#the hot leaf guide to ao3

[hyperfixated-homo]

Deserted (But are you alone?)

Summary:

They were giving up. They were giving up and it was too soon, too early- it was unfair.

Whumptober Prompt No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59357470

They were giving up.

They were giving up and it was too soon, too early- it was unfair.

Squrrly was still out there. They could be dead, or dying, or worse and everyone was already giving up-

"Leaf, there's nothing we can do. We can hold a search party later, but we need to get home before the sun rises."

And Leaf- call them hotheaded- didn't want to accept that. Didn't want to accept the potential loss- of their will or of their friend, or maybe both.

"Leaf," Bugz said softly somewhere from their left, "I know you want to find lune. But we've been out since yesterday morning- it's going to get hot again and we're going to waste resources just keeping ourselves alive. We need to wait it out."

And see. The logic was sound. It was clear. It was perfectly understandable, and yet.

"Go back then. I'm going to keep going."

"Leaf-"

"No."

Leaf spun on their heel and walked out into cool sand.

"Leaf- this isn't going to help anyone!"

But Bugz didn't get it. Didn't understand. There was a companionship that came from being the only two things that knew each other for literal centuries- there was a level of understanding that came from being stuck with each other like they were. Bugz couldn't understand the ways that Squrrly had been there for Leaf, every moment, every day, every reincarnation. Every lifetime, Luna always found them.

It would always be Leaf that left, in the end. They couldn't live forever- didn't want to, even. But now Squrrly had left first and Leaf didn't know what to do about it. Didn't know how to move forward, didn't know how to keep going.

They needed to find their friend. It didn't matter how long they'd spend in this desert, being burnt by the scorching sun. It didn't matter how they could feel themselves draining by the day, exhaustion and disconnection from the natural world causing Leaf's body to decay. None of it was important.

They'd find Squrrly again even if it killed them.

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

Was this what death felt like?

Left in a painful cycle of burning days and freezing nights, body shackled by chains that went deep into the sand, Squrrly wondered. They were alone, more alone than ever before, with not even their celestial body to guide them. There was no connection to their moon here. And they never felt so wrong without it.

Lune's body ached with the pains of so many human injuries- hunger and exhaustion, thirstiness like never before. Their skin was iced over from the frigid night wind, agitating burns from days before. It felt like their own never-ending hell, a sort of purgatory that they had only ever expected after the sun's final days.

Maybe this was what death felt like.

Squrrly didn't know if it mattered anymore.

Honestly, she didn't quite care.

Eyes frozen shut, she sat in her desolate cave, waiting for it to end, or for someone to save her.

They didn't know which they would prefer.

[copiousloverofcopia]

🎄Hey there ghesties for some late Yuletide fun here is a little something!!! 🎄

We are back again for another story featuring the adorable Sister Saccharine and her beloved Copia! A little Yuletide story for my ghestie @sistersaccharine

Thank you so much for letting me continue creating Saccharine's story with you! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!!!!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

The Dysfunctional Emeritus Christmas

Sister Saccharine takes a winter stroll when her fellow Sisters of Sin invite her to her first Yule celebration with the Emeritus family since her and Copia were wed. Shenanigans ensues when the family comes together in a way only an Emeritus dysfunctional Christmas could.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below!

The snow was glistening over the fields that once held flowers. Icicles firmly established along the branches of all the trees. And wicked chill took hold in the wind as Sister Saccharine walked along the path sitting along the edge of the grounds. The western woods, just beyond, like bare bones in the cold. Not a leaf to speak of as she heard the crows cawing in the air and noticed the family of little ruby-eyed rabbits. Their white fur barely visible as they huddled together beneath the root of a tree.

Saccharine bent down to greet them. Lifting the smallest one up in her soft mittens. Watching them warming their little body asked the yarn like a hug. Her own breath, visible in the blistering cold as she spoke.

“Oh, my little one. This must be your first winter here…poor thing. You must be so cold.” she cooed, holding him gently in her hands. Saccharine, taking a moment to think before being struck with a brilliant idea. “Here... hopefully this will help.” she told him, placing the bunny back with its family. Now covered by her sacrificed mittens, help to insulate the heat of their bodies from the bitter cold. 

It made her smile to see them warmed by her gift. Despite the winter solstice having taken hold, Saccharine didn’t mind the cold. Managing somewhere to be warmed from within. Her heart, so full and her pink-tinted nose, kissed by winter, nestled against the fabric of her favorite coat. Saccharine contentedly took in a deep inhale. Breathing in the scent of Copia’s cologne, still lingering there from their shopping trip from the day before, as she continued her walk. 

Nothing made her happier than to think of him. Her beloved husband, for only a few short months, but already a lifetime lived between them. Her thoughts were never far from him. The dear sister, unable to control the smile that reached her lips. His voice echoing sweet nothings in the forefront of her mind. 

She had often thought of him when she was alone. Even in the times when only moments had passed since they’d been together. Today was a bit different, with her thoughts occupied by the weight of Yule this year. It was to be her first Yuletide with Copia as husband and wife. Her first time as a true part of the Emeritus family, and the thought of it filled her with so much joy—and weary. 

She wanted to make a good impression on them. Hoping to consult with Ren, Secondo’s Prime Mover, and her friend for many years. She had been a great mentor to Saccharine since she first arrived at the Abbey. Surely, she would be able to empathize with her, guide Saccharine as to how she could settle the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She knew that her friend would have the exact right thing to say to calm her. It wasn’t too long after that Saccharine swore she heard her name being called. Stopping a moment to shake off her confusion before hearing it once again. 

“What are you doing out here in the cold, we’ve been looking all over for you?” Prime Mover Ren called over to her. Saccharine turned to see her friends approaching her in the snow. The lot of them, bundled up in their winter best and carrying cups of hot chocolate in their hands. The rich smell, catching Saccharine’s attention as they drew closer. She instantly perked up. Ren, quick to hand her the extra cup she was carrying as Nova and Knell sipped away from their own.

“I am sorry, I must have lost track of time.” she laughed nervously, taking her first sip from her cup. The taste of the warm chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, glorious on her tongue as it filled her mouth. 

“I’m honestly shocked you’re not frozen solid.” remarked Sister Knell. “You…ah…not own a pair of gloves?” she continued, noticing Saccharine’s bare cold scorched hands. 

“Oh I do…well did.” she laughed.

“Never mind that Saccharine, come to Yule tonight with us!” Nova beamed, so excited to be the one to invite her. The ghoulette’s tail, swishing happily from side to side as she awaited her answer.

“You mean the ministry gathering? Isn’t that tomorrow night?” she asked her.

“What she means…” Ren continued shaking her head, “that you and Copia need to come to Secondo and I’s suite this evening for Yule celebrations. You’re an Emeritus now. This time is just for the family. Plenty of Ministry celebrations for later.” 

“Oh well of course, I am sure Copia would be thrilled.”

“Indeed, now let's get you back inside before you become a snowman.” Ren laughed, wrapping her arm around Saccharine as the four of them walked back to the Abbey. 

Saccharine spent the rest of the day getting ready. Outfits tossed to every inch of her and Copia’s bedroom as she searched for the perfect thing to wear. Settling on an adorable black dress with matching shawl, similar to her husband’s former cassock. Sheer tights and the most adorable black boots with matching bows. The focus of her outfit, a new blue sapphire encrusted necklace. Carefully draped over her decolletage—-a gift that Copia couldn't resist giving her early. 

He watched her from the doorway. A smile, pulling at the corners of his mouth as she turned back to face him. Holding out her arms and twisting around so he would get the idea of the flow of her dress.  

“What do you think?” 

“You look incredible dolcezza. Most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” he replied, his words sending a blush of pink over Saccharine’s cheeks. He quickly took her in his arms, hugging her close before planting a small kiss on her forehead. 

“Think they’ll like it?” she asked him, the worry unable to be fully hidden within the tone of her voice. Copia tilted her chin up to face him. 

“Saccharine, they are our best friends and family…they will love you even if you wore a potato sack to dinner.” he laughed, his wife giving him a playful tap to the chest. 

“I know, I know. I just want to make a good impression; you know what I mean?”

“I know. This is perfect…you are perfect. I promise.” he assured her. Saccharine, hugging him once again. Gripping him so tight, never truly wanting to let him go. This lovable, silly man who always knew the right thing to say. 

Finally, hours later, they had made it. The two of them standing in wait before the door of Secondo and Ren’s Papal suite after ringing the bell.  “Are you ready amore?” Copia asked her, feeling her uneasily squeezing his hand.

“Ready.” she told him, taking a deep breath. Her nerves, on edge for what may come next. When the door opened, Saccharine was awestruck. The suite was lavishly decorated. All of the Yuletide trimmings on full display. Garland lining every surface, with bright warm lights that twinkled a delicate glow. Ornate holly wreaths, hung carefully on the walls and a sprig of mistletoe in every doorway. The beautiful glow of candles, serving to fill the room with a warm ambiance which complemented the scent of poinsettias, cinnamon, and pine.  

It was clear to Saccharine that Prime Mover Ren had spared no expense when it came to Yule. After all, an Emeritus celebration was always a bit of a show, but somehow, she had managed to make it still feel cozy and quaint. The warmth and inviting nature of it, reminding Saccharine of the Christmases she had back at home. A bittersweet smile sweeping across her face just as Ren spoke.

“You know the party's ALL the way inside, right?” She laughed, catching Saccharine’s attention before Copia and her finally breached the threshold of the door. “Would you both be a dear and put these candies in the stockings for the children. I have been meaning too, but I am swamped in the kitchen with dinner. Primo has taken over and has been shooing everyone but me and Knell out all afternoon." Ren told them, handing over the sack of candies to Saccharine.

“Oh…why yes of course.” Saccharine smiled. The two of them took to the mantle located in the main parlor, placing little chocolates and peppermints in each of the little ones' stockings as they carried on.

“They are so small.” Copia remarked, sending a sweet glance her way. They were, and charming just as everything else and the look on her husband’s face made Saccharine wonder if their own mantle would be home to small stockings someday. It was a small moment between them that made her heart soar as she filled the stockings. When she went to open the last of them her eyes widened in surprise. There, all curled up together and sleeping peacefully in the bottom was little Gnocchi and Rigatoni. Copia took a look for himself, placing a finger over his lips, hushing the both of them before waking the mice.

“Sweet Lucifer Secondo the sweater looks just fine, stop fussing about it already.” Ren said as she reappeared to check on them. Secondo huffed and crossed his arms as Ren went on, rolling her eyes as she tapped Copia’s shoulder. “Papa, do you think you can help us with reaching for something in the kitchen?”

“Oh course, I will be right back.” he told Saccharine as they headed into the kitchen. It made Saccharine a bit nervous to be left on her own, especially since Secondo. She never was quite sure how to approach him. It was moments like this Saccharine knew having Copia by her side always made everything seem more pleasant and comfortable. 

It was the first time she had been to any gathering as an official member of the Emeritus family. Trying her best to hide her anxiety behind a soft smile, she turned to face out into the belly of the room. Immediately taking note of Secondo sitting quietly in the middle of the sofa. The former Papa was serving as both a jungle gym and lion tamer for his many children as they chased each other around the room. 

All of them were brimming with excitement at the sight of their gifts, devastated that they would have to wait until after dinner to open them. It was then she noticed that Secondo and Ren wore matching sweaters, both black with sparkling holly wreaths and pentagrams. Saccharine immediately went to cover her mouth. Hiding her giggle at his grumpy, yet proud papa disposition. 

The two youngest of the children were playing with Nova on the floor beside the tree. The ghoulette tangled up in the tinsel like a kitten as little Lucian clapped away. Nova was always so good with the children. Her heart was so pure, one of the best friends Saccharine had ever had.

Maybe I can relax a bit after all, Saccharine thought to herself as she took a seat opposite the bunch. Secondo, sending her a knowing nod and a welcoming smile as they both watched Nova and the children play.  Suddenly from the corner of her eye, Saccharine caught sight of Sister Knell peering out from behind the door frame, leading from the kitchen. The sister’s eyes, shifting around as she snuck Nova and the children some cookies. 

It was amusing to see everyone together like this. The joy of the season, reminding Saccharine just how much she loved all her friends. When she felt she wouldn't be missed, she took her leave. Deciding to check on Copia as she politely dismissed herself. “I’m gonna go see how Copia is holding up.” she smiled as she headed to the kitchen.

Immediately as she walked inside, she saw Primo shooing Knell away from the counter. “Sorella go—go. I told you I can do it myself.” he respectfully snipped, stirring the gravy in the pot as Sister Ren began making the final touches to the pies. 

“Just trying to help out Peepaw…don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Knell winked. Saccharine smiled softly at her. Knell was quite the character and even though they had become fast friends, Saccharine was sometimes unsure of how to read her. Primo must have sensed this. He, better than anyone able to pick up on Saccharine’s mood. Caring for her, as her own father would have in his stead. 

“It’s alright piccola…you know she won’t bite. Well maybe?” Primo laughed as Knell shrugged, handing Nova another cookie, before the two of them disappeared into the dining room to help set up the table at Ren’s request.

“Agh…it's been like this all afternoon…” Ren began as she passed by Saccharine to grab the cinnamon, “...but at least Sec and her are no longer going at it.”

“We will celebrate small favors.” Primo laughed before taking a moment to pull the turkey from the oven. Filling the air with the most mouthwatering scent of thyme, rosemary, and sage.  

“I personally find it rather amusing myself—-ow!” Terzo howled, getting his hand swatted for swiping a bit of the gravy on his fingers. 

“Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.” Primo hissed, furrowing his brows and shaking his wooden spoon in his brother’s direction. 

“We are ready for the food!” Nova announced as she and Knell walked back into the room. Nova, taking Terzo’s hand to kiss the sore spot before he continued.

“Best part is the sweaters.” Terzo snickered under his breath, both him and Nova trying to contain their amusement. 

“Alright, alright that's enough…” Ren began, motioning for her and Primo to bring the rest of the food into the dinning room. “...I’m lucky I got him dressed at all this morning. I swear the man is determined to make his own Ministry little league.” she continued sending a playful wink to Saccharine. 

“Dinner children, fratello!” Primo called out as they all began making their way to the dining room. Saccharine watched as the family all filed in, each of them taking their seats. Happy faces and rumbling tummies ready for a delectable meal. As she watched them, she felt the familiar weight of arms around her waist. 

“While everything for dinner smells delicious…what I am most looking forward to is dessert.” Copia purred, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. Saccharine turned to face him, her cheeks flushed by his words. “Do you see what I see?” he asked her. His eyes, calling hers to follow as they both looked up above them in the archway to see the mistletoe hanging there.  

“Oh Copia, I love you so much.” She told him, waiting for him to make the first move. Her lips anticipating the sweet press of his against her. 

“Amore, there is no one I would rather kiss for the rest of my life than you. Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto. ” he confessed, closing his eyes before kissing her passionately in the archway.

“Come on now you too, dinner is getting cold.” Laughed Terzo from across the room. Both Copia and Saccharine pulled apart, playfully smiling as they approached the table. Both of their hearts, pounding. Their hands still locked together as they took their seats.

The table was a sight to behold. Its length, filled with a delightful spread of savories and sweets. It was clear that Ren and Papa Primo had worked so very hard on it. Everything made their mouths water as they all began filling their plates with the bounty of food. Just as the last roll was passed and the rest of the turkey was carved, Primo began tapping at his glass of punch. Announcing a toast for the occasion. 

“May I have all your attention please.” He began, waiting for all eyes to be upon him. Even the children stopped their chatter to heed Primo’s request. Himself, more of a grandfather to them than Nihil ever could be. They loved him so very much and listened to his every word as if it were gospel. “I want to take this moment to thank our beloved Prime Mover…and Secondo, for hosting us this Yule. Such a fine spread and bountiful celebration we have here indeed.” 

“Oh It’s nothing.” Ren smiled coyly as the group all lifted their glasses of wine and punch in the air.

“I want you all to know that this year we have so much to be grateful for. Lucifer has bestowed upon us a multitude of dark blessings. It is at this time we remember that through him, we find what is truly the most important in life…and most of all this year he has blessed us with a new member to the Emeritus family—-Sister Saccharine.” Primo smiled, his eyes doing their best to conceal his tears, “We welcome you to this family with open arms and wish for you and Copia nothing but all the happiness the Morning Star can provide. Nema!”

“Nema!” Everyone cheered. Saccharine immediately felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. Copia, sending a squeeze of her hand before the two of them began staring into each other’s eyes. Saccharine, feeling so in love and loved by those around her. 

“Here, Here! Now let's eat.” Secondo called out. All of them holding their glasses out to cheers before taking a drink. Just as the swig entered his mouth, Primo immediately spit out the punch in a comical spray to his left. Nova and Terzo, erupting with laughter at the other end of the table. 

“Now that I think of it…maybe that second bottle was a bit too much.” Nova chuckled, knowing they had spiked the punch with a bit of Ghoulish rum. The whole of the room, even Primo, joined them in their amusement.

After dinner they had all gathered in the parlor. All of the children had unwrapped their presents so fast that the air filled with the sparkle of wrapping paper and ribbon. Terzo trying his best to assemble the dolls house he and Nova got little Marianna, only to have him snap the stairway while forcing the peg into the slot. 

“They don't make these things to last, you know?” he nervously laughed. 

“Well not when un pagliaccio such as yourself is in charge of building it.” Secondo barked, Terzo raising from the floor to meet his gaze. The two of them, quarreling like small children themselves while the real kids played, ignorant to their father and uncle’s antics, alongside them. 

The night had been filled with so much charm and love. Of course Nova had gotten everyone the best gifts. Something she had a talent for, even making Secondo get choked up by his pair of platinum and emerald cufflinks. Surprised that she had remembered he'd lost his old ones quite some time ago. 

After all the presents had been opened and everyone's stomachs settled, Prime Mover Ren and Sister Knell offered everyone a cup of hot chocolate. Ren, making sure she offered one to her husband, lest it find its way to his lap. Sister Saccharine had settled herself alongside Copia on the chaise. The two of them cuddled up as they listened to the crackling of the fire. The sound, just audible beyond the children's laughter.

Saccharine sighed. I don't believe I have ever had a Christmas as wonderful as this before, she thought. So excited that this would be the first of many wonderful Christmases spent at her husband's side. She sat quietly, her smile beginning to spread across her face without her realizing. 

Copia took note, watching her as she took in the scene before them. Now more than ever, feeling like a true part of the Emeritus family. With all its dysfunction and chaos, but also its love and compassion. Wondering to herself how she could have ever felt nervous before as they continued to watch the children gleefully playing with their gifts. Copia took her hand in his, inspiring her to glance up at him. Tears, filling her eyes once more as they desperately tried to balance themselves along her lashes.

“Is everything alright principessa?” he asked her. Saccharine smiled, nuzzling her face against his warm chest as they cuddled together on the sofa.

“Everything is perfect…just perfect.”

Notes:

Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.- You keep your filthy mitts out of it stronzo, it's not done yet.

Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto.- You are my life, my world, my everything. 

un pagliaccio- clown

[welcomingdisaster]

ultramarine

celebrimbor & curufin || t || 1k || ao3

Tyelpë dips his brush into paint, carefully dotting blue over the glass in front of him. The pigment had taken him the whole previous week to put together, and he is proud of the brightness of the hue.

