#my jokes are courtesy of three kins:

[realsafari]

god i am such a sucker for cock

[headcannonballs]

I know the hobbit movies make a big deal about how angsty teen Legolas is and completely screwed his relationship with his dad Thranduil. But whenever I read the Lord of the Rings I cannot help but think: my goodness, but Thranduil must have really spoiled Legolas rotten.

We first meet Legolas at the Council of Elrond. He is dressed simply and for light travel, and does not choose to wear his title as a Prince, instead identifying himself as a messenger from Thranduil, his king. Indeed he often chooses to call Thranduil his king rather than his father, which many have taken as a sign that relations between the two are strained.

However, I propose the direct opposite - that his many mentions of Thranduil as his Elven-Lord demonstrates not only his love for Thranduil, but also his respect and admiration of what a great king his father is for his people.

Consider this: whenever he mentions Thranduil or Mirkwood it is always with warmth and a subtle longing. He doesn't ever speak of his home in anything other than good terms, even if it has been marred and fallen into becoming Mirkwood (as opposed to Greenwood the Great).

And it isn't just to maintain pride in front of outsiders. When you contrast the way Boromir speaks of Gondor and his father the steward Denethor, to the way Legolas speaks of Mirkwood and Thranduil, it becomes clearer. Boromir is proud of his family, country and heritage and boasts of it. He claims Gondor is the main protector of Middle-earth, and that they have been fighting Mordor the hardest. But deep down he is questioning his father's rule, and is uncertain of Gondor's future.

Legolas is almost the opposite. He doesn't ever boast of his country, although Mirkwood, just like Gondor, is right at Mordor's doorstep. Instead he shares with the company personal anecdotes that show (not tell) exactly how good life is there despite the Shadow. He doesn't waver in his believe of his people's strength; indeed only he and Aragorn could face Galadriel without any fear or hesitation.

I think the reason why Legolas always mentions Thranduil as a king or lord is not because he doesn't want to acknowledge Thranduil is his father. It is that Legolas is so in awe of Thranduil and so respectful of him that whenever he is mentioned Legolas' first thought is not 'that's my dad and we're related', but instead is 'that's my king and my hero and he's so awesome'.

He doesn't consciously mention Thranduil as his father because his mind frame is not to introduce the company to Thranduil the way you would introduce your friends to your parents. He doesn't want them to think of him as just a nice uncle who is the father of a friend.

Legolas introduces Thranduil as his king because he wants the company to respect him as such, as the ruler of a great country who has done great deeds. He wants the company to see Thranduil as someone in-charge, as someone who is capable and should be given the proper courtesies accorded to him.

Some may question, in that case why doesn't Legolas call him 'my father the king'? It would highlight both Legolas' relationship to Thranduil as well as Thranduil's kingship.

I think this has to do with the circumstances as well as Legolas' humble personality. It is true that he doesn't ever make a big deal out of being prince, but at the same time this title means nothing much in the fellowship company. There is Aragorn, who would be king of Gondor. Boromir, eldest son of the ruling Steward of Gondor. Gimli, cousin of Balin who is the Lord of Moria. Gandalf, member of the Istari and councilor of many kingdoms. Peregrin, son of the Thain of Shire. Meriadoc, son of the Master of Buckland. Frodo, heir to Bilbo and a celebrity (of sorts) of the Shire.

Virtually everyone in the fellowship had a title (except Sam) and there is really no point in highlighting it among themselves when it doesn't matter. The only time where Legolas being Prince of Mirkwood would matter is when meeting other elves or when meeting allies of Mirkwood (like Dale for example). In which case in the former, Legolas being son of Thranduil is more than enough recognition for Elrond and Celeborn (as both of them were Sindar elves, and thus kin of Thranduil). And for the latter there wasn't any opportunity to do so.

Thus Legolas not mentioning the king is also his father is his way of downplaying his title as Prince, something which signifies his humility as well.

Finally, what makes me certain that Thranduil is a very caring father is Legolas' personality itself. Galadriel mentions that Legolas had always lived in joy, and this is very evident throughout the book.

In the entire journey, Legolas is shown to never despair. The only moment of fear was when he saw the Balrog (a famous elves bane) but otherwise he was also never fearful. This is despite the overwhelming circumstances the company finds themselves in. He always sees the bright side in every situation, frequently makes jokes and funny quips, and is in an overall joyful mood.

From the Hobbit, we learn that this cheerful outlook is shared by the Mirkwood elves, regardless of the growing Shadow. The only person who was affected at all was Thranduil himself, who was always wary of Mordor rising again. But he took careful pains to never affect his people, and they were always in good spirits despite the war that was happening.

I think Legolas was very well loved as a child, and always carefully sheltered. Not from the horrors and realities of war like death and destruction (because we can see he is a very capable warrior). No, he was instead sheltered from the despair and sorrow that would normally accompany death and destruction.

Legolas would see death and elves dying in battle, and Thranduil would tell him of the halls of Mandos and how death is just a path back to the Valar. He would look at the destruction of the woods and the land, and Thranduil would tell him it is like the passage of winter, but spring would come and the land would flourish again.

Legolas would have grown up knowing that even though bad things are happening, good things are still to come, and that's why he always has such hope in him and such joy. Unlike the mortal lives of Men and Dwarves, Elves are immortal and they can afford to wait for the end of the Shadow. There is no hurry, and because Mirkwood is untouched by any of the Rings, they don't need to worry about the power of the Three fading.

Legolas is happy and joyful because he is beloved, and I think that is a consequence of Thranduil's nurturing personality. It just makes much more sense when you compare him to the other characters who had lost both parents (Aragorn and Eomer), or had a stern and demanding father (Boromir and Faramir).

Legolas remains unchanged for the most part at the end of the journey because he was already in such a good place to start with. I think that is quite a comforting thought.

[infinitegalahad]

RAY IN THE BATHROOM

Summary: Ray is hiding in a bathroom and has a panic attack over the fact that his only real friend and the love of his life has (supposedly) left him for Brad.

Word-Count: 2.1k

Warnings: References of suicidal thoughts, ptsd, and severe anxiety. Brad is a semi-asshole. Hop on the angst train (with fluff at the end!)

A/N: I was listening to Be More Chill because let's just say that I can heavily relate to Micheal In The Bathroom due to recent events in my life. So then again, what better way to cope then using my biggest kin, Ray Person, in a totally not self indulgent fic?? Also as for the prompt requests-i'm working on them! Sorry, school has been bad. I'm keeping a promise to myself to release at least once a a week and I'm on a gen kill rampage. Idk what else to add so enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Ray doesn’t expect himself to be hanging in the bathroom at their first year reunion. But instead of “hanging”, he’s hiding. Those emotions that never come out are now coming back to haunt him. Ray knows he can't hide behind a shit eating grin and sunglasses. He leaned up against the tub inside of the cramped room, his sunglasses tucked into the neck of his polo as tears sting his eyes.

Ray’s legs felt numb and he knows if he looks into the mirror and sees his flushed face and eyes, he won’t be able to conceal his crying. He’s not able to go back outside and would prefer to fake pee or just check his phone in the bathroom.

“C’mon brah!” Q-tip whined like a child, crossing his legs. “This hurts like a butt cheek on a stick”

“You can’t come in!” Ray yelled as he held back a sob, “The little man is going. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Q-tip had been knocking on the door for over ten minutes before giving up and choosing to pee outside. Ray let out a shaky sigh and fell onto the thin side of the bathtub, biting his lip and he batted his wet eyes with his palms.

Ray and y/n had been an unexpected trio. Partners in crime, double trouble, you went well together despite their differences. You were an educated college student and he was a whiskey tango mess who couldn’t shut his mouth for the life of it. You cried, laughed, and did everything together. Little known to y/n, Ray didn’t have a crush on her-but he was more than in love.

However, when Ray is having severe social anxiety, an event he would typically rely on y/n to help him with, his “partner in crime” falls short. Ray knows that y/n is light years better than him. Here was the smartest and most beautiful woman he had met next to a college dropout who didn’t make it past Geometry.

Now the “perfect pair” is severed, leaving one half alone in the bathroom.

Ray’s forgotten how long he’s been in the bathroom for. These types of events always felt forced, and everyone knew that. Whenever that awkwardness would arise, Ray and y/n would choose to ditch and steal a few beers and sit in the bathtub, watching an obscure eighties film in the dark, cramped room with Ray’s god awful commentary.

