#i was stable today & felt okay but then my thoughts just started snowballing in the car and i felt the very strong urge to hurt myself

[babybearnini]

.

[spam-monster]

Helsaweek free space

(I missed a bunch this year because virus-stress has worn down my brain. Might try to write for all the prompts I missed sometime, but for now, have this.)

Words

- One of them standard “soulmate au’s” where whatever your soulmate writes on their arm shows up on yours + two very secretive people who have their own reasons to not want to find their soulmate + hiding your identity because surely you’re not going to just run into them one day without knowing who they are = some very terrible, awkward situations. 

- Refrences to Frozen Fever and Frozen 2

- Elsa writing is in italics, Hans writing is bold italics

-----

If he was not a Prince of the Southern Isles, Hans would have been using the words to try and find his soulmate. But the Westergard family discourages, even forbids, royals from marrying their soulmates; they say those feeling only make you weak and vulnerable.

Luckily, the girl whose messages appear on his arm is not offended by this.

It’s not safe for anyone to be around me, she writes. I can’t control it. I’ve hurt people I care about. I don’t want to hurt you, too.

She won’t tell him what “it” is, and he doesn’t push it.

In that case…maybe we can just be friends? Hans writes her, the pen scratching against his arm. My brothers don’t pay a lot of attention to me. It would be nice to have someone to talk to at least.

I guess that’s okay.

What’s your name?

I

Don’t know if I should tell you

I don’t want you to look for me.

Okay

But I need to call you something

What if you make up a name? Like authors do?

She takes a few minutes to respond.

Isa.

Okay Isa.

And you can call me John.

John.

Maybe someday

When

If I ever get this under control

I’ll tell you my real name

 (Hans will wish he had kept asking. At the time, he hadn’t seen a reason to argue with her. After all, the world was a big place, and it was unlikely he would ever run into his soulmate by accident.)

(And if he did…he would know, right?)

---

Isa wrote him about her lessons, missing being able to go outside without fear, worries about her little sister (Isa had nicknamed her “Joan”, after a portrait of Joan of Arc she seemed to like talking to). Hans wrote her about his brother’s cruel pranks, his countries dismal atmosphere, the young foal he had been gifted named Sitron. Isa listened to his complaints even when they felt silly. Hans encouraged Isa in her battle against whatever was tormenting her.

It was nice, for a while.

Then his family found out that he still kept in touch with his soulmate.

“Unless she’s someone we can manipulate, there’s no reason to bother with her.”

“Like Hans would be soulmates with anyone destined for power!”

“But I’m not going to try and marry her! I don’t even know her name!”

In the end, he had to swear to not speak with her anymore.

(But since Hans technically had never been speaking with her anyway…)

I can’t write you as much as I used to, or they’ll notice. We can still keep in touch, okay?

---

Without a constant confidant to keep him distracted from neglect, his heart hardened.

Sometimes, they didn’t talk for weeks.

(One time, they didn’t talk for months. My parents…Isa had written, and refused to say any more.

I’m sorry, he wrote back.)

But still, she was always there, in the back of his mind.

*When I become a hero* he thought to himself *I’ll find her and save her from whatever thing has been haunting her all these years*

---

I’m nervous she had written him, the night before he arrived in Arendelle.

So am I he had written back. I’m meeting someone important tomorrow. I have it all planned out. If all goes well, I might finally be able to escape from my family.

I wish I could escape.

If I mess up tomorrow

Whatever is happening, you’ll be fine.

Tomorrow night, I’ll be telling you all about my brilliant plan’s success and you’ll be telling me about how you were able to control yourself just fine.

(He couldn’t tell her he was planning to get engaged to someone else. Even if they had agreed long ago that they weren’t going to marry each other, it would’ve felt awkward.)

And maybe actually be able to talk to your sister for once.

Okay. Right.

Thank you, John.

 ---

(The next night, Hans was too busy dealing with a kingdom full of panicked citizens and a summer blizzard to write anything to his soulmate.

She didn’t write to him either.

He should have noticed.)

---

John!

I’m sorry, I should have written to you sooner!

Things have been so hectic the last few days

I told her

I told her everything

Everyone knows and it’s okay

I was so scared

I thought I had lost Anna forever

But I finally figured out how to control it

Anna?

My sister

Her real name is Anna

(More words appeared. Hans didn’t process any of them.)

Elsa?

You know who I am

Were you at the coronation?

John?

Hans refused to look at his arm for a week.

---

Of course.

Of course it was her.

The one good thing in his life, and he had almost-

---

Are you afraid of me?

Please John

Just

Answer me

---

He should tell her to stop.

Never speak to her again.

It was torture.

If she found out who her soulmate really was…

---

Don’t stop

John?

Don’t stop talking to me

Please.

Keep writing

I don’t know if I can

I might not write you back

For a long time

And it’s not you

It’s not because of

Your powers or anything

Just please don’t stop

---

It was a self-inflicted punishment, and one he fully deserved.

---

He did write a bit, after that. Mostly just short comments on her stories or funny doodles when he was bored.

She never pushed him for an answer.

Now that he knew, she was a lot more open about everything. She told him her parent’s real names, what had really happened that had made her push Anna and everyone else away, about her creations, about Arendelle and its people, about Anna’s finding her own soulmate, about being a good queen.

(The one good thing about being an official disgrace was that none of his family bothered to try and stop him from reading her words anymore.)

---

I got hit by a snowball today.

Out of nowhere.

I almost though you had found me for a second.

oh

I might have sneezed.

Into a bugel horn.

But you don’t even live in Arendelle

I assumed

I don’t

How

That’s what I’d like to know

---

I’ve been hearing things.

A voice.

---

Arendelle is in danger.

We’re going to the woods.

I don’t know

When we’ll be back

Good luck

With that.

---

Hans was sitting in the stables, trying to read, when his arm started feeling a bit numb.

Then it turned cold.

Then…

Hans watched in horror as faint outlines of snowflakes started to appear.

Elsa

Elsa?

What’s happening?

---

A few hours later, he had scratched his arm open from writing so much and was desperately trying to talk himself out of stealing away to Arendelle’s mythical forest himself when the cold faded away as suddenly as it had appeared.

---

John?

It’s a long story

---

You died?!

---

You’re leaving.

---

You’re running away again, Elsa.

I’m not running away!

The forest needs me.

Anna needs you.

Anna is strong.

She’ll be fine without me.

But does she want to be without you?

---

Hans could care less about family, about “true love”, about soulmates.

So why did he keep arguing with her?

Now Elsa was the one sending curt replies, while he was the one who couldn’t stop writing to her.

How could he have everything he ever wanted, and just throw it all away like that?

How dare she.

---

*Anna didn’t jump in front of my sword for you to just abandon her again* he thought, but did not write.

---

You won’t even tell me who you really are! Why should I listen to you?

You don’t want to know who I am.

You can’t know that!

Believe me, I do.

You would hate yourself. You already hate me.

Yes, I’m mad at you right now

But I don’t hate you

You do

You really do

And you have every reason to after what I

John.

Have we met.

At the coronation.

There’s only one person i

John

How many older brothers did you say you have

---

12

And he said no more.

---

Look to the North.

It was the first time she had written him in three days.

There was a strange light in the sky, glittering like a fresh snowfall.

He took Sitron and followed it.

---

Surely she wouldn’t be foolish enough to come all the way here.

---

She was.

Hans almost didn’t recognize her at first. Her hair was down, her gown glowing white against the night skies and dark cliffs. A horse stood at her side, its colors shifting strangely. There were no ships anywhere in sight.

“It is you.” She said quietly.

“How did you…?”

“I rode.” She gestured to the horse, which on closer inspection was made of water.

(A Nokk, he remembered from her messages.)

“You rode across the ocean?!”

She shrugged, a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t want to take a ship. I didn’t want Anna asking questions and finding out about…” she gestured.

“…Yeah. This.”

He dismounted. Sighed. He was wholly unprepared to have this conversation.

“Okay. We should…do you want to sit down? This is probably going to take a while.”

---

Why did you…

Why didn’t you…

I should have known…

I should have figured it out, but I was so stupid and blinded and desperate…

I should have reached out to you, I knew you were hurting, I should have tried to help you…

---

“It’s getting late.” He finally said. “Or…early, I guess.” They had talked all night, and the sky was already lightening. “I should go back before anyone notices I’m gone. Which might take a while, but still-“

“Wait.” She said.

He waited. She looked him over, considering. Sighed. Stared up into his eyes.

“Hans. Come back with me.”

“What? …You can’t mean…are you crazy?! After everything I…I almost killed you!”

“You said…that you had though about saving me someday, but you never thought you were strong enough to do it. Well, I thought the same thing. About saving you, I mean. Finding a way to bring you to Arendelle, away from your family, but…I was scared of letting you get too close to me. That if we met, we wouldn’t be able to stay away from each other.”

He snorted at that, clenching his fists to try to hide the trembling in his hands.

“Hans…I’m not scared anymore. Of myself, or of you. Please. I want to make this right.” She reached out to him.

And he knew he shouldn’t, could think of a million reasons why (*not good enough not strong enough weak worthless only going to hurt yourself only going to hurt her can’t trust can’t believe in anyone*), but…he was just so tired of it all, and she wasn’t a liar like them, and he wanted.

He took her hand. Something settled, deep inside him.

“Okay. Just one question.”

“Yes?”

He gestured to Sitron. “How do we get a horse to ride a horse across the ocean?”

Her laugh was exactly as adorable as he had always imagined it being.

-----

(And he convinced her to spend more time in Arendelle, and she convinced him that the woods weren’t so bad, and they built a nice little cottage right on the border so they could divide their time equally between the town and the forest, and lived happily ever after the end.)

[the-star-knight]

Tales of A Star

Tales of A Star

Summary: A retelling of the show through Star’s eyes

Chapter 4 - Queen For A Day

Word Count: 3,147

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while. I wasn’t motivated to write lately. It's the writer's struggle.

◀︎Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ▶︎

Today is the last day before Rapunzel takes over as acting queen. 

I walked past the throne room on my way to help my mom with cleaning the bedrooms of the royal family. I couldn’t help but take a peek in the throne room.

Rapunzel sat next to her father in the throne room observing him while he was having a royal hearing with the citizens of corona. 

Then I saw Varian’s father, Quirin, approach the king.

“Hey,” I heard a voice behind me.

“Ah!” I yelped. I turned around and to my relief I saw Varian there.

“Oh, hey there. What are you and your dad doing here?” I asked him.

“We came here to ask for help from the King, things in Old Corona aren’t getting better.”

Quirin began to speak to the King and we peeked behind the door. 

We overheard what Quirin said, apparently Varian’s and Quirin’s story don’t match up.

“What?” Varian whispered. 

Quirin asked for more land since Old Corona had such a fruitful harvest. The king granted his request.

Quirin began to walk towards our direction. I began to panic and I hid behind the door, I knew this was gonna be messy.

"Star? W-where are you going?" Varian asked.

His dad came closer and Varian stopped his father. Varian started telling him why he lied in front of the king.

"That is enough Varian!" Quirin said sternly.

Varian froze.

"Yes, sir…" he looked down. 

Ouch.

Quirin walked away and Rapunzel came through the doors. I got out of my hiding place.

"My dad lied. Things in Old Corona are getting worse…"

"How much?" Rapunzel asked.

He looked away and paused for a moment, "A lot worse…"

This is bad. Real bad.

"Give me until my dad comes back," Rapunzel said. "We're in this together, I promise."

"Don’t worry, we'll figure this out," I tried to sound optimistic but i wasn't convincing myself.

Today the King and Queen are off to travel for two days for their anniversary. Rapunzel would remain in charge for those two days. As soon as the king and queen left mayhem broke all over the castle. The Pub Thugs crash into the castle.

I watched from a ways away what was going down. When people got word that the princess was going to be the one having the hearing, more people in the kingdom conveniently decided to show up. I guess since people have this perception that since Rapunzel is new to this and that she is very generous, she might give them whatever they requested.

It was frustrating watching Rapunzel having to solve issues that adults should be able to resolve themselves. Some issues can definitely be taken to the royal hearing, like the cat and rat infestation in the town square. But there were other issues that could be resolved without a royal hearing. 

Later, the weather began to change as the wind blew with cold air and snow began to fall lightly. I went home to grab my jacket and earmuffs.

Rapunzel came out of the terrace with a winter coat. She announced today as a snow day. I mean we can see that.

Eugene wasn't fond of the snow. I've heard him complain about the snow more times than I would like to hear. Cassandra teases him about it which honestly doesn’t surprise me.

We played in the snow for a while. My sisters and I threw snowballs at each other and made snow angels. You know, typical fun stuff to do in the snow.

"Mariana!" Maribel called. "It's the perfect time to get hot cocoa! Let's tell mom to make some."

"Yeah! Love hot cocoa! Come on!" Mariana grabbed Maribel's arm and dragged her home.

It was getting dark. I'm glad my sisters went back home.

"Have you ever seen so much snow?" Rapunzel gleamed. 

"Once." Xavier responded to Rapunzel’s rhetorical question with seriousness. 

Xavier was near a fire. Rapunzel, Eugene, and some other people gathered around his fire.

He told us about the legend of Zhan Tiri, a demon that cursed Corona with a storm strong enough to nearly destroy it. Just the name alone was enough to send chills down my back.

Suddenly, the weather became harsher. The wind started to blow furiously and the snow began to fall even heavier.

A gust of wind blew out Xavier's fire. 

I guess that's our cue to go.

"Everyone inside!" Rapunzel ordered.

I couldn't agree more.

A horse neigh came from a distance. Slowly, Maximus came out of the darkness, without the carriage of the King and Queen.

The Captain took a look and concluded that there was an accident. 

The look on Rapunzel’s face was heartbreaking.

I'm glad my sisters and my parents are at home before the storm got stronger. I stayed in the castle near the fireplace. Several other people that weren't able to go home stayed in the castle as well. 

I stared at the fire burning in the fireplace. I watched the bright red embers float up and disappeared into the air. I felt its warmth. Ironically, I didn't feel warm. I was worried. The story that Xavier had told us kept lingering in my head. Could it be the curse? Has Zhan Tiri really had it that bad for Corona? 

No.

That couldn’t be. Demons don't exist, right? Much less curses. Corona won't be entirely buried in snow. Right? 

No matter how many times I logic through it, I can't shake off the feeling of something bad.

I could hear the wind howling outside, which is in it as itself is already bad enough, but the wind blew with such fierce that it blew the windows wide open. Rapunzel quickly shut and locked the window. I’ve never seen her in such a deeply distraught state. She kept forcing a smile when tending to the people that weren’t able to get to their home before the storm worsened. 