His father had pulled the bright blue stone from the cliffs some three or four years ago. It crushes with little effort, and they have found it dyes fabric quite prettily, but they save it for this. The rest is all him. The week before, when riders had come from the hills with orders, the neat, tabulated list of necessities from the forge in his uncle’s sharp slanted hand, he had gone out to harvest pine sap. He had scratched his nailbeds scraping it from trees and picking out stray pieces of bark. He had mixed that with the stone-dust, judging the saturation with both eye and hand, and kneaded the whole mass in lye, pulling the color out. He had worked in batches, carefully saving each; the first bright, rich, royal blue, the last an ashy, thick grey.

He will use both, here.

Tyelpë has an eye for hue, his father tells him; he mixes color with the sensibilities of a painter as much as a craftsman, thinks of use and beauty as not as two separate mistresses whom he must please but as two hands of the same muse. He can close his eyes and picture the facets of a gem under eight different angles of light.

His grandfather had thought much of light, his father says. Grief mixes with pride in his voice, with longing, with anger. Tyëlpe mixes paint.

He sits in a little raised alcove, his working-table positioned by the window. On days like this he starts work as soon as the sun is up and keeps working until the light is gone. No lamp, not even Feanorian lamps, shall do; such work requires natural light.

Below him, his father works the forge. Tyëlpe draws away from his own work for just a moment to watch his back, well-muscled and broader than most any other elf, a strength that comes with bulk. He holds a thin sheet of metal over the flames, then pulls it back, laying it upon the concave swage tightened for such purpose and hammering it into place. He must be strong, for to be weak would be to sacrifice the precision of the act; he makes the pounding of the great hammer look almost languid with deliberation, as though it is nothing to him, as though the choice of where to apply such force is as trivial as spreading ink upon parchment.

Tyëlpe looks back down at his own hand, his fingers white where he grips the little paintbrush. His whole body tenses in anticipation of dotting the paint, of leaving a mark one twentieth the size of his thumbnail. 

Curufinwë hammers and heats, bores and cuts. Tyëlpe dulls blue with grey and brightens it again. Outlines the edges of circle with one long, slow stroke; dabs oil-soot black into the center. Leaves his brush to dry in the sun as as he carefully scrapes silver-leaf to catch the light and bring out a little brightness.

His father comes to sit by him just as he applies the final clear coat of spirit varnish. He tuts approvingly when Tyëlpe holds his project up to the light, watching the sun dance in the blue and silver.

“Each day you improve in skill,” he says, pressing his lips the top of Tyëlpe’s head from behind, “now, I daresay, you have surpassed your dear old father in the mixing of pigments. Look at that dappling.”

Curufinwë is hot yet from the forge, huge and solid and immovable behind him. Tyëlpe’s chest floods with warmth at the words, at his father’s approving gaze. He means what he says; his pride, Tyëlpe feels, is earnest.

“Your words taught me,” he says, “and your hands guided me.”

Again he looks down at his creation. But his mind is restless, yet, and his gaze takes him further. Out the window, past the pine forests, towards the great grey-blue mountains in the distance. He been outside of Aglon, he knows; has come from other lands. But he remembers them not, beyond a hazy impression of sea and a great many people shouting. He cannot picture Aman. He cannot picture even the rest of Beleriand, his uncles’ fortresses only a few days’ ride away. He cannot picture where he sends his work.

“Father,” he says softly, nodding down to his work, “why should they need eight of these?”

Curufinwë freezes, startled. Tyëlpe feels him tense behind him, the comforting, soft solidity replaced with something far more rigid and fragile. “How do you mean, dear boy?”

“It seems a strange thing to lose,” Tyëlpe says, raising a hand to his own face, pressing his fingers against his own cheekbone, “so well protected.”

For a moment he thinks he may get a true answer. He knows there is much his father does not say. His father who fears to let him out of the fortress, to let him alone in the woods, even to gather sap. His father who comes to watch him sleep, checking twice each night that he is in bed, in his place. His father who cuts off his uncles’ stories with sharp words, too fast, too wounded. Watch yourself. Not in front of the boy. His father stretched too thin, fragile as the sheets of glass they work together. Push too hard, and he shall break.

But Curufinwë only exhales through his nose, sharp. He squeezes Tyëlpe’s shoulder from behind, and turns away towards the fire.

“These are strange times,” he says, “come, Tyëlpe. See my craft. I have built quite a clever mechanism for the fingers, and you shan’t like to miss it.”

Tyëlpe thinks of asking more. Of prying, of pushing.

Instead he sets the glass eye down on the table and follows his father to the forge.

[berenwrites]

Beyond the Battle - Chapter 37 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle­: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 37. Hiccups

Steve had only woken once thanks to his own brain’s dark meanderings and Eddie had had a nightmare, but they’d returned to sleep quickly both times, so after a mostly peaceful night’s sleep, Steve decided he wanted to get at least partially back to normal. Before everything had gone to hell, he had tried to go for a run at least three times a week. It always cleared his head and set him up for the day.

He crawled out of bed still pretty early, leaving Eddie snoring with a quick kiss. After using the bathroom, he pulled on his old gym shorts and a shirt and headed downstairs. No one else was about yet, so he picked up his keys and let himself out.

The morning air was fresh with a slight bite, perfect running weather.

After doing a few stretches, he set off down the drive. He was just getting into a rhythm ready to turn along the road on his usual route, when a man stepped into his path and a flash went off. The stranger was lucky he didn’t deck him as his fight or flight instincts kicked in, and after the last few weeks they were highly primed.

“Steven Harrington?” a voice asked.

He turned to see a woman holding a microphone and a tape recorder. Just a reporter his logical brain provided, but his illogical one refused to trust his eyes. One look at her had him spinning on the spot and running right back the way he had come at about double the pace ignoring anything she shouted after him.

The front door slammed as he leaned on it, heart going a mile a minute, once he was inside. He could feel himself shaking with the adrenaline. All thoughts of a nice calming run were so much dust.

“Steve?” his mom said, appearing on the landing in her dressing gown. “Good lord, you’re a white as a sheet. What happened?”

She came down the stairs towards him quickly.

“Reporters,” he said, willing his heartrate back to normal as best he could. “They must have been hiding in the bushes. I was going for a run, and they jumped out in front of me. I … God, I nearly hit him, Mom.”

“Which would have been perfectly understandable,” his mom said, gently placing her arm around his shoulders. “Come on, I think you need to sit down. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“What’s going on?” came from the landing and he looked up to see Eddie standing there.

“Reporters,” his mom said for him. “The cretinous morons thought it was a good idea to leap out of the bushes.”

Eddie came quickly down the stairs.

“This is what you get for trying to be all healthy and all that crap,” Eddie said.

It was a nice try, but Steve’s heart was still going far too fast for him to really smile. He could tell Eddie wanted to reach out and pull him into an embrace, but with his mom there, couldn’t.

“Your friend, Argyle, was extolling the virtues of hot chocolate to me the other day,” his mom said, guiding him towards the kitchen. “A wise young man. I think we should test out his theories, don’t you. At least the ones about chocolate, not the ones about weed.”

“And never his ones about pineapple on pizza,” Eddie added. “Fruit on pizza is just wrong.”

“Tomatoes are fruit,” Steve said as the titbit of information popped into his brain.

“They’re sauce, they don’t count,” Eddie replied.

“So are olives,” he added.

Eddie gave him a narrow-eyed look.

“Robin educated me when I made the same argument during a really boring shift at Family Video,” he confessed.

“Of course, she did,” was Eddie’s reaction to that. “I stand by pineapple on pizza being a sin, and I should know, the whole town thinks I worship Satan.”

“Sometimes I worry about this town,” was the comment from Steve’s mom’s direction.

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Eddie agreed.

Steve let them sit him down and fuss over him, Eddie keeping him entertained while his mom made the hot chocolate. It was definitely not how he had wanted to start the day, but he couldn’t say sitting down to comforting beverages with his mom and his boyfriend was a bad end to the terrible beginning.

“Right,” his mom said after they had consumed their drinks and chatted about nothing for a while, “I’m going to call Sam and have the irritants removed from the end of our driveway. I’m sure he can come up with some official reason. I have the feeling they are likely to get themselves killed if they startle the wrong person. Jumping out on people who have been in fear for their lives is just idiotic.”

“You can say that again, Mrs H,” Eddie agreed.

“They’re just doing their jobs,” Steve felt the need to add, because he had seen Nancy’s journalistic instincts in action.

“Doesn’t excuse lurking in bushes,” his mom said as she placed her mug in the sink.

Steve knew when not to argue.

~*~

“Mom, did you order food?” Steve called out as he looked out onto the drive and the truck that had just pulled up.

“Yes,” came the reply from someone in the house.

Steve was so used to going to the grocery store himself these days that he had almost forgotten it was not what the Harrington household had always done. When the doorbell rang, he went to answer it, to find one man in overalls standing there with a clipboard and his companion already unloading things from their truck.

“Harrington residence?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Steve replied.

“Where do you want it?” was the next question.

“In the hall, thank you,” he said, opening the door wider.

The two men were efficient at least, bringing in bags and trays and stacking them up. Steve stayed out of the way because they seemed to have a system, but he couldn’t help noticing there were a lot of items. At some point his mom arrived as well to also watch proceedings. When the apparently never-ending stream of groceries finally did finish, his mom tipped the delivery men with a smile, signed their paperwork and shut the door.

“Mom,” Steve said looking at everything, “are we expecting people?”

Some of what had been brought in definitely looked like platters. He was not aware of any party his mom had planned.

“Yes,” she told him. “It’s more of a meeting than a party, but food always helps these things.”

That didn’t really answer his question.

“Sorry,” his mom said as she seemed to realise this as well. “When I spoke to Sam this morning about the reporter problem we finalised how to move forward. Everyone involved with the Upside Down will be coming here later this afternoon to be briefed on the cover story and in some cases to be briefed on the Upside Down, at least partially.”

“You convinced them to allow the other parents to be read in?” Steve asked in shock.

“We have children wandering around with severe PTSD,” his mom replied, “you bet I did. The idea these government types have of blackmail is laughable; they should try corporate law for a while.  But don’t worry, all the kids were consulted first.”

“Not sure you’re going to be able to lessen Ted Wheeler’s reaction with a charcuterie board, Mom,” he pointed out.

“Yes, he was one of the sticking points,” his mom said, “but I believe Mike and Nancy agreed they couldn’t tell their mom without including their dad. Your father should be home soon, and I plan to explain everything to him first so he can help.”

Steve went cold at being reminded about his dad arriving at any minute. This was so big. Utterly huge even as far as life changing things went and he couldn’t quite totally convince himself his dad was going to react well.

“Darling,” his mom said, placing a hand on his arm, “you don’t have to worry. Your father will, no doubt, have some very choice words, mostly aimed at the government, but I will make sure he calms down. All you have to do is figure out how to best survive being hugged within an inch of your life, because we all know your father is the number one hugger in this family.”

She gave him a small smile and he managed one in return, but he couldn’t push away all the anxiety. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of one of his dad’s hugs in a while. They had been butting heads since he graduated with disappointing grades, neither quite willing to offer an olive branch. A tiny part of him couldn’t help wondering if his dad would blame him for what had been going on. Not asking for help for a start.

“Let’s get everything put away,” his mom said, “and you can tell me what’s bothering you while we work, if you would like.”

Steve wasn’t sure he could articulate his amorphous fear very well, but he nodded and moved to help pick up the first of the delivery. At least being in motion was better than standing still and worrying.

Eddie appeared halfway through moving the delivery to the kitchen and immediately pitched in to help. He’d been giving Steve slightly worried looks the whole time.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asked quietly as they put some of the normal groceries away in the cabinets.

“Just needlessly working myself up over my dad coming home,” he admitted quietly.

“You think he’s going to freak?” Eddie said.

“Oh, I know he’s going to freak,” he replied, “but Mom is going to deal with that. It’s afterwards I can’t make myself believe will be okay. I think we were just about ready to start to fix our relationship, but all this, what if it’s too much? What if I’m too much?”

“Stevie,” Eddie said, moving in closer for a moment, “I think the only way you could be too much is if you decide to team up with Supergirl and Will the Wise to take over the planet, and only then if you do it in an evil way. Otherwise, I think you mom and dad would be right there to help you.”

“You couldn’t do a worse job than most world governments at the moment,” his mom commented as she walked past.

Steve almost jumped out of his skin, because he hadn’t noticed his mom was on their side of the kitchen.

“See,” Eddie said, as if that proved his point.

“But I think you might want to leave the world domination until El and Will have graduated high school,” his mom added.

Steve laughed despite his worry.

“We’d need Erica to plan it all anyway,” he said, deciding to go with the flow rather than worry himself through the floor, “and she will want to graduate as valedictorian before she’d even consider it, so we have to wait for that too.”

“I could compose you a theme song,” Eddie joined in. “Even benevolent dictators need a theme song.”

“Like from Star Wars?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, only more metal,” Eddie replied.

They spent the rest of the kitchen organisation assigning all the party to ridiculously cliched jobs within their new regime. It was as silly as it was fun and Steve almost managed to forget his anxieties … almost.

Then there was the sound of a key in the front door.

End of chapter 37

Chapter 38

[bookwormscififan]

Show of Strength

Read on AO3!

A/N: Had an idea of Mare being shocked at seeing how many books Mad can carry without his help.

“What books were you looking for here again?” Mare asked, guiding Mad into the store with a hand on the small of his back. Mad pulled out a piece of paper and checked his list with a frown, passing the clerk at the counter as he made a beeline for a specific section.

“I need a few books for my research,” he stated, pulling some books off the shelf and continuing to walk, “There are a couple for general interest, a book series I want to collect, and… that hardback one on the top shelf,” he pointed to a large hardback book on a high shelf, gold leaf lettering curling across the spine, and Mare deftly reached above Mad and plucked the book from the shelf.

“Science and Music: How Sound Affects Human Response,” Mare read, turning the book over to skim the blurb. “Interesting book.” He shrugged and handed Mad the book, sticking his hands into his pockets and following Mad as he crossed off titles on his list.

--

“Do you need me to carry those?” Mare asked, holding his hands out to take the pile of books from Mad’s arms, frowning when Mad just handed him the list and stumbled toward the counter. “Oh, okay,” he said quietly, following Mad in a daze.

He’d never seen Mad carrying so many books before, muscles tense as he held the pile to his chest and navigated the shelves in his way. Mare felt his face flush at the realisation that Mad was stronger than he’d thought, that he could carry nine books almost effortlessly and deny Mare’s offer to help.

Mare handed the clerk his card before Mad could take out his wallet, paying for all of Mad’s books and taking the bag after the clerk handed his card back. He smiled and patted Mad’s shoulder when the scientist looked at him, leading him out of the store and walking a few steps before pinning Mad to the wall and kissing him deeply.

Mad squeaked when he was pinned against the wall, face going red as Mare leaned in with dark eyes, then sighed when Mare kissed him, melting into the almost hungry way that Mare was kissing him, shaky hands gripping Mare’s shirt as Mare slipped his tongue in to deepen the kiss further.

“M-Mare,” Mad whispered when Mare moved back and down to kiss at his neck, pulling on his shirt to bring him closer. “W-What’s this for? What did I do?” He let out a whine, knees buckling as Mare dragged his tongue over a fading bite mark from last night, releasing Mare’s shirt to grab his shoulders and pull him even closer.

“You carried those books like they were nothing,” Mare said against his skin, slotting his knee between Mad’s legs and kissing him again to muffle his sounds before completely moving off Mad, holding his arms to keep him from sliding down the wall to his knees. “That was hot, and I want to see more of that strength,” he finished, quickly pecking the tip of Mad’s nose before picking up the bag of books again and carrying Mad bridal style to their car to take them home.

--------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch

[octocurse]

Scatter Brain

AO3 link

3 chapters as of 10/27/23 - 3.7k words

From the moment they wake up, everything's changed. Or; post octo expansion from Agent 3's perspective.

Unrated . Full text (c1 & 2) under cut .

Sally wasn't sure what woke them up first. The pain, the whir of the helicopter, or the sun burning into their one good eye. When they tried to lift their head, they felt a sudden jab of pain, shooting through their skin and eye like needles and knives, all at once. They shuddered and gasped, a weak and pathetic whimper escaping their throat. Home felt so far away. Sally felt distant from their body with their brown, uncovered eye wide open as though they'd seen a ghost. The amber and purple sunrise burned into their retina.

Nobody would save them.

On the platform, surrounding them, there were strangers, and then there was the pink octoling and Sally's gramps. So desperately they wanted to cry out, to beg that stupid old man to hold them like they were a kid again. A thick, hot, bubbling sensation went down their throat like they were swallowing blood. Something was holding them back from spitting it out with a plea.

Maybe they were breathing. Everything felt so slow. On one hand, they could replay their memories, the happy ones of sitting by Marie and watching a dumb rom-com movie while Callie did their hair. On the other, their mind was so foggy and there were things in it they didn't want to see. Their body felt unfamiliar. They felt unfamiliar and fake, like a porcelain doll of an inkling rather than a teen.

Sally could hear the ocean below them as the helicopter whirred. Would they be dropped into the deep sea? Part of them wanted to be, to return to their roots and swallow the thick, salty water. They wanted it to dry out their throat and tongue in a thick coating until no air was left and they eventually combusted under the pressure. Sally hoped for that pressure to surround their frail body and make it burst, like a balloon with a bubbly pop.

There was a voice, trying to guide them. They called themself Eight in a heavy accent, voice tainted with horror. Clawed hands grasped theirs, interlacing with their blunt fingers. They were cold and a bit sticky from sanitized ink, as though they'd failed to get it all off. Eight was a mess. And yet...

"Friend. Friend, y’back on the surface. Y’wake?" The teen struggled to speak, words coming out like a heavy drawl. Every time they uttered something, it seemed as though they were talking through layers of oil connecting their lips in some sort of bubble. The words echoed in Sally’s head, each time changing to a more and more obscure sound. An eye, so bright and shimmering like a gold leaf, bore through them like a snake's fangs. The other was covered, much like their own, with a bandage thick enough to absorb the entirety of a poor man’s ink.

A low hiss rattled from Three’s chest, knowing only little of their life as an agent within seconds. The salty air, the taste of iron on their tongue, the pain and adrenaline coursing through their ink was nothing now. They hissed, baring their teeth in a snarl. It gained a rather sudden reaction from the octoling, who immediately jolted back and cried out for another force. Within moments, there were solid, cold hands on their mantle, gently yet firmly guiding their face to focus their gaze on the ragged old man.

He was squinting, likely smiling under the thick, white beard in tentacle clumps. They grew uneven, but they were memorable. He sat beside Three, ignoring the violent clicking of Sally’s tongue. Three moved Sally’s weakened arm to land it on the stupid old man.

They couldn’t. They just couldn't. The thought burned a hole into each of the hearts in their chest. A hot, wet feeling went down Sally’s cheek, staining their dark skin and freckles with salt akin to the rolling waves below. Three didn’t remember crying. It made Sally gasp for air, hiccups breaking every solid breath. In their throat, there was a thick layer of dryness, like shards encasing the flesh. With a hard swallow, iron covered the blade-like feeling.