But even though Ray has Born American downloaded, he can’t bring himself to watch it. Now he’s laying in the bathtub, picking at grout as he softly grieves. He’s hiding in there while y/n is ignoring all of their history.

Ray first arrived at the party, making a dramatic entrance. He made sure everybody knew that he was there, especially y/n. His original plan was to wear a purple tux he had snatched from walamrt since it was ugly as fuck, and Ray knew that. But knowing that you were going to be there, Ray made an attempt with an expensive navy polo and khaki shorts, courtesy of Nate.

Upon seeing you, Ray ran over from whatever he was doing to talk to you. Whether you were OD’S or a casual jumpsuit, you looked dead drop gorgeous-and Ray never knew how to express his affections. So he pulled you into a hug and muttered a shitty joke, and you just laughed.

Over the course of the next hour, the two of you catched up about your mundane lives. It made Ray feel guilty since he knew that you were better than him in every way possible, on the road of success. Your future sounded like you would go to some fancy school and then marry a lawyer. Ray wanted to be good for you, but he didn’t know how to at all. He followed you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the party, feeling a tinge of jealousy whenever one of the guys would give you a chaste hug or when you wouldn't pay attention to him for five minutes.

Ray didn’;t know why the fuck eh was feeling so sappy. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating (even though that’s exactly what he wanted).

Ray doesn’t hate Brad, but he just hates whenever he talks to you. He sees the two of you, smiling and laughing as you catch u[. Ray knows it’s rude, but he buds in and offers to get drinks for the “three amigos”. You kindly accept and Ray goes away to get drinks. He makes sure to spit inside of Brad’s drink as a childish act of revenge.

As Ray walks down the hallway balancing the three drinks, he pauses to hide behind the door since he hear’s Brad mention his name. You and Brad had moved to the couch, sitting too close for Ray’s comfort levels. He had an arm slung over the couch, which was barely touching you, but Ray had taken it as an offense.

Standing by the doorway and leaning, he overheard Brad’s words.

“Ray’s a little shit, whiskey tango loser, sister fucking, type of man. I don’t know what you see in him,” Brad had casually said, cold and straight to the point. He truly lived up to his name.

That’s when Ray dropped the drinks and ran towards the bathroom. He didn’t hear you respond, and that was the last thing he needed to hear.

Now Ray’s sitting in the tub, no longer holding tears back, but there coming out. A sob escapes his mouth and he tries to smile, but he can’t. He gets a taste of his salty tears and tries to stop the waterworks, but they come back, bigger and faster. It’s been a while since he had a good cry-but it happened at one of the most inconvenient times. And it was over a stupid girl-who he coulnd’t deny that he was in love with.

But y/n was lightyears ahead of him. Besides, Brad was (seemingly) a better fit for her. The scenario began to play in Ray’s wild mind. The memories of “double trouble” will get erased. Their wedding will be small, paid for by the Colberts. Q-Tip will DJ, Godfather will make a speech with his horrid voice, and Ray will make a shitty joke as usual. Worst had come to the worst.

Ray hears a drunk Q-tip sing along through the door to “I wanna dance with somebody”. His feelings sink even deeper cause it makes him think; now there’s no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore. That was y/n’s favorite hobby about these forced get-togethers.

Ray knew that at some point, he’d be forced to come out. As he chokes back the incoming tears, he waits until his face becomes dry, planning to blame it on weed or something in his eyes or the five bud lights he regrets drinking.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Ray looks up and wipes his face, forcing a fake laugh. “Oh hell yeah, I'll be out soon.”

“Ray, it’s me.” It’s y/n’s voice, and Ray can’t believe it’s her. A part of him wants her to come in, but the other part wants him to defend himself.

“Why do you want me to come out when you can hang out with your new big strong viking? Who talks all educated and shit since you just love being around him.” Ray spits out with a few sniffles.

Based on his words and the sniffles, you can tell something is clearly wrong.

You shake your head and lightly knock again, “Please, that’s not what happened. Brad’s an idiot, and we’re just friends. “Please, come out.”

Ray got out from the tub and came close to the door, feeling your frantic breathes again the door. “My biggest mistake was showing up. I wished I stayed up watching cable porn, or I offered myself. Besides, he’s better for you. Just go away.”

Hearing him say such things made you worry even more, afraid that he could do something to himself that he’d regret.

“Ray, open the damn door. Don’t say dumb shit.” You pleaded, frantically twisting the door knob. The worry was evident in your voice.

“No, fuck you! Fuck this whole place. You’re smart; just leave me alone.” Ray banged against the door as tears came down his face. He immediately regretted his choice of words, knowing that they would hurt you. He turned away to return to the bathtub, only to stop when he heard you now sniffling.

Mega fuck.

Ray reluctantly walks back to the door and opens it, to see your face, all red and wet like this. Both of you stood there, disheveled, tears both running down your face.

Not a single word was spoken between the two of you as you ran into his arms, pulling him close as you cried into his chest. Ray used his foot to slam the door shut and then proceeded to pull you into a bearhug, stroking the back of your head as he comforted you through your sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeated as his tears stained your shoulder as well, “I didn’t-fuck. I’m such a retar-” He froze, knowing that you hated that word. “Idiot. I just-fuck. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin all the stuff on your face-”, Ray said as he tilted your face up and started to wipe your tears.

“Makeup. ‘S fine, I’m not wearing much. I just didn’t wanna get mistaken for a middle schooler again.”

Ray and you both let out a chuckle in the midst of your shared crying session. He’s still wiping the tears from your face as you rest your arms on his waist.

“First time we met, y’know. Godfather thought you had a dick for a long time.” Ray added, which earned another laugh from you.

You shook your head, “Remember when Trombley found out I was a girl?”

“Looked like he was about to shit himself-he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Ugh, ‘s a nightmare.” The two of you filled the void with the awakened laughter you shared. Ray’s tiny hands moved to your chin, directing it slightly up.

“I still think you’re pretty hot either way, angel.” Ray confessed. The two of you looked at each other for a minute, seeing the love and pupils widen in both of your eyes. Standing on your toes, you and Ray’s lips gently pecked at each other. You could taste the bud light on his lips as Ray’s lips overpowered yours, gently cupping and sucking passionately.

“Fuck,” Ray breathed through the kiss as your foreheads touched, “I love you.”

“Shit, I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” You chuckled as your finger’s played with Ray’s dark hair. It’s gotten longer, and it’s at a length where he can awkwardly style it, but since Ray is Ray-it’s a mess, “I love you too. I’m sorry about Brad, you know how he is.”

“I just thought you and him were having a moment. I just started overthinking it since I thought you didn't wanna be around me. Which is chill, I was vibing,” Ray attempted to joke, which was a way to cope with his pain.

You shake your head and hold his face to reassure him. Ray looks down at you in awe, which makes a smile curve on your lips.

“Brad wasn’t touching me, he just was stretched out on the couch. Ray, don’t say that. You were in the bathroom for over an hour. I knew that you were ethier upset or having explosive diarrhea from Nate’s vegan casserole-or both.”

“That shit was beyond nasty. I bet he got all the ingredients at Trader joes and sold his soul just to buy it.” Ray quickly quipped.

“Jesus, don’t make me vomit.” You huffed as you looked at the bathtub, “Now are you gonna come out now without beating up someone?”

“Yes babycakes, as long as you do one thing.”

Cringing, you force a smile. It’s not because you don’t love him, but sometimes what comes out of his mouth can be questionable. “Yes Ray?”

He grabs your hand, which fits right into his. “Gotta show the homies who’s the alpha around here.”

You don’t mind holding Ray’s hand. You like the tight squeezes and the feel of his soft skin. As the two of you walk out of the bathroom back into the life of the party with the smell of barbeque and the august heat in the air.

“Oh god Ray, shut up.”

Ray simply responds with a goosey laugh.

[mneiai]

Under the Read More is the first part of that weird Modern Westeros AU that I can’t figure out what to do with lol I’m not sure I can give it enough of a plot to do a full standalone fic but I have like more ideas than I normally put in a drabble. Also some of my ideas are like....ASOLAD and Broken Pieces... sort of weird and I don’t know how far to push it haha

Canon typical incest, dark!Targs, Sansa/Jon, Rhaenys/Aegon, Dany/Jon. (not really Sansa friendly, she’s like beginning of AGOT kind of Sansa)

"I can't believe you grew up here! And I thought Winterfell was antiquated!"

