#spring hurry UP and GET HERE ive had ENOUGH of winter

[rars]

made the mistake of looking at my prickly pears and a lot of them are blackening due to the cold :'(( my poor little meowmeows...

[stiltonbasket]

but ALSO okay so first of all thank you so much for the ficlets so far they are Adorable and i love them so much. second of all i am so glad you opened prompts again bcuz. i have. smth ive been wanting to read for a WHILE. so. prompt: junior generation post-canon, they all have super high standards for romantic partners cuz they spend time with Super Lovey Dovey WangXian. not like jiang cheng's List but smth a la Tenille Arts's Somebody Like That iykwim

i hope its not too late to insert a detail to my prompt!!! (i ran outta chara space in the og prompt message and then forgot ^^" ) but theres just one thing!! i really wanna see!!!! in the wangxian spoiling each other bit!!!!! (and the juniors being all That is Love Why Should We Settle For Less) -- i want lan zhan walkin around at one point with his hair in a braid and flowers braided in!!! and if asked he gets all soft and looks at it and is like "wei ying did it" ahhh i love the image <3

can anybody find me (somebody to love)

by stiltonbasket

“Wei-qianbei, we’re getting old enough to go courting now,” Jingyi says eagerly; but he’s a horrible liar who lies, because he and Sizhui are only nineteen, and Jin Ling doesn’t come of age until early winter. “What do you think we should put on our list of requirements?” 

(Or, the one where Jin Rulan visits the Cloud Recesses, contemplates his love life, and gets a new point of view on the Lan sect's taxation policy.)

Jin Ling is seventeen the year his dajiu marries Hanguang-jun, and finally gives Jin Ling the right to call Lan Sizhui his cousin. Sizhui’s always been his cousin, of course—they’ve been cousins since Jin Ling was born, even if neither of them knew it—but he couldn’t say so, because that would mean telling everyone that Sizhui was born a Wen. And telling everyone that Sizhui was a Wen would lead to terrible things, so Jin Ling keeps his mouth shut until after his dajiu’s wedding.

“You could just say that he was born to us during the Sunshot Campaign!” Wei Wuxian laughed, when he finally heard why Jin Ling wanted him to hurry up and take his three bows with Hanguang-jun. “Half the cultivation world already thinks he’s ours, anyway.”

But regardless of whether he could call Sizhui his biao-ge in public, Sizhui is first and foremost a very dear friend; and so are Lan Jingyi and A-Qing and Ouyang Zizhen, though Jin Ling’s best friend is probably Zizhen, just like Sizhui’s is Jingyi. He visits them in Gusu as often as he can, since all of them save Zizhen live there, and even Zizhen hangs around the Cloud Recesses more often than not. 

“Don’t you have a clan of your own?” Jin Ling frowns, when he visits his dajiu around midsummer to find the younger boy eating xiaolongbao in the jingshi’s new kitchen. “How come you’re still here, A-Zhen? The lectures ended weeks ago!”

“I’m almost sixteen,” Zizhen yawns, reaching for a shallow dish of black vinegar and soaking a salted mushroom in it. “Father says I’m old enough to go where I like, and Lan-xiansheng said I could keep studying with the Lan disciples as long as I stayed.”

“You’re just here for the food,” grumbles Jin Ling. His dajiu is a good cook when he doesn’t cover everything in chili peppers, and Jiujiu once told him in confidence that Wei-dajiu’s food was the closest Jin Ling would ever get to having his mother’s. But a steaming plate of xiaolongbao lands in front of Jin Ling before he can really start thinking about that, and then his baby cousin crawls into his lap and steals one of the soup dumplings.

“Ling-gege pays taxes,” three-year-old Lan Yu says serenely, poking a hole in the xiaolongbao and sucking out the broth. “Xiao-Yu can have one more?”

“Taxes?” Jin Ling stares at him. “What in the world does he mean?”

Wei Wuxian laughs and comes back over to give him another succulent soup dumpling to replace the one Xiao-Yu stole. “He’s pretending to be the sect leader,” he explains, ruffling Jin Ling’s hair on his way back to the stove. “And he found out about tax management this morning, since Lan Zhan and Xichen-ge are thinking about lifting the luxury tax on goods from some of the minor sects. But A-Yu thinks taxes are presents for the sect leader, so…”

“One more bao tax for xiao-Lan-zongzhu!” Xiao-Yu says imperiously, holding out his chubby hands. “Ling-gege give, please?”

“That is not polite, Xiao-Yu,” Hanguang-jun scolds, sweeping into the kitchen with A-Yuan and Jingyi behind him and A-Qing bringing up the rear. He lifts Xiao-Yu into his arms and sits him down on the bench next to Zizhen, and then he reaches up for a stack of patterned bowls and passes them around to the others. 

Jin Ling still hasn’t gotten used to eating at the Chief Cultivator’s table, even if Hanguang-jun is technically his uncle now. Sometimes Hanguang-jun even does the cooking, and feeds Wei-dajiu with his own chopsticks while everyone else watches, and then Jin Ling tries to choke himself to death on the bamboo shoots in his yan du xian before deciding that Lanling can’t afford to lose the first decent zongzhu it’s had since his great-grandfather’s time. 

“I wish I was married,” Ouyang Zizhen sighs dreamily, resting his cheek on his hand as Xiao-Yu tries to steal his dumplings next. On his other side, A-Qing’s cheeks flush crimson, and she stares resolutely down at her hands while Hanguang-jun offers her a plate of savory vegetables. “It looks so nice, Wei-qianbei.”

“It is nice,” Wei-dajiui winks—and oh, gross, because Hanguang-jun is blushing now, and staring at Wei Wuxian as if he’s the most amazing thing in the world. “Marrying Lan Zhan is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Mm,” Hanguang-jun says quietly, putting a heaping spoonful of potato congee into his husband’s bowl. “Wei Ying is the best thing that happened to me, too.”

Ouyang Zizhen wails. 

“Wei-qianbei, we’re getting old enough to go courting now,” Jingyi says eagerly; but he’s a horrible liar who lies, because he and Sizhui are only nineteen, and Jin Ling doesn’t come of age until early winter. “What do you think we should put on our list of requirements?”

“What, you want an arranged marriage?” Wei-dajiu frowns. “ I never went through the process myself—” and Hanguang-jun reaches out and squeezes Wei-dajiu’s waist, as if even thinking about Wei-dajiu seeing a matchmaker was too much— “and I don’t really know anyone who did, since Yunmeng’s a lot freer about these things. Are you sure, Jingyi?”

“I’m not asking for a matchmaker,” Jingyi says, tossing his long ponytail over his shoulder. “I want to know what to look for if my love of a lifetime comes along. So what were you looking for?”

“Nothing when I was your age, A-Yi. I thought I would spend my whole life at Lotus Pier, and marry one of the shijies or shimeis who liked me. But then I met Lan Zhan, and…”

And then his ideal became Hanguang-jun, Jin Ling finishes, chewing on a mouthful of mustard greens. Everyone knows that, Jingyi!

Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t end there. It goes on for the better part of an hour, and all through the course of coconut pudding Hanguang-jun made for dessert, and Jin Ling can’t even leave because that would be rude, and the food is too good to pass up even if Ouyang Zizhen wants to ask about kissing now.

“How old is old enough to have your first kiss?” he inquires, while Lan Sizhui giggles into his hands and elbows Zizhen to make him stop. “I’m sixteen, so is that too young?”

“I was thirty-eight when I first kissed Wei Ying,” Hanguang-jun says dryly. “I would advise patience, unless Ouyang-gongzi already has a beloved one in mind.”

Jin Ling wants to die. Why is his extended family like this?

“Pudding tax,” Xiao-Yu announces from his lap. “Ling-gege, can A-Yu have a bite?”

“I’m Sect Leader Jin, though. I don’t have to pay you taxes.”

Xiao-Yu gives him a serious little nod before turning to Sizhui. “Yuan-gege, pay pudding taxes.”

“You’ve had enough pudding,” Sizhui scolds; and indeed, the dishes are mostly empty now, except for the serving bowls in the middle of the table. “Come on, A-Yu. Let’s go visit the rabbits.”

They end up at the rabbit field about ten minutes later, after Jingyi and Sizhui help Hanguang-jun with the dishes. Jin Ling thinks it must make a very strange picture: after all, one doesn’t often see three Lan juniors, one Ouyang sect heir, one Jin sect leader, and one Lan baby lying in the grass with bunnies climbing over them. But the peace and quiet is beautifully welcome after the political unrest in Lanling and the dog food in Wei-dajiu’s tiny kitchen, so Jin Ling closes his eyes and settles down for a nap with a small white rabbit on his chest. 

“I think Shufu was right,” he hears A-Qing say. “There’s no point in having a list of requirements. Look at what happened to Jiang-zongzhu.”

