#suu's scribbles

[m0mmat0rtle]

FANCY FNAF MOVIE ➵ Ch. 2

Fancy sat at a lone table in the diner, secluded by herself in the corner as rain pelted the window.

She wore her bulky over ear headphones as she played back the recorded interview between her and Mike from the night before, or well earlier that morning actually. She took notes in her notebook with Lisa Frank stickers and rhinestones on the cover.

Just slightly, she could hear the sound of someone clearing their throat over the lulling sound of Mike's relaxed voice from her tape recorder. She looked up as a waiter looked down at her, notepad ready to take her order. She quickly removed her headphones.

"Sorry."

She apologized. "Just a coffee, thanks."

"That's it?" The waiter asked, brow quirked in surprise.

"Yeah." She said simply. "But food is so important, miss. You should eat something." "Too busy." She said with a wave of her hand, dismissing the idea.

"Even more the reason to eat, give your brain some energy to work. You know scientists say that you can't face the day without a good breakfast." Fancy looked up at him. She read his name tag. "Are you one of these scientists, Ness?" He smiled at the mention of his name. "No, but I can be somewhat of a theorist." "Aren't we all." She said.

"Tell you what, I'll do whatever you recommend for breakfast." "Excellent choice." He scribbled something down on his notepad. "Hope you like french toast." He added before taking the menu and hurrying back to the kitchen.

Fancy looked back down at her notes. Her interview with Mike had been a dud, but hopefully not a total dud. He spoke of someone who would be able to help her. Hopefully Mike was right. But Fancy had thought for sure if he was a local in the area he would know more. A small town like Hurricane Utah- well people are bound to talk.

Just like they had in Bear Forest Tennessee. People talk, and nothing brings a community together more than mass child abduction.

Perhaps she was thinking too narrow, she had to widen her sights, her targets. She didn't need to just interview people whose names were attached to the Freddy Fazbear Company, but locals of Hurricane Utah in general. People who have lived here their whole life.

"Your coffee, miss." Ness interrupted her thinking session as he sat a mug down in front of her. "Your food will be out shortly."

It clicked.

"Hey- uh Ness?" She called and he turned. "Um.. yes?" He replied. "How long have you lived here, in Hurricane?" "My whole life."

Perfect.

"Do you mind if I... Can I interview you?" Ness cocked his head to the side. "About-?" "Those children who went missing almost twenty years ago at Freddy's." Ness' face almost lit up. "I would but I'm working." "I'll pay you." She held a wad of twenties in her hand. "Done."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"State your full name please." "Nelson Patrick."

Fancy flinched.

"Ness, you don't have to lean down to the mike to speak." "Oh, Sorry." He leaned back.

"Nelson Patrick." He said again, this time not so loudly into the mike.

"But most people just call me Ness." He said as he gestured down to his name tag.

"Tell me about your job." "I'm a waiter at sparky's diner. There's not much to that. But I do hear a lot, whispers and gossip from customers. I know just about everything about everyone just from working here. A lot of people will gossip over food and not even think about their waiter." "And how long have you been working here, Mr. Patrick." "Please, Mr. Patrick is my father. Just call me Ness." "Alright, Ness, how long have you been working here?" "Oh a while. I started working here while attending SUU." "What?" "Southern Utah University." Ness explained.

"I got a degree in journalism. But i've been stuck working here since, and publishing articles on the side." "What sort of articles do you publish?" "My theories." "On what?" "On this town. The missing children, the sudden closing of all Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Franchises, The rise and fall of the local Afton Robotics." Ness explained. "Anything that had to do with those missing children, I have written and published articles on." "Where do you publish these articles?" "My blog." "Which is?" "I'll write it down for you incase you want to take a look." He grabbed a napkin and a pen from his pocket with a chicken head pencil topper that stared blankly at Fancy while he wrote.

"Here." He handed it to her. "NESSTHEORY.NET" She read aloud and Ness nodded proudly.

"You can read all about my findings there." He said. "I'll certainly take a look at this, thank you." She replied as she tucked the napkin away in her pocket.

"Now one more thing, who do you think is responsible for the missing children?" "Oh the owner, without a doubt. He may not be the man behind it all but at the end of the day he is liable for any accidents within his business. So he would be at fault. There's never been enough evidence to convict him of... well anything... which is shocking. Not even a child endangerment charge. William Afton was always able to dance his way out of charges."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Once again, Fancy packed up her things. Ness stood from where he sat across from her at the booth.

"Ness, hey, thank you again for your time I really appreciate it. I'll leave your money with your tip." She said. "Not a problem." Ness replied with a grin. "Just happy to help get the truth out there one way or another. By the way, what's got you so interested in a small town cold case? You obviously aren't a local, I would recognise you." Fancy gave a dry chuckle. One that said she was complicated, there were levels to her, layers. Like an onion.

"I forgot to introduce myself." She said as she shook her head. "That's so rude of me, I'm sorry." She added.

"I'm Francine, my friends call me Fancy. I'm a student at Yale studying pre law and criminal justice. I'm working on my internship with Hurricane PD for my senior thesis." "Which is?" "To reinvestigate a cold case. I got assigned with this one." She said. "And you came all the way from Yale?" He asked and she nodded.

"You must be pretty smart." "I would say smart enough. Not pretty smart. If I was pretty smart I would have figured out who the zodiac killer was by now." she said with another dry laugh.

"Well, I'm not sure if I can be of much use to you but I'm more than happy to help you with your thesis. As long as it's not during my shift. Not again at least." He offered and Fancy smiled. "I would love all the help I can get. Besides, this is your home. You'll know more about it than I do. That automatically gives you and your knowledge an advantage over mine." Ness smiled at her. "Well if you need me you know where to find me."

Masterlist

Table of Contents

↢ Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ↣

[dreambigdreamz]

Thankie for the tag @meluiloth !

Three Ships: Ossë x Uinen (yes our water divinely beingss you remember the mermaid maiar thingie i told you before? i am putting in a lot of exploration on this healthy ship because the oc is their child!!) Faramir x Éowyn (this is the one that holds out hope and remains undimmed. the grand stories may turn one’s head; but this one will warm a heart.) Aegnor x Andreth (sobbing in the distant corner goodbye world thou art so beautiful and pain) I have a lot more I cannot choose, like Denethor x Finduilas and Turin x Finduilas of course but other factors deciding whether it is a happy ship to indulge in or not 🙄 and also Dior x Nimloth please ahh also putting in Benophie 💗

First Ship: Éomer x Lothíriel (of course. of course. see the funny thing is, i had been in fandoms for a loong time but until this pair i never knew what a shipping really is— i suppose? like, how do i say, i was never actively in any ship before them)

Last Song: The Black Dog by Taylor Swift

Last Movie: Moana, which was like seven weeks ago

Currently Reading: Freedom from Fear by Aung San Suu Kyi Jo’s Boys and How They Turned Out by Louisa May Alcott Emma by Jane Austen Part Of Your World by Liz Braswell

Currently Watching: The Cook and The Kitchen Hand ASMR by Moonlight Cottage

Currently Eating: Nothing, but feeling stuffed up after a particularly good lunch

Currently Craving: Some ricecakes and fishcakes and tteokbbokki

Tagging : @manawari @oldfashionedidiot @ikano-no @palacesofmontezuma @fellowship-go-brrrr @twistedhistory @lanthanum12 @elysian-scribbles @hualianeternalfaith + open tag! i rlly don’t know which one of you lovelies are still active, keep in touch by the way. the same old crowd lol <3

9 people you want to know better

Thanks for the tag @cuarthol 🥰

----

Three ships: Russingon (now and always!) Turleg (I have a thing for angst, is it obvious?) Celrond (they fill all the emptiness left behind by the angst of the aforementioned ships)

First ship: Caranthir/Haleth

Last song: Beautiful Crime - Tamer

Last movie: And Then We Danced (a gorgeous movie from Georgia)

Currently reading: He Who Drowned the World

Currently watching: Cidade Invisível (a Brazilian show to brush up on my Portuguese)

Currently eating: Quinoa cakes and rooibos tea

Currently craving: A holiday, a very long holiday. I'll take a croissant in the meantime

If you'd like to share, summoning @shrikeseams @meredithshayne @grey-gazania @dreamingthroughthenoise @meluiloth @camille-lachenille @latithehinthial @lakehelevorn @creativity-of-death

[archaneanscribe]

Heart in Two Places at Once

“Thinking hard, my friend?" 

