#the only time I’m free of my ambient state of pain is when there’s a specific pain source overpowering it

[shadowsandstarlight]

The chicken I was cooking for dinner fought back (oil spit)

[kat-hawke]

The Not-So-Dead

(Following [Visitations])

As Kat preferred it, the hospital room was silent, aside from the various ambient sounds of neighboring rooms and the shuffle of medical staff in the hall as they would pass by. It was the final day she would be confined to the bed, the glorified prison, and she passed the time reading over the last chapter of the naval strategy book Alexa had left her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a figure appearing in the doorway, assuming it to be a staff member.

"You look like shit." A familiar voice piped up with a smile.

Kat looked up again as her heart dropped upon recognizing the voice, those striking blue eyes were hard to miss, and she froze in shock. Immediately she began to tell herself this wasn't real; that it was another dream, a nightmare, and waited for something twisted to happen. Her eyes widened at the corners as if she had seen a ghost, and the lower lip began to tremble. Kat closed the book in her lap with a shaking hand and set it on the bedside table, refusing to look away from Riley. A breath hitched in her throat as she continued to stare, silently before an inhale was sucked in through shuttering teeth and water pooled at the bottom of her eyes.

That was all it took for Riley's walls to come crumbling down as she dropped the usual attitude she wore like armor, and her own eyes quickly began to well up at their corners. She rounded the corner of the bed in only a few strides, setting down at its edge, and with as much care as she could muster in the moment, gently wrapped her arms around Kat's shoulders and pulled her into an embrace she would be reluctant to pull away from for some time. "I was only kidding," she murmured, as tears began to spill freely down her face, "you don't look -that- bad..."

Physical contact. She was in reality. This was real, Riley was truly here.

Without hesitation, Kat curled her arms around Riley and nestled into the crook of her neck, and began to sob. A chuff of air pushed out, and Kat shook her head. She knew Riley was joking about the appearance. "I thought ya' were dead. Riley, I..." She choked on her words as her arms squeezed around the woman in front of her. "Days turned t'weeks, weeks t'months. I needed ya', I needed ya' so badly, and the only way I could cope was convincin' m'self ya' were gone. Forever. Now yer here and I just—" Another hard sob lurched in her chest as tears poured over each cheek, turning just enough to place her lips gently on Riley's jaw.

"That makes two of us, yeah?" Riley managed to choke out some semblance of response between her own shaking sobs as she held onto Kat. "Last time I saw you... I was so fucking afraid you'd die in that tent. Feels like I spent a lifetime looking for any trace of where you were, not knowing if you were alive or dead..." she trails off, shaking her head. Leaning back, she took Kat's face in both her hands and pressed a lingering kiss to Kat's forehead. Her eyes close for a moment before she leans back once more to meet Kat's noticeably dulled gaze. "Never been so glad to be wrong in all my life."

"Makes two of us. Never been so happy t'be so wrong." Kat echoed back in a whisper as her eyes peeled open to meet Riley's gaze, a smile creeping through the trembling lips. Dulled amber hues shifted searchingly across Riley's face as the tears continued to spill over uncontrollably, the upper row of teeth raking over the lower lip as another shuttered breath was sucked in. Confirmation that it was indeed Riley who showed up while Kat was in a coma, a fact that opened up so many more painful questions.

"So it was ya' Benson talked about. I couldn't believe it. I had so many doubts." Kat's eyes narrowed in a painful expression as another sob lurched from her core, and the river of tears picked up. "I'm so sorry, Riley. I didn't want ya' t'see me like that; I didn' want anyone t'see me like that. I heard ya', wot ya' said t'me then, in th' tent. I thought it was my mind playin' more tricks, but now I know it wasn't."

Riley flinched at the mention of Benson's name, sucking a breath through her teeth as a wincing smirk took residence on her features. "Ehhh, yeah. That was me..." she paused, taking a quick glance over her shoulder as if the doctor herself would appear out of thin air. "Bit of a hard-ass, that one," she whispered, looking back to Kat with a small chuckle in her throat, "but I suppose it would take a hard-ass to keep you here in this bed long enough to recover." Unable to stop herself, Riley pulled Kat in for another tight hug, nodding gently. "I love you," she murmured, as though she was afraid she wouldn't get another opportunity to say it. "Don't ever scare me like that again, and I promise to do the same..."

"Last day in this fuckin' bed," Kat breathed, "she's th' only one with my full file. Better th' devils ya' know, I suppose." Wrapping back up in Riley's embrace, Kat rested her chin on the woman's shoulder, holding her tight as if she'd disappear upon letting go. 

Hearing those three words nearly made her heart drop and a breath caught as she closed her eyes again. Slowly she pressed lips beneath Riley's ear and broke all her own rules as she whispered those three words right back. "I love you."

Riley was the only one who sat within the line between business and personal relationships, something Kat vehemently would keep separate, yet refused to admit the exception with this only person.

Kat leaned back with a sniffle, the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips as she looked into those piercing blue eyes. "I'll hold ya' t'that promise Riley Flynn, all th' way t'my grave."

Another choked sob escaped Riley's throat as she gave one last tight squeeze before meeting Kat's gaze once more. "Let's not be in a rush to get there, yeah?" A softly-rolling chuckle accompanied the gentle tease as she wiped away a few tears from Kat's cheek with the edge of her thumb. "No more talk of graves. Not for a while, at least." Her hands fell to cradle one of Kat's between them.

With a shallow nod in agreement, Kat smiled faintly as Riley wiped the tears from her cheek. "Yeah," she whispered, glancing down as her hand was cradled. Her thoughts were spinning, but she failed to find the words to voice them all.

"One more day. Good." Riley nodded slowly. A knowing look shared between them in the brief silence that followed. "Suppose it would be pointless to say we've got a lot of catching up to do, but here I am, saying it anyway."

Slowly Kat rolled her thumb over the upper hand's edge in which hers was cradled, smirking as Riley stated the obvious. "A lot is an understatemen', luv'." As Kat's eyes trailed upward they stopped on the azerite stone around Riley's neck. Tentatively her free hand reached for it, the wrist resting on Riley's chest as fingers hovered an inch from the stone before curling away, resisting the urge to touch it, knowing what would happen if she dared to make contact.

The necklace identical to the one she always wore, knowing exactly where it came from. The desk in her home office. "I'm sorry..." Kat's calm tone was heavy with guilt, knowing now that Riley had seen her home's condition and the evidence of the hard, rock-bottom spiral. This also confirmed that it was Riley who found Alyssa's dagger, a thought that caused a knot to twist in her stomach instantly.

"No," Riley shook her head, pulling in a slow breath as she gently lifts Kat's chin with the crook of her finger, "-I'm- sorry." The words, while simple, pained Riley deeply  — and that much was evident in her gaze. "You needed me here, and I wasn't here. Not that I can say for certain that it would have changed the outcome, but I would've done my damndest to keep you from going down whatever path it was that led you here."  Dark brows furrowed, and another sigh exhaled through the nose. "We've both got plenty of things to be sorry about, but needing help isn't one of 'em. I should have been here. Even if it was just to listen to one of your whiskey-fueled rants. I should have been here."

"And ya' needed me, and I wasn' there!" Kat immediately protested. "I should have looked harder, focused more on findin' ya', on makin' sure ya' were okay. But instead, I spiraled and got lost in th' dark." Shaking her head, Kat let out a shaky sigh "Yer right... Yer right, but I'm still sorry. Fer everything. I won't make that mistake again. Ever." Kat's hand abandoned the azerite stone and pushed a stray raven strand behind Riley's ear as she looked into the bright blue eyes before she painfully inquired, "Wot happened to ya'?"

"You fucking better not," she half-teased, shifting the stone to the side so it could be tucked away beneath her shirt, which Kat watched with a distant stare. The sight of azerite triggered a buried addiction that scratched toward the surface.

While seemingly simple, the question gave Riley a noticeable pause as she searched her thoughts for words she hadn't yet been able to find since she herself returned. "It's... complicated." She began, pulling in a slow breath to exhale a sigh soon after. "Something— someone, from my past. It was a door I tried to close a long time ago. Tried to close it, lock it, and bury it forever, if I'm being honest." She paused again, her gaze briefly distant. "The past doesn't like being buried, as it turns out." 

A shaky chuckle rumbled in her throat. "When we can talk on our own - when your out of this bed - I promise, I'll tell you everything. I have a feeling we'll both need a few drinks, and I doubt Benson would let me sneak a bottle in here..."

Kat's expression shifted, brows knitting at Riley's distant stare, sharing the ambient pain the topic brought. Her lips twitched at the corners, and the ghost of a smile made an appearance as she fingers pulse around Riley's hand, a silent reminder that she was still here. "I know the feelin' when the past won't stay buried. We've always carried that with us, ya' and I, haven't we?" The query was rhetorical, and a soft chuckle hung in the back of Kat's throat.

"I get t'go home tomorrow, and I could really use a fuckin' drink. They won't allow a single sip in here." Aside from the shots worth that Sarah had been sneaking her, that is. "We can get rightly shitfaced and catch up lon' into th' night. Think I still got a wretched bottle of absinthe stuck behind th' whiskey."

Riley's nose wrinkled at the mention of absinth, but even her wince was mirthful as a chuckle spilled past her lips. "Normally, I'd tell you to keep that shit stuck right where it is, but given the way this year's been going, I figure we might need something with some decent potency behind it."

"Don' worry, we'll stop at absinthe and no' get into hard drugs." Kat teased, even if it was in poor taste, considering her downward spiral.

They both chuckled with a smile that reached their tear-stained eyes, letting the moment linger to appreciate each other's company, fingers gently gliding over one another. Kat was unable to peel her gaze from the striking blue eyes across from her, afraid this was all another dream, and Riley would vanish the second she turned away.

"I fucking missed you." The sincerity in that simple statement was palpable and wholly understated at the same time. "You got someone to see that you make it home and get yourself settled alright? I know you've had more than enough people worrying about you, but unless someone stopped by your place and cleaned up a bit..." she trailed off.

"And I fuckin' missed ya'." Kat immediately echoed back, equally sincere as she let the freehand rest atop Riley's between them, now it was her turn to cradle a hand. "Are ya' implyin' I can't manage t'get home by myself? Or was it a subtle offer?" Kat teased a bit through a weak smirk.

Riley only narrowed her eyes at Kat's remark, but couldn't keep the smirk from tugging subtly at the corner of her mouth all the same; it was very in-line with their usual humor. "I know you're tougher than most of those twits walking around in full suits of plate, with actual skills to back up that attitude, but I was only -mostly- joking when I walked in here." The tease was gentle, though carried an inescapable truth, given Kat's current physical state.

"Twit-plates." Kat smiled as she spoke the mocking nickname. Her head dipped, looking down at the overlapping hands for a moment as Riley continued to talk.

"And there's nothing subtle about the offer — if you don't have anyone already planning on seeing you safely home, then I'll be the one to do it myself. I know you're probably aching for some time to yourself, but you'll need someone to help get you settled at the very least."

Kat looked to Riley with another soft smile, glancing upward through a few errant strands of raven hair that cascaded down over the brows. "No plans of such. I'm sure yer no' surprised t'hear that I was going t'just stroll out of here and all th'way home. But, if yer going t'insist then I guess I am unable t'refuse." One shoulder rose in a faint shrug as her head moved, tossing the longer than usual hair over one shoulder.  "I've had nothin' but time alone over the last month or so, and if I'm bein' honest, I really don't want t'be left with my thoughts, at least no' fer a while."

Behind that vague confession lay pain, evident in Kat's eyes. She was quick as always to deflect, wiping away the expression and leaning closer to Riley to tease again. "Skip leavin' a bouquet of flowers t'find when I open th' door though."

"O,h c'mon, you know me better than that," she shot back, chuckling through her words, "can't promise I won't have a celebratory bottle of something higher-end waiting for you, though. Or a decent meal."

Uncontrollably Kat's lips twitched at the mention of a meal, a mixture of pain and happiness lasting only a second before it flitted away. Memories flashed in her mind of the long nights where Alyssa would have a hot meal waiting for her. It had become their routine, and that simple mention threatened to dredge up every emotion attached to the memories.

Reaching forward, Riley pushed Kat's hair back over her shoulder, taking a moment to realize just how long it had grown, but decidedly kept that observation for herself. "We can both keep our demons at bay for a little while. Deal?"

Kat couldn't help but poorly stifle a chuckle of her own to Riley's response, nodding once in agreement. A celebratory bottle she could handle. "Might want t'make it two bottles, one fer ya' and one fer me." Her eyes shut as the hand pushed her hair, head, moving with the motion to assist, she drew a slow breath and held in before exhaling softly. Touch starved, blatantly so, as a subtle curve in the lips and corners of the eyes emerged with the soft touch to the raven strands. "Deal," Kat answered firmly in an affectionate tone as the dimmed eyes opened again.

Pulling Kat back into her arms — into an embrace that edged on protective — Riley just held her for a moment in comfortable silence. A few tears escaped without warning, racing down Kat's cheeks and landing on Riley's shoulder.

"Two bottles," she murmured, nodding as she leaned back and wiped an errant tear from her own cheek.

Smiling through a quiet sob as Riley confirmed two bottles, Kat whispered through a hitched breath, broken chuckle, and a faint smile. "I fuckin' love you." Watching as Riley wiped away her tear, she noticed another stray droplet clinging to the edge of her lips, and with the tip of her thumb, Kat reached up to wipe it away.

"Think a certain larger-than-life fox'll be pretty happy to see you again. I stopped by a few times to leave him something from the butcher, though that was mostly for my own benefit than his actually -needing- anything." She laughed softly, another sigh as she gently cradled the side of Kat's face for a moment and teased. "I should probably let you rest before I get chased out of here."

"That cranky bastard always seemed t'like ya' more than did me," her eyes rolled quickly, "at least ya' two had each other." With another slow breath and long blink, Kat couldn't help but press her into the hand, which cradled the side of her face, lips instinctively pressing a kiss to the base of the thumb. "I don't want ya' t'go," she admitted in a somber tone, "but yer right, Benson will chase ya' out before long."

"And I don't want to leave," she affirmed her own hesitation, not having to voice the implication that she feared, somehow, if she walked out that door, Kat would somehow disappear. Subtly she passed a small enchanted stone into Kat's hand, a familiar communication method, which Kat quickly whisked beneath the sheet in her lap. "You need anything, between now and when you're out of here, you tell me. I won't be far."

There was an unshakable sincerity to her words, an unspoken promise that she was already making good on her promise to be there when Kat needed her. Pulling her gently forward, Riley tilted her chin down until their foreheads came to rest against one another, her eyes closed in that moment of tender affection. "Alright," she breathed a sigh, motivating herself to actually move as she stood from the bed — but not before leaving another press of her lips against Kat's forehead. "Rest up. Don't give Benson any excuse to keep you here longer, yeah?" As she smiled down at Kat, a gentle squeeze was given to her hand.

A few gentle nods to convey understanding as another small smile creased her lips, picking up on how promptly Riley was looking to make good on her promise. Kat let the moment of silence linger peacefully as their foreheads rested together, holding back a winch when Riley finally spoke to motivate herself to move. Kat sat there and watched, biting the inside of her lip, sharing the fear that the other would disappear once through the door. "The papers were already signed; she can't keep me here any longer." Returning the squeeze to her hand, Kat reluctantly let her digits slide free and collect on her thigh.

"I'm not above breaking you out of this joint, if it comes to that," she winked, reaching down to give Kat's wrist one final, reassuring squeeze. "Sleep well. We'll have you home before you know it." With that, Riley seemed to have to force herself to turn and head for the door, but not before pausing just passed the threshold to look back at Kat with a smile — it was a smile that said more in its silence than words could suitably convey, and only then did she continue down the hallway towards the stairs.

Kat had to bite back a smile, stifling a laugh. "Nobody else I'd like t'be a fugitive with," she teased as Riley began to leave. From her seat on the bed Kat could only watch as the woman exited, content to let the silence linger as she would move through the door. Knees bent, and legs pulled in against her chest, arms draping over the shins as a tear-stained chin propped against the kneecap. Riley's pause in the doorway was unexpected, and the smile she shot across the room coaxed one of the very same nature to Kat's lips.

Even after Riley was long out of sight, Kat continued to stare into the empty doorway as thoughts began to churn again. There was no mention of Alyssa, which sparked a great sense of concern in Kat's heart. For a moment, she worried that Alyssa had forfeited her life in the process of saving her's. The pain of such a thought was sharp, like a dagger to the gut, and tears threatened to fall again.

[ @blue-eyedraven​] [ Mentioned: @preyontheweak​, @alyssa-ward​, @tirasiantrouper​ ]

( [Chapter I] [Chapter II] [Chapter III] [Chapter IV] ) ( [pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] )

[sebbybooks]

Our Vintage Summers(PT3)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

"All I need is to remember

how it was to feel alive."

-Aurora

My eyelids were heavy as I tried to flutter them open. Slowly my vision came back to me as the blurbs of light and shapes began to take on real form. I had to steady my breath careful not to let my nerves takeover because it took me a while to adjust to my surroundings to figure out where I was and how I ended up back in this old bedroom of mine. I stared mindlessly up at the ceiling watching the cracks that formed around the dandelion shaped crystal chandelier that once radiated the most calming ambient light. As I stare at it now I see that it is nothing more than a hideous piece of architecture from my hellish childhood. Memories began to accompany the pain then right on time images of Sebastian fading into nothing flashed through my brain.

I jolted myself forward when realization finally kicked in but my attempt to get of out bed was short lived. I was met with a stabbing pain that shot through my head at full force that made me wince. I squeezed my eyes shut feeling like at any minute I was going to be sick. You would think I took a nasty beating to the skull from how badly it hurt.

I couldn't move the lower half of my body if I wanted to. I was tightly tucked underneath the duvet that I was burning up under. I laid there immobile and in misery. I couldn't call out for anyone all of my energy felt depleted and I was starting to feel dizzy on top of it. The thoughts in my head wouldn't slow down as they danced around taunting me. The only face I wasn't able to escape belonged to the one person that made me feel like I was going completely insane. Hell, maybe I was going a little mad. There was no way what I saw was real. How could I explain seeing a person vanish before my very eyes? The short answer was I couldn't.

Suddenly the door to the bedroom shot opened I was able to lift my head to look to see who had entered. Quickly coming over to the bed I saw out of the corner of my eye it was my sister Anya. The look of concern she wore on her face quickly diminished when she looked down and saw that I was conscious.

"You're awake!" She whispered. Anya's pinched expression was replaced with a toothy smile. "You had us worried sick Sia. Justin just found you face down on the kitchen floor." I could hardly find it in me to speak so I just let out a exasperated sigh in response. She brushed through my hair gently with her hand careful not to press down on my head too hard, brushing my hair away from my face. I was grateful for that because my hair was starting to cling to my skin. It felt like I was getting hotter and hotter by the second I needed a fan or a window to be let open. I feared I might be at risk of passing out again.

