru muttered, uncertain. All the while, she willed the blood away from her cheeks.

               “Oh, no, you can just call me Lee!” he corrected.

               “So…is your first name Rock or is your first name Lee?” she asked.

               Rock Lee paused for a moment before replying, “My first name is Rock, and my last name is Lee! I can see how that would be confusing! But I prefer to just be called Lee!”

               Who the hell names their kid ‘Rock’? Roru thought to herself. Looking at him now, though, she couldn’t say she was entirely surprised. The kid exuded bizarre. With a slight nod, she muttered, “I’m Roru. Roru Fumeiyo.”

               “What a beautiful name!” Lee gushed. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl! There is nothing more fitting! Now, please, tell me why you are so sad!”

               Roru pursed her lips, considered him. Why was he being so nice to her? Was he just vying for her affection, or did he truly, genuinely care about her feelings? At this rate, it didn’t matter. The fact that he was even expressing concern for her was enough to open the floodgates. Eyes locked on the ground, she explained the situation as best as she could to him. She could sense Lee’s face soften at her words, her tone weaving between concern and disappointment and anger. Once she was finished, there was a moment of silence and then Rock Lee spoke.

               “Do not get down on yourself!” he exclaimed. “I know it is hard, and you may feel like you will never make chunin, but Guy-sensei has always told me that if you want something badly enough, then it is never out of your reach!” He clenched his fist at his chest and grinned proudly, his eyes glossy with passionate tears.

               “That’s easy for you to say” Roru snarked. “I bet climbing the ranks has been a breeze for you.” If Might Guy’s work ethic was any indication, she was certain that Lee had inherited the same vigor and determination.

               Lee, however, shook his head. “Do not be so quick to judge!” he reminded her. “Roru, do you know why I am at the hospital today?” Roru shook her head. She presumed he was visiting a sick friend or something. He certainly did not look sick himself, but then again neither did she. “A year ago, I took the chunin exams. I fought against Gaara of the Sand, who has since become the Kazekage. He was a very strong opponent, and we fought long and hard. I did my best to prove that I am worthy as a shinobi, even though I cannot use ninjutsu or genjutsu! But I pushed myself too far and suffered serious injuries. If it was not for Lady Tsunade and her amazing medical ninjutsu, I may never have been able to walk or fight again! I am at the hospital today because I had a follow-up appointment for the surgery, to make sure that everything is still healing properly. I am happy to say that my body is recovering very well!”

               Roru dropped her gaze to the ground, took a moment to absorb everything that Rock Lee had told her. It was hard to believe that not so long ago, he had faced such incredible odds himself. He seemed so optimistic, so upbeat and bright. Where did he find the energy to be so hopeful?  And on a related note, his story made her feel almost pathetic for being angry. Other people had faced much larger obstacles than she did. Who gave her the right to be pissed off about something so petty? Not to say that her disappointment had not been erased because it hadn’t—not in the slightest. She only felt even worse about it now.

               “Roru” Lee then said, and she snapped her head up, her heart leaping into her chest at the way he spoke her name. “I am sorry that you have been met with a terrible setback. I am sorry that you are disappointed in what has happened. But I hope you do not blame yourself for what has happened to your friend.”

               Sighing, Roru shook her head and asked, “What am I supposed to do, though?” She swept her thick bangs back out of her face, careful not to disturb the little white bow fixed at the base of the swoop. “I feel so helpless. I can’t wrap my brain around any of this, it just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

               Lee frowned, and there was something so unnatural about it. “I do not know” he admitted. “I am sure that your friend is fighting a battle right now that we may never be able to understand. All we can do is give her our youthful support!”

               “Our youthful support?” Roru repeated.

               Lee nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Guy-sensei told me that when people are in a dark place, they need as much light and love as possible to find their way out. And that is what we must do for your friend! We must shower her with all of our passionate support and let her know that we are here for her and want her to get better!”

               Roru couldn’t help but laugh. The way Lee approached life, it was so innocent and straightforward. She had to admit, she appreciated that about him. And while she still was struggling to come to terms with Suisen’s situation, and the consequences of it all, Lee made her feel at least a little bit better.

               “Hey, Lee?” she said after a stretch of silence. He raised his bushy brows as if to silently show he was paying attention. “Thank you.”

               “Is it no problem at all!” Lee replied with an enthusiastic thumbs up.

               “Let me make it up to you” she said. Turning to him, a small smile spread across her lips and finally, she was no longer able to restrain the blush touching her cheeks. “Do you like dango? My treat. We can share fighting techniques if you want. I can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu either.” A small, sheepish giggle bubbled up from her chest and she couldn’t believe how nervous she had become around him. How anxious she was for him to say yes.

               A wide grin spread across Lee’s face then as he leapt to his feet, took her hand in his, and together they departed from the hospital. And while the day had gone so bitter so quickly, as Roru walked alongside this strange and upbeat boy, she began to take comfort in knowing that maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of sweetness in it after all.

[muddyhippy]

Night Terrors, Chapter 7: Enlightening Lists

Gorgeous Artwork of Ashes and Lily done by @smolghostings​ 

Enlightening Lists

Summary: Lily has a horrible nightmare involving a member of the crew and she wouldn't be a good and caring space pirate cook if she didn't go to check on her friend...

Find it on AO3: here

It was just a dream. Just a dream. It was a bad dream and nothing else and she should just go back to sleep and it was fine. She was a big girl.

 She closed her eyes.

 And saw Ashes coughing up smoke and fire.

 No. She had to go and make sure. She had to know they were alright. Ashes was so calm and unshakable and organised they didn’t get scared of anything but yesterday something had happened and they’d coughed. Ashes, just for a moment, had looked very scared. Then they’d shaken it off and said they were fine and were fine for the rest of the day Lily had watched and made sure and they hadn’t coughed again

so of course they were fine and it was just a silly nightmare and she was a big girl now and she knew it was a nightmare and—

 Lily was already walking towards storage.

 She left Gemini guarding her bed, this was a solo mission.

Ashes was exactly where Lily hoped they would be, checking through their inventories, making lists of things that were low and needing stocking up on. Lily didn’t want to interrupt them. Ashes was so sensible and organised and made sure they all had what they needed. She didn’t want to interrupt. Ashes was doing important things and she shouldn’t interrupt. They looked fine. She should go back to bed. Ashes was fine and not coughing and—

 “Why y’out of bed Scrap?”

 Ashes hadn’t looked up from their list.

 Lily froze.

 How did they know?! She been so quiet approaching the store room too. Ashes really was that om-om-omni- really good at knowing where people were.

 Lily swallowed audibly. She had a very healthy respect for Ashes, the quartermaster had an air of coiled and calculated danger about them that Lily was very aware of. Oh she knew she was 100% safe with Ashes and loved them fiercely but she respected them and their boundaries to the letter, it was only fair when they’d been so clear about them. Ashes was always kind and patient with her, even if they weren’t quite sure what to say or do with her sometimes. When they smiled at Lily for reporting things she’d used that day Lily felt so very grown up and sensible. She loved earning that smile from Ashes. It was a similar smile when they took the time to teach her card tricks, tricks she could use in games Ashes taught her to play against Jonny. They both looked so proud when Lily managed to make a trick work to score card game points, it made her feel all clever and glowy inside.

 Now though? Now she felt small and silly and in the way. Ashes was using the quiet night to get things done and she was interrupting and getting in the way.

She started to try and shrink into the shadows.

 Ashes sighed, “Don’t try to hide, I ain’t mad. Just want to know why you’re out of bed.”

 Lily sniffed, remembering why exactly she was out of bed.

 Ashes turned fully around at the sound, suddenly deeply worried they were about to have to deal with a sobbing Lily on their own without a convenient Jonny to pass her off to. Tim had warned them that she might turn up at some point but they’d never thought Lily would actually turn up seeking them out. It had been four months and nothing. They’d thought they were in the clear. Jonny might be an absolute pain in the arse when he wasn’t sorting out a show, performing or setting up some sort of heist or other exciting crime spree (read- most of the damn time) but he’d proved more than worth his weight in gold (and Ashes had calculated that down to both the ounce and the gram) in how he dealt with Lily, which was whenever soggy emotions happened they could pass her on to him.

 Ashes braced themselves.

 “I, I,” her lip wobbled.

 Oh no. Fuck. Ashes had no fucking clue what to do. The others made it look so goddamn easy. They didn’t really go in for physical affection. They had their reasons and they didn’t share but this was different, Lily wasn’t likely to try and knife them in the kidneys. Kid couldn’t even reach that far if she tried. Plus, Lily was obviously not carrying a weapon. She wasn’t even carrying the fluffy rock thing Jonny had made for her and it was hard to assume the worst of a tiny child who looked like one good sneeze would knock her over right now. Especially when she was wearing her dragon hoard pyjama set that Ashes had quietly stolen for her on the last planet because it had an objectively cute dragon curled up asleep on a vast pile of multi-coloured glittery gems. Partly because Lily liked gems of all kinds, partly because a lot of the gems had sleepy faces too and it was adorable though they’d never admit it also partly because the kid had actually grown a little bit and that was a damn good reason celebrate but mostly because it always got a shitload of glitter on Jonny whenever she wore it.

 Right now though Lily looked like she was about to disintegrate and there was only sure-fire way to deal with that before it got really bad.

 And Ashes liked the kid enough to offer.

 They sighed internally, already hearing Jonny cackling in the back of their head.

 Payback really was a bitch.

 “Do, do you want a hug?” They offered nervously, worried more for getting it wrong this time rather than being surprised by Lily. Kid had actually been really considerate and thoughtful as soon as they’d explained not liking being touched unannounced.

 Lily threw all caution to the wind, Ashes had offered so that must be alright and nodded her head so hard it was a wonder it didn’t fall off.

 Well, they couldn’t back out now. They just hoped they were half as good as Jonny, kid was pretty tolerant after all. “Alright, come here Scrap.”

 Lily fought every instinct she had to just throw herself at Ashes like she did with some of the others. Instead she walked carefully towards the Quartermaster and slowly raised her arms.

