#rh if you squint

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

My favourite part of Nona the Ninth was in the flashback where John said "It's morbin time!" and then he morbed all over the solar system #johnsweep #ten morbillion souls consumed

Presented without comment because Meme.

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 7: I Used To Be a Baby, Now I'm Just a Criminal.

(babypunk Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory

I think this is the longest chapter I've written, I broke 6k words!! Also very excited to finally use the most Rodrick-coded song I can think of, please treat yourself to the music video lol.

I've been working on the next few chapters all at once, so they might come out a little faster. :)

Time is our enemy, we’ve had enough

Let’s get together, let’s show them what’s up

1312, ACAB

Es para la gente, pa todo el mundo

Sale del corazón, queremos ser libres

1312, ACAB

You pull up to the front of The Strike, and it’s bad.

Where there was once a giant, beautiful bay window, almost as tall as the building itself, there is now a giant hole. Flyers which previously coated the window are crushed and ripped, the colorful papers poking out under smashed panes of glass.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

You get out to observe the damage, and find Mike sweeping up shards of glass.

“Did you call the cops?” You ask, stepping over a broken barstool.

“They were already here. Didn’t give a shit, of course. Said they had an anonymous tip, but they probably just wanted to go back to doing fuck-all.”

You look around, and notice crude graffiti on the walls.

I burned down the Plainview library on one wall.

And I’ll do the same to this shithole on the other.

RH is spray painted on the mirror behind the bar.

RH…

Rodrick…? You’re pretty sure his last name is something with an H.

And all those cop cars at his apartment…

Either Bryan Kemp is a complete and utter moron, or there’s some other RH out there, and you’ve got it all wrong. One is far more likely than the other.

You head to the back, and find the thick binder of banned IDs.

Before you can open it, the phone rings.

“Strike,” you answer, “we’re closed.”

You tuck the phone into the crook of your neck, and open up The List.

“This is Officer Houston, can I speak to your boss?” A condescending voice creeps into your ear.

“You can speak to me.” You say harshly.

He’s quiet, before you hear a small sigh.

“In relation to the vandalism case at your address, we could not make contact with the perp alleged in the anonymous tip.”

“Because your alleged perp didn’t do it. Rodrick H? Is that the name he gave you?”

“I… can’t disclose that information at this time.” The cop sounds nervous.

“Okay, well, he was with me, all last night and today.” Your voice is low and stable. You really wanna bite this guy’s head off, but you have to stay bare-minimum professional.

“Ma’am, this person was implicated in two separate crimes, with the threat of a third, and we would like to go forward with questioning when we make contact. We will check his alibi when we do.”

You find the most recent pages, with the ID scans from last night. There he is. That motherfucker. You squint, reading his information.

“It was Bryan Kemp, okay? I have his address right here, go talk to him. 452 Spring Hill Lane. On the college campus.”

You hear the sound of a pen scratching paper.

“And your reasoning?”

“We had to kick his ass out of our bar last night for assaulting a performer- assaulting the person he gave you the name of, mind you. He’s lucky we didn’t call you.”

Silence falls over the phone line, save for the sounds of the detective jotting things down. You get impatient, tapping your nails faster and faster on the desk.

“We’ll look into it, ma’am.” He finally says.

You feel anger bubbling up in you, slamming the phone down before you can say something regrettable. Ma’am. Fuck off.

You grab a broom off the wall, and walk back around to the front of the bar. It's a fucking mess.

You duck under the bar to find the stereo, thankfully safe in its little plexiglass prison.

“There’s one thing they can never take from us, Mike.”

“If you’re gonna say our dignity, you’re alone, kid. Mine’s been gone since ‘82.” Mike sits in the middle of the floor, rubbing his temples.

“Nah,” you flip the stereo on, and the typical weekend mix starts playing, gritty and upbeat, “It’s totally cheesy, but I was gonna say the music. Literally and figuratively. Because the stereo still works.” Mike smiles, looking up at the speakers as the room fills with the sweet sounds of T.S.O.L.

“God dammit,’ he sighs, standing up, “C’mere,”

He puts his arms out, and you hug him. It’s comforting, almost parental. You pat each other on the back, soft, then harder. Reassuring, like you’re trying to hype each other up.

“We’re gonna clean this fucking bar up, right?” You say, feeling tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re gonna get all this glass out of here, and- and get paint, fix the window.” Mike sniffles.

“Jimbo has to have a glass guy, have you called him?”

“I’m gonna call him!”

“Hell yeah, you are!”

“Kid. It’s strange to say, but- you’re my best friend.”

You pull away, holding him by the shoulders.

“And you’re the last real punk. What did you always used to tell me? When I was a little street rat?”

“You can do anything you want!” He beams, pointing at you.

“You can do anything you want!” You grin, shaking him slightly.

The two of you are all psyched up, sweeping up glass, playing your brooms like guitars, screaming along to Minor Threat and Adicts and and Stiff Little Fingers.

Other bartenders show up, along with the bouncers. You sit in a big circle on the floor, drinking shitty beer and laughing. Jimbo is up on a ladder- he does have a glass guy. You knew he would. They’re brushing all the broken bits out of the frame and measuring the dimensions. For now, it’ll be plywood, but it’s something. You want to call Rodrick, tell him everything’s gonna be okay, but you realize you don’t even have his number.

You make your way up to the office, and log into your email.

From: worldsbestbartender@aol.com

To: lodeddiperrawkz@aol.com

Subject: All good :)

We're getting everything cleaned up over here. Measuring for a new window and everything. I gave the cops Bryan’s address. I think he was trying to frame you. Stupid asshole LOL. I told the cops you were with me all night and day. They’re being jerks, though- kinda their M.O. I guess- but if they come back, you don’t have anything to worry about.

I had a really good time with you.

Call me, okay? 444-7881

You smile as you hit send, and head back downstairs.

You really don't want him to worry- he'd looked so sad when he got out of your car. Everything will be okay. He'll still be waiting for you when you're done taking care of business.

Rodrick sits against the wall, knees to his chest, hyperventilating.

“What does that even mean? Associated with a crime scene- what- what does that mean?”

“Dude, chill out,” Ben crouches next to him, “You didn’t do anything, right? You’ve been with that girl.”

“Yeah, but,” Rodrick puts his head in his hands.

He’s never told anyone what he did.

It was stupid, and reckless, but nobody had gotten hurt. The repairs to that street went over pretty easy, and it never even comes up in the news anymore.

Sure, people assumed.

He'd been the weird kid. Dark hair and eyeliner. Metal band. Nearly a high school dropout. Essentially a pariah. Of course people had assumed it was him.

But they never knew for sure.

There’s no point in telling anyone. He’ll just keep it with him, until one day, it’s barely even a notable memory.

But the bar. That’s on him, as far as he can figure. He could’ve just kept his mouth shut.

“Ben, the bar got fucked up, and it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have fought back against Bryan, I should have just-”

“Dude,” Ben puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Taken it like I did back home, and now she’s gonna hate me, I fucked up,” He wails.

Sobs rack his body as he sinks further down the wall. Ben sits next to him and stares, agape.

“What are you talking about?”

Rodrick takes a moment to calm down, trying to breathe slow and steady. He wipes his eyes with the sleeves of his denim jacket. He really hates when he cries, especially when he can’t stop it like this.

“Someone- well, Bryan, probably- wrecked the bar, and it’s all my fault, I can never go back.” He hates how whiny his voice sounds.

“Should we go down and see if we can help?” Ben asks gently.

“No. No, I’m never going back there. We can find a different bar, or- or get real jobs. I can’t ever show my face there again.”

“Real jobs? What the fuck has gotten into you?” Ben asks, “That’s not why we’re here, dude.”

“Ward and Chris are at work.” Rodrick pouts, “I just saw Ward. At his job.”

“Yeah. Shit jobs to make rent. We all said we’d get one of those. But you are not gonna sit here and say anything about real jobs.”

Rodrick frowns up at him.

“You gotta calm down, man. I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding.”

Rodrick looks down. There’s no way. He’d felt so good before all this. He should’ve known better. He’s not allowed to be happy. He doesn’t deserve it.

He let you down.

You’re probably back at the bar, cursing his name. Regretting ever taking him home, or spending the day with him, or enjoying his company. Letting him write his band name next to yours. He feels like a total fraud.

Ben is still talking. Rodrick isn’t listening. Ben hoists him up, and puts him on one of the floor mattresses.

“You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Rodrick does not feel better in the morning.

His dreams are loud.

He's on trial for arson. Heather Hills is his defense lawyer, dressed in a pink, tweed skirt suit like the blonde woman in that movie his mom liked.

I'm supposed to defend this loser? She laughs. He totally did it, are you kidding me? Just look at him.

The judge laughs at him. The jury laughs at him. Rodrick realizes they're all people he went to school with.

He's beyond help. He's scary. He's crazy! He's a danger to society. Just let him rot.

Rodrick puts his head in his hands, and when he takes them away from his face again, he’s in orange, long sleeves and handcuffs. His hands are shaking. Two men are gripping his shoulders, leading him down a hallway.

Sent to prison, but it looks… abandoned. Like the ones he's seen on those ghost hunting shows. The walls are filthy, and crumbling. The guards trip him and jeer as he walks by.

He’s thrown into a tiny, concrete cell, with only a tiny window on the door.

He sees his mom’s face through the window. She shakes her head.

Then his dad's voice, He's better off in there. It's better for all of us.

He's buckled into a straitjacket, and a psychiatrist is sent to see him. It's you, dressed in a white doctor’s coat, glowing and angelic against the drab concrete. You have no idea who he is. He tries everything to get you to remember.

C'mon. You know me. From the bar! We played a show together, you took me home and we spent the day together. I'm not dangerous, I just… I fucked up! I didn't hurt anyone. You know me!

Your eyes are cold. You sit with a clipboard, legs crossed, scribbling down notes. Like you're observing a science experiment. He's sobbing, begging for you to say something, but the more desperate he gets, the faster you write. You say nothing. He struggles against his restraints. Maybe he really is crazy.

He wakes up in a cold sweat.

Ben and Ward are standing over him. He jolts up.

“Fuck,” he pants, “what the hell are you guys doing?”

“You were freaking us out, dude.” Ben sits on the couch, looking at him.

“Yeah, you were twitching and talking and shit.” Ward walks back to the kitchen, pouring a mug of coffee.

“I had a weird dream.” Rodrick sighs, rubbing his eye.

The doorknob turns, and Chris walks in.

“Did you guys hear about what happened to The Strike?”

Ben looks at Rodrick. Rodrick panics.

As Chris moves to the kitchen to tell Ward, Rodrick escapes through the front door.

“I’m going out,” he mumbles.

~

Oh, what happened to my little boy?

It's so fuckin’ sad

He used to be a little baby

Now he's just a criminal

~

You adjust the neckline on your top, weighed down by a lav microphone. The news crew buzzes, and Mike nervously paces back and forth. You stand in front of The Strike, the boarded up window in view. With the police being seemingly no help, you and Mike had decided to call the media. Mike would rally, you and Jimbo would stand in as support. Local punks of all ages had heard what happened and were milling around on the street, a sea of black leather and bright hair.

The news anchor flashes you a fake smile, smoothing down her coral blazer, and running a hand through her long, brown hair.

“Are you excited to be on TV?”

You grimace, raising an eyebrow. Excited? Is she kidding?

“Yeah…” you answer, choosing not to pick a fight before you’re on air.

Mike can be a very impassioned guy. You’re slightly worried about what he’ll say and do on live TV, but you can’t say you won’t support it. He’s instructed you to do two things: stand next to him, and look angry.

The camera operator starts to count down from 5, pointing at the anchor on 1.

“Hi, I’m Sadie Shaw, Port Hanna Channel 7. I’m here with local bar owner, Mike Morello, and two of his employees. Their bar, The Strike, was vandalized early Saturday morning, and they’re putting out a call for justice.”

You try your best to look alive, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Well, Sadie, I wanna take you back to San Francisco, 1978…” Mike starts, his voice more pronounced than usual, still with its nasally twinge.

Here we go.

“Dan White assassinates Harvey Milk and George Moscone. Milk, a gay icon and a friend to the punks, Moscone, an ally to both. Got a pathetically small sentence because he used to be a cop. We made it known that that was not appreciated.”

The news anchor’s eyes go wide.

“Dianne Feinstein takes over the city. Punishing us because of what they did to us! The cops are putting padlocks on the Art Institute before an Avengers show! They’re coming by the Mab, and the Deaf Club, and 330 Grove and beating up kids who weren’t doing anyone any harm!” He raises his voice, pointing ardently at the camera.

“Uh…” Sadie stutters.

You nod firmly, staring into the lens. A few cheers of yeah! and woo! erupt from the people on the street.

“But we didn’t sit back and take it! We fought back! And we’re not gonna let some frat boy take punk away from us, just like Dan White and Dianne Feinstein tried to take it away from us 30 years ago!” Mike shakes his fist at the sky, like he's making a promise.

People are cheering behind you. You crack a sly smile, still staring into the camera.

“We know who did this! We have his name and address in our ban list! We told the cops! Did they believe us?” Mike looks towards you.

“Nope.” You say, matter-of-factly.

“Of course they didn’t! Look at us! They don’t want anything to do with us! They just want us to shut up and deal with it! Meanwhile, this little douchebag threatened to burn down the bar! So I’m here to tell the cops- do your jobs!”

People laugh and yell behind you, oinking like pigs and parroting Mike.

Do your jobs! Do your jobs, piggies!

“Support your local bars, your local bands, and your only local radio station that hasn’t been taken over by the robots, 98.7!” Mike yells over the noise of the crowd. “And when we're open again, we promise to be more of a nuisance than ever!”

Sadie, with panicked eyes, turns towards the camera.

“Alright, well… you heard it here first! I’m Sadie Shaw, Channel 7.”

The crew starts to put the camera away, looking relieved.

Your microphones are taken off, and after a cold goodbye, the news crew drives off in their van.

As soon as they’re gone, you find yourself bursting into laughter, high-fiving passerby as you turn to follow Mike into the bar.

You check your cell phone, hoping for a call or a text from Rodrick. Hoping he got to see the chaos, too. But there’s nothing. You frown, but you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as Jimbo hands you a paint roller.

“Got a perfect match for the old walls. Guy at the store said the color is called 100 MPH.” He grins, flashing horns at you, “Sounds like me on my bike.”

You laugh, taking a peek at the paint lid. It’s the exact same jarring red as before, and the name makes you smile. You mirror Jimbo’s horns and walk inside.

Meanwhile, Rodrick drives aimlessly.

His eyes are dry from crying, and he can barely focus on the road. The radio is off.

He’s getting further and further out of town, and he realizes… his autopilot is taking him home.

He doesn’t want to go home.

He shouldn't even still be calling it home.

But there he is, passing his high school. The diner. And then he’s pulling up on his street.

He sees his family piling out of the car, just getting back from church. He slowly pulls up outside the house, and he sees Greg in the window, his eyes widening when he realizes who it is. He gets out of the van, slowly walking up to the door before knocking tentatively.

“Rodrick, you’re alive!” His mom wraps her arms around him when she opens the door, “You didn’t have to knock!”

“Jesus, mom!” Rodrick recoils slightly as she embraces him, “What? Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be alive?!”

As he sits at the dining room table with his family, he's overcome by a sense of familiarity. He feels like his old self.

“Greg got an A on his geometry final,” His dad says.

“Ha! Dork.” Rodrick lightly punches Greg on the shoulder.

“Rodrick, how was your concert?” His mom grins across from him. He notices his dad looking  away.

“Good. Great!” Rodrick smiles, recalling the noise of the crowd and the praise they'd gotten, before everything went to hell.

“Did you get paid?” His dad asks, still not looking at him.

Rodrick gives a pointed look to his dad, waiting a few seconds before answering.

“Yeah, we did. $200, plus we sold half the shirts we had.” He crosses his arms, “And the girl who got us on the show said we should have a lot more offers from other places by this weekend.”

He feels a twinge of guilt, knowing all that probably won't happen now. Knowing you probably hate him, and have already warned the other bars not to book his band. Even if they do get another show… he's too much of a coward to show up, anyway.

Proving his dad wrong comes above everything, though.

Frank scoffs out a laugh.

His mom smiles nervously, looking from Frank to Rodrick.

“That's great!”

“Yeah, great,” Frank rolls his eyes, “Two of the neighbor kids are starting medical residencies, and one is studying for the bar, but… you got $200! That's great!”

“Frank-”

“No, Susan, that's just fantastic! My son is being paid to hang out with bums!” He laughs, a high cackle, slamming his hand on the table.

Everyone is silent. His dad gets up, and disappears into the basement.

"Its, like... a third of our rent." Rodrick mutters, looking down.

“Greg,” his mom says after a minute, “Take Manny and go to the living room, would you?”

Greg looks at Rodrick for a minute, then back at his mom, brows knit in worry.

“Mom…?”

“It's cool,” Rodrick looks at him, smiling as much as he can manage, “Go on.”

Rodrick sits at the kitchen counter with his mom. She takes out two stemmed glasses and fills them with generous pours of sweet white wine.

“Don't listen to your dad.” She slides the glass to him.

“What?” Rodrick’s voice comes out weak.

“Sure, maybe for a while, I wanted you on a different path too, but… you're happy, right?”

Rodrick looks down into his glass. That's a big question. He decides to lie. Pretend that Saturday never happened. He takes a long sip of the wine, wincing at the sweetness.

“Yeah,” he nods, looking up at her, “I am. We… we got accepted, like, right away. Everyone liked us.”

His mom beams, leaning on the counter.

“People said we were really good, and- and we're on the list of bands that can open for big bands now. Like, touring bands.” Rodrick feels his heart skip a beat, knowing he's lying.

“That's great,” his mom puts her hand over his, “As long as you're happy, and you're alive, I'm happy. As for your dad, it might take a while, but I think he'll come around.”

“Mom, I…” he pauses. He wants to tell her everything. Everything. He almost does, then the urge is gone, “...I love you.”

His mom walks around the counter, hugging him tight. This time, he lets her.

He leaves without seeing his dad, giving Greg a noogie on his way out.

The drive back to town is quiet, but more peaceful than the drive in.

On the outskirts of town, he notices the liquor delivery plant he and the guys had visited a few days before, with a giant HIRING sign out front. He stops.

~

How do you know what my best interest is?

How can you say what my best interest is?

What are you trying to say, I’m crazy?

When I went to your schools?

I went to your churches?

I went to your institutional learning facilities?

So, how can you say I’m crazy?

~

It's late. You’re on the last leg of one of the most active radio shifts you've ever worked. People have started dropping money in the mail slot for repairs, and you’d had the idea to tell any future donors to include a note with a name and a song request with their cash. You're calling it Donation Roulette.

CDs and tapes sit scattered around you, covered in sticky notes with names, play order, and track numbers.

A song ends, and you get on the mic, picking up CD number 20, track 6. You pop it in and skip ahead.

“Number 20! Big thanks to Dennis Hall for your donation, and a request for one of my all time favorites, ‘Institutionalized’-Suicidal Tendencies. This is the last one before I sign off for tonight, and we’ll have a DJ back on roulette duty first thing tomorrow.”

You smile, finger hovering over the play button.

“All of us here at 98.7 thank you for your support. We can’t do any of this without each other.”

You hit play, and the riff kicks in as you start shutting down. The CDs and tapes are stacked in order for whoever has the morning shift, and you’ve placed a basket underneath the mail slot in case more people drop off money. There’s already another bundle lying on the ground. $20 and a request for Search and Destroy by The Stooges, with the name Marie Parks attached. Your eyes linger on the note for a while, before you add it to the stack with the CD attached, slipping the money into a metal cash box underneath the radio board.

Doesn’t matter, I’ll probably get hit by a car, anyway.

The song comes to a close, and you shut the board down, then the lights, one by one. Quiet. Dark.

The drive home is short, and you unlock the door to your empty apartment. Quiet. Dark.

You'd thought after such a busy day, filled with talking to people and working, that quiet and dark would be what you wanted.

You sit back on your couch, realizing that’s not the case. The absence of people and noise is jarring. Your brain is buzzing. You flip the TV on. You can’t sit still. You check your email and phone, and find nothing from Rodrick on either. You sigh. You don’t want to think the worst, but… what else can you think?

You sit, trying to focus on the mindless sitcom in front of you. Flipping channels, again and again. Nothing catches you. Back out you go.