“His first list was terrible, though,�� Zizhen objects. “And he’s going to be married by next spring, so it worked for him in the end. After he fixed his requirements, I mean.”

“Gossipping is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” Sizhui says tranquilly. “And what Father meant was that having a list means you might miss your fated one when they come along, so it’s best to think about what you want, instead of what your beloved should be.”

“I’d like it if my wife liked to eat my cooking,” sighs Zizhen—he’s an excellent cook, too, and Jin Ling knows for a fact that A-Qing’s favorite food is the shrimp and water spinach Zizhen’s mother taught him to make. “Then I could cook, and she could wash our children’s hands and bring them to the kitchen when I was done, and we would all eat together.”

“I think I’d like a husband who knew how to do my hair,” A-Qing says, not even trying to be subtle. Jin Ling has seen the combs Zizhen keeps giving her, even if they’re far too young for a courtship, and Zizhen is always the first to offer assistance whenever A-Qing’s hair falls out of its bun. “Even a plain bun is too hard for me, since my hair’s so bushy.”

Zizhen nearly drops his rabbit. “Oh,” he whispers, blushing so hard that his neck turns red. “That’s good!”

Jin Ling wants to die. He can’t stand visiting Lotus Pier because his jiujiu is obviously courting, even if he won’t say he is, and now he’s going to have to watch A-Qing and Zizhen flirt until Zewu-jun and Ouyang-zongzhu give them permission to get married. 

“What about you, Jingyi?”

“Huh? Oh, I want to marry someone who won’t mind how loud I am,” Jingyi shrugs. “Or someone even louder than me, so we can make trouble together. A-Yuan?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, actually,” Sizhui sighs. “I’m Zewu-jun’s heir, so I have to get married, but I’m not sure if I want to.”

A moment of silence. 

“Then you won’t have to,” Jin Ling says. Everyone stares at him. “Zewu-jun didn’t get married, and Hanguang-jun wouldn’t have if Wei-dajiu didn’t come back to life. You can just choose an heir born to one of your cousins, since Jingyi was going to inherit the sect before Hanguang-jun adopted you.”

The others swoop in to assure Sizhui that no one’s going to make him get married, and Jin Ling folds his arms behind his head and wonders if his biao-ge could possibly be like Zewu-jun: a yi xin yi shen, whole in heart and body, who eschewed marriage in favor of cultivation. It would explain a lot, Jin Ling thinks, because even he knows what it feels like when someone makes his heart beat fast and his face turn pink, and Sizhui’s never felt that way. 

(Jin Ling tries not to think of Nie-zongzhu’s hot-tempered archivist, who knocked him into the dust with her saber the last time he visited Qinghe and then told him he had pretty eyes. Nie Shiyong is a few years older than him, and he usually ends up nursing several new bruises each time he meets her, but Jin Ling is man enough to admit to himself that he likes her. Maybe.)

“Xiao-Yu is sleepy,” little A-Yu says, interrupting his embarrassing train of thought before it can go any further. “Yuan-gege, I have a nap?”

“You can just sleep here,” Jingyi suggests. “The grass is soft enough, right? And you can use one of us for a pillow.”

“Jingyi,” Sizhui chides, and Jin Ling hears the long grass rustling as his cousin gets to his feet. “Come on, A-Yu. I’ll take you home to A-Niang.”

“No need,” someone else says; and that’s Hanguang-jun’s voice, coming up the hill from the direction of the jingshi. “I am here. A-Yu, come.”

Jin Ling scrambles up to greet his uncle by marriage (sect leader or not, jiujiu would kill him if he greeted the Chief Cultivator from the ground) and then he reels back and blinks in surprise, because Hanguang-jun’s hair is up in a loose braid instead of a half-topknot, and somebody seems to have decorated the braid with a row of half-bloomed lotus flowers. 

“Wei Ying did it,” Hanguang-jun says, with a small, soft smile that makes Sizhui and the others gasp. “He will do the same for your hair, too, if you ask.”

And then he lifts Xiao-Yu up into his arms and carries him away, leaving Jin Ling still frozen mid-bow with Jingyi and Zizhen gaping behind him.

“I think what Hanguang-jun meant is that the first requirement for marriage is love,” Lan Sizhui remarks, when Jin Ling finally snaps his mouth shut. “And that no matter what we want, or think we want, we shouldn’t settle for less.”

(Jin Ling is the first of his friends to marry, and he never forgets his biao-ge’s advice until the end of his days.)

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640803481456885760/therainbowwillow

Okay I’m losing track. I think this is part 11. Correct me if it isn’t. PS. If you think of a title for this AU, tell me! Please!

Premise/last time... blah blah blah you’re used to this:

The Gang has made it home! It’s warmer now! Orpheus did more than he thought with his song. Hades flees to Olympus and plans to sue Orpheus for property damage. Hermes decides their best shot at beating Hades is a combination of pretty music and accusing the prosecution of stabbing the defendant. Thanatos wonders where the heck he’s supposed to take his brother.

Ps. No you are not allowed to question why everyone uses bows and arrows in a place where modern medicine (and definitely firearms) are available. Apollo is ahead of his time as a doctor? No one wants to learn a new skill? The author doesn’t want to be realistic? You choose.

———————————————

Eurydice takes a damp washcloth and drapes it over Orpheus’s forehead. He looks content in his rest somehow, even with an oxygen mask over his face and an IV in his arm. Not healthy, but not nearly as bad as he’d looked on the train.

The scent of flowers pleasantly fills the room. Persephone had brought them a vase of flowers. Real spring flowers. Eurydice plucks one out and twirls it between her fingertips. It had been a decade, maybe more, since she’d seen flowers like these. A true springtime. It makes all the winters worth it, she decides.

Orpheus coughs weakly. She drops the flower back into its vase. “Eurydice?” He croaks.

She takes his hand. “I’m right here.”

“Where am I?”

“We’re home.” She grins.

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yes! We made it, love!”

He gives a slight nod.

“How are you feeling, Orpheus?” Eurydice inquires.

“Better. My leg hurts. And my stomach.”

“Do you want me to get Apollo?”

“No. Not yet. I just want to look at you.”

She strokes his palm. “Okay. Tell me if you need anything, promise?”

“I will,” he agrees.

He sits in silence for a moment, looking up at her.

“Eurydice?” he asks, quietly.

“What do you need?”

He swallows. “Am... am I going to die?”

“No! No, no,” she tells him, hurriedly. “Oh, Orpheus, I’m sorry. No, you’re going to be okay.”

He blinks back tears. “I’m scared of going back. I... I thought...” his voice breaks and he sobs.

She sits beside him and holds him in her arms, swaying slightly back and forth, as if rocking him to sleep. “Baby, you’re not going back there. I’ve got you.” He coughs and she gently pats his back.

“It hurts to cough,” he moans.

“You breathed in a lot of smoke. That’s why you’re coughing. It won’t last. It won’t last.”

Hermes enters the room with an armload of firewood. He sets it down and hurries to his son’s bedside. “How are you feeling, kiddo?” He asks.

Orpheus looks up, teary-eyed. “Dad.”

Hermes wipes the tears off his cheeks. “You did it,” he says.

Orpheus tilts his head. “What?”

“It’s spring, Orpheus! Your song worked!”

He shakes his head. “There’s no way. I didn’t change anything.”

Eurydice hands him a flower from the vase. “You brought back the springtime, lover.”

His expression lightens. He wipes the tears off his cheeks. “Will I... get to see it? Hermes, does spring last a long time? I don’t think I can walk but I want to see how it looks! Eurydice, what’s it like? Does it feel different? Smell different?” he rambles.

Hermes smiles. “Yes, you’ll get to see it. I can open the windows if you’d like.”

“Yes! Yes, please! I’d like that.”

Hermes pulls the blinds open and lifts the window pane. “You breathing okay, kiddo?” Orpheus nods. “Apollo gave me the go-ahead to take off your mask as long as you feel like you’re getting enough air. Tell me if anything changes.”

Orpheus takes a deep breath. “It smells like... flowers,” he observes. “And grass. Like a meadow after a rainstorm.”

“You did this,” Eurydice reminds him. “You did... all of this.”

He smiles. “I did it with you.”

“No,” she says. “I left you behind when you needed me, Orpheus.”

Hermes stands, foreseeing the oncoming argument. “No one blames you, Eurydice, but yourself. Talk it out. Call for me if you need anything.”

Eurydice shakes her head. “He’s wrong,” she says, exasperated. “I was so caught up in myself and my own struggles, I didn’t think of you. I signed the contract. Not Hades. When—if— he comes back for me, promise me you won’t follow. Promise me, lover, that you’ll live here on the surface, safe.”

“Anywhere you go, I’m going.” He looks away. “Eurydice... he wants you that badly?”

“I don’t know what he wants, but-”

“I want you more. I’m not going to let him have you.”