“You gotta breathe, kid,” the man grabbed their hands, guiding one away from Sally’s knee, where they’d left imprints, and guiding the other away from their chest, leaving the fabric to ease on its own. “You’re good. You’re safe. We’re goin’ home ‘gain,” he rambled on, voice chill. He nodded to Eight, who scooted back to the two inkling’s side. The two strangers kept rambling in the distance. It was loud but didn’t top the background noise ringing in their ears.

“Nhh— Fight- I- I fight- fought-“ Three tried to speak up, but the mouth wouldn’t open and close how they wanted it to. The tongue stuck to the roof of their mouth. Something reeked of rot. Maybe it was their own mind, stuck to a youth long gone.

“You fought, yes,” he hummed, rubbing his bony thumbs along their knuckles. His skin was rough and calloused, holding years of experience on each fingertip. Three's hands were much like his own- rough, and scarred, but much softer, with smoother skin and scars from years past. “We all fought. We won a big battle.”

They gasped for air, forgetting the choking feeling of their sobs for a few moments. "When- I- Where? Where is- I..." Three stammered, feeling a block in their mind. There was a wall in what they should know.

The old man chuffed, letting go of one hand to scratch the back of his neck. "We'll get into that, kid. All that matters s' that we ge'cha home," he turned to Eight with buggy brown eyes focused on them. "And get you into your new home. A bed sounds real nice, don' it?"

"Behd?" Eight repeated the word before rambling something incoherent. The words sounded like a vague chittering, almost electronic. Part of Three understood the words, 'Like the war cots?', but to the rest of them, it sounded like an intolerable buzz.

"Nah, ain’t no soldier bed," The old man scratched the back of his head, humming. "I’s more like uh… Some’n fit for royalty"

The magenta octoling seemed baffled by the thought, golden eye widening to a saucer. Their red cheeks puffed up a bit, imitating something much like shock. Though, it was almost uncanny. Their gaze looked so hollow, much like Three's.

"You know it, don'cha, Sally?" The old man turned back to Three, squeezing their hand. His words left a hole in their already hollow chest to be filled with confusion, and a lack of recognition in their head. They knew who Sally was. It was second nature at this point to reply to the name. So why, why couldn't they just-

"Who?" The mouth uttered the word before they could. Three wasn’t sure when the gap in their mind began to return, cutting them off from what they knew. Their head felt like it was falling into the waters below to roll with the crashing waves and fill them with salt. They could see they were still stable on the moving platform.

“Ahhh,” he made a sound of recognition “How old are ya, squiddo?”

Three inhaled shakily. 14? 13? The numbers felt blurred in their head. They could feel Eight stare through them. “Fourteen,” they managed to huff.

“So still Three, aight,” he hummed, moving his hand from his neck to the gruff beard. The old man closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing in the chilly air. How he wasn’t shivering was a mystery, with his thin aloha shirt and the khaki shorts that barely hid how thin his legs were. An old, frail man is all Three saw. An old, frail man they could call their Gramps.

“Gramps. Are-“ They struggled to find their voice, interrupted by their own sobs. Ignoring the hollow ache in their chest, they continued. “-we safe? With the… uh…” Three’s gaze flitted to Eight briefly, who looked hurt by their hesitancy. Part of them still felt that she was the enemy.

“Yeah. She saved yer life, y’know,” Gramps responded with a chuckle, patting Three’s hand reassuringly before letting go.

Suddenly, Three’s attention was brought elsewhere. The sound of approaching footsteps felt deafening, even over the whir of the helicopter. A guttural hiss slipped from their lips moments after they spotted the short, pink inkling, who was louder than any child they’d known. Some audacious inkling star, one they’ve heard the name echoed by Callie once or twice.

“Ay, cool it!” Pearl had a confident grin, unfazed by Three’s show of strength. “We’re not your enemy.”

We?

They followed her gaze, leading them to the sight of a much taller octoling. The sight of her left a knot in their chest, a sense of recognition forcing them to suck in a breath. Marina Iida, an octoling who’s done quite the work for the octarian military. They’ve seen few of what she’s made, but some of the mechanical investments have left scars on their back.

“Iida,” Three muttered. “The- You’re from the octarian-“ they bit their tongue. “You made war weapons.”

“Oi! She helped make war weapons,” Pearl huffed, crossing her arms.

“Now’s not the time, Pearlie,” Marina rubbed her temples before giving a forced smile. “We’re going to be landing soon. I just wanted to warn you all. I’m assuming you’re going to be calling someone to pick you two up?”

Gramps looked up at her while rubbing his beard. “Yeh, we gots family to call. What about Eight there?” He gestured to the other teen.

“We’re planning on taking her with us,” Marina chided. “That sounds good to you, sweetie?”

Eight didn’t reply. All she did was look straight through Three with that soulless golden eye.

----

Three struggled to balance their weight as the helicopter skidded to a halt on the paint-marked rooftop. Their fingers, blunt and tense, turned their knuckles pale as they gripped the textured metal beneath them. A familiar weakness pulled them, promising them a break from the agony that seared their flesh. Did they listen? Of course not. They wore a burnt-end cloak with their title, a badge to their accomplishments and work. Three didn’t need luxuries like a day nap to survive.

A hand settled on their shoulder, accompanied by a grunt from Gramps, tapping their shoulder a few times before releasing. Three took the hint, rising on legs about as strong as jello.

The transition from the deafening roar of the helicopter to relative silence was jarring, leaving a ringing in their ears. Now they were awkwardly navigating across the concrete- or at least, what they think is concrete. They came to a quick realization their vision was betraying them. Their sight was fuzzy and unfocused, awash in a mix of tears and the sun's reflection on distant windows. The glaring light was a needle prickling through their already aching retina, spreading heat to their cold face.

Inkopolis was cold around this time of year, with mid-October in their wake. The concrete roof felt even colder, though vast, holding enough room for the helicopter and the entryway to the stairs. Even through the blur of their gaze, Three could see far-off buildings, marked with vibrant graffiti and ink. If they focused hard enough, maybe they could forget the burning sensation encasing their every thought, and the chill seeping through their thick clothes and into their cartilage and ink.

“Your legs are shakin’,” Gramps observed, tone edged with concern. Giving little warning, he grabbed the hood of Three’s cloak, halting the teen. “Lean on me,” he insisted, leaving no room for debate.

Three sighed and, taking a few steps back, wrapped a trembling arm around the old man. It made them feel even older than Gramps himself but eased the unsteadiness.

Three’s gaze turned to the two octolings, watching intensely as Marina guided Eight to the edge of the roof, leaning her against the short wall where it jutted up. The woman was talking to the younger octoling like a senseless child, occasionally swapping to octarian. There was a sense of desperation in her tone. Did Eight’s stare bother her just as much?

Marina’s hands grasped Eight’s and she knelt, all the while rubbing her knuckles. Few words stuck out to them, with the rest being lost to their own confusion. They gave up trying to hear anything more.

“Ayo, Gramps,” Pearl’s voice broke through the air. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Three. “Are you gonna call when you two get down or right now? Cuz’ I got a phone if ya need it.”

Gramps scratched his beard before he spoke, buggy eyes focused on her. “Eh, I’m sure we’ll be fine gettin’ down first. Besides, I’m sure my grandkids ‘re as busy as bees right ‘bout now. Don’t wanna worry ‘em.”

The short girl scoffed, her squinted gaze flitting between Three and the Captain. “They’re gonna worry when they see you two if they’ve got a brain. Three looks like a trainwreck!”

“Don’t be too harsh on ‘em,” Gramps chuckled, patting their shoulder. “Kid’s gone through hell ‘n back.”

“Honestly,” Pearl started “they look like they haven’t gotten back from it. Are you sure you can get them home?”

Gramps nodded, pulling Three a bit closer. “Sal’ll be fine. We’ll be okay.”

The short woman inspected them with her golden eyes for a few moments, glaring at them as though they were as foolish as fleas.

“Aight,” Pearl chimed, straightening up. “I’ll let you two go. Just text us when ya get home, yeah?” The inkling grinned. Her beak was so white Three thought they were looking at the sun, though thankfully, it only flashed them for a few seconds before Pearl turned the other way.

Gramps waved her away before beginning to guide Three away, the door clicking behind them as they entered the stairway.

Their footsteps echoed down, slowly becoming a distant murmur in Three’s ears. It smelled of week-old smoke and dirt, not exactly what they expected from a spoiled-rich squid like Pearl. Though it possibly wasn’t her building, and if it was it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be here again for days.

“D’ya think we should call Callie or Marie?” Gramps hummed. He adjusted his grip on Three, pulling their arm further across his shoulder. His arm was firm around their waist, the other being supported by his cane.

"Mar-" they inhaled sharply "Marie? She's the... Y'know." Three muttered, waving their trembling hand for effect.

"Yeppers," Gramps began guiding them down the second flight. "But she'll get onto me for lettin' you get all jumbled up."

"I'm fine," Three muttered. They tripped, nearly falling down the rest of the steps halfway down. Just barely, they were held up, suddenly more grateful than ever that Gramps was there to protect them. Adrenaline jolted them out of their dazed state, forcing them to cling tighter for support.

The old man huffed as he pulled them back to a straight-legged stance. It didn't last long with their knees wobbling beneath them. Three could see from the look on his face that he didn't quite believe their words. Part of them didn't believe them, either.

"Fine my ass!" Gramps gave a rather hollow chuckle.

Three didn't listen as they got to the end of the stairs and began to hobble to the main area of the building. They weren't sure how many flights they'd gone through. All they could remember was two but then there was another and another and... another.

Now they just had to find a payphone.

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, day 15: Hot

Very short entry for "hot"!! But now I am caught up on Spirktober, just in time to work a conference for the next five days and probably have no time or brainpower to write. But we'll see what comes out :)

Technically the second chapter to "eye of the beholder." Also posted on AO3 here.

☆☆☆

The climate of Belkan IV was similar to Vulcan, so Kirk invited Spock to join the away team for the diplomatic mission. He knew Spock thought the Enterprise was too cold but was too polite to say anything, and he thought that Spock would enjoy some time on a desert planet with minimal humidity and more sun than was good for anyone. 

Besides, Kirk thought, it would be good for the mission for Spock to be there. The Belkanians were still hesitant with the rest of the Federation, having only joined a year previously, and it might make them more at ease to bring a diverse crew with him. In addition to Spock, he brought a young Andorian named Hugo and a security complement. 

He had wrangled his crush on Spock to manageable levels, much to Uhura’s disappointment. They were becoming good friends. He could be professional on an away mission.

☆☆☆

“Sir Kirk!” The young Belkanian had eyestalks that made them nearly seven feet tall, with long, leaf-like hands at the end of its arms and a pleasant green skin color that reminded Kirk of sunflower stems. “We’re honored by your visit. Please, enter.” The Belkanian gestured, and Kirk smiled, gestured in return, and followed them. 

“My name is Tarlay, and I’ll be guiding you to dinner,” they said. “Please, as a token of our regard, we have prepared our traditional clothing for you to wear. I understand our planet is much hotter than yours, and we do not want you to be uncomfortable!” 

Spock raised the ta’al and said, “I am also from a desert planet. I am Vulcan. I find your planet to be similar to mine in climate, and quite pleasing to me.” Tarlay’s leaf-hands fluttered in a way that indicated happy surprise. 

“Very good, Sir Spock! I am curious to see if your native clothing bears any resemblance to ours.” Tarlay led them from where they had beamed down into a nearby stone building, the first on the outskirts of what looked like a larger city or town. The first room they entered seemed to serve the same function as a mudroom in a house on Earth; there were cubbies and shelves along the wall, with strips of fabric hanging from hooks within. Tarlay approached the nearest one and lifted it. 

“It is very hot on Belkan for some of you! Excepting Mr. Spock! But we have developed a special fabric: it prevents ultraviolet burns while remaining mostly sheer, as to allow for gestural communication! Our language uses many gestures to indicate nuance or tone, as your Sir Uhura was so clever to note, and so transparency in both clothing and meaning is key!” Tarlay laughed at their own joke and handed the sheer fabric to Spock. Kirk felt his face burn. First the new Starfleet uniforms, and now this? He was starting to think that there might be a god and she was solely interested in bringing Kirk up on charges of sexually harassing a subordinate. 

“Our clothing is very different,” Spock said. “But I see and recognize the logic of yours.” He looked at it, and the slight line between his eyebrows that indicated a frown appeared. “My apologies, Tarlay. How am I to affix this to myself?” He held it up, and it became apparent that the garment was several loops of shimmering fabric with no clear top or bottom. 

“My apologies, Sir Spock! If you will remove your uniform, I will assist you in putting the tinquint on your person.” Kirk made a quick twirling motion with his hand to the rest of the crew, and to their credit every single one of them averted their eyes as Spock shed his uniform and folded it neatly in the cubby. Kirk kept his eyes glued to his feet and counted the scuff marks on the toes of his boots. 

“You look just marvelous, Sir Spock! Does he not?” Tarlay quivered their leaves in approval, and Kirk looked up. If he had leaves, he would quiver them in approval as well, but as it were he clasped his hands in front of him and schooled his features into neutrality. 

The garment sat low on Spock’s hips, draping around him to mid-thigh. There were two ribbons wrapped around his chest, giving him a shimmering appearance, before the streamers crossed over his shoulders and draped down his arms like a shawl, or like dragonfly wings. The edge of his regulation-length Starfleet boxers peeked out from beneath the skirt of the garment. 

“Does he not?” Tarlay repeated, a nervous edge appearing in their voice. 

“He looks great,” Kirk said, smiling at Tarlay while keeping his eyes as far from Spock’s shiny chest as possible. “How do I put mine on?” 

☆☆☆

As they followed Tarlay from the mudroom building towards the dining hall, Spock caught up to Tarlay and asked, “How did your scientists maintain ultraviolet protection while prioritizing transparency?” His hips swayed gently from side to side as they walked over the sands in front of the rest of the group, and the movement shook the fabric of the tinquint in a ripple like wind on water.

Kirk dug his fingernails into his palms and promised himself that he was going to read every word of every cultural briefing book before planning away missions from here on out.

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

Can you give me a fic rec for how to search ao3 tags? I know you won’t use this but I wanted to make you laugh ok bye ily

Okay so, here’s the deal. I get a lot, like A LOT of fic rec requests. And to be fair, I consume an unhealthy amount of fanfiction and I am kind of the right Hot Leaf for the job. 

90% of the reason I have so many recs is because I spent the majority of the month of May reading atla fanfiction, but I filtered it in a specific way and here is my process (aka, how to significantly cut down the sheer volume of atla ao3 works to get what you want). 

This isn’t how everyone is going to want to filter their ao3, but this is what my process is.

Here’s where we’re starting: 

As I’m writing this there are nearly 14000 atla fics (and just two months ago there were just over 11000). So we need to narrow down things before we start. 

For me personally, I start with excluding ships I know I don’t want to read about. I know for most people, ships can make or break a fic read and filtering out ships you don’t like cuts down the plethora of fics immensely. 

So once I’ve cut out the ships I don’t like, I usually go and cut out some more because ao3 will show the top pairings of the feed first (and once you’ve excluded some ships, the next few top pairings show up in the list). Go through ship exclusions a couple of times until most ships you know you won’t want to read about are excluded. 

Now that we’ve done that, let’s see where we’re at: 

Okay, we’re making progress. 

Now I’m going to get more specific with what I want. Filtering out languages you aren’t fluent in or can’t read at all is another good strategy for cutting down the load. Some other things I do are excluding crossovers (because atla gets included in A LOT of crossovers and I’ve only really found two I actually got into), setting the minimum word count to 1k (because I just need my fics to be at least that long, personally speaking, and that is by no means going to be the standard for everyone). 

Now let’s see where we are: 

Okay, that’s significantly more manageable than the 14k works we started with. 

Next part is excluding certain warnings, this is another thing that’s going to change based on the person, but you can filter out some of the more triggering topics. 

Now with some more stuff excluded, let’s see where we’re at: 

Alright, now I’ve got to be real, I’m here to read about Zuko. I will not lie. So let’s click the ‘Zuko’ button under Include: characters 

So this means we are at just under 4k works, which is SUPER manageable. 

Those are the Standard Hot Leaf AO3 Filters: at this point we just need to add some specific tags for your specific needs

for some ‘Zuko needs therapy’ fics: here are some good tags to include Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, or Ozai’s A+ Parenting (this is how you find all the ‘gaang finds out about the scar fics’) 

other good tags to check out: Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), obligatory gaang finds out about zuko's scar fic, Western Air Temple

for good zukka content, my favorite tags to check out are: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting,  Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends to Lovers 

Some other tips 

1. If you like a fic, check out the author to see if they have other works and look at their bookmarks. If someone wrote something you like, chances are they have similar taste to you and will have bookmarked some similar fics. 

2. If you notice certain trends in the tags of the fics you are enjoying, note those tags and check them out. 

3. Tumblr has a bunch of other accounts with great fic rec lists. Check out the ‘fic recs atla’ or ‘fanfiction recommendations atla’ tags on Tumblr and you’ll find a bunch of lists. 

The deal is, atla ao3 has such a large collection that if you look up a tag, 99/100 you will find something if you’re general enough. Have faith in the tags. Filters are your friends. If you have an idea of what you want, cutting down the collection to the types of fics that appeal to you is crucial if you want to find some gems. Fanfiction is going to be a matter of personal taste and ao3 is wonderful for many reasons, but mainly because it allows us to narrow down our choices. 

I hope this was a helpful guide for those looking for fics. As always, my fanfic recs tag is full of my favorite works and you can always check out my ao3 at hot_leaf_juice to see all the works I’ve bookmarked. 

And once again, this isn’t how everyone is going to filter fics, but for those just getting into fanfiction and being overwhelmed with the volume of atla fanfiction, this is a good way to make it manageable. 

[danafeelingsick]

ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2022

@monthofsick

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʟɪsᴛ | AO3 ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ᴅᴀʏ 5: Away from home

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,3k~

Can I request Day 5 with sick Kazuha and Y/N?

TW EMETO

You didn’t know what beckoned you to stay up so late, maybe the rain mercilessly pounding on the roof was what woke you up, or the strange dream you were having might've been it. Regardless, you were glad you chose to leave your bed and watch the downpour wash over the open field instead. Otherwise, you would've missed the wandering ronin taking shelter under your window.

It rarely rained in Liyue, at least you had never sat down and properly listened to it. Running an inn on the outskirts of town all by yourself never left you with enough time for it, there was always so much to do. You regretted it now, the sound was so calming that all the sourness in your shoulders melted away, so relaxing you nearly missed when a head of white hair entered your field of vision.

Your heart sank into your chest, a cold chill spreading over it, but you slowly recovered as the stranger came into view. It was a man dressed in clothes you had never seen in Liyue, the fabrics were clad in red leaf patterns, and looked to be a fine quality if not rain-soaked.

He seemed unwell. The man was swaying in a place like a flag on the wind, bracing the wall as his chest pulled for air, his fingers shivering as he held onto it, eyes nearly closed. You jumped out of your seat as you realized that person could be there for a room. You were closed, yes, but that heavy rain justified a late service.

The stranger stared at you with confusion when you appeared at the door, newly dressed, but still sporting your bed hair. His eyes were of an intense orange under a glaze and a thick fringe of wet hair glued to his forehead, he seemed to be looking beyond you.