She talked to Nigel about going after her parents, but Nigel knew that it was too dangerous. Eugene and the Pub Thugs offered to rescue her parents. It was painful to watch Eugene and Rapunzel say goodbye to each other.

I couldn’t help but to think of my family. I hoped they were okay. Don’t worry, they are at home probably near a fireplace all nice and warm. Heck, they probably even have hot cocoa too.

At least I didn't have it as bad as Rapunzel. Rapunzel has a lot on her shoulders. She has to decide whether we should evacuate everyone to the mainland to seek shelter if this storm gets worse. Cassandra tried to comfort her. 

Cassandra's owl came through the window. Apparently the worst of the storm has yet to hit. If this storm wasn't bad enough we have a lot more coming. 

Again, Nigel strongly recommended for Rapunzel to evacuate everyone to the mainland since the island could be entirely buried in snow. If this is true then I better warn my parents.

"What about Xavier?" Rapunzel asked.

Xavier and his story about a machine that was able to drive the storm out of Corona. 

Nigel thought that idea was absurd, which I do agree with. It's just a legend right? Then again this storm seems to be just as strong as the legend says.

"Princess Rapunzel!" Varian suddenly bursted in the room. The guards tried to stop but he slipped right through them. 

Varian needed help with his dad. He's in danger. 

"It's okay, Varian, whatever it is we'll try to help you," I tried to calm him, he was pretty shaken up.

"Star!" Another person busted in the room. 

He was a neighbor of ours, he came in out of breath. "Star! Your family!" He finally managed to say between breaths.

My heart dropped. "What happened?!"

"The roof...collapsed...your family is stuck inside! Come quickly!"

I looked around the room. Varian was still talking desperately with Rapunzel. I felt bad for leaving with all these issues surging up.

I walked towards Varian and Rapunzel. "I have to go. My family needs me. I'll try to help you guys soon as I know my family is safe." 

Rapunzel nodded and Varian still looked worried. 

I left the room with a heavy heart.

The ice cold wind whipped my face. The snow was falling so hard I couldn't see too far ahead of me. The snow felt like needles hitting my skin.

My neighbor told me that the snow was too much and the roof collapsed. Only my dad got hurt by protecting my mom and sisters. He also told me that my dad shooed off the guards when they tried to help them because he had everything ‘under control’ and that the guards had ‘other more important things to do’ since he thought they weren’t in immediate danger. I would like to beg to differ. 

My neighbor and I were stopped by a royal guard. "Halt! The princess has ordered for everyone in Corona to be evacuated to the mainland!"

Guess Rapunzel made her decision, I thought

My neighbor turned to me and I knew what he was going to say. "I'm sorry but I need to make sure my family is safe," he said remorsefully.

"It's okay. I understand. I think I can manage it from here." I put my hand on my chest where my necklace is. I think I could get them out since I have a sword made of magic. "Thank you, though." 

I continued to run off into the storm hoping that my family is okay. 

I ran up to my house. The roof has collapsed in front of the door. I ran to the backdoor. The door was completely buried in snow. 

"Mom? Dad?" I called.

"Estrella?" I could barely hear my mom through the giant pile of snow. 

I tried digging to find the door handle, but I stuck my whole arm in and couldn't feel for it anywhere.

"Shovel. I need a shovel," I said to myself. I ran to the stables where we kept some shovels. 

On my way to the stables, I saw less and less people. They were packing up whatever they could. They were being evacuated. 

When I entered the stables, I immediately went rummaging through the tools we had stored. 

I didn't find a single one. Of course there wouldn't be any. All of Corona is buried in snow. Everyone probably took every single shovel in the entire kingdom.

I ran to the shed where we kept the bags of oats and hay bales to see if there were any shovels left. Of course there weren't any. 

"Mom! Dad!" I yelled as I ran back home. "There aren't any shovels! All of Corona is being evacuated! I'm going to get you out of there!"

"Are you sure, Star?" I heard my mom ask through the door.

"Yeah," I said hesitantly.

I looked around me. It was dark and cold. I couldn’t feel my nose. My hands were gonna go next. 

“Someone! Please help me! My family is trapped here!”

The only response I got was the howling wind. It was empty, not a single person in sight. Everyone around me was able to manage to evacuate safely with their families. The snow swirled all around me. As far as I can see, I was alone in the dark storm.

“I’m sorry,” I began to break into tears. “I’m sorry! I can’t!”

I pulled out my necklace. I remembered the last time I tried to summon my sword. "Come on, don't fail me this time." I muttered.

 I cleared my throat and said, "Starlight, star bright, I wish for the power for me to fight."

To my disappointment, nothing happened.

"Come on, you can't do this. Not again." I muttered. I said the incantation one, twice, three times...nothing.

"Please, what do you want me to do?! I don’t understand!" I yelled desperately. I was frustrated with this stupid necklace. One moment I'm in my armor when I don't want to, the next moment when I do want to transform, I can’t. I don't know what I'm missing.

"Argh!" I screamed into the wind. I threw my necklace into the snow.

I knelt down into the snow.  I looked around me. Empty.

This part of Corona managed to evacuate safely.

“Someone! Please!” I yelled into the wind. I could hear my own voice drowning. “I can’t do this alone!”

I've never felt so alone before…

"Star?" I was able to hear my mom call me before it was drowned into the wind. "What are you doing?" She sounded concerned.

"I'm sorry, mom. I thought I could do this, but I can't! I'm sorry for letting you down."

“No, Estrella. I know you’re trying to help and that you are doing your best. We’ll find a way.”

I looked down on the ground and I sharply inhaled.

I stuck my arm into the snow and dug through trying to find my necklace. No, I’m not gonna give up.

I dug and dug, finally, I found the necklace. I brushed off the snow and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Starlight, star bright, I wish—no," I stopped and tried to look for words that fit. "I order, I command, I summon, the power for me to fight."

Then I felt a connection from the necklace. It started to glow and with a flash of light I was in my armor. “Oh thank goodness,” I muttered. 

I was able to summon my sword and ran towards the front door. Still blocked by snow, I thought. I ran to the side of the house. The window was covered in fog. I wiped away the fog, I looked inside. My mom put on a blanket over my sisters. My dad was wearing a cloth wrapped around his arm. Behind them there was debris, broken furniture, and pieces of wooden plank from the house.

I knocked on the window. "Mom! Dad! Back away from the window!"

I saw them move back.

I swung my sword at the window, cracks began to appear in the glass. The latch on the window began to fall. I slashed again and the window finally bust open. 

"Mom! Dad!" I entered through the window.

"Estrella!" My mom cried. "What are you wearing—you know what? Nevermind. Here take your sisters first. I'll help your dad."

I picked up my sisters. They were cold and shivering. "Come on, you better hold on."

Marianna cleaned off her nose, "W-we didn’t get t-to drink hot cocoa yet." She managed to say through her chattering teeth.

"Don't worry once I get you out of here, I'll make sure you get some."

I carried them out the window.

I went back to see that my dad's arm was pretty hurt.

The walls began to creak around us. 

“Mom, hurry outside before this building goes down!” I grabbed my dad’s arm and helped him up.

“No, I’m helping you with your father,” she went to my dad’s other side and help him up as well. 

Creak!

“We better hurry up!” I said.

“Mija, what are you wearing?” he pointed out my armor.

“No time to explain, dad.” 

My mom helped him go through the window. The building began to creak more and more. 

My mom fell into the snow and so did my dad. I heard the wooden frame of the building breaking behind me. I jumped through the window and into the snow.

BOOM!

I looked behind me horrified.

Our home collapsed within itself. The broken wooden frame of the house poked out everywhere from the snow.

"Our house…" Mariana whispered sadly.

My mom went over to hug her, "The important thing is that we are all okay."

I looked up at the sky. The gray clouds were clearing out. The snow was no longer falling heavily. I smiled and sighed in relief.

My family went back to the castle. It was the only place that we could really go. Rapunzel said we were welcome to stay as long as we needed. She even mentioned how she actually found the Demanitus machine that was able to stop the storm. I would be doubtful but after all that happened I was not going to question it.

As the weather became warmer and cold air lifted, the snow began to melt throughout the kingdom. I no longer needed to wear my jacket and headed out of the castle where Rapunzel waited anxiously for her parents and Eugene to come back.

“They’ll make it, Rapunzel.” I tried to comfort her. “The storm is over thanks to you.”

Rapunzel sighed. “Thanks. It’s what I had to do as acting Queen.”

We continued to look onward and we saw small figures coming closer. It was the King, Queen and the rest of the gang. 

Rapunzel smiled and ran to hug Eugene and her parents. 

I smiled. They were back together. A family.

Varian!

Oh my gosh! Varian! He needed help. I felt my stomach turn into a knot. I ran towards the stables and got on Luna as fast as I could. 

We galloped towards the bridge that connected to the mainland, but a guard stopped us.

“Hold it!” he said and we came to a full stop. “No one is allowed to cross the bridge as time.”

“We can’t stop! We have to cross the bridge!”

“Sorry, but the storm caused an explosion that destroyed the bridge. We have strict orders that no authorized personnel can cross the bridge.”

“What?” I panicked. “No, no, no. You have to let me cross.” I jumped off Luna. “Please you have to let me cross the bridge! I need to see someone! Please!” I walked toward the bridge but the guard stopped me before I could get too far. 

He got on one knee to get to my eye level. I hate it when people do that, It always reminded me how short I was when they wanted to talk to me. 

“Look kid, I understand that you want to see someone you care about. We all do. I’m only doing my job. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

I sighed. “I understand.” I didn’t want to make this harder but I can’t let Varian down like this. 

“Do you know how long it will take for the bridge to be fixed?” 

“Hard to say,” he stood up. “Days, if everything goes to plan. Maybe weeks?”

“Weeks?” I squealed out. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Don’t worry. The sooner everyone cooperates, the sooner this bridge gets fixed.”

I went up on Luna and looked outward towards the rest of the kingdom. There was still a good amount of snow everywhere. I couldn’t see Old Corona from here. “I’m sorry, Varian…”  I whispered. Luna and I headed back to the castle.

[donttellthemangosiwashere]

Creativitwins as... (1: Ball Pit)

Creativitwins as things me and my twin brother have done, part one of who knows man

I am remus and my twin bro is roman. no shit, nearly 1 to 1 re-skinning of one of our childhood moments

Tags: Human au i guess? I cast Deceit as dad so there's that, couldn't decide between him and Logan for a while but i think this fits. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus, clearly. Creativitwins fluff, some light violence (like a snowball fight sort of game… i dunno me and my bro were little stupid)

---

     Roman and Remus loved to play in the McDonald's playpen, with all the colorful plastic balls, pretending to themselves that the rainbow orbs were fairies that swarmed inside a bottomless pit. Roman preferred to pretend the fae gathered there to hold children up and keep them from falling forever; Remus liked to think they were evil fey, trying to drag you down to your doom. 

     They turned the two 'theories' into a game -- they would play the meddling fairies, and gather plastic balls to dump on each other in an attempt to bury the other deeper into the pit. Roman was faster and more dexterous, swimming through the pit like a graceful dolphin in a sea of orbeez, gathering armfuls and armfuls to dump on his brother, balancing an impressive amount of toys for someone with no stable feet on the ground.

     Remus was more furious and frantic in approach, easily swept up in the excitement of competition. He settled on grabbing smaller handfuls of the colorful plastic balls around him (not the ones dumped on his head, cause those were Roman's points and fair is fair) and chucking them at his brother so they lightly popped off his shoulders and started to pile around him like a volcano. Roman would dive around to collect more ammunition, ruining Remus's slowly climbing mountains, but he never swam back up farther than he had last been buried, keeping the points between them consistent.

     While Roman could duck around and swim through the pit, Remus had trouble moving through the ocean at all, especially once he started to get buried pretty deep in. His throwing technique and incredible aim for a five year old made up for it, but never quite enough to win. Roman's gather-and-dump method usually just resulted in the rainbow globules bouncing off of Remus's head and rolling far enough away that they didn't count, but Roman moved so fast and gathered so many that he was doing more damage in the long run. Every game would end with Remus, now fully submerged, grabbing Roman's ankles and dragging him down with him into the pit, leaving them both surrounded by colored bubbles that glowed ever so slightly with the light seeping in from the nearby giant playhouse window. 

     It was like standing inside a rainbow, surrounded like being plunged into the deep end of a pool, but perfectly able to breathe, no more than the pressure of a heavy quilt around their bodies. The vibrant colors, cool touch of plastic, and golden sunlight breaking through in streams gave it a magical feel. It was one of their favorite places, despite the number of times other kids had jumped into the pit and landed on one of the buried boys, assuming they had the fairy pool to themself. They would stay there underneath the tide, cackling over their game and how Remus cheated every time by grabbing his ankles, until their vivid imaginations got the best of them and they made their way out, afraid of drifting too close to the part of the bottomless pit that didn't have fairies to save them. (The day they were old enough and tall enough to discover the bottom of the mock-pool was a very boring day indeed.)

     Today, like any other day after being picked up from school by their father, they were taken back to the fast food restaurant, who hoped that they would tire themselves out enough to take naps once they got home. As soon as they were done eating, they dashed for the ball pit, ignoring their guardian's usual joke about how they shouldn't go swimming right after they eat. It wasn't real swimming, dad.

     And so the game began. Remus shimmying madly as he tried to gain some sort of motor function in the mess of colors, lobbing globes at his brother as he ducked around and meticulously gathered one of each color, making sure he had at least one complete rainbow to start the game. They didn't notice when another, slightly older kid joined them in the pit, watching them cavort around and laugh and screech. They did notice when a yellow ball smacked against Roman's neck, catching him off guard and making him swallow his laughter. They both turned and gave the newbie a confused, borderline angry look. He just shrugged, grabbed another, and threw at Roman again. Roman ducked that one easily, then dove down into the rainbow sea, scaring the other boy a little bit. (Remus decided it was, in fact, Roman being freaking weird, and not Remus being unable to swim.)

     Roman popped back up in front of the stranger gathered some orbs into his arms, and dumped them onto the kid's head with a smile.

     "No, you play like this!" He explained with a laugh when the other kid gave him a disgusted expression.

     "That's no fun, I wanna throw 'em, like he does."

     "I wasn't throwing!" Remus grumbled, offended at the accusation, "I was tossing, totally different! See,"

     Remus grabbed a blue globe and 'tossed' it to Roman, and Roman didn't flinch as it softly batted his shoulder and bounced away. Roman turned to the other kid with the same smile still on his face,

     "Like that! You can play, but you can't hurt anybody."