Aemon winced at her words, catching the servants in the shadows of the corridor that she seemed to miss. He knew they would not only take offense, many of them from families who had served his for generations, but that they would also report everything that was said to his father.

"Sansa..." he didn't know what more he could say to caution her, after multiple attempts on the way over.

On the mainland, he could take her sheltered upbringing with a certain amount of fondness. Perhaps her naivete was even part of what had initially drawn her to him, so different than the disaffected attitude of his family. Now, having finally brought her to Dragonstone, he was beginning to have his doubts.

He had met her family multiple times, had spent various breaks in the North with the Starks, getting to know them and pretending like their ways were not as foreign as they were. After all, he'd gotten a lot of practice with that since starting college, spending the first few months desperately hiding how little he understood of the Andal culture of the mainland.

That, too, had been something that had drawn him to her, at first, thinking she must feel similar, until he'd realized that she may be a Stark, but she had been raised by an Andal mother. She did not truly understand what it was like for him.

She tugged his hand, dragging him along through his own home, and he finally had to put his foot down. "You don't know where we're going," he said, softly, almost wishing they'd taken the ancient entrance that led to the throne room instead of the back entrance that had an elevator, if only it meant a faster route. "Have patience, we're not missing anything."

When she'd finally started to hint at marriage, he'd known he couldn't put this off anymore. Asking her father was a quaint, somewhat sexist, tradition to her. Asking his father, the head of his family, was a necessity.

Targaryens, he'd reminded her, had killed their kin for less. But she'd just laughed, thinking he was making a joke. On the mainland his family was mostly history and legends, even though it had been only a century since their rule had dissolved into little more than ceremonial.

She'd understood he'd had an odd childhood when he confessed to her some of the things he didn't understand at school, but seemed to think it was some quirk and not the culture of his family, of the ancient Valyrians that remained.

He'd spoken nothing but Old Valyrian until he was five, at which point High Valyrian and then Common were introduced. He'd been homeschooled and had only been allowed close contact with other Valyrians for much of his life. His hair and skin color made him look less like the typical examples of his people to outsiders, but he was still considered such.

His mother had been of the First Men, a sort of concession made every few generations to appease those who thought they could not inbreed every single generation. Sansa...Sansa would be a hard sell. Their children would be looked down upon, not given, or even allowed, the sort of sheltered childhood he'd had.

Away at college, something he'd begged his father for, he'd wanted that. Children who had "normal" lives apart from his family. Who went to school and played with other children unknown to him.

Now, back on Dragonstone, breathing in the air that Sansa would only be safely able to be in for a week, maybe, and feeling the thrum of energy from the always active volcano under their feet that he knew she didn't experience, he wasn't so sure.

"It's weird," she began, as he led her deeper into the castle, "to think if history had gone a bit differently, your father would be ruling over us all."

Aemon winced. "He's very aware."

Away as he'd been, outside of his father's confidence, he couldn't knew how his plotting was going. But he'd seen little signs in the politics of the mainland, in the fraying edges of the parliament and the rise of more traditional monarchists. Rhaegar wanted nothing more than he wanted the Iron Throne to not simply be a monument school children gaped at, but a symbol of power he and Aegon would sit upon.

"Sorry, sorry, I know you said to avoid politics. And history. And...a lot of stuff."

"Please. We only need to spend a week here, you're not Arya, you can be on your best behavior," he teased, trying to take the edge off.

She pouted, but nodded. "I can, I will be."

He knew she was nervous, he also knew it was for the wrong reasons. His family would never like her, what they needed was for them to see she was tolerable. Or that they should let Aemon go.

They reached the sitting room Aemon knew some of his family would be waiting within and he braced himself. At least his father had not insisted on the throne room, he tried to reason, as while he was no King of Westeros, he was still, legally and truly, King of Dragonstone and the ruins of Old Valyria.

Entering, Sansa had the presence of mind to curtsy, as he'd warned her to do, and they waited for his father to be the first to speak.

Rhaegar mostly ignored Sansa, studying Aemon with great intensity. It had been nearly a year since they'd last seen each other, after spending nearly every day together for Aemon's life, and the scrutiny was welcome. Beside him, Mother Elia sat, thin and weak looking as she'd been all his life. Aegon, too, was there, watching him just as intently, but no one else.

-Aemon, my youngest, you have finally returned home.-

-I was always going to return, father.-

-Yes, you deserved my trust. Though we did not expect you to bring home...that.-

He squeezed Sansa's hand, knowing that while she knew a little High Valyrian, enough to keep up as a tourist in Essos, she would not follow this. "Sansa Stark, kepa, of the North."

Sansa curtsied again, giving Rhaegar a charming smile. "It is an honor to meet you, your grace."

-You bring that here and allow it to pollute our ears?- Aegon muttered, making a quick hand symbol used by superstitious Valyrians to ward off corruption.

Their father did not scold him for talking out of turn, because they all knew he was thinking the same thing.

"Welcome, Sansa, we have heard much about you," Rhaegar replied to her in slightly accented Common, playing at courtesy.

Aemon stiffened, because he hadn't been telling his family very much at all and now he was left wondering what the source his father had was. There were many among their classmates who would gladly sell information for money, he was sure, and the Targaryens had seen the end coming and squirreled away much of the royal coffers by the end, giving the impression the kingdom was near bankruptcy. Good investments after had left his father one of the richest men in the world.

Aegon and Elia were introduced, each of them pretending at being nice, charm coming easily. He was glad that for this his aunt and uncle weren't present, they were far worse at hiding their feelings. This way introductions and their dismissal went quickly.

-Does she know she's temporary?- Aegon walked beside them, ostensibly escorting them to their rooms.

-Why would she be temporary?-

His older brother gave him an incredulous look. -You can't be serious about that thing, brother. What if you accidentally bred with it?-

-If Sansa and I have children, it won't be accidentally.-

The disgust on Aegon's face made Aemon feel hesitant, again, doubtful. There had been other Targaryens who had broken from tradition, but nearly all had been banished by the family or punished by the gods, often both.

-Does Daenerys know you're cavorting with an Andal?-

Aemon hoped not, but knew his father well enough to assume that Daenerys had been invited back from Volantis to meet his girlfriend.

-If I did such to Rhaenys, she would break my legs and lock me in the dungeon,- Aegon continued, listing what was surely one of the less horrible punishments their older sister would visit upon them.

Technically, Aemon wasn't engaged to Daenerys. His father had wanted to see which of them fit together best and then Aegon and Rhaenys easily paired off. For he and Daenerys, their relationship was rockier, their only commonality that they wanted to see the world. But Daenerys was caught up in mysticism and tales of magic, convinced the way forward was not through Rhaegar's manipulation of politics and policies, but sheer, terrifying power.

She had not been happy when Aemon had chosen Andal college over a pilgrimage to Old Valyria. For three years, they hadn't said a word to each other.

But she would still think of Aemon as hers, if they went a dozen years without speaking.

"Do you live here full time or have a residence of your own, Prince Aegon?" Sansa interrupted his thoughts and Aegon's mutterings about what torments Aemon had to look forward to.

Aegon paused, then replied, "We keep homes in Volantis and other cities, but I mostly stay in our estate in Summerhall." He gave Aemon the same look of regret he always did, the one that said it should be Aemon in Summerhall, with their father in King's Landing. "When I heard of Aemon's visit, I flew back. Most of the family will be here."

"I suppose hoping for a small introduction was wishful thinking." She laughed, leaning against Aemon. "Are you aunt and uncle, and your sister, returning, too?"

"Daenerys is here, though she is recovering from jetlag and travel at the moment. Viserys will be here tomorrow. Rhaenys came in with me, but had an appointment."

"I'll be happy to meet them, Aemon's met my entire family, now, we even went to the Vale to meet my aunt and cousin there."

Aegon smiled, but his eyes were hollow and dark when they met Aemon's. "We've heard all about your trips."

She grinned back at him, squeezing Aemon's arm. "I didn't realize Aemon spoke to you so often, I'm so glad you're so close."