“Forgive me, I'll be… off in a moment”, he rasped, blinking as if he was seeing twice of you.

“Where are you going under all of this rain?”, you jumped to ask, afraid he was going to collapse right before you. “Why don't you come in? We have a vacant room if you're interested.”

“Oh no, you don't need to– If you'd let me take shelter under the cover, that would be enough already”, he hesitated, slightly out of breath. “I have… no means of repaying you.“

“You needn't worry about mora, I assure you. It could be dangerous to stay in this cold, in those clothes”, you spoke, your voice flustering by the end. “I insist, be my guest for the night. I will brew you some hot tea.”

The stranger gave the rain a last glance before he turned to you, repaying your polite smile weakly. He lingered at the door for a moment, shivering noticeably, his eyes dazed as he fought a wave of dizziness. You handed him a towel and guided him to one of the rooms, engaging him in conversation as you set aside some spare clothes.

His name was Kaedehara Kazuha, you learned, a refugee of Inazuma.

“You're a long way from home, then”, you pointed out, turning to find a frown bringing a slight wrinkle to his nose, his eyes fluttering.

“I've come to consider many places home in my travels. As long as I am by the nature, I– I will…”, he went silent as his breath suddenly hitched and his mouth fell open, small airy gasps in rapid succession made him sound like he was trying to hold something back. “...hh… hah… hah– hahh’TCHH’huuh, guh. E-Excuse me”, he added, holding his hand over his nose a little too late.

“Don't worry about it”, you chuckled softly, leaving the pile of clothes on a nearby chair, and handing him the now wet towel he had used. “All the more reason you should take those wet clothes off.”

“I'll do just that”, he returned, amused, giving a half-lidded glance through his eyelashes, which were as white as his hair. “A small rest would do wonders for me.”

Just being this close to him you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but you were too shy to ask if you could feel his temperature. He was still a stranger, after all, a guest. These thoughts were swirling in your head as you prepared his tea, trying your best to ignore them, but as soon as you knocked on his door and there was no response, you felt them take a solid form and drop to your stomach.

“Mr. Kaedehara? M-May I come in?”, you called, your voice cracking. You knocked and knocked, and between the silence, there was heavy breathing, then a whimper before a shallow wet cough. “I'll open the door!”

You froze as you caught Kazuha right in the middle of emptying his stomach onto the wooden floor. Your heart tightened, you shouldn't have left him. He was barely able to hold himself up as his back heaved, the ongoing rush of stomach contents so violently it felt like it was pushing him back. You set the scolding tea down without much care and rushed to him, managing to avoid the splatter, and knelt by his side.

He was left coughing wetly as the vomiting tapered off, heavy lines of drool leading to the pile under him, his whole body shivering so violently he could dismantle right then and there.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to– I couldn't– I-I'm sorry…”, he stammered, sounding weak and desperate, his voice barely past a husky whisper. He didn't try to look at you, but you could see the tear tracks drying on his cheeks, the slimy trail of pale vomit on his lips as they parted, sucking in greedy open-mouthed gasps.

“D-Don't apologize, it's okay. I could tell you weren't feeling well”, you confessed, trying to soothe him with your voice at first, but your hand carefully trailed up his back, laying there gently, along with the constant up and down of his shoulders. “Can I get you anything?”

He didn't respond immediately, but you could tell he couldn't. His throat was convulsing as he pressed his lips, desperately swallowing whatever was trying to come up. Heat rolled off his skin, the fresh clothes now damp once again, clinging to him by sweat. He was trembling violently, and now you were too, sharing the fever in your cheeks.

“I–I think I'll vomit again…”, he managed to slur after a moment, his cheeks quivering as he neared his limit.

You were tempted to just tell him to finish on the floor, you would have to clean it thoroughly anyway, but you knew he was going to refuse just by how much he was fighting to hold it. You brought out the small wooden bucket hidden under the bed, and by how his frown deepened you knew he felt even more guilt.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know”, you reassured him as you brought the container to his mouth and held it there firmly, your hand on his back guiding him to lower his head into it. “There you go, you can let it out.”

Kazuha barely wasted a second before a gag forced his lips open, and the mouthful of vomit he had been holding hit the bottom with a forceful splatter, followed shortly by another ample gush of stomach contents. You could barely tell in the dim lighting, but the acidic smell was unmistakable, no matter how much you willed yourself to be unphased by it.

Kazuha tensed, then mustered another heavy gush before a harsh coughing fit took over, each sharper than the one before.

“Sounds like you caught a nasty cold…”, you commented, gently patting his back, trying to soothe him the best way you could. You took the opportunity and glided your hand towards his forehead, first clammy skin and an unmistakable heat there. “You're running a fever too…”

“That explains why… I feel so dizzy”, he shuddered as he spoke, his words dotted by short huffs. “I don't want to be a bother, really, I–”

“Please, Kazuha, don't say these things”, you interrupted, shaking your head. “You're a guest of mine now. I'll go fetch some medicine for you, so try to rest in the meanwhile.”

[tsarinatorment]

Longfic Recs

My muses are stalling as I write my own latest longfic, so I figured I might as well pluck out a few longfics by other people in case anyone’s after a few good long reads!

All fics in this list are at least 100k words long, and complete!  I’ll sort by fandom this time to make it a bit easier to find fics relevant to people’s interests...

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

(life happens) wherever you are by howlikeagod [AO3] Teen.  Family/Friendship.  Zuko, Iroh.  159k On the day before Ba Sing Se falls, Katara decides two things: 1) not to stop for a cup of tea; 2) consequently, the fate of the world.  Behind the walls, Zuko loses sleep, runs errands, contemplates treason, and drinks a lot of hot leaf juice—not necessarily in that order.

Embers by Vathara [AO3] Not Rated.  Friendship/Adventure.  Zuko.  704k Dragon's fire is not so easily extinguished; when Zuko rediscovers a lost firebending technique, shifting flames can shift the world...

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Don't Ask Don't Tell by Ms_Chunks [AO3] Teen.  Friendship/Romance.  Bakugo, Uraraka.  182k Uraraka and Bakugo have a secret. It’s not what their classmates think it is.

Mild-Mannered School Teacher/Adrenaline-Junkie Vigilante by JajaLala [AO3] Teen.  Family.  Fuyumi, Dabi, Miruko.  136k Fuyumi Todoroki was stressed. She was always the peacekeeper, the ice-quirk user who calms the hot-headed members of her family. What was she supposed to do when she was frustrated, and couldn't calm herself down?  Go onto the streets and become a vigilante, of course.

Viridian: The Green Guide by Clouds (myheadinthecoudsnotcomingdown) [AO3] Teen.  Adventure/Friendship.  Izuku, Aizawa.  272k After his dream is finally crushed, Izuku isn’t quite sure there’s anything left for him to live for, but...he can’t exactly kill himself either, not without hurting the people he cares the most about. So, when he realizes that the quirkless can’t technically be vigilantes, it seems like the best of both worlds. He’ll be able to save people even without being a hero and, if he happens to die while he’s at it...well, like Kacchan said, maybe he’d be born with a quirk in the next life.

Why Are We Here Again? by cloud_nine_and_three_quarters [AO3] Teen.  Friendship.  Class 1-A, Aizawa.  236k "You aren't villains - you never were, and you never will be. But you can take that fire inside of you and put it to good use. We're in a hero school, aren't we? Well then...  Let's be heroes."

You Want It Darker by Ms_Chunks [AO3] Explicit.  Drama/Angst. Shinsou, Aizawa. 533k Aizawa hunts a killer and takes on a new student. He gets more than he bargained for from both.  MIND THE WARNINGS

LORD OF THE RINGS

While the Ring Went South... by ThunderaTiger [AO3] Gen.  Friendship.  The Fellowship.  145k For two weeks, the Fellowship wandered south from Rivendell making for Caradhras, yet Tolkien tells us almost nothing of this journey. Behold the missing scenes!

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

A Heart of Iron by TardisThiefTennant [AO3] Teen.  Angst/Family.  Peter, Tony.  148k After the death of Aunt May, Peter Parker is left alone on the streets of New York. That is, until Iron Man swoops in and changes his life forever. Can he get close to Tony, or will he keep him safe, by keeping him at arm's length? And can Tony fill a hole in his life with this secretive orphan?

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG

Powers of Invisibility by yestomiraculous [AO3] Gen. Friendship.  Juleka, Rose, Marinette, Adrien Juleka has always been invisible. She doesn't always mind. Especially when it allows her to see things no one else does...  It starts slow at first. Little hints here and there. Innocent teenagers not being in the right place at the right time.  The next thing Juleka knows, she's at the center of the biggest mess of secrets Paris has likely ever seen.

Secrets and Betrayals by LilyTheNinjaGirl [AO3] Teen.  Drama.  Marinette, Adrien. 101k When Ladybug and Chat Noir get into a fight, they end their friendship each vowing that they never want to see the other again. But when Adrien, Marinette's school crush, disappears and she can't find Chat anywhere she fears that Chat Noir has kidnapped Adrien out of rage. When she finds Chat beaten and bloody on a rooftop, will the two be able to trust each other again? AU. Angst with a happy ending.

Tendencies by KryallaOrchid [AO3] Mature.  Friendship/Romance.  Marinette, Adrien. 245k Miraculous have side effects. From pats becoming a necessity to eating flowers, follow Adrien and Marinette as they come to terms with their new tendencies, and each other. Hawk Moth is coming.

NARUTO

Focus, then Refocus by jimmythemystic [AO3] Teen.  Family/Friendship.  Sasuke, Kakashi, Orochimaru. 193k Sasuke gets sent back in time to stop Danzo. He intends to save his clan, and his brother. But he made one major mistake: He left the number one unpredictable ninja in charge of the jutsu. He's about 10 years too early. Thanks, Naruto...  Now what?

Please get these children therapy by anaceattorney [AO3] Teen.  Family.  Iruka, Gaara, Naruto. 313k Iruka did not know how he ended up as the caretaker to the Kazekage's youngest, but here he is and he is going to make the most of it. The Kazekage certainly wasn't going to look after his children.

Pulling My Weight by itsthechocopuff [AO3] Teen. Friendship/Family.  Sakura, Genma. 423k During their mission to Wave, Sakura realises how behind she is in her training and decides to do something about it. She vows to become a shinobi her Village and her teammates can respect and depend on. But Sakura has always been a paper-ninja, so her first stop for inspiration is the library where she finds unexpected help in the form of one very bored tokujo who quickly goes on to become an integral part of her life. Soon, despite the neglect of her sensei and all odds seemingly against her, Sakura's destiny begins to change.

The Uchiha Platoon by WriterBen01 [AO3] Teen.  Friendship/Family.  Sasuke, Team Seven. 293k Sasuke, over forty years old, is one of the few Konoha ninja left. With no more precious people left to lose, he uses one of most secret and forbidden techniques known to shinobi. He travels back in time. He will create the strongest team that ever existed, face all the threats that are coming, and do it with the two best ninja that ever lived by his side.

ONE PIECE

Seafaring Heartless: Exit North Blue by Avian Swallow [FFN] T.  Adventure.  Heart Pirates.  159k Pirates may be considered evil by the majority, but Law had met quite a few of the world's navy who were corrupt to the core and putting up a very thick facade. He reasoned that if he was going to manipulate and scheme his way into that goal, at least he was going to be honest enough to admit it.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden [AO3] Teen.  Adventure/Family.  Buggy, Shanks. 280k The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them.  Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

RIORDANVERSE

if you need, come build your home in me by yrbeecharmer [AO3] Teen.  Family/Angst.  Will, Cabin Seven.  326k Even though the world keeps falling down around him, Will Solace can't seem to help but keep growing up.

THUNDERBIRDS

Edge of the World // Here Be Dragons by corbyinoz2 [FFN] T.  Hurt/Comfort/Adventure.  Gordon, Virgil, Scott, John.  47k // 114k When returning from a rescue mission, Thunderbird Two is attacked by an unknown force. As Virgil and Gordon plummet towards the ocean, their chances of survival will depend, as it always does, on each other.

Holiday From Hell by Loopstagirl [FFN] T.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Scott, Virgil.  158k It was supposed to be the break they all needed to put the last year behind them and take a step forward. But things never do work out that easily for the Tracys.

Never Too Late // Never Too Lost // Never Too Long by Loopstagirl [FFN] T.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Scott, Jeff, Tracy Family.   58k // 75k // 138k As the family deal with grief, Scott must face his fears and grow up, whilst Jeff battles between being dad and being a successful businessman. But what will it take to bring the two of them back together again?

Out of Your Mind // All in Your Mind by Loopstagirl [FFN] T.  Family/Hurt/Comfort.  Gordon, Tracy Family.   75k // 149k They can defy the odds and snatch people from the jaws of death on a daily basis. But sometimes, not all dangers come in a physical form.

Tomorrow Never Knows by Silverstar [FFN] T.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Gordon, Scott, Alan.  110k Things had not gone according to plan, to say the least. Now they were trapped on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with no hope of rescue and increasingly slim chances of survival. To make matters worse, the Chaos Crew had shown up. This was not going to be a fun week.

Triple Jeopardy by Purupuss [FFN] T.  Drama.  Tracy Family.  217k One inventor and one set of plans. But triple trouble for the Tracys and International Rescue.

Weathering the Storm by tiylaya [FFN] T.  Adventure/Angst.  Scott, Gordon, Jeff, Virgil.  102k When an unexpected storm shipwrecks a holidaying Jeff Tracy and three of his young sons, they're thrown into a situation far more dangerous and complex than anyone initially realises.

CROSSOVER - ARTEMIS FOWL / MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Thrower of the Dart by Vathara [AO3] Teen.  Adventure.  Artemis, Holly, Tony, Avengers.  101k What might have happened instead of Artemis Fowl book 6, if it'd happened in the Marvel Universe. Megalomaniacs ahoy!

CROSSOVER - D.GRAY-MAN / HARRY POTTER

They All Fall Down by JadeOokami [FFN] T.  Adventure/Friendship.  Harry, Allen.  160k There was the softest sound from the window; he spun his head to look. He found, much to his alarm, a figure cloaked in black crouching down and balanced precariously on the sill. "I did not expect to run into a exorcist here."

CROSSOVER - MERLIN / HARRY POTTER

The Immortal and the Revenant by RileyWilliamsJr [AO3] Teen.  Friendship/Adventure.  Merlin, Harry.  153k As usual, Merlin has utterly failed in keeping a low profile by inadvertently getting himself dragged into a mess of a situation that appears to have something to do with a seemingly unkillable snake man, a toad woman, an order of phoenixes, and a boy named Harry Potter who, he quickly finds, is equally bemused by his current predicament. When he discovers how lost the boy is, he resolves to help him and his friends get rid of this dark lord--as well as their malignant (and worse, ineffectual) new teacher.

CROSSOVER - STARGATE SG-1 / AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

The Dragon-King's Temple by Kryal [AO3] Teen.  Friendship/Adventure.  Zuko, Toph, Jack, Janet. 196k Through the spite of the spirits or plain rotten chance, a door that would have been better left untouched has opened. On the other hand, with Fire and Earth as one's allies, sometimes escaping is the easy part.

[arecaceae175]

Whumptober Day 20: Fetal Position (Hyrule)

Read here or on AO3. Trigger warnings: trans man menstruating plus a lot of discussion about it, gender dysphoria/dysmorphia. It gets better though!!! A special guest star helps

Hyrule hobbled down the stairs and promptly collapsed face-first on the couch. He then curled his legs underneath him and shoved his face deeper into the pillows.

“Uh, ‘Roolie?” Legend asked. Hyrule groaned in response. 

“Are you dying? What’s happening?” Wind asked. 

“Cramps,” Hyrule said, voice muffled by the cushions. 

“Oh, that sucks,” Legend said sincerely. 

Hyrule curled tighter in on himself as a spike of pain stabbed through his uterus.

“Bad ones?” Sky asked. 

Hyrule nodded, voice lost to the pain. A hand gently rested on his back and began rubbing comforting circles.

“Good thing we’re here, then. You can just rest,” Sky said. His voice was closer than before, so Hyrule assumed it was him on the couch. 

There was a knock on the doorframe. Hyrule could only raise his eyes, and otherwise stayed completely still. 

“C���mon boys,” Time called. He was standing at the doorway in his farming clothes.

“Time to earn your keep,” he added, cracking a lopsided smile. Twilight groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Hyrule thought he heard a mumbled why in there somewhere.

Hyrule took a deep breath, steeled himself, and pushed up into a sitting position. He couldn’t keep the grimace off his face; even the small movement sent pain shooting through his gut and his back. A wave of nausea hit him and he scrunched his eyes shut.

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so,” Legend said. Sky applied a gentle pressure to his shoulder, trying to guide him back down, but Hyrule resisted. He cracked an eye open to find everyone staring at him with concern.

Hyrule frowned, and wiped all evidence of pain off his face. “I’m fine, guys really. I can help.”

“What’s wrong?” Time asked.

“Cramps,” Hyrule said in a small voice. They all knew what he meant, there was no need to elaborate. 

Time nodded. “Stay here and rest,” he said. Hyrule shook his head.

“I’ve worked through them before. I had to, on my adventures,” Hyrule argued. Sky squeezed his shoulder.

“There’s no need to push yourself,” Sky said. 

“You’re safe here,” Time added, piercing Hyrule with his wise gaze. “Let us take care of you, for once.”

Hyrule hesitated. The voice in the back of his mind, the one that still sounded suspiciously feminine, screamed that he had to get up. He had to prove himself to them, had to make sure they knew he was still capable, no matter his gender. But as he glanced around the room, the faces of his friends were filled with only concern, no judgment. 

His muscles clenched, and Hyrule flinched. He had to admit, even just to himself, that these were some of the worst cramps he had ever experienced. Maybe it would be nice to just rest, for once. Hyrule sighed, and let Sky push him back down onto the soft cushions. 

“Okay,” Hyrule conceded. “Thank you.”

Time nodded, and rested a hand on his hip. “Good. There’s still work to do, and no getting out of it for the rest of you. Go on.”

Time waved his hand towards the door and the other heroes filed out. Legend smiled and gave Hyrule a thumbs up as he left the room. 

“I’ll send Malon in,” Time said, then followed the others out the door. 

Hyrule’s mind was so clouded that he didn’t realize he hadn’t come out to Malon until she softly shuffled into the room. His heart rate spiked, and he looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry, love, it’s just me,” Malon said. She pulled over a chair, set a basket down on it, then lowered herself onto the couch beside him.

“I assume you already have cloths, but I have extra here if you need them. I have a few different teas, raspberry leaf, ginger, or chamomile are the best for cramping. I have water boiling for the tea and for a hot pack, if you want that too,” Malon said, pulling the various items out of her basket. Hyrule stared, and when he didn’t respond Malon met his eyes with her questioning gaze. 

“You’re… okay with this?” Hyrule asked softly. 

“Of course,” Malon replied, not missing a beat. 

Hyrule blinked. Then, he gave Malon a small smile. Of course she would accept him, he admonished himself. 

“What else is going on up there?” Malon asked. She tapped her knuckles gently against Hyrule’s head.