After his...let us say, dramatic reveal, Anos had taken to calling him some variation of my friend regularly. 

It made his heart soar. 

It tore his heart in two. 

"I am. I'd hate to admit what about," he replied, sheepishly scratching at his cheek, "I fear it will make me look rather foolish for someone my internal age." 

Anos crossed his arms, "It's more foolish to work yourself up over nothing when you could let it all out to someone willing to listen." 

Aaah, Anos's unshakable confidence. Words spoken with unmatched conviction.

He'd always loved that. 

"You're right, as you always are," sighing, he gripped the edges of the window ledge he sat on, "My heart is in two places at once." 

Anos sat beside him. He was always amazed at how someone brimming with such power could have such an approachable aura, sit in a position that assured you it was fine to bear your very soul, "You are in love with two people?" 

It was a question, but Anos likely had known from the start. Damn his intellect, both analytic and emotional. 

He fisted the cloth covering his heart, "I am. You reside in the deepest parts of me, millennia spent just trying to grant you the peace you so wished for. The burning desire for your happiness propelling me forward. Even at the time, even as enemies, I had always wanted...those eyes...for you to smile" he leaned back, head thumping against the window glass, "But Misa... grants me peace. I don't feel the desire to chase, there is no burning. I simply wish to bask in her presence. I look at this necklace and feel as though I might cry." 

"That is quite the dilemma." 

Anos's tone wasn't unsympathetic, but it was distant. Unreachable. Like he always was. 

"I can't tell you how to move forward, my friend. I suppose the advice someone born in this era would give would be to move on, but I understand better than most how long two thousand years truly is. There are some things I would suggest you determine for yourself, though." 

Rather abruptly, Anos's hand reached out to grab his friend's chin, forcing their gazes to meet. His Ruin eyes weren't active, but they felt as though they might as well been. 

"Are you Kanon? Or are you Lay? Does it change depending on who you speak to? Is it Kanon who loves me, or is it Lay? Does Lay love Misa, or is it Kanon? Are they of the same opinion? Are they even the same man?" 

Anos released his chin, smiling confidently as he always did, but the expression was warm. 

It was the smile he gave the Hero as he ran a holy blade through his chest. A smile reserved for a friend, "Ponder those, and your answer will come." 

And after that, the Demon King walked away. 

And the man who watched him go, his name was...•

[chororine]

tired: reading @suudonym​‘s Time and Time Again for the nuanced, relatable and in-character Karamatsu angst wired: reading Time and Time Again for Totoko’s cute-as-hell outfits

[kristallioness]

Since you asked for asks for use your language day. How are you?

How are you? (English) - Kuidas sa ennast tunned? (Estonian)

Katara stood in the hallway on one foot, the other one bent to the back, her arms crossed and back supported against the wall. The fingers on her right hand drummed against the white fur of her sleeve. She was waiting for her name to be called. Soon enough, the 4-year-old joined her.

"Good morning, patient mommy! How are you?"

The elder waterbender let her baby girl take a hold of her hand and guide her into her 'office'.

"Morning, healer Kya! I'm fine, thank you for asking. A bit nervous, but I feel fine."

"That's okay. Have a seat here and I'll take a look at you."

She beckoned her mother to sit down on a pillow in the middle of her bedroom. Katara followed her orders and sat down cross-legged, resting her hands on her knees. She was eager to see what her daughter would do to her this time, given that her toy instruments were scattered on the rug, right next to the small bed on her right.

Kya also had a few genuine items she borrowed from her mother to make the play more realistic. As she stood up, the huge healer's hat tipped forward and covered her eyes. Her mother let out a short giggle and helped her out by adjusting it back on the top of her head. The little waterbender didn't let the tiny mishap bother her and she continued with her role play.

"Open wide!"

Katara leaned forward a bit and stuck out her tongue, pronouncing the vowel 'A' for a couple of seconds while Kya inspected her throat with a wooden stick.

"Very good, mommy! Your throat looks okay."

She patted her mommy's head, then scampered back to her toy collection to pick up something else. Katara watched as she sat on her knees, trying to pull the headset of the stethoscope apart so she could put it in her ears. She grabbed the metal chestpiece and walked over to her mother.

"Take off your coat, please. I wanna listen to your heartbeat and breathing."

"Sure thing, my little healer. Just give me a sec.." the elder waterbender said as she began pulling the short-sleeved parka over her head. She folded it together nicely and placed it on the rug, then sat up straight to let her baby girl press the stethoscope on her navy tunic, directly above her heart.

Kya moved it around a little bit in that area, trying to remember the five auscultation points her mother had repetitively pointed out to her. Katara laughed, then gently nudged her tiny hand downwards under her left breast. She was listening from a spot where she couldn't hear anything.

"I'm gonna listen from your back now, okay, mommy?"

"Alright, sweetie."

Kya ran behind her and began brushing her mother's long loose hair off to the side. Katara pulled the whole bunch on her chest with one hand, then hunched forward a bit. She felt how her daughter pressed the chestpiece high above her shoulder blades.

"Take deep breaths, please."

As the elder waterbender began breathing nice and slow, she could sense the pattern her daughter followed on her back. Good girl, Katara would've wanted to praise out loud. She still rushed through it, but at least she remembered to compare both sides on her way down.

"Good job, mommy! Your breathing sounds okay."

The young healer placed her mother's real stethoscope on the carpet and hurried back with a toy syringe in her hands.

"You need a shot now."

"Oh, will it hurt?" Katara asked in a worried tone as she rolled up the non-existent sleeve covering her left arm.

"No. It'll be just a pinch," Kya assured her, the same way her mother usually tried to comfort her. She held onto her mommy's arm and gave her a quick pretend injection.

"There. All done," Kya declared. She ran her hand over the spot she'd poked with the round tip of the syringe, stroking her mommy's boo-boo ever so tenderly.

"Thanks, sweetie. You were right. It didn't hurt a bit."

Katara brushed her fingers through her baby girl's hair and pulled her closer to plant a kiss on her temple.

"One more thing!"

Kya reached for an empty cardboard box in her toy pile. The miniature rectangle had a white cross with a handful of green tea leaves drawn on it.

"Here, take 3 of these vitamins. They'll help you become healthy and strong."

Katara took the small box of vitamins in her own hands and pretended to drop a couple of invisible pills onto her palm, then swallow them in one go.

"You've been a very good patient, mommy. Now all I gotta do is write how well you did during your check-up."

"Well, why don't you come here and I'll help you fill in the form."

Katara patted her thighs to invite Kya into her lap. She grabbed her toy clipboard and a pencil with a slightly blunt tip before hopping between her mother's legs. She read out the first field.

"Okay, patient's name is.. mommy."

Her answer made Katara chuckle.

"No-no, sweetie! That's not accurate enough. There are hundreds of mommies in Republic City. What if they all happen to be your patients? How are you gonna tell the difference?"

The little waterbender put a finger on her bottom lip and remained pondering until her mother helped her out.

"How about writing my name there instead? That's K.. A.."

She spelled her own name out letter by letter, teaching Kya how to write it down correctly.

"T.. A.. R-A."

Once she'd finished scribbling the last two letters, she started going through the list of vital signs she'd checked.

"Got it! Next, I have to say if everything was okay with you. Your heartbeat was normal," she said, ticking the empty square after the word 'heart'. She did the same with the terms 'lungs', 'mouth' and 'vaccinations'.

