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amessageonthewind · 11 months ago

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Winter's Blessings

Synopsis: A particularly bitter winter puts the safety of the Pearl Clan at risk, and it's up to the Galaxy Team and the Diamond Clan to help them survive the harsh blizzard, uncovering an ancient tradition whose origins were lost to time.

Pairing: Adaman/Rachel during Legends: Arceus (spoiler alert for really far along in the timeline)

Author's note: Clue is an OC that belongs to my buddy @kammyclues.

Rachel’s first winter in Hisui had come bitter, the sharp wind biting and nipping at her soft skin as she stepped outside her warm lodge kept heated on the lit hearth inside. Though it started to grow colder and the ground beneath her feet lacked the spongey soft give it had in the autumn, she was still surprised by just how cold it felt when she stepped out. There was even frost on the rooftops of Jubilife Village despite the sun being just shy of its highest peak, small piles of snow collected in the shadows.

She shuddered, holding her arms. “Brrr! This is kinda chilly even for me…” The woman remarked, her loyal dark-furred Zorua on her shoulder pressing himself underneath her chin in an attempt to keep her sensitive and exposed neck warm. Laughing a little bit, she reached to give him a friendly scratch and nuzzled into his fur. “Heh…thanks, buddy.”

“Chilly, yeah?” A voice called out as he approached, her other fellow Survey Corp member greeting her warmly as he approached, his Pikachu following alongside him. “Winter doesn’t usually come this early, but I guess it couldn’t wait, could it?”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Rachel agreed, already making a mental note to dress a bit warmer if she was going to go out and do survey work. Especially if she was going to work in the highlands or the icelands, though it might be a better idea to skip them with this weather.

Though, she couldn’t help but worry about the Pearl Clan and Irida. If it was already this cold here, it was probably a hundred times worse in the coldest part of the region. “Oh, yeah! Almost forgot. Commander Kamado wants to see you.”

Nodding, Rachel began to make her way to the Galaxy Hall to see him. She never really liked meeting with him much, always acutely aware of how much of an outsider she was. Mostly because he took every opportunity to remind her of it whenever he could, as though she didn’t already know it and as though she hadn’t already gained the trust and companionship of the leaders of both clans.

Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. If Kamado wanted to be a shrewd and suspicious old man, then let him. It wasn’t Rachel’s problem and she had proven to be capable enough of looking after herself if he couldn’t do what needed to be done.

Making her way up the stairs up to his office, giving a friendly wave to Professor Laventon as she passed by, she spotted a familiar cerulean silhouette in the doorframe, eyes widening. Clan business. Of course. But to her surprise, Irida was not there. In her place was Calaba, Ursaluna’s aged warden of the Pearl Clan. It was odd, but perhaps this was an issue that didn’t need Irida’s oversight, which meant that maybe Rachel’s job would be easy today.

And maybe it meant that the relationship between the clans was improving. “Where’s Irida?” Rachel asked anyway, wanting to at least ask about the Pearl Clan leader (and her friend) and show her concern in both clan leaders. Speaking of which… “Why aren’t you more bundled up? You can’t stand the cold even at the best of times and it’s really crept up on us.”

Chuckling at her open concern, Adaman reached up to tug at the scarf she had given him last they ventured into the icelands together, smiling warmly at her as he tucked his chin into it more. “Winter did creep up on us in the mirelands, but we only really have to prepare for the dry season and then the wet season. But your scarf is surprisingly doing a good job of keeping me warm.”

Bashfully, a small grin creased her cheeks at the thought that he kept it so fervently. Kamado seemed to hum in vague interest at the prospect. “Yes, I had wondered why he was in possession of one of our scarves from our Survey Corp uniforms.”

Sensing a bit of judgement from her superior, Rachel shrugged, feeling a very minimal need to justify herself to him. “He was cold, so I gave him my scarf. Is that a problem?”

The weathered man shook his head, but it took him a moment before he responded at all as though he needed to actually think on that. “No, I suppose not. But that’s not why I called you here, Rachel.”

“Though the matter of Irida’s absence is relevant.” Calaba responded, the stout old woman turning to face Rachel. Stubborn and prideful, but when the chips were down, she was often the first to suggest working together for the sake of the common good regardless of clan relationships. The incident with Arezu had taught them all a lot in that regard, it seemed, and Rachel was always glad for Calaba’s council. “Normally, regular correspondence is expected. However, for a few days, now, things have been…silent from the Pearl Clan.”

“Like they haven’t been getting back to you?” Rachel asked, worry worming its way underneath her veins and creeping into her chest.

“Yeah, and it’s not just the Pearl Clan, either.” Adaman interjected, crossing her arms with eyebrows furrowed. His eyes were downcast, as though he were finding it difficult to stay in the present moment with the concerns currently at hand. “We haven’t heard from Sabi, either. And she’s normally pretty frequent with staying in touch with us while she’s at the Snowpoint Temple. To not hear from her is…strange. To put it plainly, it’s not like her.”

Now, Rachel was beginning to understand the potential severity of the situation. “So, you’re both worried that something may have cut them off in the icelands?”

Calaba nodded gravely, head hung. “That is what we’re saying, young one.” She replied, shaking her head with a low groan. “I’ve even confirmed with the other wardens to make sure there hasn’t been some mistake. Irida hasn’t been heard from the others.”

“And the other wardens haven’t heard from Sabi, either.” Adaman added.

This certainly sounded worrying and Rachel didn’t like the thought that something had happened to Irida, especially with the biting winter that was quickly looming over them all. Of course, those in the Pearl Settlement were naturally acclimated to the cold in the polar north of Hisui, Irida especially easily overheating in contrast to how easily Adaman caught the chills. But even for someone like her, in bad enough conditions, could even be too cold for her.

Rachel then turned to Kamado, dark-eyed gaze stern as she regarded her superior officer. “And you haven’t heard from her, either?”

Kamado shook his head. “The Pearl Clan leader hasn’t responded to my messages, either. And I admit, it is a cause for concern.”

So the situation was potentially grave. “So, then what do we do?”

“That depends on the severity of the situation…” Kamado replied, reaching up to worry at his dark beard. “The Alabaster Icelands are prone to blizzards quite frequently, but if the winter is particularly harsh, it may be too much for even us to handle venturing into.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she shook her head. “You can’t seriously be suggesting we do nothing, knowing that this could potentially be a crisis.”

“I’m not saying that.” Kamado insisted sternly, squaring his shoulders at her. “But if the winter proves to be harsh in the icelands, then they could prove to be harsh here. We need as much of our resources as possible in that instance in case it grows harsher. We need to be mindful of how much of our help we need to offer without risking the welfare of our own people. Not to mention the risk that would be posed to our own if we were to send an expedition out there.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, Commander!” A bright and commanding voice announced, heavy footsteps that could only belong to one person drawing nearer to his office as the fiery woman greeted the group. “I’ve just gotten a message from one of my own men just outside of the Alabaster Icelands. The blizzards are really bad, bad enough that not even a single Flying Pokémon is in the sky. It’s too dangerous for even them to fly, a lot of the local Pokémon hiding away from the storm.”

Widening her eyes at Zisu, Rachel crossed her arms, brows furrowed. “So if the local Pokémon are forced into hiding by the storm, then there’s a good chance that the Pearl Settlement might be cut off, too.”

“And the dangerous flying conditions would explain the lack of correspondence as well…” Calaba muttered, worrying at her chin.

Shaking his head at the Security Corp captain, Kamado continued to insist, staying rooted in his positon. “All the more reason to be conscious of our supplies and what we can offer.”

“Commander, with all due respect, we have plenty of supplies we can offer the Pearl Clan. We have food farmed from the finest crops in Hisui by the finest workers to till it. We’ve got lots of winter clothes and blankets we can offer, and plenty of firestarting materials to help them stay warm until the storm blows over.” The muscular crimson-haired woman in carmine uniform then turned to look at Rachel directly. “And, my Security Corp troops would be led by the best the Survey Corp has to offer.”

Blushing a little bit at the praise, Rachel chuckled a bit bashfully. She never knew what to do with praise. But Kamado still didn’t seem convinced. “Even if we have the materials, transporting them would still be incredibly dangerous and it’s not guaranteed that you won’t be attacked and lose the supplies to a wild Pokémon.”

“I’ve seen how tough Rachel’s Pokémon are, and mine aren’t anything to sneeze at either.” Zisu insisted, throwing an arm around Rachel and patting her shoulder a bit roughly, though the much smaller woman appreciated the gesture. “Besides, do you really have such little faith in your own Security Corp that you don’t think we can handle a blizzard?”

“I would never suggest that.” Kamado replied, sighing. His will was wavering, but his sense of caution still seemed to overrule the support for such a decision. “But there’s no guarantee.”

“Hey, hang on a second! Why are we all acting like I’m not planning to help?” Adaman quickly interjected, stepping forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Rachel, facing Kamado. “I’m worried about Sabi, naturally. She’s one of our own and she’s…just a kid. A very capable warden, don’t get me wrong. But she’s still a kid, regardless. But I’m just as worried about the Pearl Clan and about Irida.” His dark gaze then settled in Calaba, intent behind them as he regarded the old woman. “We may not always see eye to eye and our differing beliefs may put us at odds, but I don’t like thinking about a world where the Pearl Clan suffers and I didn’t do anything to help as leader of the Diamond Clan. We may be at odds, but we all share this ancient and sacred land of Hisui. We all have a right to live here, and it wouldn’t be right for me not to help. I have to do something and I know we can contribute our own supplies, too.”

Nodding, Calaba gave the young leader an amused smile, the age creasing pleasantly as she regarded the man. “Wise words, Adaman. You’ve grown quite a bit since Arezu’s little mess.”

Though Rachel was touched that Adaman wanted to help Irida as much as she did, she didn’t want to put the Diamond Clan at risk, either. “But what about your clan?”

“Mai’s in charge until I get back.” He replied, smiling affectionately at Rachel with a small smirk. “Besides, since I’m assuming you’ll be taking Wyrdeer with you, her duties will be better fulfilled back at the settlement in the mirelands. If there’s anyone I trust to run things while I’m gone, it’s her.”

“You know me so well.” Rachel replied just as warmly, a soft dusting of rose on her cheeks as she then turned to address Calaba. “And if you’ll allow me, I’d also like to take Ursaluna with us as well. If there’s a chance anyone from the Pearl Clan is missing, finding them as quickly as possible is a top priority.”

“Of course, I understand. You have my blessings, young one.” The old woman replied, turning to Kamado. “Well? It seems that we’ve reached an accord. Do you find this acceptable, Commander?”

Glancing between everyone, it was clear that Kamado was outnumbered and reluctantly, he sighed in defeat. “If the Diamond Clan is going to contribute as well and Captain Zisu is confident in the viability of this plan, then I suppose we are in accord.” He finally agreed, shaking his head. He then turned to address the Diamond Clan leader himself, his expression stern. “And in a way, Adaman is right. We all share this land. In a way, we do have to work together to preserve our ways of life. And if there is no Pearl Clan, there is no preserving their way of life.”

Nodding, the group turned to leave. “I’ll go round up the best of the Security Corp and get our supplies together.” Zisu said, patting Rachel on the back as she grinned. “Can’t wait to actually work with you and see you in action in the wild, Rachel! See you there!”

“I’ll go inform the other Pearl Clan wardens and let them know a decision has been made and help is on the way.” Calaba added, taking Rachel’s hand and patting it. “You’re a stubborn one. You’ll need that resolve.”

Smiling at her as she walked away down the stairs, Adaman was the last person in the room, gently putting an arm around Rachel and leaning against her. “I’ll go get everything ready.” He said to the woman, leaning in to murmur into her ear. “Meet you there?”

Looking up at him, Rachel gave him an affectionate smile. “Definitely. And you’d better bundle up properly, this time.”

Laughing a little, he walked past her down the stairs to go on his way to do just that, a joint effort now being achieved and the task before her feeling daunting. “Just a moment, Rachel.” Kamado’s voice said behind her. Pausing, she steeled herself, already mentally preparing for a talk about how as an outsider, she needed to prioritize keeping their trust above all else and how they were likely going to be quick to distrust her if something happened on her account. Nothing she wasn’t already used to. “Be careful…please.” He said quietly in a tone of voice that was rather…uncharacteristic of him, making Rachel turn to face the weathered commander. He was as visibly stoic as ever, but his slacked shoulder betrayed his concern. “The icelands will be more dangerous than any of your other expeditions. Please keep this in mind and do your best to help them without putting the relationship between the clans in jeopardy.”

Nodding, Rachel sighed through her nose. “I will, Commander.”

“And remember, if you fail…they will blame you first as an outsider.” He added sternly. “Keep that in mind.”

Ah, there it is. “I will. Thanks.” Walking out of the commander’s office, Rachel hung her head back. Of course he couldn’t help but remind her of her place as he always did. It was kind of redundant and useless at this point, considering how close she was with both the Diamond and Pearl Clan at this point. “You’d think he’d get tired of saying the same thing over and over again, wouldn’t you?” She said to Cedric, loyally seated on her shoulder.

He shrugged. “Eh, sometimes I think he just likes to hear himself talk and sound more intimidating than he actually is.”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh a little as they talked in low tones to each other to not draw attention to themselves. “Yeah, he wasn’t even brave enough to spar with Stormfast when I offered the chance for him to. Yet, I can do it no problem and not be afraid.”

“She can be scary.” Cedric pointed out before he nudged his trainer affectionately. “But you’ve gotten pretty good with swords, now, thanks to her. Not to mention fighting an enemy that’s bigger and stronger than you. You finally managed to beat her, yesterday.”

“Yeah! That was huge!” Rachel exclaimed, quietly flexing her arms to feel the muscles in her biceps harden and bulk under her Security Corp uniform. “I feel like I’ve gotten so much stronger since we wound up here. Wait until everyone at home sees it.”

“You might even be able to pick up Clue without breaking a sweat.” Cedric teased, grinning at her with a toothy maw.

Rachel chuckled at her dearest companion. “We’ll see.” Someday.

As she walked out the door of the Galaxy Hall, a familiar face greeted her, blond hair covering half his face and tucked underneath his Ginkgo Guild hat, hefty backpack slung on his shoulders as always. “Good morning, Rachel.”

Smiling warmly, Rachel approached him. “Good to see you, Volo.” He had become such an inexplicably comforting presence since her arrival in Hisui, his eerie familiarity eventually explained by his resemblance to her sister, Cynthia. Which meant that he was likely an ancestor of theirs. That he was family. Not to mention that he also shared their passion for history and ruins made Rachel feel even more of a kinship. That she now knew where who she and her sister were came from. “The cold making your work any harder?”

“Oh, not at all! Though it’s kind of you to be concerned.” He replied, grinning at her before he put a hand on his hip. “What’s this I hear about a dangerous expedition into the Alabaster Icelands?”

Naturally, Volo would be curious. There was a fair bit of hubbub now, especially with Zisu running around and rounding up Security Corp members and starting to gather supplies in packed crates. “The winter’s hit the Alabaster Icelands pretty hard and we’re concerned that the Pearl Clan could be in a lot of danger due to the storm. The Diamond Clan is pitching in supplies and aid as well.”

“Is that so?” Volo replied curiously, bringing a hand up to his chin to ponder. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you. Though, if you’re interested, I may have heard something of a myth that may catch your fancy.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow at him. “A myth, you say. Do tell.”

“I may have to refresh my memory on the subject myself, but if I recall correctly, there is a quartet of legendary nature spirits that migrate to Hisui in seasonal rotation.” Volo continued to explain, eyes closed as he reminisced on the tale. “One heralds the spring, one heralds the summer, another the autumn, and another the winter. Each one brings something to Hisui, whether it be storms or blessings.”

Nature spirits. How intriguing. “And you think they may have something to do with the severity of the snowstorm?”

“It’s possible.” Volo replied vaguely, resting his hands at his sides as he regarded the smaller woman. “If I remember correctly, I believe the winter spirit is known as Tornadus.” Cedric’s ears immediately pricked at the name. It was…familiar to him. He had heard it somewhere before! “It’s incredibly powerful, but I have confidence in your abilities. If it is indeed causing the storm, then perhaps defeating it will abate it.”

Nodding appreciatively, Rachel gave him a smile. “Thanks for the heads up, Volo. I’ll keep that in mind while I’m out there in the blizzard.”

“Of course! Can’t have my favourite customer getting lost in a snowstorm, now can I.” Volo replied brightly, pointing as he spoke to her. “Be safe, Rachel.”

“Thanks. You take care, now, Volo.” She wished, walking away from Volo towards her lodge to get ready for the oncoming journey and quest. It sounded like it was going to be tough, so she needed to be properly prepared.

As she walked away, Cedric suddenly whispered into her ear. “I’ve heard that name, before.” He said to his trainer. “Tornadus. It’s a Unovan myth, I think.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, Rachel tilted her head. “Really?”

“Yeah. And Volo said that they migrate in seasonal rotations, right?” Cedric pointed out. “They might be migrating from Unova.”

“You really think?” Rachel asked, intrigued at the thought that their myths might have some overlap.

Cedric nodded, though his head was bent down in thought. “But…I only remember three nature spirits. Not four…so I’m not really sure what that’s about.”

Reaching up to pet him, scratching him behind the ears and ruffling the large tuft of fur on his head, Rachel nuzzled against his cheek. “Well, maybe we’ll figure that out on our own time.” She assured him as they stopped in front of the door to their lodge, hands on her hips as she took in a deep breath. “But for now, let’s get ready for a long trip in the freezing cold.”

It was just before sundown by the time everyone met up in the Alabaster Icelands - the golden hour. Though, one wouldn’t be able to tell with how thickly the sun was blotted out by dark clouds and how violent the snowstorm was. They could only see a few feet in front of them collectively, but Rachel had traveled through these icelands enough to know its hazards intimately. Feeling the biting winds whipping against her face, it became clear exactly why communications were cut off – these weren’t safe conditions for any bird Pokémon to fly in to deliver any.

She was confident she could guide them, the Security Corp led by Captain Zisu behind her with all the supplies gathered and pulled along on sled-like boards that helped them move easily over the ice and snow. But they would need to be careful.

Wyrdeer and Ursaluna were both dutifully by her side, waiting for the woman to give the sacred Pokémon her commands. They may not be hers, but for now, they followed her since she was in charge. “So, what’s the plan, Survey Corp girl?”

“There’s a chasm just ahead of us that blocks our way across.” Rachel pointed out, gesturing in front of them just where the blizzard cut off their visibility. “It’s not too deep, so if anyone falls in, they should be fine. But it’ll still be a pain to get across, especially with the supplies we need to ferry across. Making sure they get across without getting damaged is paramount.”

Zisu nodded in agreement. “Right you are.” She agreed, hefting her backpack onto the ground and pulling out a series of supplies, including pegs, ropes, and planks all tied together. “Lucky for you, I had a feeling we’d run into trouble like this. You’re pretty good on that Wyrdeer, right?”

Shivering beside her, Adaman nodded through chittering teeth. He was wearing one more layer than usual, which annoyed Rachel a bit. “O-oh yeah. Sh-she’s p-p-pretty good. B-better than s-some of our m-m-most exp-perienced.”

Shaking her head at him, she sighed. It wasn’t like she could blame him too much for this. It wasn’t like he was used to the cold and this was a lot worse than anyone could’ve anticipated. Luckily for her, she was prepared for this, too. Nodding at Cedric, he quickly grabbed something out of her own bag and handed it to her, Rachel walking over to Adaman and draping it over his shoulders, pulling the hood over his head. “Put this on.” She ordered, giving him a stern look to make sure he knew that it wasn’t a request.

Unable to argue with her, the Diamond Clan leader quickly slipped his arms into the long sleeves and tied the cloak together in front of him, nuzzling his face into the scarf and hood and breathing out a sigh of relief. Though, the soft pale grey cloak was…familiar, in an odd way. He recognized the texture and scent when he took a moment to examine it. “Is this…Wyrdeer wool?”

“Yeah, I groomed Wyrdeer a while ago while he was blowing out his summer coat to prepare for the winter, and I felt like all that undercoat would’ve gone to waste. So, I had an idea and went to Anthe and she taught me how to spin wool myself and she helped me make this cloak out of it.” Looking up at Adaman, Rachel continued to adjust his cloak to make sure it sat snugly on him, appreciating how it looked on him. “How’s that feel?”

Looking down at her, he couldn’t help but smile. This was one of the things he appreciated most about her. When she saw a use for something or a way she could accomplish something, she did it. She put in the effort to learn how, if she didn’t know how, and put her everything into learning a new skill for the sake of it. He’d seen plenty of her wooden carvings to see that for himself, and he’d heard the improvements to her flute playing as another example.

Anything made by her hands was made with care and effort, and he appreciated that very much about her. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Good.” Rachel replied, trying to smirk at him before she met his gaze and grew bashful, her cheeks growing warm at the way he looked at her so warmly and affectionately. “I…made it especially for you. To help you not be so cold all the time.”

Another thing that he liked very much about Rachel. That she did not hesitate to do a kind thing for others simply because she could. She noticed a lot of little things about others and remembered them fondly. It showed in the gifts she made for others and the ways she complimented people.

It was what made every little gift from her so important. Every single gift and compliment was genuine. Her kindness was pure and it made Adaman appreciate the world just a little bit more just because she was in his. “What would I do without you?” He asked in a playfully sarcastic way.

Matching his energy, Rachel scoffed at him. “Freeze to death, probably.”

Feeling a strong hand slap against her backside, Rachel jumped a bit, Adaman startled a bit too despite having the visibility to expect it. “Not to break up the tender moment, but the sooner we get these crates across that ravine, the better.”

Nodding, Rachel had to agree. “Right. Priorities.” Turning to Zisu, she bowed her head, giving the Security Corp captain her full attention. “What’s your plan, if you have one?”

“You jump across that chasm on Wyrdeer’s back with these pegs, ropes, and planks holding one end, and I’ll hang onto the other from the other side and then we’ll set them up on both sides and carefully ferry across the supplies.” Zisu explained, using her hands to further illustrate her point to the pair. “Then, once all of the supplies are on the other side, then we navigate towards the Pearl Settlement and make sure they get there.”

It seemed like a sound enough plan, if a bit precarious. But she couldn’t help but worry even still, looking up at Zisu with furrowed brows. “And you’re sure the ropes will hold the weight of the crates?”

“Positive.” The fiery woman replied, broad shoulders squared. “And then, the rest is all up to you.”

“No pressure.” Rachel replied sarcastically, though she wasn’t actually bothered. After all, she agreed to lead this effort and she was nothing if not committed to her duty and to her plans. Feeling Wyrdeer and Ursaluna nudge her from behind, the shorter woman reached to give them both an affectionate and friendly scratch. “Come on, Wyrdeer. I’ll need you for this.”

The large white deer Pokémon bowed his head respectfully towards her. “At your service, traveler.”

Taking end of the makeshift bridge from Zisu, Rachel got onto Wyrdeer’s back, gripping onto the saddle handles tightly to stay on, feeling Adaman climb on after her, his chest pressed against her backside. Though she didn’t feel nervous at the moment, she appreciated the Diamond Clan leader’s presence too much to refuse it. After all, an extra pair of hands would help her focus with the limited visibility.

With the man holding onto the end, Zisu followed Rachel as she carefully led Wyrdeer forward until she found the edge of the ravine, working on muscle memory at this point. She had jumped this chasm a number of times and the icelands were no longer alien and unfamiliar to her. She knew every landmark by heart, even in this blinding blizzard.

Soon enough, the lip of the ravine came into view, Rachel leaning forward to confirm it before she turned back to the Security Corp captain and giving her a thumbs up before leading the captain right before the edge of it. Once Zisu was in position, Rachel led Wyrdeer back enough to keep the ravine just barely in line of sight and far enough back to have a good running start to get across the chasm.

Despite how easily this came to her, there was still a great deal of trepidation as she stood before the precipice. She was confident she had the distance right and would clear it. She had the proof by the sheer number of times she had done it, so much so that it had become second nature, at this point.

And yet, that fear was still there. She needed to push it down for the sake of the mission. The Pearl Clan depended on it, and being here in this relentless maelstrom only confirmed that.

Just as she expected, she easily cleared the chasm, stopping on the other side and getting off of Wyrdeer, waving at Zisu from the other side as they both walked backwards and pulled the ropes taught. Zisu secured her pegs on one side while Rachel did the same on hers, the pair testing the strength of it by both stepping on the bridge. It was a bit shaky for humans, but the crates should be able to get across with ease.

Carefully, each member of the Security Corp precariously pushed each crate across the plank bridge to the other side, the progress slow and steady. Though time was of the essence, the Pearl Clan couldn’t afford any of these crates being damaged or lost, so they had to take their time pushing each one across. Adaman and Rachel were quick to pull each crate onto the other side, the humans along with them. One-by-one, each member of the Security Corp was ferried across with a crate of supplies for the Pearl Clan until everyone was on the other side.

As they prepared to clear Whiteout Valley, Rachel watching Ursaluna carefully climb across the icy wall on one side of the chasm until he made it across to join the others. Rachel brought out Emberheart and Vendetta to flank the group, Emberheart as a Fire-type could help protect the party from hostile Ice-types and keep the group warm if they got lost, and Vendetta knew the territory as a native to this polar icescape.

Frequently, Rachel referenced her Arc Phone just to be sure that they knew where they were going. The two things they needed to be the most aware of were the icebergs that jutted out from underneath the ice to the surface and then the holes that led to the underground ice cave network beneath Avalugg’s Legacy. Which meant that they couldn’t just blaze through the blizzard to get to the Pearl Settlement and needed to take their time, much to Adaman’s anxiety. Though, she would be lying if she said she didn’t share his sentiment. Every moment that passed was a moment that the Pearl Clan could be without aid longer and longer, and the last thing she wanted was to get there too late to help them.

Eventually, with careful navigation around the unforgiving landscape, the bridge that led to the Pearl Settlement became visible, and the group began to ferry the supplies across it as Rachel made her way on Wyrdeer’s back towards the entrance.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late…she’d be glad to see Irida and the appearance of the Pearl Clan leader alone would be enough to abate most of her anxieties.

But when they arrived at the Pearl Settlement, Irida was not the one to greet them. In-fact, not a one of the typical residents of the settlement were outside (naturally), and the people who met them were none other than Gaeric, Lord Avalugg’s warden, and Sabi, Braviary’s warden. Rachel could feel the tension in Adaman’s body behind her melt when he saw that his clan’s warden was alright.

Like usual, the young forest green-haired child seemed completely unfazed by the current circumstance. “My clairvoyance told me that we would meet you here.” She greeted them as they approached. “It also showed me that you would come to help us. Will that come to pass?”

“It will, Sabi.” Naturally Adaman was the first to respond, dismounting from Wyrdeer and quickly approaching the young girl to scoop her up and hug her. Normally, he would be a bit more formal when addressing a warden of his clan in front of others, but he was just so relieved to find her safe and taken care of. “Where’s Braviary?”

“Taking roost besides the hot spring.” The young girl replied, eyes sparkling at Rachel. “You were able to surmise that the Pearl Clan was in danger, yet they weren’t able to call for help. Am I clairvoyant? Or are you?”

“It is impressive that you were able to figure out that we needed help.” Gaeric pointed out, arms crossed as, for once, the cyan-haired man wore a jacket instead of walking around shirtless. For a man who prided himself on how resilient and unbreakable he was to do such a thing spoke to the true severity of the situation. “How did you figure that out?”

“The absence of communication wasn’t a good sign, and the frigidness that crept up on us certainly didn’t help.” Rachel remarked as Zisu approached with her Security Corp, pulling supplies along into the settlement. Regarding Gaeric with utmost respect, the Survey Corp member nodded at him. “I’m beginning to realize that simple inevitability is my call to action.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that your fighting spirit and burning determination hasn’t been snuffed by the storm!” Gaeric replied with a proud mirthful chortle. “We could certainly use quite a bit of it.”

Quickly, Rachel realized that Irida had not yet made an appearance and a note of dread began to hum in the back of her mind when she exchanged a worried glance with Adaman while Security Corp personnel filed past them, waiting for Zisu’s or Rachel’s orders before proceeding. “Where’s Irida?” Adaman asked.

Her worries about the grave circumstances breaking down Gaeric were only further confirmed, the man’s confident and brazen demeanour reduced to an unsure and listless visage that almost felt alien to witness from the warden. “She…hasn’t come back.”

Worry began to bubble into a quiet panic, Rachel’s fears beginning to make themselves impossible to ignore in the back of her head. “What do you mean she hasn’t come back…?”

“Earlier today, she realized that if something wasn’t done…the storm could lead to us losing some of our own.” The Pearl Clan warden admitted, tone distant as though he himself were lost without Irida. And given the circumstances, Rachel could completely understand why. Even though he was the mentor to the Pearl Clan’s leader, this whole situation was completely unprecedented, outside of the expected and thus completely uncharted territory. And, naturally, he was worried. “So, she took it upon herself to try and find help…and she hasn’t returned, yet.”

“Are you serious?!” This was bad. Very bad. The Pearl Clan was desperate and in need of help and now they were without a leader. “And she went alone?!”

“She left me in charge.” Gaeric replied, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to appear in control and in charge, but the fact that Rachel couldn’t be convinced only further unnerved her and made her even more anxious. “She didn’t want to put anyone else at risk. Normally, I wouldn’t worry. After all, she learned from the very best and mightiest that the Pearl Clan has to offer! But…this is unusual, and I have not heard the tones of her Celestica Flute playing for hours, now. It leaves me feeling…well, not optimal.”

Growling under her breath, Rachel couldn’t contain her exasperation and her worries. “Argh…even when she’s trying to ask for help, she still thinks she has to do it alone without anyone else’s help…” Of all the lessons that she desperately wished that both clans would learn, putting their pride aside was one of them. After all, pride doesn’t keep food on the table and won’t keep you warm. Feeling Ursaluna worriedly nudge her shoulder, she knew what she had to do. “I’m going to go out to find her. Nobody else come with me, I’ll take Ursaluna to track her and Wyrdeer to get her back home safely.”

“Great, I’m coming with you!” Adaman proclaimed, already making to follow her.

Stopping him with a hand against his chest, forcing him back. “No. You stay here.” She ordered, her voice stern and firm as she stood her ground. As much as she wanted to have him by her side, the last thing she wanted to risk was Adaman being lost, too. “You’re needed here and I can’t risk losing you, too.”

The worry that flashed before his dark eyes was palpable, and it nearly made Rachel flinch when she met his gaze. “But…you can’t go out in this blizzard alone, you could get lost, too!”

“I have the Arc Phone, it tells me where I am and where I’m going at all times.” Rachel reminded him, feeling somewhat fortunate, for once, that she had the assistance of Almighty Sinnoh on her side. “And besides, I’m more used to being in the wilds on my own than you are. I’ll be with my Pokémon, and Wyrdeer and Ursaluna will be with me, too. I’ll be fine.”

“But – what do you expect me to do? Sit here and wait for you to get back?” Adaman retorted, worried aggravation evident in his raised tone of voice. “You know me well enough to know I can’t do that.”

She nodded in understanding. She did know him well enough. “I know…and I’m not asking you to.” Turning to Zisu, Rachel gave the Security Corp captain her command. “Start distributing supplies. Ration the food and make sure everyone gets warmer clothes and blankets and that there’s enough firestarting material to last until morning in each tent. Ensure they know that Gaeric’s met with us and that there’s a search in place for Irida.” Waiting for the Security Corp to be busy, Rachel leaned close to Adaman, reaching up to pull him in and hold him tightly. The Diamond Clan leader didn’t hesitate to bend down to wrap his arms around her, pressing her tightly to his body for comfort. “These people need you. Gaeric is a very capable man and he was Irida’s mentor, but he’s not their leader. You are a leader. He’ll need your help to figure out what to do and to keep everyone calm and level-headed. Your job is to make sure that the Pearl Clan knows that the Diamond Clan won’t abandon them and to keep the peace and prevent mass panic and hysteria. Think you can do that for me…?”

Sighing, Adaman nodded, but his grip on the small woman tightened, the man pressing his face into the side of her head. He was almost afraid to let her go out of fear of losing her in the blizzard, too. “But what about you…?”

Silent for a moment, Rachel held him tighter, too. “If something happens to me…the Galaxy Team loses a member of the Survey Corp.” She pointed out, pulling back to look Adaman in the face, heart aching when she saw just how worried he was when he gazed down at her. “But if something happens to you…the Diamond Clan will lose its leader. I can’t risk that.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Adaman grabbed onto Rachel’s shoulders, the strength of his grip telling her that she should listen to him intently. “If something happens to you…” He paused, the thought caught in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to force what he wanted to say out in the open. “…I’ll lose a dear friend. It’s bad enough that Irida’s missing…but I can’t bear the thought of the both of you getting lost.”

Softening, Rachel sighed through her nose and rested her hands over top of his, giving them a squeeze as she offered him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry.” She murmured softly to him. “Come doom or high water, I’ll make sure Irida comes home. I will bring her home. You have my word.”

