#man it really sucks when your buddy rises from the grave and all of a sudden you can't use idioms like ''over your dead body'' anymore

[yandere-wishes]

Sacrificial Bride Part 1//Twisted Wonderland X Reader//

Alright well, that's enough writing for the next few days if you excuse me I'm going to go sulk in my corner. Huge thanks to @softyswork​ who’s story about reader being sent to Malleus as a bride inspired this series. Also, I REALLY want to make some sort of modern-day Frankenstein it would be an amazing scientific breakthrough! You'll understand what I mean when you get to Idia's part lol.

💚🐉Malleus Draconia🐉💚

It was a common rumor around your village that ever since the death of the sleeping princess your settlement had never been the same. For you, this was nothing more than a fairy tale meant to spark a scrap of hope in the hearts of naive, suffering children who were still too young to fully understand why their fathers never returned from their hunting trips or why there was barely anything to eat for dinner.

Every time you heard this dreaded tail, you couldn't help but scuff. For as long as you've been alive your town had been in utter disarray and chaos. Monsters from the woods -what the town's folk called "fae"- attacked the village daily. Stealing jewels, destroying homes, sometimes even swallowing children or sucking the blood of the dormant. There was also the looming threat of the green flames. Blazing emerald fires who couldn't be subdued by neither water nor dirt. They advanced further into the territory of the village by each full cycle of the moon. Leaving behind in their trail, thick impenetrable thorn bushes that had taken the homes of many and the lives of many more.

Awful, dreaded creatures those fae where...

But alas you did not yet know just how cruel they could be.

On another periodic morning, your younger sister jolted you awake, dragging you to the town center before you got a chance to change out of your nightgown.

In the center of the square was short man..no...not a man you noticed his pointed drawn back ears. "Fae" you gasped under your breath. But unlike the monstrous fairies that ravished your town taking on the appearances of trees and woodland creatures, this one resembled a boy of 15. The young-looking male began to speak, his voice was clear like crystals, and to his tone bats began to flock overhead. "Truly dreadful, these fairy folk are" your sister uttered in terror as she buried her face in your side.

"Heed my words, mortals. The young prince of thorns has decided to take a wife. By the setting of the sun a full day from today, two of his guards will come to collect your offering. If you chose to disregard this Wa-- friendly advice, then what is left of your town will be decimated before the end of summer. Your children eaten, wives imprisoned and husbands killed!" An unsteady hush rippled through the crowd. Some hothead youths began to throw rocks at the stranger only for the bats hovering above to shield him from the stones. Mothers hugged their children close begging for the man to "just leave".

"If" the man's voice rose once more like a cadaver emerging from the grave " my young master is pleased with your sacrifice than we shall reward you! Bring good health and prosperity to your otherwise sick and decaying village." His last words melted into the open air before he vanished in a cloud of squealing bats and ebony smoke.

The town's folk erupted in screeches, cursing at their deities while simultaneously praying to any god that would listen.

"Help us!"

"save us!"

"Don't let them take our daughters!"

The screams escalated to the point where you had to cover your ears with your shaking hands. Your eyes scanning each of the villager's faces, a pathetic lot they were, you thought to yourself. Scared by the words of a young magician. In a flash, your heart sped up, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as you marched to the center square where the boy had been mere moments ago. You stood tall, cupping your hands over your mouth.

"Listen well you disquiet, mindless lot!"

All eyes turned to you. Some holding looks of confusion, whilst others harbored glances of hope.

"This fae is lying! No way will they be satisfied with just one measly girl! No matter who we sacrifice to their so-called master, they'll still come after us! They'll still destroy our village! Let's not be stupid! Let's find a way to barricade the city instead of arguing over who to sacrifice!"

For an endless second all was quite. It was like the world had stopped turning, frozen in its place in the universe trying to decide what to do.

Then it happened,

Chants reverberating through the air

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!"........................

WHAT!

NO!

DID THOSE MORONS NOT LISTEN TO A SINGLE WORD YOU SAID!

The crowd started advancing. Eyes locked on your figure like those of a leopard on its prey.  Their mouths were all a gap, chanting the words "sacrifice" over and over again. From behind the mob, your eyes locked with your sister's. You could practically feel the despair rolling off her figure as she covered her eyes and fell to her knees, her whole body rattling with a sort of distant rage...

A full day....it's funny how time passes all so quickly no matter what you do. Day in and day out nothing changes, pain is still pain, laughter is still laughter. Time just keeps slipping from between your fingers like sand. Even in the direst of times, Time doesn't show mercy, never once does it cease. It just ticks and ticks away until the inevitable moment arrives.

Your sister and aunt -the only two relatives that you hadn't lost to the fae- were in charge of preparing you for your so-called "wedding". Since your town was poor and isolated from other civilizations there wasn't much they could do to enhance your beauty. Smashing some berries to add color to your lips -and fervently ravishing the remains- using some coal to add shade behind your eyes, as well as around them and patting the dust of rose petals against your cheek. By the end, you hardly recognized the person staring back from the mirror. Sure the adjustments were minor but this was the most stunning you'd ever looked. "Is it almost time" your voice quivered, failing to hide the tears that began to fall. "Please don't cry sweetheart, we don't have any more coal to fix your eyes with." Your aunt's tone was monotone almost bordering on heartless. You couldn't really blame her, she'd gotten so used to having her loved ones plucked from her. One more would be no different. Sniffing as to keep the tears at bay, you nodded slowly. Your glossy eyes locked with your aunt's you could see the same fear and exhaustion in her fading irises as the night her son was slaughtered in front of her.

"Just a few reminders" your sister's voice was cheery like the chirping of early morning birds, but her face mimicked that of a kicked puppies. "Remember when the prince...fae...when he..you know...Oh, Lord please tell me he won't" She was shivering again. Her face twisted in horror. You knew what she was thinking, she was imagining you laying in the bed of that...that thing. She was imagining him entering you, kissing up and down your neck. Leaving patches of red skin over smooth flesh, bruises wherever his clawed hands touched you. She was imagining what was no doubt going to happen to you tonight...

the mere thought made bile rise to your throat.

"Darling, just keep saying how much you like it. It's all any man wants to hear." again your aunt or rather her lackluster form of speech was the rope binding you to your sanity.

"Do fae even have...those parts like humans do?" Your sister asked, only to be met with a glare from your aunt. "Stop wasting time on pointless questions! Hurry up and see if this dress fits your sister."

Sure enough, as you were escorted to where the thorn bushes met the village, two men, one standing tall and proud, whilst the other looked like he may topple over from fatigue at any moment, were awaiting you.

The green-haired man let out a haughty laugh, his blazing eyes scanning you from head to toe. "She's hardly worthy of the young master!" His dreadful voice was like the booming of thunder clouds. "It doesn't matter, Malleus-sama needs to be wedded off quickly so he can produce an heir. None of us are getting any younger by standing here debating the "worthiness" of yet another measly human" the silver-haired male's voice was the exact opposite of his comrades, his voice was soft and breathy like light drizzle after a storm.

The green-haired man looked ready to argue once more, but before he could open his mouth, his violet-eyed counterpart waved something thin in the air casing a pathway to open between the hedges.

It was dark between the brambles. The air was thick, stuffy, every breath was a struggle. Although it seemed neither of your traveling buddies minded the discomfort. Did fae even need air to survive?

After what could have been no less than a couple of hours, your small group made it to a large clearing where only a few rays of the sun leaked through the thick smoky clouds. Miss matched flowers in shades of grey littered the rocky barren ground. Maybe at some point, this place had been beautiful, stunning even...but whenever that time had been it was long gone now.