"But what about your temperature? I forgot to check."

Katara smiled and reached for the toy thermometer among her healer stuff.

"Here you go. You can measure it now."

She lifted her right arm as Kya snatched the toy and put it under there. The young healer stood up for a moment to place her palm against her mother's forehead.

"You're not hot. I don't think you have a fever, mommy. But let's check to be sure."

Without even giving it a minute or two, she pulled the thermometer out and scrutinized the sticker with the readings in the middle.

"Nope, all good."

"So, according to your diagnosis, I'm completely healthy?" Katara wondered, seeing as though 'temperature' was the last line on the chart.

"That's right!" Kya stated proudly, beaming back at her with a wide smile. Her mommy rubbed their noses together fondly, which prompted the baby girl to squeal with joy. She finished the pretend check-up by signing the document on the clipboard with her own name.

----------x----------

Katara seisis koridoris ühel jalal, teine selja taha kõverdatud, käed ristis ja selg vastu seina toetatud. Tema parema käe sõrmed trummeldasid varruka valge karva vastu. Ta ootas oma nime välja hüüdmist. Peagi liitus temaga 4-aastane.

"Tere hommikust, patsient emme! Kuidas sa ennast tunned?"

Vanem veetaltsutaja laskis oma tüdrukutirtsul tal käest kinni võtta ning suunata ta oma 'kabinetti'.

"Hommikust, ravitseja Kya! Mul on kõik korras, tänan küsimast. Olen natuke närvis, aga tunnen end hästi."

"Pole hullu. Võta siin istet ja ma vaatan su läbi."

Ta kutsus ema magamistoa keskel asuvale padjale istuma. Katara järgis tema korraldusi ja istus jalad ristis maha, toetades käed põlvedele. Ta tahtis innukalt näha, mida tema tütar seekord temaga teeb, arvestades, et viimase mänguriistad olid vaibale laiali laotatud, kohe temast paremal asuva väikese voodi kõrval.

Kya'l oli ka paar ehtsat eset, mille ta oma emalt laenas, et mäng realistlikumaks muuta. Püsti tõustes kaldus suur ravitseja müts ettepoole ja kattis tema silmad. Ta ema itsitas lühikest aega ning aitas ta hädast välja, sättides selle tema pea otsa tagasi. Väike veetaltsutaja ei lasknud pisikesel äpardusel end häirida ning ta jätkas oma rollimänguga.

"Tee suu lahti!"

Katara nõjatus veidi ettepoole ja ajas oma keele välja, hääldades paar sekundit 'A' vokaali, kuni Kya kontrollis tema kõri puust pulgaga.

"Väga hea, emme! Su kurk tundub korras olevat."

Ta patsutas oma emme pead, seejärel lippas oma mänguasjade kollektsiooni juurde tagasi, et midagi muud kaasa haarata. Katara jälgis, kuidas ta põlvili istus, üritades stetoskoobi peakomplekti laiali tõmmata, et ta saaks selle kõrvu panna. Ta haaras metallist otsiku ja kõndis oma ema juurde.

"Palun võta oma kasukas seljast ära. Ma tahan su südamelööke ja hingamist kuulata."

"Muidugi, mu väike ravitseja. Anna mulle lihtsalt üks sekund.." ütles vanem veetaltsutaja, kui ta hakkas lühikeste varrukatega parkat üle pea tõmbama. Ta voltis selle kenasti kokku ja asetas vaibale, istus siis sirgelt püsti, lastes oma tüdrukutirtsul stetoskoobi oma meresinise tuunika peale vajutada, otse südame kohale.

Kya liigutas seda selles piirkonnas pisut ringi, püüdes meeles pidada viit kuulatluspunkti, millele ema talle korduvalt oli osutanud. Katara naeris, nihutades siis õrnalt tema pisikest kätt allapoole oma vasaku rinna alla. Ta kuulas kohast, kust ta ei kuulnud mitte midagi.

"Ma kuulan nüüd su selja pealt, kas sobib, emme?"

"Hüva, kullake."

Kya jooksis tema selja taha ja hakkas ema pikki lahtisi juukseid k��lje peale harjama. Katara tõmbas ühe käega terve hunniku oma rinnale, küürutades siis veidi ettepoole. Ta tundis, kuidas tema tütar vajutas otsiku kõrgele abaluude kohale.

"Hinga sügavalt, palun."

Kui vanem veetaltsutaja hakkas ilusti ja aeglaselt hingama, tunnetas ta seda mustrit, mida tema tütar tema selja peal järgis. Tubli tüdruk, oleks Katara tahtnud valjult kiita. Ta ikkagi kiirustas sellest üle, aga vähemalt oli tal allapoole liikudes meeles mõlemaid pooli võrrelda.

"Tubli töö, emme! Su hingamine kõlab hästi."

Noor ravitseja asetas oma ema päris stetoskoobi vaibale ja kiirustas tagasi, käes mängusüstal.

"Sul on nüüd süsti vaja."

"Ahsoo, kas see teeb haiget?" küsis Katara murelikul toonil, kui ta vasakut kätt katva olematu varruka üles rullis.

"Ei. See on lihtsalt üks näpistus," kinnitas Kya talle, samamoodi nagu ema tavaliselt teda üritas lohutada. Ta hoidis oma emme käest kinni ning tegi talle ühe kiire mängusüsti.

"Nii. Kõik tehtud," kuulutas Kya. Ta libistas oma kämmalt üle selle koha, mida ta oli süstla ümara otsaga torganud, silitades emme aiat nõnda hellalt.

"Aitäh, kullake. Sul oli õigus. See ei teinud üldse haiget."

Katara kammis sõrmed läbi oma pisitüdruku juuste ja tõmbas ta lähemale, et istutada tema oimukohale üks musi.

"Üks asi veel!"

Kya haaras oma mänguasjade hunnikust tühja pappkarbi. Miniatuursel ristkülikul oli valge rist, millele oli joonistatud peotäis rohelisi teelehti.

"Näe, võta kolm neist vitamiinidest. Need aitavad sul saada terveks ja tugevaks."

Katara võttis väikese karbi vitamiine enda kätte ja teeskles, et poetas paar nähtamatut tabletti oma peopessa, neelates need siis ühe korraga alla.

"Sa oled olnud väga hea patsient, emme. Nüüd ma pean ainult kirjutama, kui hästi sul läbivaatuse ajal läks."

"Noh, äkki sa tuled siia ja ma aitan sul seda blanketti täita."

Katara patsutas oma reisi, et Kya enda sülle kutsuda. Viimane haaras oma mängukirjutusaluse ja kergelt nüri otsaga pliiatsi enne ema jalgade vahele hüppamist. Ta luges ette esimese välja.

"Okei, patsiendi nimi on.. emme."

Tema vastus pani Katara muigama.

"Ei-ei, kullake! See pole piisavalt täpne. Vabariigi Linnas on sadu emmesid. Mis siis saab, kui nad kõik juhtuvad olema sinu patsiendid? Kuidas sa vahet teed?"

Väike veetaltsutaja pani sõrme alumisele huulele ja jäi mõtisklema, kuni ema ta välja aitas.

"Kuidas oleks, kui kirjutaks minu nime sinna selle asemele? See on K.. A.."

Ta luges oma nime tähthaaval välja, õpetades Kya'le, kuidas seda õigesti kirjutada.

"T.. A.. R-A."

Kui ta oli viimase kahe tähe kritseldamise lõpetanud, hakkas ta läbi vaatama nimekirja elutähtsatest tunnustest, mida ta oli kontrollinud.

"Sain kirja! Järgmisena ma pean ütlema, kas sinuga oli kõik korras. Su südamelöögid olid normaalsed," ütles tüdruk, märkides linnukese sõna 'süda' järel asuvasse tühja ruutu. Ta tegi sama terminitega 'kopsud', 'suu' ja 'vaktsineerimised'.