“You’d better.” Adaman responded hardly, squeezing her shoulders before letting go of her, stepping back to let her go reluctantly. “I’m holding you to that.”

She was warmed that she had grown to mean that much to him, but right now, the task at hand was to find Irida and bring her home. She didn’t have to worry about the Pearl Settlement for now – it was in good hands. As she pulled Wyrdeer close, rallying Ursaluna, Emberheart, and Vendetta alongside her, Sabi giggled brightly at the woman as she turned to face the blistering blizzard once more. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I saw you stumbling across the bridge with Irida on your arm. Do you think it’ll come to pass?”

Regarding Sabi for a moment, Rachel knew her well enough to know a challenge when she heard one. It wasn’t about whether Sabi was right, it was never about that – it was about whether Rachel had the resolve to make her own way, whether Sabi foresaw it or not. Though she valued Sabi’s clairvoyance, she knew it was only a suggestion of the future rather than a prediction. “It’s not about what I think.” She said resolutely, gazing down at the young Diamond Clan warden with determination glinting in her dark eyes. “It must be done, so it will be. Simple as.”

Tilting her head, Sabi smiled at Rachel. “The real question is: will you succeed because I’ve seen it? Or in spite of it?”

That certainly was the real question, but now wasn’t the time for philosophical musings. Now was the time for action.

Tugging on Wyrdeer’s reins, the group was off, taking off into the snowstorm before it could get any worse. The sooner they located Irida, the sooner they could bring her back. Walking alongside Ursaluna, she put a hand on his backside, speaking gently to the large bear Pokémon. “Find the Pearl Clan’s leader, Ursaluna. You’re our only hope.”

As the Pokémon put his snout to the icy ground, Cedric leaned in to whisper directly into Rachel’s ear, feeling the worry rolling off of her like mist despite her best attempts to give the appearance of being in control of the situation. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“No.” Rachel replied immediately, patiently waiting for Ursaluna to catch a scent to try and find the lost Pearl Clan leader. Sometimes it could take a while for her to find a scent and they needed to be mindful of their surroundings, especially with consideration to the limited and lack of visibility. “But what choice do we have?”

Carefully, they navigated their way around the Alabaster Icelands, staying near Avalugg’s Legacy while they searched for any sign, any scent of Irida. It was difficult to do in this storm with how severe it was, but they needed to stay focused. They had a mission to accomplish and they would not rest until Irida was found and brought back home to her people.

She was likely looking for help, so they needed to try and find where Irida would have gone to look. But they also needed to be mindful of where she could’ve gotten lost and would have taken shelter. So far, Ursaluna wasn’t finding any sign of her around Avalugg’s Legacy in the centre of the icelands. That had to mean that Irida hadn’t taken shelter in the underground cave system, which meant they had to expand their search further.

But where to start? Where would she have gone to look for help? Where could she have taken shelter? Her only solace as to not getting lost was her Arc Phone, keeping her informed of her location at all times. Thanks for not completely forsaking me, almighty Sinnoh. Looking to Ursaluna, who was still moving slowly in an attempt to pay attention to any stray scent of Irida they could find, Rachel put a hand on the bear’s shoulder. “Any sign of her…”

Grievously, the Pearl Clan’s sacred Pokémon shook his head, nuzzling it into her hand. “I’m afraid not…the storm is wiping away every scent as soon as I catch it…” He moaned mournfully. He had ferried the Pearl Clan leader so many times that her scent was firmly committed to his memory, and yet when she was lost, he could not find her. “I’m sorry, traveler…”

The hopelessness in the Pokémon’s gruff voice gave Rachel pause, dread sinking into her gut that she forced down out of determined spite. “We can’t give up! She’s been gone for a day! We can still find her!” She said, nudging both Ursaluna and Wyrdeer. “Keep looking. We have to find her!”

As Rachel continued to press onward, Emberheart and Vendetta exchanged a look between them. They were naturally concerned for their wielder, but neither of them knew who should take the initiative. Normally, the Arcanine would, but since Vendetta was more familiar with this territory than she was having grown up and lived here, she felt that the Zoroark should. And since Vendetta felt that since Emberheart had known Rachel for longer than Vendetta had, the Arcanine should step up. But the inaction eventually led to inevitability, and Vendetta decided to make the decision to try and talk some sense into her.

Besides, this endeavour was partially driven by spite, which continued to intrigue the Zoroark. Spite to succeed and prove everyone wrong who was worried she would be lost in the storm, too. These continued demonstrations of spite, anger, rage, and hatred performed in the name of good – of kindness – slowly became less and less alien to Vendetta. What she had once seen as opposites in direct juxtaposition to each other she was beginning to realize was a catalyst for the other.

Spite was a spectrum, and humans had those in myriads. “Your conviction is strong…I’ll give you that.” Vendetta said to the human, flanking her dutifully alongside Emberheart, the Arcanine scanning their surroundings for any Pokémon that would dare try and interfere with their mission. “But you should consider what to do if you fail…or if time is not on your side. You must survive.”

Rachel grit her teeth, her jaw clenched as she glared at the white beast whose billowing rage whipped in the biting and cruel wind on sanguine tendrils from her brilliant and imposing mane. “None of that matters until we find Irida, and I won’t stop until she’s found.”

“But if you don’t make your own survival a priority, you will fail.” Vendetta pointed out, reaching out to grasp at her wielder’s shoulder, crimson claws digging into the thick fabrics that kept her body warm despite the frigid icescape around them. Though Rachel wanted to argue with her, she knew that Vendetta was right. If she didn’t protect herself, then Irida would be lost for good. “You can’t help anyone if you can’t help yourself.”

Relenting, Rachel let out a frustrated sigh. “If it comes to that…we’ll find shelter and try to wait out the storm.”

Nodding, Vendetta encouraged her to continue, the group following Ursaluna’s fruitful attempts to catch Irida’s scent. It felt bitterly hopeless, but Rachel wasn’t someone who obeyed odds. She was someone who succeeded in spite of them, so naturally, Vendetta stood firm by her. “If you hear her voice, be warned – it may be a trick.”

Scoffing, Rachel rolled her eyes. She remembered that all too well, when she once thought that Zinnia had followed her into Hisui and was lost in the Alabaster Icelands in the caves below, only to find that she had been tricked.

It was how she came to find Vendetta in the first place.

Suddenly, the Zoroark stilled, standing rigid and tall as her ears swivelled and twisted, as though she had caught a sound on the wind. Waiting intensely, Rachel’s eyes were glued to the white creature as she tried to discern what she was hearing. Finally, she spoke. “Her memories…! I can sense them!”

Eyes widening, Rachel gasped, reaching to take her Zoroark by the paws. “Where?! Where is she?!”

Regretfully, the Normal-Ghost-type shook her head, yellow eyes squinted against the snow that pelted her in the face. Despite having grown up in this bitter environment, it could still overwhelm even a creature like her. “I can’t sense where she is…only that she’s nearby.”

“But she’s close! That means we might be able to track her scent as long as we stay in the area where you can sense her memories!” Rachel cried, jubilation echoing across the frigid icescape before disappearing in the violent biting winds. Finally, real hope bloomed in her chest. If Vendetta could sense her memories, then that meant that Irida was alive! They would be able to find her and bring her home! Turning to Ursaluna, Rachel quickly climbed atop, gesturing out into the icy white that swirled around them. “Find her! She can’t be far!”

With renewed vigor, the Ground-Normal-type bear pressed his snout to the sharply cold ice beneath him, determined to find his clan’s leader. Now that they knew for certain she was close by and that she was alive, they couldn’t fail. They couldn’t give up, now that it was possible. Not when they were so close! Carefully navigating the blizzard, staying within the area where Vendetta could sense Irida’s memories, they found themselves patrolling and investigating Arena’s Approach. Perhaps in her desperation, the Pearl Clan leader was on her way to beseech the help of Lord Avalugg to save them.

Finally, Ursaluna caught the scent of his dear leader, moving at a much faster pace, running and galloping with even greater speed so much so that Wyrdeer struggled to keep up. Emberheart and Vendetta were on the Diamond and Pearl Clans’ Pokémon’s heels, running ahead to where Ursaluna was leading them. But strangely, when Rachel checked her Arc Phone, she saw that they were not going to the Icepeak Arena, but towards Icebound Falls tucked away in the south.

Once they approached, she immediately realized why. There was a tunnel that led from the greater expanse of the icelands towards the icefalls. So she took shelter…good.

As they approached, her hopes were confirmed when she spotted two familiar Pokémon emerge from within. It was Irida’s Glaceon and Espeon! “They’ve found us!” The Ice Pokémon cried, rushing up to Rachel to greet her warmly, reaching the woman and nuzzling her gloved hand gratefully.

“Just as I knew she would.” Espeon added, pressing himself against Rachel affectionately.

Gently petting them both, she was relieved that they were alright. “Where’s Irida?”

“She’s inside.” Glaceon informed Rachel, grabbing her by the hand gently in her jaws and tugging her along at a frantic pace.

Pressing along the woman’s side to push her onwards, Espeon mewed anxiously. “Flareon’s just inside, trying to keep her warm…but she hasn’t woken up for a little while.”

Then hopefully, they weren’t too late.

Entering the tunnel, Rachel recognized it in an instant, the strange hieroglyphics on the wall as perplexing as ever as she dismounted from Ursaluna and approached. She could recognize some of the shapes as the nobles, but some were unfamiliar to her. Huddled beneath the perplexing puzzle was the Pearl Clan leader herself, her Flareon desperately pressing his body against her paler than normal skin, her lips and fingertips turned blue. She was motionless, and seeing her pale still body, Rachel began to panic, even with Flareon’s efforts to try and keep her warm.

She was alive! She had to be!

Collapsing on her knees, she pressed her ear to the Pearl Clan leader’s chest, nuzzling past Flareon’s head to hear a faint heartbeat within the frigid skin pulled taught against her bones. Good…she was still alive. That at least was a relief, but she didn’t want to even think about what would’ve happened had she not been accompanied by Flareon and her other Pokémon. “Irida…?” Rachel said quietly, holding the blonde woman’s face in her hands. She felt as cold as ice as she shook her to try and rouse her. “Irida, come on! Wake up!”

Weakly, the Pearl Clan leader’s eyes creaked open, a small smile creasing her cracked sickly looking lips. There was no light in her pale blue eyes, only a fading flicker of life still within. “M…moth…er…?”

Shit, this was worse than she thought. Any longer in this cold and Irida would surely freeze to death, even with Flareon’s help. She was already delirious. “No…no, it’s me, Rachel.” She insisted. When Irida couldn’t maintain consciousness any longer, the Survey Corp member didn’t hesitate to beckon her Arcanine into the tunnel. “Emberheart, get her warm! She’ll freeze to death!”

Moving aside to make room for the large doggish creature, Rachel could feel the idle heat coming off of her fur. It wasn’t hot, but it would be enough to warm Irida and keep her out of the danger zone. Cedric didn’t hesitate to pull the thick blanket out of her backpack, handing it to Rachel and dashing over to Irida to check her heartbeat. It was weak…but there. For how much longer?

Not very if they didn’t act soon.

Gesturing to Ursaluna and Wyrdeer to stay put for now, Rachel then nodded to her Zoroark. “Vendetta, stand guard. Let me know if the storm gets worse.”

“As you command.” The white beast replied, dipping her head before standing vigilant at the exposed entrance, her massive mane blocking much of the way.

Which was good, since it would block the frigid blizzard air from getting into the cave and making Irida colder than she already was. Rachel wouldn’t be surprised if she was already suffering from hypothermia despite Flareon’s best efforts. Cedric had the blanket in his mouth and nodded at Rachel, Irida’s loyal Fire-type Pokémon at his human’s side ready to help.

Cradling the Pearl Clan leader gently, Rachel lifted Irida’s body from the ground, Cedric and Flareon then tugging the blanket underneath where she was before the Survey Corp member then laid her back down, again. Odd…didn’t Irida weigh more? Or did Rachel get stronger? She had been training a lot since she’d started sparring with her Pokémon in a regular basis.

But no matter. They had important matters at hand.

Wrapping the blanket around Irida and tucking the ends of it into each other to make sure she was tightly bundled, Rachel then pushed Irida into Emberheart’s side, hoping that she could make the most of the idle heat that the Arcanine was throwing off. Just a calm gentle warmth. Flareon then climbed up and sat on her, hoping to warm her up with his body heat, too. The gentle heat from both Pokémon would keep Irida alive and, if they took a moment to let her acclimate, they would be able to make the trip back to the Pearl Settlement in no time.

Looking up at Wyrdeer, Rachel reached up to him. “Do you think we can carry her?”

“Of course.” The pale grey deer replied confidently, gently nuzzling Rachel as he rested his forehead against her. “She has you to thank for saving her life and I’m grateful that the Pearl Clan will not lose another leader. I will lay down my life to be able to ensure she’s safely returned home.”

Smiling, Rachel pressed her forehead against his. The first of the sacred Pokémon that she had met, and in some ways, the closest to her. There was nowhere she could think of going without calling upon him to carry her. It was like they were one and the same. Did either clan realize how much each other’s sacred Pokémon valued and respected one another regardless of allegiance?

She hoped they would, someday. “You and me both…”

Grunting worriedly, Vendetta turned to address her wielder, trepidation creasing her brows as she approached Rachel. “The storm looks like it’s worsening…perhaps we should take shelter here for the night.”

Shaking her head insistently, Rachel refused. “No. We found her. We can take a moment so that she won’t die on the way back, but now that we found her, we can just take her home!” Despite her conviction, the Zoroark didn’t seem convinced.

Ursaluna seemed to agree. “If the storm worsens, I may not be able to navigate us back through scent. We may risk getting lost ourselves.”

“Trust me, finding Irida was the hardest part.” Rachel insisted, pulling out her Arc Phone to show the creature. “This device tells me our exact location at all times. As long as I have this, we’ll never be lost. We just have to make it across Avalugg’s Legacy to get back to the settlement, and everything will be okay.” Hearing Irida moan pitifully in her hypothermic slumber, Rachel wilted. At least she seemed to be recovering strength…slowly. “Just…let’s wait for her to be strong enough to hold on…then we’ll go.”

Taking advantage of the shelter that was now provided, the party waited until Irida was at least fit enough to travel. Outside, the blizzard continued its relentless assault on the Alabaster Icelands, and from the skies, the patron of winds watched closely. He had witnessed and brought every winter season for generations, and he had watched the Pearl Clan survive every one.

However, his disappointment when they lost many of their numbers to war was immeasurable. Only by communing with his fellow nature spirits did he learn of the feuds between the Pearl Clan and the Diamond Clan. The bringer of spring had told him of the similar dwindling in numbers of the Diamond Clan in the Crimson Mirelands, and it saddened her just as much to witness. After all, she was the patron of new beginnings, new life. It was natural for her to be saddened by the loss of life within the Diamond Clan.

But his own position as the patron of winter was not one of cruelty. He did not wish for creatures to perish nor did he purposefully wish so. He was the patron of survival of the fittest, those that could survive and make it through his harsh winters would survive through many seasons. Winter was about hardship and perseverance.

A will to survive. A will to live.

The Pearl Clan was squandering their chances for the survival of their future generations and was risking the death of their whole clan and culture through their feuds with the Diamond Clan and by refusing to beseech help. He knew they were quite prideful in that way, and it disappointed him. Humans were social creatures that depended on one another. That much he knew about them. To not ask for help to ensure their own survival was to go against their nature, to go against what made humans so strong. Their sense of community was one he admired.

And the last thing he wanted was to see a clan that had survived many of his harsh winters die out because they had forgotten what they were. His grief would be inconsolable.

So, he devised a trial. A trial that would test the mettle of the Pearl Clan’s will to survive and to see if it was too late for them to recover. By sending them a storm so severe that they had never faced, before, the grave circumstances would force them to realize how vulnerable they were and surely they would have no choice but to beseech the help of others – perhaps the Diamond Clan.

And then, surely they would realize that they were stronger together than they were divided and at ends with one another. It would be a step towards ending the legacy of senseless death between the clans and towards building a future where they ensured the other’s survival at the worst of times.

They would remember their humanity and come together to endure the greatest hardship he had ever sent their way. They had to, in order to survive. And if they had the will to, they would. He was certain of it.

The Galaxy Team was something different entirely. They were comparatively new to the land of Hisui compared to the clans, and yet they had by far the largest settlement both in size and in population. They had come from a land from far away and, from what he and his fellow nature patrons could glean from sequential observation, they studied the land of Hisui to learn from it and had a neutral relationship with both clans.

And, curiously, none of the Galaxy Team could speak with Pokémon like the clans did. None except, strangely enough, for this one. He did not recognize her and the Pokémon in the area spoke of her reverently, particularly its lord. She was a traveler from beyond the rift, having fallen into Hisui some time ago, and not only did she understand Pokémon, but she was making strides in bridging the gap that existed between the Diamond and Pearl Clans.

She even had the bravery to stop an enraged charging Piloswine in its tracks just to save the lives of the leaders of both clans. This was someone who not only had a will to live herself, but had a will to live threefold, enough to protect others and ensure their lives would endure as well.

Perhaps she was just what he needed to prove that the Pearl Clan was not yet lost. So, it was time to test her mettle as well.

Marching through the blistering white world in front of them, barely able to see their hands in front of them, the group had to proceed with extreme prejudice to the potential environmental hazards. Glaceon was taking the point position in front of Ursaluna who was trying to track their path backwards, Wyrdeer then walking slowly behind him with Rachel on his back with Irida in her arms still bundled in the blanket. Cedric was nestled against her, pressing his fur against her face in an attempt to protect her from the wind without suffocating her.

Vendetta and Emberheart flanked the Diamond Clan’s sacred ride Pokémon, Flareon and Espeon guarding the rear as they traveled. Rachel glanced at her Arc Phone to ensure that they were heading the right way, but occasionally on their way, they would get confused and have to turn around to try and navigate towards the Pearl Settlement. It couldn’t be that far…it couldn’t be that difficult.

But the only problem was that the Arc Phone didn’t tell her what direction she was facing – only where she was. It was getting colder, the wind getting more violent, and eventually, the wind would become impassable if they stayed out here for too long. The group huddled close together, yet every time Rachel checked the Arc Phone, it seemed like she was going in circles around Avalugg’s Legacy.

They couldn’t get lost…not now. Not when they were so close. They’d found Irida…she couldn’t give up now. “I don’t think…we can go further…” Ursaluna bemoaned miserably, shaking his head. “I can’t smell anything, anymore…we have no hope of being able to follow our trail back to the east…”

“He’s right…” Glaceon said, shaking her head from the front as she turned her head to address the group, the tassels on her head whipping violently in the white blizzard. Were it daylight, they might have gone blind. “Maybe we should take shelter until morning…!”

“No!” Rachel cried, shaking her head as she held Irida’s body closer to her own, refusing to let her go as though the moment she did, the Pearl Clan leader and her friend would disappear forever. “We’re not giving up! Not when we’re this close! We can make it!” They just had to keep going. They just had to… “So long…as I’m still standing…so long as I still draw breath…I will bring Irida home.”

So, onward they pushed despite the hopelessness that threatened to close in on them and freeze them in place. They moved slower and slower, snow sticking sharply to their skin and fur collectively. Rachel’s throat began to crack and grow dry with how heavily she was breathing. The chilly air was starting to suck the moisture out of her mouth and it was starting to grow painful.

She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t let the Pearl Clan lose another leader. She wouldn’t.

Stopping, Vendetta perked up, the white Zoroark standing rigid as she began to growl. Her fur billowed threateningly, scarlet sinews of mirthful rage and lashing hatred glowed angrily like tongues of red hot fire from the deep earth within. She almost appeared to be twice her size as she snarled a warning to the group, backing up to be pressed against Wyrdeer. “Hold formation.” She ordered them, the white beast baring her fangs at the cyclones that surrounded and threatened to sweep them away in the violent and impassable storm. “The Winterbringer is here, and he bites with no mercy.”

At that warning, Wyrdeer and his passengers were boxed in the centre, their guardians forming a protective circle around them to face the dangers that laid out in the storm. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still despite the wind that continued its assault. As they all looked out into the whiteness, waiting in anticipation for what would come next, completely unsure of what to expect, it seemed like the world itself was drawing in a long breath.

Before it exhaled into a world of whirlwinds and cyclones that circled them relentlessly, completely preventing them from passing and pushing them in every which way. The sheer force of these biting powerful winds that swiftly pushed past and around them was enough to likely sweep them away, never to be seen again if they took one step out into the invisible world they were trapped in.

It pelted them, forcing them to hunker down as all of them began to attack at the impenetrable cyclones. The light from Emberheart and Flareon’s fire attacks was quickly swept away, the only source of light in this white realm they were forced to endure.

But in the brief flashes of light, Rachel spotted a shape whipping by. A shape that flew so fast that she could barely parse it as a shape, hardly even a silhouette. Yet, it was there. It was there clearly.

This Winterbringer was not actually trying to attack them. So what was it trying to do? What was the purpose of this? This storm? This attack?

There was only one way to get that answer. And if they could stop it in its tracks, perhaps they would. “Emberheart, Stone Edge! Agile Style!”

Obeying the orders of her wielder, rearing up with a mighty roar, the large Fire-Pokémon brought her paws down heavy onto the ice, the tremors echoing beneath their feet before sharp stone spires suddenly jutted out from the ice below with a shattered crackle, in the way of the figure zipping about and whipping the storm up worse.

Just as she predicted, the figure that was doing this smacked into the stone spires that had erupted from the ground at full speed, being suddenly thrown back by the impact, creating a temporary halt to the severity of the storm. They still couldn’t see the sky, but at least they could now move.

Without hesitation, Vendetta pounced on the now prone Pokémon, pinning it to the ground and snarling, holding its arms behind its back and sinking her teeth into its neck, rolling it over so that it faced Rachel.

Looking down at it from the back of Wyrdeer, the woman glowered at it. This Pokemon appeared to take the form of a humanoid, with green skin splotched with lilac, though its lower body was rendered invisible by the clouds that cloaked it. A long graceful violet tail with yellow spiraled ridges along it that resembled stylistic renditions of gales and winds.

Two horns jutted out of its forehead, a curled white quaff of hair on its head just behind them. It sported a jagged mustache of the same colour. Strangely enough, its hair also seemed to resemble the clouds that concealed half of its verdant body.

Cedric’s pale blue eyes met this Pokémon’s searching yellow gaze. He definitely recognized this Pokémon from home. This was indeed the Pokémon that Volo had warned them about, and Rachel was sure of that, too. “I gather you must be Tornadus.”

Chuckling amusedly, the Pokémon grinned at her. “Ah, I see that my reputation precedes me.” He commented, Tornadus seeming completely unconcerned with the situation he was currently in. Though, Rachel should’ve expected as much from a being such as him. “A pleasure it is to meet you in the flesh, Rachel. I’ve heard whispers on the wind about you.”

Narrowing her eyes, she had no patience for this thin veneer of small talk. Not when the situation was dire and he seemed to be the cause. “Did you cause this storm?”

Her will didn’t waver, even in his presence. That was good to see. “I bring the winter winds with me to Hisui. It’s what I am.”

Setting her jaw, the woman’s fingers dug deeper into the blanket that swaddled Irida snugly. “Abate it. Now.”

“I will. In due time.” Tornadus attempted to assure her, staring intently at her as he didn’t even attempt to struggle in Vendetta’s ruthless grip. “But first…the survival of the Pearl Clan must be assured. Only then will the storm abate.”

“If you would abate the storm, I would be able to do so.” Rachel retorted sharply, sneering at the green-skinned Pokémon of gales. Tornadus didn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation he caused. Or, he had purposefully caused it for some reason and was fine with the consequences of it. The grave consequences.

Shaking his head, Tornadus refused even still. “You misunderstand.” He insisted, meeting the woman’s gaze with a calm stillness that made her shudder as she sat there and listened to him. “I am not cruel. I simply bring hardships to determine who are strong enough to survive for seasons. After all, nature is chaotic and untameable. Only the strongest can truly survive.”

Growling, Rachel spat at him. “So, you’re fine with just weeding out the weak? Bringing death just to enforce an idea of strength at the cost of innocents?”

“Innocent and guilty matter not to me, but once again, you misunderstand.” Tornadus continued to speak calmly, regarding the human with respect despite the circumstances he was currently in. “Do you know what makes humans strong? What allows them to survive some of the most punishing of hardships?” Curling her nose at him, Rachel waited for him to explain. No matter what she answered with, he would tell her what he thought anyways. “…their sense of community.” That…wasn’t an answer she was expecting. “Humans are strongest when they band together. It’s how they have survived and conquered for centuries. Their strength lies in community, and the Pearl Clan over the generations has forgotten this. If they are to survive, they must not only remember their own humanity…but the humanity in their perceived enemies as well.”

So…this was some sort of test? Some sort of sick test? She couldn’t disagree with him, but why this? “If you were trying to teach them that, then why this?” Rachel demanded, tilting Irida so that she was facing away from the wind in her arms. “Why create this deadly storm to teach them that lesson when you could’ve taught it through kindness? Without risking their lives?”

“That is your role as a human, and humans seem to have a tendency to isolate themselves from opposing viewpoints, seeing any opposition to their beliefs as a personal threat.” Tornadus replied casually, as though this were just any regular conversation they could be having. As though they were merely speaking philosophy rather than actively gambling with the lives of innocents. “Nature teaches lessons where human kindness fails. My intervention was inevitable. You could even say that the inevitability itself was an invitation for my intervention.

“But regardless of my place in all of this, I ask you this, distant traveler:” Grinning, Tornadus’s eyes widened, clenching his fists tightly against the ice beneath him, clouds billowing around him. “How strong is your will to survive?”

A sudden twisting gale suddenly slammed into Vendetta, pushing her back into the storm and forcing her to release Tornadus, the gale Pokémon disappearing just as quickly as he reappeared, cackling into the ether as his presence was swept away with the wind, as though he and it were one and the same.

Leaving Rachel and her rescue party alone in the frigid and unforgiving winter gales below.

Completely unaware of the struggle that Rachel was enduring out in the icy wastes in the white blizzard outside of the settlement, Adaman was busy and hard a work helping the Security Corp distribute supplies and personally attend to the people of the Pearl Settlement at Gaeric’s command. The man was quite agreeable, surprisingly enough, and the pair actually worked very well together.

Naturally, the Pearl Clan was suspicious of the Diamond Clan leader helping them, but they accepted his help nonetheless, and speaking with them, he wasn’t met with hostility. “You don’t waste even a second. Do you, lad?” One of them commented as he ladled the woman in Pearl Clan robes a bowl of soup from the lit hearth.

Chuckling quietly, he handed her the warm bowl, his relief at seeing her eat bringing him only a little bit at peace. The truth of the matter was that he was trying to keep himself busy to not drive himself insane with worry. Rachel had been gone for a long time and he was already fearing the worst.

Helping these people was the only thing keeping him holding onto hope. He needed to believe in her. “I can’t just sit by and do nothing. Especially if there’s something I can do to help.” Adaman replied, hoping he wasn’t giving away just how scared he was for both Rachel and Irida. There wasn’t a minute that went by that he wasn’t quietly uttering prayers in his head to almighty Sinnoh to bring the both of them back safely. “I’m sure Irida felt the same way when she realized the danger her people were in. I’m confident it’s the reason she decided to take matters into her own hands.”

Humming worriedly, the woman held her soup in her lap in the tent, shaking her head. “And now she’s lost to us…and we’re at the behest of you and of our outsiders.”

Furrowing his brow, Adaman shook his head. These people needed to believe in her as much as he was trying to. “Rachel will bring your leader back. I promise she will.”

The woman met his gaze, eyebrows furrowed. “What makes you so sure, Adaman?”

He smiled warmly, remembering the way she openly scolded him when he doubted himself for a moment. Without hesitation, all the things she saw in him and admired about him spilled out and he was thoroughly unprepared for it. It was so passionate, so unprompted, and so heated. And yet, he knew it came from a place of genuine care and sincerity. She meant every word she said about him to him, and in a way…it changed him. It pulled him out of the near constant quiet doubt that whispered incessantly in the back of his mind.

He smiled as he regarded the Pearl Clan woman. “Because there’s no one in the world who’s like her. She’s the best of the Survey Corp that anyone’s ever known and when she cares about something, nothing can stop her.” He said, smirking a bit wryly. “Besides, despite my clearly blasphemous ways, I’m not doing too bad a job out here, am I?”

Chuckling at the Diamond Clan leader, the woman couldn’t help but shake her head. “No, I suppose not.” She paused, taking a moment to savour the warm meal, looking out towards the door to the tent that swelled and bent in tandem with the violent winter winds outside that put them in this position to begin with. “As a matter of fact, we’re all actually quite grateful that the Diamond Clan has not forsaken us…it warms the heart to know that we have not be left behind.”

“We may have our differences, but Hisui is both of our homes.” Adaman replied, repeating what he had said earlier in the Galaxy Hall when they were discussing what to do about the Pearl Clan. “Even at odds, I actually have a lot of respect for Irida and the rest of your clan. We value your clan’s safety as much as we value ours and we all have a right to live here. To do nothing would be to go against everything I stand for.”

Nodding, the Pearl Clan woman hummed in contentment. “Well said.”

Glancing at her now empty bowl, Adaman smiled at her. “Is there anything else you’ll need?”

She shook her head. “You’ve done plenty enough. But if we need you, we’ll find you.”

Nodding at her in acknowledgement, Adaman left the tent back into the frigid air outside. He pulled the cloak and scarf given to him by Rachel close to his body as he shivered, breathing in the comforting scent of the wild flowers and grasses and the sea that the woman always carried with her.

Even just her lingering scent on the clothes given to him made him feel safe. It gave him hope…that everything was going to be alright.

Spotting Gaeric looking out at the edge of the Pearl Settlement with Zisu at his side, holding up a lantern, Adaman approached, indents left behind by his footsteps swept away as quickly as he made them. “Any sign of them, yet?” He asked anxiously.

Shaking his head, Gaeric wore a solemn expression on his face. “Not a one, I’m sorry to say.”

Even Zisu’s signature warm optimistic demeanour seemed to flicker for a moment like a weakening candle, her brows furrowed and her eyes clouded with lingering fear. Not for herself, but for Rachel. Though they weren’t close, Zisu had a lot of admiration for the Survey Corp girl and a degree of affection as well. There was a brightness that she brought to the Galaxy Hall and the Training Grounds whenever she appeared and the compassion she had for both humans and Pokémon was something that endeared Zisu to her greatly.

She was a bright shining star in their little galaxy that served as their north star, guiding them towards a bright future by her resolve and her unwavering kindness. To lose that would be to lose one of the brightest lights in their world and Zisu didn’t like the thought of such a brilliant light being snuffed out like this.

Standing beside them, Adaman sighed solemnly. The storm was worse. He couldn’t even see the massive glaciers that towered over Avalugg’s Legacy, not even a distant silhouette. The sky and the very air was blotted out by white snow, leaving little room for hope left.

Adaman hated waiting. Especially when he felt like he should do something and knew that there was nothing he could do. “Things…aren’t looking good…are they?” Gaeric muttered, dropping his persona of impenetrable strength to show the Diamond Clan leader a rare moment of vulnerability. It was natural that the cracks would begin to show. Irida was not only his leader, but his pupil.

Losing her would be like losing his kin, something Adaman could empathize with – he felt the exact same way about his fellow Diamond Clan members and its wardens. For him, it was a bit more literal. He, Mai, Arezu, and Melli all lost their parents and guardians in a previous war with the Pearl Clan when they were children and bonded with one another, becoming more like siblings than anything else.

They were the only family he had. He would do anything to keep them safe.

“It’s hard not to assume the worst…” Zisu admitted, the Security Corp captain reaching up to rub at her neck, holding her lantern up higher to try and get a better view of their surroundings. But the blizzard only caused the light to blot out everything else by its sheer brightness far more than the blizzard itself was. “But – and I really hate to say it – there’s a good chance Rachel might be lost out there.”

Feeling his stomach twist at the thought of Rachel and Irida freezing out in the storm, Adaman tried to pull his hood in closer. The light from Zisu’s lantern was so oppressive in this blizzard that he was starting to feel a headache coming on and was tempted to tell Zisu to put it out. After all, there was no point in keeping it lit.

At least…that’s what he thought until he realized just how bright it was and how sharply it seemed to cut through the snow. The snow even seemed to amplify the light through the crystals.

His dark eyes widened, a glimmer of hope behind them that was beginning to spark into something more. “Captain Zisu, how many of those do we have?”

Glancing at the Diamond Clan leader with a curious look, the woman raise her eyebrow at him. “Enough for every member of the Pearl Clan and every one of us at least twice over. Why?”

Looking about the path towards the Pearl Settlement proper, he walked down towards the bridge, eyeing the trees at the edges. One towered above the rest and a plan was beginning to form in his head. Maybe there was something he could do after all! “I think I’ve got an idea how we can help Rachel and Irida get back home…!”