 Ashes appreciated the restraint the kid was showing. They gently scooped her up and settled Lily against their chest. ‘Scrap’ was an appropriate name, there had been almost nothing to Lily when she joined them, she had just about cleared three foot in height and couldn’t have weighed much more than two stone. In other words kid was dramatically underweight and under-height which was partly the reason Ashes had been working with Raphaella, Ivy, Marius and Brian specifically to make sure that they had the most nutritional food stuffs in stock to ensure she started gaining healthy weight. Which thankfully she was now doing, it had taken months but kid was now on the right track. They might be immoral, immortal, murdering, musical space pirates but they were not neglectful goddammit. If Ashes had been able to have met the ones in charge of Lily’s ship supplies and management they would have shot them on sight. Or just set them on fire. Kid was underweight, long before the raid. Even they’d not been that bad in the orphan house. Then again, Ashes had learned to steal pretty much as soon as they gained a semblance of control over their infant limbs, they got good at stealing from markets, timing when eateries discarded their leftovers and fighting the others for a meal. It had kept them alive after but all of these weren’t options that had been available to Lily.

 It was why Ashes had gently started to teach the kid sleight of hand, Lily needed some hustling skills, it’d set her up for life and it was the least Ashes could do to ensure the kid had a solid chance.

 Jonny was very much involved in ‘let’s get meat on Lily’s twig bones’ plan, just because whilst he didn’t go into the science of it all he knew how kids were supposed to look and Lily was little bag of sticks. His New Texas roots had made a rare appearance, every so often he’d forget himself and comment how Lily wouldn’t be able to lead a hoglet far let alone handle the herd for long. He was unsurprisingly also very much on board with the ‘murder all the idiots who thought this pioneer plan was a good one without half a clue of how to do it well’ wishful thinking.

 Ah well, as it was, having Lily in their arms and realising they would probably hold her all day one-armed and not really notice just steeled their determination on continuing to get the best stuff assembled. They had plenty of gold to hand anyways, might as well use it for a good cause.  

 “Wanna tell me what the matter is? You have a bad dream?” prompted Ashes carefully.

 “Yes.”

 Excellent, that, that was good start. Ashes, like the rest of the crew was well aware of Lily’s regular night terrors, Jonny had spent the majority of the last four months with a small child attached to him during the early ams, the hours collective known to cover the range from ‘Fuck Off’ to ‘Absolutely Not’ O’Clock. It was always good to know exactly what they were dealing with. If it was bad bad then they were not above marching right through Aurora to find the first mate who had apparently fucked off again during Nightmare Duty. Bastard.

 “Okay.” They took a breath, bracing themself, “Wanna tell me what about?”

 “You.”

 Ashes short-circuited, “What?”

 Lily took a deep breath, “I saw you cough yesterday and you looked scared and you’re never scared, you’re big and brave and organise everything really well and you’re really clever with cards, even cleverer than Jonny and then you were fine but I dreamt you were coughing up smoke and flames, like one of your lighters had gone wrong and I just had to come and check make sure you really were okay. I’m glad you are!” Her eyes began to widen when she realised she’d been invading Ashes’ space when they were just trying to get on with their quartermaster job, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you!”

 Huh. That. That was a lot. Ashes was pretty sure she managed that whole spiel on one breath too.

 Lily was still caught up with worry over Ashes though.

 “Are you really alright?”

 The Quartermaster was still reeling, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine Lily, just give me a minute. That was a lot you told me very fast.”

 “Oh. I’m sorry.” Lily bit her lip, looking trying to contain all the rest of the questions that were bubbling up inside her in the face of Ashes looking stunned.

 “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” The quartermaster tried to soothe.

 It was not fine. How the hell had she picked up on their minor coughing fit? How the hell had she picked up that it had scared the shit out of them, just for a minute. It happened every time they coughed. They never got used to it. One cough and they were back in Mickey’s trap and they were twenty three, terrified and dying all over again. It was very un-fucking-fair that Lily picked up on that single moment and even more unfair that the kid was worried for them. Kid was thirty five pounds soaking wet and here she was all worked up about them when she should be entirely concerned about continuing to get more meat on her bones and a growing spell or seven.

 Why did they have to end up with such a nice goddamn kid?!

 “Ashes?” prompted Lily nervously.

 “Yeah?”

 “You’re not saying anything and your eyes are really far away.”

 Ashes forced themself to focus back on the child in their arms, “Sorry Scrap, just thinking.”

 “Are you alright?”

 “Yeah, yeah.”

 Fuck, they’d not told her about their mechanism. Shit, actually, thinking about it, Lily didn’t know about any of the crews’ mechanisms. They’d decided as a group that they’d tell her when she was a bit older, when she asked again why they ‘came back’ since right now kid just accepted them as they were, that Tim’s eyes changed colour depending on what he was doing and using them for, that Jonny ticked, that Nastya was always cold, that Brian was entirely fucking metal or that the Toy Soldier was, well, there. Kid didn’t even question why Marius had a metal hand or why Raphaella had wings. She just accepted them wholeheartedly. She probably thought Ivy was just naturally super smart but then again, fair, she did come from a library world, Ivy was probably clever as all fuck regardless of her mechanism.

 Fuck. What the hell were they supposed to say?! Ashes took a steadying, thankfully easy breath, well, if they fucked it up Jonny could fix it. Even if that was the weirdest sentence that had ever crossed their mind.

 “Yeah, well, sometimes I get a cough, I had a spell a long time ago when I coughed and coughed and couldn’t stop for a long time.”

 “That sounds scary.”

 “It was.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the goddamned century. Ashes had been fucking terrified. They knew what it was like to have the insides of their lungs scoured and try and try to pull more air in but nothing comes and you’re drowning in mid-air with nothing but acrid air burning the life from you, all the tendons in your neck twisting and tightening, constricting everything, filling your nose with the stench of your own flesh and hair incinerating.

 “But you got better?”

 “Yeah. I got help.” And the 2nd place award to understatement of the century goes to…

 They realised when Lily continued to watch them expectantly they had to carry on and explain further, “But sometimes, something will just catch and I’ll cough and I’m reminded of that time, just for a second and it scares me but then I’m fine. So I swear Lily, I’m fine now.”

 Lily stared at Ashes for a solid thirty seconds looking for any sign of insincerity to be addressed and comforted.

 Ashes had no idea they could be held in place by such young eyes, Jonny was right the bastard, she did have a look that had her eyes taking up half her face. Last time Ashes saw a pair of eyes that colour they belonged to a broken war veteran, facilitator of localised Armageddon who’d never slept a peaceful night in twenty years.

 Ashes thought they’d felt moved then, not moved enough to outright help them but enough to tell them what they really needed to know. It wasn’t Ashes fault they didn’t really listen to them, they got where they needed to be in the end, they got to be reunited finally Ashes was glad of it if they were honest with themself. Ulysses had got their peaceful ending at last.

 Before Ashes burned the city to a crisp.

 Whole rotten thing deserved their flames, it was a cancer and didn’t deserve to breathe after they’d had their fun. It had been entertaining to murder the Olympians first though, make sure they knew their world was ending by Ashes’ hand. The one they never respected, not truly, thinking the Acheron was beneath their care, thinking they were so untouchable, so above everything. Ashes knew that feeling, knew what it was like. Knew that sense of power. But they were all one missed chemical away from death. Not like them. Not like their crew.

 The Olympians made themselves a house of cards.

 And cards burned delightfully.

 And despite all of that it turned out Ulysses had nothing on Lily in the stare department apparently.

 Ashes realised with a thrill of terror that they were unlikely to be able to bare face lie to her when she looked like that. There was something about being faced with genuine concern from an innocent face that cared that stripped all of their natural defences.

 They were completely fucked.

 Ashes held their breath and stare that bit longer.

 Whatever was on their face was passed muster, Lily settled down again.

 “Good, I’m glad. I was worried about you.”

 That. That made Ashes pause. They knew that academically, Lily was a caring kid, she cared about them all, she got worried over hurting TS by hugging it too hard sometimes for fucks sake. But still, having someone say that? Out loud? And mean it? 100%? Kid was too much for words sometimes.

 “Thanks Lily, I appreciate it.”

 “Can, can I hug you tighter please? Just for a minute?”

 Ashes swallowed. Kid was literally in their arms and she was still asking to increase contact rather than just assume and do it. She was fully prepared to be told no too. She was too good for any of them. Ashes wouldn’t have said no anyway at this point but given the circumstances, having a hug right now actually sounded pretty good.

 “Yeah Lily, yeah you can.”

 Lily beamed and shuffled upwards to wrap her arms around Ashes neck, leaning in closer to cuddle in and breathe in Ashes smoky scent, it was sharp and bitter with an underlying scent of something chemically, not Raphaella’s science chemicals, and it wasn’t quite Jonny’s whiskey, it was something else, something louder, something that could whisper but it really loved to roar when it could. It wasn’t like Jonny’s spicesmokewhiskey but it was still nice.

 Ashes took some comfort from the weight in their arms, that Lily was there because she was worried about them. That she had had a nightmare about them, not that Ashes was frightening or had done something to scare them but that Lily was scared for them. That she cared enough to be worried about them, to have seen them coughing and it was worrying enough to spark an actual nightmare because she cared about them.

 That was a lot.

 Ashes knew tangentially than Lily cared for them all, they knew that Lily was a kid that loved easily. She loved Jonny for fuck’s sake. Any fucker could tell that. But Ashes hadn’t considered in real terms that that love and care and affection extended to the rest of them. It clearly did. They just hadn’t really equated it to themselves, they didn’t make much effort to really engage with Lily, they didn’t give her the physical affection that the kid obviously needed so they just assumed Lily didn’t quite have the same esteem for them as the others that spent time with her.

 They only really spent time with her to make sure she had some important skills they didn’t entirely trust the others to impart, Jonny would teach her cheat at cards but they were far better at cheating. They were born to it after all.

 So that was their relationship, strictly business to their mind.

 Apparently not.

 Lily was just as affectionate and invested in Ashes as the rest of the crew.

