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halogalopaghost · 3 years ago

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The Eyes

Do not copy this story to other sites or posts. References may be used with proper citation to this post. This story is my intellectual property and I will not tolerate copying or plagiarism of any form.

I have lived with the eyes in the dark for as long as I can remember.

I first saw them during a family fourth of July cookout, with sparklers and little fountains and firecrackers after sunset. They hung beneath the trees where my parents’ lawn met the cool, dark woods. I should have been scared, like any other child would have been, but all I remember is how transfixed I was by the glowing gaze.

The sparkler in my hand burnt out as I stared at them. It wasn't until my mother put a new one in my hand that I looked away. She patted me on the head and turned back to the party. I turned back to the eyes.

They hadn’t moved. They still floated there in the darkness, not too far from the ground. I took a careful step closer. They didn’t move. I blinked, and they blinked too, long and slow.

Someone called me away, and that’s all I remember. I was four years old.

My father loves telling the story of my ‘imaginary friend’. He remembers watching me, five years old, pressing my cheek to the cold windowpane to wish the eyes goodnight. They watched through my bedroom window from the other side of the gravel driveway. He didn’t see the eyes, but I sure did. He tried to explain them away as a reflection on the window, or animal eyes in the darkness. He tried to explain it as a lot of things, but I never bought it. The gaze wasn’t human or animal or anything else--it was something unique, and mine.

He always stops the story there, as if I stopped seeing them. What he does not tell my husband, my children, my nieces and nephews, is that they never stopped watching me. He doesn’t include the shrink they took me to when I was seven and wouldn’t stop talking about them. He doesn’t tell the children about my insistence that the eyes were real, and feeling, and watching, even though I was the only one that could see them. He doesn’t mention the priest they called out to bless the house and grounds.

He doesn't say that when I was nine years old, my mother took me to my room, paddled me with a wooden spoon, and told me never to speak of them again. He doesn’t say, because he doesn’t know, that eyes came closer to my window that night.

The night before I left for college, I opened the window and pulled a chair to it. The warm, late summer air poured in with the ambient chirps of insects. The eyes hovered in the low branches of a tree near the edge of the lawn, a spot they seemed to like. I folded my arms on the windowsill and spoke to them for the first time in ten years.

“I’m leaving for a while,” I said. I didn’t dare shout, still worried that my parents would somehow hear and punish me. “I’ll visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so I guess I’ll see you then.”

There wasn’t a blink for a long while. Either they couldn’t hear me, or they couldn’t understand. I sat with them for a while anyway.

Nineteen years old, headed for an Ivy League college, I still wasn’t sure what to make of them. Were they a hallucination? Something more complicated? Maybe it was only a coincidence after all, and it had been an owl or something all those years.

For a while, I was able to leave that lonely part of my life behind me. I went to college and stayed busy with classes, new friends, and plenty of underaged partying. This time, I really did forget about the eyes.

A couple months into my first semester, I stayed at the library until after dark—much longer than I usually would. Of course, a boy was involved. I had convinced him to study with me, and we chatted the hours away like nothing. I was walking on clouds as I left the library, expecting him to walk me back to my dorm building. But when he waved goodbye at the door and walked the opposite direction, my spirits fell. The autumn night felt even colder.

A breeze rustled the crunchy leaves in the dark, raising goosebumps on my flesh. I didn't want to be alone out there any longer than I had to—I made a beeline for the dorm. I walked the path around the expansive lawn, lit only around the perimeter. Leaves rustled again. I looked out into the yawning darkness of the field, barely able to see the lights on the other side, and walked faster.

I muttered a passing greeting to my roommate, Dana, as I quickly opened and shut the door. Dana grunted a hello back. She sat with her back to me at the desk, pouring over a textbook and hand-made flash cards. A single-bulb lamp lit the room by itself, casting long shadows across our bookshelves and narrow beds.

I tossed my backpack onto my bed and made straight for the open curtains. We lived on the ground floor, and passing students would stare into our room like an exhibit at the zoo if the curtains weren’t closed tight.

With my hands gripping the curtains, I froze. Out in the vast, devouring darkness of the lawn, past the sidewalk and the trees, two eyes stared right into the window. I couldn’t look away from them, afraid that if I moved my eyes even a millimeter, they would disappear. They looked into my soul, and I stared back.

I hissed my roommate’s name, telling her to come look.

She stood beside me at the window. “See what?”

“The eyes.”

Dana was quiet for a moment.

The eyes blinked.

“Oh,” she scoffed, “okay, I get it. You had me going there for a second, but it’s way too close to Halloween for me to fall for that!” She laughed it off and went back to her desk.

I stayed frozen at the window, waiting for the eyes to move or blink or something, but they kept staring. They looked just like my eyes—the eyes back home. But how could that be? I was several state lines away from home, nearly two months into the semester! How in the world could they have followed me?

I felt outside of myself, like in some kind of dream where you try to run and find your feet won't move. I don't know how long I stood there before my hands moved of their own accord and pulled the curtains shut forcefully.

They were just animal eyes in the darkness. A deer had wandered into the lawn for a midnight snack, and that was all. Just like Dad said.

After that night, I saw them everywhere. They watched through the window at night, they watched me walk home after dark, they watched when I went to parties and made out behind the science department. I just had to ignore them as much as possible. Nobody else ever saw them, and I couldn't risk my social reputation by asking someone directly. But for the first time in my life, I wondered why I was being watched. The gaze that once soothed and transfixed became something that put me on edge. I hated to walk alone after dark with them watching me, silent and unseen as they crept through the shadows to keep pace. I wished they would go away.

One night just before Christmas break, I was drunk and homesick. I ran from my dorm out into the snow, barefoot, all the way out to the edge of the lawn that they watched from. “What do you want?” I yelled. “I’m here, you son of a bitch! If you want to kill me, I’m right here! What are you waiting for?”

Dana and her boyfriend, also drunk, wrestled me back inside.

“What are you shouting at?” she demanded.

“The eyes! They’re out there, on the lawn. Don’t you see them?”

She walked to the window, and stared out for a while. Without saying anything else, she locked the window with her fumbling, drunk fingers, and pulled the curtains tight. “Go to sleep,” she said. “You’re drunk.”

It wasn’t just college. They always found me, those piercing eyes in the dark. Sometimes it took a few weeks to catch up, maybe even months; but wherever I went, the eyes followed.

After graduating, I moved to a different state for a job, and they watched me from the alley across the street from my new apartment. I saw them in the hedge below my third-floor apartment when I moved back to my hometown. They stared from the parking lot of the Vegas hotel where I spent my honeymoon, far from any lights.

My first Christmas as a married woman, my husband and I tossed a coin and spent the week at my parent’s house. The eyes must have known that place well, because they showed up on the edge of the woods the very same night we arrived. Unprompted, Dad told my husband his version of the story. Later that night as we laid in bed in my childhood room, my husband asked if I had ever seen them again.

“You know, as an adult.”

I looked out the window. There was snow falling gently in the perfect picture of a white Christmas and the eyes, though hard to distinguish from the fat snowflakes, were still there. Staring.

They blinked lazily, and I said, “No.”

For as much as I had avoided being close to them, I never really feared the eyes until I had my first child. I sat in the dark of her nursery just days after her birth, watching the eyes outside the window of my own home in the woods. I held her to my chest, rocking in the chair, and held their gaze as I whispered.

“Go away. Don’t touch her, don’t you even think about touching her. Haven’t you watched me long enough? What do you want?”

My husband caught me doing it before she was even a month old. He thought I had postpartum depression, and maybe I did, but that didn’t change the fact that they stared into her nursery as much as they stared into our bedroom. But I went to the appointments he made for me, I took their medications, and I kept a watchful eye on the wood line.

It became clear quickly enough that they wanted nothing to do with my kids. Still, I wouldn’t let them outside after dark without an adult. I closed all the blinds in the house at sunset, like clockwork. I wasn’t sure if they’d be able to see the eyes like me, but I knew their father would react like mine had and I wasn’t going to let them go through that.

My husband and I became distant, always arguing over the children’s restrictions. He treated me like I was breakable, like I would explode if he pressed too hard. To me, that was more maddening than if he’d been angry and loud. I think he knew somewhere deep down that I was still seeing the eyes. I felt the madness of my childhood slowly repeating itself.

So when my four year old son drew the blinds last night, pointed out the window and said what’s that—I knew something had to be done.

This morning I left the kids with a babysitter and went straight to the library. I gathered up every book they had on the supernatural, paranormal, or just plain weird. I read about things that made me shudder, and things that made me scoff. The chupacabra, Bigfoot, hauntings, aliens. I say the word ‘cryptid’ under my breath, and find it in a dictionary.

At the end of all my skimming and studying, I find that the books invariably have one of two conclusions: either the entity is very real and very dangerous, or the individual giving the accounts are unreliable, maybe even insane. Am I insane?

I walk to the library counter and pay for a half-hour of computer time with the spare change at the bottom of my handbag. I read as much about schizophrenia as I can stomach before switching tactics.

Websites about ghosts

Eyes in the woods

Floating eyes

Am I haunted?

Ghosts following people to different homes

Friendly ghost websites

People driven insane by ghosts

The computer screen closes out suddenly, and I startle at my own reflection in the screen. It’s run out of time while I wasn't paying attention.

I rub my tired eyes and turn away from the computer. As my eye catches the clock, my heart drops out of my chest. It’s past six! My husband must be worried. I consider calling him from the library’s phone, or maybe trying to find a pay phone outside, but I really want to get home before it gets too much later. I’m always afraid to make the dash from my car to the house after dark, worried that the eyes will appear and I’ll have to face their owner.

I drive home without answers, more frustrated than before. The kids are going to be hungry when I get home. What am I going to tell them? What am I going to tell my husband?

On the winding country road near home, my headlights catch something on the side of the road. Something tall, thin, and bright white. I hit the breaks and swerve toward the center of the road.

Not a second after I’ve stopped, three huge does come flying out of the wood line where my car would have been. I was speeding, going maybe fifty five miles an hour on this dark back road. I would have hit those deer, and it might have killed me.

I have to remind myself to breathe, then peel my hands away from the steering wheel. In all the years I’ve been driving this road, I’ve never seen anything like that thing on the side of the road. It couldn’t have been an animal, but it definitely wasn't a tree either. Was it a person? I take a deep breath and turn around to look.

My blood runs cold at the sight of the thing behind me. All I see are two long, impossibly thin legs. My heart twists and speeds up in my chest, urging me to run, go, get away! I should drive away. I should throw the car into reverse and snap those thin bones. It would give me time to get away, if not kill it. And I want to, I want to get away so badly, but my body doesn't respond. I can't move.

A long hand enters my view, lit red by the tail lights, as it leaaaaans over. The face slowly comes into view, sideways and upside down. I see the eyes first—my eyes, the eyes that have watched me so long. I’m lightheaded. Those eyes have just saved my life. If I had hit those deer, I certainly would have died, and my family wouldn’t have known until they came looking.

And it all clicks into place.

This thing has been protecting me! All my childhood, I wanted it to watch me. I never feared it because the watching wasn’t sinister, it was protective. Walking home alone on campus, honeymooning in Vegas, living out in these wild woods, how many times had it saved me and I didn't know?

My hand trembles as I reach for the door. It takes all of the willpower in my body to consciously put my foot on the pavement and stand. My knees feel like gelatin. I turn my body slowly to face it, and nearly scream when I see it, now standing at the rear bumper of my car. It’s standing up straight again—all I can see the outline of its ribs. It has...so many ribs. Hundreds. White skin stretches over the rib ends that jut out like knives, pockmarked with red bug bites and browned spots. The face is—oh God no, I can’t look up, I can’t look at the face. The face is horrible and hollow and inhuman. But the eyes, the eyes are all the intelligent, slow, warmth that I’ve watched for years, and watched me in return.

“Th-thank you.” My mouth is so dry.

It takes a step forward, lifting one long, terrible foot clear over the car to do so. I whimper as it kneels in front of me. I can smell it, green and wet like moss on a riverbank, musty like bones in a basement. What is it? What is this thing? It kneels on both knees in front of me. I stare at its chest because I cannot look at the face. My heart is in my throat and I’m going to faint, I know it. It’s saved my life, I’ve thanked it, what more does it want?

No, I'm safe. I am safe and I have been safe because this guardian has been watching me. Maybe this is just what angels look like. In the Bible, angels appear to man and say do not be afraid. They wouldn't say such a thing unless they knew themselves fearful to be beheld, so this must be my angel.

Yes, I am safe.

Its bones creak like branches in a winter wind. It’s waiting for something—some sign of respect? I breathe deep to muster the courage, and lift my head to meet its gaze.

The eyes are stretching. Oh, they are consuming, they’re huge and warm and so inviting. It lifts a hand to my face, gently brushing my cheek with long, cold fingers. My eyes flutter shut. For a moment I feel faint, like it’s all finally gone to my head and I'm sure to black out. A finger touches my chest right above my heart and lingers there. A cold chill cuts through my body. The weight on my chest disappears...and returns in a blow.

My back hits the open car door and I clutch at my chest, full-bodied fear now coursing through me. What does it want, what does it want? The car’s beeping turns into a shrill roar in my ears and I can't hear it moving—I don't now where it is. WHERE IS IT?

My eyes open to its gaping mouth. It has opened its mouth and it’s opened to the size of my head. The thing’s earthy smell is gone. The thoughts of holy angels and protection and comfort are gone. This is death, this is rot, this has been waiting hundreds of years for my soul and the time has come. I don’t know how, but I know it has followed me through lifetimes and watched for its opportunity. Not to protect, but attack.

I open my own mouth and scream. I scream until my lungs are empty, and then there is nothing but the crickets and the soft fluttering of wind through the trees. The creature doesn't move, jaw hanging open still. Each yellowed tooth is as long as my finger. This thing is starving. I have starved it with my trust. A dry roar peels from its throat. It sounds like burnt grass crunching beneath feet and crops giving way to sand and brown and death and dry rot. The eyes are no longer warm. They are as pale white as the body, and delighting in my terror. I am transfixed once more, unable to move or rationalize thought as I stare into this horrible face. All I can do is whimper and tremble and pray.

The bones rub dryly together as it lifts its arm and brings a long, terrible hand toward my face. The last thing I see is two white fingers coming toward my eyes in the dark.

#TW implied eye trauma #TW mild body horror #horror story #short story #original fiction #the ghost writes #the ghost speaks

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years ago

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TUMBLR FUCKED UP SOME OF MY ASK POSTS I AM SO SORRY ANYWAY

@buckleydiazs asked:

talk to me about eddie and chris asking buck to move in, pls and thank u 🥰

Their first unplanned night together starts off with a text message.

Ironically enough, it’s not even a message between Eddie and Buck—it’s between Buck and Maddie. Eddie is all smiles as he pulls his truck onto the highway, Buck in the passenger seat, laughing easily at some story Eddie was telling. It was nice. It was easy, easier than most of the relationships Eddie had ever had before, but that wasn’t surprising—at least, not anymore, not with Buck.

Once Buck had gotten the stick out of his ass, Eddie realized how easily the two of them would get along almost immediately. Buck was... well, he was a far better person than Eddie was, and Eddie would be the first to admit that, but Buck seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he could basically out shine the sun with one of his big toothy smiles.

Their relationship was unique, certainly; they had survived things that went beyond the real of “regular people”; tsunamis, earthquakes, bombs, and most stressful of all (weirdly enough), a lawsuit. somehow, the lawsuit was the straw that broke the back on their friendship—Eddie had finally pulled his head out of his ass, realized how miserable his life had been without Bucky, and asked him out on a proper date a week after Buck's first call back on the team.

Though they spent a lot of time together as friends, and that had only grown after their first official ‘date’, they had been carpooling out of necessity for the week—Bobby had been good enough to match their schedules up while Buck’s Jeep was in the shop—and Eddie insisted that it wasn’t too much of a detour to shuttle Buck back and forth to work.

The mood in the truck was easy and light, and Buck was still laughing when he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times—and like someone had switched on a vacuum, the good mood was sucked through the window in less than a second.

“It’s Maddie. She says Taylor Kelly is at my apartment complex. Apparently there was a pretty big drug bust in the building across the way, she has her van camped out in our lot.”

And, well, Eddie wasn’t about to tolerate that, wasn’t about to tolerate anything that made Buck unhappy, anything that could suck the joy out of him in an instant, for reasons that he chose not to dive too deep into. He focused instead on the problem (and yeah, Taylor Kelly was a problem with a capital B), and what he figured was the easiest solution.

“Oh. Well, then you’re staying at our place tonight.”

As expected, Buck started up a whole litany of protests. It was a little sad, Eddie thought, how eager Buck was to talk himself out of a good time, and if he didn’t have the backup of a year of knowing Buck as well as he did, Eddie might have actually taken his ramblings at face value.

As it was, though, he had an ace in the hole. A surefire way to get Buck to shut up and accept some good in his life. He didn’t like to play it, but he knew that he had to as soon as Buck mentioned “I’ll just stay at the firehouse tonight, it’s really no issue, I’ll order take out, and—”

“Buck, it’s fine. Chris has been begging me to invite 'his Buck’ over for dinner for a week now anyway.”

“...oh. Okay.”

Was it wrong for Eddie to use his son so easily, knowing that Buck was as wrapped around Chris’ finger to the degree that nearly rivaled himself? Probably. Could Eddie bring himself to care? Nope.

Especially not when Chris basically launched himself into Bucks arms, completely overjoyed that Buck was here for a “surprise sleepover”.

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, with Chris easily dominating most of the conversation, rattling off facts, figures, stories from school, information about his friends, and Buck had eaten it up.

Eddie had found himself staring at Buck—more than once—with a little bit of a dopey look on his face, he was sure, as Buck got more and more animated, making Christopher laugh, telling stories of his own, and he hadn’t even bothered to look away when Buck caught him staring.

Buck was a blusher. Eddie loved it.

Now, though, Chris had disappeared to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas, and Eddie and Buck were working in companionable quiet as they started to clean the table.

"You know, if Taylor being at my apartment means I get to spend the evening with my two favorite guys...” Buck said with a smile, closing the fridge as he leaned against it, keeping an ear out for Chris as he turned the faucet in the bathroom on. “...I’ll have to invite her over next time.”

Eddie shrugged, gesturing vaguely with a spoon, though he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he rose a brow. “Buck, you know you don’t need excuses, right? You’re allowed to like this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am as wrapped around your finger as you are Chris’s.”

Buck was blushing again, and that was all the encouragement Eddie needed to step forward, his arms wrapping around Buck as Buck started to speak again. “You... you know the feeling is mutual, right?” he asked, and Eddie felt himself light up. “And I... don’t really want to wait for a next time to spend some time with you either.”

Buck wasn’t sure which God was on his side, but either way, he was immensely thankful that Chris didn’t barge in until long after Eddie and Buck had separated, even if they were still breathing a little heavily.

The next unexpected visit, it turns out, was only four weeks and three planned dates later.

Buck had had many a sleepless night after the tsunami, but after the lawsuit, his nightmares had become even worse, more intense, more real. There were nights where he had to tell himself, ten times, that Chris was okay, that he was alive, and then there were nights like tonight, where he let the fear outweigh the guilt and he called Eddie.

(It was probably telling that he was never afraid of his own death—only Chris’. If he had a therapist, he would probably bring that up, but... well, therapy had never been a great idea for Buck before.)

To his credit, Eddie hadn’t let it ring even twice before picking up.

“Buck, Chris is okay. He’s okay. You saved him, Buck, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Ed—he was right there, and I lost him, and I—”

“He is okay. Buck, seriously, he’s okay. Here, you should come over. See for yourself?”

“What? No.” Buck may have been coming out of a nightmare, but even then, he knew not to risk disturbing Eddie more than he absolutely had to.

“Buck, whatever thoughts are swirling around in that head, you better, get your admittedly very attractive ass over here right now.”

...well, he couldn’t argue with that.

Eddie could feel his heart break when he opened the door, though, and got an armful of puffy eyed, apologetic Buck in response. They quietly made their way over to Chris’ room and then to Eddies own, where he made no short work of Buck’s apologies, kissing him soundless every time he tried.

At the end of the night, Buck wasn’t sure what had helped him sleep better—seeing Chris alive and well, or spending his night in Eddie’s arms, wrapped up tight enough that he couldn’t break free even if he tried.

Not that he would.

“Hi Buck!”

“Hi Christopher!”

Buck was all smiles as he swooped in to scoop Christopher into a big bear hug, leaning over to kiss Eddie’s cheek as he let Chris back down to the ground and they started walking back to the car. “How was school, buddy?” He asked, easily going into idle listening mode as Eddie’s hand slipped into his. It was an early release day for Christopher, and he had all but demanded that they spent the afternoon hanging out together—and it was moments like these that reminded Buck about how lucky he was, swinging his hand in Eddie’s like a teenager as they walked back to the car, Chris eagerly leading the way.

Honestly, if anything, the fact that a date night for Buck was now spending a night at the museum with his boyfriend and his kid (instead of in a club, or at a bar, or doing something he probably wouldn’t remember the next day) really was a testament to his own personal growth. No drinking, no drugs, no questionable sex with questionable people in questionable locations—just a nerdy firefighter and his kid.

Dinner consisted of hot dogs and pretzels and soda, and somehow Chris was outpacing them on energy as they wandered through the exhibits. Buck never quit being amazed at just how much Chris knew—hell, Buck was an adult and he still didn’t know the difference between a Monet painting and a Manet painting—but Chris was like the little brainiac Energizer bunny, his energy only weaning after they got home and demanded Buck read him two whole stories for bedtime, and Buck was feeling selfish enough to allow himself a few moments with Chris, sleeping on his shoulder, before he tucked the boy in for the night.

“I’m gonna get going.”

“You don’t have to, you know?”

Eddie kept his voice low as Buck slid Chris’ door shut, his arms finding their way around Buck’s waist on autopilot, easily masking the twinge of annoyance he felt when Buck had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

If he ever met that Abby chick, he was going to give her a piece of his mind.

“I mean you don’t have to leave. You can stay, sweetheart. I… well, I want you to stay, but I always want you to stay, so I’m a little biased. But you can stay as long as you want, whenever you want.”

It was better, he hoped, to be direct, because Buck obviously didn’t get the hint after so many subtle cues. Hell, Eddie had given him a key after their third official date, and all Buck had commented was how glad he was to have it, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, the fact that Buck seemed dumber then a box of rocks didn’t seem to count as an emergency.

His argument seemed to be well received tonight, at least, because Buck smiled shyly as he looked up to Eddie, his own arms sliding around the other males shoulders.

“You’re sure I won’t bother you and Chris, right? You really want me to stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” Eddie said. For the rest of your life, he managed to keep inside.

“Buck, you know you’re always welcome here, right?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“And you know we love having you here, and we generally hate it when you leave.”

“I get it, Eddie.”

“So you know—“

“Eddie, will you please let me in?”

If Buck wasn’t soaked head to toe, standing on Eddie’s doorstep, he’d probably start to think that the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of them. It was certainly playing a cruel joke on Eddie, to be honest—they had finished a particularly grueling overnight shift just three hours ago, and he had all but begged Buck to come and get some rest at the house while Christopher was out with Carla that day, and Buck had politely but firmly refused, not wanting to trample on any of the time that he got to take for himself. It was driving Eddie crazy, to be honest—he had really thought that they had made progress on that front, that they had finally gotten to the point where Buck didn’t think he was intruding, or interrupting, or distracting, or whatever. He really had thought he had made his stance clear—that he always loved spending time with Buck, period.

Well, he was certainly never one to back down from a challenge.

“What even happened, Buck?”

“The pipe burst in the apartment above me. I got soaked through in the middle of a nap.”

“Oh, Buck.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie! I was trying to be considerate!”

“Baby, I’m not laughing. I’m just very distracted by how good you look soaking wet.”

“Eddie, I swear to god—“

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“….oh. Oh!”

“I meant what I said, you know?”

“Hmm?”

They had gotten down to the lazy, delighted moments of the evening, standing together in the shower, Buck slotted easily into Eddies arms. They were taking advantage of the last twenty minutes they had together before Chris came home, and needless to say, neither of them were exactly jumping at the idea of wearing pants again.

“We love having you here, Chris and I. And we really do hate it when you leave because you think that you have to, or you think that you’re intruding, or you think… well, whatever else that you’re thinking.”

“Eddie…”

Buck turned in his arms, pushing his wet hair back, but Eddie smothered any chance of a self depreciating comment by pressing their lips together. He didn’t pull back until he knew Buck would be breathless, panting, and dazed, and it probably wasn’t fair to fight that way, but Eddie couldn’t handle another comment about how much of a bother Buck perceived himself.

“You’re home to me, Buck. Chris too. He loves you and he looks up to you, and you drive me crazy thinking that you could be anything but welcome in our lives. Buck, I want you to move in with us. Stay. Forever.”

There was a time and a place where Buck’s self doubt would have run rampant faced with a confession like that—hell, Buck 1.0 wouldn’t even have allowed a relationship to get that far—but somehow, looking up at Eddie, nothing could be more perfect.

“You’re home to me too, Eddie.” He started, softly, a smile on his face. “And if you and Chris really wouldn’t mind—“

“It’s not just that we wouldn’t mind, though. It’s what we want. We want you to live with us, sweetheart.”

“… well, I’ve never been good at denying anything my Diaz boys want, have I?”

(Over dinner, Buck had nervously approached the topic with Chris, because no matter how sure Eddie was, Buck had to hear it for himself.

Chris got so excited he almost threw up.

Eddie considered everything about that night as a win—but the best part of all was the price, Buck, beautiful Buck, waiting for him in his—no, in their bed.)

#buddie #911 #flospeaks #edmundo diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #911onfox #fic prompt #soft fics #found family #I love them both so much #buddiefic #mutually assured devotion

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whenihaveyouromione · 4 years ago

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When I Have You - Chapter 18

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account ‘whenihaveyou.romione’ for fanart, challenges and sneak peeks!

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Chapter 18

Four days after Christmas, Ron and Harry stood in the living room of Grimmauld Place, staring down at the small child in front of them.

The boy looked up, a little fearfully, clutching a teddy bear close to his chest.

Teddy was a quiet boy (so unlike his mother) and hadn’t appreciated being left alone with two near-strangers when Andromeda had left only five minutes before. He hadn’t cried, but he’d clung to her as she left via the Floo, wishing Harry (and Ron) good luck. She’d somehow managed to unglue him from her and disappear all in a matter of seconds.

Teddy was now their responsibility for the next two hours.

Or Harry’s, but Harry wasn’t going to let Ron get out of it easily.

“And you thought this was a good idea because…?” Ron said as Teddy simply sat there, clutching his bear and watching them.

“Because I owe it to Remus and Tonks,” Harry replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. “He’s… my godson, and I spent thirteen years not knowing Sirius. I don’t want that for him.”

Ron nodded, turning back to the baby. In the five minutes they’d been standing there, Teddy’s hair had changed colour three times.

“Well, we know he takes after his mother in that way,” Ron said, smiling.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Er, so, Teddy, what do you want to do today?”

Teddy continued watching them. He stuck his thumb in his mouth.

“Not sure he can answer, mate,” Ron said.

“Andromeda said he’s fascinated by magic,” Harry replied, and he took out his wand.

Teddy’s eyes lit up the moment he saw it. His thumb came out, he dropped the teddy bear and he stretched out his arms as if wanting the wand. He made a sound that might have meant he was asking for it, but Ron couldn’t be sure. He didn’t speak baby.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Harry said, looking pleased with himself at managing to make the boy smile. “You want to see some magic?”

Teddy continued to reach for the wand, but seeming to realise that wasn’t going to work, he crawled closer, sat at Harry’s feet, and reached up.

Harry beamed. “Alright…” and he allowed a rainbow of fireworks to leave his wand, shooting them upwards towards the ceiling.

Teddy squealed with delight, clapping his little hands and then reaching up to try and grab them.

When they’d all extinguished, he stopped and turned back to Harry, an expectant look in his eyes.

Harry set off more fireworks, Teddy’s expression one of pure, innocent delight. Ron watched on with amusement.

It wasn’t until the third time of Harry producing the sparks did Teddy get a little over excited. He got onto his knees in an attempt to reach them, but he apparently wasn’t that skilled in such a movement. Before either Ron or Harry had registered, he’d fallen forwards and face-planted the ground, his head narrowly missing the corner of the coffee table.

Harry’s mouth fell open. There was silence for a few seconds, and then came the piercing screams of Teddy. He sat up, clutching his face — which thankfully looked fine — tears pouring from his eyes.

Harry swore, pocketing his wand, and bent down to pick up the screaming child.

“It’s alright,” Harry said, rocking Teddy back and forth in his arms. He looked incredibly uncomfortable and ridiculous doing it, and Ron wondered just how people ever managed to parent a child. It seemed so unnatural — at least for Harry (and Ron) in that moment.

They were virtually kids themselves, and as Teddy continued to scream, shaking his head and fighting Harry’s hold, Ron realised that they had made a terrible mistake in doing this. They weren’t ready to look after someone so young.

Harry being Harry, though, had gone on some stoic power trip when he’d insisted that he and Ron would be fine looking after Teddy for a few hours. Andromeda had even offered to stay, but Harry had said no, apparently feeling some responsibility to the boy.

Even then, Ron had had his doubts. Harry could still be a godfather with Andromeda there supervising them. He’d said as much to Harry, but Harry had been determined.

Well, so far it was going well. They’d had him for no longer than ten minutes and he’d already been injured.

Harry turned to Ron, still awkwardly bouncing the crying baby, appealing for help. Ron shrugged. He knew as much about children as Harry did.

They weren’t cut out for this.

Still trying to settle Teddy five minutes later, Harry once again appealed desperately to Ron. He even held Teddy out for Ron to take.

Ron took a step back.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I’m not —”

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Harry said.

“And you think I do?” Ron retorted.

Harry looked close to tears as he tried everything with Teddy, but to no avail. The baby just kept on crying, yet physically, he seemed fine.

“Maybe going out might be better?” Ron suggested. “You know, in public? Maybe someone will take pity on us and offer to help.”

Harry nodded, now swaying Teddy backwards and forwards. It didn’t work.

“Hey, Teddy,” Ron said.

To his utter astonishment — and to Harry’s, it seemed — Teddy stopped crying. Ron wasn’t even sure the boy was old enough to know his name, but whatever — for a moment, they had a non-screaming child.

Teddy looked at him with a very suspicious expression.

Ron swallowed. Right about now he felt that having three tarantulas on his arm would be preferable than entertaining a child who he’d never truly met before. This was why he’d never volunteer to look after Bill’s child alone. Uncle duties could be performed under supervision.

A lot of supervision.

“How do you feel about cool toys?”

Teddy continued to watch him curiously. He obviously had no idea what Ron was asking, but seemed intrigued by his voice.

“You like toys?” Ron continued, glancing at Harry who was staring at him with a look of confusion.

The only response was now blue eyes staring back at him. They’d been brown a moment ago.