Hyrule sighed, and let out a breathy laugh. He wasn’t surprised Malon could read him so well. Time always said she was all-knowing, after all.

“It’s hard, sometimes, being…” Hyrule paused, words caught in his throat. He was comfortable with his identity at this point, but it was a lot harder to say things out loud. He trusted Malon, of course he did, but he hasn’t spent a lot of time with her. He swallowed, shook his head, and carried on.

“It’s always worse when I’m bleeding. Feels like all the effort I’ve put into my gender identity and expression is… I don’t know, it doesn’t mean as much? And it reminds me I’m not like everyone else, and even though I know they accept me, sometimes I still feel like I have to prove myself,” Hyrule explained. He dropped his gaze. 

“Not everyone is so accepting,” Hyrule added in a small voice. Malon hesitated for a long moment. Before she spoke, she placed one of her hands on top of Hyrule’s.

“You know, my Link questioned his gender for a long time,” Malon said, a conspiratorial smile on her face. 

Hyrule’s jaw dropped. “Really? But he seems so sure of himself.”

“He is now, but it took a long time to get there. When I first met him, he hardly understood gender at all.” Malon chuckled. 

“Wow,” Hyrule whispered. 

“He really hasn’t told you that?” Malon asked. Hyrule shook his head. Malon tsked. 

“He never has been very good at sharing. Well, only with me, it seems,” she muttered the last bit to herself with a smile. 

“The others fully accept who I am, and they treat me as a man. I guess it’s just hard to convince myself, sometimes,” Hyrule said, gaze fixed on his feet. 

Malon squeezed his hands and put a finger under his chin. She pushed his chin up gently, and Hyrule allowed his eyes to meet hers.

“Now I want you to listen to this closely,” Malon said, voice suddenly serious.“I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling, but I know you. You’re one of the bravest men I know. You can conquer this, too.”

Hyrule felt all the breath leave his body in one fell swoop. A tear pushed its way out of his eye and trailed a path down his cheek. He threw himself into Malon’s arms, and held on as tightly as he could. Malon caught him easily and hugged him securely against her chest.

“Thank you,” Hyrule said, voice wavering and thick with emotion.

[witchfall]

gold rush [e]

Rated: Explicit.

Words: 3,401

Read it on AO3.

Grab ahold of it, make it mine. He could say it so easily about the metal that made up a sword.

They've kissed before, sure. He's held her tightly in his arms, afraid to let go. Her body is not an unknown geography to him -- and yet.

[Martin and Alice have their first time. Direct aftermath of 'A Smithy's Honor'.]

------

She's so much softer than he ever imagined.

Martin's fingertips linger on her shoulders. Her skin is still warm and dewy from the baths, smelling of lavender and soap. He finds himself leaning in before he knows what he's doing, mouth inches from her forehead.

He'd wanted this all along -- to have time with Alice alone -- but he forgot what it would mean, and now his brain has fled somewhere fuzzy and hot and he can't find the words he knows he should say, even as his thumbs settle upon her collarbones.

Delicate. Like gold leaf.

Her breath catches.

Panicked, he thinks to jolt away -- but then her hand reaches up to his and keeps him there, palm flat just above her heart.

"It's nice to have time together like this," she whispers. Her breath fans his face.

"Yes," is all he can say to that. Yes. Her eyes, green as new life, watch him.

Grab ahold of it, make it mine. He could say it so easily about the metal that made up a sword. About the fire and the molten iron he forms into weapons. But not...

She inches closer, somehow. "You're thinking again."

Her voice, so soft, makes him dizzy. Makes him forget himself. "I want to...I want to be with...you. But I don't..."

She tilts her head in question and his heart sinks to his feet. His voice pitches up. "I don't want to mess it up," he says. "I've never...you're the first person I've ever..."

She stops him with a soft palm, cupping his cheek.

"Me too. Me either," she says quietly. "...I mean, who knows who I was before all of this, but I don't...you'd think the body would remember..." Her laugh rings sideways, like she's embarrassed. "Or maybe it wouldn't. I don't know."

His would. He would remember her, even if everything else about him was wiped away in a flash of light. The sound of her laugh. The pink flush of her cheeks from her work. The way her gaze grounds him in something that matters and inspires his hands to work.

"Martin?"

In answer, he pulls her in against him. And as she gasps, he slants his mouth over hers. The way she melts against him is better explanation than anything else; it lets him wind his arms around her and snake a hand up her back and into her hair so he can gently guide her to the bed.

They've kissed before, sure. He's held her tightly in his arms, afraid to let go. Her body is not an unknown geography to him -- and yet. He props himself up on his hands and knees, boxing her in on the mattress, to get the lay of the land before he forgets his own name.

She giggles like a trill of bells. His efforts to think, useless. He wants to kiss her to quiet her down so he can form thoughts again, but before he can sort through how little sense that makes, her palms run up his forearms.

"The gauntlets are very beautiful," she says. "But I love your arms."

He remembers a moment, just before their baths, when she helped him remove the blacksmithing contraptions. Most times, he feels like he's missing part of his skin without them - like he's in a dream where he forgot pants. But watching her brow furrow in focus and her lower lip slip between her teeth, feeling her deft fingers slide over his skin--

Remembering it, he nearly collapses on top of her. A gruff sigh slips from his lips as he leans down on his elbows, the fringe of a whimper escaping.

He knows she heard it. Because she gasps, too, and her hands slide all the way up his bare arms, up around his neck, fingers reaching to entangle in his hair...

"Wait," he says, somehow.

She stops. She blinks up at him, all verdant trust. Gods.

"I-I wanted you to know. I did...some research."

Her smile is slow to unfurl, and then does all at once. Another one of her giggles nearly makes him give up the ghost. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's not funny," she says. "It's just very...you." Her thumb caresses his temple. Her voice quiets. "And I love that about you..."

He closes his eyes, soaking it in.

She pokes him in the nose.

"But I won't be able to think about anything else until you tell me where you researched."

He purses his lips. The fact she somehow didn't know already spoke volumes of who he went to for help. So he squeezes his eyes shut, as if to brace for a blow, and says: "Priscilla."

She cackles out a laugh. It makes him smile, despite himself. "Priscilla?"

"She has a lot of books. A...lot. Of books."

"Well. That's good to know." Her fingers twist a few locks of hair on the nape of his neck. "I'm afraid all I have is a few romance novels Scarlett hid poorly and a good imagination..."

She frowns, suddenly. He brushes her cheek with his knuckles, as if to erase it.

"You'll tell me, right?" she says, so quietly. "If I...do it wrong? Or...what you like?"

Oh gods. It's you I like. You. You. You.

"I will," he says. "But you have to do the same. Do you swear?"

Perhaps she senses how serious he is about this. She nods. "Swear."

And then she pulls him in. This time, he's the one who melts.

---

Alice is so, so glad her hopes weren’t misplaced.

Their bodies, even fully clothed, fit together. They kiss and their legs tangle up. Their hips meet - and he nearly hisses when she bucks up into him, pressing their bodies together until they're flush. One hand slides down her neck over her shoulder and then her breast. She takes in a sharp breath against his mouth.

That's not new, exactly. But there's more to this all now, knowing this is only the start.

His strong hands skim under her dress hem and, without preamble, his palms press into her torso, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. She isn't wearing a bra, which she knows he realizes by the way he pulls back to stare at her in minor awe and confusion.

"I had some hopes," she says as explanation.

His voice rumbles low. "But you're still wearing your stockings?"

Her face burns -- not quite bold enough to explain she wanted him to take them off. "You liked them, right?"

His eyes widen in realization. And then he catches her in another kiss, hot and open-mouthed, as his hand travels southward. It skims over her undies, pulling her breath from her as he lingers right where the cotton things are wettest–

He sighs so low it feels like a moan in her mouth.

–before his hand slides down her thighs, right to where slinky fabric meets skin. He suddenly parts from her. The loss of his warmth, pressed in on all sides, leaves her adrift, until she feels his lips on the inside of her thigh, just as his fingers gently tug down the stocking. The air hits her skin and his mouth follows down in a trail of heat, his hands lifting her leg gently up so her foot rests on his shoulder.

Oh. Oh. She is so smart. This is…

He unfurls the stocking and tosses it behind him.

“You’re right,” he says gruffly. “I do like them.”

She can’t help but laugh, though it melts in her mouth as he does the same to her other stocking. Methodical as always. One hand holding her ankle, the other flat against her thigh as the fabric slips away…

And then he’s hovering over her again, hands sliding back up her stomach, rucking up the dress as he goes.

Her heartbeat is thunder in her ears. “W-what about…”

He stops immediately. He watches her, face flushed but soft in that way he saves just for her.

It gives her the gumption to speak clearly. “What about you? I want to see you.”

He smiles gently. Her hands fly up to his shirt – his sleep shirt, because of course he would never presume anything of her. So doting. He probably would have told her to get some sleep, if she hadn’t thrown caution to the wind and pressed herself into his personal space until he couldn’t second-guess her intentions.

She sits up – though he doesn’t move much, forcing her to sit chest to chest to him as she rucks up his shirt. In a flash of joy, she presses a kiss to his sternum. It feels good to hear him groan, deep in his chest, while he finishes taking off the shirt.

“Good enough for now,” he says.

Before she can retort, her dress is suddenly pulled up and over her head. In a moment, she’s flat on her back, completely bare to him save her underwear as he gazes down at her, golden eyes smoldering…

His breath catches.

She can’t feel cold when he looks at her like that. His gaze is hot like metal. He leans over her, as if he forgot how to do anything else but stare, and it makes her feel like the world is spinning all around them. He’s the only true point. He’s the only thing that doesn’t move.

“You can touch me,” she says. She swallows air. “Please.”

And then, oh–

His hands and mouth are on her again, fingers sliding over her nipples before his tongue replaces them, working her gently. Her hips jolt into him and he moans into her skin, like he’s the one being set ablaze, like he’s the one who has heat pooling in his abdomen. She throws her head back as one of his hands sneaks low, fingers touching the top of her underwear.

He kisses her, right where her heart is, and lingers, waiting.

She takes his hand and guides him beneath.

He near collapses on the spot. “Oh, Alice–”

She’s soaking wet where his fingers touch. She can’t speak. She can hardly breathe. Especially not as his mouth moves to her neck. Especially not as his finger finds home, sliding right in without resistance. She cries out and covers her mouth.

“It’s alright,” he says into her neck. “You don’t have to do that.”

And then he curls his finger upward.

Her whole body writhes against him. He pins her beneath his weight, grounding her even as her hips buck like they have their own mind. She never thought it possible to feel like this, like someone could hold you in the palm of their hand.

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks, quiet.

“N-no…mmm…”

“Good.”

He almost sounds smug, if he didn’t sound so relieved. She nearly gains enough brain power to tease him about it – she’s so far from in pain she could laugh – but then, in another flash of motion, he tugs off her panties entirely.

“I’m going to try something, okay?”

Her mind blanks. She is pretty sure she nods. She doesn’t even remember later on because, once again, his fingers are replaced by his mouth.

His mouth on her. His tongue, slipping inside of her.

Her gasp is so loud she’s certain everyone in town heard it. Before he even thinks of stopping, she digs her fingers in his hair. He moans against her, into her, and her hips rise to meet him. She’s delirious already. She understands, suddenly, a key way the world works. Why people fight for this even if it makes them stupid. His hands slide around her haunches, bringing her even closer to his mouth.

She spasms against him, something in her core coiling until it’s close to snap. “Martin-!”

Their eyes meet. Molten gold watches her every move.

The wave crashes. It takes everything in her not to scream aloud from the shock of it. Her muscles spasm around his tongue and nothing feels real for a moment, save the feel of him right where it matters.

Her hands still tingle by the time he kisses his way back up her chest and to her mouth, where the taste of herself mixes sublimely with his own salt. Her breathing is ragged.

“I love you,” he says, kissing her over and over, smoothing her hair with his hands. “You’re so beautiful. I don't even know what to say.”

She finds the air to speak. “Those were some good books you read.”

He gives a rare laugh – a sound so lovely to her ears she could cry. And then she wraps her legs around his waist and spins them both. He falls to the mattress with a soft oof and she straddles him easily, hands snaking down to pull off his trousers.

His palm falls to his forehead. “You don’t waste any time.”

“If you are even a hint of smug right now you will regret it,” she says, though without a lick of bite. The pants and underthings come off without complaint, his body pliant to her touch. The trust he gives her makes her ache.

His erection springs forth. She gives him a single moment to take in a breath before her hands grab him in full.

The way he throws his head back, voice choked off, makes everything – the waiting, the wondering, the hard work, the long nights without each other – worth it. She doesn’t give him time to recover. Her hands grip his hips as her mouth takes him in as far as she can go.

He gives a broken cry, made up only of her name.

Her heart flies.

Her tongue circles him, tasting him where no one else has ever touched. His fingers dig into her scalp, pressing her on, and so she works him over best as she can manage, bringing a hand to rub him up and down. His hips buck so hard into her she chokes. Her eyes water.

He sits up at once, pulling her up with him. His palm cradles her face while his other hand grips her by the shoulder. She’s nearly dizzy, looking at him. His beautiful face, plush with want. His golden eyes merely a corona around his pupils, blown-wide. His hair is mussed. His forehead glistens with sweat.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“I heard you–”

“I’m okay.” She blinks away her watery eyes. “It’s nothing, honest.”

“No more of that,” he says bluntly.

“But I…I was enjoying it–”

He sighs heavily, pulling her against him, cradling her tight against his body until she’s bundled in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist, his erection hard against her core. She can tell he’s trying to find the right words, despite all that. “I know. I…um, I like it, too. Obviously. But I want…it’s going to happen too fast for me and I want…” He huffs. “I want to be one with you. Before it’s over.” He clears his throat. “And I don’t like thinking you can’t breathe, to be honest, so…”

She laughs into his neck. “Next time, then.”

His arms around her turn tight as iron. “Mmm. Next time…”

Perhaps the reminder that they will get to do this again – and again and again and again, as many times as they want – prompts him to spin them both and press her back down into the mattress, capturing her mouth in a kiss as he weaves their hands together over her head. Their bodies press fully together, unbound by clothes, warmth weaving in to fill the gaps.

“You feel so good,” she whispers into his ear.

“Not compared to you,” he says, wholly serious. He kisses her deeply, slow like honey, before she can reply in complaint that he would speak so lowly of himself. “No one will ever compare to you.”

He frees her hands, though he kisses her still. She runs them up and down his muscled back, toned from years of working the forge.

She pulls back for a single moment to gaze upon his face. He watches her. This must be what poets mean when they say someone is lovesick. The heartbreak in his eyes, from parting for a single sudden moment.

“You’re the only one for me,” she says in answer. “Only you.”

As she hoped, it gives him the confidence to act.

He lifts one of her legs, pulling her down the mattress as his other hand reaches for his cock to align with her entrance. She can hear his breathing turn sharp. He gasps in a breath when the tip of him touches her.

“You’ll stop me right away if it hurts.” It’s more a shaky command than a request, even if he does follow it up with, “Okay?”

She nods.

And then, because she knows a forge fire could sometimes do with a little splash more kindling…

“I want you,” she breathes. “Please.”

He pushes in. Slowly, and yet–

Her back arches as she feels herself stretch to fit him, breath pulled from her in a cry. He falls onto his forearms over her with a grunt that turns into a moan that turns into–

“Gods, Alice…I…”

She guides him with her hands on his lower back, pressing him until he fully hilts within her. He kisses her jaw, more teeth than lips. “Y-you…feel so…”

“Don’t stop,” she whispers.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

---

Martin has never felt so close to death. He didn't think he'd feel so happy about it.

Alice’s ankles cross behind his back as he thrusts into her, peppering her face and neck with kisses until they turn to lovebites, bruises flowering from how badly he wants to hold her. His mouth hovers just over hers, the sound of their bodies meeting and his heartbeat rattling in his head the only things he can hear. He wants every inch of them together. He won’t stop until it’s true.

He remembers one thing he read, somewhere, in a flash of heat and color – and he moves a hand down to touch the pearl atop her sex with his thumb, to see if that feels good.

Her hands suddenly clutch the bedsheets. “Oh…oh, I’m…”

His blood is aflame. He leans back to push one of her knees up to her chest and the sound she makes from that alone–

Like he’s remaking her.

“Alice, I’m–can I…”

“Yes,” she pants. “Yes.”

It sends him over the edge.

He feels inhuman, the kind of sound that comes out of him – half a growl, half a collapsing moan as he crests the wave that’s been building inside of him for what feels like hours now. She comes tumbling after him, her body spasming around him, pulling him in, all of him, and it’s all he can do to kiss her mouth, to taste of her cries as they come back down together, bodies intertwined.

When he gets his vision back, his forehead is on her shoulder. Her hands are in his hair, rubbing his scalp with gentle fingers. He wraps his arms around her, voice strangled by emotion. His words won’t come out. He just wants to hold her here, forever.

He isn't sure how much time passes before she speaks.

“I almost feel bad Kumo set us up with two rooms,” she says. 

“I don’t.” He nuzzles just beneath her ear. “It’s free money for him.”

She laughs. He smiles into her skin.

“Do you need me to get you anything from your room?” he asks quietly.

“Nope. Can you even move?”

He props himself up on his elbows to stare down at her. She grins, perfectly happy her plans all came to fruition. He would sigh with annoyance if it wasn’t so endearing.

He pushes up. “Let’s go clean you up,” he says as warning before he hooks his arms under her knees and behind her shoulders and lifts her from the bed.

The surprised shriek is worth it. “Martin! I can walk!”

“I’m not risking it.”

“Good gods,” she says, but she’s laughing in his arms, soft and pliant as silk, naked as the day she was born.

He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead.

The whole world in his arms. Right now. Right here. Smelling like fire and soap and light.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

But I Have Promises To Keep (And Miles To Go Before I Sleep)

A/N: @druidx asked me to write a story about Avarenya featuring the words "apple" and/or "hot drink". I did and it got out of hand! 😆

Links: ao3; FFN

WC: 3.1k

Summary: After the long dark of Miscarcand, the Hero of Kvatch is unnerved and exhausted. But even a respite is clouded by shadows from the past when she stops in Chorrol for the night. Her heart pulls her in two directions, one led by duty, another by compassion. Can they somehow coexist? Or must she abandon old friends to their fate? At least the apple cider is good.

Dead leaves were strewn across the road, scattered and crushed by wheels and foot traffic. Yesterday was market day, or it might be tomorrow. Actually, she wasn’t sure what day of the week it was; she’d lost track during the nights in the dark of the Ayleid ruin. That was probably one of the reasons Oromis told her to keep a journal, to help keep track of time, but she’d never been good at listening to him. To her detriment, he used to say, but she always found going her own way to be more freeing. Blown without direction like a leaf on the wind.

She sure felt like a leaf now, she thought as she stumbled down the road, stepping on dead foliage. It crunched underfoot, like the tiny animal bones left scattered in Miscarcand by the goblins who warred in the dark halls. She’d stepped on so many, it sounded like a battalion of Imperial battlemages were flinging sparks into the air. Auriel knows it made keeping a low profile difficult! Down there, she was in constant danger of bringing down hordes of goblins and . . . other things down on her head.

Wind whispered through the naked trees, their branches like great skeletal arms waving against a burning, smoke filled sky.

