#poor blitz is gonna drop and he’s not getting up on his own

[impossiblesublimelight]

As much as I look forward to Blitz learning some self care and self love, he’s definitely not going to be learning it on his own. And I completely agree that it’s inevitable that the poor guy is gonna crash in season 3. But whether he burns out after the crash is entirely up to Stolas. And that’s where I have concerns.

Vivzie has stated that season 3 will be a rollercoaster of emotions, with a heavy focus on addiction and the Goetia. And poor Stolas has already been shown to have an addictive reliance on alcohol.

Now, I have faith that Stolas will ultimately be able to overcome his own hurdles to be there for Blitz, but like stated above. There will be highs, and there will be lows, and Blitz will likely crash and burn before Stolas is able to help. Just like how Blitz stumbled and made mistakes in season 2, season 3 will be Stolas staggeringly making mistakes of his own.

And though the angst with hurt/comfort will be everything Stolitz fans could ever want, watching it happen will still be painful.

Blitzø's Inevitable Crash

So Season 2 of Helluva Boss ends with Blitzø playing caretaker / supportive boyfriend / emotional support cat-lizard to his birb, who is literally having the worse day of his life.

Blitzø, right now is at the top of his game and his mental health is at an all time high right now because this is a Blitzø who has fully accepted the fact that he is loved and it is okay to love and be loved.

But Blitzø himself hasn't learned to love himself or appreciate himself more, and the show makes it so glaringly obvious. And all I can think about is how Blitzø is going to crash so hard in Season 3 as his self-loathing eventually gets worse and worse to the point it eventually explodes...

Because Blitzø is most definitely putting his own mental health in the backburner in favor of helping Stolas adjust to his new life as a commoner, and life without being codependent on his daughter.

And right now, that's fine.

But here's the thing about relationships, it's a two-way street.

Blitzø can't play caretaker and supportive boyfriend forever, and eventually it's going to be Stolas' turn to support Blitzø when he needs it the most.

And the reason why I think it has to be Stolas?

Because Stolas hasn't seen Blitz cry yet...

Because Stolas has seen the marked out photos on Blitzø's walls, but he hasn't drawn attention to them yet...

Because Stolas knows that Blitzø has his own set of issues...

Right now Blitzø is acting as Stolas' light...

Just as Blitzø was the light that taught Stolas that he too could forge his own destiny, and make his own choices...

He's going to be the guiding light that will help him navigate his new way of life as a commoner.

As Stolas learns to find love through community, hopefully he'll soon be able to see the benefits that came from choosing Blitz in the end...

And hopefully one day Stolas can be the heart that Blitzø needs to learn to appreciate himself more...

Just as he was the heart that helped Blitzø realize that it's okay to love and be loved.

[g-on-ef]

Hey is it possible to ask for Striker being extra protective over 8 month pregnant Blitz?

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Anon 2: Hellos I was hoping you still did prompts because I would Love to see one of Striker being over protective of a heavily pregnant Blitz if possible

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A/N: Since these two prompts are relatively the same I decided to combine them together ^^ hope you guys enjoy it ^^ also sorry for being MIA I wasn't feeling good but today is a good day ^^ my boys got a number 1 on Billboard for a second week ^^

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Month 1

Finding out he was pregnant was the scariest thing to ever happen to him, seriously knowing that there was a new life growing inside him was scaring him shitless, what made it worse was he wasn't sure how to tell the baby's father.

After vomiting out his lunch in his and Striker’s bathroom Blitz began to think what to do next.

It's not like Striker would leave him or anything, he was just scared that he wouldn't want the baby or worse would leave him once he finds out he was pregnant.

It was weird to think like that since he has shown time and time again what an amazing father he is, than again Loona wasn't a little kid nor was she a baby so maybe that's why it was easier for him to be a parent to her than it would be an actual baby.

Blitz leans against the bathroom wall as he thinks about what to do, lying to Striker was out of the question, the man knew Blitz better than anyone and knew when he was lying so there was no point in doing it.

Maybe he could avoid Striker...who was he kidding he could barely go a day without his beloved no way he was gonna be able to go nine months without him.

Blitz curled into a ball and wrapped his tail around himself. No avoiding him won’t work. Maybe he could ease him into letting him know he’s pregnant like letting him know by dropping hints and let him figure it out himself.

"Blitz?"

The city imp jumped a little as he turned to see Striker approach him.

"Loona told me you were, whoa are you okay?" Striker stared at his beloved who was curled in a ball and face was a little paler than it should be.

“Umm...well...you see...” 

Striker approached the city imp he placed his hands on his forehead and checked his temperature.

“You seem a little warmer than usual but nothing a bowl of soup can fix,”

“I’m pregnant!” so much for easing him into the news.

Striker stare at his beloved for a good minute.

The silence was making Blitz a little uncomfortable, he wasn’t sure if this was him trying to find the words to say something sarcastic or him to try and find the words that he didn’t want the baby without upsetting Blitz.

“If...if you don’t want the baby your more than welcome to leave, I won’t stop you,”

That seem to snap Striker out of his trance.

“Not want the-Blitz are you crazy?”

Blitz shrugged his shoulders, Striker just stare at his mate and saw how scared he looked, Striker didn’t blame him, he probably thought Striker didn’t want the baby since he was...silent...

“Oh, shit Blitz,” he grabbed the smaller imp and placed him on his lap Blitz curled himself against Striker as his cowboy began to stroke his cheek.

“Oh baby, I was quiet because I was trying to think of ways to tell you to get rid of the baby I was just quiet because I am shocked that you and I are gonna have a baby,”

Blitz pulled back a little to stare at Striker,

“So...you’re not gonna leave me and our baby?”

“What? Of course not baby,” he held Blitz closer to his body.

“I would never leave you or our misfit family,”

Blitz smiled as he purred and got closer to Striker. Striker stood up and carried Blitz out of the bathroom and into their own bed.

He tucked him and placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Get some rest my beautiful, you’ll need it, and you,” he began to rub Blitz small tummy.

“You take it easy on your daddy okay?” Blitz smiled as he watch Striker place a kiss on his tummy, maybe things won’t be so bad.

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Month 3

What was Blitz thinking that things wouldn’t be so bad with Striker knowing he was pregnant. 

Seriously Blitz was just 3-months pregnant and Striker baby proof not only their apartment but his office.

There were times he couldn’t find the stapler and whenever he asked Striker he would take the papers and stable them himself.

Blitz was still looking for the damn thing.

He was worse with Moxxie, the poor assassin came rushing in with a pair of scissors and Striker respond with a punch to the face.

He gave the cowboy an earful for that and made him sleep on the couch.

Striker wouldn’t let him do any heavy lifting and while Blitz love being pampered Striker was taking it to far.

He can still lift a stack of papers.

“Ugh, your not even born yet and daddy dearest is already protective of you,”

“SIR!” and there goes Moxxie no doubt being thrown around because he was carrying a glass of soda...again.

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Month six

He was gonna kill Striker, no seriously he was gonna kill him. Loona and Nathan (he’s still surprised that the little imp agreed to join their family with no questions asked) ate all the chips, cookies, and other sugary sweets and process food there was in the kitchen.

“Where the fuck are all my chocolate?!”

“Dad told us we can eat them,” Nathan asked as he munch on some nachos.

“Why the fuck did he do that?!”

“It’s not good for the baby,” Loona said as she finished the last of the soda.

He glared at his two teenage children, the two tagged team with Striker to make sure that no harm came to Blitz or the baby.

Honestly he was beginning to think his family of three where just using the “we are protecting you” excuse to hurt anyone that came near him.

He was still apologizing to Charlie for Loona shooting at her when she was coming to congratulate her brother and was excited for being an aunt.

Not to mention he owed Angel Dust some whisky after Nathan caught him in a trap.

“You didn’t have to eat all of my snacks he whined.

Loona passed him a box of sliced apples and strawberries.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Food that will be good for you and the baby,”

Blitz groan, he was killing Striker when he got back. 

“Hey Blitz-”

Striker felt pain in his groin, he kneeled down and watched as Blitz walked away from him.

“He’s still pissed about his diet?”

His kids nodded their heads as they kept eating Blitz’s junk food.

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Striker maybe protective but he was so sweet like now how he was rubbing his tummy and singing to his tummy,

Moonchild you shine When you rise, it's your time C'mon yo Moonchild don't cry When moon rise, it's your time C'mon yo Moonchild you shine When moon rise, it's your time C'mon yo

Blitz always loved Striker’s voice and hearing it sing to their baby was the best thing for him especially when their little one always calmed down when they heard their daddy’s singing voice.

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Month 8

Blitz held onto his children, someone was in their home, an overlord...and not just any overlord, Valentino, the moth pimp was still pissed at him for refusing to kill an innocent child all because Vox dumped his ass.

He, Loona, and Nathan were hiding in the closet as Val and his men destroyed his house, he prayed that Striker would return soon from the human world.

The door to the closet opened and Val stood there with a wide grin.

“Found you,”

He brought Nathan and Loona closer to his body while both teenagers wrapped their arms around Blitz’s stomach in an attempt to protect his belly.

“You know Blitz you shouldn’t have refused me, if you didn’t maybe your sweet family wouldn’t be harm.

His eyes landed on Loona,

“Oh yes, your little hellhound would make a fine addition to my collection,” Loona growled as Blitz held her closer.

Val’s eyes landed on Nathan,

“The little imp boy and the thing inside you will definitely serve my clients really well,” Nathan whimpered as Blitz growled at him.

“Touch my kids and I’ll kill you,”

Val laughed.

“You? Kill me? now how could you possibly do that?”

A loud bang could be heard in the house making the family sigh in relief.

“What the fuck?” 

Before Val could turn around Striker began to stab him with a holy blade.

The moth demon howl in pain as the knife was stabbed inside of him repeatedly Striker stabbed the moth multiple times, he didn’t stop, not until he was certain the moth was dead.

Once he saw that the demon was reduce to ash he turned to his family.

Opening his arms his children and Blitz ran to him. He wrapped his arms and tail around them, thanking La Santa Muerte that his family was okay and nothing bad happened to them.

He checked them all one by one stroking their faces, checking to see if there was a scratch on them or not hugging them close to his body.

He rubbed Blitz’s tummy and bend down to kiss it.

“Are you okay Blitz?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, don’t worry about us,”

Striker just hugged his family Blitz purred and was thankful that Striker came to save them than again, he knew Striker and knew that his mate would always be there to protect him, their teenage children, and their unborn baby.

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A/N: So what do you guys think? remember if you have any Striker and Blitz Prompts send them my way ^^ I will be posting more as week goes by ^^ GoNEF out ^^ and remember Armys to stream butter !!!

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[ducknotinarow]

🖤- For something they secretly wish they could do with your muse ( coughs- BlitzStriker )

| Vulenable meme

Hell was well Hell fititng of the name and all it wasn't not picnic either for those that died and ended up here they were made to suffer all over again in the ring of pride, and the same went for hell born demons as well. Mainly imps of course, sure in thier own areas it wasn't so bad enough around other imps was far easier to put up with like laying in hay stacks next to Striker. Though hay was no where as soft as he once thought it would be it was stiff and scratchy. The sky was nice though. "Think I should have laid on the dirt over this crap" blitz said breaking the sliecne between the two of them. But he was enjoying being out here with them the air was war enough even at night the sky was so wide and open. Was it the chance of getting away or the company? the company, he thought as he turned in to tuck in against the other imp, letting his head rest on top of Striker's chest letting large eyes close for just a moment a smirk curling over his lips. "Ah there we go much better now." Striker seemed context with being used for his comfort as they let an arm fall over Blitz side, peaking his eyes open when he looked up to the sky watching a star streak across the deep marroon sky. "You ever dumn enough to wish on a star?" he asks moving away to sit up now, "I know of all things imp making wishes is the stupidest thing right?" he followed up with before Striker could even answer. Letting his tail thump behind him as he thought a moment

"Though say a wish on a star did work, ya know if it did would you make a wish.. for I don't know shits and giggles I guess?" that sounded stupid, and maybe wishes on stars were but it still didn't hurt anything sometimes want to. He heard the hay behind him ruslet as Strike sat up now, Blitz looking to the side to see them a bit "ya know not seriouersly or anything like that I mean grown imp thinking a fucking star gonna care about what he wants? pfft what kind of stupid crap would that be to think right?" the silence between them didn't help as he found himself rambling a bit. "like okay if ya made a wish it can be anything right right so not like they mean anything and some people make the stupid dumbest things out to be a wish. Like I wish I had like this super rare horse figure that they only made ten of, that ain't a wish that just proof you're poor and can't afford that shit." Waving his hand a bit as he went on to talk more.

Striker gave a look not saying much but clearly not following where Blitz was going with this all the sudden "Like I don't know if i was as duck as the chucklefucks here then I might make a dumb wish even ya know like, I wish we could run away from everything no more IMP or the dumb hang ups. We hope on Boompoof there and ride far away from anyone whoever heard our names and start a new life. And start up a rodeo!" a bit of excitement escape Blitz mouth when he made the suggestion

"I mean you know how to work a rope and got clear showmen skill with the little number you whipped up suddenly, I got experience in show business mostly management I mean I own one already..guess I'd be dropping it though uh? but think of all the horses we could get! Then each night we could do this just rest out with the horses well they eat and such after a long day and we just look at the sky together cause all we need-" Suddenly this for example idea was not so one off thought as Blitz kept talking catching the way Striker was looking at him when figuring it out himself. " Covering his mouth as he coughed out a bit, obviously fake when he did it. "Not that I thought about any of that before just..ya know dumb thing that someone else may think about..." Casting his gaze away from Striker as he picked a random speck of dirt to focus on now. "Or hell even just get our own farm with tons of horses." Blitz added on clearly horses had to be part of it, but so did Striker if he hadn't caught on to that detail yet.

[marmolady]

New Horizons

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Liv and Reggie are starting school in San Trobida. Notes at the end!

Word Count: 9695

Chronology: After 'Growing Pains', before 'How the time escapes me...'

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading!

San Trobida, July 2035

“Hey, Auntie Grace!”

Reggie looked up from his book at the sound of his cousin’s voice, and hastily placed aside his shiny new copy of ��A Guide to San Trobidan History’ so he could rush out into the hallway.

Grace was already wrapping Liv in a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed the side of her niece’s head, before her eyes wandered down to a bloodied knee. “Did you have a mishap on your bike on the way here?”

“Yeah… I clipped the kerb and crashed,” Liv said, offering her aunt a better view of her wound. As she heard Reggie’s footsteps, she looked up to meet his eye and smiled.

“Youch!” Reggie offered sympathetically as he came close enough to peer over Liv’s grazed knee.

Liv shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Grace, though, was more concerned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”

“No, just scraped my knee. It does actually sting a bit.”

“Hmm. Well, I think we’d better put some anti-septic that knee just to be safe.”

The new house was a mess. Boxes and misplaced furniture filled every room, and the twins-- six years old-- had been making forts with the packing boxes that had been emptied so far. The family had been in the house for just over a day, and some good progress had already been made. There had been a lot that had been left behind. Neither Aleister nor Grace put too much value on material possessions, so most of what had come with them and the children to their new home in San Trobida had been essential furniture, and the mountains of photo albums and memorabilia from a life with the kids.

Grace sat Liv down on a wooden ottoman, and, after a little bit of rummaging, found the first aid kit.

“Okay, this might hurt just a little,” she said gently, and she carefully dabbed Liv’s graze.

Liv yelped, “Fuck!”, causing Reggie to gasp, looking to his mother for a reaction, and Erin and Immy to burst out giggling from inside their box-fort.

Grace raised an eyebrow, but her warm smile didn’t shift. “It stings that much?”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, flushing a little. “Sorry about the language.”

“I’m sure I didn’t hear a thing.”

There was the usual bustling around as Aleister got the girls into their shoes; Immy and Erin had decided that swapping one shoe with one another was the peak of humour, but eventually, their father managed to get them each into a left and a right-- even if they didn’t match. Six-and-a-half-year-old sisters, Reggie had come to realise, made just about everything more of a headache than necessary.

Eventually, though, they were on their way. His mom and dad, walking beside the twins as they pootled along on their bicycles, had the address, but Reggie rode ahead with Liv, taking her lead as she zig-zagged through the streets of Valle Brava. Having only set foot on San Trobidan soil as a new resident some twenty-four hours ago, everything aspect of his environment set his senses alight. This wasn’t like being back in America. Perhaps it was the tropical climate, but he was reminded much more of La Huerta-- of home. Liv certainly seemed right at home here. She and her mothers had settled a few weeks before, and Liv had been coming here pretty much all her life. There were just a few blocks between their respective houses, and the wide cycle paths along the bitumen roads made for an easy journey. This, Reggie had been told, was a newly developed area; much had been re-built since the war he knew his Tia Estela had been involved in. The cycle paths ended as they came nearer to Liv’s place, a little way out of the main township. The foliage on either side of the road became thicker, and there was less street noise, more birdsong.

“Beat you!” Liv announced as she planted her feet into the ground, forcing her bicycle to a stop.

Reggie grumbled, pulling up beside his cousin in front of a humble bungalow-style house with outer walls a vibrant azure blue against yellow accents. The sound of a dog barking-- unmistakably Liv’s Robin, was further confirmation they’d arrived. “You didn’t beat me, Livia. I was following you. I didn’t even know where we were going.”

“Jeez, dude. No one likes a sore loser….”

“I am not a--!”

The door swung open.

“Reggie!” Taylor wasted no time in sweeping her nephew into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you still have the energy for cycling over here-- didn’t you move house, like, yesterday?”

Reggie laughed. “Hi, Auntie Taylor!” There was something about seeing a familiar face in this new environment that made the pieces seem to click into place. Family made it home. “I’m a little bit tired but mostly just excited. I did sleep in today, so I guess I won’t crash until later.” His sisters on the other hand… there was no way they’d last the evening without overtiredness rearing its ugly head.

“I’m guessing your mom and dad are on their way with the girls?”

“Yeah,” said Liv, “but they’re pretty slow. I don’t have to wait to give Reggie the grand tour, do I?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. Hang on, Liv? Walk your bike through the house, please.”

“I was gonna!”

Reggie could only smirk. Like hell you were….

“Aaaand,” Liv finished off with a flourish, “this is my room!” She opened the door to a good-sized bedroom. It seemed to Reggie that what floor-space wasn’t taken up by the bed was piled up with boxes.

“I mean, I can’t say the mess wasn’t a clue.”

Liv gave her cousin a look as she flopped into her bed. “Hey-- moving house is hard. You’ll see soon enough. You get started all excited, but once you start living your life, you kinda get… stuck. Mama Taylor says we’re going to just blitz it all next weekend, and throw ourselves a pizza party as a reward.”

Reggie got up onto the bed and crossed his legs. “Do you like it here?”

“I love it here! I always liked coming here when I was little, so I guess it doesn’t feel like something completely different. I reckon my tio abuelo is over the moon that we’re here for good; it’s like I’ve got a grandparent now.” Liv’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away.

Understanding, Reggie nodded. Together, they’d grown up in a family that didn’t take the traditional shape. There were some things that simply couldn’t be explained to other friends; like why Reggie’s grandma could help him with his homework, but could never come in for grandparents’ day, and why Liv had a whole side of the family with no grandparents at all-- not even dead ones.

“And,” Liv continued, “people don’t really look at my Mama Estela funny. I noticed that years ago. I guess ‘cause of the war, people don’t look twice at someone who’s maybe a little bit banged-up. I got so sick of it back in America. Every time we met someone new, they’d put on that ‘God, what happened?’ face. Maybe Mom doesn’t want to explain the whole ‘revolutionary in a civil war’ thing to every random person who can’t mind their own business. Some people have scars-- big freaking deal. It’s better here.”

“Yeah, that would be a nice change. The amount of times I’ve seen you and Auntie Taylor look at a nosy idiot like you want to deck ‘em--”

Liv burst out laughing. “True, that.”

The sound of excited barking rang out from the backyard. It seemed pretty likely to Reggie that his parents and sisters had just arrived. When he and Liv arrived in the backyard, Erin had already joined Estela at the barbecue, desperate to be involved, while Immy was passionately talking to Nicolas about goodness-knows-what. Reggie made a mental note to rescue him in a few minutes; that kid could be intense, and the poor old guy had come out here for a relaxing lunch with his niece.

Nicely, but firmly, Reggie nudged the wriggling, writhing form of Robin the dog to the side so he could join his mother and Auntie Taylor at the large alfresco table under the porch. And Robin returned to his favoured position at the feet of the barbecue-- Erin was just a kid, surely, she’d drop something….

“Do you need a hand with the salads?” Reggie asked as he greeted his mother with a hug. He’d been seeking a lot of those. With so much changing, familial comfort meant a lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Perhaps more than anything, though, he was grateful to have Liv by his side. It was the way it had always been; from their toddler days on La Huerta, through elementary school, to their adventures in home-schooling. Some things might change-- some things might change immeasurably-- but he always had his cousin.

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La Huerta, 2028

Liv yelled out as she splashed down into the shallow surf. “Reggie!”

“I got her, Xiraana!” Reggie cried, and soon he was joined by a young Vaanti girl, who helped restrain their victim.

“No, no!” Liv squealed as she struggled. Vaanti kids, she’d long ago realised, were strong. “You’ll never take me alive!”

“Five-- four--- three….” Xiraana counted down, not letting Liv out of her grasp.

“Two-- one!” Reggie finished triumphantly, and he let his cousin fall unceremoniously back into the water. “The klaawyi ate all the meat off your bones. You’re one of us now!”

Liv pouted, but admitted defeat. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; she was pretty good on Team Klaawyi anyway. Or, she would have been… had she not seen the figure of her favourite uncle descending onto the beach from the great tree of Elyys’tel.

“Tio Diegoooooo! Hiiiii!” Liv ran across the sand, almost tripping in her desperation to reach him.

“Hey, Livia!” Reggie cried out, indignant at being suddenly abandoned. “You’re meant to help us catch them!”

But Diego had crouched down to wrap Liv in a hug, and Reggie might as well be talking to a pile of rocks for all that was being absorbed.

“Tio, they got me! Reggie and Xiraana got me, and now I’m a klaawyi!”

“You?” Diego laughed. “You’re no klaawyi-- I’ve never seen a klaawyi that was ticklish!”

“Wha--?” Oh no. Once again, Liv was shrieking with mirth, this time dodging the tickling hands of her tio.

Still standing in the shallows, Reggie stomped his foot, which achieved little but splashing himself in the face. The game went on without them; games of Klaawyi Chase didn’t stop for anyone. The usual fun on the beaches outside Elyys’tel would go on like this every day… whether Reggie and Liv were there to join in or not. And Reggie didn’t want to miss out now.

“Come on, Livia!”

She just shook her head, not letting her adoring gaze up at Diego slip for so much as a heartbeat. “Nah,” she said. “I’m done.”

Torn, knowing that whichever direction he ran in, he’d lose out on precious time with friends, Reggie admitted defeat and rushed back to Liv’s side on the shore. He looked back over his shoulder and waved goodbye-- for what he’d been told would likely be a long, long time. Engrossed in their game, his friends gave just the most fleeting of farewells before continuing to race through the small waves that lapped the beach.

Liv, in contrast, had eyes only for her tio. She clasped his hand tightly; if she held on tight enough, perhaps he’d have no choice but to come with her to wherever her mothers were taking her in the big aeroplane.

Where exactly she was going, Liv didn’t quite understand. It was away from La Huerta, but they weren’t going back to live with Tio Nicolas, they were going… someplace else. Someplace with no Tio Diego and Varyyn, where all the other kids would be boring shades of pink and brown rather than blue and green, and where no one knew about the yeti-bear, or the magic crystal alien that made her mom, or about The Story of the Year the World Stopped.

“I want you to come, Tio Diego…,” Liv softly beseeched.

Diego’s eyes grew misty, her earnest words having tipped him over the edge after what had been a long period of emotional build-up. Goodbyes were never easy, and Liv’s family was his family. He squeezed her little hand gently.

“I’ll visit you, Livi-- I promise. Cross my heart. And your mommies will bring you over to visit us here too; you are going to learn so many new games at school that you can teach Xiraana and the other kids.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

Having rejoined Liv, Reggie peered up at Diego’s teary face with concern. “Diego, you’re making your glasses all foggy.”

“Ha. I know, I know!” Diego wiped his eyes. “You might have a point there, Reggie; I want to spend this last night with you guys actually being able to see you!”

Liv giggled and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s legs, only to be peeled off and hoisted into the air. “We can still have fun until bedtime, can’t we? Will you tell us a story?”

On the ground, Reggie danced around, his arms waving. Diego-time was the best story-time.

In the arms of her tio, her playmate since she was a baby bouncing on his knee, Liv was a mess of emotions; of fear and excitement, of merriment that competed with the looming sorrow. It was more than her little self had a clue what to do with. She was only five.

Sensing his cousin’s turmoil, Reggie reached up a hand and took hold of Liv’s, hanging down by Diego’s side. “Don’t worry, Livia! If you worry, you won’t enjoy story-time.”

Liv stuck out her bottom lip. That little nerd-face could be pretty smart sometimes. Tomorrow night, there would be no goodnight story from Tio Diego, but tomorrow night was not now-- now, everything was as it should be. Her wavering grin returned, and to her delight, it brought matching smiles to the faces of her companions.

“Do you think Varyyn, and my mommies, and Auntie Grace and Uncle Alli, and Auntie Grace’s tummy babies want to listen to the story too?”

“Yeah,” Diego said, letting Liv back down to the ground, where she immediately found another hug in Reggie’s arms, “I think everyone would really like that.”