“Toys?” Harry asked in exasperation. “Mate, we have no —”

“The joke shop,” Ron said.

Harry paused. “But that’s not open.”

“George is still there.” Ron shrugged. He looked back to the baby and smiled. “I know a cool place where you can play with all the toys you want.”

Teddy didn’t do anything other than stare at Ron. Though, his hair had changed to a fiery red, which was a very odd sight.

Harry looked mildly impressed as he said, “Alright, let’s go and look at all the toys.” He then hesitated. “You don’t think George’ll mind, do you?”

“I reckon seeing some kid’s face light up will really be the motivation George needs to reopen,” Ron said.

Harry nodded, carrying Teddy over to the fireplace.

“Maybe a coat for him?” Ron suggested. “It’s threatening to snow today.”

“Oh, right!” Harry said and he Summoned Teddy’s coat from the sofa. “Merlin, never let me have children,” he added.

Ron smiled. “I’m sure it’s different when you know them better.”

Harry put the coat around Teddy and then stepped into the fireplace.

It wasn’t until Harry and Teddy had disappeared in a sea of green flame did a sudden sense of dread wash over Ron. The idea of visiting one of the last places he’d seen his brother suddenly felt very overwhelming, and he was surprised that he’d even bothered to mention it to Harry at all. It had been a spur of the moment idea, one he’d suggested without thinking. But now the idea of setting foot inside... was that how George felt too? Walking into the place every day where all of his fondest memories of Fred were and having to sweep up the last remaining pieces of the jokes he’d left behind?

Ron Disapparated directly to Diagon Alley. He landed just on the other side of the brick wall to the Leaky Cauldron in one of the assigned Apparition points.

Being a Saturday, the alley was packed with shoppers, all going about their daily business, hardly noticing Ron or the other Apparators who’d appeared moments after him.

He only had to wait a few minutes by the wall before it jumped apart and out stepped Harry with Teddy in his arms.

Teddy’s eyes widened at the large number of people walking about — all dressed in wizard clothes, all laughing and talking with one another. It was incredible to see how, almost a year later, people were returning to some normalcy after the war.

Diagon Alley hadn’t been like this two years ago, but it was once again resembling his childhood memories of coming with his family.

Ron led the way through the crowd, making a path for Harry and the small child they’d ended up with. They received some looks — well, mostly Harry, who was still so easily recognisable by everyone. They were no doubt wondering who the child was and why he was with Harry.

Ron couldn’t help but smile at what the gossip articles would publish in the coming days. No one knew that Harry had been named godfather of Teddy Lupin and he was certain some people would run wild with their theories.

They hadn’t walked very far when Teddy began wailing again.

Ron stopped and turned to face a panicked Harry, who was once again bouncing the poor child.

Merlin help Harry’s future children, Ron thought.

What had Harry been thinking? The louder Teddy cried, the more he thrashed against Harry, and the more difficult he was for Harry to keep a hold of. If only Andromeda had been here. Or… Molly.

She’d dealt with seven children, she would have known what to do. Perhaps the Burrow should have been their point of call and not Diagon Alley.

“Come on,” Ron said, and a large path had cleared now that Teddy was causing a scene.

“Ron, do you reckon George will let us in?” Harry said over Teddy’s cries.

“If not, I can get us inside,” Ron said over his shoulder. He stopped out the front of the unlit joke shop. George still lived above it, and despite refusing to open, Ron knew his brother still came down every so often, mostly to sit in the back office and contemplate things.

He peered through one of the windows to try and catch a glimpse of his brother. To his relief, he caught movement near the counter at the back and knocked loudly.

He saw the figure jump, then look over with a rather irritated expression. It didn’t improve when he saw Ron’s face peering through the window.

Mouthing something that Ron could only assume was a long trail of swear words, George came to the door and flung it open.

“The sign says closed,” he said irritably.

“I know,” Ron said. “But we are in desperate need of some entertaining devices. Anything for a small child.”

“A small child?” George asked. “Dear Merlin, what have you done, Ron?”

“Nothing,” Ron scowled. He indicated Harry and Teddy standing slightly behind him, Teddy’s cries now reduced to whimpers as he looked at the newest stranger before him.

George’s eyes widened. “Is that —”

“Teddy Lupin, yeah,” Ron said. “We’ve had him for twenty minutes and already he’s hit his face and spent most of the time crying. Please can you help us?”

George stared between the three of them for a moment, then with a heavy sigh, stepped aside to let them in.

“Are you two babysitting, are you?” George asked. “Really?”

“Harry’s idea,” Ron said, stepping into the shop. “I thought it was a very dangerous idea, myself.”

“Merlin help the poor boy.” George smirked, and Ron was pleased to see a hint of his old brother back — no matter how quick it vanished again.

“Do you have anything to keep him busy?” Harry asked. “Ron promised him a toy.” Teddy was now fussing so much that Harry was forced to put him on the ground. His crying had stopped completely, eyes scanning the shop eagerly.

The moment he was on the ground, Teddy crawled off amongst the shelves.

George grimaced. “I just sorted them.”

“Well, find something for him!” Ron said.

“My products are more suited for five and up.”

“A toy wand would do,” Harry said, hurrying forward to catch Teddy before he emptied a shelf of bottomless cauldrons. “I know you have them.”

George hurried to a shelf and extracted one of the toy wands Harry had mentioned.

“Oi, Teddy…”

Teddy stopped. His eyes turned to George. George held up the wand.

Teddy crawled forward, and George bent down to pass him the wand. He waved it around for a few moments, stuck it in his mouth, and then tossed it aside. He crawled off again.

Looking a bit frazzled, Harry chased after him, leaving Ron and George alone.

“I can see you’ve been working on it,” Ron said, trying to keep his voice even. He didn’t want to sound hopeful, or excited, but it pleased him nonetheless.

George shrugged. “Something to do.”

“You still don’t want to open up then?” Ron asked.

George remained silent, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. Ron noted that he wouldn’t even look at him.

“Mate, if you need any help — Harry and I are free most weekends.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to —”

“You’re not,” Ron said. “I’m volunteering. And Harry. He volunteered me for Teddy, so this is his payback.”

George shook his head. “I haven’t decided what I want to do with this place. This was… ours. It almost feels wrong to do it without him.”

Ron hesitated. He had to tread carefully. “I’m sure he —”

“I know, Ron,” George said. “He’s probably sitting back, wherever he is, rolling his eyes at me and telling me to get back into the game now.”

Ron smiled. That sounded exactly like something Fred would say. “The offer still stands,” he said. “Whenever you need us.”

“Thanks,” George replied. “That means… something.”

While Harry was occupied with chasing Teddy around, George showed Ron around the shop. It really was no different to the only other time Ron had set foot in it, apart from the melancholy atmosphere. The vibrance of the place two years ago had gone, replaced by the despair of the war and its aftermath.

“What do you think people need to get a good laugh?” George asked after a while.

The question unsettled Ron. It was strange hearing George ask that. He was normally the one with the answers on how to make people laugh.

But he wasn’t going to deter his brother, who suddenly seemed somewhat interested in starting up his business again.

“Something that lets them look to the future and not at the past.”

“So, a crystal ball?” George said.

Ron smiled. “Something like that.” He looked over to where Teddy was once again trying to empty the shelves. “Maybe things appropriate for the real little ones. Soft toys that come to life. I know Muggles have those things inside toys that help it make noise. I don’t know what they’re called —”

“Batteries?” George said. “We looked into some Muggle things when creating some of our stuff.”

“Probably. Anyway, they have them. But, what kid wouldn’t love a dragon that opens its mouth and roars, or a stuffed house-elf that plays with them?”

George stared at Ron for a moment, seeming a little shocked by the suggestions. Then, he said, “Huh. Maybe.”

“Just a thought,” Ron said, shrugging.

“Maybe we should go back,” Harry said, coming back over to them, his glasses slightly askew and his hair sticking up all over the place. He was clutching Teddy around the middle, who had a fistfull of rubbish in his hands. “Andromeda will be back soon and she mightn’t be happy if she learns we’ve taken him out…”

“She’s probably thrilled to have a break,” Ron said. “Imagine having a kid that young in your care when she’s as… old as she is.”

“Do you think I should offer to look after Teddy more often?” Harry asked, sounding defeated. “To give her more breaks?”

Ron shrugged. “How would I know?”

“Well…” George said, looking over at Teddy, “at least you’re going to hand him back in one piece. That’s something.”

“Very true,” Ron said. “If it was just me, he’d be handed back in a Floo powder box.” He stepped forward and gently removed the pieces of torn up paper from Teddy’s clenched fists. The boy didn’t protest. In fact, he yawned, snuggling his head into Harry’s shoulder.

They bid farewell to George, Ron once again offering George some help.

Diagon Alley was still as packed as ever, but with Teddy firmly in Harry’s arms, they made their way through the crowd without any hassle.

Once back at Grimmauld Place, Teddy was sound asleep in Harry’s arms.

“Andromeda will be happy,” Ron said. “You got him to sleep.”

“It’s been alright, hasn’t it?” Harry asked, carefully lying Teddy on the sofa of the living room and placing a protective enchantment around it like Andromeda showed him just in case he rolled over.

Ron snorted. “If you call chasing him around the shelves of a joke shop alright.”

Harry smiled. “I think I will offer to do it again. I owe it to Remus and Tonks… and I owe it to myself, I think, too.”

Ron nodded, not needing to ask what Harry meant. Harry, the boy who had grown up in a home that wasn’t ideal, had not known his parents, had not felt loved or wanted, or even appreciated, did not want the same fate for any other person — especially the son of a friend. Where Harry’s own godfather had been unable to raise Harry, Teddy’s life would be different. Harry would make sure of that.

“And, like I said to George,” Ron said, “my offer to help you as well is there. If you need it. Can’t say I liked today, but it was hard enough with the two of us, so I couldn’t imagine you on your own.”

“Ha,” Harry said. “Thanks.”

Ron looked over to the sleeping Teddy. “He’s cute when he’s asleep.”

“I think all children are,” Harry replied, and he sat down on the same sofa Teddy was now fast asleep on, watching the boy with something resembling affection.

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some-dr-writings · 4 years ago

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Kiibo X SHSL Survivalist (reader insert) One-shot: Anything You Can Do, I Can’t Do Better

Instead of sitting around waiting for a request I’ve decided to take it upon myself to take hold of my fate, yet again, and kick off this blog with an imagine and one-shot. This is the one-shot. I hope you enjoy.

Though class had yet to begin, Kiibo found himself standing by the window of said room, watching the hordes of teens come marching through the campus. It was several stories above ground level, so he was able to get a good view of the front of the campus. It was an illogical endeavor really. Even if he had spotted his friend, it wouldn’t make them be by his side any sooner. Yet there he was glancing out searching for them.

The Ultimate Survivalist had left with Rantaro two months ago to go on one of his trips, this time to Ittoqqortoormiit in Greenland, one of the most remote towns in the world. Supposedly getting there was quite the quest itself, a guide being a necessity to get there. Should one get lost, who better than the Ultimate Survivalist to have by one’s side. They were supposed to have returned a month ago. Still neither had appeared, even with the bells threatening to toll any minuet now, signaling the start of class.

Though Kiibo himself should have been taking his seat, he was unable to keep still, pacing around. ‘Where are they? Why aren’t they here yet? Did something happen to them? What is taking them so long? Are they safe?’ Those questions seemed to be the only thoughts that could form in his mind. The Ultimate Survivalist was his best friend after all, it was only natural he’d be worried, right? Especially after having no contact for a little over two months, of course he was worried.

Suddenly the tap, tap, tapping of a pencil against his desk snapped him from his thoughts. “Survivalist!” Pure relief seeped from his tone, seeing his dear friend standing before him. “Wait, why is your leg broken!?” A cast covered the whole thing, and in their hands a pair of crutches. After a sigh escaped them, a nervous chuckle seeped out. “Yeah, on the way back from Ittoqqortoormiit a sudden snow storm hit, separating Rantaro and I from our guide, and during the confusion I… may… sort of have… uh…” Kiibo knew them hesitating like this never meant anything good. “g-gotten trampled by someone’s dog sled. BUT I’m alright so you don’t need to worry about me!” They pumped a fist into the air as if that would prove their point, but in the process almost fell over before swiftly regaining their balance. “Here Survivalist, have a seat, please.” The Survivalist practically fell onto the seat Kiibo had pulled out for them. “But enough about me, catch me up on everything I missed out on, Kiibo.”

With his dear friend finally returned to his side, the day seemed to flash by and before Kiibo knew it, the school day had already come to an end. The whole time his thoughts were still on his friend, wondering what they were going to do after class. It seemed that they always spent every second of everyday training and exercising, rarely did they ever do anything else. “Survivalist, why don’t we go to the library to study together?” Looking up to the robot they saw he held a hand out to them. “Oh, sorry Kiibo, but I’m going to my dorm room to work on my own. I have lots to get done after all.” For a moment Kiibo paused, perplexed by the statement. “Are you sure about that? I can help you catch up with all that you missed! It will be no problem for me.” They lightly shook their head. “I’ll be fine, Kiibo. Thank you though.” Using the desk for support they stood up, leaving the classroom surprisingly quickly. Seemed that even with an injury they weren’t slowing down for anything. It did Kiibo’s heart good to see they hadn’t changed one bit, even with such a setback.

The next day Kiibo found himself in a similar position as the last but instead of the window, he kept looking towards the door. The evening prior he came to the conclusion that even if they didn’t want it, it would be best that Survivalist had some assistance with their studies. Even before leaving for that trip they often struggled with schoolwork and having been gone for so long, catching up would be all the more difficult. At the very least if they would not accept Kiibo’s assistance, they needed someone to tutor them. And so there he sat, looking towards the door. Then finally they appeared.

“Survivalist? You’re pale and panting, what happened?” Quickly he pulled out a seat for them. “Heh, I may need some better pain meds. No big deal though, I’m going to have a chat with the Ultimate Pharmacist and see if she can give me anything.” Taking his own seat, Kiibo nodded in agreement. “That sounds like the best course of action. Speaking of best courses of action, I wish to speak to you abou-” Before Kiibo could even finish the bells tolled, signaling for class to begin… It was fine, Kiibo would just speak with them later.

The moment the bells for break rang out the Survivalist stood from their seat and were somehow already by the door. “Wait, Survivalist! Allow me to accompany you. You’re going to the Ultimate Pharmacist’s lab, correct?” “Heh, yeah, I’d love for you to come along.” Seeing their smile with the crow’s feet in the corners of their eyes made the most pleasant and warm feeling to weld up under Kiibo’s breast plate. In that moment Kiibo realized just how much he missed this person.

“Uh, I believe their lab is on the… fifth floor?” Quickly flipping through the small handbook, the Survivalist searched for the map of the school. “Here, let me handle that. You need to focus on walking with your crutches.” Dismissively they waved a hand at Kiibo before continuing to slowly hobble along down the hall. “I got this. You don’t need to worry about me. Surviving and being independent is literally my specialty. Super High School Level Survivalist, remember?” There was this laughter in their tone which bubbled through, revealing the comment held no malicious intent and was simply a tease. Although as if on que the moment those words had finished slipping out from their lips their footing slipped out from under them, and they were suddenly getting very intimately acquainted with the floor. “Survivalist! Are you alright? How is your leg?” Kiibo kneeled before them, collecting their fallen items. Their breath hitched and quaked, almost sounding as if it were being cut off at times. With a groan they propped themselves with an arm and lightly rubbed their slightly stinging face. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” They reached out looking for something to brace themselves on. “Surv-Hey, wa-AAAH” It was too late, with a loud crash Kiibo too got acquainted with the floor. “Kiibo! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to use you as support, I thought you were a locker or something! And I guess I forgot you just have the strength of an old man. I’m so sorry! You okay!?” “Yes, I’m alright. It takes a lot more than that to hurt me.” Though Kiibo said that so confidently he still looked wounded, his pride being what was afflicted most likely.

As they walked once more, Kiibo made sure he was in charge of the map and that they were walking at a slower pace much to the Survivalist chagrin. “I only fell because I was looking at the book. We can go faster now.” “No, absolutely not. You are injured enough as it is and putting any strain on that leg will only worsen your condition. Besides, at our pace we will make it there in plenty of time before class starts again.” “Uuugh, not that it matters anyway. We can just be as late as we want to in this place. And I’m not going to go to class if I have no reason to anymore!” Kiibo raised a brow at the comment. “No reason to anymore?” “Yeah. I don’t need to go to class if you’re here and not there.” “… Survivalist, what does my location have anything to do with-” “Hey, there’s the lab! It has to be the door with the pills and beaker painted on it!” Picking up their pace they practically skipped to the door. “Hey, wait! What does my location have anything to do with attending class? And more importantly, slow down you’ll fall again!” The Survivalist couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the slightly flustered robot.

Feeling their footing getting wobbly they threw themselves at the door for support. When they tried twisting the handle, they found the door was locked. “Oh, is no one here?” Kiibo audibly huffed, showing his disapproval at the Survivalist’s behavior before responding. “It appears so. I suppose they could be somewhere else.” “That’s pretty rarer in this place. Most everyone is so passionate about their talent that they can’t stand to do anything else.” “Survivalist, that’s just you.” “Yeah, so.” “Survivalist, not everyone is willing to skip meals to keep exercising and rock climbing in their lab.” “Well, then everyone else should just get more passionate about their talent.” “Not to your extreme, you do so to the point of it being unhealthy!” “Kiibo, it’s fine.” “No, it’s not, humans need to eat regularly!” “And I do! Eating is very important for survival you know! I just skipped the one day because I was so excited to test out my repaired lab!”

Placing their hands on the door they adjusted themself so they could get a better view through the window finding the lights were off in the room beyond it. “Well, if not here, where else could they be?” “Their classroom perhaps? Or their dorm room would be the other two most logical places to look next.” Suddenly a third, unfamiliar voice chirped up. “Excuse me, but are you looking for the Ultimate Pharmacist?” The Survivalist eagerly turned to them. “Yes! Know where they are?” “Oh, sorry, but she’s sick today.” Both the Survivalist and Kiibo looked to one another in suspicion. “The Ultimate Pharmacist got sick?... Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t get medicine from her.” “I’m not so sure about that, Survivalist. As odd as it sounds, all humans are susceptible to getting sick. And though rumors should not be taken at face value I have heard many accounts of her drugs working wonders.” “Kiibo you’re so lucky! You never get sick! It’s not fair!” Placing his hands on his hips Kiibo looked awfully smug and proud. “Well, let’s see if I can get something from the nurse’s office.” “This sounds like a reasonable plan.”

And with that said they were off for the nurse’s office. This time Kiibo making absolutely sure that the Survivalist did not rush off ahead. Once there they found there was no one but the Super High School Level Health Committee Member fallen on the ground in a rather precarious position. “WWWAAAAAHHH! I’m so sorry!” She quickly scrambled onto her feet. “U-um, what’s your ailment?” “My broken leg hurts. Have any pain meds you could give me?” “U-um, I need your medical file first, what’s your name?” “… I’m the Ultimate Survivalist.” “Okay, have a seat on the bed as I go get it.” “I actually have a doctor’s note.” They pulled out a piece of paper from their pocket and handed it to the girl. “It says how powerful of pain meds I can get; I think? I don’t understand half of the jargon on it.” With a nod she passed the note back and made her way for the giant cabinet filled to bursting with pill bottles.

Having only searched for a few minutes the girl fell down again. The Survivalist and Kiibo both came to the conclusion that it’d likely take her a while to get the medicine. Wiping some sweat off their brow they looked over their shoulder towards the window behind themself. “It’s awfully warm here. Should we close the window curtains or open the window?” “O-oh, I’m so sorry! The air conditioning broke! But It will be repaired by tomorrow!” “Ugh.” Taking a glance to his friend, Kiibo pondered whether or not he should ask them that question… It couldn’t hurt to ask, right? “Uh, Survivalist, would you embrace me for a moment?” “What?” Kiibo stiffened under their confused gaze. “I believe I can alleviate you of this issue with a function of mine!” “Okay!” “Huh-AH!” Kiibo was tackled into a hug, but thankfully not with enough force to knock him over. Being so close to the robot the Survivalist could hear a light humming come from him. “Hmm? You’re suddenly so cold!” “Yes! I have internal fans for cooling off my more delicate parts, but while you were away Miu gave me an upgrade that allows me to control my outer layer’s temperature.” It was quite odd feeling Kiibo’s freezing form but seeing his cheeks flushed with a fiery hot red.

Eventually the medicine was gotten and- “Just a single pill, and it’s hardly done anything!” They groaned, burying their face into the notebook that was placed before them. “I understand you’re upset, but please, pay attention. You can keep complaining about it, but it won’t make anything better.” Sitting back up the rows upon rows of bookshelves that were lined up behind Kiibo caught their eye. “Look, Kiibo, I’m going to level with you. I only agreed to study with you ‘cause I thought this’d lull me to sleep so I could sleep through the pain, but that hasn’t happened yet, so let me complain! It’s the only solace I have left!” Kiibo simply gave his friend a deadpan stare. “… Survivalist, enough with the theatrics please. You missed a lot and I sincerely doubt you can get work with your survivalist skills alone, so you need a full high school education.” “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. Where were we?” “We just sat down.” “UUUGGGGHHHH! Can’t we go for a run or something?” As if instinctively with how instantaneously he did so, Kiibo made an ‘X’ sign with his arms and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not! Not in your condition! We are going to take it easy and not partake in any strenuous activity.” The Survivalist sighed, knowing their friend was right… but that didn’t increase their motivation to do this anymore so.

Finally, they took a closer look at the notebook that was passed to them moments ago. The handwriting was extremely neat, not a line out of place, and not an eraser mark or any blemish could be found on a single page. As pretty as it all was, the Survivalist immediately noticed something off with the notes. “Kiibo, did you literally write everything that was said in class?” “Yes? Do you not do the same when taking notes?” “… Kiibo.” “What!? What’s with that look!?” They gently facepalmed themself before pinching the bridge of their nose. “… Well, now I know why you always look like a mad man when taking notes.” “What’s wrong!?” “Boy, you just need the important stuff, not literally everything… Though, you are a robot, so I suppose you’d have a better memory than a human. Wait but then why take notes a-” “Survivalist! I thought you were better than to stoop to the low of making such robophobic remarks!” “How was that robophobic!? It was a compliment! I was saying you have a good memory!” “Bold and robophobic of you to assume I have a good memory!” “… how do I even respond to that.” “Yes, my memory is sharper than humans’, every memory of mine is a perfect reflection of what truly happened, but that does not mean I remember absolutely everything! My memory banks do not have the capacity to do so. Dr. Idabashi specifically created me in such a way where I have the average memory storage capacity of a human, but all my memories are completely accurate, that is the only difference! Memories that are deemed to be the least important compared to others are deleted!” “Okay, let’s do an experiment then. What day is today?” “Wednesday.” “The date?” “15th of July.” “Who am I?” “My best friend, the Survivalist.” “… Aw… Thank you…” “Though I may have to reconsider that given your blatant robophobia.” “Hey! I’m trying to prove my innocence right now!” “I fail to see how th-” “What time did my plane to Greenland depart at?” “5th of May, at 6:00 was when it was supposed to depart but due to, and I quote “stupid delays, like seriously I should hope that planes are able to fly let alone take off in wind. Also, that was said sarcastically Kiibo, please don’t think I’d actually complain about safety.” it left two hours late at about 8:09 instead.” “AH-HAH! See! You have a much better memory than a human! No person would bother to remember all that over a phone call!”

Ah… no person huh…

“…”

no person would…

“Hmm?”

I suppose recalling such a trivial detail is ridiculous.

“Kiibo?”

I suppose their exact words aren’t all that important either, just the message it conveyed.

“Hello? Kiibo?”

… This is just like looking out the window before.

“Uhh, Kiibo? You okay, buddy?”

Or even before then when I counted down the seconds till the date they were to return.

“Kiibo, you just staring off into space like this is kinda worrying me.”

A person… would not do that… but I di-

“KIIBO!” “AAHHH! Survivalist!?” They were leaning over the table, their breath heavy, their hands on his shoulders, holding them in a firm grip. “What are you doing! You’re putting pressure on your broken leg!” Quickly Kiibo pushed them back, though it didn’t do much and they simply sat back on their own. “Thank goodness, you scared me there for a moment.” “Scared you!? You’re the one being reckless!” “Well you just shut off or something?! What the heck was I supposed to do? Scooch out of the chair, get my crutches, and hobble all the way around this stupid long table? Hell no! That would have taken far too long! What if you were over heating or whatever else can just freeze a robot like that! If you needed help, I wouldn’t take my sweet-ass time!” After a moment, a small sigh escaped Kiibo.

Maybe… maybe it was just an accidental robophobic remark. They are still pale, and their breathing is unstable, maybe the pain is making it so that they can’t think straight. I should be more lenient on them.

At least, that was what Kiibo kept telling himself in his mind, but… thinking of all the possibilities, a part of him couldn’t help but doubt his own reasoning.

“Anyway, we’ve gotten way off track! We’re supposed to be studying right now. Here, just let me tutor you.” Kiibo quickly made his way around the table and sat beside the Survivalist. “So, let’s get started!”

And that they did. “Uh, so I would now divide the twelve?” “No, Survivalist, you need to multiply by three to get X then you divide by the twelve.” “Huh? Wait but then what about the five from the beginning, we still haven’t done anything with it.” “No, it’ll come back later.” “Really?” “Yes, just ignore it for now.” “This is hopeless. We’ve been at this for hours and I still don’t understand!” “It’s only been an hour.” “Can we take a break, please?” “Yes it-” Kiibo was then suddenly interrupted when everything around began to violently shake. “Earthquake!?” As the lights in the room began to flicker moments later the Survivalist and Kiibo ducked under the table, placing a hand on a leg of the table and their free arm over the back of their neck. All around them booming and crashing sounds rang out. Even with bracing themselves they could feel the table they hid under sliding about.

When that loud rumbling and thumping ended, when the quaking finally stopped the pair stayed hidden under the table, but when no aftershock came, they took a look around at the damage. “Survivalist, is my vision malfunctioning or is the room pitch black?” “No, the lights must have gotten busted. Eh, no big deal. This is certainly much better than a cave-in… unless a bookshelf fell in front of the door then I guess this is kinda like a cave-in. Eh, still better since I know there aren’t any sink holes here. Here, take my hand. I’ve already memorized the layout of this place.” “There’s no need for that! I have a function that is perfect for just this occasion! Besides, there are probably so many books scattered on the floor, it wouldn’t do for you to lead the way, only to slip and fall over.” “HEY! I’m the Ultimate Survivalist! I can take care of myself in a situation like this even with an injury, thank you very much!... Though using your flashlight function is the best idea for now… Tch, I can already see that smirk on your face.” “You can?” “In my mind. I know you! You always get so haughty when your special functions are useful.” “Heh! Survivalist, close your eyes, just in case, I don’t want to blind you.” “Go ahead, eyes closed!” “… Okay, you can open now.” It was a bit of a strain on the eyes given how extraordinarily bright Kiibo’s flashlight eyes were, but they certainly come in handy. Taking a quick glance around they could see many of the heavy bookshelves had toppled over and all the books in them were strewn about making the place look as if it were ransacked. “Huh?” That was all they could see before the eye lights suddenly shut off that is. “Kiibo?” “Uh, u-uh… It… it appears the lights broke.” “What, how?... Wait! Did they break when I accidently slammed you into the ground before?” “W-what!? No! I’m not that fragile!” “Well, it’s fine, I can just use my phone.” WHAT!? Absolutely not! Don’t compare me to such a simple machine!” “I’m not! You and a phone are nothing alike! The phone doesn’t have confidence issues.” “Hey, I don’t have confidence issues!” “Boy, you do! Don’t even kid yourself.” Even if there was that lovable and irritable teasing tone, Kiibo really didn’t care for those comments. “Just give me a moment, I’ll have my eyes on in a flash!” “Oh? In a flash you say?” “Yes! Just… come on…” “I’m just gonna use the phone.” “No, you don-” “Too late! Let’s go now and get to the field before we get in trouble for not following the earthquake procedure.” Thankfully for Kiibo since he was still hidden in shadow the Survivalist couldn’t see how the robot glared so intensely at the small device in their hand.

After having finally escaped the room and getting to the field outside of the school they had to go through the usual rigmarole of making sure each and every person was present and accounted for, an especially exhausting task considering it was the middle of summer. Thankfully for the Survivalist, Kiibo was willing to use his cooling function to make the process just a bit more bearable.

A heavy sigh of relief escaped the Survivalist having heard the count was finally finished. They took out their phone, checking the time as they leaned into Kiibo’s back a little more, loving that cooling feeling amongst the heat. “Heh, hey Kiibo guess what.” “Uh… I don’t know, what?” “Class ended ten minutes ago.” “Class is over? Huh, am I still going to get a maintenance check today?” “Maintenance check?” Wrapping their arms around Kiibo, they nuzzled into him wanting to keep cool while speaking with him. And they also wanted to see the red that spread across his cheeks. “Yes, I was to visit Miu in her lab after class today for a maintenance check.” “Oh, go see her then. And make sure she fixes your eyes.” Taking the crutches Kiibo was holding the Survivalist took a few steps back. “I don’t know, I was thinking about delaying it to another day.” “What! Why!? I probably broke your flashlight eyes! You’re hurt, you need to get fixed!” “Well…” Kiibo took a moment to collect himself, wanting to word his feelings clearly. “You were gone for months, I missed you, and you are hurt too. I don’t want to just leave you but in your current state you really shouldn’t be walking too much more, you got out of breath just getting to this field from the library, I don’t think dragging you around to Miu’s lab then to wherever else we’d go after would be good for you.” So tenderly they smiled at hearing those words. “Kiibo, we have the rest of our lives to hang out. Go get that check-up with Iruma and come see me when you’re all better and no sooner! Besides even if I’m hurt, I can be good on my own! You don’t have to worry about me! Do you think this is the first time I broke a bone?” A light, hearty chuckle bubbled up from deep in Kiibo’s chest. “Knowing you, I’d be more surprised if you never have before.” “See! I know what I’m doing. So, go get healed up buddy, we’ll see each other later.” “… Where will you be?” “My dorm probably, or maybe my lab since it’s so roomy, at least much more so than the tiny dorm.” “… Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see you later.” Giving Kiibo a pat on the back they disappeared into the crowd.

Thankfully for Kiibo, Miu was always more than ready to do some work on him. “Hey, Kiibo, are you sure you don’t want any new functions? I can give you some real bal-” “Nope! I’m fine. I don’t need any more additional functions. But Miu, must we go through this conversation every time I get a maintenance check?” … And that was the last thing Kiibo remembered. One moment Miu was pinned against him doing her work then in the next she was sitting at a table fiddling with something. “Miu? What happened?” “For fuck’s sake, finally!” She spun around on the chair, adjusting her goggles. “You were out for so long I thought you were having one hell of a wet dream. Anyway, some dip shit after shock happened and you shut down due to your maintenance failsafe.” Taking a quick glance around the room he saw how many of the items were knocked over, even a shelf. “You’re all done so you can go if you want.” “Thank you so much Miu! But how big was the aftershock?” “Huh? The aftershock? Why the fuck would you want to know that?” “Please just tell me Miu.” “It was about the same.” A feeling of absolute dread weighed on Kiibo. Immediately he sprinted out of the room.