You walk over to Pyramid, and it’s completely full. This place tends to trend more traditional goth, and the music is proving it. Moody, pumping bass, and girls with teased hair swinging their mesh-sleeved arms.

You see a group of people you recognize, and they yell when they see you. You yell back. As you sit at the table, the doubts start to fade away. You just need people around you right now. And these are good people. Good, good people. Some of the first people you met in this town.

A band called Put Down. Five guys, about five years older than you, Joey, Jake, Gabe, Marcus, and Nick.

They greet you warmly, making room at their table.

Nick- a tall, tall guy, with a high, bouncy sprout of black, curly hair and a beard, grins at you.

“You were so fucking cool on TV.”

“Aw, c’mon, I said one word.” You wave your hand dismissively, bashful.

“Still fucking cool.” He smiles.

A martini glass with a deep purple, glittering liquid is placed in front of you.

“This is called a Musidora. You gotta try it. These goths know what they’re doing.” Joey smiles, a small, stocky ginger with a nose ring.

You sip it. It's incredible. It tastes… purple. You don't know how else to describe it. You finish it, and order another.

Before you know it, you’ve had… 4, maybe? You can’t even remember. You’re having too much fun. It seems like every band in the city got the memo that this was the place to be, and everyone is up and swishing their arms like the goth girls.

You laugh, spinning, the purple lights of the room glinting around you. Every face is familiar, and you feel the best that you have all day. There’s one face that seems to be missing, though. You look for him, but he isn’t there. Your spin slows, and you still your movements, dizzy.

As the bad thoughts start to creep in, you’re saved by someone grabbing your hand and delicately twirling you. You sigh with relief. He’s here, you knew he’d show up eventually. Plus, the two of you actually pulled off a spin!

“I was waiting for you, why didn’t you call me?” You shout over the music as you turn towards him, and his arm coils around you.

A drunken grin spreads across your face as you land against his chest, in his arms, and…

It’s not him.

You frown, looking up.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” He smiles.

Your eyes widen. It’s your ex.

“...Andy?”

He grins. You start to wiggle out of his hold.

Andy is the first person you'd ever dated in this town, all the way back in your borderline crust punk house show days. He’s a beautiful man, with turquoise eyes and tan skin, a sharp, stubbled jaw. His hair is different; what used to be a high pompadour is now a feathery, chin-length cut. He looks down at you lovingly, and for just a second, you let yourself remember the good times.

You’d been a wreck in your younger days, and as much as you tried to discourage him, he seemed fascinated by you. He just kept following you around, and eventually, you let him in. Late night walks down to the water, 40z beers in hand, running from the cops. He’d kissed you for the first time in the woods, underneath a full moon, and made you feel like a person again.

Then the betrayal.

It started with little whispers all over town.

You got your first job, and your co-worker couldn’t stop gushing about her boyfriend, Andy.

It had to be a coincidence. It's not like Andy is an uncommon name. Yeah. You were being crazy.

But then it happened again. And you were so scared, so hesitant to cut one of your only lifelines in this town.

Then you caught him.

He’d given you a spare key to his apartment, which is really a stupid move if you’re gonna cheat, and you came in late from work.

You saw them, right there on the couch. Undeniably nude bodies, shrouded in shadows. The girl screamed when you opened the door.

You’d burst into tears on the spot.

Fuck you, you bastard!

She'd realized what was happening and laughed at you. Andy didn’t say a thing. You ran off, slamming the door, and you never saw him again.

Until now.

“You looked hot on the news today,” He smirks.

You wrench his arm off of you, mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Get away from me.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he reaches for you, “You were excited a second ago.”

“Because I thought you were someone else.” You hiss, slapping his hand away.

You feel something threaten to break within you. You’ve worked so hard over the years to form this calm, stable shell. You pride yourself on staying cool and getting shit done. Seeing Andy, combined with expecting Rodrick, and 4 or 5 of those purple martinis, just put a crack in that shell.

“I miss you,” He gives you a sad look, “C'mon, let's just hang out, no pressure.”

“No fucking way!” You laugh, bitter, feeling shakier by the second.

“I’ve changed.” He takes you gently by the shoulders.

“I don’t care.” You push him away from you, “It’s been years.”

“I just thought it had been long enough to try again.” His eyes are so sad, but you don’t buy it for a second.

You cross your arms, staying silent, frowning at him.

“Are you really with someone else?” His face drops.

“Yeah. Well, kinda. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. Either way, I don’t want you anymore.”

He looks down, his expression hurt. Good. When he looks back up at you, there's a smug look on his face, and a meanness in his eyes.

“So, what I'm getting is... you met a guy, maybe even slept with him, and you want to be with him, but he hasn't called you? And you're totally freaking out, because you're worried you're letting him walk all over you?”

You stare at him, arms still crossed, still slightly wobbly. You narrow your eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Andy.”

You disappear into the crowd, hearing him yell wait!, but you don’t go back.

It can’t be true. Rodrick is not walking all over you. It’s only been one day, and something is clearly going on with him, anyway. Andy has no idea what he’s talking about, even if he had been scarily accurate. He hadn't been there. You nod, stumbling through the crowd as you try to convince yourself in your mind. One by one, you find all your friends and let them know you’re leaving.

You exit the bar, and see Nick leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, walking up to him.

He reaches out to give you a side hug.

“Alright. Hey, festival’s on in a month. You're in. We're gonna put you late in the day on Saturday.”

“For real? Hell yeah,” You smile, his words breaking you out of your funk.

“I'll let you know when everything's all worked out. See you around, D.”

You wave as you walk back to your apartment, trying to get Andy and Rodrick and whatever else out of your head and focus on the positives.

Even if Andy was right, even if Rodrick never calls you again…

You're playing at a music festival in a month. No dumb guy can take that away from you.

~

“Welcome to the team, kid!” The man who runs the plant, Buck, claps Rodrick on the back, “Now comes your initiation.”

“My… what?” Rodrick looks up, putting his paperwork on the top of a stack on Buck’s desk.

“You gotta come out with us!”

Buck is a large man, hairy and menacing, dressed in a worn-out old work shirt over a ratty white tank top.

“Out?” Rodrick gulps, “I’m kind of trying to avoid, like, the bars downtown and stuff…”

“Downtown?” Buck spits, “No, no, we’re not going downtown. We go to Johnny’s, it’s on this side of town. It’s for the guys, not those weirdos, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Rodrick frowns.

“Weirdos? They’re not weirdos, it’s just-”

“Ricky.” Buck takes him by the shoulders.

“Rodrick,” He corrects.

“I’m callin’ you Ricky. And all of those people down there? Grade A weirdos. Trust me. Now c’mon!” Buck shakes him.

Rodrick hesitates, looking at Buck’s red face.

“Uh… okay, fine.”

“That’s the spirit, buddy! Follow me, it’s not far.”

Rodrick pulls up to a cinderblock dive bar in a dirt lot, with overgrown brush sprouting up around the edges. The neon sign is green, half-dead, and flashing. Inside, it’s dark. Dollar bills hang from the walls, with profanities and funny faces scribbled over the markings. Old blues rock blasts from the speakers. Rodrick sits at the end, next to Buck, and guys in various work clothes line the rest of the bar. Everyone chatters, yelling and laughing, and Rodrick tries his best to pretend he’s paying attention whenever Buck nudges him. When they’re not looking, he finds himself staring at the bubbles in his beer mug, feeling completely out of body.

This feels weird. It feels wrong. He thought this would just be a job, but now he’s hanging out with these guys? These guys, with their sweaty beards, barking like dogs at the bartender? At the vintage beer ads with pinup girls that line the walls? He can't believe Buck had really had the nerve to call other people weirdos. He makes sure to tip the poor girl behind the bar as much as he possibly can, hearing your voice ring painfully in his head, flashing her apologetic looks.

“She looks pretty wild, eh, Ricky?”

Rodrick looks where Buck is pointing. It’s an old poster of a woman with feathered hair, in a low-cut top and daisy dukes, sitting with a beer bottle in between her legs. He doesn’t answer right away. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“Uh. Yeah, she looks pretty, uh, wild? I guess?” He grimaces.

The guys around him all hoot and holler at his answer. Rodrick looks down the bar, bewildered. Is it really this easy? To be a… guy, as Buck had said?

He keeps downing mugs of watery beer, as the men keep cheering. Soon, he’s drunk, in a game of pool, against a guy who is absolutely schooling him.

“We’re not gonna put any money on the line, Ricky, we wouldn’t do that to you.” Buck laughs.

Rodrick sways, lining up his cue on the table.

“Now, once he gets his first paycheck, that’s a different story!”

Everybody laughs.

He sinks one ball, then fails horribly, as the men around him laugh. Hours seem to go by, as everybody kicks his ass in pool. Maybe this is what Buck had meant by ‘initiation’?

Eventually, he finds himself giving his keys to a large man in overalls.

“You said you lived downtown? I’ll drive you, don’t want the cops on your ass.” His voice is deep, grumbly.

Rodrick nods, nearly passing out as he’s driven home in his own van. The man parks outside his apartment complex.

“I’m Vaughn, by the way.” Vaughn tosses Rodrick his keys, laughing, “I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’re up.”

Rodrick gives a weak wave, shoving his keys into his pocket and stumbling up to his apartment.

“Where have you been?” Ward sits on the couch, legs crossed.

“Got a job.” Rodrick slurs, hanging up his jacket by the door.

“Dude, your girlfriend is so cool.” Ward doesn’t seem to notice, instead grinning at the TV.

He freezes, feeling his heart jump out of his chest.

Rodrick is stunned as he sees you, almost letting himself smile. Then he sees the rage burning in your eyes, looking straight into the camera as Mike rambles and a crowd cheers behind you.

It feels like you're looking right at him.

Guilt washes over him, and he wobbles on his feet.

“She's… not my girlfriend.” Rodrick walks off, shutting himself in the bathroom.

~

She tries not to shatter, kaleidoscope style

Personality changes behind her red smile

Every new problem brings a stranger inside

Helplessly forcing one more new disguise

~

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

[scribblesincrayon]

My Gang To Me 2023

In honor of this all-important fandom anniversary (17 years since the show first aired, and 831 years since the day Robin rescued the Locksley Four), I have written RH fanfic for the first time in over a decade! 

Legacy (415 words; one shot)

The boy huffs, annoyed. He yanks his hand out of his father’s larger one and kicks a pebble across the cobblestones. 

“I’m bored.” 

The father chuckles and ruffles the boy’s hair. “Patience, habibi. We’re on a quest. These things take time.” 

Time, the boy thinks. It took six hours to fly from Jordan to London, two hours on a train from London to Nottingham, another hour on the road from there. All that time, just to wander around an old church yard? 

“Why are we here anyway?”

“Ah.” The father stops, looks down at his son, indulgent. “It’s a tradition, see. My father brought me here when I was your age, and his father brought him, and his father’s father, and so on.”

His curiosity piqued, the boy prods the father for more. “Is that the quest? Are we looking for treasure?” He scuffs the ground with his feet, eyes wide. “Is it buried under here? In the church.”

The father laughs, the sound reverberating across the old stones of the churchyard. “Not that kind of treasure. We’re here to find our legacy.”

He notes his son’s confusion and grabs his hand. “Come with me, I think I know where it is.”

They find it under the arching boughs of an old yew, a short pillar of moss-covered stones, unremarkable, maybe even forgotten. The boy frowns. “Is this it?” He scratches his head and squints up at his father. “What is it?” 

“It’s a memorial. Like a marker. To honor a man who lived a very long time ago.”

The boy nods. This feels solemn, so he keeps his voice down, even though they are all alone in the church yard. “What was his name?” 

“Will Scarlett.” 

The boy repeats the name a few times, letting the foreign sound--Scarlett, Scarlett--roll around his mouth. “Was he important? Like a king?”

The father leans over and whispers. “No, even better. He’s our ancestor!” 

The boy’s eyes widen in shock. “But…how? We’re not even from here.”

The father smiles, his lesson in legacy just beginning. “There’s a story. Would you like to hear it? It might take a while.”

“I have time!”

Time, the father thinks. It took years of war to force a young Saracen woman to journey to England, and even more years of privation for a poor Englishman to follow her to the Holy Land, and then more than 900 years of birth and love and injustice and death and birth again to bring it all back together, the true legacy of a band of never-quite-forgotten outlaws.

[spoonmynoodle]

Geo'murr'try

"James, it's easy!" You stated, while sharing your computer screen with James. Of course, James went to college for English- not math. You had reran the 'equation' seven different times, trying different ways to show your student how to show him what the surface area of the cylinder is and how to solve it. Tracing your mouse around the board on the computer screen, you circled an important detail of the equation.

Everything flew over James' bald head, your words went through one ear and out of the other. "Well, I can obviously memorize it some time, but none of this makes sense! Why are there so many letters and 'pie' in one simple equation?!" He asked and huffed, he squinted his eyes at the circled surface of the cylinder. You sighed and exited the tab, you looked at Jame's through the camera and he looked back. When you leaned into the back of your chair, you crossed your arms and quizzed him, "If you can obviously memorize the formula, then tell me what it is." James mimicked your movements but tilted his head up to his ceiling as if he were thinking. Yeah. Geometry is hard. James counted on his fingers uselessly, "Surface Area equals... two pie....." He paused and looked at your image nervously, you nodded your head for him to continue, "rh, uh, plus two pie r squared." You smiled at him and then clicked off your webcam and exited the zoom call.

[nateisfatigued]

~And what a goddamn sham it is I am!~

(The following may include mild language, and far too much angst. I’VE NOT WRITTEN A FIC IN MY LIFE; DON’T HURT ME!)

“Watcha got there?” They blinked, unpleasantly aware of the cabin’s corpse breath; it was highly probable even the air was hellbent on wounding them. Not so much an irritation, as it was a fatigue, Emery figured, like they’d been staring at a screen for too long. 

Headphones looped around his neck, the other mouthed colorful, unproductive hums, retrieving a crushed soda, from someplace beyond the door jamb. It was apparent he didn’t quite want to reach into the blackness for the switch. 

“Was that a rhetorical question?” They prompted drily, eyes on him. God, were they staring? 

“What the fu-heck’s a rh-oric question?” 

Oh, boy, Their already thrashed feelings were joined by yet more of those. This would’ve been far more facile, if they could actually decide if their prowess was vaguely offending Amari, or if he were playing dumb for the hell of keeping these conversations going. “Telescope, I think.” 

With his free hand, his left decidedly not gripping at the back of his skull, Taymiyyah hit the lights. He did it bizarrely quick, slamming his palm past the worn switch. “Jesus, they weren’t kidding - You have been raidin’ Lakeview! Frick, Kevin, in his infinite wisdom, is gonna have you hot-wiring cars!”  

They snorted, stifling laughter, shushing at each other; profoundly child-like. Themselves. Amari chugged the last of his Sprite. Emery, crouched beside their bunk, busied themself, squinting at the instructions.

“Crap, it’s in Chinese.” Amari insisted. 

                                    ~~~

“Do you think we’ll ever make it out of here?” Joining them directly by the dead tree, the set to his features stilled for a good minute, snapping at an appraising nod. 

Perhaps he didn’t want to go. What’d be out there for me anyway? It’s the kind of life that’d have me high, over and over again. The kind that’s bound to leave me wondering, ‘What’s it all worth?’. And for just a frightful minute, he stopped to ponder. 

It was the sort of notion one would expect from his father’s son.

He hated it. He hated this resentment, this bitterness. 

He hated being this selfish, this cold. 

He hated himself. 

He didn’t want to think, anymore. He didn’t want to go…

[textingtroublesanswers]

*the poor scraggly pigeon looks even scrappier when wet, like a used paper towel. Cleaning around his face and eyes reveals the squinted eye is in a little white patch, like a cartoon dog might look. The water does also reveal how skinny the dove is, significantly underweight looking for an adult pigeon. The whole time rhs Bird is cooing and leaning into the cleaning hands.*

-🦖

Ludwig puts a hand to his chest, "Mein Gott, you precious thing! You are so ugly! I adore you!" Ludwig gives Zeno another loving scritch on the beak, before picking him up & rolling him up in a bird burrito using a fresh towel. He's cooing & awing at the scraggly little thing, completely enamoured.

[marinedecoder]

final updates post! a couple of miscellaneous pics, and an update on trying to fix Tessa's hair.

found the barbie moped i got second hand again, and checked to see if the RH girlies would actually fit it. the answer is...kind of! if they sit right at the edge of the seat. i need to remove the stickers, scuff the surface, and repaint it all at some point to be more the style i'm aiming for.

ignore the ornaments i was fixing in the corner, the cat got them lmao. anyway, Jewel's final form! i love this look for her. you can also kind of see the fun, shimmery rainbow sheen the trousers have here.

and, finally, Tessa's fringe: a saga.

i'm not sure how obvious it is here, but her fringe was really squint out of box. this has bothered me (almost as much as the really obvious skin tone mismatch lol) and i wanted to try to fix it myself.

post-thatching, pre-boiling, to try and even out the sides a little.

aaaand now with her hair tied up and her fringe squashed flat with a ribbon. it didn't stay flat when i used plastic and string last time, so hopefully it holds better this time.

[karratran]

For @agaricals

Sousuke lost his way, lost his dreams, and lost his future... what does he have now?

Nagisa just wants to help. In his own way.

I was honestly surprised af that you were my giftee!! <3

Okay sooo, the prompt was-

"SouNagi on a roadtrip -post-series, Sousuke is trying to make sense of everything, ~find himself~, Nagisa helps him? Not necessarily this setting, this is just what i thought of. (also pre-relationship? as I'm a sucker for falling in love / pining / first anything tropes OTL)"

-and I was like I FEEL YOU BRUH.

 (Lots of foods mentions bc I'm a nerd. Also please expect puns/jokes/references because I can't thrive in an overly serious setting and I can't physically hurt anyone so...)

Anyway, sorry for the delay, I haven't been in a good space of mind lately but I was really fired up about your thing, so let's get on with the thing XD

[museumshift]

Museums in Media: Wonder Woman (2017)

When I first saw Wonder Woman in theatres, I immediately balked at Diana's office. Now, I don't work at the Louvre (the museum shown in the movie) so I don't know how they do things, but the following is my breakdown and 'WTF' moments.

Environmentals

The amount of objects she has in her office, so nicely displayed, raises a red flag. The majority of the items seem metallic in nature. The number one cause of metal corrosion is high RH (Relative Humidity). A proper storage facility would be separate from employee offices and have controlled environments. Since it's the Louvre, or a museum of that caliber, I don't think an argument can be made that they don't have enough money, staff, square footage, etc., to properly store their items – especially since they are displayed as they are. Given that it's an office, the temperature and environment would be different to account for human comfort. Unless of course, she's special, and her entire office is climate controlled. Which, I wouldn't want to work in an office like that. It gets cold.

Security

It's uncommon for their to be security cameras in staff offices. Staff common areas, sure, but where you actually have your set-up? Nah. Therefore, I find it odd that she has all these items, and seemingly performs work on them, in her office (I'll get to that later).  

Display

So, from what I can see in this image and the movie clip, she has some swords which look to be propped up and resting on their tip. Shields too, but they look like that are on some type of foam or are mounted (so I'll give it a pass). These swords should be mounted properly and/or stored. Given the age of these swords, their condition, etc., this is the last possible way you want them out. Just no. With that said, it seems that some of the swords are mounted... so I'm unsure why they took to time to mount some but not others.

Object Handling

Regarding the glass negative. Girl, put some fucking gloves on.

Conservation Work

Okay, so I'm looking at all these fancy brushes she has and I'm wondering – Why? Does she not have a conservation lab? Given the money this museum clearly has, it makes no sense from a fiscal and safety standpoint that she would be forced to work in her office. There is a lot that goes into conservation and restoration. Proper ventilation is key. I mean, she is basically immortal but her employers don't know that. She has all these brushes but it looks like nothing else that could be effectively used in that space. I see, what I think, may be a microscope and a magnifying glass. Other than that, I'm clueless as to what she's actually accomplishing in this office. If I squint, I think I can make out a pair of gloves. The only time I actively worked on things in my office was when I was an archivist – primarily paper records. When I did have to work on something such as films, photos, negatives, etc., I always worked in one of one of our labs. Keeping film, photo, negatives, etc., was a big no-no and we couldn't have anything in our office for over a month.