As you ventured farther into this monochrome land of loss and sorrow, the three of you approached a castle. It towered over everything else, grim in all its glory. "Young master Malleus is awaiting you inside..." The green-haired male's voice trailed off as his speech was interrupted by the deafening creaking of the doors parting open. Without another word the two men dragged you inside, pushing you through spiral staircases and long bleak passageways. Until you arrived at a lavish-looking room, a large throne sitting smugly in the front of the room. It's black, spiked appearance was enough to make you gasp in horror, you didn't desire to meet the monster that perched atop that throne. "Don't be so afraid." the silver-haired man whispers, his head is almost resting on your shoulder. "Malleus-sama is kind and fair. He is sure to love you better than any human ever could." you catch a hint of nostalgic sadness in the last part, like a long lost part of the lavender eyed boy's past caught in his throat like a glass shard.

Trumpets roared through the room blaring as two men, one short and fickle whilst the other tall and brooding walked in. "Malleus~" The short one sang as they both stopped in front of you "Say hello to your lovely new wife." the tall man's emerald eyes landed on you. His lips parted in a threatening smile...or maybe it was a smirk? He didn't seem to be too good at displaying emotions. Slowly he descended onto one knee, slipping your hand into his and kissing the top lightly.

"Hello, my darling little wife."

🧡🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁🧡

The After Glow Savanna was an absolute hell to be born in if your family did not belong to some royal inner court class. The endless days spent scavenging for scraps of food, walking miles for a simple glass of water, had become a sort of broken, habit beaten into the residents of the smaller less fortunate districts.

Eventually, you too would follow in your parent's footsteps, working odd jobs around the neighborhood, getting married to some guy, having kids, and giving them the same dreary life your parents had given you. It was simple -miserable- but simple never the less. In an odd way, you found a sort of comfort in how everything was set in stone. How you'd suffer through a few years then die of starvation or some disease in your husband's arms.

But little did you know that the only comfort you had in your horrible life was also going to be swiped from you.

When Ruggie, a dear childhood friend of yours returned from his prestigious school for the winter holidays you were overjoyed! A week with your best friend was the greatest gift you could ask for! But that excitement soon dulled when he announced to the neighborhood what the royal family had planned for the underdeveloped parts of the country.

"They want to demolish the homes and build parks and shopping strips instead"

The people of your tiny community gasped, shock and hopelessness mixing over their dirty, worn out faces. Some older siblings shielded the ears of their younger kin, some mothers hugged their children closer to their chests. "They can't do that to us!" Your voice was like a beacon through the thick fog of confusion. "We can't let them!" You turned to Ruggie who was seated next to you. His blue-grey eyes held a foreign sadness that you had never seen before. He was hiding something...something so grim that he was forced to shove it into the depths of his soul, locking it up and throwing away the key.

"There is a way..."

For such a hopeful phrase, Ruggie's tone harbored no happiness. You could practically see the tears that were clouding his beautiful eyes. "Tell us" someone from the crowd demanded, others soon joined in with their own chants. For a long moment, Ruggie said nothing, the shouts of despair falling on deaf ears.

"If.." his voice trailed off, as his gaze grew distant.

"If someone from the neighborhood were to marry the second prince..." Gasps of fear filled the air. Even the mere mention of the second prince's name was enough to send chills down people's spins.

"Then they could, as the newly appointed  princess, convince the royal family and counsel to scrap this monstrous plan." No one uttered another word. No one was brave enough to face the man who could destroy anything with a simple touch.

But the sake of these people, people who had nothing but their families and a muddy roof over their head was on the line.

Do something, a tiny voice in your head screamed, save them, it begged. You shifted your head so to get a glimpse of Ruggie's face. "I-" you began but were cut off before you could even finish.

"I know you would say that."

His voice broke over every syllable. He knew you would give up your depressing nostalgia for the sake of others. Life in the castle would be hell, being married to that monster would be something worst than the dwellings of the devil.

It was a speedy arrangement, so fast that your head didn't have time to process anything. In the end, it almost seemed like the royal family was desperate to find a spouse for their youngest son.

Just marry him! Was what all the absentee looks told you.

Early that morning, Ruggie had dragged you to the castle, all tears, and grumbles. The palace guards let him in with no restrain, it almost felt like he'd been here before. Your childhood friend led you to a room in the further corner of a grand hall. He told you to stay outside as he went in to chat with the prince. Moments later the newly appointed king and queen came to usher you into a privet room and discuss the marriage. Not an hour later your fate had been sealed, you'd be married off to prince Leona tomorrow at sunrise. For "historical purposes" your neighborhood would be preserved and even taken care of. 'Historical purposes' you thought 'more the like a bribe to get you to marry this beast.

that night you were dragged this way and that by the queen herself. Taken for fitting after fitting. Trying on hundreds of wedding dresses who's prices could feed every mouth in your neighborhood for months! "Leona isn't very classy" the queen sighed in disappear. "He would probably prefer you to be in something laxer, shorter if you will" the tailors ran around trying to find something that would fit her vague description, as you stood facing her royal highness.

"What's he like?" you asked soullessly

"Spoiled, although not as heartless as the rumors make him out to be"  She didn't seem to like giving straight answers

"will he harm me? It was an honest question, although the lack of thinking it took before the queen replied made your heart skipped a beat.

"Quite possibly, he is rather...aggressive at times. Just don't let his degrading comments get to you. He's not used to being around people"

The more she described the second-born prince the more it seemed she was actually speaking of some feral dog that had raised in isolation.

Oh, how doomed you were.

The wedding was even faster than the preparation. Ruggie walked you down an aisle of flowers, walking over the petals, killing them once and for all, ending their pointless existence. You stood by your self at the altar awaiting your husband to be. It took a rather long time before the doors were flung open and the king waltzed in carrying his struggling brother under his arm. "No need to worry, Leona was taking one of his catnaps again and forgot about today's events" the king announced, in what could only be described as a mock lively tone.

How on earth does someone forget their wedding! This prince really wasn't a typical human...heck you where beginning to think that the feral dog would have made a better groom.

snap, snap

A few magazine pictures here, a couple of family photos there...

Everything was so bright and loud...

right before you and the second prince were thrown into the darkness of his room. In the obscurity, you could ONLY make out the glowing of his emerald eyes.

You could feel him shifting closer, all the while you took shaking steps backwards. " I thought wives were supposed to leap into the arms of their husbands? Tell me little herbivore do I frighten you?"

Your voice refused to leave your throat, too afraid to come into contact with the prince.

"What's the matter? Did they not teach you to speak in on the streets you grew up on. Poor thing~"

Leona pounced across the room, tackling you to the ground. His sheer weight pinning you to the carpeted floor. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the silence.

How careless these royal were was the only intelligible thought that came to your frenzied brain.

Goosebumps littered your skin as Leona's claws cut into your flesh. His lips kissed over each wound as he made his way up to your cherry painted lips.

"You look so cute, you know, like a little mouse about to get devoured by a starving lion."

💙💀Idia Shroud💀💙

The rhythm of his heartbeat was slowing down, it felt like the patter of ants atop one's flesh. He was dying...this was an irreversible fact. The love of your life was dying and there was nothing you could do but sit idly by and watch the life fade from his pale bruised face. Your thumb ran over his knuckles in robotic-like strokes. Hours had passed, you'd shed all the tears that you had. He was gone...that was all there was to it.

For a hopeless second, you flicked your eyes to the open window on the opposite side of the room, There was never any sun on the island of lamination but regardless today seemed brighter than any other day. "How cruel" you muttered in a deadpan voice. Outside something...or better yet...someone was running through the fields, chasing what looked like a butterfly. The young child had blazing blue hair a symbol of the Shroud family...

THE SHROUD FAMILY

Your breath hitch in your lungs, your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. They could help you though hopefully. There family where distant relatives of the god of the underworld and a few years back -to your regulation- the hair of the family had been able to semi revive his younger brother. If he was able to bring back a child from the dead than surly they would have no problem returning your lost lover to you.

Your eyes waltz over his dormant face one last time before you got up and ran for the door.