"Jesus Sia you are burning up." Anya said finally stating the obvious as she flipped her hand back and forth over my forehead. I used all the energy I had to raise my hand to motion that I needed air. "Let me go get you an ice pack and turn the AC up." She said as she started to turn around to leave.

"Anya." My voice came out like a croak.

"Yeah sis?"

I had to move my tongue around in my mouth a few times to get a bit of moisture flowing. My throat was so incredible hoarse I could hardly understand my own voice. Plus it pained me to even move my jaw in the slightest. I needed to know so I used all that I had to say his name. "Sebastian?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked back at me like I had a horn coming from the center of my forehead. Thinking she didn't hear me I attempted to utter his name again. This time she reacted as if I was the one confused. "Sia you hit your head pretty hard now you're just saying random names. Maybe Remi was right and we need to call an ambulance."

I began to pull myself up, but again quickly regretted it. "Anya where. . . where did he go?"

Standing in the middle of the doorway. "Where did who go?" I could hear the genuine frustration laced in her tone.

"Sebastian?" I spoke his name like I was unsure of who I was referring to myself.

Defeated she stared back at me with pity and worry in her eyes. "We met a lot of people at grandma's funeral, but we don't know anyone by that name. The only people here with us is Justin, Remi, and Gavin remember? I'm going to give Dr. Thomas a call after all to see if he will come out and look at you just to be sure that you're ok." She huffed out as she pulled her cellphone from her back pocket.

I don't know why but my eyes began to cloud over with tears. "He showed up to the house tonight right as the storm rolled in." Listening to the sound of my own voice it sounded like I had an ugly cold. I could tell she was trying to ignore me. Despite how badly it hurt to talk I kept going. "We met him earlier on the beach Anya, mom introduced him to us. Sebastian told us that he knew our grandmother why aren't you listening to me?" As delusional and pathetic I must've sounded to top it all off I started to sob uncontrollably. It hurt to even puff out a breath of air. Wet hot tears rolled down my face. I was losing it.

"Hello Dr.Thomas this is Anya Foxwood, Nora and Keith's daughter. I am terribly sorry to be disturbing you this late I wouldn't have called if I didn't think it was an emergency." I began to block the sound of my sister as I reclined my tired body back onto the bed.

The rain that continued to pour down from the sky loudly started to pick up and beat against the windowsill. The drumming sound of thunder accompanied it in the background to add to the mix of noises. Teardrops pooled from the corners of my eyes. I was engulfed in an uncomfortable wave of sadness that I myself couldn't even explain. I didn't want to admit it but I swear it felt like my heart was crying out for him. Which was the strangest sensation I didn't even know him! I started to even second guess if he was real. An that all of this was just apart of a cursed day that refused to end.

I sank my body down further into the bed trying to hold on to the last details of Sebastian and I's conversation. I had this gut feeling about him that I had trouble deciphering if was good or bad. Yet, my wild emotions that jumped out in his presence urged me to quell any doubts that I had. Which was an unsafe mindset I found myself trapped in. He was on the verge of telling me something that he so desperately wanted me to know. Then shit went supernatural.

The room fell silent I didn't even notice when Anya stepped away. She closed the door closing off what little air I did receive. It felt like a sauna in here. I could barely catch my breath. I assumed the pain in my head was worsening because it started to feel like I was spinning, despite the fact I was laying completely still. In all honesty at the risk of sounding dramatic I was convinced in this moment I was dying. I've never had a migraine make me feel like my brain was hemorrhaging painfully slow. I wanted to scream out in agony but my throat felt restricted unable to call out for help. I barely could move a muscle and that was the scariest part of it all. I waited for it to get worse so it would finally be over. I had no choice but to accept whatever was to come freeing me from this torment.

Gasping for air at this point I closed my eyes thinking it would help bring me an inkling of comfort to ease my suffering. Almost on an instant my limbs began to feel more relaxed and a sense calmness washed through my body. I could feel rays of sunlight grazing every inch of my skin. Through my closed eyelids the lights grew brighter like I was laying under direct sunlight of some sorts. When I tried turning on my side I felt tiny grains of sand underneath me and that's when my eyelids shot open. Clearly I died or was dreaming. Somehow I ended up back on the beach

As I raised myself from the sand I looked around in confusion as I watched the strangers around me partake in the elements around them. Couples were strolling alongside the water, children were playing in the sand, families were huddled together smiling and laughing. I scanned the area around me all appeared normal, except something was definitely off.

Pushing myself up I had to quickly access my attire it felt like I was nearly naked. I was dressed in a blush pink high waisted polka dot bikini with a swim top that left none to the imagination. It didn't take long for me to pick up on the attention I was attracting. Mothers with their children stared back at me with disdain while their husbands were doing a poor job hiding the fact that they were skeevy. While it was apparent I stuck out like a sore thumb I noticed something about everyone's choice of modest swimwear and style. They all looked like they stepped out of a scene from a Fitzgerald novel.

A loud nervous laugh escaped from me and I quickly clamped my hand across my mouth. I could sense myself starting to panic, clearly I was experiencing a very realistic dream. I felt every sensation like it was happening in real time. Squinting my eyes from the bright sunlight I was slightly terrified to move and explore my new location. What startled me the most was the fact that I recognized exactly where I was. Spinning around on my bare feet in the hot sand the only thing that was familiar to me was seeing that my grandmother's house was still sitting on the sand dune up ahead.

"How in the hell?" I said aloud, my voice trailing off as I tried to screw my head on straight. The Victorian styled beach house was nearly unrecognizable. Its previous cold and uninviting essence on the outside was replaced with a great deal of decadency and warmth. There were no longer old vines that clung to every crevice on the house. Lively blue and violet hydrangeas adorned it instead as they climbed up the structure of the house. The dead shrubbery was replaced with vibrant yellow forsythia plants that lined against the house. On the front lawn children joyfully chased after a rabbit while men and women whose faces I didn't know were scattered across the front of the house engaged in a party. From the looks of it they were having a good time. All the years I've seen that house it never looked more alive.

"HEY LADY WATCH OUT!!" Before I could move fast enough to see who was shouting to get my attention I was taken out by a flying blue frisbee. Thankfully it missed my face but the thick plastic disc went straight to my neck knocking the wind out of me. Doubling over in pain I crouched down trying to stop my uncontrollable coughing attack. I gasped for air right as I noticed two sets of feet quickly pick up that weapon and take off running in a fit of laughter.

"Those little shits are you alright Miss?" By now surely I could recognize that voice which made my heart flip in my chest. I looked up as I brought my hand to massage the area of impact on my neck. "Sia?" Sebastian said my name carefully upon recognition.

I couldn't blink. If I did I was one hundred percent certain he would waste away again. He didn't look like he did when I last saw him in my grandmother's kitchen. Eyeing him I noticed that he was an exact replica of the man I saw in the photo I found. There was a sun kissed tan to him, his hair was shorter and tindruls of curls fell on his forehead. He was even dressed in the same opened buttoned white linen shirt and blue and white swim shorts. The more I noticed that the similarities were exactly the same my knees started to tremble and I was close to falling onto my ass until Sebastian reached out and grabbed me. Slightly tilted off balance he kept his arms arms secured around my waist so that I wouldn't fall down. I gave into my weight trusting that he would hold me steady. I no longer cared to try to rationalize what on earth was happening. I tipped my head back up at him still in utter disbelief , "You remember who I am?"

He looked down at me and I'm sure we mirrored the same shocked expression. "Of course I remember." Sebastian's chest was rising and falling at a fast speed. The grip he had on my frail frame tightened but it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. He was holding onto me almost as if he was afraid to let go.

His focus never drifted away from my face which caused me to feel bashful underneath his affectionate gaze. For a minute I was concerned that he had gone mute, sensing what I was thinking he positioned me back on my feet backing away to put distance between us. Sebastian looked like he was fighting with himself to come near me again. My hands twitched just to touch any part of him. I was tired of fighting what I couldn't understand.Hiding my disappointment I looked away just long enough to catch my breath stealing a glance of the house once again. "I have been telling myself not to freak out, but I'm starting to fail miserably."

"None of this is going right." His shoulders were tense like he was unable to relax any muscle. It was visible that whatever was bothering him was making him upset. "I'm still trying to make sense myself, but for right now I need you to trust me so we can get you somewhere where she won't be able to find you like this."

.....

(A/N* Hi beautiful creatures! I know it's taken me a while to update this fic, for a minute I was unsure if I wanted to continue writing it. I promise not to take forever to upload the next part! Just an fyi If you had ever asked me to tag you the reason I didn't was only due to the fact it has been such a long time. Therefore I had it in the back of my mind you simply forgot about it (which is fine!). If you want to know when I post the next part just let me know and I'll happily do so! I hope you guys are having a wonderful day or night! If not I promise it'll get better😘)

[windupalisaie]

unburdened & content

(alisaie/wol | romantic fluff  | post stormblood - a year after ala mhigo’s liberation | 3178 words) 

A pair of arms emerged from the dark and wound around Alisaie's waist. Her hand reached for the hilt of her rapier on instinct, only to remember that the blade usually strapped to her belt wasn’t there. For a brief, fleeting moment, she panicked.

"Guess who?"

The question was caught between velvet and silk, with a light rasp that clung to otherwise smooth words. The warmth of a familiar giggle danced against Alisaie’s neck and her ear, bringing with it the equally familiar scent of petals and spice that mingled with a rich thread of wine. Alisaie relaxed.

"You're far too adept at cloaking yourself in shadow, Warrior of Light."

She did her best to not make the surprise she'd briefly felt obvious and made sure the title was a sharp little knife when she spoke it—much like the ones its bearer often threw around without care. The shadow behind her giggled again upon being unmasked. 

"Caught me," Poppy replied in a rueful, singsong way and leaned forward to prop her chin on Alisaie’s shoulder. "Just wanted to see if my darling little wallflower is enjoying herself."

The jab was gentle, edged only with a hair of playful sharpness. Still, Alisaie glanced sidelong in a way she knew was petulant—eyes narrowed and lips pursed—at the woman who used her as a headrest. When she caught sight of the bright eyes that stared back at her, crinkled with a sweet and genuine smile, Alisaie couldn't help but smile in return.

"I'm enjoying myself as much as I can," she said, sounding droll. She crossed her arms and leaned back into her love's embrace, sighing lightly to punctuate her response.

Parties were never Alisaie’s preferred environment. Forced pleasantries and talk of politics were always Alphinaud’s forté, but she'd learned to endure it all in her own way. She was never sorely missed in the moments between conversations, even after slipping away to the darkened sidelines to catch her breath. 

It’d been a long evening of speeches and socializing. Ala Mhigans were a lively bunch, at the very least, and, to their credit, the celebration could hardly be considered stiff. Alisaie smiled again when she looked across the crowd and caught glimpses of her fellow Scions, who all mingled amongst members of the Resistance and leadership from the Eorzean city-states.

"I have to admit,” Alisaie said quietly, “it’s good to see everyone together again." 

A warm feeling of contentment tinged her words. The hum of agreement Poppy replied with held a similar warmth. 

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" she asked.

The question gave Alisaie pause. The memory of the night they were all together last was vivid despite being years old at that point, and replayed in her mind as if through the clear facets of an unaspected crystal:

Having defeated the Warriors of Darkness and collected their missing comrades, every Scion had crowded into the Solar of the Rising Stones in attendance of an impromptu meeting called by Alphinaud in order to decide the course of their future. It felt like an epoch ago, before their entanglement in the war, in a time when Lyse still counted herself among their ranks and before Papalymo—

Alisaie shook her head to clear the thoughts away. The motion helped combat the stab of sadness that suddenly slipped into her gut like a knife.

"It has," she said in agreement, quiet and just a bit somber. As if sensing her tension, the arms around Alisaie's waist tightened their embrace.

"Well,” Poppy said, “I can see you're clearly having the time of your life here, but—" before Alisaie could even think up a quip in return, Poppy cut the teasing short to continue, "—want to sneak away with me for a bit?"

The question, along with the puff of breath that came with it, pushed against Alisaie's neck and made the skin there prickle into gooseflesh. She turned her head, enticed already, and smirked at the sight of the playful twinkle in Poppy's eyes.

"Lead the way," Alisaie replied. She didn't bother with hesitation, having learned long ago that it was best to just play along with her love's mischief, and was rewarded with a flash of sharp teeth.

Poppy's arms released her, but her hand slid against Alisaie's a breath later until their fingers tangled together, pulled taut as knots. The gentle tug that came soon after was a wordless command to follow.

Poppy led her through the darkened edges of the ballroom with the silence expected of one whose multitude of titles included the darkest shadow. It was a marvel how she seemed to thread the ambient aether around them both to form a cloak of darkness that shielded from prying eyes. Alisaie was ever-appreciative of the discreet ways Poppy always managed to rescue her from the boredom of parties with.

When they broke free of the confines of the celebration, Poppy let the shadows fall away. The palace opened up around them, all gold and buff marble and towering pillars holding up lofty domed ceilings that filled Alisaie with awe. She hadn't explored the massive place so thoroughly before, but noted how all previous manners of Garlemald had been expunged, replaced instead with rightful banners of rich purple and alabaster griffins.

The hoods of the Resistance were styled after the very same majestic beasts, with beaks that dipped down in respect towards the Warrior of Light and her companion, as they allowed the two women past their guard. A grand staircase was ascended, and Alisaie suspected she found herself on the famed Royal Menagerie when they emerged onto a sweeping terrace paved in ecru tile.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Poppy's question broke through the prolonged, though comfortable, silence that had slipped between them. Alisaie hummed her appreciation at the sight of flowers that swayed in chilled gusts of night air, painted in shades ranging from vermilion to rosy pink. Still hand in hand, they stepped towards the center of the garden and among rows of massive flowerbeds. When Poppy's hand slipped away from hers, it was replaced with a crisp coolness that made Alisaie miss her touch.

"This is where I fought him." Poppy moved towards the nearest plot and bent over to pluck a flower from its bed. There was a slowness to her motions that made it look like she was in pain, or that she feared the bloom she held might shatter at her touch. "A lot of things ended here," she added. The words seeped quietly into the night, heavy with the weight of troubling memories.

Alisaie knew that Zenos met his end on the Menagerie. She hadn't expected it to be a place so serene, though it was clear that the serenity didn't reach Poppy fully. Something about her demeanor changed as she held the flower up. Her eyes narrowed in deep thought and perhaps in anger as the sliver of moon that hung above them outlined her profile with a soft, pale glow. Though the light was scant, it still reflected off her eyes like a flicker of cold flame.

Alisaie watched her, unsure what to say. When her gaze fell to the jagged scar visible beneath the chest wrappings of Poppy’s sparse armor, the red of the flowers briefly brought the phantom, coppery tang of blood to her nose. Her own anger flared in an unbidden flash of heat, directed at herself for not being able to stand at Poppy’s side during that final battle. 

"Many things began here as well," Alisaie said after a moment. She unclenched her fists and shed her senseless anger—it would do her little good a year late, after all—then offered Poppy a determined little smile instead. "Ala Mhigo's unfettered future, for one."

Poppy remained entranced by the flower in her grasp. Alisaie’s words broke through her silent musing and she lifted her head to meet her gaze, seeming startled and unsure. She exhaled a breath that felt like it lasted an age, but also seemed to lighten her burden, if only just a bit.

"I didn't want this place to be soured, is all," Poppy explained with a shrug, sounding sheepish, and glanced back down at the flower that twirled between her fingertips. Its pink petals held fast to the stem despite the abuse. "It's too pretty for that. So I brought you. It can't be sour if there's memories of you here."

Alisaie huffed at the flattery, though a smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth just enough to betray her. Poppy caught sight of it in an instant—fast enough to act before Alisaie could squeeze in a retort.

"Enough talk,” Poppy said and waved a hand before her face, as if she meant to swipe the dreary cobwebs of old memories away. “Dance with me?"

The question caught Alisaie off guard. Her wide-eyed gawping was likely what pulled the smile back onto her partner’s lips.

“Dance? Here?”

Her incredulity sharpened that smile to a wolfish grin. “Why not?”

It was a challenge, if she’d ever heard one. Alisaie stared at the hand extended towards her for a moment before she rose to it. 

"If you insist,” she replied, tone tart. “I'll indulge my dear Warrior."

Fingers brushed together and a step closed the gap of space between them. Poppy's free hand deftly tucked the flower she held into Alisaie's hair, where it made its new bed just above her ear. She smirked at the gesture, though the gentleness of it filled her with warmth.

Poppy took both of Alisaie’s hands in hers. Alisaie looked down at them, feeling calluses brush against her own, seeing scars stretch pale lines across olive skin. Poppy's nails were filed down to minuscule points and lacquered a dusty, petal pink that matched the flower she'd just held. The charming style of it suited her.

Alisaie remembered, suddenly, something her mother often said to scold her long ago, when she was but a young girl who had a bad habit of chewing on her nails while she read: you can learn much about someone with just a glance at their fingernails, and thus you must needs care for your own. She'd never quite understood the meaning behind those words. Not until she saw Poppy’s hands.

She remembered long nails carved into menacing points on the eve of many a battle, ones that were sharp enough to be considered knives in their own right. She remembered the aftermaths, the bandages wound around palms, the nails splintered and shattered, with blood caught underneath, sullied in conflicts won. She remembered still how in the darkest hours they were left overgrown and haloed by purplish bruises, left untouched by self-imposed neglect. 

Those were the hands of the Warrior of Light, of the soldier, of the weapon. The hands that held Alisaie’s then were a stark contrast that bespoke contentment and peace, rather than the hardships of war.

Alisaie remembered, also, the scent of wine on Poppy's breath when she snuck up on her, and caught it faintly between them then in their closeness, still rich and sweet. She thought of how Poppy had always quailed at the sight of a goblet and eyed opened bottles with obvious suspicion. Alisaie was surprised that she'd indulged, especially after having confided in her long ago about the fears that followed after the night in Ul'dah, and the other at Falcon's Nest.

Then it clicked into place: Poppy felt safe. Her myriad of wounds, no matter how countless, had begun to heal. The realization warmed Alisaie further.

"Ready?" Poppy asked, snapping her back to the present with amused impatience. "Or are you stalling?"

"I assure you that I'm not," Alisaie replied, tone tart once more. She straightened her back and pulled Poppy closer. "Lead the way," she said for a second time that night, and knew how she sneered likely made it sound more like a challenge of her own.

Poppy, of course, rose to that challenge in an instant. Their positions were sorted out, with hands finding waists and shoulders and holding one another. And thus their dance began.

Alisaie thought it would be nigh impossible with no music to guide them, but Poppy managed to surprise her, as she always did. She pulled them both along with her usual ease, her movements fluid, following the thrum of some unheard melody that steered her. Alisaie kept up through sheer determination alone, loathe to be outdone by her partner.