Again, Aemon could only wonder who was spying. If it was many, or a few.

When he'd realized what his phone could be, he'd gotten a cheap one of his own, often leaving the one his father gave him in his dorm. He'd had his computer checked by a few friends he made who were more technically minded. He'd even frequently searched his things for devices that could be bugs or trackers.

To Sansa, it might have seemed paranoid, but he still remembered the first time he and Sam had found a camera installed in the overhead light of their room. After that, he'd requested a single, not wanting to draw anyone deeper in than they were, though the loneliness of the tiny empty room had driven him to call his family more often, despite his anger.

Kepa = father

[isla-balfrey]

Her Nightmare

Not the Adamant kind. The childhood-ruiner. This one is not-so-fluffy. Sry.

Inspired by a prompt from solverne-02 drabble list number 2. 

Prompt #5 - “You’re safe now.”

AO3

Also sorry I have been drinking whiskey this evening. 

-- They found the child on the road to Redcliffe.

Dispatching of the bandits had already worn them out. The group they had just dealt with was notably better supplied than the others they had come across in the Hinterlands. Isla was wiping the blood off of her daggers when she turned, her face suddenly focused, listening.

She found him in the trees just off the road.

“He tol’ me to hide,” he said, small voice quaking slightly.

“Who?”

He didn’t reply.

“What’s your name?”

“Sam.”

“Sam, where is your home?”

“We was headin’ to Redcliffe, to see my aunty.”

“My name is Isla,” she said, smiling softly as she crouched next to him.

She smoothed his hair, and they set off down the road.

--

It wasn’t difficult to find the child’s aunt in the small town. The woman cried when she saw him. She bid him inside, yelling to her husband that Sam had arrived, then closed the door.

“Thank you so much for bringing him here. When we heard about his da’… my brother…” 

Isla hugged her before they left, accepting the loaf of bread handed to her with a sincere smile.

--

Solas watched her as they made the hike back to camp. She hardly spoke. The trek to the Farms camp was long, and her green eyes reflected the darkening trees around them.

They arrived in camp just after nightfall, relief at finding the cradle of a smoothly sloping valley. The expanse of the sky held a half moon and the stars that met it. Isla stared upwards, somewhat apart from their tents. 

Watching her from the pile of supplies, Solas frowned.

Something is wrong.

His eyes followed her as she made her way into their tent.

--

Bull and Sera, showing no signs of going to bed right away, sat at the fire and made lewd jokes. They had decided early on to share a tent, leaving Solas and Isla in their own. It had happened before, as the party typically rotated. It would almost certainly happen again.

Solas climbed into the tent, noting the blanket that had been pulled over most of her face. 

“Lethallan,” he began, wondering, “Is everything alright?”

“It will be,” she said after a pause.

He finished changing and laid down, facing her back. Her hair glowed in the darkness. His fingers itched, almost reaching out to press a hand to her head. Lath’sal’in. He thought of the human child, the affection she had shown him so easily.

His palm found her hair. He held it there for a moment.

“On nhyda,” he said, drawing his hand back to his side.

“On nhyda, Solas.”

After a time, they both fell asleep.

--

He found her dream easily.

The dream was clouded and dark. In front of him, a young elven woman wrapped an embroidered scarf around the bright hair of a child. It was unmistakably Isla, no older than eleven.

“Da’len,” the woman whispered, her eyes wide, “you must hide. Do not make a sound. Do not move. We are being hunted. Do you understand?”

The young Isla nodded and her mother pointed to a dark bush. The sound of metal and anger -- swords and humans -- grew louder.

The three human men who found the woman were grotesque in Isla’s memory. They knocked the daggers out of her hands, killing her quickly. The hidden elven child stared with wide eyes. The men cheered, ready to celebrate the murder. Whatever they said was not heard.

Isla moved silently forward, hands shaking as she picked up her mother's daggers. 

“Mamae,” she whispered.

The humans had not seen her emerge, did not hear her flanked attack coming. She slit the first one’s throat quickly. Her battle with the other two proved less certain. Solas winced when the sword cut her face, just missing her eye as it sliced through the soft skin of her forehead and cheek. 

She bared her teeth and charged at them. Their deaths were quick after that.

She stood above the bodies, breathing hard as blood dripped down to her neck.

--

Solas woke. Isla was still asleep, and he could hear the distress of her breathing. She had turned towards him in the night.

“Isla, wake up,” he said, grasping her shoulder, “Isla. Satha, lethallan, wake up.”

He hesitated. Temptation.

Solas reached, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him, “Isla.”

Her eyes opened. Her breathing came heavier, seeing where she was. 

“Solas,” she said, her voice breaking. She was crying.

“You are safe here, Isla,” he said, holding her close, her face pressed to his shoulder, “You are safe.”

--

Translations all courtesy of Fenxshiral on ao3 <3

Lath’sal’in: the act of fondling someone’s hair, especially someone you care about. Lit. “Love the house of the soul.”

Lethallan - cousin/kin

On Nhyda: good night

Satha: Please

Da’len: little one/child

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Revelations (Archie/Gold, Costars verse)

There are many things that would make more sense right now, but I had this very loud bunny in my head and couldn’t focus on anything else until I wrote it.  And then I couldn’t find the end so at 6000 words I think I just tripled the length of Costars verse.  Also added tons of characters and relationships.  The first paragraph was written by @acoupletshort years ago in an ask she sent me that I asked if I could expand on.

The whole thing spiraled from the realization that it’s a rare verse where I haven’t mentioned a cane, and wondering if Gold had one.

Warnings: angst, panic attacks, but no character death

“I didn’t want to call.  Didn’t seem right for you to be alone.”  It was only then that Archie realized that her eyes were red.  She was upset.  She was worried about him.  There were exactly two people in the world that mattered so much that losing them would make him fall apart, and Dorothy didn’t know his brother.

________________________________

 It had been a very long day and Gold felt distinctly out of sorts. This particular storyline was not one he was comfortable with. Archie was lying in the hospital bed, generously adorned with bruises and scrapes courtesy of their make-up department. Much too realistic bruises and scrapes, if you asked Gold. The only thing that broke the perfect illusion was the soft sound of snoring. Well, it had been a long day for all of them.

The snoring, oddly, made him feel better.  That and the way Archie’s nose wrinkled when Gold touched the end of it.  “Wake up, sleeping beauty.  We’re wrapped.”

“Garrett?”  Archie scratched his nose, smearing the bruise on one of his cheeks with his wrist, turning the makeup department’s hard work into an abstract swirl of purple and blue.  The stage was empty, Archie’s scene had ended half an hour ago.

“You should get to bed earlier on days you have an early call,” Gold said with a straight face, his voice low despite the fact that they were alone.

“I went to bed plenty early.  It was the sleep part that was hard.”  He pulled back the blankets on the hospital bed.  While he wore a hospital gown nicer than what was actually found in hospitals, he also wore khakis and a pair of green argyle socks.  It wasn’t surprising that Archie wore them; he wasn’t one for walking around the set in any less than full dress.  Garrett didn’t care to be around for his love scenes with Michael, but he knew that a robe was always kept close at hand for between and after takes.  It was an uncommon modesty.

“It wasn’t the only thing that was hard,” Gold smirked, amused at the red flush under the layers of makeup.  It wasn’t often that he’d stayed the night, but Archie had made dinner and he’d provided the wine, and really after half a bottle each it would have been a bad idea to drive home.  “You have about twenty minutes to wash up before they start popping champagne bottles.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”  It was their last day of season one.  Poor Aaron would be spending the summer in a coma, a cliffhanger that hopefully had people eager to return in the fall.

“You’ll miss those four-thirty alarms, will you?”  

“I’ll miss seeing everyone.”  They had two months before rehearsals kicked off for season two.  Archie had a play lined up.  Garrett had three weeks in Scotland in a month, filming the sort of independent film that he loved but rarely paid enough to live on.  Fortunately, Dixon Landing more than paid the bills. But first he had Balin.  His boy was back tomorrow after spending the last six months with his mother in Romania while she filmed the next movie she was certain would be ‘the one’ to take her from second string to star.  As much as he looked forward to seeing his boy it was part of the reason he felt so unsettled.  He was telling Bay about Archie, and on Sunday they’d meet over dinner.  Archie deserved better than to have to keep hiding their relationship, but he needed Bay to know first.  He couldn’t have his boy learn the news from the front of some rag, or from one of Milah’s rages.