_____________________________

San Trobida, August 2035

“I don’t get it,” Liv said thoughtfully, as the car rolled right on past the turn for her Auntie Grace and Uncle Al’s place. “It’s right on the way; wouldn’t it have been easier for us to pick up Reggie?”

“Hon,” Taylor replied, “I think Reggie wanted his mom and dad to take him to orientation. They’ll probably be better at helping with his jitters than we would be.”

“I guess.” Liv looked out the window, watching the surrounding vegetation thicken once more as the car followed the road up out of the valley. “Orientation Day shouldn’t be too bad, right? Just, like, meeting our teachers, learning where stuff is, that kinda thing?” And you’ll have to try and make friends. That would be a laugh.

By the time they pulled up at the Las Selvas Secondary School, however, Liv fully understood her cousin’s nerves, and realised that was probably why she’d been so disappointed that he didn’t share a car with her. Through every big change in their young lives, his presence had been a reassuring constant.

“Uggghh,” she groaned. “Can I change my mind? Home-schooling was all right; more of that, please.”

Estela leaned from the front seat and gave Liv’s knee a squeeze. “You know, I don’t think he’d ever say it, but I’m pretty sure Reggie would be really scared if he had to walk into this without you. Besides, you were so excited about starting here; you owe it to yourself to at least giving it a shot.”

Again, Liv groaned, this time even louder. “It’s so annoying when you’re right.”

“Story of my life,” Taylor laughed, while Estela smirked.

When they pulled up at the school, Reggie was already waiting, standing beside the car-park while his parents fussed over him.

“You have your phone?” Grace quizzed, checking for the fourth time since they’d set off.

“I told you, yes!” Reggie replied, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to wave around for good measure. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready to be picked up, I promise.”

“In that case, you just have a wonderful time, darling.” She wrapped him in a hug-- already Reggie was easily as tall as her. “Go well, and have fun.”

Liv rushed over, all smiles. Her own nerves were a whole lot less bothersome when she had the distraction of friendly faces.

There were a few more rounds of hugs exchanged-- and then, suddenly, Liv and Reggie were on their own.

“You wanna head over? Looks like people are already crowding around-- it’s probably gonna start soon.”

Reggie’s expression brightened, as if he’d been just waiting for a little push for his confidence to surge back forth. “Well, it will hardly be an auspicious start here if we miss the principal’s address. Get a move on, Livia!”

The morning passed relatively quickly. Liv placed herself next to Reggie at all times-- they’d been put in the same Grade Seven home room as requested, making him one of the eldest in the class, and her one of the youngest. The whole set-up wasn’t entirely different to the school they were accustomed to, other than the bilingual approach. They were given a small pile of boring paperwork, and outlines of what to expect in their new classes; as English was their first language, they’d be taking ‘Spanish as a Second Language’, and Liv was also excited about ‘Nature Studies’, a subject she’d never been offered in America.

As far as Liv was concerned, the most traumatic part of the session was being expected to stand up in front of a room of strangers and give a short spiel about themselves. The perfect opportunity to officially balls-up any chance they might have of making new friends, or at least that was how she saw it. She mumbled down into her chest; something about enjoying hiking and gymnastics, something about liking Batman, and animals, and then she hurriedly sat right back down with flaming cheeks. Reggie, she observed, handled the brief foray into public speaking with rather more poise. Even though he was shy-- perhaps even more than she was-- he seemed able to go into ‘school presentation’ mode, and breeze through. When he sat back down, though, his hands were shaking-- but that was for the eyes of his trusted friend only.

When the lunch break came along, Liv was ravenous; a new and challenging social situation could do that to a person. While Reggie sloped off to the bathrooms, she tested out the school canteen, emerging a little while later with a hot empanada. It wasn’t quite as good as her Mama Estela’s, but it was definitely a step up from what was on offer at her old school. Maybe she could get used to this place….

Liv watched this new world go by all around her as she ate, cross-legged beneath the tree she’d told her cousin to meet her by. Kids moved in their little circles, talking loudly, laughing. Most of them coming into Grade Seven had come from the local primary school, and many knew each-other. Liv and Reggie would be starting out on the outside… and that was daunting. She could not be more grateful that she wasn’t taking this on alone.

Or… at least, she shouldn’t be. The lunchtime queue moved on, the gaggles of kids spread out, and still Reggie hadn’t returned.

Damn, constipated on your first day. Sucks to be you, Reggie.

Tentatively, Liv approached the boys’ bathroom and, having ascertained that no one was watching, slipped in. Her footsteps were unheard, drowned out by the loud, frantic breathing of young Reggie, slumped over the sink. Alarmed, Liv rushed over. Tears were spilling down his cheeks.

“Reggie… it’s okay,” she said gently. A little unsure, she reached out a hand to rub his back, and to her surprise, he didn’t flinch away. Slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.

“Liv…,” Reggie panted. “You know you’re not meant to be in here; this is the guys’ room.”

“Hey! Like it’s my fault you didn’t take your anxiety attack into the unisex bathroom. That’s on you.” Hmph. Ungrateful, much?

Reggie scowled, and dragged his cousin out of the toilet block by her arm. He slumped down by the wall, and scooched over to encourage her to join him.

“You’re a pain in the arse.” He was still shaking.

“It’s been said, yeah.” Liv huddled a little closer. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You’re not going to have any trouble making friends. Did you see they’ve got a chess club, and a photography club as well? At least that’ll get you talking to people.”

“That’s,” Reggie said quietly, “not exactly what I’m worried about.” When Liv looked at him expectantly, he continued. “When I was in a room with all those kids, my head just went back to being at our old school… and what happened. I know this place is meant to be progressive and all that, but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s okay. What if I think I’ve made friends with someone, and they find out about Erin, and they make it a big thing, and then some arsehole finds out….”

“Man, you’re really spiraling,” Liv observed, not especially helpfully. She wasn’t exactly surprised by what was troubling her cousin; getting into a fight in defense of his young transgender sister had completely unseated Reggie from the comfortable life he’d had at the last school. It had changed everything.

“You would too, if she was your sister!”

“Probably. But I think you should at least give people a go. It sounds like they’re really strict on any kind of bullying against minorities. Swinging back hard in the opposite direction after that fascist dictatorship.”

“Those are some awfully big words for you to be throwing around there, Livia; watch you don’t hurt yourself….”

“Hey! I know my stuff!” Liv demanded. “Do you think my tio abuelo would have it any other way? But anyway, I’m right. All the people who didn’t fit in before have come to this part of the country. Probably a lot of the kids have parents who saw really horrible things in the war; they wouldn’t want to send them somewhere that was bad like before. My Mama ‘Stel gave the principal the grilling of her life, and I bet she hasn’t been the only one. People are gonna want to make sure their kids are being looked after.”

A smile quirked on Reggie’s face as he imagined his aunt on a school tour. “I bet Tia Estela left Principal Sanchez quivering under the desk.”

“Yeah… after what happened in the last school, there’s no way they’d let us go anywhere unless they were sure it was a place that treated people right.”

Reggie knew that much. But his parents, and even his fierce aunt, could not shield himself, his sisters and his cousin, from everything. He contemplated silently, grateful for the patient companionship.

“I guess,” he said at last, “if no one gave anyone else a chance to be anything but the worst, then we’d be pretty lonely.”

“Yup. We should at least give it a shot. And if it all goes in the crapper, I’ll sic my moms on the fools that mess with us. And the freaking yeti.”

Reggie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That had always been Liv’s answer to everything. “Livia, I hate to break it to you, but if you go around threatening people with yetis, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose. Except me; I know you’ve got a screw loose.”

“So damn rude,” Liv growled. “Anyway, you really should eat something. It probably won’t help you feeling crap and light-headed if you’ve got an empty stomach. They’ve got arepas!”

“...I could eat an arepa,” Reggie admitted. There was only so much a young boy of thirteen could control; he couldn’t wave a magic wand and guarantee that his little sister would never be hurt by cruel, ignorant words, but he could look after himself, so that he was the best him he could be-- and the best brother.

_____________________________

USA, 2028

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” Taylor said kindly as Reggie delicately placed his knife and fork atop his small plastic plate, signaling that he’d finished. Immediately afterwards, the little boy’s small hand had dropped to his side to get a reassuring touch of his teddy’s scruffy fur. “It was nice of Big Bear to join us for dinner. Does he like lasagna as much as you do?”

Reggie yawned widely as he nodded to his aunt. He hadn’t known it was possible for a kid to be so full of yawns, but living with newborn twins had shown him just how big a tired feeling could be. “Big Bear likes to watch from the floor.”

“That’s nice of him to let you have the whole plate for yourself. We’re gonna have plenty to bring over to your mommy and daddy for them to eat tomorrow.”

Lasagna had been Reggie’s choice. This whole sleepover was to be all about him; giving him a welcome break from the stresses of being a new big brother to two babies at once. He’d been on many, many sleepovers at Tia Estela and Auntie Taylor’s place before, but this time felt different. Reggie knew that at home, his parents were busy with their other children… and in his sensitive state, it took no time at all for him to miss them.

Twins, Reggie had come to realise, were very hard work. They cried a lot… and his mommy cried a lot, and his daddy cried a lot, and he cried a lot. All crying and no sleeping was not a whole lot of fun. Reggie wanted so badly to get away from the babies, but at the same time he longed to be with his parents. However much fun it was to take a break at his aunts’ place, the worry in him just wouldn’t go away.

Side-by-side, he and Liv changed into their pyjamas. Five-year-old Liv, true to form, nattered away to him the whole time. Babies, of course, were the subject of choice.

“My moms say we’re probably not gonna get another baby. Maybe ‘cos you have two I can borrow one if I get lonely. Do you have one that you like best?”

Reggie shrugged.

“Maybe next time your mom and dad will have three. You could have all these babies like a baby army, and if someone’s ever mean to you, you will have like a hundred poopy diapers you can throw at them. No one likes poop.”

“I don’t want lots more babies,” Reggie said softly. I want no more.

“If you don’t like babies, you can come and live with us forever!” Liv suggested brightly, oblivious the the wobble of her cousin’s bottom lip.

When Estela popped her head around the corner to check on the kids, Reggie was in tears and Liv looked totally bewildered.

“Mommy, Reggie’s crying…,” she pointed out, rather unnecessarily, for her mother had already scooped the little boy into a cuddle.

“It’s okay, mijo,” Estela soothed as she gently rocked her nephew in her arms. “It’s okay to cry. This has been really hard. You know what? You have been such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”

Liv, not quite sure what to do, but nothing if not well-meaning, draped herself over Reggie and patted him on the back. “There, there. It’s okay.”

Estela took Reggie into the lounge room for some cheer-up time, and Liv took Big Bear. Taylor quickly joined them, and pulled Reggie into her lap for a cuddle.

“Are you feeling a bit sad, sweetpea?”

Reggie nodded. “Uh-huh. I liked it better how things were before. Everything’s different.”

Taylor gently rubbed the little boy’s arms. “Change can be really tough. It’s like you’ve got to figure out how life works all over again!”

“Yeah, it’s not nice.”

“So, it’s okay to have a good cry. We will give you as many hugs and cuddles as you need.”

“Reggie,” Liv piped up, “do you wanna play a game? That could make you feel happy?”

Reggie sniffed and nodded again. Pleased-- she had this cheering-up business down-- Liv plonked herself in Estela’s lap and leaned forward to her cousin.

“Do you wanna play… ‘Klaawyi Chase’?”

Estela intervened quickly. “Maybe something with a little less running around. It’s nearly bedtime, Livi.”

“Okay. Ummmm…. ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’?”

“Livita.”

Well, you’re no fun. Liv gave a soft huff and pondered. By her best guess, ‘Hide and Seek’ would be a ‘no’ too… especially as last time she’d hid, no one managed to find her for a full hour.

“How about,” Taylor suggested, “we have a game of ‘Fortunately-Unfortunately’?”

“I wanna play that one!” Reggie said enthusiastically. “Can I start? Fortunately, we all had ice cream for dessert.”

Liv bounced in her mother’s lap. “Unfortunately, the ice cream was smelly-feet flavour!”

“Livi!” Taylor exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Why was everything smelly-feet with that kid? “Okay, then-- fortunately, Robin Dog likes smelly-feet, so he ate all the ice cream for us.”

“Oh!” Liv cried. “I’ve got a really good one!” Hehe, Robin with smelly-feet farts….

“Unfortunately,” said Estela. “It was Mama Estela’s turn, and Miss Livita just had to wait.”

Liv turned and poked her tongue out at her mom, making Reggie giggle. He snuggled in against his Auntie Taylor’s chest, his mind far away from worries about his new role as big brother to a pair of very needy twins.

“Fortunately,” he said, smiling, “Furball was visiting, and he made us some new ice cream with no yucky flavours in it.”

“Unfortunately….”

_________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

It was the last weekend before school started, and a lazy warm day at the Montoya house. Estela was up a tree, hammering boards into what would soon be a playhouse for the kids. She’d already finished up a two-storey-high climbing wall on the other side of the yard, which, at Liv’s request, would eventually be connected to the new tree-house by a zipline. Then, there’d be a slide, and monkey bars, and a tyre swing, and a fire pole. Basically, Estela had made it her mission to put together the best backyard playground on the Costa Libertad. Taylor, meanwhile, had been busying herself with a vegetable garden, with the help of a fascinated Erin and her parents, who turned out to be quite clever when it came to soil chemistry.

Liv had been up and down her new climbing wall like a yo-yo, leaving her dog, Robin, running rings around the base and all but tripping Reggie up as he tentatively took his first steps towards ascending.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m trying! Your dog’s getting in the way.”

Eventually, Reggie managed to clamber his way up, with a little help from Liv who hauled him over the top.

“See; piece of cake.”

Reggie couldn’t quite agree, and now that he was up twenty feet, he was already dreading his descent back to solid ground. Keen to distract himself from the dizzying height, he passed Liv the rope that he’d carried slung across his shoulders.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she demanded. “You’re meant to drop one end back down….”

“I’m not going near the edge!”

“Fine. Immy! You down there still?”

On the ground, and trying to wrestle a squeaky toy giraffe from Robin’s mouth, Immy craned her neck up.

“Yeah-- but you’re lucky I am, Reggie was so slow.”

“Careful. I was careful. You should bloody well try it sometime.”

Immy rolled her eyes dramatically, but nonetheless took the rope end that Liv had lowered to her, and ran it over to Estela so the distance could be measured.

“There we go,” Liv said, after having marked the rope at the edge of the platform. “Done. Reggie, if you’re just going to look down, you might as well be on the ground. Come on-- check out the view!”

Begrudgingly, Reggie sat up properly and looked around.

“Woah.” Maybe he could see the appeal of being up so high, even if he was immensely grateful for the safety rails around the platform. “You really can see everything up here.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Liv beamed as she pointed her cousin towards the paddock behind the yard. “You wanted to see our horse? Right in there at the side of the sheltery-shed thing….”

“Oh, wow! Okay, fine, I believe you now. I guess she was just hiding earlier.”

“That’s Miel. She’s like, older than dirt; Mama Estela used to ride her when she was a teenager.”

“And she’s still alive?”

“Just about. I think she’s uh… nearly thirty? Pretty ancient. Mom found out she was all on her own after her friend died, and she bought her so she could retire here with us. She’s kind of a bitey asshole. Uh, the horse-- not Mom.” Liv quickly amended, glancing to the in-progress tree-house. “So, we’re keeping her, and if she wants to make friends with the new horses we’re getting, she can, otherwise at least she can, like, neigh rude horse words at them from over the fence.”

Reggie snorted. Weirdo.

“I’m super excited. I know Mama ‘Stel was kind of nervous about us moving over here because of how things were when she was a kid-- but it actually… feels nice. I love our new house. I love cranky Miel. I love that we’re gonna get chickens, and maybe a new friend for Robin. Even the school seems pretty good.”

Swallowing his fear, Reggie joined Liv at the railing, dangling his legs over the side of the platform.

“Yeah, I think I like it here, too. Mom and Dad seem really happy; Dad says he can make more of a good difference in the world here than in America. So, I guess that’s got to be good. Did I tell you we’re going to put a pool in?”

“You might have mentioned it. When you’ve been whining about the heat, for the hundredth time.”

“It’s so humid!”

Liv giggled. It was like being back in the tropics of La Huerta, and to her, that felt right. Granted, it might have been nicer if they could just pop on over into a neighbouring alpine region that was inexplicably right next to the hot, sticky jungle, but she really loved it.

“Well,” Reggie said, “it’s going to be great. And it should be done by the time Quinn and Michelle come to visit.”

“Do we even know whose house they’re staying at yet?”

“It should be my place.” Reggie puffed out his chest, as if to emphasise the rightness of his point. “You’re definitely getting Jake and Sean and Mikey. You can’t take all the visitors. And besides… we’ll have a pool.”

That was hard to argue with. “It’s up to the adults anyway,” Liv conceded. In the end, it didn’t matter; she was going to make the most of having her La Huerta family around even if it meant camping out in Reggie’s back yard. “But, I will be a much better San Trobida tour guide than you. I’m still showing you around.”

Reggie hmphed, and Liv laughed.

“Come on, Reggie,” she said, dropping gracefully down the side of the wall and taking up hand-holds. “I’m getting hungry.”

It was at that point that Reggie made the sobering discovery that going down, was rather more intimidating than going up a sheer vertical surface.

“Um, Liv…,” he said quietly. “I, uh, don’t think I can do that.”

“Oh!” Liv responded. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. Maybe you should’ve started smaller. But don’t worry, I’ll get you down….”

“Okay…,” he murmured, clearly not remotely convinced.

“Mom!” Liv hollered, all but making her poor cousin topple over the edge in surprise. “Reggie’s stuck!”

Reggie felt heat rise in his cheeks as his sisters, hanging out on the grass below the wall at the worst possible time, burst out laughing. Like they could even get up this high to begin with.

Up in the tree-house, Estela looked up and wiped off the paint from her hands. Rescuing kids from scrapes had pretty much become her specialty at this point; twelve years with Liv had seen to that. “I’m coming,” she called back.

“I’m not exactly stuck,” Reggie muttered defensively, as his Tia Estela easily scaled the climbing wall to join him and Liv, who’d already rejoined him to offer moral support. “If I really wanted to, I could climb down; I just feel I should practice climbing up a few more times before I try that.”

“You’ll get there,” Estela said kindly. As far as she was concerned, the fact that her nephew had a realistic view of his own capabilities was only a good thing. “I’ll have that zipline going in no time anyway, so you’ll have no hurry to work it out.”

With his aunt’s back offered to him, Reggie took the cue and wrapped his long arms around her neck, and his legs around her middle. Getting rescued by one of the team of protective grown-ups? Basically, the story of both his and Liv’s lives.

“Hang on, Regito,” Estela laughed.

____________________________

La Huerta, 2034

The frigid wind howled against the cabin door, and it took all of Liv and Reggie’s combined might to wrestle it closed. Both kids were panting heavily-- and shaking like leaves-- as they nervously stepped away.

“Thank god this little hut was here, really,” Liv heaved. “I dunno about you, but I’d rather be stranded in a snowstorm with walls around me.”

Reggie said nothing, and just shivered, wrapping his arms around his own torso. He’d wrapped up-- as if his parents would let him go wandering into the colder pockets of the island without a heap of layers-- but the snow had wet his gloves through, and a chill was now spreading through his body.

“Hey,” Liv said, “we should… we should get a fire going. You look like you’re halfway turned into a popsicle right now.”

As his cousin busied herself at the fireplace-- thank goodness there was some firewood left-- Reggie fiddled with his emergency phone. His heart sank. No signal. His mom and dad were going to be so worried when he and Liv never came home….

“Uh, Liv… I think the storm’s screwed up the reception here. It won’t let me phone Mom and Dad.”

Liv looked up, and for the first time, she looked truly fearful, her usual intrepid spirit extinguished in a flash. “They’re really gonna panic,” she said softly. She shuddered. If their parents came out looking for them, it meant walking out into a blizzard, and all the danger that came with it. If she could just tell her mothers that she was safe, that she and Reggie had shelter… they could wait out the storm. Anything could happen, anything….

“Are you okay, Livia?” Reggie asked, and he handed her a heavy blanket as he sat down cross-legged in front of her feebly burning fire. “You look kind of spaced-out.”

“Hng?”

“They’ll find us; it’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want them to come and find us,” Liv snapped. “I want them to stay where it’s safe. They could get hurt or, or worse because we were stupid enough not to turn around when the weather changed.” She placed a stick too roughly, and her firewood tower collapsed, extinguishing the flame. “For fuck’s sake!”

Reggie, wisely, stayed quiet, letting his cousin fix up the mess and get a new fire started without interference. He watched her with concern as her eyes welled. “Livia…?”

She huddled close to him, but for a long while, didn’t speak.

“Reggie,” she murmured at last, “something really horrible happened a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to talk about it with you, ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t even want to think about it…. It just made me feel too bad. But, uh.... I was… I was playing in the sea with Mama Estela. Just like we always do. We were just goofing off. Then, um, I got all tangled up in those freaking weeds. They grabbed me and held me under.”

“That must have been so scary….”

“Of course, Mom got me out of there. B-but there was a sea-snake in there. It bit her. It happened so fast… I hardly even saw what happened, but she suddenly just... could hardly even get out of the water. I somehow managed to haul her up out the water, but she was all limp and… and I gave her the anti-venom, and she just started having some kind of fit.. Like her body was jerking around, and her mouth was all frothy.” She gasped through a sob. “Then she… she stopped breathing, completely.” Liv shuddered as the memory filled her mind, vivid as if it were yesterday. She could feel Reggie’s wide, horrified eyes upon her. “I screamed. I screamed for help. Mama Taylor was up the beach, she couldn’t hear me. S-so I did CPR. My hands were shaking so-- so bad. And all I could think was ‘I’m gonna screw this up. I’m gonna screw this up and my mom’s gonna die’.” Her voice cracked and she sputtered through hot tears that she wiped away with her arm. Before she knew it, Reggie had his arms around her and was holding her tight. “I don’t know how long it was,” she said. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes. Then she started breathing and I just… I cried, and cried, and cried.”

Reggie gently rubbed Liv’s back, and it soothed her.

“I, uh, I guess I always thought Mama Estela was invincible. To me, she always was. There was nothing I couldn't do either, because she would always be there to protect me. It was so close, Reggie… it looked like she was gone.”

“I… didn’t know it was as bad as that. My dad told me she’d been bitten but…,” Reggie mumbled. “You must have been so scared. Have you… have you talked to your moms about it much?”

Liv sniffed, and wiped her face again. “Yeah. You know what my Mama Taylor is like; we’ve talked it through lots, I’ve told them how I’m feeling. But I haven’t… like… had a big cry since it happened.” Until now. Now, she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming. Reggie didn’t seem to mind; he just sat with her, and rubbed her back, and told her it was okay.

After what seemed like an age, her tears slowed.

“It is going to be okay, you know?” Reggie said gently. “Obviously, they’re going to come out looking for us, but they’re smart. They’ll be prepared; just like your Mama Estela was with the anti-venom.”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, her voice small. You could be as prepared as you wanted, but sometimes the world managed to stay one step ahead. The storm outside was wild and furious, battering on the roof and walls… and it was frightening. Liv could only snuggle under her cousin’s arm, and trust that whatever search and rescue party was out there would come through.

The two kids huddled together beneath their blanket, speaking little, but making their mutual support known without words. Just the squeeze of a hand through the most blood-curdling howls of the wind, and the simple offer of presence.

Somehow, the creak of the door shoved open cut through the dull roar.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“Dad!” Reggie leapt forward and flung his arms around his father, his face lighting up further when Grace followed in behind. “Mom!”

Grace put her shaking hands to her son’s face, gently sweeping hair from his eyes. “Darling, are you all right?” Then she pulled Liv into a fierce hug, and in a moment Aleister had his arms around all three of them. “We were so worried!”

Liv whimpered against Grace’s shoulder. “Are my moms out in the storm?” She knew the answer already.

“Yes, honey. They’re out searching for you. Don’t you stress, okay? We’ve got a flare to set off so they’ll know we found you here-- and Varyyn and Diego too.”

“Woah,” Liv murmured, “you got a whole search party out.”

There was a buzzing, and the flickering of blue light, then Iris materialised.

Reggie beamed. “Hey, Grandma! So, a ‘whole search party’ is pretty much correct.”

“I will say, being able to scan for nearby lifeforms is quite handy in situations like these.”

So, find my moms and Tio Diego. Liv hugged tighter to her Auntie Grace, with no words pleading for help.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said gently, stroking Liv’s face, while Aleister saw to setting off the flare. “It’s going to be just fine. We’re not far from Elyys’tel; we all fanned out from there, so no one is going to be too deep into the mountains.”

That… actually made sense. It was enough, just enough to keep Liv a step above panic-mode. She headed back to the fireplace, but as her backside hit the floor, a guttural roar rocked the cabin, and she leapt back to her feet.

“What the--?”

“You two stay back!” Aleister ordered, his voice shaking. Why, oh why, did the children want to go gallivanting out in the frozen wilderness when there was a perfectly serviceable tropical paradise right outside their front door? He was going to be old before his time at this rate….

Grace, though, was already hauling open the door, to reveal the hulking figure of the Mountain Guardian.

A growl rumbling in her throat, Arktos loomed in the doorway, looking down at Grace with a questioning gaze.

“Hello…?” she said cautiously. The gigantic bear-like creature was generally reasonably friendly…. “Did we… did we disturb you with the flare?”

Arktos grumbled, her furry ears flicking with curiosity.

“Our friends are out there in the storm,” Grace continued, certain that the yeti would understand; her past experiences had only supported the fact that this creature was incredibly intelligent-- and benevolent. “The flare was to bring them to this cabin.”