"This is all for you my love, all of this is for you"

The Shroud family mansion was located at the top of one of the many hills that plagued the island. It was a dark grisly building that resembled the castles from old tales, where monsters laid dormant. Rumors spiraled around the rural civilization, some saying that the family was cursed by the lord of the dead, whilst others claimed that the shroud family were the long lost descendants of the lord of the dead and the maiden of spring. The curse had been placed on the family by the temperamental mother of the maiden of spring, anathematizing the family to be plagued with death and disappear for the rest of eternity.

Regardless of what their misfortune was, they may very well be the last people on earth who could help you. Surely if the family had brought back their youngest than they could bring back your lover!

You knuckles tapped furiously at the old metal doors of the frightful residence. The rhythm was unkept, unsteady, it's mere sound radiated urgency.

"PLEASE HELP ME"

Your throat burned as you screamed out those three lousy words.

After what felt like forever, the doors cracked open, revealing a tall man obscured by the shadows. Any light that touched the interior of the house seemed to die acidity, making peering inside nearly impossible.

"What business do you have?" The man's voice was croaky as if his vocal cords hadn't been used in years. For a split second, you closed your eyes, trying to organize the thoughts in your head. "My...my...h-hus...lover, my lover is d-dead...o-or rather he is dying....probably fully gone by now..." despite the mess of stuttered letters and mixed-up words, the man seemed to understand your situation. With a long sigh, he pulled you into the somber house.

Fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist he pulled you around, guiding you through the darkness until you reached a large room lit only by the mysterious blue flames of the fireplace. Sitting by the warmth was a...well it was hard to tell, her face -despite it displaying every bone of her visage coupled with dark sunken eyes- resembled that of a woman no older than thirty, whilst her body resembled a decaying skeleton. What was she? Was she the lady of the residence or yet another monster this bizarre family had created.

"My, love" the man began to speak, his voice was somehow cleared like it had been given some sort of jolt. "This young lady needs Idia's help, she wants to bring back her lover from the dead."

The woman said nothing, her eyes staring ahead, burning a hole in the wall right by your head. "What will she give him in return" despite her "deteriorating" appearance her voice was like soft silk on one's skin, melodious and fair.

"Why herself!" This time the man's voice boomed across the house, echoing through the hallways and falling on you like a cave in.

"M-myself! What the hell do you mean!"

"It sounds fair" the women agreed "my darling sweet son saves your lover and instead you agree to marry him! Oh how wonderful, just like in the tales about grandfather Hades!"

She seemed too thrilled about this, her snow-white eyes gleaming with a sort of delusional passion.

"Idia! Idia honey! Come down your father has a surprise for you!"

The hollow sound of footsteps soon filled the quiet air. Followed by another soft blue glow.

Was there no normal fire in this house?

But it wasn't fire, not exactly. When your eyes fell on the heir of the Shroud family, you suddenly felt a nervous wave crash over you. There was something -even more- unsettling about him, he looked nothing like his charming little brother. For one his hair wasn't...well hair! Sure you'd expect a small batch of blazes heading upwards but this was something else entirely! It resembled a large bonfire that floated towards the ground, rouge sparks falling in every which direction, sizzling and then dying abandoned on the floor. And his eyes, Miosis like pupils floating around in a pool of lemon yellow.

But all the physical appearances aside, the most unsettling thing about him was the gloomy aura that leaked off him, suffocating anyone in his presence. Nervously you took a step back only to be yanked forward again by the taller man.

"Idia baby!" His mother ran over to him, cradling his hands in hers "This cute young lady has agreed to marry you if you can save her lover, just like in that old tale about your great grandfather! Oh, my this is all so romantic!"

It seemed like no one here understood that you were in love WITH SOMEONE ELSE! Or maybe they did and chose to disregard it. Instead, using the bits they retained as kindling to feed their raw excitement. You shifted your gaze back to Idia's face. To your utter terror, he was...smiling? Could that...look...even be called a smile? It seemed more like the way a shark would bare its teeth at a defenseless seal! Oh, gods please don't let this...thing...be your future husband!

"It should be easy enough," His golden gaze landed on you "W-when did...did he die?" it took a few moments before you register that he was talking to you or technically asking you something. "A...A  few..." your voice cracked, tears streaming down your eyes.

"So recently...okay that shouldn't be a p-problem." He turned on his heels and walked back into the seclusion of the halls "I'll grab some things and meet you by the front door"

A few things ended up being a pile of wires and bolts. Something that looked like a light blue ball of energy and so many tools whose names seemed to go over your head.

Idia was kneeling by your lover's bed, pulling apart the skin and fusing metal in its place. Your darling's chest was cracked open, his ribs poking out towards the sky as if praying for life from the lord of the sky. Every once in awhile Idia would pull out a long tool with smoke floating from the top. He'd lay it on an organ watching as the tissue fiber sizzled away under the heat. He would then tie wires and small circular batteries inside.

"His heart stopped working, I'm guessing from some sort of shock"

You just hummed in response, too caught up in how the man you loved was beginning to look like a modern-day Frankenstein rather than a human being.

The sun had long since faded when Idia finally got up from his spot. His bones cracked and screeched at the sudden change, his muscles giving out halfway leaving him to rely on the wall for support to stand. Your lover's chest had been sewn back and covered with a silver piece of metal. His neck was wrapped in the same sort of alloy. His left arm had been cut open so Idia could shove the energy ball inside than cover it, leaving a small enough gap for wires that stretched from his chest to weld into the ball.

"He just needs a boost" Idia murmured that shark-like grin overtaking his pale face once more. From the side table, he plucked up to jumper cables and clipped them on either side of his neck. Jolts and crackles filled the room and sparks flew in every direction, the once-dead body shuffled around, arms and legs moving at random. You shrieked and duck behind Idia.

Only then did he pry the clips from his neck.

Nothing

for too long nothing happened... then there was a slight wiggle in one finger, then another. His eyes slowly began to prey open, looking over his surroundings. The moment his confused gaze feel onto you. Idia turned you around to face him, clumsily smashing his blue chapped lips onto yours.

From the corner of his eyes, Idia watched as the other man began to understand what was happening...even if he was just resurrected there was still agony at the sight of his lover kissing another...

Good! That should show him who you belonged to now!

[foolscapper]

6. Betrayal

Note: This short plays with the possibility of Peter being bisexual and experimenting with his natural feelings and all that fuuuun teenaged stuff we all deal with in high school, when those hormones are running wiiiild and we're trying to figure out who we are (if we haven't already known and are playing oblivious lbh). IDK what I'm doing, I'm just spewing words and they're sort of filling prompts, only they're getting too long and I'm supER BEHIND-!(This is a whumpfest, and that includes emotional/mental whumpage. So if you're sensitive to bullying about someone's orientation and homophobia and a dash of gay panic, you might wanna skip this prompt.)

Summary: "So Peter's in a hallway. Again. With another person he likes. Again."

Short fic 6 out of 31 for Whumptober.

He's never really put a whole lot of thought to relationships and crushes and all that. Sure, he had girls he was into, and he always wanted to have a girlfriend, because that seemed to be the thing boys got entangled in, but his first real crush had been Liz. And she was wonderful. She was kind and generous and so, so smart. And he screwed that right the heck up. So the next one had to be different. It had to be safer, better, more fair to the other person, right? And that's if anyone would ever want a big, awkward nerd like Peter Parker. And, uh, there's... this kid.

In gym class.

This... boy.