Suddenly he stopped himself, remembering that he has a phone. He quickly shot the Survivalist a text asking if they were all right. The earthquake was large enough to knock over the giant bookshelves in the library, it likely had enough force to knock over much of the equipment in the Survivalist’s lab. The place was like a fusion of the harshest environments and a personal gym. Likely anything that could have fallen over would already have done so in the first earthquake, but it was possible that some of the even bigger equipment could have come loose in the first quake and then actually toppled over in the aftershock… Right on top of the Survivalist! If they weren’t hurt Kiibo would have no reason to worry, but they could hardly even walk in-

Nope! NO! Kiibo shook his head trying to stop thinking of such things. Dwelling on the possibilities would do nothing to help them and just make him worry and in an unfocused state he’d be even less of help to the Survivalist! Now in an all-out sprint Kiibo charged for the Super High School Level Survivalist’s lab. Once there he discovered the lights were shut off and the door was locked. The dorm, he ran for their dorm room.

The moment he reached it he knocked on the door discovering it was unlocked. “Survivalist?” He got no response. “Uh… Survivalist, are you in there?” Kiibo stood there but still got no response. Recalling he sent them a text he checked his phone, finding he got no reply. “I’m coming in now!” Kiibo tried opening the door but found something blocked the way. “S-Survivalist! Are you in there?” He froze when taking a peek past the door. He was only able to see a little bit given how little the door opened but he saw his friend face down on the ground. “SURVIVALIST!” They didn’t move. Kiibo pushed the door open with all his might. He had to open it! He NEEDED to open this STUPID DOOR! HE NEEDED TO OPEN IT RIGHT NOW! “SURVIVALIST!” Taking several steps back he dashed into the door slamming into it. It didn’t budge. It seemed doing this caused a glitch and Kiibo fell to his knees. Why? WHY CAN’T HE HELP THEM!? WHY CAN’T HE GET TO THEM!? Wait, the phone! Kiibo whipped out his phone and raced to the contacts. “Gokuhara! Gokuhara, where are you?!” There were some shuffling noises on the other line before Kiibo got an answer. “Gonta is at his lab. But Kiibo sounds so worried, what happened?” “It’s Survivalist. I think they’re hurt; they’re just laying on the ground not responding, but I can’t get into their dorm, something is blocking it. They need help right now!” “Survivalist is hurt! Gonta be there right away!” Then the call ended.

A soft thud rang out as Kiibo just dropped his head and his forehead hit the door that stood just inches before him.

…

All was silent except for the soft humming of those fans just barely being able to keep Kiibo from overheating. Why can’t he help them? Even with all these functions that were inside of him, he couldn’t do a thing to get to them. All he could do was wait and think. Think about asking Dr. Idabashi if Kiibo could have a failsafe function where in emergencies he could be much stronger than a senior citizen. Think about how if only he had better functions. Think about that if he got too many more functions, his body would have to be changed, how it was possible he wouldn’t be recognizable. Think about how he was only useful with those functions and nothing else. Think about how these functions though useful are probably what make him be seen as… as not a person. Think about how maybe, if he didn’t have flashlight eyes, or a perfect memory, or the ability of willfully changing his external temperature he’d be accepted. Maybe, without all his functions and if he were given the strength of an average teenager he’d be seen as more than a human shaped Swiss Army Knife. Maybe… he’d actually be helpful. Maybe he could be beside his friend. Maybe he’d… they’d…

Kiibo tried telling himself that thinking such thoughts was not going to help the situation, but he found no reason to stop this process either, so he continued.

“Kiibo! Gonta is going to open the door so Gonta needs you to move!” Without a second thought Kiibo jumped to his feet and backed up. Effortlessly Gonta pushed the door open. Kiibo dashed past the giant man and dove straight into the room. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, but what he saw was not one he even thought to consider. There they were, earbuds in, the volume on full blast, a small folded towel clenched between their teeth… DOING PUSHUPS!

“What are you doing!?” With a single swift tug, the earbuds came out, finally getting their attention. “Heevo? En v-” “Oh! No! You are going to answer my questions first.” Having the strength of an elderly man Kiibo was not able to physically stop the Survivalist so instead he ripped the sheets and pillows off the bed and placed them all in a crumpled heap under them. “Survivalist, you can’t put pressure on your leg like this, what are you doing?” Guiltily his friend looked behind themself for a moment before looking back to Kiibo and taking the small towel out of their mouth. “Uhh… push-ups?” “… What, no! Why are you doing this, you’re just hurting yourself.” Suddenly Gonta towered over Kiibo, looking down at the Survivalist absolutely worried and scared. “Survivalist? You’re okay? Kiibo told Gonta you were very seriously hurt!” Before the Survivalist could question the situation Kiibo came to a blood boiling realization. “Wait… This is why you wanted the pain medicine!? No wonder your leg is hurting! You did this yesterday too, didn’t you!” Unable to look the concerned robot in the eye, they instead looked to the wall. They were absolutely out of breath, even gasping at times. “I… Just let me explain.” Kiibo didn’t dare move, simply waiting for this ‘explanation’. Gonta helped the Survivalist get into a more comfortable position before they began to speak, shakily hugging themself. “Look… You probably figured it out by now, but Rantaro and I were late getting back because we were caught in the snowstorm. My leg broke around the time the storm began, so by the time I got to a hospital, maybe a week later, it was really messed up. I was forced to stay there several weeks because of it! And Because I was in a hospital, I wasn’t allowed to move at all! Kiibo, if I don’t keep moving and exercising, I’ll become weak! I’ve already been forced to rest for so long, I’ve lost so much progress! I can’t just do nothing anymore! I need to get my strength back!” “I still don’t understand. You’re making your injury even worse, forcing you to rest even longer. You’re hurting yourself!” “Well, yes, but at least I’m doing something and not nothing!” “Survivalist, your arguments make no logical sense. For now, let’s get you to the nurse’s office an-” “NO! You don’t need to do that, I’m fine, please don’t tell the nurse!” Sitting up just a bit too quickly the Survivalist yelped out, clutching their hands on the cast. Their entire form trembled, tears percolating in the corners of their eyes as they doubled over. “Judging by that reaction I believe you need to seek help right away.” “Gonta will carry Survivalist to the nurse!” Before they could further protest Kiibo and Gonta ran with them cradled in Gonta’s arms.

After explaining what had happened to the nurse and Super High School Level Health Committee Member, Kiibo and Gonta were asked to stay out of the room as to not get in the way of the examination. Understanding though a little reluctant Kiibo stayed away. At least this gave him the opportunity to more closely examine his friend’s words instead of telling them their reasoning made no sense. Though he didn’t do so for to long. “Gonta’s worried about the Survivalist. Gonta’s not sure what happened to them, but they looked bad.” “Oh, yes, Gokuhara. Thank you so much for your help.” “Gonta is always ready to help a friend! And it’s the gentlemanly thing to do!” “I think they should be alright now, so you can go if you want to.” “Ah, well…” Gonta’s eyes lingered on the door before looking back to Kiibo. “Gonta’s worried, but Gonta doesn’t know much about this and doesn’t want to get in the way, so maybe it would be better if Gonta left.” “I’ll call if we need you again.” “Yes, please do! Bye Kiibo.” “Bye Gokuhara.” And Kiibo was left alone again.

He found his eyes drawn to the window; the sun was setting. Kiibo wondered how late it was… How long had it been? If he had been stronger, would they have gotten help sooner? Could Kiibo have stopped them from further injuring themself? If Kiibo wasn’t so fragile and needed maintenance maybe he could have stopped them from acting so recklessly. “Oh, good you’re still here.” It was the nurse. “Yes I am.” “Would you be a dear and get the Survivalist’s wheelchair for me? They really shouldn’t be using those crutches when they have such bruised ribs and lungs.” “Bruised ribs and lungs? They never mentioned that. And a wheelchair? They have one?”

Sure enough, when he went back to their room, he found a disassembled wheelchair in a corner. Upon seeing the thing Kiibo came to a conclusion he found preposterous, but it was the only logical answer. Whatever pushed his friend to do pushups with their various injuries was the same that compelled them to use crutches they bought instead of a wheelchair given to them by the hospital. “Survivalist just what is making you do this?” When he had gotten back, he was told the Survivalist would be staying overnight for observation. So he was indirectly being told to scram. Unfortunately, he didn’t understand this at first just standing outside of the room waiting for his friend before directly being told to just leave.

It was night by the time Kiibo got back to his dorm room. Under normal circumstances Kiibo would study, go to sleep mode or shutdown and recharge, but this was not a normal night. He simply laid on the bed just staring at the ceiling. He needed to figure out some things. His emotions just kept swirling around and he couldn’t tell what they were. Mad, happy, relieved, scared? He had no idea what he was feeling and towards who. Was it himself, or them, or both? And… did he mean it? Everything he thought when sitting at their door. Did he truly believe all that? In that moment all he truly knew was… everything hurt, so, so much.

The next morning, sitting at his desk he found himself in the same position prior, just looking at the door, waiting for the Survivalist to show up. Of all things Kiibo just wanted to talk to them, to just figure out why they were doing what they did. Why they downplayed their injuries and out right omitted some? Did they have even more he wasn’t privy too? He just wanted to focus on them… Then the bells rang. They still hadn’t shown up. Kiibo waited a little longer in case they did show up and were just late. Half an hour in and Kiibo shot up his hand, saying that he was leaving class. Kiibo then immediately dashed for the nurse’s office. But when he arrived only the Ultimate Health Committee Member was there. “Excuse me, but where’s the Survivalist?” “Oh, they were discharged this morning. I even brought them to their dorm room. They should be resting in bed.” Was the Survivalist actually resting? Not wanting to risk his friend doing something foolish and accidently further injuring themself Kiibo ran as quickly as he could to their dorm.

As he did so something caught his attention, almost causing him to trip over himself. The door to the Super High School Level Light Music Club Member’s lab was open, and he heard the Survivalist singing? Taking a peek inside he found himself in a world for the brightest lights and the darkest shadows. The owner of the room wailed away on her guitar beside the Survivalist who was sitting on their wheelchair with a microphone in hand. Side by side they were on a stage, a myriad of bright colors flashed over them, a huge contrast to the blank black that was the rest of the room.

All too quickly the song had come to an end and the moment it did the Survivalist and Kiibo locked eyes. “Survivalist? Why aren’t you at class? I… When you never showed up, I got worried. I thought your injury may be worse than what you told me prior.” The musician jumped up to Kiibo with a hand raised. “Oh, oh! Ibuki knows! Survivalist asked Ibuki to train with them! Train in a way that wouldn’t hurt their leg!” Kiibo simply looked at his friend in complete bafflement. Even when they were completely out of breath, they tried speaking. “Well… okay, look…” “OOOOOH! Ibuki knows!” The musician hopped back up on stage and quickly helped the Survivalist get down. “Ibuki suddenly remembered she promise to hang out with a friend right now! Bye you two!” And just like that she was gone. She probably felt the stagnant, awkward air that surrounded the two.

“… You were right. Training like that with injuries was dumb but…” They paused for a moment trying to figure out how to verbalize this whirlwind of emotions. “You know how this school works. We’re here because we’re Ultimates. We’re here to improve our skills and become the best at our craft. Hell, they care so little about grades and stuff and only on talents we don’t even have to show up to class, that’s how we’re able to be here right now! But like THIS, I… I can’t.” Looking the robot directly in the eyes, they showed Kiibo the aw and fear that was rooted deep inside themself. “Kiibo, I wish I was like you.” That comment caught him completely off guard. “I… Well, I am the Ultimate Robot, the culmination of Dr. Idabashi’s work, but what exactly do you mean?” “Kiibo, once you get an improvement or new function you get to keep it forever! When I take a break for even one day my muscles and body lose some of the improvement I had gained yesterday or even more. I have to constantly push myself lest my skills and body get rusty from lack of use for even a short time and getting back to the high proficiency I was at before is so extremely difficult. The human body is ridiculously temperamental and decays so quickly when not in use, while you don’t have to worry about such things. And I even have to focus on specific parts and not just my whole body, like singing to increase lung capacity. That’s all I can do now aside from weightlifting. And Kiibo the improvements you can gain are limited only by the imagination while the human body is much more restrictive. You, you could fly, or get x-ray vision, or I don’t know! You could even have a built in ray gun or something, but me, a human, even if I wanted any of that, I can’t, there’s no way for me to be able to do any of that, but with the right parts and whatever, you could! You can be so much greater than me or anyone else at this school! Kiibo you are amazing! Even not taking possibilities into consideration you are amazing! You… you’re amazing Kiibo.” That spark of aw that was in their eyes quickly faded, leaving only a pained expression. “Look at me, I can’t even properly be a survivalist in this state. While you, even if you get hurt, you can be fixed and be properly working much sooner while I have to just be broken for four months! You, you were able to get fixed and I… I couldn’t stand just doing nothing seeing you! I want to be fixed just like you! It’s why I ignored your text! I-I couldn’t stop for even a moment, I have to get better, I don’t want to fall behind!” “Survivalist…” Their body and breath quaked and wavered. Their hands were clenched into fists. They couldn’t bear to look Kiibo in the eyes anymore, not wanting their rage and jealousy to taint their view of him. Ever since they got back Kiibo had been nothing but kind, constantly doing whatever he could to help them. How could he be so kind? How was he so amazing without even trying? How could they want to hurt him with such a petty act? “… My singing is lacking, dangerous as Shuichi puts it. Even if I practice it won’t get better. I want to improve, but I can’t. The only way I can, would be with help from someone like Miu or Dr. Idabashi. I…” Feeling those feelings and thoughts from the night prior welding up again, Kiibo placed a hand on his chest as if trying to press them down as to not overflow. After all, his friend didn’t need to hear of such things in that moment. “I am a robot, I can never improve myself on my own, but you can! I find that to be an amazing ability, but even more so is how you work so hard for that. Yes, what you did was rash, but how you so fervently chase after improvement has always impressed me, even from the day we met… The moment I existed, I have had one goal, one function, to be the embodiment of human curiosity. In pursuit of that goal I’ve learned a great many things about others and myself and… I’ve come to learn that you are the Survivalist. You’ve made it through much worse situations time and time again. It may be difficult, but you’ll make it through this, and you’ll come out better than before!” The Survivalist simply stared at him. They didn’t say or do anything for what felt like an eternity. Then their expression shifted, but Kiibo never saw another like it. He had no idea what it meant, if it was good or bad, hurt or joy. Then they spoke, but their voice was so quiet and their lips just barely formed the words Kiibo almost missed it. “… survivalist, huh.” “Is something the matter?” “… Let’s just get to class, alright? I’ve missed enough schoolwork as it is.” “O-oh! Certainly! Let’s go!”

Kiibo found himself looking back at that day quite often, in particular those last few moments. He just couldn’t figure out what it meant. Since that conversation the Survivalist wasn’t quite the same. They were a bit quieter and calmer. They also didn’t try anything rash. It was likely due to accepting that they had to just stop and not train much outside of a very select few exercises.

Months passed and there they were in the middle of November. The wind blew past sending a chill through the air. Walking beside the Survivalist Kiibo saw how they stopped spinning those wheels for a moment and shivered. “Is it cold out now?” “Nah, just a little chilly.” All around the world was baren and only the warmest of colors were spread across the ground and carried along by the wintery wind. “We should be expecting snow soon. Perhaps you should put on warmer clothing?” “I’m fine Kiibo.” Taking a step closer to them he placed the back of his hand against their cheek, the action causing Kiibo’s own cheeks to light up with the same bright colors as the fallen leaves. “Ahh, nice and warm.” “If you think the warmth of my hand feels nice, I would highly suggest that you at least get a scarf.” “Kiibo you don’t need to babysit me. I’m fine, truly… I guess I should be thanking you though.” “Hmm?” They stopped and turned to face the open horizon where forest covered mountains stood. Eventually, Kiibo turned to face the view as well, instead of his companion. “You’ve been looking after me this whole time like that. Even when I do something stupid you try to help me… I wish I could thank you somehow, but… I don’t know how too. I can’t see myself being helpful to you in any way unless I dedicated myself to robotics and offered to do maintenance for you.” “You don’t need to do that. Just… j-just keep spending time with me like this. This is a-all I could ever ask for.” “Heh, really? That’s all. Kiibo, you need to learn how to take advantage of opportunities better!” “W-what!?” The Survivalist couldn’t hold in their laughter at seeing how flustered their companion had become so quickly. “Yeah! Me being with you is a given, obviously we’re going to hang out so you should have asked for something less likely, like… Uh… OH, I know! You could have asked me to do what ever you told me to for a day, so I’d actually do things like get a scarf!” “Survivalist you should be taking care of yourself on your own without my say so.” “Excuse me! I do take care of myself! The only reason why you feel like my babysitter is because you follow me everywhere, even to my check-ups at the hospital!” “I don’t feel like your babysitter. You just say I babysit you a lot of the time.” “Ugh, whatever! My point still stands.” Kiibo felt an overwhelming joy course through him seeing the Survivalist banter with him like this. Moments like this became so scant after that conversation in the music room.

“… So winter’s gonna get here soon. I wonder what being in a wheelchair in the snow will be like. I bet it sucks.” “You won’t have to deal with it for long though. You’ll finally be able to get your cast off in three weeks. Just in time for the holidays and winter break!” “Yeah that’ll be… be nice I suppose…” At the end of their sentence the Survivalist trailed off, their voice becoming quiet. “Is something the matter?” “N-no, no. I just got lost in thought for a moment there. Anyway, I’m guessing you’ll go be with Dr. Idabashi?” “Yes, he practically insisted that I come back home for it.” “… That must be nice.” “What about you? Visiting family?” “… I don’t…” “Survivalist?” “Ah- Sorry, sorry. I’m not doing anything exciting. Just staying here and training. I need to build up my talent as much as I can before our finals. Building up my muscles in time for that will take a long time and will be very difficult. I’ll probably have to even skip class for a while, maybe even for the rest of the school year to even catch up!” Seeing that strained, forced smile felt so unnerving to Kiibo. “Survivalist, is something wrong?” “… Uh… OH! Look!” They pointed upward. Small white dots speckled the view of the gray sky as they twirled and spun about. “Ah, snow. Now I must insist that you get a scarf.” “Fine, fine. Let’s go… RACE YOU THERE!” Before Kiibo could respond the Survivalist was already far down the path, kicking up the leaves and snow as they went. “Slow down! You’re going to fall over!”

And then, for Kiibo at least those weeks flew right by and before he knew it, it was winter, and there he sat on pins and needles in the waiting room. It was finally the day that the Survivalist would get that cast off! Kiibo kept an eye on those doors, prepared to leap out of his seat and catch the Survivalist before they could run and jump around and injure themself. He could already imagine them running straight for the lab the moment they get back to the campus. It was certainly going to be a handful for a while, but Kiibo couldn’t wait to see the Survivalist back in action. Then, when the doors opened, the moment he saw it was his friend, Kiibo raced up to them. “Heh, glad to see you too Kiibo. I’m all set so we can go straight back to school.” “Okay!” Expecting his friend to immediately bolt Kiibo braced himself to stop them, but they held up a cane to him. “Uh, mind taking this? It’s throwing off my balance.” “… Alright.” Slowly they took a few steps forward, shaking like a newborn deer. A few times they almost fell but they were able to catch themself. “How come you’re just standing there? Let’s go!” “Oh, yes! But, are you sure you shouldn’t be using the cane?” “No! I need to build up my muscles and train. I can’t climb or run if I can’t even walk! The cane would just be a crutch. This may be hard, but I’ll be able to walk normally sooner instead of relying on that thing.” “… If you fall, I must insist that you use the cane.” “So don’t fall, got it!”

The world around them was completely and utterly caked in white, the only splashes of color were from the people who walked past. Kiibo’s gaze was locked onto the person beside him; the puffs of fog that seeped from their every breath, the crimson which dusted their cheeks and tips of their ears, their gloved hands which were held out searching from support despite none being wanted. “Did the doctors say anything about your other injuries?” “When I can walk, I can exercise. That’s all I needed to know, and I didn’t bother remembering anything else they said unless it had to do with physical therapy.” “… I see.” After a few more steps they suddenly came to a stop. “Kiibo.” “Yes?” “I’m sorry.” “What ever for? There’s too many reasons to count.” They chuckled, lifting up the downcast mood which seemed to surround them. “Someone’s feeling sassy today.” Sighing, they pulled up their scarf to cover their face just a bit more. “For not telling you how injured I truly was when I got back. I knew you’d be worried and insist I rest, but… I wanted to still push myself and regain my strength. I was panicking then and… I’m still scared now. Trying to train and seeing truly just how much I’ve deteriorated… I’m scared, but that fear was and is no excuse to hold back the truth. I’m sorry.” A cold wind rushed past causing them to hug themself and shiver. “Survivalist… I’m glad you see your faults in past actions, and thank you for apologizing… I truly was worried and scared for you then. So, you’ll be completely honest with me from now on, alright?” “Yeah, as long as you do the same. I don’t want this becoming one sided and I just dump all my issues on you… You can tell me about any troubles you’re having, okay.” “Yeah, I will. And since we’re being completely honest there is something I-I’d like to say.” Kiibo’s cheeks suddenly flushed and he kept looking at anything other than his companion. “W-well… I realize that you want to walk without assistance, but… uh… Y-you look rather cold and I… would want to… warm you up? B-by holding your hand.” “Ah… sure.” Kiibo made a small squeak like noise as he froze in place hearing the reply. “O-oh, okay.” Hesitantly he reached his hand out to their own. The pads of their fingers just barely touched, and the palms of their hands hovered apart. The Survivalist looked to Kiibo, hearing how his internal fans were working on overdrive despite there being the crisp cold air which surrounded them. Gently the Survivalist slid their fingers next to Kiibo’s and curled them down, closing the distance between their palms. Moments later Kiibo followed suit. “You okay, Kiibo?” “Y-yes! I’m fine!” The Survivalist then placed their hands into their coat pockets, pulling their companion closer and causing him to make some sputtering noises. “What about this? You alright with it?” “A-ah, uh, y-yea- yeah! A-absolutely!” The heat which radiated from the robot was a familiar warmth, the kind one could only find on summer days which tingled the skin. A lovely warmth.

For the next few days Kiibo and the Survivalist walked side by side, hand in hand, not daring to leave the other. Quickly the Survivalist was walking around like nothing had happened. Seeing this, Kiibo was not surprised that they had not shown up to class, they did say that when they could walk, they would go back to training. By the time class had come to an end Kiibo had decided to check up on them. Before they got injured the Survivalist was always so health conscience, always making sure they took breaks when needed and always ate the healthiest of meals. Kiibo also knew how reckless they could be so he wouldn’t be surprised of they had not taken any breaks either. And so, he made his way for their lab. Sure enough the door was unlocked signaling that someone was inside and the he found the Survivalist panting and running on a treadmill. “Hey, Survivalist. Have you taken any breaks today? You look rather worn out.” “Y-yeah.”

The next day the Survivalist didn’t show up to class again. When Kiibo went to visit them, they basically had the exact same interaction, only difference being the Survivalist was doing curl-ups. And the next day, and the day after and the day after that, it was all the same. By the morning of the eighth day Kiibo decided to just spend the day with them. Admittedly having been so close for five months Kiibo missed being with them, and even before they were injured, they’d hang out with Kiibo no matter how much they were training. There were even times where they dragged the unsuspecting robot into a week long camping trip in the mountains without any equipment, teaching him how to hunt or find north or to tell the difference between poison ivy to other plants or how to make a tent with nothing but tree branches or how to make a raft or how to make tools or food from every single part of an animal or even how to just stop, breathe, look at the stars and not think a thing at all. Now they were just held up in their lab.

As the Ultimate Survivalist and from having been on several survivalist expeditions with them, Kiibo knew they woke up when the sun raised and slept when the sun set so Kiibo tried to catch them at their dorm room when the sun rose, but… No one appeared. Did they go on an expedition and he just wasn’t told? Did they decide to sleep in their lab so they could start training as soon as possible? Well, there was only one way to find out so off Kiibo went to the lab. Upon reaching it Kiibo found the door to be unlocked. So they did stay there all night? Then he spotted them laying on the ground… They hadn’t woken up yet? It must have been because there were no windows in the room, and they couldn’t see the sun. Their skin was almost snow white and sweat dripped off of them. Kiibo placed a hand on their shoulder and gently rocked them. “Survivalist? Wake up, please.” They didn’t respond. “Survivalist! You need to wake up now!” Still no response. “Survivalist!” Not this again! Why this again!? At least he could get past the damn door this time around.

The next moments were but a blur. Kiibo remembered what happed. He remembered calling the nurse’s office. He remembered the nurse getting there and checking them, finding out they had fainted from exhaustion. He remembered Gonta being called to carry them to their room. He remembered all that, but it just happened, like he was watching some T.V. show. It wasn’t real, he was just a third-party observer, and yet, there he was, sitting on the edge of their bed, just waiting for them to wake up. He didn’t have to stay, the nurse said they only needed rest and nothing more, and yet… Kiibo couldn’t keep himself away. What had the Survivalist done to themselves this time?! They were smarter than this he thought! Yes, they were reckless, but not to the point of stupidity, were they!? They were fine now! They could train properly now, so what was wrong!? Why were they hurting themself again!? What was wrong? What could it be? They said they’d be honest, that they wouldn’t hide anything, so WHY DID THEY DO THIS!? Why? “why…”

Did they just say that to placate me like some child? Or… or did the promise mean nothing to them? Were they just saying some words to an inanimate object? Was… was that all that moment meant to them? Did this not matter? Do I not matter to them? I suppose a person would keep their promise to another person, but to something not a person… is that all they see me as?

“K-Kiibo?” “Survivalist!” Sitting up they looked around in confusion. “What happened? Why am I here?” There was a slight panic in their tone and with Kiibo already in an emotional state placed him very off kilter. “You fainted.” “What!? But, but I just got started working out after a break! I should have been fine!” “You weren’t pushing yourself?” “No!” “There’s nothing wrong you haven’t told me?” “I-I didn’t think so!” Though those words placed a part of Kiibo at ease the sheer fear emanating from the Survivalist shook him. “I should have been fine! I have to be fine! I-I’ve been training for days building up myself to my normal pace! I wasn’t even halfway there, and I faint!?” Their breathing quickened, and their pupils dilated. “No. Nonononoonoonononono! I can’t be this far behind! There’s only two and a half months till finals! I can’t be this far behind! I, I can’t! I CAN’T CATCH UP IN ONLY TWO AND A HALF MONTHS!” “Survivalist calm down. Breathe.” “This can’t be happening! It can’t be!” “Survivalist, everything is alright.” “No! No, it’s not alright! I can’t be this far behind! I can’t fail! I’m losing everything! I-If I can’t pass the finals, If I can’t prove I’ve improved this past year I’ll be kicked out! If I’m kicked out, I can’t be anything! I’ll just be left on the streets to rot and die! What the hell will I be then!? If I’m not recognized as the Ultimate Survivalist, then what am I!?” Their breathing became this warped choked out laughter that echoed through the small room. Tears cascaded from their eyes as their entire body trembled. “Survivali-” “Exactly! There, right there! You just called me Survivalist! Kiibo, what’s my name!?” “… your name?” Kiibo thought but couldn’t remember anything. “W-what?” He manually searched though all his memory files. “I forgot your name!?” “N-no. That’s it. I don’t have a name! I’m just the Survivalist! A-and if I’m not the Survivalist, who am I!? If I don’t even have a name, I can’t be anything or anyone else! What do I have if I’m not the Survivalist!? If I’m not the Ultimate survivalist I’m not anything, not even a person, I’m just nothing! I’m a failure! I’ll be completely useless and worthless! I’m just going to be jobless and die! I can’t go anywhere else! I don’t even know if I have a name! I don’t know if I have a family! I don’t even know if I have a favorite color! I don’t know anything about myself! I only know how to be the Survivalist! Nothing else! Only that! What will happen to me if I’m kicked out!? I-If I IF I CAN’T BE THE UNTIMATE SURVIVALIST WHAT AM I!? WHAT DO I HAVE!? WHO EVEN AM I!? WHO AM I!?” They tried speaking more but their words just kept getting caught on spit and tears. In the end all they could do was cry and wail till their voice broke and shattered into nothing. Nothing, nothing just and endless void of nothing.

Suddenly, in that moment, everything clicked and fit together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. Why they always pushed themself to train before the accident, why they were so desperate to train after it, why they…

Kiibo had no idea what to do at all. All he knew in that moment was just that he wanted to help and support you in any way you needed.

Amongst the panic, the fear, the tears and screaming for dear life something cut through. So tenderly he placed his hands atop his friend’s then squeezed them as tightly as he could. Though metal they were undeniably warm. “… My friend. Please look at me.” Seeing those eyes flicker towards him for even a moment was enough for Kiibo. ��Being the ‘Ultimate Survivalist’ is not all you have. You have me, this friendship, your work ethic and determination. The ‘Super High School Level Survivalist’ is not all you are. You are you.” “what?” Though your mind was racing your breathing slowed just the smallest bit. You needed to slow down. You were desperate to truly hear his words. You could hear them. He spoke slowly and clearly but you wanted to understand them, not just hear them. Finally, you let go of the quilt you had clutched so tightly to the point of ripping it with how deeply you had dug your nails into it and you held his hands. You focused on Kiibo, and only him. You felt all the separate pieces of metal that made his fingers and palms. How only on his right hand, in the middle of his palm was this circular engraving with a slant through it. How when you squeezed his hands, he did the same to you. You… “You are just you. You are nothing more, nothing less than you. And you are an amazing person who I cherish and am so glad I can call my ‘friend’. You may be my friend but most importantly you are you. You are entirely what got you into this academy in the first place. You are just you and only you, so you can keep yourself here if you want to. But you don’t have too. That’s something I’ve always found so incredible about you. You can do whatever you want because you were strong enough to get yourself to this point in the first place. And you don’t have to have one sole objective in life. I know being a survivalist is all you know but that doesn’t mean it defines you. No matter what happens, if you pass the finals or not, I know you will be alright because you are not only a survivalist or the ultimate survivalist. You are just a person and a person is not just one sole thing. You are not just one sole thing. You and other people can do and be whatever you want. I know you’re scared now. You probably feel lost, but for right now, please take a moment to breathe. You’ve been focusing on this for almost half a year now, and it’s understandable. You clearly want this if you’ve stuck it out for so long. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to keep your title as the Super high School level Survivalist. I just want you to know that it’s not all you are or all you have. You have me, our friendship, you’re my friend, but most importantly you are you, nothing else. The world is not coming to an end. Even should the worst happen, and you get kicked out, you still have yourself and you will keep living. And even if the best happens and you keep your title, it’s not all you are. You are you, and that’s it.”