 Huh. It was new information that Ashes felt they should have probably known for a long time.

 It wasn’t as cloying as they expected it to be having Lily cuddling up to them. After Mickey they were extremely guarded, Mickey had betrayed them after twelve years of loyal service and being included in the wild family that was the Lucky Sevens. He’d turned on a dime, cut them loose as soon as it was convenient. Carmilla had been choice with the truth of what Mechanisation entailed and Ashes had been too desperate, too hurt, too scared and too full of burning need for revenge to really absorb the consequences until it was far too late.

 Trust was dangerous, trust hurt and it sure as fuck got you killed or worse.

 And yet.

 Here was this little girl who’d seen and lived terrible things beyond what any child should see.

 And she trusted them all.

 A bunch of murderous space pirates. Maybe she didn’t have much of a choice in that since there wasn’t another option but she could have run. She could have taken herself off into the vents the second Jonny put her down or when she got new clean clothes and lurked and lived with the Octokittens, only coming up to steal food. But she didn’t. She stayed and trusted and loved.

 Ashes began to see their crew in a different light. Shifting from people they lived with and made music with that they tolerated and had a few good times with to come into better focus as what they really were, a family. They were one hell of a dysfunctional family but a family they were.

 They had been for a very long time.

 They hugged Lily back to cover their hard swallow to get themselves under control.

 “So you want to go back to bed?” That seemed liked a safe and responsible thing to ask.

 Lily shook her head against Ashes’ neck. “No.”

 Fuck, what were they supposed to do with her now? Ashes paused, considering. Then an idea hit, Lily liked to help after all.

 “Alright, wanna make yourself useful instead?”

 “Yes please.”

 “Right, well I’m doing an inventory of this store.”

 “Counting all the things?”

 “Yeah counting all the things in this room.”

 “I’m good at counting!”

 “Glad to hear it.” Actually, Lily kept the list in the food store diligently up to date. It was weirdly heart-warming to have someone actually do something for them just because it would make their life easier. Seeing Lily’s careful handwriting punctuated with smiley faces and little flowers never failed to quirk a smile out of them.

  Ashes carefully put Lily down.

 They settled into an easy rhythm, Ashes consulting their list, calling out the item and Lily finding out it, counting aloud for Ashes to record. The quartermaster had to help the culinary officer to sound out some of the more complicated names but they got mostly through Ashes’ list before Lily began to tire.

 She pushed on for another twenty minutes before she started to obviously droop.

 Ashes decided to be kind, kid got out of bed to check they were alright after all when she absolutely did not have to. And she’d helped with in the inventory.

 “C’mere Scrap.”

 “Wha?”

 “We’ve got the list finished, wanna come double check it with me?”

 “Can-Can I sit on your lap?”

 “Sure.” Ashes knew exactly what they’d signed on for this time and were expecting the question. Lily LOVED sitting on people’s laps, didn’t matter who, she just loved being sat on someone she could easily cuddle up to. They’d never admit to paying attention but it always warmed them a bit inside to see their crewmates, to a person, melt a little when they got a small space occupier. Even TS managed to look utterly thrilled even though its expression never changed.  

 “Okay then,” she yawned, “yes please.”

 Lily walked carefully over to Ashes, trying not to let on how excited she was about this rare contact with the quartermaster and waited till they said it was alright.

 Ashes hoisted the little girl up onto their lap, Lily sat politely still.

 “Go on Scrap get comfy,” sighed Ashes, ruffling Lily’s hair encouragingly as the little girl settled against them having had permission.

 Lily lasted all of five minutes before Ashes felt the tell-tale slump against them.

 Allowing a small smile to spread across their face the quartermaster continued to finish their listing.

 After another thirty minutes or so Ashes completed the current inventory one-handed they sighed and considered what to do next. Lily was out cold, cuddled up against Ashes’ chest, clinging to them like they’d always been there. Ashes felt another pang, they remembered being cuddled like this when they were smaller than Lily by one of the older orphans. There was an unspoken rule that the older ones looked out for the younger ones at night because no one else would.  

 For the first time Ashes felt a stab of regret for joining Mickey when they did. At eleven they counted as an ‘older one’ but never comforted a little one before leaving. They kept themself to themself, no one else really got the joy of flames like they did and the one time they managed to get something that was supposed to be ‘inflammable’ to burn beautifully and they were so damn proud of themself the friend they’d brought along panicked and snitched.

 Ashes didn’t trust anyone in the orphan house after that.

 It wasn’t worth the beating and loss of meal privileges for the week.

 They embraced their new family wholeheartedly without a single backwards glance and accepted being the youngest once again with all the freedom to burn whatever they wanted.

 Before they learned to be truly wary of touch; that a friendly clap of the shoulder could turn into an easy stab to the gut if they weren’t careful. Ashes learned to be on their guard at the orphan house but their awareness trebled in the Lucky Sevens. They’d never shaken that caution off.

 They hadn’t really thought about it for centuries.

 But maybe, maybe they might have liked being the one to comfort the little ones every so often. This was nice and it was nicer that Lily trusted them so much. She trusted them all but it was nice to have it confirmed, it definitely meant someone trusted you if they fell asleep on you. It was why the cuddle pile the first night Lily arrived had been nice. They’d not slept so peacefully like that for years.

 All of them together like that had been actually pretty brilliant.

 Not that they would admit it.

 And anyway, they should probably head to bed and do something with the tiny child sleeping on them. Ashes didn’t want to wake her but they also didn’t want to take them to their bed. That was not an option. Trust was one thing but bed-sharing was next level and something they weren’t willing to stretch to yet. But putting Lily back in her own bed alone probably would wake her up and they’d be back to square one.

 It took them roughly three seconds to make a decision.

 Carefully Ashes rose gracefully, holding Lily tightly, waiting to see if there was any change in the sleeping child.

 Lily snuffled closer.

 Ashes refused to melt at that.

 Deciding to focus instead what that meant- it was safe to proceed, Lily was out cold and unlikely to wake. They’d seen Jonny carrying her about, swaying with the motion and singing and the kid was dead to the world. They could absolutely get away with getting up.

 Ashes hoped it was late enough for no one else to be up and about, and if they were they would deny everything and burn them for good measure.

 Ashes made their way straight to their destination.

 Jonny’s door wasn’t locked.

 Jonny’s room wasn’t empty.

 Just as they’d expected.

 He’d been sleeping more regularly over these past four months, in his actual bed of his own accord, not passed out in the mess or having to be put to bed by Brian. Apparently being a comfort blanket for an eight year old orphan was clearly doing something for him, they’d never seen him this well rested, or this honestly exhausted. Emotions were hard and draining one of the many reasons Ashes tried to keep theirs under wraps. But they had to hand it to the kid, they’d not seen strung-out, post-nightmare Jonny roaming the corridors looking for a fight for a while. Every time they had crossed paths late at night Jonny was either crooning to Lily or screaming with her as they charged up and down hand in hand.

 It was strange but Ashes thought that he looked as comfortable doing that as he was on stage or shooting people. Maybe even more so.

 Ashes took a moment to regard their crewmate, friend, if they really had to admit it, best friend if they allowed themself to be sentimental in their own head for hot second. Jonny got the joy of cards and whiskey and truly satisfying arson in a way that nobody else did. Which meant they were willing to put up with a modicum of his bullshit, he’d been the one to light them a cigarette when they’d first awoken on the Aurora after all, helped them find their feet and breathe through their first few panics when they remembered the betrayal of smoke curling in their lungs. He’d helped them find the gasoline for Malone. He’d tried to keep Carmilla’s hands off them.

 Sometimes, just sometimes, he’d get a pass.

 He looked different when he was asleep, so much younger, like the years had melted off him, without all the swagger and bluster and rage he looked even younger than they knew themselves to have been when Carmilla got their hands on them. Huh. It was something Ashes had never really considered before, they always assumed he was older when Carmilla got him. Much older.

 Anyway, they didn’t have time to ponder.  

 They had a child to deposit.

 Ashes, using their other hand, deftly drew back the blankets covering Jonny. In a demonstration of how much had changed in four short months (or were they the longest four months in centuries?), instead of waking in a furious roar of confused gunfire and recrimination he snuffled in his sleep, calm enough to just pull back from them to chase the retreating warmth of the blankets, trying to burrow further into the mattress.

 It would have been almost cute if you were into that sort of thing.

 Very gently the quartermaster placed Lily onto said mattress next to the slumbering first mate.

 It was like putting two magnets in close proximity, the second Lily was on the bed she was unconsciously seeking Jonny, shuffling towards him. Jonny for his part, the moment the mattress dipped with the weight of a second body his arm reached out for her, wrapped around her and pulled Lily into his side, safe and protected against the world. Neither showed any sign of anything other than a final settlement, a contented sleep knowing everything was as it should be.

 A cub safe in the den once again.

 Ashes allowed a small fond smile to form as they took in the sight, Jonny D’Ville, killer, renegade, liar and thief, and human(ish) teddy bear for an eight year old orphan. The universe was, by and large an uncaring cold expanse where not even a grain of justice or fairness could be found but sometimes, just sometimes, it threw things together that worked.

 The two were good for each other. Ashes surprised themselves with how much it pleased them to see both occupants of the bed improve. How much they liked to see everyone in the crew take on a brighter, soften sheen.

 Sometimes amidst all their violence and cheating and flames it was good to have something else. Something they could share.

 They were glad it was this and what it had become.

 Ashes pulled the blankets over the pair of them, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to Lily’s wild hair.

 Because they could.

 It felt right and no one could see them and no one need know. They didn’t need to know it was something they’d longed to feel in the orphan home, someone tucking them in with a soft kiss goodnight. Ashes would burn themself to their namesake before they’d own up to that fact. It didn’t stop it from being truth though, nor that they were glad they could do that for Lily. Kid was affectionate after all, she clung to anything that was offered.

 They sauntered out confident that no one had witnessed anything and that was fine.

 As Ashes headed for their own bed, Aurora considered her collection of images from that evening. There were some very choice ones of Ashes rocking Lily, working whilst they held her and carrying the sleeping child through the corridors, all the way to tucking her and Jonny back into bed together.