Mission

What's with the skulls?

Okay, I want to know what this museum's mission is. She has a metric fuck ton of shields, armor, swords, etc., yet has the occasional skull. The one on her desk... just casually on her desk, might be the cranium (skull without the mandible) of Australopithecus africanus. I can't be sure as I'm rusty on the subject and it's just in the single shot. Given that these remains (early human ancestors) are usually incomplete, I have to assume it's a replica. No other explanation holds since she just casually has it on her desk. The other two skulls, that are on display as if they are part of the collection, with one looking like it has tassels(?) on it, also has me confused as to what type of museum this is.

******************************

Thank you for joining my inaugural blog post on Museums in Media. I hoped you liked it. I'm trying to keep the language plain so that non-professionals, or those just entering the field, can follow.

I was able to find a link to the beginning of the move which shows this scene. It can be found here.

Is there anything that popped out to you? Let me know!

[weretoad-writer]

Night Terrors

A series of short pieces set during the few months between the end of Dark Chambers and the (first) Nehrimese attack.

-----------------------------

The pain is worse at night. And in the rain. And the cold. Any time the weather changes. Entropy wounds are slow to heal, they tell him. Be patient, they tell him. But patience and pain are like oil and water. Eska shifts uncomfortably on the floor, biting back a groan as the ache in his chest and shoulder flares. He had picked a hell of a time to stop drinking; he’d have given just about anything for a bottle of bitter brandy. 

Needles shoot down his arm and he stifles a curse. But worse than the pain is the sudden numbness which follows, creeping up from his fingers. 

Shit. 

He gives up on trying to sleep. Uncurling, he sits up, digging the knuckles of his good hand into his forearm to work some feeling back into it. Sometimes that is enough, other times it spreads all the way to his shoulder until his whole arm is cold and dead. 

In the darkness an arm’s length away he hears Tharaêl stir, still asleep but he can just make out the stifled, involuntary twitches of his hands, and the too fast rise and fall of his chest. He does not scream or cry out; the only sounds are the ragged sharpness of his breathing, and a whimper that strangles so far back in his throat it is barely a sound. 

“Tharaêl?” Eska reaches for his shoulder. “Tha--”

It’s like touching a tripwire. The blow snaps his head back, knocking him onto the floor. Tharaêl is on top of him before he hits the ground, his dagger pressing into Eska’s throat. 

“Tharaêl! It’s me, it’s alright, it--”

Light flares from one of Tharaêl’s hands, stripping the shadows from their faces, and Eska sees him freeze. For a single, unguarded instant his face is naked, the memory of another too similar scene reflected raw and bloody in his eyes. 

Tharaêl drops him as though he’d burned his hands. The look on his face retreating behind a snarl.  “What the fuck were you doing?”

“You were --” Eska rocks forward, gagging and coughing as blood runs down his throat, “Fuck.” The groan comes out muffled between his hands as he cradles his face. “You were having a nightmare.”

“And you thought, what? Climbing on top of me in the dark would fucking help?” He is on his feet, wiping his dagger on his shirt and jamming it into its sheath. The light has gone out, taking Eska’s dark vision with it, and all he can make out is an angry shadow and the scrape and rattle of the deadbolt. 

“I’m --” The latch clicks as the door swings closed and Eska sags, breathing out a sigh. 

“--sorry.” 

A moment later he hears the hinges to the balcony door creak and then nothing. He sits with his head between his knees, staunching the blood from his nose with a sleeve. At some point he must have slept.

*

He wakes with a start to an open door and a figure standing over him. 

“You didn’t bolt the door,” a familiar voice snaps and Eska relaxes, lowering his head back onto his arms with a vague, non-committal grunt. 

“If it had been another rh-- If it had been one of them, you’d be dead.”

“Then for once they’d have done both of us a favor.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He’s too tired to argue. “Nothing. Forget it.”

The blue light is back and he raises his head, squinting painfully, but before he can make him out, it is gone again, the shadows pressing against his eyes like a blindfold. 

The silence stretches into minutes; Tharaêl sits, but doesn’t settle. With his head on his arms, Eska can hear the rustle of each restless, shifting movement. And then, gruffly, a stiff and awkward afterthought, “Are you hurt?”

Eska’s laugh is muffled by his sleeve. “With my thick skull? It’ll take more than that. Even if you do got battering rams for paws.”

There is a snort, but the restive fidgeting stills and the quiet that settles over the room is less tense than before. 

-------------------------------------------------

Tharaêl wakes unable to breathe, his throat closing tight around a sound he hasn’t allowed himself to make since he was a child. The air feels sharp and cold against his cheeks and when his breath comes again it hurts.

The nightmare lingers, clinging like cobwebs. He can’t move.  It feels like someone’s breath on the back of his neck, the half-remembered paralysis beneath an unwanted touch. And it feels like a weight in his arms, slack-limbed and sodden and still warm. 

His hands feel strange: heavy and slick, disconnected from the rest of him; he holds them awkwardly and apart. 

There is movement in the dark, a sound -- a voice that doesn’t belong in a tone he cannot parse, and something brushes his hand. The touch feels like skin against skin and not the memory that stains them warm and wet. But still he flinches, his muscles answer him this time, snatching his hand away, a snarl rising in his throat. Pain and revulsion bleeding into two knife sharp syllables. 

He moves with the violent urgency of someone who is suffocating. Thrashing to his feet, fumbling with the latch and deadbolt. Each time he opens the door he expects to be met with the heavy, fetid air of the undercity, but there is only the darkened landing of the inn. He moves silently across to the walkway door; he has already memorized the patterns of the nails in the floor that mark where the joists run, he knows where to step so the boards don’t creak. 

There is no mistaking the darkness of the walkway for anything but the upper city. There is a particular kind of dark that night brings here, so different from the undercity’s chthonic gloom or the perpetual twilight of the Rhalata compound. It is a temporary state, its transience a palpable texture like the grain in a weave. It is the difference between closing one’s eyes and going blind.

He climbs the scaffolding out onto the roof and there is the sky gaping above him and he can breathe. It is a strange kind of comfort; it makes him feel small and exposed, but it does not make him feel trapped. And there is a vastness to it that defies an imagination moulded by walls and tunnels and closed spaces; he could not have dreamed this and so it must be real. It anchors him, and the world feels a little more solid, the nightmare a little more distant. A little. Like a wave, rolling over him and then receding, he is still soaked with it. 

Later on, almost like clockwork, the mercenary joins him, tossing a blanket at his head before settling on the roof a short distance away. There are no questions, no attempts at conversation and eventually Tharaêl stops bracing for them, grudgingly pulling the heavy wool blanket around his shoulders. They pass the night that way, sharing the space and the silence, slipping back to the room only when the first curls of smoke from the chimney signal that the Nomad is beginning to stir.

------------------------------------------------------

The screaming is a new and unpleasant surprise. The first time it happens, Tharaêl comes near to skewering him. Lurching out of a fitful half-sleep, weapon in hand before he’s fully conscious, primed to lunge at the first thing that moves. But there is no one in the room save the small, tightly curled figure lying on the floor a few feet away. The screams have stopped, the mercenary whimpers and twitches. 

His heart is hammering. He wants to kick him. The way one might kick a piece of furniture stumbled over in the dark. Because it is there. Because it shouldn’t have been. Because it should have been something else. Because it’s exactly where and what it’s always been and every time he jars against it is a reminder that the only thing out of place is himself. 

He hates him for that.

He crouches beside the mercenary and shakes him roughly, leaning back as he starts awake. He’s expecting a swipe from a fist, some reflexive violence; he is not expecting the hands which catch hold of his arms, clinging with unearned intimacy, and a voice he’s never heard before. 

“Sirius?”

He recoils, jerking himself free and shoving him back. He hears the crack of his head against the floor. 

“Who the fuck is Sirius?”

There isn’t an answer, only a soft curse and the scuffling of cloth against wood as the mercenary pushes himself up. He’s glad of the dark, glad he can’t see his face. But he can hear how his breathing changes, strained and tight as though forcing itself past a constriction. There’s no escaping it in the small room.

He doesn’t follow him when he leaves. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

He cannot shake the nightmare. He sits in the dark with his back against the bed, but he cannot bring himself to trust it. This little parody of a life. The clean, quiet normalcy of it feels wildly absurd. 

It doesn’t feel like waking. It feels tenuous and fragile, like a reflection on the surface of a soap bubble. As though by opening his eyes he has done nothing more than draw a curtain across reality. Like a child hiding under a blanket. But the monsters are still there, the reality which he belongs to, pressed against the walls, against the cracks in the door; until he half expects the boards to groan beneath the pressure, the way they do when storm winds blow in off the bay. 

The touch is soft, softer even than the voice, piercing the surface tension of the nightmare, and Tharaêl starts violently, flinching away from it in disoriented anger. The alien gentleness of the contact making his skin crawl. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

He rubs his arm as though he can scrub it out, but the warmth lingers on his skin like a stain and he feels hollow and hungry in a way he cannot articulate. 

Neither of them can sleep or settle after.

Do you want to spar? It’s a relief when Eska finally breaks the silence. 

They’ve had to abandon the empty house in the market after a close call with the guards, but the old myrad loft near the Harbor gate serves just a well, even with the brief detour through the sewers to avoid the gate sentries. 

Their lantern hangs on a nail, its light demarcating a faint circle on the dusty floor of the loft. Neither of them has the patience for dancing tonight; it’s messy and aggressive, more grappling than sparring. 

Tharaêl throws himself into each bout. He wants without knowing what he wants, only that he is starving. He drives his shoulder into Eska’s chest and slams him into a wall, the impact jarring through him as he pins him with his bodyweight. They break apart and collide again. Eska returns the favor, dropping his shoulder to ram him in the sternum. He feels the force of contact, pain spasming behind his ribs as they both crash onto the boards in a scuffling tangle. There is weight on top of him, knees digging into his chest, pressing him into the floor, and hands grip his arms. There is no softness, no gentleness to them now. Each touch is an act of violence, pain blooming dark on his skin. It makes it easy to imagine that this is what he wants -- the pain, and not what comes just before. He deserves pain and so he is allowed to want it. There is no guilt, no betrayal in wanting that. 

It is not quite morning when they return to the inn. Sweat-soaked and shivering in the predawn chill. It is a different cold from the kind Tharaêl is used to. Sharp and fresh. It feels clean. He doesn’t think he will ever get used to that.

On the walkway he hangs back, slipping up to the roof as Eska heads inside to dump the wasters, craving a moment of space between the rough intimacy of sparring and the closeness of the small room. He perches on the wooden shingles, soaking in the cold and the wide open solitude of the sky. The odd, aching hunger is still there, but dull and distant now, no longer eating him from the inside.  

He feels quiet. 

------------------------------------------------------

In the dream it isn’t Nessah’s face. Not at the end. The blindfold slips and familiar grey eyes gaze back at Eska in reproach and in their reflection he sees himself as Sirius must see him, ghoulish and bloody, the butchered organ warm and heavy in his hands. And he realizes too late -- always too late -- what he has done, just as the light in the cavern goes out and darkness buries him alive.

He wakes choking and gasping, the shadows of their small room pressing themselves over his face like a smothering cloth. In a blind panic he lurches to his knees, fumbling for the piece of flint in his belt. The darkness is the same. The same as the nightmare, the same as the windows of the burned out house in the hills above Ostian, the same as the Nothing. He feels like he is drowning. He feels like he is being swallowed. 

“What is it?” Tharaêl is already sitting up.

Eska hears him but he cannot answer. His hands find the lamp and then a blade and there is the crack of flint on steel as sparks spray across the oil-soaked wick. It doesn’t catch. He tries again, frantic and clumsy. Clack, clack, clack. Like the dry rattling of a Lost One. His hands are shaking so badly he can scarcely hold the flint. Scarcely feel it. Other sensations linger in the skin and muscles of his hands like an echo, the stickiness of blood turning cold, the drag of flesh against a blade, the crack of ribs, the weight of a heart. 

A faint, blue glow nudges the shadows back as Tharaêl conjures a light, but it isn’t enough, it isn’t real. Eska is fixated on the lamp.

The sparks catch and the wick sputters into flame, its warm, yellow light licking outward over his hands and Eska huddles over it, shuddering with great, gulping breaths as though he were trying to breathe the light rather than air. He curls around it, his face so close that he can feel the brush of heat against his skin. He stays like that for several long moments, the convulsive, heaving gasps gradually calming. 

Tharaêl is watching him with an awkward, uncertain intensity. He does not ask about the nightmare, and for once Eska is grateful. He does not  want him to know how much that ‘test’ still troubles him. 

“Can we -- can we leave it burning?” It is a disgustingly extravagant waste and he hates himself for it, but he can’t bear to go back to the dark. “Just for a little while?”

Tharaêl regards him for a moment, before shrugging and reaching for one of his books. Little chance of either of them getting back to sleep now, and there is no sense in wasting light. 

Eska pulls his blanket around his shoulders and curls up once more on the floor beside the lamp, watching the little flame shiver and dance in the draft. Tharaêl sits cross-legged, his back against the chest of drawers, a tight little furrow between his brows. The lamplight makes the tired hollows around his eyes look even deeper. 

Eska tries to be still, to be silent, but the question bubbles out of him all the same. Curiosity and need getting the better of him. Tharaêl’s eyes flick upwards and there is a beat of appraising silence before he answers, the words stiff and cautious. “It’s a history of animancy.” His tone can’t seem to settle, jumping between indifference and earnestness. “Talking about a man who tried to measure the weight of souls.”

Eska’s brows quirk together. “How?”

That look again. And the squirming sensation of being read like words on a page. But the gaze shifts, trailing off like a faltering question and there is a sudden awkwardness to the set of his shoulders. 

Tharaêl hesitates. “Do -- do you want to know what it says?”

Eska stares at him as though he had offered to reach up and pluck the moon from the sky.  “Is that -- is it hard?”

“No.”

His voice sounds different when he is reading. Almost soft. It’s easier when the words belong to someone else. 

The quiet drone pushes back the silence like the lamp pushes back the shadows. It is comforting. Like a handclasp in the dark. The reassurance, if only for a moment, that someone else is there.

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Bonus Chapter 5

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 13,151

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Come on, Lea, unlock the door," I coaxed gently as I tugged on the car handle a couple times, even though I knew the action would be in vain. "Don't you think it's possible that you're being just a smidge childish?"

"What else is new?" Saïx deadpanned from where he leaned with one hip propped against the hood of his car and boredly scrolled through his phone, not even bothering to look up.

Lea's only response was to glower, razz his tongue and flip his brother the bird before huffily crossing his arms and slouching even further down into the driver's seat.

A testament to what a pillar of maturity he was being at the moment.

Sighing, I bent forward slightly so I could better see him through the window glass. "Need I remind you that you agreed to this?"

"I was tricked!" he harrumphed back, his voice muffled from the other side of the closed door.

My head tipped to one side. "Alright… how exactly were you tricked?"

His head turned to meet my gaze as he drooped his eyelids. "You had a cookie."

I blinked. "...and?"

"And I wanted the cookie."

"...so…?" I prompted again as my brow furrowed.

"So now the cookie's gone, I've changed my mind and wanna go home! Now get on board or get stranded cuz either way, I'm leaving." He jammed the key into the ignition, twisted hard and… nothing. Lea's eyes widened briefly before narrowing as he turned it again. And yet again.

"Did you forget my car requires the key and the code to start the engine, oh brainless one?" Saïx said flatly, eyes still trained on his phone screen.

That's right. Saïx's vehicle had a friggin' keypad built into the center console that required a seven-digit code. And it was a BMW no less. One did really have to wonder what his mystery job was that allowed him to afford such luxuries.

Lea growled, banging his palms against the steering wheel. "God fucking damnit, Saïx! This is exactly why ya shoulda told me the stupid password ages ago!"

He cocked an eyebrow at that. "So you could lock me out of my own automobile and drive away with it? As compelling an argument as that may be, I'm not exactly swayed."

"As compelling an argument as that may be, I'm not exactly swayed," Lea parroted back in a mockingly nasal tone before mashing his hand down hard on the car horn, blasting it and startling Saïx into jumping away from the vehicle and nearly dropping his phone. He shot Lea a dirty look, who simply replied by flashing him a half sneer, half smirk - a "smeerk," if you will.

"Well," I hastily interjected, trying to keep the peace as I once more peered inside Lea's impromptu little sanctuary on four wheels, "since I think we can all agree that it looks like you're stuck here for the time being, perhaps now you'll want to come out? Maybe even go inside the house with us?"

"Mm-mm. Nope. Not going anywhere near that dump," he hitched his chin with a derisive sniff. "My happy ass is gonna stay put right here, thank you very much."

My lips pursed to one side. "...okay… for how long?"

"Forever."

I fixed him with a dull stare. "Forever? Really?"

"Forever," he repeated, his voice firm. But then with a thoughtful frown, he amended, "...or until ya tell me you won't make me go inside. Whichever comes first."

I exchanged a brief look with Saïx. Then we both nodded as we came to an unspoken agreement together. My gaze settled on Lea once more, "Alright. I won't make you go inside."

He squinted at me, eyes suspicious as they darted over to his brother, then back. "You swear?"

"Cross my heart," I used a finger to draw an X over my chest.

Still, he looked unconvinced. A pause, then he rolled down the window a crack, just enough to poke his little finger out as he insisted, "Pinkie promise?"

My lips flapped as I blew out an incredulous little huff, but I hooked my pinkie with his. "I promise I won't make you go inside."

"Well, alright then!" his face immediately brightened and he unlocked the door. I took a step back as it swung open wide and he stepped out, reaching his hands skyward for a whole-body stretch with a satisfied sigh. "Whew! Feels good to be outta that car after all that time on the road, huh? My ass was starting to go numb from all that sitting and- shit motherfuck!"

The last part came out in a hiss when Saïx rushed him and Lea dodged just in the nick of time. "Betrayal! J'accuse!" Lea snapped as he dove for the still open car door, but stumbled just short of it thanks to Saïx catching his ankle in both hands. Not one to go out without a fight, Lea desperately latched one hand to the steering wheel and the other to the door frame, trying with all his might to pull himself back inside the vehicle while Saïx threw his entire body weight into dragging him out of it. Muscles straining, Lea snarled through grit teeth, "You promised!"

"She did. I made no such promise," Saïx replied matter-of-factly. He didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat.

"Don't think you'll get off on a goddamn technicality!" Lea grunted, gaining another inch into the car interior. He attempted a futile kick towards Saïx's face, "Leggo!"

Gnawing on my thumbnail, I now just watched as these two grown ass men basically played tug-of-war… with Lea's leg. And… shoot, it looked like Lea was winning. I had to do something, but what?

He suddenly shot me a tiny glare over his shoulder, "I expect this kinda bullshit from him, but not from y-"

I lunged towards him, grabbed his face with both hands, and pressed my lips firmly to his.

He lost his grip and came flying out of the car, crashing into Saïx who staggered but managed to stay upright. "That's cheating!" Lea huffed indignantly as he tried to scramble back inside the car again, but Saïx got him in a headlock first. He fought to pry himself free and when that proved unsuccessful, his hand suddenly produced the car keys once more, almost seemingly out of thin air. Threateningly tapping the tip of one key to the car's paint job, he spat, "Unhand me, villain, or the Beemer gets it!"

Saïx made a grab for the keys which gave Lea the opening he needed to elbow him in the gut and break free. But Saïx was quick to recover and snagged Lea again before he could get back inside the safety of the BMW. A struggle ensued, one that resulted in Saïx getting Lea in a grapple hold from behind by hooking his arms up under his armpits, back over his shoulders and interlocking his fingers together at the nape of Lea's neck.

Huffing and puffing and subdued for the moment, Lea grumbled a long string of curses under his breath as his brother hauled him around the car and across the front lawn towards the house - a rather nice suburban home, I might add, despite Lea's earlier comment about it being a dump. There was even a rather expensive looking car in the driveway, some sort of convertible that was sleek and black with a plate that read Insomnia RHS-113.

I took a quick glance inside Saïx's car to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything and noticed Saïx's had left behind the bag he'd brought with him. Grabbing it, I closed the driver's door and as I hurried to catch up, I could hear Saïx lecturing, "I did not ruin my sleep schedule and drive for half a day to get us all here just for you to chicken out at the last second and hole up in the car. You're going inside. Deal with it."