"Aga kuidas su temperatuuriga on? Ma unustasin kontrollida."

Katara naeratas ning ulatus mängukraadiklaasi poole tema ravitseja asjade hulgas.

"Ole lahke. Sa võid seda nüüd kraadida."

Ta tõstis oma parema käe, kui Kya mänguasja enda kätte krabas ja selle sinna alla pani. Noor ravitseja tõusis korraks püsti, et asetada oma peopesa ema laubale.

"Sa pole kuum. Ma ei usu, et sul on palavik, emme. Aga kontrollime, et kindel olla."

Andmata sellele isegi minutit või kaks, tõmbas ta kraadiklaasi välja ja uuris hoolikalt selle keskel olevat näitudega kleepsu.

"Eip, kõik on hästi."

"Nii et sinu diagnoosi järgi olen ma täiesti terve?" tahtis Katara teada, nähes, et 'temperatuur' oli kaardil viimane rida.

"Täpselt nii!" teatas Kya uhkelt, särades talle laia naeratusega vastu. Tema emme hõõrus nende ninasid hellalt kokku, mis ajendas tüdrukutirtsu rõõmust kiljuma. Viimane lõpetas oma mänguläbivaatuse, allkirjastades kirjutusalusel oleva dokumendi oma enda nimega.

Author's note: Depending on the context, this phrase can either mean how are you 'doing' (like what's happening in your life in general, is everything okay) or 'feeling' (like what's your emotional or physical state, do you feel happy and healthy). Obviously, I went with the 2nd option for this one. More adorable role play between my favourite mother and daughter pairing (oh, you have no idea how flipping cute it sounds in Estonian, especially the dialogue when I first proofread the whole translation!).

[sonicbelligeranza]

Økapi & Aldo Kapi's Orchestra - Love Him Vol. 1 Recent (1927-1952) Økapi Plays The Music Of Aldo Kapi (-Belligeranza 05, 2009) Aldo Kapi (Kyzyl-Suu 12 September 1896 - Cholpon-Ata 11 May 1952) Kyrgyz composer. Son of Iranian industrialist Agha Mirza Kapi and the Italian Elena Bottero, Kapi was initially destined for a career as a schoolteacher, and completed his studies in the Orthodox abbey of Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan. "I dreamt I drowned in the lake": Kapi scribbled that early vision on a piece of paper at the age of 19. Unknowingly, he was describing his eventual fate, the life he would lead in Central Asia, and also his attempted suicide in Issyk-Kul. Kapi was unable to realize his dream of becoming a great pianist, owing to the unwise experiments he undertook to perfect his technique during the winter of 1910-11, which caused the loss of the use of his right ring-finger. He decided to dedicate himself, instead, to composition. Introverse but often extravagant, his first works were an attempt to break away from formal traditions and classical structures that he considered too restrictive.  During the decade spent in Bishkek, Kapi produced his first noteworthy compositions, such as Sguadrezzi da pe' (1914) and Pignottimi d'approsi (1917). <To Be Continued...> @okapi23 #instamusic #vinyl #records #180g #12inch #plunderphonics #illegalartrecords #SonicBelligeranza https://www.instagram.com/p/BIM0qjqgfCw/?igshid=dnllfn2q1ovu

[lurkch]

Scribblings brought to you by the letter S

"Stay on your side of the bed. I know suus mahna."

"What the Hell is sooss mama," he mumbled sleepily.

"It's Vulcan for I can kick your ass."

Sometime later:

“Hey, Spock. Suus mahna.”

Spock just quirks his eyebrow at Leonard like he’s lost his mind.

“I thought you said that meant ‘I can kick your ass,’” Leonard mutters to Jules under his breath.

“No, I said it meant *I* can kick your ass. It’s a martial art.”

Leonard turns to Spock, looking somewhat sheepish. “Uh, never mind.”

“Indeed.” Spock does the Vulcan equivalent of roll his eyes and walks away.

[archaneanscribe]

Finally Taking the Trip to Jupiter

Vague spoilers for MGS4. Also xtremely fucking sad fair warning lol

“Snake... Dave?” Hal immediately corrected himself upon entering the room. The veteran’s (finally they could use that term, with there truly being no fights left to fight) request to drop the codenames they had maintained for nearly a decade had been a little sudden, but entirely understandable, “We think we’ve found a place to stay, for the moment. A nice house, close enough to a town that Sunny can go to school in, but far enough ouy most folks will leave us alone.”

David simply nodded- taking a deep breath that would normally be an intake of smoke into his lungs, but he was sincere in his declaration of quitting. Even if it wasn’t for very long, he could do that much for Sunny and Hal, after all this time. The tech wiz stood awkwardly in the doorframe, posture so closed in on himself David would see the gangly nerd he once was before he had started spending more time eating and moving around than seated in front of a computer.

He still did plenty of that, but years on the run had shifted the ratio considerably until just recently.

“Out with it, Hal,” he croaked out in a voice that was becoming increasingly unfamiliar to both of them. This seemed to shock his companion out of his own thoughts, and he finally moved closer.

“Ah, well, you see- what do you want for your last name, Dave? You know I’ll be formalizing Sunny’s adoption, which means we’ll finally be obtaining,” emphasis was put on the word, because in reality it meant forging, “papers for her, and I thought you’d probably be in need of some too. We can use whatever is on your birth certificate, but if you want to pick something out yourself...”

A smile formed under Dave’s mustache.

“I already know what I’m using.”

Hal perked up, “You do? What is it?”

With the same simple, to the point gruffness he would never quite be rid of, the one legendary soldier answered in a single word.

“Emmerich.”

All sounds except the Nomad’s machinery working overtime on her last voyage and David’s unfortunately heavy breathing ceased for an eternally long moment, Hal’s face journeying between every emotion he possessed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and his attempt to stifle his sniffles failed.

He probably wouldn’t have admitted it at the beginning, but something David had always loved about Hal was his ability to keep crying. No matter the hardships he faced, the traumas, the evils and cruelties he bore witness too, he didn’t run out of tears. His compassion was a well that ran deep, and those tears were just a result of it overflowing.

“Dave...of, of course,” his expression betrayed some amusement past the waterworks, “Do you want me to list you as my brother, or-”

“You know exactly what it’s going to say, Hal.”

They both laughed now, such different sounds than it was just a year ago even. David had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and Hal had been across the room, but that distance closed as Hal kneeled on the floor, placing his hands on David’s knees. It was a gesture that David had previously classified as pitying, but he knew better, now. 

It wasn’t for his comfort at all.

“Thank you, David.”

David had half a mind to ask what it was like to kiss an old man with a mustache, but they didn’t have the time for jokes like that anymore, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

---

The eyeroll David had given when Hal told him the name of the town they’d be living in was named Jupiter was so legendary it surpassed his previous exploits with ease. But, despite how silly it was, he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest. 

They’d gotten their trip to Jupiter, just a little late.

Jupiter, Washington, was as small as a small mountain town got. It didn’t even have an elementary school for Sunny to attend (she was bussed to the neighboring, larger town). Most residents were the descendants of the people who had first lived there, so their new faces stuck out for awhile, but they eventually concluded what was essentially the truth, albeit missing some key details, and moved on- they were just two retirees, hoping to live out what was left of the older one’s life in peace with their orphaned granddaughter, nothing exciting.

Hal laughed at how huffy David had gotten at the granddaughter comments.

For the first month, their time there was peaceful. Content. Happy.

The second month, David starting being able to spend less and less time out of bed.

In the third month, he took Hal aside.

“You should stop sleeping in the same bed as me.”

His husband was a genius, he knew exactly why, but he still asked anyway.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

That he didn’t want Hal to wake up one sunny spring morning cuddling a corpse.

Tears were shed, as they always were, but he complied nonetheless. All of David’s belongings were transferred to the guest bedroom (Hal had tried to convince him to stay in the master bedroom, it was more comfortable, but David was adamant- that was where Hal would be staying in the future, and he didn’t want his ghost lingering in the air whenever he slept).

