#no goop ripples cause i do not want to do them this time

[dragon-tamer-1]

Happy birthday @shinechermont!

Drew your(and Ari's) girl Jing! She's such an adorable little girl. Hope your birthday is a great one, and it's so cool to have you as a friend. Especially in your enjoyment of my Aftermare stories and my other stuff. And I absolutely love your stories and characters, too. Thank you @ari-cuno for inviting me to do this, it was fun!

My schedule for this week was busy, so I was a bit worried that I wouldn't finish this on time, but here it is! Story I made up for this is that Ink decided to be a gremlin and have the zoomies while carrying Jing, and Nightmare and Error are not a fan of that. Mainly cause they're worried he's going to trip and accidentally hurt Jing, who is happily enjoying the antics. Error was the most taken off guard, despite knowing how Ink is, so he's partially blinded rn.

[mypersonmyg]

here. | knj

pairing:  namjoon x reader

genre: angst, fluff

rating: pg-15

wc: 2k

warnings: angst, the stripping of clothes

summary: he just wants to take you to the cider mill OR namjoon draws you a bath

a/n: day 2 of drabble month! i’m actually not sure how i feel about this, i keep meaning to write fluff but somehow there’s always ANGST !!!! anyways, enjoy

prompt 2. B - Bath. The otp+ share a bath or shower, or bathe as in swimming or sunbathing.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

The crackling of distant flames fills the canals of wind-kissed ears, temperate hands singing praise against the reprieve of mugged cider. You glance slides to the window nearest, the patter of rain the backdrop to an otherwise uneventful afternoon. Your hand falls mid-sip to the flash of your screen, contact bringing a smile to your face as the device is eagerly pressed to your ear. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t pick up earlier, I was--”

“Busy?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighs, tone saturated with disappointment. 

“You already said that,” Your words accentuate a forthcoming giggle, not the least concerned with pushed plans. You don’t miss another heavy sigh, your own following suit when you realize how distant this feels. “It’s raining, we would’ve gotten soaked anyways.”

“Yeah, but the mill is closing soon and I promised you we would go,” Namjoon looks for permission to blame, his words not untrue. Plans were made at the head of the season, the leaves only midway through routine transformation. It was before life made appearance, the two of you still on high from a summer filled with romance renewed. Now your schedules seems to perfect the dodge of time, one busy whilst the other remains free, a continued nuisance on your chilly plans.

“Joonie, it’s okay! There’s still time and even if we don’t go this year there’s always the next.” You’re aware that your words impact little, the determination of your dimpled lover never easily swayed. He doesn’t respond, the crackling of fueled flames continuing to drift through the air around you. “Joonie?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.” The taste his words leave are bitter, tone resigned to failure, the imagined drop of his shoulders causing your lips to do the same. “Um...I have to get to class soon. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You could come see me…” 

“I can’t, I’ve got a lot of work and...yeah.” Your suggestion is met with immediate hesitance, your heart plummeting at hurried rejection and a half baked explanation. Suddenly the comfort of drops against the misted glass are simply a reflection, demeanor greyed without pause. 

“O-Oh, that’s okay. I should probably do some shopping anyways, my cabinets are screaming to be filled.” Your attempt at a natural humor sounds flat in your own ears, chuckle falling short. “Okay, well I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah...I love you.” Even coated in sincerity it feels off, spine tingling with a discomforting chill. Even so you respond in hum, a ‘you too’ drifting down the line before it altogether goes dead.

Your phone is tossed, hands immediately falling to a trace against the edge of your mug half-filled. The cider is lukewarm, it’s spiced appeal now no more than a withering tang. Your eyes fall shut, immediate images of flowered fields and tandem bikes taking you back to the season long past. You begin to wonder if affection fled just as soon, phased like newlyweds though you were far from such fantastical slopes.

You push up with a sigh, though your words were dropped from a hat your cabinets remained rather bare. It was usually at Namjoon’s insistence and begged accompaniment that you would float through the aisles of the grocery, haphazardly filling the cart whilst he sifts through with care, making sure all of your bases are covered. Now as you step to the door, galoshes shoved to feet and windbreaker covering sleeved arms you can’t recall what the bases are.

Your drive is silent, radio filled with festive cheer left on mute as thoughts race and worries bubble over a surface left unsteady. Your trip through silent storelanes is much the same, the ringing at the register leaving you uncertain if your purchase contains any objects of use. 

When you’re pulling back into your lot, it’s the realization of fatigue. Your skin is heavy and the dragging of your heart has made it even more so. You’re not unaware of your own dramatic curve of emotion, but it’s a symptom unshakable. Your own autumn fever, a nonmedicinal cold. 

The beat of rain against the windshield keeps you firm, desire to lug bags through the spill less intriguing than the snug of heated leather. Your train of thought is derailed by the cup of hands against the driver side glass, familiar rounds staring through breathed fog. Your hand his quick to roll the window, Namjoon’s hooded head peeking through.

“What are you doing?” He immediately ponders, glancing at your door and back. 

“Me? What are you doing? I thought you had homework,” You counter flinching at the drop of cold seeping around Namjoon’s towering form. He regards you for only a moment, pupils tracing your features, attention tunneled. 

“You’re upset.”

“What?” Not false, but you feel the relax of your muscles, sure that nothing external gives way to your inner storm. 

“You didn’t say it back...you’re upset. Come on, it’s freezing out, I’ll help you take your things in.” 

“You don’t--” He doesn’t leave room for counter, already rounding to the boot of the vehicle, easily scooping up a hefty sum. You retrieve what little remains, legs hurrying to grant access to your darkened home. Namjoon’s navigation is quick, if not a little clumsy, the clatter of bags followed seamlessly by the flick of a switch. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” Namjoon floats near the doorframe, feet shifting beneath him. Your face pulls to a confused squint, question sudden if not completely ridiculous. 

“Um...yes?” He takes not a moment, dashing off without another word. Your focus shifts to the unbag and refill, almost forgetting altogether that Namjoon inhabits the depths of your home. It’s only when you’ve placed a solitary bag of rice that your attention shifts. 

You enter the living room, the expectations of a muscled giant occupying the better half of your couch left unfulfilled. You traverse to the bathroom in the far hall, muffled mutters and the knock of a bottle from the counter telling enough that Namjoon is still inside. You raise to knock at the door, hands daintily tapping at worn wood.

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh,,,yeah. Are you done with the groceries?” He sounds just beyond the barrier, as if he’s pressed to the frame much like yourself.

“Yeah, I just-you weren’t in the living room so I wanted to see if everything was--”

“Everything is fine!” Namjoon yanks at the door, the sound of his displeased grunts at his own lapsed memory accompanying the twist of the lock. In his reveal, he’s smiling down at you, cheeks stretched to capacity. “Come in.” 

You do as told, eyes on Namjoon as you enter the decently sized space. The spillage of goop beneath your shoe draws your gaze and from there the overflow of bubbles from your bathtub. You surprise yourself with the laughter that spills without pretense. 

“Joon, how much did you put in here? It’s not a swimming pool,” You tease, frame turning to him once more, the blush of his cheeks heightened under low lights. Your hands easily find purchase around his middle, face burying into the fabric of his tee. “You drew me a bath.”

“I wanted to make you feel better,” He explains in short, sizable hands tracing the line of your spine. You inhale, his pine-like scent mixed with the wash of rain and a hint of bubble bath fills your senses. You’re almost content, the stiff of your limbs still apparent, Namjoon’s hold on your shoulders telling you as much. 

His hands travel to the hem of your shirt, easily lifting it over your head to be tossed from view. He takes only a moment to absorb your bra clad form before the gentle pull at your shoulders turning you from view. His fingers expertly unhinge the clasp of your bra, the material falling to the floor. Your hands take it upon themselves, sliding into the waist of your bottoms, sending them and your panties to the tile flooring. 

You grip the tubs edge, feigned porcelain cool against your fingers. The gentle dip of a toe falling to rippled waters as you shiver with intention, the rest of your body eager to dive into the satisfying grips of liquid warmth. When you’re fully submerged you breathe with content, head pushed to a backward tilt and eyes closing for the briefest moment until the click of a shoe forces you back to current.

“Are you not getting in?” You stop Namjoon mid step in the opposing direction, his lips pulled into surprised pucker hand tracing hollowed cheeks. “Get in.” 

You create space behind you, Namjoon watching you for only a moment before quickly stripping himself bare, sliding in behind you, arms immediately pulling you against his chest. Like this you remain, silent, surrounded by warmth and worries respectively. It’s the tightening of arms against your waist that breaks the spell, Namjoon’s voice deep, his breath fanning your neck.

“Are you okay?” You feel his timber in your core, head falling against his shoulder. You can only hum, though it’s unsatisfactory, “You seemed off earlier and...you didn’t say it back.”

You force yourself to shift so his face falls to view, those same words from earlier peaking interest. “What are you talking about, what didn’t I say?”

“I said I love you earlier and you said ‘you too’” It had seemed inconsequential in current time, your own emotions plunging you into freefall, but you can hear the hurt in his words and the tension of his grip. “And you didn’t really seem happy to see me.” 

“I was-I am happy to see you,” You assure, loosening his hold to an interwoven hold of your hands. “I was just upset.”

“About the mill, I know.”

“No. I told you I wasn’t upset about that and I wasn’t lying. I was and am upset that you just shut down on me! You made up some lame excuse so you didn’t have to come over and it upsets me that you think you have to lie or that you can’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

It wasn’t planned, your spill of words, but there they sit, floating upon a sea of bubbles and a tender silence. It’s with regret that a fragment of you imagines the loosening of limbs and Namjoon leaving you to sulk. You’re aware of the issue, but resolution has yet to present and you’re unsure if it ever will.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh at repetitive words, the direction of conversation looking familiar. “I just wish I could be better for you.”

You start at the revelation, attempt to turn to him in comfort rejected as he hold you still in a grip soft and steady..

“Namjoon--”

“No. Just let me finish...please.” You settle once more, water already turning luke around you, a heavy silence stewing you in heavy thoughts. “You say that things are fine and that you’re happy and I believe you, I do, but I also know that you hide your struggles just as much as I do. You hide them better, but I know you’re struggling.” 

No response appears adequate, the words you wanted to speak not moments ago dead against your vocal chords. Your anger seems hypocritical when he says the words, your ability to cover your fears blinding even you to your two faces. 

“I know that you wanted to go to the mill because it’s something that makes you happy and when I couldn’t give that to you I guess I started questioning whether I could give you what you deserve.” Namjoon continues when he realizes you won’t speak. “I started to get in my head and I knew you wouldn’t tell me that you were hurting and figured it was my job to pull away.” 

“Well it’s not,” You breathe, finally finding the will to speak. “I don’t want you to pull away or feel like it’s your job to make me feel better because it’s not. Not to mention that you leaving or creating distance only makes me feel worse.”

“I’m--”

“Don’t.” You stop him before he can conjure the words. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t ever want you to be sorry. Just be here. Be here for me and know that I’m always here for you.”

“Okay,” His lips find your shoulders, a series of kisses against smooth skin. After a moment he speaks once more in a hush, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter X: Medium Duorum, Half Of Two

Previous Chapter (IX: Phtonos)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy, suggestiveness (?)

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“whatever you choose to do from now on, decides whatever happens to you, and right now, your record isn’t looking very pretty.”

have you ever woken up to the warmth of sunshine and sunlight and birds chirping...

only to realise that you’ve never woken up to any of those before?

your torso shoots up from the mattress like it was a jack-in-a-box, and the blanket falls off your naked chest. the cold air slaps your skin and goosebumps pop up all over your skin while you grab the blanket to cover yourself. 

then the ache sunk in. 

“oh-- motherfucker...” 

the view of his bedroom wasn’t only strangely comforting, but the smell was--

“nope!” wrapping the blanket around yourself, you shake your stupid thoughts out of your skull and dash into his washroom, searching for a towel. “no, no, no-- nope-- gross--”

your clothes were folded and placed on the sofa where he-- 

nope.

the clothes return back onto your body where they were supposed to be, and out of courtesy, you fold the towel and leave it where he left your clothes. 

the pool of shredded napkin was gone, but you couldn’t care less at this point of time. 

you let lee hyunjae screw you over not just once, but twice, and the second time was worse. 

at least the first time was ruthless and he didn’t give a shit.

but last night--

“NOPE!”

the door of his house shuts quietly behind you, and zeus sends you a cab with kindness. 

you thank your department heads for giving you the day off, so you had a day to pray that the ache between your legs was going to go away by the time you return to work. 

which was in 24 hours. 

classical music paired with wine became your best friend the entire day. your phone was turned off because you didn’t want anybody bothering you; not your parents and definitely not lee hyunjae.

you were lucky he didn’t decide to turn up at your doorstep like the first time he did. 

but 24 hours zipped by like nothing, especially when you spent most of the time slipping in and out of consciousness for your body to recuperate. 

sunday morning came, and though the ache wasn’t as bad as it was the previous day, it was still having an effect on your walking. 

“oh, hey!” 

eric’s bright smile made the volume of guilt increase exponentially inside you, like turning on a hose and throwing it into a tiny pail. 

“i was waiting for you to drop me a text, thought something happened to you after the party,” his eyes follow you as you get to your temporary cubicle at the research office, and lee hyunjae’s bright brown hair steals your attention for a split second. 

it physically hurt to know that just the sight of him could push you off your balan--

“oh my--” eric rushes to you the moment your hip hits the floor, and you couldn’t believe you literally jinxed yourself, just by thinking it. your eyes stay glued to the ground as eric pulls you up, and a few other colleagues look over the partitions of the cubicles to check on you.

“i’m good!”

no i’m not, i can’t even fucking walk properly--

“no worries!” 

the blood rushing to your face and neck was probably enough to fill a pint, and the desire to ram your face into your desk was so strong, your jaws start to lock in awkward positions. 

your eyes connect with the ones of your reflection in the laptop, and your vision starts to zoom in on the barely covered marks on your neck. if you scratched it or remotely put any effort into rubbing your neck, the foundation would come off and a room full of doctors would be fully aware of what caused them. 

“so, what happened to sending me a text friday night?” eric leans back in his chair, and the sight of him being in a bright blue dress shirt and pants reminded you that he was just a research intern at the hospital. 

no white coat, not a permanent staff. 

“oh, uh... i would’ve, but...” 

but someone tore it into a million fucking pieces.

“i forgot about it and threw my jeans into the washing machine then napkin got ruined, i’m sorry,” 

yeah sure, if only doctors would really forget their shit so easily.

“aw, man,” eric whines and pouts a little, the sight making you melt into a tiny puddle of goop on the inside. he leans back in his seat and rests the back of his head into his hands, eyes looking up at the ceiling as if he was waiting for you to continue your apology. 

the air between you was a tad awkward, because you were so confused with what he was doing. everybody else was furiously typing away on their laptops and doing whatever they needed to do, but you were sitting here, the only thing in your head being eric’s number. 

you must’ve had a look of worry and sorrow printed on your face when eric looks at you again in the corner of his eyes, and a mischievous smile stretches across his lips, halving his eyes into little crescents. 

“i’m just messing with you, come on!” he encourages, rolling his seat across to yours. the chairs bump against each other and he fumbles around your table, looking for a spare piece of paper. “i’ve lost count of the number of times my mom yelled at me over wet, shredded paper in my pockets.”

there was never a time when eric couldn’t lighten the mood, was there? 

a grin spreads on your face and eric pulls out a pen from his breast pocket, his pointer pushing his glasses up his nose first before the tip of the pen hits the piece of paper. 

the pen starts to move, but the second digit doesn’t a chance to show itself.

“you came in pretty late today,” the familiar voice sounds like an alarm right next to your ear, and the low pitch ripples through your bones like an earthquake. “where were you? back at the office?”

eric stops writing and looks up at lee hyunjae with enlarged, wondering eyes. sweat starts to break out under your clothes and in your palms, your lips pursing and every facial muscle struggles to pull your lips into a forced smile. 

“yes, doctor lee, got a problem?” angling your head just enough so you wouldn’t look like you were avoiding him; but you catch a glimpse of that innocently smug smile ingrained into his face. the nervous system inside you hangs like an old computer when he turns your chair around, and he raises a brow at you.

“what were you doing in the office? we had instructions to be here in the research department by eleven and you walked in at eleven twenty.”

because i was covering up your fucking marks and struggling not to look like someone broke me two nights ago, motherfucke--

“anyway,” he pulls away and scratches the back of his head. “doctor choi wanted me to tell you some stuff regarding the neuro department so i’m gonna need to steal her away for awhile.” he turns to eric and points to you with his thumb.

“doctor choi? why wou--”

“oh, sure!” eric exclaims, dropping the pen without his number on the piece of paper. “you guys go do you, i have to get back to my report anyway. we’ll have lunch together later!”

watching eric roll himself back to his cubicle enthusiastically was so painful and antagonising for you, the glare that shot out through your shrinking pupils was enough for lee hyunjae’s smug smile to appear on his face. 

“pantry,” the cold instruction pushes a button in you, and you were so tempted to just stretch out one leg to trip him over. 

unfortunately, this was a hospital, and you’d be damned if you were caught bullying another doctor.

he was already beyond the reach of your feet anyway.

the pantry on this floor was secluded, and you doubt the mental preparations you were giving yourself were going to be enough. 

not before lee hyunjae torments you about friday night. 

the door slides open when he scans his ID card, and the scent of coffee and cinnamon buns fill your nostrils. your eyes immediately dart around the pantry once you were inside, completely ignoring the fact that you were in here because he had a message from your mentor for you. 

quick steps bring you to the fridge in the corner of the pantry and your thoughts of whatever you were smelling was already making you salivate.

but you barely get the door of the refrigerator open when he slams it shut from your side, and a small burst of frustration erupts in you. 

“just what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

he cages you between the refrigerator and the wall that was perpendicular to it, your back against the corner where the appliance and the concrete met. 

his left hand was pressed flat against the refrigerator to the right of your head, and he leans the back of his forearm against the flat surface of the wall, his thumb and index finger rubbing his nose bridge like he was having a headache.

“tell me something, y/n,” a frown cements itself into his forehead, and the warmth from the refrigerator starts to seep through your coat and clothes. “what is it that you see in eric? he looks like... like he’s twelve--”

“excuse me?”

“stop flirting with the damn intern would you? this is a hospital and you’re not doing yourself any good by choosing the one person in the research department who’s going to leave in like, a month--”

“the hell is it to you, bitch?”

something inside him snaps, and you saw it. 

a scoff runs through your nose and you were about to turn in attempt to open the refrigerator again. 

“at least he isn’t as big of an ass as you are.”

your arm just leaves your side and was raised at a height enough for him to grab it to hold you in place. without warning, he cushions his lips against yours, and the contact ruthlessly pulls you back to friday night. 

the color comes off your lips and paints his, the taste of him on your tongue was horrendously familiar; you wish you didn’t know how he tasted. 

unfortunately, something clicks, and your body refuses to delete the memory of how good he felt against your lips. the edge of his coat brushes against your thighs, and your fingers start to trail upwards to his collar. a small thump behind your head signals to you that his palms were now pressed against the appliance you were leaning on, and he was simply closing the cage on you. 

the sound of the pens in his coat start to click against one another when the kisses get rougher, needier, and his hand finds the back of your head to prevent you from pulling away, not that your body wanted to anyway. 

reality rips the two of you apart in the form of someone clearing his throat, and the fact that it was disturbingly loud sends your heart into a rapid mess. 

lee hyunjae removes himself from you in an instant, and you stand rooted to the ground, fists clenched and eyes reading the facial expression of the person who just walked into the pantry. 

licking your lips in attempt to hide your embarrassment, your vision turns to your feet while you wince in shame and frustration with yourself. 

the sound of a ceramic mug being filled with water earns your attention, and you look up through your lashes, your head still hung low.

doctor kim’s side profile was in full view for you to notice the little smile he had on his lips, and out of the corner of your eye, lee hyunjae was just as flustered and caught off guard as you were. his fists were clenched and shoved into his coat pockets, and his head was turned out the window to avoid eye contact with the elder doctor. 

“ah... doctor lee... if you want to make babies, do it somewhere else...”

he returns the water flask to the counter and turns on his heels for the door, and just before he opens it, he turns his head enough for you to see the fatherly smile on his face. 

“i was beginning to wonder if my guess was wrong,” he shoots the two of you a playful look as he presses his ID card against the scanner. 

the shame that displayed itself on your cheeks and face was probably the same shade as the lipstick you were wearing, and the back of your shirt was now stuck to your skin from sweat. 

the door whirs shut again, and the awkward silence remains in the air while the two of you struggle to process whatever just happened. 

“you really shouldn’t be wearing such a bright red shade at work,” he turns around and his voice pulls your head back up to see that the area around his lips were coated in your lipstick. the sight punches you in the gut with a strange mixture of disgust, anger and shame.

“how is it my fault that you have lipstick on your--”

“the shades’ not appropriate,” he reaches behind you and pulls out a couple of napkins from the box on the refrigerator. “not for work.”

the frown and utter look of disbelief returns to your face, and you shift away from the refrigerator and him, trying your best not to shove your knee into his groin. you would’ve started spitting vulgarities into his face, but there was no point. 

what’s done is done, and not only that, you were caught by doctor kim. 

but old habits die hard, and your tongue couldn’t resist calling him shitty names like you’ve always done.

“i wear whatever the fuck i want, fucking dumbsh--” 

the quick kiss throws you off guard, again, and he was careful not to press too hard, but you hated how the feeling of his lips against yours lingered longer than you’d like it to.

he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then wipes his lips with the napkins again, turning away to look for a bin without shifting his feet. his eyes shoot you one last look you couldn’t read, and the memory of everything finds difficulty sitting itself in your messy, messy mind.

“don’t wear such an obvious shade next time, makes it harder for me to get away with it.”

...what?

“hurry your dumbshit ass,” he starts striding to the bin near the door and doesn’t bother looking back at you. “eric’s waiting for us to have lunch with him, i’m sure you don’t want to miss that.”

all the features on your face fall to dismay at the thought -- no -- at the confusion of what was happening.

"are you alright though? the fall this morning was so sudden,” eric sits himself opposite you and lee hyunjae to your right. 

the close proximity sends ripples of ache and distaste throughout your nervous system. 

"i'm fine, really," a little brush runs across the side of your thigh, and you glance down to notice his left hand pressing onto the seat between the two of you.

"did you come to work on a hangover or did you happen to have... some great time last night?" eric gives you a playful smirk, shoving some of his salad into his mouth.

"maybe she did. well, recently," lee hyunjae leans against the table and scratches his nose with the hand that was previously on the seat.

but he was only doing it to make it look natural.

"didn't you?" his hand lowers and lands on your right thigh, safely out of sight, and the warmth of his palm melts your skin through the material of your jeans.

you suck in a deep breath and raise both brows, both your arms still leaning against the table as you pushed the cherry tomato around the bowl.

"well," you grin at eric and provide him with a mischievous brow raise. "i'm pretty sure i'd remember it if i did have a great time last night, and i don't, so no."

the grip around the flesh on your leg tightens ever so slightly, and you bite down on your bottom lip to hide your surprise.

"aw man, i wanted to laugh at you about it and ask about details," the disappointment pulls your lips apart, and your eyes soften, watching him pick at his food.

eric had such gorgeous features, you struggled to contain yourself. had you known eric in high school, he would've been the one you drooled over, not younghoon. 

not the guy who dumped you just because of some stupid picture that this little bitch posted onlin--

a tight squeeze to your thigh.

"anyway eric, so what else do you do in your free time?" ignoring his little 'gesture', you return your attention to the cutest guy at the table.

"oh, i just gym and play baseball, that's pretty much it."

"oh!" you exclaim enthusiastically. "no wonder you're so fit and energetic all the time. not many people your age would still be invested in sports."

the fingers dig into your flesh and slowly starts to contract, and subtle movements tell you that he was on the verge of kneading your thigh altogether.

"you're unfortunately right, not many people who start working spend much time in sports," eric's face dulls, and you couldn't resist pouting at his sudden decrease in energy.

eric continues to grumble, but all your eyes focused on was his face. your ears were hearing the words, but your mind wasn't processing them.

the boy finishes his salad, but a dollop of salad dressing get on the corner of his lips. instinctively, you grab a napkin and reach out to him, and eric's open-american personality leans forward to let you clean whatever you wanted to remove off his face.

the grip on your thigh gets harder to ignore when the napkin drags across eric;s lips, and you shut your thighs together when his thumb digs in too far into your outer thigh.

you quickly pull away from eric, feeling lee hyunjae's bones between your legs.

"thanks," he pulls out his phone and types something in. naturally, you assumed that he was about to ask you for your number instead.

so when he did, the strength that lee hyunjae had to invest to hide his tightening, suffocating grip on your thigh under the table and out of sight was unbelievable.

while your number was being logged into eric’s phone, hyunjae was pulling your right thigh away from your left, and you had to slowly give in, otherwise a vein would show up on your forehead and you couldn't let eric think anything of it.

"great!" he claps and takes his phone back from you. "now we don't have to worry about napkins anymore."

lee hyunjae lets out a fake hearty laugh, which poor eric falls for. it earns a glare of disapproval from you and your eye twitches from his hand refusing to leave your thigh.

"anyway, i really have to get back to my work, so i’ll be heading back to the research department first," eric stands up and picks up his bowl after shoving his phone into his pocket.

"wait, eric--"

"catch you guys later, bye!"

nooo don't leave me alone with this person...

"'i think i would remember if i did', huh?" he asks with a low voice, and he starts shoving all the food left in his bowl into his mouth. you try to shift away from his grip on your leg, but it doesn't do you any good besides him tightening his hold on you. 

the veins in his hands were starting to show, and your mind involuntarily whips out images from friday night when his hands where interlocked with yours while he fucked you out on the sof--

"so you're going to pretend like you didn't spend twenty minutes this morning covering my marks on your skin, and the fact that you fell over not because you tripped, but because of me?"

"i didn't fall over because of you--"

"really? so what were all those things you said friday night, hmm?"

you drop your cutlery into the bowl with despise, ready to grab everything and just leave. 

but lee hyunjae slides his hand up your thigh and brushes an area that shouldn't be within his reach.

your body fails to contain a squirm and your lips get sucked between your teeth while your brows start to furrow.

"listen to me very carefully, kitten," he speaks without looking at you, and your eyes struggle to peel themselves away from the bowl. "whatever you choose to do from now on, decides whatever happens to you. and right now, your record isn't looking very pretty."

something inside you reminds you that you hate this son of a bitch, and the hatred motivates you to spit your thoughts out without processing them.

"was that a threat?" a snort finds its way out your nose, and you turn to glare at him, wishing you could drive a knife into his face.

"that wasn't a threat, sweetheart," his eyes turn to look at you, and for once in ten years, your heart races. not because you wanted to suck the life out of this guy, but because you were genuinely unsure about what he was capable of.

"it was an instruction. so do whatever you want at your own risk, but remember that ares is cruel," his hand slides off your thigh and your skin starts to yearn for his warmth, against your will.

"and... last time i checked, i was one half of two areses, but you?”

he grabs the bowl and stands up. 

“you ran off without saying good bye."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XI: Et Invisibilia Filum

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “To learn.��

My brain wanted to write something in first person present tense today. I have no idea why, but I let it go wild. I hope you all like it :) A little bit different than my usual style :)

I just needed some time.

You ever tried putting yourself back together after war, it isn’t easy, or at least I don’t find it to be. I don’t know, call me a sissy, but I don’t actually like war., I don’t take pleasure from killing, but it is part of my job, a big part of it and if the universe continues the way it is, I am going to see war a lot more often.

I wish it didn’t affect me so much.

I wish I had a better way of handling it.

People think I’m a strong person, but they’re wrong. There are plenty of people who could take up my mantle and do a more badass job. They wouldn’t grow sick as the sight of carnage, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put the armor back on.

I’m not like that ….

I’m a coward.

If my friends knew…. Well I have no idea what they would think of me.

But that’s why I had to take some time. Since my first injury, I have never been totally alone. There was always someone there to check on me, there was always someone there to help me deal with my issues. I don’t think I ever figured out how to take care of myself, which is why I decided to take this trip, alone.

The others didn’t understand it…. well , one of them did but he still didn’t like it, but If I am being honest it will be good for them….. Especially her…. The last thing I want to do is make it so we can’t function alone.

I think its called…. Codependency or something.

I don’t know sounds like the sort of thing I’d get caught up in.

I suppose it's for all those reasons that I ended up here. 

Looking out the window, I can see Anum suspended against the sky glassy in shades of blue purple and green like a lucky marble. It almost feels as if I can reach out and touch it.

The last time I saw this place, it was receding into the distance,.

I lost a lot here, my leg, and my mind for a short time.

Now it kind of makes me laugh to think that a piece of me was left behind to fertilize some of the plant matter. Of course, it looks a bit different now that the dark season has abated. I had only ever seen the place when it was covered in ash, but it's actually quite beautiful. 

The pilot of the shuttle is pretty average, and I only feel like tightening my hands on the seatbelts just a little as we enter the atmosphere.

Fire rolls up around us as friction begins to heat up the outer hull.

Around me men and aliens alike rock in their seats.

Most of them are miners, come here to work on extracting the precious metals from below Anum’s surface.

Personally, I prefer asteroid mining, but statistics say that is more dangerous and expensive so of course corporations like it a lot less, and besides, all of this was sort of just a massive pissing contest with the GA forcing the Drev to pay for the damages caused during war. I don’t think they should, but who am I to give my opinion.

I’m just a soldier.

It doesn't take us long to leave the atmosphere, and it isn’t long before we are looking down at a massive open mining operation. The face of Anum has been scoured with a massive terraced hole overrun by machines and workers cutting into the stone. Volcanoes pipe smoke in the distance.

The scars of industry really are ugly sometimes.

I’ve seen pictures of anum during the bright season, without the machinery.

It's honestly very beautiful, but maybe I'm a bit biased. It’s the one part of home that Sunny misses, and I’ve always wanted to see it for myself. With all the times we’ve gone to earth, you think we'd have visited her home planet too, but I guess the cosmos have ust never taken us this way.

Red lights blink above the doors, and I unbuckle my harness pulling on my bag and gear with the rest of the miners, though I’m not here for the same reason they are. Boots clatter loudly on the ramp below our feet, and I head outside.

It smells clean and cool, though for a distant tang of sulfur.

You barely notice it though, less bad than visiting the hot springs at yellowstone, so your nose adjusts quickly.

The sky overhead is blue, just like on earth, though the ground beyond the launch pad is an amalgamation of rainbow color. I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision, pulling up the eyepatch to take a look from my mechanical eye and its UV filter.

“Holy shit.”

It's beautiful, the sheer amount of color is astonishing like the Lucky Charms leprechaun had some sort of horrific accident. T

he miners ignore me and continue on their way towards the docking pad. 

I don’t plan on following.

I am not here for them. I drop the patch back over my eye, and adjust the bag over my shoulder striking it out into the bush, barely looking back. No one notices, or cares, and it isn’t long before the launch field and the mining operation disappears over the horizon. Anum’s circumference is just a little smaller than that of earth with the horizon eating up anything beyond that around three miles.

Gravity is somewhat lessened too, which makes it easier as I walk.

My boots are silent against the multicolored moss at my feet, this stuff teal in color. Little white flowers spring up from the surface like clover back home. A light gust of wind rolls past me causing the flowers to ripple. I lift my head closing my eyes and allowing the wind to carry with it distant smells.

This is the same wind that Sunny would have known growing up, the same feeling under her feet.

I decide to stop a couple miles out under the meager shade of a coiltree. I have never actually seen one before now, and I can see why it’s called a coiltree. Honestly it looks like something straight out of a Dr. Seus book striped up the trunk and with branches that curl into spirals. More little whit blossoms erupt from the trunk, and between those are little white berries. 

I seem to recall those being edible.

Reaching up, I pluck one or two down from the branches and pop them into my mouth. Though the skin is white, the berries juice stains my hands purple. One of them is horrifically sour, but the other is pleasantly sweet, probably more ripe than the other, though I can’t yet tell the difference between them. 

I sit there under the tree for a little while looking out across the lonely landscape. Something is moving on the distant horizon, though I can't exactly tell what they are, a herd of some sort of animal or another. They are very tall as far as I can tell, just a little shorter than the coiltree.

As a last moment decision, I kick off my boots, and strip my socks tying them to my bag before standing.

The moss is very soft under my feet erupting upwards between my toes like a shag carpet, but you know much less hideous.

My footsteps are even softer now, though the prosthetic clatters sometimes when metal hits stone.

Sweat runs down my back,sides, and front.

I have no idea where I am going, but I know they will see me soon enough.

They have patroll parties out here, and if they aren’t watching me already, then they will be soon enough.

I keep walking heading parallel to the volcanic chain.

For the most part, my hike is uneventful, except for that time that I stepped on something slimy and wriggly. I hate to admit it but I squealed like an idiot and nearly fell over, only made worse when I looked down and saw the giant pale maggot burrowing into the moss and underground.

I nearly gagged, and my skin crawled.

Sunny had mentioned those, though I forgot their names.

THey lived primarily off of decomposing plant and animal material, very common in areas where war had continued.

I didn’t like it, but it was probably one of those nasty suckers that ate my leg.

Ew…

Gross.

I contemplated putting my boots back on, but kept walking instead. 

A group of unknown flying critters appear overhead. They have two sets of membranous wings, kind of like those of a bat, no tail though, just a long rail of fur like the streamer of a kite.

These ones are bright colors like pink and yellow.

Pretty cool.

Its nice to walk in the silence, though after a while my brain devolves into humming the star wars theme, and then singing stupid songs dancing around and hopping about from one foot to another as I badly sing the choruses to all the songs I know.

My eye of the tiger rendition probably left something to be desired, though I doubt anyone out here would know the difference.

Then comes the stupid dialogs with myself as I try to imagine what Krill Conn and Sunny would say about all this.

“Commander, I will have you know that you behavior is highly disquieting, I insist we get an MRI on your brain to make sure you have not developed a severe case of bilateral goop disease.”

“What kind of dumbass just goes wandering around with no idea where he’s going. The dumbass kind of dumbass.”

“Adam, I need you to understand that Anum is a dangerous place. I know you grew up on earth, but there are still things that can go wrong on Anum. Do you know how common surprise hot springs are. What if you fell in and died.”

Speaking of which, “Thanks imaginary Sunny, I totally forgot about that.”

Other than that, what can go wrong, it is a bright shiny day, the temperature is perfect, nothing someone like me can’t handle. Oh and is that a crunchy pink orb I see. I fucking love those, they taste so good.

I hop over the rocks, my feet warm on the moss, and reach down to pluck one of the spheres from it’s short stumpy stem.

And that's when the spear appears at my throat.

Shit.

I drop my hand back and look up to see a drev that is at least three feet taller than me, holding his massive spear orange eyes narrowed. Holy shit, I didn’t even hear her/him coming. Honestly I should have seen them coming long before anything else bright fuschia as they were.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish.”  They jab the spear at my neck, and the obsidian lined head cuts through my sin like butter. 

Oh shit, uh, my translator is not picking up shit. Guess these guys have a different accent than we’re used to. I rack my brains trying to remember how to speak what little I know, but it seems that it has all fled me when I needed it the most.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish!” I stumble backwards onto my butt and hands. Shit shit.

I hold up a hand.

“Cheeyat neahasan!” Shit I forgot to conjugate the verb. Damn I must look like an idiot yelling ‘to speak slow!’ at the top of my lungs 

However, my botched attempt at speaking seems to work, and they pull back. “Tsa dzhal Cheeyish.” 

Oh I understood that one, “Yid zhe cheeyi dzhal.” yes, yes I speak Drev, “neahasan.” Slolwy anyway. 

They pull back. I don't know why, but I’m getting a female vibe off this one. I can't tell though, Drev voices all tend to be rather deep.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish” She says it slower this time, and all around her I watch as a small group of other Drev move to flank me from the sides. They are listening very intently.

I think I understand this time, the rough translation being who are you and what are you doing.

I want to speak with your leader, “Zhe zhegingi s tsak eeda cheeyat.” My voice is halting and I am butchering the pronunciation, but they seem to get my request.

She trusts the spear at me, “Tsaee!”

I hold up my hands, “Woah woah, easy easy…. I uh.” Shit what was the word to learn, “zhe….zhengingi hak tsa…. “ Damn it… I can’t remember,  “um….. Rekazat nin dzhal….. Rekazazh.”

Oh wow, that sounds really intelligent. I wanted to learn from them but instead apparently I ‘want to know what they know.’ riveting conversationalist that I am.

She stares at me confused.

In frustration I point at her spear, “Zhe zhengingi…..zheengat?” 

Uh this was going poorly. I clearly did not know as much of their language as I thought I did.

I want to know to fight.

Wow excellent work their commander that will convince them.

They look back and forth at each other, and fire off some quick shot dialogue that leaves my head spinning.

She turns to me and lowers her spear, “s jya Hajish.”

Come with us.

Great a sentence I understood.

It was in the next few hours that I was either going to live, or I was going to die horribly. 

A pretty exciting time in my life.

And I followed.

Not like I had a choice at this point. 

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

New People

Danny personally felt that he was well within his rights to be a bit weirded out by what was going on.  He was on his way to school, getting interrupted by some half-formed spider ghost with threads all over the place that he had to dodge out of the way of before he could even get close to shooting it, Tucker was freaking out and Sam was doing her best to shoot away the webs that Danny actually got caught in.  It took quite a bit of time to squish much of the bug and then get it in the thermos.  During this time, Danny got hit by its pincers and bitten, and the wound was exposed and dripping ectoplasm and some thick purple goop that he assumed was venom.   Things were the standard amount of bad.

The unusual thing was when a ghost with blue skin, pink eyes, and rippling hair that shifted colors between red, yellow and orange flew up to him and gently grabbed his arm.  And then he pulled out a cotton ball from his pocket and started dabbing Danny’s wound.  “Yikes, this is a nasty bite.  You’re Danny Phantom, right?  The bridge spirit?”

“Uh,” Danny looked down at his friends, who shrugged, weapons trained on the newcomer.  “Yeah, I’m the halfa Danny Phantom.”  The guy snorted and Danny scowled.  “What’s so funny?”

“Halfa sounds like something my son would’ve called it when he was 7.”  Once the cotton ball was soaked through it was put in a ziplock that vanished off to somewhere and a water bottle was poured over it instead, followed by a cloth.  “I’m Dr. Jason Pace.  Nice to meet you.”

Danny stared at the man while he cleaned his cut with wide eyes.  “There are ghost doctors?”  It felt like a dumb question, doctors died as much as anyone else, but with all the violent ghosts that came through it was weird to see someone who specialized in helping people.

“Death is hardly enough to keep a medic from helping people who need attention,” Jason said with a chuckle.  “When I woke up in the Infinite Realms I met this big burly werewolf in a hoodie who said he was here to take me where I’m supposed to go but he got to me late, and I thought ‘wow, psychopomps are real and they can be behind schedule.’”

“Did.  Did this werewolf happen to speak Esperanto?”

“Yeah, said his name is Wulf.  I told him that wasn’t very original and he agreed.  Then I told him that I needed to see my husband and he cut open a hole back to the living realm about two weeks after my death, and after a very passionate and emotional night, I headed back into work and just sorta.  Kept doing what I do.”  He hummed, holding up the cloth and setting it on fire before tossing it behind him, where Danny watched it turn to ashes before it made it five feet above the ground. He swiped the purple goop with a q-tip, and then a bunch of vials of glowing liquid appeared from thin air, spinning around him in a lazy orbit.  “Poisonous and venomous ghost animals are horrors and ecto entomologists can kiss my ass if they wanna preach about preserving species.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Ah that’s what it is- you’re going to feel numb in a couple of seconds, which is perfectly normal, but then your core will start to go … well let’s just say I’m glad I got to you in time.”  One of the vials stopped, the swab burned up like the cloth, and a syringe was put into play.  “This is an antivenom.  Please don’t squirm, or this will hurt more.”  Jason pressed the needle over where a vein should’ve been, and Danny hissed at the sharp prick of pain.  Then a lollipop of all things was presented to him.  “Hope you like blueberry.”

“So, what I’m gathering is that you just wanna treat people and you came up to me cause I got bit by a spider.  I don’t remember my folks ranting about a doctor ghost tricking the people at the hospital into dastardly plans so I’m gonna guess you’re not from around here.”

“Oh, this isn’t why I came to your town of course, but yeah this is the thing I’m gonna be doing.”  The syringe needle, once removed, was disintegrated like the rest, and a bandage was stuck on Danny’s arm before his suit could reform around it.  “You should be good… and don’t worry, I don’t mess with people’s heads.  I just help people.  And yes, I know how to help bridge spirits like yourself.”  He held out a business card and gave a two-fingered salute.  “Give that a little charge if you need me.  Bye!”