 These would be perfect to add to the album Aurora was compiling for when Lily came of age.

 And for blackmail purposes. Naturally.

[notiimu]

Hunger

“Joël M. Lambert.” The doctor’s words echoed in the otherwise quiet doctor’s office. “Yes sir.” The man in front of the doctor spoke. The man looked frail. He had a thin frame and unusually silky hair. The man’s eyes were slightly bloodshot and he was sweating quite heavily. The doctor looked back to his documents as he spoke again. “What brings you here?”

The man swallowed before he began to talk again. “I’m... Hungry. Constantly.” He explained. “No matter how much I eat, I keep on being hungry.” The doctor jotted down the man’s words. “Could you describe your eating habits?” The doctor continued. The man, Joël, stayed quiet for a while, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to tell. “I eat a lot.” He started, “I have six big meals a day and I snack a lot during the day. It just doesn’t satisfy me like it should.” Joël looked down in shame. The doctor just took notes. “That sounds like an odd case...” He muttered before facing the frail man in front of him again. “We’re going to have to run some tests on you so we can find out what causes this.” He explained, “We’ll get your blood drawn today, but I would like to keep you here for a while so we can take some scans and test your thyroid.” The doctor explained. Joël, relieved, thanked the doctor. Maybe now he would finally find out what caused this nagging hunger! The doctor gave him directions to where he could get his blood drawn before sending him on his way. “I’ll see you back tomorrow.” They shook hands before they parted ways. The doctor moving on to the next patient, and Joël to the next doctor.

 The day after, Joël returned to the hospital. He met with his doctor again, who took him to his room. “This is where you’ll be staying for now.” The doctor explained him. “We’ll do our best to find out what’s bothering you as soon as possible.” This assured Joël, who thanked the doctor before entering his room. The room was small, but big enough to at least fit four beds and a few lockers. The only problem Joël saw was the lack of anything to store food in. But it was a hospital, after all. They would probably bring it to him, right? “Make yourself at home for now, We’ve scheduled a thorough examination in an hour.” With those words, the doctor left Joël in his room. Joël went to unpack his stuff in the locker assigned to him, looking forward to the examination as well as wondering if he would get any nice roommates. It would be a little lonely to be here all by himself, after all. The room suddenly filled with a loud rumbling noise. Ah, there it was, the hunger. Joël’s jaws started making a swallowing motion and he started to belch noisily. He needed food, he thought. An hour passed, and the doctor has returned to Joël’s room to escort him to the examination room. When he opened the door, he saw the state Joël was in. He was sweaty, drooling and looking for food. The room smelled heavily of body odor, which was logical considering how much the patient was sweating. The doctor cleared his throat, alerting the frail man of his presence. He looked his way, wiping some drool off his chin. “Can I perhaps eat something before the examination?” He asked calmly. The doctor looked at Joël in silence for a bit before he nodded. “I’ll ask the nurse to bring you some food there.” He told him. This was an unusual request, but they couldn’t have the patient act the way he was during the entire examination. “For now, please, follow me.” Joël obeyed, following the doctor calmly as he kept making swallowing motions as they went.

 There were two doctors waiting on them in the examination room. The two greeted the other doctor and their patient. As they began examination, the room filled up with the stench of sweat. Though it didn’t bother the two doctors examining Joël, the other doctor could barely stand it. The doctors focused mostly on the movement of the jaw and the patient’s swollen throat. “For how long have you had these complaints?” One of the doctors asked. Joël shrugged. “Since I was a small child, I think.” He explained. “My mother always complained about my appetite.” He chuckled. The other doctor wrote his response down. “By the time I was sixteen, I could eat a meal meant for six people and still not be satisfied.” He added.  As they went on with their examination, they found Joël was underweight, but had a lot of loose skin around his waist. “Was there a period in your life where you were overweight?” One of the doctors asked. “No.” Joël responded, “I have always been on the skinny side.” The doctors wrote it down. “Any digestive issues?” The other asked. This question seemed to make the skinny man rather uncomfortable. “Yes.” He responded eventually. “I am able to eat about anything, even non-edible things, without any issue.” He looked down. “And, well...” The patient fiddled with his hands and cleared his throat. “I got a chronic case of the runs.” He muttered. The doctors both nodded as they wrote it down. The frail man looked up in excitement when a nurse came in with food. Though it was a full meal for a grown adult, Joël found the amount to be a bit underwhelming. The doctors took this as their que to leave the room for a while and discuss.

 “I suspect Grave’s disease.” The first doctor spoke. “No, I don’t think it is. His diet is pretty abnormal.” The other doctor responded. “Not to mention he only checks two of the boxes for that.” The first doctor sighed and agreed. “Whatever it is, it’s most definitely hyperthyroidism. I want to run some blood tests.” “I agree. I think we should-“ Their discussion was cut short by the nurse, who came back outside, gagging. When asked what’s wrong, she looked at them with wide eyes. “It smells absolutely rancid in there.” She explained. “I don’t know what it is, but that man smells horrible.” The doctors exchanged looks before going back inside. As described, they were hit with a foul stench the moment they opened the door. They were surprised to find Joël having already finished his meal. “It might be a little rude to ask, but is there more?” He asked innocently. One of the doctors started speaking again, trying not to gag. “I think we gathered enough information for today.” The doctor managed to speak. Joël was escorted back to his room quickly before the examination room would be cleaned. The patient obviously was embarrassed by the ordeal, but didn’t want to speak up.

 After a week of research, examining and testing, the hospital had decided to put Joël on a controlled diet. His food intake would be reduced to 5 meals and two snacks a day, and slowly become less and less, until he would eventually go down to a healthy 3 meals and 2 snacks a day. As they progressed this, Joël started to show odd behaviors. Sometimes, he would sneak out of his room to go rummage through the trash, steal food from the cafeteria and sometimes eat from the plants that stood around the hall. The doctors could tell Joël wasn’t taking the treatment well, and decided they needed to take action. “It’s his thyroid. He needs medication.” One of the doctors suggested. “If it was just his thyroid, it wouldn’t explain the stench and the loose skin.” The other argued. Truly, the doctors were lost on what to do at this point. For now, they decided to give Joël medication to see how that would work for him. If they tackled one issue, it might just be easier to take on the other issues.

 The doctor, who had been on this case since the beginning, was assigned to bring Joël his first dose of the medication. Both to explain the treatment as well as see if he would even take it. The doctor opened the door after knocking, only to see the patient picking his teeth. He stood by the bin, which made the doctor assume he had been rummaging through the trash again. “Joël, I have good news for you.” He started. “You’re taking me off the diet?” Joël asked, hopeful. “No, but we do have these pills here.” The doctor showed Joël a bottle of pills, to great and clearly visible disappointment of the man. “I’m sorry, Joël, but the diet is necessary to help you recover your weight at a regular pace once we stabilize your thyroid.” The thin man looked down, understanding the reasoning, but being disappointed nonetheless. “If I take those pills, the hungry feeling will go away, right?” He asked. “Sort of.” The doctor responded. “They help your thyroid make the right amount of hormones again, so you won’t feel hungry all the time anymore.” The doctor explained as his patient listened carefully. “However, you will still feel hungry when you need to, like any healthy person.” Joël nodded, understanding. “I hope so. I’ve been so hungry, it’s almost unbearable.” He explained his doctor, who was glancing over at the trash can. “Have you been eating from there again? You were picking your teeth next to it when I came in.” The doctor asked. The bin was almost empty, except for what seemed to be a few tissues and some hair. “Oh, that. Well, you guys have a mouse problem. Or, well, had. You had one.” The frail man rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hungry and wasn’t thinking, so I took care of it.” The doctor looked back at his patient in horror. “You ATE mice?” He asked in shock. “Well, how else would I have done it?” The man responded. “Alright, you’re coming with me.” The doctor sighed. He had to get his patient checked again.

 Once again declared free of parasites, Joël was put back in his room. The hunger was slowly getting to him over time, as the pills didn’t seem to work for him and his diet was still very restricted. The constant swallowing motion of his throat, the belching and the chewing motions without anything to chew, started to hurt the young man. His teeth got damaged from all the grinding and the excessive drooling had left him feeling dehydrated. His room reeked bad enough for people to no longer want to come in, leaving Joël to feel isolated. He started contemplating if staying here was such a good idea after all. Surely, the doctors tried, but the treatment made him feel like he was going crazy. Joël spent the next days trying to chase whatever found itself in his room to eat, begging the doctors and nurses for more food, which he was denied. Still taken over by hunger, the frail man decided he needed to take drastic measures as he felt like he could no longer take the state he was in. He opened the door, which only was still unlocked so he could leave to go to the toilet, and went to the front desk, his eyes darting left and right, completely bloodshot as he walked the hallway, drooling as he went.

 “I want to quit my treatment.” The thin man demanded once at the desk. The hospital worker raised an eyebrow. “May I have your name?” She asked, half interested. “Joël Maxim Lambert.” The man responded as he wiped the drool from his face. “Date of birth?” The woman asked, typing in his name. “October 11th, 1993.” He managed to speak in between swallowing. “Let’s see... Joël Lambert... You’re here for extended research on your condition, it says.” The woman read out loud, pressing a button under her desk. “Yes, I am.” The young man responded. “I want to quit it. It’s done nothing for me other than make my issues worse.” He explained. “Anything you could possibly do for me?” His tone was desperate. The woman just shook her head as three large men appeared behind Joël. “You have to stay here until you’re discharged by the doctors. I can’t do much for you. I’m sorry.” The woman informed him. “Sorry sir, but you need to go back to your room.” One of the large men spoke. “No. No, I’m not going back!” Joël spoke, still drooling heavily as he grinded his teeth in a chewing motion. Not listening to the fragile looking man, the three men restrained the fighting patient and carried him back to his room.