"You look a bit impressed," Poppy said after a while. She twirled them around with an effortless grace that somehow managed to come off as smug. Alisaie rolled her eyes.

"Quite. I'm impressed you haven't tripped over me yet."

Poppy tutted her disapproval before a wicked grin lit up her face. She was clearly undeterred by the comment.

"Oho, but you haven't seen anything yet!"

Both her hands traveled to Alisaie's waist and wrapped around her back, pulling her closer before she was urged backwards again. She half expected to be dropped to the ground, but Poppy held tight, dipping her so low that her head brushed against the flowers beneath her. Alisaie stared up at her, silent with surprise, and instinctively wrapped her arms around Poppy’s neck in fear of falling.

The ornate bits of gold sewn onto Poppy's formal battle garb glistened beneath the moon's half crescent and clinked together softly as she shifted to lean over. The sharp pauldron that jutted from her shoulder cut into the night sky above her, and the fearsome daggers that hung from her hips shone as moonlight pooled along the faded scars that cut across her cheek and lips. She looked every bit like the gilded hero of legend she was oft made out to be, and Alisaie couldn't help but be enchanted by the sight.

Poppy's smugness melted into satisfaction, then turned to something even softer. Her lips grazed against Alisaie’s in a feather-light kiss that stole the breath from her lungs, and her eyes fluttered closed when a more firm kiss followed.

She was practically gasping when Poppy pulled away, only to peer down at her warmly from beneath long lashes. The florid sweetness of the blooms that danced all around them clouded Alisaie's already reeling mind.

"You—" words failed her for a moment, as she'd been completely disarmed. "You… you hopeless, senseless romantic! You were planning this all along, weren't you?"

The amorous moment was shattered when another grin broke across Poppy's face. She laughed at the accusation as she straightened her back, pulling Alisaie up with ease.

"Caught me again. It's your own fault, though," Poppy said in a singsong way while her eyes narrowed with mischief. "I love you enough to prance around like a fool, after all. Lucky you," she added, tail swishing behind her in satisfaction.

Alisaie should have been more irritated from the embarrassment of being briefly turned into a blushing, swooning maiden, but no such feelings of contempt ever came. Only a warm fondness filled her, along with an amusement that pushed past her lips as a chuckle that Poppy shared in.

Poppy released Alisaie from her grasp, but didn't back away. Their hands came together again in a wordless want for contact, and they swayed, fingers twined and cheeks pressed together. It was a ghost of their previous dance, though more pleasant with the added closeness.

"I am lucky," Alisaie said after a while, quiet and assured. When Poppy chuckled again in reply, Alisaie felt the sound rumble against her. 

"I'm glad you think so."

There was a frailty and shyness behind the words that made Alisaie's heart stutter. She caught the faint thread of wine on Poppy’s breath again, felt the subtle sharpness of nails against her palms, and her thoughts abruptly turned to the precariousness of it all. The state of the realm, their lives, their love—everything felt so delicate.

It felt like madness, sometimes, to think of the breadth of her love for Poppy. And it was madness, for how could she fall in love with a whirling tempest, or the harsh crackle of a roaring fire, or the sharpened end of a freshly polished knife, or the light, blooming warmth of hope? It was a foolish notion to fall in love with intangible, fleeting things, but Alisaie was stubborn and ever content in that folly, because she knew that the Warrior of Light was no weapon cast in metal to be wielded, nor a statue carved of stone to be worshiped—she was but a woman of flesh and blood who loved just as deeply as she did.

Their love was foolish, perhaps, and it was terrifying. The feeling was fragile, caught between them like a little bird, its frantic wing beats not unlike the fluttering of their hearts. Yet in all its fragility, it also held an unfathomable strength. It was an act of defiance to love a hero, Alisaie knew, as it was to be a hero in love. But together, they were both stronger for it.

"You're so quiet tonight," Poppy whispered, and Alisaie felt the warmth of her curious concern brush across her cheek. "A lot on your mind?"  

"Yes," Alisaie admitted. There was no point in lying, but she didn't quite know how to articulate the thoughts that occupied her. 

Poppy hummed. It was a thoughtful little sound. She pulled back just enough so Alisaie could see that her face was twisted into an unimpressed look.

"You think too much," she said, and it sounded almost like a scolding. And in that moment, Alisaie had to hold back the laugh she felt bubble up at the absurdity of it all.

“Well,” she began to reply without a breath of hesitation, "between the two of us, someone has to."

The jab pulled a pout onto Poppy's lips. Alisaie couldn't help but smirk.

"Seems like my wallflower is more of a nettle," Poppy said, speaking with as much sharpness as the mentioned plant. "Thinking is for politicians. In case you’ve forgotten, we're the ones who fight," she reminded her pointedly. She then heaved a dramatic sigh and moved backwards to step onto a flowerbed, pulling Alisaie along with her. "Though, I guess there's not much fighting to do for now,” she said with a thoughtful tilt of her head, before continuing with her usual mischief: “All that's left to do is dance!" 

They were surrounded on all sides by flowers. Poppy took Alisaie’s hands again and spun them both around. Alisaie conceded, grinning as she gave in to her love's whims, and the fondness that filled her heart made her feel as resilient as the blooms that bent against their movements.

"I suppose I can't argue with that."

Alisaie loved Poppy always, but loved her most as she was then: unburdened and content, twirling among petals, bathed in scant moonlight as she laughed. There were no titles, no duties, no pain. She was purely herself, and that was all who she needed to be.

[marshmallow--3]

Imagine - Jacob Frye suffering from a werewolf curse.

Frye Cottage, Surrey, October 1873

Softly, you're roused by the ambient sounds of the forest encompassing the house: owls hooting, tree branches rapping on the windows, fierce winds howling into the night.

You couldn't say what time it is. You doubt you could even hazard a guess. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness consuming the room, rendering any attempt to read the clock a fruitless endeavour.

A brief glance at the window confirms that dawn is yet to break.

Perfect.

Sitting upright in bed, you fumble in the dark for a moment until your hands happen upon the knob belonging to the drawer of the nightstand. With only a trickle of moonbeams lending you the faculty of sight, you open the drawer, reach for the only object inside, and strike a match.

You hold it by your face, tilting the matchstick downward and watching as the flame dances and swells. Using the light the match provides, you ignite the oil lamp atop the nightstand, extinguishing the match with a shake of your hand as the room is bathed in a warm, amber glow.

The cottage, for all intents and purposes, is without ornament - and rightly so. The single-storey cabin may be the only building for several miles, as per your intentions. The interior is functional, pragmatic, an open-plan room comprised of a bed tucked away in a corner and a kitchenette. A chimney and burning stove looks across from your sleeping area, supplementary to a table and two chairs.

A Welsh dresser is half-filled with plates and mugs, its cupboards and drawers stowing bits of food and medical goods - bandages, a needle and thread, a bottle of gin, though you're yet to use any of it, thank the Lord.

A wolf howls in the distance, prompting you to take a peek outside from behind the curtains. The full moon is fading, you note, compelling you to rise and begin your preparations for the long day ahead.

After making the bed, you cross the room and burn wood at the stove, boiling herbal tea in a cast-iron kettle. You fix some cold cuts of bread, cheese and meat, managing to eat a little yourself while saving a second portion.

A short time later, a figure comes stumbling in through the door, slamming it shut. You're hesitant to look up, knowing from previous months the heart-wrenching sight that awaits.

A creature paces with convulsing legs, looking ready to collapse at any moment. It bears the form of a man, but the mental state of a wolf. A blanket is draped around its heaving shoulders, its naked, hairy body shivering violently. Brown hair is thoroughly dishevelled, small sticks and leaves clinging to the strands. Sickly pale skin gleams wet with sweat, dirt markings littering its face. Wild, glassy eyes frantically dart around the room.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rise from your seat as slowly as possible, yearning to draw the weeping man into your bosom.

He's still an animal, you have to remind yourself, though it does little to patch your broken heart.

You avoid prolonged eye contact, letting your eyes look past him instead of lingering on him.

"Jacob," you murmur, your voice soft and quiet so as not to alarm him further.

Taking a miniscule step forward, you approach him gingerly, repeating your internal mantra of stay calm. You shrink your body and repeat his name while observing his body language, keeping an eye out for any signs of injury.

He's panicked, hysterical, gripping his head and yowling, those wide eyes reminiscent of an animal caught in a trap.

You hold your hand out palm down, and croon, "Jacob, it's okay. I'm going to help you."

By now you've crossed the room, though a good distance remains between you. His back stiffens, the air shifting around him, his nose crinkling as he picks up the Scent. He visibly calms somewhat, blinking as his eyes soften to their usual melliferous hazel.

Watching him stagger towards you, you take a few final steps towards him, catching him as he falls into you, the blanket falling from his shoulders as his arms crush you into a tight hug. You remember to hold your breath, to remain perfectly still as he buries his nose in the dip of your shoulder.

He inhales sharply, memories of his human life flashing behind his eyelids. Merry laughter rings in his head like a bell, faces of loved ones appearing and overlaying one another at the speed of lightning.

In verifying the Scent, his arms loosen around you, his breathing heavy against your skin.

The Scent comforts his wolf form, he'd once explained. It's a blend of your smell and his, a product of your... prior carnal union, so to speak, serving as a catalyst that completes the reconstruction of his brain.

You continue to shush him, now free to move your hand and stroke his damp hair, pacifying him until the shaking subsides.

Lifting his head, he meets your gaze and wets his lips in an attempt to speak.

"Hi."

You cup his face, tears forming in your eyes at the humanity present in his face, at the way his eyes gleam in recognising you.

"Hi." Your response comes with lumps in your throat.

He chuckles to break the ice, immediately wincing and breaking out in a fit of coughing. Prying yourself from his embrace, you help him hobble over to the table and take a seat. Working swiftly, you pour a cup of the tea, retrieving the laudanum from a drawer in the dresser and setting it down in front of him.

He tests his coordination for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fist and wiggling his fingers before trusting himself with handling a cup of hot liquid. He blows the drink before sipping, swallowing quickly to avoid the bitter taste.

His speech is slow, hesitant. "Is that, the same, same stuff as last time?"

You nod. He grimaces.

"Doesn't work."

"It's the highest dose the doctor will prescribe me." It took little effort convincing the physician that the pills were for you - dramatising your menstrual pain is far preferable to telling the truth. "Please, take it. Something is better than nothing."

Jacob glances up at you, taking in the sight of your eyes glossy with tears, your forehead creased with concern, your brows angled upwards as you plead.

Agreeing silently, he takes the tablet and swallows it down with the bitter brew, spluttering as the taste lingers on his taste buds. You rub his back to help him keep it down, drawing his attention to the plate of food; perhaps it could cover the horrid taste.

He takes stock of the plate's contents, sniffing tentatively. The cuts of meat smells appetising at the very least, and he almost reaches for it before his head swims with intrusive images of sleeping deer, the sound of snarling wolves surrounding him as though they're present in the room. Nausea rises from his stomach, he heaves and retches before pushing the plate away with a forceful shove.

"I need to lie down."

He staggers in standing up, knocking cutlery to the ground with a clatter. He grits his teeth, distributing a little too much of his weight onto you as you help him limp towards the bed.

Every step is pure agony for him; although you haven't experienced his curse, you can imagine the torture he must go through - his skeleton changing shape, his organs moving position, his flesh and muscles being torn to shreds by his own claws.

All that, and probably far more that your imagination simply cannot comprehend, three nights a month.

He doesn't peel the duvet back to clamber into bed, instead laying himself on top of the bedclothes. And judging from the heat radiating from his body, you can understand why.

You get a proper look at his face for the first time: his skin is off-colour and boiling hot to the touch, and the whites of his eyes are bloodshot. Sweat trickles down his forehead, red welts marring his skin. You dab his forehead with a cold, wet towel, conscious of the pressure you apply.

He grunts, a fresh wave of throbbing spasms coursing through his jerking body.

"Shhh, Jacob, you're okay. You're alright."

It's silly, but... Despite all of the ways you help him, you feel helpless, wishing you could do more to take his pain away for good. Watching on as he pants and yells, his body convulsing like a seizure, you find yourself singing a lullaby, stroking his cheek in hopes of pacifying him even a little.

"I love you," Jacob manages to wheeze when your song comes to an end.

"I love you too, my darling man."

@sassenach-on-the-rocks @aikeia @yourchepazworld @iceboundstar @the-purple-rook @unprofessional-bard @witch-of-letters @disneymarina @thero0ks @assassins-and-hidden-blades @ass-sass-sin-o @ladye11e @deviousspleen

[dear-trashpanda]

Healthy Coping, PT. 1 – Sensory Hypersensitivity

So, I decided to make a series that focuses on different issues that give me a hard time, and I'll give you a detailed account on the techniques, tools and distractions I use to get through the tough times.

I'm planning to go through the following subjects:

Sensory hypersensitivity

Depression

Sleeping problems

Eating problems

Anxiety in various situations

Communication + Social troubles

DID related issues

These are the ones I could think of now, but there might be more coming, if there is something I forgot.

-----------

Part 1: Sensory Hypersensitivity

I have a lot of sensitivities, and while some of them are relatively easy to ignore, others make my life quite difficult/unpleasant. Since I grew up undiagnosed, and thus having to "pass for normal", I built myself a plethora of useful little tricks to survive when the world gets too much. Here they are, I hope you can find some that might help you!

Tactile toys: I have a ridiculously large array of toys I can interact with by touching them. I use clay, slimes, squishes and just different objects I like the texture of. I collect these small items and I keep them at strategic places so I can always have one at hand. How I use them: whenever I feel overwhelmed or just need to self-soothe, I find the texture my hands are craving at the moment and I squeeze/rub/hold them, I close my eyes and focus all my attention on the object I'm holding and the feeling it gives my fingers. This is working great for me because the feeling distracts me from the source of my distress, and the rhythmical movement helps me discharge the tension built up by the distressing situation. My favourite one: I have a little narwhal that has a slow-rising quishy inside covered in a super soft plush surface material. It's the perfect sensory toy for me because it's small, so I can have it with me when I'm out and about, it's pleasant to the touch, and I can give this guy a hard squeeze when I'm anxious, and bask in the joy of it slowly rising back to its original shape.

Noise cancelling headphones/true wireless earbuds: a friend of mine gave me a pair of great active noise cancelling headphones and it turned out to be a life-saver. Sometimes I don't even listen to music, I just have them on to block out the outside world. The only downside of those is that they are huge and bulky, so sneaking around with them is not an option. That's why I got myself a pair of true wireless earbuds. While these don't have ANC, their shape and snug fit makes for a great noise cancelling effect, and they are tiny, so I can have them discreetly on when I'm in a situation I have to get rid of the sounds around me (just the noise level of a store can easily overwhelm me), but it would be considered rude to be wearing headphones, or I can't have them with me for some other reason. They are also practical from a size point of view, since I can have them and their little charging pod in my pockets at all times. How I use them: I usually wear the headphones at home and the earbuds when I'm out and about. I also use a single earbud for sleeping, if I can't listen to my sleep sounds out loud. They are great for music, nature sounds or podcasts, and I can listen on them at a high volume as well, because they don't leak sound, so I'm not disturbing others with them. My favourite one: it's hard to tell, but I tend to use the earbuds more often, because wearing headphones gives me a headache after a while (because it's squeezing on my head), so the earbuds are more practical in that sense, although they can't live up to the sound quality of the headphones, so those are definitely better for music.

Fairy lights: Christmas lights are not just for Christmas! One of my favourite methods of creating soft ambient lighting is hanging garlands of fairy lights on my ceiling. One by one these little bulbs aren't intense enough to bother my eyes, but together they actually provide enough light that you can do basically anything by them. How I use them: I actually hooked them up to a switch socket (dunno if it's universal, but in Scandinavia most electrical outlets come with a safety switch, so you can turn off the power when you're not using them), and I just use them instead of a ceiling lamp. I like the warm white coloured ones the most, but it's entirely up to you and your preferences. My favourite one: I have a chain of fake light bulbs with little LED fairy lights inside them, they look absolutely adorable!

Scented items: smelling things is one of my favourite ways to decompress. Not only do smells bring back the strongest/most vivid memories, they are also the perfect reinforcement of pleasant/calming fantasies. I have scented candles, little pillows filled with lavender, different essential oils and perfumes I use in different situations. How I use them: I like to create positive triggers with smells. For example, if I know I'm going to be relaxing in my room, I spray a bit of my favourite scented humidifier in the air, so the room has a distinct smell while I'm doing the comfy/relaxing thing there, and every time I can no longer smell it, I add another puff. I do this consistently every time I am doing the relax routine, so after a while, a link is formed between the smell and the relaxed mood. Once the link is in place, I can use it as a positive trigger to put myself in a relaxed state just by smelling the same smell. My favourite one: lavenders for relaxing and my citrus body spray for a refreshed, happy mood.

"Easy foods": sometimes the reason I cannot eat is because the intensity/complexity of most foods' taste is overwhelming. For these occasions I've tested out some easy foods that I can still eat even when nothing else goes down. They are usually quite bland, but that's kind of the point... How I use them: If I realise I can't eat other food because of its intensity, I mentally go through the list of the simple tastes, trying to imagine myself eating them and hopefully I find one that would work. If I don't, I just drink some water, and then periodically repeat the exercise until I'm hungry enough so I can make myself eat something simple. My favourite one: rice fried with eggs and veggies. Rice and eggs, it doesn't get much simpler than that. It's warm, it's filling, and if you throw some veggies in there, it's also quite healthy. A little salt and pepper, and it's the perfect simple food.

Bonus round – clothing and shoes: if you are anything like me, you might know the total pain of being distracted the whole day because your shoes are a bit too tight or the fabric of your only clean shirt is rubbing painfully on your skin. I grew up thinking that the world was just a mildly, but constantly unpleasant place, and I was already a grown-up when I learnt that shoes and clothes don't have to hurt. Today, I shop with my fingertips, and I only wear stuff I'm actually comfortable in. I've learnt that I'm not obligated to "look good" for society's sake, and built my wardrobe around comfort and practicality. Important things to consider when you're buying new clothes/shoes: Make sure your skin agrees with the fabric, and don't buy stuff that looks good but drives you crazy with its texture. When buying shoes, remember, they have to be comfy in the store. The whole "you have to break them in" thing is bullshit, if they hurt in the store, they'll always hurt, and you don't want to put up with (potentially permanent) foot/leg/back pain for a pair of good-looking shoes.

I hope some of these tips will work for you and make your life easier. Feel free to add your own sensory relief techniques below!

~TP

[vannahfanfics]

Keep Me Warm

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel and Lucy Heartfilia

Thump. Thump. Clang! Thump, thump, thump. Crash! “Dammit!”