They watched Jason fade from sight and Danny stared at where he’d been with wide eyes, blinking rapidly.  “What the f-”

“We need to get to school!”  Sam shouted, drawing his attention down to his best friends.  Danny dove down and scooped them both up, turning invisible and flying toward the school.  “Oh, wow, ok.”

“So that was weird, right?”

“That was really fuckin weird, yeah,” Tucker said.  “I guess it makes sense that there’d be ghost doctors, hospitals are the evilest places.”

“I’m glad he’s here,” Sam said.  “Maybe he’ll be able to help you keep up with your habit of crashing into things.”

“I don’t have a habit thank you. My enemies have a habit of yeeting me into things.  There’s a difference.”

“You can turn intangible and go through things instead of slamming into them so.”  After that fun and lovely argument, Danny almost forgot the weirdness of Dr. Pace.

 That is until Lancer introduced the class to a very tall boy with brown hair, tan, freckled skin, and pink eyes.  Pink eyes that were glowing ever so softly. “Hello class, this is Kyle Pace. He’s an exchange student from Pittsburg.”

“Hey there,” Kyle said with a wave, smiling wide enough that everyone could see his canines were much longer and too pointy to be human.  “My last school was Three Rivers so uh I’m kinda not used to this kinda school, so if I’m weird I’m sorry about that.”

“Not a problem, Kyle.”  Lancer patted the large boy on the back.  “Your classmates will be doing their best to help you adjust, I’m sure.”  No one missed the look Lancer gave them, and no one even really considered caring.  Danny, Sam and Tucker were all staring at Kyle with varying degrees of subtly. “There’s a seat between Danny Fenton and Dash Baxter over there, Mr. Pace.  I’ll make sure you get a study guide to catch you up on where we are.”

Kyle nodded and plopped down in his seat, bookbag set down next to him, and the class moved on as though this were normal.  Well, Wes was fuming at the back of the class but no one paid him any attention.  He looked like he was paying attention, and after a while, Danny decided he should do the same, but the glow in Kyle’s eyes and the way Danny’s ghost sense was stuck in his throat, almost alerting him to a ghost but not, messed up his focus even worse than a regular old attack.

When Lunch rolled around, they had a chance to actually talk about it.  “So uh, when Dr. Pace said he had a kid,” Tucker said, “Do you think he meant like after he died?”

“My ghost sense says yes, which is gross to think about, but also kind of an existential crisis going on.”  Danny pushed his food around on his platter, staring at it and through it.  “How the fuck does that even work?”

“Well if Box Lunch,” Sam said with a shudder, “Can exist then maybe… what did he call it?  Bridge Spirits?  Maybe they can happen, ya know, naturally?”

“This validates everyone who wants to fuck Phantom,” Tucker said with a mouth full of meatloaf from home.  Danny punched his arm without looking and took satisfaction in his yelp.  “I’m just sayin.”

“Swallow first, and then - novel idea - don’t say it.”

“I saw him leave algebra with Dash and Dash’s hair isn’t looking so perfectly combed right now,” Tucker said anyway, earning a kick in the shins from Sam.

Danny groaned.  “Can we talk about something else?”

The universe did not agree with their subject of discussion moving away from Kyle, however, as he strode over to their table and plopped down next to Danny.  He had a lunch box filled with clearly homemade food that looked like it was cooked by a chef compared to the lunch meat on Danny’s platter.  He tossed an arm around Danny’s shoulders and gave them all a cheerful, “Hey there!  How’re you guys doing?  I saw your spider backpack and I know appearances aren’t everything but,” he pointed at Sam with a lazy grin, “do you like snakes?”

“Uh, yes?”  Sam looked between Danny and Kyle, likely assessing how dangerous he might be.  “Just not your kind of snake.”

“Pardon?”

“People who hang out with Dash Baxter tend to be just like him.”  Sam folded her arms and scowled, and Tucker rolled his eyes.   Kyle just frowned and looked over at the A lister table, making eye contact with Dash for a moment.

“Only impression I got outta Dash was attractive when he’s not talking, what kinda guy is he?” Sam was all too eager to share that and so was Tucker.  Danny watched as Kyle’s expression grew darker while staring at Dash, eyes beginning to glow brighter until he turned back to the table and covered Tucker’s mouth.  “Aight, an asshole.  Got it. Y’all know that’s all like, illegal, right?  Someone can record him doing this shit and either call the police or threaten it.”

“I mean, we could but then the other A listers would be out for us,” Danny said.

“I dunno what the A list is supposed to be, but I’m betting it’s something really stupid, and I have ta say: can we talk about snakes now?”  Kyle stuffed food in his mouth, and then the conversation about which snakes were cuter, cooler and more dangerous began.  Danny zoned out, stretching his senses to confirm the current of ecto energy under Kyle’s skin and wondered how to bring that up.

Before Danny could ask Kyle if he was possessed or just Like That, Dash Baxter’s voice caught his ear.  “Hey, Kyle, why’re you hangin out with these losers?  You should-” that was as far as Dash got before a pink bubble appeared around him and Kyle turned around to shove the bubble.  It rolled along the floor until it bumped into the A lister table and then popped, leaving Dash to fumble into his seat.  Then Kyle turned back to the table.

“I really want a pet snake, or like even some fish, but Dad doesn’t trust me and Pop thinks that I should learn to be responsible first before I go asking for a pet.  Like, aren’t parents supposed to use pets as a test of responsibility?”

“Some parents think that,” Sam said, her salad finished and her protein shake almost done, “but it’s unfair to put all that on a kid.”

“So,” Tucker said slowly, “everyone is staring at us and I’m kinda wondering if we’re gonna talk about you putting Dash in gay baby jail.”

“Is that weird?”  Kyle raised a brow, and Danny snorted.  “I just really didn’t wanna talk to him if he’s an asshole like y’all said and the bubble popped pretty quick.”  Kyle looked around at the dead silent cafeteria, and his skin began to glow.  “Why are people starin?”

“Because you just blew your cover, ghost!”  Valerie snarled across the cafeteria, and it exploded into chatter.  Kyle flinched at the noise and a bubble appeared around the table that blocked out the noise.

“What the fuck?  What’s going on?”

��Uh, dude, they don’t know about half ghosts.”

“But you’re a bridge spirit too!”

“They don’t know that!  I’ve got a secret identity to keep!”

“I- wow, ok spider-man.  Alright.”  Kyle took a breath and dropped his shield, floating up above the crowd of teens.  “HEY!”  The crowd when slowly quiet as Kyle waved a glowing hand around to get everyone’s attention.  “MY DUDES!  Thanks. So uh, yeah, I’m not sure what y’all think I am, but I can explain pretty easy.”

“Oh I’m certain you can, ghost, but we’re not interested in your lies!”

“Excuse you, I don’t lie anymore than you do.  Anyway, when a living human and a ghost love each other very much-”

“Are you saying your mom or dad banged a ghost?!”  Dale was always so eloquent, it had Danny wondering how he had such bad grades.

“Yeah,” Kyle shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets.  “I don’t have a Mom though, Dad and Pop just figured out that ghostly physiology is malleable and they wanted a kid.  I’m done talking about my conception now, cause that’s gross, but like, this is a basic thing to understand.”  Kyle floated back down to his seat and crossed his legs.  “I swear I heard at least five girls around here want to start a family with Phantom, and I just gotta wonder: y’all did know that’s possible right?”

Silence eerie as a horror movie washed over the cafeteria.  People processed what they’d been told and some of their minds tripped over themselves trying to do so.  Kyle turned back to Sam and started complaining about pets while chatter erupted around them all, and Danny slammed his head against the table.

[pixieungerstories]

Mistaken World Bonus - 2

Part 1

Feeder Orc, or someone like him, watched me eat my lunch.  And my dinner.  And every meal after that until, eight meals later we were back to beige.

He watched me not eat that one again.  He stormed over and shouted, “Eat!”

I jumped, dropped my tray, looked at him in horror, then tried to run away.  

He caught me before I had made it more than a couple of steps.

I just went limp as a bunch more of them came over and had a chat I didn’t understand.   In the end, he dumped me on the ground next to my spilled meal.  “Pick up,” someone snarled.

I tried to scoop as much of the goop back onto the tray as I could.  If they made me eat it anyway, it wasn’t going to be at all improved by the extra playground dirt.

Once again, I was herded into the school, only this time, we went to one of the classrooms on the second floor.

There were a bunch of orcs sitting around a table.  Their uniforms were nicer and they all had a bit of grey in their hair.  One of them sighed as he stood up and came over to take my tray.

“If you are refusing to eat in an attempt to get better food, it won’t work,” he said in a surprisingly unaccented voice.

I stared at him for a moment, then shook my head.  “I didn’t ask for better food.  It’s just that I can’t eat this meal.  Normally, I just pass it along to someone else who needs it, but the others are afraid to take it now.”

The old guy glared at me, “You need it.  Your meals are balanced to meet all your dietary needs.  You need to eat all of them for that to work.”

I swallowed and looked down at my one size fits no one stretchy shoes.  “I can’t,” I whispered.  “I eat all the others, but this one make me sick.  I break out in a rash and feel gross for a whole day after eating it.”

He frowned, then he snatched the tray from my hands took three huge strides and dumped it into a garbage can in the corner.  Then he waved me out.  I turned to leave, but the one who had brought me was blocking the door.  He had a hurried conversation with the old guy.  Someone at the table chimed in.  There was a quick but heated conversation, then my guide lead me back to the cafeteria.  He got his tray of prime rib and took me over to sit at the same table with what were probably the same group.

“Are these your friends?” I asked.

“No,” he snorted, even as one of them, said, “Yes.”

“Oh,”  I didn’t know what else to say.  I hadn’t realized that they all spoke English or maybe it was just these ones.

I waited politely for the guy to eat his lunch, but instead, he pushed it towards me.  I stared up at him in shock.  “Why are you feeding me?” I whispered.

“So you eat,” he replied.

I didn’t know what to say to that.  I picked up the bun and carefully ripped off a piece to eat.  “But you need to eat too.”

That caused a ripple of amusement.  Then someone at the end of the table got up, got an empty tray from the line.  He brought it over and put a slab of meat on it then slid it towards me.  Someone else intercepted it and added some of their carrots.  The next guy added all of his zucchini.  My host took the tray, to much protest.

“For her,” the first guy snarled.

I swallowed and very still.  I had to force my voice to be even when I asked, “Why are you feeding me?”

They echoed my stillness.  The silence went on too long and became suffocating.  Finally, the first one repeated, “So you eat?”

I couldn’t tell if that was a question because he wasn’t sure it was the right answer or if it was because he thought it was so obvious he didn’t know how I didn’t understand that.  I carefully set the bun on the new tray in front of me.

Everyone frowned.  I fought to stay still.

OK, then, time to see if I was clever or dead.

“You are all a lot bigger than me,” I said softly.  They nodded.  “You are all too close and I feel like prey.”

There was a long moment of nothing.  I looked up into four confused faces.  The one at the end rumbled out something I couldn’t understand and suddenly they are all leaning back from me.

OK.  That was a good sign.

“I would like to go back to the other humans now.”

Nothing.

I pressed my lips together and thought hard.  “Humans are a herd species.  We do better in groups.  Putting us alone in rooms was used as torture.”  They were still all watching me.  “I want to go back to my group now.”

“Eat first.”

I looked up at the one sitting on my left who was insisting on feeding me, “What’s your name?”

Now he winced, “You can’t say my name.”

“Oh.”  There didn’t seem to be anything else to say to that.   I picked up the bun again and fidgeted with it.

The one who had seemed to have translated my earlier statement about feeling like prey, spoke again, “Chest wrong shape to say names.  He is -” then he name a noise like an elephant rumble.

I stared at him long enough that he ducked his head, either embarrassed or doing a credible impression of being embarrassed.  That left me wondering how many of their mannerisms were their own and how many they were parrotting from watching us.

I put a piece of bun in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully.  “You are right.  I can’t make that sound.  I can’t say that name.”

They all relaxed a little.  That had to be a real response right?  Could you fake muscle tension - well, yes, of course you could.  That was what actors did all the time.  But it seemed more likely that they were fighters tensing for a battle than actors performing a role.

Except they weren’t human, so how would I know?

I finished the bun and repeated, “I would like to go back to be with the others now.”

The one across the table for me asked, in very garbled English, “Oo refoos fud fra us?”

I had to translate that then think about it.  “Obviously, I can’t.  If I refuse to eat the food you provide, I have no way to feed myself.”  The tension came back at that.  “I don’t like leaving the safety of the herd.”

“You gave food to mother,” the guy at the end of the table said softly.

I frowned and tried to remember what he was talking about, “I don’t … I don’t know what you mean.”

The guy on my left said, “You can’t eat food so you give to other human.  Mother.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  I didn’t know you knew she was expecting.”

They all nodded slowly.

I awkwardly picked up a chunk of cooked carrot with my fingers.  “I wish you had names I could learn.  It would be easier if you weren’t all -”  I stopped.  ‘Nameless monsters’ was not the phrase to use in this situation, neither, I suspect, was ‘the same.’  For the life of me, quite possibly in the most literal way, I could not figure out how to finish that sentence.

They were watching me expectantly.

I just sagged and dropped my eyeline to the table.

“Give us names,” the speaker at the end said.

“What?”

There was a general nodding from this small group.

“Names you can say,” guy on my left agreed.

I looked around and realized the cafeteria was mostly cleared out.  This whole thing was getting more and more uncomfortable.  I licked my lips nervously.  “Naming people is a big responsibility,” I countered.

That made them a lot more attentive.  It didn’t help me relax at all.

“I wouldn’t want to rush that and make bad choices.”

They all nodded solemnly.

“It would be easier if I was back with my people and had some time to think about it.”

“Not eaten food yet,” Lefty pointed out.

“Neither have you,” I countered.

Everyone except for Lefty snickered.  He grinned at me and popped a whole chunk of prime rib into his mouth.

I concentrated on eating my carrots and zucchini.

The talker on the end of the table growled something at Lefty, who promptly dumped another slice of meat on my tray where the carrots had been.  OK.  Well, the honesty thing hadn’t gotten me killed yet.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“You do not have to accept my gifts,” talker explained, “but you should still have some meat.  You will eat food from him, so now you have some.”

That was not comforting.  “What did I just agree to by accepting food from you?” I asked.

That caused a flurry of talking that I did not understand, but the general consensus seemed to be ‘nothing.’

“OK,” I said hesitantly.  “I am going to take you at your word that this food does come with strings -” shit! Could they even understand that idiom?  Looking up the answer seemed to be no.  “That you aren’t going to make me pay for this food later,”  I finished lamely.

Understanding dawned.  The talker at the end got it first.  Lefty was next, then mumbler across from me and the silent one only understood after someone translated it for him.

When they all were watching me expectantly waiting for me to continue, I added, “I’m not leaving the beef because of you, personally.  I can’t eat it without a knife to cut it into smaller pieces.”

That started a huge discussion that I was no part of.  It stopped immediately when I touched Lefty’s arm and suddenly they were all staring at my hand.  I snatched it away and mumbled a frightened, “Sorry!”

No one said anything.

“Please,” I begged. “Please just let me go back to the others.”

They all immediately stood up and lead me out.  Three slices of very nice beef left abandoned on the tray.  I felt a little sick at the waste but was so relieved when we reached the exit to the school yard, that I bolted back for the tent city.

The next time it was beige food, I didn’t even bother getting in line.  I stayed in my tent instead.  The following meal, I was pulled out of the tray return line by one of the smaller orcs and brought through the school to an upstairs classroom to face and older guy who could have been the orc that threw out my lunch the last time I was here.  He was sitting at a conference table covered in randomly shaped things that I didn’t have any hope of recognizing.

“You refused to eat again,” he said, not even looking up from what he was doing.

“Nope!” I answered promptly.  “I just finished eating my … whatever that was like a good girl.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

Now he looked up and glared at me.  Well, shit.  I knew it wasn’t going to work, but I had to at least try.  I coughed, looked down and shifted uncomfortably.

He sighed, then said something I didn’t understand.  The one who had brought me picked up a small recliner and positioned it across the table from the old guy.  Once I was seated, he left and the old guy started to speak.

“I reviewed the surveillance from the last time you were here.  You repeatedly asked to leave and were not assisted in that. Do you wish for the ones that did that to be punished?”

I gaped at him.  When he spoke again, I realized his lips didn’t match the sound of his voice. Did he have some sort of translator?  How did that even work? Oblivious to my thoughts, he continued,  “We have learned to ask humans before disturbing their social contacts.  You have a propensity for self harm otherwise.”

There was a lot to unravel in that statement, starting with “I’m not sure if they count as social contacts, but I don’t want them punished for trying to help me.”

He nodded, or at least bobbed his head. His eyes never left mine.  That was more creepy than I can even begin to explain.  I shivered a little and tried to get that under control.  “I am told that you only refuse one meal and you are consistent about which one that is,” he continued.  

I nodded.

“Explain that to me.”

I took a deep breath, “I don’t know why, but after I eat that one, I feel sick.  I don’t want to be sick so I have stopped eating that.”

He cracked his knuckles without breaking eye contact.  I looked down at my hands clenched in my lap.

“It is unwise to put your enemy in your blind spot.  How do you not know that?”

I shrugged without looking up.  “If you want me dead, there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.  What is the point in seeing death coming?”

The silence was ringing.

“You think I would kill you?”

I didn’t really know what to say to that. “I am very aware that you could,” I finally whispered.  When I looked up he was still watching me, but now he was rubbing the skin at the base of his tusk.

“We can not provide special food for humans who refuse to eat.”

“I know. You already told me that.  If you have surveillance then you must know I have never asked for special food.  All I ever did was avoid the food that makes me sick.”

“You aren’t getting enough nutrition to lose the calories every eight meals.”

“Oh.”  I thought about that as I picked at my clothes.  I was wearing what was basically a prison uniform, the same as every other human in the camp.  We were all slowly losing weight since we arrived.  It was slow enough that it was hard to notice, but it was happening.  “I’m not sure what you want me to do about that.”  I thought some more.  “You said you were trying to avoid causing me to self harm, but the only thing I can change in this situation is to die faster.”

He didn’t say anything to that.  Finally, I looked up.  He was still staring at me.  “Can I go now?  Or is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

“I want you to explain to the medic how the food is making you sick.  Then you can return to the others.”

I nodded.  He went back to whatever he was doing.  Someone stepped out of my blind spot, making me jump.  I was led through the school to another classroom.  This one had a wall knocked through to make the room bigger.  There were orc sized beds.  One orc was pointing a light at another who was laying down.

My guide spoke with the standing orc, who replied and pointed to one of the chairs.  I sat and waited.  These chairs were nowhere nearly as comfortable. Eventually, the one with the light came over and I tried to explain allergies to him.  It took hours and he kept pressing strange things to the inside of my wrist.  

Finally, he nodded and I was taken back outside.  It was full dark by then.  There weren’t any yard lights or street lights and the moon wasn’t full enough to really see by.  I took a couple of hesitant steps forward, but when the door closed, I was plunged into darkness.  I stood very still and waited for my eyes to adjust.  It took me a long time to find my tent.

[marsupials-of-mars]

Milk and Lavender

I've never really had a "rarepair" but a long time ago I pretty much made this up and thought this ship was the cutest and insert it wherever I can. This fic was one of the ones recovered from my phone I lost a year ago and found recently, and I just finished it last night, so if you see a sudden boost in quality near the end, that's why.

Yan hummed cheerfully as she combed her hair. She’d been growing the top out, but not too much. Long hair got in the way. She winged her eyeliner and, after a moment of thought, drew whiskers on her cheeks. She giggled and rubbed them off. She jumped at a knock at the door.

"You almost ready? Mark says we’re almost late.” Yan opened the bathroom door, almost knocking King to the ground. He let out a spooked chatter.

"Yep I’m ready! Cmon, I’ve never been to their place!”

“It’s really fun!” King, although one of the babies of the family, was technically one of the oldest, and had been to the Septic’s house a few times. They usually hung out at the Iplier house because it was bigger, and although there were only seven Septics they were always cramped. Yan had met most of the Septics, though a few didn’t like to travel and never ended up coming over.

"Well I’m excited!” Yan smiled and squished King’s chubby cheeks she loved.

"Me too! Cmon!” King grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room and down the stairs. Normally Yan hated people touching or dragging her but King meant no harm and he was one of her favorites, so she always allowed it.

“Yandereplier!” Mark motioned Yan to the group. All the egos were gathered in the living room. It was cramped and Yan had to step awkwardly to avoid Goop’s slime trail. She felt a body bump against her shoulder, causing her to stumble. She whipped her head up.

“Bimothy Trimmer, I will END you!” Bim stuck his tongue out and straightened his tie. Yan growled and reached back for her katana but felt nothing but empty sheathes. “Where are Aiko and Yua?!” She heard a distorted sigh.

"All weapons are confiscated until the end of the visit. The Septics have been thoroughly warned but we’re taking all precautions necessary.” Dark gave Yan a condescending look. Yan whined.

“But Anti ALWAYS brings weapons over here!”

“Anti has no decency or respect for social principle. We’re better than that. Aren’t we Yan?” Yan groaned.

“Anti’s cool DAD you’re just lame...”

"Anti is most certainly NOT cool, he’s volatile and childish. YOU are the bigger person.”

"Ugh, let’s just go. I don’t need you lecturing me In front of everyone. And COOL dad is bringing weapons anyway...” Dark looked behind him to find Wilford loading a golden handgun that seemingly appeared from nowhere. He looked up.

"What?”

"Wil, leave it.”

"Aw Cmon...”

“No guns. We’re houseguests.”

"Ugh, fine DAD.” Wil dropped the gun in the sofa.

"I’m nobody’s dad! It’s like herding cats...” Dark mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we all ready to go?” A ripple of nods throughout the group. "Good.” Static built around the room and the group was transported.

"Ooo!” Yan looked up at the house. It was smaller for less egos, but it was really nice. Suffice to say it was actually a house rather than a repurposed two story office building. In any case, Brighton was much less painfully hot than California which was worth the trip on its own. Yan opened her arms toward the house and breathed in the cool air. “Finally!”

"FINALLY!” The front door burst open and a spatter of green distortion tore across the lawn. Yan was barely able to tense up before she was tackled to the ground. “Bitch!”

"Slut!” Yan giggled. “Whaddaya DOIN here?!”

"It’s my house, slice n dice!” Anti sat triumphantly on Yan's stomach. She leaned up and grabbed his shoulders, flipping him off and slamming him onto his back so they lay side by side.

“UOGH! Fuck, my ribs!” Anti gasped the wind back into him. Yan giggled.

“Its MY house.” Yan looked up to see Jack leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. “We’ve talked about tackling guests haven’t we Anti?”

"But it’s THIS bitch! She had it comin.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Cmon in guys. How many of you haven’t been here before?” Bing, Goop, Yan, the Jims, Eric, Derek, Randal, and Harold raised their hands. "Ooo a lot! Well we’ll make sure you have a good time. Now to my knowledge, anyone who hasn’t been here before has never met...” he thought. “Shneep or Robbie. Shneep has work and Robbie is... fragile. So say hi but try not to bother them too much okay?”

The group nodded. Yan squeaked excitedly. She looked to Anti to whisper something but noticed he was gone. She found him already glommed onto Dark to her superior’s annoyance. She didn’t call Anti a slut for her health. She sighed. It looked like she was going to have to find something else to do with herself.

She pushed her way through the door and looked around. It was a nice house, the ceilings weren’t quite as high but it was cozy, modern, and definitely had charm.

Groups were already forming. The Trick Shots (Chase, Bing, Jackie), The Better Than Everyones (Dark, Google, and a new doctor they’d found who Yan guessed was Shneep), The Innocents (King, Marvin, Eric, The Jims, Jamie), and the rest she hadn’t named to groups drifted about between. She sighed. She’d imagined something more fun. She felt like a wallflower at a high school dance.

Anti was busy hanging off Dark, sharing embarrassing stories about Shneep as the doctor tried to join the group. Everyone else sort of bored her. Sure the Innocents were adorable, and the Trick Shots we’re confident and energetic, but not really in her way. As she lay back on the couch, she thought over the introduction Jack had given. There were two egos she hadn’t met. Shneep, Who she’d now seen, and... Rolly? Robert? Remy?

She sat up. That was something to do. Meet the new one. She stood and went to find Jack. She came across him in the kitchen and pulled him away from Mark, who gave her a lecturing look, but he was lame so she didn’t care.

"Jack, you said there was someone we haven’t met? Besides Shneep?”

"Oh! Yeah, Robbie. He should be up from his nap now so you can go meet him. Though be careful, he’s, quite literally, very fragile. His room is down the hall, third to the left, take Shneep, he needs a check up anyway, and he’d feel more comfortable if someone he knew introduced you.” Yan nodded. She trotted off and pulled Shneep from his group.

"Heh?!” The doctor yanked his coat away. “What are you doing?”

"I want to meet Robbie, and Jack wanted me to bring you along cause he needs a checkup.”

Shneep checked his watch. "I guess it is about time.” He turned to Dark and Google. “I’ll be right back.” Dark nodded and Google pinged in acknowledgment. Yan dragged him off.

“Cmon! Third to the left.”

"I know where his room is, I live with him.” He pushed open the door covered with chalk stick figures and magnets. He put a palm to Yan’s chest before she could enter. "Checkup first.” Yan nodded impatiently. She slid down the doorframe and listened as Shneep entered.

"Hey, good morning my little leiche...” The doctors voice was soft and loving, a sharp contrast to how he carried himself around others. “Are you feeling good? Is anything broken?” A soft mumbling that Yan could barely hear responded.

"Good!” She could hear a smile in Shneep’s voice. “Can we feel your beats? Deep breath.” A pause. “Hmm... a little slow. Shake it out!” A rustle as Robbie shook around. “Good! One more deep breath... much better! Now, the Iplier’s are over and someone wants to meet you. Is that okay? Do you feel good and strong? Good! She’s very excited to see you.” A rustle as he got up from the bed.

"Go ahead, his vitals are good. Just be careful.” Shneep patted Yans shoulder and took her place outside the door. She peered around the door. And gasped. He was stunning.

His skin was a milky lavender, pale and delicate looking, almost translucent. His glazed eyes reminded her of full moons on a cloudy night, and the way he held himself, passively watching but showing no reaction, it conveyed just the kind of mystery she loved in a man. He looked her way, only barely, turning his head a mere 45 degrees. Her breath caught in her throat, she could barely breath, but she instantly regretted stopping. The air in the room was fragrant with the scent of death, corpse, one of her favorite natural perfumes, and she needed to breathe to experience it. She filled her lungs slowly before approaching her soulmate.

"H-hello..." She whispered, afraid to break him from what she assumed was a constant state of meditation. He must be so wise. His head turned further, finally oriented so he was fully facing her. It was difficult to tell where his eyes pointed. They were clouded over, lenses so opaque it was difficult to tell between iris and sclera, but Yan caught the movement. They rolled back slowly, locking with hers.

"Hello." His voice was soft, and he spoke deliberately, like forming the word was difficult. But Yan knew better. Yan could tell it was because he was a man of few words. He could convey what he needed without them. They got in the way of his incredible intellect.

"I was excited to meet you. This is my first time coming here, and I dont get along with many of these people..."

Robbie blinked, one eye after the other. A moment passed as he processed the sentence. "Understand that people... scary. Sometimes. Move fast, yell."

"Is that why you stay in your room?"

Robbie nodded, slowly and steadily. "Zombie is... fragile. Hen and Jack... don't want broken Robbie. Want to play... but scary. Too fast."

Yan's heart was melting more by the second.

"The world isn't fit for someone who knows better. You're a philosopher, I can tell. You like to think about big questions, you don't fit in with all the hustle and bustle of those ruffians. I could learn from you."

"Robbie... philosopher? You... want to... learn?"

Yan gasped at the offer. "Would you really teach me?"

Robbie didn't speak for a minute. Then two minutes. Yan didn't dare speak, for fear of interrupting his process. Her patience was rewarded. Her new senpai offered her the most beautiful gift she'd ever laid eyes on.

He smiled at her. The corners of his mouth gradually pulled up into a wide, bright smile. He had adorable apple cheeks that wrinkled the greyed bags of his eyes. "Yes... Robbie teach."

Yan squealed and grabbed Robbies hand between hers. She squeezed and shimmied her shoulders in excitement.

In a split second, to her horror, she heard a loud snap. It was followed by a fleshy plop as she let go.

She looked down at her hands and her breath left her. A lavender finger, wriggling, a knuckle bone protruding from the end. The movement came to a halt and the phalange lay limp. She looked up to her senpai, her face twisted with mortification and guilt.

"I'm so sorry! I got excited, I can sew, I can even embroider, I can put it back on and make it look even better than before-"

She stopped when a four-fingered hand softly brushed hers. He closed her fingers around the severed digit. She looked up.

He looked startled, but not particularly bothered.

"Do not... scream. Please. But... friend I teach. Keep. Present. Robbie present."

Yan's eyes widened in astonishment. She clutched the finger to her chest.

"You mean it?" Robie nodded. Yan looked down into her gingerly cupped hands. "Robbie present..." She breathed his words like they were sacred.

"YAN! Where are you you trainwreck? I'm bored!"

Yan looked up. Anti must have given up trying to seduce her boss. But she didn't want to leave, not when she was having such a beautiful moment.

"Go. Play." Robbie smiled. "Anti play scary. You like."

"No, I don't like to play scary, I want to stay with you and be less scary!"

"No. You play scary. Fun. You have fun. I stay, teach later. Scary not bad play."

"But I thought that was the point of teaching me, to teach me to be more calm and wise like you!"

"No. Calm, philosopher, not without play. You not fragile, zombie fragile. Go play scary."

Yan smiled. "You're so smart... I like being with you. I hope you want to see me again...?" She held her breath. She hoped it went as well as she thought it did. She had a tendency to drive love away some way or another.

"Yes, again. Go. But... name?"

"Oh, I never told you! How rude! I'm Yan."

"Yan. Nice name. Goodbye."

Yan stood, staring a moment before turning to leave. She shut the door gently behind her.

"THERE you are! C'mon, I planted some fake coke in Eric's back pocket, I want to see his reaction when he finds it!" Anti reached to grab Yans hand, but Yan jerked away. That hand held her gift. Anti squinted and looked over. "Oh fuck, is that Rob's finger?"

"It was a gift!"

Anti snorted. "You're a sick bitch, you know that?" And without another word, he dragged her out into the main area. Yan tucked the finger in her bra for safekeeping. As she watched Eric lose his shit over some cocaine, she couldn't help but hear two words repeating in her head, over and over.

"Yes, again."

[trashyswitch]

Man’s Best Ghost Friend

The Mansion is back to normal, and so is their hotel vacation! Luigi and Polterpup spend some time together, and finds out a useful piece of information!

Luigi was walking around the Last Resort Hotel, after the Hotel was restored to its original, luxurious glory. He was finally able to get that wonderful vacation he had been dreaming of since he got sucked into that ghost-filled conflict...literally...and what a way to start his vacation, by walking around the hotel with his ghost pup?

Polterpup happily trotted beside his owner, and looked around at the pretty place. He walked to the different floors in the big place, checked out the shopping area and toured the medieval entertainment hall. The last place Luigi wanted to check out, was the gigantic garden. So, that was where they visited next!

Luigi and Polterpup walked out of the elevator and looked up at the recently fixed swirly staircase with the doors on each floor. The tree that was there before had been removed and replaced with a pretty autumn tree, that stretched all the way up to the top. The tree had been properly trimmed to not overgrow beyond the middle of the room, and some short, strong branches were kept to allow a person to climb the tree whenever they please. Luigi smiled and placed his hands on his hips as he readied himself to climb the tree.

“Ready?” Luigi asked Polterpup. Polterpup let out a happy bark.

“Bark! (Ready! Let’s go!)” Polterpup replied. Luigi fixed his hat, before stepping onto the first branch. Using the branches above him, Luigi hoisted himself up onto the next branch, and repeated this process. Polterpup happily flew beside him, watching his human climb and readying himself to catch him in case he loses his grip. I’m a few minutes, Luigi had already scaled partway up the tree. He decided to take a break and sit on one of the branches. Polterpup happily sat beside him while he breathed. Polterpup gave Luigi a dog kiss, earning him a smile and a few pets from the green lad.

“Awoo-woof. (I love you.)” Polterpup said, half barking and half whining happily, as he laid his head on Luigi’s lap.

“I love you too.” Luigi replied, softly petting Polterpup’s head and back. After a few more pets, Luigi decided to continue climbing.

Luigi grabbed onto the branch in front of him to steady himself, and stood up. Polterpup stood up, and happily watched Luigi stand up. Next, Luigi stepped onto a higher branch, grabbed a higher branch with his hand, and hoisted himself up to the next branch. Eventually, Luigi managed to get halfway up the big tree. As he climbed, he stopped for a moment to watch Polterpup hop up each branch with ease. Soon, Polterpup had jumped up past him, and was beating him up the tree. Luigi happily caught up to his swift dog at his own pace, and eventually reached the three-quarter mark.

He decided to take another break, and sit on the last branch he had stepped onto. Looking down, the view was very colorful and pretty. Thanks to the autumn weather right now, the tree leaves had been changing and falling, leaving a coat of leaves onto the dirtied ground. Polterpup had flown down to the pile of leaves on the ground, and was jumping in it and barking eagerly. Luigi chuckled as he watched, a feeling of warmth overtaking his body as he watched.

A few moments later, Polterpup had disappeared and reappeared on Luigi’s branch...with a gift in his mouth! Luigi took the gift, wiped the ghost goop off, and looked at it. It was a multi-colored leaf! It was a nice yellow color on the bottom, that transitioned to orange in the middle and to a dark red at the top. It was a rare leaf to find, actually!

“Good boy.” Luigi cheered, petting the puppy and scratching underneath the red collar. Polterpup closed its ghost eyes and leaned into the wondrous massage. As a way to try and return the love, Polterpup used his tail to try and scratch the back of Luigi’s neck as well.

“AAAIIII! Polterpup!” Luigi yelled, reacting differently than Polterpup expected. Confused, Polterpup repeated the action: he brought his tail towards the back of Luigi’s neck, and attempted to scratch it.

“Yeeeeehehehehahahaha! That tihihihickles!” Luigi squealed, scrunching his shoulders and tightening his grip on his sitting branch. Still confused, Polterpup whined and turned his head to the side.

“Sorry Polterpup. Your tail tickled me.” He explained. Polterpup looked at his tail. Realizing that the action caused his owner great happiness, Polterpup decided to do it again. He made the tail size taller to reach, and fluttered the end of his tail on Luigi’s neck.

“Pohohoholterpuhuhup! Ihihi’m gonna fahahahall!” Luigi warned through his giggles.

Polterpup stopped his tail, so that Luigi could repeat himself.

“I...I might fall. You don’t have to worry, because...well, you’re a ghost.” Luigi explained to the pup, poking the pup’s middle. Polterpup watched the poke make a rippling effect in his ghost body. Polterpup decided to return the poke with his tail.

“Eek! Hehehehehey!” Luigi squealed, covering up his ribs. Polterpup poked Luigi again, but in a different spot. Luigi let out another yelp, and covered up as much as he could. However, Polterpup was determined to poke a new, vulnerable spot each time. Despite the silliness that was going on, Luigi had managed to keep himself from slipping off the tree. After a few more pokes, Polterpup took a break from their little game and started flying down. Luigi smiled and happily climbed down after him.

*A couple hours later*

Mario, Peach, Luigi, Dr. E. Gadd and the group of roads were all enjoying a chicken dinner together. Luigi was talking with Dr. E. Gadd and sitting by Mario and Princess Peach, who were having a conversation of their own. During the conversation, Polterpup had noticed the smell of chicken, and walked up to the space between Luigi and E. Gadd’s chairs.

“Ohohoho! You want a treat?” E. Gadd asked.

Polterpup paced on the spot. “Bark! (I smell chicken!)” Polterpup reacted excitedly.

“Here ya go!” Luigi said, giving Polterpup a piece of his chicken. Polterpup happily accepted it, and chewed it down with no problem.

“This feels nice. I like this hotel!” Luigi exclaimed, taking his shoes off under the table and placing them aside.

“Me too! Especially when there’s no ghosts inhabiting the place.” Dr. E. Gadd added.

“Ya, that’s a big plus!” Luigi reacted, shivering at the sight of some of the ghosts he’s had to fight.

“Thank you so much for saving me! And for giving me my ghost collection back. It’s very comforting to see the ghosts again.” Dr. E. Gadd said.

“No problem! I’m happy to help, even if there’s ghosts involved.” Luigi replied.

“You’re looking after Polterpup with no issues. Perhaps your fear is softening a little bit?” E. Gadd asked.

“Well...I’d like to think so. I still get slightly scared if he jumps in front of me...but he’s a happy dog, and I love him!” Luigi explained, petting Polterpup under the table with his feet.

“Not a lot of people would do that. It’s rare that you see someone overcoming their fear to have a pet that’s the very thing they fear. You’re very brave for doing that.” E. Gadd explained.

“Thank you.” Luigi replied kindly. While petting Polterpup with his feet, he noticed that the puppy was grabbing onto his one sock.

“Hey! Polterpup, let go!” Luigi ordered. However, the puppy didn’t want to...instead, it decided to nibble on his toes like a delicate chew toy.

“Eek! Hehey!” Luigi yelped, feeling his lips pull into a goofy smile. “Ohoho nohoho...Polterpup, please don’t.” Luigi asked politely.

Polterpup happened to find a loose piece of sock fabric, and pulled on that instead. He pulled the sock right off, and walked away to play with it.

“There goes my sock.” Luigi said, chuckling and shaking his head at the ghost dog’s mischief.

The dog walked to a different room, and laid down on a bed that had been previously placed there for him. He pulled at the sock, threw the sock back and forth, and chewed at the sock, but didn’t rip the sock. He knew this was Luigi’s sock that he might want back later.

However, as he continued to play with the sock, he started to realize that there are more interesting things to chew on, than the sock. He soon realized that the foot he was chewing the sock on, was more interesting. Polterpup wasted no time, and disappeared through the floor. He flew around to the ceiling, and put his head through it. Noticing he was back under the table, he brought his whole body through and placed the sock down.

Polterpup walked up to Luigi’s foot and eyed his toes. He decided to lick them first, to see if they taste nice.

“AAAH! What the-“ Luigi yelped, causing a silence to overcome the room. He looked under the table, to see Polterpup in the pre-running pose. “Polterpup? I thought you left with my so-...oh.” Luigi said, dropping all suspicions as he eyed up the sock, forgotten and left aside. Polterpup jumped onto Luigi’s naked foot, held it down with his paws and started nibbling and licking the foot. “Oh NOhohohohoho! Hahahahaha! Stahahahap!” Luigi bursted out, gripping the chair and wiggling about.

Mario’s eyes widened. He didn’t fully understand what was going on. Whatever it was, it was occurring under the table. So, Mario checked under it, and immediately got his answer. Mario bursted out laughing. “Polterpup thinks your foot’s a chew toy!” Mario said through his own fit of laughter.

Polterpup decided that Luigi’s foot tasted a lot better than his sock did. So, he decided to start licking his foot along with the nibbling. Luigi let out a long gasp, and threw his head back. “AAAAAHH! WAIT! POHOHOLTERPUP! NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!” Luigi shouted. His laughter had dramatically raised in volume, and his wiggling got a little more desperate.

He tried to pull his foot away, but Polterpup’s was surprisingly heavy for a ghost dog. Luigi also tried kicking the dog off with his other foot, but the ghost dog would only move positions to avoid it. Luigi could feel tears of joy starting to show up from the treatment he was receiving from his dog. “POHOHOHOLTERPUHUHUP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Luigi yelled, placing his hands and head onto the table, and pounding the table a few times to cope with the feeling. Mario was finding all of this quite amusing. He was happily watching his brother laugh it all out as the pup tickled his foot.

“What’s wrong Luigi? Does it tickle too much?” Mario asked.

“YOHOHOHOU’RE NAHAHAHAT HELPIHIHIHING!” Luigi replied.

“You want some help? I’ll help you.” Mario offered. He got up from his seat, moved the chair to make room, and climbed down underneath the table. Mario crawled up to the puppy, and poked him on the back. Polterpup looked up, Luigi’s foot still in his mouth.

“Stop. No more.” Mario ordered. Polterpup listened, and let go of Luigi’s foot. Then, Mario quietly told the dog to follow him before getting out from under the table. Polterpup happily followed him, and watched Luigi breath deeply from exhaustion.

“You good now, Luigi?” Mario asked.

Luigi nodded. “Ya, I’m alright. Thanks.” Luigi replied.

“No problem.” Mario concluded. Luigi looked over at the brother dressed in red, and couldn’t help but notice a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Uh...Mario?” Luigi asked.

“Yyyeeeeeeeesss?” Mario replied.

“You’re kinda scaring me...” Luigi warned.

“Now why would you be scared of me? I’m your brother! I would never hurt you!” Mario exclaimed from mock disbelief.