“You’ll miss seeing them at the wrap party if you don’t get your face washed, love.  And perhaps a different shirt.”  He took Archie’s hand and pulled him toward the makeup trailer.  The amount of makeup he was wearing was going to take more than a little soap and water.  It was a relief to see it all gone, to see Archie’s face unblemished and unbruised.  Gold cupped one cheek gently and kissed his lover.  “That’s better.”

II

Pongo’s barking woke him.  It had only been an hour since he’d fallen asleep, his bloodstream still mixed with champagne and some mixed drink Jefferson had been passing out, and he was dizzy when he sat up.  It was only then that he heard the knocking at the door.  Squinting at the clock that told him it was a little after three he tried to stand up.  The second time he succeeded.

“Pongo, stop.  Unless someone’s here to rob us, then you can be as loud as you want.”  But they were still knocking, and they wouldn’t do that if they were here for nefarious purposes.  Probably.  It was Hollywood, after all, and sometimes weird things happened.  Archie pulled on a robe as he headed for the door.

“Dorothy?”  His director was standing on his front porch three hours after their wrap party in jeans and a worn purple sweater she hadn’t been wearing earlier.  She never dressed so casually at work.  Pongo, quiet now that he recognized a friend, held out a paw for a shake.  Dorothy Lucas ignored him.

“I didn’t want to call.  Didn’t seem right for you to be alone.”  It was only then that Archie realized that her eyes were red.  She was upset.  She was worried about him.  There were exactly two people in the world that mattered so much that losing them would make him fall apart, and Dorothy didn’t know his brother.

“I should go get dressed.”  The clothes he’d worn to the party were in the hamper; someone had been smoking and the smell lingered.  He’d need something clean to wear.

“He’s not dead, Archie.  It’s bad, might get worse, but for right now there’s still a chance.”  Bad.  Worse.  The words echoed loud in his head.  “When you’re ready we’ll take you to the hospital.”

“We?”  The headlights were on, her car still running.

“Ruby wanted to come with me.  She thought you could use a friend.”  She offered the smallest of smiles.  “Go now, sooner you’re dressed the sooner we get there and find out what’s happened.”

His shoes didn’t match.  He didn’t realize it until he was in the car, but he wore two different shoes, one a light brown loafer, the other a darker brown dress shoe.  He stared at his feet even when Ruby said hello and asked if Pongo would be alright alone.  He said yes.  Pongo could manage alone for a few hours.  He was less certain about his own ability to be alone.  

“How did you know?”  It didn’t surprise him that Dorothy was the one the hospital called.  Garrett didn’t have any next of kin unless you counted his aunts in Scotland and his son who was too young.  But somehow she’d known to come for him, despite how low key he and Garrett had been keeping things.

“You think anything happens on my set that I don’t know about?  I know Jefferson uses an empty storage locker to hotbox but he keeps the pot smell away from the wardrobe and his costumes are brilliant so if it helps him cope then it’s his business.  I know David and Mary Margaret are going to have to own up to their relationship soon, because we’ll have to start planning a maternity plot or we’ll be finding props for her to carry to hide her belly.  And I know about Valentine's Day and the meal you and Garrett shared.  Let me tell you I was this close to knocking your heads together and telling you to figure it out after we hired Michael.  Gold was a bear those first weeks, and the less clothes you wore on set the worse he was.”

“Granny!”  Ruby interjected.  

“It’s true.”  Dorothy glanced in the rearview mirror for just a moment.  The light at the next intersection was turning yellow but she raced through it.  They were making good time, but it still felt slow.

“No boundaries, none at all.  She’s like this every time I make plans for a date too.”  Ruby reached over and squeezed his hand.  “It’s going to be okay, Arch.  It will.”

II

The nursing staff in the ER didn’t have much to tell them.  Garrett’s car had been hit from the side; someone running a red light after stealing from a convenience store.  The other driver was fine, just a little bruising from the seatbelt.  The cop chasing him, fortunately, had been able to call an ambulance right away.  They’d had to cut the door off the car to get him out.

They weren’t sure they’d be able to save his leg.  Once they’d gotten him stable enough they’d taken him straight to surgery.

“Archie?”  They were in a waiting room, him and Dorothy and David, who had only arrived half an hour ago.  Ruby had volunteered to go feed Pongo.  Archie looked up to find a doctor, a fresh coat covering his dirty scrubs.  Garrett’s blood.

“Graham?”  It hadn’t occurred to him that they were at the hospital where Graham worked.  Honestly, he didn’t know what hospital they were at.  He and Graham had dated for a while when he’d first moved to Hollywood.  It had started out as friends, and occasionally crashing on his couch.  It had returned to friendship, though he didn’t use the couch anymore.

“You’re here for Garrett Gold?”  

“I am.”  He stood, facing Graham.  It took him a moment to remember that he wasn’t alone.  “We are.  Dorothy and David are coworkers.”

“He’s out of surgery.  We were able to replace the vein in his leg, and as long as it takes he should be able to keep the leg but there’s damage.  We’ll have a better idea later how much.”  Graham reached out, touching Archie’s arm.  “We’ll have him in a room soon and you can sit with him.”

“How long until he wakes up?”  This morning he’d been in a hospital bed, Garrett sitting in the chair beside him.  Between takes they’d had coffee and talked and Archie had cracked bad jokes about the kind of care one could expect when their doctor also sold razors on a Bick commercial and what type of food they brought coma patients.  Anything to get Garrett to relax; he’d been tense since he’d first seen Archie in his makeup.  His ‘injuries’ had washed away in minutes, though.  

“I don’t know, Archie.  There’s head trauma from the accident as well.  He has a whole team of doctors monitoring him.  We’ll make sure you know as much as we know, I promise.”  Graham’s hold on his arm tightened.  “I have to go get cleaned up but I’ll find you later, okay? ��I’d like to hear about your guy.”

“Your guy?”  David was playing with his now empty coffee cup and looking at Archie, perplexed.  

“We weren’t ready to tell people yet.  Garrett was going to tell his son this weekend.”  The plan was to tell their coworkers after that, and then decide how to deal with the media.  The plan had changed.

“Huh, I’m surprised.”

“That he likes men or that he’s with me?”  He knew that Garrett hadn’t been with a man before.  He hadn’t been with many women, either, outside of his sixteen-year marriage.

“That anyone got past his defenses.  I know about a couple of first dates, and that’s usually when it comes to those types of events where it looks better to show up as a couple.  Never heard of anyone getting even a second date.  It makes sense, though.  I mean I can see it, and it explains why he’s been in a better mood the last couple of months.”  David crumpled up his cup and tossed it in a trash can.  “I’m going to start making calls to people.  We only have about an hour until the first news show and no one needs to learn about the accident that way.  I can at least let them know what we know.”

“He’s right, you know.  Gold’s always been reserved, but he’s different since at least Christmas.  He talks to people between scenes.  Takes more time to notice the people around him.  And he’s just a little less hostile towards the press, enough to at least do a couple of interviews.  Reminds me of when I first met him, before the last couple of years of marriage and the divorce.  She did a number on him.”  Dorothy Lucas patted the chair next to her.  “You need to sit.  Pacing isn’t going to make them come any faster to take you to him.”

“He doesn’t talk about her.”  He’d mentioned her a few times, but only in regards to custody arrangements and his son’s schedule.  He wouldn’t even know her name, except that everyone knew.  Five years ago the divorce and custody battle of Garrett and Milah Gold had been big news.

“In a just world no one would talk about her, and she’d just fade away.  She has about as much talent as a hand model for a local tv commercial and as much morality as an ally cat in heat.  But it’s not my business.”  She pressed her lips together as if she wanted to make it her business.  She had more to say about Milah Gold and it wouldn’t be hard to get it out of her.  Archie didn’t want to know, not unless Garrett wanted to tell him.  “You and Gold, you tested well against each other when we were doing the casting.  But it’s nothing compared to how you two are now.  Sexual or brotherly, it doesn’t matter once the camera is rolling it’s all chemistry.  The bond between you two…”

“Mr. Hopper?  Doctor Humbert said you were allowed to sit with Garrett Gold.  He’s been moved into a room.”  Archie blinked when the nurse addressed him.  He suddenly felt like he was glued to his seat.  