With a soft huff, Arktos shuffled backwards, and all of a sudden, it seemed as though she was surrounded by a force-field… a bubble that the wind and blinding snow couldn’t penetrate.

Understanding, Grace turned to Iris. “I think we’re going hiking again-- with a little extra help this time. Al, you’ll stay and watch the kids?”

“I--I--” Aleister stuttered. “Well, of course. Stay close to the… the bear thing.” Scrambling a little, he pulled off his outer layer and offered it to her. “I won’t have you catching hypothermia.”

And Grace stepped into the snow, Iris hovering behind her, and found shelter in the yeti’s protective shield. She looked up at the beast, now rearing up onto colossal hind legs to scout for signs of nearby human activity. “Thank you, Arktos. I guess… I guess, you choose the direction, and we’ll start the search.”

The unusual trio headed out into the storm, and within moments, they were invisible for the wind thick with snow. Aleister, a look of dumbfoundment upon his face, closed the door, and again, the cabin was quiet.

“Damn. Auntie Grace is a fricking badass,” Liv breathed, face alight in awe.

Aleister, recovering from his wife’s shock exit quickly-- he’d seen her steely courage in action enough times to just about take it in his stride, nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the last flakes of snow from his coat, and looked around the room. “Well, I don’t suppose the wait will pass any faster with us standing around here. Reggie, did we leave any board-games here last time?”

“Uh, looks like we’ve got ‘Scrabble’?”

Well, Liv thought, I don’t have a hope in hell against these people. Should’ve left ‘Twister’ here….

Reggie sat himself down in front of the crackling fire and started unpacking the box. “Hey, Livia-- team up with me?”

He was clearly still a little worried about her. If there was an opportunity to thrash her at something, Mr Pedantic-Always-Right would take it without fail. Or so Liv had believed.

She plonked down cross-legged beside him. “Yeah? Yeah, all right.”

The two kids exchanged a high five, and Liv couldn’t help but grin. You are going down, Uncle Al.

___________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

As the car pulled up the neatly paved pathway to Aleister and Grace’s house, Liv excitedly rolled down the window.

“Reginaaaaald!!!” she hollered.

“How,” Aleister wondered aloud, “can such a small person-- and the offspring of Estela and Diego of all people-- sound so eerily like a bloody foghorn?”

A beaming Reggie followed his father out the front door. He exchanged hugs with both his parents-- and his two little sisters-- and then rushed to join his cousin on the back seat.

“Are you ready to go, mijo?” Estela checked in, suppressing a laugh as Taylor all but did a contortion act to give her nephew a hug from the front seat.

He had Liv, didn’t he? So, basically, he was ready for anything.

The short drive to the school saw the return of those pesky jitters, and Reggie knew from the way his cousin jiggled her leg the whole way there that he was definitely not alone in that. The school ground, filled only with kids their own age when they’d been there for orientation, was swarming with adolescents of all sizes-- and just about all of them were bigger than Reggie and Liv.

With an awkward hug and a kiss to her mothers in the front of the car, Liv bit the bullet and, bulging backpack in hand, stepped out into a brave new world. There was only one thing for it; Reggie would just have to take the plunge. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed after his cousin.

“Welp,” said Liv, “here goes nothing!”

Reggie gave a nervous laugh and playfully bashed Liv with his backpack, putting a reassuringly silly grin on her face.

We’ve got this.

_______________________

NOTES

Little Xiraana is @mauvecatfic's baby. Check out her stories; you won't regret it!

If you read 'A Ride to Remember', you might remember Miel. She's the very same horse.

Aaaaand, the incident Liv is recounting during the snowstorm is the one you can read from Estela's perspective in 'Teething Problems: Part Two'.

[writefightandflightclub]

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies​

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of  the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

[kiddoryder]

Hidden Blind Rage

Wow...It’s been since I wrote a fanfic huh? Well I’m really sorry about that. I mean you have to admit, 2020 was hell with all the crazy stuff that was happening I felt stress and lost my happy and spark on writing. 

 But thanks to the new year and new Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel clips and episodes coming out, I feel back and better than ever! 

 So this story is about one of my best friends Lolli-Momo1908 OC Blitz going through a struggle on the day of his and Sophie’s parents’ death. 

 So relax and enjoy the story! 

Blitz, Sophie, their parents and Ryan belong to @loli-momo1908

 An alarm was ringing loudly, and Blitz sleepily turned it off. He sat up and yawned and scratched his back. Blitz rubbed his eyes and for some reason, instead of feeling like his regular self, he just felt more...depressed and numb. He turned to his calendar and discovered why: Today was the anniversary of his and Sophie’s parents' death thanks to Ryan O’Grady AKA the Evil Eye Killer. Ever since that day, Blitz had the responsibility to take care of his baby sister Sophie from the danger of their life in Hell. 

 Blitz felt like he didn’t want to do anything but sleep on this terrible grim day, but he knew he had one job he can never quit on, and that was taking care of his sister. Blitz got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash up and change his clothes. After putting on his clothes, he began to brush his teeth and come his hair. When he was done, he looked in the mirror to his hair, but he saw a flashback of fire and Ryan’s evil smile. Blitz shook his hair and saw nothing. He sighed in sadness and heard a knock on the door. Blitz got out the bathroom and saw Sophie. 

 Blitz - “Oh hey Sophie. What’s up?”

 Sophie - *a little sad and nervous* “Hi Blitzy. I saw on my calendar what today is...Are we going to be okay?”

 Blitz saw how unsure Sophie was feeling. Hating to make his baby sister sad, Blitz kneeled down to her height and said: 

 Blitz - “Don't worry Sophie. I know today is a hard and sad day for us but trust me: things will get better.”

 Sophie - *smiles* “Thank you big brother. And I know someday Mommy and Daddy will come back to us soon.”

 Those words struck Blitz’s heart like a knife. He didn’t have the heart to tell her there’s a chance their parents aren’t coming back. However, he feels like want to keep that hope for Sophie’s sake so she wouldn’t be feeling depressed. 

 Blitz - *smiles* “Yeah. That’s right. Someday they will come back but soon. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

 ()()()()()()()()

 Downstairs they saw Niffty making some breakfast. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, and Angel Dust was sitting on the table waiting for breakfast to be done. 

 Blitz - “Morning everybody.”

 Charlie - “Oh good morning Blitz and Sophie! How you guys slept?”

 Blitz - *shrugs* “Okay I guess.”

 Niffty - “Ooh! Hello guys! Do you want some breakfast? I’m making some pancakes and bacon!” 

 Sophie - “Ooh yes please!”

 Blitz - “To be honest, I’ll just have some coffee.”

 Niffty - “Coffee? Are you sure? I mean big growing men like you need their strength from food so you can have big strong muscles.”

 Blitz - “It’s fine Niffty. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

 Niffty - “Well alright.”

 Blitz sat down to Angel looking a bit sad. Angel noticed and said: 

 Angel - “Are you alright Blitz?”

 Blitz - *depressed* “Huh? Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

 Angel - “Are ya sure? You don’t seem like your regular self.”

 Blitz - “I’m fine Angel. I’m just a little tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

 Angel - “Oh Blitz. You know you are always welcome to sleep in my bed for some *flirty* fun nights.”

 Blitz’s left eye twitch a bit, and then he bopped Angel on the head with his fist. 

 Blitz - “Don't go horny on me dumbass! Besides, I’m not in the mood for your flirty games.”

 Then there was a knock on the door. 

 Charlie - “I’ll get it.”

 Charlie got up from her seat and opened the door. She saw it was her youngest cousin Sonya holding her book bag. 

 Sonya - “Hey Cousin Charlie!” 

 Charlie - “Oh hey Sonya!”

 Charlie gave her a baby cousin a big hug. Even Liz in her shadow form hugged her as well. Charlie let her cousin inside the hotel and into the kitchen. 

 Charlie - “Hey guys! Guess who joined us for breakfast.”

 Husk - “Oh. You brought the weird little boy over. Great.”

 Sonya - *annoyed* “I’m a weird little girl.” 

 Husk - *shrugged* “Whatever.”

 Sophie - “Hi Sonya! Hi Lizzy!”

 Sonya - *chuckles* “Liz said “Hi Squirt.”

 Sophie giggled and Blitz slightly smiled and shook his head. Sonya sat down and began to eat some breakfast. 

 Angel - “So kid, what’s bring you here? In this so-called lovely hotel?”

 Sonya - “My parents went out of town for a week and said I have to come here.”

 Angel - “Can’t you and Liz stay home by yourself? I mean you both are like what? 12?”

 Vaggie - *annoyed* “They are 11 Angel. They are still a little too young.”

 Angel - *scoff* “Oh please at their age not only I was already staying home by myself, but I already learned how to learn how to use a gun.”

 Husk - “At that age, I already knew how to mix drinks.”

 Blitz look down and look a bit sad. He remembers how when he was 11 years old, he would spend a lot of time with his parents. He would cook with his mother, his father would read books to him, and his parents would always comfort him whenever he was feeling down. Then Blitz snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Sonya moaning and rolling her in annoyance. 

 Charlie - “What is it Sonya?”

 Sonya - “It’s my parents. They keep asking me questions like if I’m alright and stuff. They should know that I'm okay cause Liz and I are tough, and I’m with you guys. *sighs* they can be such a pain in the butt sometimes. I mean, we are almost teenagers I don’t need them to keep hovering over me and Liz. We aren’t babies. 

 Blitz - *stand up, points at her and snapped* “Hey! Be lucky you and Liz actually have parents that care and love you alright?!”

 Everybody looked shocked at Blitz outburst. They never saw Blitz yelled at a kid like that. Even Sophie looked appalled on how her big brother yelled at her friend. Blitz realized what he had done and then slump back down in his seat. 

 Blitz - *guilty and embarrassed* “Sonya I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to yell at you. I...Didn’t sleep well last night and I've been feeling a little tense.”

 Charlie - *concerned* “Maybe you should go upstairs to rest.”

 Blitz - “Yeah...Good idea.”

 Blitz got out of his seat and went upstairs to his room. Everybody was still shocked on Blitz behavior. 

 Husk - “Geez what’s the hell up his ass?”

 Sophie - “Blitz is sad. Today is the day we lost our Mommy and Daddy.”

 Now everybody at the table looks concerned and sad. They should have known today was going to be a hard day for Blitz and Sophie. 

 Angel - *concerned* “Oh my poor Blitzy Que. No wonder he’s all upset.”

 Vaggie - “Are you alright Sophie?”

 Sophie - “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s sad, but I know someday Mommy and Daddy will come back. It’s Blitzy I’m worried about.``

 Charlie - “Maybe we should let Blitz rest it off. I’m sure he needs it for a day like this.”

 ()()()()()()()()

 Blitz was laying down on his bed. He was trying to rest. But he couldn’t. All he could think about that awful day Ryan came and lost his parents. He tried to think of something else, but he couldn’t. 

 “You’re a failure kid.”

 Blitz’s ears twitched and his eyes widened. He turned around and saw Ryan in the mirror. Blitz walked up to the mirror and his eyes turned red. 

 Blitz - “Shut up.”

 Ryan - “Let face it. You can’t protect your ass from me anymore.”

 Blitz - “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

 Ryan - “I know deep down you’re just a scared sad little boy. You’re afraid I’ll hunt you and killed you and your baby sister the way I killed your parents. I’m getting ready for that. And when that day comes. You will die.”

 Blitz - “No you won’t! I’ll still fight you no matter what!”

 Ryan - “That what your father said and look what happened to him. Face it, you’re a failure to parents because you fail to protect them. Just like you’re gonna fail to protect your sister. You’re a disgrace to them.”

 Blitz - *angry* “SHUT UP!!”

 He punched the mirror so hard that it broke into pieces. Blitz snapped out his thoughts and realize that he was just going through a hallucination. He winces in pain and saw how his hand had some glass shards and was bleeding. Blitz went to the bathroom, got some bandages, and began to take out the glass shards first, the. wrap up his hand. Then he heard on the knock on the door and when Blitz went to open it, it was Angel. 

 Angel - “You okay?”

 Blitz - “I’m fine why?”

 Angel - “Well I- *see his bandage hand* What happens to your hand?”

 Blitz - *tries to cover it up* “I just had a little accident with my mirror that’s all.” 

 Angel - *disbelief* “Accident? Really? Tell me the truth.”

 Blitz - “It’s none of your business Angel.”

 Angel rolled his eyes and said:

 Angel - “Look babe, I’m worried about ya. I mean you act so...tense and stuff. Even ya sister worried about you because of what happened.”

 Blitz - “Look, it something I can deal with on my own. Can we just drop it okay?”

 Just when Angel was about to say something, he heard a ring on his phone. He looked at his phone to see who was texting him. Angel grimace and text back on his phone. 

 Angel - “Look Blitz, I gotta go to work. Please just let me know what’s wrong. You’re one of few people I can fully talk too.”

 Blitz just crossed his, turn his back away, and said.

 Blitz - “Whatever Angel…”

 Angel sadly sighed and left Blitz’s doorway. Blitz looked a bit ashamed on how he acted toward Angel and felt a weird, strange feeling in his chest. It was a mix of pain, yet something that slowly unlocking inside of him. He decides to ignore that feeling. 

 Blitz - *to himself* “Come on Blitz, you can get through the day.” 

 ()()()()()()()()()

 Blitz went downstairs and was now at the hotel’s lobby. He saw Husk mixing some drinks and sat on one of the stools. 

 Husk - “What the fuck you want?”

 Blitz - *annoyed* “Some orange soda please. Big bottle.”

 Husk - “Huh. Rare time I get ask for something non-alcohol related drinks.”

 Blitz - “Well you should know that I don’t drink.”

 Husk - *shrugged* “Whatever.”

 As Husk was getting Blitz his drink, Blitz kept looking down in sadness. He felt guilty that not only he snapped at Sonya but ignored and was rude to Angel. Angel was right: Blitz was one of the few people Angel can talk his true feelings too since Angel only trust a few people. Blitz decided when Angel gets back, he will apologize to him. Then Husk gave him a big glass bottle of soda. 

 Husk - “Here. Go nuts.”

 Blitz - *sarcastic* “Geez you really are a ball of sunshine aren’t ya?”

 Husk - “Yeah cause my job in this fucking hellhole involve two things I love: drinking and ignoring the shit out of people.”

 Blitz rolled his eyes and began to drink his soda. Husk then said:

 Husk - “So...The kid told me is the day ya lost your Ma and Pops.”

 Blitz - “Which kid told you that?”

 Husk - “Your sister.”

 Blitz - “Oh right. You don’t know how hard it is. 4 years since that bastard took our parents away and always trying to come after us and kill us.”

 Husk - “Well ya only beat the crap of the guy.”

 Blitz - “But that doesn’t help with how he killed my parents.”

 Husk - “So ya lost your Ma and Pops. Get the fuck over it! Everybody lose people but it’s no excuse to be a fucking crybaby about it. Get the fuck over it!”

 Those words made Blitz furious. Blitz took his glass bottle, broke it in half, and grab Husk by the bow tie pulling him close with one hand, and the bottle with his other hand bringing it close to Husk face. 

 Blitz - *dark and serious with red eyes* “You wanna say that again?”

 “Blitz what are you doing?!!”

 Blitz turned around and saw Charlie, Vaggie, Sophie, Niffty and Sonya looked appalled at how Blitz was about to hurt Husk with a broken glass bottle. Blitz’s eyes turned back to normal and let go of Husk and drop the bottle on the floor. 

 Niffty - “Ooh! A mess! I’ll clean it up because a handsome man like Blitz shouldn’t do such a dangerous clean up. It could leave him getting cut and that ruin his looks!”

 Niffty quickly got a broom and dustpan and quickly began to clean up. Charlie went to Husk and said:

 Charlie - *concerned* “Are you alright Husk?”

 Husk - *dust himself* “Eh. I had it worse than just a broken bottle on my face.”

 Vaggie - *mad* “Blitz! What were you thinking?!”

 Blitz - *defensive* “Look I’m sorry okay! It won’t happen again.”

 Charlie - *Blitz this isn't cool at all. I know today is a sad day for you and Sophie, but you shouldn’t lash out at others!”

 Blitz - “I wasn’t lashing out!”

 Sonya - *calm but serious* “Then what would you have called it?”

 Blitz didn’t have an answer to that and was holding his chest. That feeling was coming back again, but stronger. He was trying to keep it down and even hide but his friends look concerned about him. 

 Vaggie - “Blitz, maybe you should just talk about how you are feeling.”

 Blitz - “Don't worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

 Sophie - “Blitzy, don't be sad please.”

 Blitz - “I’m not sad Sophie. I’m just feeling...something else.”

 Sophie - “But this isn’t good on how you are feeling! Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t like this for you.”

 Blitz - “Well Mommy and Daddy aren’t here anymore Sophie.”

 Sophie - “I know but if you have huge hopes like me, they will come back someday.”

 Blitz - *snapping* "They're not coming back, alright?! So, just shut up about it!

 Then, Blitz noticed how the girls looked appalled. Even Husk had a disgusted look on his face. Blitz didn’t understand why, but when he looked down, he saw what always broke his heart: Sophie had tears in his eyes and looked shocked and hurt on how her older brother had just yelled at her. 

 Blitz - *regretfully* “Sophie...I-I’m so sorry I-I…”

 Can’t find any words to excuse his actions, Blitz just ran out the hotel door. He was deeply ashamed on how he took out his anger on his own sister. The last person he would want to hurt. Sophie saw her brother leaving and said:

 Sophie - “Big bro! Wait!”

 Sophie was about to run after him, but Sonya gently held Sophie’s arm. 

 Sonya - “Sophie, let Blitz go.”

 Vaggie - “Yeah she’s right. I think he needs some time to cool down.”

 Sophie - *worried* “But will he come back?”

 Charlie - *kneeled down and hug Sophie* “Aw don’t worry sweetie. Blitz will come back; he just needs some time. 

 ()()()()()()()()()()

 Blitz kept walking in the city not caring about the dangers or yelling of other demons. What was stuck in his head right now is how he yelled at his own baby sister. The last thing he wanted to do Sophie was to hurt her and feeling horribly guilty. Today not only he hurt Sophie, but he hurt his friends too. All they wanted to do is just help Blitz and cheer him up, and he just pushed them away. The feeling in his chest was getting stronger and he kept trying to hide them. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want to let it out. Blitz kept on walking until he heard a disgusting voice that he hated beside Ryan’s. 

 “Well, Well, Well. Look what the cat, or should I say bat brought of the bag.”

 Blitz turned his head and saw Valentino standing outside his Porn Studio building. Valentino had two women in his arms and was smoking his cigarette and did a mocking smile. Blitz rolled his eyes and said:

 Blitz - “What the fuck you want?”

 Valentino - “What? I can’t say hello?”

 Blitz - “I don’t have time for your shit.”

 Valentino - “Oh what’s the matter? Having a bad day? Why don’t you cry to your mama and daddy? Or you don’t have any? Which wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

 Valentino began to mockingly laugh at Blitz. Blitz felt rage inside of him. Just when he was about to fly and beat the shit out of Valentino, he heard: 

 “Bosses stop it!”

 They both turned and saw Angel Dust. He looked sad and worried about Blitz. He was about to walk toward Blitz, but then Valentino stood in front of him. 

 Valentino - “Where you think you are going Angel Cakes?”

 Angel - “To comfort Blitzy.”

 Valentino - “Oh Angel honey, don’t you remember? You need to play your part in the film “Sex and the City of Sexville.” 

 Angel - “I-I know Val. But Blitz is more important.”

 Angel was going to walk toward Blitz again, but Valentino grabbed Angel’s upper right arm tightly. Angel wince, as Valentino brought him closer to his face look mad. 

 Valentino - *seriously* “Are you disrespecting me sugar?”

 Angel - *glared* “For once, yeah! Because Blitz is more important than your stupid ass fucking movie and your stupid ass fucking face!”

 Val raise his hand up high and gave Angel a hard slap to the face and Angel fell on the ground. Just as when Angel was about to get up, Val lift his foot up, and stomp on the right side of Angel’s face very hard. Angel since in pain and Val move his foot a little on Angel’s face and kept moving it like if he was putting out a cigarette. 

 Valentino - *calm and angry* “You seem to forget Angel: I OWN YOU! YOU are nothing but a toy that I can play with it! Without me, you’re a fucking worthless slut! And maybe you would realize that once I have to punish you again in my room, and make you remember it!!”

 Seeing Val hurting Angel Dust in front of him was the last straw. All the anger Blitz felt, the memory of Ryan hurting him, killing his parents, burning down his home, and continue to hunt him and Sophie unleashed. Valentino and Angel then saw Blitz transforming. Blitz’s eyes grew deep red, claws were getting longer, was growing larger, more fur around him, and he was growling. All of a sudden Blitz was now a size of a giant tower and let out a huge roar. He kicked the Porn Studio, and it was into giant piles of rubble. Valentino looked horrified and got his foot of Angel’s face and screamed: 

 Valentino - *weeping* “My precious porno home! It’s all ruined and gone! *angrily point to giant Blitz* “You're gonna pay for that you motherfucking-“

 Blitz lifts up his foot and stomps on Valentino multiple times. Then he let out a huge war and began to walk to the city causing chaos not caring about the screaming demons. Angel got up and not only saw Val in a bloody broken mess but was horrified on how his lover turned into his final demon form. 

 Angel - “I gotta stop him!”

 ()()()()()()()()()

 At the hotel lobby, Sophie was sadly coloring in her coloring book. Normally she loves to draw and color but was still feeling sad how not only Blitz yelled at her, but then left. She feels like it was her fault for angering her brother and making him leave. Then Sonya came and said: 

 Sonya - “Hey Sophie it’s okay. Blitz didn’t mean it.”

 Sophie - *sad* “But I made him mad…”

 Sonya - “People get mad sometimes, but they don’t mean to take it out on the people they love.”

 Sophie - “But will Blitzy come back? It's been a long time and I’m worried about him.”

 Sonya - “I’m sure he will be back. Come on, let go watch tv with the others.”

 Sophie - “Well okay.”

 Sonya grabbed Sophie’s hand and they both walk to the couch where Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Niffty was watching TV. As soon they sat down, the 666 News came on.

 Katie - “Good afternoon! I’m Katie Killjoy.”

 Tom - “And I’m Tom Trench! Chaos is happening today here in Pentagram City as a giant monster demon is attacking the city.”

 Katie - “That’s right Tom! Instead of the usual shitty turf wars, this giant monster is destroying half of the city. Let’s take a look.”

 The camera show of Blitz in his final demon form roaring and knocking down buildings. Many demons ran away in fear, some even stupidly try to fight back, but they were no match for Blitz in his final demon form. Blitz let out a huge sonic scream that destroyed some building and hurt some demons.

 “My ears! I can’t hear anything!”

 “My home!”

 “My car!”

 “My leg!”

 Katie - “Ooh this monster is destroying everything shitty thing it sees huh?”

 Tom - “I agree Katie. If this keep ups, then the big guns would have to come to take care of this beast.”

 Katie - “Ooh that would make more juicy stories and railings will be high! Ooh! Now I’m getting word that this monster is coming toward another building! Can’t wait to see the sorry motherfucking bitches who next.”

 Tom - *scared* “Umm...Katie?”

 Katie - “What you tiny sick Jackass?”

 Tom - “WE are the sorry motherfucking bitches that monster gonna attack!”

 Katie - *scared and confused* “Wait what?!”

 Then they screamed as Blitz stepped on them, destroy the news station, and the tv went statistic and had a “PLEASE STAND BY”. 

 Charlie, Vaggie, Sonya, Sophie, Niffty and even Husk’s eyes were widening, and their jaw was dropped. 

 ()()()()()()()()()()

 Angel - *running* “Blitz! Blitz! Stop!”

 But Blitz didn’t listen. He kept on causing a rampage at the city. Angel saw how some of the demons were running away and stupidly trying to fight back. They were throwing things like rocks, food, drinks, glass bottles, some demons even tried to shoot him with guns. As much as Angel wanted to shoot them for trying to hurt Blitz, he didn’t see any point since those things just bounced off of Blitz like if he was wearing some kind of rubbery armor. However, this just made Blitz angrier and attack more. Not even Sir Pentious’s blimp and his weapons could stop Blitz. Angel was getting scared and concerned about Blitz getting hurt. Then to his horror, he saw Cherri with a bazooka gun about to shoot Blitz. 

 Cherri - “Say goodnight your giant hairball!”

 Just when Cherri was going to shoot, Angel quickly ran and said:

 Angel - “NO!”

 Angel push Cherri, and she ended up missing and the gun went straight toward a building. Luckily, it missed Blitz, but he was busy causing havoc. 

 Cherri - *pissed* “Angel! What the hell?! I was gonna shoot that giant monster!”

 Angel - “You can’t shoot him!”

 Cherri - “Why not?” 

 Angel - “Cause that’s Blitz!”

 Cherri - *shocked* “What?!”

 “Angel!”

 Angel and Cherri turned around and saw Charlie and the others. 

 Angel - “Don't hurt him! It’s-“

 Vaggie - “We know it’s Blitz! We saw it on the news.”

 Sophie - *scared* “Blitz looks so scary! I want him back!”

 Charlie - *horrified* “How did he get like this?!”

 Angel - *scared* “I-I don’t know! I was at my job, my boss was yelling, and then Blitz turn into that!”

 Husk - “That son of a bitch is going to turn the city into dust if we don’t stop him!”

 Niffty - “Or worst! They’ll bring out the big guns! I hope we see muscular men!” *get crush by a building piece* I’m okay!”