     "Okay." He nodded, and started pulling more toys to himself as if gathering for a snowball fight. Roman dolphined away again, gathering another pile. Roman switched between the new player and his brother, Remus had no trouble picking favorites, his crosshairs never leaving his brother's torso. Unfortunately, the new kid had the same idea, and the notion of "don't hurt anybody" went completely ignored. He kept beaning Roman, plastic orbs whizzing by his head and slapping into him with audible thwacks, and Remus knew they couldn't hurt that bad, but he was still getting more and more furious. 

     Finally, it happened. A red ball, right into his open eye. Roman stopped ducking around, little hands holding the front of his face as it scrunched up, in an expression Remus recognized as him desperately trying not to cry. Fed up, Remus wiggled furiously until he was facing the new kid, and he threw a ball at him to get his attention. He might have been aiming for his head, sure, but that was totally warranted, Remus thought. (Besides, he missed.)

     "Hey! That hurts, stupid! Stop throwing!"

     "Be nice!" Roman managed between his hands, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. They were red and puffy, but his eyes hadn't fallen out or anything, which was something Remus had worried for a moment -- his imagination manifested in strange ways.

     "You can't play if you're going to be mean!" Remus demanded, putting his metaphorical foot down, as when he tried to stomp his feet literally it was incredibly disorienting to not land on anything hard, and did in fact look a little ridiculous. The other boy glared at him and stuck his tongue out, and Remus felt the heat blaze up his cheeks.

     Just as he decided to return the gesture, he felt the soft plips of plastic rain on his head as colored globes bounced off his head, and he saw his smiling brother out of the corner of his eye. Remus elected to ignore the other kid in favor of playfully shoving his brother down into the pit by his shoulders and laughing,

     "Ew, gross, I had my mouth open, Ro!"

     "Eww! Sorry!" Roman laughed, disappearing under the bubbles.

     "They taste like feeeeet! ... You should try one--"

     "EW, Rem, stop!"

     He forgot about the other boy in seconds, his attention wholly consumed by the urge to bury his brother into the fae-swarmed sea of death below their feet. He gathered the little plastic toys, throwing two or three at a time, flailing around with every limb in his fervor to compete. In the chaos of his own disastrous dance, he didn't even feel it when the purple sphere thumped harshly against the back of his head, thrown from just a few feet away. He hardly noticed that he hadn't seen Roman come back up in a while, assuming he was still swimming around, looking for a strategic position out of Remus's throwing range. He didn't even think to look at the floor outside of the playpen, where Roman had climbed up, and was jogging behind him.

     He did hear the screaming.

     His head whipped around, just barely catching the sight of Roman in the air, descending like an unfurled cannonball onto the other kid. He landed on the older boy, and started wailing on him with both arms, punching him and yelling and the kid haphazardly swung back and screamed in return. Remus watched for a few seconds, totally in awe, until he felt the bruise forming at the base of his neck and realized what had spurred this attack on. He started writhing, trying to get over to them and so something -- pull the older kid off of Roman? Maybe. Help Roman punch the life out of him? More likely -- more furious now with his inability to swim in fairies than ever.

     He heard a woman yelling, and turned to look back at the eating area where she was standing, but he didn't listen to what she was saying. He was more concerned with the look on his father's face -- bowler hat pulled down at an angle to subtly hide himself from the mother's vision, other hand clasped over his mouth, a fervent and obvious smile in his eyes as he urgently and unsuccessfully willed himself not to laugh. When she made a move towards the three of them, Dad stood up, beating her to the door as he walked over and stood in front of the still dueling duo. He told Roman to let the other kid go. Roman kept swinging.

     He said it again, more sternly this time.

     Roman kept swinging.

     He crouched down in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, yelling now.

     Roman shrugged him off.

     Remus was grinning madly now, and Dad gave Roman an incredulous look as he continued to beat down on the stranger, his mother still yelling from the doorway. Dad grumbled and stepped into the pool -- an absolutely beautiful expression on his face as he almost slipped, and had to catch himself -- and grabbed both boys by their shirts, forcibly dragging them away from each other. Roman was still struggling, relaxing only when the other boy immediately ran behind his mother's legs as soon as he was released. 

     Dad scolded Roman for a second, then let him go and went to talk to the strangers. Roman trudged through the pit, joining Remus closer towards the middle. They didn't say anything for a long time, a frustrated pout on Roman's face as Remus smiled like he had just been given Christmas early.

     "You're in trouuubleeee~!" Remus sang, shimmying his shoulders as Roman finally cracked a smile.

     "He deserved it, he was a bully!" Roman huffed, but Remus saw him puffing out his chest just slightly.

     "You actually started a fight! Dad's gonna kill you."

     "Wha-- I didn't start it! He started it!"

     "Boys!"

     They both jumped, a shared panic flashing through their eyes as they slowly turned to face their father. He was looking down at them with a painfully neutral face, and gestured for them to get out of the pool. Remus had half a mind to let the bottomless pit take them to Narnia or something, but Roman was already helping him up onto the carpeted floor. 

     The walk to the car was silent -- and thank god Dad and the Lady didn't make them apologize to that kid, or a now mobile Remus would have socked him just to prove a point -- and when they clambered into the back seat, they waited for him to say something. He slowly closed the drivers side door, clicked in his seat belt, started the engine, adjusted the mirror, stalling...

     And then he started laughing.

     Remus and Roman looked at each other, wide eyed, identical grins creeping onto their faces.

     "You two are going to be the death of me. Wait until your father hears about this."

     "So we're not in trouble?" Roman asked sheepishly, a stark contrast to the giddy swinging of his legs. Dad laughed again.

     "You would have been the only one in trouble, Roman. Violence is not the answer to a problem." Dad scolded, and Roman deflated a little, until Dad reached back from his seat, turning to face the boys and ruffling their hair in turn.

     "But, I'm proud of you for sticking up for each other, in your own way... Besides -- don't tell your father i said so -- but he totally deserved it."

     The radio switched on, blaring Disney music as laughter exploded from the troublesome twins.

[southwindscoffee]

Um so I had an amazing year

You cannot get poor enough to help poor people thrive or sick enough to help sick people get well. You only ever uplift from your position of strength and clarity and alignment. – Abraham/Esther Hicks

 So.

 I had an amazing year.

 And I’m embarrassed to say it because I’m not dumb. (At least I hope I’m not.) I look around and can see suffering. Upheaval. Sickness. Poverty. I’m not denying those things exist or minimizing anyone else’s experience.

 But I wanted to share why I had an amazing year with the intent of uplifting someone else.

 Maybe you.

 I’m ending the year feeling happier, healthier, richer, more creatively fulfilled, and closer to my family than I have in a very, very long time. I credit this to a few small but key things—and overall, to one book.

 Last year about this time I listened to Atomic Habits by James Clear. I’ve lost track of how many copies I’ve bought of this book. Maybe four? At least two hardback copies, because I gave one away. Simply stated, the audio changed my life.

 Just—if you’re sick of listening to yourself complain about your bank account or weight or whatever, and you’re serious about changing things, go read/listen to this book.

 AND THEN ACTUALLY DO WHAT HE SAYS. The little, dumb, tiny changes. Because they add up.

 Last year I got sick of complaining about the same things year after year. And since I mostly complain in my journal or in my own head, it was a very boring place to be. I got sick of wondering why the balance in my bank account didn’t change, why I wasn’t losing weight, and why I wanted to write so much and wasn’t getting anywhere, even though I tried.

 But these things (richer, slimmer, more creative) were also what I really desired, deep down inside. I wanted to feel more financially stable, healthier (defined by weight loss), and to write more. (Well, I already wrote plenty. I wanted to write stuff and put it in public where people could actually read it.) These dreams felt very special and secret, but I think they’re somewhat universal—at least for authors.

 (Please note: I know that mental health can get in the way of taking any action at all. I’ve written about my depression and anxiety before. If this blog entry makes you feel overwhelmed, please know I’ve been where you are. Focus on taking care of yourself in whatever way you can and don’t worry about all this aspirational ambitious stuff I’m writing. Because the aspirational and ambitious can simply be getting out of bed and taking a shower. I’m proud of you for hanging in there.)

 After listening to Atomic Habits, I decided to do the following macro habits all throughout 2020—and I checked these off on a little grid in the James Clear journal:

 1. Take my vitamins.

2. Save $5 every day.

3. Write 10,000 words per week.

4. Post a blog entry every Wednesday and Saturday.

5. Go to the gym 3-5 times a week.

 I thought that these were things that could get me to my goals—richer, slimmer, more creatively fulfilled. And overall—happy.

 I also had some habits I already did. These were:

 1. Meditate for 10 minutes every day. (I usually use a guided YouTube video).

2. Write three pages longhand as Morning Pages (per Julia Cameron). (Incidentally, I’ve done this for decades and credit it to the reason I don’t get writer’s block.)

3. Take a Swedish lesson on Duolingo.

 I just wanted to keep these up.

 I have lots more habits … like brushing my teeth or whatever (and I actually floss because I bought the stuff and leave it out where I can see it), but the ones above are my more unusual habits.

 Well, what happened?

 1. I took my vitamins. Boring, but I’m also quite healthy, so maybe it helps my overall wellbeing. I haven’t been sick all year. I keep them by my bed where I see them and remember to take them.

 (Yes, I wash my hands all the time and don’t touch my face. And yes, I stayed home in quarantine. Yes, I wore a mask when I went out. But I think taking vitamins helped.)

 2. I ended up saving $5 every workday not every day. I either transferred the money to a Capital 360 account because it’s hard to transfer it back or put $5 into a Stash account. I sometimes would skip Starbucks or something similar and feel virtuous about transferring the $5. Other times I just transferred it.

 At the beginning of the year, the Capital 360 account had $5. It now has $806.

At the beginning of the year the Stash account had $50. It now has almost $2500. (Buying $5 here and there in March when the stock market was down ended up making about $500 over the year, a 23% increase.)

 Um, so that’s like $3200 I just kinda now have. Incidentally, $5 per day is $1825 over the course of the year, and I’ve almost doubled that because I invested it, not just saved it—and also sometimes I’d transfer like $10 or $25 if I was feeling wild. Over the months, I saw how the account balance would get close to an even number (like $500), so I’d transfer enough to make it that amount. And it just kept going.

 (Also, I’m not intending on this to be money advice. Go talk to someone who actually knows. My thought process was to hedge my bets with doing both safe and speculative—a savings account that earned interest and then various stocks. I also wasn’t spending money I needed for food, shelter, etc. I barely felt the expense, but I very much feel the accumulation of savings.)

 There really is magic in just starting to do something small, because it really does compound and snowball into good things. 

 Maybe in the grand scheme of things $3200 isn’t that much. To me it feels like I have this cute little cushion I literally created out of loose change in a year.

 Honestly, it feels like a lot, not “cute” or “little.” If I don’t compare myself to millionaires, it’s kind of amazing.

 What would happen if you transferred $1 or $2 a day? By the end of 2021, see how much you have…

 Another money habit: I wanted to stop buying so much online and one-clicking so many ebooks—even free ones—because it was just too much. I had like 800 unread books. So I kept track of the days I didn’t buy anything or download any books. My ecommerce moratorium ended up being streaks of time I didn’t buy anything and then a day where I would buy everything off of Amazon or whatever all at once. Not sure it did much except make me feel marginally better. With ebooks, while my TBR count is less than what it was at the beginning of the year, it isn’t the zero I’d hoped it to be. But I seriously read about 300-400 books—about 1-2 a day. (I read fast and don’t sleep.) My “read” pile jumped from 800 to 1100. Not sure what to make of it except I read so much and it was really fun. So, I still have about 680 books on my TBR pile for next year. That can be another habit to work on.

 3. I’ve written more than 530,000 words this year. The habit I tied it to incidentally, was opening my laptop. If I open my laptop—and that’s a habit I record with a tick mark on a grid—it’s a lot easier to get into the document and start writing. So the way I trick myself to write is I tell myself all I have to do is open my laptop. Simple. I check off the box that I did it and I feel virtuous. To reward myself for actually getting the word count, I have a little jar with binder clips in it and every 1,000 words I put a binder clip in a small old milk bottle. Then I can see the words add up.

 I also did a spreadsheet to know what I’ve written this year. I’ve never done one before because it felt too quantitative rather than qualitative. Writing is supposed to be this outlet for me, not something to beat to death with statistics. But I’m glad I did it because writing can be so amorphous. Putting parameters on it made it feel real.

 Oh, and I’ve finished one book, set to be published in February. I have a contract for another, and it’s (today) at 77,000 words. Three more books are 50% or more done. And I did NaNoWriMo. So, yeah. It was a productive year.

 I also learned that I like juggling projects. Focusing on one can make me stagnant. If I get stuck on one, moving to another really seemed to keep my momentum going.

 But I’m now focusing on getting them done and shipped. One at a time. Because they’re all just so close I can feel it.

 4. Before this year, I’d published eleven blog entries from 2017 to 2019. This year, I’ve posted 97, not counting this one. I missed a time or two at the beginning, but um, yeah… That’s a big difference.

 The reasons I wanted to focus on posting blog entries were multifold. I’d felt “out of it” as far as publishing, having worked on one book for so long that wasn’t gelling. I’d felt frustrated and jealous of those who got their work done. I needed the instant gratification—so to speak—of putting something out there while I worked on projects that took longer. I also wanted to inure myself to the fear of putting myself out there. With each entry—still—I feel fear, but I wanted to do it anyway. So that when the time comes to publish more fiction, I can go, “yeah, I’ve hit publish (literally) 100 times, what’s the big deal?”

 My guiding point for writing a blog post has been my gut feeling—tempered by wanting to reach out and help someone else. But to keep up a streak, there is a document on my computer called “Default blog post.” This is what it says in its entirety:

 Default blog post

 I told myself I just needed to post a blog every Wednesday and Saturday.

 Here is me keeping that promise.

 If you see that, well, you’ll know how the week is going.

 Is there an endgame here? What am I going to do with these blog posts? I can see me taking some ideas and expanding on them and creating some sort of nonfiction/self-help kind of book. I’ve always wanted to do that. I do see them as steppingstones to something bigger.

It also lets me be okay with imperfection. Typos. “Think-Os.” Whatever. This is me with no editor.

 5. So, the gym. Well, until it closed, I was going. My trigger was that I just had to check in. That was how I checked the box. Like opening the laptop, actually getting to the gym is the hard part. Once I was there, it was easy.

 But the gym closed and is still closed. Like all of us, I needed a Plan B. (C? D?)

 I’ve done short walks and long. Currently, I’m just working on doing pushups. I can do a lot of pushups with my knees on the ground. But I can only do a few “real” ones, so that’s what I’m keeping track of. I’m focusing on doing them slowly and properly, not faking my way through them. Faking them is easy, but I’d rather be able to do them right and have the actual arm strength. My trigger for when I do them is when I close my journal, I have to get down and do pushups. (Currently it’s seven.) To someone else that goal might be ridiculously easy. To me, it’s rather difficult and a little embarrassing to post, but whatever. I’m being honest.