“Orpheus...” He’s determined, she knows, and there’s nothing that will change his mind.

“If my song can do this,” he gestures to the window, “I will convince him.”

“Lover, you need rest. You need to heal.”

“Not until you’re safe, Eurydice.” He flinches as he sits up. “I need to protect you. I failed once. I will not fail again. Let me do this for you.”

“Orpheus, what if it doesn’t work? You’ll put yourself through hell for nothing!”

“If I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself!” He shouts, ending with a cough.

“Why would you do this for the girl who abandoned you?” She asks, solemnly.

“Because I love you!” He grabs her hands. “I love you, Eurydice.”

“I love you too, Orpheus. I don’t want you risking your safety for me.”

“I’ll be careful. Still, I should get to work, love. I’ll need papers! Something to write with and my lyre. And you. Don’t go, please.”

She hugs him. “I’ll never leave again.”

————————————————

“Thanatos? Where are we going?” Hypnos asks, his head still aching from where he’d been hit.

“I’d like to ask the same,” Pasithea offers, her husband’s arm draped over her shoulder for support.

Thanatos keeps his eyes on the road ahead. It’s a long walk out of Hadestown.

“Brother, please,” Hypnos repeats.

He pauses. “Do you promise you won’t turn back?”

“Thanatos, I wouldn’t get far like this.”

“Swear it,” he insists.

“Okay, okay. Always stubborn. I swear I won’t turn back.”

“Olympus,” Thanatos mutters under his breath.

“What? Than, I was just hit in the head. Forgive me if my hearing’s a little-”

“I said Olympus. Now let’s go.”

Hypnos grins. “No way.”

“I’m never hearing the end of this?” Thanatos guesses.

“I never thought I’d see the day! My brother, Death himself, wants to hang out on Olympus! What are you expecting? A warm welcome?”

“Medicine,” Thanatos sighs, “you’ll need it.”

“You do realize that Zeus will do anything in his power to get rid of me? I put him to sleep at... inconvenient times. Twice.”

“And that’s why I’m joining you. The Olympians fear me, at least to some degree. I’d rather contend with Zeus than Hades these days.”

“I must admit, I’m looking forward to this. We’ll call it a family vacation!” Hypnos says.

“More like a co-op torture session,” Thanatos mutters.

[osmw1]

Head Over Heels from the Scarf I Lent Her  Chapter 5—The Warm Sun, and Lunch

“So? What happened afterwards?” “What are you on about all of a sudden?”

Ōyodo Jun—my classmate who sits in front of me—leans his arm on the back of his chair and turns to me. It isn’t unusual for Jun to start rambling about something incomprehensible, but it sounds awfully as if he’s talking about Satsuki. She’s a total lifesaver for cleaning Tooru’s room. Jun lets out a dirty smirk and looks at Tooru.

“Something had to had happened, right? She’s totally fallen for you.” “What, do you think I’ve got the balls to do anything to a girl as cute as her?” “… you’re being serious. Well, I guess not.”

For some reason, Jun dejectedly pouts as he shifts his arm from the seatback to Tooru’s desk.

“What a letdown, man. You gotta get better stories to tell.” “Why do I have to make sacrifices just to amuse you?” “That’s the way how things work. Hurry up and get a girl.” “Ow, cut it out.”

Tooru pushes Jun away, who was smacking him on his head, and then places his elbows on his desk too.

“First of all, you don’t have a girlfriend either. You better check yourself first.” “Gah! Straight through the heart! You don’t mince words, do you?”

Ignoring his exaggerated reaction, Tooru instead overhears the conversation of another group.

“Didja hear about Miyamoto Amane’s little sister?” “Yeah, dude. They she’s a total babe, unlike Amane. Go hit her up.” “You crazy? I’m not about to poke the bear, thank you very much.”

Already famous on the second day of school, eh? Well, she was well-known to begin with anyway, so no surprise there. Seems like everyone is so scared of Amane that no one is willing to get close to Satsuki. That was Tooru’s plan too, but somehow things ended up this way.

Luckily, Amane is another class so Tooru hasn’t got mixed up in her business at all. Unlike Satsuki, there’s not much noteworthy about how Amane looks, save for her chest. She’s probably number one in school in that aspect. It’s a mystery what she thinks about her younger sister, but Tooru isn’t about to march up to her and ask. And why does Satsuki look so down as well? It’s gotta have something to do with her family, but she didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about it. As he’s just her acquaintance, Tooru can only remain an outsider—whether for her sake or his own. Seems like Jun has overheard the other group too. Still sitting backwards on his chair, he faces Tooru.

“Must be tough then.” “It’s not too bad. We’re gonna be going home separately.” “Huh? You two are planning to meet every day?” “Ah…”

Tooru had dug his own grave and Jun has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’ve finally showed your true colors.” “It’s not like I’ve done any—” “Shut up! And treat me to something with your paycheck!” “What?! Why do I have to?!”

Tooru dodges Jun’s attacks and then sits back, spacing out. Satsuki’s face pops into his mind. They’re friends or something or other now, right? She’s not alone anymore like that winter day, right? His daydreams are cut short by the bell.

  Tooru always eats lunch at the same place—a sunny spot behind the school. It’s his daily routine to sit on the concrete outside of an unused classroom on the first floor. And of course, if it’s raining or snowing, he’d eat lunch inside instead.

But today, the warm spring air lulls the sandman. To have lunch while basking in the sun was Tooru’s thing and this is his place. Or was. He spots a familiar figure and waves.

“Hey, Miyamoto. Fancy meeting you here.” “Wha—?!”

Satsuki was sitting there about to open her lunch box. Her face is bright red like she was taken by complete surprise. After making sure not a single other soul was around, Tooru sits down next to Satsuki, leaving but a little room between them. On the other hand, perhaps still surprised, her face was still flushed red.

Sitting side by side again, Satsuki is small. She’s probably not even 160 cm tall. On the other hand, Tooru passed the 180 cm mark already. Sure, the average height of high schoolers is going higher and higher, but Tooru himself didn’t even think he’d grow this much.

That’s why it was natural for him to be able to look at what she has for lunch. Wieners cut into the shape of octopuses, omelette, and veggie stir-fry with a small portion of white rice. You could even say that this is the traditional Japanese packed lunch. On the other hand, Tooru’s lunch was fried chicken from the freezer section and rice. He had just had an earful from Jun, saying how he’s soon going to get fat. So, Tooru retaliated with a punch.

“Your lunch sure looks good.” “Oh, you think so?” “I’ve only got some previously-frozen chicken and rice. Probably isn’t doing my body any good.” “That’s true…”

Though he would’ve preferred her saying otherwise, Tooru relaxed after seeing Satsuki strain a laugh. He’s not sure what to make of it, but Satsuki suddenly waving her hands around.

“Umm, I would still like you even if you get a little chubbier too, though!” “Et tu, Satsuki?”

Tooru was at a loss as he opened his lunch box. Is that my future? I’m destined to be overweight? But even then, he’s busy in the morning getting ready for school and busy at night studying. He just wants to keep his grades up is all.

Still, how scary it would be to get fat before graduating. Like, actually. Not wanting him to feel down, the seemingly flustered Satsuki gives him a little fist pump.

“It’s okay. If you’re worried about it, then I’ll help you out!”

Satsuki bursts out with absolute energy. He had been hanging his head down but looks up at the girl so full of enthusiasm and responds like a burnt-out boxer.

“Support? What kind of support?” “How about making you both lunch and dinner?!” “Huh?!”

Of course, he was shocked. Not only is Satsuki bound to be busy in the morning, but wouldn’t she be like his mom packing him a lunch? He hesitates to put such a burden on her.

“No way I can do that to you…” “It would not be a big deal. If anything, it’s hard to cook just one portion, you know?”

He could only nod back. It doesn’t seem like she’s even half-joking. Tooru isn’t familiar with cooking enough to have a sense for that, but it sounds plausible.

And this would be good for his health too. Tooru could avoid the whole getting fat thing. However, he couldn’t just ask for this favor all of a sudden; it’s a lot more time and effort. Isn’t there something he could think of? Satsuki looks up at the thinking Tooru. Her youthfulness really felt like as if she were his younger sister. He’s seriously contemplating ideas, but still almost reached out to pat her head.

Needless to say, though, Tooru had neither the guts nor the feelings for her. He shakes the thought off and keeps thinking. And then, an idea, though a trivial one.

“In that case, I’ll pay you for each lunch.” “But, you’re…” “You’ll be using your own ingredients, right? It’d only be right for me to pay for my share.”

Satsuki looked like she wanted to say something, but she lets out a small breath and nods with a smile.

“Okay then, if you’re fine with that.” “Alright, it’s a plan. Thank you, Madam Miyamoto, for saving me from obesity.” “You’re exaggerating… and call me like you normally do.”