“Go on.  You go hold his hand and talk to him.  That bond you share, it goes both ways.  You make sure he knows that he’s firmly attached here, that you’re not letting go.”  Perhaps it was because she was using the same tone she used when directing, but he found himself moving without thinking.  He didn’t stop until he was in the doorway of a private room, looking at the space that looked the same but completely different from their set on the studio lot.

Garrett’s bruises wouldn’t wash away and his bandages didn’t come from the wardrobe department.  

“I wish this was a dress rehearsal.”  It hadn’t been bad, when he and Garrett had practiced their scenes for the show’s season finale.  They’d run over the lines at his place, and their private rehearsal had ended with a scene that was not appropriate between two brothers, and certainly would have been flagged by the censors.  But the first time Archie had the makeup put on Garrett had turned white and had turned and left the room.  It was too real, he’d told Archie when they were alone.

“I need you to wake up, Garrett.”  He took his lover’s hand, glad that his arms seemed relatively unblemished.  His leg was in traction.  The side of his face had gauze taped to it, the rusty red of dried blood seeping through to let him know that there were unseen lacerations in addition to the bruises already forming.  But worse of all his eyes were closed and he was too still.  

“We have plans.”  Tomorrow they were supposed to have brunch with Bay, so they could meet for the first time.

Balin. Oh crap, his plane would be coming in this afternoon and Garrett was supposed to pick him up.  He was flying alone, his mother off for vacation in the Caribbean with her costar.  He had no idea how to contact her.  

“I’ll make sure someone is there for him.”  He didn’t promise it would be him; right now he couldn’t imagine being able to make himself leave Garrett’s side.

II

The flight was half an hour late.  Ruby had made sure he had a hat and dark glasses, so he wouldn’t be recognized.  A year ago it wouldn’t have been too much of a concern but Dixon was doing well and had the cover of a couple of magazines in the last months.  She’d also clearly inherited her granny’s take charge genes, because she’d talked to someone from TSA and had gotten them a security escort that took them through to the gate where Bay’s plane would land.

“He’ll be here soon.”  Ruby was still a high school student for almost a month, but Archie felt like she was the adult currently.  She’d been the one to accept David’s offer to sit with Garrett, and had insisted they leave with enough time to get something to eat.  Dorothy had been the one to tell him firmly that he needed to be the one to pick up Balin, that it’s what Gold would ask him to do, but it was Ruby who insisted on coming with him and refused to let him drive.

“I’ve never met him.”  He was nervous enough about meeting Garrett’s son under far better circumstances.  It was nothing compared to the nerves he felt having to tell a thirteen-year-old boy that his dad was in a coma.

“Even if you weren’t Gold’s… are we saying boyfriend?  I mean is that what you two…” Ruby shook her head.  “Nevermind.  Even if you weren’t dating you’d be one of the best choices for this.  You’re a good guy, Archie.  All the animals on set love you, not just Pongo.  You stop and entertain any kid who comes across your path; Henry would live in your trailer if you let him.  And you’re even nice to the annoying teenager that pesters you into trying on the clothes she makes at home.”

“I liked that vest you brought in last week.”  He’d first talked to Ruby because of Pongo, and had fallen into an easy friendship.  She was an amateur photographer and a not quite as amateur seamstress who dreamed of going into fashion design.  “And you’re not annoying.”

“The vest was awesome and I’m very annoying, which proves my point.  You’re a good guy and Balin is lucky you’re the one picking him up.”

“There’s nothing lucky about this.”  Lucky would be a car being seconds faster and Garrett picking up his own kid.  Lucky would at least be Garrett’s eyes opening before he’d left the hospital.

“The plane’s landing.”  Ruby squeezed his hand.  He’d worried, when they first met, about how much she touched him.  Worried that she had a crush, maybe.  But when he’d dared to approach Dorothy about it she’d laughed and said that was just how Ruby was with friends, and everyone knew that his dating pool didn’t run to girls of any type, let alone ones that were underage.

“Oh dear.”  He looked at his phone.  No new messages.  They would have texted him if Garrett had woken up.  Would they have texted him if things had gotten worse?  They would, wouldn’t they?  They wouldn’t let him bring Balin back to the hospital without a warning.

“What do we know besides 13-year-old boy?”  Ruby asked as they opened the door.

“Brown curly hair.  Garrett says that Bay just passed him up in height.  He should be…”  But there was no point saying more, not when the boy was walking through the door with a backpack slung over one shoulder.  He looked just like the pictures Archie had seen in his love’s house.

“Balin Gold.”  He waited until the boy was closer, but there was no reaction.  

“Wait.”  When Balin passed him by Archie took a few steps.  Without thinking he reached out, his fingers brushing against the backpack.  “We need to talk.”

“You second rate reporters will try anything, won’t you?  I don’t talk about my dad to the press.”

“I’m not a reporter.”  In all his worry it had never occurred to him that he might need to convince Balin that he was someone to trust.

“He really isn’t.  Well, there was that Hallmark movie that one time, but that would be like calling him a doctor because of that cough syrup commercial he did.”  Ruby dodged around a couple of people to stand in front of Bay.  

“I’m a friend of your dad’s.”  A too-mild term that at least didn’t feel like a lie.  He and Garrett were good friends, they were just other things too.  “We work together.”

“And her?”  Unconvinced, Bay pointed at Ruby.  “She’s not an intern?”

“She’s the granddaughter of our director.  This is Ruby.  I’m Archie.”

“Archie Hopper?”  When Bay narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side he looked so much like his dad it hurt.  Finally, he nodded, shoulders relaxing.  “I couldn’t get full episodes in Romania but I found clips on youtube.  You’re Aaron.”

“Yeah.  Sorry about the hat and glasses but…”

“Reporters.  Fans.  I get it.”  Archie supposed that he’d been living with it long enough.  “Did dad send you to get me?”

“We should go get your bags.”  The airport wasn’t really the place for the conversation they needed to have.

“Where’s my dad?”  Bay had been starting to walk but he stopped, taking a step back.  “I talked to him yesterday, he was going to be here.”

“I’m going to go talk to someone and see if we can have Balin’s bags deliver to Gold’s house, and then I’m going to go get the car, okay?”  Ruby, once she made up her mind, was gone before he had a chance to answer.  Fortunately, everyone getting off the plane seemed to be gone and the area where they stood seemed quiet.  Archie glanced over to an alcove where a trio of vending machines stood.  He nodded, and hoped that Bay would at least trust him enough to follow the few steps.

“Garrett wanted to be here.  He’s been talking for weeks about you coming home.”  It had been the beginning of December when Bay had left. They hadn’t even had a chance to celebrate Christmas or his birthday.  “There was an accident last night.  His car…”

“Is he dead?”  Garrett’s son had, it seemed, inherited his ability to hide almost everything.  His face was perfectly schooled, as if he’d asked about the weather.  Except his eyes.  Archie could see a hint of the storm he was trying to hide in his eyes.  Archie took off his sunglasses.

“No.  And he’s not… I don’t think… I want…”  He took a deep breath.  “It’s only been a few hours.  He hasn’t woken up yet but he just needs time.”

“Can I see him?”  Bay’s hand was wrapped around one of the straps of his backpack, his knuckles white.

“We’ll go straight there,” he promised, relieved that he too would be able to return soon.  It had been more than an hour.

II

“Papa.”  Bay was quiet on the ride, perhaps because Archie was silent as well, or because Ruby was anything but quiet, filling the space the other two left.  They took the elevator straight up to the seventh floor and to Garrett’s room, where David quietly ducked out to allow them in.  Everything looked exactly the same.  Archie itched to touch his hand to Gold’s, to kiss his forehead, to brush smooth the hair that had fallen against Garrett’s cheek, but he stayed back.  

“We’re supposed to be going out for pizza, dad.  Real American pizza.   You promised.”  Bay had the chair as close to the bed as it would go, his hand wrapped around his dad’s hand, the backpack he’d brought with him tossed in one corner.

“Are you hungry?” Archie asked softly.  He’d never been to Romania but he knew the flight was even longer than the one to London and that had been exhausting.

“I don’t want to leave him.”  It wasn’t a no, so Archie took it as a yes.