Lea turned his head to one side with a tiny scoff, but had no other retort. As we stepped onto the porch, his eyes landed on me. "You! Can't believe ya used your feminine wiles on me for evil. Of all the cheap, dirty, underhanded - dude," that last one had been directed at Saïx, who still had him grappled, "ya mind? You won already, jackass! I'm not going anywhere, jeez!"

Saïx hesitated for a few seconds, his face pinching before finally letting him go. "Thank you," Lea ground out in a tone that was the very antithesis of gratitude as he rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. Then he focused on me once more as Saïx retrieved his bag from me, "Now, where was I...? That's right! Of all the low, crooked, sneaky-"

"I'm sorry," I grimaced as I fidgeted with my braid. "...are you mad at me?"

"You kiddin'? Hell no, I'm proud of ya! Slowly but surely, I'm corrupting you to the ways of the dark side, El! 'Sides, who could get pissed at this adorable widdle face," he cooed, pinching my cheeks and smooching my forehead.

Then he tried to bolt.

It seemed he was hoping the element of surprise would be on his side.

"Gack!"

Unfortunately for him, it was not.

For that'd been the sound of him choking as Saïx snatched him by the scruff of the shirt , causing its collar to dig into his throat. He stumbled to an immediate stop and Saïx let go, folding his arms together and fixing him with an unamused look. Lea just rubbed at the fresh sore spot around his neck and laughed sheepishly. "Uh… wouldja believe I just forgot something in the car?"

Saïx drooped his eyelids. "No."

"Heh. Was worth a shot."

"It really wasn't," Saïx harrumphed as his hands smoothed his hair and swiped the wrinkles out of his clothes from their little kerfuffle. Then, without further ado or preamble, he pressed the doorbell.

A hush fell over us as we all waited. Lea glanced back over his shoulder, furtively side-eyeing the car. Saïx smacked the back of his head with a sharp thwack! "Ow! What the fuck was that for?" Lea snarled, socking him in the arm.

He didn't even flinch, just kept staring hard at the door as he muttered, "Don't even think about it."

"Wha- me? Think? Psh, I would never!"

"Finally… something we can both agree on."

Lea curled his lip with a soft tch, but otherwise fell quiet again… unnaturally quiet. At least for Lea anyway. He looked agitated now, with his eyes downcast and his lips set into a grim line, his posture very rigid and his whole body very still. I frowned and slipped my hand inside his, gently squeezing as I laced our fingers together. He looked over at me, eyes softening and smiling weakly as his grip tightened around mine and stayed that way.

That's when the front door opened.

Lea looked at the new face that greeted us now. "Hey…" he began, then paused, seeming to struggle with the next word. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply before exhaling, then finally forced out a soft, "...Mom."

You read that right.

Mom.

Lea had finally done it. At long last, he'd caved and agreed to see her. And trust me, he really had consented to this reunion, despite what his little tantrum a minute ago might look like to the contrary. Was it weird that I was here too for this? I thought maybe it was, at least a little bit. I mean, somehow I just felt like the first time I met his mother shouldn't also be the first time he was seeing her again in twenty years. Maybe that was just me though. In any case, Lea had kept saying how much he'd wanted me with him for moral support. Somewhat more surprisingly, Saïx had been pretty insistent about me joining them as well. Perhaps he thought my presence might keep Lea more docile and civil towards their mother.

If so, I got the feeling Saïx was about to be in for a rude awakening.

The woman who stood in the doorway before us now was pretty, her silver hair pulled back into a ponytail with long bangs that framed her face and the same vibrant green eyes as Lea and Saïx. She would've had to have been young when she had given birth to these two. Oh gosh, I might even go so far as to guess that she'd still been a teenager when she had Saïx.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Lea and she blinked a couple times. But then a slow half-grin tugged at her lips as she crossed her arms and lazily leaned one shoulder against the door frame. "Well, look who finally decided to give me the time of day."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, averting his gaze with a tiny scowl as he rubbed his shoulder with his free hand, "let's not make a huge fuss outta it."

"Course not, wouldn't dream of it. I-" she cut herself off, looking past him towards the afternoon horizon, bringing up a hand to shade her eyes with. "...wouldja look at that? Why, I do believe that's a pig flying."

"That's it, I'm leaving."

With a snort, she snagged him by the elbow before he could get very far. "Now now, no need for the ruffled feathers, I was just jerking your chain. Now stop camping out on my porch and c'mon, get in here!" It seemed it was not a request for with that, she yanked him inside, forcing me to stumble and follow since our hands were still linked.

"When you mentioned you might be bringing friends with you, Saïx, you never said anything about one of 'em being Axel," the woman good-naturedly accused him as he stepped in behind us, clicking the door shut before accepting a hug from her. From this angle, I could see her ponytail was composed of several smaller, segmented ponytails.

My boyfriend narrowed his eyes at her, "Not Axel. It's Lea now."

Releasing Saïx, she cocked her head at Lea and then hummed a laugh. "Right. Saïx told me something about that. Gotta be one of the cool kids and go by your middle name, huh, Lea?" her fingers bounced in air quotes around the name.

"It's not about being cool, it's- ugh, nevermind," Lea grumbled before shooting his brother a little death glare and muttering, "She didn't even know I was coming?"

"Didn't want to get her hopes up," he replied in his usual cool monotone.

Whatever comeback he might've had to that was swallowed in a grunt as he next suffered (quite visibly, in fact) a hug from her. He did not return the embrace. She didn't seem to mind or even notice. "C'mere, let me have look at you," his mother suddenly demanded as she pulled back and Lea's face scrunched up in displeasure as she grabbed it, tugging him down for closer inspection. After a few seconds of scrutiny, she smirked and declared, "Pretty Boy, mm! Both you and Saïx. You have me to thank for those good genes. And you're both so tall too! Dunno where that comes from, cuz you certainly didn't get it from me. You boys must be eating your Wheaties."

Now that she mentioned it, she was pretty short. About my height, in fact, maybe an inch or two taller. It was hard to be sure exactly in those heels she was wearing. But that did raise an interesting point now…

...how did such big men come from such a tiny woman?

The logistics of it had my mind boggling!

"And who's this cute lil thing?" she was now turning her gaze on me. Then to where my hand was still intertwined with Lea's and her eyes crinkled slyly. "Oh-ho, I see. This is the girlfriend."

I smiled shyly back before shooting Lea a quick, awkward glance. He stepped in to introduce me, "Mom, this is Elsa."

Still feeling rather out of place here, I sucked in a tiny, anxious breath before getting out, "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs-"

"God no, please, none of that 'Mrs' crap," she said dryly before grinning once more. "First name's fine, shortcake. Just call me Aranea. Alright, you're up."

...up? Up for what exac-

I squeaked as I too was suddenly assaulted with a hug. Just as abruptly, she was leaning back just enough to squint her eyes at me and tilt her head.

Ah. I see. My turn to be assessed and appraised like a piece of meat.

Well, I certainly hoped I passed inspection!

After a few tense seconds, one corner of her lips quirked up. "You two are gonna make absolutely gorgeous babies. So when are you gonna get on popping out my grandkids? Wait, don't tell me… there's already a bun in the oven."

"Mom!" Lea snapped, my face erupting into flames as he lunged to get between me and her.

There was most certainly not a bun in the oven! There wasn't so much as… as… as dough! The oven wasn't even, uh... preheating! No, trust me, my "oven" was one hundred and ten percent bunless, thank you very much!

Aranea snorted, "Calm down, was only having a lil fun. Just trying to make up for all those years of motherly teasing I missed out on."

A soft hmph from his throat. "Yeah? Well, who's fault was that?"

Her eyes widened slightly and a heavy silence descended over the cozy foyer we were all currently gathered in. Saïx directed a muted scowl at his brother. It went ignored, Lea idly inspecting his nails now and not looking the least bit sorry.

This visit? Off to a great start. Simply superb.

"Aranea?" a clipped, British accent suddenly came echoing from somewhere else in the house, thankfully shattering the long, uncomfortable lull. "Who was that at the-?" the owner of the voice emerged through one of the archways and the words died on his tongue as his eyes alighted on all of us. He had short, dirty blonde hair that was spiked up and intelligent, green eyes that were sharp behind his sleek, black-rimmed glasses. "Oh. I see you've begun the pleasantries without me. Saïx, my boy," he smiled, extending his hand, "a pleasure as always. Might I inquire as to who your comrades are?"

"The prodigal son returns home at last," Aranea wryly chimed in before Saïx could. "Iggy, it's about time you've met my second eldest knucklehead of a kid Axel and his-"

"Lea, Mom. Lea. Get it memorized!"

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lea," the man cordially stretched a hand out to him now.

He didn't take it. "It's something, alright…" he arched an unimpressed eyebrow, "...Iggy, was it?"

He gave a curt if a bit sheepish chuckle at that. "Ignis, if you would. And who is this lovely companion of yours?"

A beat.

Then I gasped, "Oh!"

It's me.

I'm the lovely companion.

Self-consciously clearing my throat, I supplied, "E-Elsa." I did take his hand when offered, blurting out, "And I'll have you know I'm completely and totally bunless."

...thank you, mouth, for that entirely unnecessary addition to the conversation.

His brow furrowed as he took his hand back. "Well... allow me to see what I can do about that."

Uh…

...was he propositioning me?

"Perhaps I can whip up a few rolls to go with dinner," he suggested, tapping his knuckles to his chin.

Oh.

He meant bun buns. Not-

Ahem. Nevermind.

"So," Lea spoke up once more, folding his arms beneath his chest as he fixed the man with a hard stare. "You're the orthodontist."

"Optometrist, actually," Ignis corrected. "By the by, when was your last eye exam? If you'd like, I could squeeze you in for a quick checkup sometime, free of charge."

A small, contemptuous huff escaped his nostrils as his eyelids drooped. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Ignis gave a bemused frown at that, but was saved from having to respond as Aranea inserted herself back into the conversation with, "Iggy, is that…?" She trailed off and the second Ignis glanced away from us to look at her instead, Saïx discreetly elbowed Lea, forcing a tiny oof out of him. Aranea grinned as she took in what Ignis was wearing, "It is. You old softie, you put on the apron I got you."

"I cut quite the dashing figure in it if I do say so myself," he gave a pleased little sniff as he stood a bit straighter and absently fiddled with the neck strap of said apron which had the words Gordon Ramsay is my bitch proudly emblazoned across its breast. That, plus the fact that I was just now noticing that he was carrying a meat mallet in one hand, suggested he'd most likely just come from the kitchen.

"Mm, I'll say," she nodded as she continued to eye him up and down appreciatively. But then her gaze landed on the meat mallet - more specifically, on the little gooey red flecks clinging to it. "Hey, did you start tenderizing the steaks without me? Told you I'd help with that."

"I'm loath to make a lady bloody her own hands," he murmured with a tiny smile, wrapping his fingers around hers and bringing them up to his lips.

Lea made a low noise deep in his throat that was half scoff, half gag. That earned him a firm shoulder check from Saïx while he walked past Lea to step closer to his mother and Ignis. As Saïx engaged the two of them in some polite small talk, Lea's expression twisted sourly and he started muttering something under his breath too quiet for me to make out. Seeing as how the others were preoccupied with their own conversation at the moment, I took the opportunity to once more take his hand in mine and ask gently, "Something you want to get off your chest?"

"Hm?" he distractedly hummed, still with a slight glower as his gaze remained fastened to the other three for a few seconds more. But then he snapped out of it and huffed out a sigh, fingers agitatedly ruffling at his hair. "Aw, nothing. I just don't trust it."

I tipped my head to the right. "Don't trust what?"

"Him," he hissed through his teeth, gesturing with his chin towards Ignis. "The whole fucking posh, namby-pamby Brit orthodontist act. Nice try, pal. Not buying it."

I shook my head with a snort, "He's an optometrist, Lea."

"Exactly! The jerk can't even get his story straight," he harrumphed. "Betcha he doesn't even know the first thing about corrective lenses."

"The man wears glasses," I deadpanned.

"All part o' the cover. Mark my word, that slimy sneak can't be trusted." As if sensing Lea's gaze on him once more, Ignis glanced up with a courteous smile and nod in our direction. "Yeah, keep smirking, you smug bespectacled bastard. I'm onto you," Lea mumbled low enough that only I could hear him, but pointed two fingers at his eyes before redirecting those digits at Ignis, who just blinked before returning his focus to Saïx and whatever it was he was talking about.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning, "You're ridiculous."

Lea looked at me now, banishing the dark look and grinning softly. "Heh… maybe…" Giving my hand a quick squeeze, he then pulled me towards him and brought my arms up to hug his neck before slipping his own arms around my waist. Nuzzling his nose lightly to mine, he conspiratorially whispered, "Let's bail."

My head rocked back at that. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. This is a bust, El, so let's blow this popsicle stand. Slip out the door while their backs are still turned. Lookit what I still got," he removed one hand from my hip, shoving it down into his pocket before producing the car keys with a little jangle.

Only mildly surprised that his brother hadn't managed to recover those in their scuffle out front, I rolled my eyes, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What, ya mean Saïx? Eh, ditch him. Loser can hitchhike his dumb ass home."

I gave him a dull stare. "Still forgetting something else."

His lips pursed to one side as one eye squinted. Then it clicked. "Shit, you're right. Still don't have Saïx's code to start the car engine. Damn, guess that leaves us high and dry. Unless of course, you happen to know the code," he chuckled with a shake of his head.

Biting down on my lower lip, I averted my gaze.

"Wait… do you?" his eyes narrowed suspiciously at me. I wrinkled my nose and still kept my mouth shut. "You do! Crap, why didn't ya say so earlier?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug, still avoiding eye contact. "You never asked."

"Oh, for the love of… why would he trust you with the code and not me, his own brother of all people?"

Now I met his gaze once more, raising one eyebrow. "...maybe because he knows I'd never use it to steal his car while we're hundreds of miles away from home?"

He gave me a flat look. "...okay, just because it's true, doesn't make that any less of a low blow."

"Moonglow pear, you say?" Ignis's voice suddenly picked up, drawing our attention back over to him. It seemed Saïx had just gifted him with that small bag he'd been carrying, which one could reasonably assume was filled with the aforementioned fruit. Ignis had pulled one out and was turning it over in his hand for a closer look. "Yes, I've heard of these and have been meaning to try them." He studied it for a few seconds more, then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers, "That's it! I've come up with a new recipe!" With that, he bustled back out through the hallway he'd come in through.

Smiling fondly after him, Aranea then glanced towards the rest of us once more and gestured towards a different corridor. "Why don't we continue this somewhere more comfortable like the living room, hm?" She turned to lead the way and Saïx did not hesitate to follow. I cocked my head at Lea in silent question and his face scrunched up in distaste, but then with a grumbling sigh, he released my waist, took my hand and we trailed after them as well.

The living room was big and filled with a homey, tidy clutter. The far wall had a giant sliding glass door that led out onto a wooden deck that overlooked a reasonably well-kept backyard. A massive entertainment unit took up another wall, housing a big screen TV amongst the ordered chaos that filled the rest of its shelves. Across from it were a few armchairs and one long, very comfy looking couch. Said couch was currently occupied.

The two boys looked to be teenagers - highschoolers, by my guess. Neither of them glanced up as we entered the room, just continued to concentrate on their phones as their thumbs tapped and swiped at their screens. The blonde one with freckles was sitting upside down with his knees hooked over the sofa's backrest and seemed extra focused, licking one corner of his lips while his brow furrowed. The other guy with the black tousled hair, black shirt, black jacket, black everything had taken up the rest of the couch by sprawling across it, propping his feet up on the armrest. He was a lot more apathetic as he stared at his own phone screen, even though his thumbs continued to be a blur of activity. Maybe he was just in "the zone."

"Look alive and make room on the sofa, boys. We got company," Aranea told them, coming to a stop next to the coffee table and planting one fist on her hip as she eyed them both.

They neither budged nor took their eyes off their smartphones. The blonde one did however chime in with, "Bah, it's just Saïx. Saïx's not company."

Her eyes narrowed with a flat, "Wanna run that by me again, Prom?"

"Lemme finish! He's not company cuz he's family. Yes!" he whooped the last part with a tiny fist pump as something good had apparently just happened in his phone game. Already, his thumbs were back on the move across his screen as he tacked on, "And family means never having to give up primo sofa real estate."

"Aw, what a sweet, half-hearted attempt at sentiment," Aranea cooed with a bat of her lashes before scoffing. "Nice try, bucko, now scoot."

With a grunt, he flipped over to sit on the couch properly and shifted closer to his armrest to make room, all while still staying fixated on his game - rather the impressive feat, I might add. The other boy however remained exactly where he was. "That goes for you too, Noct," she patted a hand to his shoes.

"In a minute," he mumbled, eyes narrowing slightly on his smartphone now as his thumbs started tapping more furiously.

"Not in a minute, now," she insisted sternly. Still he didn't move so much as an inch, not even bothering to reply this time. Aranea rolled her eyes, "Look, I know you fancy yourself a prince round here and like to lounge about like that couch is your throne and this house is your castle with everything the light touches in it your kingdom. But if you're the prince, that makes me the queen, so what I say goes. That means move your princely ass!" With that, she unceremoniously shoved his feet off the armrest.

"Hey!" he scrambled not to fall off the couch altogether, catching himself and sitting up next to Prom. Gritting his teeth as he looked at his phone again, he then puffed out a sigh of relief, "Whew, still got the Devil of the Cygillan on the line." And just like that, he was sucked back into it.

"Ah, the mortal struggle between man and virtual fish," Prom sniggered, gaze still trained on his own phone.

Aranea scrunched up her nose, "You two playing that silly game again? What's it called… King's Kite?"

"King's Knight," Prom corrected, tongue once again poking out of the corner of his mouth as his thumb mashed at the screen now. "And we were, but then Noct decided to be lame and play his dumb fishing game instead."

"Ugh, lazing about like a couple of couch potatoes all day, doing nothing but staring at your phones for hours on end…" she grumbled, folding her arms together and shaking her head. "This is why neither of you boys have gotten laid yet."

I'll say this for Aranea... she seemed to have a rather, hrm… unique approach to parenting.

Prom frowned, "'Scuse you, I've just been scoping out my prospects, thank you very much."

"More like stalking," Noct snorted, squeezing one eye shut as he rapidly drew circles on his screen with a fingertip.

"Hey now, what Cindy and I have is beautiful and I won't have you cheapening it by making it sound crude and perverted," he shot back with a small hmph.

Aranea quirked an eyebrow. "...and Cindy would be?"

"My Goddess of the Gears," Prom sighed dreamily. Eyes still glued to his game, mind you.

Eyelids drooping, Noct clarified, "She works over at the Hammerhead Fuel and Garage."

Giving the ceiling a thoughtful squint for a few seconds, Aranea then blinked a couple times. "Wait, you talking about the blonde knockout? Oh, Prom, she's gotta be at least a whole second grader older than you and way more woman than you could ever handle."

"Pretty sure she has a thing for Uncle Gladio too," Noct smirked.

Making an indignant noise in his throat, Prom scowled and freed up one of his hands to wave in front of Noct's phone, blocking line of sight to the screen as he spat out, "You shut your whore mouth!"

"Shit, Prom, language!" Aranea snapped. As Noct used an elbow to knock Prom's hand away so he could salvage his game, Aranea puffed out an annoyed breath and turned to face us once more. "Sorry about them. These would be the rugrats… your lil brothers, Ax- Lea," she hastily corrected herself before jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards one, then the other. "Noctis. Prompto."

Right… I remember Lea mentioning something about his mother and her two-point-five kids. Did that mean that there was still another o-

TWHUMP!

The sound of a large throw pillow suddenly smacking Noctis in the face.

Courtesy of a little girl with brown eyes and short, dark hair who'd suddenly popped up out of hiding from behind the sofa armrest. She proceeded to shriek with laughter as she dashed off and made her getaway down a hallway, her cackling echoing off into the distance before a door slammed shut somewhere in the house.

Huh. Guess that'd make her the point-five.

Wide-eyed and clenching his teeth, Noctis snatched up his phone from where he'd dropped it on the carpet after the vicious assault and frantically swiped the screen a few times. Then he glowered, slamming a fist down onto a couch cushion. "My line snapped and he got away. Dammit, Iris, I'm gonna kill you!" he snarled, jumping to his feet and ready to charge after her.