It was honestly not something he lingered on at first. But the more he hung around Andrew, the more he started wondering if maybe there was something a little more to the way he couldn't help but track him up and down from afar, or the way he was temporarily taken aback by his bright grin and high-rising eyebrows, so full of confidence. Full of muscle and grace. Not a pompous jerk like Flash, but cool and composed and actually genuinely liked and humble and —

And maybe he had a thing for Andrew. Maybe? And it makes him panic a little, because he didn't want to be — like, you know. Gay... ish... Gay. And it wasn't even because he thought it was — wrong, or anything like that. It's just... He didn't want to be gay, because he was already made fun of for a plethora of other reasons; why the unholy hell would he want to add another target on him? No, nonono, he should just... push back the feelings that flutter up in his stomach. Right? Right. Don't think of Andrew and his strong-looking hands, or the way he makes all the girls wave him down, or how cool his shirts are, or how funny his jokes can be from across the gym to your stupid enhanced ears—

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

But would Spider-Man be such a coward?

'I like you.'

'I know.'

"You should totally just go for it," Liz says over a skype call (he's not sure why he tells her about his crush first and not Ned, because it's not like he thinks Ned would ever judge him for liking both sides of the coin, but like—)

Peter's hand moves over a fastly beating heart. "Noooo, no, I can't."

"Why not, Peter? It's 2017. We're working on being allowed to be ourselves, right? You should always follow your heart." She smiles at him, pressing a pink pillow against her stomach as she looks between the screen and her cellphone, where there's no doubt another conversation going on via text; how the heck she does that and still seems so invested in their talk is beyond him. She's a magician. A smiling, confident magician who looks at him like he's being ridiculous for hesitating. "That's what you usually do, right? Follow your heart? You have a good one, so it's not, like, a big deal to do that."

Oh, how one wishes it was that easy.

So Peter's in a hallway. Again. With another person he likes. Again.

"I like you. I mean, I have — a crush on you. I think? I'm sorry."

Andrew runs a hand through his perfectly combed brown hair and looks a little stunned. Peter wants to melt into the floor and just die, his ears turning agonizingly red. He sucks his hands into his sleeves and strains the cuff fabric. "I'm so — I should go."

"I knew it," Andrew says. Then clears his throat. "Hey, man, it's cool. I knew it. I mean, you were always kind of watching me in gym, so. I figured as much."

"... S-so..."

"So, uh. I totally think you're cool, too. I just need some time to think about it."

Peter deflates a little, gaze locked on Andrew's clean converse shoes; he's probably rolling in cash, because he seems to have a new pair every other week. Always fashionable. Very popular. What the heck is your problem, Peter, picking the cool kids you have no right to be with? And now — to just go for it like this, maybe... "I didn't mean to make things weird, so I'm sorry if I... did that."

"Nah, no. It's cool." Andrew smiles, shrugging a shoulder. He looks a little uncomfortable, but. "I gotta go, but... you know, I think... maybe we can hang out more. Later. See how this thing goes? If you're interested in it, too."

"I am! I mean, yes — yes, I'd love to hang out."

He's so relieved, he almost wants to cry. For the second time in a year, he's walking quickly through the halls — practically skipping, if he's honest — and when he leaps the fence later and pulls on the Spider-Man mask, there's a bounce to his step that even Karen seems to notice. He wonders if he should ask someone for advice on how to approach this kind of thing? He knows some gay people, but he's really bad at opening up about this kind of thing. Has Mr. Stark ever considered boys? Has Aunt May ever considered girls? And why has it taken him this long to even fathom these kinds of talks? There's noooo waaaay he can go to them about something this embarrassing. Not that — not that being gay is embarrassing! Or is it? Is he being all secretly 'no homo' at himself? That'd make no sense. But gay panic is totally a real thing, and —

Oh, that's a purse snatcher down below, he's gotta focus.

"Hey buddy! That's so not your color!"

Spider-Man job now, Parker romance life later.

      'SOLVE THE EQUATION: LOSER + FAGGOT ='

    Below the all caps written across his locker door, the predictable answer:

   'Peter Parker!'

     Peter stares blankly at the message for a long moment. Most of the other kids aren't really paying him any mind at the end of the day. One or two look embarrassed for him; another laughs at the joke sharpied across the metal; Andrew's friend Will nudges by him as the bell rings, echoing sentiments as his elbow sharply grazes Peter's spine: "Faggot."

Oh, Peter thinks. He probably wrote it. It's super unoriginal.

So, Andrew told his friends. He doesn't even bother hiding himself from Peter's radar... just stands with his friends close enough that when Peter turns, he locks eyes with him from down the hallway. There's no signs of that winning smile or twinkle in his eye. He just — stands with his arms folded, defensive, a flash of belated second thoughts in his expression just before he turns away and disappears to leave the campus for the day. Weekend. Good time to go hang out with friends, right? Good time to tell them all about the loser who admitted he liked you.

At his side, Ned catches him by the elbow, looking worried. He'd stayed behind longer to talk to the teacher about his essay rough draft.

"Peter? Dude, hey — " The boy quiets when his eyes meet the locker.

MJ is right behind him.

"Who did this?" she asks, expression darkening with indignation, as she motions a knife-like hand toward his locker.

He doesn't want to handle this. His stomach churns, and before he knows what his own legs are doing he's rushing blindly away through the hall, desperate to pretend nothing's wrong; the best way to do that would be to leave the school, just leave and go be Spider-Man and not think of how fucking stupid he is, how fucking naive—

"Peter!" MJ calls out.

He hears them try to follow, but he's Spider-Man. He's too fast. Fast enough to try and outrun any problem that comes along. Watch as the lockers pass, the teacher yelling 'no running!' futilely, the student he nearly knocks over in his mad sprint for freedom. He jumps down a long set of stairs, staggers, and then face-plants right into Happy Hogan's waiting chest. Panting, he's panting, and he must've really been booking it. "Kid? Hey, you didn't forget our plans tonight, did you? Tuna casserole upstate?"

He looks at Happy sharply, awed.

Tuna... Casserole...?

He hiccups a sob.

His face scrunches into something ugly and recklessly vulnerable. Does he ever learn? Being vulnerable is such a bad idea, no matter how hip it is in 2017. And yet he buries his face in Happy's shoulder as two drip-dripping set of tears squeeze by his pressing eyelids. He's gonna freaking barf; can't breathe or see or smell, but he does eventually feel the man's palms pressing on his shoulders. "What happened? Hey, are you alright?"

Then Happy's arms wrap around him with some hesitancy and hold him there, a small comfort the guy's not used to offering just anyone. Peter presses his hands into his face, stifling what feels like hoarse panic now.

"He told them — he told people, and he didn't really —"

A set of fingers hook around the back of his neck, pressing to comfort before leading him forward when his legs refuse to carry him.

"C'mon," Happy says, as grave as a six-foot hole reserved for a coffin. "Here, c'mon, get in, get in." He ushers him into the backseat of the car and Peter promptly curls up, forgoing a seat belt. He's Spider-Man. Spider-Man doesn't need a goddamn seat belt, okay? He can survive falls off ten story buildings, no sweat. This is nothing. And he shouldn't even be freaking out like this. How is a rude message scribbled on his locker worse than being dropped out of the sky on a fiery plane?

... He feels bad, leaving Ned and MJ behind; his phone keeps buzzing in his pocket, but he's scared to explain. He shouldn't be, because they love him, and they're his friends.

But he is.

"Listen, Peter," Happy says after a long and concerned pause. "We're gonna stop by the diner on 11th and order some burgers and fries, and you're gonna tell me everything, alright? Then I'm gonna decide if I need extreme measures. I'm not above endangering high school students, and trust me when I say nobody should want to cross paths with me on a golf cart in broad daylight."

"Happy..."

"No, angry, I'm very angry. And stressed out. I don't get paid enough for being worried about emotional wrecks in superhero suits as often as I am." He looks at Peter and his puffy red eyes in the rear-view mirror, expression lacking any of the usual annoyed punch; he really does just look worried. "You know I'm in charge of you, right? So your problems are my problems."

"You don't have to help with these kinds of things," Peter says lamely.

Stopped at a red, Happy twists around in his seat to point at Peter.

"I want to, kid. There's a difference." A pause. He motions at Peter with a hand. "Crawl up here, spider-boy. Up front. C'mon, tell me everything. The diner thing still stands."