“I’ll see what we can find.”  It was hard to make himself leave the room.  Harder not to turn right around and go back in.

“Archie?”  At some point in the last hour Mary Margaret had arrived, apparently.  She left David’s side to give him a hug.  It wasn’t until her arms were around him that he realized he was shaking.

“I’m fine.  I just, I told Balin, I need…”  He was shaking enough that his teeth were chattering and he couldn’t make even the simple request on Bay’s behalf.  He couldn’t find the words.

Or air.  He couldn’t breathe.

Vaguely he heard someone telling him to sit, and found himself collapsing into a chair, his body folding in on itself.  Someone’s hand was warm against his back and someone was trying to tell him something but he couldn’t hear them over the pounding sound in his ears.  His head was between his knees but it only made his chest feel tighter.

“Archie I need you to look at me.”  Suddenly Graham was sitting on the floor before him, a hand on each of his knees, repeating his name until he looked up.

“You’re going to take one breath now, Archie.  Breathe in.  Alright?  Just think about the air coming in, like those elocution exercises you used to do all the time in the mirror.  They all started with needing to breathe, right?”  Archie didn’t hear half of what he said, but he took in a breath because he knew Graham wouldn’t stop until he did.  The second was a little easier.

“I’m okay.”  Even to his own ear his voice was shaky and unconvincing.  

“It’s okay to not be okay, Archie.”  Mary Margaret’s hand was on his shoulder.

“I’m going to go get you something.”  Graham started to get up.  Archie shook his head, but Graham gave him one of his ‘I’m the doctor’ looks that both annoyed Archie and made him feel better, often at the same time.  “Nothing to sedate you, I promise.”

“I told Balin I would get him something to eat,” Archie said once Graham was gone.  He was suddenly feeling exhausted.  

“I’ll go get food,” David volunteered.  “Can I get anything for you?”

Archie shook his head.  The only thing he wanted David couldn’t get for him.  “Ruby made me eat on the way to the airport.  Balin’s been on a plane since yesterday, though.”

“And out of the country.  I think I remember how to buy food for a teenage boy.”  Once David left it was just Mary Margaret and Dorothy; Ruby had been sent home to work on homework.  She had a project due Monday, and only a few weeks until finals.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Dorothy suggested.  Archie shook his head.  He was afraid of missing something.  Besides, the last time he’d slept his world had come crashing down.  He stayed in his chair and waited.

II

“Did you want to stop anywhere on the way home?”  It was ten, and the hospital staff had suggested, rather firmly, that they should go home and get some sleep.  He and Bay had both been reluctant to leave, but Archie had finally been motivated by Bay half falling asleep in his chair.  Garrett had no family other than his aunts in Scotland, and Bay’s mother was unreachable, apparently for the better part of the next two weeks.  Archie didn’t know what they’d do, but for the moment the best answer seemed to be taking Bay to his own home, and staying over.  The teen couldn’t be alone.  Dorothy had offered a room, but Bay chose his own home.

“I just want to sleep.  We can go back in the morning, right?”  Bay hadn’t talked much in the last hours, unless asked a direct question.  

“Yeah, we’ll go back after we get some sleep.”  He drove up to the house in an old neighborhood; not ostentatious like many of the wealthy areas of town, but a quieter elegance.  Archie had laughed at the pink house the first time he’d seen it, but now it felt like the most comfortable place he knew.  Bay’s suitcases were on the porch waiting for them.  Archie used the key on his ring to unlock the door.

“You have a key to the house?”  It was the first genuine curiosity Archie had heard that wasn’t related to needing answers from doctors they couldn’t give him.

“Your dad watched Pongo, my dog, the last time I was out of town.”  It wasn’t really an answer, but he wasn’t sure if it was wise to say anything about just how close he and Garrett really were.  “He’s a good friend.”

“Dad loves dogs, but always says he works too much to have one.”  Bay grabbed one of his suitcases.  Archie too the other.  They both headed straight for the stairs.  “Where’s Pongo now?”

“Ruby picked him up and took him home.  Dorothy has a yard he can run around in.”  He’d considered picking up his dog, but they’d be right back at the hospital in the morning without even the time for a walk and Pongo deserved more attention.  “Are you warm enough?  I could turn on the heater, it’s still a little cool at night.”

“I have extra blankets if I’m cold.  I’m just going to go to bed, okay?”  Bay paused in the doorway to his bedroom.  Though unused from months it still looked lived in.  “I’m sorry if I was rude at the airport.  I appreciate you doing all this for me.  The ride and staying here, and stuff.”

“I’m here for anything you need.”  The boy ran a hand through his curly hair, suddenly looking far younger than his thirteen years.  “Sleep well.”

“Yeah.”  He shut the door behind him, leaving Archie in the hall, just across from Garrett’s bedroom.  The door was open, and Archie crossed through the doorway, turning on the light. Nothing looked different than it had a couple of nights ago, except for the very noticeable absence of the only person he wanted to see.  Archie looked at the bed where they’d made love together.  He looked at the gold silk robe draped over the chair and the slippers on the floor.  There was a book of poetry on the bedside table by Pablo Neruda that Garrett had read aloud just a few nights ago.  The room was haunted; Archie turned off the light and left.  He couldn’t stay there; at the end of the hall was the guest room.   He took off his shoes and glasses and laid down on top of the bed.  Before he could sleep he called the hospital to check in; nothing had changed.

II

“He’s awake.”  Archie woke to shaking, and blinked his eyes open to find that Bay had a hand on his shoulder.

“What?”  It took a moment for the words to penetrate his sleep fogged brain.  “Garrett’s awake?”

“Yeah. The hospital called.”  Bay grinned.  “They said he woke up about half an hour again.  He fell asleep again but it’s just sleep.  Regular sleep.”

“Oh.”  Archie sat up, but before he could say anything else he ran out of the room, barely making it into the hall bathroom before dry heaving into the toilet.  His stomach clenched, but his last meal had been far too long ago.  He took a few breaths before he felt like he could attempt standing.  Bay was standing in the doorway.  “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Dad’s not your friend, is he?”  Bay leaned against the doorframe, watching him intently.  

“What?  Why?  Of course he’s my friend.”  He still felt shaky, and turned on the cold water in the sink to splash his face.  

“I guess I mean he’s not just your friend.  Some people can be both, can’t they?  Friends and something else.”  

Archie stared at him.  “Something else?”

“There’s a picture of you two on dad’s mirror, with your dog.  Pongo’s a dalmatian, that’s cool.”  Archie nodded; he knew which picture it was.  He’d dragged Garrett into joining him for a celebrity walk-a-thon with him and Pongo.  Someone had snapped a picture at the finish line, his arm around Garrett’s neck.  The caption had read something about coworkers working together off-camera to raise money for charity, but Archie had worried about the picture.  Maybe the rest of the world couldn’t see it, but Archie could tell at a glance that he looked besotted, looking at Garrett rather than the camera.  Apparently Gold’s thirteen-year-old kid was perceptive too.  “There’s green juice in the fridge and granola bars on the counter.  I don’t think dad knows what granola is.  What do you usually have for breakfast Archie?”

“You already had a lot to deal with, I didn’t want to tell you more that didn’t matter.  Your dad was going to tell you about us.”  Archie looked down at his wrinkled shirt.  At least he didn’t have to worry about explaining the fact that he had clean clothes here.  “This wasn’t how I wanted to meet you.”  

“It’s weird.  He’s never brought anyone home before.”  When Archie looked up at him Balin shrugged.  “My mom, she likes to have men around.  Even before she and dad… Whatever.  But it’s been five years and dad hasn’t ever brought someone home, so it must matter.  Right?”

“I love him.”  He hadn’t told anyone other than Garrett and his brother, and it was strange making the confession to someone he’d just met yesterday.

“Can we drive through Starbucks on the way to the hospital?”  The sudden change in conversation made Archie blink.  He stared for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll get dressed.”

“I just need to get my shoes on.”  Bay half turned, but then paused.  “My dad’s been lonely for a long time.  It’s good, you know, if he’s not alone anymore.”

II

Garrett was sleeping when they arrived at the hospital, but he’d woken a second time and was able to answer questions.  Archie hesitated in the doorway, allowing Bay to take the seat next to his dad’s hand.