Avarenya halted, and then shook herself, chills prickling across her skin. It wasn’t an Oblivion gate. Just the red orange yellow pink of sunset painting the clouds west over Colovia. It was too soft, too pastel perfect to be an Oblivion gate. It was evening. Crows were calling to each other high in the trees around her. The gates of Chorrol were still open; she could see people going about their business, unbothered by the shape of the trees or color of the sky.

It was quiet, and for a moment, the world seemed at peace.

Shaking herself, she pulled the bag weighing on her shoulder closer, its precious bundle wrapped in the warmth of her coat. A pink nose and arms picked with goosebumps were small things if it meant keeping the stone safe. Every stranger was a treasure hunter and every friendly smile was another cultist in hiding. She didn’t even want to come to Chorrol! But the autumn was deep over Cyrodiil, deeper than she thought possible for a land once said to be overrun with jungle, but here it was. Winter was coming, and she was cold.

The hum of voices from passersby fell on deaf ears and the nod from the gate guard went unseen as she picked her way over leaves and stones into the city. The falling light of Magnus slipped over the buildings and cobblestones in soft marmalade tones of orange and gold; in the distance, its light caught in the scant leaves still clinging to the lofty branches of the Great Oak, giving them the appearance of a broken crown set on a crumbling head.

A head black with decay, thin and ghastly as it turned to face her, its too pale eyes finding her even in the dark.

Avarenya ducked her head, hiding from the light as she shuffled down the familiar path to The Oak and Crosier, her steps guided more by memory than sight. Oreyn used to take her drinking there, back before everything fell apart. She hoped she didn’t run into him tonight. She hoped she didn’t run into anyone tonight, or until she got back to the temple. Weariness settled across her shoulders. She wasn’t up to it.

The doorway was empty when she got to the inn, and she slipped into the dining room unnoticed. It was dim inside, but warm, blissfully warm. Some of the tension left Avarenya’s shoulders as she inched her way up to the bar. Only a handful of patrons sat scattered around the room, it being passed dinnertime. Or dinnertime as set by folks in decent places, she thought grimly, her mind trailing back to irregular meals made of dry meat and hard tac, eaten in haste behind pillars and in silent alcoves. Sips of water here and there got her through the endless night below, and now she wanted something stronger.

Her bag pulled at her shoulder, anchoring her hard in reality. She couldn’t, not tonight. Not when so much was at stake. After she got back, after she placed the stone into stronger hands, she was going down into Bruma and drowning in a keg of Nord mead.

The publican, Talisman? Talasma! she remembered with silent embarrassment, noticed her only after several minutes, her golden fur creasing deeply before smoothing out the next moment. “Apologies, this one is Talasma, what may—” she trailed off, the frown returning in earnest. “Does this one know you? You seem familiar.”

“I’m just passing through,” Avarenya said, voice hoarse from exhaustion and disuse.

Talasma blinked at her, eyes narrowing in the shrewd, knowing way only a Khajiit’s can. It was only her upbringing that kept Avarenyad from drawing her lip between her teeth. For the fraction of a second, outside of time, the tired traveler and the perceptive publican saw each other. And then it passed, and the world wound on.

“What can Talasma get for you?”

“Do you have anything warm, like coffee?” She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep that night. She didn’t think she could. The dark was too big.

Talasma’s whiskers bobbed. “That, and we have several teas, as well as a hot apple cider.”

“Spiced?”

Talasma nodded, “We have a special recipe.”

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt if she ordered cider. When was the last time she’d drank a good cider? Not since before she came to Cyrodiil. The varieties they served in the Imperial City were all bland, and Skingrad, where her brother lived, was known more for wine than cider.

Before she knew it, Talasma had the hot drink placed in front of her, complete with a cinnamon stick and the fragrance of autumnal spices, and Avarenya had her coin purse in hand — retrieved from a pocket, not her bag — and was pulling at the catch. “Um, how much is a room for one night?”

“Ten septims.” Avarenya placed enough to cover her drink and a room down on the counter, and the hostess passed her a key. “It’s the room on the far end of the hall, on the left. Turn the key back in here before you leave in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Avarenya murmured, pocketing the key. She grabbed her drink and retreated to the far corner to a small table behind the stairs. It was a drab little spot with poor lighting but it held an excellent view of the room while maintaining a level of discretion that her nerves desperately needed.

Avarenya sat down — and not a moment too soon. The tavern door swung open, and in came Modryn Oreyn, with a couple of faces she wasn’t familiar with. Avarenya pulled her hood up; if anything were to make her stick out it would be the rose kissed shine of her hair . . . maybe. If it wasn’t covered in grime and blood from the ruins that is. She didn’t bother to check when she’d made her flight into the wilderness, but since Talasma hadn’t wrinkled her nose and kicked her out, she was pretty sure she passed for merely travel stained and tired. Or maybe—

Warm spice wafted its way into her nose, and Avarenya forced herself to breathe. Breathe in the sweet cinnamon and hot apple notes of the cider. Breathe. Just breathe.

It curled into her nose and down her throat, flooding her lungs and seeping down her limbs, further and further with every inhale pushing it along. There was a flavor of peace in her mouth, the kind that made her want to curl into a ball and sleep until the world broke and all that was left were dreams.

Gods, Martin needed a barrel of this.

Avarenya sipped the hot drink, and some of the residual tension around her heart eased. Maybe if Camoran got a taste of this stuff, he wouldn’t be so anarchical and, and crabby. And Auriel knows what she and Martin could accomplish then!

Chairs scraping shattered Avarenya’s sunshine and rainbows fantasy of Camoran sobbing and prostrating himself before Martin in the Temple of the One. Not very far away, just on the other side of the stairs near the bar, Oreyn and his two companions were settled, each with tall, thin pints of what was likely bear. Modryn Oreyn looked a little worse for wear, his pallor less ashy and more ashen — if that made any sense — than she’d ever seen before. He looked almost ill, and a squeeze of concern for the older Dunmer gripped Avarenya’s heart.

“It’s getting bad,” huffed one of his companions, a Rdguard with a scruffy face and broad shoulders that she didn’t recognize. “We ran into two of them escorting the caravan from Craglorn, and those are just the ones we saw immediately on the road!”

The other, a Nord with red hair like a rope of fire hanging over her shoulder, drowned what looked like half her tankard before thumping it back on the table. “It’s the same coming from Whiterun. Most of ‘em are right off the road where they can get travelers, but I’m telling you, it's only a matter of time before they’re opening them up at the city gates!”

“They already have,” Oreyn sighed, rubbing his face. His beer went untouched. “They destroyed Kvatch.”

The Redguard bowed his head and the Nord drained her tankard. Oreyn slid his over to her, and she started on it.

“Donton hasn’t given any orders on what to do about them?” the Redguard asked.

“She wrote to the Arcane University over a month ago, but she’s heard nothing back. Word is the Mages Guild’s got their own internal issue they’re trying to take care of, but no one really knows anything about that, either. All I know is Teekeeus, the local guild head, refuses to send someone on our behalf to the University. It’s the same response across the province: we can’t contact the university, and we can’t deal with these thrice cursed gates!” Oreyn turned his head as if to spit on the ground, only to catch Talasma's eye, and, clearly thinking better of it, crossed his arms and tucked his chin into his chest, a dark look burning in his ember bright eyes. Avarenya could feel his tension from her corner. The world didn’t need to go to Oblivion in a handbasket; Oblivion itself came to pick them up for delivery, and everyone was paying for it.

Knots of stress tangled around her insides.

“I heard someone closed the Kvatch Gate,” the Redguard ventured.

The knots constricted.

Modryn Oreyn nodded. “The Hero of Kvatch, they’re calling her. Rumors vary on why she was there in the first place, but the point is: she closed a gate. No one else has.”

The Nord set aside Oreyn’s empty tankard, her eyes narrowing like a hawk’s, and just as clear. “Well then, who is this girl and why haven’t any of you called her in?”

Modryn Oreyn’s face tightened, his lips pressed into a thin line. Avarenya wondered if his loyalty would let him admit the truth to these two strangers, guild members though they were. “She was one of ours,” he said, voice low. “When Viranus was killed, she’s the one who brought his body back. In thanks, she was expelled.”

“By Kyne,” the Nord sighed.

Something was wrong, Avarenya realized. Something very wrong was going on in the Fighters Guild for Modryn Oreyn to straight up tell others even a fraction of what Vilena Donton did to her . . . when did Donton and Oreyn fall out?

“Expulsion,” said the Redguard, swiveling his finger between his companions, “does not have to be permanent, nor does it equal ostracisation. The Empire is in crisis and Donton won’t apologize to the one person we know who’s closing gates?”

Oreyn threw his hands in the air. “I won’t say Vilena’s done the right thing, but I won’t say she's wrong either. Only that we’ve been dropped in a hole and no one’s offering us a rope.”

Avarenya buried herself in the remains of her lukewarm cider, the cinnamon still strong and sweet. She wanted so badly to push back her chair, charge over to Oreyn, and declare that bad feelings could be forgotten and a new, stronger bond between the Fighters Guild and its ill-favored daughter was theirs for the asking. Closing Oblivion gates was a hard, soul bending task and she wouldn't wish the burden on anyone, but more than that, she didn’t envy the fate awaiting anyone unlucky enough to be dragged into the Deadlands. Those innocent victims needed someone in their field, and as much as she hated it, hated herself for it, Avarenya couldn’t be everywhere at once. She couldn’t save them all.

But fear and shame kept her in her seat, huddled in the shadows. She couldn’t help Oreyn and the guild. Going to him now to offer help would delay her in the city by more than a day, at least, and she needed to leave before first light. The conviction bit at her chest, needling her for being a coward, but Martin needed the stone. The sooner Martin had the stone, the sooner they could open the portal, and the sooner they could take back the Amulet and stop Dagon once and for all. In stopping Dagon, they would close the gates everywhere. That was her task. Veering off course would put off the conclusion, and prolong the crisis. This is what she had to do.

Then why did she feel so guilty?

Less than ten minutes later, the trio of Fighters Guild members stood and left. They walked out the door as Avarenya drained her mug and passed it off to the serving maid who came to gather the empty tankards. Avarenya trudged up the stairs to her room, the bag on her shoulder crushing her down like a lodestone. It was almost too much.

The room was clean, with a single bed, calling out with a promise of goose down pillows and warm blankets, but she shunned it in favor of the desk in the corner. Her bag she set on the chest at the foot of the bed, and thus freed, she sat down to write.

Avarenya never made it into bed that night.

When she woke, neck aching and ink stains on her face, a mess of scattered pages greeted her. Checking they were dry, she ordered them into a neat stack. Then she searched the desk for an envelope. Not finding one, Avarenya chewed her lip before retrieving her bag, digging into an inside pocket. She pulled out a hair ribbon, bright blue with faded gold embroidery. This she tied around the stack of papers, securing them together.

Avarenya left the inn, then. She didn’t stay for breakfast, though after that apple cider, she knew Talasma wouldn’t have jipped her on a good breakfast like some inns. She placed the key on the counter; the dining room was empty, though she could hear some buustle from the direction of the kitchen as she passed.

The morning air was crisp and cool, the sky lit with the gray fog of predawn. Avarenya wandered down the silent streets, passing the occasional guard. Each one kept one eye on her until she rounded the next corner, but she didn’t mind. The way she looked — and felt — after sleeping in a chair after nights spent in the wilderness, she wouldn’t trust herself if she saw her walking around town at this time.

Modryn Oreyn’s house was neither big nor impressive. Actually, some would call it a shack. Avarneya simply called it modest. The Fighters Guild champion’s cabin, as well as those of his neighbors, was quiet. A small box was set on a post near the door, ready for any mail that Oreyn didn’t have forwarded to the guild hall, but Avarenya forewent that in favor of the door. She couldn’t risk Oreyn not seeing these papers. He needed to find them before he left for the guild.

She slipped them under the door. There was a thump inside, and the urge to flee seized her as she realized that Oreyn was awake. Avarenya scrambled to her feet, darting back across the street, making it behind the house there just as the creak of Oreyn’s front door heralded his emerging outside. She didn’t dare peek around the corner to see what he was doing, but she was pretty confident now that he saw her papers.

She waited with bated breath for several moments before daring to venture along the street to Chorrol’s outer wall. She did it: she helped her old guild and she was still leaving on schedule.

“Avarin? Avarin!”

Avarenya ran.

Glancing over her shoulder, she didn’t see Modryn Oreyn chasing after her, so how did he—? The hair ribbon. Of course the bloody artist would remember the ribbon she used to wear back when her days were filled with contracts and training.

Still, if it made him believe what she wrote, then Avarenya had no qualms about him identifying her as the author. But that didn’t mean she was going to stay to chat, either.

The bells of the chapel chimed the hour, six o’clock, and the city gates were only just opening as she approached. She slipped through them, back into the shadows of the road. Dawn wasn’t quite breaking the barriers beyond the Great Forest, but she knew the sun would be overhead soon, shining bright and warm through the leafless trees as she made her trek northeast. She took comfort in that; the dark was still too big for her, too hollow and cold with the memory of Miscarcand so recent.

All would be well. By Auriel and Magnus, she would make it so, if it came down to it.

Not alone, either, she reminded herself. The dark night in the black of the Ayleid ruin had passed, and though the road before her was still long and there were many tasks she’d do on her own, there were others fighting out there. Hopefully, with the instructions she wrote out for Oreyn, the Fighters Guild could help where the Legion and the Mages Guild failed. Help in places where she was not. And where she did go, she knew Martin was with her in spirit, though he was back at the temple, waiting for her and counting on her strength to finish the task. It was the thought of him that guided her through Miscarcand, and it would continue to guide her out of the darkness and into the light of the sun.

Reassurance blanketed the chill in her bones, pushing Avarenya on as she made her way into a new morning.

[uchihashisuii]

trust. | Minato/OFC

Summary: trust - /noun/ 1. Firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.

or: in which Akari makes a hasty decision alone on a mission and Minato takes exception to that.

Pairing: Namikaze Minato/Nara Akari

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2528

Content warning for sexual tension, arguing to show you care, power imbalance, power dynamics, light descriptions of blood and injury, protective!Minato, and a first kiss

Author’s Note: weird AU in which bad things didn't happen in Konoha, and also Kushina doesn't exist. sorry queen i wanna make out w your husband

Ao3 Link

-----

It's a rare thing, for Minato to be angry. A clear head and sound judgement, required of one such as he who dons the mantle of Hokage. He'd long since perfected that certain serenity and poise, able to listen and learn and decide. One of his nin in more danger than expected is a frustration, more than anything else; it usually signifies that intel was wrong, or somewhere along the way he'd been lied to about the details of a mission. There's a system in place for a reason, rankings and squads and organization that ensure everything in the village run smooth.

So when Sparrow shoulders open the door of his office with dried blood running down her bare arm, cracked mask dangling from her fingertips - he feels something stark and hot burn deep within his chest. Minato pushes himself from his desk, rounding it in a flash of a white haori. He studies her quickly, hands offered to steady her as she leans to the side. She favors her left leg, thick bandages wrapped around her right thigh. The cut on her arm burned closed; emergency first aid in the field, done by her own hand most likely. She opens her mouth to report but he cuts her off with a sharp glance, blue eyes as stormy as the sea.

He cradles her face, next. Tilts her head up until their eyes lock. He doesn't miss the way her pupils dilate, nor the way her breathing hitches, just a little. A dusting of pink across her cheeks, the movement of her throat as she swallows thickly. She's nervous, alone and in close quarters with him; when he touches her, she responds eagerly. He files that information away for later, focusing on flaring his chakra, just a little; Sensing her. Her chakra is a deep green, kept muted; pulse higher than it should be. She's hiding from him, unconsciously; he files that away, too. Akari is a ninja of the Leaf, is one of his most skilled and loyal soldiers; he wont have her at anything other than her peak.

He grieves, for the lives he holds in his hands; one mistake and everything will crumble. One misstep and the will of fire will be snuffed out, like a candle in the wind. So many lives, so much responsibility; he's shouldered it, will continue to bear it. But when it cracks, when something weakens - it angers him, not because of the potential discord or failure, but because he knows how easily the life of one of his shinobi can be cut short. The sight of Akari, one of his best ANBU, so battered and bruised, just come home from what should have been a routine mission - it makes him burn.

"Report," he finally says, stepping away and crossing his arms over his chest, keeping himself from touching her further. She's his subordinate, his junior, his temptation. They'd been dancing around it for what feels like weeks - the trust and camaraderie and impossibly important bond he shares with the woman who is at his side most hours of the day, guarding him, guiding him. Something had shifted, somewhere along the way; he trusts her, yes, but he likes her, too. Dangerous waters.

He's pulled from his musings by Akari standing at attention, hand fisted over her breast as she offers a small bow. "Sir," she begins after clearing her throat, "I was sent alone to the eastern border to take care of a B-Rank nukenin. However," she pauses with a deep breath, brown eyes flicking away for just a moment, "either the intel was incorrect or outdated. There ended up being four of them."

His brows raise as something uncomfortably tight begins to coil in his chest. "Your escape - did you lead them back here, to more Black-Ops members?"

This time it is Akari who looks surprised; mouth dropping open as something approaching insult curls her mouth into a wicked smirk. "No escape, sir. I took care of them all."

"You what?" Minato doesn't doubt her skill, not for a moment - but to walk into a fight against high-rank nin, not knowing you're outnumbered -

"It nearly killed me, but I brought them down. I have their hitae-ate's to prove it. Sir." She adds it on as an afterthought; he watches the moment it seems as though a wall slams down behind her normally warm eyes. He'd offered her insult, he knows, in underestimating her; but he cant deny the worry that eats at his gut when he considers her surrounded on all sides, cant suppress the picture her injuries paint.

He's always been a calm, rational man. But he's strung too tight, his emotions tightly leashed yet straining when it comes to her. Seeing her bloody and battered and bruised, knowing he was the one who sent her out there alone -

She burns him alive. Even smirking through the blood, he cant bite down on the immense concern he feels for her. He cant afford to feel it, he cant; he is Hokage, and he cant look at any shinobi as different from the rest. The desire to protect her, to shield her after the horrors of her childhood in the Foundation; warring against the faith he has in her skill, the pride he feels. A delicate balance, one he still has yet to perfect when it comes to her.

"A tactical retreat would have sufficed -" Minato begins through grit teeth, pulse rising as he leans close to her.

Akari only scoffs, refusing to back down as she puts her hands to her hips and leans right back. There's barely an inch of space between them, though neither of them appear to notice as the air all but shimmers with tension, fraught with frayed nerves and unspoken words. Always unspoken, when it comes to them. "I had them, in case you didn't notice."

Pride swells beneath his ribs but Minato fights it back; he is proud, of what she had accomplished and how far she had come. But the near cost of it; he wants to tell himself he doesn't know why he cares so much about a lone shinobi in a sea of others. But he knows, far too well.