On the first day of the fourth month, right after sending Sunny off to school, Hal told him they were getting a dog for her.

“She loves those chickens, and I thought she might like another pet.”

“Or is it to replace me?” he asked, morbid mirth nearly buried under the pure gravel that had become his voice, “Seems to fit perfectly.”

Hal’s eyes, sad and weary, seemed to want nothing to do with this conversation, but he participated for his partner’s sake, “How so?”

“It’ll bark at strangers, bite the hand that feeds, and just generally be a pain in your ass.”

Despite himself Hal did laugh, not entirely bitter, “We’ll train it better than that.”

“Don’t train it too well. Won’t remind you enough of me.”

Fifth month, they had a dog. Rex, a joke on two layers- a name so common it was funny, and a reminder of one man’s shame that he’d never quite shake off. Not a husky, because while that would please David, they’d be keeping it long term and that level of energy just wouldn’t suit their needs. Rex was an adolescent Golden Retriever. 

The dog of the American dream.

Almost like he could tell David wouldn’t be around long enough to justify getting attached, Rex mostly ignored him. The feeling was mutual. 

Sunny loved them both dearly, and that was enough.

---

They had been there half a year, and Sunny made them breakfast. Her specialty, eggs fried to methodical perfection, toast just a little browner than anyone would like, maple sausage microwaved for ten seconds more than the instructions said just to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, and a glass of pulpless orange juice tucked precariously into the crook of her arm as she carried the meal to Uncle Dave’s bedroom.

It was two minutes after Hal watched Sunny depart from the kitchen that he heard a loud crash, glass and ceramic shattering, followed by Rex’s insistent barking and whining. He was on his feet and rushed to the scene, fearing the worst and finding exactly that.

“Oh, Sunny... Sunny...”

“U-Uncle H-Hal,” she barely managed through her cries. Rex, to his credit, ignored the food on the ground and nuzzled at her face, whining, confused and upset by the noises of unparalleled distress his beloved human was emitting. Stifling his own grief, Hal went over to the young girl and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

He didn’t do a great job at holding that grief in after all.

“Sunny, Sunny, Sunny... I’m so sorry... I should have checked up on him when I woke up... It’s okay, Sunny...”

“H-He’s d-d-dead. J-Just,” her stutter was exacerbated by her choking sobs, “J-Just l-like my m-mother.”

The downside of having such a bright child was that you couldn’t shield them from life’s harsh realities that easily. There was no convincing Sunny that Uncle Dave was with the birds in the clouds, or any other such comforting tale. 

He was dead and gone, and she knew that.

---

The gravestone read:

               David Emmerich

       Beloved father and husband.

All three of those titles were ones he had only worn for six months, but he had worn them with honor.•

[archaneanscribe]

Birthday Cakes

Peeta makes them birthday cakes every year.

He decorates them with little flowers made of frosting, and big swooping letters that say “Happy Birthday!”. Sugar is still hard to come by, but they make an exception, just for us. They owe us, they say.

I don’t care that much, but Peeta, he cares.

I think he makes them to make up for all the birthdays his brothers, and Prim, never got to have. In the day's leading up to their birthday, he gets sad. Not the nightmares, not the flashbacks- though those do still come sometimes, but we never can really prepare for those. On the day of, he wakes up before me, before the children, before the sun, and starts preparing everything he needs for the cake. 

So I don’t care about the sugar, but I do care about the cakes. Because Peeta does.

When it’s Lily’s (we didn’t name her until she was three. People looked at us like we grew extra heads, but we just wanted to be sure to not be too attached. Just in case,) tenth birthday, I wake up with him. 

“Can I help?”

“You want to bake?” he asks me. In a way, he means it. I have always left the kitchen things up to him. But he’s also joking with me- we’ve gotten better at joking over time, now that he’s more certain that when I say something to him, I mean it.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t argue.

We don’t live in a very big house, because we discovered that big houses bring back memories we both spend most of our time running from, so the walk to the kitchen is short. Like every time, he prepared everything over the course of the last week, so he just pulls down each item from the cabinet one at a time. Cake flour, sugar, leavening, and vanilla. He asks me to get the milk, butter, (we use goat’s) and eggs from the refrigerator, so I do, placing it next to everything else. 

It took awhile to get used to the fridge, but less time than other things- being able to keep things cold year round is nice. We had one when we lived in the Victor’s Village, but that’s another time we like to forget about. I barely ate at home then, anyways.

“We have to let the eggs, milk, and butter sit for an hour. We can make the frosting in the meantime.”

Baking is a lot like making medicine with Mom and Prim. Lots of waiting and a test of my patience. 

Peeta looks peaceful as he mixes the sugar, milk, and vanilla to make the frosting, so baking isn’t so bad.

Next we preheat the oven, we get the pans out, and butter them up. After that, we mix the ingredients. Saying “we” at this point is generous, really. Peeta does it, and I just stand there awkwardly. I mostly wanted to see him do it, not help, and I think he knows that, because he explains each step like he was talking to Lily or Benjamin.

“Bring the pans over here and hold one of them steady for me.”

“Got it.”

He tips the bowl and the batter slowly drips inside, filling it up to just before it gets full. We repeat this four more times, then put them in the oven. Now it’s time to wait again. By now, the sun has started to rise, filling the kitchen with much warmer light than the lamps had been doing. I lean into his side and he puts his hand on my waist and we’re quiet for a while.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

Before following up on my question, I kiss him, quick and soft, and very much real.

“Would you make me a cake for my birthday?”

He kisses me too.

“I can do that.”•

[archaneanscribe]

Name

"Helana, behind you."

"It's alright, Helena."

"Helena."  

"Helena-"

"Ya know, Q," Helena began, easily ducking away from a punch thrown by a third rate goon, "You're pretty cavalier with my real name, for a paranoid guy like you."

The thug seemed enraged by her nonchalance, but that barely pinged on her radar as her boyfriend responded, "I'll make sure no one finds out your identity," his voice was distracted as he downloaded the file, like her concern was not a concern at all, "So it doesn't matter."

"Constantly making sure it stays secret seems like a waste of time and effort," she retorted, growing tired of playing with her adversary and delivering a hook right under his jaw that knocked him flat. Now that all the hired muscle was out of her way, she cracked her knuckles as she approached Question.

He pulled the drive out of the computer, slipping it into his pocket. Before he spoke, he paused thoughtfully, and lifted his leg to kick the computer screen in.

"It's a trifle for me."

"Q, you're really-"

Wait. Q didn't brag about stuff like that. And he had better things to focus on than constantly monitoring his, uh, network(?) to make sure her true identity didn't reach the wrong ears. He must have a reason... oh. 

Oh, baby doll.

Quick as a flash, she fired a bolt from his crossbow that whizzed past his head to catch his attention.

"Any reason for the failed assassination attempt? You normally don't miss."

She hooked the weapon back on her belt, approaching her boyfriend with the kind of conviction in her eye that led to men being dead in every sense but the legal one, and he was smart enough to back up. Eventually, the back of his knees hit the office chair that he had risen from earlier, and he fell into sitting in it with a soft thump.

"I have a theory, Q. Humor me for a minute."

He swallowed thickly at her low tone, and nodded, clearly thankful for the impassivity of expression inherent to his mask.

She reached his spot and boxed him in by putting both hands on each arm of the chair, "I was wondering why you'd go through all the trouble of tempting fate with my identity. You don't take unnecessary risks, right? Except you do. In one circumstance."

Leaning in, her black hair framed her face like a dark halo, the effect accentuated by the flickering overhead light that had been broken by a stray bullet in the earlier brawl. His avenging angel. His heart rate increased at a concerning pace, "When you want to impress me, you can get a little reckless, huh baby doll? You get off on the thrill of protecting me. That's why you do it- you make a situation where you create and solve the problem."