 I’m ending the year a few pounds lighter than last year—and lighter than I’ve been in years—so I’m calling it a win.

 With the other habits, meditating keeps me happy as does dumping my brain in the morning pages. Oh, and I’m on day 622 in a row of Swedish on Duolingo. It feels like I’ve taken about a semester of college Swedish. Not enough to actually converse with someone but getting the hang of it. I’m motivated by a desire to go to Sweden and see some ancestral places—and actually understand some of the language, even though I know most Swedes speak better English than me.

 With COVID-19, like most of us, I’ve spent more time at home, but I’m temperamentally suited to that. I know it’s hurt extroverts hard, but as far as I’m concerned, I got to see my family more—even when I went to the office for work.

 What am I looking forward to next year? I like the habits I started for 2020. I just want to keep these systems up, because they seem to be working for me. I hope that by using these systems I end up with four to five books happily published in 2021 and I look forward to seeing how the exercise and money habits work out as well.

 This entry is about two or three times my usual blog entry, so if you made it this far, thank you. I hope it inspires you to take a small action and then keep taking that small action over and over again. They really do add up.

 I wish you the most amazing year ever in 2021. Know that it’s possible.

[theskyeandsea]

Get in the Fucking Seal Suit, Skylar || Remmy, Ricky, & Skylar

Location: Skylar’s apartment, but mostly Ricky’s fancy bathroom.

People Involved: @ricky-corderbro, @whatsin-yourhead, @theskyeandsea

Trigger warnings: non-con, mentions of chronic illness symptoms, brief medical blood mention (no description)

Skylar groaned, curled up in her bed. Everything hurt, it all just hurt. Her muscles ached, her bones groaned, her skin was feverish and sweaty, and her the stitches in her shoulder burned. She’d been through this before, she’d gone through this for years. But, no matter how many times it happened, it still felt fresh and new and awful. And… for the first time in her life, she’d relented. She… she needed help. Crawling out of bed, she managed to make it to the safe she’d stuck in her closet, punching in the 6 digit code to pull her seal skin from the safe. It would help to have with her. It had to help. She clutched it to her chest before she managed to drag herself to the living room. Stabbing, sharp, prevalent pain filled her with every step she took, until she flopped on the sofa, shoulders heaving from the effort. This was too much, it was all too much. She just hoped that Remmy would be here soon.

When Remmy arrived, they weren’t sure what to expect. They’d never taken an uber before, but if it was the only way to get Skye over to Ricky’s, they’d spend their entire life savings on it. When they made it up to the door, they knocked loudly. “Skye!? Skye, are you in there?” No answer. Remmy didn’t even wait for the panic to set in, before harnessing everything in them and turning the doorknob as hard as possible. It snapped open like it was nothing more than a twig. Impatiently, Remmy burst through the door, catching sight of Skylar collapsed on the couch. “Skye!” they exhaled, running over to her, kneeling in front of the couch. “Hey, Skye. Wake up, I’m here. I’m here. I’m got you.” They reached out tentatively, noticing the skin clutched tightly to her chest. Good, they wouldn’t have to search the house for it. “Can you walk? Do you need me to carry you? I can carry you.

Eyes fluttering open slightly, Skylar was startled to see Remmy leaning over her, their face next to hers. She stared at them woozily, brain struggling to make sense through the thick haze that clouded her perception. “Remmy..?” She mumbled, doing her best to sit up. But, as she did so, the fresh stitches in her arm screamed in protest and Skylar fell back down on the sofa. She couldn’t move, her bones ached, her muscles wanted nothing more than to just… lay there. Her entire body wanted to just stop. “I… help. Please. I need, I need help.” She said thickly, doing her best to try and sound somewhat coherent.

Remmy blinked back tears. “Okay! Okay. Don’t move anymore, I gotchu. I’m here,” they said hurriedly, taking a blanket and placing it over Skylar before scooping her into their arms. She was surprisingly light somehow, or maybe it was just this weird zombie adrenaline super strength thing. When was the last time they’d ate? That wasn’t important right now. They made sure the blanket covered up the skin Skylar was clutching before heading back out, kicking the door closed as much as possible behind them and hoping whoever else lived there didn’t get too mad over the broken lock. When they made it back to the car, they opened the door with one hand and set Skylar inside, scooting over themself and letting her lean on them. “She’s, um-- just tired. We’re just heading to a friend’s house,” they said quickly. Always a bad liar. Grit their teeth and gave them the address, hoping they wouldn’t ask too many questions. “Almost there,” Remmy murmured to Skylar, arm tight-- but not too tight-- around her.

It was admittedly not the best plan Ricky had ever been involved in. But, the consequences were too grave not to at least try to do something; desperate times and all that. He’d started to fill the tub with coldish water, knowing from experience that being too warm as a seal sucked, when he heard the car pull up outside. While probably not the weirdest thing the Uber driver had ever seen, it was definitely in the top five, and Ricky opened the door to see a concerned Remmy and a looking-like-shit Skylar walking/hobbling up to the front porch. “Got the bath running already.” He slid one of Skylar’s arms over his shoulder and started to help carry her up the stairs. “Nice to meet you in person.” He gave a brusque nod to Remmy as they walked, “This is definitely one of the weirder Saturday nights I’ve had.” 

As streetlights whizzed by, Skylar realized that she was in the back of a car. A car that wasn’t her own. What..? Where..? Before she could even say anything to Remmy, she found herself being lifted out of the car, her feet dragging underneath her as she tried to get stable footing. But, her feet stumbled and she really wasn’t any help as Remmy helped her up the entry way of… wait. Why was this familiar? Why did it-- Raising her head, Skylar blinked in confusion as she realized that Ricky was standing before her. “Whaat? Ricky-- Remmy. Remmy, why’re we.. why?” She mumbled, her head lolling against Remmy’s shoulder. What was going on?

“Yeah,” Remmy nodded back to Ricky. They wished they could’ve met under better circumstances, but this was the most important thing to Remmy right now. They’d already had to cut off Blanche, they couldn’t lose Skylar, too. Not today. “Don’t worry, just relax,” they said to Skylar, trying to rub her back comfortingly as they carried her up the stairs with Ricky to the bathroom. Once they were there, Remmy unraveled the blanket from Skylar, gently prodding her to open her arms so they could take the skin from her, too. They didn’t know how they were going to accomplish this, but Remmy would die trying if they had to. They weren’t losing anyone else. Even if Skylar hated them after this, it would be worth it. They looked back at Ricky. “How’s-- how’s this work, then?”

It was immediately concerning to Ricky how terrible Skylar looked. His grandmother had always called the effects that came from not changing pla aigein, ocean plague, and looking at Skylar now he was beginning to see how this looked like a terrible illness. Shutting off the water he sighed and looked at the skin in Remm’s hands, “Notice how it’s got a slit in the middle? That’s where you step into it, sorta like onesie pajamas. Our human bodies secrete a, well, for lack of a better word slime that helps us draw it close.” He grabbed a couple fluffy towels and moved them nearer to the tub. “Unfortunately it doesn’t work with clothes on.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, fingers carding through his curly hair, “And there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that I’m taking her clothes off.” This was only a stop gap measure at best, Ricky knew, but if it got her changed and healthy he was willing to roll the dice. 

Skylar did her best to tilt her head upwards, her eyes unfocused as Remmy helped her inside. What… What was going on? What was happening? She couldn’t entirely make out what Ricky was saying, even with her hearing aids, she couldn’t process everything that was going on. But, she could see that he was gesturing to her skin. Blinking, Skylar realized that the two of them were holding her very close to a bathtub full of water. “What’s-- what’s going on?” She mumbled, straining against Remmy’s arms as she took in the situation. What was happening? They… they weren’t going to-- No. No, they wouldn’t.

Remmy felt Skylar start struggling and strained to hold onto her without hurting her too much. “Hey! Hey, relax, i-it’s okay!” they said, trying to calm her down. If she was already catching on, that meant they didn’t have much time. Remmy started with her shoes and socks, slipping them off quickly and setting them aside. “I, um-- I want to look at you wound, okay?” they half-lied. Looking at that was probably a good idea, too, make sure it was healing alright. “So I’m gonna help you take your shirt off. It’s gonna be okay,” they tried to reassure, looking back at Ricky. “Maybe um-- maybe give us some space?” they asked.

Ricky huffed an anxious sight, this was all a pretty morally gray area and he wasn’t the most comfortable with it, but if it meant saving Skylar from what had been described to him as terrible torture he was gonna follow through. “You can probably keep your… undergarments on. It shouldn’t affect the change.” Nodding at Remmy he brushed his hands through his hair, “A good plan. I’ll be right outside the door for… whatever you need.” His gaze turned worriedly to Skylar, “This is the safest place for you to do this. It’s going to fix a lot of your problems but you just have to get over your fear of it first.” He walked to the door and positioned himself in the hallway leaning up against the doorframe, chewing on a fingernail nervously. 

In a daze of pain and tiredness, Skylar let Remmy pull her shoes and socks out. “My… wound..?” She said as her arm twinged in pain at the mention of it. “My shirt? Uh huh.” She said with a slightly punch-drunk nod of her head. As she looked around, Skylar realized that Ricky was nowhere to be seen, even though she could have sworn she’d seen him just a second ago. Staring around the room, her eyes glazed over, Skylar leaned against Remmy heavily. “What’s… Why? Where’d… Where’d Ricky go?” She mumbled, doing her best to try and look at Remmy, but it was hard to focus on them when there were three of them floating around in her vision.

Remmy hesitated a moment. They didn’t like this, they didn’t like lying. It hurt them to think they were going to force Skylar into this, but the thought of losing her hurt more. Much, much more. They let her lean against them as they gently tugged her shirt up and off, setting it next to her shoes on the sink counter. “Here, sit up a little,” they said, holding her by the shoulders to help push her up so they could see. The wound was obviously still fresh, but it was closed and stitched and not infected. Remmy sighed. “Looks pretty okay, for a stab wound,” they tried to tease, looking over their shoulder towards the door. “He...He just stepped out. He’ll be right back. Just focus on me, okay?” they said, moving away slightly. Here came the hard part. Getting her pants off without arousing too much suspicion. Remmy’s hands shook. “Can-- Can I check your legs for any other wounds and stuff? You look like you might have um-- collapsed at your place. I wanna make sure you didn’t bruise anything.”

Skylar let Remmy examine her shoulder-- it wasn’t, it wasn’t a serious thing, she wanted to tell them. She knew that it wasn’t a big deal. But, if they wanted to make sure, who was she to argue? “Where… are we?” She asked, swallowing thickly as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. But, her vision had narrowed to just Remmy. Remmy and her seal skin, lying on the ground next to her. “My legs, I-- I…” She struggled to think of why she might have hurt her legs. “Sure. Mhm.” She mumbled, resting her head on the other person’s shoulder tiredly. As she did so, she began to realize that something was happening to her body. Her hands, they were growing slick, but beyond that… the rest of her body was too. Her arms, the back of her neck, her stomach-- she was… oozing slime?

Remmy nodded gently, let Skylar lean against them, brushing fingers through her hair to try and help sooth her. They were shaking as they tugged down her pant legs and helped her pull her pants all the way, setting them on top of her shirt and shoes. Almost done. Now all they had to do was get her into the suit. They might need Ricky for this, but they’d give it a try, first. Give Skylar a minute, first. They sat back again, holding up Skylar’s head with one hand as it sagged. The slime that started oozing from her skin coated their hand, but they pretended not to notice. “Doing okay?” they asked, as they moved their other hand back to draw the skin suit closer. Trying to blindly find the opening as they drew it closer, next to Skylar’s feet. They hated seeing her like this, it was making tears pool in their eyes, but they blinked them away, only a few escaping down their cheek. “You, um-- you look fine. How are you feeling?” they asked, trying to distract her.

Remmy’s fingers in her hair felt nice. Skylar leaned into the touch, still not fully aware of everything that was happening. But, as Remmy moved over to her, a furry pelt in their hand, Skylar’s eyes widened. That was-- she knew what that was. That was, that was her skin. Her pelt. “REMMY!” Skylar shrieked, sliding backwards away from Remmy as they tried to drape the skin around her. What were they doing, what was going on? “Ricky. Ricky, he…” Her head reeled as she tried to connect the dots through the brain fog that was clouding her mind. “I don’t-- No, no. I don’t want it.” She mumbled, holding her hands out to get the pelt away from her. But, even as she said the words, she could feel her body aching for the skin, yearning to wrap it around her, to feel its warmth.  

Remmy tried to keep a hold of Skylar as she jumped away, but it was hard when she was all slimy. Remmy moved towards her, though, keeping the pelt steady. “Skylar, listen-- listen to me. Focus on me, okay?” they said, trying to not corner her and freak her out too much more. “It’s gonna be okay. We just want to help,” they said, holding out the pelt. “It’s not going to hurt or anything, I promise. Everything’s going to be okay, alright?” They looked for a moment, back over their shoulder at the door, wondering if they should call Ricky in.

Watching as Remmy took a step forward, Skylar backed away, her feet slick against the bathroom floor. Her hands grasped the edge of the bathtub while her head spun, her stomach turning. As she tried to push away from the tub, her arm twinged in agony, her fresh stitches making their presence very known. “No! I don’t-- I won’t do it!” She protested, shaking her head as she grasped at her shoulder, the layer of slime pressing against her palm. “It’s not, none of this, none of this is okay.” She gasped, her hair sticking to her forehead.

Remmy could feel the panic rising in the air. Skylar was slipping all over the place, and they knew that had to hurt. “You need to stop moving, you’re just gonna hurt yourself, please,” Remmy begged, trying to keep their voice quiet and calm. “You might tear your stitches! Skylar-- I-- you’re right, okay? None of what happened to you was right, but you have to do this. You have to do this or you’re going to die, and I can’t-- I won’t let that happen.” They looked at her with sympathetic eyes, wide and full of their own worry and guilt. “You can hate me after this, but I’m not leaving until this happens. I’m not losing you, too.” They glanced back at the door again, but made sure to keep an eye on Skylar. “Ricky!” They called. “I um-- think we need some help!”

It sounded for all intents and purposes like they were in the process of destroying the bathroom that he had very lovingly remodeled last year, and Ricky heaved a giant sigh as he leaned against the cool wood of the door frame. A bright metallic taste in his mouth shocked him slightly, and he looked down to see his thumb bleeding from where he’d been worrying it with his teeth…. His fangs, he realized, as he remembered he hadn’t gone up to his bedroom for his false teeth when Remmy told him they were on their way over. At the sound of Remmy’s borderline panicked voice, Ricky burst through the door, confronted with what would be a borderline comical sight if it didn’t involve someone very dear to him on the verge of death. “You know…” he tried to keep his voice light and calming, “you’ve now been party to two rooms in my house getting fucked up.” He shot Remmy a wan smile as he held his hands out to Skylar, “Would it be easier if I changed with you?”