"Hold it!" Aranea ordered and he froze before he could even take a single step. "You leave your sister alone and sit your butt back down, mister."

"But she-"

"Ah-ah!" she waggled a stern finger at him, then pointed down in a silent but firm command.

Growling, he threw himself into his seat once more, slumping down low and crossing his arms. "You all baby her too much, especially Uncle Gladio! She's such a brat!"

"Takes one to know one, eh Noct?" Prompto chuckled. Noctis shoved his shoulder hard and he shoved back before they both settled down and became engrossed in their phones again.

"Well?" Aranea prompted them, planting both fists on her hips now, which I took to indicate she really meant business. "It's not every day you meet your other long lost half-brother. Aren't you two gonna put away the phones long enough to at least say hello to Lea and his lil girlfriend, Elsa?" No response. Her right eye twitched. "Seriously, boys, turn off the phones and stick 'em down your pockets before I stick 'em up somewhere else."

Noctis was the first to comply, tucking his phone away with a tiny eye roll before tossing a hand up in a lazy wave towards us. "Hey. Nice to meet you."

Prompto on the other hand kept his phone out, merely taking a split second to shoot us a quick glance before focusing on the mobile device again with a, "He-" The word however got swallowed in a splutter as he did a double take at me, then hopped up to his feet so fast the phone went flying out of his hands. He fumbled to catch it and hastily pocketed it before stepping closer to me with a big grin and sheepish laugh, "He-he-hello there!" He cleared his throat and smoothed his hair, then continued more confidently, "What's shakin', Miss Breathtakin'? Name's Prompto, perhaps you've heard of me? I'm kinda legendary with the ladies around here." Insert wink and finger guns.

I just stared at him blankly.

What…

...was even happening right now?

A wry snerk from Noctis. "Yeah, legendary for being a totally tongue-tied bonehead around them."

"Shush, man, be cool," Prompto hissed back over his shoulder at his brother. "Just cuz you're already tied down, doesn't mean you hafta always ruin it for the rest of us!"

"Tied d-" Noctis began to echo before cutting himself off with a huff and a tiny glare. "Luna and I are just friends!"

"Who ever said anything about Luna? You're the one who brought her up," he singsonged back with a bounce of his eyebrows.

Snorting, Aranea moved to take a seat in the chair next to the far end of the sofa as she added, "You two lil lovebirds have been practically engaged since you were in diapers."

Prompto declared triumphantly, "Exactly! So zip it, Noct! Now where was I…? Ah, yes." He turned back to me, reaching for my hand to plant a kiss to the back of it with a debonair, "Enchanté."

A groan escaped Aranea as she facepalmed. "Prom, stop hitting on your brother's girlfriend."

"I don't see no ring, which means all's fair in love and-" the words abruptly died on his tongue as he looked past me and his eyes grew round, his face paled, and he gulped. Curious as to what had caused such a reaction, I glanced back myself to discover Lea looming behind me with the darkest look I'd ever seen to grace his face aimed directly at Prompto. "Uh, heh… L-Lea, w-was it? N-Nice to m-make your acquaintance," he squeaked out before darting back to his spot on the couch and using Noctis for protective cover.

Hiding a grin behind her hand, Aranea gestured towards the freshly freed up seating, "You all gonna keep standing in the hallway? Go on, take a seat already."

Lea continued to give Prompto the evil eye as he and I settled into the now empty half of the sofa with me next to Noctis. Saïx took the armchair to Lea's right and with that, a hush descended over the room.

...a very drawn out, very awkward hush.

Now don't get me wrong, I am no stranger when it comes to uncomfortable family gatherings. My parents and I were on very, very tentative speaking terms again and I'd recently been to a handful of uneasy dinners with them where silence had reigned supreme around the dining table. Of course, even before I'd ran out on my own wedding, back when I was still their perfect daughter that always did as she was told, even then the Fryse household wouldn't exactly have been considered warm, friendly and inviting. It was just the way my family had always been - cold and distant.

But this home felt different. Here, the quiet felt unnatural and wrong. This seemed like a place that was normally filled with chatter and laughter, making its absence now very unsettling. Especially with Lea in the room, who practically considered silence his arch nemesis and always felt the need to fill the void with his ramblings. In fact, until this very moment, I'd thought him physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut whenever there was a gap in conversation in desperate need of small talk. And yet there he sat now, slouched in the couch cushions, elbow on armrest and head propped up against his knuckles, lips clenched firmly shut and his pinched expression making it abundantly clear he would rather be anywhere but here right now.

I glanced past him and made eye contact with Saïx. He merely frowned, flicked his gaze meaningfully towards Lea before looking back at me again.

Saïx wasn't going to be the one to speak up first. Afterall, he'd already long ago patched things up with his mother and was on speaking terms with her again. Now it was Lea's turn. However, Lea needed to at least make some small effort on his part.

But I'm not sure exactly what Saïx expected me to do about that.

I hesitated, gnawing on my bottom lip for a few heartbeats. Then I lowered my gaze to where Lea's hand rested atop the cushion between the two of us. Slowly, I covered it with my own and he turned his head to look at me.

Alright, so… I've always heard about couples who are really close developing sort of this, I don't know… relationship telepathy after they've been together long enough, to the point where a single glance between the two of them can communicate an entire conversation. Time to see if that theory held any water.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and fixed him with a determined, steady stare.

Talk to your mother. You hear me? Do it. Do it now.

He watched me blankly for a few seconds. Then one side of his mouth lifted and he gave me a tiny nod.

I blinked.

...did it work?

Had he actually received my otherworldly message?

His hand shifted to instead be the one on top of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as the other reached over to graze my cheek with his thumb and tuck my bangs behind my ear while he bent to press a kiss to my forehead.

Gah, no, you sweet but oblivious dope!

What, did he think the situation was stressing me out and I'd been seeking comfort?

...which, to be fair, was not an unreasonable assessment.

Puffing out a tiny, irked breath through my nose, I firmly locked gazes with him once more and jerked my head towards Aranea a couple times.

Talk.

To.

Her.

Dork.

More blank staring from Lea. But then it finally seemed to click, at least if the way his face twisted into a petulant grimace could be taken as any sort of clue. I responded by narrowing my eyes at him. He relented with a low sigh and at long last shattered the quiet with a, "So… Mom…" he paused, frowning as he rubbed at the nape of his neck and struggled to come up with something to say. "...how do you… keep yourself busy these days?"

A growling huff erupted from Saïx as he directed a dull look towards Lea. "You should know. I've told you before."

"And I wasn't listening," Lea shot back through his teeth, brutally blunt and not seeming to care. He toned it back a bit however as his eyes settled on his mother once more. "So what… ya do the whole suburban housewife, minivan driving, pep rallies and bakesales running, soccer mom thing now?"

Prompto burst out laughing at that. "This is our mom we're talking about here, right? Please, you know how she is."

Lea glared daggers at him and he blanched, ducking down to hide behind Noctis once again. Looking away, Lea mumbled under his breath, "Oh yeah… know her super well."

"I'm a process server," Aranea piped up and all eyes turned to her. "Ya know… those people who'll find you on the street, hand you legal papers and go, 'You've been served!' I'm pretty damn good at it too. I take care of all the tough cases, you know the type… those squirrelly, shifty-eyed motherfuckers who bolt at the first whiff of trouble, thinking they can outrun me." She smirked now, "Hehe… love it when they try to run."

"Mom's earned a bit of a reputation," Noctis added with a tiny grin. "People call her the Commodore."

Aranea chuckled at that with a smug, "Stop, you'll make me blush."

"Huh," was all Lea said at first, pursing his lips to one side. Don't think he quite knew what to do with this information. "...sounds… fulfilling."

And with that, a crushing silence stifled the room once more.

Okay, so… that'd worked well.

Sort of…

I mean, it'd worked okay.

At the very least, it'd worked.

They'd talked!

...for a grand total of two seconds… but still, that was something, right?

Oh who was I kidding, this was a total trainwreck.

So then… now what?

Luckily, I was saved from having to figure that out by Ignis stepping into the living room just then, dusting his hands together as he announced, "That ought to do it for the moment! Now to let those steaks au poivre cook for a bit. Saïx!" The man in question glanced up at the mention of his name and Ignis went on, "If memory serves, I seem to recall you taking a rather keen interest in observing the night sky. Well, I'm a bit of dabbler myself and have recently acquired a new gadget to fiddle with. A telescope - the Ultros StarSeeker Reflector. It's in my study, would you like to come have a look at it for yourself?"

"The mark VI?" Saïx asked, already rising from his chair.

"The mark VII," he corrected with a smile. "150 millimeter. It's supposed to be the latest. Makes the moon seem so close, you'll think yourself to be standing on it. Boys," he now addressed Noctis and Prompto, "why don't you join us?"

"Already seen it. Pass," Noctis muttered, distracted by his phone once more.

Ignis cleared his throat, smile widening. "I must insist."

Prompto groaned, "Dad, can't we do it later? It's not even dark out."

"Alas, science waits for no man, nor do I. Elsa," his gaze landed on me now, "might I interest you in accompanying us as well?"

It was then that it dawned on me that Ignis was probably trying to give his wife some time alone with her (until as of twenty minutes ago) estranged son. Even as I opened my mouth to reply however, I felt Lea's grip tightening slightly around my hand. I hesitated.

I don't think he wanted me to leave.

Maybe I should have anyway. Maybe just a smidge of tough love was in order. Maybe it would have been for his own good.

However…

"I think I'm good, thank you," I politely declined.

With a small bow of his head, Ignis said, "Very well. Come along, boys!"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Noctis stood up and moved towards him. Prompto sprung up with a chipper, "Just a sec! I wanna snap a picture of this!" He darted past the two of us still seated on the couch, snagging Noctis by the elbow and Saïx by his sleeve and yanking them back over towards Lea. Then he fished out his phone before slinging one arm around Noctis and Saïx, forcing them to huddle in close and hunch down as he crouched to throw his other arm around Lea's shoulders. Awkwardly maneuvering his phone and pointing its camera at the four of them all squished together, he laughed, "Group shot of the four bros from different Joes but all from the same ho! Say cheese!"

As the flash went off, Aranea leaned forward in her armchair, her tone dangerously sweet as she asked, "All from the same what, Prom?"

"Aw, Ma, c'mon, you know I don't mean it! It was just for the sake of the rhyme!" he brushed off as he released Saïx and Noctis, freeing up that hand to tap at his screen and double check that the photo came out well. "Lea, dude, you so did not say cheese. I mean, look at th-" he glanced towards Lea (who he still had his arm around, mind you) and choked mid-word at the withering look he was giving him. Hastily snatching his arm back and jumping away, he turned to the others. "L-Let's go look at stars n' shit! Hell yeah constellations!" Then he all but blurred out of there with Ignis, Saïx and Noctis following behind him at a more relaxed pace.

"Seriously do not like that kid," Lea grumbled low as he scowled after him before looking back at me. More specifically, at my tiny grin I was rubbing my curled fingers over. He cocked an eyebrow, "...what?"

"Oh nothing," I whispered back with a shake of my head, trying to school my expression and failing. "It's just… well, he reminds me a little of you, is all."

He stiffened, looking outright offended. "You gotta be joking. That punk? We're nothing alike."

Said one upbeat, flirty goofball about the other.

My grin twitched wider as I merely shrugged, "If you say so."

Our brief exchange had me almost forgetting it wasn't just the two of us in here. Now as I glanced over towards Aranea, I gave her a timid smile. She smiled back, shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, but said nothing. Lea continued to avoid meeting her eyes, frowning off into space as his knee restlessly jiggled up and down while he held my hand in his lap, his fingers idly fidgeting with mine.

The quiet stretched.

I had to wonder if maybe I should have left with the others. If I weren't here this very second, would they be talking now? Could it have really made a difference? Honestly, I don't think it would have. Lea had already tried to start a conversation once. Sure, it'd been a rather feeble, halfhearted attempt at that, but still the effort had been made. And now he was done. He had no interest in doing it again and seemed perfectly content to go on stewing in silence. As for Aranea, I may have known her for less than an hour now, but even in such a short amount of time I could tell she was not someone who was particularly shy about speaking her mind. If she had something she wanted to say to Lea, I very much doubted my presence would have stopped her in the slightest.

I think the two of them were just… stuck.

In some sort of limbo with zero clue of how to proceed or handle this situation.

...should I try relationship telepathy again?

No, judging by the stubborn set to his jaw, it seemed highly unlikely at this point that any amount of mental nudging or prodding would push Lea into being the first one to speak up.

...but maybe a different target would be slightly more receptive to some subtle psychic persuasion?

I slowly turned my gaze on Aranea once more. With a tiny inhale and exhale, I hitched my chin and squinted.

Here goes nothing.

Speak to your son. Say something. Anything. Just talk.

A brief pause, then I winced.

Uh… please?

Musn't forget manners when trying to pierce the cosmic veil to telepathically coerce your boyfriend's mother!

That is, er… if it's not too much trouble, ma'am?

Gah, what if she thought being called ma'am was insulting?!

N-not ma'am! You're not a ma'am! I meant Aranea- no, too overly familiar… um… Mom? Dear god, no! Commodore? Yes, Commodore!

I almost saluted her for good measure, but thankfully caught myself before I did. That would have been silly!

...as if me attempting to psychically communicate with the woman weren't already silly enough.

Lea was right. I really was a friggin' kook.

Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Please, just… talk to him, okay? Talk to-

"So, Elsa…"

No, not me! Him! Him! For the love of… what, were our metaphysical wires getting crossed? Ignore me, talk to-

Ugh, forget it, I give up.

Consider my brief and not at all glorious career as a mystical telepath officially over.

She grinned at me as she continued, "...are you still a college student?"

"Oh!" I sat up a little straighter. "No… er, I mean, yes. I mean… rather, I've graduated. But… it wasn't for me. My major, that is. So I went back, and… and now it's a much better fit." A beat. Then I gasped, "Acting! That's my new… that's what I'm doing now! What I, ah… what I went back to college for," I breathed out an awkward little laugh.

Wondering why was I suddenly so nervous?

Oh I don't know… could it be that it was just now really sinking in that this was officially my "Meet The Parents" visit? I was in no way prepared for this! I mean come on, she was supposed to be focusing on Lea, not me! Crud, I just hoped I was making a halfway decent impression so far.

"You wanna be an actor, huh? Get into showbiz?" she nodded encouragingly.

Oh, we were still talking about me? We weren't done?

Fudge.

"Maybe… I think so…" No wait, that wasn't quite right. Lifting my chin and steeling my gaze, I said more firmly, "Yes. It's… something I'm actually quite passionate about. Both singing and acting. It's a childhood dream I hope that perhaps I might one day turn into a reality."

Her eyes crinkled and she nodded again. "Been in any productions?"

"Two. Well… rather, one and a half I suppose… I'm in rehearsals for my second show. It's only community theater mind you, I'm still learning," I tacked on shyly.

It occurred to me that maybe this was her way of reaching out to Lea. I mean, a common tactic for connecting with someone was talking about something they liked. And seeing as how I was his girlfriend, it stood to reason that Lea liked me. So maybe, in a way… talking to me was her trying to score points with Lea?

Gaining a bit of confidence, I went on, "We're putting on Rocky Horror Picture Show, what with Halloween coming up and all. I got the part of Columbia, which is a supporting role but still very exciting!"

"Oooo, Rocky Horror you say? The one with all the tight leather, fishnet stockings, and lacey corsets?" Her eyes shifted slyly over to Lea as she shot him a wink, "Betcha you're a big fan of your girlfriend starring in that."

Lea's face twisted in disgust, "Ugh, Mom, don't be gross about it."

For the record, he was a big fan of it.

A really, really big fan.

She chuckled at his obvious discomfort before her eyes suddenly lit up as a thought seemed to strike her. "Speakin' of Halloween… be right back," she smirked, quickly standing up and disappearing down one of the hallways.

"Quick, now's our chance, let's make a break for it!" Lea leapt up to his feet, but I used the hold I still had on his hand to yank him back down into the cushions next to me. He drooped his eyelids at me. I drooped mine right back. With a huff, he slumped further down into the sofa and straight up sulked.

It wasn't long before Aranea returned, now with a pair of stacked cardboard boxes weighing down her arms. She deposited them onto the coffee table with a heavy thud, blowing off some dust before turning them so we could see there was something written in sharpie on their sides. Aranea shifted the top one branded SAÏX off and settled it down next to the other box that had AXEL scrawled across it. Lea's glower darkened as he spotted that particular label.

Flipping the lid off that one, Aranea began rooting around inside. "Hm, lessee here… blankie?" she muttered, mostly to herself it seemed as she then shook her head and shifted more things around in the box. "No… binkie? No…"

"What are you doing?" Lea asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

"What's it look like I'm doing? Going through a few odds and ends I kept from when you were a tyke," she grinned at him before pulling something out and holding it up. "D'aww look… baby's first arson!" In her hands was the charred and blackened remains of some sort of stuffed animal. She cocked her head slightly as she scrutinized the thing, "Think it used to be a rabbit… or maybe a piglet?"

"Tiger!" Lea snapped as he snatched the thing out of her grip. "He was a tiger and his name was-" he suddenly stopped, glaring at the mutilated little plushie for a second. Then he chucked it back into the box, grumbling, "Doesn't matter."

I however reached in to pick it back up for a closer look at it myself, brow furrowing as I turned the roasted to a crisp little feline over in my hands. "...what did you do to this thing?"

"Happened when he was four. Just happily tromped the doll over to the burning fireplace and tossed it in before I even realized what the lil snot was up to," Aranea chuckled wistfully before returning to digging around in the box. Next she was lifting out what looked to be a clay mold of a child's handprints as she snerked, "Can you imagine him ever being this small? Crazy." Then she was frowning at it, lightly scratching a finger at one blackened corner of the plaque as she arched an eyebrow. "Huh. Looks like you scorched this a bit too."

Shrugging, she set it aside before taking another look into the box, her face brightening. "Ah, and here we have Lea's masterpiece collection." She stuck her hands back inside it, this time retrieving a handful of crude drawings on slightly crumpled papers. To me, she said, "Ya know, he was quite the lil arteest! Coulda been the next Picasso if he'd just…" she trailed off, distracted now as something caught her eye on the top drawing. She squinted, "...is that a tree that's on fire?" Flipping to the next sheet, she blinked. Then the next. Then the next. "Yeesh, kiddo, you really had a thing for fire when you were a tot. Maybe I shoulda been more worried." Then she brushed it off with a bat of her hand, "Bah, you turned out fine!"

Rummaging around in the box a bit more, she gave a victorious, "Ah-ha!" before pulling out a thick stack of photos. She took a second to shuffle through a few of them before showing us one, "First day of kindergarten." I took it from her, seeing as Lea showed zero interest in accepting it himself. I couldn't help a small smile as I looked at it. He really had been an adorable child, almost ridiculously so. "Second birthday." I glanced up at her words to see her holding out another photo, which I gladly took as well.

She thumbed through a couple more photos before, "Oh, here we go." Plucking one from the bunch, her fingers gave it a satisfied flick before turning it towards us with a half-grin. "The whole reason I remembered to dig up this box just now: Halloween photos! Didn't he just make the cutest lil ninja assassin?"

He really did.

"Mom," Lea abruptly spoke up, his tone low and even and… something else that made the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on edge. "...why do you have all this stuff?"

"Hm?" she hummed absently, already back to flipping through the photos.

There was a pause, then he quietly rephrased, "When did you have time to grab it?"

"Oh, I just-" she cut herself off, posture suddenly snapping straight as she grimaced slightly. Her eyes darted to Lea then quickly looked away. Putting the photos down on the coffee table, she cleared her throat and began again, "I took it all with me when…" Another pause, another frown. "...when I…"

"When you abandoned Saïx and me," he finished for her, the edge to his voice unmistakable now. "So… instead of taking me with you when you flew the coop… you took a box."

Uh oh.

"Lea, that's not…" she began, then stopped, lips pressing into a grim line and face pinching as she stared down at her lap for a second. Then she lifted her gaze once more, opened her mouth to speak but clicked it shut again with a tiny growl in her throat, clearly frustrated with herself for being unable to think of the right thing to say.

Her son on the other hand seemed to be having absolutely zero trouble finding his own words, still with a deadly calm to them. "So... what? After dumping Saïx and me like yesterday's garbage, you took the boxes just so you could put on a show that you ever gave a shit about us?"