A steadying breath as he swallows down the tide of emotion; eyes falling shut as he leans away from her. The tension remains, his constant awareness of her every move and shift putting him further on edge. Minato puts a hand to his temple, fingertips digging in in a vain attempt to ease the pulse in his skull. When he speaks it is with the low, even tone of a practiced sensei; gentle, encouraging, as though speaking to a child who doesn't quite understand the severity of what they undertake. "You could have died -"

The tone is a mistake. He knows it the moment he opened his mouth. Her shoulders raise, eyes narrowing as she stares him down. Akari doesn't even bother to let him finish. Her hands ball into fists as she laughs, mirthless. He would call it nearly unkind, were she even capable of such a thing. "Yes! I could have died!" Her voice raises to a near-shout as she lets her mask drop to the floor, neither of them bothering to look when the painted porcelain cracks. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, cocking out a hip and refusing, once again, to stand down to him. Admirable, most days; but he is Hokage, his word is law. She will bow to him.

"Then why -"

She interrupts him, again, and despite his better judgement Minato can feel his temper stirring. "Because it's my job," Akari hisses with a sharp scoff, "to go out there and fight, to do the dirty missions in the dark so the light may flourish. Dying in my duty is an occupational hazard. I know that, you know that." Her chest heaves as she rants, teeth bared. Minato lets her have her drama, watching with a keen eye the way she leans back against the closed door, knee bent to keep her foot off the floor. She's flagging, exhausted; her breath comes with difficulty and still she fights him. Stubborn little bird.

"So why," Akari continues in a whisper, bowing her head forward as her voice comes out in a hush, "in the name of the Shodai are you making an issue out of this? Missions go wrong sometimes, it happens. I'm prepared for it, it's why I pulled it off. Why am I different?"

The heat in his chest rises; temper flaring to life beneath his ribs. She asks the impossible, points out brazenly what he knows they both see. But to put words to it would be to breathe life into whatever it is they have become; making it impossible to return to the monotony and comfort that comes part and parcel with willful ignorance. And all at once Minato cant stand it; the thought of pretending he doesn't care for her deeper than he should and the fact that she is so unashamed as to make him say it outright.

He moves before he even puts a second thought to his actions, something he hadn't done since he was a kid on the field of war. She makes him impulsive, nearly irrational; she makes him lose carefully weaved control, and as Hokage he cannot allow that. Minato's hand shoots forward in a flash, grasping tight to her throat. He has the satisfaction of watching a nameless heat burn deep within her eyes as he leans close enough to brush her nose with his, breaths mingling in the static between them. Akari swallows beneath his palm, and he swears he can feel her pulse jump. He leans down against her, keeping pressure off her windpipe, and pushes her back against the door until she is utterly at his mercy.

She has a habit of forgetting who he is, how he earned his moniker. He resolves to remind her.

"You," he growls lowly, throwing all caution to the wind, "know exactly why."

A moment, a held breath. She had been circling him, taunting him, leading him into the pit that will surely hold his downfall. And now he had raised the stakes; alluding aloud, put his hands on her, and now the next move would be hers. Would she flee? Would she fight?

Or would she bow?

A surge of molten heat sings through his veins when he feels her move, her palms flattening against his abdomen. A thin shirt worn beneath his Hokage raiment is all that separates her hands from him, but even still he can feel her touch as though it were searing against his skin. She meets his challenge, unflinching in her sudden determination as her palms roam to his chest. His hand tightens, just the barest bit, on her neck.

"I know," she confirms in a whisper. Her eyes flutter closed as she gathers her thoughts, collects her wits; Minato watches, very nearly impatient; when she looks up at him next it is with that familiar tender affection.

"I go out there and risk my life," Akari says once more, tilting her head back. When next she speaks, their lips brush - softer than a sigh. "For my village. For my Hokage."

Minato surges forward, cutting off her words with the bruising strength of his intensity. She gasps, instinctively, as he sears his mouth over hers; he takes advantage of her parted lips to taste her, almost too eagerly. His tongue teasing against hers, and swallowing every desperate little sound that escapes her throat. There is no hesitation, now that the dam has been broken; building and rising and welling between them, coming to a head in the form of a kiss that is more teeth than tender.

He can feel it when she shivers, kissing him almost desperately as her hands move to his shoulders, holding on for dear life. His palm moves from her throat to tangle in her hair, tilting her head back as he leans down to meet her in the middle. Free hand curving over her hip, pulling her flush against him.

She feels - almost delicate, in his grasp. Small, and lithe, with pulse thrumming away; much like a fragile little bird. Minato wants to cradle her, cage her; but a part of him wants to break her, too. Shove down that boldness and rampant disrespect, clip her wings and keep her at his side. Dangerous waters, he knows; but even still he loses himself in the warmth of her mouth, in the soft noises she makes, in the way her nails dig deep into his shoulders. She's brazen, yes - but only for him. Respects him, but challenges him; he knows she made the right call about not abandoning the mission, knows it's his own stubborn need to protect what he holds dear that makes him lash out at her. His pride and temper far too large to allow him to admit it; so instead he kisses her harder, tugging on her bottom lip with the blunt edge of his teeth.

"Stubborn," he murmurs into her mouth, unsure if he speaks to himself or to her.

"Pot, meet kettle," Akari replies with her own nip, nails dragging down his chest hard enough to make him hiss. Minato chokes out a laugh, kissing her soundly before she can sass him further.

"I'm yours," she whispers after a time, when her injured leg is hitched around his hip and his mouth is on her neck. "Utterly and always - I'm yours. You need to trust in that, and trust in me to come home safe."

He does, truly he does; Minato trails kiss after kiss from her throat back to her mouth, kissing her deeply enough that his head swims. He licks into her mouth, tasting her resolve and her loyalty, her hand fisting in the soft hair at his nape to drag him impossibly closer. He simply wants her safe, safe and secure and at his side; he trusts her to take care of herself, but he doesn't want her in the situation where she has to, when he can take it on himself instead. She's his personal guard, her place is beside him. She watches him, he watches her; a delicate balance, tipping from one edge to the next. She nearly dies in his name and then he puts his hands and mouth on her scant hours later, breaking what he knows is a dozen rules and even more taboos in one fell swoop, with one simple brush of his mouth.

Minato kisses her again, hands tightening until he suspects bruises will bloom on her hip and thigh. Drinks deeply of her sighs, cherishes the way his name dances on the tip of her tongue. His decisions, her safety, their shared duty to the village; it all swirls around and around in his mind, coalescing and shattering and coming together and breaking apart when she tugs on his hair, when she grinds her hips against him. They could both lose their positions and standings for this.

He'd risk it, happily, for her.

[nikibogwater]

The Final Becoming--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction: Chapter 8

A gentle king, a warrior queen, a clever prince, and a Master Wizard. Together with their allies, these four heroes must reform the ancient kingdom of Camelot and rise up to face the Arcane Order in a decisive final battle for the fate of everything they hold dear.

An alternate take on the series ending for those for whom Rise of the Titans didn't quite make the cut. Updates every Friday (weather permitting).

(Link to Chapter 7)

Read on Ao3

Or in the post below:

I have been looking forward to this day for nearly three months now. Longtime followers of my blog may have a clue as to what is coming, but for those of you who aren't sure, just read on. And afterwards, be sure to check out the BEAUTIFUL drawings @meadow-roses did for this chapter! I will put the link down at the end.

*****

Douxie had never known darkness quite like this.

It was nearly suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He was not sure how long they’d been down here--it could just as easily have been ten minutes as it could have been ten years. All he knew was the feeling of earth beneath his feet, Archie’s warmth on his shoulders, and Nari’s hand holding his as she guided him through the twisting maze of tunnels. Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of the soft golden glow of her eyes as she looked back at him, and though he couldn’t see it, he knew she was giving him a reassuring smile when she did. It occurred to him, after a few minutes in such heavy darkness, that if it had been anyone else guiding him, he would be terrified. But placing his life in Nari’s hands came as second nature to him now. He wasn’t sure how much of that was due to her unique magical presence as the patroness of life and nourishment, and how much of it was because of the bond they had forged with one another these last eight months. He found he didn't mind much either way.

After a while, the darkness began to lift. Little points of light shone on the walls around them, like tiny, underground stars. The light grew brighter as they continued, and soon the earthen floor gave way to grass, and the walls were now covered with creeping vines. The air was no longer hot and stale. It felt fresh as a spring breeze, and smelled like the ancient forests of Camelot. Douxie felt magic stirring around him--ancient magic, deep and mysterious, yet he knew it well. It was Nari’s magic, the same magic he had felt residing in his chest ever since he took her on as his ward. He noticed that the plants around them seemed to sway and bend around Nari, almost as though they wished to greet her. She still moved with purpose, never slowing down, but as they walked, she looked upon every leaf and stalk with great fondness.

Soon, the tunnel widened, and the light became even stronger. Glowing moss coated the walls and hung from the ceiling, as enormous blossoms unfolded to shed their mysterious light on their returning mistress. Douxie breathed a quiet gasp of awe as the Eternal Forest opened around them. It was an enormous cavern, with a domed ceiling of earth and stone. Colorful birds and insects flitted through the trees around them, unlike anything Douxie had seen on the earth above. A herd of winged, deer-like creatures paused in their grazing to watch them pass, their large, dark eyes assessing Douxie and Archie critically.

“I have never brought outsiders to this place before,” Nari said. “Only those who have my blessing are able to enter. Even Bellroc and Skrael have never laid eyes on this sacred forest. Do not worry. You are both safe here.”

“This is where you were born?” Archie asked softly, his eyes large as he took in the sight of it all.

“Yes. It was my home for more than a thousand millenia, before the Order sealed it. And in a way, it is your home as well. All life on this planet came from this place, and continues to be sustained through the magic of Yggdrasil.”

“New York City was hell for you,” Douxie murmured, taking in the lush paradise with an aching heart. It wasn’t a question. Nari faltered for a moment, looking around her home, and then back up at Douxie.

“It was difficult to thrive there, yes,” she admitted. “But....I would not go so far as to call it hell. There were things there that I could never have known or experienced here. Things that I have come to love as deeply as I love this place.” She pressed onward, Douxie’s hand still grasped tightly in hers, though there was no longer any danger of losing him in the darkness.

The forest was quiet as they made their way forward, save for the gentle sound of running water and the soft twitters of the birds above. Soon, the foliage began to thin, and the trees gave way to a large, mossy clearing. In the center of the clearing, there was an enormous, gnarled tree trunk, bigger than any Douxie had ever seen. The roots alone were thick as oak trees, twisting and curling in and out of the ground like sea serpents frozen in time. Its branches, thick and heavy with crystal-green leaves and rainbow-hued blossoms, towered over their heads. Many of the branches disappeared into the earthen ceiling above them, connecting to the great system of roots that held the world together. The ancient magic that rested on the Eternal Forest felt even heavier here, yet there was a sense of peaceful stillness in the air, as though that magic--and indeed, the whole world--was sleeping here.

Nari’s little illusion hadn’t even come close to preparing Douxie for this sight. He stopped dead in his tracks, awestruck, a strange sense of reverence and timidity taking over him. Archie slipped off of his shoulders and pressed close to his legs--the Familiar felt the same.

“You have nothing to fear,” Nari said, lifting herself up with her magic to look Douxie in the eye. “Yggdrasil and I are as one. In a way, you have been protecting the World Tree in your own home for many months now.”

“...If that’s the case,” Douxie gulped, tearing his eyes away from the massive branches to meet her gaze. “Then I am....deeply ashamed of that one time I clocked you in the face with a pillow.”

Nari, blinked, eyes wide with surprise, before her face broke into a smile, and she began to laugh heartily. She couldn’t seem to make herself stop, even when tears began rolling down her cheeks and she doubled up in midair, gasping for breath. Finally, she was able to get a hold of herself, and, still shaking with laughter, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“F-forgiven,” she giggled breathlessly. “To be honest, I rather enjoyed it.”

“Oh don’t tell him that, Nari,” Archie put in, leaping back up on Douxie’s shoulder, the weight of the previous moment all but forgotten. “He’ll start throwing pillows at you at every opportunity.”

“I would welcome such a challenge,” Nari replied with a wide smile, reaching up to stroke Archie’s head. “...But for now, there is much work to be done. I will reunite with Yggdrasil and destroy the titans. It will be up to you and your friends to defeat the Order once and for all.

“Is that even possible?” Douxie asked, skin crawling with the memory of his last encounter with Bellroc. “How do you beat demigods?”

“You have all you will need,” Nari assured him. “A gentle king who wields the holy might of Excalibur. A warrior queen whose heart is with her people. A clever prince, determined to protect his own. And a Master Wizard, whose kindness and courage knows no limits.” She tenderly cupped his cheek with her hand. “The four of you, along with your many allies, represent the new Camelot. The Arcane Order has always feared this kingdom, because it was said to be built from humanity’s greatest strength: Love. The Order can easily exceed all other mortal powers, but they cannot match the deep magic that is found in your friendship--in the selfless giving of yourselves to one another. And now that that friendship has been extended to other creatures of magic and might, the Order has no hope of combating it. For bonds that transcend even the highest of barriers create the most powerful magic of all.” Her other hand came up to cradle his face, and she pressed her forehead to his. “...Bonds much like our own.”

She pulled back, reaching up to caress Archie’s head one more time before turning towards Yggdrasil. She approached the hollow in the trunk, pausing as one of her hands came to rest on the ancient, carved bark. “I am....unsure of what may happen to me when I unleash Yggdrasil’s power. While this is what I was created for, I do not know what sort of effect it will have on me.” She looked back at Douxie and Archie. “If something should happen....I want both of you to know how much I cherish the time we have spent together, difficult as it may have sometimes been. The two of you have been more than my protectors--you have been my brothers. I love you. More than I could ever say.”

“Nari--” Douxie began, but he was not quick enough. Nari stepped into the hollow, and with a sound like roaring wind, the Eternal Forest was lost in a brilliant, blinding wave of green light.

*****

Ricky’s wormhole dropped Krel’s escape pod right in the middle of HexTech’s main laboratory. It crashed into the sleek tile floor nose-first, digging a little rut as it skidded to a halt, sending debris and lab equipment flying in its wake. The hatch opened, and the seatbelts deactivated. Krel coughed and waved the dust out of his face.

“Just once I would love for one of these crises to not end with my work getting blown up!” a familiar voice grouched.

“Oh, goodness! Poor Mister Stuart looks awful! Violet, you’d better take him to the infirmary right away!”

“How come I’m the one who always gets stuck with the heavy lifting?”

“What, you expect Mabel to haul him there with those twig arms of hers?” A Hedgewitch with a shock of vibrant pink hair jumped up on the pod to offer Krel a hand out. Her coworkers appeared on the other side to assist Stuart. “Geez, when your Blank said you were landing at HexTech, I didn’t think he actually meant inside the... Krel?” Zoe’s voice lost some of its characteristic bite as she saw the look on his face.

“...They....Ricky and Lucy, I...I couldn’t stop them, they...”

“Hey. Come on, Krel, let’s get you out of there.” Krel shook himself and took Zoe’s offered hand, letting her pull him out of the pod and onto solid ground. A short, round-faced witch with large brown eyes and an old-fashioned shawl over her HexTech uniform cradled a whimpering Luug in her arms, whispering reassurances in a language Krel didn’t recognize. Meanwhile, a tall, dark-haired witch opened a shadow portal nearby and hauled Stuart’s limp form through it. Krel fought against the lump in his throat for a moment, allowing Zoe to scrutinize him until he regained his bearings.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and he knew she didn't mean physically.

“Y-Yes,” he stammered. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m....Th-they were just robots, it is not as if they were really my family or anything...”

“You still cared about them, though,” Zoe said softly, her hand coming up to grip his shoulder. “And it’s okay to hurt when you lose something you care about. But....what the hell is going on out there?! Just a few hours ago, there was a blast of magic that just about floored those of us who could feel it, and now the mortals are freaking out over some kind of giants?! And where’s Douxie?! I can’t get him on his phone!” The hand that had been resting on his shoulder now moved to poke him accusingly in the chest. “And don’t act like you don’t know, I know he’s been talking to you! Is he safe? Is Archie with him?”

“Oh, the forest goddess!” Mabel piped up, large eyes somehow growing even wider. “Hisirdoux is her guardian, isn't he? Is she alright?”

“Ai, ai, ai, slow down you two!" Krel replied. "I can only answer one question at a time! And right now, time is something we do not have a lot of. I’ll explain what I can, but we have to make this quick. I need to get back to Aja as soon as possible.”

*****

The Ice Titan unleashed a furious blast of icy wind as it wrenched its other foot free.

“You are nothing!” Skrael’s high-pitched voice, though choked by pain as he clutched at his wound with one hand, was magnified to near-painful volume, carried by the whipping winds. “Less than nothing! You will suffer and die here as is befitting maggots like you!” The Titan lurched forward. Jim leapt up and raised Excalibur, pushing Claire and Toby behind him. Ignoring Zadra’s shout of protest, Aja dove in front of her friends and raised her shield in a hopeless attempt to protect them from the onslaught. Skrael’s Titan took a single, thundering step towards them.

And then, the miracle they’d been waiting for.

There was a rush of warm air around them, as massive, thorny roots breached out of the ground and coiled around the Titan. Skrael let out a piercing scream as the earth itself took hold of his Titan and began to break it apart. Large, glorious blossoms exploded into bloom as moss and vines raced across the icy giant. Trees and bushes sprouted from the few cracks Jim and Aja’s army had managed to open, and their roots tore through the Titan mercilessly. With a final scream, Skrael’s Titan shattered, massive chunks of ice crashing to the ground heavily.

The only thing Aja’s shield had to block was the cloud of ice and snow that billowed up from where the megalith fell.

Jim and Aja shared a glance and a brief nod before charging forward, ready to drive their weapons into whatever remained of Skrael. They scrambled over the debris, the others right behind them, invigorated by the newly warmed air and the scent of Spring in their lungs. Skrael lay huddled in the middle of the wreckage, looking small and pitiful. His eyes met Jim’s for a split second, gleaming with intense hatred. Then, in a flash, he vanished, leaving nothing behind but a fresh flurry of snow.

“Kleb!” Aja spat, driving her serrator into the ground. “All that talk about us being pathetic and worthless creatures, and then the moment he faces defeat, he runs like a coward!”

“We have to find him. And Bellroc,” Jim said. “This world won’t be safe until we’ve taken both of them down for good.”

“I can portal to Bellroc,” Claire put in. “When Douxie and I were chasing after Nari, I was able to feel their presence in her. I can use Bellroc as an emotional anchor now.”

“You think we can take them?” Toby asked. “I mean, they kind of kicked our butts the last time we fought.”

“Excalibur,” Aaarrrgghh grunted, patting Jim on the shoulder.

“Douxie seemed to think we stand a chance as long as we have this,” Jim said, lifting the sword and peering into the gem in its hilt.

“Not just that,” Claire reminded him, covering his hand with her own. “You, Jim. All of us. Together, we can finish this.”

“...Krel,” Aja whispered, her hand clenching around her weapon. Steve wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“The king-in-waiting is an intelligent and scrappy young man,” Vex consoled her. “Varvatos Vex is confident that his lapse in communication will be brief.”

“Indeed. For now, we must have faith in our prince, and move forward as best we can without him,” Zadra agreed.

“Krel’s too stubborn to let Jerkwad McToastybutt get the best of him,” Steve scoffed. “He probably just left his communicator thingy in the bathroom or something.”