Luigi gulped. He could sense what’s coming...he watched as Mario slowly tiptoed towards his chair.

“I would, however...” Mario warned, talking behind the chair Luigi was sitting in. Slowly, Mario leaned his hands above Luigi’s sides. “Turn you into a puddle of giggles.” Mario finished, right before diving all 10 fingers into his sides.

“Wahahahahait! Mahahario! Not yohohohou too!” Luigi bursted out.

“Enjoying the view, Polterpup?” Mario asked, looking at the ghost dog, watching beside the chair with a big smile.

“Bark! (You bet! Luigi’s so happy!)” Polterpup replied. Mario smiled and switched places. He decided to move his fingers from his sides, to his stomach.

“EEEEhehehehehehehehe!” Luigi yelled, turning to the side and curling into the fetal position. With the change in position, Mario couldn’t really fit his hands in to tickle his stomach. So, he went for the neck.

“EEEEEEEKK! NAHAHAHAHAHA!” Luigi screeched, scrunching his shoulders and tipping his head back.

“Fun fact: the back of the ears, is Luigi’s worst spot.” Mario explained.

“WAIT, WHAT?! NOHOHO! NAHAT MY EHEHEHEARS!” Luigi begged.

“Why not? I’ve told them about it already, so I minus well show them.” Mario replied, before moving his right hand away from the neck. He placed his fingers behind the exposed right ear, and started scratching lightly.

Luigi threw his head back and let out a loud, high pitched scream. Peach’s eyes widened at the sudden shout, and covered her mouth with her right hand. The toads covered their ears and Mario considered doing the same thing. Instead, he decided to remove his fingers and step back. Luigi stopped his scream, and slowly calmed down. He took in as many breaths as he could muster, and let out some leftover giggles.

“Are you okay, Luigi?” Peach asked. Luigi had a uncontrollable smile on his face, and was uncurling his body out of the fetal position.

“Ya...ya...I’m...okay...” Luigi replied through his big breaths.

Mario stretches out his arms to give him a little hug. Luigi was quite hesitant at first (because...he was tickled 5 seconds ago...MARIO COULD BE PULLING A SNEAKY ON HIM!), but he soon obliged and hugged him back. Thankfully, Mario wasn’t planning on tickling him more, and he kept his hands flat against Luigi’s back.

Suddenly, Luigi and Mario were pulled apart by a hyperactive ghost dog, who begged for attention and pets. Luigi and Mario laughed as they both accepted his kisses of affection and eagerly petted him.

Seeing his owners happy, always made Polterpup happy. And now, Polterpup knew how to cheer them up when they need it!

[lady-divine-writes]

Truth (Chapter 1 of 2)

(Warning for mild gore associated with the description of a demon.)

“Crowley? Where are you, dear?” Aziraphale hurries through Crowley’s flat in search of his demon, adjusting his cuffs and straightening his collar. He’s dressed to the nines, only he doesn’t know why. Crowley requested it. He claimed tonight was special, so Aziraphale broke out his finest suit. That still might mean his demon will dress in a thin black shirt and jeans but, in his defense, they will be his best jeans.

He rounds the corner to the master bathroom, humming an old hymn to himself. “Are you finished dressing? We’re going to be late for din---“

“Stop! Go away! Don’t look at me!”

Aziraphale stumbles to a halt, catching himself on one foot before he can suffer the misfortune of falling forward on his face. Once he regains his balance, he tries to abide by his demon’s wishes, the pain in Crowley’s voice compelling him to turn away, but it’s too late.

He’s already seen.

Crowley, naked, curled into a partial ball, shredded wings trembling as they try fruitlessly to shield his distorted form.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cries, but out of respect, he doesn’t rush to help regardless of the voice in his head screaming for him to do exactly that. “What happened? Were you attacked? Did a … did a demon get in? Or an angel?” He looks around, searching for any sign of an intruder, but he detects nothing. This bathroom, the bedroom before it, the whole flat smells like Crowley, feels like Crowley. Aside from the touches of Aziraphale blossoming in small corners of every room, there’s no trace of anyone else.

“I’d hoped you’d never see me like this,” Crowley whispers.

“See you like what?” Aziraphale tiptoes closer, needing to be near his demon, to ease his suffering if he can. “What’s wrong, Crowley? What’s happened to you?”

Crowley sighs straight to his bones, defeated. His wings, bent at unnatural angles and nearly featherless, fall away, the strain of keeping them up pushing the boundaries of his strength. He rolls to his knees, bowed low to the floor, reminiscent of a child in prayer. Sparse strands of slate black hair cling to his hollow cheeks; skeletal fingers, sprouting jagged talons, cover his eyes. “This is who I am, Aziraphale. This is what I look like … when I’m not in human form.”

“I---I thought you were a serpent,” Aziraphale stutters, mind racing, attempting to make sense of this, to rectify the fact that this (he hates to think it) monstrosity lying on the floor at his feet is his Crowley.

Crowley shakes his head, the bones in his neck crackling loudly with the movement. “I wish it were that simple.”

Aziraphale takes a step, then another. Crowley turns his head toward him, void black eyes watching his slow progression forward, but he doesn’t object. Aziraphale accepts that as a sign, taking another step until he’s a foot away from Crowley’s mangled right wing.

‘My God,’ he thinks. He’d never thought, never realized …

For six thousand years, he’d seen Crowley in human form. A serpent a handful of times, but mostly human. But human Crowley is a façade. It’s how he imagines himself to be. His human form, and the fact that he maintains it during times when other demons wouldn’t see the need, are two of the most optimistic things about him.

Some might blame vanity, but Aziraphale chooses to believe otherwise.

In truth, Crowley is a demon.

And this is his demon form.

Scarred.

Deformed.

Decaying.

Aziraphale kneels beside him. “H-how … how did you get this way?”

“I … I changed for a moment.” Crowley sniffs. “I usually don’t because … I don’t want to forget ...”

“But why did you change?”

“I got anxious? And now … I---I can’t remember how to change back.”

Anxious? That strikes Aziraphale as odd. Why would Crowley get anxious over dinner? They’ve dined together dozens of times.

“Are you injured?” Aziraphale’s eyes follow Crowley’s spine where it runs between his wings, the bones protruding as if the greying flesh covering them were no thicker than onion skin. Cracks form before his eyes when Crowley breathes too deep. Oily gunk leaks from the wounds, searing everywhere it touches, and from the burns, maggots form, spilling onto the floor, squirming helplessly on the tile.

Aziraphale has been in the company of demons before during his stint in hell as Crowley. He’s seen them as they are – rotting flesh, black eyes, fetid wounds oozing pus and crusted over with coagulated blood, some with dagger sharp teeth, some with their teeth disintegrating out of their heads. He’s been told that, where the fallen are concerned, the punishment fits the crime. Hence, the worse they behaved, the more vile they appear.

As far as he knows, Hastur, who in his demon form is a conglomeration of maggots bound together by mucous and some sort of evil goop, holds the highest honor in hell. And whereas he definitely deserves it, in Aziraphale’s opinion, whoever created that system also has a penchant for overreaction.

For the sins Crowley committed that got him exiled from heaven – the handling of which, over time, Aziraphale himself has begun to question - he doesn’t deserve this.

Regardless of his own beliefs, Aziraphale must have realized that hiding underneath the glamour of Crowley’s human form, something ghastly lay beneath. If he had only known …

… it wouldn’t have changed a thing. Crowley’s human form – the handsome man with the serpent eyes and the exceptional sense of style - appeals to Aziraphale because Aziraphale has seen the heart of the being inside. He sees it now in this broken creature before him, turning himself nearly inside out to hide his shame.

“No. I’m not injured. I just need to get back … need to change back …”

“It’s all right,” Aziraphale says soothingly, reaching out to lay hands on his demon. “I can just …”

“No!” Crowley snaps, but his face crumbles immediately after. This isn’t Aziraphale’s fault. He shouldn’t be taking this out on him. But his first instinct is to push him away, bolt out of this room, jump in his car, and drive – leave and not return for at least a hundred years.

But that’s his pride talking. He needs Aziraphale now, in this horrible moment, more than ever.

“I don’t … I don’t want to be miracled. Please. I just want to remember … who I am.”

Who I choose to be, he means because this … this distasteful creature, covered in sores and pot-marked flesh, is his true form.

Aziraphale scoots closer, fitting himself beneath the remains of Crowley’s wing. Crowley shrinks away, but Aziraphale extends a hand.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, let me help you.”

Crowley doesn’t. He can’t. He has so many regrets from his thousands of years on Earth, but this tops them all. But his biggest regret isn’t in letting Aziraphale see him this way. He would have eventually. Crowley is a demon. Lying is in his manifesto. But the way he feels for his angel, the way he knows his angel feels about him - keeping this a secret for too much longer would have been unforgivable, even for him.

No, his biggest regret is that he’s lived this lie so long, he almost convinced himself it was real.

When Crowley doesn’t move, Aziraphale takes the initiative and inches closer, hand still extended, pleading with his entire body for Crowley to take it.

“Please,” Aziraphale repeats. “We can do this. Together.”

With a slight nod, Crowley claws his way towards him, meets him half way, and hides his face in his angel’s lap. He doesn’t want Aziraphale to see more than he already has. If this doesn’t work and Crowley has to leave, descend into hell and stay there, he doesn’t want Aziraphale to remember him this way.

Aziraphale puts a hand on the crown of his demon’s head, silently praying for his strength. “What do you need, Crowley?”

“I need … to remember. That’s all. Just … remember …”

“You have wavy red hair down to your shoulders, like the soft parting rays of a summer sunset.” Aziraphale cards his fingers through Crowley’s thin hair the way he would any other time they’re together, touches his neck and spine with soft fingertips, lays kisses on his shattered wing. “You part it down the middle so it frames your face. You never fail to look ten years younger than me. I have a feeling you do that on purpose.”

“Maybe …” Crowley teases in a quiet voice and Aziraphale smiles.

He’s not gone. He hasn’t left me. Not yet.

“You have cunning yellow serpent eyes; a broad forehead; high cheekbones; a square, masculine chin …”

On and on, Aziraphale continues, describing his Crowley from heart, the way he sees him, from his all too kissable lips (which finally makes Crowley laugh) to the fact that, as hard as he tries to fight it, from time to time, he still has faith in the good and the beautiful and the wonderful things on Earth. Aziraphale feels Crowley shiver as he tries to re-form into the man he’s describing, watches scraggly black hair turn brown, then blond, then settle at last on a gorgeous fire red. The maggots disappear, absorbed into the breath of the universe. Sores heal. Pale, grey skin darkens, becomes thicker. Maps of veins and arteries form, then disappear beneath healthier, human flesh. Muscles grow and sculpt beneath Aziraphale’s fingers as his hand moves from Crowley’s head down his back.

His words create a path that Crowley’s magic follows, but his fingers seem to heal on contact with no miracling required.

Crowley’s shuddering slows as his body becomes familiar, more recognizable, and Aziraphale’s heart skips.

“Your wings are raven black,” he says, those words causing feathers to grow, “and shine like obsidian. You dress better than anyone I’ve ever known … (*clears his throat*) aside from me. You can charm the honey out of a bee hive, and you’re a fantastic dancer. A-and I know you don’t like to hear it, but when you want to be, you can be an incredibly kind and generous person.”

“Sh-shut up,” Crowley mutters, but lightly. His wings straighten and extend, full and unbent as the first time Aziraphale saw them. A ripple of red light travels the length of Crowley’s body from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, this sweep restoring the clothes he’d been wearing – a crisp black dress shirt with, of all things, a tartan collar, and black slacks.

Crowley breathes in deep, lets it out slowly, gathering his strength, and stealing a moment to swallow his wounded pride. He raises his head, then his hands to the level of his eyes. He looks them over, flexes them, laughing with relief. He chances a look into his angel’s eyes, Aziraphale’s expression all he needs to see to know that it worked.

And it did.

“I’m … I’m back!”

“You may have looked different, my dear, but you never left.”

“Wait …” Crowley runs a hand through his hair “… you told me my hair is long, but I just got it cut.”

“True, but that was a mistake. I’ve rectified that for you. I’ve always liked it this way better.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Crowley blinks his eyes, slowly sitting up, getting comfortable again in his human form. He catches a glimpse of the wall clock.

9:47.

How did two hours zip by so quickly?

“I’m sorry, love, but we may have missed our reservation,” he says. “I can miracle us up another if you’d like.”

“I …”

Their gazes land on it at the same time – Crowley’s on purpose and Aziraphale’s by accident. It sits not too far from Aziraphale’s hand, its shape unmistakable, its purpose undeniable, and Aziraphale thinks he may be starting to understand.

“It’s all right,” he says, picking up the little black box under his demon’s watchful gaze and handing it to him. “Actually, I think maybe it would be nice to stay in tonight, in case we’d like to do some celebrating. What do you say?”

Crowley wraps his fingers around the box, holds it over his heart, but he only has eyes for Aziraphale. “I do.”

[askbittyerror]

Wedding RP part 8

Askbittyerror09/28/2020 The being snarls, and twists in Bells’ direction, the sound gibbering and shaky, echoing itself over and over into a demented cacophony. It takes a shuffling, quivering step and jerks back, a scarlet spear exploding through one of its many torsos, flinging the chunks back over itself where they unwind and meld back into the main body. Its gaze is swung back to Flare who stands, manic grin splitting his face, swirling black-red wings spread, gold dripping from his eyes and teeth and the cracks in his skull. He’s laughing. Hysterically. “Oh,” The atlatl in his hands reloads, the spear filling it taller than three people stacked on top of each other. The shield in his hands swings to cover his chest, his body shimmering with cracked golden armor. Flare’s eyes narrow, giggling muffled through his broken-winged helm. “This will be fun."(edited)

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...can you please take the fun somewhere that my children aren't at risk of being crushed to death in the crossfire!? please!?"(edited)

salty darkness09/28/2020 The darkness curls around, and Greylu steps into the room, tendrils lashing behind him. He falters a little at the sight of the crazy god and eldritch abomination, but at least he doesn't run away entirely. "Where. Now."

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "I... I don't... preferably not the one currently at risk of collapsing!? I don't think straining the code is a good idea?!" [9:30 PM] "...Juice has a trained army..."

salty darkness09/28/2020 Greylu growls. That's... probably not exactly what he was asking. Tendrils curl around the room the best that they can, and he looks around frantically. "CHILDREN. MINE. WHERE?" "...Raine?"

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...um. Raine, greenhouse..." "-the others, the tree room, the mirror room, the uppermost wing-" [9:32 PM] Trying to locate every wandering child is... tricky(edited)

salty darkness09/28/2020 Darkness curls around, and he's gone. ...a tendril brushes against Bells' cheek, leaving a small stain of tar and/or goop.

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...I love you too." they whisper shakily. they need to get out, need to- -Umbra... [9:37 PM] They look for their fallen friend...

Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Bells' request isn’t even acknowledged. The being roars, the sound both eardrum-shatteringly loud and too soft to hear. The eyes swivel in many directions, more specialized limbs and mouths appearing, paws and massive fangs and beaks and scythes all snapping and swinging with wild abandon. Another spear snaps through its point, where the creature is leading from, from which everything else quivers back, and the thing writhes, then howls as a wave of red slams through it and lifts it up then slams it into the ground and lifts it up and slams it into the ground and lifts it up and slams it into the ground, looping again and again until Flare hits the end of the spear boot first and it detonates deep inside. Umbra pushes himself up, hand on his chest, gone far too pale with his tentacles quivering. He wheezes, breathless, his eyes unfocused and blurred. Flare flips himself over the jittering neck, bashing his shield against a snapping, string laden maw, cackling all the while.

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 Bells moves to Umbra's side, trying to help support his weight. "We need to go." It's not that simple. Of course it's not that simple. They look at Flare, helplessly. He's going to be the death of his own son too...

Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Umbra shakes his head, shoves them away, collapses and screams. “MORRIS!” The creature freezes, looks at him, and then suddenly Flare is bound tight in a ball of blue strings and flung at full speed into the wall. A pulsating wave passes over the being and it thunders in their direction, all scrabbling limbs and writhing coils and wide-eyed, tarry shrieks.

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." Bells retreats. They know when they're in over their head. They mutter a useless apology, ready to teleport away and get out who they can.

Potatolord09/28/2020 when you just wanted a nice wedding rp but a wild little shit appears and fucks everything up smh

Askbittyerror09/28/2020 The creature stops just short of trampling Umbra and pulses to the ground with a hollow thud, a pointy toothless snout pushed into his chest, the only pair of eyes capable of focusing solely on him. “H-hey, big guy.” Umbra pats the main head, smiling weakly. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” The being purrs, magic rippling down its body, limbs vibrating, and shapeless, dripping tongues falling out of mouths. “Glad you still r-remember me, Morris.” Umbra scritches, the head’s green eyes closing and snout shifting in a gentle nuzzle. “Do you think you could do something for me?” Umbra asks gently. A few of Morris’ tails wag, smashing into walls. “Can you get smaller?” A dissenting growl, a quivering shudder. Glitches jump and crackle. “Please?” Umbra pets. “There are kids here. Innocents. People who haven’t done anything wrong.” Loud huffs, echoing down the line. “I know at least some of you care.” He tilts the snout, looking into the central eyes. “Please?”

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 ...the lich stops, and watches... Then looks to see what Flare is doing...

with-bells-upon09/28/2020 don't make them need to jettison the tol, it'll only make him angrier in the long run

Askbittyerror09/28/2020 The string ball holding Flare is spasming and creaking, red light flashing from inside. The creature trembles, mouths snapping and snarling at each other, then the main head closes its eyes- and the whole thing just deflates into eight (hunched) feet of vaguely man shaped tar, glitches and string. “Thank you.” Umbra pats the still-pointed head, Morris rumbling soundlessly and nuzzling him. [11:02 PM] Umbra smiles, giving the beastie some good boy pets, then flinches as the string ball shatters. Flare roars, a spear goes flying, one of Umbra’s tentacles grab it out of the air- and stab it right through his own chest. September 29, 2020

with-bells-uponYesterday at 12:05 PM If time seemed to still before, it does again now, if for entirely different reasons. All they see is the scene before them, the three figures caught in one horrific instant that their mind desperately wants to disbelieve. ...Umbra... did, he do it to stop his father? Did they have the feeling he'd done this many times before? Their eyes turn to Flare, then Mo... Mo? Morris? Both? Guilt, anger, guilt... ...something... but they do nothing. only stare.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 12:33 PM Flare freezes. His eyelights gut out. He vanishes. The tentacle shoves the spear violently out Umbra's back and it detonates against the far wall. Umbra wheezes, blood bubbling up from his pierced lung, and slumps. Morris rumbles, catching him, tar hissing and spitting, and tears a hunk of matted string from it's own body, holding it to Umbra's wound and letting it wind through the flesh, binding and sealing until everything has been stitched back together.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 12:38 PM Silent... Emotions begin to return full force, and oh they are feeling one hell of a lot of emotions right now. Flare. He- Their anger feels like ice. Brittle and dangerous. No. Nuh uh. The time of giving him the benefit of the doubt was clearly done. ...Bells watches the two, then teleport away, leaving them alone. They find their phone, and text briefly that the fight is done for now, and damage seems to be limited. Look around to see where they find themself, content to see that they're alone... ...and retrieve the wedding gift from V from their inventory.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 12:41 PM on the note is a simple :)

with-bells-uponYesterday at 12:46 PM "Hello," a soft spoken greeting, eerily calm after all that. "I think I'm ready to cash in that offer. are you listening?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 1:00 PM "Oh, of course." The paper reads. "I'm never not."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 1:09 PM "...I suppose you wouldn't be." they consider the paper for a long moment, feeling it's texture between their fingers, memorizing every small nuance of the writing that appears on it. fixing it to memory. "...I want a binding. one that no longer allows Flare to inflict physical or magical damage, directly or indirectly, to any that I lay claim to." "Mates. Children. Siblings. Extended family. Protectorates. Any and all that I've claimed? His attacks, and the collateral damage caused by them... cannot hurt, damage, or kill." "..." "I include myself in this, as I am my own." "...and I also include Mo... and to whatever extent I can, Umbra as well. Q, of course- even Pink." "...is this an acceptable plot device to redeem?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 1:14 PM "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." The page is covered by for a moment. "...sure. Why not? I can still work with this. Let me know if you ever want to add anyone else to that list, and if I forget, just let me know, I'll undo the damage and no one will ever remember it."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 1:14 PM "...thank you." "Do I, rip this up now?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 1:17 PM "Hell yes, shred me baby ;p"

with-bells-uponYesterday at 1:18 PM "..." a twitch of a smile. "-good lord, sounds like something I'd say to Erebus..." They grasp the paper firmly at the top in either hand, and RIP!!

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 1:20 PM The page is covered with a big italicized MOAN, then it sheds and burns up, leaving behind nothing but ash.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 1:21 PM they stifle a laugh, unable to deny their amusement. Well then! the ash falls from their fingers, to the bare floor below, and they leave it there. ...it's time to go looking in on the others

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 1:22 PM The creator is pleased.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 1:53 PM He's going to have so much fun.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 1:55 PM Bells returns to the water garden, emotionally weary, ready for more damage control, and utterly certain they've just made a pact with a fae- again.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 2:09 PM Morris looks bigger, not on the eldritch scale it was before, but still bigger. Its beastial, long-tailed, limited to only four string-bound legs and a long necked, mouthless pointed head. Its green eyes blink at them, coiled around Umbra, supporting and nuzzling him as the Nightmare clings to its neck and whimpers, crying and choking on air as he tries to ride out the pain.(edited)

with-bells-uponYesterday at 2:30 PM "...let me help?" They ask Morris, quietly. Making no move until theyre allowed... or none at all, if denied it

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 2:38 PM Morris rumbles and subtly bobs its head, being careful to avoid dislodging Umbra. It rests its snout on its side, eyes slipping shut.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 2:46 PM They approach, considering the eldritch one, and finally coming to a stop by Umbra's side. "I need to see the wound. I'll do what i can to heal it. To heal him."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 2:53 PM A section of strings lift from its back, unwinding from the main body, the sludge kept inside slowly leaking out. They separate, splitting off, slipping under and around Umbra as they carefully lift and turn him, slowly pulling the Nightmare's arm from where its clutched over the mass of stitching on his chest.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 2:58 PM "...you do your best to take care of him, don't you?" fingertips, near the wound, but not touching. lines of light begin showing the path of his magic, as they draw the shimmering gossamer thread from seemingly nothing. for one instant though, a multitude of threads seems almost visible, vast beyond any countable number, linking every pebble, droo of water, and blade of grass, before vanishing just as quickly... if they were ever there at all

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:04 PM A shrug of the back pair of shoulders. A soundless huff. A hand, signing quickly, if they can read it. "Soft. Don't want suffering."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:06 PM A faint smile, as they follow the lines, seeing where they're broken. "Him? Or you for him?" They muse- -then begin stitching. Slowly, carefully.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:08 PM "His at least ends." A tail flicks.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:10 PM -their hand still, briefly. "I meant the soft part." they answer, humor gone. they turn back then, continuing. they have to keep their focus. as well as they can

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:11 PM Its back shakes. A snort. "He's soft. We're squishy."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:13 PM the last stitch slips into place, and they sigh, then smile at Morris again. "-so's my husband. still soft though."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:16 PM Umbra breathes easier, his eyes still closed. Morris huffs, gently lowering him and rewinding its threads back into itself.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:18 PM Bells brushes the hair back from Umbra's face again, trying to gauge from his expression how much pains he's still in- -then looks back at Morris. "...'at least his suffering ends?'" They ask.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:33 PM Umbra’s brows have a permanent crease, his skin has shallow dips and craters, crossed with faint scars from cuts and burns. He looks calm. Tired. Soft. “Ripped him in half once. Felt bad. Stitched him back together.” Morris looks at the Nightmare, something gentle in its eyes. “He healed. Took a while, but he’s all better now.”

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:38 PM "he's a very good soul." they murmur, petting Umbra's hair. "I hope he doesn't always get hurt so much. I'd like him to have the chance to be happy. And, heal the parts... harder to see."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:51 PM Morris nods. Umbra sighs, leaning into the touch. His eyes open. "Bells?"

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:54 PM "that's me." they agree, hand pausing briefly, if not quite pulling away. "you uh, you have a way of getting your father's attention, don't you?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 3:56 PM "He doesnt stop 'till I get hurt..." Umbra mumbles, cheek against Morris' strings and faintly nuzzling.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 3:57 PM "...yeah." they're not gonna say anything about the wedding gift, or how they used it. the new limitation will make itself known in time. "he uh, he really needs to work on that."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:12 PM "He isn't himself." Umbra's eyes close. "He rarely ever is..."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:14 PM "...he's, not. the man I remember." it's reluctant, regretful. "but it's been thousands of years... I don't imagine he could be. I don't intend to give up in him though."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:16 PM "Thank you." Umbra sighs. "...did he leave?"

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:18 PM "Mmhm. As soon as you got hurt. Eyelights went out, and he just... left." "...Morris is still here. I'm not, going to pry about that? But... is Mo okay? I'm not entirely sure how this works."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:23 PM "He does that." Umbra mutters. "He's fine." Morris signs. "Just scared."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:30 PM "...he's been hurt too many times." Bells says quietly, returning their attention to head pets. 'Its time that stops too."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:37 PM “When he gets upset,” Morris rumbles. “We come out. He is skilled, but not strong. I fight for him.”

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:39 PM "..." they start to say they're glad someone does, then remember what happened in the hall, with Mashe. instead they say nothing on it, though after a moment they do ask, "do you let anyone by Umbra pet you?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:40 PM It looks at them. "No one else has ever tried."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:42 PM "...May i?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:43 PM It stares at them for a long moment, then bobs its head.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:44 PM Bells extends their hand, glancing at it to make sure it hasn't changed its mind. "-i will stop, if you ask." They assure.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:48 PM Hesitation. "Thank you." It signs.(edited)

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:49 PM A nod, and they extend their hand further, offering pets. They try touching near it's snoot, like Umbra had, and make a point if avoiding poking anything that looks like an eye. "...this okay?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 4:56 PM Morris is still for a moment, then its eyes close, and it leans into the touch. Luckily, in this form. the appendages are limited to reason, just two eyes, four limbs, one head and a tail.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 4:57 PM ...soft pets. gentle with the not as massive and terrifying one.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:00 PM The tail wags. It rumbles in a silent purr.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 5:00 PM That. That makes them smile a little. ...purry eldritch one.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:04 PM "Told you you were cuddly." Umbra giggles. A bit of string baps him on the forehead. "You shush."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 5:09 PM okay, they smile a little more. and, stuff should be calmer now, right? people were probably already starting to wind their way home...

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:14 PM Morris purrs again, sighs, and starts to shrink, strings uncoiling and withdrawing until all that's left is Mo, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, face hidden. Umbra's arm is around him, the Nightmare's chin on his shoulder. Mo's shaking.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 5:16 PM "..." obviously they stoo petting, but they don't touch, don't speak. they feel like they don't have a right.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:17 PM "Hey." Umbra nudges. "Who- who did I hurt?" Mo mumbles. "Nobody." Umbra gently squeezes him. "Everyone is fine." "Promise?" "Promise."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 5:19 PM "..." they stay nearby, very blatantly not hurt, and let the sibling's embrace without interference. they'll go soon. just, not yet.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:25 PM "I'm not mad." Umbra nuzzles. "It was nice to see Morris again." "'m surprised he didnt eat anyone." "All that was around was me, Bells and dad." "Ugh." Mo groans. "Is he still aroung?" "You think I'd be cuddling you if he was?" Umbra asks. "No, he hit me then buzzed off like usual." A sharp intake of breath. "Are you alright?" "I'm fine." "Umbra..." Umbra sighs. "Got me through the lung with a spear, it exploded away from me, had a pretty big hole but Morris sewed it up and Bells healed me." Mo's head lifts, cheek pressing against his Nightmare's. "Okay."(edited)

with-bells-uponYesterday at 5:27 PM "...you two should stay here tonight. get some rest before you head back home." Bells gets to their feet,  brushing the... large, amount of torn up earth from their now somewhat worse for the wear wedding outfit. "I have spare rooms, baths, clean beds. You're welcome to them, both of you." "Tomorrow will come soon enough."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:29 PM "Thank you." Umbra says, nuzzling Mo back into calm when he jumps and hisses. "But we, uh, dont know how to get back home. Dad was kinda our ride, and I dont think he's coming back."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 5:31 PM "...in that case, I'll take you home." they amend softly, "but not until after I've slept. I'm way too exhausted to jump across multiverses, passengers in tow." "so. the offer stands."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 5:34 PM They look at eachother. "Beds would be nice." Umbra nods. "Please and thank you."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 10:17 PM "good, um- probably a double, right?" they consider the two then, a bit hesitant to suggest this but- "you're both a mess. no offense, but you'll get a lot less blood and mud on the sheets if we swing by one of the bathing rooms first."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 10:20 PM "Gods yes." Umbra nods. "Please." He pokes at himself. "Blood always gets so crusty..." "I have strings and goop everywhere." Mo says.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 10:22 PM "..." it was true, they'd need to clean the tubs too. but this was still the better option. "The rooms a flight down are the closest option. Just, need to-" they look around at the torn up sod, and broken stone. "Um. Gimme a sec, okay?"

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 10:24 PM Mo scoops his Nightmare up, nuzzling his head when he squeaks. "I'll carry Umbra." "I can wa- uh, slither!" Umbra protests, pushing at his face. Mo smiles and nuzzles into his hand. "Shh, let me help you."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 10:29 PM They can't help the smile... those two could enjoy being brothers, given the chance. In the meantime? They couldn't leave this place this banged up, structural integrity and all. Reach out with both hands, their fingertips seem to play across several dozen of the unseen threads, tugging at a few, and with a gravelly whisper? Every broken stone, speck of dirt, and drop of water, returns to its place. ...the only thing left damaged is the plants. They can't do plants. "Gardener's gonna kill me-" they admit, heading towards the stairs, leading the way. "I'm gonna have to give him so many weird plants to get him back in a good mood. Cmon."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 10:30 PM Mo looks around before following them. "Wow, you're so cool."

with-bells-uponYesterday at 10:35 PM They, may be showing off a little, even if they did need to do it. "the tower's an extension of my magic these days. has been ever since I had to rebuild it out here. But, um, thanks." Pleased lich. The hall downstairs is pretty straightforward, even if everything is made of a really heavy dark wood. Several bedrooms lay open on either side. "You can take your pick, they all have personal bathrooms, shower, so on..." "But the main bath is at the end of the hall. I suggest starting with the shower first, then heading there, just because... soaking in blood, tar, and string filled water doesn't sound fun."

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 10:36 PM Mo looks around and just walks into the first bedroom. "Thank you." He says back to them. "Yeah." Umbra nods, smiling.

with-bells-uponYesterday at 10:46 PM "You're welcome." They smile. Not a double then, that ptobably should've been expected. It's a simple room, with a very comfortable bed, clean sheets, and a bathroom, with a large bathrobe and towels hung up for guest use. Even a wardrobe and dresser... though, all they hold currently is more sheets, towels, and toiletries. ...the bath at the end of the hall though... there are actually several baths, each large enough to stretch out in fully, and a full three feet deep, with spigots more like small fountains, and a soft rubber in the bottom for traction... and comfiness. ...basically a room filled with cordoned off hottubs. [10:47 PM] "I'll see you in the morning." The lich slips away... time to sleep.

AskbittyerrorYesterday at 10:47 PM They nod, and the door closes. September 30, 2020

with-bells-uponToday at 12:25 PM ...Bells returns, after several hours of much, much needed rest, peering down the hall where the twins 'rooms' are located.

AskbittyerrorToday at 12:40 PM The room is silent but for the soft pinging of a game system.

with-bells-uponToday at 12:42 PM "...?" Huh. Bells heads tiwards the first room, Mo's, as they recall, and knocks lightly.

AskbittyerrorToday at 12:48 PM "Yeah?" Umbra says, softly.

with-bells-uponToday at 12:49 PM Huh. Again. "Its Bells, I wanted to ask if you two are ready to return to the bitty shop? Or, come down to the kitchen for breakfast?"

AskbittyerrorToday at 12:55 PM "Food?" Mo mumbles, still sleepy. A pause. "You've been awake this whole time?" Umbra asks, exasperated. "...you're cuddly."

with-bells-uponToday at 1:00 PM they try not to giggle too audibly. "why do I feel like I've heard that same reasoning given before?" "-but yes, food. and a question of whether you'd like it brought up here, or you're willing to come down to the kitchen? I can make sure everyone but Pyre has cleared out, first..." "I'm not asking him to clear out though. At this point it's his kitchen, and I'm not risking offending our cook."

AskbittyerrorToday at 1:47 PM "We can come down." A soft thump and a grunt from where Mo is shoved out of bed. "And that's fine, we promise to be nice."

with-bells-uponToday at 1:49 PM They find themself smiling again, though they do attempt to suppress it. The pair of them remind Bells of themselves and their own brothers. "Good, he's really... quite the impressive cook, all things considered."

AskbittyerrorToday at 1:58 PM "Think he'll let me watch?" Umbra asks, pulling Mo up and sighing when he immediately latches on. "I'm always looking to learn some new recipes."

with-bells-uponToday at 2:00 PM A half grimace, amused. "I uh, highly doubt you'll manage to catch him. I seriously don't even question how he manages to avoid anyone seeing him cook, but... all things considered, I'm not even sure how he manages it at all, considering-" "...I'm sure he'll be willing to talk recipes though."(edited)

AskbittyerrorToday at 2:24 PM "Good enough!" Umbra opens the door, still wearing his bloodied clothes from yesterday, his Dream clinging to him.

with-bells-uponToday at 2:29 PM "..." "I really need to start stashing spare clothes around." Nonetheless, they gesture the two to follow, and the moment they hit the stairwell, the air is filled with every delicious breakfast-y smell imaginable. Bread rolls, pancakes, eggs, muffins, bacon, sausage, and whats likely oatmeal, all waft temptingly about them, originating from only a single floor down.

AskbittyerrorToday at 2:32 PM Umbra is hoisted halfway down the hall and half-heartedly smacks at his chuckling Dream's face, both of them pausing from the sheer force of their grumbling stomachs once they reach the stairs.

with-bells-uponToday at 2:35 PM "...Pyre is used to cooking for a lot more people." they 'explain,' "when I mentioned you'd probably be extra hungry... well..."

AskbittyerrorToday at 2:50 PM "Umbra can put away so much food its surprising he doesn't explode." Mo smiles. "I swear to fuck if you don't eat your fill too I will kick your ass." Umbra baps his face, grumbling as a tentacle soothing pats Mo's head.

with-bells-uponToday at 2:54 PM A soft snort, surprised themself how easy it is to be comfortable with the both of them this way. "C'mon, let's not keep our cook waiting- he huffs if we let his food get cold." The lich leads them down to the kitchen- opening the door only renews the mouth watering aroma, as they're led to a table stacked with roughly a dozen dishes worth of food, each one piled high. ...curiously, there's no sign of the much spoken of cook. Unless of course, he happens to be the maybe two foot long grillby lamia currently napping on the burner of the stove, looking highly satisfied with himself. But that's impossible, right?(edited)

AskbittyerrorToday at 2:59 PM Both boy's eyes are solely locked on the food.

with-bells-uponToday at 3:23 PM "...showoff." they whisper to the bitty. he makes a shushing motion, never opening his eyes. can't they see? he's clearly asleep! Bells grabs three plates, and hands one to each guardian. "Grab whatever you like. Try not to give yourself a stomachache from eating too much... believe me it's tempting."

AskbittyerrorToday at 3:56 PM Mo puts Umbra down and watches as he slithers over to the bitty. "Thank you for cooking for us." Umbra bows his head. "We greatly appreciate it."

with-bells-uponToday at 4:01 PM Pyre lifts his head, nodding, expression content. "I enjoyed it- since the bitty villages moved on, I don't have much opportunity to test myself. you're welcome... and welcome in my kitchen any time you like." A flick of his tongue, as he lays back down admit the heat, with a gentle chuckle. "Now. I think I'll take my nap." [4:01 PM] "-don't mind me..."

AskbittyerrorToday at 4:04 PM "May your dreams be sweet." Umbra smiles, turning back around and squeaking when a plate laden with savory treats is shoved into his chest. "Eat." Mo commands. "You get a plate, and then I'll eat." Umbra counters. "...fffffine." Mo piles some sweet noms onto his plate.

with-bells-uponToday at 4:06 PM "...you two remind me of me and my brother." Bells smiles, starting to fill their own plate. "I still have to badger him sometimes if I want him to eat much. He's doing better now that his kiddo's born though."

AskbittyerrorToday at 4:12 PM "This dumbass went without food so I'd have more while we were trapped." Umbra scowls, the twins battling it out in a staring contest, waiting for the other to take a bite before taking one of their own. "Without telling me!" Mo rolls his eyes, picks up a roll from Umbra's plate and crams it into his mouth though the Nightmare's offended squeak. "Shush."

with-bells-uponToday at 4:22 PM "..." they don't say why their brother picked up the habit, just turning to their meal, and enjoying the twin's company. They consider what waits ahead, ince they return- "take your time. We'll head back once everyone's done."

AskbittyerrorToday at 4:35 PM The floodgates are open, the boys are cramming food in their faces. Watch your fingers!

with-bells-uponToday at 4:35 PM "...or do that." hey, it works. ...they need to bring Q by sometime. For reasons.

AskbittyerrorToday at 4:36 PM Hungry boys. Very wiggly, happy tentacles. Q would probably eat the entire kitchen.

with-bells-uponToday at 4:42 PM ...after millions of years of starving, they'd be glad to provide him with three kitchens. It. Would likely take a while though.

AskbittyerrorToday at 4:46 PM "Thank you for the food." Umbra wipes his mouth. "It was very good." "And..." He smiles softly. "Thank you for being so kind to us. We really appreciate it."

with-bells-uponToday at 4:53 PM a slight pause, fork halfway to their mouth... a smile, as they continue. "you're welcome." just this, no more. no mention of them now considering the pair as ones to protect, care for. be family. hopefully, actions would bear that out better than words ever could,

AskbittyerrorToday at 4:57 PM Umbra's smile is sweet, shy. He looks away. "And uh, sorry for crashing your wedding."

with-bells-uponToday at 5:02 PM "Umbra? I would've just gone right ahead and invited you if i hadn't known there would be so many people." They deny easily, "and uh, well if it actually had much chance to know you," they add, this time to Mo, "other than the, multiverse ending stuff... um, just. Same." There. Excellently said. [5:03 PM] "...circumstances notwithstanding, chaos and all, I'm... glad I had the chance to spend some time with both of you."

AskbittyerrorToday at 5:14 PM Very happy noot. Much wiggle-waggles. "Same." He smiles, tucked into his wings, flushing a bit. "I, uh, hope we can do more in the future? Just without all the me getting stabbed and Morris going feral? Hopefully?"(edited)

with-bells-uponToday at 5:22 PM "very very hopefully." they agree, gaze drawn slightly to the wagging. a brief, soft look, "my husband does that waggly stuff too when he's happy. a bunch of our kids too." "...they're really good kids." "uh. even if Raine did try straight up challenging your father, snarls and all... like, that was any kind of good idea."

AskbittyerrorToday at 5:23 PM "I bet they are." Umbra smiles. "And yeah, that'd been a terrible idea."

with-bells-uponToday at 5:25 PM "...well, no, she actually did. he just looked amused until... uh, Huitzi kind of, tried to keep him from going after anyone. physically." [5:25 PM] "..." "That's, going to be a mess later." [5:27 PM] "...but seriously, my child needs to learn not to do that. It would help if literally every adult in her family wasn't the same way."

AskbittyerrorToday at 5:31 PM Umbra winces. Big time. "Yikes..."

with-bells-uponToday at 5:35 PM "...her soul bond literally cussed out a god before she could manage more than a few words. It, was interesting." They shake their head. "Castle coming down around us, and our daughter decides he needs to know her opinion of him." [5:36 PM] "...but, yeah. Him and Huitzi... I can only imagine that's gonna be rough."

AskbittyerrorToday at 5:41 PM "...I'll try to keep them apart till Dad cools down." Umbra nods. "Your kid sounds neat." Mo smiles. "I like her."

with-bells-uponToday at 5:44 PM "Me too." A decided, decided softness. "Mea and Raine were our first. Mea, just a little older... Raine, precocious thing she was, starting using her aura while I still carried her. She and Mea would have 'conversations,' and after she was born, that toddler did her best to carry her literally everywhere." Ah. Their plate's empty. When did that happen. [5:45 PM] ...Oh well.

AskbittyerrorToday at 5:47 PM "Aw, that's adorable." Umbra smiles, Mo nodding.

with-bells-uponToday at 5:50 PM "-it is, but i could talk about my kids for hours." they chuckle, picking up their empty plates, and any others that no longer bore their loads. "Whenever you're ready, I can take you back..." "...but you can stay longer if you like, too."