She pulled his tie loose from his vest, yanking it forward so her unmasked nose bumped into his masked one, "I unraveled one of your little mysteries. How's that make you feel, baby?"

"Do you want the long answer or the short one?"

She laughed, nearly low purr, "Let's make it quick."

"Good. Very."

She let go of his tie, but not before hooking a finger under the knot and loosening it just a bit, "As much as I like putting on a show, let's head back before these idiots wake up so you can do whatever it is you need to with that data, and then I can give you your reward for being honest," her smirk grew as she whispered, "Vic."

For the first time, he found that being bested at his own game wasn't so bad at all.•

[archaneanscribe]

If You Have To Ask...

"'Ya know elf, 'm sorry."

The room was filled with the scent of beer and pizza, a common combination for the two of them after a long day of training. Kurt bought the beer of course, he was knee deep in drink debt after all their bets; a German import, not because he was truly the type of care about the origin of his alcohol, but because it was quite funny to pretend that he was. They had ordered a pizza, Kurt having scared the daylights out of the poor teenaged delivery person by 'porting in front of them when he forgot to tip. 

(The face they made would have Logan busting his gut for weeks.)

They were in the aftermaths of their feast now, lounging in the living room, bellies full and content. Logan sat on the couch, holding a bottle with only a few sips left, feet up and crossed on the coffee table, while Kurt was perched on the edge of the couch, either like a scheming gargoyle or a playful cat depending on who you asked.

"Sorry for what, mein Freund? You have done me no offense, at least not recently."

"Watch 'yer smart mouth, pal," Logan growled, but his closest companion knew the difference between anger and friendly irritation, and this was the latter, "What I mean is, I'm sorry for all the idiots who don't understand what they're lookin' at when they see you."

A warmth filled Kurt's chest at the declaration  For all Logan's bluster, and very, very sharp edges, he cared for his friends. There was no one among them quicker to defend Kurt's appearance than him, even if rarely as straightforwardly as this, "Ah, tausend dank, Logan. I am not so bothered by it now, at least when it is a stranger. The support you all have given me means far more to my heart than their fear."

Logan knocked back the last sip of his beer and placed it down on the coffee table with a thunk, "That's good ta' hear, elf, but not what I meant."

With a curious tilt of his head, Kurt climbed down from his perch to sit beside the other, tail flicking around behind him with interest, "What did you mean, then- Autsch!"

The exclamation came more from surprise than pain, as Logan had reached out abruptly to grab hold of Kurt's tail to stop its movement and ensure he had its bearer's full attention. Of course the man could just teleport away, but he was far too stunned to do anything but look at Logan with wide, golden eyes.

"No one's quite like you, elf."

"Ja, ich... Yes, I..." 

The hand on the upper part of his tail traveled downwards, and a shudder wracked through him at the sensation.

"Who needs 'normal' when you got looks like yours? I'd rather be lookin' at you than anything else."

Heart thumping a kilometer a minute under Logan's intense, unmasked gaze, Kurt swallowed thickly, "Let me make sure I'm understanding what's happening here. You are, flirting with me, yes?

The hand gripping his tail let go, but before Kurt would mourn the loss, a tender hand came up to touch his fuzzy cheek, and it's gentle caresses felt more meaningful because he was all too aware of the deadly power they were capable of, "If 'ya have to ask, I've been doing a bad job."

"Nein, nein, you were fine. More than, really. I just feared it was wishful thinking, mein Freund. Mir kommt es vor als würden wir uns schon seit Ewigkeiten kennen," the confusion on Logan's face tipped Kurt off that he had slipped into his mother tongue, "I feel like we've known each other for an eternity, but I did not want to make the assumption that you felt the same." 

"I might as well have been alive for an eternity, elf, but it woulda been a helluva lot better if you were around for it."

While the flirtation was definitely working on him, Kurt couldn't help but laugh, "You are deceptively smooth for all the prickles you possess."

Grinning, Logan's began to rub his thumb against the short fuzz if Kurt's cheek, "I'm choosin' to interpret that as you saying it's working?"

Kurt returned the expression, before leaning in so close their lips brushed, “If you have to ask, I am doing a bad job.”

Pizza and beer was perhaps not the most pleasant combination of flavors to share a first kiss with, but neither of them really cared.•

[archaneanscribe]

Big Girls Cry

I wanted some MinPalla childhood sweethearts, inspired by their mini-alts in FEH. Part of the Archanea Chronicles.

When their mother died, Palla did not cry.

Est was one, but due to their mother’s illness she had seen more of the local midwife and her sisters than she ever did of their mother, so only cried as much as a baby normally cries.

Catria was five, and she cried a whole, whole lot. She gripped Palla’s skirt and wailed, snot and tears dripping down her face. She woke up and cried, and went to sleep crying.

When you’re eight like Palla, you’re a big girl- so that means no more crying. That’s what she reminded herself over and over when the tears threatened, anyway.  She knew Mother wouldn’t agree, would tell her that it’s okay for big girls to cry, that it’s okay for anyone to cry.

But Mother was gone. They had lost Father only a year ago, and now she was gone too.

It was just the three of them.

So she was going to be the best big sister ever, and be super tough. If she cried, they would know that there was a chance things wouldn’t be okay. She was going to work to be so strong that nothing could ever hurt her little sisters ever again.

The captain of the pegasus division of the Macedonian army, Mylla, had always told her she was too young to follow in her mother’s footsteps, that she had a few more years to grow.

But the day after the funeral, her mind had changed. 

First thing in the morning, training lance gripped in hand, Palla approached her again, mouth knit into a tight, determined frown.

“Lass, look-” the older woman began, as always, but now she paused, expression stricken with an emotion that Palla couldn’t yet decipher, “That’s quite the face you're making. Not the face of a young girl anymore.”

Her grip tightened.

Sighing, the captain’s shoulders slumped, “If you’re so determined, you can train with the Princess. Normally only the royal family start this young, but I suppose she wouldn’t mind a sparring partner her own age. Follow me.”

Her face perked up at the mention of Princess Minerva, “Oh, thank you!”

Of course, she had known about the first princess for some time. Her mother had been the queen’s personal vassal before both their deaths, so Palla had been told from a young age she would likely inherit a similar duty. She followed close at Mylla’s heels, into the castle walls. Another place she had visited briefly with her mother, but she had never gone through this way, into the royal guard’s training area.

When they arrived, they found a girl who couldn’t be any older than she was having her footing be critiqued by an older man.

“Oi, Odger!” Mylla called out to catch his attention. He turned to look at them, his grizzled but not unfriendly face reminding Palla of her father in many ways. The girl, who she realized must be Princess Minerva, looked at her with curiosity. Maybe she didn’t get to see a lot of other kids?

The man named Odger relaxed his posture, gesturing to Palla, who was overcome with a sudden wave of shyness and hid behind the Captain, “What’ve you got there? New recruit for the guard? A little young, ain’t she?”

Mylla stepped aside and gave the young girl a gentle push, sending her stumbling forward into focus. Mustering her courage, she stood up straight, holding her lance in the way she remembered seeing her mother do when speaking to the late queen, deferential yet confident, “I’m Palla, sir. Atheleys daughter. I want to become a pegasus knight like my mother was.”

He gazed at her impassively, “What if I said you’re not old enough? Isn’t that what Mylla has been telling ‘ya?”

She knew that she shouldn’t say what she was about to, that with the strict way the Macedonian military operated, she could ruin her chances of ever getting a position in the corps, but the repressed feelings from her mother’s passing bubbled to the surface as she replied, heatedly, “I would say that I am old enough. I watched my Mother my whole life. Give me time and I’ll surpass everyone!”

For a moment following their outburst, there was silence, but it was quickly followed by raucous laughter from Odger, who pat his belly jovially, “Careful talking to yer superiors like that, little lady! If I was anyone but a retired knight turned combat instructor, there'd be some real consequences,” he calmed down, settling his face into a soft smile, “I see you’re truly serious. It won’t be easy, and you won’t get any special treatment- just like this one here doesn’t.”