 Cherri - “What the fuck are the big guns anyway?”

 Charlie - “A special army that work for my Dad. They would come and destroy monsters that are WAY too strong. They even have angelic weapons!”

 All - “WHAT?!”

 Sonya - “That's why we have to do something quick! The big guns could really hurt Blitz or worst!”

 Sophie - *whimpers* “I don’t want them to hurt my brother!”

 Charlie - “Don't worry Sophie we will think of something!” 

 Cherri - “Well we can’t fight him. He’s too strong!”

 Husk - “And I doubt he would listen to any of us.”

 Angel - *sad* “Oh...We should have been there more for him! *determined* But we still can! He’s my Blitzy Que and we gotta do whatever it takes to turn him back to the man I love.”

 Vaggie - “But we don’t even have a plan!”

 The word love rings into Sophie’s ears. She suddenly had an idea. While the others were talking, Sophie began to fly high up in the air. While she didn’t master flying like her brother, she didn’t want it to stop her to help save her brother from rampage. Then Liz said in her shadow form to Sonya:

 Liz - *in shadow form* “Uhh dude?”

 Sonya - “This isn’t the best time now!”

 Liz - “Yes, it is! Cupcake is in the sky!”

 Sonya - *confused* “Cupcake in the sky?”

 Sonya looked up and saw Sophie flying toward Blitz. 

 Sonya - *horrified* “HOLY SHIT SOPHIE IS IN THE SKY!!!”

 Everybody heard Sonya yelling and they all looked up in the sky. They were all horrified to see Sophie flying toward Blitz who was roaring and destroying a city. 

 Charlie - *horrified* “SOPHIE! WHAT IN DAD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?! GET DOWN NOW!!!”

 Sophie - “No! I have an idea to save Blitzy!”

 Blitz let out a huge roar and continue to destroy buildings. Then he felt something on his chest. He looked down and saw Sophie hugging Blitz tightly on his chest. Despite all the fur, he can see clearly that his baby sister was trying to hug him. 

 Sophie - “Blitzy! I know you’re in there. I know you are mad what that monster Ryan did to Mommy and Daddy. I know I’m mad too! But acting like this won’t help at all! It makes things worst. You make be scary now, but you’re still the best big brother I know and love. Please come back Blitz.”

 Blitz growling went lower and lower, his eyes went from red to normal. The others were seeing this, and Charlie's eyes widened. 

 Charlie - “Guys! I got an idea!”

 Charlie whispered her plan to the others. They all nodded and know exactly what to do. They all ran toward Blitz, jump on things like broken half buildings, cars, and landed on Blitz. Charlie and Sonya landed on his right arm, Niffty and Husk landed on his leg, and Cherri and Vaggie  landed on his left arm. They were all giving Blitz a big hug. 

 Charlie - “Blitz! I know the feelings you are having! Trust me, I feel like that every extermination. You don’t have to hide your deep feelings away! You can always come to me!”

 Vaggie - “Yeah! I’m always here if you ever wanted to talk about something that bothers you.”

 Sonya - “You have always been there for me! You automatically accepted Liz and I for being a Gemini. We accepted you for how you are! Even in your monster form!”

 Cherri - “Hell yeah Blitz! You save mine and Angel asses every time! I don’t mind saving your ass once in a while cause you’re a cool dude!”

 Husk - “Listen! You’re one of the few people that I actually like! Even though I enjoy ignoring the fuck out of people, I wouldn’t mind if you talk to me about what problems you have.”

 Niffty - “Yeah! Handsome men like you have feelings! We don’t mind your feelings!”

 Blitz was seeing how all of his friends, and sister were hugging him and comforting him. He felt tears coming out of his eyes. Blitz was feeling loved but noticed somebody was missing. That when he heard a loud: 

 “BLITZ!!!”

 His eyes looked up, and saw Angel did a really high jump from a tall building. Angel landed on Blitz’s snout and slowly walk up to his eyes and said:

 Angel - “Blitz...You don’t have to hide your feelings from us. Especially me. You must have been afraid of showing this side to me but trust me: I’m not scared. If you can let me show my feelings and ugly side to you, I don’t have any problem if you did it to me. I’ll always love and care for you. Just like you always done for me.”

 Angel gave Blitz a kiss on his face. Blitz felt tears coming out his eyes and dropping to the ground. He never felt anything like this in a long time. That’s when he began to glow in a big light orb. 

 ()()()()()()()()()()

 Blitz groaned and began to open his eyes. He saw that all of his friends were staring at him with relief in their eyes. He slowly sat up and saw that they were not only on top of a building, but Blitz was now back to normal. Despite his clothes being a bit ripped up, he was finally back to his normal self. Blitz’s suddenly felt his waist being held tightly and it was Sophie who was hugging him tightly.

 Sophie - “Oh big brother! I’m so glad that you’re okay! I thought I lost you forever!”

 Blitz - “Sophie…”

 Then was in a tight hug thanks to Angel. 

 Angel - “Oh Blitz! I’m so glad you are okay! I can’t imagine my life without you!”

 Blitz began to remember what Angel and the other said to him while they were hugging him in his final demon form. Then Blitz hugged Angel back tightly. In a rare time, Blitz felt tears coming out of his eyes, and he began to cry. He began to cry hard and kept on hugging Angel tightly as he continued to cry. All Angel did was smile and kept on hugging Blitz who was busy letting out his emotions. The others were smiling in relief that not only Blitz was okay, but finally letting his feelings out. 

 ()()()()()()()()()

 Blitz was now in his room staring out his window. It was nighttime and he was in his pajamas. He was thinking about what happened to him. He was shocked on how he has a final demon form that was extremely deadly. However, Blitz already knew that everybody in Hell has a demon form that was deadly. Even a sweet person like Charlie has a final demon that was extremely deadly. He did felt relief that he has all his feelings out, but something was still that wasn’t relief yet. Then he heard a knock on the door, and it was Angel in his comfy pajamas. 

 Angel - “You okay hon?”

 Blitz - “To be honest in a way yeah…”

 Angels walk up to Blitz and they both stared out the window. For a place like Hell, the night did look really beautiful. 

 Angel - “Really nice night huh?”

 Blitz - *chuckles* “Yeah…Angel...Did you really mean those words you said to me when I was...A beast?”

 Angel - “Of course I did. Why?”

 Blitz - “It just...I never been in my final demon like that. I was afraid that I could have hurt you and Sophie. I can’t believe that I transformed into my final demon form. I mean I cause havoc in Hell.”

 Angel - *comforting* “Aw babe don’t worry about it. I mean some of the building was old and shitty anyway. Some of them are getting rebuilt. Besides, it’s Hell. Nobody gave a shit.”

 Blitz - “I know but…It was so horrifying to find out that I have this side of me that could be deadly.”

 Angel - “We all have that. It’s Hell. But you didn’t mean to turn into your final demon form.”

 Blitz - “I was just so angry. I was angry on how that bastard Ryan took away my parents, always trying to hunt me and Sophie down. How even once kidnapped you and beat you to the point you had to go to the hospital. I’m most angry at myself…I took my anger at you guys and almost push you away…” 

 Angel - Blitz listen to me *held his hand and cup his face* Even though it’s great that you care about others, sometimes you need to care about yourself as well. If you don’t, you became a big mess.”

 Blitz’s eyes grew in surprised. It’s one of the rare time Angel actually made valid point when he wasn’t being an asshole or trying to make excuses of his destructive action. Blitz realize his parents wouldn’t just want him to take care of Sophie, but himself as well. He wouldn’t be any good if he didn’t take care of himself. 

 Blitz - “You’re right Angel...I been so busy on taking care of Sophie and even you guys when you get sick or hurt, I forgot to even take care of myself. It just feels like it’s been so long...I didn’t want to be burden to anybody. I just wanted to protect you.”

 Angel - “And that’s what I love about you. But if you don’t be honest about your feelings out, you could end up in your final demon again but much worst.”

 “Blitzy?”

 Both Blitz and Angel turned around and saw Sophie in the doorway. She was in her pajamas and holding her stuff animals Fluffy. She said:

 Sophie - “Are you feeling better?”

 Blitz - *smiles* “Yes Sophie I am. *kneeled down to her height* Listen Sophie, I’m really sorry for what I said to you earlier. I was just really angry and sad on how Ryan took away Mom and Dad.”

 Sophie - *smile and sad* “It’s okay, I miss them too.”

 Blitz - “But honestly...I have high hopes for them coming back soon.”

 Sophie - *eyes sparkled* “You do?”

 Blitz - “Yeah. I mean who knows...Maybe Ryan didn’t really kill them, or they escape but hiding somewhere. Maybe they will come back, but just not right now. But I can promise you one thing: I will never keep my feelings bottle up like that ever again.”

 Sophie - *raise up her pinky* “Pinky promise?”

 Blitz - *smiles* “Pinky promise.”

 Blitz and Sophie did a pinky promise and they tightly hug each other. 

 Angel - “Aw so cute! Well we better get some shut eye. Come on Sophie.”

 Sophie - “Okay Angel! Good night Big Brother!”

 Blitz - *smiled* “Good night Sophie.”

 Angel - “Good night Blitzy Que! *chuckles but was smack on the side of the head* “Ow!”

 Blitz - *annoyed* “Don’t push your luck.”

 Both Angel and Sophie left Blitz’s room. Blitz went to his bed and took something from his nightstand drawer. It was a family portrait of him, his parents and Sophie. And he was also holding his mother’s necklace. He smiled and tear slid down his eye, even though he believes they are truly gone, another side had hope that they will return someday to him and Sophie. 

 Blitz - “Good night Mom and Dad. I miss you.”

 He put them down on his nightshade and fell asleep. Feeling more at peace with himself knowing that despite losing his parents, he always has his sister and friends to love and care about him. While he was sleeping, his mother’s necklace began to glow.  

 “You think he will figure out where we are Josephine?”

 “Only time will tell Arthur.”

 “You know I’ll always be proud of him.”

 “So will I.”

 Hope you all like it!

[hazbincalifornia]

Prey

Chapter 26: Hunting is fun, right?

Warnings: Mpreg, canon-typical violence.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Why are you wearing a coat?” Moxxie raised an eyebrow as he lowered his binoculars, and Blitzo growled from low in his throat, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Because I’m cold? Seems pretty obvious to me, Moxx.” His teeth chattering together like wind-up monkeys agreed.

“It’s seventy-five degrees out. I checked the weather here before we left to be sure it wasn’t raining, and I can feel it. It’s warm out here.”

“I said that I’m cold. Can’t a man know his own body?” Blitzo tugged the coat tighter around his middle- or at least, as much as he could. The bump had, infuriatingly, nearly outgrown the coat, but that was fine, because it was the one spot on him that wasn’t frozen like a tongue on a metal pole. It was practically boiling, actually, suctioning all the heat out of Blitzo’s body like a leech in a black hole and leaving all extremities shivering in a way reminiscent of poor street orphans. Millie reached over to snap off a square of the chocolate bar that Blitzo was holding, and her eyes widened as she brushed his fingers in the process.

“Aw, Moxxie, he’s right, he is cold! He’s-” She paused, concern gathering like storm clouds. “Really cold, actually. Are you sure you should-”

His fingers tightened around the gun in his free hand. “I’m not going home. I’m not letting this shit bench me, nothing has to change until I can shove the little cretin out and figure out what to do with them, got it?” Blitzo swatted at her hand, and she pulled back with her mouth screwed to the side and lips pursed.

“Hmmph. I’m just saying, I don’t really remember Mama or Daddy going through anything like this. I don’t think it’s a normal imp thing, is all, so you don’t know-”

“I know that if I sit at home with nothing to do, I am going to fucking lose it, so chill, alright?”

“Chill is the last thing you need, apparently,” Moxxie grumbled, and Blitzo smacked him with his tail, getting a little yelp out of the smaller imp before Millie stuck a hand over both of their mouths.

“C’mon,” she muttered, “We need to focus, they’re looking our way.”

Blitzo licked her palm, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got four siblings, Blitz, that stopped working on me when I was eight.” Her fingers dug into his cheeks before letting go and he huffed, shuffling on his haunches and stuffing the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth. Already, his stomach was growling again- stupid kid was being even more high-maintenance than usual. For that matter, more everything.

That morning, he’d woken up half-frozen to the bed with blood practically freezing under his skin, his stomach nearly a full inch bigger than it had been the night before with his skin itching like fuck because of it and stretchmarks creeping around the edges to boot. The binge last night must have all gone to plumping the little bastard up or something, because of course it had. (He could still feel where the kid had torn up, but it was manageable now with a handful of painkillers, at least.)

Fortunately, he had a coat in the back of his closet at work from when they’d gone to the arctic to knock off a scientist who’d stolen their target’s research, and he’d gotten it a size too big just in case he’d needed to hide one of the bulky weapons inside.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized that until after the client meeting.

____

“So he just left me there after I checked his gun and it went off.” The client, a deer-form sinner, had raised an eyebrow, camo jacket rustling as he folded his arms with a twitch of his ear. “Hey, how come your little lackey’s in a suit but you aren’t? It’s all unprofessional and shit. You look like a marshmallow.”

Blitzo growled, tugging his (not stretchy enough) shirt down. The light pink fabric bounced back up anyway. Traitor.

“And you ended up in Hell. We all make bad choices sometimes. Just tell me where the fucking gig is, alright?”

____

Blitzo shook his head as the leaves rustled- he needed to focus. He could not become a liability, even though leaving the warmth of Hell for the more temperate heat of Earth chilled his bones better than any iced coffee ever could.

“Gimme the rundown, Moxx. How’s it looking?”

“There’s four of them around the fire. One woman, three men, all in camouflage clothing. All wearing hunting caps for some reason too, even though this weather’s far too warm for it for most humans, I would think. Perhaps it’s some kind of pack-bonding thing.” Moxxie adjusted the binoculars a bit. “The target is the short one with the red hair.”

“G-got it,” Blitzo said, rubbing his arms. If he any hair on them, it'd be standing up. Fire sounded good. Fire sounded really good. “When reddie breaks off from the bunch, we nab them. The client said he doesn’t care if the others get hurt in the process as long as we weren't charging extra for it, he wanted the party all back together anyway.”

“Right,” Millie said with a nod. “As soon as-”

“They’re all moving out at once,” Moxxie hissed, cutting her off. “They were talking but I couldn’t hear what, the target’s being left to guard the fire.”

“It’s almost too easy,” Blitzo said, twirling the gun in his hand and before splitting off and creeping through the underbrush, each footstep sinking slightly into the damp, muddy ground with a squelch as Moxxie hissed something after him that he couldn’t quite hear. The foliage was thick enough here that he lost sight of the fire for a moment, but the cozy, flickering warmth drew him like a snake to a flute, yellow sparks creating dancing shadows off the trees- but with no long shadows to reflect except for his own. “Wait, the hell did he go?” The firepit was still crackling merrily away, but the target had vanished. He raised an eyebrow, turning back to their hiding spot. “C’mon, where is he? You go blind in the last two minutes, Moxxie?”

“He was just here- he must have stepped out to go to the bathroom,” Moxxie whisper-hissed. “Be careful, they’re-”

“C’mon, Moxxie, I’m not an invalid.” Blitzo stuck his hand in the already-opened bag of marshmallows and stuffed one in his mouth. The pops and snarls of the fire were filling the aches of his bones with soothing jelly, and his legs wobbled a little as he swallowed down the gooey snack. “I’ll go find ‘em, just… just a second…”

“Sir…”

“Relax, it takes more than ten seconds to piss.” Blitzo reached for the marshmallows again, fingers already in the bag when-

“Blitz!” Millie called out just as pain exploded through the back of his hand, and a screech bubbled up from deep in his chest as he automatically smacked his other hand at his wrist, brain taking precious milliseconds to process whatever the fuck had just happened.

There was a knife. Impaled. On his hand. Black blood spurted out in waves over his skin and sleeve, and he yanked the fingers close to his body as shrieking erupted from the bushes.

“Ha! Thought I heard somethin’! Those horns are gonna look real pretty mounted on my wall!” Red hair fell over a tanned and freckled face, and Blitzo’s fingers twitched, nerves going haywire as his other hand fumbled for something, anything, he’d dropped the fucking gun when he’d grabbed at his wrist, fuck, shit- there! His fingers clasped a small bottle and he chucked it full force at the human. It shattered, foul-smelling yellow liquid splattering his face as he sputtered and spat. “What the fuck?” The human fumbled for his weapon to retaliate, but-

BLAM!

-That was going to be rather difficult, considering his head was now in about twenty pieces, several of which splattered Blitzo's face and slid down before he brushed them off, licking at his cheeks.

“Blitz!” Millie called, hurrying down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-”

“Put your h-hands up!”

Blitzo whirled around, automatically dropping into a hunched crouch with his non-injured arm wrapped around his stomach. He hissed as the other humans from the hunting party of doom scrambled back to the firepit. God, his hand hurt.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled in a lower timbre than he’d ever heard himself drop to, and the one in the front froze, leading the woman to shove her way upwards.

“You killed Todd!”

A bang and she collapsed to her knees, clutching at her chest before another shot went straight through her skull. A cawing crow took off from a nearby tree, rustling the leaves.

Fingers clasped his elbow, and he could smell mint- Moxxie’s mouthwash. “The target’s down, we need to-”

“I wanna rip them to pieces, they got me,” Blitzo growled.

“Millie and I can take care of- eep!” Another shot cracked off above their heads, and Moxxie dragged Blitzo to the side as a huge branch slammed down where they’d been. “You’re in no shape-“

“I’m fine!” Sweat poured down over Blitzo’s eyes, and- were there two of Moxxie all of a sudden? When did he get a twin? He didn't have a twin. Blitzo would have found that out by now.

“No, you aren’t! You’re risking all of us, call Loona so we can clean- gah!” Moxxie kicked at the air furiously as one of the remaining hunters lifted him up like a ragdoll and dragged him away, screaming all the while as he twisted and writhed in their grip. Blitzo saw red. His tail snapped like a whip as he leaped forward and bit furiously at the mound of protesting, shaking meat, and a sharp shock grazed the side of his chest before blood gushed from the human's throat as he tore the jugular out with his teeth. Inside, the kid kicked out, doing their best to distract him, but nothing was going to keep him from-

“Moxx! Blitzo!” The head cracked mere inches from his face as Millie slammed a knife into the neck and snapped the spinal cord, and a gurgling scream cut off before two pairs of hands hauled him back from the fresh corpse. He snapped his teeth, heels digging into the damp ground as he strained forward. He needed to dismember it, he needed to tear it to pieces, he needed to fucking destroy it-

“And stay down, you fucking bastards, don’t fucking touch them-“

“It’s- it’s fine, he didn’t hurt me,” Moxxie said, dragging Blitzo back by the arm. “He maybe bruised my arms at best.”

“They’re dead, Blitzo, we can go home.” Millie agreed, and their combined strength forced Blitzo to take a breath, falling limp.

“…So sloppy, the ones with guns didn’t even get a shot in.”

Moxxie sucked in a breath. “About that…” He pressed his fingers to the side of Blitzo’s pecs, and Blitzo groaned out a ‘fuck’.

“It doesn’t look too bad, it should be fine with some painkillers and a tourniquet,” Millie commented. “The hand is much worse.”

Being reminded of that sent a white-hot flare of pain scurrying up his nerves, and Blitzo hissed. “Riiiiight.”

Millie fired off a text, and by the time Blitzo turned around, the portal had opened in front of them. He took one step before nearly eating dirt, and Millie and Moxxie grasped him under the armpits and hauled him through, the office the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.

“What happened?” Loona asked, fingers tightening around the Grimoire.

“It went badly,” Moxxie grunted. “Get the first aid kit.”

Loona didn’t argue.

________________

Well, he was definitely on too many painkillers to be fully healthy for the kid at this point considering how much it took to be anywhere near effective on him, but he wasn’t bleeding out, his hand wasn’t screaming at him anymore, and his shirt had probably gotten ruined by all the stretching out even before his side started bleeding all over it, so…

Okay, yeah, fuck trying to spin it, this just plain sucked shit-flavored asshole. Millie finished tying off the bandage around his hand as he sat in his chair and Moxxie paced around his office.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Come-” Blitzo coughed. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the chills were creeping back up everywhere the blood wasn’t still rushing to, and he couldn’t help but lean closer to Millie and her precious body heat. “-Come on, getting hurt in the field is just part of the job.”

“Yes, but you’re not thinking clearly anymore, and you’re risking-”

“I am so thinking clearly!” Setting aside the fact that if he blinked too much Moxxie duplicated himself again, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

Moxxie continued as if he hadn’t spoken, rude little shit. “You’re risking yourself, both of us, and, yes, the baby!”

“Oh, and they’re the one that matters here.” Blitzo rolled his eyes, but Moxxie folded his arms, tail swaying like a pendulum and nails drumming on his bicep.

“I know that your feelings about this are mixed, but I would never forgive myself if you went out there and got both of you killed because you’re a stubborn jackass.”

“He’s right,” Millie added.

“Don’t you dare team up on me,” Blitzo snarled, lead settling in the pit of his stomach as Millie stood up, drying her hands off with the towel borrowed from the bathroom- they were going to have to replace that. It had been white with little galloping horses around the bottom, and they were all so covered in black now that you couldn’t even see them anymore. He knew from experience that imp blood never came out of white fabric no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“We will if we have to- I’d do the same for anybody,” Millie said, balling the towel up and dropping it on the desk. “You lasted a lot longer than most people would, but there’s no shame in taking some time off so you don’t end up killin’ the little one before they even get a chance to see the world.”

“What about me, huh? Don’t I get a say in this? This is my company!” He shoved himself off the chair, but Millie pushed him back down. Her hand burnt where it touched his chest.

“C’mon, Blitzo, you need to be resting- I care about you, alright? Both’a us do.”

“Oh, sure, that's why you're not letting me make my own decisions as a grown-ass man." He narrowed his eyes.

“If we didn’t, we’d just let you go out and get yourself killed by the next target who has a gun,” Moxxie retorted. “I’m not going to let you drag all of us down with you, and I’m not going to keep working out in the field with you if you’re going to be a liability!”

“Are you threatening to quit?” Blitzo tried to get up again, and again Millie pushed him back down- far easier than she should have been able to, but if it was the blood loss or the baby weight was anybody’s guess.

“Of course not- maybe? I don’t know!” Moxxie rubbed his forehead. “I just-”

Millie shifted over to him, squeezing his shoulders. “We get what you mean, honey.” She turned back to Blitzo. “I know you wanna always do your best and work hard for IMP, and I’ve got nothing but praise for that, but-”

“But nothing! I can do this, end of story!”

Millie raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps back towards him and poking Blitzo right where she’d just wrapped the gunshot wound, and he couldn’t hold back a pained whine. “Suuuuure you can.”

“If you insist on still coming to work, just-” Moxxie sucked in a breath. “Just take over Loona’s job. Maybe she can help us, but Millie and I handled things fine when you were gone, we can keep things running.”

“Like hell you can!” Icy hands squeezed at his chest as Millie patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Blitzo.”

He smacked her hand away. “Don’t tell me I’m useless, I don’t need your fucking pity-”

“But you do need us,” Millie replied. “We want to help, isn’t that enough? There’s only another month and a half or so until they’ll be here, after all. You've got a lot to get sorted, and it's the least we can do.”

Blitzo just stared with wide eyes as his knifed hand screamed with every minute twitch of the nerves and tendons within. Moxxie raised an eyebrow with his arms crossed, and Millie considered the towel on the desk before dropping it in the trash. It left behind little splatters of his blood on the polished oak as he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck both of you.”

(Which meant, unfortunately, ‘you win for now’, and it was only because he was about to pass out in his chair.)

[who-gave-atlas-a-pencil]

out of the deep waters

A/N: Feel free to shoot me any comments/questions you might have about stuff!!! I love interacting with people and I’m gonna be writing more so I’m trying to stretch my legs a bit with drabbles and such. Either way, enjoy the story!

Read on AO3 for notes.

Summary: Crowley claws his way through the icy waters the way he once crawled out of hell, messy and desperate and using every ounce of his strength. His body aches, every muscle screaming for air or release or both. The moonlight glimmers through the water for an instant, just out of reach –

Then a hand breaks the surface and reaches down to save him.

—---- The night he’s discorporated by a frightened Irish Catholic boy, the sky is black and wicked and churning with thick clouds that block out the stars. Of course, some of that might be Crowley’s fault, an unfortunate side-effect of his growing irritation with the omnipresent ache between his shoulderblades. It’s like that one stupid question about the chicken and the egg that humans find so fascinating, except this one goes more like ‘which comes first, the soul-sucking pain that storm fronts bring him or the storm fronts he brings because everything bloody hurts and he’s feeling vindictive?’

Not that it matters, really. What matters is that he’s forgotten his sunglasses and his snake eyes glow golden in the night without explanation. What matters is that a boy stands before him, wide-eyed and innocent and blocking his escape as he brandishes blessings and a cross with a shaking voice, stepping closer and closer, pushing Crowley toward the edge of the cliff and the waiting waters below.

What matters is, Crowley takes a step too far and the ground disappears beneath him. What matters is, he falls.

—–

If even a few hours later someone had asked him what he’d been doing on a boat beneath a cliff in Ireland in the dead of night, Aziraphale doesn’t think he would know the answer. All he knows is that he happens, by some miracle, to look up just in time to watch as a figure takes one step and then another and then plummets backwards off the cliff to the icy depths below.

Aziraphale gapes for a moment, too stunned to react. Then he drops the Dickens he’s been reading in favour of throwing out a hand, fingers spread wide in an attempt to slow the figure’s descent. With his other hand he fumbles for an oar and begins to row.