Huddled on the ground, left alone and weak in the absence of Tornadus, the group resorted to pressing against one another for shelter and warmth. Their will was fading, only a faint ember that was being desperately nursed by every last one of them, human and Pokémon. Rachel tried to will herself to keep going despite the severity of the storm, now knowing it was a test.

But she couldn’t. She could no longer push herself forward and she could only try and convince herself to take another step and fail. But while she had Irida, she would protect her no matter what.

She couldn’t give up…not yet…she needed to try again…they needed to get back home.

Were Glaceon not an Ice-type, she would be huddling close to her human as well. But she was cold enough, and they needed to get Irida back home to the Pearl Settlement before she froze to death. However, when she looked off into the icy distance, the Ice Pokémon spotted a peculiar sight. “What is that…?”

Looking up from cradling Irida against her chest to try and keep her warm, Rachel squinted when she saw what Glaceon was looking at. It look like a series of lights in the distance rising up and then settling in various places. It didn’t look like a random cluster moving erratically. Quite the opposite, the moving lights seemed to move in an organized fashion.

It was utterly bizarre. “How strange…”

Staring at the strange sight, Vendetta growled quietly as she stared into the distance. She didn’t quite trust it just yet, and the last thing she wanted was for her wielder and all the other Pokémon to get lost or misled by a malicious force that laid hidden in the blizzard. “Wait here for a moment.” The Zoroark grunted, getting up and walking on all fours through the snow. “If there’s anyone who knows tricks…it’s me.”

Before Rachel could protest, the Pokémon had already vanished into the storm, her white coat making her blend in seamlessly into the snow and ice. It was no wonder that Zoroarks and Zorua were able to blend in so well in this landscape.

Worried, Rachel huddled closer to Irida and Cedric, Emberheart and Ursaluna huddling closer in Vendetta’s absence. She stared into the blizzard, staring at the moving and then settling lights and anxiously waiting for her Pokémon’s return. The last thing she wanted was to lose Vendetta, too.

They couldn’t afford to lose anyone.

But, soon enough, Vendetta’s shape cut through the blizzard, the large white fox Pokémon yipping and whooping as she returned to the group. “It’s the Pearl Clan!” The Zoroark cried, rushing over to nuzzle into Rachel and nuzzle Irida back to life, the woman confusedly moaning and groaning as she was suddenly roused from her cold-induced slumber. “They’ve lit a beacon to guide us home! We’ve made it!”

Wyrdeer rising to his feet, the group didn’t hesitate to make haste towards the bright lights that beckoned them in the distance. Finally! Their efforts were not in vain! They did it! They had succeeded!

Irida was going to live and the Pearl Clan was going to survive!

“Come on! As many as you can!” Adaman called out to the Security Corp, trying to find another place on the tree to put another lit lantern. Any way to make the tree brighter to guide Rachel and Irida back to where they belonged he was going to take.

Even though the tree was practically bathed in bright oppressive light at this point.

Smiling, Zisu walked up to Adaman and put a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back and making him face her. “Hey…I think you’ve put enough lanterns on the tree.”

Even though he knew that that was true, it wasn’t good enough for him. Having to wait again made him fearful again and he didn’t want to rest until Rachel came back home. Only then could he finally rest and feel at peace. “But what if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not bright enough? I have to keep at it!”

“You’re not usually such a worrywart, Adaman.” Sabi teased, giggling at him as she walked up to him, hands behind her back with a cheeky grin on her little face. “Or have you always been and it’s somehow escaped my clairvoyance? Who can say?”

Rolling his eyes at her, Adaman let out a shaky sigh. He did his part, all they had to do was wait and hope. Hope and pray that this plan would work and they would be seen and would be able to guide their lost loved ones back home.

What seemed like an eternity passed, Adaman’s lungs feeling tight from the cold and how much he was holding his breath. All he wanted was to see their shapes emerge from the blizzard coming close to them. All he wanted was to know that they were safe.

All he wanted was to hold Rachel and know that she was real. To know that the nightmare was finally over.

“There they are!” Gaeric announced, pointing to a shape that began to materialize as it emerged closer, slowly gaining speed until they could be recognizable. Adaman would recognize the hulking figure of Ursaluna and the graceful shape of Wyrdeer anywhere. The Pokémon that surrounded them were all becoming more visible. “And she’s found Irida!”

At the sound of the Pearl Clan’s warden of the icelands, the Pearl Clan began to clamour out of their tents to meet the rescue party, cheering and calling out to them as the group finally emerged from the world of white. Rachel was carrying Irida tightly in her arms astride Wyrdeer and Ursaluna lumbered past the Pearl Clan members, exhausted from the harrowing rescue mission and content to simply sleep away the stress by the hot spring.

As Rachel atop Wyrdeer stopped before the tree that was lit with lanterns, Gaeric bellowed in jubilation as he rushed forwards. “I knew you would find her! There’s no one else whose will is as unbreakable as mine!”

Smiling at the man, Rachel gently passed Irida’s bundled body to the warden, letting him tend to her as her Pokémon followed her diligently. Glaceon glanced back at Rachel as she followed Gaeric, giving the woman a grateful nod before following him.

As Irida passed Adaman, she was awake enough to recognize him. The leaders of the clans exchanged a smile between one another. One that said more than words could, but they both understood the sentiment behind it. I’m glad you’re alive…

“See? I knew you could do it!” Zisu cheered, helping Rachel off of Wyrdeer and giving her a hearty slap on the back to welcome her back. “There’s nobody with your tenacity!”

The warm welcome was more than…well, welcome. The harrowing ordeal was all worth it just to see Irida welcomed back as swiftly as she was. But she didn’t expect Adaman to rush over to her and nearly knock her over, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safe…!” He confessed, pressing his head into the crook of her neck, arms rubbing up and down Rachel’s back to press her as close to himself as possible. “You have no idea how worried I was…”

Smiling, Rachel eagerly hugged him back, squeezing him just as tightly. Though this outburst was somewhat unexpected, it wasn’t unwelcome. It was nice to know that Adaman cared so much about her. She felt very much the same way. “I told you I’d bring Irida back home.” She said, nestling her chin into his shoulder. “You know how I feel about making promises…”

Glancing up at the tree that they used as a beacon to bring her back home, Rachel squinted at it. Each lantern was hung on a branch all the way to the top as high as they could go. From down here, she could swear that the lanterns in the tree almost looked like…ornaments.

Wait…she’d heard a story like this, before. There was a story about two warring clans that came together to help the other survive a bitter storm, and every year on the same eve, they would have a truce where they would celebrate the blessings of winter and exchange gifts and uphold the truce until the morning when they would go their separate ways.

Was this…was this where Winter’s Blessings came from?

For the rest of the evening, there was nothing but joy throughout the settlement. Adaman and the Security Corp were exchanging stories and even playing games with one another to pass the time, laughing and brimming with mirthful abandon. Even Irida, once she was warmed up sufficiently and treated by Paselle of the Medical Corp.

Though, it was odd seeing a blanket on her shoulders. Maybe she would be a bit more careful about wearing warmer clothes in colder than average weather from now on.

It was also nice seeing Adaman and Irida getting along. Rachel could safely say that the Diamond and Pearl Clan leaders had become her dearest friends and this one night would go a long way to securing a future of peace and safety between the both of them going forward. It made Rachel happy to see them getting along so well, now.

Despite their animosity towards one another at times over their theological beliefs, they also had a great deal of respect and admiration towards each other. And, in this rare instance, even affection, it seemed.

Which was good. It meant that once Rachel went back to the world she belonged to, there was someone that had a chance of making Adaman happy. As much as she liked him, as much as she sort of knew that it was mutual, it just…couldn’t be. She had a life to get back to and the last thing she wanted was to be a burden on his life. She didn’t want to waste his time with a relationship that wouldn’t last.

But as long as he was happy, she was happy. That was good enough for her. The idea of Adaman finding someone that would make him happy after Rachel was gone brought her a profound sense of comfort.

At some point in the night, Rachel had fallen asleep where she had made herself comfortable amongst the revelry, cuddled up to Cedric and Emberheart sleeping alongside her to keep her wielder warm. The woman was so stressed that she fell into a deep sleep despite all the noise.

She didn’t even notice that Irida and Adaman were both standing right above her. “I didn’t even get a chance to properly thank her…” The Pearl Clan leader lamented, sighing as she shook her head.

Smiling, Adaman gently put a hand on his fellow leader’s shoulder. He never thought he would be so happy to see Irida, but after tonight, he knew he would never take her for granted ever again. “Let her sleep. You can thank her tomorrow morning.” He suggested, looking over at Rachel and admiring how peaceful she looked when she was asleep. She was always complaining about poor sleep whenever she was awoken in Jubilife Village from her lodge. The fact that she looked so at peace now said a lot about that that made Adaman a bit sad to think about. “She’s worked really hard to bring you back to your people…she deserves a good rest.”

“I know.” Irida replied, smiling at Adaman. “And she deserves just as much to know what her efforts mean to me. To the Pearl Clan.”

“And to me and the Diamond Clan.” The man added, raising an eyebrow at her. “I know she really stuck her neck out for you tonight, but…that’s just what Rachel does. It’s who she is. Someone who goes the distance to do the right thing, to help someone. And she’s gone out of her way for both of our peoples.”

“She has.” The Pearl Clan leader sighed wistfully, pulling her blanket tighter over herself. She still felt like she was running a bit hot, but after the ordeal in the blizzard, she would have to start to learn not to trust that feeling so much. “And she also deserves to know what she means to me as a friend, too…”

Nodding in agreement, his attention was immediately stolen by a small shiver accompanied by a subconscious chattering of teeth from the exhausted Survey Corp member, Rachel curling in on herself tighter around Cedric, pressing her back against Emberheart’s fur to better maximize on soaking up the heat.

Smiling, Adaman undid the cloak Rachel had so diligently made for her and gently draped it over her, tucking her in and ensuring she was properly covered up so she could sleep comfortably tonight. Once she was warm and enveloped, a small smile spread across her face, a curl of hair falling over her face and tickling her nose a bit.

Gingerly, Adaman reached toward to remove her glasses so she could sleep more comfortably, folding them and setting them aside where she would see them once she woke up, and gently brushing the hair on her head aside so it wouldn’t bother her, anymore.

He would give anything to make sure that Rachel could sleep easy every night. She deserved that much. “Sleep well, Rachel…you’ve earned it.” He whispered before he put a hand on Irida’s shoulder and guided her away. “Come on, let’s wrap things up. I think Zisu’s on her last game with Gaeric.”

Chuckling brightly, it was a relief to see her so full of life after the ordeal she went through. None of her Pokémon had left her side since she had returned to the Pearl Clan and Irida wouldn’t have it any other way. She was looking forward to going to sleep knowing that everyone was safe and looked after and the people she trusted most would be close by.

The night came and went, Rachel barely stirring in the night all bundled up and comfortably cuddling with her Pokémon. When the morning came, she noticed that the cloak she had given Adaman was draped over her like a blanket. She must’ve fallen asleep during the festivities, but she was thankful for it nonetheless.

Rachel had never been happier to see the morning sun, the storm had completely abated. Whatever it was Tornadus was trying to test the clans for, they seemed to have succeeded, thankfully.

The Security Corp and Adaman were all preparing to leave, the Diamond Clan leader staying behind a bit to speak with Irida for a moment. Just as Rachel suspected, the leaders of the two clans suggested the idea of an annual truce on the same night every year to try and maintain and improve the relationships between the two clans and to ensure that neither clan would forget what was done, here.

This was the origin of Winter’s Blessings, and Rachel counted herself fortunate to have witnessed it, perhaps even been a part of it. What a strange thing to think about…she was a part of something that she had celebrated as a child her whole life, and only now could she have known it? Time was a strange thing.

Was her world of the future – her present – shaped by her? She couldn’t know, but if this one part of it was, she was happy with this being her contribution. It was a reminder that she had more power than she thought, and she could use that power to make the world better.

That anyone could. And having the proof of that made it all worth it.

With everyone bidding their goodbyes, Rachel took Adaman astride Wyrdeer once more, dismissing Ursaluna now that the task was done and wishing him a happy hibernation. Zisu led the way, Rachel bringing up the rear. She handed him back his cloak, smiling bashfully at him. “Thank you…” She muttered, leaning against him subconsciously. “I…didn’t realize just how tired I was.”

Smiling, Adaman wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her head as they traveled across the icelands once more to make their way home though he could put on his new cloak, its warmth didn’t compare to Rachel’s and he much preferred it. She had very quickly become someone that made him feel warm inside and out, and he intended to cherish it for as long as she was in his world.

No matter how long or short that time would be. “You’re welcome.”

#୨⎯ A Message On The Wind ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Pokémon Trainer Rachel ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Leader of the Diamond Clan ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Then It Has Done You No Good At All ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Tricky as a Fox ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Leader of the Pearl Clan ⎯୧ #merry christmas

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flockofdoves · 5 years ago

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spotify wrapped stuff bc i like archiving it here i guess

this year was weird and my musical listening habits kinda reflected that so its cool they divided by season ig

the design of this is kinda dumb w/o titles imo but ig youre not supposed to screenshot the whole thing so.

thats brockhampton, mitski (think i got most intensely into mitski fall 2018, i still like her music but that def makes sense as my winter phase for this year), my chemical romance, gerard way & ray toro

the protomen, the mountain goats, and like. two pics for damon albarn i guess? all of it was just journey to the west which was supposed to be a gorillaz album tho

mcr, gorillaz, the mountain goats, lemon demon

the coup, mcr, the coup again (i dont understand the image logic on these 4 pages some are albums some are artists), the used

september/october was me getting really intensely into the coups discography that i hadnt listened to as much and then november with mcr reunion brought me just. exclusively listening to mcr plus its members side projects plus the occasional other band i associate with them like the used so that makes a lot of sense lol

of course

def listened more than that but so much of my obsessive listening was stuff not even on spotify bc i wanted to get back into their more obscure stuff ive neglected since streaming

did not expect this honestly although i guess i really have no idea what i wouldve expected i listen to almost all their songs so much. this was the first song i ever got into by them when i was 11 so its kinda poetic or w/e i guess to begin and end the decade with

honestly was not expecting the mountain goats so high? i like them but theyre not any of my go to top favorites at least not yet. i think its the combo of listening to just beat the champ over and over again bc that albums a lot of fun i love pro wrestling and i dont know their other ones as well and then jacqueline and rain gave me a rec list for what to listen to next that i kept starting but didnt get around to making the time to listening actively enough, would like to soon!

the things on this one were kinda dumb it showed me russell crowe (from the les mis soundtrack) for australia dkfjghdf

genre-fluid. what a term

theres like . a lot going on here i guess https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1EtcQvYE0EPa4s?

the second to last song i honestly dont even know what that is or why its on here? maybe it was on a playlist i was trying to listen to idk. similarly dont know why some songs are on here and not others but thats the only one i def didnt legit listen to at least somewhat

i didnt discover the protomen this year! ive loved them for a few years now jacqueline introduced me to them but i think i just didnt add them to spotify til now accidentally

i’m honestly really confused about 2013 i dont think i had spotify as a 13-14 year old?????? but like . listening to the sweeney todd soundtrack absolutely checks out for the cusp between me being emo and a theater kid dfkjghdfkj and i dont have it in my library now so like? i guess i did??? (also 2016 is just weird (i like regina spektor but not That Much) bc i only listened to like. 3 songs i didnt have premium i used itunes)

nice

wild..

#cpost #mcr blogging #gorillaz blogging #honestly i need a the coup tag still idk why i dont #tc blogging #oh acutally i guess i used that already but forgot?#oh wait i guess also .#lm blogging #tgd blogging

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ashes-in-a-jar · 4 years ago

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There Are Moments Like These That Keep Me on My Feet

Martin realises a terrible truth regarding Jon's relationship with this new world and has to make a decision on how to handle it.

Hurt and comfort in the Apocalypse and their consequences.

Rated: G

Word count: 2.3K

Tw: non sexual intimacy, memory loss, bad tea

Looking back after leaving Upton House, Martin finally understood. He'd had a feeling, he wasn't completely blind but he had hoped, hoped so badly that he was wrong. That all those times were just a fluke. That he was imagining things. But no, Jon really did forget. It was almost unnoticeable, small things really, but Jon forgot them all.

It started at Kinloss Barracks. Jon had just finished whatever it was the Eye made him talk about. When Martin looked up and uncovered his ears he saw Jon with the tape recorder clicking off, looking pale and rattled. As Jon breathed deeply Martin got up from where he was huddled and crouched next to him, gently cupping his cheek.

"Hey, you alright?"

Jon inhaled one more time. As he resumed breathing normally he turned his face into Martin's hand, lips softly moving against his palm.

"I'm okay Martin. It was just. Alot. Like my first statements at the institute. " He huffed in amused irony and Martin's heart clenched.

"Do you need something? Can I help?" Martin hated how useless he felt when Jon's emotions were at odds with his... Patron.

"It's alright Martin, I'm alright. Maybe just... Stay like this for a bit?" Jon mumbled, holding Martin's hand in place where he was framing Jon's face.

"Okay. I can do that." Martin huffed a small smile and brought the other hand up as well, bracketing both of Jon's sides, making a barrier between him and the sounds of violence outside their little hideaway.

It didn't take long for Martin to slowly begin rubbing Jon's temples and soon enough he was gently massaging his face, trying to draw out the tension set between the eyebrows and beneath the hairline and throughout the pronounced cheekbones.

Jon sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, letting out small sounds of approval every few moments.

When Martin was done, Jon opened his eyes languidly and smiled softly at Martin. "That felt good. Thank you, Martin. For everything."

"It's nothing, I'm here for you."

"I know." Jon took a moment to just look at Martin with that tender but piercing gaze Martin was still trying to get used to ever since they left the Lonely, then took Martin's hands in his and helped both of them up on their feet. "Let's go."

Later, after the village, after the many questions answered and unanswered, after Helen's headache-inducing laugh dissipated with a creak of a door, Jon made a sound akin to a groan-infused sigh. Martin glanced at him and saw he was rubbing the bridge of his nose, moving his hands to his temples. Martin took a step to face him. "Do you want me to do that again?" He asked, raising his arms as indication.

Jon's thick eyebrows creased in confusion "Do what again?"

"You know, in the war zone when you finished…" Martin saw a deepening confusion and decided to forgo the explanation, "Here." He brought his hands up to rub Jon's temples. Once again Jon sighed and once again he thanked Martin softly when it was time they moved on. He didn't mention Martin doing that again afterwards, or ask for it when Martin didn't offer. Which he did every now and then, suspicion growing as each time Jon reacted in novelty.

But that wasn't the only instance. Martin brought with him his poetry book in his pack. When they were able to talk about the carousel again without mentioning the... Smiting, Martin insisted on defending the good aspects of poetry which the Stranger mostly lacked, namely identity and awareness. Jon countered by asking Martin to prove it and recite poetry. "That's not fair, I can't remember them by heart that well."

"Martin, you have a poetry book here, why not just read out of it?"

"You, you want to hear my poetry?" Martin nearly tripped.

"I thought it was obvious by this point there is nothing I'd like more." Jon smiled at him.

Martin recoiled and stammered incoherently. Jon interrupted.

"Martin, stop. I know your poetry is good. I've seen some." Blatantly choosing to ignore his own wince at the circumstances in which he managed to peek at Martin's writing, he went on. "It really is quite good. It'd be a shame not to take the chance to perform a bit of your words. You'll find I make quite a compelling listener." Jon smiled lopsidedly and Martin snorted.

"Okay, okay fine. One poem. And I pick!"

"Fine." Jon shrugged.

Martin intentionally chose one of his more mundane works. About rain and windows of opportunity being washed away. It did hint a bit at the times where his feelings for Jon felt unanswered but it wasn't as... Glaring as others he had.

When he finished he looked up expectantly. He was not prepared for the intensely affectionate expression he saw, nor the tackle of a bear hug that followed.

"Jon! Watch out, we're walking!" He gasped, muffled by the shock of Jon's tangled hair in his face. They had to stop anyway, as Jon refused to let go, tightening his hold and nuzzling into Martin's neck.

"Thank you." He said quietly. "That was... That was more affecting than I thought it would be."

"Really? It's just some words on paper." Martin teased, petting the hair near his face, mainly to get strands of it out of his mouth.

"But they're your words, Martin. They are a, a window into you, how you think and who you are. I don't Look to see what you are thinking a-and the you in front of me is more than enough! Truly! But it's nice to hear a bit more. And it's nice to see that, that I'm there too. This made me really happy, Martin. Thank you."

"O-oh." Martin squeaked, not expecting the forthright reaction. He laughed nervously "Well in that case, we'll make it a, a tradition? Once in a while, if you ask nicely, I'll read you a poem- If you want." he added quickly, feeling a little presumptuous.

"You already know my feelings on the matter. Don't worry, I will ask you again, you can be certain of that." And with that he planted a kiss on the dazed Martin's cheek, readjusted his backpack and began walking again. Martin chuckled to himself and rushed to join him.

But the request never came again. And later, when Martin tentatively asked Jon if he wanted another recitation, Jon's face lit up and said, "So you're finally willing to share? I thought I'd never see the day."

Martin looked at him confused but said nothing and instead chose a different poem about bridges and connections which elicited a very similar reaction as the first.

The request never came again unless Martin offered. Each time he was too afraid to try the same poem lest his concerns would be confirmed. He didn't want to know.

There were other times as well. The time after the Lonely estate when Martin insisted on sitting with their meager supply of tea and talking about small nothings. The tea was nicer than he expected and Jon was practically jovial with giddy relief at Martin's rescue and choice to stay with him, laughing sonorously and uncharacteristically at Martin's silly jokes. Later, he did not recall what they laughed about, nor understood why the tea supply was depleted when Martin tried to remind him. Other jokes in general too. Martin would make Jon laugh and when referring back to the joke, Jon would simply stare at him blankly. Jon did not remember when Martin brushed and braided his ever more tangled hair, fiddling with the stands wondering aloud when he'd done that. Jon forgot when Martin took out his sewing kit and fixed a hole made by the fires of the Desolation, wondering why his shirt suddenly had stitches. Jon forgot compliments, short rests when they quietly held one another close, brief exchanges of reassurance.

Martin tried not to think about it, tried not to make the connection. Tried not to read into the words 'They just get whatever hurts them the most. Even me.' that Jon had said when they were traveling with Basira on her tragic quest. Tried not to remember the times Jon, and even Martin himself, commented about the nature of this place,

'This is not a world where you can trust comfort.'

'Levity off the cards.'

'Nice things, they tend not to stay nice out there.'

But they were there. And he had to face it at some point. Because after they've left the wonderful comfort of Salesa's home, Jon, feeling rejuvenated, said with a dreamy quality to his voice, "Pity. It’s going away. That peace, the safety, the memory of ignorance. It's gone. Like a dream."

"That’s… Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Martin replied, resigned. It was all coming together now and Martin could not avoid it any longer.

Jon couldn't remember. He was the 'Archive' and whatever that meant ensured Jon retained all the pain and fear this world had to offer and nothing else. Jon could not keep the memories of anything nice or happy that happened to him personally in this hellscape. Every good word, every caring touch, every wide smile, bark of laughter. It all faded right after it occurred. Maybe if it was small enough he could remember. But Martin's mothering? Martin's hugs? Martin's tea? Martin's poetry? None of it stayed. Only Martin could remember those moments and what was lost.

As they walked away from the green and the sky Martin fell slightly behind, trying to reign in his tears.

Of course he remembered. This place ensured that Martin would remember so the pain of loss would be ever more acute later. It was what this world was. The worst pain it could inflict on them.

It's not fair! They had just got together, they had just begun to open up, share their deepest facets with each other, enjoy the closeness. Was that all pointless? Were all of his efforts worth anything in the long run at all? Martin felt himself slowly descending into a sharp kind of despair that became heavier and heavier as he sunk deeper.

No! He forced himself upright and shook his head vigorously,letting the tears shake off his face.

No! It was worth it! Those moments are there and they exist, even if the memory is gone. They have value and a worth inherent to them as the Good moments that they are, apocalypse rules be damned!

He balled his hands into fists, silently challenging whichever dread power was listening. They cannot take those moments away! The hugs, the soft gazes, the pure happiness, even forgotten will remain and have their merit. Martin will make sure there are more of them, always more of them, to spite the Eye! To spite the Fears! To spite this place! Jon will get all of the love he deserves, memory or not. Martin will double, no, triple the care he will give Jon, make sure he is okay in the quiet moments, give him a reason to smile.

He will see the braided hair afterwards, feel the ache in his cheeks from a long laugh, feel the lingering warmth around his arms and back, the tingle on his lips. The remnants will give him the strength to stand against the powers that be and retain the hope they cultivated. And Martin will be there, every step of the way. Loving, caring, smiling. Because that's what they deserve. And Martin will fight for it to the end.

Later, after that dreadful hospital and another long stretch of time walking quietly, contemplating. Martin was sure Jon was still agonizing over his decision to help Breekon by relieving him of his suffering, so Martin called Jon to stop.

"What?" Jon asked, confused.

"I am making the executive decision to make a stop and rest. I have a little bit of tea left and I will read you some of my poetry while we're at it."

Jon's face lit up, though still retaining its confused quality. "Alright, if you insist. What brought this on?"

Martin already settled down and began setting up a small fire for the water. "We had a time so now we're taking a breather. The air here is slightly fresher than what it was back there."

"Alright." Jon smiled.

Martin put the small pot on the fire and looked up at Jon still standing over him "C'mere, " he opened his arms.

Chuckling lightly, Jon unslung his pack and sank into Martin's embrace. Martin in turn pulled him in tight and nuzzled the top of his hair.

"I know it wasn't easy back there but what you did, it was the right thing to do."

"How do you know?" Bitterness seeped into Jon's voice and Martin began stroking circles on his back. Jon shuffled even closer into Martin's jumper, burying his face in his chest.

"I just do. You couldn't leave him like that. A small act of mercy. To spite this place."

"If you say so." Jon mumbled into the fabric.

"I do. Now move over so I can get my book." Martin decided to read the sappiest, most Jon-related poem he had, cringe be damned.

"I don't want to." Jon grumbled and leaned in, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

"Okay, we can wait. There's no rush." Martin said fondly.

They stayed that way for a long while until the water boiled over and they drank what was left if that dreadful brew that dared call itself tea. They sat there in a comfort later forgotten, reclaiming depleted energy and regaining motivation. A moment that had infinite value, regardless of what the past held or the future entailed. A tangible instant that was completely theirs within the infinite universe, unending in the singular space and time which no one can ever take away.

#Finally uploading. It been in my files for a bit.#This is for an ask i got a while back. I hope you enjoy!#tma #the magnus archives #Tma fic #tma season 5 #Tma spoilers #Jonathan sims #Martin blackwood #My tma fic #Ask #Hurt and comfort #tw memory loss #Jonmartin #Fabric rustles #Reader You are welcome to send me prompts! I very much wnjoy them :)

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thenamesblurrito · 3 years ago

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ask dump the fourth

what can i say, i guess i get a lot of asks!! thanks for the attention, have some miscellaneous info

answered asks are collide from this ask meme, tm waspy dude’s Sky Striker, how much a mech can eat, tar taffy, Springload, Springer the secret John Deere tractor, dandelions, Soundwave, and nonhumanoid root modes

@confusedcriminal this has been in my inbox forever and i forgot about it halfway thru compiling an answer oops! but inspiration for SNAP taken from outside of transformers canon would, most obviously, be the entirely of magical girl anime. i legit scrolled through TVTropes for a long time doing research on stereotypical episodes, character types, etc just so i could really capture the aesthetic. i’m not basing it on any anime in particular, although the classic Sailor Moon and PMMM and even some Pretty Cure had a lot of good tropes for me to steal.

another one is sort of the nature of ~political discourse i see between kids online these days. SNAP revolves around four groups of kids working to better the world but violently disagreeing on how that should be done. it’s not an inspiration i started out with (especially because i avoid all sorts of the disk horse like the plague) but it became an apt comparison as i kept working on the story.

a solid character! it sounds like Sky Raider is a lot like Sky Striker with the addition of some confidence and security

(the post this is referring to)

it sort of depends on the person’s size, how worn/physically tired they are, and what materials their self repair is drawing from. a mech with a lot of dings and scrapes will have their self repair systems working harder and thus “run out” of what they’ve eaten quicker, whereas someone in perfect health who isn’t moving that much will only need general minor upkeep. as for how much they can eat at once, the fuel tanks and material stockpiles someone has will vary by their size and frame. a seeker, for instance, has large fuel reserves for their large energy demands because it’s stored in their wings, like real planes! their material stockpiles are smaller though because flightframes carrying around more weight in the form of eaten food is sort of counterintuitive. the average grounder and toolformer will have proportionally larger material stockpiles, flightframes and spacers and aquatics will have proportionally smaller, and beastformers will have somewhere in between, usually erring larger. eating too much for any one of them will result in lethargy and nausea, loss of appetite for a good while, perhaps physical pain from overstressed tanks, and if necessary purging/spitting up food. doing this over and over can damage their internal forges and repair systems, and lead to self repair tacking excess materials onto places that really don’t need them, like the flash of overmolded stuff, which can cause lumps, compromised welds, and even shrapnel knocking around in the internals. they don’t really have the equivalent of fat storage like organics, at best they get thick and malformed armor.

all that said, to answer your question! yes they could eat more to go longer between meals, as long as they don’t push it and eat more than they’re physically capable of holding. also, it’s pretty normal to get physical materials within liquid fuel. silted energon mentioned in the above link and “protein shakes” are a quick and easy way to get all their “food groups” in one form, and some mecha live exclusively off of these

lol that’s a great name already ghfofhjdfgs nice and simple, i can use that

oh this is really really good! backstory and everything! also gotta love a good FMAB reference *chefs kiss* i don’t know if i have a place for Springload in my current plotline, but this would fit perfectly as one of the accidental alternate timelines that Skywarp sometimes falls into, so i’m gonna tuck this in my back pocket for later. i am however hesitant to use Aboriginal culture as i am definitely not Aboriginal nor even Australian and don’t want to disrespect them. at the very least i’d have to ask some Aboriginal people, but i really don’t think it’s my place to use anything from the Dreamtime, especially without explicit permission

@oldboyjensenhinglemeier it took me so long to answer this because it’s so beautiful i wanted to save it forever. also no he’s not a tractor sadly but you’re right about the colors. the obvious solution is to make him a tractor in your own canon! (also what i’m hearing is Sputter’s new nickname for Springer is John Deere)

!!!! i never got part 1 to this but i already love this so much??? giant dandelions yes please. this is so good. sky weeds

yes he can, among a lot of other befuddling supersenses! the Lenses manifest mostly as augmented sight, which is already confusing enough to handle, but his powerset is more expansive. on his character sheet i describe it as “perception so acute he can predict what an opponent will do next”, and that bleeds into hearing as well, even hearing thoughts. he has a lot of work to do to figure out how to operate without a migraine, made more difficult by the way Rumble and Frenzy just refuse to cooperate

as for swimming aids, i think soundwave is one of the ones who can swim safely? i think? i talk about swimming in this dump here. most of the heroes can. his tentacles probably would make some decent swimming aids actually, although it’s unlikely to come up because there aren’t exactly many places to swim on Cybertron

(the post this is referring to)

something like that ;)

there’s an in-universe answer and an out-of-universe answer, and the out-of-universe answer is that i wanted to keep a set style and visual language for each character design to lend a thread of coherency between all of them, so i made the difficult decision to sacrifice nonhumanoid root modes

#TM Waspy dude #cybertronian biology #tfoc #worldbuilding #cybertronian food #springload #springer #soundwave #Ask dump

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stovetuna · 4 years ago

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This is for @bardingbeedle who yelled at me in the tags and then on messenger and ultimately inspired me to write some “lorge soft steve” and tbh who am I to refuse. (also high-key inspired by this masterpiece of fanart I RBed [again] earlier today)

(takes place shortly after the events of Avengers Assemble episode 2x07, aka the best fic none of us ever wrote)

(heed the READ MORE!)

***

Tony is hustling from one meeting to the next, all but literally running into the kitchen for a cup of afternoon coffee, when he spies Steve Rogers bent over the communal living room coffee table. That in and of itself isn’t exactly outside the realm of normal Steve Rogers activities—the man does love a good brood, even if he won’t admit it and doesn’t do it as often as he used to.

But Tony wracks his brain for possible reasons why Steve would be hunched up around the shoulders like he’s expecting a body blow any minute and keeps coming up empty. Not even fresh coffee makes his synapses fire faster. Did they forget his birthday? Impossible. Did someone send Captain America hate mail? Uh, doubly impossible, especially because Tony’s got lawyers screening their mail for that kind of stuff (they’ve got more than enough pressure in their day-to-day lives, time-slip dinosaurs and age regressions notwithstanding).