Lucy groaned loudly as the ambient noises echoing through her small apartment dragged her unwillingly into consciousness. Not quite willing to relinquish the peaceful embrace of sleep, she yanked her comforter over her head and snuggled into her pillow in an attempt to return once more to its arms. Bang! Clatter! With an irritated growl, she flung back over and grabbed her alarm clock, peering in the gloom as her eyes struggled to adjust to its glaring neon numbers. 2:36 in the morning? What the hell is all this noise?! She fumed silently. Lucy had just returned from a rather perilous mission with Natsu- when were they not perilous when he was involved- from the mountains. The exhausting aspect aside, Lucy was fairly certain that she was coming down with a cold from the adventure and was hence trying to sleep as much as possible to stave off falling ill. She crunched her alarm clock in her hand before slamming it back down on her bedside table, her mood soured by the assault on her attempt to stay healthy.

She was still too groggy to recognize that the sounds were coming from within her own home rather than out in the street, so that is why her first instinct was to climb out of bed and march over to her window. She angrily threw it open, recoiling for a moment as the cold, harsh night wind blasted into her room. She was only dressed in a tank top and a pair of short-shorts, and she tried to ignore the icy breeze as it danced over her bare skin with eager fingers while she leaned out of the window to glare down at the cobblestone streets, attempting to find the perpetrator and give them a proper scolding.

“Huh? There’s no one there,” she mumbled and blearily rubbed her eyes. The pale moonlight shining down upon the street revealed nothing but shadows and a skinny cat skulking along the wall that overlooked the bay. In her sleepy delirium, Lucy paused a moment to admire the way the white light scattered across the shifting surface of the ocean, looking like diamonds sparkling in a field of blue flowers. “Pretty…”

Craaaaaash! “Owwwwww, ow, ow, ow, owwww!”

Lucy leaped nearly a foot in the air as the resounding clamor blasted through her apartment, and all traces of sleepiness immediately left her when she came upon the frightening realization that someone was in her house- a clumsy someone, but a someone nonetheless. Too concerned with her own safety to bother with appearances, she snatched her Celestial Keys off her nightstand and opened her bedroom door to peer out suspiciously into the night. Light glowed softly at the end of the hall in the direction of her kitchen, and she could hear hushed voices floating down the hallway, though she could not make out who they were or what they were saying. She held her keys tightly in her hands to keep them from jingling as she crept through the shadows, drawing closer to the intruders apparently raiding her refrigerator. She hid behind the ajar kitchen door to eavesdrop.

“Ooh! Chocolate chips! Whadaya think, buddy?”

“Nah! I want peanut butter.”

“What? Peanut butter sucks! How could you say that?”

“How could you say that? … Why don’t we do both so we’re both happy?”

“Ah! Great idea! You’re a genius, Happy!”

Lucy’s shoulders hunched up to her ears upon realizing just who had snuck into her house in the middle of the night. Of course. I should have known. Of course it would be those two knuckleheads! She thought bitterly as she stepped out from behind the door and into the threshold to gaze upon the disaster they had created. Lucy’s pots and pans had been dragged out of her cabinets, and presumably since they were located on the bottom shelves near the floor, Natsu had bumped his head on the jutting countertop trying to claim them, judging from the goose egg sticking out of his wild pink hair. Similarly they had raided her pantry and fridge for things like flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and the like, all of which were emptied of their contents and scattered across the kitchen, both their containers and the substances themselves. Natsu and Happy had apparently had particular fun making footprints and handprints all over the place with the flour before returning to their task at hand, which Lucy had deemed to be making cookies.

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at three in the morning?”

As Lucy spoke up from her spot in the doorway, it was the boys’ turn to jump a foot in the air. As Natsu whipped around, spastically stirring a bowl of cookie dough, he grinned sheepishly at her.

“Oh, hey, Lucy. We wanted cookies, but we didn’t have the stuff to make it at home, so we came here~ Ya want some?” A pained groan slipped out of her mouth and she shook her head wearily while she face-palmed. There wasn’t going to be any explaining to them that it was socially improper to break into someone’s house in the middle of the night because they wanted to bake cookies for whatever reason, so she resigned herself to the fact that they were going to be hanging out in her house for the next hour, if not sleeping there because they were going to be too full to go home. When Lucy looked up, Natsu had somehow silently closed the distance between them, and she went bright red at his close proximity. “Hey, aren’t you cold, wearing so little?” He nonchalantly took the spatula out of the mix and licked the cookie dough off of it while staring into her eyes, which just made her flush darker.

“I was sleeping! Gah! Don’t look!” She wailed, having suddenly realized how provocatively she was dressed- more than usual, anyway- and turned around to fold her arms over her bust. It didn’t help that she had left the bedroom window open, and the night air was rapidly spreading through the apartment, making her shiver slightly. I’m cold now, because you mentioned it… Everywhere but her face, at least. She twitched as Natsu leaned over her shoulder.

“Hey, your face is really red. You’re not running a fever, are you? You said something about getting a cold in the mountains, right?” Lucy shook her head emphatically and stepped away from him, blushing further. Normally his lack of personal space didn’t bother her, but perhaps since she was still so tired, her mind just couldn’t process it like it normally could. As she did step to the side, though, Lucy suddenly had the bizarre sensation that she was falling, and her vision blurred before her eyes. What? She thought weakly. Her mind was falling too, into a trancelike state where she couldn’t process anything but the rushing of wind, though she wasn’t sure if that was in her head or in the apartment. Instinctively, her hands groped for something to steady her fall, and one of them found the solid muscle of Natsu’s upper arm. Just grateful to have something to anchor her to reality rather than plummet into the chasm that had formed into her mind, the rest of her body followed suit and she fell against the dragon-slayer. As she came out of the strange spell, she found that she was panting heavily and was shivering. “Hey! Lucy! Are you okay?” Natsu asked her worriedly. He was holding the bowl of cookie dough above his head, because she had nearly knocked it free, but his other arm was wrapped securely around her waist. Lucy could have lied, but she was too tired to.

“No… Natsu… I don’t feel good…” Somehow a switch had flipped in her, and all her energy had dissipated in that very moment. It was hard for her to even stand, she was so weak, and so she just clung to Natsu for support. She was also too tired to care about what a compromising and embarrassing situation she had landed in, and the warmth radiating from his body was oddly comforting. It feels so nice, she thought absently as she pressed her cheek against his chest, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to keep them open. She felt like she could fall asleep right there.

“Lucy! You’re really pale now!” Happy cried while clambering up onto her kitchen table to stand next to Natsu. He put a little blue paw against her forehead, the recoiled with a yelp. “Yowch! Lucy, you’re running a really high fever!”

“Here, Happy, hold this,” Natsu ordered and unceremoniously dropped the bowl onto Happy, who caught it with all his weight by essentially being trapped beneath it. His little limbs and tail flung about as he struggled to get out from beneath it, while Natsu, too concerned with Lucy to notice, put his hand under her chin to tilt her head up and pressed his forehead against hers. Even in her confusion, she did have the wherewithal to blush then, and she had to wonder how much that heat would contribute to the fever. “Mhmm. Lucy, you’re really sick,” Natsu confirmed. As he pulled away, Lucy had to fight the urge to pull him back, because something about that closeness was so important to her right then. That moment was ruined when she abruptly sneezed.

“Aw, Lucy, your sneeze is so cute!” Happy laughed as he popped up from behind the bowl, having finally made his harrowing escape. “Do it again!”

“Happy, I-“ Though she wasn’t, her body was more than willing to acquiesce to his request, and she covered her face as she sneezed again, this time a few times in a row. When her body settled, she was left feeling weaker than before, and her nose and face uncomfortably clogged. “Ugh…”

“All right, all right, enough of that,” Natsu scolded Happy, who flattened his ears to his head with a sheepish grin. “Lucy needs to rest.” I was resting until you so rudely interrupted me, she thought, but she strangely wasn’t so bitter about it. Somehow Natsu being there was comforting. Still, she had to get back into bed, so she begrudgingly pried herself off of him and attempted to walk down the hall back towards her room. That was a spectacular choice on her part that resulted in her flopping roughly against the wall and smacking her head on it so forcefully that a few of the pictures hung there shook.

“Ow…”

“Lucy!” Natsu was at her side in an instant, catching her under her arms as she slumped backwards; it was like he was magnetic, attracting her frail body back to him though she tried to separate herself. “Don’t push yourself.” She was about to utter some stubborn remark and reattempt the endeavor, but her words and her will suddenly vanished as Natsu easily scooped her up into his arms. The heat of embarrassment joined that of the fever in her face, and she hurriedly buried it into his shoulder so that he wouldn’t see, though he would likely assume the redness was a result of her ailment, anyway. She wasn’t sure why she was so flustered, anyway. She had ended up in a lot of compromising situations with him across their adventures, and being carried around like a princess was certainly on the lower end of the scale. So why is my heart beating so fast? Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach in tune with her elevated heartbeat, leaving Lucy in a twisted symphony of anxiety.

“Natsu, you can put me down…” she protested weakly. Natsu, of course, adamantly shook his head while marching down the hallway. With a resigned sigh, she just curled up in his arms, admittedly lulled by that ever-present fiery heat of his and the rhythm of his heartbeat. It wasn’t beating wildly like Lucy’s, but soft and slow, strangely meshing with her own frantic melody. “I’m sorry…”

“What’re you apologizing for? I’m the one who broke into your house and made you wake up while you were sick.” So he admits it, she thought wryly. He nudged her bedroom door open with his toe and carried her into the room, then shifted her so he could support her with one arm while he threw back the bedsheets. Lucy found that positively breathtaking for some reason, that he could hold her with one arm like that so effortlessly, but that thought soon passed into embarrassment. Ugh, what’s wrong with me? Natsu can beat up dragons; of course he can hold me in one arm. Half the guys at the guild could! But the fact that Natsu could and Natsu was made the fire on her cheeks burn all the brighter.

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being catered to like this, I guess,” she sighed as he gently set her down on the bed. She looked up at him bashfully- if she had been cute, her body ruined it with an ugly, congested sniffle- and squirmed slightly on the mattress in quiet discomfort. Natsu was her friend, so of course he would want to take care of her while she was sick. She just didn’t know why the whole situation was driving her so crazy. It’s just Natsu! Normal, everyday, brave, strong, handsome Natsu… Wait. She put her hands on her face, trying to hide the expression of acute mortification on her face, but Natsu just thought she was trying to warm her face up.

“Here, Lucy, lemme do it.” She squeaked in alarm as he pried her fingers away from her face and squatted down to lay the backs of his hands against her cheeks. It did feel crazy good; as the warmth chased away the ice in her skin, she slumped slightly in relief. Her face shone with a thin sheen of sweat, but if he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it. He just stared into Lucy’s face with this oddly serious expression, his eyes searching hers for something, and though she didn’t know what he was looking for she didn’t want him to find what was hidden in the depths of those pools, and she dropped her gaze, unable to continue to meet his. Not to mention the gloom and moonlight were playing all kinds of tricks on her eyes, casting his fluffy hair in silver in such a way that she wanted to run her fingers through it, defining his muscles more sharply to where she could hardly look away, and his face- “Lucy, it’s okay. I don’t mind taking care of you at all!” She betrayed herself by looking up at him, and he was the same as ever, giving her a big, cheeky smile, the one that made his eyes scrunch up. Whatever had been there before had disappeared. It’s just my Natsu…

When had “just Natsu” become “her Natsu”? It was too much for her to think about right then, so she abandoned herself to whatever had come over her and sank into the comfort that Natsu was.

“Okay… I guess it’s a good thing you broke into my house,” she chuckled weakly before falling back against the pillow. As he pulled the blanket back over her, she was reminded of how chilly she was, and as she shivered violently, she tried to cocoon herself in the sheet and comforter. As Natsu walked over to the window to close it, she stared at his back, a question hanging on her tongue. It jumped out before she could even decide whether she should ask it or not. “You’ll stay with me all night, right?”

“Of course!” That was her Natsu, without a second thought. His scarf fluttered as he whirled about and trotted over to sit on the edge of her bed, cross-legged and framed by the white moonlight. “I’m not leaving until you’re better.” Lucy’s heart swelled, with happiness and something else too, something she couldn’t identify- or was afraid of identifying. Not caring anymore about the riddle that was happening in her head, and desperate to chase away the chill that was seeping into her bones, she scooched a little closer to him in the hopes of basking herself in his warmth. She was shaking so hard now that the bed trembled along with her, and her teeth were slightly clattering together. I’m so cold… She squeezed her eyes shut as she buried herself further in the blankets, trying to conserve what little warmth she had. She knew she must have felt hot on the surface, because sweat was pouring off her so profusely that it puddled around her hair on the pillow, but it was like the drops of moisture were stealing all her heat. She felt Natsu get up, and go rifling around in her hallway closet for a few minutes, before she heard his soft footsteps coming back in and felt him draping another thick blanket over her. “Better?”

She wanted it to be, but no matter how many layers of blankets there were, it didn’t stop the warmth from leaking out of her body. It felt like she was freezing to death. The tremors wracking her body had actually increased in ferocity, and she couldn’t speak because her teeth were clattering together so hard, she thought they might break, and her breath was shaking, too. She slipped back into delirium again, this time her mind a slave to the cold. It felt like her brain was freezing, too, crystallized on one thought. Natsu… I want Natsu… Natsu’s warmth… Despite her shivering she managed to slip an arm out of her fluffy cocoon and groped around in the dark for him, though she couldn’t see him. Even her vision was filled with snowflakes, dancing in the dark and clouding her eyes like a blizzard. Suddenly she became overwhelmingly terrified that he had left.

“N-N-nat-s-su… Wh-where a-a-are y-y-you?” The words were next to impossible to get out, but she was desperate for him, her Natsu, who was always there when she needed him. Even if she wanted to think about how she felt about him then, she couldn’t, as her mind fell deeper into the icy hurricane. Natsu…!

“I’m here, Lucy.”

At once, the blizzard ceased, and Lucy felt the soothing sensation of warmth flooding back into her body. She gasped slightly as she felt something soft slipping around her neck, wqamring her further. She raised her hand to slip her rapidly thawing fingers into the fabric; it felt odd, woven of scales but yet undeniably soft and comforting. Natsu’s scarf… It was quite too big for her, and was wrapped several times around her neck and covering her mouth. It smelled like Natsu, too, and as his scent wafted up her nose she felt all kinds of things, comfort and embarrassment and happiness and all things between. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes, so overwhelmed that he would give her his most prized and precious possession, even if only temporarily. Her eyes fluttered open, a gratuitous remark on her tongue, but it jumped back down her throat when she realized that Natsu had crawled into the bed and was currently holding her tightly within his arms. “Natsu…”

“You did this for me once, didn’t you?” That’s right, she had, during the decisive battle with Zeref. Natsu had been so deathly cold, and she had been so frightened that he would die. Her cheeks flushed as he smiled brightly down at her. “I figured the least I could do was return the favor. Are you better now, Lucy?” Lucy was mildly distraught to be in such a situation, wrapped up in Natsu’s embrace, but he was viewing the entire thing in that innocent way of his, and besides, she sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to freezing like that.

“Mhmm. Thank you,” she sighed quietly and, admittedly wishing for more of his body heat to warm her, pressed herself a little closer to him and laid her head in the crook of his neck. Perhaps she imagined it, but she felt like Natsu stiffened up a little then. She felt his hand twitch, and then slowly slide his fingers to the back of her head to gently caress the tangled, blonde tresses. Silence descended, and the soft rhythm of Natsu’s breathing and the gentle comfort of his warmth and the repeated touch of his fingertips through her hair soon lulled Lucy back into a drowsy state. As her eyelids were drooping and her consciousness once more fading, he spoke up.

“Hey, Lucy?”

“Hmm?” He squirmed uncomfortably, and once Lucy realized that he seemed to be struggling with what he was going to say, she propped herself up so that she could look down at him. It was hard to tell with the way the moonlight was spilling across his face, but she thought she could see a pink haze across his cheeks; he was avoiding eye contact, too, looking off to the side with an uncomfortable curl to his mouth. “Natsu?” Her eyes widened as his arm tightened around her.

“Can I… hold you like this… even when you aren’t sick?” The question threw Lucy for a loop, and all she could do was stare dumbly down at him with her mouth hanging open. No, it couldn’t possibly be. Natsu? No, their relationship wasn’t like that… But yet, she thought of him as her Natsu, so really, was it so impossible that he thought of her as his Lucy? She tensed when his gaze flicked back to meet hers finally, and Lucy saw a fire burning there, but it wasn’t like the fire he normally had. It was soft, smoldering, and yet held more intensity than the burning flames that appeared in his highly emotional, battle-ready state. The flames jumped up as his hand untangled from her hair and slipped down to cup her cheek. “Heh… Your face is warm now,” he joked quietly, but he didn’t lose that oddly intense expression that was making Lucy’s heart beat like a war drum. Locked in his gaze, prisoner to that burning fire, possibly insane from her present illness, Lucy realized the undeniable truth then.

She loved Natsu.

Natsu loved her.

She found her words.

“Yes, Natsu.” They came out a whisper, shy but not hesitant. He finally smiled, that crooked, boyish smile that she loved so much. When he pulled her against him, like he wanted every inch of them to touch, she found that this time his heart was beating in a wild melody, too. His hand slid to the back of her head against, holding her gently as his eyes searched her face for a moment. This time Lucy was not afraid of what he might find.

“I love you, Lucy.”

“I love you too, Natsu,” she answered, and the sheer joy that filled her when she uttered those words was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was like she had been holding it in, desperately building a wall to contain feelings she was afraid of having, and now they had broken free to spill freely through her. Natsu smiled brightly at her again, and then he leaned forward to gently kiss her, softly but with an incredible amount of feeling. Once again Lucy felt warmth burst inside of her, this time from the unmistakable fire of love burning deep inside her heart and soul.

She was his Lucy and he was her Natsu, and nothing could ever come between them.

Except Happy, apparently.

“The cookies are doooooone~!” They sprang apart as the little cat hopped up onto the bed precariously balancing a tray of freshly baked cookies over his head. He wobbled back and forth as he tottered over the thick comforters to plop down on Lucy’s side, his little tail waving in glee. “Oh, Lucy! You look so much better! Want a cookie?” he asked and set the tray down to pick one up in his little paw and hold it out to her. Lucy couldn’t be mad, and was actually grateful he seemed oblivious to how intimate she and Natsu were just being, so she took the cookie with a small laugh.

“Thanks, Happy.” She took a bite of the cookie, then nearly choked on it when the cat inquired why they were in bed together.

“I was warming her up, Happy! Just like that time she did me, remember?” Natsu grinned and hugged her tightly, rubbing his cheek against hers. Lucy was too busy on the border of fainting from sheer mortification to pay much notice.

“Oh! I see! I wanna warm Lucy up too!” Happy laughed and plopped the cookies on the nightstand before forcing Lucy to lay back against the pillow and curling up against Lucy’s neck. “Is it working?” Red-faced, Lucy sighed deeply but reached up to pat his head affectionately.