Satsuki waves her hand as if she were a little embarrassed, making him want to protect her even more. Even if she might be feeling down from her home situation, it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big deal to her.

“Anyway, shall we eat? Lunchtime is almost over.” “You’re right. I salute you, frozen food. You have served me well.” “Frozen food sure is handy.”

Tooru responds with a quipping laugh as Satsuki teases him. And then, once again, he looks at her lunch. It looked good the first time he looked, and it still looks good now. He’d love to try a bite. Seeing through him, Satsuki grabs a piece of omelette with her chopsticks and looks up at him. Her hair flows to the other shoulder.

“Want some? A taste-test.” “Uhh, you sure?” “Of course. Consider it research to see what you like.”

Oh, thank you so much. Even Tooru was doubting whether his chicken was enough for lunch.

“Oh, you don’t have to feed me it… it’s a little embarrassing.” “Oh, really?” “Aren’t you…? Anyway, you can just put it in my container and I’ll eat it myself.”

Satsuki’s face turns bright red again after hearing what he said. Then, she silently puts the egg on top of his food. So, it wasn’t on purpose yesterday after all. Tooru then looks down at the omelette.

It looks well-made and smells slightly sweet. There’s no way it won’t taste good. He opens his mouth and stuff his cheeks with the omelette. Tooru looks over to his side to find Satsuki with a nervous look on her face.

His eyes open wide.

Delicious. It’s perfectly seasoned with both salt and sugar. There’s even slight undertones of broth to it. Tooru has never had an omelette this tasty before. It’s even better than his mother’s.

“Miyamoto, this is amazing.”

He tells her with his mouth full of food and Satsuki chastises him for being improper. The tension had been completely cut and she relaxes her shoulders.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you like it.”

Her smile is as dazzling as always. Tooru didn’t think she could smile this brightly at first, but now he knows better. Swallowing his food revealed a light aftertaste of sweetness and broth. She’s even accounted for aftertaste.

“I’ve got great hopes for tomorrow’s lunch now.” “Look forward to it, okay?”

Their time together was soft and comfortable, if over too soon.

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /next/

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[ryukoishida]

Gundam IBO Fic: In which Yamagi is sick and Shino visits him.

Title: Shot on Goal Author: ryukoishida  Fandom: Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans Genre: Fluff  Rating: PG Character(s)/Pairing(s): Norba Shino/Yamagi Gilmerton (ShinoYama); also features Ride, Biscuit, Eugene, Mikazuki, Akihiro  Prompt: When Yamagi is sick with the flu. [Modern high school AU]  Commission for: Client doesn’t want to be tagged, but they’re gracious enough to let me post it on this blog, so yay!

Writing Commission | Editing and Translation Service

-

From the same AU: 

i. Modern Love Affair

-

“Is Orga going to be okay? He’s been sick for three days already…”

In the men’s change room, someone is asking the vice-captain of Tekkadan High School’s ice hockey team, a junior with a small, lean stature but a speedy and aggressive play style that has all other top-tier teams shiver with fear just from hearing his name: Mikazuki Augus. 

“Calm down, Eugene,” he’s saying now as he unlaces his skates in an unhurried pace, his voice drawling in his usual calm manner that always makes his teammates wonder whether the young man ever worries about anything, “I visited him yesterday; he’s getting better already. Biscuit forced him to rest for another day just to make sure he fully recovers.”

“I’m just worried about our next match against Gjallarhorn,” Eugene Sevenstark states, brows dipped in worry as he mercilessly stuffs his jersey into his duffle bag. “It’s coming up this weekend and he’s been missing practice for the last few days. We’ve been playing in the same hockey club since we were thirteen, and I’ve never seen him miss more than a day of practice. Remember that time when he had that high fever two years ago?”

“He was fiercer and more reckless than usual,” Akihiro Altland, a brawny forward whose prowess and animalistic instinct are almost as frightfully acclaimed as Mikazuki’s brutal nature on the ice, recalls that particular match with a thoughtful murmur, “but we did win against the Brewers — 5 to 2, I believe?” 

“Yeah, and then he passed out right after and had to be sent to the hospital for an IV drip,” Biscuit Griffon, the team’s dependable goaltender and clever tactician, shakes his head with a helpless expression – a mix of fondness and frustration for his idiotic friend and captain. “He just doesn’t know when to stop unless someone’s there to physically restrain him.”

They can all agree on their captain’s obstinate and passionate nature, at least. There’s no stopping Orga Itsuka once they see the blazing flames in those determined golden eyes; that’s also the reason why the entire team has entrusted the ambition and goal of winning this year’s National Inter-High Hockey Championships on him. 

“You’re strangely quiet, Shino,” Biscuit observes from his place on the bench, his attention focused on the young man who has frozen in place by his locker, eyes glazed and head deep in his own thought, in the midst of packing up his own articles as they prepare to leave for the day. “What’s wrong?”

When Tekkadan’s right-winger, who’s known for his eccentric style on-ice as well as his gregarious personality off-ice, doesn’t reply, Biscuit sighs and tries again, this time a little louder, “Oi, earth to Shino!” 

“Huh?” Norba Shino drops the towel he’s been holding at the call of his name, and he looks a little sheepish when he turns to see Biscuit giving him a perplexed glance. “W-what’s up?”

“You seem pretty out of it — during practice, too, you’ve missed far too many easy passes today,” Biscuit says, choosing his words carefully in case he steps on a sensitive topic that Shino may not feel comfortable enough to talk to him about, though he has a sense that it has to do with the library monitor Shino has let slip a few weeks ago. He had been blushing: Norba Shino, who has no awareness of shame when it comes to embarrassing topics common for their age like relationship and sex, was genuinely blushing when he accidentally blurted out to Eugene about the cute library monitor who almost killed him with a stack of hard-cover books — unintentionally, of course. 

Biscuit had been watching the entire exchange, but had said nothing then. 

“Was it really that bad?” Shino chuckles uneasily, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“If Orga had been here today, he would have yelled at you and gotten you to do extra shooting drills after practice. So, do you want to tell me what’s going on? I may not be able to help, but I’m always here to lend an ear.”   

“Thanks, Biscuit,” Shino slaps his teammate’s shoulder lightly with a small grin, and then his face crumbles once again into that uncharacteristic distracted expression seldom seen on the confident young man. “The thing is… You know how this wave of flu has already affected so many people at school?”

He pauses again, uncertain of how to resume, and Biscuit nods encouragingly for him to continue. The flu season always arrives at this time every year, and some students are more resistant to the virus than others; however, this year’s virus seems especially vicious, since it’s strong enough even to defeat the great Orga Itsuka himself who boasts of never falling sick for more than two days. 

“There’s someone…” Shino starts again, lowering his head as he tries to concentrate on putting the rest of his personal items into his bag, “…he hasn’t shown up at school for the last couple of days, and I’m worried… I mean, it’s probably nothing, right? People take days off school all the time! And it’s none of my business, obviously, because we’re not that close or anything—”

“Why don’t you go visit him and see for yourself?” Biscuit smoothly interrupts Shino’s rambling monologue and suggests. 

“That’s a bit too forward,” Shino’s eyes flicker, and then he looks over at the goaltender hesitantly, “don’t you think?” 

“The Norba Shino I know would take any opportunity — even the stupidest, most risky ones — to try for a goal,” Biscuit says, a hand on the forward’s shoulder a comfortable weight.

There’s a brief moment during which Biscuit can almost see the gears in Shino’s head turning furiously until the light in his eyes returns to its usual optimistic glimmer. 

“You’re right! Thanks, man!” Shino flashes him his signature grin and quickly finishes packing the rest of his belongings before he shoots out of the change room.

“What’s his hurry?” Mikazuki murmurs with quiet amusement in his eyes. 

Biscuit only responds with a shrug and a knowing smile.

-

“Excuse me,” Shino lays one arm across the counter when he finally catches his breath, his eyes darting this way and that inconspicuously as if he’s trying to search for someone but not wanting anyone to notice this very obvious mission. He’s failing pretty hard though, but the library monitor on duty today — a sophomore named Ride Mass whom Shino sometimes sees during the few instances he’s actually visited the library — merely gives him a hard, guarded look as he waits for the hockey player to continue. He swallows noisily and asks, “Uh… is-is, um, Yamagi Gilmerton around?” 

“No,” the boy who’s at least a head shorter than Shino’s impressive height replies coldly, crossing his arms as though to signify the end of their conversation.

Shino tries again, hazel eyes pleading with despair, “Do you know if he’s doing okay? I noticed he hasn’t come to school for the last few days, and uh, I just wanted to make sure he’s… um…” The hockey player gradually lets his sentence fade, incomplete, because Ride is outright glaring at him with obvious distaste, and if looks could kill, Shino is sure that he’d be bleeding to his death at this point. 