Your heart felt as if it were lodged in your throat. Tears threatened to pour from your eyes. You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking yet… Yet you could breathe. It felt like you were breathing for the very first time. It hurt, each and every breath was heavy and so raspy. With each breath you could feel it scratching your throat. But you were breathing. You were here. You were actually here. Though blurry you could see the room. You could see the wooden desk against the wall adjacent to you. You could see wooden floorboards and the blue quilt with white sheets. You could see Kiibo. You could see his spiky white hair, and his blue-gray eyes. You could see the tender concern in them. you could see his smile, how his lips quivered seeing you crying again… You tried seeing more but everything was too blurry now. You could feel his soft warmth, how it seemed to surround you in a tight secure embrace. You’re here now. For so long, ever since the accident everything felt wrong. Everything was out of control and there was nothing you could do, like you were reading some book or watching a movie. Like life just kept moving on and you were dragged along. Like you were some third party watching from the outside, like you were not even here. But you were now. You were here… And you felt so exhausted. Your entire body felt so heavy. Slowly, you leaned forward, resting your head on Kiibos’ shoulder. Yes, it wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was warm. You could feel it and know you were still here. You are here.

“My friend?” Kiibo felt how very quickly more and more of your weight was leaning on to him. Knowing he wasn’t strong enough to keep you up, Kiibo gently pushed you back, placing you back into bed. Tears percolated in the corners of your half-lidded eyes. Your eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. Gently Kiibo placed a hand on your cheek, with his thumb wiping those tear streaks away. He then pulled up the quilt and sheets. “kiibo” You shifted ‘till one of your hands were free. “O-oh.” Despite feeling himself overheating Kiibo took your hand into his own, intertwining your fingers. You then pulled your hand back, also pulling Kiibo closer. He laid next to you… Your breaths were so small and shallow now. Absolutely sound asleep. All that must have taken such a toll on you. Kiibo was glad to finally see you take a break.

Then suddenly everything hit him. How he held your hands without asking you, him caressing your cheek, tucking you into bed, and now laying on a bed with you in it… Internally he was screaming in an entire whirlwind of emotions as his entire face turned beat red. What was he doing!? Kiibo took advantage of his friend when you were in an emotionally vulnerable state, and a part of him liked it! He was a horrible person! … At least that’s what Kiibo was thinking as he laid frozen beside you as you unconsciously pulled him closer to you with the smallest of smiles curled on your lips.

When you woke up you found no trace of exhaustion, in fact, you felt refreshed. Sitting up with a stretch you felt the bed shift. “Kiibo?” The robot’s face was completely flushed and for a moment you were confused as to why until you realized you were holding his hand as you stretched, pulling him so close to you, you were only inches apart. “Kiibo! I’m sorry!” Immediately you let go and Kiibo backed up, but only a little bit. “No, my friend, I should be apologizing!” “Kiibo, how long has it been.” “Huh? It’s been a full twenty-four hours.” “… Was I holding your hand the whole time?” “… Y-yes.” “So, I should be the one apologizing, not you. You still get so flustered from physical contact, and I held your hand for so long. I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I?” “N-no! You don’t need to! It’s okay! I… liked it. WAIT! No, that’s not what I wanted to say I-” “Awww! Kiibo, do you have a crush on me?” “I-I That- May we please discuss this later!” “Okay, okay. No teasing. You want to say something?”

Kiibo took a moment to compose himself. Despite this his cheeks were still tinted red and his internal fans were on full blast. “My friend, while here I did a lot of thinking and I’ve come to realize that… I am a robot, and as a robot, I can do things humans can’t do. I can get modifications and new functions. I could get functions to moderate your heart rate, blood sugar levels, and many other vitals. With a sensor on your wrist and one over your heart I can keep track of such things and I can process them much faster than any equipment in the medical field thanks to Dr. Idabashi’s and Miu’s engineering. With this information I can help you! You can work and I’ll keep track of everything else. I can see when you will faint and stop you just before it would happen, and then we can keep pushing past that threshold in small increments and make sure you are making progress each time you go train. This way you won’t have to do any guess work or push yourself to the point of exhaustion again! I can truly help you! What do you think of this?” “Uh, what I think?” Kiibo simply gave you a nod in reply. “… I don’t know about this. I mean, I appreciate the sentiment and it would be very useful but… It feels wrong.” “How does this feel wrong?” “I mean… What do you think about this? I know you thought about this for a while, but those functions would solely be for me. Would you be comfortable with that? When you got new functions before they weren’t solely for another person, were they? You’re so kind, at times I worry you might sacrifice yourself for another and not take your own feelings into consideration. You stayed by my side the whole time my leg was recovering, you always walked with me when I was trying to train my leg, and you were even with me after I fainted and guided me and held my hand through my panic. You are a person too, so you shouldn’t do something just because it’s useful to someone else.”

Kiibo sat there, not moving. The light from the window behind you shone on Kiibo, reflecting off of him and light up the room. “… you see me as a person?” Kiibo still had hardly moved, only parting his lips just enough to form the words. “Uh, yeah? You’re my best friend. Of course, I see you as a person.” “My friend, please let me embrace you!” “Kiibo!?” Your friend looked to be on the verge of tears and his body shook, something you didn’t think a robot could do. “No.” You then pulled Kiibo into a hug. “We both get to embrace.” So tightly and securely Kiibo held you. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, you could feel the heat from his blush radiating off of him. “… It’s settled then. I’m getting Miu to install the new functions and make the sensors as soon as possible.” “You’re absolutely sure?” “Affirmatively!” “… You’re too kind, Kiibo. But I just want to make sure you’re absolutely sure. It may take me a long time to get back to how I used to be.” “All the more reason then. I want you to be happy. And… a-and I want to be with you to see that happiness for myself. I want to be able to be by your side for years to come. Even if it takes years, I won’t mind because I’ll be with you. I told you before, didn’t I? … All I want is to spend time with you… And I’d love to stay by your side after you get back to your old strength. I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.” “…” For once it was your turn to blush. “… Uh… would it be silly to say I’m already practicing for what it might be like to have the new functions? Because I can feel your heart beating so quickly right now.” You wondered how one person could be so sweet and kind as you tried hiding your blushing face against Kiibo’s frame.

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years ago

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Pain Is So Close To Pleasure (modern!Queen x platonic!reader) - Chapter 2

Summary: As a recently promoted Soloist for the Royal Ballet, you move closer to Covent Garden with your three-year-old daughter, Rose. But your new neighbour turns out to be the last person you'd expect to pop up on your doorstep.

A/N: This chapter, but really this whole fic, has such a specific vibe and I love it?? Like I can relate to a lot of the things I describe, and I don’t know if that’s a me thing, or a British thing, or just a thing. Anyways I’m here for it. And if you’re not British and don’t relate to this fic in the way I do, and you’ve wondered what it’s like to live in Britain, this might give you a rough idea.

The chapter count for this crept up again because I’ve had about two or three more ideas for this. I think now would be a good time to mention that I’m treating this as more of a load of one-shots set in the same verse, rather than a story with a plot. That’s why it will start to seem more like a series of vignettes, not as a storyline.

As always, I hope you’re all doing okay with everything that’s going on, and I hope to have another update for you all soon. I hope you enjoy!

Warning(s): swearing

Word Count: 3.3k+

Inspiration: Incandescent by @immistermercury on AO3, Outed by @platawnic on Tumblr, Rock Angel by @mirkwoodshewolf on Tumblr, Brian’s Instagram, Modern Times Rock ‘N’ Roll by @rhapso-kei on Tumblr and AO3, this silly lockdown business, the fact that I should have gone to see Queen over two weeks ago but it’s fine

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Series Taglist: @banana-tree-freddiemercury @lillycarlyn (darling you didn’t say which taglist so if you want me to put you on the perm one then let me know)

Ask to be on either! Make sure to specify!

You popped your head round the door to the studio and smiled to yourself when you found it void of people. You switched the lights on, the charcoal-grey clouds outside casting a darkness over the Opera House; uncharacteristic for midday, but then it was London, and it was February. You couldn’t expect too much from good old British weather.

It wasn’t often that you had the opportunity of having a studio all to yourself, so when you did, you simply had to make the most of it. The way your timetable for the day had worked out meant that you had a longer lunch break than everyone else, not by much, but fifteen minutes was more than enough time to go over a routine you’d crafted yourself. So, seeing as you could afford to eat later on, and everyone else was either in the canteen or some café in Covent Garden, you decided to book one of the studios for your own use.

You connected your phone to the mostly unused speaker in the corner of the room and quickly found the song. Time was of the essence here, and you were most conscious of that. You lightly ran to the centre of the room, making sure you weren’t facing the wall-length mirror for watching yourself dance made you rather self-conscious, replacing passion with technicality. This dance was your own, you had created it, cradled it, held it oh-so-close to your heart; unlike anything you’d ever done professionally, this dance was all about the enthusiasm and the love with which you danced.

Freddie’s voice rang out through the studio, clear as day and filling each and every particle with the richness of his voice. The singular note was soon accompanied by harmonies and then the familiar piano motif of Somebody To Love. You smiled despite yourself as you began the routine.

You promised yourself that one day you’d perform this to someone, even if it was just Rose. But that day was a long way off yet.

The way you danced was unlike how you had ever done so on stage. You performed with a vivacity that many dancers lost so early on in their careers when they valued the physical quality of their dancing over the raw emotion of it. You considered yourself quite lucky that you hadn’t yet surrendered to that particular temptation.

You considered this song to be a crescendo in and of itself, just building and building as its many layers unfolded. You’d made sure that this was reflected in the choreography. Each section was grander a more extravagant than the last. You quite liked the simultaneous challenge and familiarity of it; it made for a good dance to return to when you found your head overflowing with your thoughts and anxieties. You made more and more use of the space as the song progressed, like you were contained by an invisible circle that gradually grew.

When the third verse came around, and Freddie’s voice temporarily faded into silence, fooling the nonchalant listener into thinking it was the end, you had a second to pause. You used it to inhale deeply before starting the fouettés that accompanied the acapella. One, then another, then another, more, more, more until you genuinely thought you were going to fall over. You persevered, however, pushing through all forty of the turns, and even though by the end you wanted nothing more than to lay on the ground and watch the world spin, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming because holy shit you’d never done them all before. You shook off the feeling, allowing yourself to revel in it later; right now, you had the rest of the dance to get through.

You breezed through the rest of it, the highest jeté seeming insignificant compared to the dizzying hell you’d just put yourself through. When everything quietened down once again, and Freddie faded back into his falsetto, you came to a still in the centre of the ‘stage’, going up on pointe and gradually raising one leg into the air so that it was parallel to your upper body and then to your face. When the music kicked in again, you dropped it back down and returned to your original flow. With the last tiny piano chord of the song, you did a cheeky little jump with the biggest grin on your face, before curtseying to your non-existent audience.

Or so you thought.

A slow clap sounded from the doorway and you whirled round to look at the intruder, blushing furiously with the embarrassment of being seen without knowing. Your smile made a comeback, however, when you recognised the face.

“Wow, that really was something, (Y/N),” Brian whistled, “I’m impressed, truly.”

“Thank you,” you ducked your head, panting heavily. Your muscles screamed with exhaustion, and even though you wanted to just lay down and maybe have a nap, you stayed strong, refusing to appear rude to Brian.

Somehow, he seemed to read your mind, “You can sit down, you must be knackered. Don’t mind me.”

You smiled at him gratefully before sinking down in the corner of the studio next to your bag and grabbing your water bottle with desperation. You gestured to the spot next to you which he took gladly. “How much of that did you see?”

“Pretty much all of it,” he laughed, “I was about pop in for a chat but I saw you put the song on, and I thought I might as well watch.”

“Gosh,” you muttered, beginning to take off your pointe shoes to relieve your aching feet. You’d had back-to-back classes all morning and doing a routine such as that one after all of that just didn’t help.

“I didn’t know you guys danced to non-classical music,” he said.

You managed to get one shoe off, and you started on the other one, wrinkling your nose at the quite frankly disgusting smell that Brian was politely showing no reaction to, “We don’t. Well, I haven’t heard of it anyway. Even if people did somewhere, it would be an awfully long time before the Royal started doing it.”

He shot you a confused look, “Then how…”

“It’s my dance. I choreographed it a while back,” you shrugged, not really understanding what the big deal was, “That’s probably the best run I’ve done of it.”

“Wow, I,” he ran a hand through his hair, “That looked like something from an actual ballet.”

You ducked your head again with the kind of embarrassed pride that comes with compliments, “Thanks, Brian, that means a lot. I only made it a while ago. I,” you laughed self-deprecatingly before saying, “I’d just done quite possibly the worst audition of my life, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how shit it was. So, I just freestyled to some of my favourite songs and that happened.”

“You just made that up?” he asked incredulously.

“It wasn’t nearly as good as it was just then. I’ve been working on it for months until it became what you just watched. It’s been my little side project,” you mused, shoving your phone and both of your pointe shoes into your ballet bag. You poked your head up and peered through the huge window on the opposite wall, cringing at the heavy rain and how that wasn’t a good mix with the non-waterproof trainers you were now putting on, “Oh, shit, I thought it wasn’t going to rain until later. I don’t think I packed my umbrella,” you said, forgetting about your shoes for a second and rifling through your bag.

Brian placed a hand on your arm, “Relax, I have one, we’ll just have to share, if that’s alright with you?”

“Thanks,” you looked at him gratefully before returning to doing your laces.

“Where are you going anyway? You haven’t finished work already, have you?”

“Oh, I wish,” you laughed sadly. You did love your job, but today was just one of those days where you had no energy and just wanted to cuddle up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a box of Quality Street chocolates all to yourself and binge watch Miranda on Netflix. “No, I didn’t bring any lunch with me, so I thought I’d have a look and see which cafes have free tables. You’re more than welcome to join me if you want.”

About five minutes later, you found yourself running through Covent Garden Market while it was hammering it down with rain, sharing an umbrella with Brian that was way too small for the both of you. You were trying your hardest not to slip on the shining cobblestones beneath your feet, while also trying not to knock into any other pedestrians who, like you, were also running for cover. It wasn’t long until you reached your destination, a café that was a favourite haunt of yourself and Rose. It served at Rose’s Friday treat after she had finished preschool for the day, when the weather wasn’t too good and you couldn’t go to the playground in St James’s Park. You also frequented it on bank holiday weekends or half-terms where you’d been in the flat for three days straight and were in desperate need of some fresh air but had absolutely nothing to do.

You held the door open for Brian, hearing the little bell ring when it came into contact with the door, and you grabbed the umbrella from him as he entered. You shook it rather aggressively outside and popped it into the bucket next to you, filled to the brim with the umbrella of fellow patrons who unluckily got caught in the rain and had dived into the nearest establishment for sanctuary. You made your way to the only free table left while Brian queued up to order your food and drinks.

This wasn’t actually the first time you two had done this, though it was the third. The first time had been rather awkward, as from the second you put your shoes on to leave to the second you said goodbye, you were both repeatedly stopped by people wanting to talk to Brian. And even though neither of you ever complained, you had later admitted to each other that you had found it rather annoying. The second time wasn’t as bad, though at one point you had been stopped by a guy from some tabloid you’d never heard of asking for an interview. Much to your amusement, and Brian’s embarrassment, the guy had actually been looking to talk to you instead of him. You’d politely declined, offering to do it another time, but as soon as you’d sat down to eat, you teased Brian mercilessly about it, and still did every now and then. All it took was for you to say Brian look I’m more famous than you for him to blush furiously and ask you to please change the subject. Considering this was the third time now, the initial shock of oh my God I’m just casually having lunch with Brian May this is fine had passed. Now it was merely having lunch with a friend. Just that that friend just so happened to be an international icon. No big deal.

You looked up to see Brian making his way over to you, carrying a tray of food, and you smiled when you noticed that he’d remembered from last time when you’d told him what, in your opinion, was the best food this particular café had to offer. He sat down opposite you and plonked the tray down on the table, as you both started to work out who’s food and drink was who’s.

“How’s work been this week?” he opened up the conversation as he stirred his latte that had fake milk in it because I don’t know if their milk is locally sourced, (Y/N)!

“Not too bad, actually,” you said, taking a sip of your own drink and cringing when it scalded your tongue, “We’re just in our last week of rehearsals for The Winter’s Tale right now. Someone got injured on Tuesday, and our first performance is next Tuesday, so that’s not exactly ideal. But we’ll get through it, it’ll be fine, I’m sure,” you shrugged. The show must go on, you supposed. Pun not intended.

“Listen, (Y/N),” he started, his more serious tone intriguing you already, “I need to talk to you about something.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…” You weren’t all too sure where he was going with this, and it was impossible to tell if the news he was about to impart was good or bad.

“I know this is very sudden, and there’s no guarantee that this will even happen, but I thought I’d ask you first,” he rambled for a moment.

“What, what are you on about?” you laughed impatiently.

He took a deep breath and said, “I have a business proposition for you.”

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

The after-school pick-me-up was carnage at the best of times, let alone on a Friday which also just so happened to be the last day of half-term. Parents crowding around the doorway, desperate to reunite with their child and careless of who they had to shove out of their way in order to reach them. Children spilled out of the school, arms full of lunch boxes and month-old paintings that were meant to be rainbows and dragons but resembled something similar to an oil spill. Teachers waved goodbye with the odd word to the overly concerned parent, not-so-secretly relieved that their week off was edging closer, and hurrying everyone off because the sooner they left, the sooner half-term started. Something which parents had very split feelings over.

Not for you, however. You were more than happy to get Rose to yourself for the week, finding the flat way too still and silent and void of a child’s laughter for you to find remotely comfortable. And even though half-term would always mean a busy show week for you due to the sheer amount of families desperately needing something to do, you were still grateful for the time you got together. That may or may not be because you had spent the far majority of your adult life being a parent, but you weren’t complaining.

As per usual, you heard Rose’s shout long before you saw her face, but you decided that you wouldn’t have it any other way when you saw her run straight towards, “Mummy!”

You crouched down and hugged her tightly when she collided into your arms, almost overbalancing from the sheer force of it, “Hello, darling, did you have a good day?”

She pulled away and grinned at you, “Yeah! We had a dance party and we played games and we played musical chairs and I won and I got some chocolate!”

“Oh, wow, that’s really good Rose, well done you,” you bopped her nose and turned to the things she was holding, “What’s all this?”

She thrust a piece of sugar paper under your nose, “I did a glitter painting yesterday and it’s dry now! It has every colour in the whole world!”

You took it from her and looked at it, pretending to inspect it like a pretentious artist and putting on the poshest voice possible, “Well, I do think it’s rather splendid, if I do say so myself. Absolutely spiffing.”

She dissolved into giggles, “Mummy, you’re silly.”

You gasped in mock offence as you took her hand and started to lead her out of the crowd, “Excuse me, I’m not silly! I’m a very serious grown-up, don’t you know?”

“I don’t want to be a grown-up! Grown-ups are boring. I want to be little forever and ever and ever.”

“I’m a grown-up, do you think I’m boring?” you asked.

“Only sometimes,” she said very seriously, “Only when you talk about boring grown-up stuff.”

You chuckled slightly, “What about Rog and Bri? Are they boring?”

She laughed again as if you’d just said the funniest thing she’d heard all day, “No! They’re fun because they give me ice cream and they think of really good games,” she paused for a second, “Mummy, are we going to the park today?”

“Well, it is Friday so if you want to go then we’ll go. It is a very sunny day today,” you said, frowning when you noticed Rose’s face, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

She pouted as if deep in thought, “I don’t think I want to go today.”

“It’s perfectly alright if you don’t want to, darling. It’s half-term next week so we can always go another day,” you assured her, “Why don’t you want to go?”

“I feel a bit tired,” she said sheepishly, “I don’t want to fall asleep on the swings and fall off!”

“Oh, baby,” you said, heart swelling with the simultaneous silliness and adorableness of her logic, “I’d catch you before you fall, don’t worry. But we can go home if you want. We’ll find something else for your Friday treat.”

Her eyes lit up, “Can we have cookies? The nice ones with the big chocolate bits?”

“Good idea, darling, we can have cookies,” you did a quick mental run-through of what your biscuit tin was looking like at the moment and said, “I don’t think we have any of those ones at home so we’ll stop off at the bakery on the way home.”

“Yay!” she squealed before singing, “We’re having cookies! We’re having cookies!”

Rose spent the entire journey home singing that song, and even though you wanted nothing more than to never hear that tune again, you wouldn’t dare burst her bubble of joy. Besides, you didn’t think you could tell her to stop if you tried; she really was that cute. Or maybe you just told yourself that, so you didn’t feel like a terrible parent. You guessed you would never know. At least the lady who worked at the bakery found it endearing that a child could be that excited for something as relatively simple as cookies.

By the time you’d shoved the key in the door and the two of you had spilled into your flat, it was around half past four and Rose was positively exhausted, despite her best attempts to look and sound awake. You’d decided to have the cookies with some milk you’d warm up once you’d sorted out Rose’s stuff and gotten her changed from her long day at preschool. Then you just supposed you’d have some cuddles, and, with any luck, she’d fall asleep because the poor girl really needed it.

You put the radio on in the background before snuggling down on the sofa with her comfortably in your lap and your favourite honey-golden blanket draped over the both of you.

“I love you, Mummy,” she murmured against your chest before nibbling on the cookie that was bigger than her hand.

“I love you too, baby,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and feeling her snuggle in more, as if that was even possible. You suddenly remembered your lunch with Brian, and the news you needed to impart, “I had lunch with Bri today,” you started, feeling her nod and carrying on, “He had a very cool idea, darling.”

“What was it?” she whispered, large, curious eyes looking up at you.

“He asked me if I wanted to work on a film, and I said yes,” you smiled, watching her face light up with the muted excitement that was usually paired with some element of confusion.

“A film? Is it a big film? Like Tangled?” she asked, suddenly much livelier than before.

“Yes, sweetheart, a bit like Tangled, except there’s going to be real people in it instead of animated people,” you explained.

“What’s the film about?” she was getting more curious by the second and it just made your heart leap with pride.

“It’s about the band that Rog and Bri are in, darling. It’s the story of how they got famous,” you grinned.

“Who are you in it?”

“Ooooooh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that yet, I’ve got to keep it a secret,” you said judiciously, smiling when she pouted at you, “I’ll tell you another day, sweetheart, don’t you worry.”

“Promise?” she asked hopefully.

You brought her into a hug again and whispered, “Promise.”

#ballet #royal ballet #queen band #ballet au #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #Queen #queen x reader #queen x reader platonic #queen imagine

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devnicolee · 4 years ago

Text

The Chosen Ones (6)

Warnings: Slow burn, angst

Word Count: 9,150

Pairings: M’Baku x Original Character

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

A/N: This took forever... slowly realizing I am a slow writer lol also this story was only supposed to be 5 chapters. It is going to be more like 8. Someone teach me how to write shorter stories and chapters lol Enjoy!

Asha gingerly opened her eyes to the darkness of her bedroom, her deep red curtains blocking the sunlight she knew tried to shine through her window. She stretched her arms and legs slightly, grimacing at the soreness that still coursed through her bones. She closed her eyes again, focusing internally to feel her powers once again at full force. The panther inside was rested and rejuvenated... ready for a new day. After years of begging to be rid of them, it was unnerving and terrifying to have exhausted them the way she did last night. She was slowly coming to realize that even in her lifelong hate of her powers, she still relied on them to catch her if she ever fell. Last night was an example of what would happen when the safety net was not beneath her. That was enough to force the young princess on her journey to accepting her powers, even without her conversation with Bast.

She thought back to her conversation with Bast briefly but refused to let her mind spiral too far down that black hole.

It is too early to dissect that, she determined silently. She would need a cup of strong coffee… maybe Jabari rum, to process that.

She lazily rolled over to her side, eyes still heavy and tired, deciding to fall back into the unconscious world for a bit. Quiet moments passed before she opened her eyes again, coming face to face with the slumbering giant in her bed. Her eyes widened with shock as she took in M'Baku's resting form and deep, gentle snores.

I must have been more tired than I thought last night, she thought to herself, knowing that if she had all her wits about her... she certainly would not have forgotten falling asleep with the man of her dreams under her covers.

The desire for more sleep vanished like a flash of lightning. Small flashes of the night before appeared in her mind like a movie. Him carrying her to the fire, her asking him to stay in her bed, his heavy arm pulling her close to him, the warmth of his chest, him saying he would care if she died.

I would care.

How could three simple words carry so much weight? Perhaps because aside from her siblings, no one had ever said it about her before. She loved him... She was in love with him. And she never felt it more strongly or deeply than last night when he held her in his arms. They hadn't done anything... hadn't even shared a kiss but that was intimacy unlike anything Asha had ever experienced. Staying like this with him was far more appealing than the drama she knew waited for her outside her bedroom's vibranium-enforced walls.

She could see it now: waking up to his soft snores in the mornings, the thumps of his strong heartbeat against her ear as she laid on his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her to keep her close and safe, his natural body heat keeping her warm. She wanted it... craved it. And she thought nothing could top waking up in his bed that morning in Jabariland? This beat that by miles.

Her fingers ran up and down his bicep, feeling the strong muscle beneath the surface that gave him his sculptured figure. His eyes opened slowly at her light touch, the warrior inside crushing the heavy sleeper he once was as a child. A smile crept across his face as he took her in for the first time that day, a sight he certainly could get used to. He decided that there would be no better way than to start his days than with this woman by his side.

"Good morning," he said, his deep voice raspy and somehow more sexier than normal to Asha.

"Good morning," she answered back, a sly smile on her face. A silence fell over the two for a few moments as they just laid and stared at each other. Asha looked away, the intensity in his eyes too much for her. The joy of waking up with him was slowly morphing into dread. It was unfortunate that she could so clearly articulate the feelings she had for him to herself but the moment she had the opportunity to say them to him? She clammed up and shut down. The sun was up and a new day meant they would have to talk... about their complicated feelings, what they could be to each other, what it would mean for their families, their tribes. Asha didn't even know if she was still engaged... though she figured it was a safe guess to assume that arrangement had ended.

She knew she wanted to choose M'Baku and figured he felt the same. After all, why would he still be here if he didn’t? But still, she dreaded asking... dreaded revealing her true feelings only to be disappointed. Asha's life was a series of moments where she thought things were going well and life veered down a hill of ragged rocks. Hasani was a great example... something she thought could work out only to be sadly mistaken. She was tired of expecting smooth sailing only to be met with rough seas and disappointment. She wanted desperately to believe this would be different, but her fear was real. She didn't know which conversation she was dreading more: the one with her brother and sister or the one in front of her right now.

"W-we should probably get up, yes? I need to talk to my brother and sister. I-I should have called them last night," Asha said quickly, stumbling over her words a bit. Ultimately, she chose her siblings, that crisis seemed less daunting than whatever was going on between them. Besides, it seemed selfish to focus on building a new life with someone after lighting her old one on fire. It was her duty to help put it out first.

She watched a look of surprise and disappointment flash across his face as she sat up to get out of bed. But to his credit, he did not voice it. He didn't want to get around her family and lose the opportunity to finally talk about them. He knew what last night meant for her family and he felt for them. But he also knew that last night meant the end of her engagement. M'Baku was not as selfless as he hoped to be so he couldn't help but see all of this as another barrier between them falling, granting them a clearer path ahead. But as T'Challa rightfully reminded him, selfishness was not Asha's way. They would need to deal with the consequences of last night before she would ever consider their future.

"Yes. Your sister left these for you, since yours were destroyed."

He handed her a delicate set of new beads, which she quickly slid onto her wrist as she muttered a soft thank you. They blinked purple for a few moments when they touched her wrist, resyncing themselves with her information.

M'Baku quickly excused himself to go back to his own guest room and change his clothes, allowing Asha to do the same.

Asha used the new set of beads Shuri left with M'Baku to send messages to her siblings, mother, and Nakia, asking the group to meet her in T'Challa's office in 15 minutes. She was desperate to see them, to talk to them. Guilt rose like bile in her throat as she contemplated what to say, the appropriate apologies and explanations she needed to give for her reckless actions. Her father always said she would be the downfall of their tribe and she always vowed to prove him wrong. She had quite spectacularly failed at that. She knew they would ask about her flying adventure and she was not quite sure on what to tell them. Would she tell them of her near brush with death, her visit to the Planes, her conversation with Bast... her desperate attempts to stay there?

No... she quickly decided.

The rest? Maybe, Bast seemed to believe there was some quest she had to fulfill and she had no earthly idea what it could be. Perhaps the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio could help her decipher Bast's riddles. But she knew she could never tell them that she tried to choose death, that would be hard to admit and even harder for them to hear.

Once dressed, she walked outside her room to find Alexis waiting. Her guard did not even attempt to hide her jubilation at seeing the Princess alive, well and whole as she quickly swept the girl into a tight hug. Despite her surprise, Asha returned it with equal vigor, tightly wrapping her guard and confidant in her embrace.

"Don't ever scare us like that again," Alexis stated sternly in her ear, though there was a plea buried under Alexis' usual abrasive tone.

"Never... I promise," Asha said back. It seemed Alexis decided that her stern warning would do and let the young girl go. Asha smiled at her before the two started toward M'Baku's guest quarters.

M'Baku emerged from his door as soon as his guard knocked to alert him of Asha's arrival, having been ready moments before. The two shared a smile but no words, having just seen each other, and continued on the journey to T'Challa's office.

Asha tried her best to ignore the stares and hushed whispers of the palace staff they passed. She knew what it meant. Her powers were no longer a palace secret... the thing many knew of or suspected but dared not talk about. Now, she imagined the secret was free and circulating through the palace and country like air, being soaked up by person after person after person. She felt exposed, naked… particularly without her rings she completely destroyed.

However, she was determined not to let them get to her. Where yesterday's Asha would have shrunk into the shadows and hid in her room, today's Asha forced herself to hold her head high. It was difficult, she found herself desperate to hide at moments. But every time she did, a voice whispered to her and reminded her that she was a child of Bast. If Bast would not tolerate her kneeling before her, she certainly would not accept her cowering before anyone else.

Asha knew the true transformation into the person Bast wanted her to be... the person she was apparently meant to be would take time. One meeting with Bast, one night would not change how she felt about herself, or stop her desire to run away from who she was. She knew she was still miles away from where Bast wanted her to be and where Wakanda apparently needed her to be, but she would celebrate any small step in the right direction.

They rounded a corner and found themselves face to face with T'Challa's unmanned office door. She didn't announce her presence, simply opening the door to find her favorite people in this world huddled around T'Challa's desk. She didn't get a word out or even cross the threshold of the office before a speeding ball crashed into her and almost knocked her off her feet. There was no need to look down and figure out who it was, only one person in her world hugged like a mini cannonball.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her sister before pulling back to hold her face in her hands. Shuri looked as though she aged years in that one night. She looked up and found similar looks of worry and exhaustion on everyone else's face, bags and worry lines that could not be hidden by their wide smiles at seeing her.