“Yes, thank you, Happy.” The winged cat gave a joyful trill before snuggling deeper into his bed, which now consisted of Lucy’s hair. It took him all of a minute to begin snoring. Little furball, she thought, but with no shortage of affection. She looked down when she felt Natsu bury his face into her other shoulder, his mess of pink hair lost among her own blonde strands. “Hey!”

“What? If he gets to do it, why don’t I? By the way, you smell good. What kind of shampoo is this?” Lucy groaned loudly, but allowed it. She smiled as she felt Natsu smiling against her neck, and his arms wound themselves tightly around her middle; how could she not be happy, with the way things had developed? Natsu mumbled some form of “goodnight” before he drifted off too, and every soft breeze of his breath against her neck sent little tingles across her skin. Warmed from head to toe, embraced by the man she loved, and elated to even have little Happy peacefully curled up beside her head, Lucy closed her eyes with a tranquil and relieved smile.

Like this… You could keep me warm forever, you know.

“Goodnight… my Natsu.”

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[ahsokamygirl]

Sleep Well, My Angel

Summary: Plagued by Force visions of his late wife, Darth Vader seeks closure in her mausoleum. Inspired by Sleep Well, My Angel by We Are The Fallen.

Tags: Suicie Attempt Mentioned, Angst, Character Study (Darth Vader|Anakin Skywalker)

Happy May, 4th

AO3 (more SW fanfics) | On Archive of Our Own

Watching you sleep for so long

He stood before the heavy doors, drawing courage to do this. His black suit hissed with his mechanic breathing, his cape swirled around him and he felt himself shake.

He debated once again if this was a good idea. He didn’t know what he was doing there, he just hoped… This was his desperate plea.

He looked at the glass windows near the doors. All colorful, contrasting with the atmosphere of the place. The day was cold, windy. Dark, as if the Force was responding to how he felt inside.

The heavy doors blocked his entrance. Not anymore. He’d been kept away for far too long. And, somehow, something inside him said in a dreadful whisper, not enough. He took a deep breath before waving his hand and the doors opened. A loud groan came from them from their weight, but otherwise nothing resisted. There was no point in her mausoleum being locked with the heavy security sent to guard it. Palpatine’s direct orders, he’d been told.

Knowing that I can’t turn the rain into sun anymore

He took a breath, as much as the machinery allowed for his lungs, and stepped into the mausoleum. His eyes immediately fell on her. Her tomb. A block of even, grey concrete. He didn’t notice his feet moving closer, so much so he could just reach out and touch. The atonal ambient was such a contrast to the colors, the flowers and the mural. The mural. The glass mural behind her. His eyes lifted to look the bright glass. It was the closest he’d ever get to see her again. The closest he’d ever get to see her again and not have her say how he’d killed her.

She was so beautiful, so full of light and love and pain he couldn’t face her. So he turned around and looked at her tomb, but she was still there. She’d always be there. The day may have been dark, filled with rains and clouds, but there was enough light to see. There was enough light to make the engraved image in the glass shine through. The time placed her entirely where her tomb was, like she was dancing in colors and swirling in emotions around him.

She was even more beautiful now, ethereal, whimsical. She looked like a true angel.

“Are you an angel?”

And the image engulfed him. He is but a darkness right in her center, as he was always meant to be. The source of her pain, of her heartbreak.

She was depicted in her royal clothes, as any Naboo queen should be. Except she was not cremated like the others, as it was the tradition in the planet, but buried. It had been a gift, for him to see her again, since he missed her funeral. After his battle with his former Master, his injuries had rewarded him with endless weeks of surgery, pain and maintenance for his life-support suit. And then the missions came and he was glad because he had had no guts to come visit her until now. Until the vision of her and the collapsed building. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit his wife, dead and with their unborn child still inside her.

He was supposed to save her life, their child’s life. But he failed. Failed to keep her safe, keep her alive. He even failed to keep her happy, he thought bitterly as he remembered the tears in her eyes, light up by the river lavas.

I’ve given you all that I am

His hands ached to touch hers, touch her. He wanted to feel her soft skin touching his damaged face and soothing the pain, the agony. But how can he touch such a delicacy after what he did? After what he had become?

“I love you!”

“Liar!��

After he caused her so much pain, physically and emotionally. He had given everything he had to keep her safe. He had turned on the Jedi Order, himself and untimely her. In the end wasn’t that his mistake? Losing himself made him lose her

Now I stand here too scared to hold your hand

Losing himself acted as a catalysis to lose her. Padmé loved the hero of the galaxy, the good person. Padmé loved Anakin Skywalker. She didn’t love a monster, she couldn’t. She was purely light and he was meant to lash out at her with the fire of the Dark Side. He knew all that back on Mustafar, just a little more than a year ago. The guilt he had felt was enough to make him cry then, afraid he’d lose his wife, the reason he did every dark deed asked of him. But that guilt was not enough to stop him. No, rather he chose to draw strength and power from it, like the Jedi never allowed. Like the Sith encouraged.

Afraid you might wake to see

Afraid she’d come visit him again, just to say how much she hated him, how it was all his fault. The vision he had had brought on many feelings of guilty, longing, rawness, rage, love.

“… But you died.”

“No. I did not die,” she said.

Padmé lowered her light blue hood and revealed her face. Her dead, mostly bones with and barely any skin or muscles.

“You killed me,” she said. “You.”

He shuddered just thinking about it and the pain was too much. It took his breath away and made his legs tremble. He fell to his mechanical knees before he could stop himself, shoulder shaking. He thought he could save her. Her and their child.

The monster that had to leave

He believed his new master could save her. Save her from any menaces, from dying in childbirth. From everything. She was healthy, he knew it. He saw the medical droid’s affirmations after examining her. Her lineage had no problems during pregnancies either, all of Naboo to be more specific. She had been through battles, assassinations attempts… Nothing was supposed to hurt her. Ever. Except…

He never thought he would be what finally killed her.

‘Cause you see the shelter as the storm

He had offered her peace, security, power and love. He had offered it to her, he had given himself entirely to her.

“You’re going down a path I can’t follow.”

She saw it as bad future, a dark possibility. She said no. she saw the shelter he had accomplished as the storm.

Holding wind to keep you warm

Padmé Amidala was everything Anakin Skywalker ever wanted. She was his glowing light in the darkness, the love of his life.

But she couldn’t be everything for Vader. His master had commanded him to leave that life behind and so he would. He would emerge from this place entirely Darth Vader.

You were everything to me

This is why I have to leave

Padmé Amidala was everything to him. And that is, precisely, why he has to leave. Leave this mausoleum as Darth Vader, the Emperor’s fist, without an ounce of the Skywalker.

That name wasn’t who he was anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time already. He just had always carried a piece of him inside, the part that was good for her. She believed he had good in him still, after he Fell and turned to the Dark Side, after he killed younglings, after his dark deeds.

Under the ash and the lies

Something beautiful once here now dies

His intentions weren’t to forget. No, never forget. How could he forget his angel? No. He came here to find peace. He came here to find closure, to find peace of mind.

He couldn’t shake the image of Padmé that filled his head almost constantly now.

And the tears blurry my eyes

As you sit there all alone

He should be there with her. He should have died with her. He felt the pull, the end of his life, the Force calling for him, the peace it would involve him in with. But then his master had saved him, given him life. His latest holocall with him had showed how displeased he was with his suicidal actions.

Honoring his master’s gift of life, he decided to seek closure instead of actually killing himself.  His master had giving him life again. A purpose. Something to do, something to accomplish. And he couldn’t disappoint his master.

Except…

I just want to come home

Except it wasn’t that easy. He couldn’t just let her go. If he could, Anakin Skywalker would have done it a long time ago. He couldn’t. What he could do though… It wasn’t her he had to let go. It was himself. It was the hero of the galaxy, the Hero with No Fear that had lived in fear. He hesitated because without him, no part of him would ever have her again. And then he could never go home. Not that she would ever accept him back. Not now, not like this. She had made it very clear.

There was nothing for him there anymore.

I’m sorry

He’d been unstable when he turned to the Dark Side. The sudden, immense power he felt from the Dark Side once he Fell had been overwhelming. And the power from his emotions gave him helped too. The anger, the hate, the fear, the grief, the love… All emotions the Jedi kept forbidden to him, that kept his power away, locked up. That kept him at their mercy, always getting punished, punishing himself. The Force screamed at his power. He had never felt such emotions so strongly, so purely. And he had never drawn from them, only kept them at bay.

Then he was free. Truly, for the very first time. Except his freedom had come with a price and it was too high for her to pay. And he knew that, even before she told him. Before-

“I don’t know you anymore. You’re going down a path I can’t follow.”

I’m sorry

He had asked her forgiveness, but not only didn’t grant it, she also blamed him. For her death, for their child’s. She had her mind set on blaming him and she was right. He had killed her, he was to blame. Her love for him had ended and it was all his fault. Nobody else’s. His and only his fault. Guilt and shame corrupted his insides, churning and smoldering them even further.

He had dismissed her love once, accused her of betraying him, and now he was paying the price.

And oh, how steep a price. Had he only known.

Sleep well, my Angel

His voice regulator kept his emotional state at bay, modifying it to sound neutral. It avoided the public to view his emotions, just like his mask. Oh if others only knew how much he felt under the mask.

“Sleep well, my angel,” he said in a deep, clear voice, but as a raspy, broken voice inside.

His voice modulator changed his voice and he only hoped Padmé would recognize it in the Force, recognize him. Though he doubted she’d want any contact with him by free choice, unless it was to hurt him. And after their last encounter – that dreaded Force vision that had left him hurt, raw - he wasn’t sure could take it. As a matter of fact, he was certain he couldn’t. He would have to learn how leave the guilt behind. Behind a name he didn’t go by anymore.

His gloved thumb brushed the engraved symbol at her tomb one last time before he rose to his feet, turned and walked away from her resting place, his cape flowing wildly behind him and the doors closing with a loud noise.

The Dark Side sang his renewed rage and pain, making him stronger, more powerful in the Force.

And Darth Vader never looked back.

[hurtcomfortetc]

A fill for Setting a Broken Bone featuring Jim Kirk and Nyota Uhura!

Uhura had volunteered for this mission, but the poor newly-recruited science officer had not. It felt unfair that the young man had been plucked onto his first ever away party into an Enterprise-grade shit show. 

Although, at the moment, Uhura wasn't even sure he'd made it down to the planet's surface. The moment that'd materialized, it was immediately apparent that they were in for trouble. 

“Where the hell is Ensign Roberts?” Kirk's voice came from somewhere close to her. 

To Uhura's eyes, she was on a flat, desolate landscape. It appeared to be made up mostly of packed brown dirt, oddly reminiscent of the quarries in Iowa where the Enterprise had docked when she'd met Kirk. The air was filled with glistening particles that looked like crystal dust particles. Uhura took in a cautious breath, expecting to choke on a breath of sand, but it felt smooth as butter. 

She spun around, searching frantically. There was not a single, solitary figure on the horizon. 

“Captain?” She said, trying desperately to keep her voice level. 

“I'm right here-” Kirk replied. After what must have been a subtle shift in position, he appeared beside her like a mirage. She grabbed his upper arm like a life preserver. He took a look at her expression and pulled up his communicator with stormy eyes. 

“Sorry, Captain, there was a glitch in the transporter and we delayed his arrival.” 

“Good,” Kirk cut in, curtly. “No one else is coming down here until we figure out what's happening.” 

“Sir, from our readings, you should be in the center of the civilization, as planned.” 

“I know where we were supposed to be, what I need to know now is where we actually are.”

“We're on it. But, Captain, we're also detecting a frequency from the planet's surface that seems to be contributing to the misfire in location. We can't beam you and Lieutenant Uhura back until it's resolved or we risk-” 

“Send Chekov to the transporter room. If he can't figure it out, then we're in trouble. Let me know once you have news. We're going to see if we can find anything on our end.”

“Understood.”

“Kirk out.” 

Kirk took a long, surveying look at the planet's surface.

“Reminds me of that summer I got sent to work in the salt mines,” he said, smiling wryly. 

“Is that some type of backwards Midwest expression for 'oh, shit'?” Uhura countered. She was only marginally steadied by his attempt to lighten the mood. There was something sinister about the desolate horizon, the 360 degree optical illusion of it, the silence. 

“Ladies pick the direction,” Kirk offered. Uhura rolled her eyes, and pointed straight ahead, towards the descending orange sun. He nodded. 

“Weird, that was exactly the direction I was thinking,” he said. He started walking forward, his steady steps portraying a nonchalance in the face of their surroundings that almost seemed natural. 

Nyota followed her captain, but couldn't help staring out into the mysterious swirling horizon, trying to make a semblance of visual sense out of it. 

They had just settled into a rhythm when Uhura heard a strangled yelp from Kirk, and then scraping sound followed by a low thud. She spun around, heart pounding. 

By all appearances, she was alone. 

“Captain!” She yelled. 

“Down here!” Kirk's voice came, sounding both further away than she expected, and very near. 

“Down where?” She called. 

“Right in front of you,” he replied, voice strained. Uhura took a step forward, peering around and wondering if this was all an elaborate hoax. 

“Wait, careful! You're right on the edge,” Kirk cautioned. Uhura inspected the surface in front of her carefully. It looked like a shiny, mineral covered pathway, not a cliff's edge in sight. Still, and possibly only because no one was there to witness it, Uhura lowered herself gingerly onto her butt and tentatively pushed herself forward, prodding the ground in front of herself with her feet. 

Sure enough, just as she was about to be overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of her position, her foot dropped out. Uhura took in a sharp breath of air, horrified to see her foot seemingly disappear in the swirling mineral ground. Her stomach swooped, but she crept further forward until the illusion dissipated, and she spotted her captain lying on the ground about eight feet below. He was gripping his arm near his elbow and his face was milk white. 

“There you are,” she breathed, still working to shake the ambient unease from the optical illusion. 

“No shit,” he grit out. Uhura set her face against a grimace, deciding to allow the slip-up in light of the clear pain Kirk was in. 

“How badly are you hurt?” She asked. Kirk looked dismally at his crooked arm, and then back up at her. 

“I'm fine-” 

Uhura shot him a warning look. 

“-just this arm is for sure broken,” Kirk continued, wisely. 

Uhura took out her comm. 

“McCoy here.”

“Doctor McCoy, Captain Kirk just fell about eight feet off of a ledge. Other than a broken arm, he seems fine, but I don't know what to do.” 

There was a heavy pause during which Uhura was sure she could hear McCoy pull his most lethal “disappointed but not surprised” face.  

“Dammit, Jim. Are you with him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Dammit, Jim!” McCoy repeated. “Are you physically incapable of not -” 

“Thanks for the concern, Bones. Can we skip the lecture and get some actual medical advice?” 

“What type of fracture is it?” 

Uhura peered down at Kirk's mangled limb, but couldn't manage to make decipher anything about it other than “gross.”

“I'm not a doctor, Bones.” 

“Come on, Jim. You're practically an expert at broken bones.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. It's closed, probably displaced.” 

McCoy sighed heavily on the other end of the line. 

“Uhura, how much do you remember from your field medicine training?”

“Enough,” she replied, without hesitation. It wasn't exactly true, but Uhura figured she would be better than nothing in a pinch. God, she'd hated medical training...

“Good, you're going to have to set and stabilize it. You two need to be mobile on that godforsaken rock.”

Kirk's face managed to lose even more color, which Uhura hadn't thought was possible. 

“Ugh.”

“I heard that. Sack up, Jim. This is what you get for being more danger prone than a fucking medieval princess. Now hang tight, I'm filling Spock in on the situation. McCoy out.” 

For what it was worth, McCoy's ribbing seemed to restore some of the vitality to Kirk. He now looked more delicately pissed off than immediately corpse-like. 

“Sorry about this, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. Uhura felt a flare of anxiety. She much preferred her Captain unrepentant, demanding. 

“No need,” she stated. 

There was a moment of heavy silence. 

“So, you and Spock.” Kirk said, plainly. 

Uhura started, and then briefly wondered if he'd hit his head, after all. 

“What?”  Her sharp tone made Kirk shift nervously, then attempt to stifle a wince when he jarred his broken arm. 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, but forged on. 

“Look, we have some free time here, and I would love a distraction.”

“It would be unprofessional to discuss my personal, romantic life -” 

“Actually, this is a professional question.”

“What?” Uhura was just about to reach her maximum limit for surreal experiences for the day. 

“I'm actually supposed to write a report on interpersonal relationships between crew men. In the event of a possible need for intervention.”

Uhura felt like she'd been clubbed over the head. Of course James T. Kirk would find a regulation to follow in order to gossip. 

Kirk seemed to recognize her tacit assessment of his thought process. 

“Look, I've been putting it off for a while now, since you guys have seemed fine. But I need something to write, officially,” he explained, and at least had the courtesy to seem genuinely apologetic. 

Uhura might have told him to stick it where the sun don't shine, but the thin lines of pain around his eyes were a powerful incentive to speak. 

“We're both entirely capable of working together. It ended amicably.” 

“You're still friends.” He didn't phrase it as a question. 

Uhura actually thought about it. Friends didn't fully encompass how she felt, but it wasn't incorrect. Not exactly. 

“Yes.” 

Kirk didn't miss her hesitation, but he looked away, unable to conjure a follow up question that might not provoke her more. 

“We grew apart,” she found herself saying. At the same time, she realized that she hadn't really spoken to anyone about her relationship with Spock. Everyone on the Enterprise kept a careful distance from the topic, as he was her commanding officer. While no one had ever been rude or spoken against her, Uhura had convinced herself that she appreciated the privacy, the way that their feelings were so personal and covert. 

For the first time, she wanted desperately to talk about it. It felt like a physical urge, like hunger or exhaustion. 

“He was always bound by his duty, to his people and to the Enterprise. I wanted something else,” she said. Her skin was crawling with the bold honesty of the statement. She forced herself to look at Kirk, to regain some sense of casual calm. 

Kirk's lips quirked up from some private sense of irony. Then he caught her shooting him a questioning look. 

“Sorry, I just – I get it. Spock has an interesting set of priorities.” 

Uhura wondered whether Kirk was marveling at Spock's undying need to put his job before his chance at meaningful relationships, or if he was relating to it.

“Is that enough for your report?” Uhura asked, wryly. 

“I can paraphrase if I need to.” Kirk matched her tone. 

Uhura opened her mouth to attempt to say something meaningful when her communicator signaled her. 

“McCoy here. You guys ready for this?”

[thedistantstorm]

Day 31: “Scared, me?”

Fandom: Destiny 

Pairings: None [Zavala, Sloane, Amanda]

Warnings: Blood, Shock, Trauma (the Red War)

-/

Plip, plip.

Sloane looks to Amanda. The Shipwright is dirty and bruised, exhausted from the last forty-eight hours of non-stop flying. Even so, she doesn’t stray far from the helm, preferring to have eyes and ears on things. She doesn’t pay sloane any mind. They haven’t been on Titan for long. Patrol groups have been sent out, a message has been sent to - even if it’s depressing, people will know they’re here. Sloane refuses to give up hope.