“You’re a junior, aren’t you? Why do you care if a sophomore doesn’t show up to class?” Ride doesn’t even bother looking at him as he shuffles and puts the stack of papers into a binder, slamming it shut with such ferocity that Shino almost jumps back. 

He’s absolutely right; Shino realizes this belatedly. What reason does he have for worrying over an almost-stranger? 

They haven’t known each other long — hell, he doesn’t think they’ve even exchanged a proper conversation since the first time they met about a month ago — but Shino can’t help but haunt the old, musty library located in one of the most run-down buildings of the campus on days when he doesn’t have practice, just hoping to run into the timid library monitor with hair as gold as the first rays of spring sunlight after a long, harsh winter, eyes as gentle as the wisps of clouds drifting over summer sky, and smiles as rare and beautiful as the blooming of epiphyllum blossoms. 

Shino cannot find a valid reason without sounding like an idiot or worst, a creepy stalker, and he looks so utterly defeated that Ride, who finally spares him a glance after tidying the counter to his satisfaction, heaves a sigh and takes pity on the poor boy.

“You’re actually worried about him, aren’t you?” Ride’s tone bears less thorns than before, though his eyes remain cautious as he scrutinizes the hockey player with an aloof gaze. 

“Of course!” Shino replies without a second thought, and his exclaim comes out a little louder than expected. He claps a hand over his mouth when Ride sends him another dirty look. 

“Yamagi told me about you.”

“H-he did?” Shino is half-excited and half-concerned, but it doesn’t look like Ride will elaborate on that. 

“He doesn’t have to say it out loud; it’s obvious he’s quite taken with you. And I’ve told him guys like you — blessed with good looks, popular with the crowd, going along the flow without a damn care in the world — will only break his heart,” Ride has no time or patience to sugarcoat his thoughts when it comes to people he wants to protect.

“Man, you really got an unforgiving mouth, don’t you?” Shino tries not to let Ride’s opening statement get into his head.

“This is my nice mode,” Ride grins threateningly at him, and then in a more lenient manner, he relents, “I’m going over to his place after my shift. If you want to come along, at least don’t show up empty-handed.” 

-

“It’s so wonderful that you boys have come to see Yamagi,” Merribit Stapleton Kassapa leads the two students up the staircase to her stepson’s bedroom, “he’s feeling a bit better today, but he’ll be happy to have some company over.”

“It’s no problem at all, Ms. Merribit,” Ride replies politely while Shino trails behind. Merribit has given him an odd look when they entered the Kassapa residence though she’s been gracious enough to hold her tongue, simply accepting his stuttered introduction as Yamagi’s classmate with a gentle smile, but now that Shino is here, knowing Yamagi is just behind that door, his heart is palpitating hard not unlike before an important game. 

Merribit leaves them at the door, thanking them again before she returns downstairs. 

Ride knocks on the door and enters when he hears a weak “come in” from inside. 

“Hey Yamagi, you’re looking better than yesterday,” Ride greets his friend.

“Thanks,” Yamagi croaks faintly from his bed, his lower back supported by two pillows, eyes blood-shot and bleary from medication-induced drowsiness, and blond locks messier than usual from constantly turning during restless and intermittent sleep over the last few days, “my throat’s still sore though.” 

“Well, I hope my gift will cure the rest of it. Look who I brought along with me today.” 

With a mischievous grin, Ride steps aside from the doorway to reveal his surprise guest, who stands rooted to the ground after that unexpected introduction.

“Um, hey Yamagi,” Shino finally locates his voice after a poignant delay with Ride nudging his elbow insistently against Shino’s ribs.

“Hello,” Yamagi’s voice turns even softer and more muffled, the lower half of his face hidden by the blanket. His fever has gone since last night, but at the sight of Shino — all wide eyes, broad shoulders, and looking a little sheepish, which should not look so damn adorable on someone who’s almost six feet tall — his cheeks are growing uncomfortably flushed again. 

Part of him is pleasantly surprised to see the boy he hasn’t stopped thinking about since their awkward first meeting, but the other half of him is horrified at the thought of his crush seeing him in such a pathetic and unattractive state. 

Damn Ride and his over-enthused effort, Yamagi curses half-heartedly in his head.

“W-why are you here?” Yamagi murmurs, and then realizes that he’s probably being rude, but the illness and the medicine have destroyed his brain-to-mouth filter, and Shino doesn’t even seem to notice or mind the slightest. 

“I heard you’re sick so I got you some uh, stuff,” Shino lifts up the plastic bag as if to emphasize this fact, “fruit jellies and sports drink and the like. I hope you don’t mind me barging in like this unannounced.” 

“It’s fine,” Yamagi replies quickly, pulling his blanket down far enough to reveal his heated cheeks and arid lips, “thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” Shino sets the bag down on Yamagi’s immaculately organized desk, gaze averted. The next few seconds is painfully long and awkwardly tense, and Ride can’t stand it anymore. 

“Anyway, I just swing by to bring you notes from today’s classes,” Ride places the aforementioned papers on his friend’s desk, “I actually have to head to my part-time job now, so Shino, I’ll leave my best friend in your care. See you tomorrow, Yamagi.” 

“R-Ride, hold on…” 

“Don’t screw this up,” Ride mutters fiercely when he stalks past Shino’s frozen figure, and then he’s out of Yamagi’s room, the door closing behind him with a final click. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Yamagi starts as soon as he hears the footsteps fading away, gathering his blanket around so he can sit up properly to face Shino, who’s still standing by his desk, “Ride can be a bit… brash to people he doesn’t know.”

“I’m pretty sure he hates my guts,” Shino chuckles, already looking a little less rigid than a short while ago, “but he’s just looking out for you. I can understand that.” 

“He’s a good friend,” Yamagi agrees, a gentle smile warming the blue of his eyes, and for a brief second, Shino finds that he’s momentarily distracted by the curve of the other boy’s mouth and the dimples on his cheeks. “Shino?”

“W-would you like a jelly?” Shino really has to stop embarrassing himself in front of his crush like this, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, which only seems to make him look like a bumbling fool who trips over his own words. 

“Yes, please,” Yamagi accepts a plastic spoon and the container of jelly, of which Shino has thoughtfully torn the plastic cover, with a grateful nod and another heart-stopping smile. After eating three days’ worth of tasteless toast and porridge, the orange jelly bursts with a delightful tart-sweetness on his tongue, and he’s unknowingly closed his eyes in bliss.

Entranced by the other boy’s expression, Shino wanders to the side of Yamagi’s bed and kneels down. At this distance, Shino can smell the refreshing citrus scent, close enough that he’s able to count Yamagi’s ashen gold lashes, fine and long and curled upwards like crescent moons. His warmth is intoxicating yet strangely reassuring, and Shino knows that if he reaches out now, the worst-case scenario is that he’ll be rejected on the spot and get slapped across the face, but he’s always been the type to take risks, and he thinks he’s willing to risk everything — including a broken heart — if only he’ll get an answer from him. 

Gently, he cradles the side of Yamagi’s face. 

The reaction is instantaneous: Yamagi drops his spoon in alarm, which clatters onto the floor, and he’s blinking rapidly at the unfamiliar sensation until he can focus on the other boy’s steady gaze directly before him, Shino’s eyes brimming with an emotion that Yamagi is afraid to put a name on, a feeling that he’s dreamed to be reciprocated. 

“S-Shino…?” his voice is unsteady, and his frame is shaking under the blanket. 

Just to be safe, Shino eases the half-finished jelly out of Yamagi’s hand and places it on the ground before facing Yamagi once more. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

“What?” Yamagi’s heart rate spikes up; it’s almost too painful to take another breath but he doesn’t want it to ever stop, doesn’t want Shino to ever stop touching his cheek as if he’s the most delicate and precious treasure. 

“Earlier today, Ride mentioned that…”

“Oh my god, what did he say?” Yamagi interrupts him before he can continue, and then words are crashing down like a waterfall as Yamagi officially descends into his panic mode, “Actually, whatever he’s said, please just… forget about it, okay? He’s such a blabber mouth and I should’ve never told him that. That was a terrible mistake, why did I do that?”

“So, it’s true then — you do like me?” Shino’s cheeks heat up slightly when he utters those words, but regret is the last thing on his mind. 

Yamagi bites his lower lip hard enough to turn the skin there even redder, eyes conflicted and his heart even more so. In the end, he can’t lie to himself, and it’s impossible to deny Shino when he’s looking at him with such earnestness, like he’s looking forward to yet also afraid of Yamagi’s answer. 

He nods once. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way though,” Yamagi immediately says, lowering his gaze to stare at his fidgeting hands, “I’d never expect—”

“Who said anything about not feeling the same way?” 

Shino’s question makes Yamagi look up at him in wonder, stunned like he can’t believe what he’s just heard, and the hockey player laughs with something akin to relief but mostly with elation, the sound bubbling from the depth of his chest, golden and comforting and kind. 