AskbittyerrorToday at 5:51 PM The two look hesitant. "Can we... stay for a while?" Umbra asks. "Please?"

with-bells-uponToday at 6:00 PM "Mmhm, you can." They agree, "wouldnt have offered, otherwise." "-though I may need to find you some clean clothes..."

AskbittyerrorToday at 6:01 PM "It's not necessary but," He smiles softly. "Thank you."

[crownedcupcake17]

My entrenc exam for Taiyuu!! @taiyuu-high-oct

Hope you like it!! I tried my best to write it well

——————————-

If you had been walking into the Taiyuu entrance exams on the 27th of January, you would have come across a strange, panicking girl talking to seemingly no one and probably started. Not like she cared though, she was freaking out. Soon enough, you would have walked away, you have your own exam to worry about.

Zoё is a rational person. She’s happy-go-lucky and always has a smile on her face despite her susceptibility to anxiety…. Well, almost always. Today seemed to be the exception to that statement.

“ Captain no please, I am begging you to let me take this exam tomorrow with Lyra or on wednesday with Yui, please” The girl’s necklace lit up blue as it answered back.

“ Zoё, you are taking the Taiyuu exam by yourself and that's final. All of us will be alone while we are taking the exam and so are you! We all need to learn how to work separately, especially incase only one of us get in! Now, get in their and show everyone what you can do, we’ll be waiting at the beach once your done, bye ‘Lectra~” The necklace faded to from blue to a dark, electric pink as the girl on the other end hung up, leaving Zoё alone.

Now left alone to her thoughts, Zoё started to really panic. The thought of working alone on something this big left her short of breath. With her heart pounding in her ears, the girl tried to stand but found she couldn't. She saw that her knees were shaking but couldn't feel her legs. Zoё sank back down onto the ground and could only hear he own thoughts racing through her head.

“ I can’t do it,” she thought, “ I need their help, I can’t do it alone”.

As zoё panciced, she unknowingly began to mutter. Before long, her whimpering caught the attention of another examinee.

“ Are you ok?” a voice asked, loud despite the haze of Zoё’s thoughts. Looking up, the Ergokinetic saw a girl with pretty hair, a snow white color that faded into blue, pulled into a ponytail and blue eyes looking at her with concern. Startled, Zoё ,again, tried to jump to her feet and, again, found she couldn't. The other girl only raised an eyebrow as she offered her hand, which Zoё gratefully took, hauling herself onto her feet.

“ I’m okay, just a little nervous. Thanks for the concern, um,” before Zoё could ask for the other girls name, she responded

“ Tokachi, Tokachi Ameko. And you are?” realizing she hadn't introduced herself, Zoё quickly answers.

“ Oh! I’m Yukino Zoё! Pleasure to meet you!” she said with a small bow. Tokachi laughed and once again spoke up.

“ Well Yukino-chan, if you're feeling better, want to walk the rest of the way to the exam together?” Zoё’s eyes lit up.

“ I would love to Tokachi-san!” Tokachi tsked

“ Just call me Ameko- chan” she smiled. Zoё responded with a grin

“ Than you can just call me Zoё, Ameko- sa,” Ameko gave her a pointed look “ Chan, Ameko-chan” Ameko nodded and ruffled the shorter girls hair.

“You got it Zoё-chan, now let's hurry up, the exam starts soon and we don't want to miss the rules.” she nodded, and the two started off towards the center of the island.

“Welcome student, to the Taiyuu High entrance exams!” Zoё and Ameko walked into the cafeteria turned auditorium just in time to see a woman wrestling a mic out of the hands of a panicked, deer like person. As they took their seats, the moss covered woman at the front of the room explaining how everything would work.

“ I’m Chikyu Tane but you can all just call me Principal Laca-Daisy! Today you will all be competing for spots in the hero course here at Taiyuu. The exam itself will be a partner based obstacle course though, you are allowed to team up with other groups to succeed!” Zoё breathed a sigh of relief, the only reason she had been so scared was working alone. It seemed many others shared the same sentiment, others around her also perking up at what the Principle had said. Said principle paused for a few moments to let the whispering die down before she continued.

“ For the first, third and fifth rows, your partner will be the person sitting directly behind you, for the second, fourth, and six rows, the person directly in front of you. Introduce yourself to your partner then make your way to the Sports field! I will see you hero hopefuls there!” With that, The principle jumped off the stage, much to the panic of deer man, and walked out the door.

Being in the back row, Zoё’s partner had been the person in front of her, a girl by the name of Fuji Hotaru. Her glare had original scared Zoё slightly but, as she introduced herself while they walked to the field, that impression fell away. Fuji told her that she had a quirk called Lava which gave her the ability to secrete lava from her skin. The girl seemed slightly reserved but, other than that, was very nice. Walking with them was Ameko and her partner, a boy named Inoue Hiraku who had a quirk that left him with valves all over his body that he could use to blow pressurized air from. As they walked, Ameko also explained her quirk, an emitter type that allowed her to jump super high depending on how many carbs she ate, that she called bunny hops.

By the time they had arrived to the Sports Field, the quartet had decided to combine their two groups into one. As they entered the field, Zoё felt her excitement rise. From the entrance, she could see a huge field filled with three unique obstacles, a rope set over a shallow pool of green goop, a tall rock wall with moving parts, and finally a huge building with multiple different doors and windows. The girl started to bounce on her heels, drawing a laugh from Ameko and Inoue along with a small smile from Fuji. Once a few more groups arrived, the principle apred once again and gathered all the students to the starting line.

“ Welcome to your exam children! Now that you have all arrived, I will explain the rules” As the woman started to talk, the chatting slowed to a halt as everyone turned to listen. “ This obstacle course has 7 unique parts, all of which were designed to test you in a different way. The most important thing about this course is how you will be judged” She paused, her voice turning slightly more serious. “ You will not be judged on how fast you can complete the course, this exam is not one of speed, it will not be a race. No, you will be judged on how well you assess each obstacle and how you choose to overcome it.” Confusion rippled through the crowd at the principal's statement, no one understanding what she meant. Sensing this, the deer man who had been standing behind her stepped forward took the mic.

“ Hello students, um, I’m Vice principal Buckskin” the man took a breath as the whispering paused. “ What Principale Laca-daisy means to say is, how fast you complete the race is not what is most important. Each section of the race, there will be a small stone that you will be required to retrieve. There is enough for 15 of the 35 groups to get a stone..Each obstacle‘s stone is a different color. Your group will need one of every colored stone to pass the exam. Furthermore, the stones are not all in one place but scattered across the obstacle. This means that you are not only going to be judged on how fast you complete the obstacle course, but also how observant you are to your surroundings.” Right as he finished, the principal ripped the mic away once again.

“ Well said Buckskin! No that that is out of the way, the rules!” She exclaimed” Almost anything goes though, please try not to kill each other. Now, the exam will start in thirty seconds! Good luck, future heros, I’ll be waiting at the end of the exam!” The principal and vice principal stepped off to the side of the track as Zoё and the students raced to get to the front of the starting line. Fuji grabbed took one of her hands so as not to be separated and Ameko sent her a sharp grin as both a way of saying good luck and also a challenge.

The countdown hit zero and Zoё’s hands immediately shot out and took hold of two people in front of her, steeling a portion of their energy. Once she had enough, she formed a large barrier of energy around her, Fuji, Ameko, and Inoue.

“ Stay in the bubble and keep up, the energy will do the rest” She called to the three behind her. While they ran, the barrier of energy pushed aside anyone in its path, leaving them in the lead and with many annoyed examenes behind them. As the quartet began to near the first obstacle, Zoё fell behind the others and stopped running after signaling them to keep running. Once her three group mates were far enough away, she began to expand the bubble until it covered a radius of 12 feet. After that, Zoё pushed. She shattered the bubble, causing the released energy to shoot out in all directions, knocking down anyone unlucky enough to be close behind her. Using the energy she saved up, Zoё pushed herself forward and caught up to her teammate in no time.

Inoue was already halfway through the rope course when she arrived, using controlled burst of air to keep himself from falling, and Ameko had cleared the whole thing with a powerful jump. Zoё stopped besides Fuji, the blond girl turned to look at her with barley concealed concern clouding her eyes.

“ Are you alright Yukino-san?” she asked. The ergokinetic opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a loud splash. Both girls wiped their heads forwards to see Inoue smackdab in the center of the pool of goop and holding up his right hand, smoothing clenched in the middle. Zoё’s eyes widened as he opened his palm to show a large, lime green, stone.

“ Look what was branded into the rope” he laughed. Besides her, Fuji let out a breath

“ The first stone” Ameko let out a cheer and Inoue launched himself onto the platform on the other side as Zoё laid a hand on Fuji’s shoulder and smiled.

“ We better get across before these two run off without us” The lava girl smiled

“ Yeah, we better” she said, holding out her hand. Before Zoё could question her, the other girl shot out and arch of lava before grabbing her hand and running across, the lava momentary cooling wherever they took took a step. Once the two were across, the lava fell from its arch and dropped into the slime below.

Fuji started running forwards, dashing to catch up with the other two who had already started ahead and instead of following her, Zoё paused and looked behind her. Students had begun to reach the obstacle and were starting to try and cross, tow having already fallen into the pool below. The girl smiled, confidence and excitement bursting from her body

“ Zoё!” she turned back forwards to see Fuji and the others at the next obstacle, hands cupped and calling her name and beconding her to run over to the.

With a laugh, she started to run once again. “ Yeah” she thought, “I can do this”

——————

And there it is!! I re wrote this so many time but I’m really happy with the finished product.

[thethrillof]

start of a weird bug tank au hollow knight/undertale crossover thing b/c i am embracing self indulgence! fuck it!

warning for the hollow knight being an absolute wreck and death-related stuff

Do not think.

It fails. The situation is beyond anything it has encountered, has heard of, was warned of.

Do not speak.

It cannot. If it tried, it would choke on meticulous lifetime habit and Her infection. The last words it has heard, shaking its tiny body, meant nothing.

Do not feel.

It does. Terror. Confusion. Terror increasing, in that the confusion does not belong solely to it and that is horribly new.

Do not hope.

That is simple enough. It knows not what could be hoped for, here.

The Hollow Knight drips infection across the strange white cloth beneath it, legs curled stiffly to avoid pressing against the glass wall of its prison.

The holes eaten away in its chest, stomach, and arm are no longer agonizing. Another creature had taken care of that.  Perhaps several. They had been moved between multiple hands. The details were lost in the haze of Her rage; all but the hands each being more than the length of its body. It had nearly fallen. It had tried to fall. Do not feel, do not feel, do not feel.

It is so tired.

She is not enraged. She is not screaming. She is waiting behind its eyes, panic stabbing through its body in a burning rhythm.

She directs its head without care. Face aimed to the side, it can see more than a white blur from above, a pink stripe along the floor outside. A creature, waiting across an abyss.

She unfurls its body. Her chanting direction of slaughter, unceasing for years, is now silent.

The distant creature lies still.

It recalls an impression of what must have been eyes, golden brown, staring into the clear cell intensely.

The creature is not watching now. Quiet. Sleeping.

Its body moves. It resists now that it has space to do so, leaving its single arm uselessly resting against the branch in the center of the cell.

…When had the other been lost?

Do not think. It gives Her purchase.

The stump that is left flares with a memory of its shape, and She grasps the branch, begins to drag its body upward. The Temple contained them both for too long. An echo of Her rage, newly building, blinds and deafens it back to submission. A chance for true freedom is here. She will succeed and it will break, again and again, as it has done before.

It is so tired.

It.

It wants.

It wants everything

to 

stop.

Do not hope.

When it can see through its own eyes once more, the giant creature is within arm’s reach.

^

Frisk wakes up with a tiny white face right in front of theirs.

It’s just luck that they don’t slam their head into the wall when they fling it back, away from something way too close so suddenly.

They stare at each other across the length of their pillow, unmoving, as Frisk starts getting their bearings back. The stickbug, the one they got from the monsters on the side of one of the mountains. It got out. Somehow.

They ask how the heck it did that.

Which, of course, does nothing.

Carefully lifting their head and resting it on their hand, their eyes slide back to the jar on the windowsill. The napkin they’d secured with the rubber band had a hole ripped all the way through, as if their stickbug had jumped straight up and out. And maybe it did. It must’ve taken some pretty big jumps to get all the way from there to the desk to their bed, unless it climbed down and back up. A quick glance at the floor shows that Mom’s pie is there, though a bug-sized bite or several probably wouldn’t be something they can see.

The stickbug sways, twitches, pitches forward, so fast they barely notice. It’s tiny, so it doesn’t have far to fall, even if it did to the blanket, and it doesn’t. It rests face-first against the side of the pillow instead, almost like it’s still standing.

Do bugs breathe? They gotta, since Mom said not to close them in the jar. The stickbug is entirely still when they get in real close, holding their own breath to see if it’ll move. When it doesn’t, they gingerly nudge it into the palm of one hand, where it curls its one upper leg against itself. Arm, maybe. They don’t know too much bug stuff, except that bees don’t sting unless you’re mean first. And that it’s not actually a stickbug. Real ones actually look like sticks. This one looks like it’s made of black wires. Wirebug just sounds weird.

Toriel is the one who knows the bug stuff. They showed the stickbug off to her first, asked her to help it, ‘cause it was bleeding all over. They never actually asked what she thought it was. Didn’t have time.

She’s the one who got the jar and let them decorate it. And she’s the one who told them, very gently, that she didn’t think the stickbug would make it overnight. Her healing magic helped, but it’s not made for fixing bugs. “Bugs rarely live long lives, my child,” she said. “It will be pleased with whatever you give it.” They think she might’ve been lying, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

It looks like it started bleeding again after they fell asleep. The orangeness is dripping down its face, uncomfortably warm where it runs down the finger that its head’s propped to rest against. Mom healed that before, they’re almost absolutely sure.

They could put it back in the jar. Leave it. To maybe get better?

Or maybe not. Maybe leave it to die.

Alone.

Frisk’s fingers curl around the stickbug a little more. They’re still pretty sleepy. It’s nowhere near dawn, still sometime after Toriel went to bed. They shift and settle their back against the wall.

It’s just a bug, but it’s still alive now. Even if it won’t be for long. Even if it can’t see, or doesn’t know what’s happening. It might--after all, Muffet’s spiders were smarter than the ones that they’d met on the Surface before. Maybe they hadn’t been paying enough attention.

They sit up better, even though they’re sleepy, shifting their hands to let the stickbug stretch out over both their palms if it wants.

They’d never died alone, of course, but even the company of somebody (or somebodies) trying to kill them somehow seems like a less awful thought. That’s terrifying, though they can’t explain why, even to themselves. Any death sucks (though getting ate is probably the worst).

Mommy! Daddy!

No. They push those thoughts off. That wasn’t alone. He was, they weren’t, game over.

It was almost like dying alone, down in the Lab. Before they got to talk the the Amalgamates in the right way. It was just cold, dark, unsettling, voices dancing around their ears and coming from their own mouth, sometimes. It was terrible.

It was cold. The echoes of air and distant Amalgamates were awful, otherworldly music.

It was cold.

It’s cold.

It’s so cold--

Until it isn’t.

Sunlight scalds their face and circles wheel around their head and they press their hands over their eyes, snarling. Frisk was busy remembering!

Something is above them. It’d be blocking out the light if it had shadow but it is the light, so they get even angrier at it. Her. HER. HER, SHE, THE RADIANCE brands into their brain.

They snap at the Radiance to get away from them.

“Little creature,” she roars sings hums laughs. “Greater beasts have tried to order me away.”

The light ripples underwater. There’s no water.  Her words pump toxin through their skin.

They move their head, cracking their eyes open. The world’s clouds and light and just a bit of stone under their back. They’re lying down. They shouldn’t be.

“Little creature. I wonder your purpose.” She does not. Certainty of a goddess that knows all, unshaken as earth scorched to nothing.

(The thought of a lie does not come to them. Fortunately, this doesn’t matter.)

Moving is painful. The sun beats down on them in waves, hot as fire, sharp as spears, and they have had enough of that.

They are not alone.

“Little creature.” She reminds them of meeting Papyrus, but that’s an insult to him. Overwhelming, alarming. Nothing to hide behind here. Undyne, bellows of justice, cutting through. Asgore, the whispers and rumors, the coffins, the warmth.

None of their sadness. None of the pain. Liar, liar, liar. They want their dagger.

“I am here. Listening. Speak. Stand. Allow me closer.” Burnt sugar sweet. A warm last breath. Love broken, love lost.  

The heat presses down harder.

They remember climbing a mountain. They remember finding a home.

Hissing words that Toriel would ground them a month for, grasping without sight, knowing what they want is right there, right next to them on the stone. A head that’s not a head, a shell, a mask, a face, a little white face with orange eyes that they blindly claw at, spilling the nasty goop to leave the space behind. It’s not a little face, it’s a mask longer than either of their arms, and after they’re done it’s held defiantly against their chest.

She screeches.

They screech back.

“You reach for that empty thing!” Her words vibrate through their teeth. “That lie! That wyrm-born abomination! You know nothing! Not where it comes from, not the shattering of my light! You will release it. You, creature, fragile, pathetic, little CREATURE. Listen! LISTEN. Do not turn your back. Nothing again. LITTLE CREATURE. COME HERE. YOU WILL RELEASE ME. YOU WILL KILL IT. YOU WILL END WHAT REMAINS OF HIM.”

The mask they hold is so, so, so cold, it bites into their skin worse with the orange burning.

A child braces for pain.

A child grits teeth.

Fought a God made of every SOUL of every monster they ever met, built of l-o-v-e, full of LOVE, stars and colors screaming and whirling and ripping them to bits. They died and died and died and refused. Hopes and Dreams and Determination, all swirling and ripping gracelessly out of their chest.

They tell her: no!

They tell her: My name’s Frisk!

They tell her: I don’t care!

They tell her: This stickbug is MINE! They’re mine! Not yours!

They are a Fallen Child even if not The Fallen Child, and they lost their fear the first time they tripped into fire, were consumed and shattered by it, and they prove this by twisting, sliding, leaping off the stone to plummet into the dark under her horrible terrible beautiful screaming--

They land with a jolt in their bed, foggy gray light filtering in through the window.

Blinking afterimages of gold circles from their eyes, they adjust their neck and look at the stickbug still in their fingers. Their stickbug, they think with a shadow of anger that’s already fading with wakefulness.

Their stickbug sits up, staring at them with deep black eyes.

Frisk gives it a tired grin.

Look, they whisper. Survived the night after all.

[justaghostingon]

Superhero Au Chapter 6: Sylvia

The world came to her slowly, sleep pulling on her mind like the tide. She was aware that she was lying on something hard...and flat...but she didn’t mind, not really...the air was cold on her skin, colder than it should be, and clung to her clothes...oh she must be wet...why was she wet?

She desided it didn’t matter. Not so long as she didn’t have to move from this spot. She let herself drift off...what was that noise? That high screeching...it was so harsh...why couldn’t it stop? She wanted to move, to bury her head in her hands to avoid it, but her body felt like lead.

The sound was getting louder, more grating, but there was something about it, the way the sounds flowed together that sounded...familiar. Like a picture puzzle she loved with its pieces scattered across the coffee table...she could piece it together...but that would take so much work.

She tried to ignore it, but it would not let her...rising and falling and twisting and changing...uggh...why couldn’t she move her arms? She could throw something at the noise if she could move them. But no matter how strongly she willed it they stayed still on the cold hard...something.

Fine. She could make the puzzle pieces fit. Maybe if she did so, she’d be able to find out how to get the noises to stop.

Focus was hard with sleep still tugging on her subconscious, but she did her best to mentally reconstruct the puzzle. Those sounds together were a word...yes! And those ones were a word too! The puzzle was only half formed, pieces still twisting and not quite fitting in where they should. But still...

“...wasn’t my fault!!” The harsher sound began to take shape, “I don’t know how I swear!”

“Bullshit!” The shriller sounds grated on Sylvia’s ears, “you must have taken it! She would be goop otherwise!”

“I tell you I didn’t touch it!” The sounds abruptly cut off as another, higher pitched sound filled the room, a click, click, click.

“What is going on here?” The sound was different, sharper, filling out the whole room. If she could have moved, Slyvia would have trembled.

“N-nothing O-one!” A harsh squeek made it hard for Slyvia to translate. “I didn...”

At the same time the shrill sound squaked out, “...sed sword...goo pit...girl!”

“Silence!” The sharp sound cut through the others. A sudden wind rippled over Slyvia, causing her every nerve to shiver in the cold. “Do you truely believe someone as pathetic as him would take it from me?”

The shrill sounds became disjointed, falling over themselves in a blur that Slyvia couldn’t grasp, like pieces falling off the table.

“Silence!” The sharp sound came again. “Cease your useless blubbering. I should run you through for such a suggestion...however...” Something flat and sharp prodded at Slyvia’s side, “...it is strange that the girl was able to maintain her mind and body after exposure to the goo pit, especially considering the only known way involves my sword...”

“Yes! I was only worried for you One, for traitors and usurpers...” the shrill sounds babbled.

“Loyalty is valuable...” the sharp sounds became pleasanter, like honeyed poison. There was a rustle, rather like cloth. “You!” It boomed through the air. “You were in charge of this experiment correct?”

“Ye-yes!” The harsh sounds trembled, almost unrecognizable. “I was only disposing of some witnesses in the usual way...nothing fancy I swear! I threw all the rest in with not trouble! Even used the same motion...”

“Get to the point.” The sharp words cut off the long ramble.

Harsh squeaks fill the air, and Slyvia furrows her brow as she concentrates on their meaning, “She just didn’t desolve! I looked away and then I saw her body there, floating on the top...and I thought she was just taking her time and...”

“The point!” A roar filled the air and Sylvia felt her eyebrows arch in surprise... wait a minute.

“...she just drifted over to the edge, not disolving...” the sound began to fade in and out as Slyvia turned all her attention to the muscles in her face. Carefully she tried to wiggle her nose. It twitched

“...I thought maybe one of us had fallen in so I fished her out but...” A twitch wasn’t enough, she pulled at the muscles on her left cheek, her cheek moved, but the nose only twitched again.

“...thought it was one of us?” The sharp sound came again as Slyvia tried to move her right side of the face. Nothing.

More harsh babbling. Slyvia ignored it in favor of concentrating on her right face...yes! It twitched!

Now for her nose. “...interesting theory...volenteer?” She felt it wiggle. Yes! Success! She felt like doing s victory dance, but she settled for a victory nose wiggle instead.

More babbles, intersected with that sharp honeyed poison, now it didn’t have her attention it was harder and harder to tell the sounds meant. She could pick out some words though like “loyalty,” and “proof.”

No matter, she had more important things to worry about. Her nose was fine, but what about her mouth? She let her jaw drop, it opened perfectly, as if it had never been frozen. For some reason, this did not surprise her.

Last were her eyes. She felt every muscle around them, and pulled. Her lashes struggled to rise, the blinding light forcing them closed again. She lay still for a second, then tried again.

“...help experiment...” something strange and pink lined the edge of her vision. She pulled harder. “Thank you...” the light came in an nearly blinded her, strange and green. But she refused to close them again, waiting as the brightness gave way to shapes infront of her, three tall ones and a glowing pond.

“...for your sacrifice,” one of the shapes, large and black, shoved a smaller purple one into the strange glowing liquid directly in front of Sylvia. It gave a scream, no words but Slyvia understood the fear and despair in its voice all to well. She gasped as in front of her newly opened eyes she saw the figure dissolve, first its flesh and then its bones, until all that remained was a purple stain that rapidly mixed with the glowing green.

“...shame, a second form would have been useful.” The largest figure’s lips moved with the sharp sounds. It turned to Slyvia and she froze in terror, but it did not seem to noice her open eyes. “Still, this one may make up for it. Take her to a cell and we’ll deal with her latter.”

The second, smaller figure hauled Slyvia up roughly over their shoulder. Slyvia’s nose bumped into the armor on their back. She tried to bite it away, but the metal tasted so fowl she had to spit it out.

She needed to push herself up right and escape. She concentrated on her hands, willing them to move.

Her left hand twitched, and Slyvia smiled.

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: Headlock

“This is the GAAP. Repeat, this is the GAAP. We are hailing the… the Barrel? Please respond.”

The voice crackled through the comms. Mark, sitting in the cockpit, looked up from his food. A little light blinked. Reaching over, he hit the button. “This is the captain of the Barrel. How can I help you?”

“We are hailing you,” a formal and tight voice said, slightly distorted over the comms. “Permission to board requesting. Permission granted?”

Mark was thrown back to his time at the Academy at the tone of voice. All official words and serious demands. Over the years, he had become used to the casual way citizens spoke to each other. Simple requests instead of demands. Distress signals sent out as pleas.

That, and Sean’s off-hand insults as he told them — not asked — that he was coming on board, and they couldn’t stop him even if they wanted.

“Uh, yes,” Mark said, rising to his feet and looking around the pilot pit. Everything was a mess. “Give us a few minutes to… uh… get the docking station set up.”

“Understood,” the GAAP officer replied. “Signal us when ready.”

The comm went dead. For a moment Mark quickly thought over the state of his ship. Then, with a flick of a switch, Mark switched it over to ship wide.

“We have fifteen minutes to get this entire ship clean!” He shouted into the comms, panic seeping into his voice. “Get up and start cleaning.”

“What’s going on?” Amy asked back, the comms crackling from her work shop.

“GAAP is boarding. Don’t know why, but they’ll be onboard soon. Just kick Chica’s excess goop under the couch, we don’t have time to deal with that now.”

Signing off the comms, Mark bolted out of the cockpit.

He had some dirty socks in the hallway that needed taken care of stat.

“Did they say what they were here for?” Tyler asked as Mark ran past him, scooping up a bundle of dirty laundry in his arms.

“Didn’t ask!” Mark shouted back, almost tripping over the sleeve of his cardigan. “There are some old meals in the kitchen sink. Just put them in the incinerator.”

“Got it,” Tyler said, shaking his head and running off towards the room.

“Did we do anything recently that would have warranted a GAAP visit?” Ethan asked as he caught up to Mark, his arms tangled in wires from one of his and Kathryn’s projects.

“I don’t know?” Mark chucked the laundry into the chute. “Invite Sean for dinner?”

“What…” Ethan nervously stopped. “What if it is about Sean?”

“We’re not giving up Sean,” Mark answered sternly. “Not now, not ever.”

Ethan nodded. “What do you think they’re going to say?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Mark said. “Now tell Kathryn that she needs to hide her hacking gear. And make sure that stuff Sean gave us is hidden!” He raised his voice as Ethan started sprinting down the hall.

Bing ran by, holding several boxes of scrap metal, followed quickly by Amy whose face was covered with grime and soot. She gave Mark a tense smile before following the robot into her shop.

This would be interesting.

.

.

Amy came up next to Mark, tapping the back of her hand to his. The tension in his shoulders lessened slightly, but he still anxiously watched the hanger door.

“They’ve boarded,” Kathryn said, attention focused on the panel, slowly directing the GAAP to land their ship.

Mark ran his hand through his hair and squared his shoulders. Time to see what was going on.

The hanger door slid open, and Mark felt himself snap to attention out of habit. Back straight, arms at his sides, head tilted forwards. He might not be an Academy student anymore, but old habits died hard.

Amy tapped her hand against his again, letting him know he wasn’t alone, before taking a small step behind him. She always had his back.

There were three GAAP officials. They stood in the doorway, two slightly behind the obvious leader. At the forefront was a towering Graeldur, a few heads taller than Tyler. He held his hat in his hands, shoulders slightly caved to give him a less intimidating appearance. Somehow, the effect was achieved. He smiled with near grandfatherly kindness. The attachments to his uniform showed his years of experience and rank.

On one side of him was a human officer. He fidgeted with the side of his pant legs. His eyes flitted from person to person, and he was always moving some part of his body. When Ethan gave him a smile, he attempted to smile back, but it faltered halfway. The dirty blond hair was neatly cut, slicked back against his head. Every crease of his uniform pressed to a near perfect line.

The last was a Nasazza woman. She was shorter than her companions but somehow exuded the most confidence. Her smile was quiet, but there was something hard and intelligent in her features. Maybe the way she watched Mark steadily, or the way her hand carefully traced the lines of the knife strapped to her leg. Her long silver hair was pulled back, and her silver and pink scales rippled, momentarily blending parts of her into the background. At her feet was a small dark yellow dog with a scrunched face. It was missing an eye, and it breathed heavily.

“Hello,” the Graeldur said, voice rumbling deep in his chest. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mark Fischbach. I have heard many stories about you and your crew. Many great things.”

He extended a rocky hand. Mark took it. It felt rougher than Tyler’s. As they shook, Mark saw the Nasazza woman shift, eyes darting from him to his crew.

“My name is Kamuk Kivlithos, third of my name,” the Graeldur said. “I am the commander of the GS Alestra. I am here to issue a warning, but also to ask for your help.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kivlithos let go of his hand, looking around. “Perhaps this would be a conversation better had somewhere more comfortable? While this is of urgency, we have much to discuss.”

“Of course,” Tyler jumped in, ushering their guests down the hall. “This way.”

Mark, ever grateful for Tyler’s diplomatic nature, let them pass him by. The last one to go was the Nasazza. As she passed him, their eyes met. For a second, all the softness was gone. Her eyes hardened and her smile vanished as she stared at him. It wasn’t cruel. It was searching. It was learning. She knew things about him, and she wanted to know more.

It lasted only a second, but it sent chills through Mark.

She was here for a reason.

Then she was gone, and Mark was left staring at an empty wall.

There had been plenty like her at the Academy. Mostly guest teachers, old officers, or the ones with specialities. The ones who had seen some shit, but looked cool enough to convince some gullible kids into joining the military. Mark had seen people like her before, and they had always unnerved him.

He followed his crew into the common room. Kivlithos had already taken a seat, his officers on either side. The rest of the crew spread out on the opposite side. Bing stood in the corner, hand tapping on his leg. Mark hesitantly moved to take a seat between Amy and Tyler, keeping an eye on their guests.

“Forgive my rudeness,” Kivlithos said, leaning forwards and extending a hand to the human. “I should have introduced my crew sooner. These two are some of the best and brightest of my crew. This is Dodgy, a specialist in tech. A bit nervous, but he knows what he’s doing.” Kivlithos laughed and patted the human on the back. Dodgy gave his commander a wavering smile, his hands keeping up an erratic pattern on his legs.

“Hi,” he said, not exactly meeting anyones eye. “I’m, uh, glad to, um, m-meet you.”

“And this is Marzia,” Kivlithos said, turning to the Nasazza. She closed her eyes with her smile, waving happily. Her other hand stayed on the dog sitting upon her lap. “She is part of the Calmaltare Units. One of the best, in fact.”

Ah. That explained it.

The cold analytical stare. How easily she slipped around. Even her species made sense with that occupation. Nasazza were amazing at adapting and hiding. Especially hiding. As prey on their homeworld, their species had adapted to be able to blend into their surroundings, using the superficial layer containing pigments, and their under layer with guanine crystals. They were quiet, steady, and deadly.

As a Calmaltare, Marzia easily became one of the most dangerous people Mark had ever seen.

“But that’s enough of introductions,” Kivlithos said, his easy smile growing taught. “I’ll cut straight to the chase here, to avoid any confusion. You recently were in contact with a Xanhull, correct? Within the last few months, according to our sources.”

“Uh,” Mark looked back at Amy. “Yes. We called him Dark. He… he didn’t exactly leave a good impression here.”

“They are a criminal and a threat to the government,” Kivlithos said. “While we cannot say much as to why they are, it is imperative that we capture them as quickly. We must avoid any damage they may cause in the future.”

Dodgy nodded, pulling out several files. He handed them out. Mark took his, flicking it open and looking through the holo-pages. There were pages upon pages of information on Dark. Much of it was redacted or vague, but it all spelled out the same thing: he was dangerous.

There was a moment of silence as they took in the information.

Kivlithos sat, blankly watching them with his hands clasped. There was tension in his hands. Marzia still smiled sweetly, somehow contributing to the sense of urgency in the room.

“This… this isn’t that much information,” Ethan muttered, eyes quickly scanning each page and committing it to his data banks.

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Mark finally asked, looking up. “No offence, sir, but we’re a ragtag group with no official sources or contacts. The most we do is help out those we come across. Our funding is limited, and our time used to help ourselves survive, along with those we find. How could we help more than the government?”

“Unfortunately, this Xanhull has evaded our grasp for centuries, before even the GAAP was founded. They always seem to be one step ahead of us, no matter what.” Kivlithos’s blank expression cracked as his mouth tightened and his brow furrowed. “The last time we saw them was roughly fifty years ago. It was an encounter that left many dead. They are dangerous, and not to be taken lightly.”

“This is why we need you,” Marzia began, taking over for Kivlithos. Her voice was high pitched and small, somehow light and airy despite how harsh the topic was. “From what we were able to gather, this Xanhull seemed to trust you. At least... to some degree. You have spent more time with this being than anyone else. You know more about them than probably we do. You all have a much higher chance of finding them, and possibly capturing them. If not, we will be a step behind to capture them, but we need your help.”

Her eyes met Mark’s, and her smile grew sardonic. “The Xanhull was drawn to you. Perhaps you will be drawn to them.”

Chills ran down Mark’s spine. Those connections to Dark had always left a sour taste in Mark’s mouth. The ringing in his ears, the burns on his hands, the odd nightmare from the first night… every connection to Dark had damaged him.

It hurt him, or it hurt those around him. Dark hated him, and wanted him dead. The only connection was a fragile line, drawn with blood and rage.

Mark wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue any of that. Going after Dark seemed like inviting that same experience back. With how much Dark hated him… Mark wasn’t sure that any connection would bring him closer to capturing him. Maybe closer to Dark finally killing him.

No, he didn’t want to find Dark. Not with how much Dark had hurt him, and hurt his crew.

“I’m sure the GAAP can handle it,” Mark said dismissively, getting to his feet and handing back the files. Kilvlithos blinked, and Marzia frowned. Dodgy nearly squeaked as Mark roughly pushed the files on him. Mark started walking to the door. “You’re much better equipped to handle this.”

“The Xanhull is looking for something,” Kivlithos said suddenly, the urgency in his voice making Mark pause. “Something dangerous. It will kill thousands.”

Mark slowly looked back. “What do you mean?”

Marzia placed a hand on Kivlithos’s arm, taking over talking. “We cannot tell you much. It’s a secret kept closely by our representatives. We barely know what it is. We only know that it is dangerous, and Dark wants it so that they can hurt thousands. Millions, even. An entire planet could fall this device. And the Xanhull wants it, and as we both know they will get what they want.”

Dodgy opened the file Mark had shoved on him, showing him a series of graphs and statistics, “S-s-see here there is an eighty p-percent chance of t-total destruction f-for anyone who would c-c-come into contact with this object!”

Mark hesitated.

They were asking him to put his and his crew’s lives at stake for the sake of millions of people across the galaxy. They were asking him to risk everything to find Dark. Objectively, it was a no brainer. The lives of five people versus the lives of millions? Of course, he should choose to help. He would always help.

On the other hand, this was his family, and family was more important to him than anything in the galaxy.

A hand tapped against his as Amy stood.

“We’ll help,” she said, her voice clear and steady. When she glanced over at Mark, though, he could see that she was having the same thoughts as him. She knew the same as him that they always helped. No matter the cost. “Of course we’ll help.”

“Excellent!” Kivlithos boomed, his voice shaking the room. He got to his feet, grabbing Mark’s hand to pull him into a handshake, yanking his attention away from Amy. “Dodgy will send you all the information you need briefly. Please understand we cannot tell you everything, but hopefully, it will be enough. And, to keep us in contact with your crew more closely, we have decided to leave behind Marzia. Just to keep an eye on things.” He winked.

Mark glanced over at Marzia. Again, her face was light, but her eyes were cold and calculating.

This would not end well.

.

.

“What are you working on?”

Ethan jumped, his head hitting the table above him. Tools went flying, and Ethan scooted out to glare at Marzia.

She leaned over, innocently watching him work with curious eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back. She had changed into civilian clothes, but still somehow stood out in the mess of Ethan’s room. That dog — Maya, Marzia had called her — sat at her feet watching him with the same curiosity.

“How long have you been watching me?” Ethan asked, holding his head and glaring at her. The parts of the cleaning system he’d been attempting to fix scattered. He had been putting this off for weeks now, and finally the amount of dog hair and Dulcosi goop building up had convinced him to fix it. “I don’t know how it works in the GAAP, but that’s creepy.”

“Long enough,” Marzia shrugged. “I’ve found your work interesting. You used to work with the GAAP, and the things that came out of your work during that time—”

Ethan tensed and started gathering the scattered tools. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve read about me, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, crouching to pick up one of the tools. She handed it back to him. “I know that you’ve had a hard time. Your creator was… unethical, to say the least, despite the great advancements he has made. It’s fascinating to see how far you’ve come since then.”

“Thanks?” Ethan snatched the tool from her. “Listen, I don’t really like talking about back then, so as cool as you think I am, keep it to yourself, okay?”

“Very well,” she said, keeping the light tone. Her next words, however, were cool and professional. The switch in her tone threw him off. Marzia’s voice was the kind Ethan just expected to sound happy and agreeable. The professional GAAP officer wasn’t something he expected from the small Nasazza.

She moved slightly closer, “I have come to ask for your help, however.”

“Yeah?” Ethan leaned back under the table, attempting to appear disinterested. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“I have been trying to link my devices to the main ship,” Marzia explained. “There are a few issues I am having, and Mark told me you were the best to talk to about that.”

Of course Mark shifted the work onto him.

Ethan sighed, “What do you have?”

“Just a comm and my personal computer.” Marzia held out the comm. “It will also help me upload the information Dodgy has sent me directly to your computers.”

“Great, gimme.” Ethan took the comm from her hands. It was standard GAAP issue, but when Ethan opened it up there was more to it than he had expected. “Damn, lady. What kind of upgrades do you have on this thing?”

“My profession requires more intense equipment,” Marzia said, sitting next to him. “Can you hook it up?”

“Yeah, just gimme a second.” Ethan fiddled with the controls for a few moments before it clicked. “There. Mark still has main control and everything, but you should be good to go.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” she said. She moved as if to stand, but hesitated. Marzia looked like she was fighting herself over something. The curiosity finally broke her. Marzia sat back down, hands clasped. “Can I ask you something?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Your counterpart. Blank. Have you been in contact with him recently?”

Whatever semblance of a heart Ethan had sank. Regret, cold and sharp, sank itself into his stomach.

Oh… him.

“He’s dead,” Ethan muttered, looking down at the floor and trying to keep his voice steady. “He couldn’t turn back on again. They just kept turning him off, even though we knew it was breaking us. He didn’t… he couldn’t… shouldn’t you know that? You’ve read about me.”

Marzia frowned, then blinked as she gasped, “Oh, you didn’t know? Blank turned back on! He was back up and running, doing his duties with your creator. Nearly a month ago, however, he disappeared. No trace of him anywhere. Nobody knows where he is now.”

Ethan gaped at her. Blank… Blank was alive? He wasn’t broken? How… where… when…?

Thoughts raced through his head, leaving Ethan without anything to grasp onto. For so long he had just accepted that Blank was gone. He was the only one left from that shitty place. But he wasn’t. Blank wasn’t gone. He wasn’t dead, just... missing.

He’d escaped.

He’d made it.

“Where was his last known location?” Ethan asked, looking back up and hoping Marzia couldn’t hear the desperation in his voice. “Please, where is he? I need to find him. I have… I need to go. He has to be looking for me, I need to find him!”

“I can send you all the available details,” Mariza said calmly, getting to her feet. Ethan scrambled up as well, standing nearly a head over her. “Don’t worry, Ethan. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I thought he was dead,” Ethan said, looking down at his hands. Useless, helpless hands. “I thought I was alone.”

Marzia grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to meet her eyes. She smiled, and this time it was truly kind. “You aren’t. You weren’t then, and you aren’t now.”

Her words comforted him, but he still had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here.

“I have to go find him,” Ethan said, desperation turning into determination. He needed this. “He’s alone. He needs me.”

“Soon,” Marzia assured him. “But I need you here first. ‘Dark,’ as you all call them, is the priority. The moment there is some spare time, you may go look. But for now, I need you focused on capturing Dark as soon as we can.”

Ethan nodded. All he wanted to do was take the coordinates and start looking for Blank, but he knew he couldn’t. Dark was going to hurt people.

Sorry, Blank, he thought. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.

.

.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?”

Amy brushed some metal bits off of her welding jacket, shaking her head. “No, not at all. I’m just finishing these cuts up. Did you need something?”

Marzia hesitated at the door. She was wearing high-end civilian clothes, looking much more relaxed from a few days ago. Her eyes danced over the equipment around Amy’s feet, landing on the small welder Sean had given her for Scarlix Day.