Maybe Steve found a piece of upsetting news, or some fact of modern history that isn’t sitting well with him? That’s a lot more likely.

Before he can remind himself that Pepper’s waiting in his office to put him on a call with the president of MIT—something about a commencement speech, if memory serves—Tony is sauntering into the living room, nonchalant, tongue already prickling with some smart remark. He’s got it all written out in his head like a perfect line of code up until the moment he’s standing in front of Steve and sees the expression on his face.

“Whoa, who ran over your puppy?”

Tony winces, wishing for the millionth time that his mouth and his brain could work together simultaneously, but no. Worse, Steve doesn’t even answer him—he just frowns harder, if that’s even possible, and folds in on himself like his shoulders alone don’t take up half the length of the massive couch. Tony lowers the hand holding his coffee and blinks.

“Steve?”

“Oh!” Steve jumps upright, and quick as a flash moves something vaguely folder-shaped behind his back. “Tony! I didn’t hear you walk in—don’t you have a meeting right now?”

Something in Tony’s chest squeezes at the sight of that smile and at Steve’s impeccable attention to detail. But really, ever since the incident with the Time Stone, when he’d jolted back into his adult body and come to in Steve’s arms, he’s felt completely knocked off-balance. Now everything about Steve Rogers—the man, not the superhero—is a revelation. Every smile, every word, every look has Tony tripping over his own feet, tongue, thoughts. He may be back in his adult body, but he’s never felt more like a prepubescent teenager with a crush, fidgeting in place under Steve’s gaze.

“It got postponed,” he lies, because whatever has put that pinch between Steve’s eyebrows is way more important right now. “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” Steve replies, too loud and too quickly. Tony gives him a look. Steve flushes, shrinking in on himself even further, like he wants the couch to devour him. “Uh, nothing important. Just an anniversary I forgot about.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to frown. He likes to think he’s got a solid mental calendar of important dates for all of his teammates memorized at this point—Natasha’s move-in, Bruce’s lab incident, Sam’s SHIELD acceptance, Steve being found in the ice—but none of those are today.

“Got room for one more?” Tony asks, nodding at the scant space next to Steve on the couch when the man gives him a questioning look. Steve’s cheeks immediately go a charming shade of pink, which churns the coffee in Tony’s empty stomach with a vengeance. Steve shifts to press himself against the arm as Tony moves to sit down next to him, almost crushing the folder Steve had hidden earlier in the process. There’s a gasp, and a lightning-quick hand, and then Steve, pale and breathless, is holding a manila folder against his chest like it’s the secret to the Super Soldier Serum.

It’s weird—Tony knows Steve trusts him, and vice versa. They wouldn’t have solved the riddle of the Time Stone if they didn’t trust each other. So to sit next to Steve, who’s gone from morose to terrified in the three minutes since Tony walked into the room and feel a wall between them is jarring. And upsetting. He’s only been nursing this crush for a few days, and Steve’s not that perceptive…is he? Maybe he is. Maybe this is Steve weeding out Tony’s feelings before they’ve even had a chance to grow.

Tony shakes his head at the thought. No, Steve’s a lot of things, but cruel isn’t one of them.

“Care to share with the class?” he asks, gently so he doesn’t spook Steve. It seems to work: Steve relaxes, tension falling from his shoulders as he eases into Tony’s presence. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, but keeps the folder pressed securely against his sternum. Tony tries hard not to steal a glance at the way Steve’s shirt pulls across his broad, thick chest as he breathes.

“It’s nothing.”

“Cap, if it was nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to Honey-I-Shrunk-Myself into the couch right now.”

Steve Rogers in active wear doesn’t cut quite the same figure as Steve Rogers in full Captain America regalia, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’s small. Like this, he’s just as large and has just as much presence as he does in uniform; it’s just…more human. Less Captain, more Steve. Both are devastating in their own way, but only Steve—friendly, blushing, awkward, unassuming Steve—makes Tony acutely aware of the distance between their bodies, down to the last electrified hair.

Catching his own breath, Tony puts his full mug on the coffee table and drops his hands into his lap, turning his head to watch Steve chew on whatever words are fighting to come out. Be patient, he tells himself. Whatever this is, Steve’s struggling with it, and Tony can have some tact when he wants to.

Finally, Steve closes his eyes and sighs. When he lowers his hands, the folder goes with them. Tony glances at the cover and almost swallows his tongue.

“Is that—?” Steve makes a noncommittal sound, like a ‘yes’ but softer, uncertain, like he’s not sure Tony’s reaction is a good one. Tony swallows his excitement with a wince. “Is that the Project Rebirth file? I told Fury to give it to you a long time ago, but I wasn’t sure he did.”

Tony is so preoccupied looking at the folder he doesn’t hear Steve’s gasp or notice his eyes lock onto him. “He did,” Steve replies quietly after a pause. “But that’s isn’t…that’s not what this is about.”

That’s kind of a surprise. The sudden appearance of the Project Rebirth file would explain Steve’s face and body language, but if it’s not that…

Steve hands the entire folder over to Tony without another word.

“Uh,” Tony gapes, too awestruck to achieve any kind of higher brain function.

“Look at the date,” Steve says. It’s not an order, just a gentle request, but it doesn’t prevent a shiver from rippling down the length of Tony’s spine. If he was hyperaware of the space between their bodies before, it’s even worse now with Steve leaning every-so-slightly toward him and reaching out a hand to point directly at the date written on the faded label.

22 June 1943

Tony blinks. “It’s the anniversary…of you?” He opens the folder without a second thought, and the first thing he sees is a picture of Steve. There are other things in the file—sheaves of what look like medical reports, heavily redacted memos, and carbon copies of typed letters—but the only thing Tony can focus on is Steven Grant Rogers circa 1943. The Steven Grant Rogers of before.

He’s touching the photo before he can stop himself, being so, so careful as he traces the narrow shape of the man in the photograph while the real, supersized thing sits next to him.

“It’s the first time I’ve really had a chance to sit and think about what it was like, before,” Steve says, unprompted. “Everything happened so fast once I got the serum, I didn’t have time to just…take it all in. And then I went into the ice and—well. You know the rest.”

All skin and bones, this man, back then. But the jut of his jaw is the same; the serum didn’t change that, or the flinty stubbornness in Steve’s eyes, or the proud set of his shoulders, just daring the world to try and fuck with him. Tony smiles—Steve before the serum is like a matchstick, short and thin and always one spark away from bursting into flame. He really didn’t change a bit.

When Tony finally looks up from the photo (not gazing, of course not), he sees Steve’s expression has gone pinched again, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

“Alright, there’s that face again. Out with it, Cap.”

Steve really shouldn’t bite his lip—it’s bad for Tony’s health. But Tony’s comment does get him to smile a little bit, which is good. “I guess…it’s been over seventy years since I got the serum, but most days I still feel like that skinny guy in the picture.” Tony watches him as he speaks, taking in the faraway look in Steve’s eyes, the shrinking posture, the downward turn of his mouth—who says I can’t be observant, Tony thinks—and wishes he and Steve were the kind of friends who hugged outside of catastrophic cosmic events. God knows it looks like Steve could use one, as wound up and tense as he is right now.

“I’ve broken so many things by accident because I keep forgetting I’m this, now,” he says, gesturing broadly at himself with one hand. Frowning, Steve uses that same hand to brace his forehead, elbow dropping down onto his thigh. The man is the picture of misery, and Tony aches to comfort him. It’s a physical pull in the pit of his stomach, urgent and needy—like if he doesn’t get his arms around Steve Rogers right this second, something important inside him is going to malfunction.

Tony shoves his hands under his thighs and nods. “Dr. Erskine could turn you into a super soldier,” he says softly, “but he couldn’t erase the first 27 years of your life.” He doesn’t speak his next thought aloud—that if there was in fact a way to erase those years, Tony would have signed up for the very first clinical trial. It’s a grim thought, and not something Steve needs to hear right now, but it’s been on Tony’s mind ever since his brief return to adolescence, and it’s a hard one to shake.

But what Steve heard seems to help. He peeks at Tony through his fingers and swallows loud enough even Tony can hear it.

“Yeah,” he rasps, “something like that.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“What else is bugging you? About this?”

Steve lowers his hand and stares at Tony. Stares. It’s such a feeling, being stared at by Steve Rogers, Tony can feel the heat climbing up from underneath his t-shirt. Even the arc reactor feels a bit warmer in his chest.

“How could you tell?”

“You’re still doing your level-best impression of a Shrinky Dink, Cap,” Tony replies. “Kind of hard not to notice.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Steve laughs, a hoarse, dry sound, “but you’re not wrong. I guess…I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words.”

“Try.”

Seriously, when Steve looks at him like that—like he did when Tony soared through the air as Iron Kid, all awe and pride and warmth—Tony feels capable of anything. Anything. He’d bottle that feeling, if he could, just like he’d bottle the color of Steve’s hair in the afternoon light coming in through the living room windows right now, all warm, pale yellows shot through with gold. If the photo in the file were in full color, Tony would bet his fortune Steve’s hair would be the same shade it is now.

Because Steve Rogers has always been perfect. Damn him.

“I still feel small,” Steve says, and any thoughts of hair and perfection derail abruptly. Looking into the middle-distance past his nose, he continues, “I don’t fit in this body. That doesn’t make sense, but—it’s like the super soldier is a mold, and I’m just there rattling around inside it, too small to fit. Does that—does that make any sense?” He looks at Tony imploringly, begging him with his eyes to understand. Tony feels that tug again, worse now, to wrap his arms around Steve and hold him tight. Call it returning the favor for the other day with the Time Stone, call it acting on his crush, whatever.

No one so large has ever looked as small as Steve Rogers does right now.

“It does,” Tony croaks.

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, how do you think I feel inside the suit?”

Steve makes a sound at that—not a whimper, not a gasp, but something hovering between the two that splits Tony’s heart right down the middle. “I never thought of it that way,” he whispers. “But that’s it. That’s exactly it.” Visible relief fills Steve’s lungs and makes his entire body go lax, leaning closer to Tony in the process. Tony, of course, is hyperaware of Steve’s size—everyone except Thor and Hulk is small compared to him—but now he’s equally aware of who’s operating the Cap-suit, so to speak.

“The only difference is, I can take my super-suit off,” Tony says, pinching the underside of his own thigh to cut off a laugh—Steve hasn’t seen The Incredibles yet—and continues, “you can’t. That’s bound to make a guy feel uncomfortable, even you, Mr. ‘I can handle anything you throw at me.’” He elbows Steve a little, good-naturedly, for emphasis, and gets a full, beautiful smile for his efforts.

God. Skinny or huge, Steve Rogers is gorgeous. It really shouldn’t be allowed.

“Yeah, good point.” Face still split by a smile—I put that there, Tony preens—Steve leans against the back of the couch and sighs. “There are things I miss, though. About being small. I didn’t think I did, until…” He glances at Tony, then, and there’s no missing the blush creeping up his neck.

“Until?”

“The other day,” Steve replies. “When you de-aged, and I—when we—” Tony bites his tongue so hard he’s pretty sure he tastes blood. Don’t interrupt. Let him get it out. Steve laughs breathily. “When I hugged you, I was so glad I was in a position to protect you, physically, like that. But later on I kept thinking about how much I miss being the protected one, sometimes. Not always, but. Sometimes.” Steve looks at the photo and sighs. “I keep thinking about what it felt like when ma looked after me when I was sick, or when Bucky put himself between me and the bigger guy because he knew I couldn’t take another hit…sure I resented it a little, being so weak, but I liked…that.”

“You liked being cared for.”

The look Steve levels at Tony could drive away a storm.

“Yeah,” he husks. “I did.”

“And now that you’re—” Tony waves a hand at Steve’s everything, “—this, you think you don’t, what, deserve care?”

“Maybe?” Steve blinks. “I don’t know.”

“Cap—Steve,” Tony says, putting his hands palms-up in his lap so Steve can see all of him. No threat, no judgment. “Everyone wants to feel cared for. It’s human nature. And just because you’re superhuman doesn’t mean you’re inhuman.”

Damn if those therapy sessions Pepper forced him into aren’t paying off big time right now. If the sheen in Steve’s eyes is anything to go by, Tony’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Tony smiles. Butterflies be damned, he moves the project file onto the coffee table next to his now-cold mug and turns toward Steve. Slowly, he opens his arms. “C’mere,” he says, so quiet only Steve would hear if anyone else was around. As it is, they’re alone in the tower, and Steve doesn’t hesitate—one moment Tony’s arms are empty and the next he’s got 240 pounds of solid muscle curling into his chest and Steve’s tucking his big head under Tony’s chin like the world’s neediest Bernese mountain dog.

Thankfully, Tony’s arms are just long enough to fit all the way around Steve’s massive shoulders. And even if they weren’t, he’d find a way to make it work.

Knees knocking together, feet brushing up against each other on the carpet, Steve shifts and adjusts until he can wrap his arms around Tony’s waist. Once he settles in, he sighs right into the notch at the base of Tony’s throat. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Anytime, big guy,” Tony replies, softly with a warm smile he thinks Steve can’t see.

#bardingbeedle #steve rogers #tony stark #pre-getting together #stevetony #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #rachel writes fic #HAPPY JUNE 22 #KINDA #ignoring the fact that I'm posting this at 0130 on June 23 :3 #insecure steve rogers #insecure tony stark #tony and I see the same therapist lol #stovetuna writes #and yes 22 June is apparently the MCU date of Project Rebirth #PERFECT TIMING

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youngster-monster · 3 years ago

Text

fools rush in

Quel’thalas may sit on the coast of Lordaeron, but it has never been a naval nation. Kael’thas has never been quite so acutely aware of his people’s lack of seafaring abilities as he is now, bent over the side of a ship and fighting a losing battle against seasickness.

“Hold on. We’re nearly there.”

He sends a venomous glare Rommath’s way. His friend seems perfectly at ease on deck, only moving to shift his weight so he doesn’t stumble with the sway of the ship. Looking at him, Kael’thas could almost believe his motion sickness is a personal weakness rather than a quel’dorei trait.

Fortunately he’s seen Lor’themar looking a little green for the whole journey. Rommath is the real outlier here. Probably out of spite. He wouldn’t be caught dead displaying any kind of vulnerability, let alone something as small as seasickness.

“You’ve been saying that for hours,” he grits out in response.

Rommath shrugs, unconcerned by Kael’thas’ plight. “Nearly is an imprecise unit of measurement, I’ll admit it.”

“Although this time he’s right,” another voice intervenes. “We will be in view of Theramore’s harbor in under two hours.”

Kael’thas blissfully closes his eyes as Jaina lays a hand between his shoulder blades. Her magic sinks under his skin and the chill of it soothes his nausea to a point he no longer feels like he might throw up at any moment.

“Remind me why I’m subjecting myself to this again?”

Jaina chuckles warmly. “Because you are my dear friend and you wish to support me during an important change in my life?”

“I should have taken a portal with my father…”

“And miss watching me dissolve into a ball of nerves in the next few days?”

It’s true that the diplomatic delegation from Quel’thalas wouldn’t be privy to Jaina’s slow descent into panic during the preparations for her coronation. That’s a privilege reserved for Kael’thas only — and the two friends he was made to bring along as bodyguards, technically.

Of the world leaders who are coming to witness the event, few will be lucky enough to enjoy Theramore outside of official functions. Kael’thas is willing to suffer countless journeys by sea for the joy of watching Jaina get drunk in a sailor’s pub for the last time before she has to act like a proper monarch.

Affecting a greater misery than what he already feels, he says, “Still. For all that trouble, I better be here for your dress fitting.”

Jaina shudders at the thought. She may be a princess, but she clearly hasn’t gotten used to all the annoying little details of royalty. Or she forgot after too many years in Dalaran. Kael’thas grins. It’ll be years, if not decades, before he has to be in her place. He intends to enjoy the spectacle while he can.

Schooling his features into something more serious, he turns gingerly to face her. The deck rolls beneath his feet and he has to hold on to the banister or fall flat on his face.

“How are you holding up?”

She quirks up a small smile that struggles to reach her eyes. “I’m alright. A little scared, but…”

It stands to reason she would be, even though this coronation has been in preparation for years. She’s been spending more and more time away from her magical studies, learning how to rule a country, ever since she turned twenty-three. Still one can never be entirely ready to lead.

The fact that the date had to be moved forward because of an attempt on her father’s life must not be helping her anxiety any.

“Have you received news from your father?” He asks, knowing the subject a little easier to deal with. Daelin Proudmoore has recovered quickly from the botched assassination, and has been more preoccupied with rooting out the conspirators than with healing from his wounds.

She nods, gazing at the horizon. Kael’thas can just start to make out Theramore from the grey sky, though it’s more creative interpretation of a vaguely rocky shape in the distance; to her, it must look like home. “Yes. He’s fine. Healing nicely, for all that he refuses to rest. But they still haven’t found his attacker. He’s afraid they’ll go for me, too.”

Kael’thas waves that concern aside. “Of course they will; the day of the coronation is the perfect occasion to get rid of both you and your father, if that’s what they seek.” He winks at her, smiling slightly at her dismay. “That’s what you have me for. Oh, and that great hunk of a fiancé you have as well, I suppose. We’ll keep you safe.”

His exaggerated scorn when he mentions Arthas gets a giggle out of her. He doesn’t despise the man like he used to, back when Kael’thas was infatuated with Jaina and saw him as a threat. But that doesn’t mean he has to like him. Rival or not, he’s still an annoying, bruttish paladin, although he looks exceedingly pretty doing it.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Rommath sighs from the side. He sounds like he has little hope about the matter. He’s used to Kael’thas and Jaina’s antics: if there’s trouble to be found, they’ll find it alright. “Go get your bags, Kael.”

“Why? We’ve hardly arrived yet.”

“By the time you stumble your way below deck and up again, we’ll be there.”

Kael’thas flips him off. But he does go get his bags; not that Rommath has a point, he just likes to take his time. And if he holds onto the railing the whole way down, well. That’s between him and the ship.

It wasn't an empty threat, when Kael’thas mentioned that any assassin would probably turn up during the coronation. Every major political player of Azeroth came to pay respect to the new Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras. If someone wanted to commit some kind of political murder, now would be the time.

It also leaves the cathedral the coronation takes place in a somewhat crowded place.

Kael’thas shifts on the uncomfortable pew while the priest drones on and twists around to look at the back of the room. He may have joked about it back on the ship with Jaina, but after three days shadowing her everywhere the reality of assassins has become much more worrying. His friend is about to leave herself open to all kinds of attacks while an old man shoves some metal on her head; it leaves a little on edge.

A cursory glance reveals no shady character hiding in the wings. If someone intends to hurt Jaina, they’re doing a decent job at hiding it.

“Stop fidgeting,” his father hisses.

Kael’thas rolls his eyes but lets himself be prodded into sitting straight again. He spares a brief glance for Arthas. The Lordaeronian king is entirely ignoring the people trying to engage him in conversation, and watches over the room like a hound during a thunderstorm, jumping at every odd sound.

It helps settle Kael’thas’ nerves somewhat that Lordaeron’s most sword-happy paladin is on the look-out. He won’t let anything happen to Jaina, Kael’thas reasons, even if he must burn the cathedral down to keep her safe. Though it hopes he’ll let them get out first.

Fingers ghost over the back of his hand and he all but jumps out of his skin before it registers that it is only his father trying to capture his attention.

“Be at ease,” Anasterian whispers, a touch of humor softening his sern voice. “You’ll do lady Proudmoore no favor by feeding into her anxiety.”

Smoothing the nascent scowl off his face, Kael’thas calls on the years of teaching in the art of decorum to affect an air of nonchalance. He can’t quite help the stubborn frown born from his worry though. “She has reasons a-plenty to be stressed: someone wants her dead.”

“This event is as safe as it can be. There is little more you can do but pretend everything will be fine, for her sake.”

Kael’thas adjusts the folds of his dress robes in his lap and says nothing. It’s easy for his father to say: it’s not his friend who’s out there risking her life.

Human lives are so fragile. Of course he worries. And what good are the guards, if Daelin was hurt on their watch?

He only lasts about five minutes before risking a glance behind again. Nothing has changed; but he feels a prickle over the back of his neck, as if he’s being watched, and it compulses him to look.

“Kael’thas,” his father sighs.

Kael’thas cuts him off before he can work himself into a proper lecture. “Are those the kaldorei delegates?”

Anasterian pokes him mercifully in the ribs until he sits properly, and only then does he offer a response.

“Yes. With the efforts made by the kaldorei to open to other kingdoms, Lord Proudmoore thought it polite to invite them. Something you’d know if you had bothered to pay attention while I talked about this event,” his father adds, long-suffering.

“I do listen,” Kael’thas says absently. He wants to get a proper look at the elusive night elves, but he thinks his father might actually hold his head in place if he tries it. Their whole whispered conversation is already stretching the bounds of propriety and trying Anasterian’s patience enough as it is.

“Do pay attention, Kael. The priest is nearly done; Jaina will be here soon.”

A coronation is a tremendously boring affair, Kael’thas finds, even once Jaina has stepped up to the altar. The priest drones on and on about her duties as Lord Admiral, the honor, the weight of name and duty, blah blah blah—

Boring. At this point even an attempt on her life would be a welcome distraction.

Jaina kneels and her father stands before her, taking the crown off his head and holding it high above hers. He looks good, Kael’thas notes, for a man who so nearly died mere weeks before.

“Do you swear to live by your people, for your people, and to serve and protect them as your duty demands?” He intones.

“Yes, I do.”

The oath goes on for some time. Jaina answers each demand with unflinching certitude. Looking at her, one might never guess her nerves.

But just as Daelin lowers the circlet, abou to set it on her head, Kael’thas feels a prickle of unease not unlike what he felt earlier. He turns on his seat, heedless of his father’s disapproving hiss. There, in the shadows of the cathedral’s upper level; a flash of—

Spellwork.

The warning gets stuck in his throat, a half-choked yell swallowed by the roar of a ray of fire shooting across the nave. He reaches out without a thought, draws up a barrier that manages to catch the spell at the last possible moment before impact. It shatters across the translucent surface of his shield and scatters in a burst of embers and arcane. The guests underneath cry out as sparks rain down on them.

What his spell doesn’t stop is the crossbow bolt that flies in the wake of the spell. It misses Jaina’s by a hair’s breadth and ricochets off the tiled floor before embing itself in the wooden altar. If she had not moved at the sound of the spell being deflected, it would have gotten her in the throat.

The room explodes in motions as guests and their guards scramble out of the pews. Kael’thas is already on his feet. He catches a glimpse of Arthas’ fair head in the commotion as the paladin ushers Jaina and her father away from the scene. He backs out of the room with his sword raised high, eyes wild as he looks around. Satisfied that his friend is safe, Kael’thas turns on his heels and run for the doors.

Rommath, who watched the ceremony from the back, calls his name as they nearly run into each other on the way out. Kael’thas stops with a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Get my father to safety!”

“Where are you going?” Rommath yells above the din, but Kael’thas is already running again.

“After them!”

Rommath’s answering invective is lost in the noise. His hand grabs Kael’thas’ robes to try and pull him back; Kael’thas unclasps them from his shoulders and leaves the heavy fabric in Rommath’s grasp as he books it.

Bursting through the doors, Kael’thas draws a gulp of fresh air before he sees, out of the corner of his eye, two figures scaling down the cathedral’s wall. He takes off after them without a second thought.

Without his cumbersome robes weighing him down he manages to keep up with the fleeing attackers — but only just. His feet pounding the pavement, he nonetheless fails to gain on the faster runners. They make a sharp turn left; by the time he reaches the corner they’re nowhere to be found.

Snapping a hand forward, Kael’thas gathers magic in his palm. This isn’t a spell he’s casting, though; it’s a summon.

And, bursting forth in a shower of fire and ashes, Al’ar answers.

He’s already climbing up his beloved familiar’s back before the phoenix has fully materialized into this plane. Kael’thas smoothes a hand over the soft feathers of his neck, smiling slightly at the pleased sound Al’ar makes, before he urges the phoenix into flight again.

They need no words to communicate. It’s for the best, as Kael’thas doesn’t think he could muster speech with his heart beating wildly in his throat. He’s not much of a runner and there was no course at the Kirin Tor for chasing after assassins. This is all very new to him; the excitement has him nearly shaking.

It’s easier to follow the assassins from the sky — and to gain on them as well.

Al’ar dives as soon as he is above them. Kael’thas holds on to a handful of feathers as the wind howls past his ears, confident that al’ar won’t let him come to any harm. The fugitives aren’t that lucky. Al’ar’s piercing cry is the only warning they get before he swoops down on them. His wings unfold to catch his fall with a sound like a forest fire; his talons glint in the light of his own burning as he extends them towards his unfortunate preys.

One is quick enough to dodge his grasp. The other gets bowled over by the force of the blow, and can only weakly struggle as Al’ar lifts them off the ground. Kael’thas jumps off the phoenix’s back before he can gain altitude again, stumbling slightly on the landing.

He’s unarmed, but mages need no weapons beside their magic, though he’s decent with a sword. He can deal with one measly little assassin without a blade.

At a glance, the assassin seems to be a human woman; and from the arcane energy crackling in her palm, the mage of the two as well. Kael’thas grins. He’s one of the best duelists of the Kirin Tor. This will be a walk in the park.

The mage casts a blue-tinted spell, too quick for him to tell what it does. He catches it in front of his face, turns, throws it back, and she has to jump aside to avoid it. Good. His smile grows, all bared teeth, as his own magic bubbles up to the surface. A tongue of fire whips towards her and hits her in the chest, sending her flying back into a wall.

Dazed and more than a little singed, she cannot get up quickly enough to block his next attack, and the concussive blast knocks her out. She slides down the wall and falls to the ground, unconscious. Shame they must be interrogated still. He’d gladly have burned her to a crisp.

But at least that’s one good thing down. He tilts his head up, trying to catch sight of Al’ar. He can feel their bond stretching as the phoenix flies away — he must be bringing the other assassin back to the cathedral, to be dealt with. Good.

Behind him, he hears hurried footsteps, and a voice shouting,

“Watch out!”

Kael’thas turns just in time to see the mage he thought he had downed take a knife out of her sleeve and throw it with unexpected accuracy. It whistles past him, close enough to leave a line of fire along the side of his neck. Kael’thas snaps his hand out and flames roar around his opponent before she can try another attack. They burn brighter and hotter than any natural fire, and her cry is cut short as she collapses into a pile of ashes and charred bones.

Here’s hoping the one Al’ar carried away survived the initial mauling.

“Are you alright?”

Turning to the new voice, Kael’thas blinks owlishly at the chest that greets him before it occurs to him to lift his eyes. It’s a kaldorei, he notes somewhat distantly; his thoughts feel sluggish all of a sudden. He’ll readily blame it on the fact that this is one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen — and he’s seen his fair share of beautiful men. His

He shakes himself, blinking some more to clear the haze that has settled over him. “I— yes, I am fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Kael’thas lifts a hand to his neck, still pulsing with painful heat, and his fingers come away slick with blood. “Oh. So I am.” The blood has an oily sheen to it, and it takes a moment of rubbing it between his fingers to realize it might actually be some kind of poison, unless his blood has all of a sudden gained some mysterious new material property.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The kaldorei asks again, bemused. “You seem... shaken.”

Waving his hand impatiently, Kael’thas steps away from the man. “A bit of poison, nothing more.” The ground sways under his feet nearly as much as the ship he took to Theramore; it takes all of his concentration to keep himself upright.

Real alarm crosses the kaldorei’s face. “I’m going to get a healer.”

“Ah, no need. My magic will burn it away before it can deal any real damage.” He breathes in and out slowly, trying to manage the nausea. “I just have to… wait it out.”

The kaldorei seems unconvinced, though something about Kael’thas assurance must be enough to convince him to settle back for now.

He leans against the nearest wall. It still bears a black, slightly-greasy mark where the other mage once stood before he took care of her. His head spins, and black spots have started to appear in his field of view. It’s a good thing he’s been poisoned before, else he might not know this particular quirk of his biology and panic a lot more about the situation. As it is he’s quite used to the feverish feeling of his inner fire flaring to fight off the infection — it’s why he’s so rarely sick, as well.

The kaldorei looks at him and then, lower, at the remains of what once was an assassin. His mouth twists in a sardonic smile.

“I followed expecting a fight,” he says with a kind of rueful disappointment, “But it seems there’s little for me to do here.”

Closing his eyes, Kael’thas exhales softly. It’s a shame he always meets attractive people when he himself is at his worst possible state. The first time he saw Jaina, he was going on three days without sleep, and looked more undead than like a dashing elven prince. “Do not worry. I might pass out yet, which would leave you free to heroically carry me back to my father.”

He means it as a joke but in truth, he’s not sure he’ll manage to get back otherwise. Even if the dash after the assassins hadn’t exhausted him, the poison is quickly sapping his strength.

Tugging on his connection with Al’ar in the hope that his familiar will simply fly him home, he scowls when his summoning meets unexpected resistance. The phoenix must still be in this plane, then. Perhaps he found trouble with the other assassin. Wouldn’t be the first time they struggle to pry a prey out of his talons. This bird has a grip like a bear trap.

He can already feel himself sliding down the brick wall as his legs slowly but inexorably bow under his own weight. He’s ready to cut his losses and sit down in the pile of ashes when they suddenly give out from under him for good. Thankfully, before his ego and backside can be anymore bruised by the fall, strong arms catch him around the middle and heave him back to his feet.

“You weren’t joking about passing out,” the kaldorei chuckles.

Dazed, Kael’thas tries to look up at him to decipher if he’s being laughed at, but all he manages is to weakly tilt back his head until it hits the man’s chest. “Fighting off poison is no joking matter,” he tries to say, but his lips don’t quite manage the movement required for proper pronunciation, he thinks.

The chest he’s pressed against vibrates slightly as the man hums low in his throat. After some kind of deliberation Kael’thas is not privy to, the kaldorei ducks down and, passing an arm under Kael’thas’ knees, scoop him up as if he weighs nothing.

“Wha—”

“I’ll take you on that offer of a heroic entrance,” he says lightly. He shifts so that Kael’thas’ head rests against his shoulder and, with no effort apparent, starts walking in the direction of the cathedral.

“That was a joke,” he protests weakly.

“Didn’t you say poison is no joking matter? Don’t worry. I won’t drop you.”

“That’s very pretty of you,” he mumbles. It doesn’t sound quite right, and he frowns in confusion before making another attempt. His thoughts are starting to feel more jumbled as his magic responds to the poison with a purifying fever. “That’s…nicely pretty of you.”

There. Perfect.

The last conscious thought that crosses his mind before darkness swallows him is that the kaldorei has a very nice laugh, and then that Rommath is going to have a stroke, if he sees Kael’thas in this state; but he is too comfortable to care about that now.

Rommath is indeed apoplectic at seeing his friend and crown prince brought back unconscious and bleeding. Kael’thas, of course, only hears of it second-hand. By the time he comes to, he’s lying on a fainting couch in the wing of Theramore’s castle offered to house the sin’dorei delegation, and Rommath has calmed down somewhat.

Still, when he notices his charge has come awake, he doesn’t wait a second before railing on him.

“You’re an idiot.”

Still dazed and developing a headache suspiciously reminiscent of a hangover, Kael’thas squints up at his best friend. “I’m a genius,” he says for the sake of argument, though as brilliant as he is it is hardly applicable now. It’s a known fact that between the two of them Rommath is the one in charge of being street smart.

“Running on foot after two assassins, and not even dispatching them correctly — that’s what you call genius?” Rommath shakes his head and his shoulders drop slightly as he heaves a sigh. “What little of the city hasn’t seen your idiocy first-hand will know of it by tomorrow morning. That’ll do wonders to your reputation.”

Kael’thas pushes himself to a sitting position and rubs his head with a scowl. “I’m sure the attempt of the new queen’s life will be more interesting news than my dashing attempt at revenge.”

“Perhaps. But the nine foot tall moon guard carrying your bloody body through the streets is certainly an image that’ll stick.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic,” he says, though it might very well have been, for all that he remembers of the trip back.

“They’ll make it that dramatic. Also, you bled a lot, for such a small wound. You’ll have to properly thank the high priestess, by the way: I’m told it’s a great honor to be healed by the envoy of Elune herself.”

Rommath’s dry tone nearly distracts Kael’thas from his actual words, and it takes a second for his mind to connect the dots.

“Tyrande Whisperwind healed me?” He asks, taken aback.

“Well, her brother-in-laws did ask her directly, yes.”

“Her brother-in-law—” Like lightning, he realizes: few kaldorei leave their land, despite the latest efforts of the leading triumvirate to open to other kingdoms. Only the most powerful would have come all the way to Jaina’s coronation. Most likely the triumvirate in person. One of which healed him, at the demand of the other one, who must be the one who carried him after he passed out from a flesh wound. He hides his face in his hands and lets out a sound halfway between a sob and a scream. “I can’t believe I fainted on Illidan Stormrage.”