And boy, it'd be easy to leap out of a window and find somewhere to sling away into isolation. Easy, but not... what Peter wants, actually. He shrinks in his seat.

(Now, maybe he should text MJ and Ned back before they storm the Avengers headquarters.)

First things first:

"... Don't tell Mr. Stark?"

Peter's not sure why he doesn't want him to know. At least right now. Maybe because he blows stuff out of proportion? And this isn't even a big deal; he's making it a big deal. It's not the first time he's been taunted for being him. And yet Happy's words have eased back a harrowing panic in his lungs, and when the driver promises he won't say anything without Peter's approval, he knows this is someone who'd never betray him. He crawls into the front seat and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Happy sighs, "Okay, bud... Start from the top. And it'll be alright. Just breathe through it... I've been really working on my meditation expertise, if you need tips. Gotta manage my blood pressure somehow, right?"

Peter actually smiles at that. And even if Happy doesn't smile, too, he knows he's right where the guy wants him. They talk all the way upstate, through a diner, and over a bridge, and up many a-street, as Peter's blotchy face clears up.

When he hears all kinds of stories about the boys Happy had fallen for miserably in high school, he feels — less alone.

That's all he really wants, right now.

[raisindeatre]

loved your project runway fic! do you have any more crack fics written for atla?

Darling anon - I do now! Also that Project Runway fic continues to and I suspect always will haunt me, but I’m glad you liked it, and I hope you like this one as well. (I would like to add as a caveat that I do not know anything about Dungeons and Dragons! I remain flagrantly unaware of the rules of the game! It is used here merely - and shamelessly - as a plot device.)

roll the dice (Some Zutara, some gen, 100% crack)

“D and D in the D,” Sokka says, spreading his arms dramatically - Katara can just catch a glimpse of the movement, the excited gleam of his eyes. “Dungeons and Dragons in the Dark!”

“Really?” Suki asks him. “That’s what you want to do right now?”

“What else are we supposed to do during a blackout?” Sokka says. “Our options are kind of limited here!”

“It sucks, not being able to see anything, huh?” says Toph.

“One day, these blind jokes are going to get real old, Toph! And by one day, I mean six months ago!” Sokka retorts, as Toph cackles.

“Hold on,” Katara says, because she’s still kind of lost. “Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Yeah,” Toph says. “We’ve been playing it for ages.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, not me,” Suki says diplomatically. “I’ve only played… what, three games?”

“Mmmm, something like that,” Sokka agrees. “But me and Zuko and Toph have been playing for about a year now, I think.”

“Wait, what?” Katara repeats indignantly. “How come I never got in on this?”

“Because,” Zuko’s voice says from behind her, and Katara has to quell the urge to stiffen in surprise, “You were always with Jet then.”

She looks up at him over her shoulder; from this angle she can’t see the candle she knows he must have cupped in his palms, so for one strange heartbeat it looks like he’s cradling a handful of flames, the small, wavering light bathing his face in orange, shadows chasing their way across his aristocratic features.

It’s a well-established pattern, by now - how Katara can only ever appreciate those features for one second before he opens his big mouth and ruins it. “Katara can’t play D and D with us,” he says, lowering himself to sit on the ground next to her, and any vague thoughts about how warm he feels is extinguished by the indignation that roars to life inside her.

“Why not?”

“Well, you don’t know how to,” he says. “You don’t understand the rules.”

“I’ll pick them up,” she retorts. “I’m a fast learner. And how hard can it be?”

He glares at her; she can feel it even through the dark. “You can’t just barge your way into a game - you don’t know anything about the dynamic we’ve set up, or the mission objective -”

“Mission objective?” she echoes incredulously, and really, the nerve of him. Zuko’s always been this way, all arched eyebrow and gentle disdain, like being her older brother’s best friend gives him any right to act superior over her. It’s infuriating, and - “I’ll show you mission objective!”

A beat. “What does that even mean?” Toph asks.

“Okay!” Sokka cuts in hurriedly. “Zuko, I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t think it matters if Katara joins us now. I’ll make it work. Besides,” he says, as Zuko opens his mouth to protest, “do you have any other suggestions as to what we can do until the lights go back on?”

Zuko glowers, then says grudgingly, “No.”

Sokka rubs his hands gleefully. “Okay, then! Let’s get started!”

“Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Your mission: to find and defeat the evil Fire Lord Ozai, and restore peace and balance to the world.”

“Wait. Why is this bad guy named after Zuko’s dad?” Katara asks.

“Because Zuko’s dad is a bad guy,” Sokka says, dropping his dramatically deep voice, and Katara finds herself nodding - they all know the story behind Zuko’s scar, why he moved in with his uncle three years ago. “We name all our villains after him, and then we spend four hours each game trying to kick his ass. It’s like therapy, but free.”

“Very true,” Toph says. “Sometimes we put Azula in as well. In fact, I think she’s in this particular game, right, Sokka?”

“Dungeon Master Sokka,” her idiot brother corrects. “And yeah, she is.”

“Mmm, we don’t name all our villains after Ozai, though, do we?” Suki says thoughtfully. “Remember that one game, on the Islands of Kashykk? Zuko insisted the villain be named after Jet.”

“You did?” Katara asks, swinging her head around to look at Zuko. “Why?”

Zuko shrugs, looking a little flustered. “I - After dumping you the way he did? The guy was a douchebag, Katara. It seemed only right.”

“We played that game before Jet dumped Katara, though,” Suki points out, and Zuko says hurriedly, “Anyway! I thought we were getting started?”

“Right,” says Sokka, arranging his features into a Very Serious Dungeon Master face. “If you guys remember, the last time we played a storm hit the ship you guys were on. You have all been scattered across the globe, washing up on the shores of…” He points at Zuko. “Shu Jing!” Suki. “Kyoshi Island!” Toph. “Gaoling!”

Katara clears her throat.

“Oh, right. Uh, Katara, you’ve been washed up with Zuko.”

“What?” they exclaim in unison, turning to glare at each other.

“Hey, Dungeon Master’s rules,” Sokka says sternly. “What I say goes. Alright, everybody, let’s go!”

“I call Druk, and get him to fly me to the Fire Nation Capital,” Zuko says.

“What the hell is a Druk?” Katara says.

“He’s my dragon.”

“You have a dragon? Hey, Sokka, I want a dragon.”

“You can’t just get a dragon! Do you think it’s that easy? I’ll have you know I raised Druk myself, all the way from when he was a hatchling! Found his egg eight months ago in the Dungeons of D’Qar -”

“Sokka, I want a dragon.”

“Sorry, sis. You heard the man. Dungeons of D’Qar.”

“Fine. Then I get on Druk as well. Let’s get to the royal palace and kick Ozai’s ass already.”

“Druk’s a one-person dragon,” Zuko informs her haughtily. “There won’t be room for the two of us.”

“So you’re - what, ditching me? You can’t do that!”

“Actually, I can. See ya later, Katara! Guten adios!”

“Unfortunately,” Sokka cuts in, “Druk has been hit by the storm as well. You guys won’t be reunited for another three turns.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Katara, your turn.”

“I attack Zuko!”

“WHAT?”

“Try to ditch me, will you -”

“Uh, you guys are on the same side so -”

“I swing at him with my sword, Sokka!”

“You don’t have a sword.”

“He gets a dragon, and I don’t even have a sword?”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to join last-minute. I had to draw up a really simple character sheet for you.”

“So what do I have?”

“You’re a healer, so… poultices.”

“What? Sokka, I don’t want to be a healer, I want to be a warrior!”

“Dungeon Master’s rules, Katara.”

“Fine! Then I poultice his face!”

“WHAT?”

“Oooh, naughty.” This coming from Toph.

“You can’t - okay, okay, whatever. What did you roll, an eight? Congratulations. You succeed in poulticing Zuko’s face, which does absolutely nothing, only now you’re one poultice short.”