The Princess nodded gravely.

“Show up tomorrow at sun up, and be ready. I won’t be teaching you the basics.”

“Thank you, sir! I’ll do my best!”

---

He was serious when he said it wouldn’t be easy. Every evening when she came home to her sisters, it was in a state of exhaustion and ache, every muscle complaining at once.

That doesn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying herself.

Every lance swing, every knee scrape, made her feel closer to her mother, which in turn made her stomach churn less when Est looked up at her and called her “Mama!” before being corrected,

And, of course, there was her training partner.

Princess Minerva was a serious girl, in much the same way Catria seemed poised to become. There was a look on her face that Palla knew meant she planned to be a fighter her whole life, and that this training was not just exercise- but might one day keep her alive. 

But if you got her talking about her brother, baby sister, or the pegasus she had been working with, it was an entirely different story. Her eyes would light up and she would laugh and swing her arms around recounting the story of the way her little sibling finally said her name for the first time.

“She can only call me ‘Min’ right now,” she recounted as they took a break to eat some lunch, smiling as she wiped some crumbs off her face, “But the nursemaid told me that in a few months she will likely be able to say my full name.”

“I remember when Catria used to call me ‘Pal’,” Palla replied, swallowing her bite of bread, “Its’ nice that you’re a big sister too. I get lonely sometimes when I only get to see my sisters.”

Minerva nodded, “I understand. I love my brother and my sister, but I enjoy speaking to someone close to my own age. Father said it would be good for me. He wants me to be strong, but,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “He’s actually nice. Him and my brother can be scary, but they’re both very kind.”

Palla giggled, “My mother was the same way. Everyone said she was so serious, but she always played with me and read me lots of stories.”

“...do you miss your mother very much?”

Her head snapped up at this abrupt question to look at Minerva, who was turned away to hide her face, “I miss my mother.”

She sometimes forgot that the Princess had lost a parent as well, “...Yes. I miss her a whole lot. But,” she reached out to pat her companion’s knee, “I’m doing just fine! I’m going to be just as strong as she was. So you don’t have to worry about me!”

Because she was a big girl! Big girls didn’t think about their mother and cry into their pillows, or want to scream whenever they saw someone holding their mother’s hand!

Minerva moved to face her now, face twisted in confusion, looking like she had something to say but just didn’t know the right words, “Palla, I-”

“Times up, kiddos!” Odger’s voice shattered the tense atmosphere between them. So the conversation was left behind- but not forgotten.

---

It was many months later, nearing Palla’s tenth birthday, that Minerva stopped her before she headed home. The sun was setting and it’s final rays were streaming into the open area of the royal training area. Odger had already left, so it was only the two of them.

“Palla.”

“Yes, Lady Minerva?”

Minerva’s hand was on her wrist, holding her in place for the ensuing silence, before the Princess finally gathered her courage, “I was thinking about... when we get older.”

“When we get older?”

“Yes,” she took a deep breath, and spoke in that serious, assured tone she always did, “We should get married. That way, I can always make sure you’re not lonely or sad.”

Palla’s eyes widened, cheeks reddened, and jaw dropped, “Married!?”

Minerva’s face twisted like it had that day nearly a year ago, but this time, she was able to voice her thoughts, “When you leave, my heart hurts, because I know that you are sad- you always smile when you come here, but there are times I see you nearly in tears. The thought of you being lonely makes me quite angry. I want to make sure you’re always actually happy. Marriage seemed like the easiest way to do that.”

This never happened in any of her mother’s storybooks. There was usually an epic adventure and love story before the princess decided she was to defy her station and be with the knight she loved. 

And they usually weren’t nine years old, either.

However, the offer made Palla’s stomach warm. Minerva was strong, and reliable. She never expected Palla to be more than she was- just a girl her own age, a peer, a friend. Sometimes she even thought that it might be okay to share how she really feels to her, to open up, to... to cry. Even though she was a big girl. 

She thought that maybe, she didn’t have to be a big girl around Minerva.

“You mean it?”

“Yes. I want to make you happy.”

The tears started coming down, and big girl Palla was gone. All that was left was Palla- a not-quite-ten year old child who missed her mother, and just wanted to be a kid. The quiet crying quickly became hiccuping sobs, dragging her forearm across her eyes to dry the deluge as it came.

“I’m,” she sniffed loudly, “I’m lonely! I love my sisters, but I want my mother! I want my father! I want someone to take care of me sometimes too!”

In a flash, she felt a pair of arms around her, and realized slowly that she was being hugged by the taller girl. It was an awkward, unpracticed hug, but it was the first time she had been hugged by someone bigger than her in nearly a year. It wasn’t Catria or Est hugging her leg before they scurried off to play, it was a warm, enveloping hug that made her feel safe.

“I will take care of you. We can be together always. Father tells me that one day I shall get to be in charge of my own unit, and you can be in it. And we can get married. That way you’ll always know I will be there for you.”

Sniffling weakly now, she squeezed back tightly, “Thank you. I’ll do my best to get as strong as you so I can stay by your side.”

They stayed like that for a moment, the setting sun now having almost fully retreated, casting them in the cool darkness of the early night. In the back of her mind, Palla knew that Minerva was probably beholden to whatever marriage promises her father makes for her, but she couldn’t get herself to care.

Not when she could finally, finally, be herself.

---

It was thirteen years later when they were actually wed.

Of course Palla’s doubts had been correct at the time. The king had just laughed at his daughter, pat her head, and sent her on her way. He had several marriage contracts in talks with other kingdoms even at that time, so as much as he loved his daughter, one freedom he hadn’t planned to allow her was romance.

But, of course, before any of them could come to fruition, his life was snuffed out by his own son.

Over the years, Palla kept her promise, and was the first pegasus knight assigned to Minerva’s unit, later followed dutifully by her younger sisters and becoming the Whitewings that were known far and wide. Together, the two women had fought two wars, overcome adversity in all its forms, and a childhood friendship became... more.

So when Minerva renounced her claim to the throne, and wandered the land helping the war restitution with her own two hands, Palla followed suit. Their marriage was a small affair, done in the halls of Lena’s convent by the woman herself. It wasn’t for the public’s eye- it was just for them.

That night, as they curled together in bed feeling a peace that had been out of reach for months, Palla remembered her wife’s first proposal.

“You were ready to marry me at nine years old,” she reminiscenced fondly, enjoying the brief embarrassed tense up from Minerva, “I don’t think I could ever forget.”

“That seemed to me to be the only solution at the time,” she pulled Palla closer, “Everyone was always discussing marriage around me, so I believed it to be the solution to every ‘adult’ problem.”

“You turned out to be right, all these years later. I’m happily married to you, and I never feel lonely when you’re around.”

Minerva placed a kiss on her wife’s forehead, who hummed appreciatively at the gesture, “I did think about asking you again, many times, as we grew up, but by that point I had learned what it truly meant. And glad I am that I waited. I want to give you a peaceful, happy life.”

“And I want the same for you,” Palla replied, more certain than she had ever felt before. Happy tears welled in her eyes, just like they had when they exchanged vows.

And she let them fall.•

[archaneanscribe]

This Moment, Unending

Kirk’s hands were shaking as they held Spock’s cheeks between their palms, tracing those sharp features he so admired with his thumbs. Before, it had always been from a distance- a secret desire, an urge he suppressed.

But now? There was no more holding anything back.

In forty eight hours the Enterprise would dock for the final time of her maiden voyage, her crew departing for what might be forever. Most people would be relocated, positions shifted, relationships that had formed torn apart.

So Kirk was done waiting.

“Spock,” he said the name languidly, feeling like he had run out of time yet had all the time in the world, “Spock.”

When Spock spoke in return, it was soft as feather falling to the floor, “Yes, Jim?”