“You made an impression, apparently,” Rommath notes wryly. “He told your father your aid was invaluable in apprehending the assassin. Singular. I could have sworn there were two,” he adds airily.

“I set the other one on fire,” Kael’thas mumbles in his hands.

“Yes, I expected that much.”

Kael’thas rubs his face with a low groan and drops back on the fainting couch. Maybe he could just… fall unconscious again. Stay that way until they’re back in Silvermoon. He’s sure he could put himself into a magical coma, if it came down to it.

“I met Illidan Stormrage.”

“Yes.”

“The most brilliant sorcerer of his time. And ours, probably.”

“Huh-huh.”

“And I passed out on him. Did I drool? Light, tell me I didn’t drool.”

“You did,” Rommath says, merciless.

“I told him he was pretty.” With feelings, mostly of mortification, he adds, “I want to die.”

“You had your chance already. Now you’ll have to learn to flirt through the awkwardness like the rest of us mortals.”

Kael’thas is always flirting through the awkwardness. He’s never flirted in a way that’s not awkward. Doesn’t matter how attractive and smart Illidan is; he’ll never be able to look the man in the eyes again. His beautiful, golden eyes. Who saw Kael’thas drool probably all over his fancy moon guard armor.

A magical coma sounds more appealing by the minute.

#writing #world of warcraft #kael'thas sunstrider #illidan stormrage #grand magister rommath #jaina proudmoore #long post #this is a little silly but i just Had A Thought okay #anyway this takes place in a world with No Legion™#yes the sundering and chism of elves still happened. why? who knows #civil war probably

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Red Roses, Red Roses

Rated: 16+ For graphic descriptions of violence and gore, brief mentions of rape, mentions of torture, mentions of abuse, and disturbing images.

Masterlist

~All the pretty girls, they find

A way to keep you on my mind

I swear I heard you singing along

Cities pass like candy stores

And you're the one

I'm looking for

And so

I'm just a boy

Who's telling a girl

That when I grow up I'll buy you a rose

When I grow up, I'll buy you a rose~

"Okay, but what is the proper plural form of Nephilim?" I asked from the back seat of the Impala as it drove through the winding roads from the bunker and into town. "See, 'cause ' Nephilims ' sounds weird. So, is it ' Nephili ' like ' octopi ', or could it be ' Nephilice ' like ' mice '? I need to know this, guys."

The car was silent. Sam, Cas, and Jack were all thinking over the answer to my question and Dean was just rolling his eyes in the mirror.

"Maybe-" Sam started slowly "-Maybe it's just 'Nephilim'. You know, like ' moose '?"

"Yeah, that kinda sounds right, I guess." I nodded. Dean laughed and shook his head, glancing at me in the mirror. "What?"

"Oh, nothin'." He waved a hand. "I just don't get ya' is all."

"Yeah, neither do I." I shrugged and Jack must have found something funny because he snickered. "But what is it that you don't get?"

Dean shrugged. "I mean, I know you get rattled; Felix scares you and I get that. But you just take everything else in stride! How do you do that? I just- I don't get it."

"I told you this, Dean. I'm good at hiding my reactions to things and if I can't hide them then I use them to gain sympathy from others." I glanced at Jack, catching his eye. "At least, that's what I do until I can really trust somebody."

Jack smiled a little and tugged me closer into his side. He had been acting sorta weird since we'd all piled into the Impala for the drive into town. Jack had wrapped his arm around my waist and held me tight against him, almost as if he was keeping me away from the trench-coated angel on my other side. He kept shooting Cas these weird glances and I couldn't help but wonder what they could be about. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Jack was being possessive.

Not that I was complaining about our close proximity or anything! Jack was really warm and winter in Kansas was, shall we say, not. Who was I to turn down free cuddles? Although those cuddles did kinda make me want to sink my teeth into him. He smelled so sweet and his skin looked so frustratingly soft. Maybe one of these nights I could sneak into his room and get a taste. That could make things better, I mean, half the torture of being around him was the curiosity of not knowing.

"And we're here!"

Sam's voice knocked me out of that potentially devastating train of thought and I followed Jack out of the car. Okay, ' followed ' is the wrong word. Jack pretty much just pulled me out of the car with him. He didn't let go of me. Weird.

The town of Lebanon, Kansas reminded me quite a bit of Copper Harbor. The main difference was that Lebanon was bigger... A lot bigger. The buildings were small and friendly, made of red brick and wooden doors and windows with glass that bulged out at the bottom. The streetlamps were iron and curled over the street as they should and there were planter boxes underneath display windows. The whole town just breathed in a way that said ' stay awhile '.

"It's Christmas time," I noted aloud, "I almost forgot."

There were colorful lights wrapped around poles and wreaths hung on doors with bells that jingled when they opened. There were even speakers placed outside that filled the air with all sorts of holiday music and I felt a smile split across my face as I started to sing along.

"Oh, no. Don't tell me you sing too," Dean chuckled as he held open the door of a discount clothing store. I was about to say something witty as a response but Jack beat me to the chance.

"She does! She sang to me last night," He said, smiling down at me. Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at the acute lack of space between us. Jack noticed and let go of my waist.

"Oh yeah? And how was that?" Dean asked, smirking.

Jack's brow's furrowed and his head tilted as he eyed me like he was trying to remember something.

"It was..."

' Please don't say anything that'll get me dead! ' I pleaded silently.

"It was magical ."

Sam, Dean, and Cas all shared a strange look, but before anything more could be said, the shopkeeper waltzed in from the back room.

Her silver hair was cut short and straight with the ends tucked around her chin. She was a short, thin woman probably in her late forties or early fifties with a not-a-hair-out-of-place sort of attitude. I would bet twenty bucks that her name was Christie spelled with a 'Ch' that she would be sure to remind us of. Click-clacking her way over to us in a pair of atrociously hot pink six-inch heels, the woman regarded us over the tops of her thick, rectangular glasses which hung on a chain around her neck. She flicked her eyes over each person individually in a way that reeked of silent judgment and when her eyes landed on me I was tempted to flip her off. When she was satisfied that she knew everything there was to know about us, the woman fixed a painfully fake smile onto her face and greeted us, speaking slowly like we were uneducated simpletons.

"Well, hi there all! My name's Christie with a 'Ch', you know, like in 'Christmas'? What are your names?"

Called it.

"Hey, Christie. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam, standing really creepily behind me is Cas, and this one here is his son Jack." Dean pointed as he introduced everyone, sounding annoyed as if this was his tenth time meeting Christie which it probably was. "We're lookin' to get Marty here some warm clothes. Got anything, ah, petite?"

I shot Dean a pointed look to which he just smirked. It wasn't my fault he and his brother were so freakishly tall. In front of us, Christie ignored his request to do business and kept on chatting.

"Sam and Dean Winchester? I remember you, boys. Why didn't you tell me one of you had a daughter as pretty as this little vision? Is she yours, Sam? She looks a bit like you," She cooed, stroking my hair as if that was a socially acceptable thing to do. I almost bit her hand off but smiled instead. Her question caught Sam off guard.

"No, no. Marty's not my daughter," He chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

"Oh! My mistake. Is she yours, Dean?"

"What? No! O'corse not!"

I nearly smacked my face with my palm. Were these guys trying to look like kidnappers? Considering their age and the way I was dressed, oh yeah, this totally looked like a kidnapping.

Christie frowned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to her side. Jack reached for me but Christie pulled me further away, glaring at him.

"Oh, dear me. I shouldn't be calling the police on you boys now, should I?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, trying to come up with some sort of excuse and Christie was already pulling out her phone. A very Isaac-like idea popped into my brain. I rolled my eyes and huffed, pushing away from Christie.

"Ugh! Why do you guys have to be so weird about it? I mean, if you have to dress like child abductors then you could at least try not to act like it!" I turned to Christie, shaking my head. "Yeah, sorry about them, ma'am. It's a really long and scandalous story and you probably don't wanna hear the details, but I'm not being kidnapped, I promise."

Christie perked up at the mention of scandal, she was probably just itching for some juicy gossip to spread around at one of her knitting meetings.

"Well, I should probably hear the whole story just to make sure," She said, almost buzzing with excitement.

"Are you sure?" I baited, "It's pretty bad!"

"Oh, you can tell me, hon! I won't tell anybody."

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

"Alright, so long story short, my mom is Cas's aunt and she's a slut who cheated on my dad, who's a straight-up loser. So, he only found out that I'm not his just last week and filed for divorce within two days because he finally has an excuse to get rid of me now. Except, surprise-surprise, my mom never wanted me either because I'm a useless mistake and so they both threw me to child support which Cas here saved me from because he's a decent human being!" I finished my rant of bull crap and inhaled deeply. Christie had bought every word.

"Aw, you poor baby! You get a discount, sweetheart, and if one of your parents ever comes in here I'm gonna wring their neck!" She continued babbling as she led us through the store while Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack all stared at me like I had eight heads. I smirked at them and shrugged a little.

Five hours and six oversized bags of clothes later and we were out of that store. We crossed the street and collapsed on some benches outside a diner, remaining silent for a while.

"That was worse than Hell!" Dean complained, tugging his boots off and rubbing his sore feet. "If I had to hear that woman talk for one more minute, I might have slit her throat!"

The rest of us made noises of agreement. Well, all except Jack who just shrugged.

"I thought she was nice," He said, though he too looked worn out.

"That wasn't nice, Jack. That was prying," Cas corrected him.

"Yeah," I agreed, "I wasn't sure how much more crap I could spout about your aunt, Cas!"

"Yeah, um, speaking of," Sam cut in, "You had that whole thing pretty handled, Marty. Where'd all that stuff come from anyway?"

"I've been on my own since I was nine, Sam," I lied, lowering my head and picking at my jeans.

"I get that, but-"

" Since I was nine , Sam ." I glanced up to see Sam's mouth form into an 'O' of understanding. I looked away again, quieting my voice. "I know how to make up excuses that people won't question."

"Ah."

"You are quite the liar, Martina," Cas spoke up with a tilt of his head. The way his words curled in on one another made it impossible for me to tell whether his statement was one of praise, suspicion, or both. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jack eyeing Cas, his lip curled in a scowl that looked unnatural when displayed by his gentle features.

I didn't look up at the angel sitting in front of me. A tight smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I tapped the pads of my fingers against my knees.

"You don't trust me do you, Castiel?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. Cas sighed and shook his head; I watched Jack's hands clench into fists.

"No. No, I don't," He said, eyeing Jack's reactions as well.

"Why not?" I still didn't look up, feeling the angel's gaze shift to me.

"You lie so easily to others, and you do it very well. What's to stop you from doing the same to us?" For once, Castiel's tone didn't seem accusatory. He sounded truly curious and... understanding almost. His words were something close to gentle.

"Nothing, really," I answered honestly, "For five years, it was just me . I had Isaac but I still felt so alone . I felt so small and scared and purposeless . All I did was run and hide, it was like I was just waiting to die. So, when you guys offered me protection, I couldn't say no. I couldn't say no, even if I didn't actually need it."

"Didn't need it? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. I shrugged.

"You guys saw a small kid getting attacked in that alleyway and you helped her out. You just made the same mistake that everybody does."

"And what mistake is that?" Cas pressed, squinting curiously.

"Thinking that small means the same thing as helpless," I took a deep breath, shaking my head, "It doesn't, and I'm not. I told you I was clever, you just never stopped to think about what that meant. What you guys don't seem to get is that I survived for five years . I was just scared that if you knew then you would leave me there alone and I- I just couldn't."

"So, you lied to us?" Sam asked with a frown. I nodded.

"I did. I lied to you and I'm sorry."

"We wouldn't have turned you away, Marty," Jack said, softly grasping my hand.

"I think somewhere deep down I knew that. There were just these things I had to do to survive and I was so scared that if you knew about them, then you wouldn't want me. So, I lied. Because the only thing I could think about was how I just couldn't be alone anymore." I laughed in spite of myself.

Jack nodded solemnly before glancing up and getting distracted by something across the street. His face lit up as he let go of my hand and stood, bounding towards whatever had caught his attention. I didn't bother to watch him.

"Look, Marty," Dean sighed and shook his head a bit, "You seem like a pretty sweet kid and I like you, a lot. Now, I may not know everything about your past, but I know from experience that the only thing that can make up for your mistakes is trying your best to do the right thing now. I wanna trust you, Marty. We all do. But if you keep all these secrets, then we can't do that. So, can you promise us just one thing?"

"Name it."

"No more lies?"

"No more lies," I lied.

"Good." Sam smiled. "So, is there anything else we should know about you?"

There were so many things. None of which I could tell.

"Well, there might be one thing."

"What?"

I opened my mouth to speak but I was cut off by a flower being presented before my eyes. The flower was a rose and the rose was white. It was gorgeous and perfect, there wasn't a single flaw on any of the smooth petals and it was just one step short of full bloom.

There was a hand attached to the rose and I plucked the flower from his fingers, twirling it between my own.

"What's this for?" I asked as I looked up at Jack who beamed down at me the way I remember summer sunshine being like.

"It reminds me of you," He said simply.

"Why?" I chuckled.

"Um, because you said that you pretended to be innocent and helpless because you thought that nobody would want you if they knew otherwise. So, um, I-" He gestured to the rose's thorn-covered stem. "Well, t-this one has spiky-things on it."

"So, it does." I nodded, giggling at his strange explanation. Jack flashed me a grin and continued.

"At first, I thought it was just beautiful, like you, and I didn't see the spiky things until I picked it up. When I touched it, it hurt, but I took it anyway. See, it's still beautiful - even with the spikes - I still wanted it. So, I want you to know that even if you have spikes, I still want you."

Around. There was an ' around ' tagged on the end of that sentence, he just forgot to put it there. Right?

"Thank you, puppy. That was very sweet," I said, catching a glimpse of the flower cart across the street where he must have gotten it. The cart was unattended. In fact, the whole street was oddly empty. It was Christmas time, the street shouldn't have been empty, but it was and that gave me a very bad feeling.

Jack smiled so innocently it made me want to cry.

"You're welcome!"

"You paid for this though, right?"

Jack's face immediately told me the answer. "Is it not for free?"

"Nope, you stole it. You're criminal now," I joked.

"Oh." Jack frowned for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Well, when we grow up, I'll buy you one."

I had the chance to say something witty, so naturally, I replied with:

"Cool."

I mentally slapped myself. Of course, he says something cute and all I say back is ' cool '. My brain hates me.

I felt my cheeks heating up, so I ducked my head down. Deciding that we were in a shaded enough spot, I tugged the light-teal-colored baseball cap off my head. (I had been using it to hide my face from the harsh burning of the sunlight that drifted over the town.) The cap had a manatee sewn on the front and was one of the few things I had brought with me from my past life on the sunny shores of Florida. Laying the hat in my lap, I pulled my thick black braid over my shoulder and proceeded to weave the rose's stem into it loosely. Then, I flipped my hair back and smashed the baseball cap back on my head.

Meanwhile, the angel boy just smiled down at me as if he hadn't just said some of the kindest words I'd heard in five years. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and suddenly my shoes were extraordinarily interesting.

My attention was drawn away, however, when out of the corner of my eye, I watched Cas's back go ramrod straight. His head tilted to the side like he was listening for something, his eyes narrowing to one-quarter squint power.

"Cas?" Dean called to his friend. More like their friend, really, Sam and Jack were his family too. I guess I couldn't bring myself to call the angel my friend while I was lying to his face about everything I was.

"There are monsters somewhere here, I can sense them," Castiel said quietly. Jack stopped and tilted his head like Cas, focusing.

"I sense them too," He reported, glancing at me, "They're vampires." I sat up a little straighter.

"Put your shoes back on, Dean. You cannot rest while enemies are nearby," I said, smiling wryly and letting an edge of nervousness creep into my voice.

"How many are there?" Dean demanded, already taking charge.

Cas squinted harder. "Seven... Wait, no. There are eight."

"Where? C-can you sense that?" Sam asked.

"No-" Cas shook his head before turning to his surrogate son. "-But Jack can."

Cas sent a small nod to Jack who nodded back and directed his gaze upward, stretching out a hand. His eyes flicked into glistening gold and I could feel my hair stand on end as the air became charged with raw power. For a split second, I almost thought I saw the outline of feathered appendages sprouting from the boy's back. Then, Jack's eyes flickered back into their crystalline blue and I shook the after image away. Whatever I had thought I'd seen was gone before I could register it.

"There are two of them hiding in an alley about thirty yards that way-" He pointed to the left "-and there are five more. They're waiting for an ambush? I think? They're over there. In that really suspicious-looking grey van parked four cars down." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and I leaned over to glance at the car. Jack had been right, the van totally looked like it belonged to the mafia or something.

"What about the last one?" Dean pressed, his eyes shifting around to examine his environment. Jack shook his head.

"I-I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I mean, I can sense it - I know it's here somewhere - but it's cloudy. I can't tell exactly where; it's like it's everywhere and nowhere at the same time."

Jack called the vampire an ' It '. Of course, he did. It was a vampire. It was a monster. What else does one call a monster? What else does one call a thing like that? After all, that's all it was; that's all I was. A thing . Not a someone, not a person, not a friend . A thing . A pest , a nuisance , a parasite to be eradicated. Skrew all Jack's kind words and endearing actions; they didn't mean anything! He could never really love me back. It was only a matter of time before he realized that. It was only a matter of time before he started calling me ' It '.

' How long will that be, I wonder .'

I was pulled from my thoughts by a scream. It rang, high and sharp, and it echoed off the brick buildings.

"HELP! HELP ME!" A woman's voice cried.

"Max?" Jack whispered, his eyes going wide. I didn't know who that was and apparently, neither did Dean as he flung his strong arm out in front of Jack who began to sprint towards the sound.

"Who?" Dean demanded. Jack struggled to push past him but Dean wouldn't budge.

"That-that's Max! She's my friend! Those things have her! She needs our help!" He explained impatiently. Dean's face scrunched up.

"Wait, wait. Max? Teenage girl? White hair? 'Bout yea high?" The elder Winchester made a height comparison with his hand and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Yes! Now, come on!" Jack huffed.

"Oh ho! So that's why you're not going for abandonment issues over there?" Dean teased. Letting go of Jack, they started towards the sound of screaming. "Does Jack-Jack have a girlfriend?"

Jack stopped and faced Dean, confusion written across his brow. "Max already has a girlfriend."

"Oh."

The two dorks were brought back to reality when that Max girl screamed again.

"SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!"

Her voice was followed by another, a boy this time.

"HEY! HEY! HELP! ANYBODY! HELP US!"

"That's Eliot!" Jack took off down the street at a full-on sprint. Dean, Sam, and Cas hot on his heels.

"No, no! Please, go on ahead without me," I muttered, sarcastically, "Save the damsel! I'll just... wait here then."

Huh. Max and Eliot. I felt like those names should be switched around, but then again, I go by Marty, so who am I to judge?

Out of nowhere, I felt a stinging pain in my shoulder. A syringe. I knew the feeling well. Before I could react, the pain suddenly doubled, rapidly spreading all throughout my body like a viral infection.

Dead man's blood.

I whipped my head to the left to meet an all too familiar pair of brown eyes.

"What's bouzzin' gousin?" An accented voice jeered.

Then everything was black.

***

The vampires were taken care of rather easily. Jack felt like a Jedi Knight as he suspended them in the air, stringing them up like the murderers they were. They didn't even struggle. Like convicts dangling from a hangman's noose, the vampires knew as soon as they saw Jack's glowing eyes, that their deaths were nigh at hand. Jack thrust out a hand and caught them in the pulsing rings of his grace, a sound like drum beats underwater reverberating off the alley walls. With a grin, the boy clenched his hand into a fist and the monsters splintered into not but dust.

With the threat eradicated, the glow in Jack's eyes flickered out and he turned to the high-schoolers who he considered his friends.

"Hello, Max! Hello, Eliot! It's alright, you're safe now," He chimed, nodding to each kid in turn and lifting his hand in greeting, though he refrained from actually waving it. Upon seeing him raise his hand, the kids shared a look of sheer terror and backed away. Jack frowned at their reactions, lowering his hand. "No, no! Wait, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you!"

Max and Eliot paused, trying to determine whether or not they believed him.

Unbeknownst to Jack, Max and Eliot didn't actually like him. ( After finding out about the supernatural, the teens were disappointed when the Winchesters refused to tell them more about spirits and monsters. Enter Jack, and his unfortunate lack of talent in terms of keeping his trap shut. ) Max and Eliot had only hung out with Jack once, and that was exclusive because they knew that he lived with the Winchesters. Against his better judgment, Jack had shown them a glimpse of his powers and though they thought his telekinesis was cool, the teens had agreed not to search the boy out again.

There was just something about Jack that unsettled them, frightened them, terrified them. Just like every other human who had seen what Jack could do; deep down, they were all afraid of him. Because he wasn't normal, he wasn't right, he wasn't human .

"What did you just do to those guys?" Eliot asked, staring with eyes as wide as quarters. Jack thought it would be better not to answer that question.

"It's okay! They were monsters," He reassured.

"He disintegrated them," Cas deadpanned. Dean shot the angel a look. "What?"

"YOU DISINTEGRATED THEM?!" Max screeched loud enough to make Jack flinch.

"Yes?"

"You didn't just, like, proof em' away or something?" Eliot added, a little quieter.

"Um, no. No, I didn't."

"COULD YOU DO THAT TO US?!"

"Most likely, yes," Jack answered, thoughtfully, "I've never tried it on humans, though. But I would never hurt you guys, you're my friends!"

"You're really freaky, dude," Elliot said, shaking his head slowly, "And, like, not in a good way."

"I know." Jack hung his head. They were afraid of him. They hated him. He shouldn't have expected otherwise.

"I'm never gonna be able to un-see that," Max muttered, staring at the cement.

That gave Jack an idea, maybe there was a way to undo this.

"I know you're probably freaking out, but I think I know a way to make it better," He said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Nah, man. I don't want any of your freaky Aquaman powers used on me!" Eliot shook his head.

"No powers." Jack smiled despite how badly their words hurt. "I promise."

His stomach twisted with the lie, but they didn't need to know that. Max and Eliot shared another glance.

"Okay..." They agreed, hesitantly.

"I have a friend. Her name is Marty," Jack explained, leading them back to the bench where his family had left the girl. "She's right here!"

Except she wasn't.

That's when the Nephilim's phone rang.

It was a picture message. Marty sat unconscious tied to a chair in some shack. The text read:

"I really would hate to incur the wrath of the Winchesters, so consider this a ransom note. All you have to do is find her in time. Tick-tock. ~ Felix "

Max peered over Jack's shoulder.

"Hey! I know that place!"

***

"Welcomb back to the land of the livinc' where the livinc' are, in fact, dead!"

Okay, so she knew I was awake. I kept my eyes closed anyway and canvassed my new environment. Having grown up blind, I didn't need my eyes to see.

My hands were bound with zip-ties to the arms of the splintering wooden chair I sat in. The space around me was large but not cavernous as there was no echo. This was a shack of some kind judging by how the metal panels making up the roof clanged against one another in the wind. The shack was also dark to protect vampire skin from the sun, and in winter, no sun meant freezing temperatures. There was a weight covering my lap; someone had given me a blanket. I caught the scent of hay among other less pleasurable farm smells. I could hear the shifting of five pairs of feet surrounding me in a circle. This was going to be fun.

Opening my eyes, at last, I was met with the sight of a young woman around the age of twenty-two, lounging on a few hay bails. She was long, lean, and muscular with a round face displaying a crooked smile. I could see the end of a tie-dyed shirt sticking out beneath the fluffy black coat she wore. Her green and purple hair was chopped short in a punk rocker pixie cut that stuck out in at least five different directions. If I wasn't mistaken, a few of the strands appeared to be scorched on the ends. Her cheekbones were low and prominent and plenty rosy. She had full lips and a button nose that was home to two tiny diamond studs. The woman wore her dark green eyeshadow with plum-colored lipstick unapologetically. Her eyes, which were set deeper than most, turned down at the corners and sparkled with mischief. They were accompanied by thick dark eyebrows, the left of which had apparently gotten a third piercing since I had last seen her.

"Ah hah! So she is alive!" She said, her thick Dutch accent coating her words, "I was begininc' to worry that you had follen asleep... Again."

I shrugged despite my restraints.

"Yeah, well I can only sleep-in so long."

"You never were a morninc' person, were you?" The woman sighed, shaking her head. I watched her arrow-head pendant as it swung back and forth from her neck.

"Nope."

"And dat's why we're frien'ds!" She chirped.

"We're not friends, Elwyn." Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh but it was better than pretending like everything was fine and dandy between us. Elwyn faked a gasp.

"You used my fuoll name! You muss be serious. Why so c'old, mijn lieve ?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Spending five years as a walking corpse will do that to you," I answered, smiling thinly. "Why are you here, Elwyn? What's this act for? We both know that if I wanted to walk out of here right now, I could do so without a scratch on me. What do you want?"

"You might 'ave been able to woltz out of 'ere if you had a full tanc', dat's true." Elwyn nodded, in agreement. Then she tilted her head and frowned at me with pouty lips. "But you're quite weak now. I'm sorry, hones'ly. I t'ought dat you'd be able to 'andle dat much dead man's blood but you still look pale an' shaiky!"

"Well, I've always been pale," I replied, narrowing my eyes. Elwyn sat up, crossing her legs and putting a fist to her chin. Her brows furrowed and she looked at me with what seemed to be genuine concern for my well-being.

"How lon'g has it been since you fed, liefste ?" She asked in a gentler tone.

"A little over two weeks," I answered honestly.

"Two weeks?! Nothinc'? Not even somethinc' piffy, like a ra'bbit?"

I shook my head and shrugged.

"Oh, jij arme ding ! I know you ha'te it, but how could you do dis' du yourself?!" She cried, shaking her head in dismay. I looked away. Deep down I knew that Elwyn really did care about me, albeit in her own strange way. I was being harsh with her and that wasn't exactly fair. She was Felix's prisoner too.

"I more than hate it, Ellie," I said, speaking softer now, "But I just couldn't find a good opportunity. Besides, I can take it."

Elwyn rolled her chocolate-brown eyes.

"No you gan't, Mardina! Look at yourself! You're runninc' on foomes and it shows!" Elwyn huffed, her accident becoming more prominent as her emotion shown through. "Be hones'd wit me, dis is because of dose Win-kesters, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," I said, picking at a splinter on the wooden arm-rest. I knew the real reason and it was a stupid one. I mean, of all the ways to try to be better, starving myself to the breaking point probably wasn't the smartest. But I wanted to be good, pure. I wanted to be human. For him.

"Ah, I see." Elwyn smiled softly. "I was told aboud dat Nephilim boy, the rumors were wrong about him. I was watchinc' you two today; he's not a ragink' monster at all."

"No, he's not." I shook my head.

"He's a zoet wezen , no?" Elwyn chuckled to herself, "Sorry, I don' know de word for it in English."

I nodded. The closest translation of her Dutch was ' sweet creature '. It fit.

"What's his name?" Elwyn asked without the slightest bit of hostility.

I smiled. "His name is Jack."

" Hou je van hem ?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. Elwyn smiled knowingly.

"Yes, you do. And if what I saw was any indication, he feels the same."

"No, he doesn't, Ellie," I sighed and gestured to the child body I was trapped in. "He can't. Just look at me! I'm just a sister to him and if he knew what I really am then he'd hate me!"

"So, dat's what dis is about." Elwyn nodded with understanding.

"What do you mean?"

"You t'ink yourself bad, so you want du be good for him. Dat's why you 'aven't been feeding," She explained, sounding matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, I guess so." I looked away.

"Well, das not good!" Elwyn leaned forward and cut the zip-ties that held me to the chair. Then she reached behind her and fished around a bit until she pulled her arm back and held it out to me, a blood bag resting in her palm. "Have a snack now and your engel jongen will never know!"

I glanced at it for a moment but it didn't take much to break my willpower. I snatched the bag from her hand and ripped it open, downing it like there was no tomorrow.

"You gan slow down, geliefde. I brough't more." Elwyn chuckled.

"You did?" I asked looking up.

"I had a sneakinc' suspission dat dis was goin'c du 'appen." She shrugged, tossing me another bag which I ripped into also. She reached behind her again, this time tugging around a small cooler full of the stuff which she pushed over to me. "I admire your willpower, Mardina. I don t'ink I'd have de kinda strengt for what you're pullinc'. How'd you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, halfway through my second bag.

"Live with dose 'unters day in an' day out!" She exclaimed, "Esspecialy dat e ngel jongen ! Da kid smells like garamel chocolate! I envy your gontrol. How'd you stan' so close to him? I was eighty-feet away and I gould 'ardly gontrol myself!"

Well, at least I wasn't the only one.

"I gotta keep up apperences, Ellie. You know all about that." I knew I sounded guarded, but this subject made me uncomfortable.

"But you gould still get a taste. I know you gan make pepole forget t'ings."

I sighed, finishing my second bag and grabbing another.

"You know, Elwyn? You almost got me." I smiled, shaking my head.

"What do you mean?" She asked, feigning obliviousness.

"For a second there, I almost thought you were still my friend."

"I am your friend," Elwyn insisted, "I defied Felix for you!"

"Then you ran right back to him the second I turned my back."

"I had too," She spoke, her voice regretful.

"No! No you didn't! You chose too. You chose him over me !"

" Hij is mijn vader ! Ik moest !" Elwyn cried. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

"I don't care!" I shouted back, "We were free! We both could have been free! But no, you chose to leave me all alone in the middle of the woods!"

"I knew you'd be fine," She whispered. I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

"No, you didn't," I growled. "Do you have any idea how long I wandered for?!"

"You made it out."

"Not in one peace. I lost things in there, Elwyn." I shook my head. "You left me there." Then, I let out a harsh, rasping, laugh and spat my next words. "And for what? To run right back into the arms of the father that never even loved you!"

Elwyn hung her head. " Het spijt me zeer. I'm so sorry."

"You should be," I said, cooly. "Why do you always run back to him? And don't give me any of that ' he's my father ' bull crap."

"I don know. But what I do know is dat I am still your friend."

"Right." I nodded, smiling through tight lips. "Why are you really here, Elwyn?"

She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had slipped down her face, and looked up. "I game 'ere to save you," She said.

"Excuse me?"

"From dose 'unters!" She explained, "Felix told me dat you were with de Win-kesters and I begged him to let me c'ome rescue you. An' he said yes! He's so much kinder den he used to be; he promised dat he wouldn' make you do anyt'ing you didn' want to!"

Elwyn smiled at me and took my hand.

"Oh, yeah?" I scoffed, "Then what was that phone call, huh? What? Is killing my friend supposed to win me over?"

"Hey, I said dat Felix is kinder den he was." Elwyn sighed. "He's still Felix though. He was tryinc' to intimidate de Win-kesters into letting you go."

"I'm not being held hostage!" I insisted.

"But you are still in danger!" Her eyes softened, "Dey will kill you if dey find out what you are."

"I know."

"C'ome with me," She pleaded, "C'ome with me, an' Jack will never find out about you. C'ome with me an' he'll never break your heart."

I paused. Was there really any chance?

No. There was no chance. No chance that Felix could ever change. It was one in a million. There was no chance and no choice .

"If you're really here to save me, then what's with your little posse?" The five other vampires had been unusually quiet for idiots of their caliber.

Elwyn shrugged. "In case t'ings get messy."

"We'll, then you better plan on things getting messy because I'm not coming with you," I said with a smirk.

"Why not?"

"Because Felix wants me dead, Elwyn, and that's not going to change."

The woman's face fell.

"I know you didn' mean to kill Madra," She whispered, gently. I shook my head and frowned.

"I didn't kill her," I hissed, "Felix killed his soulmate, not me."

"And he sees dat now. He knows dat it wasn' your fault, dat you couldn't gontrol it. He realises dat and he forgives you!" She smiled a little.

"And how many times did he have to beat you before he realized that?"

"C'ome on, Mardina!" She sighed, though I could see the pain her eyes hid. "Dis is an olive branch! Jus' take it!"

I shook my head and I laughed. I laughed long and loud and hard. I laughed like a girl gone mad. I had told Elwyn that I had lost something when she had left me in those woods, I wanted her to know what it was.

"No," I said. Then I stretched my bloody lips into a mad, humorless grin, "I don't want your olive branch."

"Why not? Its your best chance! Don you want peace?"

"Peace? PEACE?! " I spat, "You know what he did to me, what he made me! You think after every thing he took away, that I would want peace ? You think after what I did, Felix would offer me peace?"

"I don't want peace," I said, beginning the rhyme I'd heard when I was still alive, "I want war and I want my enemy's head hung like a boar. I didn't come for money and I don't want his crown, see, I've come to burn his kingdom down. So, come one, come all, to take a dance with the dead and stain the petals of the white roses red."

"Mardina, please!"

The other vampires in the room shifted, readying for a fight. But I was faster.