“I like you, too, Yamagi Gilmerton,” Shino says, every syllable distinct with no way of his intention being misinterpreted, and his eyes glimmer with hope when he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

Another pause on Yamagi’s part, his mouth slightly parted in bewilderment, and then to Shino’s amusement, the younger boy mutters, “Shit. Is my fever so high that I’m starting to have hallucinations?” 

With an affectionate chuckle and painstaking tenderness to his movement, Shino sweeps Yamagi’s chaotic forelocks to the side of his face and leans down to place a chaste kiss against his forehead. Shino’s lips are cool and dry against the other boy’s heated skin, and even as Shino leans back to look at him with a small, hesitant smile, Yamagi can feel the lingering sensation where his lips has touched, a stream of sunlight that’s making his blood sing and his heart dance with indescribable happiness. 

“Has your hallucination ever felt this real?” 

“No,” Yamagi admits, “though I’ve had some frighteningly realistic dreams recently.” He clamps his mouth shut when he realizes too late that once again he’s spoken too much, but Shino only ruffles his hair and laughs lightly, the sound soaked with light of dawn. 

“About me?” he asks, grinning.

Yamagi ducks his head in embarrassment, his face and neck somehow growing even hotter, the shade of rose-pink spreading lovingly across his pale skin that disappears enticingly beneath the rumpled fabric of his t-shirt. 

“Yeah,” he concedes, almost inaudible. 

The blanket feels too constricting — his clothes, too — like he’s asphyxiated by Shino’s mere proximity, his fingers still combing through his hair, and it’s at once hypnotic and exhilarating. He wants more but he’s suddenly too exhausted to even speak, his mind pleasantly warm and blank and he wishes this moment, may it be a fever-induced dream or a self-conceived reverie, will last awhile longer yet. 

Yamagi feels a wave of drowsiness sweeps over him, his eyelids heavy with the yearning to rest.

“You should lie down; you look really flushed,” Shino feels Yamagi’s forehead with the back of his hand, frowning in concern; he helps Yamagi recline upon his bed in a more comfortable position despite the younger boy’s protest. “Should I go get Ms. Merribit?”

“I’m fine,” Yamagi reassures him, voice a little slurred and his eyes already closed, when Shino has arranged the blanket cozily around him. 

“All right, I’ll let you rest then, okay? I’ll see you at school,” Shino is about to stand up, but Yamagi, as drained as he is, somehow still manages to catch his wrist with his slender fingers. “Yamagi?”

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” His eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings when he breathes out.

If this is only a dream, at least let him stay just a bit longer, Yamagi thinks to himself. He feels Shino’s strong, calloused fingers lacing loosely with his, and his heart calms as the storm of turmoil and doubt that has lasted for almost a month dies with the touch of their hands, the first inkling of thread connecting their hearts. 

“Of course.”

It’s only after Shino is already on the train when he remembers that Yamagi hasn’t quite respond to his earlier request, but he will ask him again when they see each other at school. Time is on their side after all. 

---

Extras

Tekkadan Team Positions:

- Orga (senior): Captain; Defense

- Mikazuki (junior): Vice-captain; Forward centre

- Biscuit (senior): Goaltender

- Akihiro (senior): Forward left winger

- Shino (junior): Forward right winger

- Eugene (junior): Defense 

Library Monitors:

- Yamagi (sophomore): Robotics club

- Takaki (sophomore): Literature club

- Ride (sophomore): Visual arts club

[anenemyspy]

The World Soul Chapter IV

The impact thrummed through Cloud’s arm up into his thick dwarfin shoulder as his axe bit into the stalk of maize. Up above, the green husk wavered back and forth with every swing of the axe. Several more chops and it would come crashing down to earth, ready to be cut free of the stalk and loaded onto the wagon.

Cloud wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The winter had been short this year, and spring was already promising to be a hot one. If the Earth Mother was merciful, she would make the maize grow thick and plentiful before the scorching heat of summer came to turn the plants brown.

The heat had already turned Cloud’s shaggy mop of hair in a soaking mat. Perhaps it was time to shave his head. He had already shorn off the beard that he allowed to grow wild during the cold part of the year.

“Are you hoping that maize will die of old age and fall over on its own accord?” came the voice of Rain, his friend. “What are you thinking of, that is so much more important than cutting this stalk so we can all go back below ground?”

“I am thinking that the Earth Mother could trouble herself to send a cloud our way.”

“I wished the same thing once.” Rain said laughing. “And instead she sent me you, to my everlasting sorrow. Always be careful when asking the Earth Mother for a favor. She just might give it you.”

“Perhaps the work would go faster if that daughter of yours was here to help.” Cloud replied.

“Would that Berry were here at all.” Rain’s face darkened. “I sent her away to the market at Hevel, but she has not returned. She should have been home three days ago.”

“It isn’t like Berry to take so long.” Cloud observed.

“I worry that she has run into trouble, or worse, the charms of some Hevel boy. The last thing I need is the spawn of some Hevel lowlife growing in her belly. And besides, I still need that new rat I sent her to buy.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, don’t listen to me drone on about my children. You’ll soon have your own to drive you into an early grave. The Earth Mother gives us children to punish us for the ordeal we gave our parents, and on and on it goes. Come, let’s finish this stalk so that we can eat.”

With both dwarfs seeting their axes to it, the stalk did not take long to fall. When the ear of maize came down with a mighty crash, the other maizecutters set upon it, chopping the ear away from the stalk and preparing to load it onto the ratdrawn cart. Cloud took the narrow top part of the ear and helped heave it up onto the back of the cart on top of the other ears that were already laid there. He peeled back a part of the green husk and pulled off a black kernel to eat.

“Don’t keep all the kernels to yourself now.” The dwarf named Nut chided him playfully. “We’re all hungry too!”

Once Cloud had pulled off enough maize for each dwarf, and given some to the rat, they all gathered in the cool shade of the maize stalks to eat. The conversation soon turned to ribald jests about what Rain’s daughter was up to in Hevel. Turtle stuffed a rock underneath her shirt and pretended to give birth to it, rasping with silent laughter. Turtle’s throat had been slashed in the war against the goblin tribes, and while the healers had managed to save her life, there was nothing they could do for her speech, or for the ugly scar that marred her neck.

“You had best go get another rat yourself, Rain.” Nut said. “Likely Berry will break the back one she bought with her extra weight.”

“Ach, the Void take the lot of you.” Rain cursed them. “I have to go take a piss. Better than sitting here and listening to your jabbering.” He stormed off and disappeared from sight amongst the thick stalks of maize.

Nut’s laughs died off when Rain was out of earshot. “You don’t think Berry has run into any kind of trouble, do you?” She said, concern in her voice. “I had heard that the Sylthi raiders have grown bolder near the border.”

“They would have grown bold indeed to come this close to the city.” Cloud said to her. There was a time when Sylth had been a thriving and powerful rival kingdom to Arden, but that was before the great war. Now the once great city that was the beating heart of Sylth stood dead and empty, and what little remained of the Sylthi people were nothing more than vagabonds and raiders who attacked sparsely populated villages and melting away when the Ardenian patrols came after them. “Tyrant King Fox would not allow the Sylthi to attack this far from the frontier. More likely Berry has simply partaken in too much wine and pleasure. You know how the markets are during the coming of spring. Berry is likely on the way home as we speak, with a head pounding from wine and trying to come up with an excuse for why she’s taken so long to return.”

“Ah, I suppose you are right.” Nut said. “I remember a certain summer solstice I spent at the capital city. Have you ever been to the capital, Cloud?”

He nodded. “Once, when I was young. Just after the war ended.” The city was crowded, filled with folk who had been taking refuge behind the walls. On that day, everyone was smiling. The high lords came down from their pyramids, resplendent in robes of gold and green, throwing down gold and silver to the jubilant throngs. The army had marched through the city streets in polished armor that had shined as brightly as the noonday sun. They had been led by the Darkstar himself, holding aloft the legendary black sword of Arden that was his namesake. Even the Tyrant King herself was there, and laid a silver circlet upon the Darkstar’s head in recognition of his victory. What followed were seven days of feasting and celebrating. All of Arden was in celebration then, but that was a long time ago.

“Soon Wren will give you a child of your own, and you will be able to to take them to see the city for themselves.” Nut said.

“Ah, that will be fine day.” Cloud replied.

Their discussion was cut short by a surprised shout deeper into the maize stalks. All three dwarfs scrambled to their feet.

“That was Rain.” Cloud said. “What would make him cry out like that?”

“A snake probably bit him on his cock.” Rain said with a laugh. “The way he likes to boast about it, it probably took it for a mate.” She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. “Rain! What are you screaming like a child for?”

The stalks shook back and forth and rustled loudly as someone moved through them, far too loudly to be just one dwarf. Turtle picked up her bronze headed axe. She was the only one of them who had brought theirs with them to eat.