“That...does sound like something he would do,” Aja conceded with a weak chuckle. She wrenched her serrator free from the ground and collapsed it. “Zadra--Vex, Eli, and I will accompany the Trollhunter in pursuit of the enemy. I need you to take control here and aid the injured.  Now that the Titans have been destroyed, we will no longer need aerial support. Have our ships airlift the remaining trolls to safety. And....please, if my brother contacts you--”

“I will alert you immediately, Your Highness. You have my word.” Zadra gave her a short bow.

“We’ll find him, Aja,” Jim said. “I promise. But first, we have to finish what he started.”

“Right,” Aja replied firmly. “Let’s go.”

*****

Nari floated within the hollow of Yggdrasil, her magic coiling and rushing around her, eyes closed and palms outstretched as she and the World Tree unleashed their full might. The forest was rustling and rumbling as though from an earthquake, though the ground beneath them did not tremble. Douxie’s chest felt tight, as though suddenly it was too small to hold that part of Nari’s magic that always nestled there. Now, that magic had become a roaring spring, welling and overflowing, sending Nari’s familiar power surging through his veins.

Her eyes opened, and though they were lost in the verdant green glow of her magic, Douxie felt her lock gazes with him. When she spoke, it was as though her voice was sounding from within his own head.

The titans have been felled. Now I must entrust the outcome of this battle to you. Return to your friends and end this once and for all. Do not worry. Her voice grew softer. I will be with you.

Douxie couldn’t find his own voice to answer her. It was lost beneath the warm, glorious flow of her magic within him. He felt a push at his soul; even now, she was asking permission. He didn’t know what for yet, but he opened himself to her nonetheless, closing his eyes as her magic merged with his own in a way that was both overpowering and comforting. He felt his jacket slip from his shoulders. The ground beneath his feet fell away. Warmth was gathering in his shoulders. Nari’s magic was pulsing and churning just beneath his skin, almost painfully so. For a brief moment, he was seized with the horrifying thought that perhaps she had overestimated his strength--perhaps her magic would do nothing more than tear him to shreds.

And then the pressure in his shoulders exploded outwards, and he dropped to the ground again, staggering beneath an unfamiliar weight on his back.

“Mordrax’s Miracles...!” Archie breathed, his eyes huge as he stared at his familiar. Douxie looked over his shoulder, the unfamiliar weight shifting and settling, becoming more comfortable as Nari refined and adjusted her creation.

She had given him wings.

Douxie choked out a disbelieving laugh as they lifted and spread themselves out. He couldn’t tell if he was the one controlling them or not, but they seemed to be responding to his desire to get a better look all the same. The feathers were glossy, inky black, warm like sunlight, and soft against his skin. There was a viney pattern across the tops, glowing with the gentle green light of Nari’s magic. The tips of the primaries faded from black, to blue-green, to a brilliant blue, the same color that he had always loved to put in his hair. He felt Nari’s magic give an affirmative hum at the thought--she had made them this way on purpose.

These will take you to where you are most needed, Nari said. If Bellroc refuses to lay down their arms, you and your allies must form a Tenth Configuration Sealing Array, with Excalibur and its Chosen One as the focal point.

“Tenth Configuration Sealing Array....Got it.” Douxie replied. He turned toward Archie. “...Archie?”

“You wish for me to stay here and look after Nari,” the Familiar sighed, ears folding back in disappointment. Douxie gave him a sad smile.

“Right you are, old friend.” He went down on one knee to meet Archie’s gaze. The wings on his back shifted on their own to accommodate his movement. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be just fine. But if something goes wrong, if Nari’s magic grows weak, I need you to pull her out of Yggdrasil--no matter what she says,” he added, feeling his wings shudder as a rush of indignance coursed through Nari’s magic within him.

“I suppose you haven’t given any thought to what that might mean for you,” Archie said.

“Arch....Please.” I can’t let you get hurt again, Douxie added silently.

“Fine, fine,” the Familiar huffed. “As much as I wish I could protest, I know you too well to hope I could talk you out of this. Just promise me you’ll land the moment those wings start feeling strange, alright? And...” he faltered, glancing away for a moment, before bracing his front paws against Douxie’s knee and pressing his head against the boy’s cheek. “...Come back safe. If you can promise me that much, then I will stay here and guard Nari, as you wish.”

“I will. I promise.” Douxie’s hands came up to cradle Archie’s face for a moment, as he pressed his forehead against his Familiar’s. He pulled back, and Archie dutifully took up his place at the foot of Yggdrasil. There was a flash of gold, and suddenly the tree was being guarded by a massive, black snake. “Well that’s a bit overkill, but I appreciate your dedication all the same,” Douxie laughed. Archie squinted his large, serpentine eyes fondly as he settled into his coils.

“Well, pardon me for wanting to do the job properly,” he hissed, flicking his forked tongue.

“Thanks, Arch. I mean it.” Douxie’s wings spread, the viney patterns beginning to pulse with green light. Above them, the earth shifted and rumbled. A shaft of sunlight broke through the ceiling, and far, far above them, a tiny patch of the blue sky was now visible. “I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

His wings launched him into the air with a single, powerful beat. Nari’s magic thrummed warmly in his chest and danced down his limbs as the wind tore through his hair. The earth raced by below in a blinding blur of green and brown. Then green and brown gave way to grey and blue, and he was streaking over the ocean, the light from Nari’s magic reflecting off the waves below. And though these wings were surely carrying him towards the greatest battle of his life, Douxie couldn’t help but laugh out of sheer delight.

Thanks for reading! ✨

Check out @meadow-roses's artwork of Wings!Douxie in this post!

(Link to Chapter 9)

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

how long will we silently suffer alone

Summary: Percy accidentally triggers Vex so she runs to the only people she knows can help: Zahra and Kashaw.

TW: Past non-con, panic attack

Read on ao3 (2.8k)

“Darling?” Vex asks, leaning against the door to Percy’s workshop. “Are you busy?” 

She twists a strand of hair around her finger as Percy turns around on his chair to look at her. His face immediately goes bright red. She’s hardly wearing anything: a body skimming white dress and a soft sweater hanging off her shoulder.

She sees him visibly swallow, eyes darting all over her body before he meets her eyes again. “I-I don’t think so.”

Vex smirks, “Then what are you doing all the way over there?” She bats her eyes innocently, completely aware of what she’s doing to him. Percy jumps to his feet and makes his way over to her in three long strides. “Eager?” She teases, drawing him in by the collar of his shirt. 

Percy laughs a little and instead of responding, his hands drop to her waist and he pulls her flush against him, bringing their lips together in a hot kiss. Vex smiles against his lips, winding her hands through his hair in the way she knows he loves. 

Percy pulls her more into the workshop, giving enough space for the door to close behind them. With her eyes closed, Vex can’t see where Percy’s moving her until her back hits the wall. She laughs a little at his enthusiasm, but quickly soothes any hurt feelings by kissing a trail down his neck. As she does, Percy quickly rids her of the sweater and presses her even firmer against the wall. 

The stone walls are cold against Vex’s back, but she pays it no mind as Percy kisses her again, hands wandering up and down her body. He presses his thigh between her legs and suddenly everything shifts. 

The way Percy is pressing her into the wall is no longer sexy, but oppressive. She’s very aware of the heavy door shut behind them and the sound proof walls that surround them. She’s even more aware of the sick feeling under her skin as Percy’s lips trail down her neck and his hands skim her hips. 

“Stop,” Vex chokes out, barely able to breathe. Percy immediately steps back and looks at her with a frown of concern. But she doesn’t take time to think about that because the second she’s free, she bolts out of the workshop. 

Vex runs through the halls of the castle, blood rushing into her ears and her heart pounding far too loud around her. There are hands on her chest and her legs and her neck and she feels like she might throw up and she can’t breathe. Vex’s feet pound against the stone floor and without a second of hesitation she runs right out of the castle. She’s aware enough to take the back way out, it won’t do any good for the citizens to see Lady Vex’ahlia running through the streets wearing almost nothing.

Her feet pound on the familiar dirt road that leads towards the edges of the city. She lets muscle memory carry her, unable to think of anything other than the hands all over her and the hot lips on her skin. There are hands tight on her wrists and legs and everytime she closes her eyes she sees cold eyes and a devilish smile. 

Vex blinks and finds herself standing in front of a cottage. It’s two stories with yellow stone bricks and vines crawling up the walls. Vex runs up to the door and raps on it three times, before stepping back, arms wrapping around her stomach. 

The door opens almost immediately as Vex sees Kashaw on the other side. His long hair is tied back in a loose bun and he wears a loose shirt with a light green jacket over it. He smiles at her and looks as though he’s able to say something, but then he takes in her appearance. She’s wearing barely anything, shaking like a leaf, breathing far too heavily, with dirt all up her legs. 

Kash sheds his coat and quickly wraps it around Vex’s shoulders. “What’s going on?” Vex shakes her head, unable to say anything as she digs her fingers into her sides. 

“Kash?” Zahra calls from inside. “Who is it?” A second later, the red skinned tiefling appears in the doorway over Kashaw’s shoulder. Vex nearly bursts into tears at the sight of her friend. It’s then that her knees start to give out. “Vex!” Zahra exclaims as she rushes forward and hooks an arm around Vex’s waist to keep her up right. 

Vex clings to Zahra’s shirt and looks her in the eyes, “H-Hands. Zee, I…” Vex cuts herself off with a sob as breathing suddenly becomes nearly impossible. 

“Kash, help me get her inside,” Zahra orders. Kashaw nods and hurries forward, wrapping his arm around her waist as well. 

Panic builds in her chest at the feeling of Kashaw’s hand on her side. It feels all too much like the hands that squeeze to hips and thighs and caress her cheek, whispering cruel praise in her ear. 

Together the two of them all but carry Vex into the cottage and set her gently on the couch. Zahra sits beside Vex, letting the half-elf rest on her shoulder as she cries and gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut in fear. 

“I’ve got you, Vex,” Zahra tells her. “Is this the…” She glances over at Kashaw who’s hovering nervously near them. “The thing you asked me to never mention again?” Vex nods and she feels tension seep into Zahra’s arms. “Okay. We’re going to get through this okay, do you want Kash to leave?” Vex nods immediately and curls deeper into Zahra’s arms. 

“Kashaw, darling,” Zahra says, “tell Percy that Vex is alright?” Kash nods stiffly and leaves quietly, the door shutting behind him. “It’s just the two of us now. You’re alright,” Zahra assures her. “It’s okay. You just need to breathe.” 

“Hands,” Vex tells her again. “Zahra-”

“Shh…” Zahra rocks her gently as the sobbing starts again. “I’ve got you. Are my hands bothering you? Do you want me to stop touching you?” Vex immediately shakes her head, that’s the last thing she needs. “Okay.” Zahra thinks for a moment. “Are they real hands?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Vex tells her, breath hitching. 

“It’s alright.” Zahra lifts a hand to her cheek and wipes away some of her tears. “Take a deep breath in,” Zahra tells her. Vex does her best, her lungs only allowing a small bit of air to enter. “And out. Again.” Zahra squeezes her hand and takes a deep breath in to guide Vex. A soft whimper escapes Vex as she tries to breathe but can’t. Zahra reassures her instantly, “It’s okay, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Just focus on me and try to breathe.” 

Vex tries her best to follow Zahra’s instructions. It takes a long while for Vex’s breathing to return to normal and for the hands to slowly fade away, leaving Vex exhausted and collapsed against Zahra’s chest. 

After some time being cradled in Zahra’s arms, the tiefling gently running her fingers through her hair, the door opens again and Kashaw quietly returns with a basket of food and a pair of Vex’s boots. “Kash is back,” Zahra tells her. “Do you want him to leave?” 

Vex shakes her head and looks up at the paladin, “Stay.” Kashaw nods with a small smile. He saved her life. He won’t hurt her. Zahra won’t let him. 

Kashaw sits on the couch next to Vex’s feet. “Percy wanted me to bring you shoes for the walk home tomorrow. I told him you’re staying the night with us.”

“Are you sure?” Vex looks at Zahra. 

Zahra smiles, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m letting you leave this house tonight.” Vex smiles and kisses Zahra’s cheek. Zahra looks at her husband, “Where’d the food come from?” 

“I coerced Percy into giving us some food to make dinner.” Kashaw pats Vex’s foot. “Your husband keeps quite the stock of food.” 

“Wish I could say the same about mine,” Zahra teases as Vex laughs and Kash rolls his eyes. “Now about that dinner…?”

Kashaw rolls his eyes, “Yes, I’ll cook.” As he walks past the two of them curled up, he presses a quick kiss to Zahra’s head. 

“See, you can be sweet,” Vex teases. Kashaw flips her the finger as he walks into the kitchen.

Now that the two women are alone again, Vex tugs Kash’s jacket tighter around herself, slipping her arms through the sleeves. Zahra strokes Vex’s hair, brushing it back. “How do you feel?” 

Vex huffs, “Like I just ran a thousand miles.” 

“Vex, does Percy know about…?” She trails off, her meaning clear. 

Vex ducks her head in shame and shakes her head. Zahra fixes her with a look. “I know, Zee. I just...I hoped it would never be relevant. I don’t want him to get overprotective or coddle me like…” Like Vax. 

Zahra sighs, “Has this ever happened before?” 

Vex shakes her head, “Not since we first got together.” Vex leans back into Zahra’s arms and nestles against the tiefling’s chest. Zahra hugs her back. “I’ll tell him when I go back tomorrow.” 

After a moment, Zahra asks, “Vex, did Percy do...something to trigger you.” 

“Not intentionally,” Vex tells her. “He stopped when I told him too.” Zahra hums thoughtfully and combs her fingers through Vex’s hair.  

Dinner is casual, they eat on the couch, Vex still tucked into Zahra’s side and she rests her feet on Kashaw’s lap. Despite his initial protests, after a while he actually rubs her ankles. 

That night, Vex settles down on their couch, allowing Zahra to tuck her under two heavy quilts. “It gets rather cold in here at night,” Zahra tells her. It took a while to convince her friend that she would be fine sleeping by herself in the living room. 

Zahra presses a kiss to her head, “Sleep well, darling.” 

Vex looks over Zahra’s shoulder to Kashaw. She gives him a questioning look with a smirk. Kashaw glares at her, “I’m not kissing you. Go to sleep.” 

Vex laughs, “Love you too, Kash.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kashaw says as he turns and walks into the bedroom.

Zahra shakes her head fondly and looks back down at Vex. “He does love you.” 

Vex smiles, “I know. Goodnight, Zahra.” 

A little while later when Vex is trying to sleep, she hears Zahra and Kashaw talking in their bedroom. 

“How was Percy?” 

She hears Kash sigh. “About three seconds away from locking himself into his workshop.” There’s a long pause. “Zee, what happened to her?” 

“I can’t tell you that,” Zahra tells him. “There are two people who know what happened: me and her brother.” Vex squeezes her eyes shut at the mention of Vax. “She’ll tell you if she wants you to know.” 

“Will she be okay?” Vex is surprised by the tone in Kashaw’s voice. It’s softer than normal and almost...familial. 

“I have every faith that she will be.” 

Vex smiles a little at that and nestles under the blankets. 

In the morning, Vex eats breakfast with Zahra and Kashaw before they send her on her way back to the castle, Zahra with a kiss on the forehead and a huge hug and Kashaw with a somewhat awkward side hug. 

The walk back through the forest takes less than fifteen minutes and the entire time Vex tries not to panic. She has to tell Percy the truth, there’s nothing else she can do. Dread sinks in her stomach. To tell him she has to say what happened out loud. And she has to pray that he doesn’t get upset with her for not telling him sooner. 

Since it’s so early in the morning, Vex knows she’ll find Percy in their bedroom. She makes her way quietly up the stairs, eyes of servants following her as she’s wearing clothes that clearly aren’t her own. Zahra had dressed her this morning in a soft pair of pants and a rust colored sweater. When she comes to their bedroom door, Vex takes a slow breath before lifting her hand and knocking softly. 

There’s a few beats and then it swings open. 

On the other side is Percy, dark circles under his eyes, skin paler than usual, and his hair is a mess. When he sees her, his posture simultaneously goes rigged and relaxed. “Vex,” he breathes. “Are you...Are you alright?” 

Vex nods, “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, of course.” He steps aside to let her in. 

The silence between them as she sits on the edge of the bed is awkward. It’s never awkward between them. 

It’s Percy that breaks the silence, still standing in the middle of the room. “Did I hurt you? Is that why…?”

Vex shakes her head and pats the spot next to her on the bed. She takes a deep breath, “I need to tell you something and I don’t think that I can look at you while I do it.” Percy sits beside her, leaving almost a foot between them. Vex pretends that the distance doesn't break her heart. “Everyone in Syngorn hated Vax and I so when this boy from one of my classes asked me out of course I said yes,” Vex begins. “I thought that he cared about me or that he was interested in me in a way no one had ever been before.” 

She looks down at her hands, tears building in her eyes. “We met up in his back garden and he was giving me a tour of everything and it was so windy and confusing that I almost immediately got lost.” She sniffs back her tears. “Anyways, um, he took my hand and led me to this shed in the middle with grey stone walls. And-And he pushed me up against it and kissed me.” Vex sniffs as tears fill her eyes. “I thought he liked me, I didn’t know…” Vex takes a deep breath, not chancing looking at Percy before she continues. “He threw me down to the ground and started to take off my clothes,” Vex can barely speak now as she starts to cry. She tries to say something, but finds she can’t, her throat is tight with tears.

She can feel Percy almost shaking with anger beside her. “Did he…?” Hurt you? Rape you? She nods, either way the answer is yes. “Is he alive?” Percy asks, his voice venomous with barely restrained anger. 

She shakes her head, “Vax stabbed that asshole in the neck, left him to bleed out in the middle of the street.” Vex looks over at Percy and sees that though his hands are shaking, his eyes are almost unbearably soft and concerned. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-”

“You don’t need to be,” Percy shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong by not telling me.” He gives her a slight smile before sighing and asking, “Vex, can I touch you? I really want to give you a hug right now.” 

Instead of responding, she looks over at him, nearly sobbing again when she sees the look on his face, and presses herself into his arms. Percy’s arms are fiercely tight around her in the best way possible. She tucks her head to his chest and lets him hold her, kiss her forehead and hair. It feels as though she exhales for the first time in years. 

“I’m sorry that that happened to you,” Percy tells her, cheek pressed to her hair. “I always want you to feel safe with me and I’m sorry that I didn’t yesterday. Do you know what triggered it last night?” 

Vex lifts her head, “A combination of things. A perfect storm.” 

Percy nods thoughtfully. “Okay, okay. How can I help you if that happens again?” 

“What you did was perfect,” she tells him, hand on the side of his neck. “You stopped when I told you to. I’ll try not to run away next time. That doesn’t happen much, hardly ever. But um, when it does I probably won’t be able to talk much or tell you what to do. I don’t want you to coddle me, though.” 

“Of course not,” Percy assures her. He pulls her in to kiss softly. “I’ll figure it out, I promise. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone anymore.” 

Vex looks up at him with teary eyes, “Thank you.” 

He smiles gently and squeezes her hand, “You don’t have to thank me. We promised each other a long time ago that we’d take care of each other and love each other for the rest of our lives. This is just another part of that vow.” 

Vex’s eyes squint as she fights back tears once again. Before she cries again, she hugs Percival, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I love you so fucking much,” she whispers.