Launching myself from that splintering wooden chair, I threw my body forward towards the stack of haybales Elwyn had previously sat on. I had to jump to avoid the vamp that tried to grab my legs and that pushed me forward a little too much but it wasn't something I couldn't compensate for. Landing on my hands, I shoved my body up, and over the hay bales in a vamp strength enhanced backflip. I landed on my feet and flipped my hair back. The shed's door was in front of me. Sure, it was locked but the lock was only one of those slidey metal bars which are super easy to break and if I was going to fight five vamps at once, it would be wise to keep my back to the door that way I might be able to be thrown through the door and land outside instead of pushed into a dead-end wall. Also, if I was going to fight five vamps at once, I was going to need the proper tool for the job. Beside the door, my eyes landed on a tool rack. I spied my weapon of choice. This was going to be fun .

It was one of those weird four-prong rakes that I'm not completely sure is called a rake. A label on the shaft said it was a soil cultivator but I didn't care what it was called because I was fighting for my life. The four prongs were about five inches long and although the shed wasn't new, the equipment in there thankfully wasn't that old, so the four steel prongs were still wicked sharp.

I ducked, dodging the arms of another vamp before rushing for the tool rack. Another vamp sprang in front of me, blocking my way and I paused. This one had bleach-blond chin-length hair. I knew him. I remembered him from when I was in Felix's cage. This one's name was Boyd and he liked to touch things that didn't belong to him. I couldn't fight back then, but I could now.

"How's it goin', Boyd?"

"So, you remember me, do ya?" He jeered, beginning to circle me like a predator circling its prey. Little did he know, he was not the predator here.

"Oh, I remember you alright. See, Boyd, I'm not a good little girl-" He used to call me that, "- not anymore. I don't do what I'm supposed to. See, when it comes to bastards like you, I don't forgive and I most certainly don't forget."

"Well, I guess its a real shame that I forgot your name, then. You were one of my favorites!" He laughed, "Only thing I remember 'bout you now is how loud you used to scream."

I gave him a cold smile and lunged straight for his legs. Grasping his ankle, I twisted and pulled, sending him crashing to the floor. Then I lifted his leg, rolled over, and slammed my arm down on his knee. There was an ear-splitting snap and he screeched like an animal.

"Who's screaming now, Boyd?" I taunted. I sprung up and stomped down on Boyd's throat, crushing his windpipe. As a vampire, that wouldn't kill him which was good because I wasn't done with him yet. I was going to make him hurt. Why would I want peace when I could have revenge? Revenge felt good.

I rolled away when a red-haired vamp took a swing at my head. I bolted for the four-prong rake and brandished it the way you would a staff. The rake was long, about three inches taller than me, but I easily found the balance point. I spun it around in my hand as I circled the other four vamps.

"Mardina, we gan talk aboud dis!" Elwyn tried, grabbing my arm. I threw my head back and laughed.

"No, Ellie. We can't!" I flipped the rake over, using the blunt end to whack Elwyn upside the head with supernatural strength and speed. She was knocked out. "Stay down. You're not like them and I don't want to kill you."

The red-haired vamp ran at me again and I spun out of the way, flipping the shaft again and swinging it down as he passed me. Two of the prongs buried themselves in the base of the vamp's spine, judging by the position, between two vertebrae. He howled and tried to claw at my arm but I easily avoided him. A female vamp shrieked for her friend and lunged at me from the left.

I rolled my eyes. Pushing on the shaft of my rake I distanced myself from the redhead vamp and ducked away from the female's fangs. I reached out and grabbed her shirt, using it to pull her down towards me. I slammed my head into hers once, then twice to daze her. She stumbled as I let go and switched to grabbing the hair at the base of her neck.

"Night-night, cupcake!" I chirped. Then I slammed her face into my knee and tossed my weight over her shoulder, sliding my arm around her neck. I pulled backward.

That blissful crack was the sound of her neck snapping. Jumping up and using the wall to gain some momentum, I twisted the vamp's head all the way around. It was easy with nothing but tissue and tendons in my way. Her body dangled limp from where I held her by the hair, so I opened my mouth, letting my fangs extend, and I bit her head off.

The redhead vamp with my rake still stuck in him cried out and tried in vain to reach me again. It was pathetic, really. Grinning, I wrenched the rake upward, severing the vamp's spinal cord and pulling the prongs along with two of his vertebrae straight through his back. He fell to the ground, paralyzed from the waist down because two of his bones were missing.

Just as I was about to remove his dreadful cranium from his miserable shoulders, one of the other vamps jumped at me, managing to rake his grotesquely long fingernails along my back. I released no cry of pain as he tore through my skin before grabbing me by my shoulders and hurtling my body at the wall. My face slammed against a pole built into the metal siding as the rest of my body just hit the wall. I landed on the ground with a jarring impact that I was sure had broken a few things. But I couldn't feel the pain. I was too focused on my rage. I was seeing red, and for the first time, I welcomed it without fear.

"Not so tough now are ya?" He called out.

My body was broken and yet I stood. I felt invincible.

"I know I'm not tough," I laughed. I wiped away the blood that was dripping from my mouth and nose, looking up to smile pleasantly at the vamp. "But you wanna know what I am?"

"What?"

"I'm insane, and that tends to make up for the rest."

The vamp charged me but I twisted around and Spartan kicked him into the wall. Then, using a few hay bails to step on, I vaulted into the air and brought the rake down on the vamp's head, piercing through his skull and embedding the prongs in his brain. The spray was a little gross but I didn't care. He deserved it.

"You're next, pumpkin," I called to the last vampire left standing in the room.

I crossed over to him and he managed to block my first two blows but then I smashed the blunt end of the rake into his face a few times and he was unconscious. I heard a groan and turned on my heel.

"And that brings us back to you, Boydie-Boo!" I cheered, stepping on the paralyzed vamp's hand as I passed him. I leaned over Boyd who was still on the ground, gasping for air. "Hello, sweetie. How are we today?"

All Boyd did was gasp and choke, he couldn't speak as his vocal cords had been stepped on.

"Aw! Did you get a boo-boo?" I pouted at him.

Then I grabbed Boyd by the throat at lifted him into the air. He struggled against my grasp but could do nothing. He couldn't even beg.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't you scream for me?"

He shook his head and spat at me. So, I threw him into a wall. Boyd fought to stand, using the wall to stagger upright.

"Come on, Boyd! Fight! Are you going to let yourself be beaten by a girl?!" I taunted him and pulled on the fear that was already constricting his mind. Revenge felt so good.

"You-you're not a girl," He panted, "You're a monster!"

I hummed, tapping my chin with my finger.

"I guess history will have to be the judge of that, now won't it, buddy-Boyd?" I dragged my rake along the ground, though all the blood of his friends. There was a wonderful metallic grating noise as the prongs scrapped across the concrete.

"Please don't! Please! I'll do anything!" It felt good to hear him beg.

"Unfortunately," I continued, "I don't think you'll be around to plead your case!" I hefted the rake.

"No! PLEASE!"

"Bye-bye, Boydie-boo!"

I swung the rake upward with all my might and with a sickening crunch I rammed its prongs up through his jaw. I said I wanted him to suffer. Pulling him by the prongs in his face I brought his screaming form over to the tractor sitting at the back of the room. I rammed the shaft of the rake through two spokes of one of the tractor's wheels. All it took was the flip of a leaver to send the wheels spinning.

Turn, turn, turn and scream, scream, scream, then a nice snap, crackle, pop, and then suddenly, Boyd's head and body were two separate objects. I was very happy. Then, the random vamp I'd knocked out woke up and yanked on my hair, throwing me over his shoulder.

I tried to land on my feet but failed, tripping and stumbling backward. I landed on my back and scrambled to get up. As I did, I noticed the perfect white rose that Jack had given to me had fallen out of my hair. It lay on the ground in a pool of blood. Jack said it reminded him of me, of the way he saw me. Well, it wasn't innocent or perfect anymore. But neither was I, so I think it matched me better now.

The vamp rushed me and tackled me to the ground, pinning my arms to my sides as he snapped at me with his fangs out.

Bang... Bang!... CRASH!

The door burst open and light from the setting sun poured in, falling directly on the last vamp's face. He cried out and tried to scamper away, like a rat from a cat.

"It's about time! You guys are late to the party!" I shouted.

"Yeah, sorry!" Dean said from the doorway, "Who would've thought there were so many old sheds in this town!"

I didn't get a chance to reply.

I felt the air prickle and spark, charging with a tambour of power that I recognized but had yet to experience to this degree. I turned my head in time to see Jack, eyes glowing gold, passing by Dean with his hand outstretched. Golden waves of energy shot from his being with a sound like drumbeats from the depths of the sea. The waves caught the fleeing vampire and time around him slowed to a crawl. He was lifted into the air and revolved to face his reckoning. The Nephilim's lips tugged into a cruel grin as he saw the fear in the vampire's eyes.

Suddenly, the pulses of energy stopped and the vampire was flung towards Jack, landing face-first in the dirt at the boy angel's feet. Jack knelt down, his expression seeming to consider the trembling, pathetic thing in front of him.

"P-please!" The monster managed to choke out. "Mercy!"

Jack looked up at me, his eyes soaking in my bloodied face. Apparently, that was all it took. Jack's eyes hardened and he turned back to the vamp.

"You. Hurt. My. Friend."

Jack grabbed the vampire's head in his hands and started to squeeze. The vamp screamed as the pressure increased until his skull just couldn't take it anymore. There was a crunch and a wet sucking noise as the vamp's head collapsed in on itself. I liked that sound.

"That dude's still alive," I said, casually jabbing my thumb at the red-haired vamp I had paralyzed. Jack turned to where I had pointed, ready to squeeze another brain out of its shell.

"Jack!" Cas called from behind him. "No!"

The Nephilim scowled at Castiel and I admired the rage I saw in his eyes. This wasn't my Jack but I liked this version just as much. No, Jack wasn't human, was he? He was more like me than I'd thought. Jack snapped his fingers and the red-haired vamp crumbled into dust. The sight was actually sort of pretty.

When Jack turned to look at me his eyes were completely soft and full of concern. There was my Jack.

"Are you afraid of me now?" He asked in a whisper.

"No," I replied flatly, shrugging my shoulders, "Why would I be?"

"I killed them." Jack hung his head. "Right in front of you."

"Am I supposed to care?" I smirked, hoping my voice didn't sound as harsh as I thought it did. I was just barely beginning to come off my rage-induced high. Jack eyed me with confusion and relief.

"You're hurt," He observed, moving over to me.

"Me? Nah! This is nothing." I gestured at the bodies scattered around the shed. "You should see the other guys!"

"Stay still." Jack placed his soft, gentle, hands on my face to examine my injuries and I felt a warm tingling as he healed them. "There. I fixed you." He whispered. It was more to himself than anything but I still heard it. It made me laugh on the inside.

Yeah, no. Nothing could fix me. I was broken beyond repair. It was my insanity that held me together. Does that sound like the sort of thing that can be fixed?

"Thanks, Jack-Jack!" I chirped, smiling brightly at him.

"You're welcome, Marty," He said quietly. Jack's eyes flicked down, focusing on my lips like he wanted something but wasn't sure how to ask.

"Um, M-Marty?" Sam's voice broke whatever spell the two of us had been under and I glanced over to him.

"Yeah?"

"Did you, uh," Sam pointed to the carnage surrounding us, watching me with weary eyes. "Did you do this?"

I shrugged, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder at the tractor. "Yeah, mostly. But the tractor helped."

"I'm guessing the tractor did that?" Dean pointed to Boyd's head with its jaw still run through with the prongs of the rake. I walked calmly over to the severed head, grasping it by the hair and pulling it off the prongs before returning with it back to the boys. Sam, Dean, and Cas all stared at me with eyes as wide as quarters as held up the head.

"Dean, this is Boyd," I said, keeping my tone as sweet as possible.

"Huh."

"Say hi to Boyd."

"Uh...Hey, Boyd..."

"Good." I grinned as if I was holding a puppy instead of a severed head. "Now let me tell you about Boyd. Boyd liked touching things that didn't belong to him. He worked for Felix and Felix liked hearing little girls scream and cry. So did Boyd. Boyd was very good at making little girls scream and cry, little girls like me. Weren't you Boyd?" I asked the mutilated cranium in my hand. I moved the severed head up and down in an enthusiastic nod, holding it by the hair as if it was a marionet.

"You were very good, yes you were!" I cheered. Then, like the flip of coin, I snapped my focus back to the Winchesters, wiping my face and tone clean of all emotion.

"So, I used a tractor to rip his head off because he deserved it and now he won't ever make another little girl cry ever again. Right, Boyd?" I asked the severed head. I grabbed the head's bloody, splintered jaw and clacked it's teeth together like you would a ventriloquist dummy. "You bet your britches!" I made the head answer, mimicking Boyd's voice.

"D-did he-" Sam stuttered. I flicked my gaze back to him, allowing all three to see the harshness in my eyes.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is probably yes."

"Marty?"

I turned to Dean. "What?"

"Put the head down."

I dropped Boyd's severed head.

"Come here." The hunter opened his arms and I faked a sob before accepting the hug. "You weren't gonna tell us about that, were you?" I shook my head. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now."

"Thank you for not throwing me away, Dean," I said softly. The elder Winchester chuckled.

"Don't thank me, Marty. After all, how could we throw away someone so Bad-Ass?"

"Am I awesome now?" I asked.

"You were always awesome."

I laughed and the Winchesters trusted me more than ever. Their mistake.

"Dean, that one's moving," Castiel called our attention over to Elwyn, who was just waking up.

Jack was quick to react, sending a golden blast of power to throw her against the wall where he kept her pinned.

"Wait! Wait!" She cried, "I didn' 'urt Mardina! I swear!"

"Do you work for Felix?" Dean interrogated, pushing me behind him.

"He's my fah'der but I'm not like him! I want du 'elp her! I jus a messenger!"

"Whaddia say, Sammy? Should we shoot the messenger?" Dean asked, keeping his cold eyes on Elwyn.

"No! Please!" Elwyn begged, tears slipping down her face. "I didn' 'urt her!"

"You know, if we shoot the messenger, Dean, it sends one Hell of a message." Like his brother, Sam could turn on the killer inside him like a switch.

"Felix is in Floree'ida, okay? Dat's all I know, I swear!" And it was all she knew because Elwyn had never had a backbone. There was no strength in her.

"Guess its up to you, Marty," Dean said, turning to me. Elwyn looked at me with wide pleading eyes. I regarded her with ice in my own. No second chances. Monsters don't get second chances, I know I never did. I knew I never would.

"I'm your friend, Mardina! Tell dem I'm your friend!" She pleaded. I shook my head.

"You only cared about me when Felix wasn't looking." I was almost shocked by how apathetic and passionless my voice sounded. I watched her without compassion. "You were never my friend."

"No!" Elwyn screeched, "No! I 'elped you! I 'elped you when dey beat you!"

"But you never tried to stop them."

"What?! No!" She sobbed. I smiled at her slightly.

"Go tell Madra I'm sorry."

I sent Jack a nod and with a snap of his fingers, Elwyn was nothing more than flecks of grey drifting to the ground.

Turning around with a sigh, I could feel the eyes of the four others as I bent down and scooped up the rose Jack had given me. I cradled the precious flower in my hands, watching as the blood dripped from its petals in big heavy gobs. It had been perfect once. It wasn't perfect anymore. It would never be perfect again. Or perhaps it could be, just not the right way. Because the blood was oddly beautiful with the way it stained the petals and pooled in the center of the rose.

"I can get you another one," Jack spoke up, "And I'll pay for it this time!"

I turned back to him, smiling down at my little rose.

"No, its okay, Jack. It's a crooked kind of perfect. I think I like it better now."

~All the pretty girls, they find

A way to keep you on my mind

I swear I heard you singing along

Cities pass like candy stores

And you're the one

I'm looking for

And so

I'm just a boy

Who's telling a girl

That when I grow up I'll buy you a rose

When I grow up, I'll buy you a rose~

Lyrics from: Buy You A Rose by AJR

(Author's Note: You may or may not have figured it out by now, but Martina Imogene Linville is insane. MARTY IS NOT THE HERO OF THIS STORY. SHE IS NOT A GOOD PERSON. Marty also had Borderline Personality Disorder before she went insane. So, even at her most stable points in this story, she is not to be trusted. Remember, she manipulates peoples emotions. She makes them feel what she wants them to feel. Any other character's actions may or may not actually be their own. Please keep this in mind going forward.)

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

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Hidden Depths

I am determined to finish my @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo card. So here’s another fill. Despite it being a spicy prompt, this turned into more of a sugar one.

Prompt: Tentacles Title (optional): Hidden Depths Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Lambert/Eskel/Cahir/Aiden Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Witchers are nothing more than overpowered idiots prone to forgetting their abilities when caught up in the fun of a snowball fight.

Humans were peculiar, Lambert had always known that. None were perhaps more fascinating than Cahir, at least in his eyes. The man kept up with a Witcher without complaint and found it in his heart to love not one, not two but three of them at the same time. It certainly made the Path more bearable, having a companion riding alongside for parts of it. Usually Cahir tended to stick with Lambert or Eskel, Aiden’s general stomping grounds were too close to Nilfgaard for it to be safe for Cahir. Plus, the contracts he took tended towards ones better for solitary work with the need for a rather rapid exit. That would have only been hindered by a companion.

However, they had Kaer Morhen and winter to spend time together. It was been nerve-wracking to arrive as a group the first time but, by some fortune, the others accepted the new arrivals without hesitation. Even if said guests were odd. For example, Cahir never undressed in front of anyone. He would rather take a quick, functional dip in the hot springs at a ridiculous time than share the space with anyone. No matter what, he was always bundled up, claiming he was used to the warm climates of the south so felt the cold more acutely. Which was just bullshit, Eskel had seen him sweating in a jumper and but resolutely maintaining he was fine and didn’t need to strip. It sadly ruled out anything other than kisses, handjobs and the odd blowjob if they would manage to only work trousers open for the deed. It was just a Cahir-ism that they all learned to accept. Much like how Eskel tried to eat softer foods when given a choice, Aiden never slept on the edge of the bed and Lambert always walked with a torch in hand when it was dark, Witcher vision be damned.

As it tended to happen, chores got waylaid by fun. Nobody could remember who threw the first snowball. Probably Aiden but Cahir was standing nearby and looking far too innocent for it to be real. In a way, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the all out war that was being waged. Lambert and Eskel teamed up against Geralt and Jaskier while Cahir and Aiden were scheming. Snow flew through the air at an alarming rate and the game moved over the terrain. They were on the beach to the frozen over lake, screaming and laughing as they played. There was a natural narrowing between snowbanks that was the perfect place for an ambush strike. With a boost from Aiden, Cahir sprung out, a giant snowball hefted above his head in both hands, ready to bring Geralt down.

The noise alerted Geralt and he twisted, squinting up at the figure flying through the air towards him. Instinct took over and his aard hit just as Cahir released the snowball. It crashed into Geralt but Cahir was also sent hurtling through the air. He landed on the ice of the lake with a sickening crunch and fell through into the water. For a moment nobody moved, staring at the hole Cahir had dropped through before yells went up. Aiden was stripping as he sprinted, skidding the last little bit before diving into the water. As the next smallest Witcher, Lambert was belly crawling to the hole, ready to help pull the two out.

Waiting felt excruciatingly long. Geralt was guiltily stepping from foot to foot, muttering about how he forgot they weren’t all Witchers, not used to human company in their games while Jaskier rubbed his back comfortingly. At long last the surface of the water was broken as Aiden kicked up, dragging a very limp and blue lipped Cahir up. Immediately, Lambert was hoisting Cahir out by the back of his coat and dragging him to thicker ice. Half way there Cahir stared coughing and spluttering, water spilling from his lips even if he wasn’t quite conscious just yet and his clothes were rapidly hardening into ice.

“We need him out of those clothes,” Eskel declared, reaching for him while Lambert turned to help Aiden who was already stripping. Geralt was handing his coat over to keep him warm while Lambert scooped Aiden up, determined to keep him warm and carry him back to the fire burning high in Kaer Morhen. There was a soft exclamation of “oh wow” from Eskel which drew attention.

Wrestling Cahir out of his clothes was revealing more than bargained for. It wasn’t battle scarred skin that he had been hiding. Instead, inky black tendrils looped over his skin. They were small and thin at the edges but fully formed tentacles looped over his shoulders, chest, down his thighs.

“What the hell?” Lambert stepped closer to peer at it.

“Nilfgaard’s reminder,” Aiden said simply. “They wage war by sea and land. This is their reminder that someone will always be in their hold. Seems they got Cahir pretty good.”

Opening up his coat, Eskel bundled Cahir against his chest, tucking his face against his neck. It meant he could feel cold nose and lips against his skin but also a warmer, juddering breath.

“Well, he’s our now,” he declared. “He’s got nothing to be ashamed of or hide around us.”

They jogged back to Kaer Morhen, taking up their usual spot in front of the fire in the dining hall. The furs and throws were quickly pulled around them all, huddling for warmth. As they settled around Cahir, he finally started trembling thankfully. It meant he would be back with them soon.

Sure enough, he groaned, lips pink once more as he blinked his eyes open. The realisation he was naked visibly hit him and he flinched, pulling the throw to cover even the curves of his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Eskel rumbled, trying his best to reassure. “We still love you.”

Pulling the covers away from Cahir’s back, Lambert made a point of kissing over the inked skin, tongue tracing one of the tentacles. “Kind of hot actually. Now that we know, does that mean we can convince you to join us in bed?”

A hand smacked the back of Lambert’s head and he growled at Aiden who shook his head fondly. “Such a one track mind. Honestly. One would think you were raised by wolves.”

That at least broke the tension and Cahir snorted. The throw dropped a little further though his unease was painfully visible. However, with the way the other three piled in around him, it was difficult to hold onto fears. Especially in the face of such enthusiastic appreciation.

Geralt and Jaskier were a little off to the side of the pile, Geralt looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” he finally blurted out, much to Jaskier’s pride. “I forgot you aren’t a Witcher.”

“I guess it’s the most tentacles the lake has seen in a long while,” Cahir replied easily. “No harm done though I wouldn’t be eager for a repeat performance.”

“There is only one tentacle I’m interested in,” Lambert snickered and yelped when Aiden nipped at him with a giggle.

The snickering was put a stop to by Vesemir appearing, a tray of steaming tankards in his hands. He settled down at the edge of the pile.

“I heard you could all do with some warming up.”

The mulled cider got passed around, everyone finally sitting up, a throw artfully wrapped around Cahir to hide the worst of the tattoos. It wasn’t an immediate ease with his own body around others, but it was certainly a start.

#eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #eskel #lambert #aiden #geralt of rivia #vesemir #sugar and spice bingo #tldr: cahir has something to hide

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fishingforyolos · 4 years ago

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That Awkward Moment When...

What if Dean got Castiel back from the Empty, and DIDN’T confess his love right away? What if instead, Dean and Cas just...didn’t know how to bring it up to one another, and forced Sam to endure the most intense third-wheel moment that he’s ever experienced, while these two emotionally constipated dumbasses sat in awkward silence?

This is here to answer that question.

________________________________________

Ahem.

It was the fourth time within two minutes that Dean had cleared his throat, and pretended to look out the window.

Sam was counting, now, in a desperate bid to distract from the incredible, palpable awkward silence emanating from the front seat of the car.

He had given Cas the front as a KIND gesture. He was being nice! It was only FAIR that the guy who had just escaped from super mega turbohell got to have a free pass at riding shotgun.

Or, so he thought. When he sidled into the backseat an hour ago, he did not anticipate the absolutely lethal levels of weird that Cas and Dean would be radiating—all pretending not to look at each other, conspicuous rubbing of the back of their necks, and god DAMN it Dean was fake-looking out the window AGAIN! There was nothing out there but corn, Dean!! Corn for miles!!!

Sam sat back and groaned. This was one of the most intolerable hours that he had ever witnessed in this godforsaken car, and that was saying something.

He allowed himself to drift off into his thoughts, letting his analytical side take over. Whatever it was, it probably happened in the bunker, right before Cas was taken by the Empty. Dean had been very...vague, about that situation, which only made Sam all the more curious. What could they have SAID to each other? Sam was no stranger to having a tense relationship with Castiel, but...if they were mad at each other, they’d be doing that stupid stony-faced silent treatment. But no, they both seemed too full of nervous energy. Cas was currently rifling through the glovebox, of all goddamn things, and Dean was toggling the blinker back and forth on a two-lane highway.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

“Are these...salted?” asked Castiel, holding up a box of bullets as if they were a sale item at Costco.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” said Dean taking a quick glance, “We bought those for the uh...for the ghosts.”

“I see,” said Castiel, nodding for just a bit too long.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Sam scrubbed his face with his hands. He had been to hell before, but listening to bad small talk was its own special kind of hell. What happened in that bunker room that would make them behave like-

Like-

Sam’s mouth fell open.

Like the awkward morning after.

“Oh, my God,” Sam blurted, before he could stop himself, “Did-did you two have a one-night stand?”

Castiel dropped the box of bullets.

Dean choked on nothing.

“Sam, what the HELL?!” he coughed.

“Well, SORRY,” Sam said, in a way that he hoped conveyed how NOT sorry he was, “But you guys are acting, uhhh, really weird, and I thought maybe, I dunno-”

He shrugged, and held his hands up in defense against Dean’s murderous glare, “I thought maybe you hooked up! Y’know, last night on earth style!”

“Wha-no. No, no, no,” Dean said again, gesturing forcefully with one hand before pointing directly at Sam, “That’s-that’s not what happened in there.”

“Indeed,” Castiel murmured lowly, throwing a glance to the backseat, “I can assure you, it was worse.”

Dean nearly swerved off the road.

Sam’s jaw fell open again, eyes flicking from Dean to Cas. “W-WORSE?!”

“Oh my FUCKING god,” Dean whispered into the steering wheel.

“What I mean is, it was more...personally humiliating. To me,” Castiel clarified.

Sam blinked several times, trying to process this new bit of information.

“But I thought...you said, that the Empty's deal was about you experiencing happiness,” Sam said, shifting back into analytical mode, “Does it make an...exception, for humiliation?”

He sat back and grimaced, as he weighed the horrible possibility in his mind. “Is it into that??”

“W-well,” stuttered Castiel, his gravelly voice betraying his discomfort, “Regardless of the...preferences, sexual or otherwise, of the Empty-”

Dean suddenly slammed the steering wheel with his palm.

“Can you two PLEASE, shut up?!” he roared, “And let me fucking DRIVE in PEACE?!”

Sam and Cas fell silent, the atmosphere of the Impala even more tense than before.

Sam put his head in his hands. God, he should have just kept his mouth shut. Or maybe, he should have just taken shotgun in the first place, and stuck Cas in the back. Would've saved everyone all this trouble, maybe.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, finally breaking the silence.

Sam pursed his lips in annoyance. He could already tell, simply by the look on Cas’ face, that this was going to be another heart-to-heart where they completely forgot he existed.

Dean, meanwhile, didn’t react.

“I…” Castiel sighed, “I don’t...mean to make things awkward, it’s just that I didn’t-I never expected to SEE you again.”

“Really, Cas?” Dean exploded, “Really? After all we’ve been through, after all the times we’ve dragged each other out of the clutches of-of Hell, Heaven, you name it, you didn’t-you didn’t even consider the POSSIBILITY that we’d get you out?”

“Of course I considered it,” Castiel said quietly, “It was my most desperate desire."

He sat back, and turned to direct his gaze out the window.

“But there is a sort of...freedom, in confessing directly before death,” Castiel said, speaking a fog onto the window with each word, “All the vulnerability...none of the consequences.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide open as it all finally clicked.

No way. No way. NO WAY.

He shot up straight, incredulity plastered across his face that the other two were too preoccupied to notice.

DId Castiel...confess his feelings in that bunker? Make a move? Shoot his shot? And then DIE?!

What the fuck, Cas?

Sam sat back, reeling, running his fingers through his hair as Dean and Cas continued to stare out separate windows. He quite literally didn’t think he would LIVE to see the day that they acknowledged their...thing, and now they were doing it right in front of his eyes.

“I...I meant what I said, Dean,” Castiel said, fixing Dean’s profile with a longing stare, “Every single word. And I still do.”

Sam turned back toward Dean, hunched defensively over the wheel of the Impala. He still wouldn’t look at Cas.

Please, Sam prayed silently, Don’t fuck this up.

“But, I’m acutely aware that it made things different between us,” Castiel sighed, “And I’m sorry for that. I can’t take it back. However-”

“I love you.”

If he wasn’t literally watching Dean’s mouth move as he said it, Sam wouldn’t have believed his ears. Holy shit.

He whipped his head back to Castiel, who was stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights.

Even the rain, beating against the windshield at 70 miles an hour, didn’t dare interrupt the moment at hand.

Dean was still staring out at the road, hands gripping the wheel like he was clinging to sanity itself.

“You didn’t let me say it back,” Dean said through gritted teeth, “In the bunker, you just-you dropped that on me, and then you were GONE, and you didn’t even let me say it back.”

Sam’s mouth was agape once again, eyes flicking back and forth between his brother and the equally speechless angel. The air between them was charged, and ready for a lightning strike.

“W-when you say that,” Castiel said, after a solid ten seconds of trying to find his voice, “Do you-do you mean it-”

Dean DID swerve off the road this time, sending Sam sprawling across the backseat as he skidded to a stop on the shoulder.

“Ow! Dean, what the-”

“Yeah, Castiel,” Dean said, finally taking his eyes off the road to fix him with a wild look, “I mean it. Same way you did. When you said that-that the one thing you wanted, you couldn’t have, it-it didn’t make any sense, because I always thought that I was the one wanting what I couldn’t-who I couldn't-”

He sniffled.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this in the CAR,” Dean said, wiping his eyes, “Not in front of Sammy.”

“Honestly? I prefer this over the past miserable hour,” Sam said, leaning back, “Do what you gotta do, man. Just...pretend I’m not here.”

Dean actually chuckled at that, but turned his attention back to Cas, who was still blinking in shock.

“Cas, you...you gotta understand,” Dean said carefully, reaching across the seat and cupping Cas’ cheek in a hand, “Come hell or high water, you have me.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to...to want, I-I’m yours, a-already in the bag. Got it?”

Tears tracked down Castiel’s face as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to stop a wide, tearful smile from spreading across his face.

Dean visibly softened, and brought Castiel’s face in, kissing him right on the mouth.

Sam hoped he wouldn't come to regret the "do what you gotta do" comment, but they broke apart just a moment later to touch foreheads like a couple of saps.

“...Yaaay, congratulations!” Sam said, waving celebratory arms in the air as widely as he could in the cramped backseat. He searched around him and found some crumpled receipts, which he tossed into the front seat. “Whoo! Confetti!”

“Sam…” Dean said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I appreciate your jubilation, Sam,” Castiel said, dead seriously, looking back at him with just his eyes, “Your approval means a lot to me.”

"Hey,” Sam said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder, “This changes nothing. You're still like a brother to me, man. You’re still family."

Cas smiled at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Aww, look at that smile, Sammy,” Dean said, tapping Cas on the cheek, “Look at it! How could anybody resist that smile?”

“I dunno, Dean, it’s pretty easy when you’re not in love with him,” Sam smiled.

“Welp,” shrugged Dean casually, as he shifted the car back into drive, “Guess I wouldn’t know, then.”

Sam was taken aback by the...ease, with which all that just rolled off of Dean’s tongue.

“God,” Sam groaned, “You’re going to be an INSUFFERABLE couple.”

Dean just laughed, light and loud, as he merged back onto the highway, offering out his right hand.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said, taking the offered hand with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "But as you can see, I cannot resist his charm."

Sam rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was insufferable, yes, and Sam was going to have to have a LONG talk with Dean later, but...for now, he just laughed, as the tension bled out of the car, and Dean FINALLY turned on the stereo, letting the soothing sound of Led Zeppelin carry them into a lighter mood.

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slow. Maybe sometimes, good things do happen.

#supernatural #destiel #15x19 compliant #i havent been invested in SPN since about 2013 but i dug deep into my recollections to summon these guys' voices one more time #i didnt put this on a main blog bc i didnt want people to expect SPN from me #i just had this mental image in my head of sam having to endure this moment #and i laughed so hard that i had to see it through #godspeed spn people and good luck on thursday #honk honk honk thats my clown nose when i started writing this 'as a joke'

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honeypwark · 4 years ago

Text

[ Strawberries ]

↳ Fake Love era

↳ Yeosu and Johnny spend the morning together. Hoseok and Jungkook come to visit unexpectedly. Yeosu fails to get them to leave.

Note: Uuuuh content warning? Ages 14+?? Idk, there’s some “if it was on TV it’d be censored with a blanket and convenient camera angles” smutty stuff, so nothing in detail. But still: read with care, children.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Yeosu runs her fingers delicately over Johnny’s back, up to his shoulders and down his arm before retracing her path. She admires how her fingertips leave goosebumps on his skin, minuscule shadows cast over the expanse of his back by the morning sun that shines through the windows. She smooths her palm over his shoulder blades then rests her hand on his shoulder and runs her thumb over his skin. Johnny lifts his head and rests his chin on her chest, looking up at her.