“We should get away from here.” Nut whispered, just before a spear flew from the brush and took her through the neck. Blood gushed from her mouth as it opened and closed wordlessly, and she pitched over backward, eyes wide open in fright.

Turtle sprung forward, her axe splitting open the head of a goblin as it lunged out from the stalks. She swung, catching another one in the chest, but then they were all around her, small grey skinned creatures with long pointy ears that dragged Turtle to the ground and swarmed over her, stabbing her with primitive stone knives.

Cloud had forgotten how to move. All he could do was stare in abject horror at the goblins savaging his friend’s corpse, and at the bewildered look on Nut’s dead face. When the goblins turned their eyes on him though, instinct took over where rationality had failed, and he ran.

He could remember how he had taken his axe to the ropes that tied the rat to the maize wagon and leaped on its back, spurring it with a slap to the rear to run, a mere step ahead of the goblins who had chased him. One had grabbed at his leg as he rode past, trying to pull him off, but Cloud had managed to kick free. Everything past that was a blur. All he knew was that he had to find Wren.

He tore into the village and nearly fell off the rat in his hurry to dismount. “Goblins!” He shouted incoherently to every dwarf he saw as he ran to the butcher’s shop where Wren spent her days. “Goblins! Goblins! Goblins!”

Wren’s arms were soaked to the elbow in blood when Cloud found her at her butcher’s stand. She was pulling the entrails from the body of a lizard that lay on the table. Wren’s hair was the same light brown as the bird she was named for, and she had a long beard that came down in a single braid to her belly, where a small bulge was just visible underneath her heavily stained apron.

Wren smiled when she saw her husband. “Have you finished harvesting the maize already? Good, then you can help me in here.” The smile faded from her lips when she saw the look on his face. “What is wrong?”

“Goblins.” Cloud said in between heavy breaths. “They attacked us. Rain, the others, they’re dead.”

“Dead? Cloud, what are talking about?”

Cloud took his wife by the wrist. Wren was brawnier than him, but she didn’t resist as he led her outside. “The goblins are coming to burn the village to the ground, like they did during the war. We have to get out of here while we can.”

“No.” Wren said. “I will not be chased from my home by some dirty goblins. We’ll stay here and fight them off. I still have my father’s spear from the war and I can use it.”

“Look around you!” Cloud said, gesturing at the ramshackle collection of houses that made up the village they called home. “We can’t defend ourselves here. We need warn everybody to run and make for the city.”

“I was not raised to be a coward!” Wren protested. “How can we call ourselves Ardenians if we turn and run from the enemy?”

“If we die here, nobody will remain to tell the Tyrant King that there are goblins within Arden’s borders. If the army is not sent out, other villages will be attacked.” He put his hand on Wren’s belly where their child was growing inside. “Think of our child, Wren.”

Wren slid her hand over his. Emotions battled each other over her face, but finally she sighed. “Very well then, you win. For the good of our child I’ll run. We will need to get supplies from the house if we mean to reach the city, though.”

“Agreed.” Said Cloud, relieved that Wren had relented so easily. The goblins would not be long in coming, and there was no time to squander on arguing.

The two dwarfs hurried together to the disheveled hovel that was their home, shouting warnings to everyone who crossed their path. Cloud pushed aside the flap of moleskin that covered the entrance and stormed inside. In truth, the crude wooden structure that made up the hovel was little more than a covering for the hole that led deeper underground, protecting it from the hot sun and the cold rain. Under the cool ground, Cloud could already feel the reassuring presence of Earth pressing in on all sides.

Their worldly treasures, such as they were, included a wooden lute whose golden paint had long ago chipped and faded, an old book of legends with yellowed pages, a dull bladed war axe and a black shafted spear that hung on the wall in the place of honor, and a dented half helm that Wren’s father had worn during the war and had saved his life when a goblin had struck him with a copper axe. Neither Cloud nor Wren had been old enough to fight against the goblins in the previous invasion, but all Ardenian children were taught the rudiments of combat in case the need should ever arise. Cloud hefted his axe, wishing now that he had taken better care of it. His arm was strong and his grip was sure, but Cloud had never possessed the heart of a warrior. Wren was always the fighter of the couple. Her spear gleamed. Its polished bronze point was wicked sharp, and she practiced regularly at her fighting technique.

Wren donned her father’s helm as Cloud scrabbled under the bed for the small bag of silver they kept hidden there. He began hurriedly stuffing what food they had laid by into a sack. Everything else they would need to leave behind. There was simply too little time to pack it all, and the only rat they had was the one Cloud had ridden from the maize field.

When the old man Umber’s warhorn sounded, Cloud knew that their time had run out. “The goblins are here already.” Wren said, her grip tightening on her spear.

“They couldn’t have gotten here already on foot.” Cloud protested. “The maize field is too far away!” It wasn’t fair, he thought, they hadn’t been given enough time.

“There must have been more already on the way.” Wren said. “Come, there’s no time to dwell on the how or why of it. We need to escape now.”

Mother protect us. Cloud thought as he followed his mate up the ladder to the surface. The Earth Mother had allowed him to escape back to the village so that he could get his unborn child to safety. Surely she would not abandon him now.

The scene outside the hovel was far worse than Cloud could have imagined. This was no small raiding party of goblins, it was a small army. The grey skinned devils swarmed through the village, armed with spears and clubs and axes of bone and copper and obsidian. There must have been a hundred and a half of them. Around him, other dwarfs were fighting, armed and armored in whatever relics of the old war they had laid by. Any dwarf was worth five goblins in a battle, Cloud had always been told, and the craftsmanship of Ardenian arms far outstripped anything the savage greyskins could bring to bear. Already the goblin corpses began to pile around the defending dwarfs, but they fought with a savagery that belied their small stature, and their numbers were allowing them to swarm around the villagers, stabbing and cutting them in the legs and sides, until they could bring the dwarfs to the ground and fall upon them in a frenzied mob of knives and clubs.

Three of the goblins rushed at Cloud and Wren as they exited their home. Wren readied her spear and lashed out, taking one goblin through its screaming mouth. In half a heartbeat, the spear was already out of that goblin and into another, goring it straight through the abdomen. The third one had closed the distance, swinging its stone axe in an arc aimed at Wren’s belly. She shifted her spear, checking the goblin’s cut and whirled the haft around, striking the goblin’s head with the butt of her spear and knocking it to the ground. Before the goblin could try to scramble up, Wren’s foot came down on the back of its neck and broke it.

“Where is the rat?” Wren shouted at him. “We have to get out of here right now!”

Would that Cloud could have answered her question. The animal was gone, likely run off by the sound of fighting. “It’s gone.” He said. We’re going to die. I couldn’t protect you.

“Well we can’t stay here!” Wren shouted above the din of battle. “Come on!” She took Cloud’s hand and together they ran. “We’ll leave on foot if we have to!”

“We can’t outrun the goblins without a mount.” Cloud said.

“Then we will find one!” A pair of goblins blocked their path. As Cloud and Wren readied their weapons, four more goblins caught up to them from behind. “Or we will die together.” She said.

“I would sooner we live together.” Cloud said. “And see each other grow old.”

“Either way, the Earth Mother has allowed me to be with you in my final moments when she could have taken you out in the maize. I will take solace in that.”

The first goblin to attack was gored through by Wren’s spear, and the second met Cloud’s axe. The axehead was not sharp enough to cleave through the goblin’s head, but his strike was sure, and he heard the wet crunch of bone as the goblin’s skull caved in. The third goblin was buried under a pile of fur and claws as the rat came barreling in from somewhere unseen. The animal’s sharp teeth dug into the goblin’s exposed neck, spraying blood. The rat bared its fangs at the remaining three goblins, who all ran off in search of an easier target.

“You came back!” Cloud had to exclaim. It was almost too fortunate to be believed. He stroked the rat on the head.

“The Earth Mother provides.” Wren said with a smile. “Perhaps you will be getting your wish after all.”

A spear erupted from her belly, coated red. Hot blood splashed over Cloud’s breeches. Some distance behind his mate stood a goblin that was taller than Cloud would have ever believed. It was bigger than a dwarf, with thick muscular arms that connected to broad, powerful shoulder. Its mouth was filled with razor sharp fangs, its eyes were black and cruel, and atop its head rested the skull of a snake. It came toward Cloud with an almost casual swagger, hefting a heavy club tipped with a sharp piece of glittering diamond.

Wren looked down at the spear jutting from her body with shock and disbelief. Her own spear fell from her hand as she grabbed at the bloody point, as if trying to pull it out of herself. She fell to her knees and pitched forward into the dust, her life spilling out red into the dirt.

In that moment, Cloud’s world came to an end. He looked to the monstrous, sneering goblin in front of him, and at the well worn axe in his hand. His vision blurred. There would be no escape for him. He would die here in the dirt next to his mate, and if the Earth Mother was merciful, their spirits would find each other in whatever realm lay beyond this one. There was only one thing he had to do first.