Plip, plip.

“Do you hear that?” Sloane asks.

Zavala grumbles something, but it isn’t a word.

“I don’t,” Amanda says, eyes still on the radar display. From where she’s standing, resting against the hatch, it’s likely impossible to hear any of the ambient noise Sloane does.

From the corner of her eye she sees his hand sag, limp, to the armrest. It draws her eyes down, down to the slow trickle of blood from someplace hidden by the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, to the deckplate below.

Plip, plip.

Cautiously, she calls, “Commander?”

Zavala doesn’t respond. That gets Amanda's attention, fast. Both women share a frantic glance.

“Sloane-” Panic lances through the younger woman’s voice for just a moment, pushing her to act. She shakes her head and drops to her knees, yanking out an orange box from the center console, working on autopilot. Holliday served once. She understands, even if she doesn’t want to, smashing a button on a nearby panel to close the two doors that grant entry to their impromptu war-room.

The Deputy Commander crouches in front of him on one knee. “Commander,” She tries first. Nothing. “Zavala!” She barks. Muted blue eyes open half-way and fall. She smacks his cheeks, trying to keep him conscious. “Where’s your Ghost?” Sloane urges him, voice sharp. “Where is she?”

His hand gestures to his chest and flops aimlessly as he mutters something unintelligible, and Sloane bites back a colorful curse around the same time Amanda whimpers, finally spotting the dark pool of blood on the ground. Dark brown eyes look over her shoulder to Amanda, then down to the metal table they have reports scattered on.

Holliday bars an arm over it in a flash and sends everything flying.

“I’m sorry for this,” Sloane tells him apologetically, hearing him begin to voice some confused question as she hefts him up by the belt, draping him against her and then flipping him onto the table. It's more urgent than gentle. Amanda manages to catch his head and pushes the top half of her flight suit under it like a pillow. “Help me get his breastplate off,” Sloane instructs, but Amanda’s already pulling off buckles and shucking off the wide plates that shield his shoulder so that he doesn't clip her with it in his disoriented state. 

Quick work reveals a messy wound in his side, oozing and bloody. "You were shot. You idiot," His Deputy adds, half affectionate, half furious. "Why the hell did you keep this to yourself?"

Zavala’s eyes open, impossibly blue and far too hazy, finding Sloane. "Amanda." Even slurring, he’s articulate. “Don't let her see me like-”

Amanda steps back, silent, head shaking in a negative. Her eyes are full of tears and Sloane can almost hear the sob that she’s holding back in her mind but she composes herself. “Don’t worry. I sent her to check in with the teams.”

“You were the right choice,” He tells her and Amanda doesn’t stop the whimper before it escapes. Sloane doesn’t notice it for how loud her heartbeat is in her ears, and Zavala is too far gone to pay it any mind. He’d been holding on well past his limits, but without the Light, he’d pay the price. “I stand by that.”

“Don’t you make confessions to me now, Commander. Tell your Ghost to heal you.” She bites back a muffled, “Fuck.”

Neither of the Titans notice Amanda rummaging around on the ground with the med kit. The Shipwright rips open a package, pulls out a cylindrical object that has little prongs on the end of it and taps him in the side of the neck with it. The initial prick of pain makes his head loll towards her and she puts a hand on his forehead.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Amanda tells him and she knows when he realizes exactly what’s going on, the way panic bubbles up in his eyes in a moment of clarity, even as the medication she’s pushed into him drags his eyelids down. He's not afraid for himself. He never, ever wanted to let her see him as anything other than immovable. He's always been her rock. He knows how much she's lost, and that she can't take much more. “I know," She does her best to smile. "Just rest,” She tells him, voice even with conviction. “We gotcha.”

It doesn’t make him struggle less, trying to rally against a thick tongue and heavy lips to say something. It doesn’t work. She’s hit him with a narcotic and an antibiotic conveniently packaged into one rapid-fire package. As someone who’s been hit with one herself, Holliday knows it’s like being smacked into next week. He’ll be furious with her later, and that’s just fine by her, so long as he lives long enough to do so.

Sloane looks lost. Amanda swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hands, angry. “Breastplate,” She reminds Sloane, jostling her from her thoughts. “We ain’t losin’ him, Deputy Commander. Get it together.””

“Yes ma’am,” Sloane answers, more on auto-pilot than the pilot staring her down. Amanda waits for her to make eye contact. “If they,” She seethes. “I will rip those motherfucking bastards apart with my bare hands and-”

“I know,” Amanda agrees.

Together they manage to finish undoing the Commander’s breastplate, lifting the half that covers his chest to uncover scorch marks around the edges where there are gaps between armor plates and one very battered ghost. The fins of her shell are all-but embedded in his chest, puncturing his sweater from the pressure of being closed into his breastplate. Sloane hesitates. No idle twitching, the Ghost is entirely still. It’s an unspoken rule, Guardians don’t handle others’ Ghosts- 

-But Amanda is no Guardian, and she’s never agreed to play by their rules. Deft fingers very carefully pry the Ghost from Zavala’s chest, the twist of her lips the only indication that there’s any resistance. She’s got flecked, dry blood on her fingertips when she finally gets Zavala’s partner free. 

“The bullet wound’s on my side,” Sloane informs her.

Amanda rounds the table, looking at the ugly damage from the slug, the way it bleeds, angry and oozing. “C’mon girl,” She whispers to the tiny droid, holding her close to her face, inspecting her core for damage and thankfully finding none. “He needs ya.” There’s a titch of movement, hardly anything, but the wilted cones of the Ghost in her palms shudder.

“Atta girl,” She says, when the optic lights, dim, and a singular beam of Light passes over the wound, probing. “Don’t push it. I'll wrap him up, you just stop that bleedin’.” Sloane swallows hard.

“Deputy Commander, bring me that kit, yeah?”

Sloane nods, and hops to it as Amanda holds the Ghost close to the Titan’s wounded side, balancing her in one hand to rip off flayed leather armor to better allow them to see it. “That should be enough,” The Ghost says, after a minute of flickering, wavering beams. Her voice is addled by weakness and exhaustion. “I couldn’t get it all, but...”

“Y’did great,” Amanda coos, when it’s clear the Ghost can’t continue. “Thank you.”

“Would you-”

“A’course.” She very carefully lowers the Ghost back to her Guardian’s chest, lifting Zavala’s hand to press it over her gently. “We got the rest. You two take 'er easy.” Without looking to Sloane, she begs, “Gimme the antiseptic, will ya?”

She hands it over and stands back, crossing her arms as Amanda dumps most of the bottle over the area of the wound. Between the Ghost’s interference and the antibiotic she’d forced on him, it should be enough. Silently, Amanda works on cleaning the blood off him, the Deputy Commander switching out pads of gauze as she dirties them in the process. They work in silence.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sloane,” Amanda says after it’s done, despite the slight tremor in her fingers, or the way her eyes threaten to leak against her will.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Scared, me?” Amanda sniffles. Laughs a little, but doesn’t shy away from the Titan’s concerned gaze. “I’m terrified.”

Sloane looks at Amanda, really looks, then, and the dark, serious look in her green eyes is out of place until she realizes for the first time, she’s not seeing a child - the wild hellion half raised by her Commander who ascended the ranks and became Tower Shipwright.

Before Sloane or Zavala or the Last City knew her, Amanda Holliday was a refugee. A survivor.

“But that ain’t gonna stop me, and we can’t let it stop him, either. You know how he is.”

“I do.”

“We’re gonna make it through this,” Amanda tells them then, all of them, pressing a kiss to Zavala’s hand over his Ghost, grabbing on Sloane’s arm with a startlingly firm squeeze. “We got to.”

“What do I tell the troops?” She gestures to the doors. “He’ll be out of it for a while because of that-” Her eyes fall on the discarded syringe. “Our teams will be-”

“Tell them that I… had a meltdown. He’s consolin’ me. You’re relayin’ anything of note.”

“But-”

“I could go for a good cry,” Amanda says, with a curl of her lip. “They can’t ever find out about this. It’d be devastatin’.”

Sloane pats the top of Amanda’s head, taking to the door that leads to the bridge. “Agreed. You let me know if you need anything. Either of you.”

Amanda nods, dropping into the chair beside the table, pulling her good leg to her chest, resting her chin on it. She could go for a good cry, sure, but not yet. Not until she’s seen her words proven true.

[tentoriwrites]

Homecoming

Homeless

Kiyohiro’s true motives and loyalties are called into question. Will he prove friend or foe?

Homecoming

“You really don’t have to come with me to town. I go grocery shopping by myself all the time.” She stated over her shoulder as the basket hung loosely from her hand.

“I was ordered to serve you, Miss.” She sighed turning her attention to the road again. This is how things had been for a few weeks now. When Kiyohiro wasn’t with Sasuke training or on a mission he was following her around. He had never been much for talking, but now he said even less. He was gone before she got up and didn’t come back until after she went to bed. The last bit was pretty staggering considering how late Kansuke had been running her lately.

Out of the blue one day he approached her about training her to defend herself after a lesson on medicines. She couldn’t deny she always desired to get stronger. She thought as much ever since it occurred to her Kiyohiro might have left her behind to keep her safe. That’s why she jumped on the chance. She couldn’t say she was regretting it so much as wished she didn’t have to do it on top of her other duties every day. She rolled her shoulders and rubbed the one carrying her shopping basket with her free hand. She was feeling particularly sluggish today after getting very little sleep the night before. Still, Kiyohiro followed wordlessly at her slow pace.

On the way back to the palace she let out a long sigh. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Normally he would ask if something was wrong.

“No.” She shook her head after a momentary pause. She glanced over at him and noticed his lips were pressed just a little bit firmer together. “Besides, your job is to protect me, not to care about my general well-being.” She added with a light tone. There was a slight crease between his brows, gone in an instant. She smiled just a little more at the sight of it. Every small cue more evidence that her thoughts are correct.

She stopped and sat the basket down to flex her hands a few times. If she was being honest, her muscles were tired and aching. Her grip was getting weaker with every step. Determined to push past her weakness she bent down to pick up a basket that was already gone. She pouted as she turned to look at Kiyohiro, but he was already waking ahead of her.

She let out another long sigh. This one wasn’t born from tiredness, it was born from frustration. If she was being truly honest, that was the real cause of her tiredness. It wasn’t a physical exhaustion but a mental one. She was tired of pretending she was something she wasn’t: happy. The forced smile slipped from her lips as she stood there looking at the ground.

“Miss?” Kiyohiro called out to her flatly.

“Do you know what people are saying about you?” She choked back her emotions as best she could but they still colored her voice.

“I do.”

“Then you know they think you’re just here to act as a double agent for the Tokugawa. You know they are saying they should just kill you.” Her hands tightened into fists.

“I do.”

“And what if they decide to kill you?”

“If that is the order I am given…”

“TO HELL WITH ORDERS!” She yelled at him and her voice echoed through the silent forest. “To hell with your orders and your attitude that they only affect you.” She finally looked up at him, tears pouring down her face like the rain he loved so much. He was visibly surprised, the first emotion she had seen on him since he returned.

“Everyone keeps saying that ninja only live to die. No family, no attachments. When they’re dead that’s it. No one would miss or mourn them.” Sadness turned into rage in her voice. “If that’s part of being a good ninja, being no one to anyone, then you must be the worst ninja there is. Because I would miss you! I would mourn you! You really have to be the worst for making me…”

He was on top of her before she could finish the thought. “Do not say another word, Miss.” There was an urgency in his quiet plea that made all her other thoughts disappear. “I beg of you, do not say it.”

“Or there will be consequences?”

“Yes.”

“For who exactly?”

“Both of us.”

“I’m strong enough to accept whatever may come.”

“I am not.” His confession was so soft the ambient sounds around them almost drowned it out. There was something a kin to anguish buried in his eyes she couldn’t let go of. Before she could grasp on to it any tighter, he backed away. “It’s late, Miss.”

 She didn’t see Kiyohiro the next day or the next. Enough time passed without seeing him she was beginning to think he was gone for good this time. She absently hung laundry in the garden as she chided herself over her outburst. She had fully convinced herself she had pushed him away because of it. That’s when her ears picked up on pieces of a conversation. They were saying awful things about Kiyohiro so she decided to just tune them out again.

“Why don’t we just ask his lover girl? She’s probably a spy too. No one would care if we pried some information out of her.”

Sensing trouble, she grabbed her empty basket and hurried off to where the other maids were. She hoped that with more people around, the pursuers would decide against doing anything rash. The plan might have worked if she made it that far. A firm grip on her hair yanked her back and sent her backwards into the dirt.

“Where’d your lover boy get off to?” One of them leered as he looked over her with a lecherous grin.

“I don’t have a lover boy.” She replied starting to sit up.

“You two sure looked cozy.” A second man commented as he kicked her chest to put her on the ground again. They were able to overpower her easily then, dragging her to her feet with an arm tight around her throat. She already had the wind knocked out of her so the choking hold made her get light headed quickly. She was just about to fall unconscious when everything started to move on its own. One moment she was falling, the next she felt like she was flying.

“Look who finally decided to show back up! The spy! I knew you two were in cahoots against Lord Shingen!” One of the men was writhing in pain on the ground while the other pointed an accusatory finger at Kiyohiro.

“What do you two think you’re doing?!” A voice full of unbridled rage came from the veranda. Lord Yukimura strode past Kiyohiro and right up to the man left standing. “Lord Shingen specifically assigned Kiyohiro to protect her! She’s like a daughter to him, you know!” He grabbed the man in front of him by the collar.

“You… you can’t honestly believe he isn’t a spy…” The man tried to appeal to Yukimura’s sense which was a big mistake.

“Lord Shingen trusts him so that means I trust him.” He glanced back at Kiyohiro. “Why are you still standing there? Go get her checked out!”

“As you command.” Kiyohiro gave him a curt bow then disappeared with her still in his arms.

 After the doctor had a chance to examine her they were given some good news. “I think the damage will repair itself in time. But you will have trouble breathing for a while and you need to rest your voice as much as possible.” He handed her a piece of paper. “This is a recipe for lozenges. I understand you’re one of cooks here so it should be a simple task.” He looked around awkwardly a moment. “I’ll go report this to someone for you so you can rest.”

“There’s no need. I will report this for you.” Kiyohiro seemed to materialize from the shadows somewhere in the room.

“GEEZ!” The doctor about jumped out of his skin. “Don’t scare an old man like that!” He made a show of clutching his heart. When Kiyohiro gave him a nod and disappeared he sighed. “I think you’re in good hands with him.”

Since she couldn’t verbally protest, she just nodded. She sat looking around the room for a few moments before Kiyohiro returned through the door this time. It was hard to miss the worried look on his face. She tilted her head to the side and tried to ask him what was wrong. It immediately felt like she had swallowed jagged rocks and she stopped.

“Don’t speak.” He prepared writing materials for her and brought her writing desk to her.

“What’s wrong?” She wrote quickly.

“This is my fault.” He refused to believe her when she shook her head no. “If I had stayed closer they would not have been able to touch you.” He reached out and ran his cool fingertips lightly across her throat.

“You were here the whole time?” She looked at him troubled.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you show yourself?”

“I thought it would be easier for both of us if I kept my distance.” He looked away from her but the regret was clear on his face.

“How would that make it easier for both of us?”

Rather than say it out loud, he wrote his answer in small meticulous strokes so small she had to hold it close to her face to read them. “To ignore our feelings.”

Her eyes went huge but she couldn’t ask for confirmation of her understanding. Kiyohiro just gave her a pressed smile. “It’s not meant for me. A child of darkness will just drag you into the shadows.”

“I don’t care.” She gave him a stubborn, defiant look as he tried to find some counter.

“I do. You deserve more than that.”

She grabbed his face with both hands and forced him to look at her. Leaning in next to his ear she whispered through all the pain. “They can drag me… through hell…  and it will not… make me stop… loving you the way… you deserve.”

He grabbed her wrists when she tried to pull away. His gaze was deep and piercing, mixed with more emotions than she could fathom. It looks as if he had something he wanted to do. Something he wanted to say. Instead, he pressed her hands to his lips in a soft kiss. Before she could even think to question the gesture, he was gone.

 “Hells…” Saizo breathed an exasperated sigh when he found Kiyohiro sitting on HIS roof.

“I’m not here for advice.” Kiyohiro called from his huddled position.

“Then why are you here?”

“To ask a question I probably won’t get a straight answer to.”

“Then why even bother?” Saizo settled himself down in a lounging position.

“Why aren’t you with her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Saizo answered in a flat, emotionless tone.

“The missions you sent me on would beg to differ.” Kiyohiro knew he had leverage. He also knew it didn’t matter with Saizo.

“You’re not important enough for it to matter.” Saizo’s response was ambiguous at best. In a rare show, he put a little effort into clarifying. “Who’s really going to care about an affair for a middle of the road Hattori?” He spared Kiyohiro a sideways glance. “So you have to ask yourself, why are you really here?”

Kiyohiro started to answer but quickly realized Saizo wasn’t looking for an answer, let alone excuses. “I didn’t come here for advice.”

“That’s good because you couldn’t afford my fee anyways.” There was a long silence between them before Saizo broke it first. “I suppose if I were to offer you advice it would be keep an eye on that one. They were always trouble.”

“And what do I owe you for that?”

“Let’s call that one on the house for taking a problem off my hands.”

The meaning wasn’t lost on Kiyohiro but he wasn’t nearly fast enough to act on it. Leaving those words hanging in the air, Saizo was gone.

 The next morning, Kiyohiro was waiting for her when she woke up. She gave him a quizzical look that he answered.

“It is Lord Shingen’s orders for me to tend to you.” He pursed his lips a moment before continuing. “And my desire, Miss.”

Her eyes went wide and she started to speak. Of course, no words came out. He gave her an awkward smile, all the more beautiful for how long it had been since she last saw it.

“No more running, Miss. Maybe not today, but one day soon, I’ll make the wait worth it.”

She blinked back the tears in her eyes and gave him a brilliant smile. A short nod was all the answer she could give him, but it was enough.

 The days that followed started to run together in a haze. After the first few days, she was allowed to leave her room and do light exercise. Even though she couldn’t always see Kiyohiro, she knew he was around. A million small gestures colored her days during that period. From hot medicinal tea appearing the moment her throat felt the least bit sore to the bedding magically being put up the moment she left it. She couldn’t abide him always doing for her and taking nothing in return. If she couldn’t get stronger to make his job easier, there had to be something she could do to help him.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be…” She huffed out a whispered sigh as she looked down at the crudely drawn diagram in her hands. No matter how she turned it, she couldn’t make heads or tails of what to do with it.

“You seem to have quite the conundrum there.” She jumped at the sound of voice right next to her.

“Lord Nobuyuki! What are you doing here?” She squeaked it out painfully, voice still not returned. Truly it was a rare sight indeed to see him at the palace.