—–

It’s cold. Scratch that, it’s bloody freezing. Crowley hits the water with enough force to almost black out then and there, except that he doesn’t because he’s not that lucky. Instead, he’s wide awake as pins and needles jab into every inch of his body and force the air out of his lungs, replacing it with the cold clutch of the lake. The water burns in his eyes and his throat, thick and brackish as he starts to sink. He’s turned around by the impact, can’t tell which way is up, and the darkness hides away any hint of the moon but the fact is that he’s conscious and so he has to swim, has to try.

So he does. Crowley claws his way through the icy waters the way he once crawled out of hell, messy and desperate and using every ounce of his strength. His body aches, every muscle screaming for air or release or both. The moonlight glimmers through the water for an instant, just out of reach –

Then a hand breaks the surface and reaches down to save him.

——

The first thing that Aziraphale notices about the stranger he pulls out of the lake is that their hair is red, gloating in the water like a sopping wet flame. The second is that they are dressed in a manner utterly inappropriate for a late night swim in a half-frozen lake. The third thing he realises as he watches the figure sputter and wipe the water from a pair of brilliant gold eyes is that they aren’t really a stranger after all.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale is too shocked to hide his surprise and so the word drips with it instead, much the same way Crowley is dripping on the bottom of the boat where the Dickens had been resting only moments before. Rather than responding, Crowley turns and retches over the side of the boat. The way he coughs reminds Aziraphale of plague victims, and he half-expects to see blood on Crowley’s lips when he finally, finally starts to breathe again.

Strands of vomit and salive hang from his mouth. Crowley spits over the side and wipes the remnants away with the back of a hand. Then he slumps against the side of the boat like an exhausted puppet and closes his eyes. “Hello angel,” he rasps. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeats, a bit dumbly. “What on Earth are you doing jumping off a cliff?”

Crowley makes a non-committal noise. “Wrong place, wrong time. Old habits die hard. You know.” Aziraphale’s just about to say that no, he doesn’t know, because Crowley’s making about as much sense as that whole manifest destiny business Americans got into a century back when he sees the demon shudder, pulling into himself and gripping his arms. His clothes are sopping wet and pasted to his skin, hugging the sharp angles of his body as he shivers and mutters something obscene.

Of course, Aziraphale thinks, mentally kicking himself. Snakes are cold-blooded. Crowley must be freezing. The thought’s barely crossed his mind when Crowley snaps his fingers and the water dissolves from what he’s wearing, leaving him visibly drier but still shivering, swearing under his breath.

Aziraphale flinches. It’s not the language that bothers him. It’s the look on Crowley’s face – pained and irritated and guarded to an almost entirely imperceptible degree. Aziraphale doesn’t quite recall the last time he’s looked like this, but he knows Crowley well enough to assume that the expression means he’s had a well and truly terrible night.

(On the other hand, he’s not entirely certain he has any right to make assumptions, not after London. He thinks of the Bentley peeling off into the bombed out night and swallows hard, pushing down the familiar and faint churn of guilt in his stomach.)

Where his hands have instinctively moved to take off his jacket and offer it to the figure shivering across from him, the fear of rejection makes them still, fingers fluttering like unhappy butterflies as Aziraphale lets them fall to his lap. Instead of offering anything, he clears his throat and attempts to sound authoritative. “If you don’t wish to answer my questions, then I insist you at least warm yourself up,” he says primly, and reaches for the oars again.

——

Evidently, Aziraphale’s idea of someplace warm is a tiny cottage not far from the lake shore where he says he’s staying, though Crowley can’t even begin to guess why he would be there, of all places. Not that he’s particularly trying, really. He’s too busy being cold and miserable and frankly a bit perplexed by the way the evening’s progressed to give too much thought to Aziraphale’s motivations. So long as he doesn’t end up on the receiving end of another attempted exorcism, this will be an improvement on the rest of the day.

He can only get away with silence for so long though. It’s one thing when they’re in a boat or walking or otherwise preoccupied, and quite another thing when they’re sitting still, mugs of tea in both their hands while the fire blazing in the hearth makes light dance across Aziraphale’s face, highlighting his poor attempts at studying Crowley subtly from across the room.

The angel clears his throat. “So. Are you around these parts for vacation or temptation?”

“Passing through,” Crowley says, and doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s hard, looking at Aziraphale without the sunglasses. After so many centuries, they’ve become a sort of safety net for him, a means of avoiding inconvenient encounters with crosses while also keeping him from revealing anything, from having to see his own damnation reflected back at him in the angel’s eyes.

He realises, perhaps belatedly, that this is the first time they’ve been in the same room since the whole debacle with the Germans in 1941. Back then, Crowley had driven Aziraphale home in a mostly awkward silence, tipped his hat in farewell at the door and disappeared into the Blitz without another word. He hadn’t known what to say then, and he still doesn’t know now. Fifteen years is practically a blink at their age, but in this moment it feels like millenia.

“So,” they both say, at the exact same time. Crowley gestures for Aziraphale to continue, making a face when they do that in sync too.

Aziraphale’s expression distorts into a delicate sort of embarrassment. “We seem to be rather on the same weight lane, I’m afraid,” he says, somewhat sheepish as Crowley clamps his jaw shut. “Would you like to speak first?”

Crowley closes his eyes for a moment and rests his head against the back of chair. Satan, give me strength. “It’s ‘same wavelength’, angel,” he mutters. “Honestly.” A wave of fondness surges in his chest at the mangled idiom, but he shoves it down before it can surface. “In any case, last I’d heard we have nothing in common. I’m fallen, remember?” Nearly a century has passed since St. James, and Crowley knows it’s a low blow to bring it up in the first place but he still can’t quite stop himself, can’t keep the bitterness entirely out of his voice.

Aziraphale flinches, though to his credit he makes no effort to excuse himself. Instead, he looks at his hands and studies them guiltily. “That was a rather callous thing for me to say, wasn’t it? It’s not as if you would have forgotten or… I don’t know, become an aardvark.” There is a nervous edge to the way the corners of his mouth quirk up with a quiver slight as a ladybug’s wings. When Crowley looks at him, their eyes meet only for a moment before Aziraphale blinks and returns to studying his hands with a truly inordinate degree of dedication. “I suppose I should, ah. Amend that statement. Apologise, perhaps.”

All at once, the anger that’s been boiling in Crowley’s veins all night falls away to a low, pathetic simmer. “Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago, and it’s not like you’re wrong.” Just that you’re the last person I expected to remind me, he adds mentally, though he’d never say it aloud. Probably for the best, anyway, leaving the conversation where it is. He’s not the type to grant anyone absolution.

The silence stretches between them, languid and threatening, a snake sizing them up and preparing to swallow them whole. There is an elephant in the room almost ninety years in the making and they both refuse to shoot it, even if they both know that ignoring it won’t make it go away.

Crowley breaks first. “So. Dickens in the dark. New hobby of yours?”

“Fortuitous accident, really. I was reading and rather lost track of time, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale smiles, a bit shyly. “Quite lucky in hindsight, don’t you agree?”

“Quite,” Crowley echoes, with the distinct sensation that he’s swallowing his own tongue. “Will heaven be upset that you…?” He waves a hand in vague indication to his very obviously not-drowned self and their current situation. “You know.”

“I should think not,” Aziraphale says, his smile just a bit too quick. “It’s not as if they would have any reason to suspect I’d specifically saved you. I didn’t expect it myself, after all.” He quiets, his smile dimming somewhat as his eyes settle once more on Crowley’s face, searching. “Why were you plummeting off a cliff, exactly? If I may ask.”

Crowley shrugs. “New hobby I thought I’d try. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Too late, he remembers Aziraphale’s accusation of the holy water suicide pill and he realises what he sounds like, wincing. “Not like a staggeringly good idea. I’ve definitely had better ones this century. Can’t all be winners.”

“I would hardly consider atomic bombs to be winners.”

“You don’t actually think I made those, do you?” Crowley looks at Aziraphale’s face and catches a flash of guilt and suddenly the annoyance is back in full force. “You know, you could actually give me some credit now and then.”

“Well, how am I to know? You take credit for everything. It’s been fifteen years. People talk.” Aziraphale huffs, adjusting his suit jacket impatiently. “You can’t blame me for logical assumptions.”

“Logical assumptions? Of course.” Crowley glares, his muscles tensing as he bites down on a bitter laugh in favour of an even more bitter smile. “Why would you ever assume anything but the worst out of me?” Outside the window, rain has started to pour down and Crowley’s only just started to get warm but he stands anyway. A snappy retort hangs off the tip of his tongue, thanks loads for the rescue, see you in a century when you’ve finished cleaning your hands of me, and he opens his mouth to say just that.

Then Aziraphale stops him. “Crowley, wait,” he says, rising to his feet as well. “Please. I didn’t mean to insinuate – I’m sorry.” The apology stutters off his tongue like it’s tripping and Crowley looks at Aziraphale and curses himself for it a moment later. The expression on the angel’s face is the most horribly, frustratingly genuine thing Crowley’s ever seen. That’s the trouble with Aziraphale. It always has been. The only thing that’s ever been able to rival the scope of his brilliance and capacity for kindness is his immense talent for putting his foot in his mouth. In the worst, most horrible way, Crowley  has to admit he can relate.

He sits back down, settles himself on the chair again. After nearly a minute of awkward silence, Aziraphale clears his throat, delicate, and tries again. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He pauses a moment as if contemplating his next words very carefully. “What I meant to say is – well, you really are terribly clever, Crowley. I simply don’t understand why you didn’t use your wings.”

In the silence that follows, the rain lashes the window with a sudden, angry force. A bolt of lightning splits the night and Crowley doesn’t see it flash, doesn’t hear the thunder. For a single, horrible moment, he is not there anymore. He is in a different cramped space, and there are several people on each arm holding him down and a gag in his mouth that tastes like rot and mold and ash, and there is a horrible wet sensation and a pain not entirely unlike the lightning, flashing white and sharp against his eyelids as he screams and-

“Crowley?” He blinks, and Aziraphale is staring at him quizzically.

Shit. Perhaps a bit too obviously, he shakes himself free of the memory and smiles, quick and sharp. “Oh, you know,” he says smoothly, “I just don’t think it occurred to me. I mean, I was a little surprised at the whole exorcism bit, mostly. Can you believe people still do that? Been centuries since the last one. A century, I suppose. Century and a half? Right, that reminds me – you wouldn’t have a spare pair of glasses around that I could borrow? I’d like to avoid redoing all this.”

He’s rambling. More importantly, he’s deflecting, and he’s doing it far less smoothly than he usually does and far less subtly than he would like to. He sees Aziraphale frown and feels his fingers twitch nervously at his side. “I’m afraid I haven’t much need for sunglasses,” the angel says, studying him.

Feeling pinned, Crowley resists the urge to squirm, screwing his face up with disappointment. “Right. Too bad then.” He stretches out, his arms bending at night quite natural angles, then stands again, his heart suddenly racing. He needs to leave now, before the questions start. Before the problems begin. “I ought to get going. Hate to get between you and your Dickens.” He says it with the exact sort of mocking tone that he knows drives Aziraphale up the wall, hoping to get a rise out of him, to manipulate him into agreeance.

Instead, Aziraphale sputters indignantly. “Get in the way of-? Crowley, you nearly drowned! And that lake was –it was practically freezing. There is absolutely no way that you’ve fully warmed yourself.”

“Part snake, remember? I adjust fast.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, and Crowley shoots off a quicksilver grin, sticking his hands in his pockets to hide the way they’re shaking like an addict’s. He starts to walk, ready to leave with or without Aziraphale’s blessing.

Then there’s a hand on his wrist, holding him in place. Crowley looks down, and Aziraphale is there, bright blue eyes blazing with determination. It’s been years since their eyes have met without the buffer of sunglasses, and Crowley isn’t quite prepared for it. He forgets sometimes, how beautiful Aziraphale’s eyes are, like a cloudless sky with everywhere to go and nothing to stand in the way.

He wants, more than almost anything, to stay. But he’s always been good at denying himself what he wants.

Crowley pulls his arm free. “Aziraphale, don’t.”

Aziraphale’s face twists with an almost comedic determination. “I know when I’m being lied to, and I would very much like you to know that I don’t appreciate it.”

Crowley snorts. “You almost got killed by a bunch of Nazis over a mutual interest in books, angel. You’re not what I’d call a divine lie detector.”

“I am when it comes to you,” Aziraphale retorts, and oh, there it is, the inevitable moment when he says something that hits Crowley like a knife stabbed deep into his guts. He does it so casually, Crowley wonders sometimes if he even knows that it’s happening, if he knows that it means something when he says things like that and it is not the sort of thing one can drop into a conversation without expecting it to blow up like a poorly timed atom bomb right in their face. Crowley looks, and Aziraphale is staring at him, his shoulders straightened in an obvious attempt at authority. “Now then. I must insist you tell me why you didn’t use your wings. Truthfully, this time. Please.”

Crowley can’t help it. “Or what? You’ll put me back the way you found me?”

“Put you back-? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what exactly are you going to hold against me?” The smart move, Crowley knows, would be to stop while he’s ahead before he says one too many smart remarks and they really don’t ever speak to each other again from now until the end of time. This whole conversation is a mess of foreign waters and he has no idea where he’s going or what he’ll do when he gets there, only that he’ll drown if he isn’t careful and Aziraphale won’t even know he’s the one holding him under.

Aziraphale’s shoulders fall, defeated. “I don’t intend to hold anything against you,” he says softly. “I had hoped you trusted me enough that I wouldn’t have to.”

Forget foreign waters. Forget drowning, forget swimming, forget all of it. Crowley looks at Aziraphale’s face, and he knows he’s already in too deep. This isn’t a story he wants to tell, isn’t the way he wanted this to come out. He hadn’t wanted it to come out at all, but if he doesn’t say it now he never will and if he doesn’t ever say it, he’s not sure Aziraphale will ever quite trust him again, and that thought hurts more than heaven or hell would ever get him to admit.

He wins this round.

Crowley lets the tension drain from his shoulders. In his pockets, his fingers still. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, angel,” he says, and waves a hand.

Aziraphale’s expression as his wings are summoned forth from the ether in which they normally rest is almost comedic. He squeaks like a startled mouse, wings shooting out to either side and nearly colliding with the furnishings. He immediately tucks them back in to a more reasonable position, then narrows his eyes at Crowley. “I know very well what my wings look like, thank you,” he huffs, waving a hand to dismiss them. “Why didn’t you summon yours? You’re the one in question.”

“That’s it, though. I did.” Crowley smiles, bitter and flat, and the fire crackles in the silence between them. He turns his back to Aziraphale and waits.

——

In the six thousand years of Aziraphale’s life time, the world has stopped moving on exactly three occasions. The first was in 48 BC, when he’d watched the library of Alexandria burn while nobody could even try to stop it. The second was in the 14th century, when he’d stood over a plague pit lined with bodies while a rainbow stretched overhead and the world drowned in grief instead of water. The third time is now, when Crowley turns away and understanding hits Aziraphale like a slap to the face as he finally sees Crowley’s wings.

There’s little left of them. Calling them wings feels generous, but Aziraphale can’t quite bring himself to refer to them as the stumps they are. The scapulae are little more than jagged edges of bone pierced through angry, infected skin. Tiny black feathers are speckled like ash around the base of the bones where a thick, ugly scar has started to form. Crowley shifts, and the skin of his back stretches nearly to the point of tearing, and it is all Aziraphale can do to hold in his nausea as he stares, and stares, and stares.

“’S not pretty, is it?” Crowley turns to face him with a strange, not-quite smile that does nothing to erase the memory of gore now emblazoned in Aziraphale’s mind.

A moment too late, Aziraphale snaps his jaw closed, blinking. He struggles briefly for an appropriate response, only to eventually settle on a somewhat inappropriate one as his eyes scan Crowley’s face like he’ll find an answer there. “What the hell happened to you?’

Crowley shrugs and barely hides a wince. “Hell, obviously. Who else do you think’s got handiwork like that? I’m not important enough for Gabriel to visit.”

“But how? Why? When?”

“Are you just going to work your way through all the question words?”

“This isn’t funny, Crowley.” Aziraphale takes a step forward and reaches out as if to touch him, stopping just short of contact with a sudden wariness. Maybe touching him will make things worse, and the last thing he wants to do is scare him away now. “Were they like this in the church?” The thought that they might have been and he was too wrapped up in himself to notice is almost sickening.

Crowley’s mouth curves, the expression lightless. “Nah. This was after.”

“How long after?”

“Oh, ages. Few years at least.”

“How long?”

“Four months,” Crowley admits. “Maybe five. Wasn’t really keeping track.”

Four months. Four months after he’d saved Aziraphale from a Nazi spy ring and a spared a collection of books from utter annihilation, something – someone – had sawed or ripped or burnt Crowley’s wings right off his back. It’s been fifteen years since the last time they spoke, and the wounds still look fresh. “I’ve always been under the impression that they were fond of you down there,” he says uselessly.

“They are. They were very impressed by all my hard work bombing churches, inspiring people to make camps for working and starving and gassing anyone they don’t like to death.” His voice is cynical, sharp and bitter like he’s chewing on a block of arsenic. “Thought they’d give me a special commendation to commemorate how far I’d fallen.”

“Surely you didn’t tell them you had-?”

“Of course not.”

“They just assumed you were responsible?”

“We’re demons. Assuming the worst is half the job.” Crowley reaches out with an entirely too casual grimace and pats Aziraphale twice on the side of his face, gently. “Chin up, angel. Could’ve been a lot worse if they’d had two brain cells to rub together and figured out I was slacking.”

Aziraphale catches his wrist and holds it in place. “Or if they’d figured out you were helping an angel.” His eyes lock onto Crowley’s, daring him to dissent.

Crowley’s smile vanishes. He clenches hi jaw, saying nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Aziraphale makes the decision in an instant and squares his shoulders. “Turn around.” The demon opens his mouth to protest and Aziraphale cuts him off before he can utter a sound. “Turn around, Crowley.”

For a moment, he stares like an astonished fish. Then, slowly, he does as he’s been told.

Aziraphale steps forward and closes the gap between them. He catches his breath at the sudden proximity and stretches his fingers. “Now hold still. I’m sorry, but…this may sting a little.” Then he presses his hands flat against Crowley’s back and closes his eyes to focus.

There’s always something a bit cold about demonically created wounds, like a strange occult sludge that hangs about the site of the injury. Aziraphale feels it now, icy against his hands where the sensation has pooled at the junction between Crowley’s shoulderblades and his ruined wings. As if he’s engaged in a particularly complicated stitching project, Aziraphale envisions his own energy as a sort of golden thread and weaves it over the wounds like a warm blanket wrapping around the ice. He murmurs something under his breath (not a prayer, because he knows better than to pray for Crowley), but a request. Heal his pain, he begs, and hopes with all his might that She will hear him and listen.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, his hands pressed to his best friend’s back. All he knows is that when he opens his eyes, Crowley is relaxed and comfortably still beneath his touch, and his wings…

His wings are not recovered, and it’s as much a disappointment as it is a foregone conclusion. An angel’s wings are not unlike a badge of honour, and their loss is not meant to be easily undone. Though Crowley’s the only demon Aziraphale’s ever seen who possesses wings, he suspects they exist under similar restrictions. That doesn’t stop the surge of joy that pulses through him when he sees what progress has been made. The once-jagged edges of his bones are smooth now, the skin around them a faint pink instead of the enraged inferno of infection it had been before. What scarring had begun is cleaner now, less like mountainous ghosts of old wounds and more like a memory. Best of all are the feathers. Small and black, they cover the base of the bones with a soft, downy fuzz, like they’re ready to grow again.

There is silence. Aziraphale does not dare to move his hands for fear that all the work will be undone. For his part, Crowley remains still, breathing even and almost peaceful.

When he speaks, his voice is laced with a confused, hesitant wonder that makes Aziraphale wish more than anything that they were sitting in front of some reflective substance so he could see Crowley’s face. “Angel,” he says, the words reverberating warmly through his back and into Aziraphale’s hands, “what did you do?”

The least I could, Aziraphale doesn’t say. “Nothing much,” he says instead, letting his shoulders sink. His hands fall away from Crowley almost reluctantly, fingers trailing behind until they can’t anymore. “I think I mostly made it so you at least have a chance to heal.”

Crowley turns at that. Their eyes meet and without warning, Aziraphale finds himself captured, pinned in place by golden light. Crowley’s eyes may be the primary feature which marks him as a demon, but Aziraphale has always found them beautiful – the way they’d glinted in the light where they stood on Eden’s wall, flashing like lightning in the wake of the flood, always filled with feeling when he thought nobody was looking. Aziraphale can’t remember when he started looking, but he’s staring now, and he thinks it’s a bit like staring at the sun. Doing it too long will only lead to disaster, but that doesn’t make it any easier to look away.

“Won’t your side frown on you miracling a demon’s wings back on?” Crowley asks, slow and careful.

“No more than yours would question you miracling a collection of prophecy books out of extinction.” Aziraphale reaches out to straighten Crowley’s collar and tells himself it’s only by coincidence that his hand lingers. “We can consider ourselves even on the risk-taking front.”

Crowley’s mouth opens and shuts, his face adopting the wonderful, hilarious contortions it always performs when he’s not quite sure what to say before eventually, finally, he manages a nod. “Yeah, of course. Even score. Nothing owed anywhere.”

“Good. Then we’re settled.” Aziraphale lets his hands fall and smiles, more genuinely than he has in the entire month preceding. There are things he could say, things he knows he likely should say, but he cannot yet say them to himself and he cannot say them tonight. What he says instead is, “How do you fancy a nice drink?”

What Crowley says is, “I’m always in a drinking mood,” and Aziraphale goes for the glasses.

[ronanwazlib]

wolfstar pride pt. 3

(please rb in case the linked posts still don’t show up in this new algorithm!!!)

As the last of the parade goers wandered off and said their goodbyes, Sirius tousled Remus' hair and announced that he was hungry.

"What do you reckon, Moony? Fancy a bite with ol' Sirius and the girls?"

Remus' heartbeat a bit faster, but he pretended to ponder it over a moment.  "Suppose I could eat. I am craving chocolate." He admitted with a shy smile, ducking his chin. Now Sirius' heart kicked up.

"Right then. I know just the spot." He eyed a payphone outside of a petrol station. "I'm going to duck out and call a friend. Well, he's more like my brother. See if he wants to join. Back in a mo'!" He jogged off and Remus gathered Dorcas and her girlfriend, who was trailing the sign behind her tiredly and cheered at the proposed nourishment. Sirius walked them down to an American style diner crammed in beside three or four seedy pubs. They slid into a large booth in the back corner, Sirius smushed up against Remus without even thinking, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He shifted his weight so that his shoulder was pressed against Remus', who was starting to believe that maybe it was.

"Budge over." Marlene said as she threw a cheeky glance at Sirius. "I wanna sit next to your boooooooyfriend." An hour ago, Remus would have turned red on the spot and leapt up from the table, stammering excuses and protestations, but now his eyes darted over to Sirius' unimpressed expression and then back to the girl's as he tossed an arm around the back of the vinyl lacquered seating and across Black's shoulders, before scooting them both down. Then he smirked, one corner of his freckled mouth turning up. "There's room, why don't you get closer, McKnickers."

Even Dorcas looked impressed as their mouths all dropped open. Remus settled back in his seat with a self satisfied grin just as a tallish boy with unruly dark hair and the thickest set of black frames Lupin had ever seen loped up to their table, with a tiny red headed girl in tow. "What are you lot doing gapping with your mouths open like fish?" He asked, fighting a laugh, before throwing himself down on Sirius' other side and picking up the menu. As the girl examined their choices, he peered at them from the top of the laminated cardboard. "Alright then, lads? How was your... event?"

Marlene scoffed, while Dorcas flipped him two V's. "Lads!" She cried in outrage. "Last I checked, you know, I weren't no lad!"

Marlene's face shifted into a bemused smile as she innocently sipped at her glass of water. "Last I checked, too." James' eyes went wide and his face reddened. Dorcas and Sirius both dissolved into uproarious laughter and even Remus chuckled at the group's friendly teasing.

"Alright, alright! That's enough, ladies!" The tiny girl spoke for the first time, and her voice was much stronger than Remus had been expecting. "Don't break poor James' heart by reminding him about the night life he's missing out on! He can't bear it, you know how sensitive he gets."

James rolled his eyes and shoved her good naturedly with a gentle hand. "Piss off, Evans." He said all smarmy, before ducking his head to kiss her once, then twice, then long enough that the rest of their friends began to cheer or jeer.

"Come on, mate, you've already got one in the oven!" Sirius called out and they finally broke apart as a waitress took their orders.

Remus turned to him. "Is she really pregnant?" He whispered and Sirius broke into a wide smile. "Yep. Eight months along in a week or so, not that you'd know it. It's like she uses magic to hide it, or something."

"But it's not magic, Sirius, it's just clever layering of clothing and never letting anyone stare for too long. Not that I'm ashamed, of course." She cut in, rolling her eyes at Black and fixing him with a sharp stare.

"Congratulations, er..." Remus began.

"Lily." She offered her petite fingers to him across the table to shake with a new bright smile. "Pleasure to meet you.."

"Remus. Remus Lupin."

"Pleasure, Remus. And thanks. We couldn't be more excited."

"Or surprised." James added. "God, you never think it'll happen to you... One time you forget and now you're awaiting a sprog." His eyes shone, and he kissed Lily again, on the top of her head.

She turned back to Remus. "Not going to ask why I'm near to pop and out and about, then?" She began, but Remus waved a hand.