The sound that came from his lips was nothing intelligible, only a scream of rage and heartbreak. Let me kill this goblin before I die. That is all I ask. He charged, axe raised over his head, ready to come crashing down on the monster’s head with all his strength and hatred.

The goblin swatted aside his blow with almost contemptuous ease. A meaty hand with long grasping fingers took Cloud by the back of the neck and flung him down into the dust. A heavy foot stomped down on his hand and kicked the axe away.

“Roll him over.” The big goblin said, and soon there were hands all over Cloud, smaller goblins who grabbed him by all sides and laughed as he tried to swat them away. They turned him over until he was looking up at open sky. Cloud strained against them, but there were too many to fight. They held his arms down, stretched out his legs, wouldn’t let him move.

The big goblin pointed to Cloud’s right leg, and the goblins raised it up off the ground. “Nooo…” Cloud moaned, when he realized what the monster meant to do. When the diamond tipped club shattered his knee, Cloud’s entire world shrunk down to one place of sublime agony. When the club broke his other knee, he passed out from the pain.

When Cloud awoke, the battle was over. Dwarfs and goblins lay strewn about the village, tangled all together in death. Goblins stooped down over the bodies, collecting weapons and other treasures from the fallen. Through the haze of pain, Cloud could see that the Children’s House was burning.

He was tied to a crossed pair of wooden beams, he realized. His legs dangled uselessly below him, and his arms were lashed to the horizontal beam, suspending him over the ground. His breaths came hard and ragged.

The hulking goblin in the snake helm came to him when it saw that he was awake. “K-kill me…” Cloud struggled to say the words, it was so hard to breathe.

The goblin found that amusing. His sharp teeth flashed in cruel smile. “Kill you? No, your work is not completed. You are to be the herald of our coming.” His voice was like scraping gravel. The goblin produced a silver coin with a hole in the middle that had a thread running through it. “If any dwarfs should happen by before you die, tell them to look at this coin and know that Arden shares the same fate as the city that made this.” The goblin fastened the coin around Cloud’s neck. “The time of the dwarfs is at an end. Soon your kind will be only a memory.”

The goblin left him, and before long the village was deserted, leaving Cloud alone with only the beating of the hot sun and the carrion birds that circled above.

[katedoesfics]

Under Shadow: Chapter 73

Najia felt her eyes grow heavy. The medical cabin grew dim as the sun began it’s descent for the night. A fire crackled in the center of the room, providing the only available light, leaving the solar power available for the equipment necessary to monitor Shane.

Najia stared into the fire as the room darkened. She listened to Shane’s steady breathing and the sound of the flames turning the logs to ash.

“I know I’m an ass, but should I really be in hell?”

Shane’s pained voice made Najia jump. She turned to him and he smirked at her.

“You think you’re in hell?”

“Must be if I have to wake up to your face.”

Najia rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Must be so unfortunate for you.”

Shane turned to the ceiling and rubbed his temple. He stared at the IV in his hand and sighed. “What’s all this?”

Najia shrugged. “I’m not the doctor.”

Shane shifted and winced. His hand immediately went to the bandage on his stomach and he groaned.

Najia stared at the bandages that wrapped around him. “Marlon kept the bullet,” she said. “In case you wanted something to remember the night by.”

Shane smiled weakly. “Too bad I don’t remember much to begin with.”

“It wasn’t anything too exciting,” Najia said. “I mean, it’s like you walked right into the bullet. You cried like a bitch.”

“You wish,” Shane muttered.

Najia smiled. “Well,” she started. “You probably would have when Marlon dug the bullet out of you if you didn’t pass out.”

Shane made a face of disgust and turned to meet her gaze. “Where are my discharge papers?”

“You don’t get any,” Najia said. “You’re stuck here forever.”

Shane turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

Najia cleared her throat. “Jas has been waiting to see you,” she said softly. “I didn’t want her to until you were awake. Plus you were all bloody and disgusting.” She shrugged. “Girl doesn’t need to be more traumatized.”

Shane turned back to her. “Thanks.”

Najia stood. “I can go get her.”

Shane nodded. “Okay.”

Najia was eager to leave the cabin now that Shane was conscious. She had grown to hate that room, despite its good intentions. She got to her feet quickly, smiling at Shane one last time before making her way into the cool night air.

Jas was still awake when Najia found herself at Marnie’s little ranch. Marnie hugged Najia tightly as she walked in.

“I’ve just had it with this war, yanno,” she said exasperated. “I can’t take it anymore, I just can’t.”

Najia forced a crooked smile. “Shane’s up,” she said simply. “I thought Jas might want to see him.”

Jas had looked up from her coloring at the table at the mention of Shane’s name. She smiled wide at Najia. “Can I?”

Najia nodded as the girl hurried to her side and lead the way to Harvey’s cabin. Najia opened the door for the girl and Jas ran to the side of the bed, climbing anxiously into Shane’s arms. He winced as he moved, but smiled at the girl that sat beside him.

“It’s about time,” Jas said, crossing her arms.

“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you,” Shane said. His fingers brushed her bangs out of her face.

Najia turned away and closed the door behind her. She heard Jas giggle from inside. She leaned against the door with a sigh and looked up at the stars. It was later than she had realized; not a soul was outside enjoying the warm spring night, and for that she was grateful.

She suddenly realized that she had woken herself up, briefly falling asleep at the door. It had been way too long since she had slept last, and all she wanted to do was sleep forever, or at least until the war was over.

Najia dragged her feet as she walked down the dirt road, meeting her grandfather half way. She leaned against him and yawned as he guided her back to the cabin.

“I was wondering when you’d finally pull yourself away,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her. “You’ve been up for over two whole days.”

Najia nodded sleepily, barely able to keep her eyes open. “I know,” she muttered.

She let John guide her into the house where she collapsed onto the bed. Sleep moved in on her instantly, before her head even hit the pillow.

*****

With the ground thawed from the winter, the land was ready to be used for crops once more. Najia joined them on the farm, working beside Leah and Abigail as they prepared the soil for another season, tilling the land and planting the seeds. It was enough to distract her from the memories of the last week, but she could not bring herself to return to Harvey’s to see Shane. She knew from Marnie that he was recovering, and that was enough for her. She couldn’t handle the images of his blood on her hands.

When she finished with the chores for the day, she made her way to the beach, sitting on the edge of the dock and looking out over the ocean, eager for some time to herself. She continued this way for over a week, working on the farms and sitting alone at the beach.

She found herself there early one morning after a particularly restless night. The sun was just beginning to rise over the ocean. Pink and yellow clouds stretched across the lightening sky. She did not turn to greet the footsteps behind her. Shane sat beside her and sighed.

“You’re up,” she said simply.

“Can’t stay in a hospital bed forever.” He lifted his shirt. “Check out that scar.”

Najia glanced at it, turning away quickly. “Wonderful,” she muttered.

“Makes for a good story, doesn’t it? Ladies love a battle scar.”

“Sure,” Najia said with a shrug. “If you’re a medieval knight fighting to honor your kingdom.”

“Kingdom, valley, same difference.”

“I’m glad you find enjoyment in the fact that you almost died.”

“Oh, come on,” Shane said. “Why so serious? You’re the one that used to find the good in everything.”

“I’m running out of good things to find,” Najia muttered.

“Just admit it,” Shane said. “You were worried about me.”

Najia shrugged. “I was more concerned about what I’d have to tell a little girl that someone else she loves died.”

“That would have been an awkward conversation,” Shane muttered.

Najia met his gaze with disapproving eyes.

“Lighten up, will ya?” he said.

“Just don’t try to save my life again,” Najia mumbled.

“Is that what I was doing?”

“It’s the only logical explanation for why someone would literally jump in front of a bullet.”

“I tripped.”

“That must be it.”

Shane smiled. “I’m a hero,” he said. “Ladies love a hero.”

“Well, I don’t. I think it was stupid.”

“You’re not a lady, anyway.”

Najia sighed and turned back to the water. “As much as I love our usual banters,” she started. “can we just… not… right now?”

Shane’s smile disappeared. “All right,” he said softly. “Sorry.”

Najia shook her head. “It’s fine. I just want to sit.”

Shane stretched out onto his arms, his palms on the dock. “Then sit we shall.”

“Thanks for not dying,” Najia muttered. “Don’t do it again.”

Shane straightened and smiled. He inched closer to her. “Can’t make any promises,” he said. “I can’t stand by if a lady’s life is in danger.”

Najia rolled her eyes and sighed. She let her head rest against his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you come keep me company?” he asked her after a moment.

Najia shrugged. “I don’t really like being in there. It just feels like a place to die.”

“No one’s dying,” he said softly.

No. Not yet. Najia kept her gaze on the horizon. If only their future were as bright as the sunrise.