 It’s been three days since Joël tried to escape his personal torture, as he liked to call it. The door was now locked and he was given a port-a-potty since his access to a regular toilet was denied. The other three beds in his room were removed to prevent him from eating them. As weird as it sounds, he had tried it. Now, with his lacking diet, he had resorted to eating the only thing he could. Gross, but to him, necessary. Though the food he’d eat would still be enough for two average people to survive, for him, it wasn’t enough. Here he was, a man in his mid-twenties, no family to contact, out of a job, literally eating his own shit. God, he hated it here. He jolted up when he heard the door unlock and open. The doctor stood there with an unfamiliar man. “Joël, I’d like you to meet Dr. Dubois. He’s a psychiatrist.” Joël wiped some drool off his chin with his left hand before shaking the other man’s hand with his right hand. “Hello there, I heard it wasn’t going too well with you, so I came to have a talk.” Dr. Dubois told Joël, who seemed thankful to finally have some human contact for a while. “Would you like to talk here, or would you like to come to my office to talk?” He then suggested. The thin man sighed with a smile. “It’s cause it smells here, huh?” He asked the psychiatrist, who shrugged in response. “Let’s do it in your office then.” He responded, just wanting to get out of this room for a bit.

 “So, why don’t we start with telling something about yourself?” Dr. Dubois asked. The frail looking man nodded in response, clearing his throat. “Well, I’m Joël Lambert, I’m 25 years old and I come from France. I moved not too far from here in 2016.” He explained. “You’ve only lived here for two years, then?” Joël nodded in response. “My parents wanted me out as quick as possible. I made some money doing some shows on the internet and I used it to move here.” “What kind of shows?” Dr. Dubois asked, jotting down the conversation on his notepad as they went. “Me stuffing my face with food, mostly. I have an unusual appetite, which is why I’m here in the first place.” The psychiatrist wrote it all down. “How do you like it here?” He then asked. Joël fell silent, looking offended at the question. “Gee, they locked me up and are basically starving me, I haven’t heard anything of a treatment for the past two weeks and my hunger is driving me nuts. Obviously I must love it here.” He responded sarcastically. “And how does that make you feel?” Dr. Dubois added. The other man just huffed. “It makes me feel forgotten. I want to be treated for my hunger and I’m fairly sure a simple diet is not going to work.” He crossed his arms. “They said it’s my thyroid, but they have stopped giving me the pills they prescribed me because they fear I might overdose.” The other man nodded, writing it all down. “I think I understand it now.” He spoke as he nodded. “Would you like to stop your treatment?” That question sparked joy to Joël, whose eyes lit up as he heard it. “Yes! Are you able to help me with that?” He exclaimed excitedly. “I can give it a try. I can get more done than a patient, but I’m not promising you anything yet.” Dr. Dubois responded. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Joël threw himself onto the larger man in front of him, hugging him gleefully. Dr. Dubois was caught off guard, not noticing the patient had snatched his keycard. He eventually managed to pry the thin man off of him. “I’ll do my best for you.” He reassured him. Afterwards, the two sat together for a while to talk about his mental state a bit more until the psychiatrist was out of time and Joël had to return to his room.

 Some days passed, and Joël had managed to keep the keycard hidden. Hopefully, they haven’t disabled the card yet, as this might just be his way to finally not be hungry for a night. All it took was negligence from one of the staff members, and Joël was out. Stupidly, one of the cleaners forgot to lock the door back up after cleaning the patient’s room. This, he felt, was his que. At a little past midnight, he snuck out of his room, keycard in hand. It was now that he was thankful for both his light frame and the loose skin, as the first made sneaking around easier, and the latter made hiding the keycard easy. Eventually, Joël reached the staff room and stole a spare key to his room. If they didn’t suspect him even being able to get out, they had no reason to expect he was the one who had the key. From there, the man thought about what to do next. He couldn’t raid the canteen, that was too obvious and the area was secured. He looked around, seeing another door that lead somewhere else. He approached the door, curious to what was inside. After opening the door with the key card, het was met by a flight of stairs. He climbed down to be met by a short hallway with only two doors. One was an elevator door, and the other one was a door which seemed to lead to a room. He approached it, opening the door with the key card to see what was inside.

 Joël found himself in the middle of a morgue. At first it slightly disturbed him, but what disturbed him more was the thought of laying here himself one day if he didn’t take measures into his own hands regarding his diet. Between this and eating his own shit until he died, he would much rather have any nutrients left by those that wouldn’t need it anymore anyway. He took a walk around the morgue, trying to see if there was anything that wouldn’t be suspicious if it were to be missing. Eventually, he spotted a bin labelled “Bio waste”. He carefully opened it, being met by both a slight stench and a bunch of fresh and almost fresh amputated limbs and organs, discarded to be incinerated later on. Kinda creepy, he thought, but it would probably taste better than his own feces. After making sure no one was around, he took a trash bag from one of the drawers and stuffed it with some limbs and organs. After filling it halfway, he tied it shut to make sure he could hide it. It might not be much food-wise, but it was more and better than what he had. Now to get back to his room and start feasting in peace.

 The thin man managed to go undetected for the night, now feasting on his newly acquired midnight snack. The taste of flesh was... Nice. For a change, he thought. Though he still found the meat rather dry, as it was mostly drained from the blood that used to be in it. Nevertheless, he munched away happily, stuffing his face with his new favourite snack as he left nothing but the bones. Finally, he felt close to satisfied for the first time since he was put on the diet. He stuffed the bones back into the bag, which he then hid under his mattress to dispose of on his next trip. He repeated his new found snack run every night for the next two weeks, until the doctor finally started a new way of treatment.

 “After some discussion with your psychiatrist as well as with some other medical professionals, I have decided to add some more food to your diet.” The doctor announced. Joël was indifferent about the announcement, both because he had become desensitized about eating human meat over the past week and didn’t mind it at all anymore, actually, he was craving the taste right now, as well as the fact all he wanted was to get out of here. But he thought some extra food was always a nice addition. “On top of that,” The doctor continued, “We’ve decided to prescribe you a medication cocktail of mood stabilizers and antidepressant to help you cope.” He handed the still very thin man the bottle of pills as he explained how to take them. At last, his treatment would continue. Through his swallowing and chewing motion, he thanked the doctor. After all, he might actually start having a life if this treatment helped! The first two days went well, but Joël started having bad, intrusive thoughts. Sometimes, he started doing things he didn’t even realize he was doing, like kicking the door or hitting the walls whilst blankly staring ahead. The doctors started adjusting his medication, which didn’t seem to work. Joël started scratching at his face and taking even more from the morgue at night. No longer satisfied with just the bio waste bin, which was also thinning out now, he turned to the bodies laying in the morgue themselves. First, he just ate parts he thought that could be missed, then it became more, eventually getting to the point it no longer could be missed. With his mental state deteriorating and his hunger growing, Joël started to feel as if he was starting to lose control of himself, his actions and his thoughts. He longed for more. He longed to eat and to not feel this nagging hunger anymore. This hospital was restraining him, he felt.

 At some point, Joël had developed a taste for the fresher meat. His taste, in his words, refined to long for the juices and blood that the fresh meat provided. His drooling and swallowing motions became worse every time he’s had it, longing for more. The day old meat started to become less and less satisfying. He needed something more fresh. Something he could bring with him easily so no one would notice. But it had to be fresh. He needed it to be fresh. One day, he’ll get his satisfaction. One day, his hunger will be gone. Patience... He needed to be patient.

 After god knows how long on the medication cocktail and endless trips to the morgue, he overheard a conversation between his psychiatrist and doctor. They saw no other option but to lock him up, they said, having noticed his mental health spiraling to an all-time low, along with the scarring caused from scratching at his face. It was then Joël saw no other option. He had to escape that night. Flee this hellhole that pretended to help people! He grinded his teeth as he drooled, his long, ginger hair hanging in his face, sticking to it here and there thanks to the drool and blood on his face. He didn’t move a muscle until his next meal, only to take on that same position again. The once desperate, shy and friendly Joël he once was seemed to have completely disappeared and has made way for a bitter, inconsiderate man driven by hunger and a broken mind. He waited until nightfall before he finally stood up again, now covered in sweat and his own saliva, his face still red and bloody from all the scratching. He wiped his wet hair out of his wet, sweaty face and unlocked his door. The hungry man made his way down the hallway one last time, not bothering to clean up the bones from his last trip to the morgue this time. He craved it. Food. Meat. Hunger... He felt nothing else but hunger and the desire to leave this confined space. Oh, how he hated not being able to leave this tiny room for so long. His teeth grinded together as he scanned the area, skipping the morgue this time. He didn’t want any more of that rotten stuff! He wanted something fresh. He demanded something fresh! He made his way to the floor below, leaving a trail of drool as he went. He looked around, finding a sign that pleased him. He smirked as he followed the arrows, preparing himself for a nice last meal before finally leaving this wretched place.

 The door opened easily with the keycard. There, in front of him, lay multiple new born children. He looked around, seeing the nurse fast asleep. He decided to let her live for now. He’d have a hard time taking her with him, after all, and he’d like to enjoy his meal in peace, away from the place that caused him all this pain in the first place. He swiftly left the place with two infants, quietly escaping the hospital using the fire escape exit. Feeling the fresh air on his skin for the first time again, he smirked, drooling over the two infants who promptly started wailing. “Shhh... Hush now, little ones...” Joël spoke, his voice soft and cracking. He wasn’t crying, however. He was almost... Laughing. “Hush now... Soon you can go back to sleep...”

   We’re interrupting the regular program to warn all citizens of an escaped mental patient by the name of Joël Maxim Lambert. This man is the main suspect in the current events of the murder cases as of late. If you see this man, do not approach him, do not attempt to speak to him and avoid any contact with the man. Contact your authorities immediately and relocate to a safe location. This man is said to have cannibalistic tendencies and allegedly kidnapped two young infants from the hospital in [REDACTED], authorities say. If you are in this area, lock your doors and windows at night and avoid low populated places at all cost. We thank you for your cooperation.

[mxvladdy]

Dinner for Two

Hello again! Hope y’all are doing just groovy. 

Here’s another fic! It can also be found here ! 

I got some WIPs in the works so it’s back to the coal mines for me. 