"Think you can trust your own judgement. And I'd bet that you aren't the type to let anything stop you." He replied easily, leveling her stare with a kind smile. Her grin broadened and she leaned over James to punch Sirius' shoulder.

"Oh, I approve." She stalled and placed a hand to her stomach with a dignified wince. "Baby does too."

Sirius mimed wiping away tears and blowing his nose loudly into James' discarded jean jacket. "I'm gonna be an uncle." He blubbered, clutching Remus' arm as though in hysteria. They all laughed, then were distracted by the food arriving.

"God, what is wrong with the Americans! And can I grow up to be just like them?" James had crowed upon seeing the wide array of fried foods they'd ordered. Nobody noticed that Sirius didn't take his hand off Lupin's arm, or that Remus slid his own over it to keep it there.

~

Once everyone had finished, forcing down the last burnt chip at the bottom of the basket (Marlene) or loudly slurping the final sip of a milkshake (Sirius), they all elected to go round someone's house and "get blitzed," as Dorcas put it. The debate lasted a while, Remus listening the whole time without much input seeing as he was basically a stranger to them all, and he lived in a bad part of the city in a shite little flat he wasn't too keen to have people over to. Dorcas and Marlene had crazy housemates, Lily lived back home in Cokeworth and was only staying with James until they could move into a house of their own outside of London, James had somehow forgotten the keys to his flat and someone called Pete wasn't answering the phone, leaving him fuming about the ten pence he'd lost to a phone booth, and Sirius was currently sleeping on James' sofa, so they were running out of options quickly. Marlene and Dorcas returned from the drugstore in Piccadilly square, where they were currently stopped, and waved the brown bag at the rest of them.

"Come on then, whiskey's getting cold!"

Sirius raked a hand through his hair with a groan. "Alright, alright, I've a shitty idea."

"So one of your usual ideas then?" James quipped, raising an eyebrow. Sirius smacked him on the backside of his head. James stuck his tongue out at him, then Lily smacked him again and chided him for acting like a tiddler when his unborn child was around. James lovingly placed a hand on her abdomen and cooed apologies at her belly button.

Sirius' face twisted in a grimace for a split second, and James was suddenly at his side and not laughing any longer. They all circled around him as he stared down at his boots. Hating to just stand there idly, Remus stepped forward and pressed his fingers into Sirius' hand. He squeezed back and finally spoke.

"We could go to the ol- my house... No one's there since my mother died, and it's technically mine... I've just been avoiding going over there."

James balked at him. "Ta, mate, but you don't have to go back there if it's too much." Remus frowned. What had happened at the place that Sirius would rather stay on a sofa at James' with three other people than go there?

Sirius shrugged, all smiles as though his minute of panic had never happened. "Nah, it's just sitting there anyhow. Might as well use it to keep our drunken arses out of the cold." With that he stepped forward with a dramatic thunk of his boots on the pavement, and began to lead the way. James and Lily had actually driven in her car, so they all piled in for the ride to the Black home. Remus gave Marlene the other seat, but they protested when he tried to curl up at their feet, so he ended up half on her lap and half on Sirius'. He very awkwardly attempted to at least angle most of his bottom away from the girl, as she probably didn't want to be crushed under a lanky male behind, and because to his chagrin, Sirius probably wanted exactly that. He tried not to think about it too much, focusing on the strains of the Clash trailing in from the radio.

Sirius' house was grand. It was sandwiched between two other very large and posh estates on a street that was completely clear of any refuse and not a spot of graffiti to be seen. When he unlocked the door and led them inside, the interior was a different story. Cobwebs darkened the gloomy corners of every corridor, complimenting the peeling gold wallpaper and cream paint flaking off of the banister. The heavy brocade curtains all wheezed a layer of dust when Sirius threw them open to let in some air through the windows, some of which sported cracked or missing panes. The ancient floor creaked as they gingerly tiptoed around in observation. Ghoulish hunting trophies and lifelike oil paintings of harrowing and stern figures followed their every move. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Lily shiver.

"Well, here's home. Cozy, isn't it?" Sirius preened, smacking a switch hanging out of the wall to bring light flickering in from an ornate brass chandelier overhead.

"Right..." Remus replied, attention turned to the large black cloth draped over a heavy gilt frame, now illuminated.

"That's dear old Mum." Sirius told him with false adoration and just a hint of bitterness. "Keep her covered up so that I don't have to feel her judgement whenever I come by to pay the caretaker's wages."

Sirius could afford to hire a caretaker who didn't seem to even do his job, and yet he slept in James' living room? "There's a caretaker?"

"Well, no, not really. I keep changing the locks on him so he can't get in, but he usually finds a way. Like magic, it is. Cor, I'd bet he's here even now, creepy bugger he is." Sirius chuckled, before a loud scream sent both men racing into the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell!" Remus exclaimed, as they found James, pale as a sheet and clutching the space between the wall and the ice box, across from a squat old man bent onto the floor surrounded by piles of silverwear.

"Pansy here be scared o' old men." He grumped, mouth twisting into a sneer as he gestured with a delicate wrist and his polishing cloth as though it were a ladies handkerchief. Then he shrieked in a high falsetto, "Gave me a fright sir, Ohhh!" and swooned.

James scowled, and Sirius moved to haul him up from his spot, kicking over a pile of incredibly tarnished spoons. "Mr. Kreacher, get the hell out of my house before I call the police. I took your last key."

The Kreacher fellow jerked out of his grasp. "Bah! What a waste it is in your hands, too! Look at how you keep the place. Look what you've done to the family silverware!"

"Do not make me ask again. Take this and leave us." Sirius pushed a crumpled twenty into his hands. The bitter caretaker nearly growled at them as he slunk out the door.

~

"Well, that effectively removed me of ten years of my life." James announced briskly, clapping his hands together as Marlene and Remus walked about lighting candles with Sirius' silver lighter and a book of matches. They were holed up in the basement, one of the only places Sirius could stand to be in, and therefore one of the cleanest.

They'd laid a few small and threadbare blankets on the ground, yet Marlene and Dorcas still huddled together for warmth. "Freezing my bollocks off here, thanks, Siri, darling." Dorcas groused, and her scowl deepened when James shot back, "I thought you didn't have any bollocks Dori, dearest."

"Then why aren't we drinking?" He replied, twisting the cap off the bottle, their second one as they'd shared the first between the four of them on the walk and ride over, and something much more fancy than their pharmacy score from the Black cellars, with a roll of his eyes. He fixed the short haired girl with a sarcastic smirk; he knew she was mostly being dramatic, seeing as it was summer and just under 18°. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oi, save that for Marlene!" He jeered as she shoved at him, and Marlene, hearing her name and Sirius' voice called out, "Wanker!" without even looking up from the long shaft of the candle she was lighting. Sirius shrugged and set the first bottle on the stone floor with a clink and a devious glint in his silver eyes.

Remus chuckled, then looked to Lily, sitting against one wall, James' jacket tucked behind her back. "There a history I'm missing here?"

Lily smiled then arched an eyebrow at the pair. "Oh them? Marlene was Sirius' first kiss in year four. Played seven minutes in Heaven. I know, much more mature than spin the bottle." She joked. Remus laughed again. "Then they dated for about two weeks. Lot of snogging, those two. Then someone accused him of being her beard and she went off on them. Somehow the shouting match turned into an invitation to dinner to prove she really liked her man. Guess who the accuser was?" She deadpanned, eyes settling on Meadowes, still harassing Sirius.

Said "wanker" was rubbing his hands together and beckoning Remus over. "Gather round, ducks, and give us a spin. Who's first then, Evans, are you game?"

Lily, unmoving from her somewhat more comfortable spot, shook her head with a wry smile. "God, no. I kissed enough of you lot when we were 15." The rest of the group began to cahjole her, even Remus calling out, "Come on, Evans." and throwing a wink in her direction.

"Oh alright!" She conceded, shooing off James, who was still at her side. "Be a dear and spin for me."

The bottle whirled clunkily around for a few moments before its head settled between Sirius' feet.

"Oooo!" Marlene giggled. "You've got to kiss Lils, Sirius."

"With pleasure." Sirius said, pretending to fan himself with an exaggerated lick of his lips. Remus watched his tongue swipe out from behind his teeth.

"Ohh no!" Lily protested, pointing a finger to James. "He spun for me. He's the one who's got to snog you." James and Sirius pulled the exact same look of disgust, staring at each other, aghast.

"That's bloody incest, Evans, and as the mother of our child your suggesting it quite disturbs and concerns me!" James cried.

Sirius wrinkled his nose haughtily. "I shan't be kissing... That." The rest of them laughed and said they had to, rules were rules, it weren't personal, innit? With a sigh, James trudged forward, eyeing Sirius apprehensively. At the last moment a grin quirked at the corners of his mouth and he grabbed Sirius' by the back of his head, hurdling him forward to smash his lips... against his forehead with a loud smack. His glasses smushed up against his hairline, the both of them drew away laughing.

"Mate, I didn't know you loved me that much." Sirius told him, false shock coloring his tone.

"'Course I love you, arsehole!" James chirruped over his shoulder as he placed his glasses back onto his nose and crossed back over to Lily. The next few spins of the bottle saw Remus peck a slightly stunned James Potter on the lips, Dorcas kissing Sirius full on the mouth, and quite a bit of snogging from Marlene and her girlfriend, who were cheating and placing their feet in the bottle's trajectory. Eventually, and without any sapphic intervention, one quick flick of the wrist of Sirius Black pointed the bottle directly across at Remus, whose cheeks pinked only a little... from the alcohol, of course. He looked up at Sirius with a sort of blank expression that was equal parts hesitant and Well, try it, then... and rose to his feet only to find Black still firmly planted on the floor.

"No." He said, with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"No?" Remus repeated, halting in his tracks. His stomach dropped.

Sirius shook his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes, which were hard. "No." He intoned again, with a certain finality that declined any further explanation. "Won't do it."

"Oh." Remus said, still a bit confused, though on his way to being angry, and hurt. "Right, then." He resumed his seat, legs crossed, holding his own elbows. At this point Marlene was half asleep in Dorcas' lap, Dorcas herself being a giggling mess. He couldn't understand what he'd read wrong.

part one part two inspo 

[kiruuuuu]

Oneshot in which Blitz embarrasses himself. It’s based on this story which showed up on my dash a few days ago and I highly encourage a read, though it obviously contains spoilers for this :) - written for @magehir to trigger her second hand embarrassment ♥♥ (Rating M, humour, ~1.3k words)

.

“Elias, do you have some time?”

At the mention of his name, Blitz looks up from where he was previously occupied with demolishing the sandwich Rook shoved into his hands as soon as he noticed tomatoes on it – the young man being a picky eater definitely has its perks and already ensured Blitz wouldn’t go hungry despite lacking the time to organise his own lunch several times. Often enough, in fact, that he’s been contemplating whether Rook really dislikes this many vegetables or whether he simply needs an excuse to guarantee that Blitz doesn’t forget to eat. “I’ng eaking”, he mumbles a response directed at Jäger who’s hovering in the doorway to the canteen.

“Ah sure, don’t let me interrupt you. I can wait until you’re done.” He strolls in and joins the German-French table at which IQ and Twitch are wholly engrossed as much in their technical babble as in each other, leaving Doc, Rook and Blitz to their meals. While he finishes up the really quite excellent sandwich, Jäger jokes with Doc and even manages to coax out a smile out of the vaguely stressed-looking Frenchman, earning himself a grateful look from Rook who’s been attempting the same yet largely failed.

Eventually, Blitz downs his bottle of water and turns to his teammate expectantly. “Alright. What is it?”

Jäger looks momentarily confused before he remembers that he was the one seeking out the other German. “Oh! Yes. I wanted to know whether you could lend a helping hand to managing the recruits. I would, but I genuinely don’t want to.”

Blitz snorts – though he can’t say he blames Jäger for the sentiment, this year’s batch are far from the sharpest tools in the shed, yet they’re aptly described as tools nonetheless. The mechanic especially has no patience for anyone who doesn’t immediately understand (or rather mind reads) his quick half-explanations. Unfortunately, nearly everyone in Rainbow falls under this category and the recruits even more. Blitz vividly remembers Jäger’s presentation of his magpies which consisted of one extremely long as well as extremely specific explanation no one even had a chance to comprehend, before he pulled the pin and threw a live grenade into the small group of hopeful soon-to-be operators for a demonstration. Since none of them realised the ADS would save their lives, one started screaming, another jumped into a third recruit’s arms and a fourth almost fainted. Jäger wisely kept his distance after that.

“Let’s go then”, Blitz agrees and they get up together, casually make their way to the training grounds in Hereford. “Who’s in charge of them at the moment?”

“Dom”, comes the curt answer and Blitz winces in sympathy. Where Jäger has no patience for (perceived) incompetence, Bandit punishes according to boringness. He prides himself with his creativity and cunning and thus expects no less from their fledglings – or so he says. Blitz is convinced it’s nothing more than an excuse to torture them with practical jokes and make them afraid to sleep at night.

Speaking of which, even at this distance, Blitz can hear the first screams. Not very promising. “How many have cried so far?”

“Today? Two”, Jäger replies nonchalantly, quite obviously impervious to the outcries of pain echoing oddly over the grounds, “out of five. A third had to be persuaded to come out of the bathroom after he locked himself in. Dom’s having the time of his life.”

Apparently so, judging by the fact that the yells have not subsided, quite the opposite. “Which is probably why you asked me to help.”

The closer they get, the louder the wails. Jäger shrugs. “You don’t have anything important to do today and Mike’s gonna be furious if Dom injures any of them to the point where they can’t train anymore. I think it’s better if you keep an eye on him.”

Dear Lord, what is he doing to this poor recruit? Blitz grows increasingly concerned and Jäger’s words do nothing to appease him. “The hell is he doing? Testing interrogation techniques?”

Even though that’s exactly what it sounds like, Jäger shakes his head, indifferent. “Just some field training. To be honest, he’s probably gonna be relatively pleasant for the rest of the day so he can crank it up tomorrow again, so if you find something better to do, rather do it today.”

They’re entering the building now, the howling worryingly loud at this point and crassly at odds with Jäger’s relaxed attitude – Blitz has noticed his friend’s lack of empathy for anyone he thinks a moron, though he wouldn’t have guessed him this unconcerned about physical violence this harsh. There’s faint skin on skin slapping now, indicating Bandit is seriously beating someone up and Blitz inadvertently speeds up his steps to put an end to this sooner rather than later.

“It’s over here”, Jäger leads them to one of the rooms, the horrifying noises merely growing in volume the closer they get, and reaching distressing levels right as they step through the door.

Yet Blitz does not expect to be facing this.

It’s almost comical and reminds him of primary school: the recruits sitting in a half circle in front of Bandit who’s perched on a chair, seemingly content in merely recounting a story judging by everyone’s rapt expressions. There’s no abuse going on, nothing to explain the terrible noises.

Which… still haven’t ceased, mystifyingly enough.

Literally everyone is staring at the two newcomers now, Bandit with a deep frown probably due to the interruption and the recruits wholly bewildered for some reason. Blitz is still struggling to process what’s going on when Bandit pats down his pockets and murmurs: “It’s not mine this time.”

The small gesture is what does him in. Blitz’ eyes widen in utter panic, the shock so sudden that his knees go weak and his fingers fumble upon desperately clawing at his back pocket, nearly dropping his phone and yes, it’s his, though he has absolutely no clue how this happened. Regardless, the screen quite unambiguously shows two muscled guys going at it with enviable enthusiasm while producing a neverending series of throaty and unrestrained noises and Blitz wants to sink into the ground, evaporate, cease to exist this instant. Frantically, he stabs his phone with a fingertip until not only the sound is turned off but also the display yet the following silence is almost worse. His cheeks are on fire.

The recruits are still staring, visibly uncomfortable, while Bandit’s lips have stretched into the widest, meanest and most delighted grin Blitz has ever seen in his entire life.

Next to him, Jäger casually comments: “Nice cock.”

He wants to fucking die. “I gotta go”, he addresses no one in particular and turns on his heel, strides down the corridor and tries to shut out Bandit’s unapologetic hyena laugh trailing after him: gleeful and a touch hysteric. He almost misses the handle on the way out yet barely manages not to run into the door head first.

A few seconds later, Jäger has caught up with him, curiously watching him from the side. “You know that he’s gonna teach them phrases to embarrass you in German now, right?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it”, Blitz moans into his hands and hides his bright red face in shame.

“Also that looked fucking hot. Did you wank to it earlier?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you please just -”

“I’m just saying. Because if you did, then you should probably agree to a date with Julien.”

Blitz momentarily forgets about his mortification and turns to Jäger, aghast. He’s been Rook’s most vocal advocate, urging Blitz to give him a chance. “Are you… are you going to tell him if I don’t?”

And Jäger’s smirk is answer enough.

[thesilkentheater]

fast as lightning

There's nothing more energetic than speed.

It builds up as she skates, wheels turning faster and faster as she drifts down alleyways and grinds on guardrails. Faster, faster, hit the turn, hit 'em with a quick spin for the nonexistent style points before leaving them in the dust. Go, quickly now, ignore the cops on your tail- how're they gonna catch you? A roadblock?

Quick slide, and you're through. Easy. Shouldn't have gaps her size.

Shouldn't have such skateable streets, either, if they don't want her skatin' on 'em.

Adrenaline pumps through her veins. She's going too fast to tag walls or do some proper art like the others tend to do, but, hey, that's never been her style. She lives for the thrill of the chase, the absolute elation of needing nothing else than to just go fast, a nebulous goal that changes with the tides but holds a resolve the size of the ocean.

Wave//Blitz, her tag reads, whenever she does deign to put one up. Other tags get painted over easily, erased without a thought by their brethren- but hers? Hers stay up for quite a while, because it's unusual that little miss lightning herself stops to throw something up.

It's pretty simple, but she's gotten some hefty compliments from the best of them, so maybe there's a little more to it than a strangely deep fascination with the world's bodies of water since she was seven.

Whatever. Cops are still on her tail. Gotta run.

"Stop right there!" One of them yells, as if she cares. Probably for some legal jargon, something about having to tell you what to do or else they get thrown out in court. Pretty funny how that happens, huh? And all she's doing is feeling the wind on her skin, cold air rushing past and counteracting all the heat her blood must be, pumping faster than a bolt of electricity.

So's her legs, though they're not doing the brunt of the work. The simple motion is all they need to keep, steady, no changes in the rhythm or the speed. It's the hardest part for her- admittedly it's still a breeze- but that doesn't mean she's gonna fail.

What might cause her the fail is the giant wall she's coming up on. Figures. Guess she'll have to improvise.

Only thing she does better than improvising is gain speed.

There's a light pole nearby, curving down towards the street after a hefty height. But she doesn't just wear platform skates for the fashion, and so she does a spin to activate the metal plates on the bottoms before skating up the pole.

Some of the cops seem to recognize this move, having chased her before, and immediately back away. But the rest don't, and get to witness her bolt off the top of the pole like it's a slingshot and she's the bullet that fires faster than a pistol could, darting away and onto a low rooftop.

They're giving up, it seems, half of them arguing with the others for just a moment on whether it's even possible. But that second and a half is enough for her to jump over to another roof, reaching down to her ankle mid-air to turn off the plates again before she lands. Quick and easy.

Just how she likes it.

And what good timing, too. Out of the corner of her eye she spots a boy in ouji clothing, legs crossed, leaning against a wall up on the roof of some building too tall for its own good.

Height isn't usually her thing. It's his- that's why he's up there. But she'll be damned if she doesn't go up to see him, so she does a quick couple of mental estimations in her head, because calculations are way too much math for something fun.

She figures she can make it.

Back on the plates go, 'cause she'll need it for this one. At the risk of falling a height, but it's happened before, she'll be fine. Just land with your wheels rolling and transfer that momentum into horizontal, and you won't break your legs.

She jumps onto the side of that building, holding her legs out to the side. They latch onto the edge easy, and from there she grinds her way to the roof. A few workers look at her in awe- one of them drops her lunch, poor girl- while the rest just ignore the spectacle outside, acutely aware that watching will only make them want to participate.

They can't, of course. They've got bills to pay- everyone does. Being a rebel doesn't pay well, admittedly- but it pays enough to get by.

He huffs as she lands. "Really. Could've just asked for a lift."

"Nah," she says easily, finally slowing.

Dove is a boy with a penchant for heights who realized he could jump one day and then never stopped. He dresses like he's a prince, ouji style clothing always colored like the sky- light blue and white, sometimes dark with glittering jewels that look like stars. His skates have little wings on them, similar to his lighter outfits, and he even made an extra pair to match his night-time outfit. Sometimes it seems like he's more committed to the looks than the actions- he even wears a feathered hair piece.

That's if you don't know him, anyway.

"What's up, Wave?"

"Not much. Just threw the cops for a loop. You?"

He nods over to one of the much, much taller buildings nearby. "Delivery for floor sixty-five, express, don't drop. The usual."

"Got any ideas what it was?"

"Glitter bomb, probably, based on who gave it to me."

"Damn. Triss got enemies there?"

"Bold of you to assume she only bombs enemies."

The two of them share a laugh. His is light, like the twittering of a bird who's found this particular human quite intriguing; hers is a couple barks, more of a statement than a physical reaction but both nonetheless. It's followed by an amicable silence before she starts to move again.

"You're gonna be bored hanging up here," he says as she sits down, unstrapping her skates. His are off, too, sitting next to him, but he always brings a spare pair of boots. By contrast, all she's wearing is a pair of socks.

"Nah." She lets the moment hang, for once. "Got you up here."

"Charmer."

"Mm-hm."

[rpf-bat]

If I Crash On Your Couch

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Summary: Sequel to Can You Take Me Home? (x). Request fic for @sleepersareweaker. “So, you're gonna make a sequel to the saint patricks fic, where a few days later Gerard is flirting again but sober now, and reader begins to ~understand~ ..riiiiiiiiight?”

You woke to the sound of Gerard being violently sick in your bathroom down the hall. Poor baby, you frowned as you sat up in bed. Must be hungover. He'd spent the night on your couch, sleeping off his St. Patrick's Day bender. You had slept in your own bed - alone, despite Gerard's efforts. You blushed at the memory. You still couldn't believe he'd acted like that. He must've been really trashed, you thought with a sigh, and laid back down. You thought about going into the bathroom and offering to hold his hair or something, but you didn't want to make him feel embarassed. I'll talk to him in an hour or so, you decided, and went back to sleep. But, when you finally woke up and crept into the living room, Gerard was gone.

  %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% He'd left without even saying goodbye. Not even a note. This hurt your feelings, especially since you'd gone out of your way to help him the night before. You called his cell phone to ask him where he'd gone. He didn't answer. You debated whether or not to leave him a voicemail. This isn't like him, you frowned. Had you done something to make him angry with you? You tried not to focus on it too much as you got dressed and had a cup of coffee. He could've at least let me drive him home, you considered as you stepped out into the cold March air and began walking towards your car. I guess he took the train back. When you climbed into the vehicle, you found a familiar striped scarf on the floor beneath the passengers' seat. Gerard must've dropped it in your car last night. You called Gerard's home phone. No answer there, either. You hoped he was alright. At the tone, you left a message on his answering machine: "Hey, Gee. Hope you made it home ok. You forgot your scarf, so you should come by later and get it, ok? Have a good day." You pulled out of your driveway and began the drive to work, wondering what the hell had gotten into your friend. %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% Two days passed, and Gerard still never came to pick up his scarf. He didn't return any of your calls, either. Now, you were starting to get pissed. And also kind of worried - why would he just disappear? You two had been friends for a long time - since his freshmen year of art school. You'd had countless cups of coffee with him as he worked on assignments for his animation professor. And you'd been so proud of him when he graduated and got hired by Cartoon Network. But, I'm not sure he's happy there now, you considered. He was so upset that they rejected his pitch that he got wasted. "That's it," you decided as you drove home from another day at the office. "I'm going to see him." You made a U-turn and got off the street that would take you to your house, instead navigating a route towards his childhood home, where he still lived in the basement. You didn't think it was so bad that he didn't have his own place yet, like you did. His family was great. His brother Mikey, especially, had always been friendly to you. Family was important to Gerard, and it made sense that he would want to stay close to them. Plus, this way, he didn't have to pay rent. You knocked on the door, his scarf wound around your other hand. Mikey answered. "Hi, Y/N," he smiled. "Here to see Gee?" "Yeah," you nodded. "He lost his scarf when he was at my place a couple nights ago, so I wanted to return it." "So he spent the night at your place," Mikey smirked. "I knew something was up when he didn't come home all night!" "It wasn't like that!" you blushed. "He was drunk, so I had to pick him up from a bar. I brought him back to my place because I wanted to keep an eye on him. I guess I could've just brought him to you." "No, it's fine," Mikey shook his head. "Thanks for taking care of him. His drinking's been worrying me lately, to be honest." "Me, too," you confessed, frowning. "Anyway, you can come in," Mikey invited. You followed him into the foyer and then the living room. He motioned to the basement door. "Go ahead down," he shrugged. "I'm sure my bro will be happy to see you." "I wonder," you mumbled uncertainly. You still didn't understand why Gerard had been avoiding you. But, summoning your nerve, you opened the door and descended the rickety, wooden steps. "Gerard!" you called when you were almost at the bottom. "It's me, Y/N!" "Y/N?" Gerard gaped. As you entered his room, you found him sprawled on his Star War sheets, in his pajamas, scribbling into a sketchbook. "What are you doing here?" he asked, setting down his pen with ink-stained hands. "I came to give you your scarf back," you explained. "You left it in my car when you were drunk." Gerard reddened and looked away. "You can set it down over there," he said, pointing to his desk. "And then you can show yourself out." "What the hell, Gerard?" you demanded. "Now you're throwing me out of your room? Why are you being so rude to me?" Gerard's eyes flicked back to you, looking apologetic. "Did I do something to piss you off?" you asked bluntly. "If I did, just tell me what it is, so we can make up already." "I'm not pissed off at you, Y/N," Gerard confessed, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "I'm just....ashamed of myself." "Why?" you wondered, your anger beginning to evaporate as you sat down on his bed beside him. "Because you had to see me like that," Gerard admitted, embarassed. "Completely blitzed out of my mind. I must've looked like a total idiot." "You're not an idiot, Gee," you said softly, pulling him into a hug. He flinched away from the contact. "I am an idiot," he insisted self-loathingly. "Esecially because I fucking hit on you." "Oh," you blushed. "So...you remember that, huh?" "I vaguely remember you rejecting my advances," Gerard sighed foggily. "I mean, of course you would. Why would you want to date a guy like me?" "Gerard, come here," you pleaded, reaching for him again. "I never said I didn't want to date you." "Wait, what?" Gerard gasped, looking at you with a vulnerable expression. "Are you saying....you do like me back?" It took you a minute to realize what he had said. Like me back. That meant.....Gerard liked you?! "Gerard, are you trying to say that you weren't just flirting with me because you were drunk?" you gasped, shocked. "You actually meant it?" "Of course I meant it!" Gerard cried. "I've had the most pathetic crush on you for months! How could you not notice? I figured it was obvious, and you were just....too nice to come outright and tell me I had no chance in hell." "I'm the idiot," you realized, cheeks reddening. "Gerard, I've had a crush on you for ages, too. I only told you no because you were too drunk to be able to consent properly to sex." "So are you saying," Gerard said, pulling you close, so that your face was just above his, "that now that I'm sober and can consent, you would sleep with me?" "N-not right this second," you blushed, suddenly so aware that you were so close to him, on his bed, all alone. "But...I would kiss you." He picked his head up and closed the gap between your mouths. His lips were soft and tasted sweet. Oh my god, you'd wanted this for so long. The kiss turned passionate quickly. Fuck, he was good at it. How had you not realized he felt this way about you before?! You'd said you weren't sure about going all the way when you just realized your feelings were mutual, but, if he kept kissing you like that, your body might beg you to reconsider. Your fingers wound into his long, dark hair as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer..... And then you heard the sound of a man clearing his throat. You spun around, red-faced, and saw Mikey standing there awkwardly. "Uh, Gerard, Mom sent me down here to ask what you wanted for dinner," Mikey confessed redly. "But...um....I can talk to you later...." He turned and walked right back up the stairs without another word. "Oh my god," Gerard laughed, covering his face with his hands. "Well, now your whole family is going to know we're dating," you groaned. "We're dating," Gerard repeated, as if the thought made him absolutely giddy. "We're really dating." "We are," you smiled, lacing your hands in his. "And since we've wasted enough time already, pining needlessly....want to get back to what your brother interrupted?" "Can't wait," Gerard smirked, and pulled you in again. 2001 was looking like it was going to be the best spring of your life.