“Father was predisposed so he sent me to retrieve Yukimura for the winter.” Unbidden he sat down next to her. “What has you so troubled?”

She vacillated for a moment, looking all around before answering him. “I want to make a few sets of clothes for someone… But I can’t quite figure out how to piece the top together.” She looked crestfallen as she peered down at the paper again. “I may just have to have someone make them for me.”

“If making a pattern is the problem, I may be able to assist you.”

“Really?!” Her voice cracked from her injury.

After a brief chuckle he took the paper from her hands. He studied it pensively a few moments, brow creased slightly in thought. “I see the challenge… However, I think I have a solution. Do you have a brush and paper?” After handing him the brush beside her he quickly sketched something on a fresh sheet. “What do you think?”

“OH! So this piece connects here… That is really simple! I could definitely do that!” She looked up at him in admiration. “I had no idea you knew how to do something like this, Lord Nobuyuki!”

“Well I have picked up a few things learning how to manage a castle. I think it’s important to have a working knowledge of as many jobs as possible.” He passed it off as nothing. “Shall I help you make a pattern as well?”

Not knowing when Kiyohiro would be back from his mission with Master Sasuke, she readily accepted Nobuyuki’s help. In no time at all they had cut out several sets of tops and had started sewing them together, with one seemingly odd addition from Nobuyuki. After a few days they were almost finished with the last piece when the door softly clunked open. Her gaze shot to the door immediately, face looking much like a frightened animal mid-hunt. Nobuyuki’s gaze sanguinely floated over, knowing smile gracing his lips.

“As I suspected.” He commented quietly as soon as he saw Kiyohiro standing in the doorway with a troubled look. “You truly are a wonderful woman. I should count myself lucky if I could be married off to one off as thoughtful.” He went on as he set down the sewing and got to his feet. As he passed Kiyohiro at the door he stopped to whisper something in the ninja’s ear.

“Understood, Milord.” Was all Kiyohiro said after a moment of surprise.

“What did he say to you?” She looked up at him curiously as he crossed the room to her.

“It’s not important.” He looked down at the piles of sewing around her troubled. “What have you been up to, Miss?”

“I wanted to surprise you…” She answered defeated as she held up a top, exact match to the ninja attire he always wore. “I noticed the same tear every day and wondered if maybe you didn’t have another set of clothes. So I…” She trailed off when she noticed the faint blush on his cheeks. It was beautiful in that she had never seen it before. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you!”

“I’m not embarrassed…” His mouth kept working as he struggled to describe how he actually felt. “I’m… thankful?” It came out as a question rather than a statement and he shook his head. He was growing visibly more uncomfortable, fidgeting when he would normally stand perfectly still. “I’ll be going now.”

“Wait! What’s wrong? Please! All I ask is that you be honest as your words will let you be with me.” She reached for him but missed completely.

Still, he stopped and looked down at her over his shoulder. “It’s taking every ounce of my self-control and training not to kiss you right now.” He was never one to mince words but his directness now was still shocking.

“But why?” The words escaped her with nary a thought made. “Why hold back?”

It was his turn to be shocked by her directness now. He spun around to look at her fully. He heaved out a sigh so weighted it seemed to pull his whole body down. Rail straight posture collapsing to a slouch. It was a very significant gesture in that she realized he fully trusted her to see him in a weaker state once again. Still, he couldn’t seem to find an answer for her.

“I’m sure you have your reasons. I just want you to know, whenever you’re ready, I’m ready…” She straightened her clothes as she righted herself. Then, she gave him the sincerest look he’d ever seen. “For whatever it is you wish to give me.”

A sharp gasp cut through the silence. Suddenly, he drew himself up rail straight again, serious look on his face. “I understand.” Still in a bowing position, he disappeared.

As he sat down on a roof top overlooking her room a familiar presence approached him. Without saying a word he sat something on top of Kiyohiro’s head. “Now you can’t say I didn’t do you any favors.”

“What is…” A stack of tomes fell into his lap answering his question for him. “I have no need for every volume of your lover’s guides…”

“That one mission would beg to differ.” Saizo looked thoroughly amused as he said so.

“She was very… drunk and I ended up not having to seduce her for information.” There was a touch of defensiveness in Kiyohiro’s tone.

“Frame it however you like. The fact remains you have almost no practical application for your skills.” It was a rare occasion indeed when Saizo could tease Kiyohiro like this. He was clearly relishing it. Unlike when another certain ninja teases him, there is no hidden malice in it. Kiyohiro took some solace in this. Still, he felt a bit defensive about Saizo’s allegations.

“That’s… not entirely true.”

“Oh? Care to prove that?”

“Not really.”

“Bah… You’re still no fun to tease…” Saizo made a show of letting out a long yawn. “Anyways. Make sure to keep it down.” Leaving that last comment hanging, he was gone.

 Kiyohiro eyed the letter in his chambers dubiously. No one knew where he went to roost save maybe the other ninja in the castle. It seemed innocuous enough; a mission from Lord Shingen in a hand he recognized. Still, his mission had never been delivered like this.

“Master Hanzo…” He said the name in complete resignation. But, he firmed himself up. He had been released, after all. He owed that man nothing, least of all any more of his time. He tossed the missive in a ceramic bowl and set it ablaze. Then, he set about taking precautions against his old employer’s head ninja.

His first stop was her room to tell her to be cautious. As soon as he slid the door open, he knew something had happened. What had once been a tidy room showed clear signs of a struggle. The only thing left untouched was the pile of clothes she made him. He walked over to the pile with a blank expression. He bent down and picked up the weighty garments. Just before they slipped through his hands, he gripped them with white knuckled strength. Donning his new apparel, he sought an immediate audience with Lord Shingen.

“They finally made their move.” That simple phrase told Shingen everything.

“Then your suspicions were correct the whole time. They released you knowing you would come here to be with her. I take she’s their hostage now?”

“What would you have me do?”

“Use your best judgement.”

“I will do whatever it takes to bring her back. Even if that means betraying you to do so.” There was a resolution to Kiyohiro’s voice that said far more than his words.

“Make sure whatever you do is worth it.”

Kiyohiro spared Shingen a nod before disappearing. He raced to the place the note in his room told him to go. It was a dark clearing deep in the woods. The overgrowth surrounding it made it almost impassable from the ground so he came in from the trees. He found her tied to a tree glaring fiercely at a shadow somewhere in the trees. She wasn’t gagged but there was a rope pressing against her still healing throat.

“You are nothing if not predictable.” A sanguine voice called out to him from the direction she was looking. “It makes this easy, but terribly dull.”

Knowing he no longer had the element of surprise, Kiyohiro dropped down out of his tree.

“I trust you know why I’m here.” The voice’s owner melted out of the shadows next to his captive. He had long, white hair and was rather elegantly dressed for a ninja. He also gave off a rather distinctive and captivating smell.

“Information.” Kiyohiro answered flatly.

“So what is it you have to tell me?”

“Nothing.”

The other ninja’s eyes narrowed and his carefree expression sharpened. “Is that so?”

“I am no longer employed by the Tokugawa and the village is not interested in the antagonisms between the Tokugawa and the Takeda.” Kiyohiro’s explanation was to the point and devoid of all emotion.

“Do you really think that a satisfactory answer?”

“Not for you, Master Hanzo.”

The other ninja’s eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly. “It would seem you have become more entertaining in your absence. I’m rather pressed for time at the moment you see. So tell me what I want to know or I’ll kill her and bring you back by force.” He gave Kiyohiro a smile, false though it clearly was.

“I am not obligated to go back to the Tokugawa without orders from the village.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed sharply again. “Consider this an official order to return then.” He took out a long needle from his sleeve and pressed it to his captive’s throat. “Or she will never be able to speak again.” He pressed the needle to her flesh lightly making her flinch.

She mouthed the word “run” in hopes Kiyohiro would leave. He did not spare her even a passing glance. He couldn’t afford to when facing Hattori Hanzo. Instead they stared each other down in silence for a long time. Finally Hanzo let out a long suffering sigh.

“Since you really don’t seem to care about her life…”

Before Hanzo could jam the needle through her throat, Kiyohiro sent a shuriken flying. It embedded itself in the trunk next to her neck right were Hanzo’s hand had been.

Kiyohiro was rewarded for his insolence with a barrage of needles. Though he dodged most of them, a few lodged in his arm. He quickly brushed them off with a slight grimace.

“If you think it hurts now, just wait until the poison sets in.” Hanzo’s voice rang out through the clearing, but he was nowhere to be seen. Another barrage rained down from all sides and Kiyohiro found himself subject to more and more pinpricks. The pain was becoming more evident on his face, as was the disadvantage he held.

“Give me the information I want and agree to return to us and I’ll give you the antidote. Since I’m feeling particularly generous, I’ll even let her go…” The mirth that colored Hanzo’s voice now was that of one who held all the cards.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know. But only to your face.” Kiyohiro finally huffed out as he collapsed to his knees. Severe pain etched on every labored word.

Hanzo appeared before Kiyohiro, looking down at him without a shred of pity. “Where is all that bark now? I swear you really are like an adolescent dog. Go just a short time without proper training and you become most disagreeable.” He made a show of tapping Kiyohiro on the nose like you would reprimand a dog.

“The Takeda march on the Uesugi next. Lord Shingen is of the mind if he can defeat his biggest rival, he can defeat anyone.”

The small gasp from the captive told Hanzo this is information was true. A small victorious smile graced his lips.

“And where will he go if he defeats them.”

Kiyohiro shook his head and mouthed as if to speak but it was too much a struggle. Hanzo bent down to hear better. With reflexes he shouldn’t possess in his state, Kiyohiro grabbed Hanzo’s arm and lunged at him, kunai in hand. Hanzo dodged the brunt of the attack, but he still took a sizable wound to his side. Instead of getting angry or immediately retaliating he smiled slightly.

“Such a shame when a disobedient pet bites the hand that feeds it.” The mirth left him and his eyes narrowed sharply. A swift kick to the solar plexus sent Kiyohiro sprawling. “That poison will claim you in a matter of minutes now.” Hanzo turned his back on Kiyohiro’s lifeless body. As he left the clearing, he dropped a bag on the ground several feet in front of his captive. Bloody fingertips caressed her face leaving languid strips of red on it as they went. He gave her a wan smile. “Let us see just how brilliantly you burn right before your light is snuffed out.”

Coals of anger burned in her eyes as she stared back at him. “Do not… underestimate… me…”

Hanzo laughed heartily before walking away, form melding into the shadows. When she could no longer see him, her eyes shot to Kiyohiro. She wanted to scream his name, wanted to cry. But she did neither. She knew she had to be the one doing the saving now. For that, she needed her head. That’s when she remembered the shuriken next to her throat. She could just reach it. To her surprise, it came out quite easily. Had this been Kiyohiro’s plan all along? Either way, she was able to use it to cut her ropes. She snatched the bag up and staggered over to Kiyohiro. She had removed a small vial and was about to tip its contents to his mouth when she felt several stings in her neck and arms.

“I did say until the light was snuffed out, did I not?” Hanzo gave her an amused grin as she quickly brushed a dozen or so needles off her body. “Now what shall you do? Save him, or yourself?”

“Please live.” Kiyohiro whispered weakly causing blood to gurgle in his chest.

“A world without you in it isn’t worth living in.”

Kiyohiro gave her a pressed smile. He accepted the antidote when she brought it to his lips again. He gave her a sad smile before pulling her face weakly to his. Expecting a kiss goodbye, she closed her eyes. To her horror, a bitter medicinal taste laced with the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth. She tried to fight against his hold but couldn’t break free. After a struggle that seemed to drag on for eternity, her body utterly revolted in itself desire to live and she swallowed hard.

“Why?” She somehow managed to choke out the word before tears broke her voice completely.

“You already saved me…” It was a barely audible whisper. He spared her one last smile before his eyes sank shut.

No matter how many times she called him back, he would not answer. So she cried herself to sleep over him, completely unaware of anything amiss.

 She pried her eyes open slowly to a familiar ceiling. She sat up and looked around her room. “Good morning, Miss.” A seemingly emotionless voice greeted her. Her wide eyes immediately found Kiyohiro’s gently smiling face looking back at her. “I’m sorry to have deceived you. Please forgive me.” He pressed his forehead to the floor in an earnest show of his feelings.

“What?” Her eyebrows settled into a deep crease now.

“It was all part of a larger plan. It will distract the Tokugawa from the Takeda’s movements for now. But more importantly…” He looked her square in the eye with a resolute face. “Both Hattori Hanzo and my village now believe me dead.”

“How… how are you not dead though? I saw the needles!” She frantically crawled out of bed and sat in front of him.

“They didn’t touch me.” He held out one of the shirts she had made him. Almost all the needle holes were over the leather Lord Nobuyuki suggested they put in the pieces. What he had said before finally made sense.

“I… saved… you…”

“Many times over.” One of his hands slid away from the garment and to her cheek.

Almost as soon as she felt the slightly cool digits on her skin she dove into his chest. Arms coiled around him tightly and her sobbing started a new. This time they were happy tears. He let her cry a few moments as he gently stroked her soft hair.

“Stop crying. You’ve shed enough tears for me.”

Her tears slowly abated and she found herself asking a single question. “What does this mean for us now?”

“I can be yours now… Completely.” His true meaning was not lost on her or her apple red cheeks.

“I’m ready.”

Anchor

[aliciagaliano]

Crossed Roads, chapter 3

Disclaimer: Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs belongs to Sony Pictures Animations.

The respective OC's belongs to me.

...

Are you lost or incomplete? Do you feel like a puzzle? You can't find your missing piece? Tell me how you feel...

Talk - Coldplay

...

"Why didn't you save me, Lockwood?"

"Huh?"

The young Lockwood opened his eyes to find himself strongly tied up to a chair, upon him there was a shining light bulb that for a moment left him dazed, he tried to set himself free but he was unable to do that, becoming more and more nervous at the sudden and scary situation where he was. In any case, what was even happening and where he was now? The place seemed so familiar, oddly and painfully familiar, it was a scary situation, and he just wanted to leave...

He looked to his sides, his arms were against the armrests of a wooden chair, upper arms and chest were in the same way and his ankles and legs were against the legs of the chair as well, leaving him immobilized. "What is happening...?" He mumbled scared, he tried to look back, but he barely could do that; the place still felt awfully familiar, as if he's been there before? Who even captured him? When and why? All he knew is that he was in a basement (as much he could tell), really scared, unable to understand the situation nor know why he was there.

*slap!*

A sharp pain crossed his face as someone just slapped his right cheek, feeling it burning now, he hissed out first to then groan, to then feel his face tilting to the opposite side as another sharp pain presented on his left cheek. What was even happening? He couldn't see his aggressor coming, as if it was some sort of invisible person, or maybe they did it when he wasn't looking? There was something missing there, a something he couldn't get properly... then, "Why didn't you save me, Flint..."

His blue eyes widened...

Another hard hit got his face, this time it wasn't a slap but an actual blow that made him flinch in pain more than the last ones did, he couldn't see another couple coming nor who his aggressor was, but he knew who she was... and yes, it's a her... "I'm sorry..." He mumbled, "I was scared... I was paralyzed... I couldn't think on anything..." Then another blow came, making him taste the metallic flavor of blood, he didn't complain, "I know you're angry at me..." Another one came again, "I know you may hate me..." And more, "I accept it..." And more, "I can't complain for it..." He felt his nose bleeding already, probably broken as well, "I'm sorry..." The last hit that came was so hard that made his chair fall down to a side, it didn't matter anymore, right?

...int...!

He heard a faded voice from the distance...

...ake u...!

He felt tears coming out endlessly out of his eyes, as a person stood up in front of him, hearing the sound of a gun getting ready to shot... he didn't dare to look up... he couldn't, he got no rights for it.

"Anything else to say, young Lockwood?" The female voice asked with annoyance, almost spitting all the possible venom.

He just smiled a bit, bittersweetly...

"I love you..."

He heard a click, then he closed up his eyes... it was what it was anyways...

bang!

.

He suddenly jumped out breathing heavily, finding himself on his bed sweating like a horse, to then feel someone hugging him tight... everything was just a nightmare at least... little Alice was hugging him as tight as she could, at the point he started to feel breathless, when she realized that she released him from the hug, to do it again, but more gently... apparently he got her scared... he pats her back trying to calm her down, "It's alright Alice... it was just a nightmare..." He said, "I'm okay..." That was a mid-key lie there... he wasn't all okay, just in part... kind of. "Did I scare you...?"

"A bit..." She admitted, "I came and saw you... uh... squirming and repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again..." It wasn't that bad then, "Are you okay...?"

He smiled at her, "The real question is: did Newt keep you asleep last night?" The question did nothing but make her blush, as if it was a way to say it did, taking out a wider smile to her, "I'm alright Al, don't worry about me, just wait for me downstairs if what you're looking for is take a walk with me." Without hesitation she did the asked and went back to the house, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Sighing deeply, he first took a quick shower to wear fresh clothes and get ridden of all the sweat of his nightmare, when he came out he used his usual attire which included jeans, his lab coat and a simple yellow shirt under his coat, then fixed (with "fix" we mean he actually messed it up a bit more than before) his wet hair to then dry it with a towel. Before going down he opened the drawer of his nightstand and took out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it, it was the picture of someone, in fact, of a fourteen years old girl with brown curly hair, brown eyes, white skin, using a white shirt with a bright smile on her face. He looked at her for a good while, then covered his face with one hand starting to feel bad again...

It's been two years already since...

"Steve!" He turned to a side to see his monkey pal playing with a piece of paper, then looked to Flint with his bright orange eyes, "Leave!"

"Right Steve... I should leave now..." Alice was waiting for him anyways, and it was rude to leave someone waiting for a long while. He cleared his throat and placed the picture back in its place folded, scratching the back of his neck and standing up, he stretched up his limbs and went downstairs.

It was a nice day outside, the sun was shining, flowers were blooming, birds singing, some puffy clouds passing by, the ambient felt totally different when it was shiny, the faded painting of the walls of the houses seemed to recover their original colors (but of course not as vibrant as once they used to be), getting into the house he saw her sitting on a sofa, moving one of her legs up and down in an anxious way, then seemed to calm down when he got into the living room, smiling a bit and standing up. Without sharing words, as if actions were enough, they got out together.

Down the streets he talked about the island, how once upon a time they used to be famous for their quality sardines until the cannery, Baby Brent Sardines had to shut down for three reasons: the first one was that people realized sardines were super gross, so the exportation as their main source of economy went completely downhill and they had to eat all of what everybody else hated as the United States also stopped sending food to the island years ago; second was that the cannery itself was a time bomb in poor conditions, lacking a lot of infrastructure and of course endangering the lives of its workers, and finally, the consequences of the second reason: there was a fire years ago, and many lives were taken there, including the life of his mother...