She gave him a sharp look, her eyes flashing dangerously. "That isn't fair, I-"

"Fair?!" he was on his feet in the blink of an eye, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Nostrils flaring, his voice began to rise now, "No, what wasn't fair was you deciding you didn't want your goddamn kids anymore and leaving them behind to go off and start your new stupid, perfect life and your new stupid, perfect family filled with perfect little snot-nosed brats given to you by your fucking perfect orthodontist!"

Optometrist. Not orthodontist.

Should I correct him?

I decided against it.

(Rather wisely too, if I do say so myself.)

Standing up as well now, Aranea tried to argue, "It wasn't like that! I-"

"Then please! By all means, tell me what it was like!" he snarled back. Two fingers jabbed at his temple, "I'd simply freaking love to know how you rationalized this all away in that screwed up head of yours so you could sleep at night in your comfy, cushy tempur-fucking-pedic king-sized bed while Saïx and I got chewed up and spat out by the hellhole that is the foster system! Tell me, how the fuck is what you did to us okay?!"

"It wasn't okay! Shit, of course it wasn't and I'd never try to tell you that it was!" she yelled, her breathing heavy now as she lifted her chin slightly. "But… you have to understand, it was… I was still young and-"

Lea barked a cold laugh at that. "Young? Seriously? That's your go-to defense? You wanna talk young, Saïx was eight. For fuck's sake, I was six." He shook his head, sneering, "But no, you're right. You were young, so let's just forget it and continue sitting around getting all bogus nostalgic over a buncha meaningless crap in a box while pretending everything's fine and dandy and like you didn't royally fuck over our whole goddamn lives twenty years ago."

Shoulders tensing, Aranea shot back, "Damn it, if you'd just let me talk-"

"You had your chance to talk!" he shouted over her. "You've been talking nonstop since I walked through the front door and it's all been nothing but bullshit and rubbing my nose in your happy, cozy, picture-fucking-perfect lifestyle!"

"That's not- I never meant to-" she blew out an exasperated huff, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a second to compose herself. Then, more softly if a bit strained, "Look, obviously I'm no good at this. But I'm trying here."

"Yeah? Well not hard enough," he ground out through his teeth. He took several deep breaths, hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. When he at last spoke again, his voice was now hushed and thick with unshed tears, "Were you ever even sorry for what you did? Did you ever even have any regrets at all?"

Her eyes widened as her head rocked back. "Of course I had regrets-"

"No, you had a box! Just a dumb box!" he smacked said box off the coffee table, sending it crashing to the floor and spilling its contents across the rug. With that, he stormed over to the sliding glass door, throwing it open and stomping out onto the backyard deck.

As he slammed it shut again behind him, the sharp noise jolted a breath out of me that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. It was only then that I noticed how loud the pounding of my heart was in my ears, how tense my muscles were or how tightly my fingers were clutching at the skirt of my dress. Forcing myself to relax a bit, I released my grip and anxiously brushed out the wrinkles in the fabric as my gaze drifted towards Lea once more.

I could see him out there now, hands angrily ruffling at his hair as he paced back and forth. Honestly, his blow up probably shouldn't have come as any sort of shock. This was something that he'd been carrying with him for years now, an anger that had been building inside for two decades and in desperate need of release. It probably really hadn't even been a question of if he would explode, but when.

A loud scoff drew my attention over to Aranea who was also watching Lea, a little scowl twisting her features. Squaring her shoulders, she started marching over towards the sliding glass door grumbling, "Oh-ho, if you think this is over, you got another thing coming, you lil-"

"Wait," a new voice calmly commanded, freezing her in her tracks. I glanced towards where it'd come from to discover Saïx in the threshold to the hallway, frowning and arms crossed with one shoulder leaned against the inside of the arch. I wondered how long he'd been standing there unnoticed, how much of the fight he'd witnessed. Probably most of it. Pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards her, he reasoned, "You'll probably only set him off again. Allow me. Perhaps I can get him to cool down a bit first before coming back inside to continue your discussion more rationally."

Aranea's face scrunched up at the idea of having to back down for the moment but then she sighed heavily and stepped aside, letting Saïx pass. Soon he was outside with his brother, the door gliding quietly shut in his wake. Aranea stood there for a few seconds more, eyes narrowing as she watched them through the glass before turning away with a tiny hmph. "That knucklehead has more Reno in him than he'll ever know," she muttered sourly under her breath. Then she looked at me. "...excuse me, I… I need a minute." She stalked towards one of the other doors, pausing long enough to add over her shoulder, "Sorry… that you had to see that…"

"No, that's, uh… don't mention it," I said awkwardly, my voice small.

With a curt nod, she made her exit.

Peering outside once more, it unfortunately appeared like Saïx wasn't making any headway in pacifying Lea. Though the closed door muffled it, Lea was quite visibly yelling again as he gestured furiously back at the house. Saïx looked remarkably unruffled as he withstood the tirade and every now and again, I would see his lips move whenever he got a chance to squeeze in a few words, face expressionless as he did so. But if he'd intended for whatever he was saying to be soothing, it seemed to only be having the opposite effect as Lea kept bursting out into more impassioned rants. Though it was hard to tell, there was a slight twitch to Saïx's eye now that hinted at him getting more irked with each new outburst.

Finally, Lea just hotly tossed his hands up and turned his back on Saïx, kicking at the wooden railing of the deck. It seemed Saïx had had enough himself for he too turned away, pushing the glass door aside so he could come back in. As he pulled it closed with more force than necessary, he seethed, "I give up. Possibly you'll have better luck convincing that idiot to get his head out of his ass." Without waiting for my reply, he crossed the room in a muted huff and was gone.

I bit my bottom lip, hesitating for a heartbeat. Then I rose, hands smoothing up and down my dress as I slowly stepped towards the door leading out to the backyard. My hand reached out for the handle, stopping just short for a second as I inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then I grabbed hold, slid it open and stepped outside.

Lea was facing away from me, surveying the backyard as he bent forward slightly with hands braced atop the railing. A light breeze picked up, tugging at his crimson spikes and making them dance. By contrast, his whole body was very still, almost eerily so. His muscles were taut and there was a stiffness to his shoulders that was impossible to miss. His fingers squeezed around the railing to the point of practically turning his knuckles white.

No question about it. He was still very much pissed.

It was almost strange, in a way… I was so used to him always being such a boundless source of energy and joy. I'd only ever seen him get angry one other time and that was when Grandfather had tried to bribe him during that disastrous weekend with my family. Even then, it hadn't lasted long and paled in comparison by far to his temper now. It was odd seeing him like this. Unsettling even. But I understood. I knew Lea's mom had always been a sore spot for him, so I was actually almost kind of amazed things had remained civil for as long as they had.

In a way, it was maybe even a good thing he'd went off like he did. You know… cathartic. Better he have a chance to rant and get all those things he'd probably been wanting to say to her for years off his chest, rather than keeping it all bottled up inside to fester.

But now it was time to pick up the pieces, pull him back together and maybe possibly even get him talking with his mother again, hopefully in a more constructive way.

...but how to do that exactly?

I just stood there in a moment of silent uncertainty, staring at his back as I tugged and twisted at my braid. But the longer I watched Lea, the more my heart squeezed at the sight of him. At how dejected and unhappy he appeared, his raw emotions practically etched into every line of his body. Eventually, my feet made the decision for me and I took an almost instinctual step towards him. Then another, and another one after that.

When I was close enough, my hand seemingly of its own accord reached out to softly touch his back. As soon as my fingertips made contact, his whole body went visibly rigid, even more so than it already had been. I brought my other hand up to join the first and slid them slowly around his middle as I took one final step forward to hug him from behind, resting my cheek against his warm back and closing my eyes as I listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It took a few seconds, but then I felt the tension in his muscles start to ease as he gradually relaxed into the embrace and my hold around him reassuringly tightened. I had to let go however when he abruptly turned towards me, his arms encircling my waist to hug me fiercely to him. My arms shifted up to wrap around his shoulders instead as he buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply and exhaling a couple times. I could feel him trembling, but with each steadying breath he took it subsided little by little.

I wasn't quite sure what to say or do beyond holding him and tracing light soothing circles along his back, hoping he found it as comforting as I always had whenever he'd done it for me so many times in the past. I patiently waited and just assumed he'd eventually open up when he was ready.

When he eventually did speak, it was so low and muffled against my throat that I almost didn't hear it. "...sorry, El… if I scared you..."

I shook my head slightly, my fingers shifting up to stroke his hair as I murmured, "Scared? No. A bit startled? Maybe… Concerned? Definitely." I tucked in my bottom lip for a hushed moment, then asked, "...are you okay?"

At first Lea said nothing, his only reply coming in the form of squeezing me more tightly to him. We stayed that way a few seconds more before his hold loosened but didn't let go - just enough for him to straighten up and press his forehead to mine. His gaze was downcast and my chest ached at how miserable he looked. His lips parted once more but instead of answering my question, he grumbled, "What she did was wrong."

"It was," I said calmly with a single small nod.

"She doesn't deserve my forgiveness," he tacked on, still quiet but more firmly now.

I noticed tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. Moving my hands to cup his face, I gently wiped them away with my thumbs as I agreed, "She doesn't."

"Serve her right if I never spoke to her again," he gave a tiny scowl.

Again, I nodded. "It would."

Now his green gaze locked on mine, squinting for a second before he puffed out a heavy, bitter sigh. "...but you think I should talk to her, don't you?"

My eyes lowered briefly and I pursed my lips to one side as I tried to choose my next words carefully. Then I looked back up at him, "I think… that you've had your turn to speak your mind, so maybe... it might be the right thing to do to give her a turn as well."

Lea merely made a noise of derision deep in his throat, glancing away.

I used the hold I still had on his face to gently make him look at me again. "I'm not saying you have to let her off the hook. Nor that you have to see her side of things. Nor even that you have to listen to her really. But I believe letting her speak and say whatever it is she was trying to tell you… maybe it could do some good. For both of you. And then... " I paused with a thoughtful frown. "...well, I'm actually not really sure what then, but... maybe the way forward will be clearer once you've both had a chance to talk. You'll never know until you try. And it's at least worth a try, isn't it?"

His expression softened somewhat, but not completely. "...how very logical, insightful and sensible of you, Doctor Phil."

I made a little snort at that. "Why, thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment." The words had no bite to them and were more so just tiredly teasing. He then fell silent for a moment, seemingly mulling over my advice while still holding me against him, his thumb absently rubbing up and down where it rested against the small of my back. Then his face pinched slightly and he harrumphed. "...she never even said she was sorry for what she did."

"Maybe she would have if you hadn't kept talking over her," I lightly pointed out with a wrinkle of my nose.

He hummed a weak, almost inaudible laugh at that. "There ya go with that logic again." He then heaved another sigh, "...I dunno… I guess maybe I can go back inside and…" he slowly closed his eyes and grimaced, as if even the very idea of his next words turned his stomach. "...give this a shot. Chances are good though it'll just end up being the sequel to the earlier shitshow," he rolled his eyes.

I tugged his head down and got on tiptoe, murmuring against his brow as I pressed my lips to it, "I'd expect nothing less."

As I lowered myself back down onto my heels, Lea brought a hand up to graze his knuckle tenderly along my cheek, giving me that soft look of his that still to this day caused my heart to flip-flop and made it hard to breathe. Then his fingers trailed past along my jawline to cup the back of my neck as he bent down to kiss me, slow and thorough, sending a heat through me that made me melt from the inside out. When he at last pulled away, his voice was husky against my lips as he said, "Thanks, El... for coming with me today. Having you here during… It makes everything a bit easier."

Face hot and feeling a bit breathless, I cleared my throat and smiled shyly. "Happy to, uh… to help… in whatever small way I can."

He grinned, his fingers toying with the tip of my braid as he gazed down at me for a second longer before he planted a quick peck to my lips. Then he was releasing me, taking hold of my hand instead and tangling our fingers together. Blowing out a breath that flapped his lips, he muttered, "Right. Back into the fray for round two now, ding-ding."

"Maybe try not going back into this expecting a fight?" I suggested as I felt a sudden buzz from my phone in my pocket. I went on as I fished it out to check my notifications, "Never know, it could possibly even-" The words however got strangled in my throat as my eyes widened, I nearly dropped my phone and I gasped out, "Baby!"

"Yes, Cuddlebug?" he cooed back.

I blinked at him. "Wha-? No, not you. I meant Rayne."

Lea looked positively scandalized. "You have other Babies besides me?" He clutched a hand to his chest, "The betrayal."

"No, I- That's not- She's not-" I stammered out before giving up with a groan of frustration and then shoved my phone up against his nose, reiterating more desperately, "Baby!"

His brow furrowed as he took it from me, eyes quickly scanning the open text message before both eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Holy shit, Raindrop's gone into labor?! I thought she wasn't s'posed to pop that kid out for another few weeks!"

"Well she's popping it out now!" My spine snapped straight as a thought struck me. "Like… now now! While she's there! And we're here! But we shouldn't be here! We should be there, not here! Definitely not here! We-"

"Shh, it'll be fine, I gotcha," he gently shushed me, one of his hands gripping my shoulder and the other coming up to rest his warm palm against the side of my face. "I'll put the fam drama on pause and we can hit the road ASAP."

"...really?" I asked slowly, uncertainly. "...that would be okay?"

He gave a soft snerk and shrugged. "It's waited twenty years already, I think it'll be fine waiting a lil bit longer. 'Sides, it's not every day our friends are having a baby, we should be there."

I turned my head slightly, giving him some side-eye. "And I'm sure this in no way is you hopping on the first excuse you could get to procrastinate sorting things out with your mother like a mature adult."

"Nah, that's just a bonus!" he chuckled.

I fought a tiny grin. But then it swiftly faded, a crease forming between my eyebrows now as something else occurred to me. "But we're so far away… it took us most of the day to get here!"

"The way I drive, we'll be back in half that," he wickedly smirked, digging the car keys out of his pocket, tossing them up into the air and catching them with a wink. "Just leave it to me! Now c'mon, babydoll, let's say our hasta la vistas then make like a piñata and beat it!"

With that, he took my hand in his again, opened the sliding glass door and we hurried inside.

Author's Note:  We've had plenty of Elsa's fam drama by now, figured it was high time for some of Lea's fam drama too xD Plus we all know our fave Fire Boi can have a bit of a temper even if he doesn't let it loose often, so it was fun to finally have a excuse to REALLY show that side of him in this fic! Luckily our ICE Queen was around to COOL our FIRE boi's HOT temper... hehehehehe xD Anyhoo, I knew for a while that I wanted to do a chapter with Lea's mom and her new family, but I was mega stumped on which characters would play the parts. For the longest time, I wasn't sure if I was gonna include any of the FFXV cast in my story (except for the brief reference to Meteor Publishing and Vyv allllllll the way back in chapter 2 as to where Rayne works and who her boss is respectively) but then when this idea came up, it really was too perfect! Aranea is just the right amount of sass and kickass that could totes be a perfect fit for Lea's and Saïx's mom! She even TALKS a lot like Lea with similar speech mannerisms and everything, or so you'll notice if you rewatch her video game cutscenes (as I have multiple times while writing this chapter now lol!). The main struggle was that she has a tendency to be quite flirty in the video game, but seeing as how 4 of the 5 men in this chapter were her SONS, couldn't really have her doing that except for with Iggy xD Hopefully I still managed to capture her personality well enough! And of course, including 3 of the 4 Chocobros was a pleasure to write! Plus, I got to squeeze in SO MANY FFXV references this chapter, it felt ridiculous after a while, but I couldn't help myself xD And bonus: in case it wasn't clear in that one quick sentence that was tossed out, turns out Reno was Lea's biological dad! Which sucks a lil cuz that means Reno is deceased in this AU and I hate to do that to another one of my fave redheads... but ah well! Who knows, maybe he only faked his death all those years ago and he's still out there alive and kicking and wreaking havoc xD

Teeny fun facts: I wrote that Lea's new step dad was an orthodontist waaaaaaay back in ch15 before I even knew Iggy was gonna be his step dad, so when I was rereading that for this chapter, I was all "shiiiit, I can't make Iggy an orthodontist, ew!" xD Optometrist didn't seem THAT much better, but hey, at least the dude wears glasses - that's all ya need to become a licensed optometrist, right? xP At least the whole orthodontist-optometrist thing made for a pretty decent running gag this chapter haha! Also, the telescope was based off a real telescope model I found after some googling, just the original brand was named after some sort of constellation, I forget what (...Orion? maybe?). So I changed THAT to one of the constellations from KH3: Ultros! ...because it was the best sounding one for a telescope - sorry, no Cactuar brand telescopes in this story xP

No clues or hint word/phrase this time for what the next one-shot is gonna be about - given the kinda sorta cliffhanger I left his chapter off on, you can probably guess what blessed event is gonna happen next time xD Don't worry, I'll try to throw in a couple of surprises for you still that you hopefully won't see coming!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Upon reflection I've concluded that we've all been too harsh on Jod. Why don't you try writing a grant application before you throw stones.

(This is going to sound Bitter, because I'm really fucking bitter about this. But I'm not mad/annoyed at you, just to be clear!)

I already saw that post and I didn't reblog it because Jod gets no sympathy from me.

I probably wrote more essay applications in three months desperately trying to get scholarships for college than he wrote grant applications in a year.

My household family was poor-poor. I did everything you're supposed to do in school, getting good grades, scoring high on the SAT and VERY high on the ACT, I was in four AP classes (scoring full 5's on the tests) and honors classes in everything my school system didn't offer as AP, doing extracurriculars to the point where in my senior year I was in not one, not two, but five clubs including Key Club and Student Leadership Council, I organized charity drives and planned at least two activities for the Leadership Council, I was petitioned by my local Rotary Club, I was accepted into the People-to-People program at age 18.

And I still didn't win a single scholarship. I spent an average of 15 hours a week filling out applications to colleges' financial aid and both local and national grant programs. For four years straight. Four years! The only reason I was able to go to college at all was the Pell Grant and a local community college accessible by bus route.

So you want to talk to me about filling out applications, I can talk you into the ground.

No. Fucking. Sympathy.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

You exited the zoo feeling unsure of what was happening. A low growl was traveling through the air to your ears making you uneasy. He sounded hungry. Something was not right about this zoo and you were going to find out what it was.

The next day at work you were very observant of everyone during the day, especially Daichi. He told you he was the only one who could go see Kei but he never left his office and if he did it was for lunch.

Hinata had kept you busy during the first half of the shift making you do his job and what not. Tanaka followed you around steering you away from the lion exhibit and Tobio had cornered you at one point.

“Y/n? “

“Y-yes? I gotta..”

“Would you be interested in getting drinks with us tonight?”

“Oh i don't .. drink.”

His brow twitched and he scoffed backing away from you. “Surely you'll join anyway? A nice.. night out with your co-workers? We would need a DD , it would be unsafe..”

You hugged your sides not looking at him, you wanted to say no, run away. But the guilt of being responsible for deaths was too much. You nodded slightly and Tobio smirked, patting your head. “Great. Now get back to work.”

••

The day went on and every boy took time out of their day to tell you how excited they were that you were coming tonight. They were all a lot more excited than they should be.

It was almost time to go and you decided to hide out in the restroom till everyone left. They all passed the restroom talking.

“Did y/n leave?” Daichi asked

“I think so. Without telling us?” Tanaka asked, looking around.

“We are seeing her tonight , who cares.” Tobio said walking past them, Hinata at his side. The two agreed catching up.

“I don't know how much longer i can wait till i can have her.” Daichi said . “She's perfect.”

The voices faded and you peaked out not seeing anyone . You were a shaking mess . “What did that mean….” You definitely were not getting drinks tonight.

You snuck over to the lion exhibit slipping past the tape to just see a net and some trees , rocks and a steel door . Backtracking, you went to Daichi’s office and grabbed the zoo keys. Quietly you followed the trail to the exhibit doors and unlocked the lion one . A loud growl could be heard and you hoped everyone had left already.

It was an empty room and it smelled.. awful. Like rotten meat. Gently you closed the door walking forward to see some meat rotting on the ground by the barred door. You bent down to pick it up and an arm shot out grabbing you bringing you to the door. You screamed hitting your head and shut your eyes from the sting.

Something was smelling you , it lifted you up to your feet and stuck its nose in your hair sniffing deep . The arm let go of you and you rubbed your head looking at the door.