“You know, I love you, right?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course I do,” Yeosu assures him softly. “I love you, too.”

Johnny clutches his heart dramatically as she speaks.

“First thing in the morning and you’re already giving me heart palpitations,” he says.

Yeosu giggles.

He finds her hand under the blanket and brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles then her fingers and her fingertips. She intertwines their fingers and tugs at his hand, pressing the back of his hand to her own mouth.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s illegal,” he tells her.

“Is it?”

“You can’t just steal my heart like that.”

“But I assume I already took it from you a while ago.”

Johnny pushes himself up, “You’d assume correctly, then.”

He leans down and connects their lips. She cups his face, too absorbed in the kiss to notice one of his hands traveling south. She jumps when she feels it.

“Excuse you.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he says, “May I?”

“Hm, let me think about it,” she muses.

She plays with the hair at the name of his neck, humming as she looks off to the side for a moment. She looks back up at him.

“Has the lady made a decision?” Johnny asks.

“The lady has decided to accept your request.”

“I’d hoped she might.”

Yeosu laughs again, cut off as Johnny kisses her again. He swallows her moan and adjusts himself to be better positioned over her.

Five minutes and a position change later, Yeosu holds onto Johnny’s shoulders as he moves above her.

“Good?” he asks breathlessly.

“No,” she moans, “Absolutely terrible.”

“Yeah, I hate it, too.”

They laugh, nothing serious about their intimacy at the moment. Johnny kisses her then trails his lips to her neck.

“When’s your next schedule?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Want to know if I can give you a hickey or not.”

“We’ve got- oh my god.”

Johnny laughs into her neck as she’s cut off when he changes the angle of his hips.

She smacks his shoulder, “Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“But we’ve got- ah- Run BTS filming in two days so- Jesus- I’d say no.”

“Fine,” Johnny sighs.

He keeps his head nestled in the crook of her neck, one of his hands gripping her waist. She holds tightly onto him, gripping his arm and tugging at his hair.

“You want to know something?” she asks breathlessly.

“What?”

“I know you lied to me.”

Johnny halts and he pushes himself up to look at Yeosu, “What?”

“About your girlfriends.”

“I didn’t- huh?”

“You told me you only ever dated girls in America.”

“What are you-... Katie.”

“Katie,” Yeosu repeats his member’s name.

“Okay, in my defense, we literally never talk about it because it was so awkward. I forgot; that’s the only reason I didn’t tell you. And we only dated for two weeks, like, five years ago.”

“I suppose I’ll let it slide.”

“I can make it up to you,” Johnny says.

“How are you going to do that?”

Yeosu’s hand flies to Johnny’s arm as he starts moving again.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll let it slide.”

Johnny laughs a low chuckle and continues his movements. Then he stops.

“How did you find out about me and Katie?”

Yeosu blinks up at him, “Ten and I meet for lunch on Sundays when we’re both free.”

“Why was I not aware of this?”

Yeosu shrugs, “It never came up. He tells me all of your dirty little secrets.”

“And yet you still love me?”

“It’s the hair.”

Johnny laughs, “I’m going to have to have a talk with Ten about that.”

“About your hair?”

“You know what I meant.”

Johnny begins moving again and the two get lost in each other. Johnny kisses Yeosu’s neck, sucking lightly but not leaving marks despite how badly he wants to. For several minutes, they go on like that. Until their intimate moment it abruptly interrupted.

“Noona!”

Johnny and Yeosu go completely still.

“Hobi hyung and I came to visit and brought strawberries from the farmer’s market!” Jungkook calls to her.

Yeosu shoves Johnny off of her and scrambles to stand, “Hang on, I just finished blow drying my hair; give me a second to get dressed!”

“I thought you were going to talk to them about showing up randomly!” Johnny whisper-shouts at her.

“Well, I haven’t yet!”

“You might want to consider it!”

“Wow, really?!”

Yeosu runs to her closet and throws on underwear and jeans. She positive her bra is twisted but doesn’t bother fixing it before grabbing a random shirt to throw on over it all. She nearly makes her scalp bleed with how fast she brushes her hair. She exits her closet to find Johnny standing in the middle of her room in nothing but his boxers.

She gestures at him with emphasis.

He gestures back with his hands helplessly.

She pinches the bridge of her nose then pointedly whispers, “Do not leave this room until I get rid of them. If they come in, hide in the closet.”

“You’re a grown woman living on your own and you’re resorting to hiding your boyfriend in the closet?”

“Yes.”

“We’re talking about this later.”

“Looking forward for it.”

Yeosu fixes her shirt then leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Hi, noona!” Jungkook greets her happily, bounding over to hug her hello.

She catches his hug with ease, “Hey, Kookie.”

She’s suddenly acutely aware of how shaky her legs still are as she walks with Jungkook to the kitchen where Hoseok stands. There’s a carton of ripe strawberries on the kitchen table.

“Thanks so much for the strawberries, but you should have texted me. I’m heading out to grab brunch with a friend soon; could have saved you the trip.”

“We don’t mind,” Hoseok says.

I do, Yeosu thinks.

“I’m going to have to sit you all down to talk about showing up randomly,” Yeosu scolds them, forcing a joking tone when she wants to be serious.

“Can we still hang out here even if you’re heading out? I wanted to watch Iron Man and you’ve got it on DVD,” Jungkook says.

“You’re still on your Iron Man shtick?” Yeosu teases him.

“Only because it’s a great movie series and he’s an awesome character.”

“Wouldn’t you two prefer to watch the movie back at the dorm? I’ll let you borrow the movie.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“This way we don’t have to worry about giving it back to you,” Hoseok adds.

“Yeah, I guess, haha.”

Yeosu watches helplessly as her members walk over to her living room and begin searching through the bottom of her entertainment center for Iron Man. Normally, this would be totally fine. She honestly doesn’t care if her members come and make themselves at home in her apartment. Wherein the problem lies, because she can’t kick them out without seeming completely out of character and raising suspicion.

Yeosu goes to wash the strawberries at the kitchen sink, her back to the two boys as she tries to think of a way to get them to leave. With the lie she’s weaved, she’ll have to leave her apartment soon and leave Johnny, who is still hidden in her room, alone.

“Hang on, hyung,” Jungkook speaks up, “I just got a text from Jaehyun asking to hang out.”

“Are you flaking on me?”

“Aaaaand... send. Yes, I am.”

Yeosu turns around to see Jungkook pocketing his phone while Hoseok stares at him in betrayal.

“You can’t leave me; you drove us here,” Hoseok says.

“Jungkook can drop you back off at the dorm,” Yeosu seizes the opportunity presented. “You can still borrow the movie and watch it there.”

“And you’re going out...” Hoseok sighs, “Guess I have no choice unless I want to be stranded and abandoned. No one in this group loves me.”

Yeosu can feel the weight lifting off her shoulders as Jungkook and Hoseok walk over to the entryway to put their shoes back on.

“Of course, we love you, Hobi,” Yeosu assures him.

“I’m beginning to doubt it.”

“Well, this is why you shouldn’t show up unannounced,” Yeosu chides lightly.

“Are you serious about that?” Hoseok asks.

“I love you all and you can come over whenever, just text beforehand.”

“Alright, we will.”

“Thank you.”

Hoseok hugs Yeosu goodbye, “Bye, noona.”

Jungkook hugs her as well, “Bye.”

“Bye, boys.”

She sees them out, waving at them as they walk down the hall. She shuts the door softly and leans forward against it, resting her forehead on the wood with a loud sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome.”

Yeosu turns to look over her shoulder. Johnny, still clad in only his boxers, stands beside the kitchen table.

“Did you text Jaehyun?”

“Yep. I knew the second I heard Jungkook’s voice that you wouldn’t be able to kick out your baby when it came down to it. I have to do the dishes for him for a month now.”

“What, does he secretly hate Jungkook and you had to bribe him to hang out with him?”

“No, Jae’s just a brat.”

Yeosu snickers at that, “Well, now we can have strawberries with breakfast. What are you in the mood for? I was thinking pancakes.”

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Johnny catches her wrist as she walks toward the kitchen. He tugs her toward him and spins her around so her back is pressed to his chest. He wraps his arms around her.

“What?” she asks, voice light.

“I believe we were in the middle of something,” Johnny says in her ear, “Before your members so rudely interrupted.”

“Were we? I don’t quite remember...”

Johnny hums humorlessly. He reaches in front of her and unbuttons her jeans. He turns her around in his arms and kneels down, tugging her jeans the rest of the way down her legs until she can step out of them. He stands back up, cupping her face delicately as he looks down at her.

“Allow me to enlighten you.”

He leans the rest of the way down and connects their lips. He bends down further, finding the backs of her thighs to lift her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and he holds her up easily. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, smiling into the kiss as he carries her back to their bedroom.

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

Text

Acutely (coda to 15x13 ‘Destiny’s Child’, Dean/Cas, 2.5k)

ao3 link

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

It’s no secret, where he hides. Where he ran away to after Jack broke down in an apology. Overwhelmed by the sorrow in the younger boy’s voice; his remorse for actions Dean hadn’t mentioned in so long. Dean barely made it before his knees buckled, collapsing on his bed instead of the floor. Face pressed against the pillow Dean counted his breaths while ignoring the heavy lump sitting in his throat.

He loses track after seventy-five, mumbling ‘one… two… three… four… five…’ over and over until he felt like his feet were farther from the edge than they had been. As he lifts his head, Dean takes stock of himself. Grimaces at how sweat dampens both his shirts, dark fabric clinging annoyingly underneath oppressive denim. And as the knot unwound in his stomach, Dean realizes he hadn’t eaten yet. Hunger gnaws at his awareness, begging for attention. Thinking about food, though, guides his paths towards the kitchen and – ultimately – Jack, again.

There’s not much of an appetite left after that.

Instead he blindly throws off his outer layer, then his undershirt. Bends, clawing at his laces and when they unravel, he yanks them and his socks off, too. Discards his jeans by flinging them into some far corner. Red boxer-briefs are all that remain, for the moment. In the next second Dean reaches for a set of pajamas. Picks the set at the top of the pile. Cowboys riding bucking broncos on the pants while lasso script spells out ‘Save a Horse’ on the shirt. As he pulls it overhead, he hears something shift nearby. Turning, Dean finds Cas watching him from the hallway.

“Crap,” he hisses, tugging the shirt down. Cheeks burning under Cas’s intense gaze, “Ever hear of knocking?” Instincts say he should cover himself, but midway through wrapping arms around his midsection Dean realizes what a ridiculous notion that is. Actions aborted Dean’s fingers twitch before they retake his shirt’s hem. Twisting it as the awkward silence continues. “Cas?”

This breaks Cas from whatever trance he fell under. Cas steps into his room, “Sorry, Dean, you left your door open.”

“Right…” If his hands weren’t busy strangling fabric one would be rubbing a hole into the back of his neck. “I – uh, must’ve forgotten.” Dean finally fights back the static drowning his mind, releasing his shirt hem. “What uh… what’re you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

Sweet, but totally despicable. Cas’s earnest tone easily overpowers his crumbling defenses, making the flush across his skin deepen. Lips pursed, Dean dips his eyes so he won’t fall prey to the deadliest of his angel’s weapons. Angel blades have nothing on those baby blues. “Thanks,” he coughs, shrugging, “but I wasn’t the one having a full breakdown five feet from the cookie cereal…” He sits down once more, at the foot of his bed, squeezing his knees. “How is Jack, by the way?”

“He’s calmed, somewhat,” Cas tells him, slowly pacing Dean’s room. Picks up Dean’s stray button-down, loosely folding it while he talks. “Sam had a brilliant idea of taking him for a drive.”

“A drive? Is that allowed?”

“Well, Billie didn’t appear and tell us no….” He sets the shirt on Dean’s dresser, claiming the nearby chair for his own. “They left awhile ago. Not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Awhile, huh?” Dean snorts, arching a stern brow. “And you’re only visiting me now?”

Cas stiffens, “Yes. You see – um…” Stuttering, Cas stalls for time as he thinks up an answer.

Tension leaks out of Dean’s shoulders watching him, seeing his angel go through human motions. Dragging a hand through his hair and pulling at his tie, both alight a familiar warmth in his heart. He snuffs that flame a second later, knowing how dangerous it would be if he let it keep. “Kidding,” Dean sighs, smiling, “I’m glad you waited. Probably wouldn’t have been this… chatty?”

“Of course…” Cas says, nodding, “I figured you’d need some time alone… to – to sort through things.”

He’s being generous. Dean used all his strength to not remember the pain stricken across Jack’s face. The wound is still so fresh, Jack ripping off the scabs with a frenzy caused by his soul’s return. Mary’s death hurting like it happened yesterday. “Maybe you should’ve given me five or ten more minutes, then,” he chuckles, tapping at his temple, “still a mess up here.”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm what?”

“Oh, nothing –“

“Bullshit, Cas,” Dean leans forward, a more devilish expression on his face, “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Cas says, “I’m… trying to wrap my head around this whole day. Jack getting his soul back… it’s remarkable. But also, troubling. How could that even be possible and – and will it last?”

“Don’t think about it too much, man,” he says, “what happened with Jack it’s… it’s a gift. Probably one of the few we’ve ever gotten that’s come with no strings attached. A win.”

“Have we ever gotten a win like that?”

It’d be so simple. Unfortunately, Dean chomps off the head of his one-word confession. Swallows the three-letters alongside all his other feelings. By the time the corpse of it decomposes in his stomach, Dean realizes it’s been too long since he last spoke. Cas waiting, staring at him. An awkward chuckle bubbles forth, his breath reeking of ashen sincerity. “Bout time we got one, then, don’t you think?”

He concedes, mouth thinning in a cunning smile. “I suppose we are… but enough about what I think.” Dean’s lips pinch tight. “I think we’ve delayed the inevitable conversation. Don’t you?”

“No,” he says, “we can delay it some more. Like… what was up with those bootleg versions of us?” Dean scoffs, “I bet that other me doesn’t even know what pie tastes like… too busy cramming caviar down his throat.”

“You might enjoy caviar. I hear it’s very popular?”

“Caviar’s only popular because it’s expensive,” Dean tells him, “and all those rich dudes spent too much money on it to hate it, so they lie and convince others it’s good and it’s an awful, self-servicing cycle.”

“I didn’t know you had such strong opinions on caviar?”

“I’ve got strong opinions on just about everything…” Dean makes the mistake of glancing up, catching sight of Cas’s judgmental bend of his brow. “But you don’t wanna hear any of those…”

“Not right now, no…” Cas stands, drifting towards his door. “I guess you were right, you do need more time by yourself. Perhaps in the morning –“

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry,” he says, rising, grabbing his elbow. The touch sears even through the jackets and shirt; Dean’s grasp on it firms, savoring it. “Y’know how… how tough this has got to be for me, right?” His throat cracks on the last word, eyes glistening. He feels the tears brimming behind them, pooling, waiting for release.

Cas sighs, dropping any pretense of exiting. “I do,” he says, hand hovering over Dean’s briefly. Considering if he should. A short argument, as it gently embraces his hand; the one chaining Cas to him. “That’s why I want you to speak. Free yourself of the burden… let me help carry it with you.”

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean says, “You’ve got your own things, worries t’deal with –“

“That won’t stop me.”

Stubborn. A double-edged sword that makes up the arsenal of Cas’s traits, all weapons Dean would gladly throw himself on.

Cas quiets, then, waiting for Dean and his response. Words were unneeded. Dean can decipher all he thinks by looking into his angel’s eyes. Captivating, whether in the harsh fluorescents of his bedroom or the soft moonlight of an abandoned church. They always make his head dizzy, thoughts unspooling like Dean drank half a bottle of whiskey or smoked three joints. The more he stays the course, the worse it gets. He nearly forgot hellhounds were baring down on them, Sam their last defense against the creatures, because Cas’s eyes hold a magic that quells any fear or worry gnawing at Dean’s senses.

“Dean?”

“It hurt being around him,” Dean whispers his admittance, inching closer. Chests almost pressed together. Noses dangerously close. His toes practically climbing atop Cas’s dress shoe. “I hate that that’s true but… it is. Because as glad as I was to see the kid still kicking it… I’m just reminded of her.” Cas’s thumb rubs a comforting circle into his knuckles, Dean dropping his gaze there. “Reminded of what he did. How he just didn’t… didn’t get it, y’know. Couldn’t tell that it was bad. He – there was still this… this disconnect. And after he came back I could tell he’d look at me and try to find the words t’apologize but they were never there. And without them, we’d never move past it. He’d still be hurting, and so would I… Which sucks because – because I know you think of him as your son, but y’know… I think of him as mine, too –“

“I like to think of him as ours, Dean.”

“Yes, well…” he clears his throat, tongue wetting his lips as he recovers. Dean chooses tactical evasion, ignoring Cas’s comment and moving on. “He’s like… my second chance. He is a second chance. A second coming, really – sorta like Jesus –“ He pauses, gaze darting towards Cas’s face. “That doesn’t matter. I just… I wanted to make things right with Jack, but he didn’t know how – and I sure didn’t know how. So we were circling each other, doing nothing. I could feel things festering. The happiness that came after Jack’s return began fading; instead of relief there’d be dread whenever he walked into a room. Got it into my head that things’d never get any better, and there was no way of fixing this rift between us.”

“But with his soul, he finally understands,” Cas says, “he’s apologized. That’s what you wanted?”

“It is. I… yeah,” Dean shudders, neck suddenly weak. It bends, Dean’s chin saved from touching his neck by Cas’s forehead supporting his. There noses are beside one another, lips a breath apart. “I know it’s for the best but… seeing him cry, all I wanted to do was hug him. Let him know it’d be all right. Except I ran I… I couldn’t say anything. He was hurting and that – that made me hurt even worse. And then I felt glad he could feel hurt… it sorta spiraled from there.”

Cas hums, Dean’s mouth vibrating with the note. “You were overwhelmed,” Cas says, “there’s no reason for you to be ashamed.”

“Yes, there is.” Dean scowls, “I’m middle-aged, can gank a monster twice my size without blinking, but the second a situation gets too touchy-feely I stomp on the gas and speed through all the red lights.” While Dean talked about Jack, a highlight reel of all his shortcomings playing on a giant screen in his mind. Times where Dean’s emotions short-circuited. Fried his circuits, caused him more pain than necessary. Many of those scenes feature a recurring character, shaped like a man in a trench coat. It flickers out, leaving Dean with a blank slate. That fades, too, and Cas’s face is there.

“It’s not fear, Dean. Not at all,” he says. Protest swells, but with a sharp look from Cas it wanes. “Trust me, as someone who knows you… knows your soul, you – you are not afraid of feelings. Not at all.” He smiles, Dean leaning back for the full effect. Blessed by heavenly light. “On the contrary,” Cas continues, “You embrace your emotions. Unfortunately… sometimes you feel too much and that – that can be particularly difficult to manage. I remember when I was human, sometimes the smallest of ripples in my heart caused me great pains. Something modest like being cold or hungry… or in pain, were too much for me to express. Your capacity for feelings, your intelligence and understanding it’s… fantastic. But there are limits. We all have them. You feel too much sometimes that you cannot express yourself or even deal with them.”

Dean’s tears prick at the corners of his eyes, dangling. Still unshed. “It does feel like that,” he says, “Sometimes it’s… like there’s a highway, and it’s rush hour. Traffic on – on all sides. No one’s moving, and I’m behind the wheel and I want to go but I can’t and I… I get so angry that I can’t.” He lets go of Cas, slipping from his loose grip. “S’what I’m feeling right now.”

Cas accepts Dean’s need for distance, hands retreating into his pockets. “And what I’m here, to tell you, is this. You might be behind the wheel, but you’re hardly alone in that car. Sam’s there. Jack’s there. And I am most certainly there.”

Dean nods, wiping a hand down his face. “Thank you, Cas. I… needed this.”

“I’m glad to be of service, then.” Cas’s tone fell, a discordant pluck of the harp that triggered Dean’s worry. Before he could ask about it, his angel floats away. “I should let you get your rest. Today was exhausting…”

Halfway out the door, Dean stops him. “Cas, wait!”

“Yes?”

Standing there, framed by his doorway, waiting for Dean to continue with shining eyes, Dean thinks his angel never looked more gorgeous. And he wants to tell him. Despite how the words stick in his throat, the sweat dripping from his forehead, and how his feelings might be received, he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything. Finally.

That flame from earlier, snuffed out, relights. Burns hotter than Baby’s engine gunning down the highway. Ballooning, spreading through his veins and disorienting him. The room spins, his vision blurs, but Cas stays clear and firm. It’s right there, on the tip of his tongue –

“Yes, Dean?”

He’s cold. Doused by an untimely thought that quells any of his passionate desires, leaving him charred, ashen, and helpless.

Dean notices the frown lines around his mouth. The way his eyes drooped in a way they’ve never done. Shadows stretch across his body, slithering, hiding most of his expression from Dean. But he senses a tiredness there that, on Cas, seems foreign.

The moment passes. It wouldn’t feel right, anyway.

“Just…” his face hurts from the tight grin he forces, “I go both ways.” Blushing, he amends his statement. “I mean, I don’t have to give you all my baggage – I can… I can also help you carry some of yours, if you’d like?”

Cas tilts his head, light revealing a gentle smile. “I’d like that. Night, Dean.”

“Night Cas…”

A closing door never felt more ominous.

Dean stares at it, chewing on his lip. Chest aching, heart beating against it with the force of a storm wreaking havoc. He walks towards the switch, flipping it off. Bathing the room in shadows. Making it easier. “Cas,” he says aloud, looking ahead into the endless darkness. “I love you. After this is all over, and we don’t have any more fights heading our way… I’d like for you to stay. With me. And we can have the life we both deserve. I just… I want you to know what I’m fighting for. It’s not the world. It’s you. It’s us.”

He slips under the covers. Talking to empty air didn’t make the feelings disappear, or easier in dealing with. But it’s a start.

Maybe he’ll do better in the morning.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel coda #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x13 destiny's child #better late than never lol

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obwjam · 4 years ago

Note

The mike x borrower meeting sounds interesting, you should definitely write it!

not the exact same thing but this is a direct copy-paste from something i wrote a year ago lmao i’m putting it under the cut, in which mike makes a new borrower friend breakfast

“G’morning, little buddy,” a soft yet cheery voice rang out above me. My eyes snapped open to see Mike looming over me. I shot up and tried to scuttle back, but not only was my leg wrapped up nicely, but I was, too. I merely fell back into the mountainous folds of the cloth.

“How’d ya sleep?” he asked, pulling a chair up and seemingly glossing over my flinch.

“O-okay,” I stammered. I was sleeping well until I was rudely awakened.

“Was it too hot? Too cold?”

I shrugged. “Too big.”

Mike let out a small laugh. “Funny. Lemme getcha somethin’ to drink. Y’ever had coffee?”

“What do you think?” I asked, trying to be funny but instead coming across as rude. Mike raised his eyebrow at me, but amusingly smirked.

“You care to try it?”

“I--I guess I could… I’ve always smelled it. Never been able to sneak around and grab any.”

“Mmm, alright,” he said, standing back up. I marveled up at him as he moved around, almost not able to believe that I was watching him like always, but I was close. I didn’t have to hide, or worry that he might see me.

“Hmm…” Mike mused, filling his mug to the top. “Didn’t really think how I’d pour ya a cup.”

“I’ve got a cup back in--” I started, but stopped. It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell him about the nook.

But of course, he heard me. “Back where?”

My eyes darted to the table. “N-nothing. Nowhere. I--I wouldn’t be able to make it there, anyway, with my leg.”

“Are you talkin’ about where you live?” Mike asked, leaning back against the counter and casually sipping his coffee. As if this was a casual conversation.

I nodded. “It’s called -- well, I call it my nook. Just where I sleep and keep all my things.”

“Sounds very cozy,” he said, taking another sip. “Y’know, I could always bring you wherever you--”

I laughed, shaking off the thought of one of them holding me. “You wouldn’t be able to bring me to the nook, Mike. You’re too big.”

A smirk grew across Mike’s face. “Too big, huh? Can’t just stick my arm in a hole or somethin’?”

“No,” I said with a chuckle. “Still much too big.”

Mike shrugged. “That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to see it.”

He paused, deliberating over something. He eventually let out a sigh and flopped back down into a chair.

“I, uh, look, I--” he paused for a breath. “I know this is all, uh, less than ideal,” he stammered, glancing down at my leg. I bit my lip. “But, well, y’see, we want to help. So if you need anything, want anything… just, just tell one of us. We’ll be happy to getcha what you need.”

Before I could speak, he started again.

“A-and, well… I-I know it’s prob’ly pretty scary, f-for you, but, uh, we can bring ya anywhere too.”

There it was. I knew he was going to address that. And it wasn’t entirely crazy -- I certainly didn’t want to be stuck on this table forever. But the thought of trusting one of them with my life in their hands and having the others give me stares? I didn’t want to deal with that. Not right now.

“I bet you don’t wanna be sittin’ on this table forever,” Mike echoed my thoughts. I gave him a nod.

“It’s just…” I started, freezing up when I looked up at Mike. Eye contact was still a work in progress. “I dunno.”

“You can tell me, darlin’, it’s alright,” Mike said softly. “I’m not gonna get mad.”

I took a breath. “This is all pretty… new to me. A-as you can imagine. I’ve never… I--I don’t want to…” Inhale. Exhale. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’ve already caused too much trouble.”

“Aw, darlin’, you haven’t caused a lick of trouble,” Mike said.

“You understand that I can’t go back, right? I can’t go back on my own with a broken leg. I--I can’t climb, I can’t even walk. If--if I want to survive, at least— at least until my leg is better… I’m gonna need your help to do it. That’s an awful lot of attention you’ll need to dedicate to me. And I… I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“Oh, it’s not as big a deal as you think it’ll be,” Mike said, leaning down. “Sure, you’re pretty small, and we’ll have to be extra careful. But makin’ sure you have somethin’ to eat or drink or that ya have a place to sleep at night is no trouble at all.” He paused to rub the back of his neck, desperately trying to think of what to say next. “Are you… how are you feelin’? ‘Bout all this.”

I shrugged, allowing myself to laugh. I guess there was no way any of them would ever understand unless I explained it to them.

“I think… more than anything… I’m, uh, anxious,” I said, furiously twiddling my thumbs. “A-and scared. I-it’s hard not to look at everything and everyone towering above me and not get overwhelmed, you know?”

Mike nodded, suddenly acutely aware of how big he must seem to her. “I can leave ya alone, if you need time to… relax.” That was not the right word to use.

***change of perspective for no reason just go with it***

To his surprise, she vigorously shook her head. “No. Well. I dunno. I’m just… I-I’m already here. You already know about me.” In truth, she wanted to be left alone. All she wanted to do was crawl into her nook and never come back out. But knowing that she couldn’t go anywhere, the last thing she wanted was to be lounging around on the table, exposed and alone, without someone to accompany her and take some of the attention away. Mike was taking the lead on taking care of her and was the least invasive of the four, so this was the best she was going to get right now. “You… you’re not going to…” she stopped. Mike inched forward, eyes urging her to press on.

“Not goin’ to what?”

She sighed. “Not… do anything to me.” Her voice was so soft, Mike was surprised he could hear her.

“Do anything? Like what?”

She shook her head, lower lip quivering. “N-nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Mike’s eyes widened with sorrow, but he knew it wouldn’t be good to push her. He could piece together that the “anything” she was referring to wasn’t a good thing, anyway.

“You hungry?” Mike asked, desperate to change the subject. She slowly nodded, still looking away. Mike tried to ignore the fact that this whole thing stemmed from his inability to give her coffee and he had yet to come up with a solution. For the first time ever, he found himself wishing that Micky was awake early. He would know how to make something for her.

Mike stood up and looked into the ice box, his heart leaping when he saw actual food in there.

“Y’ever had eggs and bacon?”

She laughed. It was a genuine laugh, one of those laughs you give when you’re delightfully amused. Mike hadn’t even seen her smile, so hearing her laugh float up from the table surprised him. He found the corners of his lips turning up at the sound.

“It’s safe to assume I’ve never tried anything,” she called out, clearly trying to make sure Mike could hear her. Mike fished out the carton of eggs and half-eaten package of bacon from the back of the ice box, swiftly placing the ingredients on the counter. He reached for a pan and clicked the stove on.

“Think about it,” she forced herself to continue. She didn’t want Mike to be the only one talking. “How could I have possibly borrowed eggs and bacon while you weren’t looking?”

Mike bit his lip. He never really thought hard about the fact that she had basically been stealing things in secret for years. Anything she’s ever taken was done without their knowledge. He couldn’t even remember noticing things going missing until the recent bread incident.

“Fair point,” Mike said, cracking an egg over a now-heated pan.

“Plus, it’s hard to borrow a meal you only make twice a year.”

Mike turned around quickly, a comically amused look on his face. “Was that a joke?” he said with a teasing tone. She winced and sunk back into her towel a little bit, but recovered quickly when she realized Mike wasn’t being harsh.

She shrugged, trying to hide a smile. “It’s just the truth.”

Mike found himself trying to hide his own grin.

“Yer funny,” he said, letting the sizzle of the other side of the egg try to hide his comment. It was the second time calling her funny this morning. He called Micky funny maybe once a month.

She had heard his comment, of course, and definitely registered that it was a repeat compliment. She knew Mike was going to get all weird if she mentioned it, so she stayed quiet, marveling at his cooking. This wasn’t the first time she’s ever watched one of them perform a mundane daily task, but it was different than all the other times. She was present in this. Though the nagging thought in the back of her mind telling her to hide was still there, she knew it was just instinct. Mike was making this for her. She didn’t have to watch him cook and smell the food and wonder what it tastes like and wish she could find out for herself. She was going to find out. Despite the fear and uncomfortability she felt, she was willing to let her guard down for this one thing. This was a primal instinct letting itself through. She was going to enjoy this meal, and enjoy the company. Maybe it would help her feel more normal.

Once the egg was done frying, Mike plopped two strips of bacon in its place, transferring the egg to a small plate. The smell of eggs was good, yeah, but the smell of bacon was overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, it got Micky to get out of bed. He bounded down the stairs, excited that they had enough food for Mike to be cooking for everyone. He was so excited that he completely forgot about their little house guest.

“You’re making breakfast? Groovy!” Micky said, riding up right on Mike’s tail, making him jump.

“Don’t do that,” Mike muttered harshly, flipping the bacon over. “It ain’t for you.”

“What!” Micky cried. “You’re just making breakfast for yourself? C’mon, man, that’s--”

“Are you stupid?” Mike hissed, jerking his head toward the table. Micky looked back, down, then gasped. Yeah, I am stupid.

He chuckled nervously, locking gazes with her for just a bit too long. Her cheeks were bright red, and she looked nervous.

“S-sorry,” he said suddenly, breaking eye contact with her. “I’ll, uh.” He reached up to the cabinet and pulled out the almost-empty box of corn flakes. “I’ll just go back upstairs.”

Before Mike could protest, Micky was already halfway gone. The Texan sighed, peeling the bacon from the pan and placing it next to the eggs.

“Sorry about him,” Mike said, placing the plate in front of him as he took a seat. “That boy don’t know how to control himself.”

She shrugged, looking down to her cast. “He did a good job with this.”

Mike looked to her leg. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“It’s… it hurts. Kinda throbbing,” she said. “But I can feel it getting better.”

“Already?” Mike asked, almost absentmindedly, as he took his fork and began cutting off a little piece of egg.

She nodded. “Borrowers, we… we tend to heal faster than humans do.” Mike cringed again at the distinction. “I’ll probably be good to walk around again in like, two weeks.”

“Two weeks? Are ya sure? Have you ever broke your leg before?”

She laughed that amused laugh again, and Mike found himself getting embarrassed every time she did that. It was a laugh that said Oh boy, this idiot doesn’t get it.

“I’ve broken more bones than I can count.” She fiddled with her thumbs. “Elbow, legs. Both of ‘em. Arms, shoulders, fingers. I’ve rolled my ankle so many times I don’t know how it’s still attached to my body.” She stuck her good leg up and rolled her ankle around. “Yeah, it’s still there!”

“Jeez, that’s awful,” Mike said, suddenly losing all interest in the food. “How did you…” He didn’t know if asking this was a good idea, but he wanted to know everything about her that he could possibly find out. “How d’you, get all those… supplies you need, if you’re all banged up?”

She went quiet for a moment. “Wh-when I take food, I usually keep a weeks’ supply going. To prevent running out. Water is… more difficult. I’ll go a few days without drinking any.”

“That could kill you!”

She shrugged. “I’ve gone weeks without water before. It’s so hard to transport, I end up spilling half the stuff I take.”

Mike tried to picture carrying a bucket of water through an obstacle course with a broken leg. He couldn’t even fathom the possibility.