The room was spinning around her, the lights bright and painful against her eyes as Skylar struggled to stay balanced. She wanted to lie down, she wanted to just curl up in a ball and sleep and pretend that all the pain in her body and her head would go away soon. She wanted to just suffer through this like she normally did and wake up better. But, the seal skin in Remmy’s hands was calling to her. It was hers, it was her. And she needed it, her body ached for it. Eyes unfocused as Ricky came into the room, Skylar shook her head back and forth in an exaggerated motion. “No. M’not. Not gonna do it.” She said before swallowing thickly, “I’m not. A seal.”

“Okay,” Remmy said, “okay, you’re not a seal. Not just a seal. You’re Skylar, too,” they said, glancing back at Ricky, then to Skylar once more. They didn’t want to physical shove Skylar inside the skin, but they would if they had to. “Just like I’m still Remmy and he’s still Ricky. W-We’re all allowed to be ourselves, still, even if we’re also something else,” they tried to explain. “Please, just let us do this for you. You’ll feel so much better. I promise.”

It was becoming readily apparent to Ricky that this wasn’t just going to happen, so he nodded tersely at Remmy and ran up the attic ladder to his room, grabbing his own skin from its safe. He loved his pelt, pale silver and a stripe of dark gray spots that ran from his snout down his back. His mother’s had been much the same color, and it was a connection he felt to her. Hurrying back to the bathroom he quickly shucked off his clothes until he was standing in his underwear with his pelt draped over one arm. He slid his mother’s ring off his hand and after a moment’s pause held it out to Remmy, “Guard this with your life.” He looked over at Skylar, “Together. We can do this together. We’re here for you.” 

Even though Remmy's voice was reassuring, Skylar still shook her head. She didn't want this, she didn't want any of this. "I can't," She mumbled as she leaned against the wall, her back pressing hard against it in an attempt to stay on her feet. "If I do this... it means my parents let me hurt my entire life. They--they coulda told me the truth at any time. If I don't, if I'm not... if I just ride this out. A' least they tried to help me." She said, words slurring together. The memories of being in and out of hospitals, of medication after medication, the blood tests and treatments, and the hush money paid to make sure no one ever said anything-- it wouldn't mean anything. Turning would make all the suffering worthless. As Ricky appeared with his own seal skin in hand, Skylar's shoulders began to shake, her breathing coming in quickly. "I... no. Ricky, please, I don't--" She mumbled before her knees buckled and she slid to the ground.

Remmy felt as if they’d been punched in the gut. An overwhelming feeling of guilt gripping them as they watched Skylar beg and plead. They knew Skylar wouldn’t be happy about this, but if Remmy had the power, they were going to save her. And they did. They gave Ricky a solemn nod as they pocketed the ring and made sure it was secure, before turning back to Skylar. “I’m so sorry, Skye,” they said, making sure to enunciate clearly. “But I’m doing this. And you can hate all you want after, but I’m not going to let you hurt yourself like this anymore.” And with that, they slid the skin under Skylar’s feet, grabbing her ankles and pulling her as gently as possible towards the skin, holding it open, before stepping back to let gravity-- and seal slime-- do the rest of the work. Watching as Skylar sank into the pelt, the edges folding over her, their eyes clouding up with tears that poured down their face. They didn’t look at Ricky anymore. “We have to-- we have to get her in the tub.”

It was one of the singularly most heartbreaking things that Ricky had ever witnessed, watching Skylar half-crazed with pain wander down the logical road that lead to only one conclusion; that her parents were fucking dicks. “It’s going to be like trying to fit into that one pair of skinny jeans that you keep lying to yourself about and say you can fit into even if you’ve been doing too many squats and you’re too dummy thicc for them anymore.” He stepped into his own skin, feeling the familiar squeeze and compacting of his legs as his body rewrote the shape it had, “When you change, Skye, you’re going to wonder what made you not do this for so long. I promise that whatever comes after the change, whatever family stuff you need to work through, we’ll do that together, the three of us, but you have to do this with me, or you won’t make it that long.” Leading by example so Remmy would have something to go off of he folded his arms inside the pelt, drawing it up and over his shoulders as he shrunk down, “It’ll be okay, Skye. We’re here” were the last words he could manage before he fully transformed, looking across the bathroom at Skylar and Remmy. 

Skylar's body was too weak to protest against Remmy as she was laid into the skin. The seal pelt wrapped around her, the folds draping against her body as the change began to overtake her. Her legs began to compress against each other in a not at all unpleasant way until they simply weren't there. Instead, small back flippers wiggled where her legs were. Her eyes widened as she watched the seal skin begin to close to form a round, furry stomach-- her stomach. And her arms, her hands, the two shifted until they were gone and flippers replaced them. Instinctively, she dislodged her veneers from her mouth and spit them away, the false teeth clattering against the floor as she felt her ears press against her skull, her face elongate slightly. The entire process, it took no longer than a handful of minutes. It didn't even hurt. Still lying flat on her back, she attempted to stand, only to roll awkwardly onto her stomach, her arms-- no, her flippers-- catching her. Staring from Remmy to Ricky's new seal form, she let out a scream. Why have you done this?! She attempted to yell, but a loud barking noise came out instead. Wide eyed and horrified, Skylar shook her head. But, the haze of pain was gone and she now saw the world through clear eyes. She was a selkie. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Remmy watched Ricky transform, awed and transfixed, eyes wide. It was kind of beautiful to watch, and Remmy felt their chest grow a little lighter as it happened. They were truly blessed to be able to watch this. They folded Skylar’s arms in like Ricky had, then stepped back and let the magic work itself again. It only took a few moments, but Remmy was sure they’d remember this forever. Once it was done, Remmy hurried to try and lift Skylar into the tub, but even with their somewhat super strength, they struggled. In the next moment, Skylar was screaming at them. Loudly. Good thing they already had hearing damage. Remmy jumped back, looking between the two seals. Couldn’t help but smile. They were both extremely adorable. But that wiped away quickly when Skylar barked again. “Hey, hey!” Remmy said, holding out their hand, “it’s okay! Relax! You gotta get in the tub, okay! It’ll feel nice, I promise!” they said, pointing towards the bath. “Oh, god, I hope you can understand me. I didn’t ask. Can you understand me? Bark once if yes! Wait--” Remmy paused, scratching their head. “Um....follow Ricky’s lead!” they said, pointing from Ricky to Skylar. “Can you do that?”

Waiting to ensure that Skylar had completed her transformation successfully, Ricky, began the somewhat less laborious process of becoming human again. Folding his long limbs out of the pelt and stepping out, he pushed his damp hair out of his face and carefully hung his skin over the towel rack, “Hey!” He wagged a finger at the irate seal on his bathroom floor, “Language! I assume there was some profanity in there.” He helped Remmy lift Skylar up, depositing her in the cool water of the tub, “Now splash around a bit. It’ll make you feel better I promise, and if you’re real good I’ll cook you dinner afterward.” He turned to Remmy and smiled grimly, “Messy, but effective.” Tying his hair back with a tie from a bowl by the bathroom sink he folded himself onto the floor and sighed, “Well… at least we got her in her skin.” 

Skylar was powerless to fight against the two of them as they lifted her into the large bathtub. She squirmed in their grasp, not wanting any of this. But, as she sank into the tub and felt the cool water against her skin-- her fur-- the last remnants of her pain faded away. Rolling from her stomach to her back, she stared at the flippers that moved where her arms should be. The brain fog had fully disappeared from her mind and the specific memories from her circumstances muddling together in a confusing jumble of pain and anguish. Why am I here? Skylar asked, shaking her head when more barking came from her lips. Tilting her head, she looked at the tub, at the flippers, at herself. Why did you... do this? She asked, the words lost in a mournful howl.

Once Remmy had dropped Skylar into the tub, they backed off a little giving her space. This was Ricky’s place of expertise now, not theirs. They sank to the floor against the wall and let out a long breath, trying to block out the sad sounds Skylar was howling at them. “Yeah,” they said with a slight now, “yeah, at least we got her...in the skin.” They looked over at Skylar, another stab of guilt running through them. They didn’t know what to say anymore, so they just gave her a sad look before letting their eyes fall back to Ricky’s. “What now? Do we just...wait?”

Skylar’s howls and barks of some comixture of rage and sorrow filled the bathroom and bounced off the walls and tiled floor, and Ricky was glad that Winston was off somewhere else for the evening, “Hey. Ms. Attitude…” he toweled his legs off, trying to remove the slime as best he could without actually getting in the shower, “I’m not letting another family member die. So. You can bark all you want. But I stand by what we did.” Turning to Remmy he shrugged as he resumed his spot on the floor next to them, “Yup. She’ll figure out how to step out of it again when her body’s done the reacclimating it needs to do. But for the moment we just sit here and watch her splash all over my clean bathroom” 

When the two backed out of the bathroom, Skylar finally found herself alone. In the water, in her skin, she felt... whole. The memory of holding her pelt paled in comparison to this moment. But, there was something strange about all this. Something... familiar. As out of place as her flippers felt, as strange as the whiskers in her face seemed, it all felt familiar. Resting her head on the edge of the tub, Skylar let out a short huff of a sigh. Why. Why did this feel so familiar to her? She'd only woken up in the tub of her apartment a handful of times and she'd never remembered what had happened. Why didn't this feel strange?

Remmy let out a long sigh. They had done the right thing, they understood that, but it still hurt. As they followed Ricky out, to give Skylar some privacy in the water, they stood awkwardly in his room, unsure where to sit. “I’ll totally help you clean up. I can just do it myself, too. Clean. The bathroom. I’m sorry.” They fiddled with their fingers, glancing around the room, just now registering how big and fancy the house was. “You um-- you have a really nice house…” they muttered.

Ricky knew that it would likely be a minute before Skylar was ready to resume her human form, and so nodded his head towards the kitchen, padding through the hallway on slightly-sticky feet. “I think we earned some coffee. Or something else, if you’re in the mood for something stronger.” He started the coffee machine and dragged two mugs down, just in case Remmy did want something. “Technically not mine.” He pulled cream from the fridge and brought down the sugar bowl, leaning against the counter, “you hungry? I don’t have brains… but I’ve got other protein. As to the house… it belongs to Dee. Delores Agier, who owns this house and that giant mansion to which this is the guest house. She was one of my mom’s closest friends. After my mom was murdered and my dad wanted to move back to Venezuela she offered to raise me so I wouldn’t have to leave White Crest.” 

Remmy followed Ricky once again. “Coffee is fine! Just coffee…” they said, knowing it wouldn’t taste or do anything for them. But it was more the...action that was the comfort, than the liquid itself. The question of alcohol briefly crossed their mind-- could they even get drunk anymore? Did alcohol affect them?-- but now wasn’t the time. “Oh, that’s-- that was really nice of her. I take you um-- like it here, then? In White Crest. And um, no, no that’s okay, I’m not hungry.” They sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. “I’ve only been here a few months. It’s nice….just kinda weird. But what place isn’t, I guess.”

Nodding, Ricky poured coffee into the mugs as soon as it was finished brewing, deeply inhaling the bittersweet scent as he stirred sugar and cream into it. He flashed a bright fanged smile in Remmy’s direction as he nodded, “She’s a marvelous woman. I owe her a great deal, and now that she’s getting older I take care of whatever she needs me to. It’s just a small way I can start to say thank you.” He pulled a bag of dried squid down from the cabinet and started to snack on it, “I do like it here. It’s good for my art, I’ve set down some nice roots here. But also… this is where we buried my mom, and this is where Dee is. I’ve got duties here I can’t shirk. But yeah. I like it.” Shrewdly looking over Remmy he picked a stubborn piece of dried squid out from between his fangs, “So did you move here before or after you died? If that’s not too forward. I assume you died… because… draugr.” 

Remmy kept their eyes on Ricky, trying their best to not let their normal nerves make their eyes dart. It wasn’t that they were uncomfortable, but they did worry. Mostly about Skylar right now, alone in that bathtub upstairs. Remmy nodded. “That’s...really nice of you to do for her. What um-- what kind of art do you do? I met one of the local architects, he’s a really nice guy. He’s--” like me? Remmy paused, “kind of a shut in, but he’s sweet. Roots are nice. Um...having them in places.” They stiffened a little at the mention. “I, um-- after. I-- it happened almost two years ago now…” swallowed. “I don’t really...like to talk about it, though. It’s not...pleasant.”

It seemed like his undead friend was exceptionally nervous, and given that their friend was upstairs in his bathtub having an identity crisis, Ricky wasn’t sure he could blame them. “Woodwork primarily. Lots of furniture and wooden sculpture. I like making puzzle boxes too!” These descriptions made Ricky momentarily furrow his brow, “Shut in….. Sweet…. Maybe also terrified of germs and injuries? I think I might know him. Nice dude.” Clearly the topic of their death made them uncomfortable and Ricky thought it best to give the topic a wide berth. “Well… I can only assume it isn’t pleasant. People don’t ever seem to want to go through it more than once. But. moving on!!!” He topped off their coffee and hopped up on the counter, kicking his feet, “What made you choose White Crest?”

Remmy was grateful for the topic change. “Oh, I love puzzle boxes! I love um-- doing them. I really like doing puzzles.” They nodded. “Yep, that’s nim. He’s a good guy.” They let out a breath, taking a large sip of coffee. The warmth filled their insides, even if it tasted like nothing. It was a pleasant feeling. “Honestly?” a shrug, “it was the first place to call me back about a job. I didn’t really know what to do with my life after I came back from being posted and was retired from the military. I just sent out a bunch of applications and decided the first place to call me back would be the one. So...here I am.”

Ricky scuttled into the living room and pulled down a box from a shelf, “This is one of the most difficult ones I ever made. So. Let’s see if you can manage to open it up.” He set the highly polished wood box down on the counter and returned to his squid and coffee. “He seems real nice. I brought him some sandbags when the whole blood flooding thing started. Definitely a nice guy.” Drumming his fingers against the countertop he couldn’t help but laugh at Remmy’s story, “Seems almost… I dunno. Serendipitous? You happened to get a job in like the fucking supernatural hot spot of the northeast. Well… I for one am glad you came to White Crest. Now my fantasy of a terrible garage band is one step closer to reality!”