Titles and rank had been discarded at the door. At this moment, they were raw, tender men, bare without the shielding of their positions to hold their overwhelming feelings at bay.

“Does this make me a cruel man? Asking this of you now, of all times?” Kirk’s gaze never wavered from Spock’s, drinking in the subdued brightness of those dark eyes. He searched them for any signs of doubt, but saw only resolute will, a firm belief in... whatever this was.

“If this is cruelty, then it is such that I invited upon myself, and will bear the punishment accordingly.”

Kirk couldn’t help but laugh at that, quietly and adoringly, “Love is no punishment, Spock. At least, It shouldn’t be.”

Spock paused thoughtfully (or perhaps he too was admiring his companion, Kirk could hope) before speaking again, “I cannot say I agree or disagree, on the grand scale. But at this moment, I feel no regret.”

“That’s all I can ask of you.”

Those were the final words Kirk spoke, because speech outlived its usefulness to him at that moment- what he felt could only be conveyed through action. As their lips met, Spock brought a hand up to cover the one resting on his cheek, sending a warmth he had never felt before down Kirk’s spine.

In forty eight hours, they might part physically, but this small piece of the universe they carved out together, this brief moment, would be unending.•

[archaneanscribe]

Special

"You know," Diana contemplatively traced the edge of her mug with her index finger, staring into the muddy depths of her mocha, "I had many partners before I even came to the world of man."

Bruce waited a moment, to see if she was planning to elaborate.

She did not.

"And if nothing kills me, Hera willing," she continued, "I will outlive most of you, and will likely take more lovers after you all die."

He furrowed his brow, taking a sip of his own straight black coffee (not how he preferred it, but he had an image to maintain), "Is there some sort of point you're trying to make?"

"Hmm, a small one," she smiled, eyes filled with mirth at having stumped him, "Just that really, you're not all that special, yet here I am anyway. Think about it, will you?"

She knocked back the rest of her drink, stood, and departed from the Commissary with a deliberate sashay of her hips.

There was a jitter in Bruce's blood, and it wasn't from the coffee.•

[archaneanscribe]

Through Your Eyes

"When I look at the world through Lady Edelgard's eyes, I see a vision for the future, which should and will come to fruition. I see an ideal. But through your eyes," Hubert's hand was anything but steady as he tucked a lock of autumnal hair behind Ferdinand's ear, "I see the present in all its glory. The good and ill, all painted in the glow of a sunset."

Face scarlet as a rose, Ferdinand laughed nervously, but didn't pull away from the hand that had drifted down from his ear to rest upon his warm cheek, "Who could have known you possessed such a silver tongue when you wished it?"

A smirk grew on Hubert's face, its usual sinister edge tempered by something softer and unspoken, "It embarrasses you, so I find it to be worth the indignity."

"You horrible man!"

"I have been called that, yes," he inched forward so their noses bumped.

It was Ferdinand's turn to smile, unabashed as always, leaning in closer as well, the heat of one other's breath felt by them both, "You are wretched, horrid, and I could not love you more if I tried."

The distance between them shortened yet again, and for a length of time neither cared to calculate, no further words were spoken.•

[archaneanscribe]

Happy Endings for the Wicked

They did not live in the land of fairytales and black-and-white morality. 

When Hubert arrived back at the palace that night, he was not returning from a diplomatic mission to the former Alliance territories as was stated on all official records. No, the activity he partook in was far bloodier. Rattling around in his skull was the man's screams, cries for mercy intermingling his release of information, converging into barely intelligible gibberish. After spending weeks tracking the spy down, all in all it had been quick and dirty tonight. He hadn't even required more than a single guard attending to the door, leaving him and the victim alone, so he would have only one face to remember in his nightmares.

Yes, today he had been given his life to take with him, but often the greater mercy was to end it quickly. Hubert knew himself (for the Vestra's trained for torture through first hand experience) the ways in which it haunted you.

So when Hubert opened the door to the sight of Ferdinand, only in his loose fitting nightclothes and sitting at the vanity in their chambers, looking down at a glass of wine like he had poisoned himself, he was not surprised.

"Up rather late, aren't we?" Hubert began, teasing edge undercut by how cautiously slow he spoke. He locked the door behind him, quickly working off his gloves as he walked further into the room, "Very unlike you."

Ferdinand did not look at him, instead taking a sip of his wine. His cheeks were not the typical flushed they became after any serious amount of alcohol consumption, so Hubert supposed it must have been poured mainly to give him something to do with his hands. When his gaze did move upwards, it was not at his husband, but at his vanity mirror, staring at himself in a way not unlike how he glowered at enemies on the battlefield. When he spoke, his tone was bitter yet hollow.

"You are a bad man."

Hubert had now seated himself on the bed and was pulling off his boots. He chose not to reply until the task was done and he had moved on to unclasping his cape, "This revelation of yours is far from startling. Anyone in this palace could have told you so, myself chief among them."

The Prime Minister of Adrestia, with his autumnal hair and chilly attitude to match, slammed the delicate wine class onto the vanity top with as much force as it could take without shattering, though the Minister of Internal Affairs believed he wouldn't have cared if it did break, at least at this moment.

Ferdinand swiveled in his seat so forcefully that the stool that held up his weight groaned, "You know full well what I mean by saying that."

Patience wearing thin for this particular conversation, Hubert sat up straight, looking his spouse dead in the eye, "Do I? I walk into the room and am immediately insulted, true as it may be. You have yet to elucidate me on exactly what this is all about?"

Hands curling into tight fists, Ferdinand looked down, long hair obscuring his face like a window curtain, "I simply- I cannot understand how Edelgard- how I have allowed this. Continue to allow this to happen. I know in my heart, that it is wrong, and yet..."

Bile and sympathy rose to Hubert's throat in equal measure. He was being judged, morally dismissed by a man who had vowed to stay by his side, but he knew that the raging mire of doubt brewing inside his husband was sincere. His conflicting emotions twisted together as he took his next action, rising to walk the short distance to the hunched over man, resting an arm over his back but speaking words with a decided anger to them, "Perhaps, you are not the paragon or morality you believe yourself to be. No one is truly good, in this world."

"Cruel," Ferdinand replied quietly, but he did not shake off the embrace. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind, at odds with his normal unwavering confidence.

"While normally I would not deny it, I believe now I am simply being truthful," Hubert's tone softened, because for whatever else he was, he was still very much in love with this man, "To change the world as we did, we must accept our bloody hands. While it is my duty to keep the worst of it from you and Her Majesty's sight, I have reluctantly accepted that you both shoulder some blame for allowing it to happen at all. I loathe that as much as you."

"Hubert..." lifting his head up, there was a hardened edge to the normally gentle look in his eyes, "We are bad men. You are right. We can hope to do right by the future generations, by having this be our burden to bear."

He would never admit it, not to his Emperor, his spouse, or the deaf ears of a dead goddess, but that admission made Hubert ache. There was no lie in his mouth when he said he loathed that his dark deeds, necessary as he found them, reflected onto those he loved. 

Of course, for all he agonized, there was a trail of dead people and their mourners who would never know of his sorrows, knowing him only as a monster, and above all else, they were correct.

Dismissing those thoughts, callous as that might be (he was an expert in callous behavior), Hubert wore a cat like smile, "Admitting I am right? Perhaps I am hearing things."

Taking this obviously extended escape from his misery, Ferdinand's smile was less solid, but still decidedly present, "I think I am simply tired. Finish undressing and let us retire."

Obeying, Hubert efficiently divested himself of his clothing, brushing away any whispers in the back of his head reminding him of the fact that Ferdinand was so easily comforted this evening was not anything to be happy about. That in an ideal world, Ferdinand would not even glance at his bloody visage, much less love him.

But this was not the world of fairy tales or black-and-white morality. They were bad men, who have done bad things, and each night find solace in each in a way neither of them deserve.•