Katara juts her chin out defiantly. “It felt good, though.”

“Oooh, naughty.”

“Shut up, Toph.”

“Toph, you reach Omashu where you see Fire Nation soldiers have constructed a blockade, restricting supplies to the village behind it. Do you: a) bypass the city entirely, and concentrate on getting to the Fire Nation as quickly as you can, or b) try to break down the blockade?”

“Don’t insult me, Wolf Tail. When have I ever turned my back on people who need me? Also, when do I ever run from a fight?”

“If you try to break down the blockade, you’ll be delayed by at least five turns. You won’t be able to rejoin the others for a while.”

“Eh. Need a break from them, anyway.”

“Hey!” Katara says.

“So how do you plan on breaking the blockade, Toph?” Sokka interjects smoothly.

Toph rests her chin on her interlocked fingers for a while, staring gravely into the tiny candle flame - although how Toph even knows it’s there, with her sightless eyes, Katara has no idea. “How many Fire Nation soldiers are there?”

“At least forty. Each one capable of delivering 10 damage.”

She frowns. “I’m good, but not that good. I can’t take them all by myself.” She pauses for a while longer, before a grin creeps across her face. “I’ve got it! You said Omashu is home to a bunch of badgermoles, right? I call them. I summon my badger buddies!”

“You have earthbending abilities, not the ability to talk to animals.”

“I SUMMON MY BADGER BUDDIES.”

“What is the point of being Dungeon Master if no one’s going to listen to me?”

“Okay, Mister Dungeon Master, how about this? If I roll a twenty, I get to summon the badgermoles.”

“You’re on! You’re never going to get - THAT WAS A FLUKE!” Sokka says, as Toph punches the air in delight.

“Has it been three turns yet?”

“Yes.”

“Great, I call Druk and get him to fly me to the Fire Nation capital.” A clatter of the dice. “That was a six, Sokka.”

“Okay. You succeed in calling your dragon and the two of you rise up into the sky.”

“I poulti -”

“He’s out of range, Katara.”

“Damn.”

“Pirate attack! Suddenly a ship pulls up on the riverbank next to you and a horde of pirates swarm out. You are surrounded!”

“Water whip!”

“Water whip, with.. 7 damage! Wha-pow! Wham-bam! Three of the pirates are knocked out of commission! But that leaves nine more!”

“Water whip again! Double water whip! Triple wat -”

“Katara, you gotta roll the dice.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, too bad! Only 3 damage! Not enough! The pirates overwhelm you. They tie you to a tree!”

“Oooh, naughty.”

“Shut up, Toph.” This from all four of them.

A heavy sigh, an eye-roll, a thunderous beat of wings echoing in the sky as a shadow looms on the horizon, a great beast with a rider on its back. “I turn back, and help Katara.”

“I don’t need your help!”

“Clearly you do. Don’t worry,” Zuko says, and even in the dark she can feel him smirking. She wants to wipe it right off his face. “I’ll save you from the pirates.”

“You’re captured! The bandits put you in a cage, and are now en route back to Gaoling.”

“I bust my way out!”

“You have earthbending abilities. This box is metal.”

“Then… then I invent metalbending!”

“You can’t just invent metalbending -”

A clatter of dice, a series of gasps.

Suki. “I can’t believe it - she rolled another twenty -”

“I INVENT METALBENDING!” Toph shouts, and Sokka throws his hands up in surrender.

“Suki, you’re being held prisoner in the Boiling Rock,” Sokka intones, and Suki watches him solemnly, eyes intense. Katara is biting her lip; beside her, Zuko looks like he wants to get up and start pacing. “The situation is dire. You are alone, far from friends, in a prison that no one has yet to escape from. You have no companions, no weapons. You have nothing but yourself.”

There is a heavy silence, then slowly, so slowly, Suki smiles.

“Then I don’t have nothing, do I?” she says, then straightens up, posture knife-sharp. “I distract the guards.”

“How?”

“I start a riot!” Suki declares, and rolls a ten.

“You start a riot!” Sokka agrees. “The prison is thrown into turmoil! Prisoners are throwing punches! Scuffles break out everywhere. The guards are suitably distracted.”

“I use,” Suki says, “my level 20 agility and my level 30 strength to somersault my way across the crowd! I vault up the walls of the prison and get to the head guard, where I grab him by the hair -”

“Oooh, naughty -”

“- and demand the key to the shuttle that leaves the Boiling Rock.”

“Hell yeah, you do!” Sokka cheers, and Katara can see it all in her mind’s eye - Suki’s graceful figure whirling through the air as she leaps up the stone wall, her fierce grin as she looks the head guard in the eye. “That’s my girl! He surrenders the key, and you -”

“I make my way to the shuttle and start the mechanism, jumping into the train compartment as it makes its way across the lava.”

“And the people behind you?” Sokka says urgently.

“I dismantle the winch with, uh, a sword I stole from the head guard so nobody else can follow me!” Suki rolls an eight, and blanches. It’s an ambitious move she’s proposed, and they all know it. Sokka’s face is grave. They wait, nerves stretched to breaking.

Finally Suki breaks the silence. “Is that enough?”

“An eight,” Sokka says solemnly, and then: “Yes, but you don’t get out scot-free. You take an arrow to the ribs. 14 damage. Severely injured.”

Suki nods grimly, and the others hold their breath. Sokka looks around. “Maybe we should take a break?”

“Man, that was intense,” Katara says as she follows Zuko into the kitchen where they’ve volunteered to get some juice. It’s his apartment they’re in, his and Iroh’s, so Zuko is perfectly capable of navigating it in the dark, but Katara has to just lightly grip his elbow to stop from bumping into anything. Zuko hasn’t grumbled about that once, which strikes Katara as a little strange. “Are they all like that?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Zuko, just a shadow next to her in the dark. His voice is familiar, though, always familiar, his smoky rasp just as warm as the skin she can feel through the sleeve of his shirt. “You should’ve seen the game at the Islands of Kashykk. We just barely got out of that one alive.”

“That sounds like it was a lot of fun,” Katara says, as they emerge into the kitchen. Zuko bends down to open the fridge, and icy blue light radiates into the room, casting a frosty glow across his face. She has a strange, fleeting thought that this would be what he would look like if he ever came to visit her and Sokka at the South Pole: his eyes turned silver by the ice and his dark hair so windswept. “Why didn’t you ever invite me?”

“I told you,” Zuko says, still looking into the fridge. ���You were spending a lot of your time with Jet, then.”

“Right.” A pause. It’s no secret that Zuko and Jet hate each other, and it’s even less of a secret that Katara hadn’t been the most attentive of friends when she and Jet had been dating. She’s long since apologised, but she knows it must still be a little sore. “I’m still sorry about that. About, you know, not being around as much back then. I was a pretty crappy friend.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuko says. “You’re here now.”

“I am,” she agrees, and something about the moment feels so strange and tentative - and hopeful, somehow, although Katara has no idea why that’s the word that comes to mind - that she feels compelled to break it. “Hey, whatever happened to you and Mai, anyway?”

“We broke up. You know that.”

“I do, but not the details. You know, what happened? How did it end?”

“It ended…” Zuko says, then laughs a little, almost self-deprecating. “Before it even started, I guess. I don’t know.” He shrugs, his back still to her, still peering into the fridge - although how long he needs to take just to choose some juice is beyond her. “We just weren’t right for each other, you know? It was never some big thing. Just a lot of little things.”

“Like what?” Katara says - and some part of her knows this is probably crossing the line, but the other, larger part of her has to know.

“Like…well, if she was here tonight, for example. She would never have agreed to play D and D. She’d think it was beneath her, just too nerdy.”

“D and D is nerdy, Zuko.”

“Says the girl who almost cried when she managed to summon a tidal wave back at Ember Island.”

Katara sighs. “I just didn’t think I could do it, you know? Sokka says I had to roll a twelve or higher - what were the odds?”