[cutegirlmayra]

I just thought of something, akko is practicing her transforming magic but gets stuck as a cute bunny and is found by andrew Only condition, the fluff level: "it's so fluffy i'm gonna die!!"

(x)

“You can d-do it, Miss Akko!”

“Thank you! Sensei! Emmm…” Akko looked behind her shoulder, growing confident as she held her wand out in front of her.

Professor Ursula smiled as she saw her working hard to concentrate.

‘She doesn’t even realize…’ she thought to herself, ‘That she’s being trained by the one person she wants to be like… but…’ she looked down, growing melancholy.

Her glasses shined white, ‘I want her to be better than me…’

“AHH!!”

She gasped as she looked up, seeing Akko’s wand blitz out and she transformed into a full white bunny.

She blinked her eyes.

“Ah! Ba-ba-pu!” she mumbled, not able to speak English. “Ack!” she covered her mouth, looking horrified she couldn’t say anything.

“Em. Very good, Akko!” she clapped her hands. “Now, try and speak rabbit.” she swished some magic out and a brown rabbit appeared, kicking to scratch behind it’s ear and then ruffling it’s head out, blinking.

Akko gave it an open-grin, and hopped towards it. “Apu, apu, apu. Ba-ba-chee!!”

She waved, but the rabbit’s eyes suddenly turned hostile, and it whammed her multiple times with it’s feet, and then hopped away.

She had swirls in her eyes as she fell, kicking her leg out.

“Oh my…” Ursula placed a hand over her mouth. “Well, we’ll count that as a solid B. at least you got the metamorphosis down right.” she had a sweat drop on the side of her face, knowing that the wand was equipped with a toddler’s handicap.

‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’ she thought to herself, ‘after all, I just couldn’t stand seeing her look so down anymore!’

Akko waved her arms around, glad she had at least succeeded, before flinging her wand on accident…

“Ahh!!! Bu-ba-bu!!!” she ran after it, but the wand’s handicap broke.

“Ack!” Ursula turned white in fright, then sweat profusely. “C-…Can she change back without the handicap now..?” she looked worried.

Akko picked the wand up, and waved it around, trying to say a spell but her broken bunny language just had her disappear.

“Ah…” Ursula looked around, zipping to and fro,… before… “AHH!!! I’ve lost her!!” she threw her hands up to her head and started racing around. “I must find her! I must find her!!” she jumped on her broom and took off. “Akko!!!”

Blinking her eyes open, Akko looked around and found she was in some kind of rich person’s guardian.

“Ack!”

“Ah! A varmint!” A butler, tending the garden, looked up and glared at her, lifting his sharp pitchfork up. “I’ll teach you to eat the master’s vegetables!”

In great panic, she ran as the chase began. Ducking under rose bushes and being found under plant pots, until she finally hopped so far that she wiggled herself into a window, and panted once on a counter.

She sighed, before feel hands around her waist and being lifted up.

‘Ahh!! No way!’ she looked up.

“H-hey! Look, Andrew! I caught a wild white bunny!” Frank laughed, holding her up and lifting her up and down, as she felt dizzy.

“It’s it cute?”

“It could have rabies.”

“Oh come on.” he held it up by his face. “You know you want to hold her~”

She blushed as she looked up at Akko.

He stared at her…

“I’d rather eat it for supper.” he looked back at his book, leaning his cheek against his fist to keep his head upright.

She jolted as her face went limp and she let everything drop forward.

“Ohh… so cruel.” Frank pulled her back, frowning.

The butler came in suddenly, “I’ll find that rabbit! I’ll find it even if I have to search the whole courtyard!” he huffed and puffed, as Frank looked worried, and put the rabbit down by the window, trying to shove it’s butt through.

“Get out while you still can, little guy!”

‘Ack!’ Akko felt so awkward, not being able to fit at first before spinning around and gripping his hand, shaking her head.

“Oh? You don’t wanna go back out?” Frank held her in his hands, “Hey, I think she likes me!”

“Hmph. A regular Snow White.” Andrew nonchalantly commented and flipped the book’s page.

He wiggled a finger over her head, as she tried to fight him off but he just lifted the finger as she swat at him.

“Haha! So cute! Come on, Andrew. You can’t let that mean old butler hurt this little cutie, can you?”

He leaned up with big puppy dog eyes, putting Akko right by his cheek as she blinked in confusion, not sure what was going on.

Andrew looked up, and sighed, closing the book. “I heard your father calling you. Shouldn’t you be going?”

“Ohh… Uhh… here!” he jumped from foot to foot, before letting Akko be tossed into his arms.

“Augh!?” Andrew looked own at his lap, seeing her land there and looked up as if scared.

His eyes twitched, as he suddenly seemed to look up and see the butler coming.

“Don’t let him hurt her! Please!” Frank grabbed his coat and waved from the door frame. “She’s too cute to eat too! So none of that, now. See ya!” he raced off.

Andrew sighed, as the Butler came in.

“Master Andrew,” he bowed politely, “Forgive my intrusion, but did you happen to see a white rabbit by any chance?” he blinked in eagerness.

Andrew looked down, seeing her tearing up, before he pulled the book down over her, pretending he was reading and keeping her out of sight.

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Marcus? You can’t allowing creatures into the manor are you?”

The butler flinched, “Oh no, sir! Never!”

“Good. I’m heading to my room then.”

“Y-yes, sir. G-good day, sir!” With more determination, the butler’s eyes shone with fire, and he took off holding the pitchfork upright and over his head, charging to try and locate it as soon as possible.

Andrew lifted her up and placed her inside his coat, walking up and keeping the book over her, ducking his head down and closing his eyes, looking calm.

She blushed at the warmth that came within his jacket, but squirmed a bit too, ‘Can’t… breathe!’

He turned a corner and opened the door, closing it behind him as he sighed and let her out.

“Come on, then. Get down.”

She looked up at him, as he gestured with his head for her to jump, and she hopped down.

She turned around, smiling on her two legs. ‘He’s not as bad as he comes off to be.’ she smiled.

He pulled out a carrot and tossed it to her, before patting her head and walking to the window, sighing.

She happily jumped for the carrot, playing with it before nibbling on it, and then looking shocked at her actions and pulling away.

‘Noo~!!! Must… resist… urge … to be a bunny!’ she shook her head with her paws up on it, before looking over to Andrew.

He seemed to be reading again, and she looked curiously up to him.

��….Does all he ever do is read books?’ she tilted her head, and raced to him.

Ursula, using a spell to locate Akko, noticed her batteries were running low on it, and seemed concerned.

‘I can’t let her fiend for herself out in the dreary world!’ she threw forth a finder beacon and followed it.

Out the window, she looked around before peeking through, and then panicked when she saw Andrew and Akko as a white rabbit, and turned to peek in and spy on the two.

“…What do you want?” he stared down at her, seeing her smiling and just jumping up to him on the window’s long seat embedded into the windowsill.

She nodded her head a thank you, before jumping up on his chest, making him lean back.

“O-oui!”

She giggled, and then tried to get him to play with her.

‘No one deserves to be cooped up here without a friend!’ she chimed in her heart.

The next scene had the window click open….

And Andrew holding the bunny out of it.

“WHHAAA!!!” Akko cried out, flailing around.

‘What the heck is wrong with this guy!!?! I was being cute! I was trying to help! Doesn’t he want a friend!?’

“I only saved your life for Frank’s sake. Don’t think you can get away anything now.” he pulled her back inside just as Ursula tried to reach out and grab her, but quickly retreated back behind the side of the window.

‘Darn it! So close!’ she pouted.

The rest of the day, Akko tried to get him to do something other than read, even pulling out a fake sword and pretending to duel it, but he just thought her a strange rabbit. She tried to pull on his pant leg’s to get him to play outside, before finally charging down the hall to get him to race after her.

Once outside, and dodging the persistent butler, the two fell on the nice smelling grass and breathed hard, before he looked to her, and smiled.

“You’re… just trouble.” he then laughed, “And you’re the strangest rabbit I’ve ever met!”

She smiled, seeing him enjoying life, before seeing Ursula gesture for her to come over to her in the rose bushes.

She frowned.

‘Oh… that’s right.’ she looked to Andrew.

Getting up, she hopped over to his cheek, and lightly kissed it.

“Huh?” he turned to her, seeing her smile and then close her eyes, tilting her head.

For a moment, he thought he saw Akko’s eyes, and her usual gesture. “A…Akko?”

She twitched.

‘H..how?’ she shook her head and then took off, freaking out.

“Bu-bu-ba-bu!” she called for Ursula, telling her to get her out of here.

Ursula quickly caught her up and took off, as Andrew ran after her, but only saw Ursula flying away.

“A.. witch?” he blinked his eyes, blushing a moment.

He then glared a bit, “Why are their always witches?!”

“Master Andrew! I think I found it! The white rabbit!”

Andrew turned around.

A poor rabbit had been spotted, before poofing away into a dust of magical smoke.

“OHH!!!” the old man almost had a heart attack, and fell backwards, fainting.

Andrew sweat dropped, and sighed.

“I hate magic.”

(Do you though..? Do you? lol hope you enjoyed it my friend :)

[dylan-hague]

Chapter 33

Titans Tower, Jump City. May 2nd, 2018. 3:13 AM.

“DON’T LET HER ESCAPE! CHASE THIS FAKER DOWN!!”

Damian’s voice was ragged and furious as he tore down the streets of Jump City on his X-cycle, with Raven, Jon, and Jaime flying overhead. About fifty feet ahead of him, flying down the road on a bike identical to his, was the false Red X. She had shown up just a few minutes ago during their patrol; Damian nearly choked on his water as she whipped past him, landing a solid drop-kick to Garfield’s chest with her steel boot heel. He soared through the air, eyes wide with pain and shock, and landed on the trio of would-be robbers behind the electronics store on Fifth and Wolfman, before the fake Titan hit Tara and Kori with tranq-stars, leaving them three Titans short of their full team. And being the best tactician on the team to begin with, that put Damian in charge of the remaining four Titans, and he intended to catch this impostor tonight. No one was going to use his symbol for crime.

The pseudo-Titan took a hard right at the next intersection, barreling down the street between cars like it was child’s play. Cursing to himself, Damian pressed a button on the left throttle, and the bike suddenly popped into the air with a quick jet burst, the bladed wheels swiveling to a horizontal position that propelled the motorbike into the air as a hidden jet engine built into the rear of the vehicle burst to life, sending the X-cycle and its rider blitzing after the other X. His other Titans quickly pulled into a triangular formation behind him.

“Jaime, see if you can close in and incapacitate that bike, but be careful! We don’t want any civilians getting hurt! Raven, go with him to make sure nobody else gets hurt!”

“You got it, little man!!” the Blue Beetle called out as he and Raven dove forward, approaching the false X from the sides.

“What are you and me gonna do??” Superboy asked, his voice just loud enough for Damian to hear over the sound of his bike’s jet.

“The only way out of Jump City in this direction is over Haney Bridge! I need you to get me there now, then start running interference, slow her down as much as you can before she hits the bridge so she doesn’t plow straight though my barricade!”

“Gotcha!” Jon shouted in reply before grabbing the X-cycle by the backseat. Damian cut the jet, and Jon brought them into a blue whirl over the streets to the edge of Haney’s Bridge, where Damian continued to hover just off the ground.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Jon asked worriedly. “This could go south pretty fast if you’re not careful.”

“Don’t worry, Jon, I’ve got everything under control. This faker is mine.” Red X’s brow furrowed as he launched a series of pylons out of the bike’s sides, each one embedding itself upright into the asphalt of the bridge before activating it’s forcefield, creating a wall of sparks over which Damian’s bike hovered. “Now go, slow her down!”

Jon nodded before shooting off to start disrupting the false X’s momentum. Meanwhile, Jaime and Raven fought their hardest to knock the imitation from her vehicle, but the rider was able to counter every swing Jaime threw, and keeping Raven distracted prevented the mage-girl from using her powers to simply pick the bike up off of the road. This kept up until Jon began firing his heat-vision at the faker, causing her to veer off to the side to avoid his attack while the four of time rapidly approached Haney Bridge, where Damian lie in wait. Jon was successful in causing the criminal to decelerate, his red eye-beams constantly coming close to slicing a wheel right off of the bike. At least, until the Fake Titan managed to lodge a Kryptonite X-star in Superboy’s shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and fall into a roll down Wolfman Street. Raven pulled back to check on him, and the false X managed to get a slice in across Beetle’s chest, causing him to fall away as well. As she got close to the end of Wolfman Street, the faker spotted the original Red X glaring back at her. In response, the impostor engaged her own bike’s aerial mode, pulling up just shy of Damian’s force field enforce drifting down to eye level with him.

“There’s nowhere else to run, Faker,” Damian growled into the opaque eyes of the skull mask. “Give yourself up, so I don’t have to break you.”

“You speak with such confidence, Prince…” the false X hissed. “But I can see by the look in your eyes that you’re pointing all your attention on me now. Your focus does you credit…”

Damian said nothing, but kept his eyes fixed on the false Titan, trying to pin down who she might be. She called him Prince, so that confirmed his theory that she was of the League. But she had skills that few even in the League had acquired. Only himself and a handful of others were as fine-tuned…

“Unfortunately, it is also a weakness I may exploit.” The other X snapped her fingers, and a faint boom could be heard off in the distance. Damian looked up to follow the sound, and his eyes widened as he saw what must have been a helicopter coming down in a fireball towards the river. Squinting, the boy barely made out the distant shape of a person falling from the sky, presumably from said helicopter.

“Catch me, or save them…” the impostor whispered. “Your choice, ‘hero’.” With that, the fake X turned and flew off as Damian tore up into the sky, cursing himself for not expecting something as cheap and underhanded as this. As the Son of Batman pushed his vehicle as fast as it would go, he realized that he might not be able to reach the civilian soon enough to save them. So thinking quickly, Damian threw the X-cycle into full-auto thrust, and carefully perched on the seat of the bike as he sliced through the air towards the citizen. Just as she was about to pass him on her descent, Damian flipped a switch on the side of the bike, and the seat shot forward through the separating windshield, launching him forward like a slingshot just in time to grab the civilian as tight as he could.

“I’ve got you, ma'am. Everything is gonna be fine, just hold on as tight as you can.” Damian shouted over the sound of the air blistering past their bodies before reaching up to his ear and calling out over his comlink. “Calling all Titans, this is Red X. I’ve got a civilian here, and we’re dropping fast. I could use some air support. Since I can’t fly… at all.”

The woman screamed as they hurtled closer to the ground.

“… Now would be good.”

As if on cue, his teammates sprang to action; Damian felt a powerful gust of wind push upward against them as Beetle beat vigorously at the air with his wings, and he saw the familiar shadow stretch out over the two of them as Raven pulled them upward with all her might. This slowed their descent enough to prevent a fatal injury upon impact, but they were still coming in fast enough that if they hit the ground now, one of them would never walk again. Damian turned the twos of them in the air so that he was set to break the woman’s fall and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the impact…

His eyes popped back open, and he let out a sigh of relief with the breath he had unintentionally held in as he felt his back collide with something much softer: Superboy’s chest. Jon threw his arms around the two of them as best he could and carried them carefully to the sidewalk below.

“It’s alright now, miss.” Jon’s voice was soft and comforting as he gently hugged the trembling woman to help her calm down. “Was anyone else in the helicopter with you?”

“N-no, it was just me…” the poor lady couldn’t help but whimper as the tears began streaming down her face. “Y-you, you saved m-muh-my life… thank you s-so much…”

“Everything is gonna be okay now, ma'am.” Damian put a gentle hand on the weeping civilian’s back. “Go home, take some time to rest. Tell your family you love them.” Jon slowly walked the woman down the street, and Damian turned to see Jaime and Raven approaching him.

“Thanks for slowing us down, guys,” Damian sighed with a smile. “If you hadn’t been there, there’s no way Jon and I could’ve–”

He was cut off by Raven’s hand grabbing his collar and dragging him into the shadows. By now, Damian’s body had grown used to the feeling of shadow-melding, so he didn’t collapse when they emerged in Raven’s bedroom.

“Wha? Raven, why did you bring me to–”

SLAP.

Cut off again, this time by Raven’s hand whipping across his face. Now he actually did fall to the floor, rubbing his stinging cheek as he looked up at his fiancée who just stared back down at him, her eyes filled with panic and anger.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” The half-demon cried out as Damian slowly pulled himself back to his feet.

“What’s gotten into you??” The young Wayne snipped back. “Did you seriously just hit me!?”

“Oh, did I seriously just do that?!” Raven shouted, her face turning red as she grabbed her boy by the shirt and shoved him onto her bed. “Did I just do something completely insane?! Well here’s a better question: did you seriously just pull something like that without giving us a heads-up!?”

“Why are you freaking out about this?” Damian went to stand up off of the bed, but Raven just threw him back down into it. “It worked out fine. We saved that woman’s life.”

“Jaime and I barely got to you in time!” Raven’s hands were swinging all around as she shouted. “Think about what could have happened to you. Think about what almost happened.”

“It didn’t happen.”

“But it could’ve.”

“But it didn’t!”

“But it could’ve!” Raven glared at Damian as her shadow spread across the room. “Damian! What would the rest of us have done if something happened to you?!”

“You would keep moving forward,” Damian grimaced, countering Raven’s glare with a scowl. “That’s what you do in our line of work. If someone goes down, you keep moving. You remember them, but you just keep moving.”

“You know it’s not that simple, Damian.” Raven’s ears burned as she felt her frustration rise to the surface, like a pot about to boil over. “Not between you and me.”

“What did you expect me to do? Let that woman die?” Damian threw his hands up, exasperated. “That’s not how we do things! We ALWAYS put the people first!”

“I expected you to think of something that wouldn’t get you killed!!” Raven’s voice broke as she shot back at him. “I expected you to think about the rest of us! Alfred, your dad, your brothers, Jon, me!”

“I do this sort of thing of thing all the time!” Damian finally stood back up, not letting the girl push him back down. “What makes now any different!?” Raven grabbed the boy’s shirt, jerking him in as close as she could.

“Because I already lost you once, and I CAN’T DO IT AGAIN!!!”

Damian froze.

Raven’s breath was heavy as the weight of her words bore down on the both of them.

In the empty air that filled the silence of the room, Raven breath trembled in her chest. “Damian… I saw… you die…” the witch-girl placed a shaky hand on Damian’s face. “I watch the light… fade from your eyes… I reached out, to listen to your mind… but you were gone. You were dead.” Raven’s lower lip quivered as she pressed herself to Damian’s chest. “I… I can’t… not again, I… I can’t go through that again…”

Damian stood silent, mortified at what his Raven just told him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight as she whimpered, her shadow lapping back around the room, drenching them in pitch black darkness.

“… Raven, I’m so sorry…” Damian whispered in the blackness. “… I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

“Just promise me…” the girl replied weakly. “Promise me I won’t lose you again…”

Damian just held the girl close, letting himself become lost in her presence as her shadow slowly shrank back to its original size beneath her feet.

“I promise…”

[thefaeriereview]

Blitz: Unsportsmanlike

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  Gods of the Gridiron, Book 1

Sports Romance, Contemporary Romance

Release Date: August 28, 2020

  They don't call him Ares for no reason!

Travis Redmond, the ram of a running back for the Atlanta Gladiators, may be a lot of things—hot-headed, arrogant, rash—but a cheater isn't one of them. Until cheating is the only option he has to save his brother, Tucker, from the clutches of a dangerous criminal mastermind.

When his impulsive actions get him an UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT penalty and he ends up suspended and back in his hometown of San Antonio, Texas, the last person he expected to see again was Skyla Larson, his former classmate from Brevidge High.

Skyla isn't the shy girl he remembers from Biology. She's changed after a decade and man, is she scorching hot now… and with the sass to go along with it too! Sly little Sky’s got a few secrets of her own, including a particular person she's investigating as Atlanta’s assistant district attorney.

Their reunion and bar-side banter are short-lived though as these two suddenly find themselves running for their lives...and falling in love on top of that!

Love has poor timing, especially when they have everything to lose including their hearts… The “god of war” may have found something worth fighting for—the mighty Aphrodite of his.

    Excerpt

PROLOGUE

  Travis Redmond sat at the bar, beer in hand, feeling like the biggest loser in the NFL. He’d gotten formally suspended this time after he’d pulled his helmet off and gone nose to nose with a player on the field, during a game, in front of eighty-thousand plus fans.

Yeah, he’d been wrong. Yeah, he’d been angry. Yeah, he’d been throwing the game...intentionally. And Pollux Reed had called him out for it. But dammit, he had no idea what Travis was going through and why he’d done what he had. He was tired of the talk behind his back and when Reed had mumbled that bullshit under his breath, Trav had seen red and went at him before he could even think.

He’d only been playing for the Gladiators for a month now and he was being scrutinized, his motives questioned—like they’d been before he’d gotten traded from the Stallions. But no one understood what was happening, what a shit-show his little brother had gotten the two of them into. There were some dark and shady men at the center of this whole scandal, and if Travis didn’t play his cards right, Tucker’s life was at stake. He had to do what they said, had to subtly throw the games, had to keep the facade going. The alternative was unthinkable.

For now, Travis was simply biding his time and looked back over to Hank, the bartender of Gunslingers, the current bar he was in, here in his hometown of San Antonio, Texas. He’d needed a break from all the heat he was in, back in Atlanta, using the excuse to come out and visit his family and catch up with his former teammates. 

Tonight, Trav was meeting up with a friend he used to play with on the Stallions—his former QB, Judd Gilbert. He’d be heading back to Georgia in a couple days’ time.

Travis checked his phone again, all too aware of the eyes that kept coming back to him. He was as inconspicuous as a famous football player and record-breaking running back could be in his backwards ball cap and shades, despite that it was so dark in the place that he could barely see. The tight Nike t-shirt and jeans probably didn’t help. Judd hadn’t texted him back, although Travis had been at the bar for about twenty minutes now, waiting.

“Is it true? Were you throwing that game like they said?” Hank asked, leaning over the half-empty bar top, polishing a beer stein.

“What the fuck do you think?” Trav grumbled and looked around. “You know me. You know I ain’t like that!” It hurt that people had no more faith in him than they did...even if it were true.

“I know, but it sure don’t seem that way. You shouldn’t have fumbled that ball, Trav.”

“What do you do for a living?” When Hank paused, Trav buried the hatchet. “You pour fucking liquor into glasses. Why don’t you do that and stop telling me how to do my job? When you bust your ass on that field every Sunday, then we can talk. Until then, shut the hell up.” Travis looked away, his heart hurting at the acid dripping from his lips. He had to make this seem legit though or Tucker was a dead man. They’d warned him and warned him and warned him. And Tucker was in their grasp now. They could put a bullet through his head in the blink of an eye if Travis acted suspiciously. They’d already sent him a pinky toe in the mail. He assumed it was his brother’s but couldn’t verify it for a fact. They could be bluffing, but he knew them too well; they hadn’t bluffed prior to now.