“I was going to… I was going to ask… I’m sorry, but is that a Flux-Electron Welder?” Marzia asked, disbelief in her voice.

Amy winced. She knew that having something that high-tech would come back to bite her in the ass eventually. It was convenient, and made the cleanest welds with little to no fumes, but it was insanely expensive.

There was no way Sean had obtained it through honest means.

“It was a gift,” Amy said, picking it up. “A friend got it for me.”

“A rich friend,” Marzia huffed. She moved farther into the room, coming to stand near Amy. “I’ve only seen those… well… I don’t believe I’m allowed to say, but they are expensive. How does it handle?”

“You weld?” Amy asked, holding it out for Marzia to take. It looked almost clunky in Marzia’s smaller, more delicate hands.

“Occasionally,” Marzia said, sounding forlorn as she turned the tool over in her hands. She handled it like a professional. “I wish I could do it more, but my job has me working nearly round the clock. Not much time for hobbies. I did get a chance to work my skills during a short holiday with… a friend.”

“A friend?” Amy asked. The way Marzia had said that word, like she was treading around dangerous waters. She said it the same way Amy referred to Sean.

“Yes,” Marzia said. “Something like that. May I try this out? I got to use their Friction XII Welder a few cycles ago, but it handled so clumsily. I’d love to see how this one works.”

Amy could take the hint. Accepting the change in subject, she got up and offered Marzia her place. “I have a mask, jacket, and gloves in my cabinet. One second.”

Once outfitted properly, Marzia grabbed several scraps Amy had lying around. Just little bits Amy had cut off of her current project. Manipulating them around, she slowly formed them into a small box.

“It’s so smooth!” Marzia exclaimed, taking off the mask. “No catch at all on the wire feeder, and there is no feedback from the fumes! I can’t even smell them.”

“It’s nice for extended lengths of time,” Amy agreed. “I’ve stopped getting headaches as frequently.”

“What are you working on?” Marzia asked, handing the welder back and leaning over to look at Amy’s current monstrosity. “It’s huge.”

“One of the biggest I’ve tackled,” Amy said, flipping a few switches to cycle out the air. As the vents kicked up, Amy raised her voice. “It’s a challenge, but I got a commission from a regular, and they wanted this for a wedding. Here, see?”

She turned it to show off the half formed statue. It was nearly four feet tall. An image of two beings — a human and a Ninkain — dancing together. Amy wasn’t particularly found of figure sculpting, but this was one of her favorite customers. And besides, it gave her an excuse to practice.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Marzia sighed wistfully as she walked around it. “A wedding… I can only imagine how wonderful that will be. Have you been sculpting for a long time?”

“Mostly just in my spare time,” Amy admitted, feeling a little awkward having a stranger look over her work. “I didn’t really have the funds to do it for a while until I met Mark. Before then, I was working as a bouncer. Didn’t pay much, and most of my funds were going towards Henry’s medical bills. Now I have a bit more time for this.”

“You have a good eye for detail,” Marzia said, smiling kindly. “Your passion for this shows.”

“Thanks,” Amy said, accepting the compliment with a shrug. “We all have to have hobbies, right?”

“Of course,” Marzia said. She clasped her hands, bouncing on her heels. “Don’t feel pressured, but I haven’t gotten to work in a shop in months, and I’d love to sharpen up some of my rustier skills. Would you mind if I used your shop?”

“Totally, dude,” Amy said, gesturing at her equipment. “Just keep it clean and you can use it all you’d like.”

“Thank you!” Marzia hugged Amy suddenly, her twin tails wagging happily.

“Uh, your clothes?” Amy said, getting over her surprise. She was certain those clothes cost more than her entire closet put together.

“Oh, I have others,” Marzia said, pulling back and looking down at the short dress she was wearing. “I never really cared for this outfit anyway.”

Amy blinked. How much did the GAAP pay Calmaltare? She thought the dress looked like it should be worn to a inner-system party, not a welder’s shop, but she wasn’t about to argue with a member of the Calmaltare.

.

.

Pant pant pant pant...

Mark stared at the little dog. The dog stared back, breathing hard.

Maya, was it? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was this little ball of heavy breath had started waddling after him, and he couldn’t shake them. Now they were at a stalemate. Mark stared at Maya, and Maya stared back. Both were parked in the middle of a back hallway, uninterrupted for nearly half an hour now.

“Do you ever blink?” Mark muttered, mostly to himself. Maya didn’t respond. If anything she just started breathing harder, her one eye staring into his soul.

“Oh, there you are!”

Mark finally broke eye contact with the dog, looking up to see Marzia standing at the end of the hallway, Chica weaving through her legs. With a huff, Maya got up and waddled over to Marzia.

“Your dog is weird,” Mark said, watching Chica and Maya sniff around each other. “No offense.”

“Well, she isn’t technically a dog,” Marzia said, leaning over to pick up Maya. Pressing on the back of her neck, Maya’s one eye flashed pink for a moment. “She’s a robot. My little companion.”

“I guess that’s why she didn’t blink,” Mark muttering, still upset he hadn’t beaten her. “Are you not allowed real animals? Being Calmaltare must be dangerous. What happened to her other eye? Shouldn’t it have been replaced by now?”

Marzia giggled and rubbed Maya’s head. “You sure ask a lot of questions,” she laughed, setting Maya back down on the ground to play with Chica. “No, we’re not allowed real animals unless they’re service animals, and the eye is a long story. She doesn’t really need it, and I think she looks cute like this, don’t you?”

Maya sneezed.

In some strange way, the little dog was cute, if Mark was being honest.

“Yeah,” Mark said, getting to his feet in time for Chica to jump onto him. He grabbed her front paws, holding her as she panted up at him. “I guess. Where’d you get her? She’s crazy realistic.”

Marzia’s eyes lit up for a moment, opening her mouth to answer excitedly. Then, the light died down in her eyes. “A friend,” she said cooly, slowly petting Maya.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “A friend.”

For a moment they just watched each other. Sizing the other up. Then, Marzia broke out into a grin. “I’m allowed to have friends,” Marzia said, giggling. “My job doesn’t keep me from being a person.”

The shift in mood threw Mark off. Any trace of the dangerous weapon Marzia was disappeared in a blink, replaced with a person that was somehow scarier. It was a person keeping a mask. While Mark was still stumbling to get back on his train of thought, Marzia turned around and walked away.

“Wait! We’re close to finding Dark’s last known location. Bing will let you know when to get suited up,” Mark called after her.

Marzia waved and disappeared around the corner.

There was something off about her. Maybe it was just that she was a government spy, but Mark couldn’t shake the feeling under his skin that Marzia knew something.

She was hiding something important, and she knew it.

.

.

It was a mess.

Marzia walked into the crime scene purposely, stepping over several glowing markers with Maya waddling after her. GLE officers swarmed the club, scanning and collecting everything. A few were taking statements from several patrons. The lights had been turned on, throwing the normally dimly lit nightclub into harsh light it was never meant to see.

Mark and Tyler hung back, watching them work. Marzia had other ideas, moving about and exchanging short words with each officer.

“Detective!” Marzia said loudly, approaching the last man standing near the center of the room. He wore a long brown coat, a cap pulled low. His scowled at them, puffing on an electric cigar. “What happened?”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore,” the detective huffed, taking a long drag and breathing it out. The sour scent wafted through the air as he puffed a small smoky circle. “And I only know what I saw, which isn’t much. Shouldn’t you be talking to Bert’s division?”

Mark nudged Tyler. The two started following Marzia, careful to not disturb any evidence.

They’d received the call yesterday. The Xanhull had been seen at a club. Several had been injured in the resulting fight. They’d gotten to the small, nightclub-filled moon as quickly as they could.

The detective and Marzia continued to bicker amicably. Mark looked around as he and Tyler approached. Everything was neatly wrapped up with glowing caution tape and white sheets. A large tarp hung off the back wall, covering something. The few witnesses - the owner of this establishment and other employees - looked bored and ready to leave. There was nothing there that especially screamed ‘Dark’ to Mark.

It was broken and dirty. Not his style.

“Who are you?” A GLE officer approached them, hands raised to block them from continuing farther. “No citizens allowed.”

“They’re with me,” Marzia said, lazily flashing her badge. “Just let them look around.”

The GLE officer glared at them before backing off. Mark and Tyler reached the detective and Marzia, joining the conversation.

“Who are you?” the detective repeated from the GLE officer, raising an eyebrow and tapping his electric cigar. He seemed grumpy, tired, and ready to leave. There was something in his eyes that told Mark he’d seen more than Mark could ever know.

“I’m Mark,” Mark said, “Mark Fischbach. And this is Tyler. We’re, uh, looking for someone.”

“Fischbach?” the detective huffed, narrowing his eyes. Then they cleared and he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course you’re here.”

Mark nervously looked at Tyler. What?

Tyler shrugged.

“Take all the looks you want.” The detective pointed his electric cigar at them forcefully, then at the bar. “I’m going to be over there, making some goddamn comm calls. Don’t take anything. I still need to look a few things over.”

Marzia rolled her eyes. “GLE,” she muttered under her breath. The detective glared, then stormed off, muttering something that sounded like a metaphor.

“Okay?” Mark replied, tilting his head in confusion. “Who was he?”

“Abe Lincoln,” Marzia explained. “Former detective for the GLE. He was fired when he started obsessing over this one serial killer case. Couldn’t move on. Couldn’t accept that this was one criminal beyond his ability to catch. Tragic, really. He was brilliant.”

Mark watched Abe plop himself down on one of the bar stools, grabbing a bottle and starting to drink. He seemed familiar.

When had Mark seen him before?

“Here’s the evidence you asked for,” a GLE officer ran up to Marzia, handing her a holo-file.

“Thanks.” She waved him off, skimming through it. For a few seconds, she just read, occasionally muttering something under her breath. Then she stopped, an eyebrow raised.

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What is it?” Tyler asked, leaning forwards to see.

Marzia didn’t respond. Just held up the holo-file.

Nice try, gret.

The words were scratched into a wall, but it was somehow still ornate and clean. Each line carefully forced into the wall. Each letter deep and purposeful. Looking towards the back of the nightclub, Mark saw the wall covered with a thin layer of tarp.

It was Dark. He had been here.

“The Xanhull knew we were coming,” Marzia said, frowning as she looked back at the holo-file. “Someone told him.”

“Nobody from my crew,” Mark said quickly, ready to defend his friends. “I trust them.”

“Then it won’t hurt if I run some tests,” Marzia said smugly, already moving onto the next task. Continuing to flip through the file, she said, “Trust means nothing without proof.”

Mark struggled to come up with a biting remark, but found nothing. Huffing, Mark turned and stomped over to the covered wall.

“Mark!” Tyler hurried after him.

Mark ripped the tarp off, drawing several angry cries from the GLE. He didn’t care. He just stared at the words with growing frustration. His hands felt hot as he clenched them. The slur stared back at him, mocking him.

Gret. That stupid fucking word that scarred every inch of his life. That one word that had marred him as different. As something outside of what should exist. Mark didn’t give a fuck about purists and their arrogant views. He was a person with the same rights to exist as anyone else. ‘Gret’ didn’t bother him. Or… at least… it hadn’t for years.

But now that word was coming from a man who personally wanted him dead.

Dark could go fuck himself.

Pompous bastard.

“Let’s just finish this up and go home,” Tyler said behind him, voice quiet and steady. “We’ll find him eventually.”

Leave it to Tyler to have a level head in the face of this bullshit.

“I want this over with as soon as possible,” Mark growled. The less time he had to spend looking for Dark, the better.

“Then let’s find him,” Tyler said. “Let the GAAP throw him in a hole so far down we won’t ever have to think about him again.”

Marzia whistled, drawing their attention to her. She gestured them over, pointing at Abe. Mark grumbled, but followed the direction.

“What do you want?” Abe grumbled as they approached, kicking his feet up on the bar. He took another swig of whatever was in the bottle, wincing as it burned.

“What did you see?” Marzia asked, file open to take notes. “You were last one on the scene, according to several eyewitnesses. You were confronting one of the criminals,” Marzia said, calm but forceful.

“I’m guessing you won’t leave until I tell you, huh?” Abe asked, rubbing his temples.

“You got it.” Marzia smiled sweetly.

“Fine,” Abe said. He sat up and turned to face the trio standing behind him. “But you owe me, GAAP lady.”

“I’ll cover your expenses for the next few nights.”

Abe huffed in agreement. “The criminal I was talking to was the man I’ve been chasing for god knows how long. His name’s Wilford Warfstache, or at least that’s what he calls himself. He’s a shapeshifter. Most recently, he’s taken the form of you.” Abe paused to point at Mark. “Plus a few aesthetic changes. Pink hair. Mustache. Few inches taller.”

Mark faintly remembered the pink being who’d broken into his ship a while back. The asshole who’d purposely made himself taller.  

“I’d had him pinned down a few months ago when he up and vanished,” Abe continued. “Then I got a lead that brought me here. I was confronting him when he shot one of the victims. The angry one shot the other. Everything was chaos after that. I didn’t get a good look before I was getting dragged away with the crowd.”

“What did they look like?” Mark asked impatiently.

“Hold your cavalli,” Abe snapped, glaring at Mark. “I’m getting to it.” The ex-detective leaned back against the bar. “The first one looked like you too, but with longer hair and a little taller. He had two lines running down his face. One red and the other blue. He dressed nice. Too nice for this place. I think the other must have been built to look like him. He was a robot with red and blue panelling, wearing a blue sweater. Looked a little beat up. Jumpy too.”

Google. How the fuck did Dark get his hands on Google? Mark glanced at Tyler, who was staring in wide-eyed shock. Sean had told them Google had jumped ship. Just up and left. Somehow the robot must have found Dark. Poor Sean had been distraught when he’d called.

“You know it?” Marzia and Abe asked simultaneously. They shared a disgruntled look.

“I think,” Mark started slowly. He had to be careful to not give away Sean. “I had a robot a little while back that matched that description. He ended up going rogue and disappeared.”

“What would Dark want with him?” Marzia asked. “A rogue robot isn’t usually someone’s first choice in companion.”

Maya snorted.

“He was an information robot,” Tyler answered, taking over for Mark. “He had the ability to learn information. I can only guess that Dark would want the robot to find whatever he’s looking for.”

Marzia hummed under her breath, making a note in her files. Abe scowled, muttering something about ‘pink’ and ‘too deep now.’

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Abe grumbled, mostly to himself.

“What question?” Mark asked, feeding the former detective the line he was clearly waiting for.

“What were they doing with Wilford?” Abe asked, frowning at his bottle. “He’s not usually one to spend a lot of time with any one person. From what I gathered, however, he’d been with this ‘Dark’ fellow for a while now.” Abe finished his thought off with a deep swig of booze. For a second, Mark thought Abe looked worried, his hands trembling around the bottle.

Then he looked up, and the concerned man was gone, leaving a disgruntled, disgraced detective.

“So nice to learn you’re on a first name basis with the criminal,” Marzia said dryly. Abe flinched. “Don’t worry. My superiors won’t hear about it. Just keep the friendliness under the table, Abe.”

He grunted, the worry lines lessening in his forehead. “There’s more than one reason I got fired. We both know it, so cut the crap.”

“Anything else you can tell us?” Marzia asked, ignoring him.

Abe thought for a moment. “I did overhear that Dark fellow yelling at the robot about something. A Celestial, I think. He was mad that the dude wasn’t here. Real mad. I don’t know what he’s after, but if it has to do with a Celestial…” Abe shuddered. “This guy is bad news.”

Marzia frowned, and Mark and Tyler exchanged anxious looks.

“Thanks for the help, Abe,” Marzia sighed. “I’ll be sure to contact you if we see your killer anywhere.”

“Glad I could help,” Abe grunted, lifting the bottle of booze towards the trio in a gesture of goodwill. “And thank you too. Give the others my best.”

“For what?” Tyler leaned in and muttered in Mark’s ear. Mark shrugged, and they started walking away. Marzia picked up Maya and followed quietly behind.

“Relate information to P3WD,” Marzia said quietly to the little robot dog. Maya sneezed, her eye flashing pink.

Mark and Tyler climbed back into their pod, leaving behind the flashing nightclub. Marzia leaned against their pod, her expression serious.

“This is worst than we thought,” she said. “I can’t tell you exactly why, but we need to find Dark. Fast.”

“Why? Why can’t you tell us?” Mark argued back, exasperated.

Marzia clutched Maya tightly. “It’s not safe. Not right now.”

She walked away, holding her dog close as she climbed into her own pod.

.

.

Mark paced his and Amy’s bedroom, running his hands through his hair.

Nice try, gret.

How had he known? How had he known that Mark was coming? Nobody besides the GAAP knew that his crew was tracking him. He could practically see Dark’s face. The sneer he was probably wearing as he carved the letters into the club’s wall.

You’re a mistake.

Something nudged his foot. Mark looked at the ball that he’d walked into. Another one of Chica’s toys. Picturing Dark’s smug face, Mark kicked the ball as hard as he could. It ricocheted off the wall and returned to slam Mark in the gut.

Mark gasped as the air was forced from his gut. He doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

You care. Pathetic.

Dark was the pathetic one, Mark thought.

Regaining control of his airways, he huffed and sat down on the floor. He glared at the ball. What was so wrong about attachments? Dark had always been dodgy whenever anyone asked him about family or relationships, but Mark had never really thought much of it. Maybe he’d lost someone a long time ago, and so he’d built up walls, convinced to never let anyone in ever again. Maybe he had some empathy.

Mark picked up the ball, examining the bright reds and blues.

No. Dark wasn’t some half-assed trope. He wasn’t going to find redemption in the ‘power of friendship’ or whatever sickly sweet bullshit lines from a movie could pull out to show that this man wasn’t as bad as he seemed. He wasn’t a good person, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to find forgiveness from Mark.

Tossing aside the ball, Mark laid back on the floor, covering his face with his hands and letting out a tired groan.

He was so tired.

They all were. Tyler worked long nights, Kathryn digging through every contact she had, and Amy supporting them all. Ethan took every piece of information they had, running it through his data banks. Even Bing pitched in where he could. Marzia was relentless, especially after the nightclub. She pushed them on. Pushed them farther.

Mark was used to working hard. He liked working long hours. He liked feeling like he was accomplishing something. This wasn’t that. He wasn’t doing anything but running in circles, chasing a ghost. Marzia was working his entire crew down to the bone, and the stress was starting to get to all of them.

You know nothing, gret.

He might not know a lot, but he knew that they were going nowhere.

They needed help.

.

.

“BEEP BEEP ASSHOLES PREPARE TO BE BOARDED.”

Panic. That was all Mark felt as he bolted out of his room, determined to reach the docking bay before Marzia did.

He had forgotten to tell Sean that they had GAAP agents on board. Sean wasn’t one to give forewarning to his sporadic visits, and panic only continued to rise in Mark’s chest as Sean’s hearty laughter echoed through the halls.

Mark crashed into Bing as he rounded a corner. Bing looked more excited than usual, which was really saying something.

“Suh, dude!” Bing said happily from under Mark. “It’s Sean!”

Mark scrambled off of Bing. “Bing, shut up. Go into timeout mode.”

“What!” Bing protested. “I didn’t break anything!”

“Just shut up and go to your charging module. You can’t be seen with Sea- I mean Jack! Okay, I don’t have time to tell you again!”

Bing pouted, but Mark only got a glance of the poor robot’s dejected expression before continuing his own sprint to the docking bay. He’d make it up to Bing later, but right now he needed to make sure his friend didn’t end up in prison because of Mark’s own stupidity.

Mark skidded around the corner to the docking bay just as Sean’s ship aligned up. Marzia stood at the door, staring at it with a little smirk. A hand traced the intricate hilt of a knife strapped to her leg.

Mark’s chest tightened, and not because he was out of breath.

“It seems we have a guest,” Marzia said, not bothering to look at Mark.

“Uh,” Mark wheezed. He wanted to make up something to cover Sean’s tracks, but it was too late. He was too late. The rest of the crew appeared, all wearing equally frantic faces as Sean sauntered through the door.

“Hey, fuckos!” he exclaimed, punching Mark in the shoulder. “Guess who just got back from…”

Mark didn’t know if it was the crew frantically shaking their heads behind Marzia, or Marzia’s raised eyebrow, but Sean stuttered to a halt. The scales on his arms shot up, tearing through his sweater.

“Mar-m-mmmmmwoooow who is this?” Sean stumbled over his words, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. “You… uh… didn’t tell me you had a guest.” Sean said, quick to hide his surprise and glare pointedly at Mark.

Maya snorted, waddling over to sniff Sean’s boot.

“Uh, this is Marzia,” Mark said as he stepped forwards, gesturing between them. “Marzia, Se-Jack. Jack, Marzia. Marzia works for the GAAP.” Mark said, putting every amount of emphasis he had into GAAP.

“Pleasure,” Sean said, fangs clenched and bared as he extended a hand Marzia. Mark was almost positive Sean was going to judo flip Marzia over his shoulder. The two shook hands peacefully, if not roughly.

Sean spat on his hand and wiped it on his pants, cleaning it of Marzia’s touch.

“Likewise,” Marzia said cheerfully, wiping her own hand - which was now covered in grease stains - on a handkerchief she pulled out of the slim dark pants she was wearing.

All seven people stood in tense silence for what felt like forever, Sean glaring daggers at each of them. Chica, Henry, and Maya’s panting filling the silence.

“Should we, um, go sit down?” Amy suggested, cutting the tension like a spoon through molasses. “Dinner should be ready any minute now.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sean said, pushing through the crew. He walked quickly down the hall opposite to the common room, tail lashing behind him. Mark and Amy exchanged glances.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Mark said. “You guys go eat. We’ll be there in a bit.” Before anyone could say another thing, he was chasing after his friend.

Mark caught up to Sean, who had stopped towards the end of the hall. Mark slowed his walk as he saw the Velm, approaching him slowly.

Sean was leaning against the wall, arms folded and lower lip stuck out as he glared at the opposite wall, his chest lowering and raising roughly as he attempted to calm himself. He didn’t look up as Mark jogged up to him.

“What’s up?” Mark asked, sliding onto the wall opposite of him. Sean huffed and turned his head to glare down the hall. Mark rolled his eyes, “Come on, man. Talk to me.”

“You know ‘what’s up,’” Sean growled, the scales rippling on his arms. “The GAAP? Really, Mark? And you didn’t think to at least let me know?”

“We didn’t exactly have a lot of choice about Marzia’s extended stay,” Mark said, kicking Sean’s foot to get his attention. He looked back at him for a second before returning to pouting down the hall. “And we kind of forgot. We’ve been… we’ve been busy. This whole business with the GAAP has been crazy.”

“Yeah, it usually is, isn’t it?” Sean said, standing up straight. “Well, since you’ve got that mess on your ship, I’ll be on my way. Didn’t expect to have to cut the visit so short, but I don’t think my kind is going to be very welcome here.”

“Sean, come on.” Mark reached out, grabbing Sean’s arm as he attempted to walk away. “Just stay for dinner? Just an hour, and then you can go. We’ll avoid politics or any of that government business. It’s been forever since we’ve seen you.”

“Just a month,” Sean muttered. “Scarlix Day.”

“Too long. Also—”  Mark looked down the hall both ways before turning back to Sean— “I need to cash in a favor. It has to do with this whole mess, but don’t worry. You’ll like it.”

“I’d better,” Sean sighed, straightening up and shaking out his tense scales. “Let’s get this over with.”

The two walked back to the kitchen. The others were getting everything set and ready for dinner. As they entered, Ethan gave Sean an anxious smile before darting over to save a falling stack of bread.

“Where is Bing?” Marzia asked, looking around.

“Charging!” Mark said, much too loudly. “He, uh, was feeling low.”

“Ah,” Marzia answered, giving him a blank look. Mark hated it when she started wearing the mask.

“Let’s eat,” Amy said, attempting to draw attention away from the missing robot.

The others sat around the table, Sean sitting as far away from Marzia as he could. The food was quickly passed around, everyone serving themselves.

“So, Jack,” Marzia started. Everyone around the table froze, and flinched when a plate clinked against the table. “How do you know these guys?”

Sean opened his mouth to answer, when Tyler butted in.

“We’re cousins!” he said, smiling much too widely and practically leaning across the whole table to cover Sean, who was rolling his eyes. “Close buddies. Grew up together.”

“But you’re Graeldur,” Marzia pointed out. “And Jack is Velm.”

“I’m—” Sean attempted to cut in.

“Adopted!” Ethan also threw himself across the table to save Sean. “I mean, I’m not adopted. Well, I kind of am. I don’t really have a real dad, or mom, unless you count my creator, and I don’t because he’s kind of a dick. And dead to me. So I’m kind of adopted into this crew, cause you know… Anywho… What I meant to say is Jack’s adopted, right, Mark?”

“Right!” Mark said, eagerly jumping onto the train of lies. He could see Sean sliding down into his seat out of the corner of his eye. “I grew up next door to Tyler, so I can totally one hundred percent confirm this!”

Kathryn grabbed Sean, forcing him to sit back up. He gave her the most tragic, betrayed look Mark had ever seen. Kathryn wasn’t swayed, but patted his arm comfortingly.

“He lost his family in a crash,” Kathryn added, wiping a non-existent tear from her cheek. “I couldn’t believe it when Tyler told me about it.”

“Look, I’m just—” Sean attempted to stand, but Amy forced him back down.

“Tyler and Mark are like brothers to him,” she said, giving Sean a tight hug. “They grew up together so closely. I bet they could tell you all about it.”

“Oh god…” Sean muttered, tensing in Amy’s strong grasp. Mark knew there was no way he was getting out of that mechanical grip any time soon.

“Oh really?” Marzia took a drink, the corners of her mouth turned up. “I’d love to hear every detail.”

“Yes!” Tyler said. He held a hand to his chest, looking off into the distance. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a little pebble. Jack was a tiny lizard who squeaked a lot.”

“Jack did squeak a lot,” Mark affirmed, smiling nostalgically.

“I did no—”

“Shush, we’re reminiscing!” Ethan said quickly, putting his finger over Sean’s lips.

“We used to play in the gorge by our houses, and explore the caves. Jack ate bugs. So many bugs,” Tyler sighed.

“Okay, that one—”

“One time, he tripped on a rock. He broke two of his toes and chipped his tooth,” Mark interrupted, trying to contain his laughter. “He had to walk around on crutches for weeks, because the hospital was too far away. He also whistled every time he talked.”

Amy still had one arm firmly keeping Sean in his seat, the other planted over her mouth to keep herself from laughing. Kathryn was keeping a perfect poker face, but her ears were shaking and her tail twitched rapidly.

“He went through an edgy phase when he was a teen,” Tyler said, taking over so Mark could relax. “He had gauges and—”

Sean yelled, “OKAY TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, DEAREST COUSIN.”

Tyler let out a chuckle and leaned back in his seat. “I guess that’s enough stories for now.”

“No, why don’t we tell some stories about you two?” Sean suggested, grinning wickedly. “I remember Mark one time was cooking some dinner for everyone, but instead of putting flour in, he put in actual flowers from the garden. His dad took one bite and had to run to the bathroom to throw up.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Well, one time Jack accidentally tripped and managed to pull down his pants in the middle of school.”

“Well, one time Mark told this one girl he liked her, and she slammed her lunch tray in his face in front of the whole cafeteria.”

“Uh huh. Jack once got gasoline on his hands and set off alarms at our school.”

“The same girl he had a crush on got him to eat two live worms!”

“He biffed it into a mud pile!”

“He broke his arm learning to pilot!”

“He had blue stripes!”

“He had a bowl cut!”

Sean and Mark had both climbed on top of their chairs and were yelling with growing intensity at each other. Everyone else watched in stunned silence, Henry and Chica hiding under Amy’s legs. Someone needed to intervene before either of them said something they would regret.

“I THINK NOW’S A GOOD TIME TO END STORIES,” Tyler yelled forcefully, grabbing the back of both of their collars and yanking them back into their seats. “Why don’t you both go cool off a bit?” Sean and Mark glared at each other before standing up and storming off in opposite directions.

“Well, this has been eventful,” Marzia patted her mouth with her napkin before standing. “I think I’m going to bed. Thank you for the meal, Amy. Kathryn. Ethan.” She nodded to each of them before bouncing out of her seat and skipping down the hall.

“Tyler, can you get Sean?” Kathryn asked, stacking the dirty dishes in Ethan’s arms. “Amy, would you get Mark?”

.

.

A few minutes later, everyone except Marzia was back in the kitchen. Tyler held Sean under one arm, the Velm’s tail lashing as he glared at Mark across the room.

“Can I leave, please?” Sean plead, looking up at Tyler.

“Politeness will get you nowhere,” Ethan pointed out.

“Shut up, Ethan, I’m bargaining for my freedom.”

Ethan snickered and leaned back in his seat.

“Can you two apologize so we can have a proper discussion?” Kathryn groaned, rubbing her temples.

“The only thing that needs discussed is how quickly I can leave,” Sean said, crossing his arms.

“Oh shut up,” Mark muttered. “You’re the one who escalated it.”

“You’re the one who said I was adopted!”

“That was Tyler, you idiot!”

“Says the guy who ate worms!”

“You grew up eating bugs!”

“It was normal! I was, like, two! You were fifteen!”

“Yeah, well—”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT,” Kathryn yelled, preventing another yelling match. “We have more important things to talk about than your childhoods.”

“Maybe you should have just let me talk for myself then,” Sean said, squirming in Tyler’s arms.

“Is it that bad being my cousin?” Tyler asked, sticking out his lower lip and fake crying.

“It is when you tell a complete stranger things I told all of you in confidence,” Sean hissed.

“Or when you were completely wasted,” Ethan snickered, his face quickly falling when Kathryn glared at him. “Sorry.”

“Just, what the fuck guys? I spill my darkest secrets and you tell Marz… that GAAP agent and…”

“Look, we should just move on already,” Amy sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re both idiots, congrats. In case any of you have forgotten, we’re chasing Dark.”

The room quickly sobered.

Sean looked around in disbelief. “Seriously? Why the fuck would you guys even try to find that dickwad again?”

“The government asked us. Now,” Mark held up his hands as Sean snorted sarcastically. “I get that you hate the GAAP, but we do need your help.”

“I’m not helping the GAAP,” Sean said, shaking his head. “No way, no how, not ever.”

“What if it’s us?” Kathryn asked, holding out a file. Tyler let go of Sean, whose eyes widened as he dropped to the floor with a thud. Standing up, he reached forwards and took the file. “We need your help. We’re working on limited information, and we’re honestly grasping at straws.”

“Dark seems to know when we’re going to show up. He’s always a step ahead. Sometimes twelve steps,” Mark said. “We’ve been working our asses off, trying to catch this asshole. It’s not working. We need to try something else.”

“That’s you,” Ethan said. “We need your help, Sean.”

“What am I supposed to do? This file is full of nothing!” Sean asked, snapping the folder shut. “It’s just redacted information and bullshit. I don’t know why else you would expect more from the GAAP. And another thing, why should I help? Dark’s not my problem, and he shouldn’t be yours.”

“He’s going to hurt people,” Amy said quietly. “Which makes it our problem.”

“So?” Sean huffed. “People get hurt all the time, and the GAAP turns a blind eye. Why are they so suddenly concerned about them now?”

“Dark is going to hurt millions of people,” Tyler said. “Whatever he’s looking for, it’s going to kill planets.”

“Besides,” Mark said, folding his arms. “Even if it was one person, it’s my problem. I won’t stand by idly when I could help. I can’t.”

“Millions died when Scarlix was destroyed,” Sean growled, lowering his head and staring down at the floor. “The GAAP didn’t care then. Why should I care now?”

“We’re not asking you to care about the fucking GAAP,” Mark argued back. “We’re asking you to care about people.”

Sean clenched his hands. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to start sentences that went nowhere. Finally, he slammed the file down on the table, causing them all to jump.

“Fine. I’ll help. Don’t expect me to be happy about it,” Sean said.

“Thank you,” Mark said, smiling quietly. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever, hero,” Sean huffed, his own smile breaking out. “You owe me big on this one.”

“Next Scarlix Day’s gift will be great. Just you wait,” Mark chuckled. The two stood, and Mark pulled Sean into a hug. “We’re helping people. Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Wheeeeee. It sure feels good helping the fucking government,” Sean said dryly, but Mark could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

.

.

“Sam, lights please.”

“Beep!”

“Be careful, Sean,” Robin’s voice said quietly in his ear. “This place is higher security than what you usually tackle.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sean muttered, his voice echoing more than he liked around the huge room. “I’ll be careful, dad.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just get into the files already.” Sean looked around. Line upon line of glowing computers lined the dark halls. The ceiling stretched up farther than he could see. Several dimly lit drones scanned the room, one barely sweeping under Sean’s position. Its line of sight was just below where Sean had plugged in a remote hard drive. Sam hovered above it, staring with his glowing eye. Sean hugged the wall, keeping an eye on the vent he’d crawled out of.

“There’s a lot of stuff in here. What exactly are we looking for?” Robin asked.

“Get the files; ask questions later,” Sean replied, curling tighter against the wall. “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“Okay, just a couple more minutes.”

“Sean, patrol coming. ETA five minutes,” Chase said in his ear, sounding more anxious than usual.

Sean checked the watch on his wrist. Ten minutes early. Why the fuck were they doing rounds early?

“Tackleball tournament,” Robin answered his thoughts. “They want to see the final playoffs so they’re doing rounds early.”

Sean had to refrain from groaning out loud. He’d never cared much for sports, and now it was going to actually kill him.

“Hold on. Just a few more minutes.” Robin’s voice was growing increasingly more anxious. “If it’s too long, get out of there.”

“I promised my friends I would get this,” Sean hissed under his breath. “I’m not going to let them down.”

“Cool. I am also your friend and I don’t want to see you die either.” Robin snarked back.

“Less talk-y more work-y.” Sean checked his watch again.

For a few tense moments there was nothing but the quiet whir of machines. Sean watched everything move, hoping that the doors on the far end would stay shut. For their sake, he hoped he wasn’t going to get caught today.

“Done.”

Sean grabbed the hard drive and slipped into the vents just as the door opened. The guards loudly talked and laughed, jibing each other about their differing teams. Sean slowly slunk away, looking through Sam’s night vision mode to see his way out.

That was close.

An itch in the back of his mind agreed.

.

.

“What do you think is on here?” Sean asked Chase, looking the little hard drive over with a hungry look in his eyes. “Big scandals? Government secrets? All the information about how that representative from Jythma spends all their money on gambling at Nihill Floating City casinos?”

Chase shrugged. “Yeah, probably. There is a lot on there.”

“We should look.”

“We should not look,” Chase countered.

“Why not?”

“Because that reasoning is the reason behind half your near death experiences.”

“Only half,” Sean argued amicably. “Besides, I can sort out half the junk in here before we send it to the Barrel, and then they won’t have to.”

The two sat in front of the dash. Chase mindlessly tossed screws into a cup while Sean sat in his chair, legs propped up on the dashboard. JJ cleaned in the background, dancing to music only he heard as he swept up Sean’s last meal.

“I’m looking,” Sean said, letting his legs hit the floor. Before Chase could stop him, he had already jammed the hard drive in and was scrolling through.

“Alrighty, sorting by X’s…” Sean muttered, eyes alight with eagerness.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Chase said, picking up the mug and dumping the screws out into his hand.

“Shush. Ooh, Xanhull: Earth 3430-3478. This looks interesting. What were Xanhull doing on Earth? Don’t you want to know?” Sean elbowed Chase as he opened the file.

“Not really,” Chase said, leaning in to read anyways.

For a moment, the two read in silence. The childish joy Sean had felt at breaking into GAAP’s most secure servers was quickly fading, replaced by cold horror.

“What the fuck?” Sean muttered, feeling sick. Image after image… lines upon lines of words invoking images in his head he couldn’t stop thinking about… Sean couldn’t bring himself to look away, learning more and more. As he finished, the horror and disgust were replaced with stubborn determination. He turned to Chase, shutting down the file.

“We need to tell the Barrel.”

[empressxmachina]

by Imperial-Radiance (aka me)

     "Damn, I can't believe I haven't been ambushed, yet. It's a good thing I planned ahead because, whew, that's rough."

    The day had finally come for one of the biggest games of the year - not the Championship and not Nationals, but the rivalry gridiron game of the season. Of course, it was all in fun, but the heat and intensity of all the fans were always at their peaks during these games, especially since the two schools were relatively close to each other. 

    Madeline, or Madi as her friends and family referred to her as such, had already had the experience of what these games were like, but she and the rest of the people there representing her Kingston University Royals were even more happily hyped as they demolished their rivals in score, and she wasn't even on the sidelines to see it.

    Madi and her twin sister Caroline had been the best of friends since birth, and the only time they had ever separated in their lives was their choice of schools. Once diverged, their number of similarities decreased from there, but despite being away from each other, they maintained to share a few commonalities like major choice, clubs, GPA, and more. However, the one main difference that had resulted in Madi running in a panic right to her sister in the middle of the game was Cari's sudden relapse.

Read more on DA, or...

   She was so relieved that her coach was so understanding to let her go and care for her, but the time it took for Cari to return to some sort of stability using her specialized health kit was a lot more than she wanted.

   "The things I do for my sister," Madi sighed, trying to hustle back to her team's temporary locker room to change back into her cheerleading uniform before getting back on the bus to return to her own school. "I'm glad that I got it to her in time. But, God, I am not living for this insanity!"

   While the cheers of the Royals could've been heard from Cari's dorm room as they won and Madi tended to Cari's needs, the groans and yells from the Nash U. Knights' majority surrounding her on all sides and the reputation they had whenever they lost were things that she didn't want to experience firsthand, especially after barely making it out alive after their last clash on her own campus. As soon as Cari kicked her out to care for herself rather than call for help - the immense pride the sisters had was always their downfall - Madi found herself in the eye of an accumulating storm of brawling and spats.

   Only by the grace of God, her sport-influenced speed, and her non-school-affiliated sweats worn over her uniform, she made it back to the stadium's public but reserved, empty, co-ed locker room unscathed, practically collapsing on a bench in exhaustion.

   "Oh, thank God!" she panted, setting a hand on her side and the other over her heart, slipping her backpack off herself onto the floor. "I, uh, better get out of here before some nasty Nashers barge in on me or something. But, why did Coach have to make that cursed policy of having to be in full uniform during all parts of travel? Is she trying to kill me!?"

   With a groan, she stood up, getting ready to disrobe her casual wear until she suddenly felt how dry her throat had become and how tired she was. She was about to go look for a water fountain until she remembered the unopened can of soda she had grabbed from the squad's cooler while they were taking a cheer break. Unfortunately, the jostling of the bag as she ran to and from her sister didn't come to mind, resulting in it exploding upon opening.

   "Oh. Oh, God!" Madi exclaimed, stammering from the flow of carbonation shooting onto her face, the rest of her body, and the floor. "St-Stop! Jeez!" The amount of liquid in and on her person eventually built up to the point where she was coughing some of it out and her hand was too slippery to maintain a grip on the can, causing her to drop it. The spray of soda spread to lower levels of her clothes and doused her backpack before crashing and fizzling out on the floor where the can broke in two on impact. "Shoot, I need to get this mess up, or the school's going to get charged. Wait, my uniform!"

   Trying to juggle two problems at once, Madi took off her sweatshirt and pants as quickly as possible and threw them onto the elongating puddle on the floor before running to a sink to dab the not-as-large stains on her uniform with water. As she focused on her clothing, she was unaware of the growing stickiness and hardening of the soda on her exposed skin and hair. Taking a shower occurred nearly every night, anyway, but having to go into the strenuous and lengthy routine that was treating, washing, and drying her uniform was something that she hoped wouldn't have to happen.

   She had gotten to the point where visible stains on her clothes had faded to half of their previous intensity when the familiar sound of a notification chirping from her phone reached her ears. Knowing how late she was and figuring that her team was probably worried about her, she cut off the sink faucet and ran for it. When she returned to her stuff, she was happy that her clothes were doing what she had wanted - absorb as much of the spilled drink as they could. Much of the liquid mess had retreated into the fabric. Still, seeing how the list of fabrics also included her bag wasn't relieving, bringing another sigh out of her as she grabbed and shook her phone that was poking out of a shallow, brown pool like a rock in a mud puddle.

   Remembering how the captain of the team tended to snap at some of the smallest issues, Madi hesitated at unlocking her phone to see her new message. But, she was a big girl, and if she wanted any chance at possibly being a leader next year or a front-row starter at Nationals, then she was going to have to answer, and so she did. However, the message she read had only little to do with her as it had been sent to the entire team.

   "Huh? A recall?" she read, confused and worried. "'Due to adverse effects in direct correlation to being exposed to the following drinks, DO NOT CONSUME THEM.' Well, that's not ominous at all. Another health scare, oh boy!" Madi started simply going back to cleaning herself until she thought about the drink company and expiration dates in the text. "Wait, my drink doesn't apply to that, right? I didn't drink my soda since it fucking-erupted on me, but it said just 'being exposed' was an issue. Hmm."