Shuri seemed reluctant to let her go but finally did, giving her brother the chance to wrap her in a bone-crushingly tight hug.

"We are glad you are ok," he said.

Just hearing his voice, the voice of her first and fiercest protector caused tears to spring up to her eyes. She hid them as best she could but she knew the dam wouldn't hold for much longer. The round-robin of hugs continued with Nakia and Okoye before Asha turned back to face her brother again.

Her right hand fidgeted with the long sleeve on her cardigan, her apprehension and nerves clearly on display. They calmed slightly at the soothing circles M'Baku rubbed into her back and his presence so close to her as she tried to overcome the tightness in her vocal chords. When she finally looked up at T'Challa again, he was shocked to see tears streaming down her face.

"I-I am so sorry T'Challa," she whispered. "Running away like that... scaring you all like that. I-it was selfish and i-it was wrong. A-a-and I never should have provoked Elder Shani in the first place. This is all my fault, I feel horrible. I am just... please forgive me."

"Why in Bast's name are you talking about? You can't think any of us blame you for this?" Shuri asked, her confusion painted clearly on her face.

"How could you not? After what I said to her... and fleeing like that? I mean I broke a window for Bast’s sake." Asha's eyes bounced between the two, searching for a hint of anger or disappointment, searching for the reactions she had built up in her mind. But she couldn't find any of it.

T'Challa chuckled, "You mistake us for Baba, Asha. We are not him... unreasonable and apathetic. Nothing you said to Elder Shani was untrue or wrong. It was your right to speak up as my advisor. Elder Shani made a choice and those choices are not your fault, nor are they a reflection of you. We were worried about you, of course. But we certainly do not blame you. We will have to speak about the window though," he added with a smile, winking at her.

"Quite frankly, you did us all a favor," Shuri added, waving off Asha's concerns with her hand as she hoisted herself up slightly to sit on T’Challa’s desk. "Keeping that secret was killing you, hurting the tribe's reputation with all those lies. Now, we don't have to worry about that anymore. The laws are gone. You can set things on fire to your heart's content and no one can hold it over our heads again."

Asha nodded slowly, "I know not everyone feels that way... where is mama?" she asked, acknowledging the absence of a key member of the Panther Tribe.

Asha tried not to feel affronted by the fact that she almost died and her own mother had not come to see about her. She knew it was long past time to accept her mother's lukewarm reception of her. She always thought of her as an ally but as she grew and analyzed her childhood, she recognized that Ramonda was merely an extension of her husband. She would never fully love Asha as a mother should. But for reasons unknown, or rather that she did not yet want to admit, she still held hope that her mother would be more to her. And she was always disappointed.

T'Challa and Shuri could not control their immediate reaction to share a dark glare with each other. Asha appreciated their attempts to hide it and put on for her benefit. But she knew it was just that... an act.

"Mama said she would see you later. Don't worry about her. She is glad you are alright," T'Challa managed to say, though lying was never his strong suit, with a failed attempt at a reassuring smile on his face.

"It is high time you two stop lying about things for my benefit. I know, just as well as you do, that, at best, she is begrudgingly happy about my survival," Asha snorted, eyes rolling as she settled down on the couch across from T'Challa's desk.

"But we are not here to discuss mama... we are here to discuss the other woman who hates me. How bad is it?" Asha asked, moving on to more important matters than her mother's indifference toward her. Jitters coursed through her body as she waited to hear of the damage her stunt brought upon them. She felt M'Baku's weight settle on the couch next to her, his presence forcing some of those jitters to melt away.

M'Baku stayed silent throughout their meeting, feeling like an outsider in a family reunion. He felt assured in his presence knowing Asha indeed wanted him there. Her body gravitated toward his, leaning into his side the moment he sat down on the couch. His hand instantly found its home on her knee, her fingertips grazed his arm gently. It was so natural, he almost didn't realize it and wondered if she even noticed it herself. The intimacy of their soft, effortless touches were not lost on him or the other occupants of this office. He imagined it looked as if they had been in love for years, that was surely how it felt to him. Except, he didn't know what they were... in love, yes. In sync? Not so much.

T'Challa leaned against his wooden desk, suddenly looking older, the burdens of a king etched on his face. He rubbed his eyes like an exhausted child and folded his arms across his chest before answering, "It is, unfortunately, as we feared. Elder Shani has launched a campaign against the Panther Tribe. She has already gathered a group of vocal anti-mutants to support her and told anyone who will listen the truth of your status and the web of lies built to hide it. If it is any consolation, it seems to us that most of the country is enraged by the lies and secrets, not your actual status."

"The River Tribe and the Jabari are firmly behind us. The Mining and Border Tribes are still on the fence, refusing to signal support either way. We believe she will use the King's Exhibition tomorrow as her moment to publicly demand another challenge," Shuri added.

"Can she do that?" M'Baku asked.

"Technically, yes. It hasn't been done in a century and has always failed. But the majority of the Council can demand another challenge for the throne if they have sufficient evidence against the King. If she convinces the mining and border tribes to join her, she will have her majority."

"Our best bet is to remind the Mining and Border Tribes of the long-term implications of another challenge. If we strip T'Challa of his powers to challenge for the throne, it will be the end of the Black Panther. The last of the herbs runs through his veins," Nakia offered from her spot by the window.

Asha's head lulled into her hands, her soft moan of exasperation muffled through her fingers. She loathed to think about it, but her father was right. The truth was out and their tribe was beginning to crumble.

"Your engagement to Hasani has been called off, not officially. But we have no reason to uphold our end of that bargain when she did not uphold hers. It is nothing we cannot handle, Asha."

Asha nodded, slowly standing and pacing by the couch. Her fingers twisted among themselves as she walked, thinking. "Ok. So how do we stop her? What do we need to -"

"No, there is nothing we need to do. Shuri and I had a long conversation last night and we decided that whatever comes of this, wherever this takes us... it is no longer your concern."

Her pacing ceased, her hands fell to her sides as his words hit her. There was no malice, no intention of harm in his words... not even a hint of harshness. And yet, the words felt like a slap to the face, a slight. "T'Challa... what? What is that supposed to mean?"

He walked up to her, taking her hands in his firmly, ignoring her immediate instinct to rip them away. He saw the flickers of hurt in her eyes and needed to explain. He felt responsible for all this carnage that surrounded them. M'Baku was right. T'Challa always did the easiest thing when it came to his sister, never taking the leap that would actually free her. It was his determination as her big brother to free her, no matter the cost to him or their family. And it was time she stopped lugging around the weight of the consequences alone.

"It means that our parents laid the fate of our family... our legacy at your feet and that was unfair. Forced you to carry a weight alone that is all of ours. Your life has never been your own because of that. We will not do that any longer. As king, the fate of our family and tribe is my cross to bear. The rest of this life is yours... to experience something different, choose something different." His eyes lingered on M'Baku for a moment for he knew, even if his sister didn't yet, that life in Jabariland was that something different she needed to explore.

Asha was rarely at a loss for words but she couldn't think of anything to say. What he offered, she desperately wanted to accept. After all, it is what she always wanted. To be free of this place and all that came with it. But after her conversation with Bast, she now worried that her heart's desire was not her destiny. She was born into this family for a reason. If her destiny was to live happily in Jabariland, Bast could have put her there from the start. But no... she was here and that meant that whatever she was meant to do in this life, she couldn't turn her back on her role for good. After 15 years of believing she had to get rid of her powers to truly be in this family or that she had to leave in order to be free, she now actually saw a path in which she could have both.

She squeezed his hand before replying, "I love you both... more than anyone in this life. And I appreciate this, truly. But we are our family's present and future. So we share the burden of leading this country and its people. I can no more dissolve myself of the responsibilities that come with that than you can. I cannot leave here and pretend I do not care what happens to our family."

"But you said you couldn't stay here anymore?" Shuri asked.

"I did say that... before. But I don’t know how true that is now. Before I d-didn’t see a lot of choices. I wanted so desperately to be loved and wanted in this life. I just wanted to be like you two... you both live lives that are vibrant, filled with your passions and joy... filled with hope. It always hurt to watch you both live the lives you so richly deserved while I could not. But when I got back from Jabariland, days spent watching what my life here could have been like, I realized I couldn't ignore that pain anymore. I couldn't be satisfied with a half-life anymore, which is why I took the easy way out and ran. But you two are my family and this is my home. You two are in this world so I do not have a desire to choose a different one.”

T'Challa nodded, understanding, "We just want you to find happiness, Asha. Even if it is not with us... even if it is not here."

"The only happiness I have ever known has been with the people in this room. I can find some more happiness outside these walls and not turn my back on our family at the same time. I thought I couldn't but Bast showed me that I could, made me remember that you all are worth that. You are the reason I came back."

"'Came back?'" Shuri repeated slowly, confusion evident in her tone and on her face. "What do you mean?"

Asha bowed her head, internally frustrated at her slip up. She thought about lying but that wasn’t them. She, Shuri and T'Challa were different. She always felt like they would never understand the depths of her sadness and pain. But they proved her wrong time and time again. They might not have understood fully but they never stopped trying, never stopped listening.

"Um... well, when I fell, I went to the Ancestral Plane."

The air in the room became thick with tension as her words sank down upon them. T'Challa's body went rigid, his shock and anger clear in his facial expression. Tears welled up in Shuri's eyes. M'Baku leaped up from his seat, immediately tugging on her elbow to turn Asha's attention toward him.

Asha's body was tired of crying, exhausted of it, and yet the look of rage and pain in his face made her throat tight and tear ducts active again.

"You died?" he whispered, words barely above a whisper to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

"How are you here?" Okoye asked as the only person who managed to maintain their composure, though her face did seem harder than usual. "How is this possible? No one but the Black Panther can visit the Planes and return."

Asha scratched her head, unsure on how to explain something that she didn't fully understand herself. Scientifically, she knew what happened to her should not have been possible but what about any of this was scientific? It was all determined by Bast and she did not adhere to the rules of man.

"I don't know. Truly. Bast said I wasn't dead but that the fall was an opportunity for her to speak with me. She did say that it was my choice of whether to stay or return here. I chose to return."

"Bast? The Bast?" T'Challa whispered.

"Yes... The Bast... Panther Goddess of Wakanda and all that. You talked to her on your trip to the Plane yes?" Asha asked, confused as to why her brother looked more shocked than the rest of them. It was a known fact that the Black Panther visited the Ancestral Plane when they were given their powers. T'Challa visited twice, once more than any Black Panther before him. It was always Asha's assumption that the protector of Wakanda met with the Goddess that gave them those powers during that crucial visit.

"No. No, I didn't. I spoke to Baba, both times. And only Baba. I have never heard of a panther speaking directly to Bast, aside from the first Black Panther of course."

What is so special about me? Asha wondered silently to herself.

If she was being honest, meeting Bast had not seemed like much of an honor initially to her. But Asha's anger at her was unparalleled, her frustrations having built up for years with no release. It was hard to find joy in a meeting sullied by such pain and anger.

"So what happened??" Shuri demanded, loudly, tapping Asha on the arm to pull her out of her own head.

"When I woke up, I thought it was just a dream. I have dreamed about the Planes since I was a child and had not realized it. She showed up. I yelled at her, demanded she let me stay in the Planes," Asha admitted sheepishly, "And then she told me that Wakanda needed me to save its future and the legacy of the Black Panther. That is it. There were a lot of words but she did not offer many tangible actions," Asha added at the end, voicing her frustration at the cryptic messages her goddess gave her.

"Unless she told you how to make me immortal or gave you new seeds to grow more herbs, I am not sure you or anyone can save the legacy of the Black Panther. The mantle will die when I die." There was a sadness in his eyes that Asha had only seen in her own, an acknowledgement that he would indeed be the last of a centuries-long tradition. "Wakanda's only protector will be gone forever."

"Perhaps not forever..." M'Baku whispered. Asha could almost see the light bulb in his head going off as he addressed the full group for the first time since they walked in.

Everyone's attention shifted to the Mountain King, eyes wide with skepticism. The same question oscillating in all their minds: What did a Jabari know of the Heart-Shaped Herb?

"What do you mean?" Asha asked.

"I have had this reoccurring dream about the heart-shaped herb since I was a child. Except, the herb was on the top of a mountain, covered in ice, in Jabariland. I would try to seize one and panthers would surround them and I would wake up. The same outcome every single time. I believed the dream was my sign to challenge for the throne. But I continued to have the dream after Challenge Day. What if it means something more?"

"I don't see how that can help us, Lord M'Baku," Shuri muttered, rolling her eyes. "Those were just dreams. You all have never found herbs in Jabariland. There are none. We have searched... There are none in the wild in all of Wakanda."

"Yes, we have yet to find herbs in Jabariland, that is true Princess. But we have not searched all of Jabariland. There is a small mountain range on the border of the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb, land that no Jabari has set foot on in almost a century. Its forest is impenetrable. It is forbidden. Truthfully, I haven't thought about it in years until just now. Last night, King T'Challa said that your priestesses refuse to go to the Hall of Kings because they are attacked by visions and voices, yes? Our scouts used to report the same phenomenon in those mountains. Even the Chosen are not immune."

"You think there are herbs there?" Nakia said? "I don't understand why Bast would put herbs outside of Wakanda?"

"Technically... she didn't put them outside Wakanda. We did. Old maps of Wakanda show that the land that is now the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb stretched into the mountains. The Taifa Ngao simply thought the mountain and river's natural fortification made the easiest barriers between the territories, an easy break between the two that would not confuse anyone. But in doing so, part of the forest of herb ended up in Jabari territory. Bast said that she and Hanuman were aligned on many things... maybe it is protecting the last of the Heart-Shaped Herb?"

"This is all speculation. What proof is there to any of this? And how can we find them when the forest drives you to insanity?"

"You cannot believe these are coincidences? These dreams are real. Think about everything that has happened... Killmonger, reuniting Jabari with Wakanda, Asha meeting with Bast? All of it had to be for a reason. This is the reason. There are herbs in Jabariland and Asha is meant to lead us to them. She is not a Jabari, she is not a Chosen... she is... something else. She may be the only person who can do this."

Heads turned to Asha as she contemplated everything M'Baku said. She could not deny that the pieces fit together as he described them. If there were herbs left in this world, M'Baku may have just drawn them the road map directly to that garden. They owed it to Wakanda to find out the truth. And he was right… she was something else. She was A Gift.

"Then we go. We search for it. Today," Asha declared, determination set on her face.

"Today??" Shuri called out incredulously, laughing lightly at the absurdity of this plan. "You can't be serious? You literally died last night and now you want to go hiking? Are you on drugs??"

"Yes, I must agree with Shuri. Not because I don't believe you may be right. B-but you cannot run off into the forest off M'Baku's word and a hunch, Asha. it is not safe."

Asha shook her head. "It is not just M'Baku's word... it is Bast's too. She said I was to build last bridges across Wakanda, T'Challa. This is it. This is what she wants me to do. The herb and the Black Panther are what stopped Wakanda from tearing itself apart centuries ago. It is the thread that has held us together for centuries. Without it, we will just tear each other apart again. Bast doesn’t want the Black Panther to die, it would be the end of her people. If the Jabari lead us to the last of the wild herbs and give us the opportunity to cultivate them once more... no Wakandan could ever deny their place in this country again. If a mutant helps us preserve the legacy of the Black Panther, no one would ever question their existence again. They would have to recognize them as Bast intended, as gifts to her people. Brother... you have done what was once thought as unimaginable: bringing mutants back into the light, bringing the Jabari back into Wakanda. The Warrior Shaman went into the wilderness to save Wakanda then. This is how we save Wakanda now."

T'Challa stared at her intently, processing her words. He knew she was right, knew the puzzle pieces did in fact create this clear picture and path forward. However, he wished she was not the one that had to do it.

"We need the herb before the King's Challenge tomorrow evening. This is how we will convince the Mining and Border Tribes to maintain their allegiance to the throne. Are you sure you can do this, Asha? It won’t be an easy journey alone."

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "And I won't be alone."

***

The ramp of the Royal Talon thudded softly into the soft ground of a clearing in Jabariland, allowing Asha and M'Baku to descend into the frigid air. They looked like an odd pair, he in traditional Jabari hiking clothes. Asha, who had never done true hiking in her life, was in a borrowed pair of boots, leggings and a light jacket. A freezing Jabari day felt like a nice cool day to her. Both had backpacks filled with supplies and blankets, courtesy of Shuri who had also never hiked but seemed to think it was a week-long affair.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked M'Baku as they stepped into the soft and undisrupted snow on the ground. The Talon dropped them off at a spot already halfway up the mountain, giving them a head start. Unfortunately, the thick trees would not let them get any higher.

"Do you want to do this?" he countered, already knowing the answer. "No one wants to walk into a forest filled with magic. But this is my duty. I will nott turn back on it."

“How do we know that you are immune? From the creepy voices and dreams?” Asha asked, concerned for his mental health.

“We don’t. I guess we will have to wait and find out.”

Asha gave him a side glance. The man didn't look scared but there was such silence in him since they got on the plane and certain tension radiated off him that she was not used to. She wondered if this was how he wore fear.. This was certainly a new side of him she was experiencing.

"You said your dreams put the herb at the top of the mountain yes?"

"Yes, we should get started. It will take us a great deal of time."

The further they walked, the more Asha understood why people did not come here. Even without the voices and visions, which she was sure would be terrifying to the average Jabari, the trees were so thick and hunched over that they blocked out almost all of the natural sunlight along their path. It seemed as though night had fallen the moment they stepped foot out of the clearing. But so far, M'Baku's theory seemed to hold true. Asha heard nothing except the chitter chatter of forest animals, the swaying of trees, and a mixture of her and M'Baku's breathing.

Silence followed them easily as they walked for the first stretch, neither needing to stop or fill the space with unnecessary conversation. They just walked upward, toward the garden they knew was waiting for them. Occasionally, Asha threw a glance toward M'Baku, wondering what he was thinking of, wondering if they should use this free time to finally talk.

"It seems you were chosen in a different way, Lord M'Baku," she mused aloud as he used his knobkerrie to knock low-hanging branches from their path.

He looked back at her, eyebrows raised in speculation.

"How do you figure that?"

She laughed lightly, her childlike laughter filling the quiet forest as they went. "Well, you said this journey drives everyone else insane. Yet here you are... mind clear enough to continue the journey. Why do you think that is?"

Her question was met with silence but she could practically hear the wheels in his head churning, thinking about her words.

"Here we are... the only two people in all of Wakanda who could make this journey? You are doing something even T'Challa could not. You are saving the legacy of Wakanda."

"I don't serve your God though. Bast would not use me as a pawn in her plans."

She had fallen behind him slightly, his long legs allowing him to take greater strides than her. She sped up and he slowed down slightly so they could walk side by side and better engage in conversation.

"Bast and Hanuman are not mutually exclusive. They exist together. They are aligned in many ways. She told me so. Who says Hanuman doesn't want to protect the legacy of Wakanda too? If he didn't, why would he have urged you to fight for us against Killmonger or rejoin Wakanda? I don't think this is just Bast's plan... I don't know.I think it is their plan? "

"You seemed to know a lot about Bast for someone who doesn't pray," M'Baku countered, not to be contentious but trying to understand. He still remembered their hike her first morning in Jabariland... she had said she was done with all that.

Asha sighed, "I was. But I spoke to her, laid my frustrations and grievances at her feet and she listened, without judgement. She pushed me, challenged the things I always believed. I don't know. I stopped praying because I thought she stopped listening. But she never did, she just knew I was asking for the wrong things."

Silence fell over them for a while before M'Baku responded, "You truly believe I was chosen for this?"

A small smile settled on Asha's face. His tone, the look in his eyes was of a child wanting to be told he was good enough... worthy enough. Asha wondered if this was the great juxtaposition of their relationship - both grew up wanting what the other had and neither appreciated what they had. Neither thought they were chosen when their worthiness was so clear and evident in the other’s eyes. In reality, it seems they were destined for this task and perhaps destined for each other.

"Yes. I do. I know you have never felt like it but it is clear to me. Your dreams... your leadership in this tribe. Those are no coincidence. Hanuman and Bast could have chosen anyone to have that dream and wander this mountain and find these herbs. But they chose you. That means something."

The weather was getting colder, the winds stronger, the higher they walked up the mountain. The loud winds forced their conversation to die off as it howled loudly around them. Even Asha was starting to feel the sharp bite of the cold weather. It was not enough for her to regret her choice of light clothing, her internal furnace just had to do a bit of extra work.

The sun started to set, stealing the minimal light they had on the path. The darker it got, the more ominous the walk got as well. Not long after, snow started to fall on them, growing heavier by the second.

"How much farther?" Asha asked quietly.

"A few hours. But soon we won't be able to see anything with the snow. We should find shelter."

Asha looked around wildly, incredulously. "Shelter? Where? We are on an uninhabited mountain, M'Baku. Where in Bast's name would we find shelter?"

"I d - sh!" M'Baku quickly silenced her and himself as he heard rustling in the trees by Asha. Asha had little time to think before he pushed her behind him and raised his knobkerrie.

However, Asha was no damsel in distress, she was a fighter. She moved from behind him and summoned flames around her hands, though they struggled to stay alive due to the cold winds, ready to strike whatever came out of the forest at them.

They both stared into the black abyss between the trees beside them. First there was nothing, the pair starting to let their guard down. But before they allowed themselves to relax too much, Asha let out a soft gasp. Where there was nothing but black, there were now two amber eyes staring back at them.

M'Baku raised his weapon higher but Asha lowered hers, allowing the flames to cease and held his arm with her normal hand. She couldn't explain it but she knew this wasn't dangerous. Whatever the creature was, it would not hurt them. She took a step forward despite M'Baku's urgent whispers to not get too close. As she moved with bated breath, a paw emerged from the darkness, giving way to a full-grown panther slowly walking toward her.

M'Baku stood stunned as Asha dropped to her knee before the Panther. This was a message from Bast... they were on the right track.

The panther stared at her for a moment before turning and heading back through another set of trees. Asha immediately fell into step behind it. She felt her body tugged back by a strong grip and turned to find M'Baku looking more fearful than she had ever seen him.

"Panthers can't survive up here. It shouldn’t be up here. What are you doing?"

"I am following it. You have to trust me, M'Baku. You just have to," she begged him, eyes pleading with him to let her follow this animal. All the senses in her body yearned to go after it for she knew it was leading them exactly where they needed to go.

M'Baku didn't understand why following a wild panther would help them, unless she desired a trip back to the Planes. But he knew his logical brain was simply trying to overpower the feeling in his gut that agreed with her: the panther knew the way.

He let go of her arm and nodded, both quickly catching up to the panther who was waiting for them a few paces ahead. They followed it, snow heavily falling and winds whipping their faces for 10 minutes. Asha's resolve never wavered, this panther knew where it was going.

Sure enough, minutes later, just as M'Baku was cementing his idea to demand they return to the path, the panther stopped in front of the mouth of a cave. It flopped down onto its belly, licking the snow melting on its limbs while Asha and M'Baku walked past it. It was dark and damp but it was shelter, a reprieve from the harsh winds and snow outside.

They huddled inside, shielded from the winter elements outside.

"This will do for the night. Do you want to make a fire? I can go get wood," M'Baku offered.

Asha shook her head, sliding her backpack and sleeping bag she didn't think she would actually need off her shoulders.

"The sleeping bag is insulated. It heats up according to your body temperature. And I can make heat if we need it. Are you cold?"

M'Baku shook his head but couldn't hide the obvious judgement that clouded his eyes, knowing exactly what made the sleeping bag operate like that.

"Sorry, I forgot you all distrust vibranium. I shouldn't have men-"

He shook his head, silencing her. "It is fine, don't apologize. I suppose I must get used to vibranium if we are going to be a part of Wakanda."

They both unrolled their sleeping bags next to each other before sliding in. Silence fell over them as they stared at the dark gray, damp walls of the cave, listened to nothing but their own breathing and the soft drops of water dripping onto the floor.

Asha wondered if he felt it too, the urge to finally talk. She wondered if the spirits haunting this mountain were finally attacking her brain, for she had wanted nothing but to avoid this difficult conversation since she woke up this morning. But this felt like their time, their moment.

Bast and Hanuman pulling the strings yet again, she thought to herself.

There were no interruptions, no distractions. They had all night. They were in their element, in the mountains where the rest of the world fell away and they could be the best versions of themselves.

Another stolen moment? she wondered. But she knew that wasn't it. This was the first interaction that didn't feel stolen, it felt as if it was designed for them... made for them.

Asha felt like so much of the last few weeks were destiny, her love for M'Baku included. Asha was in love with him, she wanted him and would choose him if he was still willing to have her. All signs pointed to that, after all, why else would he go on this journey with her? If this was truly Bast's plan, why waste her opportunity? Suddenly, she had no desire to go another night without being his if that was the path she was on. They... she wasted so much time already fighting for something that she didn't even truly want.

But first, she knew there was something she needed to say, apologize for. She rejected him, for good reasons at the time, but it was rejection nonetheless. And he was still here, still fighting for her and her family without any assurance that she wanted him in return. It was a selflessness she questioned whether she actually deserved.

"Can I say something?" she inquired, her fear of broaching this subject evident in her voice. Thankfully, without a fire for light, it was pitch black so she knew he couldn't see it. Her question was met with silence but she took that as permission to press forward.

"I-I'm sorry."

He side-eyed her suspiciously in the darkness, not understanding what the woman beside him had to apologize for.

"I am sorry for choosing him. I thought I had good reasons, thought it was the right choice. At the time, it felt, he felt, like the only choice. Yet, I still pursued something with you, knowing I couldn't choose you. That wasn't fair. I-It was selfish. And I am sorry."

There was silence for a while. Her anxiety was at an all-time high as she waited with bated breath for him to say something, say anything back to her. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to hear.

"I want to see you. Like that first night."

It was a simple request, one that didn't need additional explaining. Asha's small hands curled into tight fists. Unlike that first night where she had little control over her body and her powers, she had grown since then. The flames instantly grew large enough to swirl themselves into a tight ball, vibrant oranges and yellows dancing in an invisible encasing.

She pushed the ball out and it floated away from her, dancing gracefully through the darkness as it slowly illuminated the cave around them, bathing them in a soft glow. Her hands repeated the motion until the cave was filled with light and heat of her own making, sourced by a dozen balls of fire.

M'Baku stared up at them for a few minutes, just as mesmerized by them and her as he was the first time around. He watched them gently float through the air, their heat warming him in a way his sleeping bag never could. He looked over at her, illuminated by her own magic, looking like the goddess he knew her to be.

"No it wasn't fair. But I also pursued you when I knew you were taken. That was equally selfish. But I do not want nor will I accept an apology. The path was rugged but it got us here. I wouldn't change it."

"Except maybe the part where I almost died. I would happily change that," she added. She smiled at the belly laugh M'Baku let out at her words, which echoed throughout their makeshift shelter. His smile and laugh filled her soul in a way no else could ever have.

"Yes, definitely that part. So the journey got us here. Where is here?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I want you. I choose you, I know that much. But everything else... what this means for us, the Jabari, Wakanda? That I don't know."

"Why does that matter?"

She shifted to her side, looking at his profile.

"B-because you are the leader of your tribe, I am the princess of our country. What we do with our lives has greater implications than our happiness. You said it yourself. If our happiness had anything to do with it, we wouldn't be here. It is our duty."

He shifted to sit up slightly, his hand reaching out to find hers, interlocking their fingers together.

"Yes. But our lives are still our own. All the other things work out on their own. They should not stop us. They won’t stop me. I want to be with you."

Asha smiled, "So we are really doing this? You wish to date me? A vibranium-obsessed lowlander?" she teased.

M'Baku couldn't help but notice something else under her teasing tone, uncertainty. She still needed confirmation that he wanted her. He would give that to her every day for the rest of his days if it helped her.

He tugged on her arm, beckoning her to join him in his over-sized sleeping bag. She slid in next to him at his prompting, warmth spreading through her in new ways as they laid skin to skin. His knuckle stroked her cheek as he stared at her for a few minutes.

"Yes. Because I am in love with you, Asha Udaka. I have been since the moment you walked into my throne room and will be until my last breath."

His rough thumb wiped away the tears that fell down her face.

"I love you too," she whispered, feeling the weight of holding that in lift off her shoulders. It felt good to say it, even better to feel it freely and openly. Asha had never felt this light before... weighed down by secrets of her powers, of her family, of her love for him. In a few short weeks, she went from being crushed under the sheer weight of it to being free from them all.

His lips quickly captured hers before she could say another word. It started out gently but soon turned desperate as the couple tried to make up for lost time, tried to cram weeks of subtle touches and looks into this moment. M'Baku quickly shifted his body weight to be on top of her, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist as they kissed. His lips made their way to her neck as his hands roamed the rest of her willing body. She let out a breathy moan as he sucked her neck and his hands massaged her thighs, inching dangerously close to her core.

Despite her heart literally doing back flips in her body, her logical mind couldn't help but demand she pump the breaks on this lust-filled tryst in the woods. She wanted him... Bast, she wanted him more than she wanted anything in this world. He was her drug and she was officially an addict. But he would be her first and she had heard enough from Nakia and Okoye to know that the first time can come with some unpleasantness among the pleasure. It only took two days in Jabariland to know that this was not his first time. She heard the staff gossip as she moved through the Great Lodge, the Lord of Jabariland knew his way around a woman's body and had many opportunities to practice. She was somewhat embarrassed by her lack of experience compared to him. But she knew enough about him to know, if he knew, he wouldn't judge her. He would just slow things down to put her at ease and ensure she was comfortable. And she wanted that.

"M'Baku," she breathed, pushing against his shoulders. "M'Baku, wait." It was almost painful to ask him to stop, it went against every natural urge and instinct in her body.

He immediately stopped, his hand coming to her face to cup her cheek, his eyes instantly apologetic. He took it too far, he knew it. He had just wanted this so bad, yearned for her like no other woman in the world. But after only agreeing to date five minutes prior, he should have known she wanted to take it slow.

"I-I am sorry, Asha. I lost my head for a minute. That was inapp-"

She captured his lips, kissing him deeply before sucking his bottom lip and breaking it off.

"It is not that. I enjoyed it and I want to continue. I-it is just that, I have never been with anyone before. I thought you would want to know before w-we do this."

M'Baku sighed, the better man in him winning out as her words sunk in. Regardless of how desperately he wanted this, this was not the way. He shifted them so they were both laying on their side again. Asha looked perplexed and slightly put out, taking his abrupt ending as rejection.

"Why did you stop? I want to."

"I do too. But your first time... our first time together, should not be in the cold on a hard cave floor. That is not what I want for us. We have waited this long, one more day until we get back to a real bed will not kill us."

Asha sighed, partially with relief that his reasoning was not rejection.

He chuckled before kissing her on the forehead before she settled on his chest, her own sleeping bag cold and forgotten.