Chapters: 1-2-3 

The world spun again, more forceful than before. Reaching out blindly you grasp for the closest thing to you. This time it was your friend Genji. Cool metal wrapping around your forearm helping you steady yourself as you breathe through the wave of nausea.

“Doctor! Are you alright?” His scarred brows raising in worry looking for a place to let you rest. He leads you slowly to a nearby bench and away from your workstation.

You wave off his concern resting your fevered brow on your knees taking steady gulps of air in hopes to alleviate the sick feeling. “I'm fine. I'm fine. It's just exhaustion, haven't been able to sleep well of late.”

“Hmmm.” He sat nodding knowing the feeling all to well. “Missing your bear?” Genji joked releasing his hold on you to give you some space, his tone still laced with worry.

You chuckle dryly emerging from your ball to lean back, resting on the metal wall behind you. You did miss Jesse. It would have been a down right lie to say otherwise. His warm body encased around you, shaggy chestnut hair fanning out on his pillow. The whiskey smoke smell of him, an oddly comforting scent.

He was halfway through a six month mission with Soldier, Winston, and Angie to America looking into a Talon lead. As an infiltration mission, it requires time to build trust and connections. Meaning it was a pain in the ass for everyone.

I've been missing ya somethin’ fierce doll. Can't stop thinking about ya. Bed’s too cold nowadays. I wish ta god you could have come along. But can't be puttin’ all our medics in the field. His low timbre reverberating through the tinny speaker of your phone. Everytime he called it was a double edge sword, you were overjoyed that he was alive and safe. Yet it made the miles apart feel even longer.

You look up at Genji's patient expression. “I do.” You admit accepting the ninja's help getting up, the sickness passing as quickly as it had come. Genji nodded sagely heading back to your station where you had been working on an upgrade for his respiratory system. Your work was on par with Angie's, making the head medic feel comfortable dividing her workload with you.

“Perhaps you should take a break for the rest of the day? I'm not going anywhere and the upgrade isn't critical yet. Why not join Reinhardt and myself for lunch?” Genji nudged, placing his hand between you and your work. You agreed hoping a break would make you feel better.

It did not. Instead you retired to your quiet room curling around Jesse's pillow and drifted into a dreamless sleep stomach tossing and turning . This was your day to day life for the next three weeks. But it was only getting worse. Nausea, bloating, headaches, and fatigue plagued you as sleep evaded you. You hid;  brushing off concern with the same line.

“ It's just stress .” You sigh dismissing Ana's hand on your shoulder but graciously accepting the hot mug of tea. Enjoying her company in the common room after getting fed up with sitting in the spare medical lab all day.“I don't know how Angie does this.” You sigh dramatically.

“I sometimes wonder about the both of you. If I didn't know better I'd say you and Ziegler are secret masochists.” Ana chuckled. You flush, skin darkening as Ana levels you with a knowing smirk. “Ahh~Thought that was more you and Jesse's shtick.”

“What's more my shtick?” A deep southern drawl purrs behind you. A deep purr you thought you still had another two months before you could hear it in person. You didn't get a chance to turn before two strong burly arms wrapped around you. He smelled of sweat and gun oil. The staleness of the airship hung over him telling you more than anything that he just arrived.

Ana rolled her eye at your sequel when he lifted you into his chest spinning you around to capture you in a soul stealing kiss. “I was under the impression I still had another six weeks of peace.” Ana joked, raising to pat his back as he lowered you to the floor. His attention not wavering from you.

“You know me Ma’am, can't be kept away from ya.” Jesse winked his smile damn near blinding. “But the mission went off without a hitch, got all the data we need to put a hurtin’ on the next Talon operation.”

“Good,” Ana nodded curtly, looking at her com. “Ah… Soldier wants us all at the debriefing in five. Best be heading over.”

You both watch her leave arms still wrapped around each other. Jesse breaks first brushing his lips down your throat pulling a giggle from you as his beard hairs tickle you. Your good mood doesn't last long though as your nose seems to really pick up on his scent. The pleasant sweat and gun metal smell from earlier now astringent and overpowering. You gag choking back the bile in your empty stomach.

“Damn,” Jesse pulls back watching you cup your hand over your nose and mouth. “I smell that bad doll?”

“No. Sorry I've just been under alot of stress of late. My body is protesting.” You cough forcing yourself back into his arms.

He coos sympathetically rubbing your back. “M’ sorry sunshine, let me make it up to you tonight huh? Hot bath- a few drinks. Hell I'll even sneak out an’ get us some food from town, your choice. Maybe a movie if I can keep my eyes open long enough. Just gotta get through this damn debrief,” He looks at his com cover your shoulder checking for messages. “which we are ‘bout to be late for so let's get gettin’.”

You arrived only a few seconds late. Reinhardt holding the door for you and Jesse beaming brightly at you both. You took your seat next to Angie and Ana while Jesse sat by Genji and Lucio. Nodding politely at the two women you settle in listening to the monotone drone of Winston's debriefing scrolling through the file in front of you. He took an hour before Soldier started.

“Is it hot in here?” You whisper leaning over to Ana when 76 had his back to them. Ana frowned, shaking her head noting a slight sheen of sweat gracing your dark skin.

“Not really. Do you need to step out? This many bodies in a room could heat it up.”

You shake your head thinking maybe you were just overreacting. Instead you pour yourself a glass of water sipping slowly, losing focus. Ugh, that pesky nausea was back making the room swim. You could feel it at the corners of your vision. Had you eaten today? It wasn't abnormal for you to miss a meal or two. You ate ridiculously late last night, a sudden craving as you watched Hana play video games. So skipping breakfast shouldn't have been that bad an issue. Besides Lena had needed assistance with a nasty sprained ankle.

“You are looking a little under the weather my friend!” You jump glass shaking in your hand. Reinhardt sounded so distant, like though water. How odd…

You try to speak but your tongue seems to be cemented to your mouth. The room's axis tilts dangerously as you try to steady yourself. The swimming wasn't just at the corner of your eyes anymore. A blonde blob took up your vision. The blob speaking softly trying to take you with it.

A bad choice. Your knees buckled the moment you rose, the swimming in your vision turning violent. The water in your ears turned to crashing waves disorienting you as your vision went black.

You woke in darkness a faint light to your side illuminating flat white tiles above you. Your vision was steady but blurry as you took in your surroundings. It was the medical wing. You could tell that much by the stiff mattress and scratchy sheets covering you. A pressure in your arm gives you pause. Shifting in the sheets you touch at it recognizing the tug and pull of an IV drip.

“Ah! You're awake!” Angie chipper voice emerging from thin air to your side. “Gave us a fright back there.”

“What happened?” You asked, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion trying to focus on her uncharacteristically tight smile. She hums bringing up your charts.

“Low blood sugar. Very low blood sugar. Bordering on coma inducing, you banged your head rather hard when you passed out; but it's fine. Everyone is fine.” She friendly tone turning professional and curt, her hands busy adjusting your IV and raising the lights in the room slightly. “Are you too hot? Too cold? What was the last thing you ate? You should have come and told me sooner.”

Angie helps you sit up adjusting the bed and pillows to your comfort. “Angela I'm fine. I have been just so caught up in work, you know I get stress sick sometimes. I'll be more careful.”

Your friend stopped midway into checking your vitals. “Are you- I had thought as much. It's unlike you to be so reckless.” She finishes jotting down a quick note before handing you your medical records.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You scroll through blindly feeling ill for a whole new reason. How could you have been so stupid to have not picked up on all the subtle changes. You backtrack the past months counting the days. Your period, while erratic and hard to chart was never this late.

“How…” Your voice cracks lowering the tablet to your knees. Angie waits putting a supportive hand on your leg watching you process. “I'm a fucking doctor, and I miss that I'm pregnant!” Your laugh was empty, on the verge of hysterics. Shaking in a mix of awe and panic you place a hand  against your midriff. How could you miss this?

Fat is soft and malleable when you gain it. It grows in multiple areas at once, not collecting in one area growing steadily for so long. Dread fills you. You had been foolish thinking you were eating too much, so you cut back, taking up walking with Mei and hikes with Lucio. You had been starving yourself. Your child.

“Don't,” Angie cut into your downward spiral of guilt. “I'm not the most well versed in this but I did as thorough a check as I could and everything looks fine. You're underweight for the start of your second trimester but other than that you're fine,” She squeezes you leg reassuringly. “ they are fine .”

Falling back on the bed you bury your face in your hands groaning out. “Angie how did I fuck up this bad.”

She chuckled against her better judgement, but knowing you the worst had passed for now. “I can take some of the blame. I did dump a lot on you before I left. I knew I could trust you to stay focused on our work. I guess I underestimated how focus you would get. We are much in the same on that front. Stress does strange things to the body, as we both know. I, if I was in your shoes, would probably write it off as stress too.”

You gripe folding your arms defensively over your belly remembering Ana's comments from early. Jesse. “What do I tell Jesse? Did you say anything to him?” You snap rounding on your friend.

“I have kept everyone out including him till I could assess what was wrong, as per protocol. No matter what that man says otherwise.” Angie frowned looking towards the door. “You haven't been under for more then three hours. But I doubt he has left his vigil at the door. Do you want me to get him?”

You shake your head vigorously wrapping yourself over your stomach defensively. You had never discussed children. Anything really outside of dating. How would he react? What would this mean for you in the newly reformed Overwatch? “I need some time. I have to think this over.”

Angie rose nodding in agreement. “Let me know whatever you decide. I'll be there anyway I can.” She helps you lower the bed and turns off the lights again before leaving. You hear her exit and immediately start talking with someone on the other side of the door.

It was two days before you allowed visitors deciding to spend those days cramming as much knowledge and food into you all while talking things through with Angela. You had decided to tell Jesse and go from there, notifying Winston you could do nothing but wait to see what this meant for you for work and living on base. Angie was adamant she would pressure him to let you stay on as a medic on base until you were ready to take leave. As for housing well; maybe you could find a nice flat off base if it was an issue. You didn't think your shared room with Jesse was large enough for three. If there would be three.