   She turned back to the mess on the floor, and after looking at the can fragments, she felt that something was off.  Nevertheless, she went for the bottom half of the can to check its information. Its size seemed much larger than what she remembered when opening it – looking more like the 12-ounce size rather than the 7.5 fluid ounce type that she could've sworn she picked up – but the labeling was a greater concern because it fit right into the drink batches in question. However, as soon as Madi made her realization, she found herself on the floor, putting all her hard stain removal work in the trash as she fell face first into a soda stream and darkness.

   When Madeline and Caroline were younger, they and their family would frequent to the lake that a family friend of theirs had property on. Each visit was lovely, except for the one where the twins were a bit too confident in their swimming skills and drifted too long and far into the lake. Madi couldn't forget the feeling of water filling every orifice more and more as her appendages gave out over time and the heavy coughing that tested her lungs as their father swooped them back up above the surface to receive air once again. She imagined that Cari had similar experiences, but they had never discussed it - the memories were too bad.

   So, why was she thinking of them now?

   Madi's vision faded in from black as light reached her eyes once again, but in conjunction with the light, a sensation of liquid also came to her, flowing into her slightly open mouth, a nostril, and an ear as a surprise, forcing herself to pop out of lethargy and raise up to breathe. As her sights cleared, she could feel wetness falling from her head, down her curves, and into what felt like a sticky lake around and beneath her. Gumminess and saturation in all her orifices were two feelings that she never wanted to have, and her outfit now being painted in a shade like the fluid surrounding her and stuck to her skin like latex, along with almost drowning, only made it worse.

   "What the hell is this?" Madi screamed, throwing her hands up and down, rippling the aqua around her upon impact. By doing so, she became aware of how heavy all her muscles felt - each one needing more force than usual to move - as if she had been in a twenty-four practice... or trying to keep from drowning. "Where even am I!?"

   To figure out her location, she looked around, only to find blurry white as far as her eyes could see, except for the dirty collection in which she sat. This was something she only saw in movies and creepypastas, and it got her terrified, not knowing where to go or what to do - sitting in a blank, unknown, quiet room alone, almost. It was almost quiet, except for the sloshing noises that her movements made and a faint bubbling that couldn't have been too far from her.

   Madi searched for its source, running her hands through the dark goop and feeling around or anything out of the ordinary. When she detected nothing, she decided to trudge toward the sound, not bothering to stand up as he figured that she would just fall back down. So, she got on all fours and began to crawl.

   With each movement, she could see her optics slowly improve, introducing more and more colors and shapes into view. However, her good news was countered by the difficulty of dragging through the murky goop, comparable to those barbed wire mud crawls she saw soldiers do in a documentary once. As much as she wanted to quit, she knew that locating the sounds were more important, and so she persevered. In not too long of a lumber, she found the origin of the bubbling - her submerged phone vibrating and blinking below the brown surface.

   "What the-? This still works?" she questioned in utter shock.

   Pulling her cellular device out into open air, through the strain it took to do so, Madi saw that the waterproof case she had on it stood up to its claims, along with the tens of messages from her coaches and squad family asking where she was and if she was okay. It devastated her to know how so many people were worried about her, but she was even broken by the fact that her hands were so gluey that she couldn't make precise movements on its screen to respond to them that she was at least alive. Each touch appeared to open every app she wasn't trying to interact with, thus frustrating her to no end. She only had a brief calm when the camera application open, and only a brief calm it was.

   The back camera was on, and through it, she saw that her eyesight had returned to normalcy, seeing her pile of sweats and bag in the distance as she had left them. She sighed in bittersweet relief, understanding that she was still in a Nash University locker room like before. However, she noticed how they appeared to be farther away from both herself and each other than what she last remembered as well as the lockers, floor tiles, and bench being much wider and/or taller, almost comedically large. Intrigued, Madi turned off the camera and chose to look at the bench at her side for herself, just to then find herself awestruck and lock-jawed at not only a wooden bench that seemed to tower over and overshadow her like a building but also a not-as-high yet still twice her sitting height, sliced, metal, hollow cylinder in front of her with jagged edges that could make her bleed infinitely and the same brown slop streaming from it into the pool around her.

   It didn't take long for her to realize the truth, looking back and forth to other spectacles of the room - the other half of the cylinder behind her also pouring liquid, the skyscraping and never-ending lines of lockers, the heavenly white lights way up high, and the walls that seemed impossible to reach no matter how far or quickly she ran - but she just didn't want to believe it.

   "This is some sci-fi shit," Madi mumbled to herself. "There's no way I've... freaking shrunk. How in the-?" She paused her questioning when she remembered the one cryptic message she had received earlier that evening and looked at its reference - the colossal can, taunting her with its girth. "Youdid this!" she yelled at the metal container with a shaken voice, frightened at how in this wide, empty room, her voice neither carried nor echoed at her dimensions. "No wonder there's a fucking recall! This is literal chemical warfare! What the hell!?"

   With the recall in mind, she could only hope that no one else had been affected by it, especially with a whole school full of enraged Knights stomping around. After all, how else would they have known about it, in the first place? But, Madi tried to keep a relatively cool head, hoping by the grace of God that she was the only one, even though there was much greater chance that anyone else would've had someone nearby to care for them in her scenario. Would she ever be that lucky?

   "What do I do?" she wondered, analyzing the situation. "I can't move. My everything hurts. I barely know my way out of here, if I can even get there without passing out, getting lost, or worse."

   Her sentence nearly faltered as she started visualizing the most terrible scenarios, all of which a Nash Knight of any age finding her, a cup-sized K.U. cheerleader, or them coming across her unknowingly, perhaps even literally. Each idea brought its own chills down her spine.

   “I'm totally screwed!" she continued. "The only things I can do are speak and hear, I guess, but who knows how well those would do against a 'normal-sized' person."

   Though, after saying her somewhat positive qualities aloud, she gained a bit of hope and curiosity, looking down at the phone in her hand.

    "Yet, this thing is small as hell, and it still works," she regarded, rubbing a syrupy finger across the screen and seeing how it was more responsive than before, perhaps calibrating to her new touch and feel. "There is no logical reason, I think, that this thing should still have a signal or a working battery, and yet it does! It can't hurt to call for help, but if I can even get through, who do I call?"

   Looking at her contacts, scrolling down the page to the best of her ability, Madi juggled who would be the best choice. Her ICE numbers were her parents and Cari, but with Cari needing to heal on her own and their parents being far away, none of them would be able to get to her before it got dangerous. Her next choices were anyone on her squad and the coaches. They had already shown their unease toward her absence, so it would make sense for them to want to help her in her time of need. However, as she only listed full names of people in the list without prefixes, titles, or grouping, she would have to go at least halfway through before reaching one of them.

   "Jeez, did every single cheerleader this year have to have a name that starts after M!?" she moaned, failing time and time again to use the letter quick scroll on the side of the screen, eventually resorting to flicking her thumbs and indexes to go down the hundreds of numbers, email addresses, and names.      

   As the list grew longer, her fingers became pained, and her head starting to go dizzy, not able to take in so much changing information and action at once as well as her viscid finger pads only allowing bits of movement at a time. So, she had to stop at some point to work out the kinks in her hands. However, when she did, she wasn't aware of where her fingers landed and how they had started a dial tone. It was only when a familiar voice broke the silence did she comprehend that her prospects had come true, even if the way of doing so was unexpected.

   "H-Hello?" a disembodied male voice called out through what sounded like a party. Madi gasped, knowing only a few people that could be that orotund in a crowd but only one with a voice like that. She looked down at her cell and thanked God at the name on its screen. "Madi, are you there?"

   "Yes? Yes, I'm here!" Madi tried to answer back through tears, nearly dropping the phone in anticipation and excitement. "P-Please tell me you can hear me. Please."

   "Uh, yeah. You're coming in fine on my end, even through the craziness on this bus." Madi had to hold back crying out loud from happiness, even though she wanted to express it.

   "Oh, thank God! I honestly can't believe I reached you. Are you nearby?"

   She figured that with nearly a hundred players on the team, including him, and them constantly giving their hardest and being switched in and out during the game for as much as she could remember and hear from Cari's room, that it would take a lot of time for them and the squad to reenergize, grab food, and re-board the buses to go back to the Kingdom aka K.U.'s main campus.

   However, her interlocutor then lowered her sentiments when he continued, "Uh, I'd say 'close' is pretty dependent on where you are. I mean, the team and I are still in the parking lot, but we're going to be heading off soon. Why do you ask? We're all going to end up back at K.U., right? Did something happen to y'all or the bus?"

   Madi realized that the squad's coach bus must've already left. It was the tradition for the cheerleaders to return first to join the JV and smaller squads that were already on campus to support the team, win or lose, but she didn't think they'd just leave without her.

   "Uh, I don't think so?" That was all she could say about them, considering that she wasn't there to know for sure. "I hope not, or do I? I don't know."

   "What's with the lack of clarity? That's not like you." Madi couldn't help but agree. However, it was all that she could be. Nothing was going right or making sense. "What's wrong?"

   There was so much that Madi could say, and she knew that explaining her body issue would've probably been the most logical thing to describe, but there was no way that he would believe her. So, she went on a just-as-true but somewhat indirect route.

   "I-I'm not on the bus?" she admitted lowly.

   "What!?" her friend yelled, most likely being the cause of the quieting background noise. In a more hushed tone, he resumed, "Why? Where are you, then?"

   "I'm in the NU locker room, and I can't move."

   "You can't? They're not keeping you hostage over one loss out of, like, eight games so far, are they?" he asked in a whisper-shout. "No one hurt you, right?"

   "No," Madi replied bluntly. "No one's here, but there's nothing to stop them from doing so if someone does show up. I came in here a while ago, but I passed out, and I'm just coming to." Explaining the horrific doings and possibilities raised Madi's already-high stress levels even higher, and she had to pause to compose herself. "No one touched me, but it sure feels like someone did."

   After saying that, the other side of the call went coldly silent. Madi prayed that the call didn't drop, and she was too scared to look on the phone and check for herself.

   "Jake? You're still there, right?” she tried worriedly.

   A few seconds passed before the man, Jake, answered back,

   “Yeah, I'm here. I'm just moving stuff out of my way. I didn't think I'd have to go back to the front of the bus until we got back, but here I am doing just that. I’ve got to let the coaches know about you, girly - mine and yours. We may need some backup going back on that cursed ground."

   "Wait, what?" Madi cried, not expecting Jake to tell someone. "No, no! Don't tell anyone about this! That's just asking for trouble!"

   "How is a search party for you more dangerous than me going in alone? Sure, a coach makes the plays, but the players do them, and I don't think the one player that scored the turning point of the game that led to their ultimate demise should go in alone on rival turf."

   On one hand, Madi felt that his thought was selfish, but she also understood what he was saying on the other. She hadn’t thought about what would happen after Jake or someone else found her as she was, but having more people dealing with her, especially those she didn't know or trust, was just something that she didn't want.

   "Plus, you know there are, like, five locker rooms in the proximity of the stadium, right?" Jake continued. "You never said which one you were in, so more people looking would make finding you a lot easier."

   "Don't sass me with your valid logic! Jake, I'm having a crisis right now!" Madi shut him down before breaking down herself. "Jackson, please. With everyone I know, and everyone that must deal with me, why would I call you of all people first if I didn't need you and only you?" Of course, she knew him being her callee was a lucky coincidence, but she would never admit that. Her argument was too good.

   It proved to be true as Madi was met with another silence before sighing broke through the phone,

   “Madi, you better be in some deep shit, because I'm not going to risk myself getting suspended for basic pettiness."

   "I swear that this is as real as it gets, as much as I don't want to believe it, myself," she promised tautly. "I can't do this on my own. I'm scared."

   "Don't be. I'm coming for you," Jake assured with a smoky tinge. "Just sit tight unless you have no other choice, and I'll find you."

   "Please do."

   And then, the call ended, leaving Madi alone to collect her thoughts and wait on the sidelines of a soda can for whatever or whoever was going to come with nowhere to turn and nowhere to run.

[foreversillythings]

roses are red, roses are white interlude

chapter five

Hi! This was supposed to be only one chapter, but it definitely got away from me so I split it up. The second half should be up in a few days, I'm just finishing it up. This is an interlude (so technically not part of the main story), but I really think it's important for what's to come. I've been really excited to write it and as soon as it's done, we're off to part 2: the thorns of Lancaster, so I hope you enjoy!

roses are red, roses are white interlude a lullaby from the sea part one of two fairy hearts

1470

Annie clutches tightly to Robert the squire as they make their desperate flight from Rochester, Haymitch’s words ringing in her ears.

We’re the rebels

Her heart thuds heavily in her chest, worry clashing with hope.

What does that mean? Could it...could it be...Finnick, are you finally coming home?

*

1455

Annie is almost four when they meet for the very first time.

A lazy June is fading into a rainy July when a letter arrives from the Earl of Pembroke asking if he may avail himself of their hospitality. He is passing by her father’s Great Canfield Castle on his way home from somewhere up north and her parents leap into action, cleaning and cooking and preparing. The whole castle buzzes with activity and Anne isn’t entirely sure why they’re so excited; they never are when Uncle George and his great gaggle of children come to visit (not that Anne is either, her cousins are very annoying). Still, she can’t help being a little eager too; after all, the only people she’s ever met are relatives or servants.

The long awaited (or at least it feels long to Anne) Earl arrives on a Tuesday and her governess Mags laces her into her best dress, the blue one with the pretty bird pattern, and then ties ribbons in her hair.

“Don’t you look lovely,” she says fondly and Anne preens. She feels lovely and she skips down to the entrance hall, her poppet Lizbet held snugly in her arms. I wonder what this earl is like...I hope he’s nice. Her parents are already there, her daddy pacing about in dark velvet and her mummy running her hands over her round tummy (apparently there’s a baby in there, not that anyone will explain to Anne how it got there).

“Their rooms are ready?” her daddy demands and Mummy purses her lips.

“Yes, my lord.”

“The cook is prepared?”

“Of course.”

“Everything must be perfect Mary,” he says sternly and Mummy’s eyes narrow.

“I know John,” she replies, tone annoyed, and they glare at each other. Anne squeezes Lizbet and though she doesn’t understand it, she certainly feels the tension in the air around them. It’s not an unfamiliar tension, her parents rarely seeing eye to eye, but thankfully their guest comes cantering through the gates and her parents transform into the perfect hosts, all smiles and good cheer.

(maybe they should have guests more often)

The Earl of Pembroke rides in on his horse, looking just like a great Earl should Anne decides, but he is not alone. Just behind him comes a boy perhaps a year or two older than Anne, his hair shining bronze in the sunlight. She stays focused on him as the Earl dismounts, her curiosity piqued. The only children she’s ever met are her cousins and this boy, whoever he is, is immediately interesting for not being related to her. The Earl shakes her daddy’s hand and then kisses her mummy’s, while a groom helps lift the boy down from his horse.

“Welcome to Great Canfield, Lord Boggs. It is an honour to have you here,” her daddy says and Boggs smiles warmly.

“It is my honour Lord Oxford. It has been a long ride and we appreciate the chance to rest.”

He gestures then for that boy to come forward and he does, Boggs dropping a hand to his shoulder.

“And my nephew, Finnick,” he introduces and Anne runs his name over in her mind. Finnick.

“Ah yes, and this is our daughter, Anne,” her daddy says and pulls her forward. She hugs Lizbet close and looks at this Finnick, with his chubby cheeks and green green eyes.

I wonder if I’ll like him...

*

Her parents and Boggs go off to do grown-up things, leaving Anne and Finnick to Mags’ care.

Anne feels shy, too shy to say anything, so she hides her lower face behind Lizbet and stares at him with big eyes. He’s only a tiny bit taller than she is with a round face, tanned skin and coppery hair that curls around his ears. That hair’s a bit messy from the ride, his nose is reddened by the sun and the only thing he seems to have in common with his uncle is his pretty pretty green eyes. Boggs is taller (but then, he is much older), has no hair and his skin is a dark brown, but his eyes are just like Finnick’s and Anne wishes she knew more words so she could describe that special shade of green. He turns to look her over and she feels her face heat up, an embarrassing wave of bashfulness washing over her. He looks at her a little warily, as if she might bite, and Anne cannot help but wonder if he’s met many girls that do.

“The king is my uncle,” he says suddenly and Anne’s eyes go wide. She’s never met the king, but she’s heard her parents talking about him before and she’s understood enough to know that it’s impressive for Finnick to be related to him.

“My uncle’s a knight,” she offers, mumbling into Lizbet’s hair, and Finnick leans in with a frown.

“Huh?” he asks and Anne ducks her head, her skin burning. He continues to look at her and she shakes her head, too nervous to say anything else. Thankfully, he accepts this.

“My cousin Cato’s going to be king someday too,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very excited about it. Anne just continues to stare at him, her tongue useless in her mouth.

“Oh no,” Mags sighs, “I’ve broken my needle, I’ll have to get a new one. I’ll be right back.”

They watch her leave and as soon as she’s out the door, Finnick turns to Anne.

“Can we go outside?” he asks and Anne frowns. Mags never said we couldn’t...

She nods.

“Lizbet think so,” she murmurs and he grins.

“Great, let’s go!”

He heads straight outside and Anne trails after him, Lizbet hugged in her arms. The ground’s still muddy from last night’s rainfall and Finnick stops just outside the doors, peering around with his hands on his hips. Anne almost asks him what he’s looking for, after all, this is her daddy’s castle and she knows it fairly well, but the words get swallowed up in her throat. She’d been so excited to meet this new boy but now that he’s here, she’s never felt more timid.

“Aha!” Finnick says, perking up suddenly. He hurries forward and Anne struggles to keep up, her shorter legs and long skirts slowing her down. She stumbles over the sloppy, uneven ground but Finnick just charges ahead, leaving her behind just the way Cousin Georgie does.

Anne is not impressed.

Her boot sinks suddenly into a squelchy, wet puddle and she squeaks as her foot disappears into the muck. She tries to pull it out but can’t, frustrated, angry tears starting to burn in her eyes. She stomps the foot not trapped in goop and Finnick actually stops rather than running off without her. He turns but he doesn’t laugh or even say something snotty like Cousin John would (that’s the problem with being the baby of the family (except for Ursula, but no one plays with Ursula, she’s only two), everyone is always older and never very fun). He winces, his green eyes filled with distress.

“Oh no,” he says and hurries back to help. Anne looks at him in bewilderment as he takes her hand (and it might’ve been easier if he’d held both, but it’s not as if she could put Lizbet down) and pulls, her leg leaving the guck with an awful suctiony noise.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I shouldn’t have gone so fast.”

Anne just stares at him.

“Anne?” he asks anxiously, as if afraid she might be cross and she shakes her head.

“Lizbet doesn’t think it was your fault,” she says (even though Anne herself kind of does, but then, Lizbet’s always had the better manners) and he blinks, looking down at Lizbet in her arms.

“Oh,” and then he smiles, “thanks Lizbet.”

Anne bites her lip but wants to smile too, and Finnick doesn’t run off this time, he stays right by her side. He leads her all the way to the river and then peers down into it with a grin, his whole face glowing. The sunlight flittering through the clouds makes the water glitter and Anne looks down at their reflections, the light breeze making their faces ripple. She feels a little breathless as the river slides by, something magical about it  that she can’t quite put her finger on. Finnick sits down on the wet grass and yanks off his boots, fumbles with his belt and then tugs off his hose, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Anne watches him in confusion and he looks up at her with sparkly eyes.

“Do you wanna put your feet in?” he asks, “I do it all the time back home.”

Anne blinks a few times and then nods shyly. She sits beside him, the damp soaking through her skirts and she pulls them up over her knees. She frowns at her boots and it takes both her and Finnick to figure out how to unlace them. As soon as they free her feet she plunges them into the water, gasping a bit at the cold. Finnick follows suit and smiles at her.

“Can you swim?” he asks and she shakes her head, feeling silly.

“I love swimming, I could teach you,” he offers and Anne feels something happy bloom in her chest.

“Lizbet would like that,” she whispers and he nods, looking up at the sky.

“Okay, but maybe when it’s warmer. Hey, doesn’t that look like a rabbit?”

Anne follows his eyes and stares up at the clouds.

“Lizbet thinks so.”

“Good, cause rabbits are lucky,” he says and then he looks off to his left and gasps. Anne looks too and there is a great big rock, gray and mossy. Finnick stands and rushes over to it, his boots and hose forgotten. He immediately clambers on top and Anne watches with wide eyes as he scrambles up and stands, wobbling slightly, before nodding.

“I can see France from here,” he declares and Anne’s mouth drops open.

“Really?”

He nods and then looks over at her.

“Would Lizbet like a look?” he asks and Anne’s heart thunks. She nods and stands, walking slowly over to him. Her bare feet sink into the mud and she tentatively hands Lizbet over. Finnick puts her on his shoulder and then holds her legs so she doesn’t fall off.

“See, right over there,” he points and Anne follows his finger but can’t see France, though maybe it’s because she’s on the ground. Finnick peeks down at her.

“Do you wanna come up?” he asks and Anne bites her lip before nodding slowly.

“Okay,” he says, “but remember, I’m almost six, so you might not see it.”

Anne nods because that seems sensible and then he takes her by the elbow. He helps haul her up and her bare feet scrabble on the rock, trying to climb up.

“Anne Cresta! What are you doing? Get down!”

Finnick’s face goes pale at Mags’ shout and Anne slides down into the muck. She turns and Mags is running towards them, her face very red. Finnick slips off the boulder to land beside her, Lizbet squeezed in his hands.

“What were you two thinking? I go off for five minutes...oh, look at you,” Mags says with a sigh and Anne looks down. There is mud all over her dress and she can feel it squishing between her toes. Mags shakes her head.

“And you,” she says to Finnick, dirty legged and in his breeches. She sighs again.

“Alright, let’s go and get you cleaned up before your lady mother sees you,” she says and takes Anne’s hand. She gathers up their discarded clothes and Finnick follows slowly behind, his head bowed. They go up to the nursery and Mags sits Anne down on a bench, her arms full of gucky boots and Finnick’s hose.

“Stay here,” she tells them sternly as she goes to fetch clean things and Anne looks over at Finnick. He’s biting his lip, eyes on the floor and Anne frowns.

“Finnick?” she asks and he flinches.

“Sorry,” he whispers and she looks at him in confusion.

“Why?”

“Cause I got you in trouble. I don’t want you to be in trouble.”

Anne shrugs.

“Lizbet doesn’t mind,” she says and he looks up at her in surprise.

“Really?”

Anne nods.

“Yes, she had fun.”

Finnick grins and Anne’s tummy feels warm.

“Me too,” he says and Anne smiles back at him. He sits beside her, Lizbet in his lap and right then and there, Anne decides she is very, very happy he came to visit.

(he’s much better company than her cousins)

*

After dinner they play cards, Mags watching them much, much more intently.

She’s meant to be stitching but all she does is stare at them instead, as if expecting trouble. Mags has always told her staring was rude, but Anne decides not to mention it, since Mags was nice enough not to tell Mummy or Daddy about their fun in the mud. They don’t get up to any trouble but since she’s never actually played cards before, it falls on Finnick to teach her. He is very excited to show her something new, his eyes bright and sparkly and he is very patient every time she forgets a rule (which is more often than she’d like to admit). He even deals a hand to Lizbet, though she’s not very good at all. Anne looks down at her cards and then at Finnick, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Lizbet is glad you’re teaching us,” she says, “your lessons are much more fun than Mags’.”

He grins.

“Yeah? I hate lessons; they’re so boring. I don’t think my tutor Master Sprindrel likes me very much.”

Anne frowns but Finnick just shrugs.

“I don’t like him much either, he’s very stuffy.”

“Lizbet likes Mags,” she says, “though her lessons aren’t always very fun.”

“Lessons never are,” Finnick sighs and Anne nods, “but Uncle Boggs says I have to do them.”

Thinking of his uncle, a sudden thought occurs to her.

“Where’s your mummy and daddy?” she asks and he blinks at her, before looking back down at his cards.

“My father’s with God,” he says and Anne nods. She’s never sure what that means, though her parents have said the same thing about her grandparents. All she does know is that people with God never seem to come back.

“I never met him,” Finnick continues but then lights up.

“He was locked up in a dungeon before he left for heaven,” he says and Anne gasps.

“Wow,” she breathes. “Why?”

He shrugs.

“I dunno, but it must’ve been for trying to fight some great evil or something. Uncle Boggs always tells me he was a hero.”

“That’s...Lizbet thinks that’s amazing,” she tells him and he grins. She furrows her brow.

“What about your mummy?”

He frowns.

“She lives with her new husband, Plu-tarch Hea-vens-bee,” he says slowly, separating each syllable.

“I thought only mummies and daddies were husband and wife,” she says in confusion and he shrugs.

“I guess not,” he says and another question occurs to her.

“But why aren’t they here?”

“Why would they be?”

“Don’t you live with them?”

He shakes his head.

“I live with Uncle Boggs.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, the King thought it’d be better like this. I’m glad though, Plu-tarch’s got this nephew, Darius, and he always follows me around. It’s annoying.”

Anne nods and how odd, not to live with your mummy or daddy.

“It’s your turn,” he says and she looks back down at her cards. All her other questions start to disappear, all her focus swallowed up by the game.

(and perhaps that’s the best part of being young, it is so easy to forget all your concerns)

*

The next morning it’s already time for them to leave and Anne cannot help but pout.

It’s been fun having someone other than Lizbet to play with and she doesn’t want to say goodbye. She watches sullenly as they load up their things, Lizbet clutched tight against her chest. Her parents and Boggs talk to each and Finnick wanders over to her, not looking nearly as upset as she feels.

“I guess this is goodbye,” he says and she nods, squeezing Lizbet.

“I had fun, thanks!” he continues brightly and a little bit of her bad temper vanishes.

“Lizbet too,” she murmurs and he grins. A groom comes to lift him up onto his horse and he waves, his smile wide.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he says and she nods, lifting up Lizbet and making her little hand wave. He rides off and I hope so, she thinks, I really, really hope so.

*

1468

Finnick had always known that exile was a possibility.

He’d never said it aloud of course, his uncle would’ve had his head, but defeat was always an option. Someone had to lose and that could be either side, he’d acknowledged that. He didn’t know if the Yorkists had any intention of offering pardons, but it didn’t really matter where he was concerned. He was the king’s nephew, damned by his own blood and there would be no pardon offered to him, no forgiveness. This war could only end one of three ways for him.

Victory, death or exile.

Well now it’s over and he rides as hard as he’s ever ridden, trying to outrun death itself.

Exile it is.

(and there’s a moment when he thunders across England that he thinks of all he’s leaving behind and almost turns right around)

(this isn’t the end)

(I’ll be back, I swear)

*

1457

Finnick is a few months shy of eight when they see each other again.

“How would you feel about company this summer?” Uncle Boggs asks one night over dinner and Finnick perks up immediately. And then wilts.

“Cousin Cato?” he asks, unable to cover his pout, and Uncle Boggs laughs.

“No, not cousin Cato. Do you remember the Earl of Oxford?”

Finnick shakes his head.

“We visited him in Essex two years ago. He has a daughter about your age, Anne, I think.”

Finnick’s eyes go wide and he does remember her, of course he does.

“And Lizbet!” he says, remembering her very favourite poppet too. Uncle Boggs frowns.

“No, he only has the one daughter.”

Finnick shakes his head.

“Lizbet’s her poppet,” he corrects and Uncle Boggs look at him strangely.

“Right. Well, I mentioned to the Earl that we’d be spending the summer at Hadleigh and since his Hedingham Castle is so close, he thought he might bring his family for a visit. What do you think?”

Finnick nods eagerly. He loves company (as long as it isn’t Cousin Cato) and Anne was nice he remembers.

“Wonderful,” Uncle Boggs says, “I’ll let Earl John know right away.”

*

It is June when they all meet up at Hadleigh and Finnick bounces up and down as the Oxford family rolls through the gates with a great train of horses and baggage carts and a fancy looking litter. A man that must be Earl John swings off his horse and Uncle Boggs goes over to shake his hand. Finnick ignores them as they talk, much too busy trying to find Anne. A servant opens the litter’s door and helps down a lady that must be Anne’s mother, her hair covered up by one of those silly hats ladies are always wearing. Uncle Boggs bows and kisses her hand.

“Lady Mary, welcome,” he says and then finally Anne comes out of the litter. She looks just like Finnick remembers her, dark haired and big eyed and clutching little Lizbet in her arms. He hurries over while she peers about in wonder, her arms tightening on Lizbet.

“Hello!” he says excitedly and she looks at him, her whole face lighting up.

“Finnick! Lizbet missed you,” she says and he grins. He thinks of Uncle Boggs and Lady Mary and wanting to look grown up, he takes Anne’s hand and kisses it. He’s not really sure what the point of it is, but he feels very gentlemanly. Not wanting Lizbet to feel left out, he kisses her tiny hand too. He looks back at Anne and she beams, her cheeks a pretty pink.

“Lizbet’s very happy to be here,” she says and he smiles.

“Me too,” he says and then Uncle Boggs leads everyone inside, Lady Mary holding onto his arm. Finnick watches them go and bites his lip. He looks at Anne, looks back at Uncle Boggs and Lady Mary and then nods. He puts his arm out in front of Anne but she doesn’t take it. She merely blinks at it and then at him, clearly confused. Finnick feels his face go hot and he gestures at Uncle Boggs and her mother with his head.

“Oh!” Anne says, eyes wide, and then she takes hold of his arm. He pulls her after the grown-ups, feeling quite grown-up himself. They go up to the rooms the Oxfords will be staying in and when Anne goes to unpack, Finnick knows he was right.

It’s only been a few minutes, but she’s already much better company than Cato.

(not, to be fair, that that’s very hard)

*

He tries to teach Anne a new card game after supper and her kindly-faced nurse is supposed to be watching them, but most of her attention is taken by some little baby that toddles about and babbles nonsense.

“Who’s he?” Finnick asks and Anne turns to look.

“Oh, that’s Aubby,” she says and he frowns.

“Aubby?”

Anne goes pink.

“Aubrey. It’s just Mags told-” she pauses for a moment and swallows, “me once that when people like each other they sometimes make up nicknames, so I’ve started calling him Aubby. He’s my brother. He’s not very fun, though he’s better than he used to be. He talks sometimes and he can move and play some easy stuff, he used to do nothing but sleep. And cry.”

She talks very fast and Finnick nods, thinking this over. She peeks at him through her lashes and it’s the very first time she’s ever said “me”. He thinks for a minute more and then, “Can I call you Annie?”

Anne’s already big eyes go even bigger.

“Annie?”

“I like you,” he says, “so Annie can be your nickname.”

She goes pinker than pink, like that perfect rosy colour at sunset, and nods, biting her lip. She shuffles her cards together until she drops them suddenly, clapping her hands.

“Ooo, you can be Finny!” she exclaims and if she’s giving him a nickname, that means she must like him too. He nods, a fuzzy feeling in his chest, and then, because he’s seen Uncle Boggs do this every time he makes some sort of deal, he takes Annie’s hand and shakes it.

“Annie,” he affirms and she nods.

“Finny,” she agrees.

They smile at each other, hands still joined and just like that, they’re friends.

*

He hasn’t been to Hadleigh since he was very small, so he, Annie and Lizbet go exploring.

(of course, they can’t go anywhere too exciting, Mags always following behind them so they stay out of trouble)

They wind through hallways and peek in every room, store rooms and bed rooms and rooms Finny could never guess the purpose of. They find a dusty room full of old costumes for Twelfth Night celebrations and they try them all on, funny hats and glitzy masks and pretty wings that sparkle.

“You look like a fairy princess,” he tells Annie as she spins around in glittery wings and a tiara made of beads. Her whole face lights up and she smiles brightly, putting the sun outside the window to shame. She drops into a curtsy just like a real lady (except maybe a bit more wobbly) and he takes off his oversized hat to bow, holding it up against his heart. She giggles and he grins, putting the floppy hat back on his head. It might be a farmer’s hat, the brim wide and limp.

“Here,” Annie offers, holding out a prop of a farmer’s tool, “it’ll go good with your great hat.”

Finny takes it with a beam. They head off again, still dressed up, and Mags’ eyebrows go straight up when she sees them.

“And what’s all this?” she asks, gesturing at their outfits.

“I’m a fairy princess,” Annie says happily, hugging Lizbet tight, and Mags smiles warmly.

“And a beautiful one too,” she says and Annie’s cheeks turn pink with pleasure. Finny thrusts out his tool.

“I’m a farmer,” he says and Mags grins, bouncing Aubby on her hip.

“Oh, are you? Well, shouldn’t you be ploughing a field then?”

Finny nods and turns to Annie.

“Come on Annie, let’s go plough!”

They hurry off outside, Mags laughing softly after them. Of course, as soon as they get there they both realize they have absolutely no idea how to plough.

“We could roll down the hill,” he offers instead and Annie nods. They race up to the top, Finny tripping over his stupid farmer’s tool and falling face first into the grass. He is more embarrassed than hurt and Annie kneels down beside him, her face all painted over with concern.

“Are you okay?” she asks and he nods quickly, not quite able to meet her eyes.

“Fine,” he mumbles and she touches his arm lightly. He turns and she holds out Lizbet.

“Here, Lizbet always makes me feel better.”

Finny looks at her and she smiles, soft, sweet and in all his years going to court, he’s never met anyone quite like Annie.

“Thanks,” he says, taking Lizbet and he does feel better. Annie stands and holds out her hand. Finny takes it and she pulls him up, his smile blooming to match hers. They run up the rest of the hill together and then roll down it, their laughter rising up to the sky. They go again and again, grass in their hair and leaving stains on their clothes. They pick flowers because Lizbet loves bouquets and Annie teaches him to tie them together, making a necklace for her and crown for him.

“Lizbet thinks it’s very pretty here. Your Uncle’s very lucky,” Annie says with a smile, her eyes sparkly.

Finny frowns.

“This isn’t my uncle’s castle, it’s mine.”

Annie stares at him.

“Yours?”

He nods and puffs out his chest.

“Yup, I’m the Earl of Richmond,” he boasts and Annie’s eyebrows draw together.

“I thought only daddies could be earls,” she says and Finny shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Huh. Mummy says if I’m really good and act like a lady, I’ll be a countess someday.”

Finny ponders this and Annie pulls up grass with her fingers, her skin starting to turn green.

“Do you want to be my countess?” he asks and Annie looks up at him.

“Really?”

He nods.

“Yeah, I like you best of all the girls I know, so better you than them.”

Annie presses her dirty hands to her cheeks.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Glimmer Mowbray’s mean, she stole my tart.”

Annie gasps in outrage.

“How rude! Why would she do that?”

“Cause my cousin Cato told her to.”

“Why?”

“Cause he’s mean.”

Annie shakes her head.

“I’d never steal your tarts, no matter who told me to,” she promises and he nods.

“I know, that’s why I’d pick you over her. Or Clove Clifford, she’s also mean. And everyone else is too old or too young.”

Annie thinks about this for a moment and then nods.

“Okay, I’ll be your countess Earl Finny.”

He smiles and then, because it seems like something an Earl should do for his Countess, he reaches over and brushes the dirt from her cheeks. Annie’s eyes go wide but then she straightens his doublet for him, smoothing down the arms with her fingers. They smile at each other until Mags comes over to lead them back inside and Finny stands and offers Annie his hand, pulling her and Lizbet up to their feet.

He doesn’t let go until much, much later.

*

June goes by much too quick but then it’s July and Earl John decides to head home.

Finny doesn’t mind his leaving, but he is upset that he’s taking Annie with him. He kicks at the dirt while they pack up, Earl John and Uncle Boggs guffawing together by Annie’s litter. She and her mother come outside and as much as he hates it, that means it’s time for goodbye. Finny tries to be a grown-up and keep the pout from his face, but it isn’t easy. Annie looks as downtrodden as he feels and Lady Mary curtseys to his Uncle.

“Thank you so much for having us, Lord Boggs,” she says and he kisses her hand.

“It was a pleasure; you are all welcome any time,” he replies and then helps her up into her litter. Mags and Aubby go in next and Finny turns to Annie, his whole body feeling heavy.

“Goodbye Earl Finny, we’ll miss you,” she says, holding Lizbet’s arm and making it wave. He takes that tiny hand and kisses it like a real lord’s supposed to and then takes Annie’s bigger, warmer hand and kisses it too.

“I’ll miss you too Countess Annie, Lizbet.”

Uncle Boggs comes over and drops a hand on his shoulder.

“Countess Annie?” he questions and Finny nods.

“Yes, Annie’s my countess,” he explains and Uncle Boggs starts to laugh, Earl John joining in. Lady Mary doesn’t laugh; her face goes sour instead and she gives him the same look his mother always gives him when he does something she doesn’t like. Finny frowns and wishes he knew what was so funny, but he doubts they’d tell him. Grownups never do. Annie climbs up into the litter with her mother and she holds Lizbet up to the window. Finny watches her leave and he’s almost eight years old, an earl and he definitely doesn’t want to cry.

Definitely not.

*

At the end of November, her daddy has a very exciting announcement.

“We’re going to London for the festivities this year,” he announces as they break their fast and Annie drops her apple slices.

“To see the king?” she asks in awe and Daddy nods, patting her on the head.

“Indeed. We weren’t able while your mother was with child nor when Aubrey was so young, but I think it’s time.”

Annie nods and licks apple juices from her fingers, her mummy watching her with a frown.

“Stop that Anne,” she says sternly and Annie does, her cheeks turning red. Mummy dips her head at her husband.

“An excellent idea, my lord. When do we depart?”

Annie rubs her fingers on the tablecloth while no one’s watching and her daddy thinks.

“A week or two I think. I trust you to have everything ready,” he all but commands and his wife dips her head again.

“Of course, my lord.”

Annie watches them and thinks she and Finny have much more fun being Earl and Countess than her parents do.

I wonder if he’ll be at court.

*

They leave early in December and Annie bundles Lizbet up against the biting cold, wrapping her in thick scarves and a little shawl Mags made her for last New Year’s. There’s a thin white sheet of snow over everything, a chilly wind nipping at her nose and Annie bundles up too, Mags dressing her in a thick, wooly cloak and a pair of dark gloves. There’s a hood to pull up over her head and then she climbs up into the litter, Mags making sure to tuck a cozy blanket around her. Her mummy sits across from her and Mags beside her with Aubby in her lap, fire warmed bricks placed beneath their feet to try and fight the cold.

Annie is almost too excited to manage, her heart pounding with thrills. She’s never been as far as London, nor has she ever been anywhere as wonderful as a royal palace. This is the greatest adventure she’s ever had but Aubby seems determined to ruin it, his pudgy face screwed up into a pout. He starts to cry only moments after they leave, his fists flying as he shouts. Mummy pinches her nose and “no, no, no!” Aubby wails. Mags coos in his ear, strokes his back and Annie frowns, his voice very shrill. Her happiness starts to evaporate, ground down by his shrieking and why, why, why are brothers so annoying? It takes forever to get him to quiet and it never lasts, a new fit of temper coming over him every time they make a stop. Nobody shouts at him though and Annie wants to throw her own fit, because that’s not fair. If she had a tantrum, she’d certainly get a scolding.

They’re all very surly by the time they arrive at Westminster (except her daddy, who is lucky enough be riding on a horse), its towers tall and dark against the sky and Annie is too busy closing her eyes and covering her ears to take in London, that sprawling city filled with soldiers and criminals in chains.

(would it have made things better or worse if she had?)

With Aubby momentarily hushed, Annie opens her eyes and is immediately entranced. Her daddy has many great castles, but none as magnificent as Westminster and Annie hangs out the window in awe, Lizbet squeezed against her chest.

“Stop that Anne, you must be on your best behavior,” her mummy reprimands and Annie wilts before settling back in her seat. She pouts and Mummy gives her a sharp look.

“None of that Anne. You must be a lady and ladies do not pout.”

Annie wants to sniffle but doesn’t, Mummy’s eyes narrowed as they watch her. She swallows her unhappiness and buries her nose in Lizbet’s soft hair, Aubby starting to fuss yet again. Her mummy sighs in frustration and Mags starts to make shushing sounds in the hope of keeping him calm (which seems unlikely, judging by their entire miserable journey). This is no fun at all, I want to go home.

Luckily for all of them, they’ve reached their destination and grooms help them climb down into the courtyard. Mags sets Aubby down and he totters about with a big smile, his little hand held tight in hers. They go up to their rooms to unpack and Annie looks around in wonder, her petulance forgotten, everything here so much more lavish than she’s used to. The king must be very rich indeed. She peels off her gloves and cloak when they reach their rooms and can’t wait to go searching for Finny. The king’s his uncle, he must be here. She’s just about to head out to find him when her mummy’s sharp voice stops her.