Remmy took the puzzle excitedly, taking the few moments alone to listen and see if Skylar was still making a fuss upstairs. It was quiet for now. Thank goodness. They immediately started working in on the puzzle. It was definitely quite complicated, but all Remmy had to do was turn it around a few times to get a full picture of it before their brain calculated exactly what to do and they started in. “He offered me a job,” they said absently, a little distracted by the puzzle. They could solve it, sure, but doing two things at once? Good luck. They paused to look up at Ricky. “You think so? Could just be a coincidence. I dunno if I believe too much in luck and all that…” they looked back down at the puzzle and continued to move pieces around, already almost halfway done. “Either way, I’m glad I came, too. Being in a band has been my childhood dream for as long as I can remember,” they teased.

It was interesting watching Remmy work through the puzzle box, which had taken Ricky nearly a month to make. All of the tiny intricate pieces, gears, and locking mechanisms had come together to make something he was truly proud of, and it seemed like his new friend was going to solve it in an embarrassingly small amount of time. “Did he? Doing what?” His snack lay abandoned as he watched Remmy work through the puzzle, “Oh no. Of course not. It’s absolutely coincidence, I just think it’s a funny one. That with your…. Condition, shall we say, you end up in a place suited to help you learn how to navigate it!” Chuckling he struck a pose, “We’re going to have ridiculous costumes I hope you know.” 

“Yeah!” Remmy said excitedly, “mostly just helping with stuff around the studio, but he said If I wanna learn, he’d teach me. I don’t know yet, though. I’m not sure what I wanna do with my life anymore. Or, um-- unlife? Afterlife?” A shrug. “With whatever it is I have now. Architecture seems cool and I’ve always liked doodling, but it doesn’t like...spark that thing in me that I hear so many people talk about.” They went back to working on the puzzle, eyes calculating again as more locks stood in the way. Oh! That was how it worked. Okay. Remmy’s fingers fiddled in, turned a few things, and, finally, the box clicked and the center opened. “I guess in that way, it kind of wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe something did draw me here, but…” the opened the box carefully, “I guess I never really thought about it.” They looked up at Ricky, giving a grin, soft and a little tired. “Oh, we better. There’s no other way to be in a band.” Finally looking down at the prize inside. A picture of Ricky and a woman, who could only be assumed to be his mom. They looked back at Ricky. “Is um-- is that your mom?”

Letting out a final sigh, Skylar did her best to prop herself up in the tub. She didn’t know how long she’d been soaking in there, but it had been… nice. In a way. When she’d been at the pool only just the week before, she hadn’t felt even the slightest bit comfortable. But, in the tub, she had felt restless, cooped up, as though she was stuck in some kind of cage. Pushing the thoughts from her brain, Skylar blinked. Wait a second. Ricky hadn’t told her how to stop being a seal. But, uh… how hard could it be? Contorting her face slightly, she tried to remember how legs felt, how fingers and hands, how her face and jaw and skin felt in comparison to this seal form. And as she focused, Skylar could feel the skin starting to recede away from her body, her limbs making themselves known again, her spine straightening and lengthening. Shaking hands grasped the edge of the bathtub and Skylar let out shuddering gasps before she pulled herself out of the tub, skin draped around her shoulders. She stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a nearby towel, shivering as she padded out of the bathroom to where she could hear Ricky and Remmy talking. Water dripped down her face as she stared at the two of them, “How… how did I get here?” Skylar asked, before gesturing to the skin still around her. “And why did you do this?” 

Ricky could feel his jaw literally drip as Remmy slid the last pin into place and opened the box, “That took me a MONTH! Just for the woodwork alone! It was like another two months of sketching and planning before that! Nobody has ever been able to open it!” He huffed a sigh, “Guess it’s time to start planning a new one… a better one… but yeah… that’s me and my mom. That was when I was… god… like seven? We went to San Francisco for a vacation and mom and I drove to Monterey and went to the aquarium and swam through the kelp forests in the Bay. It was amazing. That bay is just like… god…. One of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.” He’d been about to launch into another story when he heard Skylar talk behind him, “Uber, I think.” he sighed and set his coffee down, “And because neither of us is willing to watch you suffer when the solution is in reach. It’s not the plan I’m proudest of, but, I’d do it again to save you from unnecessary pain.” 

“Oh, really?” Remmy said, blinking. “I’m sorry. I can put it back together! Sorry.” They started putting the stuff back in place before pausing. “That’s....really sweet. Why do you keep it in--” but Remmy didn’t get to finish, as Skylar-- human skylar-- came padding in, still soaking wet, wrapped in a towel and her pelt. “Skye!” they said before they could stop themself. Bit their lip, refraining from just jumping up and hugging her immediately. She already looked so much better. Skin no longer pale, eyes full and round again, bags nearly gone from under her eyes. It made Remmy teary again. “Y-yeah, I...picked you up and brought you here. You don’t, um-- remember?” they glanced between the two again. “It was...I wasn’t going to watch you do that to yourself. I…” they stopped. Sorry wouldn’t cut it, because they weren’t sorry. They were only sorry Skylar would be in pain again, once the implications of this set in.

Blinking as the two of them explained themselves, Skylar’s lips pressed together as she read their lips. “I don’t remember anything other than being in bed, with my phone.” Which, it seemed, she didn’t have here. So she couldn’t even check what messages she’d sent out or anything like that. But, if her pelt was here, if Remmy was here, then… she must have worked with them. She had to have opened the safe, she had to have let them take her here. Swallowing, Skylar pulled the pelt around her shoulders protectively. “I need to go home.” She said, her voice rising in volume, “I need to go home, right now, and I don’t have my phone and I don’t have my hearing aids and I don’t have my teeth and I NEED TO GO HOME NOW.” She yelled, her lips pulling back to flash her fangs angrily at the two of them.

Honestly, it was a far more calm reaction than Ricky had been anticipating when Skylar came into the kitchen. He let her get through her initial shouting, drinking his coffee and running his hand idly around the edge of the picture of him and his mother. “Your teeth are upstairs in the bathroom. You spit them out while you were changing and I cleaned them and put them on the shelf to the left of the sink.” He set the coffee down and hopped off the counter, pushing still-damp hair out of his eyes, “I can take you home if you want.” He knew without the benefit of her hearing aids Skye would be relying solely on lip reading and her very limited hearing so he made sure she could see his mouth clearly, “We’ll get your clothes and dry off your pelt and be good to go. But…. don’t you feel in substantially less pain?”

Remmy stayed quiet as Skylar shouted. She was clearly upset, as was expected. As she was allowed to be. It still hurt, though, to hear her shout, to see her bare her teeth at them. Remmy looked away. They didn’t know what else to say, but luckily Ricky took charge, and didn’t seem to mind the yelling. They looked back at Skylar and stood up from the chair, going over. “Your stuff is all upstairs. I’ll go grab it,” they signed quickly, “if you want.”

Glaring at Ricky, Skylar shook her head. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” She growled, her hands shaking at her side. Though the creeping depression and pain had disappeared from her and she felt better than she had in… than she’d ever felt before, Skylar wasn’t about to tell Ricky that. He’d forced her to do this, they both had. “I don’t care. And no.” She said sharply in Remmy’s direction. “I’m going to get them myself. I need… to get home and I don’t have my phone. Can you call me an Uber or something? I’ll venmo you the money back.” Without waiting to see what Remmy said, she walked back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her tightly. She hated this. She hated being angry at her friends, but she hated the situation they’d put her in more. Why couldn’t they have just left her alone?

With a colossal rumbling sigh Ricky picked up his phone and started requesting an Uber to drop Skye off at her apartment, “I know you’re lying to me” he called up the stairs as his fingers tapped away, requesting a silent ride for Skylar, “This wasn’t ideal…” he leaned against the banister at the bottom of the stairs and sighed, “But it’s what you needed. I know this is like a big huge weird thing, but, it’s also a, like, super integral part of your life. So. Something to get used to.” Longing for his coffee that he’d left in the kitchen he continued to wait for Skylar to come back downstairs. 

Remmy immediately sat back down as Skylar snapped at them. That was two friends, now, that were mad at them. But if it meant protecting them-- from themselves or otherwise-- Remmy would take it. Better they be alive and hate them than dead and not. They let out a sigh and looked back at the opened puzzle on the table, started putting it back together, waiting for Skylar to come back down. They wished someone could go with her, if just to make sure she got home alright. But they doubted she wanted either of them anywhere near her right now. So they just finished putting the puzzle back together before setting it on the shelf and walking over to where Ricky was waiting. “It was for the best…” they muttered to him quietly, “right?”

[greenjacketwhitehatdocmui]

Warts and All

Submitted for your approval, a little bit of text on a mundane use of Elsa’s power that she doesn’t want known:  Killing warts.

(Yes, cryotherapy for warts is a thing.)

    Anna noted that it had started so innocently. It was just a little bump on her foot. It was probably a callus or something in her shoe that had rubbed her the wrong way.  It was nothing that a good soak and a pumice stone wouldn't fix.

    As the days passed, it became obvious that the lump on her foot wasn't a callus.  Despite her efforts to keep it down, the lump was growing.  It had to be a blister then, she reasoned.  But didn't blisters fade after a day or so?

    Elsa had, of course, noticed.  She noticed the little winces every time Anna bumped into the lump.  She noticed that, despite the warm weather, Anna wasn't wearing slippers.  And she noticed that during their sleepovers, Anna was wearing socks all the time.

    Finally, she'd had enough of Anna trying to put on a good face.  It was obvious that her foot was bothering her and just ignoring it wasn't going to help.

    "Let's have the doctor take a look that foot," Elsa said at lunch.  "It's been bothering you, hasn't it?"

    Anna blinked.  "It's nothing, really," she insisted.  "It's just a little lump.  It'll go away on its own, right?"

    Elsa arched an eyebrow.  "You passed on a hike with Kristoff two days ago.  It was the perfect weather for it and you never stay inside if you can help it."

    For a long moment, Anna squirmed under her sister's patient gaze.  Then she sighed, defeated by logic and sisterly concern.

    "Okay, fine," she muttered.  "It's probably nothing to worry about."

********

    "It's a wart," the doctor proclaimed. "It'll work its way out in a few months."

    "Wart?" Anna repeated weakly.  "I have a wart?"

    Elsa sighed.  "Well, that's what you get for running around the garden barefoot."

    "It's nothing life-threatening," the doctor reassured them.  "I have some medicine that will help you peel it off in layers."  He handed Anna a small bottle.  "Apply it every night and keep the wart covered. And please resist the urge to rip out the wart; you'll hurt yourself."

    "Isn't there any way to make the wart go away any faster?" Anna asked.  "I mean, I don't want to keep putting this stuff on my foot for months at a time."

    The doctor looked thoughtful.  "Well, I've heard that extreme cold can kill warts. Once the wart is dead, it's no longer drawing from your body to grow.  Then it's merely a matter of your body naturally expelling it over time."

    Elsa felt Anna's gaze on her.  It was a disturbing combination of expectancy, pleading and vaguely homicidal intent.  It was not something that she ever expected from her kind, all-loving sister.

    "Elsa, I need your magic fingers," Anna said urgently.  Raising her foot, she pointed to the offending wart.  "Kill it.  Kill it NOW."

    Elsa's eye twitched.  "No, that's not disturbing in the least."

    "Pleeeease?"

    Elsa sighed heavily.  "Fine."

    Anna didn't quite whoop for joy as she glared at her wart.  "Oh, yeah!  You're in for it now!  Prepare to taste icy judgment from my sister, slayer of warts!"

    "Anna, that's not helping.  I need to concentrate."

    "Sorry."

********

    "So, how's the foot today?" Kristoff asked a few days later.  "Is it any better?"

    They’d adjourned to the library for the day; the rain had put a stop to any outdoor activities.  Currently, Anna wasn’t quite leaning on Kristoff’s shoulder.  She’d removed the bandages covering her foot, which she dangled carelessly.

    Anna pouted.  "This thing is just clinging on.  I think it’s almost out, but it’s held by these disgusting black roots."

    "They're not roots," Elsa corrected her from her seat.  "They're blood vessels that were helping the wart grow.  They'll be pushed out like everything else."

    "Ew.”  Anna grimaced.

    “Give it time,” Kristoff reassured her.  “It’ll be out before you know it.”

    “Oh, sure,” she scoffed.  “All I have to do is just waggle my foot around and it’ll pop right out.”

    Putting word to deed, Anna shook her foot vigorously. This garnered an amused smirk from Elsa.

    The amusement lasted for a moment, as the wart finally decided to detach itself from Anna’s foot.  With a startled squeak, Elsa froze the offending lump in midair, just before it would have landed in her book.  It stopped in mid-arc and landed a few feet away from Elsa.

    The three of them looked at the ice-encased wart as it lay on the carpet.  For a long moment, silence reigned.

    “YES!  WART-FREE AT LAST!” Anna squealed.  “Three cheers for Elsa, Slayer of Warts!”  She stood up and did what she thought was a little victory jig.

    “Easy, Feistypants,” Kristoff said.  “Your foot’s still healing.”

    Elsa and Kristoff shared an amused glance. They always enjoyed seeing Anna happy, though...

    “Yes, that’s clearly what I’d like to be remembered for,” Elsa remarked dryly.  “Elsa, Queen of Arendelle, Defender of the Realm and Slayer of Warts.  It just rolls off the tongue.”

    Anna stuck her tongue out in response.  “Hey, can I have a happy moment?  This ugly little thing was feeding off of me!”

    “So, what do you want to do with it?” Kristoff asked.  “Do we toss it into the fire or—“

    “I have an idea,” Anna announced.  There was a definite glint of mischief in her eyes.

********

    Hans wiped the sweat from his filthy brow for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.  It certainly didn't help that he'd been forced to wear the same grimy clothes while cleaning the stables.

    Oh, it was humiliating.  How his brothers had jeered at him when he arrived in chains. How his parents had turned their noses up at him when they pronounced their "judgment."

    He was quite familiar with humiliation.  A lesser man would have succumbed and begged for forgiveness, but not him.  This was only a minor setback.

    His attention was drawn to the servant that had just arrived.  With understandable distaste, he held out some sort of parcel.

    "What is it now?" Hans sighed.  He thudded his shovel into the mud and scowled.

    "Delivery from Arendelle," the servant replied. "It's for you."

    The package was handed off and the servant retreated.  For a moment, Hans was left pondering what was in the package.

    He had little doubt that this was from Anna. Oh, the little idiot was probably hoping to redeem him somehow.  Perhaps she'd negotiated something in the hopes of keeping an eye on him.

    Opening the parcel, he shivered.  There was something very, very cold inside, along with a note.  Further examination showed that it was a block of ice with...something inside.

    Hans, the note read, this is the only thing you will ever have of me.  Anna.

    He took a closer look at the block.  It was some sort of lump, but he couldn't make out what it was.

    It was at that time that the cube melted. Hans's eyes widened in first shock, then disgust as he realized what he was holding.

    Nobody paid attention when he started screaming. They'd gotten used to his rants a long time ago.