As if beckoned by your thoughts Jesse was there knocking softly on your door not a few minutes after Angie sent out a notice that you would be allowing guests. He flashed you a crooked smile raising a plastic bag with a little smiley face on it. “I promised ya a hot bath and food...bath might be later but I thought maybe you would like some non-Angie approved food.” He fidgeted holding back his want to dash to you, his fears threatening to overflow. Watching you just drop at that meeting almost took him down with you. You looked ill when he greeted you but he didn't think it was that bad. Angie said it was low blood sugar from lack of food and sleep. But he knew better, there was something else on top.

He waited watching you shift the massive amount of blankets around you, burying yourself further in their warmth before smiling shyly. Boots thumping loudly on the floor he approached his grin freer this time pulling up a chair and your floating tray. “Oh. Did ya already eat doll? I can come back later if you want. Ang’ been saying your still feelin’ a little green ‘round the gills.” He frowned, noticing the scraps of foods on your discarded plate. It looked like the remains of something he would eat. Fattening and full of greasy meat, a few half eaten fries were left.

“I could always eat more. That's why I'm in here.” You laugh reaching for the bag while Jesse placed his hat and wrap on a nearby coat rack. You groan loudly pulling out a take out box of sweet and sour chicken, sticky rice and dumplings. Jesse watched shocked as you dove in stuffing a dumpling whole into your mouth only noticing his stares after you crudely stuffed another in your mouth “Wha?”

“Nothin’ sugar. Glad you're eating. Though I didn't think you would take my box. I got you a healthier one… you and Angie always watch what ya eat.” He smiles fishing out the other box. “But I guess we can switch every once and awhile.” He winks toying with you not expecting the look of horror on your face, a stock of broccoli halfway to your lips. “It ain't a big deal! ‘sides you are always on my case about eating better. Eat up! Can't have my sunshine starving. ” He jokes taking a bite out of the baked fish in front of him.

“Ya.” You chuckle nervously lowering your fork. Turning your face from his. You spoke so softly he barely heard it. Your words slipping out like a ghost.

Since I'm eating for two…

It caught him like a sucker punch, the world moving at half it’s normal pace. Surely you didn't mean… “I- I don't think I'm getting the joke doll.” Jesse muttered mind reeling for an explanation for your comment, other than the obvious one. Because that one didn't make sense. Right?

You turn back fist gripping your blankets, knuckling white and hands shaking. “Every symptom has a cause. I fainted and I thought I was suffering from just exhaustion and fatigue. Turns out they were just symptoms too.” Brushing aside the quilts you touch your stomach gently refusing to look at him.

“Are… how long?” Jesse asked voice no louder then your ghost like whispers.

“Angie said four months give or take a few weeks.”

Jesse leaned back quietly. “How long have you known?” Why didn't you trust him to tell this? Had he done something to make you think otherwise? You never brought up children but never talked negatively of it either. His heartbeat ecstatically thoughts flashing a mile a minute.

“When I woke up. I didn't realize until then,” You finally turn trying to fight back the tears of panic threatening to break free. “I swear. I would never have been so foolish if I had known. I would have told you.”

Jesse rose whipping a stray tear from your cheek and wrapping you in a tight hug, shoulders trembling from unshed tears himself. “I know, I trust ya. Jesus baby meeting you was the blessing I never deserved.” He kissed you then, peppering little kisses all over your cheeks, your nose and lips never settling for one place for long.

“You want this? Jesse I won't force this on you.”  You ask, starting to realize your fears may be unfounded.

“Whatca’ mean ‘if I want this’? I love ya, every bit I can get! I mean I would have done this a bit different. A cute little house with a cute little dog.” He paused licking his lips debating for a moment before continuing. “The nicest damn ring I can afford… But what's life without a few curves?” He smiles warmly a soft flush gracing his cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh in shock. The words warming you completely making your heart flutter. It was a sweetness that made you feel good, feel safe when he pulls you in tighter murmuring hopes and promises into your ear. You smile snuggling in close, kissing his cheek and rubbing his broad shoulders wondering why you worried in the first place. This could work. You knew he would try and you wouldn't back down either. You loved him too much to not at least try.

[whump-it]

The Collection Box/ Honor Bound Crossover Part 4

CW mentions of past minor whump not shown.

Tagging time!

@pepperonyscience , @whumpygecko , @newandfiguringitout , @orchidscript , @gottalovethemwriters

"So? Anything good?" Callum asked as he dropped his satchel on the floor, resting his forearms across the top of Rory's office chair, one on the other the other to rest his chin on.

"Nope," Rory said, spinning the chair slowly to dislodge Callum so that he could face him. "Their file is pretty standard. Actually it's a bit too standard." He reached for his glasses to take them off but was stopped by Callum pushing them back up the bridge of his nose with his forefinger.

"Leave them on," he said, smiling for what felt like the first time that day. "You look cute in them."

"I am not cute! You're being silly."

"I've been exhaustingly serious today," Callum said, dropping down heavily into the armchair in the corner, that always had a blanket next to it. Pulling the blanket across himself he looked at Rory, his eyes tired, worry showing in the lines of his face. "Let me have a silly moment."

Rory stood and walked over so that he could kneel at Callum's feet. Gently, he uncovered one Callum's hands, tucking the blanket back around and rubbed softly at the scarring on his palm.

"What happened?" Rory said, pressing a kiss to Callum's palm.

"It's like looking at me,"he said, sighing. "Even down to a scarred up neck and a broken arm. This has got to be stopped."

"It will be," Rory said quietly. "Even if it's not us who stop it, we've at least made a start."

"Isaac's worried about you," Callum said, a flush spreading across his cheek bones forbidden at the memory of anything that suggested Rory might not be good.

"I'd be worried too. And I'd be even more worried if my past hadn't given him pause for thought."

Callum leaned forward, dislodging the blanket, and pressed a kiss to Rory's lips, before settling back down and tucking himself back in.

"Their arm was broken like mine. Set better though. It won't be wonky." Callum shifted under the weight of a phantom pressure on the very bones of his arm. "I wrote up some tests. Their neck is scarred but I got a doppler on it on the QT and structurally it's sound. Bloods came came back normal. Understandably underweight and blood pressure a little low but nothing to worry about there." He broke off and sighed, letting his head rest on the back of the chair.

"Where did you manage to get them?" Rory asked, still rubbing his thumb over Callum's scarred palm.

"A locked paediatric ward," Callum muttered, looking down at Rory's hand in his. Letting the feel and the circular motion calm him. "I feel like I should still be there. Like leaving them is too risky."

"You need sleep," Rory said softly. "Sweetheart? You need sleep. And you know you can't stop their Selector taking them if they find which hospital they're in. But you'll be no good to anyone this tired."

"How old is Sam?"

"I don't know yet," Rory sighed. "I'm chasing down leads and running out of them very quickly. Their AP, Leo Tierney, has a reputation. Do I put it past him to do something less then legal for a Selector like Colleen Stormbeck? Not at all. She gets what she wants." Callum sighed too. His eyes closed, exhaustion dragging at him heavily, a weight, gravity, pressure.

"Ok," Rory said, slapping his hands down on his knees and hauling himself up to standing. "Come on my little blanket bug, bed." He held out a hand for Callum to hold while he pulled him up out of the chair, making sure to tuck the blanket carefully around Callum's shoulders so that he could take it bed with him. Rory knew that being covered and comfortable had taken Callum a long time to accept. That it was something that he was allowed to enjoy. Keeping hold of Callum's hand, he led him to their bedroom and sat him down on the edge of the bed. Callum watched through half asleep and heavily lidded eyes while Rory removed his shoes and socks. While he nudged the blanket down to one side to release one arm from his jumper before covering him again, then repeated the action with the other arm.

"Keep your scrub trousers on sweetheart," Rory whispered, gently pushing Callum down on to the mattress. "They're practically pyjamas anyway." He smiled, then bent down and pushed his smiling lips to Callum's loose and tired ones.

"I love you," Callum muttered, his eyes already shut.

"I love you too."

Callum was fast asleep, sleeping dreamlessly. He hadn't moved since Rory had lay him in bed and gone back to his office. Something tugged at his mind, making him screw his eyes up at the intrusion.

"Cal,"

He shifted and pulled his free arm behind his back. Safe.

"Cal!"

He brought his feet close together. Always best to do what you're told.

"Cal wake up!"

His eyes opened as he heaved in a huge lungful of air, half expecting to see his old Master and his perpetually lit list of rules, and half expecting to see Sam and Isaac, desperate for his help when her didn't know what he could do.

"Sorry," Rory said, stroking a hand through his curls. "I know you hate waking up that way but I've got something I need to tell you, come on."

"S'okay," Callum said, voice gravelly from sleep as he hauled himself up, holding on to the blanket that wrapped itself around his shoulders. "How long have I been asleep?" He asked trailing after Rory in the direction of the study.

"Not as long as you think. You were out like a light," Rory stopped in the doorway to his office and turned to face Callum. "Asleep before I even got out the room." Callum smiled at him.

"Come on then," he nudged Rory through the doorway and settled back in the armchair. "What have you got?"

"Ok," Rory said, sitting at his desk. "Tierney's notes are basic. And I mean really really basic. Clinical. Nothing there. So I've had to go back through other records." Rory flapped a hand through the air. "All sorts of things, long story. But I've tracked this through school records, any little local news reports for good grades or a local play or something."

"Ok, so this is a goose chase," Callum said, stifling a yawn.

"Yes! But not a wild one. There's tracks and I found them. All traces of Sam disappeared at sixteen and a half years old. Poof, gone. No more school. No more social media. Nothing. And what do you know? No missing persons report, or at least not one that most people could find."

"You're not most people," Callum smiled as he spoke.

"I like to think of myself as unique," Rory grinned at him. "There is one incredibly well covered and intensely redacted statement. But what ties in with it is sty the same time, money changed hands. A LOT of money. From one Colleen Stormbeck's company funds in which she's the major shareholder to one Leo Tierney's offshore account in an alias that I've tracked down to him." He got up from his chair and knelt back in front of Callum, holding out his phone to him.