“Good night, usana. Sleep well,” he whispered.

And she did, going to sleep truly at peace for the first time in years.

****

A/N: I mean FINALLY! These two are finally free and ready to stop tiptoeing around each other. We love to see it! Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @skysynclair19 @ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee

#Black Writers #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagines #m'baku x reader #m'baku x oc #m'baku smut #m'baku imagines

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runefactorynonsense · 4 years ago

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[50 Followers Request 2 of 2] @twig---verginix suggested: Congrats on the follower benchmark!!!!!!! Could I request Lynette somehow getting to meet her grandkid(s) (building off the hc that Kyle's her son) 🥺🥺

This one is in writing! This is from... forever ago. I've sat on this, finished, for probably two months now, just too anxious to submit my writing online. Well. Today, I've decided, screw it. I've read and proofread and reread this, and today, I'm done. It's going up. I post my artwork all over. Why am I so anxious about sharing headcanons in writing? Not anymore.

♦~----------------------------~♦

♦ Eleven Years ♦

It’s been a decade since Kyle came to Alvarna, and a couple weeks since he was pulled from the Forest of Beginnings. His body is healing. Memories are trickling back to him, many from before he arrived... Including how he can now potentially reconnect with his mother. [Oneshot exploring the headcanon that Kyle is the son of RF1’s Commander Lynette.]

Word count: 10,746 words Rating: G Characters: Kyle, Lynette, Aaron & Aria, Rosalind, various others only mentioned

Read Below, or on A03! [ A03 link ]

♦~----------------------------~♦

"Kyle-"

A harsh breath. The sting of magic. The sound of water and wind tearing through the forest.

The rumble of the earth beneath his feet.

"Run!"

So many times, he'd had that dream. Darkness, somehow shaped into a tunnel, one he could never reach the end of, no matter how hard he tried. He was never fast enough. He was never lucky enough. And so on. And so forth. Countless times, he awoke after the darkness smothered him, awoke with his heart racing and his hands shaking, ready to grasp and claw at anything nearby... But there was no need- there was no crumbling earth or stone...

...yet he felt it. Every time.

Every time.

Except-

Lightning flashed, near, blazing, overwhelming, its presence bleaching the world before thunder arrived to complete the dance. Kyle’s eyes remained glued on the bedroom window. Droplets raced down, the grilles were shadowed, and he could only wait as another flash came- as another rumble rocked the world outside, rocked the home-

Yet he was the only one awake because of it. That was an assumption, but he didn't hear anything from the twins' room, he didn't feel anything from beside him. So far as he knew, or cared, he was alone. All he could do was stare forward, the window an unwitting focus as something at the back of his mind worked... As thoughts raced in that confusing, exhausted way they often did when one woke up after a dream that threatened to slip away, or after a night where one swore they would remember something in the morning... So close... So important... Within a metaphorical grasp, yet the idea of it slipping away created more terror than any lost dream ever did-

-and then, with the third strike of lightning, he knew.

He knew.

Lightning didn't touch down in town that time, but behind nearby mountain peaks, causing them to be silhouetted against the window from however far away. Those mountains- those trails- the country beyond-

The tunnel was real.

He knew where the tunnel was.

In no time at all, he was out of bed, dressed, grasping for his shortsword and for two thinner tomes. A coat was tossed around his shoulders without any care as to what type it was- a coat was a coat. There was no drowsiness, no leftover sluggishness in his limbs- no. Sleep had been chased away into irrelevance. He had to move. If only he had time to write something down, to explain- but he couldn’t. There would be too much to write. He had to get to the end of that tunnel. He had to dig. He had to find-

"Dad?"

One hand still on the doorknob, Kyle spun around, eyes wide, vision adjusting to the darkness. From the stairs, a soft light flickered, the sort created by a candle meant to be carried in a small dish. Aaron was the one who held the candle, while his sister lingered just in front of him, already at the bottom of the stairs, her hands on the stair rail. Aaron had to rub at his eyes while Aria's gaze, accented by two different colored eyes, found Kyle's, with the beginnings of the curiosity they had inherited from their mother--

"What are you-"

"Stay inside, please," Kyle said as the wind turned, as some rain came inside the front door before he put himself in front of the stream. He tugged his hood over his head, though it was already nearly soaked through. Didn't matter. Not in the least. "The storm is heavy, my two. Please-" A weight settled into his chest. As much as that need to go still pulled at him, as wild as the wind, he found himself frozen. As he looked at his two, at the twins he had helped raise, he felt dread. Helpless. He couldn't say anything. How could he explain?

He didn't know what was about to happen- but it wouldn't be simple.

"I'll be back," It was almost a lie and he knew it. "Go back to bed, please-" Another flash of lightning. "-or please, be quiet until you go back to sleep-"

"Why-?"

"I'll explain later," That wasn't a lie- if he could, he would. He just. Didn't know if. Or when. Or-

He had to just go.

So he did.

"Stay inside!" Kyle repeated, his voice half lost in the rain as he slipped out, as he shut the door, and as he followed lantern and lightning to the barn just up the hill. Cold and wet didn't bother him as he let himself inside, his boots creating dark prints on the floor below. Around, a few buffamoo raised their heads, a few woolies paid no attention, a few cluckadoodles snoozed away. Near the front, however, a set of golden eyes found him, more thoughtful, almost startlingly intelligent.

Kyle beckoned the silverwolf forward. After a short stretch, the wolf rose from their sleeping place - a haphazard collection of hay and blankets - and came to his side. Around her neck was a pink fabric, a scarf or shawl that resembled the sort Aaron had experimented with. Kyle's gaze lingered on it, on the patterns stitched within- but that was all. And not for long. No need to worry about a saddle. He had no time. No time. One swing of a leg later, Kyle was on the she-wolf's back, and out the swinging door. Claws tore through wet earth with more traction than hooves would have allowed. Through wind and rain, Kyle and the wolf rushed through the upper roads, then past the town border, into the wilderness that lay beyond, and then further. Untamed territory tried to fight back with thorns, branches, and stone, but it wasn't enough.

Miles out of town were covered in minutes while the storm surged. Only when he spotted a few squared, colored stones sticking out of the earth did Kyle urge the wolf to slow. Those colors, that shape... Those were building materials taken back by the earth.

It was the lost end of a tunnel.

A tunnel lost years ago, an infrastructure not worth excavating or replacing due to the earthquakes.

On his feet, Kyle fingered those tomes he had grabbed. Earth magic. Some folks would be able to clear the mountainside in no time- he wasn't one of them. He could only encourage a wheelbarrow's worth of ground to the side at a time- but it was better than nothing. Back and forth, little by little, he dug at the hillside, working his way up, then in between those stone markers. Part of the way through, his wolf even lent her claws to the effort. The roof of their self-made cave began to loom and block the rain, but he had to keep going. He had to keep looking. This end of the tunnel, the one that had come down, the one that had blocked out the light, been the cause of those dreams, he knew what he was going to find-

-and finally, as another flash lit up the sky, he saw the softest shine of metal on tattered fabric.

The bag.

He used his hands to dig this time, and out of the wall he pulled an intricate tote that had seen better days. Dirt and discoloration had attacked once vibrant blue and white fabrics, brass buckles were all but destroyed, but- but- but it was in one piece. Undisturbed, save for a few small insects that he brushed away, uncaring. Inside, he found more books, journals and two more tomes, fragile and stained, but in one piece. Able to be read.

Thank goodness.

But he had no time to celebrate. He swapped the papers around until he had a file covered in Earth Script, the letters faint, but there. Still there. Still able to tell their stories.

He turned his attention back to the wolf, who had sat down not far behind him. For a moment, he was quiet, and looked at his companion, who stared back with a loyal, curious gaze. Panting. Filthy. Yet, despite this, she was ready to go. Despite being dragged out and soaked through, she was still ready to follow him. To do what he asked.

He couldn't bring her any further. She didn't deserve what was to come.

So he pulled some magic around one hand. "I need you to go back home," He told the wolf as a white glow filled with intent surrounded that palm. "Go home, keep an eye on everyone, keep everything safe until I come back-" If he came back. "-please." He put a palm between her ears.

"Go."

A whine and then a high-pitched hum later, he was alone. He let out a breath, steeled himself, frowned, and then turned back to the wall he had created.

He wasn't strong enough to do this- but there wasn't any time. No way to get help. Not before disaster. He could buy a little more time. A little more time for someone stronger to come.

So he followed the ancient instructions as they directed him toward a long ago buried temple, and prayed to Terrable and Ventuswill and whatever other gods there were, that he was doing the right thing.

♦~----------------------------~♦

A pen rolled around between his fingers, the smoothness of it, the weight, the tangibility, all so incredibly mesmerizing. After spending so long trapped in that plane, with nothing but that void and the voice of that dragon outside of his own awareness... He appreciated every little detail. In fact, everything was astounding. Color. Sound. Texture. He found himself staring at the pen as if it was a masterpiece- and though its craftsmanship was nothing to ignore, it coming from the desks of the Sainte-Coquilles, the writing implement was hardly a work of true art, such as the paintings on the wall, a well forged blade, one of the ships in the harbor, or one of the novels over on the shelves. It was just... a pen... And yet it meant so much more.

Kyle closed his eyes with a deep breath and forced himself to set the pen down. (Where it clacked softly against the table, which was cool under his fingers, and...) Pressure in his head made him lean back in his chair, though not too far back, not enough to lift its feet from the ground. His eyes were tired. His body was tired. If he had a soul - and, well, he was pretty damn sure he did, after all that had happened; magic alone couldn't have held that beast - it was worn out. Existing took up so much energy. Answering questions, to the best of his ability, took up more. Then recovering, for he could feel that he'd gone so long without food, water, proper sleep- All of that left him with a headache that had persisted for the past week-

Or was it two?

At least the pain had begun to fade. He could sit up and bear sunlight where it had previously burned his eyes and made his head pound. Not right then, however. Right then... Maybe he needed more water. That's all it felt like. A benign headache he never would have paid much attention to before. Water would make it go away. Or at least help. Couldn’t hurt. In fact, there was a cup on the table in front of him, near the hand that had previously held the pen. He took a few careful sips, then with the same hand, pressed fingers against his forehead.

"Do you need to take a break-?"

"No," Came his honest answer as he leaned forward again. Rosalind's voice pulled him back on track where his mind had wandered - again. He craned his neck in a stretch, and before he was done, her hand found his shoulder. He dropped his own hand to rest on hers. His heart in his throat, he murmured, "Where was I?"

"You... said you remembered why you were out here," She prompted, her voice now low. "Way back when."

Right.

"Did you still want to talk about this now...?" Curiosity pulled at her voice; he knew she couldn't help it. There was nothing that she didn't want to learn, no topic that she wouldn't read about, no end to the stream of facts that she could pull out about this, that, or another... And, well, now he had gone and vanished, and there were a host of answers that she not only wanted to know, but that she deserved to be told.

"We can stop, if you need," She continued, without missing a beat. "You've been up most of the morning and did some work, good work, and Natalie said not to stress yourself-"

"I can talk," He didn't so much as interrupt as slip the answer in, in a way he'd grown used to doing. All of that knowledge and all of her opinions could come out as lengthy, absentminded rambles when she got comfortable. After the time he'd spent with her, he'd learned how to mix his words in, how to redirect, how to ask about a new topic, a smooth verbal dance that those closest to her all seemed to learn. To be back in that pattern, as if he'd never left... Focus. Focus. Talk. He could talk. "I just... don't think I can take any more stairs." He'd probably take a nap on the couch in a little while. Not a bad idea. Not at all.

She hesitated, her brows furrowing, but let out a slow breath and relaxed, that hand still on his shoulder. After a few quiet ticks of the clock in the corner, she leaned forward enough to put her forehead on his shoulder. Not sure of his own balance, not yet, he merely tipped his own head to rest his cheek against her hair- the motion itself soothing him further.

His eyes open, he stared across the front room of his home, toward the windows, toward the cracked door that let in the late afternoon sun, though he didn't focus on any of those details. Why he was here, Rosalind had reminded him. Why he had been near Alvarna. "Do you remember that nightmare," He asked her, matching her previous volume. "The one I kept having?"

She nodded against his shoulder. After a short stretch of quiet, where branches scraped gently against a window, where one of the woolies brayed in the distance, she sat up. She moved not in a quick, rough motion, but in a way that said she was fully alert. He paid attention to her, to the way she tilted her head. "It was a memory, wasn't it?" The conviction in her voice was palpable.

"Yes." The half-dream, half-memory remained hazily confusing in his mind. Some days the dream felt more distant, more false- other days it was as if he'd never lost his memory to begin with. Everything had been real, the darkness, the running, the fall which led to him closer... "I had been a researcher," The words stuck in his throat when he finally spoke. A disconnect spanned across his mind, from memories that came before and after. Why did pulling from both sources at once make him feel so strange? And at the same time, he found himself hesitant to speak of what he had once known, especially to his wife of all people. Someone who hadn't been a part of that life before...

Dragons above, what a thought.

"You're serious?" Rosalind's voice helped close some of that distance. Or, at the very least, it helped fix his attention once more. He had to bridge the gap.

"Yes."

"...That makes sense, honestly," There was some amusement in Rosalind's tone. "You always were better at finding what I asked for than other people were, and you went more into detail than anyone else taking those requests..." It was her turn to mess with the pen. "What was your focus? Did you have one...?"

"Runes. Runeys. Though I wasn't- I'm not a strong enough Earthmate to do too much with them." He laughed a little bit, then. "I was an aide, most of the time- I catalogued or added supplemental magic. And made a lot of phone calls for the more powerful Earthmates." He missed those calls. Missed the paperwork. Missed his logs and his sketchbook....

He missed his small team.

Their faces came to him, clear as the day he had been separated from them. Fascination faded. Heart heavy, he leaned forward, just slightly, enough that Rosalind was quick to notice. One of her hands rubbed slow, careful circles near the top of his neck.

Part of him felt so alone.

"The thunder woke me up. I... Maybe it triggered something. But. I remembered where my partner and I had been, just before I wound up here." The sun may have been shining outside, but he swore he could hear the rain and feel the chill. He kept his eyes open and focused on a ray of sunlight on the floor. He whispered, and Rosalind leaned over to hear, "I went there. I found the landslide the earthquakes had caused." That Fiersome had caused. "The bags were still there- buried." He worked to open and close the fingers on one hand. "We hadn't told anyone we had changed course to go toward here. We planned to call once we got here- got to the Inn. Otherwise, we camped. We... had been camping. I don't think my partner survived, otherwise- they'd have looked for the notes. They would have looked for our wolves. They... "

"...They would have come looking for you."

And no one had. No one had come to Alvarna asking for someone who matched his description. Healing from a fall, a hit to the head, and memory lost, he had gone unmolested in the town for a decade. He had always wondered why that was- now, the possibilities were more grim than he had ever considered. No one who could have inferred where he had gone had survived.

Only him.

“Or they just assumed me dead, too.”

Rosalind didn’t let that thought linger in the air for long. "Enough about work," she said as her hand continued to move across the top of his neck. He was grateful for the contact, for the mild stimulation her fingers provided, for the way she gave him a brief hug before she settled her one arm across his back. "That's just one part of everything. How about..." It was her turn to hesitate. "How about family?"

Family...

"You've always been so good with mine," Rosalind continued. "It always made me wonder, you must have been used to dealing with so many different people... A big family, maybe? Or close family friends? Found family? Or..."

Family.

All that time in the clinic or resting, and he had simply... not thought about that word. He hadn’t connected those dots. No one had thought to ask him, either. (Not yet, perhaps?) As Kyle let out a breath, it dawned on him that family wasn't just Rosalind, Aaron and Aria- no. He had more. He had people out there he could reach out to, that he could pull into this new little corner of life-

-people who hadn't heard from him in a literal decade. People who it hadn’t occurred to him to think of, not until that question-

Oh my gods.

"Kyle? Are you-?"

"The seal," He said as he sat upright, a little too quickly. He closed his eyes as the headrush came and went, he shook his head gently. "I- the seal. Wax seal," Came his correction when he realized seal could mean something entirely different, and he didn't at all mean the damn dragon. Not this time. "Can you get me some paper? And your seal? The family seal?" The wax seal that belonged to the De Sainte-Coquilles.

"You... want to write to someone?" She may have been confused, but that didn’t stop her from getting up anyway.

"Yes!" That was what he wanted. "Yes," he repeated, more quietly as he reached for the pen that had slowly rolled away.

Muscle memory took Rosalind to the desk that lay at the back of the room so she could fetch the writing materials from a desk that lay just out of the sun. She returned with several sheets of parchment, a square of wax, and then the gaudy stamp used by the most powerful merchant family within the kingdom. Never before had Kyle used the seal for himself, even if Rosalind had given him her name at their wedding. He hadn’t felt it necessary- nothing he did warranted something that important. However... If there was ever a time to use the name as his own, it was now. But before he could touch pen to paper, the implication of reconnection came down on him, like endless, frigid water pressing from all sides... It threatened to overwhelm him after spending so long without the physical form to feel anything of the sort- and- It’s okay, he told himself. He breathed slow, then shook his head, the tiniest motion. He could do this...

"Who do you want to write to?"

"My mother.” His mother. The only direct family he had...or, she had been the only family, up until a few years ago... He had more now... “But I- I need the seal because...” Another pause. Rosalind didn’t rush him. Rather, her eyes were gentle as she urged him to continue, and he mentally thanked her. “If... she gets a letter claiming to be from her son, I don’t think she’ll believe it. Not after so long.” If his mother was anything like he remembered, she would rip the letter to bits without bothering to finish it. “But the seal- If the letter says it’s from a De Sainte-Coquille...” He trailed off, his mouth pulled into a thin line. “That...”

Beside him, Rosalind leaned closer, her shoulder against one of his. “That carries weight?”

Kyle nodded. “It... should make the letter feel more real. At least, I hope...”

From her place beside him, Rosalind raised a brow, and he could tell she was holding back, restraining herself from asking any number of questions. In the end, she simply mused, “Does your mother know of the family, or...?”

He laughed.

The sound came so loudly, so suddenly, that Rosalind leaned back in her chair while he quickly composed himself in order to mutter a quiet, sincere apology. That was it, though, that was just it. The fact came to him in a flash, as had so many other details had since he had returned. “She does. Know. Did. At least-” He collected himself. Collected his thoughts into a sensible sentence, not the scattered diction he had almost gone on. “We lived in Kardia for a short time when I was a kid...” A kid no older than Aaron or Aria- younger, maybe? Yes, likely younger...

“Kardia-?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait- she knew aunt Bianca?”

“Knew might be a stretch...” Once more, he was amazed at how he could actually retrieve memories. When he wasn’t comparing old to new, the past settled in his mind like an old friend, undisturbed by the paradigm shift that had happened when he’d lost his memory. There was less haze, less confusion as to what was real. Instead, he could see Kardia through a child’s eyes, see the steps, the lamp posts, the cherry trees, the sea shells, the farm fences... The homes at the top of the hills... “But my mother knew the family was there. She would know the name. Know it is important. She’s smart enough for that... But we moved to the Capitol before long...”

“And aunt Bianca took her estate to Trampoli,” Rosalind added, half to herself, because Kyle wasn’t quite sure if that was correct. (There were a lot of aunts in her family tree.)

“I doubt she ever knew my mom had a kid.” Bianca hadn’t been a name he’d really known as a child. He could remember the maid, Tabatha, and the spreads of food at a couple festivals... But other than that, other townsfolk had left more lasting impressions. Though he was close to getting lost in the old memories - and, honestly, almost did, recalling which homes he got the courage to spend time in... - he forced himself to listen to the ticking clock once more.

“Bianca does tend to have blinders on things that don’t directly interest her,” Rosalind didn’t miss a beat as she laughed softly and rolled her eyes, a motion reserved for when she playfully chided members of her own family. “So... That would make sense- but-” She tapped her fingers against the table. More thinking. Those fingers crept over to his own.

“That’s why... no one found me.” So close. One degree of separation. A family that spanned the entire kingdom - and more - had, at one point in time, met him, met his family. However, it hadn’t been enough. Not back then. He had been too hard to find. Now, though... Now the family knew him. “But...” Kyle stared down at the paper again as a rush of determination began to creep through his core, pushing away that despair. He’d gone to dinners and reunions and festivals, he’d talked with cousins and uncles and nieces and nephews and grandparents. They could confirm his identity. “If she reads it... She can contact the family, and they’ll know about me... If this works... It would...” But it was so much harder to put those thoughts into words. Possibilities were just that- possibilities. He could think about chances or hypotheses all he wanted. Was he confident enough in the idea to voice it? He wanted to write to his mother, that was an idea, a fact. But would this work...?

“It will.” There was such faith in Rosalind’s voice that he had to look at her again. A small, warm smile grew as she laughed softly again. “Kyle, if everything else worked out to bring you back, this- this letter will, too.” She squeezed his hand one last time before she removed her hand, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. From there, she leaned so that her elbows were on the table, so she could watch the parchment as he wrote. A greeting came first, a rank accompanied by his mother’s name, before a comma and an opening paragraph that held as much tact any paper he had written before...

“I’ll get some tea going while you write,” Rosalind murmured after a pause, and the promise of leaf and citrus made Kyle nod approvingly. “And maybe you can tell me about your time in Kardia and the Capitol...?” She was out of her seat by then, her head tilted back, her eyes shifting as the gears in her mind began to turn. “Or what your mother was like?”

“...Want to know something?” It was the greatest rhetorical question he could ever ask, but it always got Rosalind’s attention in the right way. “She- we- aren’t from Norad.”

Wide eyes found his as Rosalind breathed, “Really?”

“No.” More writing. A pause. “She’s from the Empire.”

“Sechs?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I can get food, too. I want to hear it.”

♦~----------------------------~♦

“Two more coming!”

Luckily Aria was used to the game of ‘catch the apples Aaron was throwing down, and avoid getting hit on the head with them’. He may have been several branches higher, basically near the top of the dang fruit tree, but she could still see him, see as he reached behind him - without looking - to drop his bounty toward her. She had a sheet ready, and caught the two multicolored apples with expert care. Softly. Without the apples slamming into each other and bruising one another in that unappetizing way. After a glance to double check, Aria grinned and then lowered the sheet so the apples could roll into a basket down on the ground below. Said basket was near full with apples and oranges gathered throughout the day, and before long, it would become too heavy to carry. Not without the wolf there to help, but the wolf was at home. Normally, they took her with them essentially wherever they wound up, and the wolf was happy to follow- but ever since they had brought their father home, the wolf had wanted to remain by his side. Kyle had tamed her, so it made sense.

Even if it meant a basket of fruit would be a little more annoying to bring back.

Aria cupped her hands around her mouth and called “That’s enough!” up to her brother. Her twin stopped, looked down at her, stood on his branch, grabbed one more apple, and then bit into it, held it in his teeth. Only then did he begin to climb down; Aria cackled at him the rest of the way. “What are you, a chipsqueek waiting for winter?”

“Nuh!” His reply was muffled as he dropped to the ground beside her, then as he chewed the chunk he had taken from the fruit. “Jus’ wan’ed ‘un.”

“That’s a good idea,” Aria grinned, brows raised, and her amusement only grew as she saw Aaron narrow his eyes. She reached out, fingers moving in a demanding motion. “Gimmie.”

“No.”

“Why not?” She reached for the apple; Aaron held it away from her. “We share the same germs!”

“It’s mine!”

“Just one bite!”

“No!”

“C’mon!”

“I’ll bite your hand!”

“Not before I-”

Both children froze as they heard the call of a monster, equine in nature, followed by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Equine monsters weren’t native in the wild to their area - they’d done enough prowling around the ruins to know - but they had seen travelers go through on their backs. Their relatives had some lovely horses and related beasts at the manor and then at events. Carriages or merchant carts came through every so often. Still, a whinny was a foreign sound, one that had both children silent and turning to stare at the nearest road. They may have been, what, fifty yards away from the edge of town? They had crossed the large, well used road, and gone a short distance more before they found the tiny orchard in between monster populated areas. Unwilling to go right to the road, Aria and Aaron shared a glance before they began to climb back up the tree they had just been in. Aaron’s apple fell, discarded in the grass as the two came to a high branch, thick enough to support them both, and without leaves that would normally block their view.

Aaron looked left, Aria looked right, and it was in her direction that she spotted something. She tapped her brother’s arm rapidly. She pointed toward a series of signs some distance from them, and it was near those signs that someone had stopped; a single someone, a traveler on a singular white unico.

Aaron was squinting, though, which made Aria look back toward the rider.

“They’ve got like a uniform, or something,” Murmured her brother. “I wish I had Roy’s spyglass.”

Aaron was right- now that Aria took a second glance, the cloth - from what she could see at that distance - had the sharpness and detail of some important uniform, along with a sheath tied around their back, half hidden by a cloak. Logos or emblems, however, were far too tiny, even to see their colors. “Maybe here to see Byron? Or Tanya? Or the Inn?”

“Tanya or the Inn, I’d bet.”

The traveler encouraged their unico to move once more. Soft hoofbeats came down the road, almost obscured by the wind at that distance.

Oooh, she couldn’t resist. “Wanna bet?”

Aaron returned her challenge with a small smirk, and none of the previous annoyance that had surrounded the apple. “I’d bet a week of helping dad clean the barn.”

“You’re on!”

Aaron dropped to his knees, grasped the tree branch, moved so he hung by his palms, then let himself fall toward the ground. Aria clambered down, herself, her path a sort of zig-zagging hop as she raced after her brother. Aaron reached the road sign, now vacant. He put a hand on the pole, which pointed into Alvarna in most directions, along with signs east and west which directed toward nearby smaller towns (which, at that moment, didn’t matter).

“I’m betting they’re going to the Inn because they’ve got some kind of meeting tomorrow.”

Aria caught up and tried to lean to the side to see which direction the unico had gone, however, all she could see was treeline, and the shine of the nearby bay beyond it. The hill was too tall, the vegetation beautiful, but too thick. “I think they’re some sort of representative, and they’ve got a message for Mayor Byron.”

“And if they go to Tanya, we both lose.”

“But anything else, nothing.”

Aaron stepped away from the signpost. Aria took up step alongside him. Her arms swung gently at her sides. “What if they go to multiple places?” She mused. “Like if they see Byron, but then go to the Inn? Or Byron then Tanya?”

“...I dunno,” Aaron rubbed his neck. “Maybe we just lose.”

By then, they both entered a dense line of shade, one which led south and toward the academy building. The academy would be to their right while their home would be somewhere left, a bit further down. Below that would be the turn into town. The walk was a comparatively short one, and an enjoyable one, especially since it was a holiday with no school in session. Floating leaves, lost from nearly every tree in the area, only added to the serenity. A soft crunch sound underfoot didn’t hurt, either. As the first glimpses of the school building crept through the trees, however, Aria couldn’t help but stare at it. Could the traveler be going there, too? Maybe they had more books or scrolls to donate to it, or the library? Important looking people carried important books, right? Hmm..

Aaron grabbed her arm. Her eyes flashed toward his gloves, then up. He stared back at her, wide eyed, before he looked away, and raised a hand to point. “Aria,” came his voice, a swift, hushed whisper, almost lost in the autumn sunshine that surrounded them. “They’re in front of our house.”

“Our...?” but she trailed off when she saw that Aaron was right. The twins inched to the edge of the road, and took advantage of familiar foliage in order to peer down the hill, toward the property their parents owned. There, on the slope that led from the main road to their front yard, stood the traveler, now dismounted, their unico obediently still beside them. Aria wasn’t quite sure what she felt right then; it wasn’t fear, not exactly, because they didn’t have any reason to fear someone who randomly came to town... Wariness, though? Absolutely. She eyed that unico, eyed the horn, and knew it could produce some high powered magic- on top of how unicos had terrible tempers, too. For someone to tame one... Then, there was that uniform... the striking navy blues, the white gloves and footwear, the eyepatch, the dagger that hung at their back, the glint of some sort of metal accessories...

Their bet was forgotten.

“Maybe... they’re looking for mom?” Aria posited, a hand on her chin. “They look official. Mom might need help with a project again? Or maybe it’s family business things.” ‘Business’ was always something that was going on, right-?

“That makes sense, actually,” Aaron shook his head to dislodge a couple leaves. “Should we go help them?”

Confidence was a more natural feeling than wariness. That, and, after all they had been through below ground, what was one stranger up here in plain daylight? While Aria did hesitate, it wasn’t long before she took a quick breath, put her hands together, and decided, “I think we should.”

“Before Roy and Cammy tell them the wrong way.”

“Let alone the others.”

“Let’s-”

The traveler moved before they did. Before either twin could pull themselves out of the familiar foliage, the traveler approached the home with a determined, maybe even angry stride. In one hand they held parchment, maybe a letter and its envelope. Before they got close to the home, they glanced down at the paper one more time, then up at its mailbox. Whatever they saw made them square their shoulders, and give the door a series of powerful, booming knocks.

Despite the effort, there was no yelling to go along with the sound. No complaining. No argument. In fact, the way the traveler had knocked, then stepped back, made the twins fall silent and reevaluate. Now the stranger stood away from the front door, down the stairs, but still in between them and their home. They could go around back, sure, easily, the hill wasn’t that steep- but. But. Had they been wrong? Was this actually someone they needed to be concerned about? Beside her, Aria could feel as Aaron pulled magic around one hand; he usually had the magic discs or pages with him, and had gotten quite good with them, but she, herself, was disarmed. What had she needed a sword for anymore? It was home, tucked away in a compartment, and Aaron’s more detailed magic books were in the same place. A small wind spell was useful to bring with when gathering fruit from trees... but what would such a low level spell do against someone who could potentially counteract it? The eyepatch had Aria’s full attention. Are they a soldier? Was that why they had the unico and the uniform and-?

“Hello?” Came their mother’s voice, soft only thanks to the distance. Rosalind sounded polite, yes, but both children could hear the edge in her voice. The front door was open, then, and their mother kept the knob in one hand while she stepped out onto the small porch. Behind her, in the home, hovered the wolf’s shape. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Is this a Sainte-Coquille residence?” came the woman’s voice in reply, to the point, authority laced through her words.

“In a manner of speaking,” Rosalind gestured toward the road, and up, somewhat toward the visible bay. “The actual manor and center of this area’s business, however, is near the southeastern portion of town. It’s just past the inn. My husband and I live here, but the property isn’t under the family name.”

“Then why does mail from here have the trade seal? Do you know of this?” They presented the letter, its contents turned it toward the front door. Their voice also became sharper, as if the letter itself made them angry. “I want to know who wrote this-”

Rosalind leaned back, upright and stiff, her eyes wide and mouth partially open. Honestly, the way the stranger spoke should have made their mother mad- Aria had heard embarrassing customers at the general store and restaurant before. She’d heard both her mother and uncle Max turn down “incompetent business wannabe-associates” before, after that sort of tone had been used. But her mother, right then, wasn’t angry, or bothered. Instead, she brought up one hand, fingers splayed. “Ma’am, I- I think I might have some answers. Just- give me a moment. Please. Wait right here?” Without closing the door, Rosalind took a step back and vanished from view. “I’ll be right back!”