He came out of the shadows and your heart nearly stopped. A tall.. talk man with a tame blond curly mane. Large lion paws with fur on the arms with some parts that looked to be burned off and had no hope of growing back. His torso was lean and free of hair but covered in deep cuts and what looked like whip marks. The pants he had on were old and ragged and only covered his furry midsection . His legs were long and furry as well, a few burns near the knees. His tail flicked around with irritation. His eyes though… looked damnaged .

You stepped forward as if you were completely under his control holding your hand out. It slipped through the bars and the lion man reached out, missing your hand a few times . You grabbed his paw and his ears twitched.

••

His ear moved and Kei heard the door open. ‘Must be Daichi ‘ he thought, not getting up from his rock to go find out. He heard the door shut and an unfamiliar scent crept up his nose. Oh? That's not Daichi, or the others. He slid off his rock , his nose guiding him to the door, he still bumped into trees and rocks though, he growled loud in irritation. His arm extended trying to feel for the wall. He walked into it growling again. Slowly he walked along the wall , the scent getting stronger. He stopped right next to the door peeking over only to not be able to see anything, it was just a blurry object. He reached through the bars grabbing whoever was here and yanked them to him.

The scream sounded like a woman , instantly he let go and rubbed his eyes as if it would help him see better. All he had to go on was your scent.

He could almost see something slip through the bars and tried to grab it , missing. Until it grabbed his paw, rubbing it with what felt like a thumb. His ear twitched and he squinted trying to see. He moved closer and something wrapped around his chest , he assumed another arm. You hugged him as best you could, rubbing his giant paw on your face. He looked down at you completely dumbfounded. Slowly he moved his other arm through the bars and pulled you as close as he could.

“You're beautiful…” you whispered to him

“Im sure you are too..” he squeezed you tight, purring.

••

@squeaky-ducky @knifeewifee @maron-k-rh @kittifer @smurfflynn @melody-deathnote

[arianakristine]

@skagengiirl Another piece of your multi-prompt :)

Send me character(s) and a letter and I’ll write you a minific!

K-  On the edge of consciousness.

Title: 4am Summary: Emma uses the second of quiet to think about the changes and consequences. Note: RH verse. Post Relatives. Quite frankly, this involves an idea that I’ve had from the beginning, and walked back and forth on a few times. I’ve finally committed to it, and now I think the plot can move forward again :D This also vaguely addresses @farmgirlusa‘s prompt about Maggie (why she doesn’t know quite yet). 

               Emma woke to steady kicks against her bladder, a groan torn from her throat as she blinked awake.

               Graham was snoring softly beside her, dark curls messy against his forehead and sleep tugging the stress from his face nicely. Despite the urgency, she moved her hand across the stubble of his jaw slowly, lips curving as she took in his peaceful expression. He stirred gently, but didn’t wake.

               With everything that was crashing down on them in Storybrooke, it was nice to find him so unguarded and content. He tended to always have an edge to him, the protectiveness bleeding over into body language through tension. She leaned up and placed a soft kiss against the faint freckles on his cheek before their daughter demanded her attention again with another hit to her internal organs.

               She turned to catch the green glow-in-the-dark light of the old clock on the nightstand. The large hand only just crept past the 12, little stuck on 4. She huffed in displeasure, and glared down at her middle. “You will not make me a morning person,” she mumbled at the bump and then rocked to get to sitting.

               She got up with some difficulty, frowning at the idea of getting bigger and nearing another week of pregnancy in this place. She missed home, missed the advice from her group of friends, even missed the blunt Dr. Swanson. She really only had Mary Margaret to talk to here, at least until Maggie showed, and the only medical person available was Whale. Not ideal.

               She used the bathroom quickly, then stepped out toward the pull-out bed by the window. Her son was breathing heavily, arm stretched above his head and lips parted, shadows obscuring his features just enough. She placed a hand over her stomach and sighed softly. She forgot sometimes how much he could look like Neal, her heart aching at the thought.

               As conflicted as her feelings were, she had loved Neal at one point. It wasn’t like how she loved now, but it was something so … consuming for her sixteen year old self, the one that had never had anyone. It was the reason she’d lived two years in Tallahassee in that first life, the reason Maggie had had to help her so much in this one. She had cared, and she still remembered that feeling. She even cared now, in a different way. Of course she did; he had helped give her her son.

               And now he was dead.

               And she had been the one to deal the final blow.

               “Help me, Emma. Use your magic.”

               Her stomach churned, and she placed a hand on the wood frame of the window to let a few sparks fly across the fading wallpaper. Her heart wrenched, and the baby twisted inside her, affected by her distress.

               She didn’t know how to deal with this. If it had been like she told Maggie, an accident she’d only witnessed … maybe then it would be easier. Instead, she had to live knowing that she had helped to kill her son’s father. Neal had made sure that she would never be able to move from that.

               It ripped through her with anger as much as pain. She had had that premonition, that gut feeling, when he had left the hospital. She knew that she would never see him the same again. The reality had been far worse than she had anticipated.

               She swallowed thickly and rested her head on the paneling, looking down solemnly at Henry. Henry was hurting so much, too. In a different way, but also in an angry way. And like her, he wasn’t going to have the time to grieve this properly, at least not yet. Not with Zelena still out there.

               Was Neal only the first loss in this battle? Even once Zelena was gone, they still had to contend with Regina. She also had no doubts that there were others lurking about this fairytale, more who would want to seize power or whatever they thought they were owed.

               Who was to say what could be lost before they reached Manhattan again?

               She felt his presence before he slipped an arm around her, face burying into her neck. “This is early for you,” he murmured sleepily into her skin.

               She leaned back into him, and covered his arms with a shiver. Despite her feelings, she relaxed into his embrace. “Don’t get used to it.”

               She felt his smile, and he dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “I know you better than that. What’s got you up, then?”

               She felt the depth in his words through their careful placement. She shook her head. “It’s your kid’s fault. Had to pee.”

               “So why aren’t you back in bed?” he pressed.

               She sighed heavily. She was silent a moment, and he let her be. She breathed him in deeply, trying to comfort herself before replying. “I don’t know. I think it’s just all … settling.”

               He hummed a response and took her hand in his. He brushed a thumb over her ring and held her closer. “No shame in that.”

               She felt a lump in her throat and nodded with a jerk. A single tear fell down her face, and she blew out a sharp breath. “I don’t know that I’ll ever come to terms with it. He made me separate them, and because of that he died. I took away Henry’s chance to know him and—I could have found another way.”

               “Emma,” he said sharply. She looked away but could feel the heat of his gaze. “You did not kill him. You did what was needed. If anyone’s to blame—“

               “I know,” she barked out, then leveled her tone when she saw Henry shift. “But it doesn’t help knowing.”

               Graham slumped into her, letting her realize how much tension he’d been in. Shadows swept across his face, and a sharp realization hit her. He knew. He absolutely knew what she was feeling. Years of being forced to do horrible things against your will – he knew.

               She brought her hands up to his face, softly tracing across his skin in a way she hoped was soothing. She grit her teeth and swallowed back another sob. How much more did this feeling permeate in him? She shuddered and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “How do I get past it?” she asked hoarsely.

               Gentler, he brushed back her hair. She looked up at him. His face was grim, but his eyes were soft. “By keeping Henry safe. And the twins.”

               She studied the grey tracks in the blue of his eyes, carefully piecing through them. She recognized the rest of his answer: he wasn’t past it. It wouldn’t disappear. She knew already that he had his days, his nightmares, and now wondered how often she’d have hers.

               She hoped she could make peace with that.

               She leaned on tiptoes to rest her forehead on his, and then pressed. “Zelena … I don’t even know that she scares me. She’s just another in a long line of threats that I’ve—we’ve faced. As much as we’ve fought, they keep coming.”

               He pulled her closer, low breath expelled over her skin. “It seems to always be that way, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “A never-ending line of villains. But at the end of the day, it always come back to two people.”

               She shut her eyes and nodded. “Regina. And Gold.”

               ‘Yes,” he said wearily.

               She was quiet a moment. She placed her hands on either side of her belly, cradling their baby between her palms. “We need an escape plan,” she murmured. She raised her eyes to his, and then grabbed his hand to rest over her stomach. Their daughter shifted, rolling between their shared touch. “I don’t want to involve her in all this. Hell, I don’t want Henry involved, but that’s moot at this point.”

               He slowly rubbed her arm up and down. “Maybe Maggie’s the rabbit hole,” he considered.

               She let out a low breath. “Our way out?”

               “Our way out quickly,” Graham clarified. “We can use her as an excuse to get home. No one here is comfortable with her hanging around, anyway.”

               She didn’t like the idea of using Maggie like that, but she had to admit … it was clean. Even those extra villains lurking … surely they’d want to see the outsider leave? “It’s a good plan,” she admitted. “Unless she gets too interested in what’s going on here. You know her. You know she’s too good at reading people, too good with unraveling secrets.”

               “But she’s also rational. She’s not going to jump to ‘magic and fairytales must be real,’” he said, a smile tweaking his lips.

               “What if we just told her?”

               Emma and Graham snapped to face the bed, finding Henry squinting blearily up at them. Emma bit her lip. “Kid … we can’t.”

               “Why not?” he said stubbornly, wiping his face of sleep as he sat up. “She’s family.”

               “Oh, kid,” she sighed, and dropped to sit on the bed. She brushed back his hair and touched his forehead with hers briefly before pulling back. “I know. I want her to know, too. Sometimes really badly. But it’s safer if she doesn’t know.”

               “Is it?” he asked.

               She and Graham shared a look, and she hesitated a moment. “For now, yes.”

               Henry rolled back to his pillow, expression dark and thoughtful.

               Graham reached out and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention, and Henry looked up with glassy eyes. “If it’s ever a problem for her not knowing, we’ll tell her, Henry. But for now, Zelena and … and Regina. They are being subtle because she doesn’t know.”

               He had a stubborn set to his jaw, but nodded anyway. “But if that changes?”

               “If we can keep her safe by telling her, Henry, we will,” Emma agreed firmly.

               He sighed, looking pale in the dark of pre-dawn. The shadows had shifted, and she no longer saw Neal in him: she just saw her kid. He rubbed his eyes again, and turned to face the clock. “It’s early,” he commented.

               Graham chuckled and picked his weight off the window frame. “We can let you get back to sleep.”

               He peered curiously at her. “Why are you awake?” he asked.

               She shrugged and placed a hand on her stomach. “Guess your sister wanted me up for this talk,” she said.

               Three knocks sounded in quick succession on the door, firm and loud. Graham frowned and was the first to react, stepping towards the entrance in long strides. Emma turned to face the door, and swung an arm around Henry protectively.

               “Oh, hey,” Graham said once the door swung open. He relaxed visibly, and so did she. “Morning,”

               Maggie strode in and gave her a quick nod. She was in the same clothes from yesterday evening, though they didn’t have that rumpled look of being slept in. Her eyes were dark, lashes swept with a quick stroke of mascara to make her look more awake. Her dark hair was pulled back into a usual bun, but loose curls fell from the typical tight knot.

               “Jesus, Mags, did you even sleep?” Emma remarked, the look of her making her even more tired.

               She raised a brow and didn’t respond. “Good, you’re awake. You need to come downstairs.”

               Emma frowned and rose. “What, Maggie, it’s barely 4:30 in the—“

               “Just come,” Maggie said, and reached to the chair to toss her a coat. She looked at Henry, and finally slowed. “Or at least choose who’s coming with me and who’s staying with the kid.”

               Graham was already pulling on his own coat. “Please, I’m the only morning person in this family,” he quipped, and then silently checked with her. She dropped her head in a nod and she leaned against Henry again. He turned to Maggie. “What’s wrong?”

               “I found the midwife.”

               Her blood ran cold. She was off searching on her own all night? Maybe it was better if Maggie knew about the situation, if she was going off on her own against all these damn magical beings. “Were you seriously—“

               “She’s dead,” she said without preamble, and then her shoulders slumped when she caught Henry’s stare. She shook her head. “Just come downstairs. I found her outside, in the woods just a few yards from the B&B. I found her … encased in a block of ice,” Maggie said, disbelief still touching her tone.

               When she swung her eyes up to Graham, he was already looking at her. “Ice?” she asked.

               Maggie nodded. “Which means we either had the strangest cold snap in history, in a tiny isolated spot the size of one human being, or we have a really creative killer on our hands.”

               Or a magical one.

               Emma shivered. Just when she thought that finding Zelena would be the catalyst to go home, something new comes before she can even think about using her friend as an escape.

               Someone was willing to kill Zelena in a destructively magical way, one that would garner questions from the outsider. Which meant that someone didn’t care.

               Which also meant that Maggie was in more danger than they all first suspected.

[evanescentform]

Taco Chance on Me | Shiloh & Taylor

A date, okay. No matter how many times Shiloh has gone on a date (and she’s not lacking experience), it’s always a little nerve-wracking. But what was the worst that could happen? Taylor seemed like a cool person anyway, so Shiloh wasn’t trying to get too nervous. After all, she’s made plenty of friends after going out for a bit. That was the beauty of being gay. Dating doesn’t work out? You still gain a new friend. Shiloh pulled up in her red Jeep as close to the docks as she could, having sent Taylor a message that she was nearby so she could meet her. Given that not many people were out, it wasn’t difficult to spot Taylor coming. Initial judgement, Taylor is more attractive in person than online. So far so good. She flashed her lights to get her attention, smiling when they met eyes. With no hesitation, she got out of the car. “Hey,” she greeted with a small wave as she walked over to the passenger side to open it up for Taylor. Shiloh’s smile was a little shy, still getting a feel of everything and getting comfortable around the other person.

Taylor felt a bit dirty about all this. She knew exactly what she was doing here. She didn’t have any malicious intent, definitely not, but she was definitely playing the field. Flirting left and right. Going on casual dates with people she barely knew and not making any sort of commitments. Eventually this would all probably catch up to her. But she needed something to take her mind off of Rhonda. So far it was working, but how long would it last? Taylor fixed her hair in her phone camera, not having a single mirror on her boat because what was the point, and then stepped off her houseboat into the dock, spotting the Jeep not far off flashing its lights. Taylor’s face broke into a smile when she got a look at Shiloh’s grin. “Sup?” She seemed excited, which was definitely a good sign. Tone was so hard to read over the Internet. Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle a little as Shiloh opened the passenger door for her, placing a hand on her bicep and squeezing it playfully. “What a gentleman. Do I get a hand kiss too?” she joked as she climbed in.

Taylor’s joke broke the ice between them and Shiloh gave a soft chuckle as she watched Taylor settle in the seat. “You might get more than that if you play your cards right.” Shiloh quipped, promptly shutting the door after, not leaving Taylor a chance to respond. Shiloh wasn’t a stranger to flirting---it was fun and once someone gave Shiloh the okay to flirt with them, she wasn’t going to pull back. Entering the car, she put on her seatbelt and began pulling back to turn around. “Alright, so do you know where to go or should I map it on my phone?” Shiloh glanced over at Taylor, eyes smiling as the car idled, waiting for directions. It’s not like anyone was out here anyway and Shiloh had yet to go onto the road. For good measure though, she looked around to double check, pushing her glasses with the tip of her finger. Nope. Not a soul.

Oh wow, Taylor liked this girl already. Bold words and a shut door to cut her off. She knew how to play the game. And that accent? It had Taylor smiling like an idiot already. As Shiloh climbed into the car, Taylor buckles her seatbelt as well. “It’s just a town over, actually. I’ll give directions.” She usually only had to look at a map once to get the lay of the land. She had an excellent sense of direction. “Pull out here and head towards Main Street, that’ll take us right outta town.” She bit her lip as they started off, stealing glances at Shiloh as she drove. The girl was very pretty. “How long have you been in White Crest?” she asked, just trying to fill the silence.

Shiloh took in the directions, beginning to enter Main Street. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t travelled much out of town. I’ve gone a few times to a nearby lumberyard, but it’s usually with my father driving.” She warned. “But… I trust you’ll be a good co-pilot?” Shiloh glanced over at Taylor, giving a small smirk. Returning her eyes to the road, she pursed her lips, thinking about the question. “I’ve been here for five years? Four. No wait..” She let out a chuckle, eyes squinting in an attempt to figure it out before giving up and shaking her head. “I already feel like I’ve been here forever. It’s great though, my parents are really happy here.” Given the state they were before they moved to White Crest, it has been nothing but a blessing since they moved. “Is it creepy I know you haven’t been here long?” Shiloh asked, looking at Taylor from the corner of her eyes.

Taylor readily returned the smirk as she relaxed into the passenger seat. “Oh I’m an excellent co-pilot and navigator. Don’t you worry.” She smiled at Shiloh’s profile as she turned to look at the road again. “Never gotten lost once in my whole life. That’s a fact.” Taylor listened as Shiloh spoke, leaning her elbow against the door as they headed out of town. “Are you happy here?” she asked a bit abruptly. And at Shiloh’s question, Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle herself. “Am I that obvious? Or do I got myself a cyber stalker?” she teased.

“Never? That’s impressive.” Shiloh complimented, genuinely impressed that she had never gotten lost. Shiloh knew if she drove too far away from White Crest she would undoubtedly get lost. She wasn’t familiar with the area who could blame her. Thank god for gps. Shiloh had to glance over at Taylor, wondering if she was teasing or asking for a real answer. Either way, it made her throat tighten up and she was happy to have the road distract her and keep her eyes away. “Yeah, I’m happy to be with my family.” Shiloh emphasized with a nod. It’s not where she thought she would end up, but she’s always wanted to visit the States so here she was. “I think I would have noticed you earlier if you had been.” Still keeping her eyes on the road, she still smiled. “...And I work with chatty clients who think they’re supposed to keep me company while I work. They like to gossip.” It was then Shiloh looked over and gave an apologetic shrug.

“Never, ever,” Taylor said, bragging just a bit now when she heard the impresses tone in Shiloh’s voice. “Always has an excellent source of direction, and my Dad’s a fisherman. Taught me out to navigate using the stars.” Taylor noted the non-answer she was given. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to her. That twinge of unfulfillment edging in, but tucked deep down and out of sight. Or maybe Taylor was reading her all wrong. Equally as likely. She liked to inject stories and poetry where there was none. It was a bad habit sometimes. “Well, I’m glad you finally did notice me,” Taylor flirted cheekily, smiling down at her own knees. “Ah, that makes sense. I’ve overheard some people talking about ‘that crazy bitch living on her boat in the dead of winter’, so I’m not surprised I’m getting around town. And fuck, it’s only been like two months now.” Taylor let out a slightly frustrated sigh through her nose. “That’s the thing about small towns man. Everybody all up in your business. Don’t give you a chance to breathe.” She looked over at Shiloh apologetically in turn. “Not that I’m mad at you about it or nothing. I’m just saying.”

“Oh is he? How cool. I know a bit about how to fish. Not much though. Maybe you can show me sometime.” However Shiloh didn’t know how fishing and navigating went but maybe it had to do something with being on a boat. Shiloh realized then that she’s never been on a boat… For a moment Shiloh thought she had gotten Taylor upset and maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, but she was relieved to hear it straight from her mouth that she wasn’t. “I completely understand. I’m sure people said something when we moved in. Especially cause we inherited a distant relative’s company and home. I think people here are just looking for the next exciting thing. That’s why people get so crazy when the sky turns red or it starts raining fish.” Shiloh spoke as she continued on the road, having long left White Crest. “Are we close?” She asked, glancing over at Taylor.

“Oh, I’d love to. I’m always down for teaching someone how to fish. I’ll even stand behind you when I show you how to cast,” Taylor said. Wow, that was a swing and a miss. But she tried to play it off with a chuckle. She used to take awkward attempts like that to heart and let them embarrass her, but she’d since learned how to just let it roll off your shoulders. Well, mostly. “Oh, y’all inherited your place? That’s sick!” She chuckled again. “You’d think things were exciting enough with fish rain, yeah?” Taylor shook her head, honestly surprised when she could say, “Yeah, it’s right down here about a mile,” to Shiloh’s question. Had their conversation really made the time fly like that?