“We can find a second chair, can’t we?”  Bay asked.  Archie nodded and went to ask the nurse for a chair.  He was relieved that Bay was okay with him being there too.  He couldn’t imagine what the boy was going through, arriving home to find his dad in a coma and a stranger dating his dad.  Then again his own emotions if he’d even found his dad in a coma would have been wildly different; by thirteen he had already been placed in foster care with Marco’s family.

“I told my mom I wanted to live with him.  I know they’re supposed to have joint custody but I hate bouncing back and forth even when they’re both here.  Mom was mad but I know she likes being able to do whatever she wants without worrying about school and stuff.  I haven’t asked dad yet, but I think…”

“He’d love it,” Archie said without hesitation.  “He talks about you all the time.  When we had a week off for Easter he kept looking at plane tickets but he’d have to spend half the time traveling and would only get to see you for a couple of days.  He kept telling me all the things you two had planned for the summer.”

“I hated Romania.  I wanted to be home.”

“Want you home too.”  Garrett’s voice was dry and hard to hear even in the relative silence of the room.  Archie had never heard any sound that meant more.

“Dad.”  Bay pressed his lips together, his eyes tearing up.  “This was not a part of our deal.”

“Bad timing.”  Garrett winced when he moved.

“I’ll go get a nurse,” Archie offered, planning to slip out so father and son could have a minute in private.  Garrett had other ideas.

“No.”  Shaking his head perhaps took too much energy, but he wiggled the fingers on the hand Arche had just released.  “Stay.”

“For as long as you want,” Archie promised.  After a moment’s hesitation he leaned down and kissed his love’s forehead.

“Forever,” Garrett said sleepily, eyes already fluttering closed.  “Both of you.”

[of-hell-and-hyacinths]

bella and drew headcanons

there are dedicated to @skate-fast-eat-grass and i literally can’t think of anyone else following me who would read them so

also i do not own bella swarchovski she belongs to madelyn!!

- at first, it takes them a while to get together because drew tanaka is oblivious when it comes to her own love life.

- and bella swarchovski is just an overall dumbass (but i say that with love).

- drew doesn’t realise that bella actually returns her feelings and has been trying to flirt with her for the past month so she thinks it’s all unrequited.

- she kind of thinks “bella wouldn’t like me because all of the things i’ve done in the past, how i treated my siblings, how i acted after the war, etc. bella’s never done any of that, she deserves somebody who hasn’t fucked so many things up.”

- and obviously, bella knows what drew has done in the past but she likes drew for who she’s become and admires the progress in her as a person.

- after they get together, those insecurities never fully vanish, but they just come up later on when drew is in an emotional shitstorm.

- for dates they love going to new places to try out food (ice cream especially) and then taking five billion photos.

- they also love going to theme parks! both of them are adrenaline junkies and go on the scariest/wildest rides and it gives everybody a headache.

- also going to musicals and movies?? they’re dramatic people who can sing what do you expect.

- (they’ve watched love, simon three times don’t @ me)

- both bella and drew look amazing in red.

- so they always always always wear red on dates. it’s just a tradition and they refuse to break it.

- drew adores her girlfriend but sometimes bella says the stupidest shit at really inconvenient times.

- bella, in the middle of a conversation about conputer programming: all kins of the same character are clones

drew: i love you but shut the fuck up

- they have a codeword for whenever one of them is feelings uncomfortable/anxious/stressed and needs to get away.

- the codeword is jacob sartorious (i know that’s a name and technically two words let me live)

- okay look the backstory behind it was they were trying to find the perfect word while simultaneously having an argument about heathers and bella said something like “edward if you keep this up i’m leaving you for jacob” (all in good humour, drew knows she’s joking) and drew said “wait our codeword should be jacob”

- however they didn’t know jacob from twilight’s last name so jacob sartorious as if in the musical.ly star would have to do.

- drew has discovered that playing with bella’s hair calms bella down.

- she found this out after the infirmary was really crowded and there was a lot on bella’s schedule and she was missing her mortal family so bella kind of disappeared for an hour and went m.i.a.

- her friends and family panicked for a little while because they had no idea where she was, but drew found her sitting in the strawberry fields, still slightly shaking.

- she just let bella vent for as long as she needed to. instead of talking, she started a braid in bella’s hair and realised with a start that it was calming her down.

- drew is bella’s stability in times of stress.

- since drew breaks down more often than she’d like to admit, bella is always there. she’ll stay up with drew all night, just talking and reassuring her. she reassured drew that she’s not selfish, she’s not a stuck-up bitch, she’s not emotionless, she’s not cold-hearted. she loves drew for who she’s become. she loves the best bits and the messy bits about her.

- bella is drew’s comfort in times of insecurity.

- they bring out the softer side of each other.

- even though drew has matured drastically since the whole silena thing, there are still some people who peg her as heartless.

- but they haven’t seen the fond look on her face when bella falls asleep on her shoulder mid-movie.

- they haven’t seen the way she blushes profusely every time bella winks over at her from across the dining pavilion.

- they haven’t seen the bags under her eyes when drew stays up all night to finish weaving bracelets for herself and bella. nor have they seen the way she smiles brightly when bella launches herself into drew’s arms with bright eyes and a burning throat and says she absolutely loves it.

- anyway, bella is ready to physically fight anybody who says one bad word about her girlfriend (despite the fact that she’s like five feet tall — bella is strong)

- drew can hold her own though it’s all good and she’s heard those same insults millions of times before to the point where it doesn’t even faze her.

- their height difference is massive, bella being a five foot gremlin and drew being six feet tall.

- it pisses bella off so fucking much.

- she’ll also never admit it, but the height difference feels nice when they hug. she likes burying her face in drew’s shoulder.

- bella, ogling the kid’s toys section in ikea: i’m marrying lola the plush piranha sorry drew you’ve been replaced

drew, not looking away from the stuffed sharks: how tragic

- once bella stole drew’s leather jacket and if anybody else did that? instant death.

- drew just stared at her for a second and felt her heart melt and her face heat up.

- in case you were wondering, bella kept the jacket. it’s underneath her bunk.

- bella always buys cherry-flavoured everything whenever she’s at home during the school year, because it reminds her of drew.

- sometimes it’s hard having a long-distance relationship during the school year, and sometimes they call each other during the night wanting nothing more than to be face-to-face, but they make it work.

- drew doesn’t give two shits about bass guitars and how they work or the different brands, but she’ll listen to bella ramble on about them for hours just because she loves watching her face light up and the sound of bella’s voice and the passion in her eyes.

- bella literally couldn’t care less about different makeup palettes and how to apply them and the different techniques, but she’ll sit down in the aphrodite cabins for hours straight to let drew practice on her and try out new looks just because she loves watching drew concentrate so heavily on something and the grin on her girlfriend’s face at the end is always worth it.

- wholesome memes are always sent between them, and they usually have wholesome meme-offs.

- however sometimes bella sends surreal memes just because and drew always says “guess i’m not edward cullen kin after all”

- for halloween they once went as bella swan and edward cullen. you know it’s true.

- they also went as marceline and princess bubblegum from adventure time because they have class.

- drew has an album on her phone called “bella” and bella has album on her phone called “drew” and you can probably guess that it’s just photos of each other.

- occasionally will or adrien will crash their dates.

- sometimes it’s annoying, but neither of them are really mad.

- oh adrien never misses anything he’s always there with binoculars watching them

- drew: the stars are beautiful tonight

bella: yeah

drew: you know what else is beautiful?

bella: what?

drew: me

bella, whispering: damn straight

adrien, yelling from across the roof of the aphrodite cabin: nothing about that was fucking straight

- bella: so how’s the most beautiful person in the world doing?

drew: i don’t know, how are yo—

adrien, across the room: he’s doing great, thanks

- also on to more important matters:

- stephan the demon baby.

- his full name is stephan swartanaka (last name courtesy of will)

- his middle name changes a lot solely to piss everybody off.

- some of the most notable middle names are:

- k’atté (pronounced cat)

- uwu

- beatrixareforkids

- shit

- crispy

- they hired adrien as a babysitter once while they played monopoly and it just ended with adrien yeeting stephan into the lake.

- stephan made it out alive but they didn’t give adrien a tip.

- adrien swears stephan is possessed.

- well he’s technically haunted but they can’t be bothered doing anything about it

anyway i hope those were okay i love bella and drew <3