♦~----------------------------~♦

Kyle was at the bottom of the stairs when Rosalind had turned and strode back into the home. He stood with one shoulder against the wall, and one palm covered the top of a newel post. For an instant, the wolf hovered at his side, before she wandered back toward the front, antsy for some reason. Sleep weighed down his own limbs, but his head didn’t hurt - not yet - and he was able to take himself down to the first floor. Though he had improved over the previous season, stairs took a lot out of him, and he was glad for the support walls offered. He had begun to will himself to walk once more when Rosalind noticed him. Her mouth turned down for a heartbeat before she put one foot on the lowest stair. She held out an arm, and he laced his arm in hers. That contact gave him the final bit of balance he needed.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Not much,” Kyle admitted as he was guided toward the door. “Just... the knock. And a yell. It woke me up. Is there trouble?”

Rosalind stepped around a side table and drummed her fingers against his arm. “I don’t think so.”

Huh? She met his gaze, and he... for the life of him, he couldn’t read that expression. That meant she wanted to know what he thought... right? If she didn’t fully explain whatever was going on, she would get a better answer- and normally he would bother her until she said her opinion anyway. Right then, that didn’t feel like the right move. The feeling only grew as Rosalind allowed him to stand on his own, and as she allowed him to go to the door, first, her own hand now on the wolf’s back, encouraging it to stay still. He looked over his shoulder at her, brows raised, but didn’t wait.

If he hadn’t grasped the door frame, he would have fallen. Despite that, he came close- a wavering grip, leg muscles that suddenly felt weak, and not because of his recovery, no. He wasn’t that tired, not yet. It was all in his mind. Shock? Surprise? Because- Outside- On the path, the person he saw-

His mother had read the letter.

Her attire had changed, newer, bolder, with additional decorative medals on one shoulder, but there was no mistaking that deep blue motif, the white accents, the way her hair still had most of that color- and then the eyepatch which did nothing to lessen the strength of the one visible eye, still sharp after all that time-

Commander Lynette Laurent.

She had read the letter, she had tracked down the address, had followed the instructions.. And whatever she had thought of it all didn’t matter, right? In the end, she saw him, didn’t she? Him, in the door, her, just stairs and strides away... Undeniable proof. After a moment, Kyle smiled, the expression askew and completely nervous. No confrontation with a monster or spell or dragon god could compare to the way his heart raced right then. He gave a short, shuddering laugh, the sound all he could muster. As he lowered himself down so he sat on the first stair, he covered his face with one hand “I-” Another laugh. The hand fell into his lap. He shook his head, a tiny motion accompanied by glossy eyes. She was still there. This was no dream. He could feel warmth from the sun and then a small push from the breeze, and hear as the paper in his mother’s hands fell, softly, to the ground below.

He cleared his throat, then tried again, and managed the first words that came to him; “Mom.

“I’m sorry.”

If she had turned and left without a word, he would’ve understood. He would’ve waited. He would’ve written again, and hoped that one day, she would be able to reciprocate. He’d have hope. After all he’d seen, after where he’d been, having a bit hope wasn’t a stretch-

But she didn’t leave.

“You-” Anger had laced her words when she had first knocked on the door; he’d heard the muffled complaints from the upper floor. Right then, her tone had lost its edge. “You should be-” Her voice, normally so strong- did it waver? She closed her eye, she shook her head, she mouthed words no one could hear... She took one step backward- and stopped. Kyle was afraid to speak again, not too soon, not when he might ruin the moment, or push her away. Her turmoil filled the air, circulating like an oppressive cloud, powered by whatever was going on in her head. “It’s been...”

“Ten years...” He commented as she paused to breathe, his voice low, as if he was once again a child being lectured for some wrongdoing.

“Eleven,” She corrected, power and pain in her words as her volume returned. That tension, the atmosphere- they broke as she steeled herself. Sunlight and wind seemed to return to his senses as she stalked forward a few strides, close enough to kneel down, able to look him in the eyes. She lingered in that spot for a moment, her eye searching. He didn’t move, not down the stairs toward her, not back up toward his home, nor did he pull away when she reached out. One hand touched one of his knees. “Goddammit...” It was her turn to cover her face with one hand. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he was repeating himself, but what else could he say? So much, honestly, but the words didn’t come to him. He’d never expected the letter to be answered, let alone... Let alone... Gods above, Rosalind had been right, hadn’t she? Things had worked out, hadn’t they? At least, so far. Yet, for all the good, a melancholy settled over him and put pressure behind his eyes. A decade. He had been gone- others had been gone- for all that time. How long had she searched for him? How lost had she been? How angry had she become? And what if she had been on the right trail? If she had found him sooner, would he have believed her? If he had sent her away, would she have ever come back?

Those were answers he didn’t want.

With a small sniff, he leaned forward, far enough to touch his forehead to her arm. Her other hand came up to rest on the top of his head. That hand on his head soon turned into an arm around his shoulders, and then a hug, and in that instant he really did feel like he was a boy, sitting on a kitchen chair after some stupid stunt that left him needing to be patched up. No bandage would be good enough. Not when he needed to talk to... to fix everything? To fill the gaps? To make up for time? Something like that, all three? Where to start? The day he vanished, and what had happened? Why he didn’t try to find her sooner, knowing his mother had dealt with folks with lost memories before? Why he had finally written out of the blue...?

“Come inside,” He said, at last. “Please.”

“I plan to.” There was a more familiar sternness to her words as she leaned back. She glowered at him - an expression he didn’t fear at all, he knew better - as she came to her feet with an outstretched hand. “You owe me that much.”

He did. He accepted the help up, only to let out a harsh breath when he realized just how much he needed it. Just the act of trying to stand made him waver, and Lynette had clearly not been expecting to support so much of his weight. An instant later, she had a hand under that same elbow so she could haul him upright. Once he was settled on both feet, she tilted her head, that false anger replaced by raised brows and a searching gaze. “Kyle? What’s wrong?”

“It’s a long story- but- I’m fine.” At her narrowed eyes, he amended, “I’m getting better. I promise.”

“The kitchen isn’t far inside the door,” It was the first time Rosalind had spoken since she had gone back inside. Both Kyle and Lynette turned their attention to her, and Kyle dipped his head in thanks.

“Inside and to the right,” He instructed. The stairs cooperated with him as he went up, though he was thankful for the way his mother kept that hand on his arm, just in case. Support like that helped him move more boldly, as bold as a man rebuilding muscle mass could manage. He gave Rosalind a glance and a small, thankful smile as he passed her. (Lynette’s gaze also lingered, though she said nothing.) Rosalind returned the smile with a slow nod at them both before she slipped out the front door. Part of Kyle wanted her to follow, she could help fill in so many blanks- but at the same time, he appreciated the space. That would mean even more answers for her later, more added to the pile of endless stream of questions he’d answered since he’d returned.

♦~----------------------------~♦

Once she closed the door behind her, as quietly as she could for how old the wood was, she heard small footsteps coming down the road. Sympathetic eyes found her children, cautious, quiet, in a way that made her let out a slow breath. Oh goodness. “Where were you two?” Her question was somewhat rhetorical; as Aaron neared, she was able to reach and remove two small leaves which were stuck in his hair, then another off of Aria’s shoulder. Small leaves, round, dark in color- they obviously came from one of the wild bushes scattered through the area...

Aaron paused beside her and leaned against her side, while Aria kept her distance so she could still see the front of the house. Rosalind let one hand rest on Aaron’s shoulder while she tried to pull Aria closer with the other. As usual, the girl didn’t let herself be caught.

“Mom...”

“Who was that?”

“Why did they go inside? But you’re out here?”

“And-”

“It’s alright, my dears,” She shushed. “Nothing is wrong. It’s just...” Oh, how to even begin to explain, especially when she didn’t fully understand, herself? For a moment, her attention went to the unico; it was still loose. The equine seemed harmless, however; it had wandered further into the property, into an area fenced on the other three sides, where it had found a patch of grass to work at. At least for right then, it wouldn’t need to be tied or put in the barn... So she didn’t need to think about it. Instead, she lifted the hand that had been on her son’s shoulder, and tapped him gently. That time, even Aira looked over, and when Rosalind had their attention, she asked, “Where is the basket?”

As expected, they were distracted by the sudden change in topic. Aria blinked up at her. Aaron turned his head, narrowed his brown eyes, then realized, “Oh- the fruit basket?”

“Yes- didn’t you all take it?”

“Up the road,” Aria pointed past the Academy. “We went to the orange trees, then the apple ones behind the signs.”

At least those groves were away from the monsters. (Not that monsters gave either of them trouble... but... that was something she preferred not to think about too much.) Rosalind stepped away from Aaron, then motioned with her head up the path. “Why don’t we pick it up, before the critters decide they want a bite?”

Neither child seemed particularly enthused about being guided away from home. They followed her anyway, though more slowly, their steps in time with her own, instead of yards and yards somewhere up ahead. For the most part, they were alone. Once, Rosalind gave a small wave to a small tourist group, but they quickly went on their way. Dirt and gravel then gave away to those well-kept grasses, and then beyond that, the taller, wilder foliage. Aaron split off then, tugged at the basket arm, brought it into the open. Rosalind murmured a thanks to him. On one knee, she turned over the fruits at the top of the pile; none of them seemed distured, damaged, or bitten into. Good.

Honestly, the sunlight felt pleasant, enough to make her sit down. For a moment, she mussed with an apple in her hands. As she put it back, she looked at one child, then the other. Aaron had taken a seat across from her, on the other side of the basket. Aria remained slightly more distant, on her feet, half turned away. Both of them shuffled their feet and tried to sneak peeks back the direction they had come. She smiled sadly at their discomfort. “You two- you... You know how your father has begun to remember details about his life?”

That brought Aria closer, though she remained standing. Aaron’s hand mindlessly fidgeted with a loose thread on the basket. “Yeah...”

“Well. That woman is someone he knew before.”

“Before?”

“Before he lost his memory and came to Alvarna.”

They had already dealt with the whirlwind of preliminary questions the previous season- When did he come to Alvarna? Where did he live before? Why live somewhere else? What happened? What was it like? Is he going to leave? -so none of those came pouring out. Instead, Aaron leaned forward and wondered, “Who is she?”

A good question.

“We thought she was going to go to see the Mayor- or Tanya.”

Why was she not surprised that they’d seen someone come into town?

“She...” Rosalind was glad to see both children ease, as their energy seemed to return, as they began to look more curious than wary. Answers were a powerful comfort, as limited as they could be. She let her own hand rest on the basket, across from Aaron’s. One finger tapped at the cross hatching. Part of her still felt stunned at the answer, part of her perhaps still didn’t believe it- but not in a bad way. In a good way, an incredible way. Everyone needed time to process-

Maybe Kyle and Lynette most of all.

“That’s his mother,” She said, at last. “He-”

“Wait wait wait-” Both children blurted out, almost at once, in that more chaotic, familiar way they often could. Aaron was on his knees and more upright, while Aria trotted close enough to lean down and put her hands on one of Rosalind’s shoulders. Rosalind glanced down at that shoulder, a brow raised, but it wasn’t enough to deter the girl, who rocked with excitement, her dual-colored eyes shining. “His mom?”

“That means we have a grandma?”

“Like Grandad, but, a cool lady-”

“That’s way different than Granddad Herman, Aaron!”

“You know what I mean!”

The fact that she understood what both of them meant made Rosalind laugh softly, quiet enough that she didn’t interrupt the small squabble. They carried on for a moment, their noise filling the surrounding area, as natural a sound as the birdsong or skittering that was drowned out. Well, that was good, right? Their immediate acceptance of the idea? She really shouldn’t have worried about anything different- the twins were resilient. But... she’d had reason to worry, right? What other families got to go through change like this? (Hopefully none.)

“You two,” Rosalind grabbed one handle of the basket, and dragged it forward slightly. The sound of wicker across grass silenced both children. “Why don’t we get this back to the house, and talk on the way? You’ve heard me say it before- ‘the sun is still going to set’.” Though, this time, the context was so very different, so much better than when she had used those words to console herself. “We still need fruit, Max still wants you to bring him some, and we can’t let the pomme pommes take the basket."

“We need to make a new one,” Aaron mused as he grabbed at one handle. “The handles are getting all ragged.”

As she hoisted the other side, Aria made a noise of agreement. “Or maybe we can buy a tough one.”

Rosalind walked off to the side, out of their way. “Talk to Mana, she’ll know what you can do.”

That started a small discussion about what she had meant by that- have Mana teach them how to make a new one? Go by the shop and see if one was in stock? Both? -which lasted most of the way back down the road. Once they could see the corner of the house’s roof, however, they stopped and shared a look.

“Keep going,” She encouraged, though she had to gently nudge their shoulders before they would walk again. “There’s no reason you can’t take that inside. It’s your home too, remember?”

“The sun’s still gonna set,” Aria said, and Aaron nodded at her. Rosalind walked ahead to open the door - which creaked in its charming way - and the twins lugged their bounty inside.

♦~----------------------------~♦

Aaron and Aria could feel the eyes on them once they had set everything down, as their mother drifted away, up to the second floor. A softly spoken conversation had carried on at the kitchen table, which was semi-separated from the rest of the home by a short half-wall. Words slowed the further into the home the twins went, until there was just quiet. They’d been noticed. Unlike when they encountered folks in town - folks who were generally glad to see them - they weren’t quite sure what to make of this. At the same time... if what their mother had said was true... That... was their grandmother, right? Lynette? They ran into the manor’s dining room and talked to their grandfather all the time. Talked to their grandfather, and uncle, and aunt, and cousins, and Cecilia-

Aaron tapped at Aria’s shoulder, and his expression said he felt the same way.

What was all this business being uncomfortable? Screw it. They’d go in there, and they’d talk, right now.

“Dad?” Aria asked as she went to the corner. Her hands on the frame, she leaned forward, enough to peer around. She could have stood on her toes and put her chin on top, and normally, she would have. Right then... well, she didn’t. And wasn’t quite sure why not. (Aaron, on the other hand, propped his chin up right away.) Either way, Aria could see her father and his mother at that table. On the tabletop sat a couple books and a bunch more papers, including that one that one letter, which sat up thanks to its folds. “We, ah... brought the stuff back.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled softly then turned toward... toward her grandmother instead. (Wow was that weird to get used to right away, as much as she liked the idea.) At the wall, Aaron did the same. They could see as her one brown eye flickered slowly between them both.

“Aaron and Aria,” Kyle said, which confused Aria- but then she realized that wasn’t a beckon, but an introduction.

“The two little Earthmates?”

Their father nodded. “More than I am.”

“Still don’t know how that happened.”

“...How what happened?” Aaron asked, which made Lynette tilt her head. She was a serious thinker, Aria noticed- sort of like how Barrett was, but even more, if that made any sense. Not the fun sort of thoughts like either of her parents. Then again, she had that soldier uniform, so of course she’d be serious-

“How any of you are Earthmates.”

“Why not?” Aria looked at one of her hands, then back up.

A pause. Lynette sat back in her chair. “...I never thought of it that way.” She turned her head away. “ ‘Why not.’ ”

“So, you’re not?”

“No.”

“Can you use magic anyway?”

“Yes, like many.”

“Are you going to stay for dinner?” Some guests did, some didn’t.

“Not right now.”

“Where do you live? Is it far away?” It had to be far away if they’d never seen her before... even on accident.

“...The Capitol.”

“What is-”

“Kyle?” The call came from the stairs, normal sounding, but enough to make them hush. Then, steps down the stairs. Rosalind wore an apologetic smile once she came close. “That’s Natalie, on the phone- I’m sorry, but she wanted to check on you. Should I tell her to call back...?”

Their father considered it, but he wound up shaking his head. “I slept through the call yesterday.” He had himself upright, which made Aaron and Aria admittedly a little nervous- but he took the rise rather well. “I’ll be right back.” Aria came around the half-wall so she was out of the way as Kyle took himself across the room and to the stairs without trouble; he seemed balanced and a bit stronger. Only half way up, when they were almost out of sight, did their mother reach out to one of his arms to help support him. Then came the distant, muffled sound of a phone conversation - a positive one; their father usually laughed while talking on the rotary phone - but... that was pretty much all.

Lynette looked away from the stairs first. Aria offered a small, nervous smile. “That’s the doctor... probably just making sure dad is still okay.” Out of habit, she went for the chair that was left unoccupied, left pushed where Kyle had left it. Aaron followed her, grabbed a third chair, and sat next to her. Normally, she’d tell him to scoot - and use a foot to push him away until her leg was straight - but... But she didn’t want to kick him into Lynette.

“He’s not sick, is he?” Lynette’s voice was quiet, and Aria couldn’t have shaken her head faster.

“Not sick!”

“Just tired.”

“Is that because of the dragon?”

She knew about that? The twins shared a nervous glance, and at that, Lynette narrowed her eye. Suddenly, they felt as though their uncle had caught them doing something stupid- except uncle Max didn’t have an eyepatch and a dagger draped over the edge of his chair. But no lecture came, and instead, their grandmother smirked.

“You two are terrible liars.”

“Hey-”

“Even if I hadn’t been told, I would have known the moment you two flinched.”

“Dad told you-?”

“The letter he wrote explained just about everything.” She tapped at the edge of the familiar parchment, whose body was covered in flowing handwriting. “As far as explanations go... It’s... a decent excuse.” Those words came with far less amusement, and she may have added something along the lines of though nothing involving those dragons is ever any good under her breath. (Honestly? Both kids agreed.)

“Is that how you lost your eye?” Aaron ventured. “A dragon?”

Oh, that would make sense-!

Except that Lynette faltered. She raised her brows, looked between them both, then shook her head. A combination of wind, the soft chimes and ticks of the clock, and crackling of a lantern chased away complete silence, and helped make the pause just that... a pause, a harmless gap in speaking, not an uncomfortable one. Some adults were nothing but uncomfortable or awkward to talk to, so this? This was preferred. Instead of being put off, Aria merely wanted to know more, wanted to wait until the talking started again-

“I didn’t lose my eye,” Lynette finally said. Both siblings made a startled noise, one what? and one huh?

“A story for another time.” Her eyes drifted toward the clock on the wall, and after a moment to study it, she let out a breath. “I need to be gone, for now.”

“Why?”

“I need to claim my room at the Inn,” Lynette was on her feet, ready to slip that weapon around her shoulders. “Before they give it to someone else.”

“Can we show you the way?” Aaron’s suggestion surprised Aria, but she loved the idea. Absolutely. Hadn’t they been standing on the road, not long ago, wanting to help what they thought was a normal traveler? The previous rush of excitement returned, and she found herself tapping her feet in her seat. “We know where it is- our friend lives there!”

“Would you mind if I came along?” That was their mother. She had once more slipped through the fog of their excitement, and reached the edge of the room before either of them noticed. To Lynette, she explained, “The family manor is next to the Inn, is all.”

Lynette quietly worked to put her holster back in place, and secure a cloak around her neck. Once that was done, however, she nodded, once. “I’ll come back to talk to Kyle later.”

“That’s fine,” Rosalind took a step back and opened the front door; the twins pushed themselves out of their seats at that, as if the light from outside was an unspoken cue. “He’ll like that.”

#Twig I am so so so sorry I sat on this for so long #I didn't forget I promise #I hope this gives some entertainment as I absolutely loved your ask- and realized that no one singular drawing would encompass #all that I wanted to show with that prompt in mind #So I turned to writing #And this is the result #And there's still SO MUCH I couldn't fit in because of context or the sheer length of this so far #I am gonna draw that 'you terrible liars' moment as soon as I'm not job hunting- or sooner because I just w a n t to #And just... this family in general #Favorite headcanon #Thank you for encouraging it and for being so nice in your interactions and tags #Have the best day♥♥#Margot Writes about Rune Factory #[First ACTUAL use of that tag]#Rune Factory 2 #RF2 #Rune Factory Kyle #RF Kyle #Rune Factory Lynette #RF Lynette #Rune Factory Aaron #RF Aaron #Rune Factory Aria #RF Aria #Kyle x Rosalind #[necessary for my headcanon and I just like it shh]#Margot's RF Headcanons

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

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A Healing Touch/New Experiences

15x17 coda, Post-Finale, Dean/Cas, Adam, Serafina, Sam, Jack, 2/2 chapters, 4.7k

Chapter 1: A Healing Touch (ao3 link)

Maybe if Cas hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't have agreed to Adam's offer. But with free will finally theirs, Cas made his choice, and Dean his. Now he has to live with the consequences - even if they are awkward. He won't die from it, certainly.

It's only a massage.

But what Dean doesn't know, is that it's more than a massage. It's healing.

Dean’s grip tensed on the towel, pulling its fabric closer against his waist. Terrycloth rubbing his crotch like sandpaper, making him even more aware of his current state of undress than he already was.

Damn Adam, for talking him into this. The placid cadence of the First Man wreaked havoc with Dean’s judgement. Lulled him into a false sense of security. Now that his armor’s been cast off, Dean realizes how terrible an idea this really is. Briefly, Dean considers turning tail and jumping back into his outfit. Pretend this never happened. Play dumb. But then Adam emerges, parting the beaded curtains and motioning him towards a table set up in the middle of the room. Dean trudges along, window of opportunity slammed on his fingers.

“Relax Dean,” Adam croons, lighting one of the many candles that surrounds the room. Interspersed with crystals, totems, and an incense stick that suspiciously smells like a VW van at a concert. “This is going to be a transcendent experience.”

“If you say so…” He sits, kicking his feet. Hunched over, spine protesting from the angle. Ignores twinging pain with practiced ease.

Doesn’t matter how well he masks it in the other man’s presence; Adam arches a brow at Dean and orders him to lay down. “You’ll feel better that way.”

He stills, clutching at the towel with both hands. Frozen with an unnamed emotion Dean swears isn’t fear. Staring with wide eyes at Adam while the other man waits. Finally, he breaks the silence, “Can’t you just… do my shoulders?”

“I will,” Adam promises, drifting closer, “Along with your sides… your back… anywhere I believe you might need.” He brushes featherlight fingers across his chin, a scant distance from actually touching it. Lips stretched in a lazy smile. “If it’ll make you more comfortable, though, I’ll look away while you get settled.”

Dean clears his throat, gaze darting away. “You will?”

“While I don’t agree with your shame,” he says, pulling back, “I understand it. How it works. So, when you’re ready to start, let me know.” Adam spins on his heel, grabbing for tinctures and potions on a nearby counter. Mixes them. Feigns busyness while Dean readies himself.

He slides off the table, glancing from Adam to the exit. Wonders if he can sprint fast enough, snatch his clothes, and jump into his Baby. Put Santa Fe in his rearview, even if it meant leaving Cas. Finding a new path home would serve him right, abandoning Dean immediately for Serafina. Former and current angel leaving for lunch, catching up after millennia apart. Dean stuck with Adam. Biding time, making awkward small talk; listening as he rambled on about differing memories patchworked together while he played hopscotch through his timeline. So bored and confused he didn’t realize what Adam offered until he locked the bathroom door behind Dean, instructions rattling around in his head. Towel in his arms instead of around his waist.

“Dean,” Adam chimes in, laughing, “I’m almost done.”

Thinking, not acting, wasted too much time. No other options left Dean unfastened his towel. Held it while he climbed onto the table, carefully lying down. Adjusting his junk so his weight wouldn’t crush it. Then, face pressed into the appropriate hole, Dean fixed the towel. End hanging off the edges, censored his freckled ass from view. “Okay,” he says, croaking the next few words out. “I’m all set.”

“Perfect.”

Dean nearly asks when Adam will start. As soon as the question forms in his throat, he swallows it. Adam’s wet, warm touch sliding over his back. Spreads a slick substance that makes his skin goosepimple when the air meets it. Elicits a sudden, breathy response from Dean. “Sorry,” Adam apologizes, continuing his ministrations, “probably should’ve warned you?”

“Would’ve been nice…”

“Well, we can’t go back, now can we?” He kneads Dean’s shoulders, loosening a tight muscle with his thumb. “Let me do all the work…” Adam speaks aloud, calling on a nearby smart device. Tells it to play a certain playlist, whining strums pouring from his speakers. Dean rolls his eyes. The added hippie music only pours salt in the wound. “You’ve got a lot of knots, Dean.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dean says, “the stuff I do? My body’s been through the wringer.”

“You should take better care of your body, Dean. We only get the one.”

“Yeah, we do…” Dean sighs, shifting. Too aware of Adam’s touch. Counting the differences between his expectations and the reality. They’re softer than what he expected a man’s hands should feel like. And gentler. These motions were more tender than Dean was used to, especially from a stranger. Part of him wants this over with, while a stronger, quieter part begs for more. He shifts, squirming. “Hey, what’s this you’re rubbing me with?”

“Oh, the oil?” Adam laughs, pinching his sides, “I had it specially delivered from some small town I last visited years ago, in Morocco. When it was all the rage, kids fleeing for the East in search of enlightenment. This herbalist was teaching in the streets…”

Dean tunes Adam out like he did the music, drowning his voice in the waves of his mind. Lets it sink deep below while Dean splashes around shallower waters. Like how this trip was planned.

After Chuck, after the Empty – after their last cosmic showdown, the Winchesters faced a new challenge. An ordinary day. It’s been years since Dean could wake without worrying he forgot something. Walk and not look over his shoulder, at where he imagined someone with vengeance in their eyes and death in his future. Greet his family and not doubt that he will see them later.

It’s everything Dean wanted. Except he couldn’t handle it.

Sitting at the breakfast table, his family discussing pointless, trivial affairs, Dean broke. Maybe because of Sam’s bright smile while talking about a road trip he planned with Eileen, or Jack’s list of shows he wanted to watch. Maybe it was when he caught Cas’s gaze, his foot nudging at Dean’s, with a well of emotions Dean hadn’t deserved. Similar to that horrid night, although less sadness darkening his expression. Less blood staining his hands. Dean flashed between those two images and stood, hitting his knee on the table. Left with a meager and suspicious excuse.

Somehow, an endless cycle of near-death experiences made things simpler. Being trapped in a never-ending story meant exactly that. They would live forever. Exist in the unknown, remain unchanged.

Now that freedom is truly his, what will he do? How will he end? Will he become someone he doesn’t like? Will people he thought would stay forever slip out of his grasp? Does he go first and leave so many people behind?

He couldn’t sleep those next few nights. Cas caught on after his third bout with insomnia, bags heavy under his eyes. Looked across the canyon from his side of the bed, arms curled tight around himself. Chained there. “What’s wrong, Dean?” His fingers twitched in aborted need. Another easy piece that proved more difficult to fit into place. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Dean stared at Cas. Saw the streaks of grey that tickled his hairline, and little crusts around his eyes from sleep. Reminders of how fast things can change, and what little they have left in the tank. If Cas were an angel, he thought, they’d have more time. Can stay alive through his grace, healing even the littlest signs of age. Like Serafina did with Adam.

It slipped out like a leak, and then poured free. Inch given; mile taken. Frantically repeating how he met the First Man who loved an angel, and they lived normal lives in Santa Fe, and they seemed weird but in love, and –

“Okay,” Cas said, “we’ll go visit them.”

“Dean,” Adam whispers. Dean creaks an eye open from below the surface. “Where were you just now?”

His heart lurches. “Can’t really go anywhere, now can I?”

“Only in the physical sense,” he tells Dean, “your body can be here, but you can also be a million miles away.” Adam kneads harder on his back, forcing a grunt through Dean’s clenched teeth as he poked a sore muscle. “What’s more important that you’ve allowed your mind to wander far from the present?” He stops massaging, bending. Meets Dean’s squinted gaze. “Would you rather not be here?”

“What did I ever do to give that impression?”

Adam doesn’t flinch from Dean’s bite, smirking at him. Followed by an airy laugh that sounds nicer than it should. “Y’know, my hands can only do so much,” he continues, standing. Clawing at Dean with blunt nails, repetitively raking patterns like he were a rock garden. “Massages are a give and take. I can only leech away what you’re willing to part with. And there’s a mountain of stress buried here you’re still holding onto.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean growls. Closing his eyes hard enough white, hot stars burst from behind his lids. “Maybe you’re a shitty masseuse?”

“Nah, I’ve been doing this since Alexander the Great was in toga diapers. Can’t be that.”

“Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re any good.”

“That’s true.” Adam pinches Dean’s lower back, at the dip right where his ass curves from beneath the towel. Electricity jolts along his nerves, up his spine, and makes Dean bite his lip. “Then let’s say my intuition is sounding the alarm you’re blocked.”

Dean snorts, “Then give me some Pepto and we’ll call it a day.” Another pinch. This time his knee jerks, foot jumping into the air. “Can you quit it?”

“When you start taking this seriously.”

“Sorry,” he says, each syllable drenched in sarcasm. “I didn’t think your types took anything seriously.”

Adam places his hand on Dean’s neck. Touch shocks him enough he lifts his head, finding the other’s stern expression. “If not for me,” he says, “then Castiel.”

He still feels Adam on his neck, and the second hand hangs at his side, shiny. Yet there must be a third. Because how else can Dean explain the pain in his side as anything other than a stab wound. Knife stuck there, cruelly twisted, cutting his insides further. Dean subtly nods, going slack. Adam guides his head back to its resting spot. Resumes petting him with much more severity. Each stroke like a match scraping against a striking surface, sparking but never lighting.

“Do you feel my hands, Dean?”

“Am I supposed to feel anything else?” Dean grouses, “Because if this is you coming onto me…”

Adam squeezes Dean’s ass over the towel, Dean yelping. “Why I’ll admit you’re a beauty, my heart is spoken for. As is yours.”

Dean waits as the coiled heat in his stomach unravels, breathing raggedly all the while. “Yeah,” he says, “I can feel your hands.”

“Good,” Adam says, “and how do my hands on your body feel?”

“Um… good? I guess? Like any other massage.”

“You’ve gotten other massages before?”

“When I could, I guess.”

“And your masseuses,” Adam asks, coating more of the oil along his shoulders, “were any of them men.”

No. “Why does that matter?”

“I’m just asking,” Adam says, “guessing, actually, if your hesitation during this process has something to do with my gender expression.” He rubs at his biceps, fondling them. “So I’ll ask again – have you ever been massaged by a man.”

He’s fought with countless men. Punches and kicks and elbows at throats acceptable foreplay. Love bites that stung far too long, bled too much. Shook hands with many hunters while crossing America during his early years where he was figuring himself out. Their intimidating grip thrilling Dean more than they should while near his father. John’s idea of what makes a man still living in his mind, a shadow that won’t disappear no matter how many curtains he draws or lights he turns on. Persistent.

Sometimes Cas’s hand lingered, back when their relationship was new. Finding its footing despite Chuck’s story. He blamed it on his angel’s inexperience with humanity. But the more he stayed on Earth, the longer they lasted. More significant. A game of chicken, each daring the other to drop first.

That’s the most intimate he’s ever been with another man.