“What are you doing Anne?”

Annie turns to her and frowns in confusion. Mummy sighs.

“You can’t take that doll with you,” she says and Annie’s arms tighten around Lizbet.

“But-” she starts and never finishes.

“Anne, you mustn’t argue. This is the King’s court; we must make a good impression. You need to behave like a lady, not a child. You can either leave that toy here, or you can stay here yourself until you grow up.”

Her words broker no argument and Annie wants to stomp her feet, wants to cry and shout. Mags frowns.

“My lady,” she begins but Lady Mary cuts her off.

“You coddle her Mags, she must learn to behave appropriately.”

Annie squeezes Lizbet and fights back her tears. She is six years old and as much as she likes to pretend she’s all grown up sometimes, she’s not. Lizbet has been her bestest, only friend for as long as she can remember and Annie doesn’t feel safe without her. Mummy makes an aggravated noise.

“Fine then, stay here,” she says and turns to sweep from the room. Annie bites her lip and steps over to the bed. Her hands shake but she sets Lizbet down, tucking her under the covers and smoothing down her hair. It’s okay, I don’t need Lizbet. I have Finny now, he’s my friend. She repeats this to herself as she follows Mummy, but it still feels like she’s left an arm or a leg behind, her whole body feeling off and exposed. Mags squeezes her shoulder.

“Just think of all the exciting things you’ll be able to tell her about later,” she whispers and Annie nods, adding that to her mantra. Lizbet will be so happy to hear all about Finny, she missed him very much. They make their way down the stairs and Annie wonders where her daddy’s gotten to, because he’s nowhere to be seen.

(this isn’t all that surprising though, he’s always somewhere else)

“The Prince of Wales is about your age Anne, I hope the two of you will get along,” Mummy says and Annie wrinkles her nose.

“He’s mean,” she says and Mummy stops suddenly. She whirls around, her cheeks red and Annie recoils from her fury.

“How dare you,” she hisses, “how dare you say such things. Where would you even hear such an awful thing?”

“Finny told me,” she mumbles, feeling small and Mummy’s nostrils flare.

“I don’t care what that horrid little boy tells you, I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again. Is that clear?”

Her voice is harsh in a way Annie has never heard and she nods, tears starting to sting in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and her mummy’s eyes narrow.

“You should be. He is your future king Anne, you must show him respect.”

Mummy turns back and starts to walk, Annie trailing miserably behind her. Mags strokes her hair tenderly and Annie barely restrains a whimper. She wipes at her eyes with the backs of her hands and though she’s sad, there’s also a kernel of anger in her belly.

Finny isn’t horrid, he isn’t

how dare you mummy, how dare you

*

Mummy wanders off to gossip with ladies in great tall hats and Annie is left to her own devices. She drags Mags all over the palace, peering in every room for Finny. He must be here somewhere...

“Countess Annie!” a jubilant voice calls and she turns, clapping her hands in joy when she sees Finny rushing towards her. He nearly trips on his feet and she laughs, forgetting all the day’s unhappiness in an instant.

“Earl Finny!” she greets and then drops into her best curtsy. His face is red when he reaches her but he bends into a bow right away. He goes to take her hand but then frowns.

“Where’s Lizbet?” he asks and Annie feels her heart ache.

“Mummy says ladies do not have poppets,” she says and tears get caught in her throat. Finny folds his arms across his chest and scowls.

“That’s stupid,” he says firmly and Annie feels her heart bounce.

“Well hello Lord Finnick,” Mags greets as she comes around the corner with Aubby. Finny grins.

“Hullo!” he says and then nods at her brother. “Aubby.”

Aubby ignores him, far more interested in tugging on some fancy curtains. Finny turns back to Annie, his whole face lit up with excitement.

“You’ve never been here before, right?” he asks and she shakes her head. He beams.

“I’ve been here loads of times,” he brags and Annie’s eyes go wide.

“Wow,” she breathes, suitably impressed. He grabs her hand.

“I’ll show you all the best spots,” he promises and then they’re off. Mags smiles fondly and follows after them, Aubby doddling beside her. Finny takes Annie to see the great hall with all its big, long tables and then outside to the gardens covered over in shimmery white snow.

“Oh,” she says softly, entirely enchanted, and Finny squeezes her hand.

“You should see it when it’s warmer,” he says and then they’re off to Finny’s room and its magnificent views. Annie looks out the window and gasps, all of London sprawled out beneath her.

“I can see Essex from here,” Finny says and Annie looks up at him in surprise.

“Really?”

He nods.

“Uh-huh, just over there.”

He points and Annie follows his finger, squinting her eyes.

“I can’t see it,” she sighs and Finny shrugs.

“Well, I’m eight,” he says and Annie nods because that makes perfect sense. He wanders over to the bed and flops down on it, his arms stretched above his head.

“I’ll take you to the stables after; you won’t believe how many horses there are!”

Annie nods and sits beside him.

“Lizbet’s very happy we came,” she says and he turns over to look at her. He smiles and really, she thinks, he has the nicest smile in the world.

“Me too,” he says and she feels warm down to her toes. He bounces up then and grabs her hand, his fingers wrapping snugly around hers.

“Now come on! There are horses to see!”

He leaps off the bed and takes her with him, and yes, Annie thinks as they laugh through the halls, I’m very happy I came.

*

“Are there any other kids here?” she asks much later when they’re heading to dinner and Finny wrinkles his nose.

“Yes,” he says sourly and Annie frowns.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he mutters and she raises an eyebrow at him. He scowls.

“There’s my cousin, Cato. He’s only five but he’s always bossing me around and acting like a...like a jerk. I’m older but he’s always I’m a prince Finnick, you have to do what I say Finnick, I’m going to be king Finnick, I could cut your head off Finnick.”

Annie covers her mouth in horror.

“Could he really?” she whispers and Finny shrugs.

“Not until he’s actually king, but I don’t want him to complain to his father. I hate it when he’s cross; he always does nasty stuff when he is.”

Finny’s voice takes on an odd, unhappy tone and Annie feels her heart shake.

“Oh no,” she says softly and Finny shrugs again.

“Most of the others always do what Cato says, which means never doing anything nice. I hate having to play with them; they always make fun of people and trip servants in the hall. They’re...” and he lowers his voice, “gits, all of them.”

“I don’t think I’ll like them,” she says and his eyes widen.

“They’re not all bad,” he hurries to assure her, “Henry Holland’s okay and so’s the Earl of Salisbury’s son, not that he comes around often. Oh, and the Duke of Suffolk’s son John, though he’s only five...and um, I’ve never actually talked to the Duke of York’s daughter, but I’m sure she’s nice.”

He trails off and looks at her anxiously; as if afraid he’s scared her off. She smiles and takes his hand.

“I’m sure, but even if they’re not, I’ve got you. That’s enough.”

He blinks at her and then smiles sweetly, his fingers tightening on hers.

“Yeah?”

Annie nods without even a little bit of hesitation.

“Definitely.”

Finny beams.

“You’re enough too,” he says and she grins. They head into the great hall together and there are more people milling about inside than Annie has ever seen. She feels suddenly shy and draws closer to Finny’s side, wishing desperately she had Lizbet with her. Finny leads her over to the farthest table where all the children are gathered and she hugs his arm in concern. Finny is enough, more than enough, but that doesn’t mean she’s not afraid to face Cato and his group of meanies.

“Finnick!” a voice calls and she turns to see a boy hurrying towards them. He’s maybe seven with a freckly tanned face, light brown hair, hazel eyes and dirt stains all over his boots. Finny grins.

“Hullo Henry,” he says and this must be Henry Holland.

“Were you outside?” she blurts and then blushes. Henry glances at her and Finny laughs.

“Henry practically lives outside,” he says and Henry sighs.

“I wish,” he says with glittery eyes before giving her a thoughtful look.

“Can you climb trees?” he asks and Annie has to shake her head, feeling somewhat stupid. Henry looks appalled.

“You can teach us,” Finny offers and Annie feels a little less dumb. Henry nods.

“I’ll have to,” he says very seriously and Annie smiles. Finny squeezes her hand and they reach their table. They sit and there’s a knot of children about their age clustered at the far end. Finny narrows his eyes at them before leaning over to whisper in her ear.

“That’s Clove Clifford,” he says, indicating a short girl with very dark hair, “and that’s Glimmer Mowbray”, a tall girl with silvery blonde hair and pale skin, “and that’s Marvel Abernathy,” he finishes, pointing out a boy with muddy brown hair, vibrant green eyes (though not as pretty as Finny’s) and very light brown skin. Annie looks them over and cannot help but hope they’ll be nicer than Finny described.

“I hope supper comes soon,” Henry sighs and then “Finnick! Finnick! Finnick!” an excited voice practically squeals. Finny wilts and Annie looks behind them to see a boy of perhaps five streaking towards them, his cheeks rosy, his eyes wide and his hair the brightest orange she’s ever seen.

“Hello Darius,” Finny says and Darius bounces up and down, looking at Finny with awed adoration.

“This is my friend Annie,” he introduces and Darius looks over at her like she’s fallen straight out of heaven.

“Hello,” she manages, waving slightly, and Darius beams.

“Hi,” he breathes and his whole face lights up. “Finnick’s my cousin! Step-cousin actually,” he amends, though his enthusiasm doesn’t dim. Annie nods.

“Why don’t you sit over here, Henry’ll move, won’t he?” Finny asks and Henry shrugs. He scoots over to the next seat and Darius practically vibrates as he climbs in next to Finny. He just sits there and smiles widely, three of his teeth missing. She wonders if Aubby will be so impressed with her when he grows up.

“And who are you?”

She’d been so caught up in Darius she hadn’t noticed the other children coming over and Annie jumps in her seat. The question is from that blonde girl, Glimmer, who looks down her thin nose at Annie. She ducks her head immediately, her hair falling over her face.

“Anne,” she mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Anne of Oxford,” she says a bit louder, because she has nothing to be embarrassed about. Her daddy’s an earl and that’s impressive, her parents told her so. Glimmer lifts her chin to think about that and the other girl, Clove, thrusts herself forward.

“Never heard of you; I bet your father’s only a knight,” she says as if that’d be the worst thing in the world and Annie feels offended on Uncle George’s behalf.

“He’s an earl actually,” Finny says angrily, “which is better than your dad the baron.”

Clove turns very red and Annie squeezes Finny’s fingers beneath the table. His cheeks are stained crimson, his eyes are narrowed at Clove and he’s the best, she decides, the very best.

“My daddy’s a duke,” Glimmer declares, looking at Annie like she’s something grubby on the bottom of her shoe,  and Finny opens his mouth to say something but Henry cuts him off.

“So’s mine,” he says, “which means I get to be a duke someday too. But you don’t right? You only become a duchess if a duke marries you.”

Glimmer scowls at him.

“So?” she asks and Henry looks her dead in the eye.

“I wouldn’t marry you,” he says firmly, “and I doubt you’d want Darius, unless you like babies that is.”

Clove gasps and Glimmer’s eyes go very wide, her lips clamped together so tight they almost disappear. Big, huge tears start to gather in her eyes and then she drops suddenly to the ground, a high pitched wail rising from her mouth. She rolls around, arms waving and Clove backs away like she’s diseased. Marvel Abernathy looks over at her from his spot near the head of the table and rolls his eyes. Annie stares at her in alarm.

“Is she okay?” she asks Finny and he rolls his eyes too.

“She does this all the time,” he says and Annie frowns. Glimmer’s just like Aubby except she’s six, not two.

“Or maybe you do like babies, since you act like one,” Henry says and Annie’s eyes go very wide. Just then a great horn sounds and everyone immediately scrambles to stand up, Annie following suit in bewilderment. Three figures come striding into the hall and she gasps. At the head is a man that must be the king, a glittering crown on his head. Wisps of white hair sneak out from underneath it and his clothes look very heavy, all velvet and jewels and a fur lined cape. His face is parchment coloured, papery and wrinkly like a prune but his lips are very red, almost like he’s bleeding.

Annie’s not sure why, but she suddenly feels very cold.

A lady who must be the queen follows him, her very dark hair woven through with shiny gold thread. Her skin is a warm sort of brown and she smiles, her teeth unusually sharp. Her dress is also heavy looking with costly gems and then comes a boy that must be Finny’s cousin. He’s blonde and smiling smugly, his dark eyes bright. They head to the dais at the front of the hall to sit at the head table and this is her first glimpse at England’s royal family.

Sadly, it won’t be her last.

*

“Finnick!” a sharp voice calls as he walks Annie back to her room and he stiffens all over. Annie looks at him in concern and turns to see a lady coming towards them, everything about her severe. She is dressed in sombre colours, her grey eyes are narrowed and she’s plucked her forehead and eyebrows, all her hair pulled tightly back into a caul. Finny inhales sharply.

“Hello mother,” he says, eyes duller than Annie’s ever seen. She gasps a little and looks back at the lady in surprise. She doesn’t look like Finny at all. She looks meaner. Finny’s mother sweeps her eyes over Annie in disinterest before focusing on her son.

“Why aren’t you making an effort to befriend your cousin? How many times must I tell you Finnick, you will never achieve your great destiny if you don’t become close to your royal relatives.”

Finny rolls his eyes like he’s heard this all before and Annie frowns. Great destiny?

“I don’t like him,” Finny says and his mother purses her lips like she’s just eaten something rotten.

“God has told me you will achieve greatness Finnick, but you must seize it,” she insists and Finny scowls.

“I don’t want to. Cato’s mean and I’ve got Annie now, she’s better.”

Annie feels something happy flutter in her tummy until his mother turns to look at her, her lips curling back over her teeth.

“Annie?” she echoes and Annie feels small and useless under her withering look. Finny squeezes her hand.

“Yes, she’s my countess.”

His mother laughs shortly, but it isn’t a nice sound at all.

“You are the king’s nephew, your countess will be someone of far more importance than this Annie,” she says and her voice drips with something nasty and cruel. Annie almost wants to cry and wishes she had Lizbet to hug.

“Oh there you are Anne, I was worried,” comes Mags familiar voice and they all turn to see her walking towards them. Her smile soothes Annie’s hurt but her eyes widen when she takes note of Finny’s mother and she drops into a curtsy.

“Lady Alma,” she says and the lady in question barely even seems to notice her. She turns back to Finny with a frown.

“I see I will have to have a talk with your uncle, Boggs is not raising you as I would like,” she says and Annie doesn’t say it, but she thinks that might be a good thing. Finny merely glares at her. Lady Alma gives them both one last harsh look before she leaves and Finny seems to wilt as soon as she’s gone.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and Annie shakes her head.

“It’s not your fault. And what does she mean by destiny?”

Finny bites his lip.

“God talks to her,” he says in a tone that suggests he doesn’t believe it at all, “and He tells her that I’m going to be someone amazing someday. Except I always ruin all her plans.”

He sounds sad and Annie frowns. She squeezes his hand.

“I think you’re amazing right now,” she says and his eyes go very wide. For a moment Annie thinks he might cry but then he smiles.

“You’re amazing too,” he says and she feels all of Lady Alma’s rudeness melt away. Mags reaches out to stroke both their heads.

“Alright you two, it’s best you get to bed. It’s been a long night.”

She leads them off and Annie decides right then that she doesn’t like Lady Alma at all. Anyone who makes Finny sad is bad and never in her life has she ever been surer of anything than she is of that.

*

All the festivities over the next week are incredible, but nothing is better than presents on New Year’s.

Annie gets a fancy comb and brocade for a new dress from her parents, while everyone at court has to give the king something amazing and expensive. He gets golden cups, sparkly jewels, yards of velvet and fur lined cloaks, even a new horse from the Duke of Exeter.

“Henry’s dad,” Finny whispers to her and she nods. The king has a great, big mound of gifts when it’s all over and something awful occurs to Annie.

“I didn’t get you anything,” she tells Finny mournfully. “I’m a terrible Countess.”

“I didn’t get you anything either,” he admits and taps his chin. His eyes widen.

“I know, here,” he says pulling off one of his rings and handing it to her. It’s silver with a pretty pattern of swirls and Annie cradles it in her palm.

“I love it,” she says and pulls off one of her own. It’s gold with one little pearl and Finny smiles.

“Thank you Countess Annie,” he says and puts it on his pinky. Annie pushes his onto her thumb.

That night she curls around Lizbet in bed and stares at that ring, her whole body warm and happy.

This is the bestest bestest new year’s ever

ever ever

*

It’s sad saying goodbye, but Finny promises they’ll see each other again soon. Annie holds onto that as they roll away from Westminster and she cannot wait.

soon

*

1458

It turns out to be much sooner than either of them would have guessed.

In February, on Saint Valentine’s Day, Annie wakes to the sound of screaming. It is a wailing, wretched, heartbroken sound and she is frozen in her bed, far too terrified to go see what’s going on. She curls around Lizbet and listens to that shrieking, male and female, her heart hammering in her throat.

What could it be?

It sounds like it’s just beyond her door and then something shatters, like a vase against the wall. Annie flinches and her fear doubles, a sick feeling bubbling in her stomach. More sounds of destruction follow, over top of weeping and Annie cannot even guess what might be going on. Only six and terrified, she thinks the world is ending.

In a way, it is.

Aubrey Cresta, two years old, is dead.

He’d had a cold, but no one could have predicted this, could’ve imagined it would become so much more deadly overnight. His little body is clammy when they find it and it is Annie’s mother that wails so loudly, tearing at her hair and clothes. It is her father who rampages, sobbing as he breaks everything in sight. Mags merely cradles her poor lifeless boy, weeping into his chest and there is no heartbeat there, nothing at all.

(Annie sits in their nursery later and cries her own tears, because it is quiet, so quiet, no Aubby to disturb her peace. His muddy shoes sit by the door, a wooden horse lies sideways on a shelf but there’s no Aubby.

There never will be again)

Castle Camps becomes a tomb, filled to the brim with grief and darkness and tragedy, spun over them like an intricate web. Little, tiny Aubby is prepared for burial and there is not a single smile to be seen, no laughter heard at all. Everything is misery and something important dies with Aubby, something they’ll never get back. Her parents lock themselves away, away from her and away from each other, their sorrow too heavy to carry. Annie sits with Mags in the hush death has brought to their home and feels oddly empty. Mags strokes her hair, kisses her head and tells her Aubby is gone to be with God. She is still too young to fully grasp what that means, but she does know it means he’s gone and never coming back.

Her whole family comes to the funeral, her uncles, aunts and cousins and her parents look at those children with wounded, hostile eyes. Neither one of them ever looks at Annie. Other people she doesn’t know come too, each one with sympathetic words that never seem to soften her parents’ broken edges. Boggs and Finny arrive on the day of and Finny holds her hand throughout the ceremony, the Latin floating up and over Annie’s head.

Soon

I had wanted soon

I shouldn’t have

Mags sobs into her hands, her father falls to his knees and her mother sits there in silence, tears streaming down her face. Annie looks at them and feels as if she is drowning in their mourning, Aubby’s death like a puncture wound into the bubble of their life.

Oh Aubby, why did you go?

(she’s so caught up in her parents’ agony, she doesn’t even realize she’s started crying until Finny wipes the tears from her cheeks)

*

They leave Castle Camps after that and Annie wonders if they’ll ever be back. Aubby’s ghost lingers there and she doesn’t think her parents could ever survive the haunting. Finny hugs her goodbye and his arms are warm, his embrace as comforting and safe as Mags’. She breathes him in slowly, his skin smelling just like summer, and she wants to stay here, where it feels like nothing bad could ever touch her.

“I’ll come visit as soon as I can,” he promises and she nods, the harshness of her pain softening just a bit. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, tears tickling her eyes.

“He was so small, what will he do all alone?” she murmurs, fear thick in her veins, and Finny tightens his hold on her.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, “my Dad’ll look after him.”

Annie closes her eyes and breathes a little easier.

“Thank you, Earl Finny,” she says and he squeezes her.

“Anything for you Countess Annie.”

*

Soon after that, their lives fall into a pattern.

They spend every summer together, bathing in the river no matter the consequences, rolling down hills, catching frogs and fighting invisible dragons. They laugh together, sneak cakes from the kitchen and it’s perfect.

(or as perfect as anything can be in Coriolanus’ England)

They meet up again in time for Christmas and there’s hide and seek in the king’s grand castles, magnificent pageants to enjoy and lovely new year’s gifts to exchange, a brooch she gives him when she’s eight, fabric for a new dress for Lizbet, a deck of cards, a beautiful book of hours from him when she’s ten.

(you’re ten now, that’s a milestone, right?)

He regales her with the thrilling tale of his grandparents’ love, the Welsh servant and the widowed queen who eloped in secret. He tells her how they’d defied the law forbidding a queen to remarry without the king’s permission, how his grandmother had fought parliament itself to have his grandpa Owen granted the rights of an Englishman and how his grandfather had been arrested but managed to escape Newgate Prison and flee. It’s better than any made up story or romance, full of adventure and love and Annie sighs, eyes bright.

How romantic, I wonder if anyone will ever love me that much

I will, he promises her at all of ten years old, I’ll love you even more than that.

They grow up side by side but there are shadows of course, lurking just beyond the summer sun’s bright rays.

There is a hole in Annie’s home, Aubby’s death followed by another miscarried boy tearing her family apart, and the chill in their halls never seems to warm. Her father spends so long away, away at court, at his other castles, just away, that Annie wonders if he even recognizes her when he’s finally home. Her mother is sharp and jagged, brittle and no matter what she does, Annie can never make it better.

(put that doll away!)

(grow up Anne, stop being such a child)

Annie lies in bed and thinks of little Aubby, his chubby cheeks and mud stained shoes, and oh Aubby Aubby, why did you leave us?

(and under all that, she thinks, did my parents love him more than me?)

There is a weight on Finnick’s small shoulders, one growing heavier as he grows older, as every day passes. There is Cato hounding his steps with sharp words, taunts and Finnick bites his tongue, letting every wound fester until he thinks he might pop.

(you must make him love you Finnick, how do you think you’ll ever achieve your destiny without royal favour?)

There is his uncle, the King, glorious and vicious and vindictive. Executions in every city he visits, cruelties lavished on all who displease him and his darkness looms over everything Finnick does, breeding fear in his heart and suffocating him under the  pressure to live up to royal expectations.

(you are my nephew Finnick, you are a part of this family. Every mistake of yours is a mistake of ours, your failures reflect on us. You wouldn’t want to disgrace us Finnick, you may trust us on that)

At eleven, Finny loses his grandfather, Owen Odair, the Welsh servant who won the heart of a Queen. He had been kind, friendly and Finny had adored him. He’d taught him to speak Welsh (always be proud of who you are Finnick, no matter what anyone else says), told him the best stories of fighting in France and all about the royal grandmother Finny’d never met (she was beautiful, but more than that, she was clever. Catherine always beat me at everything, from cards to horse racing. I think she passed those skills onto you).

He’d never had anything but love for his grandfather and Annie mourns with him when he dies, holding him as he cries for days afterward. King Coriolanus doesn’t bother to attend the funeral and he denies Owen the chance to be buried beside his love with a mocking laugh. A Welsh servant has no place amongst the kings he says of his step-father and so Owen is laid to rest in Boggs’ chapel, far from the woman he’d risked everything to be with. It’s tragic Annie always says, but I’m sure they’re together now anyway.

And there are whispers too, about unhappiness and discontent in the countryside, in the towns, a rumble of terrible things to come. Riots flare up here and there, followed by bloody, violent punishments, and the whole country is just waiting for a chance to erupt. But there is also Mags and Uncle Boggs to love them, Henry to teach them to climb trees, little Darius to coo in awe at every little thing they do, and perhaps best of all, there’s each other.

It isn’t perfect, not really, but they are young and the world around them still seems wide open with possibility.

(if only it could stay that way)

*

1468 March

Scotland.

After spending a lifetime listening to his uncle call the Scots savages, barbarians, little better than dogs, it is Scotland that provides their refuge. The teenaged King James III welcomes them with open arms and provides them with much needed shelter and sustenance. He is far more gracious than Finnick himself would be if faced with his greatest enemy begging for help and looking at the two kings before him, it is pretty clear who the savage is.

(not that he’d ever say such a thing aloud of course)

Finnick knows he should be grateful he is alive after the massacre at Towton and he is, really. But Annie is still in England, alone and at the mercy of the Yorkists and it is only Uncle Boggs keeping watch over him like a warden that stops him from fleeing back to England. He can barely breathe with fear for her and how could I leave you?

“She is safer in England. The Yorkists won’t harm her, she hasn’t done anything wrong. Their grievance is with her father, not her. If you’d brought her with you, she would be in danger. Exile is a perilous life; we will be hunted and slaughtered if we are ever caught. You did the right thing,” Uncle Boggs keeps telling him and he repeats it to himself but never believes it. Annie is alone in hostile territory and if anything happens to her...

Be safe Annie, please be safe

*

1462

Everything changes the year she turns eleven.

Their visits usually happen in June or latest July, but this time Finny only shows up mid-way through August, three days after her eleventh birthday. He’d written of course, explained that the king wanted him in London, but Annie would be lying if she said there wasn’t a curl of uneasiness in her stomach. Mags merely laughs fondly and strokes her hair.

“He’ll be here soon,” she murmurs and Annie nods.

Maybe I’m just being silly.

(if only)

She is waiting outside when he finally arrives at Hedingham, his bronze hair shining in the sun. He beams when he sees her and leans forward in his saddle to wave. Annie smiles and feels her heart bouncing happily in her chest. He leaps neatly off his horse, all his limbs longer than they used to be, and Annie flings her arms around him, his own coming around her in a hug. He’s taller than he was at Christmas, not a lot, but definitely taller. He pulls back and she looks at him, all the baby fat that had clung to his cheeks seeming to have melted away.

“I missed you,” he says and happy bubbles fill her up.

“I missed you too,” she tells him, unable to keep down her smile, and he squeezes her.

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he apologizes, “but I brought you a present!”

Annie smiles, fondness coursing through her like a river, and even though she’s older, she still can’t think of a single word to truly describe the perfect green of his eyes.

“You didn’t have to,” she says, “you’re present enough.”

She says it like she’s teasing but she isn’t and he smiles, her favourite, slow, corner-of-the-mouth smile that makes her every bone warm beneath her skin. Her mother clears her throat loudly.

“Perhaps we should move this inside,” she says with a particularly sharp look at Finny and Annie. They do and Annie loops her arm through Finny’s, practically skipping towards the doors.

“Come on,” he whispers just to her, “I want to give you your present.”

Her heart hums with excitement and she nods, tugging him off towards the stairs.

“Anne!” her mother calls in annoyance but she doesn’t stop.

“I’m just going to help him unpack,” she shouts back over her shoulder and the two of them pick up their pace to make sure no one stops them. They hurry into his room and thankfully his trunk is already there, Finny immediately heading straight to it. He flings open the lid and digs through it, tossing things out of the way. A stray pair of hose hits her square in the face and she laughs, winding the legs around her wrists.

“Is this my gift then?” she teases and he turns in confusion. He rolls his eyes when she holds up the hose for him to see and she laughs again.

“Very funny,” he says and turns back to his digging.

“Did you forget it?” she asks and he briefly looks at her to stick out his tongue.

“No, I just made sure to put it right in the middle, so it’d be cushioned on all sides. I didn’t want anything to happen to it.”

A thrill runs up her spine and she squeezes the hose, the anticipation driving her wild. What could it be?

“Hah!” he crows in triumph and then turns, a lovely little box in his hands. He bounces over to her and she might be vibrating. She takes it and he sits beside her, watching her eagerly as she lifts the lid.

“Finny,” she gasps, her eyes stretching wide. Sitting in that box is the most beautiful necklace she’s ever seen, so beautiful she’s almost afraid to touch it. It’s three strings of pearls interspersed with emeralds and from the center hangs a golden filigree heart with the loveliest emerald of all right in the middle.

“Do you like it?” he asks and she can barely speak.

“It’s...oh Finny, it’s beautiful, too beautiful,” she murmurs in awe and he bumps her shoulder with his.

“Just like you then,” he says and her heart beats fast.

“I love it,” she whispers and he smiles

“Do you want to try it on?” he asks and she nods, pulling back her hair. He clasps it behind her neck, fingers soft when they skim her skin and she gasps at herself in the mirror.

“Oh Finny,” she says and then flings herself on him. He catches her and laughs, squeezing her around the middle.

“Happy birthday, my Countess.”

And it is happy, though not because of the necklace. It’s because of him. She’d meant what she said before.

No gift, no matter how grand, could ever be as perfect as Finny himself.

*

“What did the King want?” she asks later when they’re lying side by side in the grass, their fingers linked. Finny sighs.

“To tell me what a disappointment I am,” he says and Annie bristles in outrage.

“What?” she demands and Finny squeezes her fingers.

“As the King’s nephew, it is my duty to befriend the next generation and ensure their loyalty to their sovereign lord. I am not nearly charming or amiable enough.”

“I think you’re very charming and amiable,” she says, still smarting at the King’s rudeness. Finny grins.

“You’re the only one who thinks so, apparently. According to the King I am nothing but a social failure. From now on, I must be the model courtier, hobnobbing with all the noble children. Even if I hate them, I have to lie and smile and act as if we’re all the best of friends.”

His voice is bitter and Annie frowns.

“Why?”

“I’m supposed to win their affection, all to bind these up and coming nobles more closely to our royal house.  And if they prove resistant to being bound, I am to gain their confidence so I might learn all their secrets. He wants me to kiss ass and then report everything back to him. He wants me to be a liar and a spy.”

Annie doesn’t know what to say to that so she scoots a little closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly and he shrugs, his smile false and his laugh fake.

“Ah well, that’s the price you pay when you’re related to royalty. Actually, I was hoping you might do me a favour.”

“What?” she asks and he pauses a moment as if embarrassed.

“Well, um...couldyoumaybeteachmetodance?”

It comes out in a breathless rush and Annie blinks, not having caught a single word.

“Huh?”

His face turns pink and he breathes in deeply.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he admits and her eyes go very wide.

“Really?”

“There just always seemed to be something better to do, but now my uncle’s insisting I dance with every girl at court and I’m going to make an absolute fool of myself. I know you’ve had a dance tutor, so help me? Please?”

Annie props herself up on her elbow and looks at him, all earnest and anxious. She nods.

“Alright,” she says, “I’ll teach you.”

“Really?”

She leans over him, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

“Of course,” she says, mock-offended that he would doubt her, and he grins. He pulls her down on top of him in a hug and Annie nestles into his chest with a smile. She loves hugging Finny; she always feels like she’s exactly where she belongs.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you Annie,” he says and she can’t help a cheeky grin.

“Make a fool of yourself at court,” she teases and he laughs.

“I would. Thank you. And as a show of my appreciation, I’m going to ask you to dance first. Not just next time we’re at court, but always. Until the day I die, you’ll always be my first dance.”

She lifts her head up a little to look at him in surprise.

“Really?”

He nods.

“I have to dance with everyone apparently, but you’re the only one I really want to dance with.”

Annie feels her heart smile.

“And I’ll always say yes,” she promises and he grins, squeezing her. She lays her head back down on his chest and listens to his heart beat.

If everyday could be just like this one, well, everyday would be perfect wouldn’t it?

*

She spends the next two weeks teaching him every dance step she knows and he is naturally graceful, so unlike the clumsy Finny he used to be. It’s fun, the two of them spinning around (though they never have any music, Finny much much too embarrassed to ever allow anyone else to know what they’re up to) and Annie doesn’t want it to ever end.

But then, she never wants her time with Finny to end.

It does though, it always does, but this time it comes far sooner than she could have expected. Only two weeks after he’d arrived, the King calls Finny to join him at his Leeds Castle. Annie is furious.

“You only just got here,” she says angrily as Finny packs and he sighs.

“I know.”

“He just saw you.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t fair,” she snaps and Finny sighs again. Most of the time, nearly all the time, she barely notices that Finny is two years older than her. But sometimes, like now, he seems older and she feels childish in comparison.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he says and Annie does everything within her power to stop from pouting. A great many petulant, whining thoughts rise up inside her but she forces them down. If Finny can be grown up about this, then so can she.

“I know, but I’d hoped you’d at least stay until your birthday.”

“Me too, but what the King commands, I obey.”

He says the last bit bitterly and Annie feels something hard settle in her stomach. Oh Finny. She throws her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“I’ll miss you,” she murmurs and he nods, holding her closer than he ever has before.

“I’ll miss you too,” he whispers and Annie doesn’t know it of course, but this is just the start of the King taking Finny away from her.

(she’ll learn soon enough)

*

Finny does everything his uncle wants of him.

He smiles, charms and laughs with every young noble at court, even as he hates himself for it. He is a liar, but worse, he allows them to say and do awful things, all to convince them he’s their friend. He laughs when they trip servants in the hall, ignores the people they hate and agrees easily with every insult they throw at those not in their little circle.

“Ugh, I can’t believe George Neville asked me to dance, his father’s only a knight. Like I’d ever stoop so low,” Glimmer Mowbray says in disgust before fluttering her eyelashes at him and Finny grins.

“You deserve much better than that,” he says and she beams.

It’s the same as every day and Finny makes himself sick, but carries on anyway.

(not that he’s allowed to do anything else)

His uncle’s eyes follow him around every room and so Finny acts just the way his uncle wants, even though all he really wants to do is tell Glimmer and her ilk that they’re awful, rude and deluded if they think their titles make them so much better than everyone else.

They’re not better than anyone. But then, neither is he.

What have I become?

(you don’t want to know)

*

Christmas arrives and thankfully, so does Annie.

She is a like a breath of fresh air and Finny yearns so badly to run off with her, to have everything go back to how it used to be. Just him and Annie and Henry and even little Darius. He can’t of course, he must continue his charade but still, if he could have Annie beside him, it would be so much easier to bear.

But he doesn’t have her.

Annie flutters at the periphery of all their gatherings, always watching him but never once trying to approach him. When he manages to get a moment with her, even away from all the others, she is shy and quiet, so unlike the smiling, affectionate Annie he is used to. He is almost too afraid to ask why; terrified she will tell him she is disgusted by him. It takes until the final ball of the festivities before he is able to pluck up the courage.

There is a magnificent feast and Annie spends it all with some blonde girl he doesn’t know. He tries to convince himself he has nothing to worry about, that she is not avoiding him; she is merely making new friends. After all, he can see his birthday gift hanging about her neck, as lovely as he’d knew it’d look on her, that must mean she still likes him, right?

He sits at the head of the table, smiling and chatty, but that worry eats at him all throughout dinner. When they migrate to another room for dancing, Finny knows the time is now. He searches through the crowd until he sees her, her eyes sparkling as she looks at the dance floor, and he heads right over, determined and terrified. He bows when he reaches her and smiles as best he can.

“Lady Anne, may I have this dance?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes, her cheeks flushing a deep, dark pink but she nods quickly and he takes her pale hands in his. He leads her out amongst the other dancing couples and still she won’t look at him, a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

“So, who’s your new friend?” he asks, trying to sound nothing but mildly curious. She smiles.

“Madge of Bedford.”

Her voice is warm and happy as she says it and Finny cannot help but smile too. The name is familiar and it takes him a minute to figure out why.

“Oh, she’s my cousin,” he says and Annie finally does look up at him, her eyes wide.

“Really?”

“Well, first cousin once removed. Her mother, Margaret, is my actual first cousin. Which is weird, since she’s old enough to be my mum.”

“Oh. She’s very nice, Madge is,” Annie says and even though he’s still a little sick with worry, he cannot help being happy for her.

“My mother thinks I should marry her,” he mentions and Annie’s eyes go very wide, before she drops her head, eyes turned straight down to the floor.

“Really?” she asks, her voice at a much higher pitch than normal.

“Uh-huh. She’s the richest heiress in England by a huge amount, no one but the King has more land and money than her father. She’s also set to inherit two dukedoms, not to mention her royal blood. I bet nearly everyone in England wants to marry her.”

“Oh,” Annie says quietly, “well, she is lovely.”

“I’m sure she is, but I don’t want to marry her.”

Annie looks up at him in surprise.

“Why not?”

“Well, I’m happy being an Earl, I don’t need a dukedom. And really, what would I do with two of them? I think I’m rich enough on my own and I already have royal blood, I don’t need hers. I mean, I’ve never even spoken to her. And anyway, I already have a countess.”

He says it with a smile and Annie just stares at him, her eyes very wide and her cheeks red. Finny feels like he may be sick.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asks quietly and he’s so, so terrified she’ll say yes. She tilts her head a bit.

“Wrong?”

He nods.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Annie bites her lip and drops her head again, looking flustered.

“I haven’t, I...well, you’re making all these new friends and I’ve never been very popular with people like Glimmer, I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Her voice is very small when she says it and Finny shakes his head, both relieved and flabbergasted.

“Annie, you could never get in the way. Never. No matter what happens, I’ll always want you with me. You don’t have to sit with me or spend time with me if you don’t want to obviously, but just...don’t ever think I don’t want you to. I do, of course I do. You’re my countess, my best friend, my Annie.” He pauses then and swallows, his nerves nearly eating him alive. “That is, if you still want to be.”

He can’t help sounding vulnerable, all his worries crowded in his mouth and slipping out, but Annie looks at him shyly, her eyes bright.

“Of course I do, I always will. But your mother, she...doesn’t like me.”

Finny rolls his eyes and can’t help but smile, buoyed by her words.

“My mother doesn’t like anyone. It doesn’t matter anyway; she’s not in charge of me. I still like you best of all the girls I know.”

“I like you best of all the boys I know,” Annie says, her smile starting to unfurl and Finny feels his heart bounce in his chest.

“That’s what matters most. And anyway, think how jealous Madge or anyone else would be. You’ll always be my favourite girl, not to mention I promised you’d always be my first dance; that might be awkward at my wedding.”

Annie giggles a bit and he grins, spinning her around.

“See? It’s better for everyone if I marry you,” he says and she laughs, the sound lifting his spirits up to the roof.

“Okay. I’ll be your countess Earl Finny, happily.”

“Good.”

They grin at each other and the dance comes to an end, Finny not quite ready to let her go.

“You’re not very good, are you?” comes Cato’s harsh voice and both Finny and Annie look over at him.

“My most sincere apologies, your Highness,” Madge of Bedford says with a curtsy, possessing far more grace than Finny is sure he’d have if he were in her position. Cato stomps off and Annie puts a hand over her mouth in distress. People whisper and point while Madge tries to keep her head high, moving to the edge of the room with as much dignity as she can muster.

“Well, I think I’ve found my next partner,” he says, hating Cato for heaping this humiliation on Madge’s head. Annie looks up at him with a grateful smile.

“Idiot!” the King bellows and Annie jumps, her nails digging into Finny’s arm. Finny himself feels his heart thump and he watches his uncle strike a serving boy across the face, sending him and his wine jug crashing to the floor.

“Useless cur!” his uncle roars and Annie hides her face in Finny’s chest. He holds her, too horrified to look away and his uncle kicks that boy, over and over and over again.

“Did I say you were allowed to stop?” his uncle barks at the minstrels and they start playing again, their music slightly hysterical.

“Remove this filth from my hall!” the King shouts at two guards who yank the bleeding boy up. Finny fights the urge to be sick.

“Lord Brutus, see that the wretch is properly dealt with.”

The Duke of Somerset, the king’s cruellest noble, swaggers forward, his expression hungry.

“As you command, my king.”

Finny watches as the terrified serving boy is hauled off for some horrific torture and cannot help remembering the gruesome executions that had kicked off the festivities this year.

England is dying

He thinks it only briefly, that thought much too dangerous to be allowed to linger. He is the king’s nephew but it would only take one wrong word to send him to the torture chambers, to have him dragged through the streets in chains, even to find his head on a pike on the gates.

I wonder, will we ever be safe here?

Or are we to live our whole lives in fear?

*

1468 March-August

The Yorkists may have won England, they may rule it now, but King Coriolanus has no intention of letting that stand.

Almost as soon as they reach Scotland, the Lancastrians begin making plans to retake the kingdom, all with the support of James III of Scotland. He has promised to aid them in their struggle against the Yorkists, though this cooperation does have a price. Finnick is not made privy to all the clauses in James’ proposed treaty, but he does find out that James would like to seal their alliance with the marriage of his sister Margaret to Cato, Prince of Wales. Margaret is thirteen and seems pleasant enough, but Cato is beyond unimpressed. Finnick isn’t exactly surprised. He has never liked his cousin, in fact, he doubts very much that he ever will, but he does have to admit that when it comes to fidelity, Cato has always been true to Clove Clifford.

(though a part of him wonders if that’s because Clove Clifford seems the type to punish betrayal with a great deal of pain, if not outright death)

(honestly, he’s not even slightly surprised they get along so well)

Their liaison is an open secret, mostly because they don’t seem to have any understanding of the word “discretion”. Everyone on the entire bloody island has probably walked in on them in some intimate act; Finnick himself has witnessed their lovemaking so many times he’s given up counting.