“It’s… amazing you even get any,” he said carefully, not wanting to sound patronizing.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” she smirked, eyes cast downward. She wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“I…” Mike tried, but stopped himself. Everything he asked led to her being sad, and that was the last thing Mike wanted right now. “…why don’t ya try some of that food I made ya?” he tried. “It’s gonna go cold soon.”

That seemed to catch her attention rather quickly. She finally had a hot meal in front of her, and she was really about to squander it. She stared at the scraps in front of her, studying the textures of the egg. Luckily, the bacon smelled delicious, because the smell of the egg was not doing her appetite any favors. She began to wonder how disgusting this thing might taste.

“Everythin’ alright?” Mike asked with a mouthful of egg. He figured she would be all over this. She finally looked up at him, and his face was soft; sympathetic. He was simply waiting for her to try the food, eager for her reaction to his cooking. She gave a small nod before picking up the small piece of egg with her hands. It was still warm, though not fresh-out-of-the-pan hot. It was still warmer than anything she’s ever had before, and it felt wonderful in her hands. It wasn’t often that she experienced warmth; though, in California, she fared better than most. But the nights got cold and the heater was much too loud to sleep next to. Huddling up in her blankets and getting some hot water was the closest she ever got to the feeling of warmth. And when she was able to treat herself to hot water, the feeling of it traveling through her body and down to her stomach, ironically enough, always gave her chills. Maybe this egg could do the same.

With a renewed sense of energy, she bit into the egg and was instantly surprised—it was squishy. It almost sloshed around in her mouth, but it was fluffy at the same time. A little wet, too. There was some weird yellow liquid on it, which she could only assume was part of the egg. She chewed carefully, wanting to savor and remember the first egg she’d ever eaten. She couldn’t quite place the taste, but it was cooked enough that it was stained with the taste of old foods cooked in that same pan. It gave it an extra depth she didn’t realize food could have. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted and she loved it.

“This… this is incredible,” she said, looking at the egg like it was a newborn baby. Mike couldn’t help but smile at her infatuation.

“Aw, well. My cookin’ ain’t that good,” he joked. Inside, he was just happy she seemed to find pleasure in something.

Before she could even respond, she abandoned her notion of savoring the taste and scarfed down the rest of the egg. She ravenously turned to the bacon and ate it up before Mike could even blink.

“Jeez, you’re hungry, aren’t’cha?” he mumbled affectionately, not realizing he had slipped into pet-talk mode. She, however, did notice. She shot him a glare, which took Mike a few moments to understand.

“If you only ever ate stale crackers, you’d eat like this too,” she said, wiping her mouth. “Well, I’m actually a little surprised you aren’t eating like this is the first hot meal you’ve ever had!” She said cheekily with a nervous chuckle.

Mike smiled, once again amused at her joke, before realizing there was a layer to this.

“…is this your first hot meal? Ever?”

She shrugged, which Mike was beginning to realize was an ashamed “yes”.

“…It’s not even that hot,” she mumbled, only half-joking.

“Jeez, bud, I—I could have heated it back up for ya.” She didn’t respond. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. Do you want some more?” He gestured to his plate, which was still full of food, but she took intrigue with something he had just said.

“Plenty more?”

“Well, yeah. I-I’m not gonna let you starve,” he said, sniffing a laugh.

“You… you don’t need to do that,” she said, more ashamed than anything. No matter how wonderful real cooking was, she didn’t need to be treated like she was totally helpless.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised by her reaction. “Based off everythin’ you told me, well, you don’t need to hunt for scraps anymore. We can take care of stuff for ya—”

“—I don’t need to be taken care of,” she snapped, surprising herself. “I’ve been managing for 22 years,” she mumbled lowly. “I’ll be alright.”

Mike raised his eyebrows. He understood this kind of stubbornness because it was the same exact kind of pride he carried around himself. He didn’t expect her to be proud of the way she lived, but he understood the knee-jerk reaction. It was a lot easier to see how silly it was on the outside, though, and he suddenly started to wonder how many times his pride made him seem foolish instead of independent.

“I’m not sayin’ you can’t take care of yourself. Clearly, you’ve been going for this long. I don’t think you’re helpless. You seem to be anything but.” She meekly met Mike’s gaze, which was sincere yet firm. “But I get it, y’know? The stubbornness. Refusin’ help because you think acceptin’ it makes you weak.”

there is more but this is already way too long lmao

#for anyone interested #obwrites #asks

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tenacityreturns · 4 years ago

Text

aokaga fic alert!

plot: in which kagami and aomine talk about beautiful soul by jesse mccartney and also accidentally injure each other ♥ rating: sfw, very domestic, it’s just them being stupid idiots. also i wrote this in one sitting without taking breaks or reading over it so.... haha.... word count: 2098

it all started with two guys, chilling on the sofa, going through each other’s phones. or more specifically, the music apps (and kagami’s photo reel, but don’t tell anyone because aomine had only gone in looking for something of nigou!). whenever kagami encounters a song title that interests him, he’ll click on it and let about ten seconds play before he changes song again. he gets the idea.

aomine, meanwhile, will let the songs he finds play in full. not because he respects the skip button and doesn’t want to overuse it, but because he doesn’t understand english and it becomes background noise. he’s just chilling now. legs stretched out over the couch and on top of kagami’s knees, his back leans on the armrest and he thinks about dinner instead. how cheeky he’s feeling with directly impact how extravagant his dining requests will be.

“i just took a screenshot,” kagami says blankly, with a light frown on his face.

“why?”

“i wanted to remember this song, it’s kinda cool.”

“but you’re using my---”

“yeah i know that, i forgot.”

aomine half smiles, returning to the screen. dummy. “i’ll send it to you later.”

he decides to lightly hack his boyfriend and dives onto his instagram. looks up his own page, saves a recent selfie, uploads it from kagami’s account. first, he thinks about captioning it something like sexy, or why is this guy so hot??? but decides against it and instead writes ‘i’ll never be as cool as him :(’ haha. good, harmless prank. who’s this girl that liked it immediately, huh! well, they follow each other, but aomine doesn’t like how snooping around like this is making him feel. his blue eyes will raise, taking in the sight of kagami tapping his hand against aomine’s shin in time with the song. his lips are moving, then his shoulders.

is he... sort of singing along? but to which song? he can’t hear the music from his own phone well enough with kagami’s so nearby, but then... he doesn’t recognise this american music... hm. aomine’s fond smile is forced into a smirk for dignity’s sake.

“what are you doing?”

“huh?” kagami blinks, and the tapping stops. “i used to love this song.”

“used to? it’s on your recently heard playlist, dude.”

“it’s a classic.”

“is it? i never heard of it.”

“me and niji sing it all the time, y’know, just around.”

“okay,” this emotion, unlike the snooping guilt, is straight up jealousy. shut up about nijimura already! we get it! you’re friends! “what’s it about?”

“uh,” cogs turn. his lips move again, maybe in time with the song’s lyrics? aomine isn’t sure. “like, he’s singing about not caring about looks. just... you know, wanting the person’s beautiful soul. that’s what it’s called.”

“sappy,” what a loser. this sounds like the kind of thing satsuki would be interested in for sure. aomine gets an instagram notification from kise and ignores it, then remembers his prank and that this is kagami’s phone! he opens the app again and that blond bastard has written a comment:

‘looks like you need a new password kagamicchi!’

and seen right through the prank! dumb luck. except--- here’s tetsu commenting:

‘you should never leave your phone with untrustworthy people, kagami-kun.’

shut the hell up!

but his oblivious rival distracts the on-coming fury by starting to sing. the tapping against his shin has started again, and he’s still scrolling through the playlist and changing songs, but singing this beautiful soul song. in english. show off! ah, he’s got a nice voice though. and he looks real cute sitting there like that. aomine doesn’t suspect kagami of snooping through the photo reel or posting to instagram, in fact: the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. aomine’s head rocks to lean against the back cushions of the sofa. his fond smile returns.

“you singing about me, bakagami?”

of course he’ll find a way to ruin a perfectly nice moment, and a fleeting glimpse of serenity in his boyfriend. kagami doesn’t look away from his phone, but says something in english that sounded like a comeback. aomine presses his heel into kagami’s thigh, but it incites a more genuine flinch that he’d been expecting and both legs are instantly retracted.

“sorry,” aomine blurts, “i forgot about your leg.”

“what about it?” kagami replies breezily in japanese again ( that is, as breezily as possible through gritted teeth ).

hello again, guilt! aomine rests his knees against the couch, peering around them to watch kagami recover. if he doesn’t in five seconds, aomine will--- no, he can’t last that long. he sits up.

“ah, man, can i get you something?”

“i’m fine, it’s just cramping from sitting so long,”

this guy! they’d not been sitting for half an hour yet! he’s just saying that so aomine won’t feel bad... the bastard... of course he’s going to feel bad!

“wipe that look off your face!” kagami exclaims, “now get outta my way so i can lie down.”

he doesn’t look pissed off, or in pain anymore, which is something. god, wouldn’t it just be easier if kagami could tell him when his half-hearted grumpy statements are genuine or when they’re just him speaking and sounding angry because it’s how he talks?

aomine rolls himself off the sofa. “is your leg okay?”

“don’t worry about it,” the redhead returns to aomine’s phone but extends his arm off the sofa. an invitation to join him? but can’t he just say that he isn’t mad right now? ah, look! now he’s glaring at him! “daiki. are you gonna make me say it?”

“say what?”

kagami crunches forward and the arm, still extended, reaches for aomine’s hand. of course he’ll accept the gesture. one second, they’re holding hands ( safe, comfortable, in understanding ), and the next, aomine is falling onto the couch and acutely aware of making sure he doesn’t land on the bad leg.

“be careful!” he scolds, arms bracing against the back of the couch, knees safely avoiding kagami’s limbs. “sheesh!”

“i said don’t worry, didn’t i?”

“i dunno, you talk a lot of shit,” how come aomine’s pissed off at him now!

“what!” kagami launches forward and wraps one of his arms around aomine’s waist, dragging him back as he lies down again.

“taiga!” aomine’s still more concerned about the injury.

“shut up about my fuckin’ leg or i’ll snap you like a toothpick!”

ugh! fine, alright. he’ll give in. aomine definitely sends kagami a look. it’s short-lived, though, and he finds a teasing smile. his hand rests on kagami’s massive bicep. “with these muscles? good luck with a real toothpick, buddy.”

“shut the fuck up, i’ll show you!”

there’s no doubt that kagami hadn’t actually intended to show him, but aomine’s back lasts a total of two seconds of a too-tight hug before it cracks. loudly. it didn’t hurt. caught him off guard, yes, makes him have to pause and stretch his back for a second, sure, but it didn’t hurt. kagami’s staring, aomine notices. not immediately apologising despite the sound, he sees! red eyes are wide, lips tightly turned downwards. he’s waiting to check the damage before damage control kicks in.

“you good?”

“is that all you got?”

“sorry about your back,”

aomine lowers down to lie chest-to-chest. he adjusts so that it’s comfortable to lie with his head on kagami’s shoulder. “yep.”

“does it hurt?”

“nope.”

“good,” and just like that, an arm drapes around aomine’s shoulders and they’re lying in almost silence again. kagami’s phone is somewhere on the other end of the sofa, still playing that muffled song. how long does it go on for?! that beautiful whatever conversation feels like it happened hours ago! of course, it had been the singing that started the teasing which sparked the retort which justified a prod, which had hurt and begun this mess. aomine exhales. kagami starts humming along to what aomine has guessed is the chorus.

“what sorta sappy shit is he saying now?” he closes his eyes.

“uh,” kagami begins to translate the lyrics disjointedly, really having to think about it before he says it in japanese.

I don't want another pretty face I don't want just anyone to hold I don't want my love to go to waste I want you and your beautiful soul

“it sounds better in english,” he then explains, “and when jesse sings it.”

“nah,”

“what do you mean nah?”

oops. well, yeah! alright. so aomine likes kagami’s voice better than this jesse person’s! big whoop! “nothing. so you were definitely singing about me, then.”

“yeah, i got sick of dating hot people and decided to settle.”

“shut the fuck up,” aomine’s smiling, knowing full well that kagami’s not dated anybody before. cheeky little shit!

“all the d-cup supermodels in america, you know.”

“i thought i told you to zip it?” he lifts his head. the stare-off doesn’t last long before kagami just straight up kisses him on the cheek! “hey!”

“can i have my phone back?”

he deliberates being difficult. deliberates telling kagami to get it himself, that he doesn’t know where it is, or just no. for fun, mostly. but then, that kiss had been really cute... and kagami had been kind of nice just now, before the bullshit, about translating and stuff... fine. this once, kagami’s off the hook. saved, even. aomine pushes ( carefully! ) up, finds the phone precariously close to the edge of the sofa, and returns to his place. once comfortable, he’ll hand it over. ah! the prank! he’d forgotten about that. kagami gives aomine his phone too and they are once again silent.

huh. that sure is a lot of facebook likes. his last picture wasn’t even that interesting. or was it? aomine opens the app, trying to recall what it could be about. did he get notifications for likes on things he’d shared? aomine rarely shared anything. oh, to be fair, he did share a video of nigou yesterday saying “he’s the only member of seirin i respect”... was it... that?

a picture aomine absolutely did not post is at the top of his own feed. it’s the seirin team picture, but, naturally, aomine had first seen only tetsu and kagami ( the others are definitely there, but not as interesting or important to look at, you know? ). posted twenty minutes ago. captioned: “i apologise for my last post about seirin, i’m a big idiot. they are really cool”

“hey!” aomine lifts his head up again, though this time, with an expression full of accusation. it meets kagami’s equally offended gaze.

“you posted to my instagram!”

“you posted to facebook! that’s worse!”

“no way!”

“yeah way!”

“everyone knew i got hacked, though,” he grins, “you ain’t slick at all.”

“as if i would ever call myself a big idiot, ever. they would instantly know you posted that to facebook. who else thinks seirin is cool?”

“everyone with brains!”

“bullshit!”

“idiot,”

“dumbass,”

aomine set his head down again. so much for trustworthy boyfriend, kagami taiga! though... isn’t it kind of funny that they both, separately, decided to post to each other’s social media? he’s trying hard to be pissed off about it, but the smile is too strong and, once again, he’s smiling over something kagami has done. satsuki comments under that hacked facebook post:

‘two sides of the same coin.’

which, to the unaware, means nothing. in reality, it makes him think of that thing he’s still accidentally in the habit of saying sometimes. the only one who can beat me is me. maybe kagami really is similar to himself after all? however, it’s hard to imagine that they’re that similar. aomine really likes kagami, after all.

“hey, taiga?”

maybe aomine will tell him he loves him again. does it cheapen it if he’d said it yesterday as well?

“yeah?”

“what’s for dinner?”

chicken.

“chicken, i think.”

aomine blinks. that was almost spooky.

“taiga?”

“still here,”

“love you.”

“pfff,” it’s a scoff! “lame.” insulting!”

aomine pinches him gently in the side. it makes him laugh, even if kagami isn’t that ticklish.

“alright! love you too, obviously. i kissed you, didn’t i?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. chicken sounds good.”

“are you gonna tell me you love chicken, too? who’s the sap now?”

someone explain why such an irritating response would make aomine’s chest swell as much as that kiss on the cheek? yeah, he’s dead sure if he hadn’t been before. he loves you, kagami taiga, you dumbass, so much. of course he does. they’re two sides of the same coin.

#aokaga #aokaga fic #knb #knb fic #aonon.#drabbles.#this is stupid i just LOVE how they talk tho............................... theyre so fun to write #this is truly all over the place and it's really 1am #so miserable that it's 1am

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appalachianwiine · 4 years ago

Text

Swim - Chapter 7 - You’re Not Alone

I wanna roll up,

I'm gonna roll up my sleeves.

I'm gonna fight for you,

I'm gonna fight till I bleed.

So, listen to me now.

“You’re Not Alone” by Marie Miller

True to Dr. Rhee’s word, Lydia’s nausea starts that evening and even with zofran she’s up most of the night throwing up and dry heaving. The short clusters she does sleep are spent pressed against Daryl, his shirt tightly fisted in her hand almost in a panic that he might disappear. Daryl doesn’t manage any sleep himself aside from the occasional dose.

By the time daylight seeps back into the room, dripping through the blinds and over the bed clothes, Daryl is exhausted. His back is killing him from holding Lydia propped up all night long, and the idea of coffee is very much appealing. However this morning Lydia is resistant to the idea of breakfast. Her stomach still feels bad, she complains and she wants him to stay with her. Finally after firmly telling her he hadn’t slept last night and needed to get some coffee, but that he’d be back in ten minutes, she relents. She climbs off his lap into the other half of the bed and nestles up with the pillows, falling asleep again in minutes.

At the elevator, he finds Ezekiel stepping in, this time pushing a wheelchair. The boy inside it is a ghostly shell of the one who two days ago had been giggling with his daughter. Henry’s almost translucent now, and his eyes look dully ahead. Ezekiel doesn’t look much better, his ashen face betraying the exhaustion of the last couple of days. Evidently he hadn't been sleeping either.

“Cafeteria?” Daryl asks, pressing the button for the floor.

“Radiology.” Ezekiel mutters, reaching past him and pressing the button for the floor before the cafeteria.

“Everything okay?” Daryl asks, the answer is a heavy ‘no’ that hangs in the air between them but what is he supposed to do? Pretend they’re not there.

“I can’t poop.” Henry’s tiny voice speaks up from the wheelchair.

“Yes, some, tummy trouble.” Ezekiel mutters. “They’re doing a dye with contrast to make sure there’s no blockage.”

“Oh.” Daryl frowns. “Sorry kiddo.”

“Yeah.” Henry mutters.

“How’d Lydia handle her first chemo?” Ezekiel asks.

“She uh - she was up most of the night bein’ sick.” Daryl sighs. “Don’ wanna eat this mornin’ but I think I’m gonna pick somethin’ up fer her anyway.”

“Try the waffles.” Henry mumbles. “No butter or syrup.”

“Really?” Daryl frowns.

“Henry has an easier time keeping them down then other things.” Ezekiel nods.

“Thanks kid.” Daryl offers a smile.

“Yeah.” Henry nods. The elevator doors open to the radiology floor and Ezekiel pushes the wheelchair out. “Tell Lydia i say hi.”

“I will kid. Good luck.” Daryl nods, watching the doors slide closed again and cut off his view of Henry and Ezekiel.

Lydia does manage to keep a few bites of waffle down, but whether that’s some magical waffle power or the medication finally kicking in he isn’t sure. Either way she spends most of the day napping and watching TV. Part of him is thankful for that, it lets him have some much needed sleep too, but another part is acutely aware of how out of character this is. In 24 hours from her first dose of chemo she’s gone from a rough and tumble kid to one who wants to sleep all the time.

After a few hours awake in the afternoon, Lydia falls asleep after dinner - which was another few bites of waffle from the cafeteria - Daryl’s considering sleeping himself when there’s a light knock on the door. He jumps up to answer it, not wanting Lydia woken.

Carol.

Shit, the support group.

“Oh shit.” He mutters.

“I figured you either weren’t planning on coming or you forgot.” Carol says, holding out a coffee cup. “I’m not taking either for an answer.”

“I - Lydia just fell asleep.” Daryl says, taking the coffee. “She’s had a rough night I can’t - I can’t just leave her.”

“It’s an hour.” Carol says. “Trust me Daryl I know how hard this is, I went through it too, but you need this, for Lydia as much as for you.”

“Who’s going to sit with Lyd?” He asks.

“The nurses can keep an eye on her.” Carol says. “I’ve already talked to Sasha about it, she’ll check in every ten minutes.”

“I don’t -“

“And I left her your cell number she’ll call if Lydia wakes up and then you can leave.” Carol insists. “Just try one meeting, we’re not all bad.”

“Right.” Daryl sighs, looking back at his sleeping daughter. She was out pretty good, and if her last few naps were any indication she’d remain asleep for a couple of hours. “Alrigh’, but she wakes up an’ I’m comin’ back.”

“Good.” Carol smiles. “Come on, the chapel’s this way.”

“Chapel?” Daryl frowns. “‘S this a religious thing?”

“Not really.” Carol says. “But the chapel is the best place for it, it’s a little more homey then the conference rooms and not as impersonal as some of the lecture halls.”

“What about that room?” Daryl points to the one he’d signed the forms in. “It’s pretty homey.”

Carol’s blue eyes dart to the door and then quickly away, she swallows hard. “Some of us… have bad memories with rooms like that.”

“Wh-what d’ ya mean?” Daryl asks, suddenly uneasy, as they pass the door to the small suddenly ominous room, and stand in front of the elevators.

Carol doesn't’ answer until the elevator doors slide open and she steps inside, pressing the button for the third floor. “That room… that room is usually used to deliver bad news. It’s - it’s the room where some of us learned our kids weren’t going to make it.” Evidently the horror is clear on his face because she offers a weak smile. “Sorry. I know they - they use it for other stuff too but that memory is… it prevails.”

“Sorry.” Daryl says finally.

“It’s fine.” Carol assures. “You didn’t know. But yes, the chapel is easiest, it fits us all pretty nicely too.”

“‘s Ezekiel gonna be there?” Daryl asks.

“No.” Carol shakes her head. “Henry isn’t… he’s had a rough day.”

“Blockage?” Daryl asks.

“Well No.” Carol frowns. “Just constipation I think, but they’re having trouble figuring out why. He’s on some medication to resolve it but it’s hard on him.”

“Oh.” Daryl says. “I uh - I saw him this morning, with Ezekiel. In the elevator.”

“Yea he Zeke mentioned it.” Carol nods. “Henry wants an update on Lydia later.”

“Yeah he asked about her.” Daryl nods.

“He’s a good kid.” Carol smiles a little. “He thinks of everyone else first, even in a place like this.”

“He’ll be alright?” Daryl asks, stepping out of the elevator after her.

“Maybe.” Carol sighs. He’s doing okay now, but there’s really no telling. There never is.”

“Oh.” Daryl sighs.

“Just in here.” Carol pulls open a door and Daryl steps inside.

There’s a circle of about a dozen chairs, occupied by a variety of different people, a girl who can’t be older than 20, a man in his 70s, a man in a priest's collar, a couple holding hands, and one rather ragged looking woman, with short choppy hair.

“Not a bad turn out.” Carol smiles, taking a seat and motioning Daryl into the one next to her. Daryl sits down, looking around at the others. “So we have a new parent joining us today. Daryl why don’t you uh introduce yourself.”

The last thing he wanted was to be put on the spot right now, but now everyone was staring at him, he shifted uncomfortably, taking a swig of the coffee before answering.

“I uh - well ‘m Daryl.” He mutters. “My uh - my daughter was diagnosed with Leukemia 3 days ago. We uh - we don’t know what kind yet but uh, it’s just the two of us. Her mom - well she’s adopted. Her mom’s not in the picture, never will be and uh - it’s hard to believe that four days ago the word leukemia wasn’t even one i thought about.”

“It’s always like that.” One of the men says, his long hair tied up in a bun and a short beard covering his chin. He holds the hand of the man next to him, his husband Daryl thinks, a man with sorter hair and a thicker bearded. “The day before our Gracie was diagnosed… well there’s a saying here. “The day before my child was diagnosed i wasn’t a cancer parent either”. I’m Paul, this is my husband Aaron.”

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “That’s - that’s what it feels like. Almost like -“

“Like having a newborn.” The man next to him, Aaron, says. “You’re handed all this responsibility and someone who relies on you for absolutely everything and - and you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I guess.” Daryl shrugs. “But uh- Lydia was four when I adopted her. So I guess I don’t know about that. But she’s been through some stuff before, and this just feels… unfair.”

“It is.” The old man says. “And that’s something that hasn’t changed in 50 years. I’m Dale, my wife and I - we lost our daughter to leukemia in 1970. The survival prospects were a lot worse then but - but it’s never been fair.”

“Never will be.” Carol says, Daryl feels her reach over and take his hand, she gives it a squeeze, a gesture he’s not accustomed to but finds comforting.

“So you’re all - all cancer parents?” Daryl swallows, looking around.

“With the exception of Father Gabriel, and Enid.” Carol motions to the priest and the twenty something girl. “Enid is a cancer survivor.”

“Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma.” Enid says. “I was 10 when I was diagnosed. I’ve been cancer free for 9 years and considered cured for 4. But the long term side effects are still there.”

“But - but you’re doin’ alright?” Daryl asks, trying not to let hope seep in. “You’re okay?”

“As okay as I can be.” Enid shrugs. “I’m in my junior year of college, premed.”

“So your daughter, has she started the chemo yet?” Dale asks.

“Yeah um yesterday, she’s having a day off today but we’ll get more tomorrow.” Daryl pushes his hair out of his eyes. “We should get her biopsy results back then too, so we’ll uh - we’ll have some answers.”

“Good.” Aaron nods. “A treatment plan helps a little - at least it did with us, made us feel like we had some control. It opens up options for clinical trials too - if that’s something you want to do.”

“Clinical trials, like - test medicine yeah?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “Ezekiel and Henry are here for one. I think Leah’s son is in one and Lucille your son was yeah?”

“Yeah.” The woman with short choppy hair nods. “He was but - well the outcome wasn’t good.”

“Is he uh…” Daryl isn’t sure how to finish the sentence and looks to Carol for help, but her blue eyes are focused on the woman.

“Dead?” The woman says. “Yeah. Six months tomorrow. He uh - he had brain cancer. Was terminal from diagnosis. Good kid. Only seven.”

“I’m -”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” she snaps. “Just hope like hell your kid doesn’t have to go through the same thing.” She crosses her thin arms and leans back in her chair. Daryl looks around the room, no one is saying anything, instead a few people glance at Carol.

“Lucille,” Carol says gently. “Anniversaries can be hard. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“No.” Lucielle mutters. “Sorry I just - the last few days have been really hard. I uh - I’m trying to sell the house - I just can’t live there anymore and everyone who comes in asks.”

“Ah.” Carol says, reaching across the row and giving Lucille’s hand a squeeze. “That’s not easy. It isn’t going to get easier either, I still have a hard time talking about Sophia.”

“It’s never going to get easier.” Lucille nods. “But uh - I hope taking the dogs and getting out of the city will help. I’ve got a property up north, I’m using the divorce settlement for that and since he gave me the house I’m planning on using the money from that to build.” She reaches up to dab at her eyes with her sleeves. “I uh I’m sorry Daryl I- I”

“‘S fine.” Daryl says quickly. ‘I uh - I can’t imagine what it's like losing’ a kid an’ havin’ a divorce.”

“I hope you never have to know.” Lucille picks at her nails. “It’s not something i’d wish on anyone.”

“You uh - you mentioned a clinical trial?” Daryl says carefully. “What uh - what was that like? The process.”

“We pretty much had to go to a clinical trial.” Lucille wipes her eyes and takes a tissue from Carol. “His brain cancer was aggressive from the start and uh - it has a 0% survival rate over five years. At diagnosis we were told he was terminal, and we ended up going to Germany for a clinical trial. Instead of the 9 months survival we got about 18 months, but um, one thing we found was that our insurance would not cover the clinical trial because it was out of the country. We were lucky though um, we had a really good church and they fundraised for the trial.”

Daryl’s stomach twists further. He hadn’t thought about the costs of clinical trials - or being declared terminal at diagnosis. Lydia couldn’t be that, he refused to believe that was even an option for her. He also hadn’t ever considered a clinical trial, would she need one? She couldn’t be one of those kids could she? The ones so sick that their only hope for survival was an experimental treatment?

“Not all clinical trial is like that.” Carol says quickly. “Henry’s clinical trial is covered by insurance, and I think Matthew’s is.”

“Matthew?” He says.

“Leah’s nephew.” Carol says. “She’s not here today, spiritual commitment. But he’s in the same trial as Henry. A little further along though. He just finished his second stem cell transplant.”

“Oh.” Daryl says. “Is uh he one of Henry’s friends too?”

“Um kind of.” Carol says.

“He’s not really anyone's friend.” Paul says. “Leah keeps him… pretty isolated. They’re a little… weird to be honest.”

“Paul,” Aaron says harshly. “Who are we to judge with how she’s handling her kid’s cancer.”

“I wouldn’t judge if that sister of hers wasn’t being drug out of here high or drunk half the time he’s admitted. It’s disruptive and dangerous.” Paul snaps back.

“They let that happen?” Daryl frowns.

“Technically it’s her supervised visitation.” Paul says. “But it happens so often it’s a wonder she’s still allowed any.”

“Parental rights aren’t that easy to terminate.” Daryl says. “Especially fer moms. Jus’ cut ‘er some slack. ‘S a hard enough situation t’ be in with a healthy kid.”

“Grace requires nothing.” The man in the priest's collar says.

“That isn’t always true father.” Paul says. “Sometimes grace requires a hell of a lot.”

“Leah is doing her best.” Carol insists. “We all are, it’s all we can do, and we need to support each other. You know as well as I do that no one outside this room can possibly understand that.”

“She’s right babe.” Aaron says, reaching for his husband’s hand. “No one else knows what this is like. Hell or highwater remember?”

“Hell or highwater.” Paul mutters.

“Well.” Carol says, glancing at her watch. “I think that’s about all we have time for today. Unless anyone has anything they would like addressed?” When no one spoke up Carol stood. “Thank you father for allowing us to use your chapel. Is the same time next week still okay?”

“Of course.” the pastor nods.

“It was nice meeting you Daryl.” Aaron extends a hand as Daryl stands up. Daryl glances at it a moment before taking it.

“Uh yeah…” He mutters.

“We know how this can be.” Aaron says. “Our daughter is eight and a half. How old is your Lydia?”

“She uh, just turned eight last month.” Daryl swallows.

“We’ll have to get them together sometime.” Aaron smiles.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Lydia’d like that.”

“We should go.” Paul says, touching Aaron's arm gently.

“Alright,” Aaron nods. “It was nice to meet you Daryl, I wish the circumstances were better.”

Daryl is glad the man follows his husband out of the chapel then and he doesn’t have to answer. Not only was everyone in this room a cancer parents, but this wasn’t even all of them. There was at least one outstanding single parent he hadn’t met yet, and all of them had been where he was.

“What did you think?” Carol asks, tucking her hands in her back pockets as she approaches him.

“I uh - I don’ know.” He says. “‘F its fer me. Kinda… depressin’...”

“Nature of the job,” she offers a weak smile. “Let me get you a coffee before you go back to Lydia?”

“Uh -” he glanced at his phone. No missed calls, no texts. Lydia must still be asleep, and he can practically hear Lori’s voice encouraging him to go. “Yeah sure I guess. Just take out though I want to get back.”

“Of course.” Carol says. “There’s a coffee shop right across the hall.”

“So there’s uh - there’s still someone i haven’t met?” Daryl asks as they cross over to the small coffee shop.

“Uh-huh.” Carol says. “Well a couple of people technically but most of the others don’t come regularly.”

“Other single parents?” Daryl asks.

“No.” Carol shakes her head. “Just Leah.”

“Is she really that weird?” He asks, taking the black coffee Carol holds out to him.

“Um.” Carol says. “She’s trying really hard for that kid, but some of the stuff… is a little odd I guess.”

“What like - like oils and shit?”

“Yeah mostly.” Carol nods. “But I try not to judge anyone for what they do with their kids during treatment. Even if they don’t work the placebo effect is strong. I remember when Sophia was sick she was convinced Vick’s vapo rub was the cure to her nausea so you bet that whole room smelled like Vick’s most of the time.”

Daryl chuckles. “Sounds like my childhood.”

“You were a vicks vapo rub fan?” Carol smiles, a sparkle coming to her eyes.

“Oh Vick’s Vapo rub and Campbell’s Chicken Noodle are redneck healthcare.” Daryl grins. “I survived on that shit when i had the flu.”

Carol laughs, a bright pretty sound, that makes even this place seem a little less dark.

“What?” He teases. “Not all of us had parents who took us to the doctor.”

“No no,” Carol says through the laughter. “It’s just - I was the same way as a kid. Vicks fixed everything.”

“Damn straight.” Daryl grins. “Still does. Keep a jar in the cabinet just in case.”

“Useful stuff.” Carol smiles.

“I should uh - I should get back to Lydia.” Daryl says, glancing at the wall clock. “She’ll be up soon.”

“Yeah.” Carol nods. “You get results tomorrow yeah?”

“Should be tomorrow or the day after.” Daryl nods.

“Give me a call?” She asks. “Please - I can come sit with Lydia if you need me to.”

“I uh - i might take you up on that.” Daryl says. “We’ll have t’ get some more clothes an’ stuff at some point.” HE swallows. “You uh - you mind if I - if I call you with the results?”

“Of course not.” Carol says. “I can answer just about any time.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” She reaches out and gives his arm a warm squeeze, the sensation lingering on him as he made his way back up to Lydia’s room.

#twd fanfic #the walking dead fan fiction #carol peletier #daryl dixon #lydia twd #paul 'jesus' rovia #aaron twd #dale twd #enid twd #father gabriel #father gabriel twd #caryl #caryl fanfiction #fic; swim

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