Travis pulled his shades off and looked around, narrowing his eyes at the onlookers, almost growling like a cornered dog. Yeah, it’s me fuckers, Travis fuckin’ Redmond! In the flesh, he wanted to shout but took another sip of beer instead, back home and up to no good, he thought to himself.

Just then his phone beeped and he checked it, seeing a text from Judd.

Judd: Hey, man. Sorry, I’m gonna have to bail tonight. Jerica is running a fever and Gemma thinks we should take her to urgent care. FML. I really hate this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can do lunch before you head out on Thursday?

Well, shit! Trav was on his own tonight...in a bar he didn’t even wanna be in. His night just kept getting better and better.

Travis texted back with: No worries, man. Hope she’s alright. Talk tomorrow.

He replaced his phone in his back pocket and looked at the opening door, seeing that it was raining out now as an impeccably dressed redhead with a giant umbrella stomped in, huffing.

Trav’s eyes narrowed as he tried to place her. That face, mouth, and skin tone… He could swear he’d seen them before. When she looked up, her blue eyes grazed him robotically before zeroing in on the bartender.

“Excuse me, do you have a phone I could use?” she asked and got a scoff from Hank.

“Payphone’s in the back, lady.”

She sighed heavily and closed the dripping umbrella, swiping her black heels on the giant rug at the entrance of the door. She was clad in a striped, heather-gray pant suit with a cream silk top. She rifled through the big leather bag on her shoulder before tucking her unruly, long curly hair behind her ears. He heard her grumble, “Fuck,” as she pulled out a wallet and runaway coins began to bounce onto the floor with little pings here and there.

Travis understood; his day was just as shitty.

He decided then to move off his seat and assist her. He stepped forward and bent down to retrieve the three quarters, five nickels, and four dimes that had fallen out of her wallet. As her sapphire blue eyes fell to his, the woman’s jaw literally dropped as she recognized him.

He was used to this. Being a professional athlete got a man all kinds of attention; some wanted and others not so much. He wasn’t sure of the attention here but hoped she didn’t draw too much his way. The heat of the chaos he’d already generated himself was creating steam around him and he wanted to hug a wall at this point.

The shock on her face quickly turned to scorn. Great! She not only recognizes me, she hates me. No scoring for me tonight.

“Here, you dropped this,” his voice plunged in annoyance as he thrust the fist full of change forward.

“Keep it! No one asked for your two cents anyway.”

Ouch! Feisty. Well, she was a redhead after all.

“It’s actually $1.40 to be exact,” he smarted.

“Hmm, you could probably use it more than I could right now, Mr. Redmond.”

He rolled his eyes. Maybe she was a jaded fan or the wife of an opposing player. Either way, he wasn’t taking her money, to hell with her.

He slammed it on the bar top because his temper was the shortest thing on him. “You’ll need it for the fucking payphone,” he grated out even as she turned her back to him and walked in the direction of the phone and bathrooms. “Ungrateful bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.

Travis sat back down at the bar and continued to nipple his beer, looking up at the television that hung on the back wall. It was set to SportsCenter, so he kept his eyes locked on it, listening to the play by play of past Sunday’s games. The sportscasters began arguing predictions of the coming games, evaluating the players and their stats, and then started to debate Travis’s future with the Gladiators. Again, anger seized him. What the hell did they know? His head coach, Greg Cavanaugh, and the owner of his team, Jerry Taylor, hadn’t talked about cutting him. He was only suspended for two weeks, and it’d been for taunting, not throwing the games.

Travis sighed and leaned back on the bar stool. His guilt might be enough to kill him; the team didn’t deserve to be done the way they were, nor his teammates. Travis wished things could be different, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t go to the cops, he couldn’t discuss it—with anyone—and he couldn’t allow them to fire him. He had to keep this up. Had to continue to keep his brother alive.

“Can I have a water please?” Joy! The stuck-up lady was back.

“Does this look like a Waffle House?” Hank snorted.

“C’mon, I’ll pay for a soda. I—”

“Give her a damn water, Hank, and quit bein’ a dick,” Travis scolded with yet another scowl, getting one in answer. Hank huffed but did as he was told. “You’re grumpy tonight and it’s showing.”

“Yeah, and with no damn help from you. You’re supposed to be the town hero, Travis. You’re really disappointin’ us lately.”

Yeah, that makes two of us, buddy, he thought but spoke instead to the mysterious redhead who’d sat down two stools from him. “You sure you don’t need somethin’ stronger?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Figures,” he mumbled and sipped his beer again.

“Yeah, well maybe if you didn’t drink so much, you could keep your damn hands on the football.” The redhead smirked, and Travis frowned over at her. Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? What Hell had she come from to torture him like everyone else was tonight?

“Like you’d even fuckin’ know,” he retorted back. She probably didn’t even watch football, he bet. She just went along with what the man who’d put that big rock on her finger told her to do.

Travis rolled his eyes and looked back at the TV, getting nothing else out of her for a minute. As soon as this beer was done, he was saying, “Fuck off” to all of ‘em and getting the hell out of Dodge while the gettin’ was good.

The redhead rifled through her giant bag once more and sighed at the cell phone in her hands, drawing Travis’s attention again.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath and threw it back into her purse.

Trav’s brows went up in question, but she looked away quickly, as if his stare was abhorrent. She’d be pretty if she would stop being such a cunt. There was something about her though that, again, made him feel as if he knew who she was.

“You from around here?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, and moved lithely onto the stool beside her. He was curious by nature; he couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, unfortunately I am,” she responded, running a hand through her mane of red hair.

“Unfortunately?” he sassed. “What? You too good to come from ol’ San Antonio?”

“No,” she smarted back and rounded on him. “But I certainly wasn’t hoping to run into you again.”

Again? When the hell had he run into her in the first place? He hadn’t slept with her, had he? If he had, he was certain he would’ve remembered a set of tits and a pair of legs like hers.

He grinned. “I don’t reckon I know you, darlin’.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” she retorted hotly and took a sip of her water. “You just don’t recognize me. I mean, it’s been almost ten years since we graduated.”

Holy shit! He’d gone to high school with her? Who was she?

He looked her over and tried to rack his brain. High cheekbones, great tits, curvy hips, porcelain skin... Nope, he was drawing a blank. But then again, he’d been hit one too many times in the head since high school.

“Got a name, Fireball?”

“Yes, Travis Redmond, I do. Too bad you don’t remember it.” She huffed, and he couldn’t help but laugh at this woman’s audacity. He was certain he would’ve remembered a sexy, feisty redhead; this lady was unforgettable.

“You’re gonna make me work for it... Ok, fine. Maybe it’ll be fun.” His grin was like the cat that ate the canary for a moment before he spied her engagement ring again. Damn! She was engaged, he’d forgotten. Too bad too, because he could’ve had loads of fun with this sassy, little ginger. Each one he’d ever taken to bed had truly been straight fire and tonight, he needed that kind of fire to forget all his problems.

“Oh, I—” she stammered as she went to remove the ring from her finger. “I—I’m not—”

“Sure. And I’m not one of the NFL’s leading running backs.”

“No. Actually. He—he, uh—”

“Sure, he did.” Travis went to turn, annoyed by the woman’s sudden separation from her fiancé on his account.

“He was fucking his secretary. I just found out yesterday. It’s one of the reasons I’m here. Along with work. I needed to get away.” She blushed, her face as red as her hair. Tears hit her blue eyes. “The affair is big news now. The media got wind of it this morning,” she mumbled, looking down. 

“Bummer.” He understood how the media took a story and ran with it. “So, your fiancé a politician or somethin’?”

“He’s the mayor of Atlanta.”

“No shit!” She lived in Atlanta too? “Wait, ain’t he a bit old for you?” The mayor was, indeed, an old dude.

She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter much anymore, does it?” She smirked sarcastically, and Travis’s eyes fell over her face.

She had a light dusting of freckles, which her foundation covered, rosy cheeks, an aquiline nose, and no-nonsense blue eyes. And in that moment, she looked as run-down as he did. He took pity on her and felt bad for calling her a bitch behind her back.

“Hank, get us two shots. Make ‘em lemon drops.”

“No,” the pretty woman protested, shaking her head. “I can’t. Really.

“Oh, c’mon. Have a drink with your old classmate. We’re celebrating a reunion. Just a round or two. It won’t hurt ya. Besides, there ain’t enough liquor in those things to even get you good and buzzed.”

She cocked her head, trying to get him to understand, but he persisted.

“Just one. Maybe two. I swear, I’ll get you home in one piece.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’ll try to do, if you’re anything like what you were back in high school. But my car needs a tow and the wrecker’s gonna be a while, so I’ll have one, maybe two with you. But I am not going home with you, Travis.”

“Deal!” Travis grinned and motioned for Hank to get the shots. “But I gotta ask? Have we slept together before?”

She shook her head dramatically. “I’d never sleep with you. Not in a million years.”

“Right, but you’ll sleep with the damn, old-ass, bald guy you were engaged to,” Travis snorted. The woman didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation but she sure as hell was gonna marry the asshole, so there was that.

“So, you gonna tell me your damn name so I can get reacquainted with you or continue to keep me guessing?”

She laughed, like genuinely laughed, and Travis was taken by how beautiful she was as her face lit up.

Wow! How had he forgotten a woman who looked like that?

“Skyla.”

“Skyla?” Travis was combing through every neuron to try and remember this lady, but he couldn’t place her to save his life.

“I wore glasses, had braces, was overweight,” she elaborated. “Skyla Larson from Bio.” 

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me!”

Travis was literally dumbfounded as he recalled the chubby, strawberry blonde he’d had Biology with. The girl he remembered was shy, practically mute, and tripped over her own two feet constantly.

“No way! You are not.”

“Am too.” Skyla’s brow rose.

Travis’s eyes roved over her. She’d honed that fleshy pubescent body into a slender masterpiece, taken those ugly-ass glasses and braces off, and now she was fine AF, and he told her so. “Damn! You’re smokin’ fuckin’ hot now, Skyla. What’d you discover? P90X.”

She rolled her eyes but gave him a smile. “Thanks, Travis. That means a lot coming from you. But not only did I discover P90X and clean-eating, I also grew the fuck up… unlike some of my classmates.”

Travis laughed. Damn, this was entertaining and got his mind off the fear that his life had become since his brother had come to him six months ago, pleading for five million dollars and protection. “You grew up alright.” Travis’s eyes focused on her big breasts, and he remembered that she did have those in high school—Braces, buck teeth, and big tits. It was starting to come back to him now. “You were never sarcastic though, and I can’t say I like that about you.”

“Good thing I don’t give a shit what you like.”

“Burn, baby.” He smirked. “Is the rest of you as scalding hot as that tongue of yours?” He gave her a crooked grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” she asked and thanked Hank for the shots he placed before them.

“Yes! I would indeed,” Travis answered and raised his shot after Sky grabbed hers. “Here’s to reconnections.”

   About the Author

Shanna Swenson is an award-winning finalist in the Fiction: Romance category of the 2020 International Book Awards for her books Abundance and Return to Abundance. She's known for writing endearing adult romance novels that showcase the healing power of true love in the face of tragedy.

She's a dreamer turned author who does cardiac ultrasounds by day and creates fictional worlds every spare chance she can. Shanna started writing at the age of fourteen and has always loved dynamic characters. She's fascinated by the unknown, is a Cancer with a capital "C", and has an eclectic taste in music, movies, and books.

When she's not writing or reading, she's working out, taking photographs, or hanging out with her own "knight in shining armor."

You can find her on BookBub, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Goodreads.

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[flauntpage]

There’s Blame to Go Around – Ten Takeaways from Saints 20, Eagles 14

The Birds were up 14-0 and lost 20-14.

That’s a crappy way to go out when you consider how well they started this game.

Funny thing about social media –

I don’t think anything remotely reasonable is said on Twitter or Facebook in the 30 minutes after a tough Eagles loss. It’s just reactionary and emotional stuff, people full of piss and vinegar and Bud Light who are looking for an argument. It’s more or less a cesspool of non-dialogue, but what’s fascinating is to explore the dichotomy among fans who were blaming the offense for the loss versus fans blaming the defense.

It’s true that the Eagles were poor on a number of third and long situations last night, and they allowed the Saints to put together some back-breaking long drives on more than one occasion. That’s factual information that we can verify with our own two eyes. Empirical data and whatnot.

But if you told me before the game that the Eagles defense would hold the Saints to 20 points in the Superdome, I absolutely would take that. You would have taken it, too. We all would have, because New Orleans only scored less than 21 points at home on one other occasion this season, which was when they rested their starters in week 17.

Seriously.

Last night was probably the best defensive performance by an opposing team in the Superdome this season, because Teddy Bridgewater vs. the Panthers in the season finale doesn’t count.

This loss is on the offense, which put up 14 points against the NFL’s 29th-worst pass defense. You can’t go 2-7 on third down in the dome and expect to win the game. You can’t waste a timeout to avoid a delay of game penalty early in the third quarter. You can’t blow the few opportunities you get in a road playoff game against the NFC’s top- seeded team.

There’s blame to go around, but the scales are tilting much more towards the offense than the defense after that performance.

It was a fun ride though, for real. I wrote a bunch of sardonic shit earlier this season, saying that the Birds were done, they were cooked, they’re gonna finish 7-9, yadda yadda yadda. They proved me wrong, probably proved you wrong, and put up a really nice fight while falling just short of the NFC Championship game. That’s pretty damn good for a team that looked to be dead and buried on more than one occasion this year.

All that’s left for us to do now is cheer on Andy Reid, because I sure as hell don’t want Sean Payton, Bill Belichick, or Sean McVay winning the Super Bowl.

Barf.

1) Nick Foles

18 for 31, 201 yards, 1 touchdown, 1 interception that was his fault, and 1 interception that wasn’t his fault.

He just wasn’t good enough. He was under-throwing and over-throwing guys from quarter two through four, which is weird to me because he nailed Alshon Jeffery on a fantastic back-shoulder throw in the first quarter and dropped that touchdown pass for Jordan Matthews right in the bread basket. I don’t know what changed or why his accuracy waned as the game progressed.

I went through some of the condensed replay film and didn’t see anything that really suggested what the problem was. He didn’t totally step into a couple of throws, but on other occasions he was similarly back-footish and completed his passes. He wasn’t “forcing” throws I don’t think, but Nick just looked like he was having trouble putting the right amount of loft on the ball after that first quarter.

Case in point, the interception:

The thing that kills me about that play is that the Saints dropped eight guys into zone coverage. It was a three man rush, so you’ve got Lane Johnson 1v1 on the right and a pair of double teams elsewhere on the line. I know Nick isn’t a runner, but he could probably have climbed the pocket there or hit Wendell Smallwood in the flat. He saw something over the top and just didn’t put enough air under it, which is almost the opposite of what he did on the Matthews TD pass earlier in the game, which was a back-foot, “let me put it where my guy can get it” type of throw.

The Matthews over-throw towards the end of the game was another one that jumped out:

He just missed him. The Saints blitzed but the protection was clean enough.

I guess this brings the Foles vs. Wentz thing to an end. Or does it? I have no idea. I think we’re stuck with that forever.

2) Offensive shortcomings

Let’s play a game.

It’s called “compare how the Eagles did on Sunday to the opponent’s season averages.”

I wrote last week about how the Birds had a shot to really redeem themselves after Carson Wentz threw up that three-interception clunker in week 11.

That was predicated on these mediocre New Orleans season averages:

14th in total defense (349 yards per game)

29th in pass defense (269 YPG)

14th in scoring defense (22 points allowed per game)

22nd in first downs allowed (20.8 per game)

24th in opponent third down conversion rate (41.3%)

29th in yards per pass allowed (8.1)

26th in completion percentage allowed (67%)

27th in limiting opponent passer rating (100.3)

Look good right? The Birds should have been able to find some wiggle room attacking the Saints secondary, but here’s how they did in each of those categories:

250 total yards

201 passing yards

14 points

15 first downs

28.6% on third down

6.5 yards per pass

58 completion percentage

61.4 passer rating

That’s it. They Eagles finished well below the Saints’ defensive averages in all eight of those categories, which was incredibly disappointing. They opened the second half with a 14-10 lead and the ball and proceeded to go three plays for six yards and punt the ball right back to New Orleans, which set up the Saints’ game-winning drive.

3) A great performance, other than…

The defense more or less fought like hell but just couldn’t get off the field, which resulted in the Saints running 71 total plays vs. the Eagles’ 47. The time of possession margin was again ~37 minutes to ~23 minutes, which is absolutely brutal.

Here’s what the Saints did with their drives:

one play, zero yards, interception

three plays, zero yards, punt

seven plays, 23 yards, punt

twelve plays, 79 yards, touchdown

four plays, 12 yards, punt

seven plays, 67 yards, field goal

eighteen plays, 92 yards, touchdown

eight plays, 62 yards, field goal

ten plays, 41 yards, missed field goal

(end of game)

Drive #4 required a fake punt and a 4th down conversion to score a touchdown, so of course you have to give credit where it’s due. This is one of the best offenses in the league, playing at home and executing while down by 14 points.

But just looking at that 18-play drive specifically, you allowed a 1st down on a penalty, allowed a 3rd and 1 and 3rd and 16 conversion, and couldn’t take advantage of two penalties on their offensive line, penalties that moved them back into a pair of 2nd and 20 situations on the same drive. That was the killer there, the fact that they couldn’t turn two holding calls into a punt or field goal.

4) “Bringing pressure”

A lot of talk about Jim Schwartz and his scheme last night.

Here’s who he’s got in the secondary:

Josh Hawkins (pulled off the scrap heap)

Rasul Douglas (2nd year dude on a bum ankle)

Avonte Maddox (rookie)

Cre’Von LeBlanc  (pulled off the scrap heap, but played a fantastic game)

Malcolm Jenkins (veteran Pro Bowler)

Corey Graham (veteran backup)

Tre Sullivan (backup dime safety)

What would you like Schwartz to do with this group?

I’m not trying to be an asshole, I promise. I’m just not sure what kind of options he really has. You can play dime and blitz Nigel Bradham. You can throw a safety blitz, maybe.

You risk a lot if you blitz in front of that patchwork secondary group, because if you don’t get there, you’ve got guys like Maddox and Hawkins 1v1 with the likes of Ted Ginn Jr. and Michael Thomas.

Geoff made some sense after the game:

Jim Schwartz didn't blitz on 3rd-and-16. Bradham doesn't make a play he should've made. Schwartz gets killed for not blitzing.

Very next third down, Schwartz blitzes, Brees find Tre'Quan Smith for 15 yards. And Schwartz is still getting killed.

The guy can't win.

— Geoff Mosher (@GeoffMosherNFL) January 14, 2019

Let’s look at the two plays Geoff is talking about. Here’s the 3rd and 16:

I have more of a problem with the defensive line configuration there. I know you’re forcing 1v1s on the strong side of the field with three guys lined up on the left, but it’s just too easy for Drew Brees to step through the hole behind the left guard and climb the pocket instead.

I mean, look at this:

You can’t throw that cheese against somebody as good as Brees. That’s the easiest pocket climb he’ll ever make, with all four linemen totally bypassing him and getting caught too far down the field.

But Geoff is right; Bradham did have a chance to make a tackle there. He was in position.

Clip two glitches for some reason, so my apologies, but here it is:

They rush six, Brees spots a 1v1 against Avonte Maddox immediately, and the ball is out before anybody gets there. That’s less than 2 seconds from snap to throw. I tried to time it on my phone a couple of times, and while I’m prone to human error, I stopped the clock at 1.81 seconds.

Shrug. I dunno man, they had chances to get off the field in different looks and different situations, and they didn’t do enough of it. Drew Brees is good against zone and he’s good against the blitz. I’m not sure what else Jim Schwartz could have done.

5) Injuries part 2

What is it about the Superdome? It feels like bodies just pile up in that place.

Injuries in the first Saints game:

Jason Kelce (elbow)

Rasul Douglas (knee)

Sidney Jones (hamstring)

Avonte Maddox (knee)

Jordan Hicks (calf)

Rick Lovato (concussion)

Injuries in this game:

Brandon Brooks

Fletcher Cox

Rasul Douglas

Jason Peters

Brandon Graham

Michael Bennett

Some of these guys were in and out of the game. Some finished and some didn’t, but losing your Pro Bowl right guard in the first half sucks. Losing your Pro Bowl defensive tackle for some plays sucks (ironically Cox drew a flag on his first play back on the field). Losing your left tackle in what seems like every game this season also sucks, but I’ll leave it to Russ to comment on Jason Peters.

6) the Zebras

I wrote down nine things regarding the officiating:

Taunting on Tim Jernigan: seemed like a pretty straightforward call because he was standing over the guy and yelling at him

Brandon Graham non-fumble: easy review that the booth got correct, as did Dean Blandino in his consultation

Rasul Douglas 3rd quarter pass interference: ehhh, I mean, I dunno.. they were letting guys get away with a lot of things in the secondary last night, but flagged this for some reason

Saints 3rd down conversion in 3rd quarter: Keith Kirkwood hooked Malcolm Jenkins on a pick play and was not flagged. He literally reached out and grabbed him with his arm.

holding against Haloti Ngata: correct call and wiped out a touchdown

holding on Max Unger on same drive: bogus call against the Saints as Treyvon Hester was falling to the ground almost immediately after the snap

3rd down pass to Golden Tate: sure looked like face guarding to me, but I honestly think Golden needed to do a better job of selling that or fighting for the ball to get the flag

pass interference on the Saints in the 4th quarter: well, the guy did grab Zach Ertz and wrap him near the line of scrimmage

roughing the passer on Marcus Davenport, 4th quarter: I dunno.. we’d be complaining about that if it happened to the Eagles, right? He got Nick high, but hit him more in the neck area and didn’t exactly strike him in the face

Can’t blame the refs for this loss, but I’m sure Angelo Cataldi gave it a try this morning.

7) Value in the margins

Weekly entry. Last one for the season.

Let me start by going through the auxiliary battles from the first game, the 48 to 7 loss back in November:

lost time of possession, 37:30 to 22:50

-3 turnover margin

3-10 on third down (30%)

0-2 on fourth down (0%)

allowed Saints to go 6-11 on third down (54.5%) and 1-1 on fourth down (100%)

lost 18 yards on 3 sacks

0-1 success rate in the red zone

6 penalties for 49 yards

Pretty brutal, that game.

Here’s how the Eagles fared on Sunday:

lost time of possession, 37:50 to 22:10

-1 turnover margin

2-7 on third down (28.6%)

0-0 on fourth down (N/A)

allowed Saints to go 8-15 on third down (53.3%) and 2-2 on fourth down (100%)

lost 0 yards on 0 sacks

1-1 success rate in the red zone

4 penalties for 30 yards

Third downs and time of possession really killed them in both trips to New Orleans.

Combine those games and the Eagles went 5-17 on third down for a 29% rate. The Saints went 14-26 for a 53.8% mark and finished 3-3 on 4th down tries. That’s pretty much why they controlled the clock in such a lopsided fashion against an Eagles team that finished top-three in TOP this year.

New Orleans committed 11 penalties for 84 yards last night and the Eagles didn’t do enough to take advantage of that.

8) Doug’s best call?

I really liked the QB sneak for the touchdown. Seemed like a very obvious call at the time, a “let’s not over-think this” type of call.

That’s the only one that jumps out to me..

9) Doug’s worst call?

The timeout before halftime was because the Eagles weren’t lined up properly. However, the Saints might not have gotten that play off in time, with the clock at three seconds before they could get everybody in the right spot:

Upon further review, holy shit what a great timeout called. pic.twitter.com/4bgqCTOJvt

— Brian Coulter (@PhilaBCoulter) January 13, 2019

Probably best to just give the Eagles the benefit of the doubt there.

People were also talking about whether or not to accept the penalty prior to the fake punt. I think declining the penalty is the proper call, because you’ve got the opponent backed up on 4th and 1 in their own territory, down two scores. It’s a risky play and the Saints converted it, but if they fail you’ve got a two touchdown lead, a ton of momentum, and the ball in the their half of the field.

The timeout on the opening drive of the second half was really bad though. Andy Reid school of clock management there. Just take the 5 yard penalty and save those timeouts for the end of the game. That was a killer.

I’m also not sure why Eagles were rushing to get a play off before the two-minute warning. They had 27 yards to the goal line and plenty of time to get there. The objective was to score without giving Brees time to march down the field for three points.

10) The broadcast

Kevin Burkhardt, Charles Davis, and Pam Oliver.

Burkhardt is fine. No problem with him.

Davis is a strange one, because I think he’s decent as a color guy, but at times it just feels like he’s beating me over the head with analysis. I think he just has to pace himself a little more, if that makes sense. It’s like he’s punching me in the face after every play when sometimes I just need a bit of a break. He’s one of those guys who, while you appreciate what he does, makes you feel like you need a cigarette after the game, even if you’re a non-smoker.

Broadcast-wise, there were fewer shots of Carson Wentz, which I appreciated. He’s not in the game, so why show him 40 bazillion times? I think the only thing that bugged me was the several times Foles and Jeffery were described as “basketball guys,” which is whatever. I get it. Nick throws it and Alshon goes up and gets it.

The commercials were pretty mediocre as well. I feel like commercials get worse every year. My mom used to press the mute button during every commercial break and I feel like that’s a good life lesson that I should have picked up on.

Anyway, go Chefs!

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