Shiloh let out a laugh at that able to picture it. It was cute and cheesy. Luckily for Taylor, Shiloh liked that. “Sounds like fun.” Shiloh never really went fishing until she moved here and just did it based on what her father knew. It would be nice to do it with someone experienced. “Yeah, we did. We’re really lucky for it too. Things were getting a bit rough at home—Financially.” There wasn’t a need for details. Parents’ business just wasn’t doing well. But she did feel the need to clarify that it was financially and not any other kind of rough. Shiloh had a great relationship with her parents. “Do you wanna eat it inside? I don’t really care about eating in the car. Whatever you’re more comfortable with.” It was nice to be out of White Crest. The worry of falling fish was gone. The sun had set. In all it seemed like a nice night and a shame to spend indoors.

Every little bit of information about Shiloh that Taylor could get, she soaked up like a sponge. She loved learning about people, especially pretty girls. She was a bit weak like that. She didn’t know how much of an open book Shiloh was regularly, but either way whatever she had shared with her, Taylor was honored to hear. “That’s awesome. I’m happy for y’all. Back in Rhode Island it was just me and my Dad. Mom skipped town before I was old enough to remember her.” Now who was being the open book? She was glad arriving at the restaurant gave her an excuse to drop that subject like a bad habit. “Swing around the drive thru. Bet we can find a pretty place to park around here. Lay out on the hood and look up at the stars while we slam some tacos.” Taylor laughed at her suggestion, but she hoped Shiloh took it.

Shiloh wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “So you’re from Rhode Island? Cool. White Crest is the only place in the US that I’ve been in.” Nice way to talk about what she said without mentioning sad stuff. Shiloh entered the drive thru, liking the sound of Taylor’s plan. “I have no clue what to order though.” She said as they pulled up. “Do you mind doing the ordering?” It’d meant she’d have to lean over and maybe Taylor wasn’t willing to do that. As Shiloh pulled up the the speaker went off. “Welcome to Taco Bell.” Shiloh moved back against her seat to give Taylor room to lean over and project her voice.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry I gotchu,” Taylor assured her as Shiloh pulled up to the window. “You a vegetarian or anything?” Shiloh shook her head and Taylor smiled, unbuckling her seatbelt to lean over toward the speaker. Was she leaned over a bit farther than she needed to be so more of her was touching Shiloh? Maybe. Maybe not. “Hey, yeah, we’ll have…” and Taylor went about ordering a downright feast. She wanted Shiloh to try some of the best stuff they had to offer, even if all the food sort of tasted the same. That wasn’t the point. Once she was finished and she insisted on paying for it all at the window, they had bags of food in hand and drinks in the cup holders, and Taylor grinned over at Shiloh. “I say we drive until we find a place. Head back toward town maybe. Gotta be somewhere to pull off on the way.”

Shiloh watched Taylor move closer to her, observing how close she got, feeling a rush of excitement at the closeness. She didn’t even pay attention to what she ordered. Shiloh got back on the street, more or less remembering the path. “You want to go back to White Crest and eat?” Shiloh questioned. She didn’t know what it was but even coming to a nearby town just.. felt different. Strange but she was finding herself preferring to be out here. Maybe she just hadn’t gone out in a while. It could be stifling if you don’t allow yourself a moment to just drive and go somewhere else. She drove, looking for somewhere. She caught sight of a little park up ahead. “What about there?” She glanced over at Taylor, letting her have a say.

“Nah, just some place on the way back. It’s nice to get out of town, especially with good company,” Taylor said, her voice softening as she spoke. She’d noticed the hitch in Shiloh’s breathing when she’d leaned over her. Taylor was nothing if not observant. As Shiloh pointed out a park, Taylor’s face lit up. “Oh hell yeah! Good eye. Look, it has an overlook.” She pointed at the sign as Shiloh turned into the park. “A genuine lovers lane.” Brows raised in Shiloh’s direction, but once again she chuckled it off.

Shiloh snorted giving her head a small shake. What were the odds? She pulled into the park driving up to the overlook. She had never been to one before. It was actually pretty nice. And the view was as one could expect, incredible. For a moment she was stuck watching from her car until she realized she could go outside and see it. Quickly, she opened her car door and got out. She left her door open and walked forward. “It’s really beautiful.” She wondered if a place like this existed in White Crest. She’d be going over there every night. She then noticed the emptiness of her stomach. She turned over to Taylor. “Taco time?”

Taylor was glad her little quip had landed. She always appreciated someone with a sense of humor, and especially someone that could put up with Taylor’s own lame sense of humor. Shiloh pulled up into the overlook and just like her, Taylor was momentarily hypnotized by the beautiful view. It was a small cliff that hung above the town they’d just left, and the twinkling lights were like a circle of life and activity among the darkness of the forest that surrounded it. She wondered what White Crest looked like from this angle. Taylor got out of the car as Shiloh did, grabbing their food and drinks and hopping up onto the Jeep’s hood, patting the spot next to her. “Taco time. Ready for a feast?” She started unloading the bags of food in a small spread, all still wrapped up. “You’ve got stout stand tacos, your nachos, your quesadillas, your burritos,” she said, pointing to each small pile of food. “Pick your poison. Not that it’s actually poison…”

Shiloh looked over at the food, coming up to sit on the hood. If she were someone else, she’d rather you not sit on the hood of the car, but Shiloh wasn’t that crazy over her car. “Wow.” That a lot of food and not food that Shiloh frequently ate. It was mexican food. She reached for one of the tacos, unwrapping it. Grabbing a hot sauce packet she tore it off with her teeth and squeezed some on. It was only then she looked over at Taylor, smiling, kind of excited she’d be trying this for the first time. “Cheers.” She raised the taco up, gave Taylor another smile and took a bite. The hot sauce was really spicy, she felt her mouth burning but it wasn’t too bad. “Taco’s good,” she said after she swallowed and then took another bite.

Taylor herself reached for a burrito, unwrapping it halfway as she watched Shiloh slather her taco with hot sauce. She probably should have warned her about the sauces, but she kept her mouth shut, smiling in return and raising her burrito in silent cheers before biting into it. She watched Shiloh, who seemed to genuinely like the food and wasn’t just humoring Taylor. At least hopefully. “I told you. The perfect late night snack. We’ll have to get drunk and get a bunch sometime. I’ve got a point to prove!” Taylor teased, poking Shiloh’s shoulder playfully before she leaned back against the windshield, gazing up at the sky as she ate. “This is the only good thing about small towns,” she said. “You can actually see the stars. Not just the brightest ones, but all the little ones trying so hard to get noticed, but most of the time they’re drowned out.” She glanced over at Shiloh with a small tip of her head, curious how something so poetic might land with her.

“I can definitely see how this would taste better drunk.” Shiloh chuckled finding the taco enjoyable because she was hungry, but she also probably wouldn’t crave this again until she was drunk. “I have to warn you though, I don’t really get drunk.” It always felt strange to her, to just want to inebriate yourself to the point where you might not even remember what happened. That loss of control was scary to her. But she chose not to think about that at the moment and instead enjoy the nice view and the pleasant date. “I don’t really take the time out to look at the stars. I’ve been so busy with work, I hardly pay attention to anything else.” Shiloh internally cringed--that may not have been a good thing to bring up on a date. That you work too much. “I do remember growing up when I’d visit my mother’s family in Wales---they own a sheep farm and the stars there are incredible. I’d watch them with my cousins on top of this hill right by their home. The sight was really beautiful from what I remember.” Then again she was a child.

“Oh yeah, no biggie. I wouldn’t try and pressure you or nothing,” Taylor clarified. Sometimes she had to be painfully reminded that not everyone partied as much as her. Or more accurately, not everyone was trying to drown their demons in booze like her. “That’s just it, you’ve got to make the time. Working yourself to the bone doesn’t help anyone.” She wondered how true it was. If she was actually a workaholic or just being modest in some way. Taylor grinned at Shiloh’s story and turned her head completely to look at the girls face in profile as she gazed up at the stars. “I can name another sight that’s beautiful,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on Shiloh.

Shiloh took a bite of her taco, listening to Taylor tell her that she had to make time. It was something she had heard before and something she tried to implement, but when there was always work to be done, how could you take time to do anything else. Even when Shiloh wasn’t working, she was doing something. Even now, she wasn’t just lounging around the house, she was out here with Taylor, on a date. There was something about sitting still, doing nothing that unnerved her. She felt like the moment she stopped, something was going to catch up to her--and she didn’t know what. Turning over to Taylor, she caught her next words, not too deep in thought. “Your burrito?” Shiloh teased.

Taylor bit her lip as Shiloh turned onto her side, letting out a little breath of a chuckle at being teased back. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. She barely knew this girl. But Taylor was weak when it came to impulses and indulgence. Temptation was her worst enemy, because she was so easy to give in. “You’ve got a little hot sauce, right—here, let me…” She leaned in and wiped the sauce away from Shiloh’s lip with her thumb, before pressing their lips together. Soft and gentle, as the sounds of the crisp night provided them a small chorus. A crescendo. She pulled back faster than she would have liked, licking her lips and instantly regretting it. “Fuck, that sauce is hot,” she chuckled, immediately going for her drink.

Shiloh knew it was coming and she could have pulled back but she didn’t. She let the kiss happen and it was nice (of course it was) but she wasn’t expecting Taylor to pull back so quickly. She thought something had happened but then remembered the hot sauce. She brought her hand to her mouth, both in shock and in trying to keep her laugh in check. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized in between her laughter, hoping Taylor would find it genuine despite the fact that she was snickering. Shiloh wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, setting the taco down. “I should have said something. I didn’t know you were so weak with spice, though.” Shiloh teased, knowing the sauce was spicy even for her but she found it manageable. She could only imagine what it was like to be caught by surprise.

Taylor knew how to make fun of herself. She was in the music business after all. Taking yourself too seriously just led to mental breakdowns the moment you got a speck of criticism. She still didn’t take it well, but always with a grain of salt. “Shush,” Taylor chuckle, pushing Shiloh’s shoulder playfully. “I grew up on bland fish and mashed potatoes. Cut me a little slack.” She set her burrito down too. There was so much food they hadn’t touched and it was getting cold, but Taylor didn’t particularly care. “You wanna...try that again?” she suggested quietly.

Shiloh still felt the heat on her lips and gave them a lick, watching Taylor. She heard her loud and clear and… gave no hesitation. She leaned in this time, bringing her hand up to cradle her neck, her thumb brushing along her cheek as their lips met. It was a deeper kiss, lasting longer than their first one and when Shiloh dropped her hand, she pulled back with a smile. “You taste like Taco Bell.” The smile on her face, however, made it clear she enjoyed it.

Taylor eagerly leaned into the kiss, her hand reaching out to rest on Shiloh’s hip. A loose, forgiving grip. She didn’t want to be too forward, no matter how much her libido was screaming at her. The kiss was intoxicating. The two of them had an undeniable chemistry on a physical level, that was for sure. “I guess we found a better way to taste it than being drunk, huh?” Taylor quipped in a hushed tone, almost breathing the words in a cloud of hot air onto Shiloh’s face. Her smile was adorable. She leaned in to steal another kiss, not able to help herself. “I like a little spice in my life,” she teased as she pulled back again, licking her lips.

“I’ll admit it tastes better like this.” Shiloh looked into Taylor’s eyes, only then finding vulnerability in their closeness. Shutting her eyes she gave Taylor a quick kiss before moving back, creating distance between them once more. While the kiss was nice, it was bringing out a vulnerability she wasn’t ready to share. Yet. Shiloh had gotten tired of heated first dates. While she hoped Taylor wasn’t like this, she’d often get them refusing to talk to her again after they’ve gone too far the first night. She liked this and wanted to make sure it went where she wanted. Grabbing Taylor’s drink she took a sip from it before turning back to look at the sky with a smile.

Taylor is as a bit taken aback by the intensity of Shiloh’s state when their eyes properly met. Taylor’s mouth went dry, and she averted her eyes just as quickly once Shiloh pulled back. Had she gone too far? Shiloh was smiling, so maybe not? The last thing she wanted to do was make someone else uncomfortable. She laid back on the car as well, slipping a flanneled sleeve up under the back of her own head. “Just this, it’s nice,” Taylor finally said, reaching over to rest her hand on Shiloh’s. “Just getting out of town with someone. A little mini adventure.” She kept her eyes glued to the sky though. That eye contact...it almost scared Taylor for some reason. Why?

“Yeah it is nice. Just forget everything for a while.” Shiloh had to agree. She needed to get out of the town more. No falling fish or red skies. Evelyn had been trying to get her out and this just reminded her that she should do that. Taylor seemed like fun so, maybe she could do this more often with her… Shiloh moved her hand underneath Taylor’s turning it up so they could hold hands. She smiled, but felt she might be blushing so she didn’t bother to look over at her and instead kept looking up at the sky.

[batboys-and-other-messes]

Phones and Panic (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Requested: Yupp Request:  Hello! Can I request a Jason Todd x reader where the reader forgets her phone at home and goes out to do something meanwhile Jason is freaking out because she doesn’t answer her phone A/N: Thanks for the request! I honestly hope you like it. Word count: 1645 Warning(s): Sex mentioned, Cursing Tagged: @jason-todd-rh

[You wanna be tagged in my next piece? Just shoot me a message or ask!]

 -----

 At first, you thought your day would be uneventful.

That was until your friend suddenly showed up on your doorstep, basically kidnapping you for a lady’s night out. But it wasn’t the fancy kind. It started with messy food, movies, more food and ended with her leaving you behind to hook up with a taxi-driver.

Sometimes you asked yourself how you ended up with so many crazy people in your life. But who were you to judge? You dated a self-proclaimed “outlaw”. How much crazier could it get?

You had only noticed that you didn’t have your phone with you when your friend was gone, and you couldn’t call a cab, so you decided to walk home. It had been a long and busy day and you appreciated the evening breeze.

Gotham, as scary as it could be, sometimes even seemed to be somewhat peaceful.

You stopped on a quick Starbucks run before you walked down the street, watching the sunset as you saw a flash of red and black drop down next to you, scaring the living shit out of you.

“The Hell, Tim?!” you said as Red Robin raised his hands in defense.

“Are you okay?” he asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, you just scared me.”

“No, I mean... are you okay? In general?” Of course, the answer was obvious, you were alive and okay, but the question confused you nonetheless.

“Yeah? … Why?” you asked.

“Because Jason is currently raising hell as if you’ve been kidnapped and tortured collectively by the whole Gotham underground.” He said matter-of-factly and started typing something on his weird wrist-watch-thingy.

You stopped in the middle of taking a sip of your drink.

“What??”

“Yeah… He said you haven’t answered your phone all day and you were ‘nowhere to be found’. Bruce put him in time out because he threatened to shoot something up.” He looked at the position of the setting sun to guess how long ago this was. Thirty minutes? An hour? Maybe? What day was it?

“But he’s probably left the cave by now.”

“What? Then why are you so calm?? What the- Tim, could you please tell him that I’m okay and on the way home?”

“Already done.” He said and looked at your drink and you took an educated guess at where his next stop would be.

“Here” you handed him the spare coffee that was meant for your boyfriend, but Jason probably didn’t need the energy boost anymore. You both started walking towards your apartment as you knew that he would’ve followed you home anyways.

It seemed to be one of these weird rules in this family to make sure everybody got home safe.

“Wait, how many people are looking for me right now? Or… you know, were looking for me until now?” you asked, afraid of the answer as the teen just stared ahead for a moment.

“Dick, the Outlaws, Steph, and Cass.” He said. “And Alfred is in the cave monitoring.”

“And Bruce?” you asked, more interested to know who would search for you in case you were really in danger. Besides the fact that your boyfriend is apparently having a meltdown right now.

“He’s busy.”

“Figured”

“And the demon spawn has no soul, so he refused to.”

“Oh.”

“And we all knew that Jason was just over-reacting.”

“And yet here you are.”

His hand went up to scratch the back of his head. “To be honest I was just on a coffee run.”

You nodded, understandingly.

“Did he reply? “ you asked after a few seconds of silence. You honestly missed your phone by now.

“Just a bunch of gibberish.” He looked at his wrist and took a sip of the coffee.

“He’s probably mad.” You said and Red Robin nodded.

“Shouldn’t be so surprising considering its Jason we’re talking about.”

And with that you both fell into silence.

___ 

A few minutes later you stood in front of your apartment door, alone, keys in hand and ready to unlock the door when it swung open and a strong hand pulled you in, the door slamming shut behind you. Your back leaned against the closed door but not because of balance but purely out of lack of space as your boyfriend, Jason Todd, hovered above you in all his fully-geared-up-but-helmetless glory.

His hands caged you in and you eyed him like a deer caught in headlights.

About a hundred different emotions washed over his face from obvious worry to anger and frustration until he finally sighed and gave way to the most prominent emotion – Relief.

You simply stared at him as he hung his head, trying to get over the initial shock from the multiple heart and panic attacks you made him go through.

On the first look you could understand why people thought he was intimidating but right now he just looked like a sad puppy whose owner has just left and locked the door.

Slowly you lifted your cup, pointing the straw at his direction as an offering of peace accompanied by a hesitant smile on your part.

He lifted his head, the frown back at his face, as he practically glared through you.

You lowered the cup again out of eyesight.

Another second of silence passed.

"You are so grounded.” He finally spoke and even though his expression was as stoic as ever, the tension has been finally cut and you couldn’t help but smile in relief.

He wanted to yell, to rant and to tell you exactly how goddamn stupid your stupid actions on this stupid day where but he couldn’t. Not when you were safe at home. Not with your scared expression so fresh on his mind and especially not when you looked so damn innocent, standing there.

“I’m sorry.” You finally offered.

Despite the now lighter atmosphere, you couldn’t even start to imagine what he thought had happened to you. You knew he had witnessed horrible things in his life and probably even on this day and you never wanted to be part of any of these scenarios.

But at the end of the day, it was just a forgotten phone.

Right?

Suddenly, with a single sigh, he looked as if he had just lost seven years of his lifespan before he rested his forehead on your shoulder, defeated.

You defeated Red Hood.

“Hey.” You said softly, placing your free hand on his hair as you slowly started to run your fingers through it. “I’m sorry I worried you.” You said, lifting your cup again as an offering and you felt him take a sip through the straw.

Ha. You knew it.

“Tori made a surprise visit and we went to the movies. She was so hectic that I completely forgot to take my phone with me.” You tried to explain. You hoped that knowing how your day actually looked like would replace whatever images he had already constructed in his head.

“You are still grounded.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“And how was your day?” you tried to steer the conversation away from the topic while you still stood caged against the door. Not that you minded that much.

“Oh, the usual. A few rapists broke out, a human trafficking ring settled in fucking Gotham and the woman I love was suddenly fucking gone.” He said bitterly and you knew he wouldn’t let you live that down anytime soon.

“The woman you love, huh? As in present tense?”

He pushed himself off the door to glare at you again as you immediately missed running your fingers through his hair.

“Watch it. You are on thin fucking ice right now.”

“Jason.” You said, ignoring the fact that he had just stolen you Starbucks cup as you continued to talk. “Look, I made a mistake and it was stupid. I should’ve known better.”

“Damn right, you should have!”

“All I am asking for is a chance to make it up to you.” You said, your voice hung in the air with a hint of… seduction? You couldn’t help the effect he had on you, standing so close. And truth be told, you wanted to replace his angst with something more... nice.

Jason squinted at your words. “I don’t know, (Y/N).” he said, taking a sip before continuing, his face still only inches away from yours. “You really did a number on me.”

“And I’m fully repentant.” you said.

“So, what are you suggesting?” he asked and you knew that he had already forgiven you.

“Make-up sex?” you answered, and his expression didn’t change.

“No.”

This genuinely surprised you.

“No?”

“I’m not your whore.” He said and it took every ounce of willpower for you not to laugh.

“I never said that.” You said, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from giggling.

“I really don’t like your tone here.”

“Okay.” You said. “What are you suggesting then?” you asked and he looked pleased with this question.

“Make-up sex.” He answered.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t like the way you said it.”

“Jason.”

“(Y/N).”

You both stared at each other for a moment and you wondered how you possessed the willpower to not kiss him with his face so close to yours.

“So… Are we going to… you know?” you slowly said before he grabbed you and threw you casually over his shoulder like a very delicate duffel bag.

“Really?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile and you only heard him chuckle and put down the drink before he carried you through the living room.

“Gotta make sure you don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t. I already said I’m fully repentant.” You said as you heard his guns hit the floor and the sound left you tingling in excitement before he threw you on the bed, kicking the bedroom door close behind him.

“We’re gonna see how true that is.”