She still can’t see his face, but she can just hear his smile. “Yeah. Well. Mai wouldn’t have been up for that, you know? It was just stuff like that. The little things. You want to be able to hang out with your girlfriend and your friends at the same time. You don’t want to have to keep those parts of your life separate. It gets pretty tiring after a while.”

Katara thinks of Jet. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”  

“And…” Zuko pauses. “It’s, like. Remember when you saved me back at the Western Air Temple?”

“I love that you say it like it actually happened. Like it was a real thing that happened in real life. You know it’s not, right?”

“Don’t blaspheme.”

“Okay, okay. You mean when the temple crumbled, and you were falling through the air -”

“ - and you grabbed my hand and pulled me onto Druk, yeah -”

“- at which point we promptly proceeded to plummet like a thousand feet because your stupid dragon can’t even carry two people? I remember.”

“Don’t blaspheme! Druk was trying his best, I told you he’s normally just a one-person dragon -” Zuko blinks. “Wait. What was I talking about?”

“Mai,” Katara reminds him, and his face clears.

“Mai, right. It’s just… you saved me.”

Katara shifts uncomfortably. “I figured I owed you one. For the pirates. And for knocking me out of the way of the falling rocks.”

“Right,” Zuko says, and finally he turns to look at her, straightening up, a carton of orange juice in his hand. “But I guess I mean… look, this is going to sound a little dramatic.”

“You? Dramatic? Perish the thought.”

Zuko smiles at her, just a little. “I just mean,” he says, and his voice is softer, suddenly, in a way which means Katara has to step closer to hear it, “that… Katara, I would follow you into battle. And I would always have your back. And - and I know you would have mine. I trust you, you know?”

“I know,” Katara says, and she does.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “I just think… that’s kind of the litmus test of any relationship, you know? Trust. It sounds small, but it really isn’t. And if I can trust you to save me, even when I know you don’t like me, that’s just something to think abou -”

“Is that what you think?” Katara says. “That I don’t like you?”

Zuko blinks at her; backlit against the blue light of the still-open fridge door, the planes of his face look so young.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Katara continues, taking another step forward. They are very close now, and like he can’t help it, Zuko tilts his head down, so that he is looking right into her eyes. “I like you, Zuko,” she says, very softly. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Katara,” he says, his voice so warm -

“How long does it take to get some juice?” Sokka hollers from the living room, and the moment is gone.

“The Great Divide,” Sokka says solemnly. “The world’s largest canyon. To get across it, you guys will need to reconcile two warring tribes: the Zhang and the Gan Jin, and -”

He breaks off, frowning. “You know, maybe we should just skip this one. It sounds like it might be kind of boring.”

“You think?” Toph says.

Here they are, the final showdown. Katara watches from the pillars of the palace as Zuko and Azula square off. He keeps his eyes solidly on his sister, tension etched in every line of his shoulders. Her heart is hammering in her chest.

“She shoots a bolt of lightning at you!” Sokka says.

“I redirect!” Zuko fires back, and rolls a seven. “Ah, yeah!”

“Lightning successfully redirected! It’s your turn now! What’s your next move?”

“I… I trash-talk her!”

“What do you say?”

“I say…” Zuko hesitates. “Uh, sorry but you’re not going to become Fire Lord today. I am!”

A pause. Then Toph: “Sparky, that was terrible.”

“So bad,” Sokka agrees. “It has zero effect on Azula! In fact, it helps her power up! Azula gains one level from having to listen to the worst trash talk in all of human history!”

“What?” Zuko yelps. “You can’t do that!”

“She firebends at you, level 10 damage! You’re going to have to roll a nine or higher to counteract this!” Sokka says, and Zuko rolls both his eyes and the dice.

It’s fraught. The only sounds are Sokka and Zuko’s voices, low and terse, the clatter of the dice, the barely stifled gasps as Toph, Katara and Suki listen in. The candle is burning low, so everyone’s face is just barely illuminated in the tiny orange glow, strange, sharp shadows thrown over their features. Then:

“Azula prepares to shoot lightning -”

“I deflect,” Zuko says, but Sokka continues -

“ - at Katara.”

Shock fills the room; Katara can feel it suck the air from her lungs.

But Zuko leans forward, jaw set, and says without hesitation, “I jump in front of Katara.”

“What?” she exclaims, staring at him, but he refuses to meet her eye. “No, no he doesn’t!”

Zuko rolls the dice, squints at the number that comes up. “A five. Come on, Sokka, I jump in front of Katara.”

Katara snatches up the dice, rolls a six. “He un-jumps in front of me!”

“I do not un-jump,” Zuko says irritably. “I take the lightning bolt meant for her.”

Toph’s eyebrow is raised sharply; Sokka is blinking, but Suki - Suki is looking right at them, something like a sneaky delight on her face.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Katara snaps at him. “You’re the one who’s going to be Fire Lord after we defeat Ozai, you can’t die now! It’s just simple strategy! We’re almost to the end, at this point I’m expendable, okay, we don’t need me -”

“I need you,” Zuko says, and something in Katara’s throat closes up; her pulse stuttering. His voice is so intense. In the dark, she cannot see his face. “Katara, I need you.”

Everything is quiet.

“… okaaaay!” Sokka says. “Um, what’s done cannot be undone, I guess. Zuko jumps in front of the lightning bolt. Takes a hit -” He rolls the dice, winces. “Oooh, 12 damage. Zuko, you’re pretty much out of commission.”

Zuko nods grimly, pressing his hand to his stomach as if he’s really been shot. Suki reaches forward, pats his shoulder in comfort. Any other time Katara might laugh, or roll her eyes at the drama of it all, but right now all she can think about is the sound of his voice in the dark. Katara, I need you.

“Katara? What do you do now?”

Rage rises up in her, fury white-hot. Somewhere before her Zuko is lying prone on the cobblestones, twitching in pain as electricity courses through his veins, sears his nerves. “I attack Azula!”

“How?”

“Oh my god, Sokka, I don’t care. I just bring her down! This ends now!”

“If you’re going to end it now, you need to roll at least a twenty,” Sokka says.

“I thought we agreed to call it a Toph,” Toph says. “Like, you need to roll a Toph.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of dying here,” Zuko points out, and Katara rolls the dice -

- she gets a Toph, and Suki and Toph and Sokka break into cheers, but Zuko is looking at her, and she knows it’s not over yet.

“Sokka, where did the lightning bolt hit Zuko?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know. Does it really matt -”

“Where?” she snaps at him, and her brother blinks at her in surprise.

“Uh - his stomach!” Sokka says, and Katara draws herself up, breathing in deeply. The dice rattles loosely in her closed fist.

“I poultice his stomach!” she declares and rolls another twenty, and somewhere under her palms, Zuko gasps back to life, his amber eyes blinking, his heart unsteady but alive in his chest. The emotion that washes over Katara is almost unreal in its intensity; a joy so big it feels almost like terror; a relief so vast it feels almost like grief. For a moment she cannot speak for the tightness in her throat.

“Sure, okay,” Sokka says. “Zuko, you’re, uh, not dead, I guess.”

Zuko looks at her, and she can just barely make out the gleam of his eyes in the dark, the wonder on his face. “Thank you, Katara.”

“I think,” she says softly, “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

The lights flicker back on.

The blue fire around the palace fades away; Druk disappears; Katara’s waterbending abilities vanish. Abruptly, they are back to where they started: five kids sitting cross-legged in a circle, in the living room of an apartment. They blink at each other in surprise.

“Well,” Sokka says. “That was, uh, intense.”

Suki checks her watch. “Wow, have we really been playing for three hours?”

“Three hours?” Toph repeats. “That’s it! Time for me to get some beauty sleep.”

“Wait,” Katara protests. “But we haven’t defeated Ozai yet! The game’s not over yet!”