It isn’t surprising that the Prince of Wales has a mistress, most would expect it of him, the surprise is just how blatant he is about it. Besides ravishing each other everywhere they can, they are nearly glued at the hip, Clove accompanying Cato everywhere except to his most important meetings. He showers her with jewels and gifts and he even listens to her, something Finnick never would’ve imagined possible. He suspects the king only allows the affair to continue because he assumes it must be a purely lustful arrangement, if he had any inkling Cato cared at all, Finnick is sure he would order it terminated. Clove is the daughter of a baron and not at all suitable as a wife to a future king, something Princess Margaret most certainly is.

The king despises the Scots with a flaming passion and has often mused aloud how he’d love to carry on Edward I’s great work and crush them to dust, but he is very low on options right now. James III knows this, Finnick is sure, and fully intends to press his advantage.

The Lancastrian exiles have almost nothing except for what King James sees fit to give them, they are entirely at his mercy. Some did manage to gather some riches before they fled England, but most, like Finnick, have nothing but what they wore into battle that day. He has a horse, his armour and what he’d worn beneath it and that’s all. To make matters worse, reports from England have confirmed what he’d known was coming, he has been attainted and everything he owns now belongs to Queen Katniss of York. He is officially destitute.

Enobaria and Cato did manage to take coins and jewels with them when they’d made their flight from Westminster (and Finnick is both disgusted and unsurprised to learn King Coriolanus abandoned them and tried only to save himself), but it is nowhere near enough to keep them all housed, fed, clothed and to fund an army for invasion. King James is their only hope of regaining England and it is on his generosity that they live. It is a bitter pill for his uncle to swallow, but it is the truth. With that in mind, the king consents to the engagement and so alongside their plans for conquering England, the betrothal ceremony of Prince Cato, heir of England and Princess Margaret of Scotland is planned.

Cato is furious over the whole thing and if Cato were anyone else, Finnick would certainly be sympathetic. He is sure it is just awful to be forced into a marriage with someone when you are so deeply attached to someone else, but sympathy for Cato has always been difficult to come by. Especially at moments like now.

“So, how is the monkish life suiting you?” Cato cackles at him, one arm wrapped snugly around Clove’s waist. Finnick inhales sharply but swallows his words. No matter how tempting, he is not allowed to knock Cato’s teeth in.

“You’re little fiancée in England must be so charmed that you’re being so chaste,” he continues and Clove smirks cruelly. Finnick bites his tongue and this mocking of his faithfulness is rich coming from Cato, who has never touched any woman but Clove.

“Or perhaps it isn’t a choice, perhaps your little prick doesn’t even work.”

Cato and Clove both laugh as if that’s the funniest thing in the entire world and Finnick barely manages to stop his eyes from rolling. His manhood works just fine (and it isn’t little, so sod off) but there’s no one in the world that could ever tempt him away from Annie. Cato’s just trying to get a rise out of you, ignore him. Finnick does, but then he’s had a lifetime of practice.

“I wonder if she’s being quite so virginal,” Clove says nastily, dark eyes fixed on Finnick but he doesn’t allow her the satisfaction of a reaction. She can taunt all she likes, if there’s one thing he trusts, it’s Annie.

Annie, oh Annie

He misses her with a fierceness that scares him and he dreams of her every night, dreams of seeing her again, holding her, talking to her and...well, let’s just say it’s a good thing the Earl of Oxford can’t read thoughts, or Finnick might find himself missing a crucial part of his anatomy.

Sometimes though, his dreams are nightmares.

He’s been going out of his mind with worry, so much so he can barely function. He has no idea where she is, how she is and now with her father attainted, she will have nothing and no one. Sometimes he wakes cold, sweaty, with his heart galloping in his chest and it’s because of Annie, because of all the horrible things that he imagines happening to her. Her only hope is that someone takes pity on her, a relative or friend or even the Yorkists, if not she’ll be left homeless and starving.

And that’s if she even survived.

Word had reached them that the Duke of Buckingham had burned Hedingham and Finnick had actually puked when he’d heard. Annie was at Hedingham and God only knows what Darius had done with her. It was almost inconceivable that his step-father’s little nephew could have turned on them so entirely, but he had proved it rather convincingly. In any other circumstance, Finnick might have cared about that betrayal, but all he can feel is his fear for Annie, tormenting him day in and day out. The only thing that keeps him sane is focusing on their planned invasion, pinning all his hopes on the idea that he will soon be back in England, soon he’ll be able to find her and make sure she’s safe.

She has to be

Please Annie, please be safe

*

1463

Of all the castles she’s been to, Finny’s Dunstanburgh Castle in Northumberland is by far her favourite. It is a great big fortress on the coast and from the moment she’d first visited, she’d been enchanted. There is something about the sea stretching out before them, about the salt in the air that’s just stunning.  She feels...alive here in a way she never does anywhere else.

“Annie!” a hearty voice calls and she beams, turning around in her saddle to see Finny headed down the castle’s front steps. He is taller yet again, broader and, well, handsome. Annie blushes but it’s true, he seems to grow lovelier every time she sees him. His skin has a sunshine touch of gold, his hair shines bronze and there’s something about his face, something she could never hope to describe.  A groom helps her down from her horse and she throws herself on Finny, breathing in his smell of sea and summer.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispers and his breath is hot on her ear. She shivers a bit and squeezes him as tight as she can.

“Oh Finny,” she sighs and he stiffens for a just a moment. She pulls back to look at him and there’s a shadow in his eyes, one that flits away almost before she recognizes it.

“I’m a bit old for Finny, don’t you think?” he laughs and she blinks.

“Oh, okay. Finnick.”

It sounds a little off on her tongue, a blot of melancholy appears on her heart and she keeps thinking about that shadow in his eyes.

“Should I call you Anne?” he asks and she shakes her head.

“No, I like Annie best.”

He nods and that shadow is back, dark and sad as it flutters over him. It’s gone a moment later and he’s all smiles, tugging her by the hand.

“Come on, I’ll help you unpack.”

(what she doesn’t know, what she can’t know, is that what he wants to say is I’m still Finny, I’ll always be your Finny)

(but then he remembers his uncle, stern, unforgiving and his words It’s time for you to grow up Finnick)

(no more tears, no more childish games, it’s time you became a man)

*

“I’m scared,” Annie admits later while they float around in one of the castles meres. He’d taught her to swim here years ago but now she finds herself feeling shy, almost afraid to touch his bare skin like she never has been before.

“Of what?” he asks, shaking his head like a dog. The sunlight makes the water on him sparkle and for a moment she is distracted from what she’d been thinking.

“Annie?”

She pinches her arm and grasps at her former train of thought.

“There are riots, Finnick, all over the country. What if they get worse?”

He frowns for a moment and she lingers over those lips, a steady heat growing in her face.

“They won’t,” he says firmly and she looks up into his eyes, lovely and perfectly green. “Local riots are one thing, but it’s not as if these people are going to start rebelling against the King. They’re just a little upset, it’ll blow over.”

Annie nods but deep down, she’s not so sure she believes it.

She’s not sure he believes it either.

*

They were right not to.

Rebellion, real rebellion, breaks out in September.

Uncle Boggs is ordered to help stamp it out and Finnick is sent off to join Annie and her mother at Great Canfield Castle. It’s a relief in a sense, he’s not sure he could have survived the worry all by himself. Her father is also off to fight and he knows the minute he sees her that she is taking just as much comfort in him as he is in her. Still, they try and behave like this is any other visit, like death is not lurking just beyond their walls.

“Please Mags, oh please can’t we?” Annie begs and Mags raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure your lady mother would approve,” she says and Finnick grimaces. Annie’s eyes widen with perfect misery and she clasps her hands.

“Oh please Mags, just for an hour. I swear we’ll be good,” she promises and Mags rolls her eyes with a fond smile.

“Oh alright, just don’t get into any trouble,” she says with mock sternness and Finnick grins.

“Never,” he swears, hand pressed to his heart and Mags laughs.

“Oh go on then,” she says and they do, smiling as they run off hand in hand. They rush down to the river and the air is sticky and warm, absolutely perfect for a swim.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he says and means it, “there’s nowhere to swim in London. The Thames smells rank; I’d probably catch the plague swimming in there.”

Annie laughs and Finnick grins before he pulls off his belt. Annie reaches behind her to undo her girdle as Finnick tugs off his boots and he can’t help but notice the slight red tinge to her skin. She turns so he can unlace her houppelande and his fingers fumble with the ties, a strange sort of heat fluttering in his belly.

“Dresses should be easier to get out of,” he mutters and she shivers a little with his breath on her neck. He finally gets it and then the kirtle beneath it until she’s in nothing but her shift and boots. His stomach feels all the hotter and just like over the summer, he can’t help but notice how different she looks. She’s taller than she used to be, but then so is he. Her shift leaves little to the imagination and he can see her every curve, ones that definitely didn’t used to exist. She sits down to take her boots off and he shakes his head. He pulls off his doublet and then his hose, the feel of Annie’s eyes on him making him feel twitchy (though not really in a bad way). She stands up and he yanks off his shirt. Annie gasps.

“Oh Finnick,” she breathes and reaches out to touch his back. He shivers at her touch, her fingers soft on his skin and he knows without asking what she must have seen.

“Oh, right,” he says with a laugh, as if he’d forgotten all about it. He knows she’s seeing thin white scars on his back, each one trailing diagonally from left shoulder to right hip.

“What happened?” she asks and he can’t look at her, his easy smile only barely staying on.

“I might’ve told Cato to take his head out of his arse, which as it turns out, didn’t make him all that happy. It’s my own fault, I should’ve known better. He complained to his father, the king took exception with me disrespecting our future sovereign and a lashing later, well I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”

He laughs again like it’s no big deal, like it’s nothing at all. He doesn’t mention his terror at the king’s ice cold fury, the pain like no other when the lash had struck him. He doesn’t mention how hard he’d cried nor Cato’s laughing taunts (hah, what a girl you are, crybaby) nor his mother’s harsh condemnations (stop snivelling, Finnick, these tears are disgraceful. You’re an embarrassment). He doesn’t mention Uncle Boggs’ rage at the king, the king’s threats should Boggs defy him or the violent guilt that had swarmed him at the thought of Uncle Boggs being harmed.

After all, he has learned his lesson.

(respect, loyalty, duty. If you cannot follow these three principles, than there is no use for you, nor for those who would defend you)

(remember that)

(he’ll never forget)

He chances a glance at Annie and she has her hands over her mouth, her eyes bright with unshed tears. He grins.

“Come on, weren’t we supposed to be swimming?”

He dives in before she can answer and she just watches him, her heart breaking down the middle.

(he doesn’t say a lot of things, but it doesn’t matter)

(Annie knows him, she always has)

*

They spend three weeks together and fear looms over them, poisoning what could have been a happy visit. No matter how hard they try, they can’t forget what’s going on in England, cannot forget the danger both Uncle Boggs and her father are in.

“It will be over soon, won’t it?” Annie asks quietly as they stand out on the ramparts, looking out over the land and Finnick swallows, a cold lump in his chest.

“I hope so,” he says and Annie takes his hand.

“Do they...do they really want to get rid of the King?” she whispers and it seems impossible that anyone would try anything of the sort. And yet...

“Maybe,” he murmurs and she inhales sharply.

“What does that mean for you?” she asks and he can feel her terror. He squeezes her hand and tries his best to smile.

“I should be fine. I’m pretty far down the line of succession.”

The wind picks up briefly, blowing her flowery scented hair in his face and she frowns.

“How? You’re the king’s nephew.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. He’s only really my half-uncle, remember? He and my dad share a mum, but not a father, and it’s my uncle’s father, King Henry IV that gives him his claim to the throne. So through my dad I’m the King’s nephew, but I’ve no claim to the English throne. I do have one to the French throne though. I think King Louis is my first cousin once removed.”

He tries to keep his tone light to smooth over her insecurities, but she continues to frown, concern bright in her eyes.

“But you do have a claim to the English throne?”

Finnick nods.

“Through my mother. She’s descended from Edward III, so I guess I am too. But Cato’s first in line, then the Duchess of Bedford, then your friend Madge, then the Portuguese royal family, then the Castilians, then me. After that I think it’s Uncle Boggs, the Duke of York and then the Duke of Buckingham. So yeah, I don’t think I’m much of a threat to anyone, unless the Duke of York wants to take over,” he jokes but Annie doesn’t laugh.

“He wouldn’t right? The Duke of York? Or the Duke of Buckingham?”

She sounds genuinely afraid and he tries to give her a comforting smile.

“Be a little difficult. He’s way down the list, think of how many people he’d have to get rid of. It’d be hard to justify a grab for the throne. Well...”

“Well what?” Annie asks and he shrugs.

“It’s just that he could I guess, but he wouldn’t I’m sure. I mean, Edward III had a lot of sons. His eldest Edward, his line’s died out. The King and me, we’re both descended from his third son John. The Duke of York is descended from both the second and fourth sons, so he could technically try and insist he has the better claim. But, Edward III’s will barred his second son’s line from inheriting. So I mean, they could say they have the better claim, but that’s only if you disregard Edward III’s will.”

“They could though, couldn’t they?”

He shrugs again.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t they have done it already? If they had the better claim, they always would have, so why wait until now?”

Annie bites her lip and then nods slowly. She hugs his arm.

“I’m sorry; I’m just worried is all. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m a little too far down for anyone to care I think.”

Annie smiles and what he doesn’t say is that maybe he is in danger. He’s the king’s nephew, his title, his lands, his riches, they’re all gifts given by his uncle. No one will ever believe he’d stand against him. Everything he is, he owes to King Coriolanus, not to mention their close blood tie. No one hoping to seize the throne would ever trust him.

If they come for the King, they’ll be coming for him too.

*

The rebellion is put down and for a moment at least, everything seems to go back to normal.

(if only if only if only)

*

That Christmas is more extravagant than any Annie can remember and she wonders if the King is trying to send a message. Rebels have tried to pull him down but here he is, standing taller than ever. Silk banners hang on every wall, gold and purple with red roses and the King’s crowned wolf stitched in with glittering thread. Garlands, wreaths and boughs of holly are everywhere while minstrels play in every room, dancing and singing through the halls. There are pageants, plays, hunts and tumblers to entertain them, acrobats and fire breathers and dancing girls in barely-there costumes. There is more food than she could ever describe, heaps of it on golden platters and wine fountains flow in every corner of the great hall, jewel encrusted goblets overflowing in every hand. There is a masque, great contests with showers of coins as a prize and endless dancing, even to the morning hours. It’s magnificent, truly, but it’s a little too much for Annie. Too loud, too crowded, too over the top. She thinks she’d prefer a quiet Christmas, one with only those she loved best.

Finnick is as glorious as he was last year and all the younger guests cluster around him, all of them wanting to bathe in his golden glow. Prince Cato glowers from the corner, seething with jealousy and only Clove Clifford seems to prefer his company to Finnick’s. Annie feels her heart warm at Finnick’s success and she’s glad they’ve all finally realized just how fantastic he really is (though his constantly improving looks may be helping too). He tells a joke and everybody laughs, little Darius practically in tears.

I’m so happy for you Finnick

Madge hasn’t come back this year and Annie can’t help but be disappointed. Still, she has Finnick when he can break away from his admirers and Henry too, so she can’t be too upset. The music swells and the King orders everyone to dance, people hurriedly finding partners before he unleashes his wrath upon them. Girls look at Finnick longingly but he walks right up to her, bowing low.

“Lady Anne?” he asks, a smile in his voice, and she can feel so many angry eyes on her.

“Of course, Earl Finnick,” she says and he grins, pulling her out into the middle of the dancers. She can feel the warmth of his hands even through her many layers and when he spins her, she can’t help but notice all the dirty looks directed her way.

“I think every girl here wants to dance with you,” she laughs, though she doesn’t really find it funny. Finnick shrugs.

“I’d rather dance with you,” he says simply, sweetly and Annie might be made of jelly. For a moment when they move around the floor, she forgets about jealous girls, about rebellions and wicked kings. There’s only she and Finnick, her Finnick.

Of course, every song ends and he kisses her hand when theirs does, a sparkly tingle travelling up her arm. Glimmer Mowbray practically throws herself at him for the next dance and he shoots Annie a grimace over her head. She giggles and then Henry is there, a determined look on his face.

“Finnick says you taught him to dance,” he says and she nods.

“Would you help me?” he asks and she blinks. “I know how, I’m just not sure I’m very good.”

“Of course,” she says but she can’t help being confused. He takes her hand and they move through the appropriate steps, his eyes focused on his feet.

“Why this sudden interest?” she asks and he doesn’t look up.

“My father says he’s trying to convince the Duke of Bedford to let me marry his daughter-”

“Madge?” she interrupts in shock and Henry shrugs.

“I guess. If the Duke of Bedford agrees, I want to be a good husband. Mother says a good husband is a good dancer.”

Annie tries to process this and feels surprise thick like syrup in her veins. Lady Alma will be so disappointed if this works out. Even still, Annie herself can’t help but be pleased. Henry and Madge are both nice, she’s sure they’ll make a lovely couple. And if Madge marries Henry, she can’t marry Finnick. Annie blushes.

They finish their dance and Henry looks at her in worry.

“So?” he asks and she smiles.

“I think you’re great. Madge will be very pleased, I’m sure.”

Henry grins.

“Great, thanks. I was thinking of getting her a present, do you think she’d like that?”

Annie nods. “Oh yes, I’m sure she would.”

Henry nods, still smiling and then Finnick sidles up beside her.

“Mead?” he offers, holding out a goblet and Annie takes a sip. It’s warm and spiced and she smiles.

“My favourite.”

“Of course,” he says and his fingers weave through hers.

“Henry might marry Madge,” she says and Finny grins as Henry nods in confirmation.

“I hope she likes to climb trees,” he teases and Henry looks absolutely horrified as he contemplates the fact that she might not. Annie giggles, Finnick bumps her shoulder and even with every problem in England, for now at least, she feels nothing but happy.

*

(it never lasts though)

(it can’t)

*

Goodbye always comes too soon.

Finnick holds her and she wraps her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I hate saying goodbye,” she sighs and he nods.

“Me too. I’ll try and convince Uncle Boggs to let me visit before summer,” he says and her heart leaps at the possibility.

“Come along now, Anne,” her mother says sternly and she pulls away reluctantly. She touches his cheek softly.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispers and he puts his hand over hers

“I’ll miss you too,” he says and kisses her palm. She feels a shiver travel throughout her body, her blood pumping suddenly faster.

“Anne,” her mother says sharply, a warning in her tone and Annie forces herself to walk away from him. She climbs up into the litter and leans out the window, watching him as they ride away.

Oh Finnick, I wish we could stay together and never ever have to say goodbye.

*

1468 September-October

The invasion begins in September.

Bankrolled and with their numbers swelled by the Scots, two Lancastrian forces march into Northumberland, determined and hungry to retake it. Even King Coriolanus rides out with them, confident that he will soon see his enemies burning and bleeding before him. It is easy at first, towns and castles surrendering without a fight.

I’m coming Annie

And then the Yorkists come.

Marvel, Earl of Northumberland collides with one section of the army outside the town of Hexham and it is a bloodbath. He moves too quickly, catching the Lancastrians off guard and the entire right detachment flees into the town before a single blow is struck. The rest are left outmanned and with no room to manoeuvre. They are driven back into the Devil’s Water and slaughtered. Many drown, some are crushed as they try to climb the banks and escape but most are merely cut down, the river clogged with bodies and dyed red.

The army quickly surrenders, but pompous Marvel, that boy Finnick grew up beside, shows no mercy, executing over thirty of the leaders.

Finnick’s half of the army is caught at Hedgeley Moor by the Earl of Warwick. It starts out the same as every battle, archers exchanging arrows and Finnick forces himself to be calm.

We can do this.

They can’t, as it turns out. The Lancastrian army collapses when the Yorkists slam into them and it is chaos, pure and simple. Finnick isn’t sure if he hears or imagines the command of retreat in the carnage but soon everyone is fleeing the field, tripping over the corpses left behind. Finnick rides as hard as he can, not even tasting their defeat, not yet at least. For now all he can think of is survival.

(later he’ll hear that a few didn’t flee the battle and led by Sir Ralph Percy, they made a brave last stand)

(none survived)

And just like that, by the end of October, they are defeated.

Again.

*

1464

Rebellion comes again in the last week of March.

It flares up in Devonshire and Uncle Boggs has to go out and fight again, risking his life to keep the king on his throne. Finnick knows he is supposed to be strong, knows he’s too old to show fear or cry, but inside he is terrified.

What will I do without you?

Uncle Boggs squeezes his shoulder and Finnick grins, nothing but excited at this prospect of battle.

(he’s not allowed to be anything else)

“Would you like to pay the Countess of Oxford a visit? The Earl will be joining me against the rebels, but he says you are welcome to Canfield, should you like,” Uncle Boggs says and Finnick nods.

“Annie’s probably worried sick,” he says because she’s allowed to be and Finnick wonders if Uncle Boggs can tell that what he’s really saying is I’m worried sick. Uncle Boggs claps him on the back.

“Good man, look after her.”

(and what he’s really saying is look after yourself)

“I will,” Finnick promises and he hates watching Uncle Boggs ride away, hates that he is too old now to be anything but brave.

(these tears are disgraceful Finnick, you’re an embarrassment)

(hah, what a girl you are)

(men do not know fear and they do not weep like children)

*

He arrives at Great Canfield Castle on the first day of April, the rain finally, finally letting up.

It had been a long, long ride and he swings off his horse with aches in all of his muscles. He is sopping wet, cold to his bones and starving, but all of that vanishes the minute he sees Annie. She is waiting just inside the doors of the entrance hall, bouncing from foot to foot, and he grins, even his fear for Uncle Boggs taking a momentary break. He takes the front steps two at a time and she smiles at him, bright and sunny.

“Hullo Annie,” he says and her eyes shine.

“Good day, Earl Finnick,” she greets, her voice overly formal and she drops into a curtsy, one much too deep for an Earl. Finnick follows suit, removing his drenched hat and holding it over his heart.

“Greetings, Lady Anne,” he says and sweeps into a flourishing bow. They stay that way for only a moment before their laughter breaks out, all of Finnick’s tension just melting away. I missed this.

“It’s good to see you,” he says and her cheeks turn a pretty pink. She looks him over and frowns.

“Oh Finnick, you’re soaked. Come, you must change or you’ll get sick.”

She takes him by the arm and practically marches him up to his room, puddles left behind in his wake. There are already servants there with some of his luggage and Annie flings open his trunk to riffle through for dry clothes. He grins.

“I am old enough to dress myself you know,” he teases and she pauses, her blush moving down her neck.

“Of course, yes, I know,” she mumbles and steps away, face hidden behind her hair. He laughs and walks over, squeezing her arm as he passes.

“What about this one?” he asks, holding out a blue doublet for her inspection. She nods and takes a tentative step closer.

“I think it would look very fetching with the white hose,” she says quietly, pointing at the hose squished in the corner of his trunk. He nods and he very much likes the idea of Annie thinking his attire fetching.

“Thanks,” he says and bumps her hip. The pink of her cheeks starts to darken and then she steps away again, moving back towards the door. Finnick pulls off his cloak and shakes it out, water droplets flying in every direction.

“Watch it!” Annie laughs, shielding her face with her hands and he grins in apology.

“Sorry, m’lady, I’m an absolute menace.”

“You are,” she agrees and he sticks out his tongue. She laughs, a sweet, happy sound that makes him feel very warm. He undoes his belt and her laughter starts to fade, her skin suddenly flushed.

“Mags wanted to know when you arrived, I’d best go and tell her,” she says quickly, her voice high and Finnick blinks. Before he can say a word she is gone, the door thudding shut behind her. Finnick stares at where she’d been and that was odd, wasn’t it?

I wonder what’s gotten into her…

*

His hair’s still damp when he comes down to eat and Annie won’t look at him, her face very red.

I don’t get it, what did I do?

There is something horribly cold in his stomach at the thought that he might’ve done something to upset her and he wishes he knew what it was so he could apologize. He sits across from her and she keeps her head down, her eyes focused on her plate. He feels anxiety roll over him in waves and I’m sorry Annie, whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Lady Mary arrives and the food comes out, but Finnick has barely any appetite.  He pokes at his supper and Lady Mary watches him with hawkish eyes, a general sense of disapproval wafting off of her. He’s old enough now to recognize that she’s never liked him and as much as that rankles, he’s much more concerned with Annie.

“Well,” Lady Mary says when they’re done, “time to get back to your embroidery Anne, don’t you think?”

Finnick feels something hard settle in his stomach.

“Oh,” he says, trying and failing not to sound disappointed, “I was hoping Lady Anne might join me for a round of cards.”

Lady Mary’s face sours and he knows she is about to refuse.

“What a lovely idea, after all, someone should entertain our guest,” Mags interjects helpfully and he can’t help but smile in her direction. She winks.

“Of course,” Annie mumbles, still not looking at him and Lady Mary can’t refuse now, it would be the height of rudeness. She gives him a poisonous look.

“Very well,” she says tightly and leaves, at least one weight falling off Finnick’s shoulders.

(though really, what’s her problem?)

Annie and Finnick sit across a little table from each other and Mags settles in the corner to sew. Finnick casts a glance at her and then leans over towards Annie as he deals.

“Annie-”

He never has the chance to say anything else, Annie quickly backing away from him, her chair scraping over the stone floor. Finnick blinks and honestly feels as if she’s punched him in the gut.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he whispers, though it might come out as more of a hiss. He winces at his own angry tone but can’t help feeling hurt. Annie covers her face in her hands and Finnick sits back down heavily in his chair. He glares at his cards. What could I have possibly done to make her hate me so?

(and if he’s angry, it’s only because he’s so afraid)

“Would you like to start, Lady Anne?” he asks stiffly and she doesn’t answer. He looks at her and she lowers her hands, carefully picking up her cards.

And then she throws them under the table.

Finnick’s eyes widen as he stares at her and her face is cherry red and burning.

“Oh no, I seem to have dropped my cards,” she says loudly, “would you help me pick them up, Lord Finnick?”

And then, before he can answer, she dives under the table.

Has she gone insane?

Have I?

He looks over at Mags but she doesn’t seem to have noticed anything odd. He looks back at the table and nearly jumps out of his seat when Annie grabs his ankle. He scoots back in alarm and she pops up between his legs.

“Come on,” she hisses and slides back under.

I think she has gone insane

Oh hell

Finnick slips under the table and Annie is on her hands and knees, her face still quite red. She rocks back to sit and he just stares at her.

“What’s going on?” he asks, perhaps a bit more annoyed sounding than he’d wanted and she grimaces.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?” he asks, and again, his voice is much colder than intended. If possible, Annie’s face seems to darken.

“Well, you…well it’s just…you took off your belt.”

Finnick stares at her.

“I don’t understand. I’ve changed in front of you plenty of times.”

“Yes, yes I know. But that was before. I’ll be thirteen soon, you’ll be fifteen. We’re old enough now to be married; you can’t exactly get naked in front of me,” she explains quickly and he can practically feel the heat from her face.

“I wouldn’t even have thought of it myself,” she hurries to continue, though he’s not so sure he believes her, “but Mother brought it up. She thinks it’s inappropriate how much time we spend together and oh, I’m so sorry, really. I couldn’t help but think of what she said when you took it off and I panicked, I’m so embarrassed. She’s worried you see, worried you might…well…” Annie trails off and despite the blush he can feel on his cheeks, a spurt of annoyance shoots off inside of him.

“She doesn’t trust me,” he says flatly and Annie winces. “She thinks if we are left alone I will attempt to rob you of your virtue. I’m not an animal, I’m not going to attack you,” he snaps and Annie reaches over to squeeze his hand.

“I know you wouldn’t, but she’d put all these thoughts in my head and the minute you took that belt off, well, I couldn’t help thinking of you…well, in ways I shouldn’t. I was mortified. I never thought for a moment you were going to do anything.”

He’s relieved to hear it, really, but there’s something else she’s said that catches his attention.

“Thinking of me?” he echoes and her eyes go very wide.

“No, I wasn’t-I mean, what I meant was...” she takes a deep breath, “I know nothing of the sort was going on, but no one would have believed us if they’d walked in. It’s not as if I was…imagining things.”

“Of course not,” he agrees and wonders why he feels so hot. And really, he’s not sure what she would imagine. He has only the vaguest idea what people might do without their clothes and he’s never given it much thought.

(though, after this, he’s definitely going to)

“I’m sorry,” she says again, “and if it helps, she doesn’t trust me either. She’s certain that should you ever attempt to rob me of my virtue, that I would…give it willingly,” she whispers, her eyes shyly turned to the floor and there’s something entirely unwelcome going on in his stomach. He clears his throat.

“It does help actually,” he says and Annie grins.

“Am I forgiven?” she asks and he rolls his eyes.

“Like I could ever stay mad at you.”

She beams, his stomach does that thing again, and he looks down at her scattered cards.

“Here,” he says, gathering them up, “this is why we’re under here, isn’t it?”

He goes to hand them to her only she’s moved forward to take them from him and suddenly their faces are very, very close. Her cheeks starts to flush and he thinks of everything she’d just told him and then everything her mother’d apparently said and he rockets backwards, his head cracking on the underside of the table. He falls back down with a loud curse, clutching at his head as it splits right through with pain. Tears immediately spring to his eyes but he forces them not to fall and Annie squeaks in shock.

“Finnick, oh Finnick, are you okay?”

She scuttles over to him and Mags hurries over, having heard all the commotion.

“What’s going on under here?” she demands and Finnick can’t answer, his teeth biting down on his lip to bottle up a cry of pain.

“He’s hurt himself,” Annie reports anxiously and Mags drags him out from under the table to examine him.

“You’ve cut yourself,” she says and Annie gasps, “I’ll have to go fetch something to fix it up.”

She hurries off and Annie comes up to his side, her hand rubbing his back.

“Does it hurt terribly?” she asks and what he wants to say is yes, yes, yes, but he knows boys, men do not wilt under pain.

“It’s fine,” he says instead even as those tears continue to burn in his eyes.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” she says and immediately he feels his defenses rise, his uncle’s accusing eyes boring into him.

I won’t tolerate a disgrace in this family Finnick

“I’m not about to cry, that’d be pathetic,” he says and he sounds so much like his uncle he wants to puke.

“Finnick…”

“Boys don’t cry,” he tells her (and maybe himself) and she furrows her brow.

“Why not?”

“Because they don’t,” he snaps, his uncle swimming before his eyes, and then instantly regrets it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs and she frowns.

“You can cry as much as you like, I don’t think it’s pathetic,” she says firmly and he stares at her, waiting to see the lie in her eyes. But there’s none and he feels something odd in his chest. She means it, she really does, and she might be the only person in all the world who’d think him strong even if he cried. He swallows, the urge to cry now greater than ever (though for a completely different reason), but he knows he can’t. Annie may not hold it against him, but he knows everyone else would. They would call him weak, embarrassing, shameful. They already have.

(but still, it’s nice to know that if ever he is weak, at least Annie will not abandon him)

*

Over the next few days, Finnick decides it might do them well to spend some time apart. They don’t avoid each other or anything, but he spends more time alone than he ever has during a visit with Annie. He hates it, he really does, but every time he’s with her, there’s something tight in is body, something uncomfortable. He pushes through it mostly, the thought of being without Annie too awful to contemplate, but he isn’t as glued to her he’d like to be.

I hate this

He goes to the river and even though it’s slightly chilly, he strips off his boots and hose to stick his feet in the water.

He could use the cool down.

He drops his head into his hands and groans, his whole body feeling hot. Why did Lady Mary have to think such awful things? I feel like a deviant and I haven’t even done anything. Not that I would, I’m not a criminal. And what would we even do? Kiss I suppose and-

“Finnick! Finnick! FINNICK!” Annie screams from behind him and for a moment Finnick is positive they are under attack. The rebels have come to Canfield and they’re going to siege us. Before he can sink too deep into terror, he turns to see Annie running towards him, her hair and gown streaming out behind her. She does not look frightened in the least, in fact, she looks jubilant. Her eyes are bright, her smile wide and Finnick jumps up from where he’d been sitting on the river’s edge.

“They’ve won! It’s over; father and Boggs are coming home!”

She flaps a letter at him and he starts to grin, relief nearly making him sway. Thank the Lord. Annie laughs and flings herself at him in her joy, her arms wrapping around his neck. He catches her and as happy as he is, he thinks to spin her around. He starts to, but as he’d just had his feet in the river, they’re slippery and wet and he very quickly loses his footing. His eyes widen in alarm and he shoves Annie from him as he falls, still desperately trying to find purchase on the wet grass. Annie shrieks, he shouts and then he lands with a splash, the water much colder all over him than it had been on his feet.  He swallows half the river and kicks for the surface, his clothes dragging around him.

“Finnick!” Annie yelps and then she’s down on her knees reaching for him. She grabs his arms and pulls, the both of them managing to haul him from the water. He flops over like a fish and coughs, Annie hovering by his side nervously.

“Oh Finnick,” she says as all the water he’d swallowed comes back up. She rubs his back and he starts to shiver.

“Ugh,” he manages.

“You’re freezing, we should get you inside,” she says and he nods, another shiver running over him. She helps him up and they both freeze in sudden horror.

He isn’t wearing any hose.

He’d taken them off to wet his feet and her mother’s concerns come racing back to him, the whole accusatory torrent. Annie’s eyes are round and focused on his bare legs, her cheeks dark and red. His face burns and he remembers how she’d jumped into his arms, remembers holding her tight. I’m in my breeches, I held her while standing in my breeches. Oh God, I wasn’t wearing anything but my breeches (and his shirt of course, but that doesn’t seem to register through his profound horror). She whirls around quickly.

“I’ll go and have Mags make you something hot,” she offers, high pitched with embarrassment and he nods.

“Great, thanks,” he says and his voice is much higher too. He winces and she sets off, practically fleeing from him. This is mortifying. He looks about desperately for his hose and scrambles into them, nearly tipping himself back into the river in the process.

Thank God her mother didn’t see that, she’d never forgive me

never

*

Mags has a nice hot bowl of soup waiting for him after he changes into dry clothes and she is kind enough not to ask how he got himself so wet. Annie won’t look at him and he can’t really blame her. Did I really hug her in my breeches? Her parents would skin me alive.

Maybe I can’t be trusted.

Mags leaves them alone for a moment and he wishes she wouldn’t. What am I supposed to say?

“Thank you…for uh, pulling me out,” he mumbles around his spoon and Annie turns crimson.

“Oh no, it was my fault you fell in in the first place. I’m so sorry,” she says, fingers winding nervously through her hair.

“No, it was the spinning that did it and that was all me,” he says and then they fall into silence, his lack of hose just hanging between them. Slippy feet, no hose and a dip in the river, it’s like a comedy of errors, he thinks sullenly. How ridiculous.

And really, it is ridiculous, so ridiculous in fact that he starts to laugh. He can just picture himself flailing about in the river in his underthings and God, what an absolute lunatic he must have looked like. Annie stares at him for a moment as if he’s lost his mind and he thinks of her red face and how she actually ran from him and he laughs all the more, so hard he nearly chokes on his soup. Annie bites her lip and then she nods, laughter starting to spill from her lips. Soon, she is laughing as hard as he is, clutching at her stomach and what a pair they make, two fools if ever there were any.

And that’s how Mags finds them, sitting in the kitchen laughing themselves to tears. She doesn’t bother to ask why; she just leans on the door and smiles.

They are ridiculous, the both of them, but she’s not sure she’s ever loved anyone more.

*

Finnick is beyond excited to go home and see Uncle Boggs, but that doesn’t make goodbye any easier. In fact, every goodbye with Annie seems harder than the last.

Mags packs him more food than he’ll ever need for the journey back to Wales and Lady Mary glares at him as if she expects him to try and ravish Annie right there in the dirt, but he barely notices.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, both her hands held in his. She turns that pretty shade of pink again and that strange something happens in his stomach. He ignores it and grins.

“Even if you did push me in the river,” he teases and she laughs.

“And here I was thinking you were a gentleman, taking all the blame yourself. I guess I was wrong.”

“I guess you were.”

They smile at each other and he wishes he could just take her home with him, though he knows Lady Mary would never allow it. She’d probably assume he meant to defile her. As if on cue, she clears her throat.

“I am sure Lord Boggs is eager to see you,” Lady Mary says pointedly and Finnick barely restrains his sigh. He forgets about Lady Mary and focuses instead on Annie, giving her his best grin. He squeezes her hands and presses a kiss to back of each one.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises and she nods.

“Very soon.”

There’s a stray hair fluttering by her cheek that he’d love to tuck behind her ear, but with Lady Mary still looking at him like he has the plague, perhaps he shouldn’t. He climbs on his horse instead and I wish we never had to say goodbye. He spares one last look at Annie before he rides off and she is waving, her smile bright and lovely.

He tucks that smile in his heart and carries it with him all the way to Wales.

*

Finnick does not throw himself on Uncle Boggs like he wants to, nor does he tell him how absolutely thrilled he is that he made it. The king would never approve so instead he drinks in the sight of his uncle, a happy hum in his heart.

“What happened?” he asks, excitement warming his voice but Uncle Boggs doesn’t smile. His eyes are grim as he drops a heavy hand on Finnick’s shoulder and fear, sudden and ice cold, starts to bloom inside him.

What? What is it?

*

(Uncle Boggs makes it home safe and whole, but not everyone is so fortunate)

(Henry Holland, Earl of Huntingdon, fourteen years old and always good for a laugh, dies on the battlefield, a rebel sword slicing through him from shoulder to hip)

(Finnick swore he’d be strong, promised himself and the king that he wouldn’t cry or ever show weakness, but he does that night)

(he finds the tallest tree he can out on the grounds and sobs beneath it, can almost imagine Henry in the branches above him)

(this isn’t fair, this isn’t right)

(and how sad then, that this is the England he has sworn to defend)

*

In the months that follow Henry’s death, Finnick buries the boy he used to be.

He will be strong and brave, unwavering, unflinching. He trains every day, until sweat coats his skin and his muscles ache. He will be the best rider, the best swordsman, the best jouster. He ends his days cut and bruised, but he is back out the next day, determined and driven.

“You needn’t push yourself so far,” Uncle Boggs tells him, a current of worry in his voice, but Finnick pushes himself even harder. The rebels who killed Henry must be stopped, the instability in England ended and most important of all, his uncle must be appeased.

King Coriolanus has made it very clear that he expects Finnick to be ruthless and devastating on the battlefield, loyal, unquestioning and without fear.

It is your duty to fight for us, here in England or in the homes of our enemies.

He expects Finnick to smile, laugh and charm, but never to show true affection, to never get caught up in feelings or emotions.

You must win them, but never let them win you. Charming on the outside, hard on the inside.

Finnick knows what he has to do.

A man like that, he might keep those he cares for safe. Any other kind, well, tragedies are known to happen.

(but maybe, just maybe, the old Finnick, the boy he used to be, isn’t quite so dead)

(you can cry as much as you like, I don’t think it’s pathetic)

(maybe he’s just hiding, wrapped up in a shell, and waiting for when it’s safe to come out)

*

1468 October-November

Their failed invasion not only costs them England, but everything else as well.

The King is captured by the Yorkists and James of Scotland decides he has backed the wrong horse. He is kind enough to let them leave rather than handing them directly over to the Yorkists, but still, they are driven from yet another kingdom. Enobaria takes command with her favourite Brutus, Duke of Somerset beside her and orders them to make for France and her cousin King Louis. They have no choice but to do so, but now they are kingless and headed even farther away from their goal. And if King Louis turns them away...

Finnick watches the coast recede and there is a hopelessness in him, one he cannot fight down. Uncle Boggs rests a comforting hand on his shoulder but it does little good. He has never truly believed in the Lancastrian cause, nor does he support the Yorkist usurpers. His uncle is evil, purely, entirely but he sees nothing in the Yorkists except ambitious, greedy liars willing to plunge the country into war to win themselves a crown. In his mind, neither side is right. He’d fought for the King because he’d sworn loyalty to him and because he’d known he had no other choice. His uncle would never allow him to sit out the conflict, the Yorkists would never have trusted him (not that he’d ever have joined then anyway) and what good, he’d asked himself, would my dying do anyone? Because that’s what would have happened had he done anything other than ride to war for his uncle, a gruesome painful death. He’d wanted a quick end to the war, safety for his loved ones and maybe, maybe his uncle would be humbled by this threat, maybe he would learn to be kinder.

Now, sailing even farther away from Annie and home, he begins to think he might’ve been better off standing his ground and denouncing his uncle. At least then he would have died defying evil, now he’ll spend his whole life fighting to win it back its crown.

Forgive me Annie

He fingers the chain around his neck and kisses the ring on the end, one his hands had outgrown long ago. It is gold with one solitary pearl and it is all he has left of her, his countess, his Annie, the other half of his heart.

I don’t know how, but I’ll find my way back to you

I swear Annie, we’ll be together again

some day