"Cal, they took Sam as underage Donor. She paid a lot of money for them and their family have been silenced. Sam is eighteen now."

Callum reached out and took the phone with a shaking hand.

"A year and a half," he whispered. Half the time that he had spent with his Master. The damage was already done but it could be stopped. Rory sat at his feet and nodded, then let his head rest on Callum's lap. As he thumbed in his passcode and went to Isaac's contact he stroked at Rory's hair, slightly greying around the temples. So much time had passed.

The phone rang out for no more than a few seconds before Isaac answered.

"Isaac? It's Callum. We need to talk."

[bxllafanficc]

My Dear Apprentice - Anakin!Skywalker x fem!reader - Chapter 6

(Y/n)'s pov

"Though, what do you want to do now? I assume that you want to stay in the city for awhile, since your mood is so great."

Damn right, I feel good!

I don't think I have felt this good since I first begun my training as a Jedi.

I have waited for so long to be sent out on my first mission. All that training and I finally got to prove to myself that I actually learned by it.

Especially this week.

Fighting against one of the strongest Jedi without any mercy really caused my self esteem to drop as a newbie.

But today I finally got to experience sweet success of accomplishing something great for awhile. And sure, maybe the task wasn't any hard, but accepted a challenge and I succeeded. And on top of that, I have been inside the boring walls of the Jedi temple the entire week and it was about time that I got to go out.

I want to hold on to this... feeling, as long as I can.

" I thought we could take a look around the area while we are still here. There were flyers and posters about there being a carnival not far away from here. My friends wanted me to check it out with them but I didn't want to go."

I turn my head backwards to smile at the man with the piercing blue eyes. He always make sure to walk about six feet behind me for some reason. And I always catch him studying my every move every time I turn around.

I don't think he's realized that his staring is making me slightly uncomfortable but I don't plan to tell him either. He's that kind of guy that would space off into another reality and do stuff on autopilot. Besides, he's the only man that I'd be the most okay with staring like that. Because he is my master. And because of the bond we're supposed to create.

I still don't like him that much. He's been an asshole like always until now. One day with Anakin in a great mood isn't gonna make up for his usual rude behavior.

"But going there with me isn't a problem then? Should I be flattered or take that as a red flag?" My master says and let out a grin, his eyes squinting due to the bright sun.

The sun. Isn't it wonderful? How one glowing star so far away can cause such warmth to tingle all senses? Not just the feel of its shine, but also how significantly lighter the mood gets when there's nice weather outside. Especially since it's been cloudy and raining all week and this is the first day when the sun decided to enlighten Coruscant with its embrace.

"You should feel very flattered, regarding the fact that I consider the people I go with to be half the experience." I exclaim and sigh, deciding to quicken up my pace and reach out a hand to tug my master along by the shoulder.

"Now, hurry a little. It gets cold when the sun disappear for the night."

When I once again turn my gaze at him, sighs of a man deep in though display on his face.

"Then I shall do my best to make this visit a blast. To bad you didn't steal my tunic again, for this occasion, though." He grin once again and gets up in my face with a mixture of daring and laughing eyes.

I award his words with a light punch on the shoulder and a scoff.

*Time skip*

"The sky is darkening for tonight, (Y/n). We should be making our way back home." Anakin speaks up from a previous moment of silence. He then gather some of the prizes won by us at the carnival.

Funny. We went there to have a good time and that's exactly what we got.

Though, we made a competition out of every game possible. Who could win the most stuffed animals in 10 minutes, who could finish a candy apple on shortest amount of time and the third competition ending up being the one to decide a winner. Who could down a glass of hot sauce without showing the most pain.

I won, because of my high tolerance for spicy food. And of course I didn't tell Anakin about my large advantage in the last competition.

Well, he figured it out anyway and claim that I cheated. I guess he's right, too.

But as I recall, there wasn't any specific rules about such things.

I nod and get up on my feet from where we were previously sitting, grabbing some of the remaining prizes, stuffing them into a bag bought along with winning them.

As the competition was over, I had insisted on the two of us climbing up on a roof to watch the sunset. With slight resistance from Anakin's fear of getting caught, I managed to make him follow me and that's where we spent the last hour in complete silence.

It almost felt strange to speak up again. Like it was wrong to break the soothing quietness. And it felt like that was the first time we actually heard each other and learned a thing or two about one another; and that without speaking.

"I forgot to thank you for coming along on my task today. It was calming to know that someone would be there and help me out if the situation got out of hand." I exclaim and walk past the man, jumping from the roof and landing in a crooked position to add balance and a soft landing.

Anakin does the same and leans a hand on my shoulder, picking up a walking pace for me to join him. This time beside him and not in front.

"It's what was expected from me, as a mentor."

Well then, I know you did it because you wanted to help as well. But fine, don't mention that.

I'm just about to say some snarky comment of him suddenly becoming more distant than before but something else catches my attention. I stop walking. Something just behind the corner of that stone wall to the right.

A sound behind us. Something that just stopped, along with my reaction.

I tap Anakin on the shoulder and sign for him to keep quiet. Then with featherlight footsteps, I sneak along the wall and peak around the corner.

"Meow"

What?

"Mrrrrr..."

Much to my surprise, a small animal comes strolling our from a corner at the exact opposite side of the street. It's all covered in dust and it doesn't take a closer look to notice that the creature is underweight.

The animal walks closer and lift up it's tail with a slight crook on the tip.

The look on Anakin's face reveals that he hasn't figured out the creature yet. Me, on the other hand, already knew from the first sound.

"Anakin look! It's a kitten!"

I slowly bend down and put myself into half-sitting position. With careful movements, I then reach out with my mind towards the small being and let warm and happy feelings tingle its way into the cat's consciousness.

The kitten curiously sniffs at my knuckles as I reach out as a sign to let her get to know me. The small fluffy cuteness then bumps her head into my palm, calming low rumbles echoing out from the cat's within.

I lightly scratch the kitten's neck and continue leaning my hand through her soft, but matted, long fur.

The color of every hair's root attached to its fur coat reveals that it previously used to be a cream white shade. Though, now due to the dust, a more grayish or brown color covering it like a thick layer.

A visible rib cage exposes the thin belly as she lay down onto the ground, hauling itself onto its back to receive belly rubs.

A cold and sad feeling creeps inside my skin, making the hairs on my body stand right out.

With aching heart, I slowly caress the exposed belly and look up at Anakin with large, begging eyes.

"Look at her."

"I'm looking." He answer with stale voice and a blank expression, already with crossed arms.

...

A part of me guesses that he already knows what's coming next.

"Can we keep her?" I ask and carefully pick up the small cat, cradling her into my arms with a content expression displaying on my face.

"No." He answers with cold voice and a sigh.

Heartless dick.

I then stand up and let the kitten make her own way onto my shoulders, seeking warmth from my neck and behind the thick drape of hair.

She peek her nose out from behind the mountain of hair and sniff in the air at Anakin's direction.

"Pleaseeee.. Just look at her!"

I walk closer to the man for him to interact with the cat.

Anakin slowly lifts up a hand to pat its head, doubt shadowing his every move.

The cat then arch her back and lets out a hiss, ears flat to her sides.

Anakin retract his hand quickly and swears. But the cat leaps out of her hiding spot and slash her claws at his face, earning Anakin a deep vertical cut right beside the outer corner of his right eye.

A hiss also escapes Anakin as he bury his now wounded face in his palm.

...

'Well that certainly won't help' I reach out my thought, translating my words into feelings and expression for the kitten to understand.

A loud 'mrrrrrr' of ecstasy echoes through our connection and I sigh.

"I... I don't think the council would accept you bringing back a stray animal to the temple." He mumbles and advert his gaze from the kitten, his shoulders all hunched up and furrowed eyebrows.

The kitten meow once again and flail a paw, instantly battling one especially dangerous strand of hair right behind my ear.

"Then they won't know about it. Please, Anakin! She's all starved and dusty. In a world like this, everyone's busy with worrying about their own fear and worries about a safe future.

They lock themselves up at night in their homes, so paranoid that they don't notice the smaller souls, not fortunate enough to even have a home to worry about..." I trail off and attempt to lock gaze with the doubtful man in front of me, my eyes now full of pain and despair. And want. Wanting to save this innocent kitty and wanting to give it a home to be proud of.

Soon enough, Anakin noticeably can't stand himself to ignore my begging like that and turn back his eyes to meet mine.

I speak up once again when a confused silence threatens to take hold.

"All I ask of you is to help me sneak the cat inside of the temple and into our dorm. Then I will take care of it from later on... cause isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help the ones in unfortunate situations? Does that only apply to senators and highly ranked citizens? Just let me help this cat..." I plead and reach out a determined hand, squeezing the Jedi knight's shoulder and letting it stay there, widened desperate eyes penetrating all his internal barriers to his mind. I make sure to let everything I feel wander through my expression and to him.

I know that my stare is affecting him since that's my way of getting anyone to do anything from me.

Usually I just use it on my dad since there's no chance he would let me do certain things in any other situation.

But this time I do it because there's actually something that I find important behind it. I do it because that's exactly the way I'm feeling. And I let it show. I let all of my feelings show through one stare and I know that Anakin is affected by it. Because this is the first time I expose myself in front of anyone like this. This is the first time I open up, and he can tell.

I can see that in his eyes that he can tell. Because he once again turn away his face as far as he can without turning the rest of his body, a light tint of red displaying on his cheeks.

"I didn't know you felt such passion towards cats..." He mumble and locks eyes on the ground, twirling a small rock under his shoe tip.

"Not only about cats in general... But to every living being, who's unwillingly put in a situation they can't handle on their own, I guess..." I respond in the same voice as my master.

Silence...

He just stand there frozen in the moment, deep crinkles on his forehead showing that there's a battle between moral and empathy.

Until the kitten reminds the two us of it's existence by letting out a soothing purr.

"You know... On my first day at the temple, You told me that compassion is essential to a Jedi's life..." I murmur and he immediately look back at me.

His tense expression loosens up and he lets his arms fall to his sides.

...

"Looks like we've got a pet then."

// tag list: @tomisbaeholland