It’s been too long since he and Cas touched like that. Circling, never committing. Losing before the game starts.

“I…” Adam’s touch feels different, headier. Matchhead catching, flame bursting atop it. He sighs, “I’ve never been massaged by a man.”

Adam hums, “You’ve never had the opportunity?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had lots of opportunities,” Dean tells him, “I just… never took them.” He shrugs as best he can. Sighing when Adam brushes one of his love handles, scratching it. Warm delight making Dean’s toes curl. “It wasn’t something a guy like me was supposed to do.”

“Supposed to,” Adam parrots, “someone else was making these decisions for you?”

Bristling, Dean shifts as if to raise his head again. Adam shoves at Dean, keeping him there. Adds an ounce of pressure that should stoke his anger. However, Dean responds with no retaliation. Stills, and when Adam removes his hand, continues talking. “I made these decisions,” Dean tells Adam, “I… there were a lot of expectations, being me. People I couldn’t disappoint. If they knew I went to get… massages, by men… things might not have been the same.”

“Even if it hurt denying this part of yourself?” he asks, “Suffocating it because other people had opinions on how you should live your life?”

Dean scowls despite how dedicated Adam works at kneading the skin above his tailbone. “You wouldn’t understand, okay. Being the first person gives you leeway, make your own rules. I was born into a certain role – there was an image I had to fit. If I wanted to survive and I… and it got easy, over time. I wasn’t hurting anyone –“

“You were hurting yourself.”

“I’m used to it.”

Adam reacts violently, nicking Dean’s hip hard enough he expects blood. But his thumb soothes the spot, caresses it far more lovingly than Dean thinks is appropriate. He doesn’t voice his concerns. Busy thinking about the sudden callouses he feels on Adam’s thumb.

“That’s a dangerous point of view to have, Dean,” Adam warns, drawing him from the off-ramp. “How can you speak so carelessly about yourself like that?”

“I… I – uh…” Dean had a response. A common one he trotted out whenever a question like this appeared. Now, he finds the stable empty. He has nothing. “I…”

“You’ve been given a wonderful gift, Dean. The gift called life. Gone are the oppressive forces steering your judgement. Controlling how you grow.” Adam’s voice rises, passion seeping into his skin. Mixing with the oils, providing a euphoric numbness. “Now is when you should slash through those bindings and grow into the person you were always meant to be!”

“What if I…”

“Hmm?” Adam stops massaging him. The music ended at some point, leaving only silence. “What if you what?”

Dean slowly rises from the face hole, Adam not fighting him this time. Leans on his elbows, staring at the floor. At the small droplet that splattered there. “What if I don’t like that person?” he mutters, “What if I look in the mirror one morning and I don’t… don’t recognize that it’s my reflection. What if I become someone so wholly different now that I… now that I can grow, and change, that I lose parts of myself. Lose my family, because they don’t like who I’ve become?”

Adam’s hand rests on his shoulder, fingers curling over a spot that doesn’t belong to him. When other people touched it, his skin crawled. Itched like fire ants crawled and bit. It’s the opposite feeling, with Adam’s hand. As if Dean’s soul breached through the shadows and filled him with so much light, he could overpower the sun. But only one other person has ever made him feel like that…

“If your family truly loves you, Dean,” Adam says, stepping into view. Guides Dean’s gaze from his feet towards his face using both hands. Smiling, “Then they love your most core, basic parts of yourself. And those, I know, will stick with you as you journey into a new era of self-exploration. Just as they will. You shouldn’t be afraid of change. It is the most powerful force in existence. Change cannot be stopped, cannot be controlled… how we choose to respond to it, however, is where humanity finds its freedom.” He lets go, drifting backwards into Serafina’s waiting arms.

There’s still a hand on his shoulder.

Dean turns. Instead of a thin, linen shirt, there’s a starched white button-down. Blue tie where he expected a scarf and chunky necklace. Dark hair with touches of gray, and blue eyes rimmed red with tears. “Cas…”

“Dean…” he says, squeezing his shoulder, “I love you. I… I won’t ever leave you.”

“How can you promise that, Cas?” he asks, “How do you know that? We’ve… what if Chuck was the only thing keeping us together? What do we do now that he’s gone?”

“We live Dean… day by day.” Cas kneels, pressing a thumb against his chin. “You’re right, I can’t be certain about the future. None of us can, not anymore. But, before Chuck, all I saw was bleakness. Now that he’s gone… after every hardship we’ve been through, the clouds have parted. It finally looks bright. And we could have a thousand more days or one more day, but in this moment Dean I want to experience everything with you.” He kisses him, breathing that promise into his body. Words mingling with his heart and soul. “My first, and most important act of rebellion was loving you. In these few years we’ve known each other I’ve lived more than I ever have. I’ve grown, not because of Chuck or despite of Chuck… but on my own terms. And you’re still here, with me.”

“Cas I…” Dean knocks their foreheads together, “You’re someone I never expected entering my life… and if you left, I don’t know if I can go back to living without you. Every time you were taken from me I… part of me died. A part that never came back, even though you did. When the Empty took you, I thought that was it. If I lost you one more time… I fought so hard for this – to live by my terms that I… I don’t want to lose it. Lose you.”

“Then don’t act like you already have,” Cas tells him. “Let me in. Let Sam and Jack… we’re all figuring this out together. Shoulder your burdens with us and we will do the same to you. That way we can enjoy our time together. And when one of us goes, the other will always have the memories of what we’ve won to remind us how the fight – how life was worth it.”

Dean nods, dropping another kiss against Cas’s lips. Rises with Cas, uncaring that the towel fell. He already felt more exposed from this simple massage. Modesty seemed a… a moot point. Cas slips between Dean’s legs, wrapping him in a hug. Dean returns it.

Then he looks at their voyeurs, watching from the sidelines. “Was this what you had planned all along?”

“Before you came here,” Adam says, “I had a vision.”

“…Right.”

“And in that vision,” Serafina adds, swaying with Adam. Fingers threaded through his curls, petting him, while his oil-covered hands stained her patchwork skirt. “He saw you two sticking around for a few more days.”

Dean arches a brow, huffing, “We do?”

“Oh yes,” she says, “you’ve only just begun to heal, the both of you. It’s a process – like growth – that never really ends.” Serafina’s gaze darts from him to Cas, and back again. “Plus, if you stay, we can introduce you to some new things. Offer some wisdom from our many lifetimes on Earth that may prove… beneficial.”

Dean and Cas share a silent conversation. He grins from that, knowing he can tilt his head or flutter his lashes and be understood completely. “Okay,” Dean answers, “it’s not like there’s anything else we need to be doing.”

“Perfect!” She claps, “Oh I’ll – I’ll go put some tea on, and Adam can show you to our meditation room. We can spend the rest of the evening just sharing, maybe even fall asleep under the stars. In all of America, Adam and I’ve found they don’t shine quite like they do here.”

Dean leans his head on Cas’s shoulder, listening as Serafina rambles about possible plans. Adam interjecting with his own ideas every now and then. Watching them, a strange feeling flutters inside his chest.

He isn’t sure what to expect from hanging out at their commune or drinking their Kool-Aid. But, for the first time since they’ve closed the book on Chuck’s story… he’s excited.

(chapter 2)

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #spn15 post finale #15x17 coda #15x17 unity #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #adam the first man #serafina

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randomstoriesofabunny · 4 years ago

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Summoning: chapter 10

Summary: Imagine casting a summoning spell to try to create a familiar for yourself, but you accidentally summon demon!Bucky.

This imagine is from @after-avenging-hours.

Words: 1287

A/N:I live!!! sort of :P I can’t believe people still asks about this story xD but here I am after all this time!! I might edit this later, my brain doesn’t want to english right now. And as the bad person I am I’m leaving this chapter in a cliffhanger!!!

Grant knew he shouldn't be so close to the house but he needed to confirm the limits of the magic wards protecting the property. Besides, his own magic kept him hidden from whoever that had to pick up Rogers job as guardian dog.

Once he saw her enter the house and close the door he turned to leave. Lingering around was pointless and only increased the risk of being caught. After all he was supposed to report back with his boss.

He murmured a couple of enchantments to scan the area and make sure no one was following him. Once he was sure he was safe he hailed a cab and tried not to roll his eyes when the taxi driver studied him through the rearview mirror the moment he gave the direction to a bar.

*^*

Red wing grill & bar was quite simple in the outside. But in the inside it was either loud rock music or the cheers of people along the commentary of whatever game they were streaming. The cheap beer and the special wings were ok in his opinion but he wasn't there for the special promotion, after all this was only the front.

He ordered a spirit shot. And the moment the shot glass with a white liquid that looked more like mist appeared in front of him he took a deep breath and downed the drink. A grimace appeared on his face and he fought back the shiver that went down his spine.

It seemed a little bit overkill the fact that you needed to drink a special potion to get access to the actual bar but Grant Ward wasn't going to complain just because the effect of the potion made him uncomfortable. He walked towards the hall that lead to the bathrooms and after a quick glance back to make sure no one was empty he walked towards the white wall.

The moment he touched it he was surrounded in mist for a couple of seconds before it cleared. The loud rock was replaced by the soft music played by a live band.

He scanned the room, searching for his boss and classifying the type of creatures inside. Werewolves, vampires, a group of pixies, some witches and wizards, and in the table near the back was a man nursing a glass of whisky. His boss.

He approached the bar and asked for a beer before walking towards the table. Once he was seated a beer appeared in front of him and he took a swing.

“Ward” that was all his boss said as greeting and as order to start with his report.

“There’s been a delay”, he said a little annoyed when he remembered the events of the past month. “Something changed. When I thought the voistrei would summit her in her dreams the connection never happened. And when I tried to break in and release another voistrei I couldn't approach to the house, there is a new magic shield protecting the perimeter”.

“Does she know?” his boss asked and Ward took a swing from his beer, evaluating all the information he gathered during the long hours of surveillance.

“It doesn't seem like it, she keeps going with her routine as always" he hesitated a moment before he added, "But someone else might. Rogers had been trying to capture the sentinel we sent after her last week. He was close one day so I called back the sentinel as a precaution. "

His boss cursed and downed the rest of his whiskey in one go.

"But I have good news" Ward added hastily." I found him, the asset. Apparently he's been living with her since I had seen him come and go from her house a couple of times."

"Really? Who would have thought that after 2 years of hunting him down he'll appear right in front of us"

Ward finished his beer and waited for his new instructions. His boss was quiet for a moment and asked for another drink.

"Have you tested the strength of the shields she placed?"

"Yes I have, multiple times. Last time I tried with a more potent spell, the barrier cracked a little but a couple of minutes later the energy restored and heightened."

"Hmmmm, interesting. Maybe we should try something more potent and destructive"

"But that won't drag the attention of SHIELD?" Ward questioned and his boss glared at him. "Sorry" he said hastily hoping he wouldn't get a curse for contradicting a superior officer.

"We can't waste this opportunity, this is our only chance to take them both at the same time." The other man said and stood up. He threw a couple of bills on the table and looked at Ward. "I'll be in touch."

Ward nodded and started to create a plan.

*^*

It took three days to gather the ingredients for the dark magic he wanted to perform. This was risky but he had orders and he had to follow them. The plan was approved. Their agents inside of SHIELD would take care of any problem this particular curse might cause.

Ward could see the house perfectly from the window from the apartment he broke in. The owners were unconscious on the couch, the tv was on but mutted so they would think they simply fell asleep on the couch.

He drew the diagram in the air, blood red lines appearing with the movement of his fingers while he recited the spell in the forbidden language. Three circles appeared in front of him, with different runes in each level and the ten fire crystals he got started to glow and radiate heat.

He saw the minute shift on the shield, sensing the dark magic near and getting ready to receive the blows of magic.

A smirk appeared on his lips and he started to rotate the runes and the moment his fingers touched the symbol of mars a crack appeared on the magic shield. After the third time he activated the curse the light from the bedroom turned on.

Huh.

Ward wasn’t sure if they could sense the dark magic or the damage to the shield so he increased the intensity of the attacks and took advantage of the crack to launch the cursed fire towards the house.

He saw the courtains burn and a blur of movement. The fire was spreading slower than he expected. Usually the whole house was engulfed in fire in less than a minute but it was spreading slowly through the interior. However the moment it reached whatever that was creating the shield it vanished and the whole house was on fire like he expected from the beginning.

With a wave from his hand the red lines vanished and he picked up the now grayish fire rocks, their energy consumed. Now he needed to go and get his victims from their cage of fire. The flames danced around him without hurting him but something seemed wrong, usually the flames created a path towards the objective but now there wasn’t movement.

The trail reached a doorframe and went down towards a basement but it was empty. The sound of sirens in the distance made him nervous. Time was running out and he searched the entire house but it was empty. He used his magic to leave the house without being seen and waited until the firefighters started to put out the fire to stop the curse.

He lingered.

Hidden among the people that gathered to see what happened. The moment the firefighters said that at the moment there was no victims he left.

His plan had failed and somehow... they escaped.

Fuck!

Now how he was going to explain it to his boss.

Chapter 9 - Masterlist - Chapter 11

#bucky barnes x reader #Demon!AU #demon!Bucky #Winter Soldier #witch au #demon au #bucky barnes #My writing #avengers

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shemakesmusic-uk · 4 years ago

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Wallice has shared her subversive new single 'Hey Michael'. 'Hey Michael' amplifies her blood-thirsty nature, a revenge anthem that finds Wallice turning into a worse villain than her erstwhile love interest. A song about toxic tendencies and how they manifest in our lives, 'Hey Michael' twists and turns around American Psycho imagery. Wallice labels "a revenge anthem for anyone who has encountered a gaslighting, manipulative person. It’s what I wish I would have said to all the ‘Michael’s’ I have met in my life. It can be substituted by many names, we all know or have met a ‘Michael’ though. Somehow the world revolves around them and they just can’t catch a break, because they never do anything wrong and it’s usually your fault. You should have listened to your gut instinct and swiped left on this Michael. This isn’t a man-hating song, it’s just something many people can relate to. Sometimes it’s embarrassing to admit just how bad a friend, date, or romantic partner was and a lot of the time, I would just smile and laugh off stupid remarks but when I think back, I wish I had told them off. But at the same time, my persona in the song is not the best person either. I literally say: I think I want to start a fight, which one is your girlfriend? The whole song is funny because I am so focused on how shitty Michael is that I don’t even think about how shitty I might be as well." Directed by Phil Stillwell, the video takes place at a house party, with Wallice interacting with various 'Michaels' before her behaviour spirals into something much, much worse. [via Clash]

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In the same vein as Massive Attack’s suburban groove and social commentary in the mid 90’s, KITA have captured the rhythm and heartbeat of suburban Pōneke; a city abuzz with a vibrant music and dramatic performance scene in their brand new track and official video, ‘Private Lives’. Weaving together elements of vintage rock, pop and soul, and warm hints of synth, KITA have created a skin-prickling piece of magic with ‘Private Lives’, a deeply beautiful track penned in 2020’s lockdown, that delves into the unknown of what happens when the blinds are shut – the parts of life that are unseen by others. "Standing from my kitchen window during lockdown in Aotearoa, sinister thoughts entered my mind about what could be happening behind closed doors for people”, says front-woman Nikita 雅涵 Tu- Bryant. The video tells the story of a father and daughter’s relationship amongst snapshots of everyday life and its monotonous anonymity, while things aren’t always what they appear on the surface. Late at night the father can finally reveal his true self, adorning makeup and sequins, only to be spied by his daughter. The two then share a special moment of dressing up and dancing together, a true celebration of individuality, self-love and the beauty of self-expression.

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'Just Chemistry' is the third single from Dance Lessons, a London-based, female-fronted and produced trio, creating what they define as Serrated Pop. 'Just Chemistry' is a delicate hymn to the unspoken. Dance Lessons return with their signature sound – minimal production, sleek vocals and intricate arrangements. Ann says: “'Just Chemistry' is about the over-complication of our relationships. It’s about the things that are left unsaid in-between the awkward text messages and conversations, and how the absence of knowing can be misinterpreted as doubt. Last year was a difficult one. For a long time, I felt at the mercy of my emotions. I doubted where things were going. I lived in the future and found it hard to commit to the present. But these moments of not knowing can be equally thrilling and beautiful. And that’s what the song is about: finding beauty in the unspoken. In most cases, it’s chemistry that makes us fall in love. Things end, all is temporary. Let’s not go to war with one another over it.” Nat says on the video: “A friend told us about this weird and wonderful house in North London that feels a little like stepping into an acid trip. We obviously wanted to check it out. It’s completely surreal, all over the place (in a great way) and generally eclectic, which felt inherently us. We instantly wanted to do something there and asked the owner for permission to shoot a music video. We filmed during lockdown and were let loose embracing all the oddness of it. Ann also designed and created the outfit she wears in the video, something she does with most of her wardrobe. It was shot, directed and edited by our hugely talented friends Ben Hanson and Simon Frost from Borderland Studios.”

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Returning with her first offering of the year, North London’s rising star Laurel Smith is ready to reveal her anticipated new single, ‘Out the Cage’ accompanied by an action packed and thrilling cinematic style music video directed by Jeremie Brivet and Jai Garcha. Sticking to her winning recipe of moody, dark, electro-pop production paired with effortlessly edgy tales of narrative lyricism, ‘Out the Cage’ is the next huge single from the young, innovative artist that is sure to follow the same trajectory of success as its predecessor, ‘Game Over’ released late last year. A songwriter and recording artist, Laurel Smith has been writing songs since the age of sixteen. With each single she’s released, Laurel has continued to adapt her sound and aesthetic, consistently honing her craft and evolving her brand. She has carefully carved out her place in an ever crowded industry and proceeds to turn heads at every corner. “‘Out The Cage’ is a song about breaking out from your constraints, both physical and mental. Although it can be interpreted in any way, when I wrote it I created a story around a bored housewife, falling out of love with her husband, she fantasises about tying him up and leaving him to be a badass assassin in a video game type world, roaming the city at night and living a life of unpredictability and excitement”.

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Hailing from the Philippines, singer-songwriter Laica is coming off a breakout 2020. Now the 21-year-old is gearing up for the release of her debut album I’m so fine at being lonely. The first single off the project, 'love u lately' is here, accompanied by a music video directed by Cooper Leith. 'Love u lately' is a relatable and infectious track. The song revolves around dating, understanding mixed signals, and the confusion that surrounds that world. Lyrically, Laica walks us through her experiences here, voicing her thoughts and frustrations about someone who she just can't seem to read right. Production-wise, the track is carried by a pulsing synth and a groovy bass. Together, the track feels upbeat. The vibe created by the production stands in contrast with the more emotional lyrics, making the track complex and interesting. The music video takes the concept of 'love u lately' to the extreme, in a fun and playful way. Laica is seen capturing her dream boy and attempting to use witchcraft to finally win him over. The video has a very DIY feel, which could serve to add to the reliability of the track. It’s a great extension of the track and taps into everyone’s most fantasy-driven realities. [via Earmilk]

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At first, Emily C Browning wasn't sure what to think. Spurned, rejected, and cast aside, she was angry, furious, and - at times - utterly bereft. Usually she'd utilise songwriting as a vessel for her emotions, but when she was so conflicted, and feeling so negative, that it just didn't enter her mind. The Christchurch, New Zealand artist needed to take a step back, and when she located some perspective, she was ready to act. New single 'I Wasn't Into You Anyway' is a soaring slice of revenge, one that finds Emily C Browning taking full control of her music. Her first solo production credit, its reminiscent of those surging, empowering Maggie Rogers bops, while also containing similar DNA to Sharon Van Etten's work. Lyrically, it's absolutely her own creation, with Emily leaning on those often-hidden feelings. She comments... "Everyday for a month I wrote in my journal: I want to write a song about feeling rejected. But I couldn’t figure out how to keep it light and funny, it can be quite a painful topic and I didn’t want to sound too heavy. But I kept working on it everyday and came up with this song. I then spent another month recording it, trying to capture a sound that stayed upbeat and playful. I put so much time and energy into the song that I ended up completely forgetting about the person who rejected me in the first place (honest, I swear)." [via Clash]

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Alt-pop force Holly Humberstone returns with new single 'Haunted House'. The songwriter's potent debut EP Falling Asleep At The Wheel was a sensation, racking up more than 100 million global streams. A bona fide phenomenon, Holly returns with a single that displays a more nuanced, reflective side to her work. 'Haunted House' digs into childhood, and looks at the way memory can frame the way we construct our identities. She comments: "I wrote this song about the old and characterful house I grew up in. The house is such a huge part of who I am and our family. With my sisters and I moving out and living separate lives, coming home feels very comforting and one of the only things keeping us all connected." Playing with concrete imagery and no small degree of invention, 'Haunted House' connects art to life in an enchanting fashion. She adds: "The house is almost falling down around us now though, and we’ve realised that pretty soon we’ll be forced to leave. There’s a cellar full of meat hooks and a climate so damp mushrooms grow out of the walls. Loads of people have probably died here in the past but I’ve always felt really safe. It’s like a seventh family member. It’s part of me." [via Clash]

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In 2019, the Boston-born and Brooklyn-based indie rock album Crumb released their debut album Jinx. Crumb haven’t yet announced plans to follow that album up, but they’re definitely working towards something. Last month, the band came out with a one-off single called 'Trophy.' Now, they’ve followed that one with two new tracks, and they’re both winners. The new songs 'BNR' and 'Balloon' both fit nicely into Crumb’s comfort zone. The band’s sound is a rich, sophisticated take on psychedelia, with blissed-out lead vocals from Lila Ramani and with some great funky drum action. The band co-produced both songs with Foxygen’s Jonathan Rado, who’s done great recent work with people like Father John Misty and Weyes Blood and the Killers and who knows how to make oblique ’70s-style pop sound good. But Crumb themselves deserve a ton of credit for coming up with a sound this layered and weird. They’re the rare circa-2021 band who might remind you of Broadcast. In a press release, Ramani says, “‘BNR’ is an ode to my favorite colors. I had a weird obsession with those colors in winter 2018-2019 and felt like they would follow me around everywhere I went." 'BNR' also has a cool music video. Director Joe Mischo starts the clip off as a hallucinatory reverie, but he turns it sharply towards horror at the end. [via Stereogum]

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Last year, Limerick poet/musician Sinead O’Brien released her debut EP, Drowning In Blessings. It was a unique work, a handful of songs featuring O’Brien’s sing-speak over spindly, post-punk guitars. It garnered O’Brien a bit of buzz overseas, and it left you wondering where she might take her music from there. Now, O’Brien’s back with a new song called 'Kid Stuff.' “‘Kid Stuff’ shows up all different tones on different days,” O’Brien said in a statement. “There’s something alive in it which cannot be caught or told. It is direct but complex; it contains chapters. This feels like our purest and most succinct expression yet.” Like Drowning In Blessings, 'Kid Stuff' found O’Brien working with Speedy Wunderground mastermind Dan Carey. Musically, it hints at a level up moment for O’Brien. There was something alluring and jagged about Drowning In Blessings, but 'Kid Stuff' places her usual approach over a song that is surprisingly groovy — maybe even a little danceable. It comes with a video directed by Saskia Dixie. [via Stereogum]

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Das Beat are made up of German actress and vocalist Eddie Rabenberger and Agor of Blue Hawaii. The pair have just shared their first single 'Bubble' online now and are set to release their debut EP Identität on June 4 via Arbutus Records. Born in Berlin during 2020’s legendary lockdown, Das Beat seeks to blast both boredom and boundary. Dabbling in German New Wave, Italo Disco, Indie & Dance, their sound is unified by vocals from Eddie Rabenberger, sung in German and English. Amidst playful lyrics one finds a strong underlying pulse (das “beat”), pinning down the duo’s meandering atmospherics, dreamy synths, guitars and percussion. The duo is half-Canadian and half-German. Agor (of Blue Hawaii), moved to Berlin from Montreal in 2018. Eddie is a theatre actress originally hailing from a small town in Bavaria. Together they find a strange but alluring symbiosis - like Giorgio Moroder meets Nico, or Gina X Performance meets The Prodigy.

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St. Vincent has fully embraced the ’70s aesthetic for her retro-sounding new record, Daddy’s Home. Now, she’s diving headlong into the animation styles of the era with the video for 'The Melting of the Sun'. Presented as a “betamax deluxe release” rip from “Candy’s Music Video Archives,” the clip blends live action shots of St. Vincent herself with the wavy, intermittent animation frames any Schoolhouse Rock student is familiar with. The psychedelic lines fit a song called 'The Melting of the Sun' perfectly, as do the drawings of the legends mentioned in the song’s lyrics like Nina Simone, Joni Mitchell, and Tori Amos. St. Vincent co-directed the clip with Bill Benz, while Chris McD provided the animation. [via Consequence]

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Bay Area slowcore trio Sour Widows have released a new single, 'Bathroom Stall,' from their forthcoming EP Crossing Over, which they announced last month with its title track. The song’s build-up is subtle and poignant like Sufjan Stevens, but Maia Sinaiko’s evocative, sweeping vocals are one-of-a-kind, and the lyrics are graphic and tragic: “Do you remember it like I do?/ Your lips turned blue I had my fingers in your mouth/ And I couldn’t get them out.” Sinaiko said of the song: "This song is about a relationship I had with someone who struggled with addiction, who very tragically passed away three years ago while we were together. It’s about some moments we shared, and how it feels to walk around carrying that person and those experiences with me while the world stays normal. I wrote the song because I wanted to preserve and document what happened to me. to write out the scary stuff and just let it sit there forever. I think its funny that its called 'Bathroom Stall' and that it has that image in it: the song goes from heavy and dark to ordinary and totally pedestrian in a sentence, which feels absurd. And that’s kind of what it’s like to grieve. That’s kind of what’s hard to explain about grief, how absurd it is. Part of you goes to a different planet and part of you stays walking around like an alien on Earth, going to the bathroom and looking at the moon and shit." [via Stereogum]

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As JUNO-nominated singer Kandle Osborne prepares to launch her new project, Set The Fire this spring, she shares the album’s third single, 'Misty Morning.' From being penned on a napkin while abroad to a Vancouver studio, 'Misty Morning' is a sonic journey that echoes soulful vulnerability and an honest reflection of realizing true love. For the video, Kandle reconnects with 'Honey Trap' director, Brandon William Fletcher, to create classic 40s noir-inspired cine-magic, filmed along the Vancouver coastline and within the lush landscape of Stanley Park. Kandle says: “‘Misty Morning’ is my first real love song, captured on a napkin while in Ischia, Italy when I was truly happy. My songwriting usually comes from a place of turmoil and catharsis, but this was simply a snapshot of a perfect, vulnerable moment. In recording it, I wanted to hide behind lush orchestration, but my producer/ best friend Michael Rendall had other ideas. He wanted to strip it down to just piano & a single vocal to take me out of my comfort zone and re-capture the open-hearted feelings I had while writing it. The song and the recording both hold for me a time when I dropped my guard for pure authentic love in spite of all my flaws and failures. In that moment, I felt my true value as a whole person for the first time.”

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On 'Vertigo,' Alice Merton’s first single of 2021, the 27-year-old describes the long road from uncertainty back to self-confidence. It emphasizes the unrest that seizes her again and again, the thought: “Why can’t I just let it go?” These contradicting thoughts and emotions that are so familiar to all of us sum up to an overwhelmingly positive effect - 'Vertigo' leaves you empowered rather than anxious: A powerful indie pop arrangement with distorted guitars, plus Alice Merton’s crystal-clear voice. The result is reminiscent of the British Invasion, with no air of self-doubt. With its energetic live qualities, 'Vertigo' feeds an appetite for summer festivals and concerts that will definitely return at some point. Largely responsible for this is the Canadian producer Koz, a multiple Grammy nominee, who has worked with Dua Lipa ('Physical') among others. Here, too, he adds on to what has already made Alice Merton stand out from the crowd in the past - her classic pop appeal - with an uncompromising and indie attitude. This enables Alice to take another big step: She equally encourages a shaken generation and herself that there will be easy summers again. That you can dance again and lie in each other's arms. That it is absolutely fine to have many facets, to not always be clear, and that strength and weakness are not mutually exclusive.

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Canadian artist Olivia Lunny's new release 'Sad To See You Happy' is a shamelessly poppy track centering an acutely relatable break-up narrative. The Canadian artist follows up her breakthrough success with a bouncy cut to soundtrack 2021’s long-awaited spring. There's a relatable tale of break-up at the heart of the gloriously poppy new single, belied by percussive instrumentation that creates a warm, nostalgic feel. [via Line Of Best Fit]

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After sharing the single last month, Charlotte Adigéry is now revealing the brand new video for ‘Bear With Me (and I’ll stand bare before you)’. The first new music since her 2019 debut EP Zandoli, Charlotte says of the video, “The video is about being confined thus confronted to the way we live. The cruel irony of having the privilege of standing still, questioning and observing my life in all safety while others are fighting for theirs. On the other hand, the video is about trying to stay sane while feeling that the walls are closing in on you. Embracing boredom and finding joy in the little things in life.” Director Alice Kunisue adds, “When I listened to Charlotte’s song and what it meant for her and Bolis, I wanted the video to visually encapsulate that feeling of being stuck inside and confronted to our deeper selves while paradoxically sensing the chaos going on in the outside world without being able to do anything about it. Choosing to film an apartment room from one single angle was a way to reflect that narrowness of thought that we all experienced, but also a constraint that allowed us to explore and develop visual ideas within a narrow system, in a way having to think only inside the box, which artistically was a fun challenge.” [via DIY]

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Millie Turner has shared a video for ‘Concrete Tragedy’. It’s a cut from her upcoming mini-album Eye Of The Storm, set for release on May 16, which also features a rework of breakout song ‘(Breathe) Underwater’. “This video is a visual representation of dancing on your own,” she says of the clip. “Combining the many parts of who we are when we’re by ourselves, I wanted it to feel like you’re entering a world of imagination that comes alive when we express ourselves.” [via Dork]

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Doja Cat and SZA have come together for a new single called 'Kiss Me More.' When the song was announced Wednesday night, the internet flipped out, which is to be expected with these two — especially Doja Cat, who is regularly going viral these days for all kinds of reasons. When it comes to collaborations, she always finds the best people. That includes Saweetie, who appeared on Doja’s recent 'Best Friend' but then claimed that it was released against her wishes. Given SZA’s long history of public frustration over TDE Records holding back her new album, she is probably happy to have any new music out. Despite recent single 'Good Days' hitting the top 10, her restless fanbase is still awaiting a follow-up to 2017’s iconic Ctrl. 'Kiss Me More' is the first single from Doja’s new album Planet Her, scheduled for release this summer. It returns to the disco vibes of Doja’s #1 hit 'Say So,' this time with no apparent resemblance to any Skylar Spence song. [via Stereogum]

#videos of the week #wallice #kita #dance lessons #laurel smith #laica #emily c. browning #holly humberstone #crumb #st. vincent #sour widows #kandle #alice merton #olivia lunny #charlotte adigery #millie turner #doja cat #sza

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