Sokka yawns. “We’ll get around to it, sis. That’s the beauty of D and D, you know? The game can last as long as we want it to. But right now, it’s 2 in the morning and I agree with Toph - it’s bed time, kids.”

Sokka, Suki and Toph get to their feet and call their goodnights, disappearing into the bedrooms they’ve been allocated for the sleepover tonight (Sokka and Zuko in Zuko’s, and Suki and Katara and Toph all bundled in the guest bedroom.) Zuko and Katara are left sitting on the floor, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“Well,” Katara says at last. “I guess we should go to bed too. I mean!” she says hurriedly, as Zuko starts to cough, his neck turning red, “not together! Just - oh, you know what I mean.” What she wouldn’t give for the lights to go out right about now.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, blinking rapidly. He clears his throat. “Yeah. I, uh, yeah. Um. Goodnight, Katara.”

“Night, Zuko,” she says, getting slowly to her feet. His voice halts her at the doorway.

“Hey, Katara.”

When she turns to look back at him, he is on his feet as well, looking right at her. There is embarrassment on his features, but also a kind of determination, a stubborn tilt to the jaw she knows so well. “I, uh. I got Druk eight months ago.”

Katara blinks. There are non sequiturs, and then there’s Zuko. Honestly, this boy. “I, uh. Yeah, I know. Dungeons of D’Qar, right?”

“Right!” he agrees, nodding vigorously. “But what I meant was… that was eight months ago. Which is a pretty long time.”

“It is.”

He winces. “I guess what I’m saying is, Druk must’ve gotten pretty big. I feel like he’d… he’d easily be a two-person dragon by now. Or by the next game. Whenever that is. If you, uh, wanted to… join us.”

Katara bites her lip for a second, trying not to laugh at the way Zuko is looking at the floor, at the ceiling, at anywhere but her. “You want me to take a ride on your dragon?”

“OOOH, NAUGHTY!” Toph yells down the corridor, and Zuko flushes.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just - Oh, whatever!” he huffs, and tries to push past her, but Katara grabs hold of his elbow.

“Zuko,” she says, and then: “Yes.”

He stills, then turns to look at her, eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, and throws a smile at him over her shoulder as she makes her way to her room. “Yeah. Save me a seat. Say hey to Druk for me.”

“I will,” Zuko says, and waits until Katara closes the door behind her before he lets himself punch the air in delight.  

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Monday

the series read as follows:

Superman ...

_________________________

Monday was terrible. Mulder’s dress shirt was too tight against his neck; Scully’s nylons itched something fierce and would not stay where they were supposed to; Skinner seemed louder than they remembered and the file folders seemed more dry and sharper along the edges, paper cuts lurking very near in the future. Mulder’s cast banged into every available obstacle, including Scully on several occasions, tripping her up, sending her stumbling into a wall at one point and a door the next. Apologizing profusely from the safety of his office chair, “I promise you, I’m not trying to kill you.”

Smiling at him as she massaged her heel, “I’ll survive.”

Mulder dropped his head to the desk, “can we please go back on vacation?”

“You keep bringing that up. I’m beginning to believe you are not quite as committed to your job as you once were.”

Lifting his head, he looked at her, awkwardly trying to undo his top button without moving more than a few centimeters, “I will be, just not right now. My God, or your God as it were, why the hell can’t we wear t-shirts and shorts?”

As she settled into the chair across from him and kick/slid her heels across the room, “because people wouldn’t take you seriously in your garish plaid shorts and Smurf t-shirt, regardless of how many times you show them your badge.”

“You don’t like my garish plaid shorts and my Smurf t-shirt?”

“Well, no. I meant people in general. I, not being your average person, love your garish plaid shorts and Smurf t-shirt.”

“I like you in my Smurf t-shirt as well.”

Giving him a soft smile, complete with that hint of pink filling her cheeks, quickly rising from neck to forehead, “it is a very comfortable shirt.”

The look went on a little longer than it should have and Mulder broke the building tension with a groan, “the thing is, I can’t even go out and do any real work for at least another two weeks.”

“Minimum, Mulder. That’s the bare minimum. You may have convinced Skinner to let you go do interviews but until those pins come out and you can actually walk and run again, we won’t be doing much else so accept it now or I’ll be eviscerating you ‘round about Thursday because of your whining.” Holding out her hand, “now, let’s see what we’ve missed. Hand me something, please.”

&&&&&&&&&

Monday evening, just as they were pulling back up in front of Scully’s apartment, her turn to play host and their chosen destination for cleaning and unpacking, her phone rang. It didn’t take long for Mulder to deduce that she would be going somewhere and he would be left behind. Once she hung up, she turned his way, “this feels an awful lot like just before we left.”

“Another mass grave?”

“No but I need to go to Idaho while you, my casted friend, are about to get a call telling you you’re need for some profiling up in Maine.”

“How …” was all he got out before his phone jingled in his pocket, signaling she was right and he was gonna be lonely. All the dominoes fell in line soon after that, Scully flying out to one side of the country while Mulder, navigating the airport with his crutches, headed to the other.

As soon as he settled in his seat, priority boarding getting him on the plane first and awarding him ample time to complain to Scully before either of them took off, “why can’t I just come with you and they can email the files to me? It’s not like I really have to physically be sitting at the crime scene to do this.”

She was stuck sitting in the waiting area between a gentleman wearing too much cologne and a woman with three bags and a pursed look on her face. Wondering if she was sucking on a lemon none of them could see, she texted back, leaning forward to get away from both of them, forearms resting on her carry-on, “you know you work better when you’re at the scene. Walking around, looking at things, touching things, it’s when you do your best profiling Mulder.”

Sighing, “I know but I’m complaining because I won’t get to see you for who knows how long. I want my ten seconds of bitching and I will not be denied!”

A chuckle skipped up her throat, forcing her shoulders to jump and the haughty woman to look at her with distain. Scully was okay with this. “Let me know when you’re done so I can complain next.”

They went on for another ten minutes until Mulder sent her a message containing a smiley and a ‘love you … fly safe’. Even though he wouldn’t see it until he landed again, she responded in kind, then slouched back in her seat, happy to see that cologne man had left, her air field clear once again.

&&&&&&&&&&

Eventually, she made it to her hotel a little after 2am, cursing the existence of time zones, turbulence and taxi cabs whose drivers seem to have no idea where anything was in Boise. Irritated to no end, she dropped her bags on the bed, did her standard bedbug check, thankfully turned up nothing then pulled out her phone, “if you are awake, I hate Idaho and everything it stands for. I will not be eating potatoes in protest while I am here.”

Immediately her phone rang, startling her, causing her to nearly drop the thing as she answered it, “Mulder?”

“Morning, sunshine. Having a pleasant trip so far?”

His voice made her smile, which he could hear on his end and it made him happy, “it’s a tad more pleasant now. Why are you awake? It’s 2am.”

“Where you are but where I am, it’s nearly 5:30 and the sun is just coming up.”

Sleep-deprivation and the rough ride made her forget the time change, “gonna be a long day now, isn’t it?”

“Probably but that’s all right. Rather have you wake me up than anything else.” Stretching across his double bed, both bed and body creaking and popping, “so, in all great seriousness, when are we going on vacation again?”

Having already stripped while talking to him and pulled on her pajamas, she laughed, “we need to work a few weeks, build up some vacation time again before we go anywhere.”

“You are no fun this morning.”

Knowing he was only joking with her, she looked down at her wardrobe choice, “well, if I tell you that I’m wearing only your purple Grimace shirt to bed, will that make me more fun?”

“Infinitely. If I ask you to take it off and do things while you tell me what you’re doing, it would be even more fun.”

That worked on her parts quite efficiently but knowing she needed sleep more, she slid under her sheets, still clothed, “sorry, buddy, exhaustion calls but eventually, you’ll get me out of the Grimace shirt, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Whispering his good night, he let her go to sleep while he started his day.