********

    "I received the most interesting message from the Southern Isles," Elsa began.  "It seems that Prince Hans received your gift."

    Anna tried to look innocent.  The impudent smirk gave her away.

    "Oh, did he?" she asked sweetly.

    Elsa gave her a look.  "Why?" she demanded.

    Anna shrugged.  "Well, if he truly loved me, it'd be warts and all--YIKE!" she yelped as the snowballs began flying.

THE END

[mylittlejoanie]

Cherry Blossoms [IV] - a chanyeol story

I start school in a little over a week and I haven’t been working so much, so it’s looking like I’ll have this series done in a week or two 😅  Hope you all enjoy! 

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Plot: You finally admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you aren’t over Chanyeol yet.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Reader

Time stopped as I stood firmly in place, attempting to do anything but look at the man standing directly in front of me. He was close enough for me to touch him, and oh, how I ached to do so. I had just dreamt of this face, and yet the face in front of me wasn’t the face I had seen in my dreams. His skin looked worn, his hair was shorter and darker than I remembered, and he looked far too thin for his lengthy frame. Before I could stop myself, I slowly reached my arm out to bridge the gap between us. His face looked uncertain, and I saw how his gaze never left the ring on my finger. I took one step, then another, until I was close enough to wrap my arms around him.

I immediately felt home. 

Home was Chanyeol, his warm arms and raucous laughter, his velvety voice singing me to sleep. I had missed this feeling more than I remembered. How had I let so much time pass without feeling his arms around me? His worn fingers gently cupped my jawline, and I flinched, but then melted into his rough hands. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of his hand on my cheek, his fingers tracing gentle shapes on my skin. I listened to the sound of the waves breaking, the seagulls calling, children laughing over tall ice cream cones. 

Chanyeol looked at me as if I were going to disappear out of thin air, and a creeping thought in the back of my mind told me that disappearing would be an excellent idea. I hesitantly pulled away from his caress, and as I did, I felt whatever spell we were under break.

I am engaged. I am going to marry another man. I care about him, I trust him, and I know that my life will be simple and stable with him. I am not in love with Park Chanyeol, not anymore. I was once, and it was the best, worst, most heartbreaking ten years of my life. Those days are long gone. Just standing here in front of him was enough to bring back memories of waiting for someone who wasn’t going to call, who didn’t care enough to be here for the big stuff. I looked at him with unintended spite and finally opened my mouth to speak.

“Chanyeol, what are you doing here? What are we doing here?” His eyes opened wide at the cutting tone of my voice, and he began talking quickly, too quickly. “I have been looking for you for years, and I had just given up, but then I had a dream about you. And I knew I would find you soon, and now here you are, in front of me! God, you have no idea how much I missed-“

I scoffed at these words, interrupting his nervous chatter. “Chanyeol, I do know how much you missed me. I missed you just as much every time you left, every time you hung up the phone, every time I waited for you and you never showed. I stayed up for three extra hours that last night. I made the popcorn, I set up Netflix, I lit candles. I ate every single piece of popcorn myself and watched the candles burn until the wax dripped to the floor. I know what missing someone feels like. And you are the one who caused me that pain.”

He stepped back, shocked, as if my words caused him physical torment. He cast his gaze down, unable to look at me. I had never seen him like this. Perennially happy Chanyeol couldn’t even paste a smile on his face, and I was surprised by how uneasy that made me. I sighed and swallowed, beginning to feel the dark haze slink back over me once again. I spent so many months missing him so much that I could hardly breathe, physically feeling his loss in more ways than I cared to remember. But now, I am okay. I’ve been okay for a long time, and here he comes, with the absolute nerve to interrupt me when I am trying to have a perfectly peaceful day at the beach to myself. No, he was not going to have me back that easy; not that he could have me back, anyway. I couldn’t let this happen.

“Chanyeol, I can’t do this. I’m engaged, I’m getting married early next year. You shouldn’t have come up to me, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you. I really hope you’re doing well.” I felt his hand gently clasp around my wrist, and from behind him I saw his friend Minseok running towards him, shouting his name as he wiped away sweat. 

“Listen... I completely understand why you feel the way you do, and I know that I do not deserve a minute of your attention. Minseok and I are staying the night in town, and if you want a drink, or you want to talk, I’ll give you the address to my hotel.” I frowned as he pulled a business card out of his front jacket pocket, and shook my head as I snatched the card from his hand. I walked backwards, not ready to break our eye contact, feeling tears well up in my eyes. 

“Goodbye, Chanyeol.”

I turned around and started running as fast as I could.

I quickly fished in my beach bag for my keys with one hand while I wiped the tears from my face with the other. God, I really fucking wish I hadn’t seen Chanyeol today. I wish I hadn’t dreamt about him and I sure as hell wish I hadn’t heard his damn voice when I was trying to shower. I was furious; angry that the person I had been running away from came waltzing back into my life as if he had never left. As if I had never made him leave.

I collapsed into my armchair, extremities shaking from the effort I exerted. I should have yelled at him, I should have told him how I suffered without him when he was supposed to be by my side. I needed a dose of reality. I pulled out my phone and dialed Jin Woo. I knew a phone call with my fiancé would bring me back to the way life was supposed to be.

For the first time in our relationship, he did not answer the phone.

I cursed as I threw my phone on my couch in indignation. He was supposed to be the reliable one. He knew what I had been through; at least, the fact that my ex boyfriend broke my heart. I needed consistency. He knew how important it was to me that he answers his phone, and he had done it every single time… until now. ‘I guess even perfect people aren’t perfect, huh?’ I spoke aloud even though I was home alone, with only my cat to listen to me.

I picked up Snowball and began combing her long fur with my fingers. I couldn’t get Chanyeol out of my mind. He was still in my head, still in my skin, and still in my entire being. Distance couldn’t keep him from being the best part of me, the part of me I had been missing since the day I told him to leave. I had only been in his presence for five minutes, and already I was once again consumed with everything about him.

I forced thoughts of my former love out of my life, and thought about Jin Woo. He brought me flowers to our first date, picked me up precisely on time, and dropped me off before eleven PM. In our first spring of dating, he didn’t want to walk through the park after dinner. He said the cherry blossoms had a sickly smell, almost like cough syrup. Where Chanyeol was daring, he was tentative. His life wasn’t consumed by art, or music, or new horizons. Our life was simple, black and white. There was nothing questionable about it.

But there was no excitement, either. If life with Jin Woo was monotone, cocktail parties and volunteer work, life with Chanyeol was in brilliant technicolor. It was a constant adventure, filled with spontaneity. Sure, he wasn’t reliable, and that damn boy couldn’t be on time if his life depended on it. But he was color, and I was greyscale, longing for even a hint of bright blue.

I couldn’t live the rest of my life with this doubt. I put down my cat and walked deliberately to my jewelry box. I carefully slipped the diamond ring off my finger, feeling a twinge of guilt as I shut the box closed.

I stood in front of a dark brown door, palms shaking, asking myself over and over if I were making the right choice. Catching up couldn’t hurt, right? But I needed to be sure. I needed one more sign.

I heard a song emitting from behind the door; a sorrowful song that I knew, somehow, was intended for me. I listened to it and heard the agony behind every note. It sounded like an wish, it sounded like it was begging for someone to hear it. I closed my eyes. I knew without question what I needed to do next. I needed closure, I needed to know why I couldn’t shake this man from my mind. Why I still, after all of the years, felt him so deeply that I ached in every single piece of me.

I timidly reached out a hand and knocked on the hotel room door.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ for @agentcalliope, part II of her 3 part gift for the @aosficnet2 exchange. It’s angst/hurt/comfort (my favourite genre) but after this other Fitz-related angst fest I had to sprinkle a liiiittle fluff in there too. Also inspired by the song Oh Mother by Christina Aguilera. Enjoy!

Rshps: Fitz, FitzSimmons, & Fitz’s Mother. set post-FW.

TW: references to domestic violence & associated trauma (after the fact; no actual depiction of physical, verbal or emotional abuse). Rated T.

Read on AO3 (~3300wd)

Part II - A Man Called Alistair

Real

I wear ties & dress shoes on a regular basis

I built a potato clock for the 7th grade science fair

I went to Shield Academy

Not Real

I like black coffee

I speak Latin

Aida went to Shield Academy

Real

I broke my arm in second grade

I broke my arm when I was six

I broke my arm. - ?

Fitz blinked down at the words, puzzled. He read them over again, and frowned. Memories of two separate lives clamoured for his attention, and his head hurt. He pinched his nose.

Jemma nudged him then, knocking him from his thoughts a little.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

It took everything in her not to look down at his page. These were his private thoughts – the path he had to walk to recovery inside his own mind – so she had to let him keep them to himself. But she couldn’t bare to let him walk alone.

“It’s dad,” Fitz explained, and sighed. “I keep getting stuck. I can’t figure out if he’s real or not real.”

“Of course he’s real,” Jemma promised. “You still have a dad, even if he is…”

“What?”

Fitz’s tone was sharp all of a sudden; demanding. Jemma felt like swallowing her tongue. Fitz glared for a minute, but the satisfaction of the trap she’d walked into was soiled by its implications. What did being a dad really mean? he had intended to challenge her – but it was a cheap shot, because what did he know about it anyway? Fitz lowered his eyes apologetically and then, so did Jemma. She took his hand and began to play with his fingers, reassuring him with her touch despite the heavy conversation.

“Fitz…” she began, “do you think – the things your father did to you in there, do you think some of it… might be real?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz replied. “That’s what I was thinking about just now. Like… remember how I told you I broke my arm?”

“In second grade,” Jemma finished.

“Yeah, but how? How’d I do it?”

Jemma blinked. Nothing came to mind, not even the slightest whisper of an idea. It was as if her memory had been wiped.

“I don’t – remember,” she confessed reluctantly. “Perhaps you fell? I’d guess always just assumed you’d got into trouble with some experiment or other and blown yourself up.”

Fitz snorted. “Who in their right mind is going to give a six-year-old explosives?”

“Well how did it happen then?” Jemma retorted.

“That’s the thing,” Fitz agreed. “I don’t remember either. And then, with all this, it’s got me thinking that, you know, maybe…”

He choked up, and his eyes were a little tearful when Jemma finally looked up into them. She tilted her head, flooded with pity.

“Oh, Fitz.”

He took a deep breath, blinking the tears away, and offered her what smile he could.

“I think it’s time for a visit home,” he said. “It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this.”

“Okay,” Jemma agreed, and squeezed his hand for good measure. “I’ll do the leave slips tomorrow.”

-

Once the decision was made, its morbid origins slipped to the sidelines as Fitz began to think about other things from home. He wondered what his old, miserable schoolyard would look like now; he recalled the computer store in town where he’d got his first job; he promised Jemma a bite of the best blueberry muffins in the world from the bakery around the corner from his house. He lamented the neighbours’ old dog, Fergus, who was long gone by now, and how it was a shame Hunter couldn’t come to watch the football with him. He longed for parts of his home life he could only remember in parts. Warmth. Patchwork quilts. The taste of mint leaf jube lollies.

“Did you ever have one of those tins?” Jemma wondered one evening. “You know, the biscuit tin that somehow never had any biscuits in it?”

“Yes!” Fitz cried. “Bloody sewing supplies. My Nan had one. Must be a nan thing. Honestly, I thought shortbread was a hoax for a while there.”

Jemma laughed, and hugged Fitz as she leaned in over his shoulder. He was sitting on the side of the bed, holding the picture of himself and his mother, out by the washing line of an old brick house, smiling. And this time, he was smiling too. Jemma kissed his cheek.

“Do you have any photos of your Nan?”

“Not in here,” Fitz said. “But Mum’ll have loads. She probably still has all Nan’s photo albums. They had a great wedding, Nan and Grandpa Henry. At least, I think they did. If I remember right…” He frowned, deep in thought, and thumbed the edge of the photograph in his hand. “Hey, Jemma, are you allergic to horses?”

Jemma frowned. “No, why?”

“… No reason.”

In Jemma’s opinion, she did quite a good job at hiding the extra distance her smile wanted to run in that moment. She had a flash of a vision of a fairytale wedding, being pulled up to the aisle in a magnificent carriage drawn by snow-white horses, in a ceremony drowned in grand romantic gestures. She would have gone with something a little smaller scale, but she was not going to begrudge Fitz arrangements of roses the likes of which their paychecks could never afford. Not in her fantasies, anyway. And especially not at a time like this, when Fitz was climbing out of a dark place by finding stable ground in his past, and already looking toward his future. Perhaps they were stronger than she’d thought.

Well, she’d known deep down all along, really, that they were stronger than all of this, but fear and trauma did a lot to make one doubt that. Fitz recounting his true memories though, piece by piece as they came to him? Itchy suits at Sunday school. Hiding out in the top of the climber at recess. The first time his mother had given him that picture of space he loved so dearly. That never failed to make her feel better.

And Fitz – well, Fitz surprised himself with how well he was feeling. He still had to manage his guilt and catastrophic thoughts, but looking back over his life – his real life – gave him a stability he had not quite realised he was missing. He had not often thought about why he was the way that he was, and this had not been the easiest of lessons, but differentiating between the real and the not-real forced him to reflect on his choices, on his feelings, on everything. From his love and respect for the wonderful women in his life, to his cherishing of small indulgences like food in a world that sometimes offered little else, his life rewrote itself down the tracks of his memories and he settled into the knowledge that this, truly, was who he was. Not that other man, whose life had been computer generated, but this one. This man, this life that he had built, and that had been shaped by the people that loved him at least as much as by those who didn’t.

By the time Fitz set food on the plane home – an average passenger jet, for economy and appearances’ sake – he had an indescribable sense of ownership over his identity that even the thought of eight hours in a chair too small for his legs and a meal too small for his stomach could not quell. The feeling was not as ecstatically empowering as he’d hoped, as his life had not been full of as much sunshine and rainbows as he might have liked, but all through the flight, he scribbled real’s and not-real’s into his notebook with vigour. Occasionally, though pretending to read, Jemma snuck a glance in his direction, and smiled.

(Only one question went left unanswered – almost forgotten – even as they took a cab to a hotel room and Fitz called his mother and she cried. So did he.)

-

“You can come back in now,” Fitz invited. Jemma had made herself scarce for a while so that he and his mother could talk, but she had an insatiable curiosity which, when combined with her protectiveness, meant that she was never far away. In fact, it was only a few seconds after he’d called, that Jemma came back through the door to the bedroom and climbed over the covers to embrace him. Fitz had barely finished wiping his eyes, and he relished the comfort of her arms around him.

“How was it?” she asked.

“I didn’t forget how to speak, at least,” Fitz evaluated. He sighed. “There’s just so much she doesn’t know. It’s so hard to talk to her… but I’m really glad I did. I am. She- she invited us over first thing tomorrow. Probably the only reason she didn’t insist we come over right away is so she can spend the whole bloody night cleaning.”

Fitz laughed breathily and Jemma massaged some of the tension out of his shoulders. He hadn’t so much as spoken to his mother in years – after the Pod, there’d been too much to say and no way to say it, and everything had just snowballed since then. It felt like his whole life hung from a string that could snap at any second. He was getting used to feeling like this, but he wasn’t keen to drag his mother into the rollercoaster-like instability he seemed to attract. At least now he had Jemma, who was getting better at just listening, just trying to understand – not that he didn’t love how she was always willing to charge to the rescue; it was just that sometimes, all he needed was a hand to hold.

Jemma smiled.

“That’s sweet,” she said. “We should bring something with us. Wine? Chocolates? Perhaps make some biscuits?”

“Now?” Fitz raised an eyebrow at her. “You want to make biscuits now?”

“Well, why not? There’s a corner store just downstairs. It’s the polite thing to do.”

So they made biscuits, and some of the sickening uncertainty was indeed driven back by obscene amounts of butter and sugar. The pair of them woke up the next morning in a floury heap, and scrambled to get ready. Today was the day – and it started well. Tears stayed behind their walls this time, albeit only barely. Praise was heaped on Jemma from both sides and Evelyn struggled to keep her hands off her son’s face; the face of a “proper young man” and “so grown up” and if the events that had forced him to grow up so fast and so hard had not been permanently engrained into his psyche he might have left them behind in favour of her contentedness and pride. Jemma stoked the fire too, giving his mother just enough heroic details and leaving out the more horrific parts – and of course promising that throughout their courtship, he had been a perfect gentleman.

“Quite right, too,” Evelyn agreed, puffing her chest and jutting her chin out like… well, like a proud mother hen. Like the very spit of one, and not unlike her son showing off an achievement of his own. Fitz smirked to himself, and caught Jemma softly biting her own lip too, trying not to smile. It was all humour and innocence; glad they had come, with their difficulties merely shadows on the horizon. Of course, Evelyn caught the both of them grinning at what seemed to be nothing, and smiled devilishly too.

“Don’t think your old ma can’t see you two lovebirds making eyes at each other,” she warned, and nodded at Jemma with a glint of mischief in her eye. “Not that it bothers me, mind – just see to it that he’s a gentleman in that area too, right?”

“Jesus, Mum,” Fitz hissed, blushing. Jemma near cackled with laughter as he tried to cover his face with just one hand.

“You have a lot to be proud of, is all I mean by it, Mrs Fitz,” Jemma clarified. Evelyn waved Jemma off with a sigh.

“Truth is, the boy practically raised himself,” she confessed. “Couldn’t for the life of me get him to play with the other boys his age and his mind – my goodness, I’m just thankful he’s finally found somebody who can keep up with him!”

Fitz smiled as Jemma modestly accepted the compliment. Usually, he’d take this opportunity to heap yet more praise upon her, but today, such a direct path to the topic of his upbringing could not be wasted. Or could it?

“Speaking – speaking of that,” he began – and paused. Did he really need to know about that after all? He’d been doing quite well these last few days, patching together more of his true past than he had anticipated. Maybe he could just let it go. Maybe it would be best not to know.

But then Jemma shifted in her chair, her eyebrows furrowed a little in concern. She opened her mouth, prepared to speak for him if his words failed, and Fitz remembered with a sudden lurch of bitterness, all those horrible feelings. The inescapable fear of failure. The need to prove himself, so intense that he felt like committing violence when he stumbled over a sentence. How worthless he felt. And why. Why had he felt like that? Why so intense?

“I – I was thinking I might get a peek at Fitz’s baby photos,” Jemma suggested, pulling Evelyn’s attention back to her with a winning smile while Fitz put his head in his hands, and pulled at his hair, in silent agony.

“He’s only been able to show me a few,” Jemma continued good-naturedly, pretending she hadn’t noticed, “and I’d love to get a look at his mysterious childhood. So secretive that one.”

“Oh, yes, he’s always been quite easily embarrassed, the poor dear,” Evelyn noted, smiling fondly as she obligingly dug out the requested album from under the coffee table. Jemma checked on Fitz while Evelyn was distracted, and nodded her head at the kitchen, suggesting he take a time out. Fitz all but fell over himself, feeling hot all of a sudden as he enthusiastically agreed. He stood, and tried to voice the word ‘tea?’ a few times, but in the end, just went for a fresh pot anyway. He needed the time and space to pull himself together.

In the kitchen, Fitz splashed his face with water, and stretched his neck. His thoughts were all in a knot by now and if he tried to go back into the other room, he’d just make an even worse knot of himself. Curse his tongue. And curse the crippling anxiety that tripled down on every stumbled sentence. Had it always had the voice of his father?

While the kettle boiled, Fitz paced the kitchen, massaging his bad hand. Now that, he remembered. He took a deep breath.

Do it. I have to do it. Just do it. Or you never will.  

But on the other hand; What difference is it going to make? You are who you are because of whatever happened, or didn’t happen. Don’t bring the mood down. They’re having fun in there.

But I wasn’t. Not in the Framework, not staring at that page, not thinking about kids with Jemma (kids with Jemma! How is that not fun?), not spending the evening at Nan’s on short notice because Dad was  

All of a sudden, Fitz felt very sick. All of a sudden, he remembered why the smell of mint leaf jube lollies had stuck in his mind – and why he hadn’t touched one in a good fifteen, twenty years.

“Leo?” Evelyn leaned back to check on him through the kitchen doorway. Her eyeline was quite obstructed, but Fitz couldn’t form words fast enough to stop her getting up. “Are you alright in there, love? Tea’s just above the stove.”

Jemma paused in her perusal of the photo album, and the smile slowly dropped from her face. It was too quiet. Then -

“Right, Mum. Yeah,” came Fitz’s weak reply. It had been a while since the kettle had boiled, and it was a few seconds more before the half-hearted clinking of cutlery and crockery resumed. Then, a little stronger, Fitz added: “Hey, Mum, can I talk to you for two seconds?”

Evelyn frowned back at Jemma, who almost leapt out of her seat despite knowing that she could not give Fitz the answers he was after. Instead, she dug her fingers into the photo album as subtly as she could and nodded for Evelyn to check on her son. Then, because it seemed proper, Evelyn gathered up their empty cups to be refilled and took them to the sink where Fitz was waiting, and grasping at the bench, trying to build up the courage. He rocked on his feet.

“Hey- it’s- um,” he began, and then figured it was best to be out with it before his lungs exploded with anticipation and he blurted: “did Dad ever – hit – you?”

Evelyn snorted, and the dishes clattered into the sink. “Don’t be silly, Leo, where did you get that idea from?”

He couldn’t help but notice her blustering tone, overconfident, and the way that she avoided his eyes, looking out the window and down at the faucet and the teacups instead. Fitz bit his lip, suddenly feeling bad not only on his own behalf, but for what he’d brought up. But he’d started something now; in for a penny, in for a pound.

“I’ve been thinking about my past a lot, is all,” he said, wanting to bite his tongue at his own necessary ambiguity. “Me and Jemma have… been through some things lately, that got me thinking. I – I remember some things, but not others, and I…”

Fitz trailed off. His mother was shaking – with anger or fear or sorrow he couldn’t tell. Tears shone on her face. It no longer mattered why he’d asked. He had. And he had his answer, and even though he’d been expecting it, it still broke his heart.

“Mum?” he repeated, a little softer this time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His mother shook her head, and clenched a fist, but it didn’t do much good. She sighed, and confessed;

“You were just a wee boy, Leo. You loved your da.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to quell the memories of helplessness and pain, anger and frustration, like she had a thousand times before, but when Fitz put a hand on her shoulder she couldn’t resist it anymore. She tried – of course she still tried – but what else could she do but cry, when her son wrapped his arms around her as if he could protect her from a danger nearly twenty years past? What else could she do, when the boy she had rescued, and loved, and broken over – more times than he would ever know - whispered his thanks in her ear?

“Thank you.” He held her as tightly as if he could infuse his love into the very fibre of her being. “Thank you so much. For everything. It means – it means more to me than I can say. You saved me, you know? You made me who I am. Don’t ever doubt that. I love you, Mum.”

He buried his face in her neck and she could tell, he was crying too, so Evelyn let go of the instinct to brush off her own pain. What good was it now anyway? It was not as if she could straighten their collars and walk back into the next room; if nothing else, the lovely Jemma girl was far too perceptive for that. And Fitz, poor dear Fitz, felt as tense as a bowstring. Evelyn stroked her fingers through his curls.

“I love you too, Leo,” she assured him. “I love you too.”

[mojitowendy-blog]

The Mailman

After an emotional argument with your husband, a knock at the door shakes you out of your thoughts

Word count: 1390

Genre: angst 

   I've never felt so disappointed, lonely and unloved as I do at this very moment, I've been trying to get alone time with him for ages. It's been forever since we last went on a date, had sex or even hung out. We're still so young, maybe getting married at 20 wasn't the best idea but we'd been together for years and I knew I loved him. I get it he's busy, Mark inherited his fathers business when he retired, and being the CEO of a huge company at only 21 is a huge deal and I know he always feels the need to show people he's capable of doing his job but still I never see him anymore.     

   I can feel the anger boiling inside of me as he answers that damn call because I know what's going to happen next. We can't even have a morning together, he was supposed to be off today; for once. 

   "I have to leave, there's an emergency." Mark said as he got up and walked into the closet. "They need me at work asap." 

   It's not fair, it truly isn't. I'm tired of it, of all of it. I know I shouldn't pick a fight. He's probably stressed out but I'm so fucking annoyed and tired of it all. I lean on my arm and watch him get ready to go to work. He's always looked good, he'll never lose that and god he always looked good in suits but that's not why I fell in love with him. It was his personality, who he is, he never failed to make me happy or laugh, no matter how I'm feeling.

   "I'll go make you some coffee." I sigh as I get up knowing there's nothing I can do to make him stay here with me for a little while longer. 

   We're both lucky I guess, we have good money both of us. He has a good stable job and so do I. Yes he does make more money than me as a CEO of a company, I own and work at a bakery downtown but I still make pretty good money. We have a nice house, in a nice neighborhood so yeah we're pretty lucky twenty one years so I guess I can't complain. 

   As I'm waiting for the coffee to finish boiling I can't help but zone out, I can't focus right now; I just feel so angry and disappointed but I'm so used to it now so it's much of a surprise but it still hurts. 

   I hear his footsteps walk down the wooden stairs which brings me back, his footsteps echoing through the empty house.

   "Y/N, are you almost done with coffee." I heard him sigh. "I really have to go." 

   I just felt a surge of a anger rush through me at this very moment, he always leaves me alone, he always leaves and he never stays. Fuck him! He has no right to rush me. 

   I slam a travel mug onto the counter, which results in Mark jumping from the sound. "I'm fucking sorry Mark that I'm wasting your goddamn precious time." I snap at him. 

   "Jesus, what the fuck has gotten into you."  He asks with annoyance laced in his voice. 

   I can't help but let out a bitter laugh and I know I'll regret this argument later on. "You fucking have, that's what's gotten into me, you always leave. You're never here anymore"  

   "I have a god damn important job, you know this is important, that I have to fucking prove myself because of how young I am!" 

   "Are you serious right now, what about me. I'm fucking important too."   

  "Obviously you are but I have a fucking job I need to go to." Mark's voice rising after every syllable. 

   "So do I! But I don't go running off every five fucking seconds to go there, it's supposed to me your day off." I argue back.  "You work to much, your never here anymore." 

   He opened his mouth about to speak but he looked at his watch first. "Shit" he cursed. "I'm going to be fucking late because of you."

    "God you're an asshole because of me, really." I felt my eyes water at what he said,  because of this whole stupid argument. "I'm trying to talk to you, I just want to spend time with you."

   "Well I'm fucking sorry that I have a fucking job that I need to go to that helps provided for us."  Sarcasm dripping from every word coming out of his mouth. 

  There was a time where we were in love, we were in the honeymoon period for so long but these past few months have just been a downward spiral, that just keeps snowballing. 

   "I have a job too! God mark when did you become so inconsiderate." I replied and ran my hands through my hair, as I feel the tears stinging my eyes, threatening to fall. 

   "When did you become such a clingy bitch." He snapped back.

   I let out a loud gasp, not believing he would say that. He's never intentionally hurt me or called me that other than in a joking way. I'm in such a shock that I don't even notice the tears falling.

    "Just go, go to your fucking job that's more important than me." I replied back with shaky voice, turning around, leaning my palms against the counter trying to calm myself down but the tears keep coming.

    I hear a sigh and the door slam. I'm alone now, alone again in a huge house that isn't meant for one. I slide down onto the floor, tears running down my now flush cheeks. All I'm wondering is where it all went wrong, how did it turn out this way. I want to stop crying but I can't, the tears won't stop. It's like a goddamn waterfall. 

   I'm crying so hard that I'm shaking, I put my face in my hands and take deep breaths to try to calm myself down when I hear a knock at the door. 

   "Fuck." I look down at myself and I'm just wearing one of Marks white shirts and I know I look like a fucking mess. Tears are still running down my face, they just won't fucking stop. And I know my hairs a mess from running my hands through it and because I only woke up not long ago. 

   I hear another knock on the door. God why won't this person just go away. I get up off the floor, and try to wipe my tears off my face but they just keep on coming.

   "Just give me a second." I yell out, my voice cracking at the end. 

   I walk over to the door and take a few  shaky breaths to try to at least calm down just a bit before I open the door. 

   Once I open the door I see an attractive man, with a navy blue baseball cap on and a pink pen in his mouth. He's looking down at the package in his hands; He's the new mailman on the street His navy blue uniform unbuttoned a bit to where I can see a some of his white long sleeve shirt underneath.  I look at his name tag and it reads Kim Namjoon. 

   I let out a little cough to get his attention. "Excuse me." 

    "Oh hi, Ms.Bennett I have the package you ordered." he said, his voice surprisingly deep, as he looked up. "Are you okay?"

   I nodded, unable to respond because I know if I saw something I'll start crying again. 

   "Are you sure, you look like you've been crying?" His voice laced with concern. 

   "Yes, I'm sure." My voice quite and shaky.

   "You don't look okay." He said giving me a small smile. 

   "I've been better." I sniffled letting out a bitter laugh.

    "Would you like to come in for some coffee, I made a pot and it would be a shame if it went to waste?" 

    "Umm okay sure, I guess." He respond hesitantly. "This is my last stop, so I guess it wouldn't be bad. I could use a cup of coffee." 

    I opened the door wider for him to step in and moved away from the door to give him room to step in.