"So... life here turned dull and tasteless since then," He said, "We actually wouldn't be in this way if we had the sources to order food from the United States as before but, as you see, we don't..." He took a brief pause and sighed a bit "As much as I know, the mayor is in New York doing who-knows-what, and I can tell you he's just a selfish jerk who only thinks on himself... but one day..." He looked to the sky with a smile, "I'll invent something that really works, so that the world will know my name, everyone here will respect me and treat me right, and become the best scientist of the century... maybe even join some techno-scientific enterprise such as Nano Tech Labs, or even create one of my own branch," He took a pause and looked down, the smile became smaller, yet the spirit was still there, "I want mom to be proud of me, wherever she is..." Then he looked at her with with his bright blue eyes, "I want you to know that someone can do great things if you believe in yourself and keep doing what you like... just don't ever give up, no matter how hard it can be..."

The thing that may'd ever surprise him was the fact that she just limited herself to listen carefully to what he had to say, looking at him with curiosity in her eyes and looking away a bit when he tried to make eye contact, to then look at him shyly, smiling slightly as well. His hands ran upon her hair gently, feeling it soft, she didn't actually mind it apparently, and as much as her face said, she actually seemed to like it at the same time there was the feeling that the act was like... unknown...? Then she got away a bit from him, making him raise an eyebrow confused, then he thought about her words from last night...

Oh no...

Was she trying to not get attached to him or something?

He felt his chest flinch with it, he didn't want her to do that if he was honest, it could be just a temporal goodbye if that was her reason to not want him to get some sort of emotional bound with him or his father, yet it still was... unjustified...? Right, maybe that was the proper word to define it. He respected it, even if it could hurt... besides, she asked him nicely and he accepted. He made a promise... all that passed through his head once again was the word 'moron' for it... and just know he actually said 'Alright' to her, remember how he tried to say 'No' instead made him feel hurt in a way... it was quite hard to know the first person he talked to in years requested to not get any sort of deep human bound... it could just be she was trying to protect herself as much as possible to relief the pain from a hypothetical goodbye, but still...

He bit his cheeks for a moment, trying to come up with an idea, whatever it was to start a random conversation so she could feel comfortable again, in fact said a real corny joke to start with, but there was no response asides of a face that seemed to try to hold laughs. He tried two more times, and then at the third time he finally got a reply for it, more specifically a giggle, to then go up with a conversation. It started in a shy way, to then quickly become a friendly one that made her feel comfortable again...

All the way they were talking about all sorts of things like what they liked, disliked, technology, science, telling corny jokes... but neither of them seemed to realize that the whole world looked at them with askance; maybe they noticed, but didn't care at all, being so engrossed in their bubble that made the world was just the two of them without anybody else, until...

"Flint Lockwood!"

The way the inventor got called felt like a pin popping up their bubble, as a wake-up call for both of them to remind them they weren't physically alone at all. Of course he groaned a bit, this time he wasn't doing anything wrong to get into – oh wait... sighing deeply like asking God to give him patience he turned around to face him... it was Earl...

"Hello Earl..." He said, trying to hide his annoyance knowing what could be coming from him, "What's wrong?" This was one of those times where for once in his life he wasn't doing anything asides of just walking down the street, leaving as an obvious fact that the officer didn't trust him, not even a single bit.

"You know what you are Flint Lockwood?" Earl asked jumping to the sides and making some stunts around him, Alice hid behind the inventor as he looked at the officer "A sheganeganizer," wasn't the right word 'shenanigan'? Oh well it didn't matter right now anyways, "A tom-fool, and I hope you're not back with one of your crazy science doodibopper thingies!"

There wasn't a day where he didn't get interrogated about his activities...

"What? No!" Not today at least, "I'm just giving Alice a tour around the town," Feeling her tugging his lab coat made him realize she was feeling nervous again. The police officer raised an eyebrow when he mentioned her, "The girl I found a couple of days ago?"

"Oh..." He said, then tried to look at her, but she moved to a side still hiding behind Flint, "Hey, I ain't gonna harm you! I'm a police officer! I do no harm to people."

"Sorry Earl, she's just too shy towards... new people," He still felt her tugging his lab coat, it still made him wonder what could happen to her to be like that. Well, there was the thing that parents always told to children which was to not talk with strangers, but most children tends to actually forget that or not have it in mind which was completely normal, still, her shyness didn't feel really normal at all... "It's alright though, I had problems to get a bit of her trust yesterday anyways," There was no response asides of a glance, then he tried to reach her with a hand, "Come on Alice, Earl is a good person, I promise he won't hurt you."

She tugged his lab coat more than before, to then slowly peek to the police officer and come out next to the inventor, not passing farther from where he was and keeping her distance from Earl, she didn't look up, grabbing her hands and having them down... she looked so small like that... Flint just smiled at her like an older brother, patting her back twice like telling that everything was alright and she didn't have anything to actually fear.

"So, you're Alice, huh?" He asked, she looked at him a bit nodding, "Aw, you're as small and cute like my angel son Cal!" He said, "You'd be good friends with him I guess." Would she accept to befriend someone of her age...? The inventor wondered, to give a 50/50 chance of that happening, maybe if she actually got someone around her age she would become less shy, right? Well, it was a fair thing to hope for it, it'd make her feel better with everyone around though.

There he felt a glare from him, of course it didn't mean anything good coming from the officer, there he saw him taking her a bit away from him, to then say something, look at him and talk to her again... he sighed having an idea of what he could've told her, it wasn't unexpected anyways. There he saw her stepping back as she kept looking at Earl in a slightly insecure way, to then come back to him and grab his hand tight...

"I'm sorry but I do like to be with him..." She said, her tone was still shy, yet firm, "He's a nice person despite what you're telling me..."

Wait, did he hear right? She was actually choosing to be with him? Wasn't it a contradiction to what she asked before? Or she ended up just terminating that petition? He wasn't even close to be sure of a thing, the only thing he was actually thinking about is that an actual someone was choosing to be with him for what he was and not listening to the others... there he felt her turning him around and dragging him away from the officer leaving him speechless, to then smile a bit and walk away from them as well... he did want to ask, but maybe later.

Maybe before going to sleep though.

Yeah, that sounded right...

.

They walked around for a good while, none of them passed up the glances from the other citizens to see the weirdo of the town being with an actual someone asides his mischievous monkey, and as happened before, they didn't pay them attention at all, still pretending they were alone on the streets of the town.

The more she looked the depressing things felt. She didn't pass up the details from her surroundings neither the atmosphere of the town and its dull pallet, the businesses showed up that they've seen better days; at that point they were in the downtown district known as the Sardine Circle, the lack of revenue from the now defunct source of economy that the Cannery was, showed how dried up everything was, with most of the places seeming... neglected, needing a good hand of paint as well.

Another thing that didn't pass up for her is how symmetrical the buildings were – talking about how rectangular they looked, which just keep reflecting a demoralized economy with little diversity and low culture, and talking in a more symbolic way, it was something like a representation of the "stuck in a box" mindset of the community. They passed in front of some of the old buildings from the Sardine Circle, including a cuizine, a supermarket that seemed so empty and pity inside, several other buildings that only had the "sardine" name in it but weren't really related to it, a shop of used rugs...

Then they reached Waterfront Street (1), which visually felt more livid in her honest opinion, it wasn't as gray as the rest of the town, with a certain amount of "street furniture" like parking meters, streetlights phone booths and mailboxes, besides, the colors were more bright despite they still looked old. In other words, looked better than the actual Sardine Circle. They passed next to the Sardiner (2), the local diner place (hence the pun in its name), which entrance was located in a corner of a square; its façade was a mix of stucco, rock and brick, with actually nothing aesthetically appealing about it, and its awnings and windows didn't even match that showed at its best the lackadaisical attitude towards appearance of the town. Taking a peek inside (one person sitting on a table while one of the employees was lazily watching TV) she actually saw how wide the place was, her imagination made her see how full maybe was when their economy wasn't drown up...

"We used to come to eat here sometimes, when we didn't have anything to cook at home," Flint told her, "After mom passed, dad and I used to come twice a week, then we just... stopped coming as we distanced... it just felt awkward for the two of us..." He bit his cheeks for a moment, "We also used to share a show together, about a scientific sardine (3) because it was something we two liked– I mean, he loves fish and I love science, but you may know where it ended though..." There was no reply but a look, telling him she understands.

Before keeping their path around the town, he heard her stomach growling in hunger, which was a good reminder that they probably needed a brunch. He looked to his pockets for his wallet (or did he leave it at home...?) which should be somewhere – oh meatballs... he gave a quick look to her, she didn't actually say anything about being hungry, she didn't complain, and he was hungry too but... oh well he needed to pin a note somewhere to remind himself to take his damn wallet whenever he was going to get out. They could get back to the house for brunch and – eh?

He looked to Alice, who pulled his lab coat a bit twice to call out his attention easier, there she passed him a 20 dollars bill... where did she take that money? Oh wait, he forgot she was carrying some lose cash in a pocket of her tattered clothes, she probably found them and took whatever was in without their realization, and it wasn't stealing, because it was her money anyways... he felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment there...

"But it's your–" He was going to say.

"I don't mind it, Flint..." She said, "Just take it..."

The honesty in her voice was clear, still, in a reluctant way he took it, chuckling nervously, wanting to hit his head against a wall when no one was looking... come on, a ten-years-old girl giving him money because his dumb head forgot his wallet at the lab... oh well, it was what it was, right?

Then after the meal (where she ordered something vegan, as if she knew that at least they still could get fresh vegetables made in the island to mix with sardines), they kept on walking afterwards, and it didn't take any longer until they stumbled with Tim's tackle shop, he bit his cheeks again, kind of wanting to pass by for the moment...

"Hey... let's see your dad Flint..." Alice said with a small smile, which surprised him.

"Well I don't–"

"Please..." She asked with puppy eyes.

God she looked so innocent and cute at the same time. He told to himself to not fall for it and even looked away to hold up the desire to give in, but then he felt her hugging him as she keep looking at him with the puppy eyes...

Only this time.

"Alright..." And also because she was nicely asking him to do so.

She giggled happily, which made him smile, then passed a hand upon her head caressing her hair a bit; she looked genuinely happy, putting asides that face of seriousness and her shy behavior, which indeed was a huge advance in his honest opinion. For a moment her request echoed his mind again, the doubts about her origins, how he ended falling there in the ocean, why she healed so fast... a crossroads of his beliefs, his love for science and his own humanity, but quickly managed to put questions asides. There they got in. Two people were sitting in a table playing poker and listening to the TV in a random channel, the two looked at them, feeling curious for the small girl being with... the local weirdo... again they just ignored their faces.

Ding! Ding! The inventor pressed the bell upon the table.

His father was surely arranging stuff in the backroom.

A couple of minutes later he arrived, getting surprised to see his son there, then he noticed her behind the counter, she was shorter than the furniture so he didn't spot her before.

"Hello Mr. Lockwood," She said with a smile.

"Oh, hello Alice, how are you today?" The old fisherman asked, feeling good to see her smiling in contrast to what they already saw about her.

"We just came to say hello," Flint said, feeling slightly... awkward maybe, "Well, Alice wanted to pass by so here we are..."

She looked down shyly, but her corporal expression looked different. It didn't show fear this time but certain embarrassment, with a playful manner below the layer of embarrassment, and the more she tried to hide it the evident it became. Whatever the inventor did (which he attributed to how he gently touched her head) just made her feel good. Mood swings maybe? It was an option... his hand drifted again upon her hair, making her giggle a bit and get closer to him like a kitten to its mother (in this case, friend). Still felt weird, yet, he actually liked it a lot.

"How are you feeling today, Alice?" The old fisherman asked, the girl smiled in response, "I'm glad then." Comparing to what he saw the last day, of course he felt glad to see her smiling.

She looked to the rest of the shop, which wasn't that big either; the walls had some fishing trophies, showing that sardines could be actually slightly bigger than they seemed to be. Some fishing rods were hanging from the ceiling, illumination was right, so many kinds of bright tackles, then saw a sign against a pillar that said 'Special discount for local costumers' underlined with three bright lines, and there under it, in parenthesis, emphasizing a 'not' with red and underlining the two more words to leave it completely clear: 'But NOT you Flint!'. She couldn't actually help but giggle at it.

There weren't any comments from father or son though, asides of the latter blushing again and pretending he didn't hear a thing, which was funny and quite embarrassing.

No one had to be Sherlock to know why of the sign, probably that's why it was funny.

The two people who were in the shop in that moment were looking at the scene curious indeed, they heard about the curious case of the "body" the Lockwood found days ago, and now there was a new face in town which mean the "body" was that girl there. The thing that of course called the attention of everyone out like the rest of the adult townsfolk (in majority) was to see her with the local weirdo, it was weird at the point they didn't actually know how to feel about it, if gladness or a something else. Then she asked Tim for the restroom, he gave her indications and she went straight there. Flint couldn't help but smile, and then notice a glance from his father...

"What?" He asked curious for his look, as if he could deduce his thoughts from a monotone stern look.

"Why don't you take her fishing?" He asked, "She may like to go."

"What? No!" He exclaimed, "I mean, I don't think she'd like to go fishing..." Well, it was more of him than because of her, and because he already lost a lot of time with his investigations of genetics with the incident with Steve the day he found Alice, "It's boring, you spend too much time sitting and waiting..." Not his thing either, and he had forbidden use a Flint Lockwood invention for it because quite obvious reasons.

"And it seems right for her as well," Judging her behavior, yes, it seemed the case, "I mean just look at her, I think she's patient enough for it." The more he talked the more it seemed he wanted him to spend as much time possible with her, but not in his laboratory. A relaxed ambient without rush, alone the two of them, the calming sound and smell of the salt of the sea... thinking it twice it could work to make her open up more about herself, "Besides you loved to go fishing with your mom and I..."

That wound in their hearts felt like stinging when the old fisherman made mention of it, but he wasn't wrong at all. Although Flint was a complete mess without a doubt in early days at the point he even caught his father's nose with the fishing hook once in the docks at the age of five, when it came to fish with his mom back then, he never could say "no" to the request, as she was the nexus between her genius son and her humble husband, but of course, after her death, the nexus got broken, and they seldom agreed to do things together. Now it was the perfect moment for him to go back to those early days without his father but with somebody else...

Yet the idea sounded actually nice...

"Alright dad..." He said smiling a bit, just in time for her to come back, "Hey Al, wouldn't you like to go fishing with me later?" He asked in a quite shy tone, she first looked at him in surprise, to then blush a bit and finally become a tomato, "Only if you want of course!" His brain couldn't stop repeating the same thing all over again, which was a 'I hope I didn't screw it up'.

"Sure... I think..." She said with a small smile, he sighed in relief. Well, at least he didn't screw it up as he thought, "Whenever you want I guess..." The tone in her voice didn't mean anything else asides that she actually liked the idea and tried to not sound as if she was being just dragged to it.

"I'll get your stuff ready then." Tim said, before they could say a thing he already headed to the backroom. Oh well.

The other two people in the shop grabbed their stuff and left, leaving the seats free for the couple of friends (kind of, maybe?), who sat next to each other in silence... actually there wasn't anything to talk about again, he didn't know what to say in that moment. Such amazing skills to socialize with people, wasn't it? He took the controller of the TV and turned it on, switching channels to catch something interesting, until he got into a music channel. There was a music video ending in that right moment... then he saw another one starting, sounded like distant wind in a beginning, the video was black and white, then there was a distant-like guitar riff. He noticed Alice looking at the TV then with a glint in her eyes, he kept watching.

The ambient of the video was black with a distant light in the horizon, it seemed like outer space, the camera zoomed out as there was a UFO passing by in the distance, then the camera angle changed to show four men sitting in the spaceship that looked like taken out of a B-movie from the 80's, then looked at Alice again, she was staring now still with the glint of happiness in her eyes; looking again to the video clip, he saw now the four men looking at the camera using those cardboard 3-D glasses to then show the ship landing somewhere inhospitable, and yes, indeed was based on a B-movie due the special effects and stuff. Once the ship landed the song started to have a stronger rhythm with the addition of drums and a soft bass.

To add another surprise to the day, he heard her singing:

Oh brother I can't, I can't get through...

I've been trying hard to reach you Cause I don't know what to do...

Her voice was soft, as soft as the singer maybe...

Oh brother I can't believe it's true... I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you, Oh I wanna talk to you...

"You know the song, Alice?" He asked, she nodded slightly.

"It's called Talk. A little favorite of mine." She turned up the volume, not too loud but enough to hear it better.

So you take a picture of something you see... In the future, where will I be? You can climb a ladder up to the sun, Or write a song nobody has sung, Or do, something that's never been done...

What the inventor thought with the first verses was that the song maybe was addressed to someone in specific. He didn't know who as he was just listening to it, and he was already liking it if he was honest; the tempo was now slower again, he kept looking at the video clip seeing that the members of the band found a giant toy robot and jumped to it, examining it, the singer then started to sing near the face of the robot at the same time he heard her starting to sing again:

Are you lost or incomplete? Do you feel like a puzzle? You can't find your missing piece? Tell me how you feel...

He couldn't feel more related if he was completely honest...

Well, I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak And their talking into me...

He make a parallelism with the citizens of the town or any normal person he ever talked to about science, sometimes he understood what they were saying even if sometimes it was hard to understand, but most part of the time he was like a stranger in his own home... the glaces he uses to have from the townsfolk, the bullying, he could even hear them talking to his backs, whispering things he couldn't understand whenever two or more people saw him, some times he could hear them say "Look, there goes the weirdo", "I wonder what's he planning again", "He'll destroy the town one of these days...".

So you take a picture of something you see...

Not one of the shop of course...

In the future, where will I be?

Hopefully he would be already a famous inventor as he always wished...

You can climb a ladder up to the sun,

It was worth to try that, wasn't it?

Or write a song nobody has sung, Or do, something that's never been done...

Yeah do, something that's never been done...

"Something that's never been done..." He quietly mumbled as he kept hearing the song looking down, probably in a normal case he'd have a sudden idea of a new Flint Lockwood invention, but oddly enough he didn't bring anything to the point, as if the song was inhibiting his ideas and making him think more than the usual, not a thing he really liked. So he just focused on the rhythms, the loud yet mesmerizing guitar bell as the sound of the drums and a powerful riff came bringing the last verses, and Alice’s singing voice came again, but this time he heard more emotion hidden in her voice, one she tried to keep inside...

So you don't know where you're going and you wanna talk

It heard, in his opinion as a cry of help...

You feel like you're going where you've been before?

Becoming louder and stronger...

You tell anyone to listen but you feel ignored...

Was she actually screaming out loud without his realization or was just his mind...?

Nothing's really making any sense at all

Let's talk, let's ta-a-alk, Let's talk, let's ta-a-alk...

And there the song ended, looking again to the videoclip he saw the robot atracting the spaceship of the flying band with a ray from its hand, to then get it close to its mouth and eat them, funny enough the robot started to whistle and leave its place as if it was going to go to wait for another group of dummies to do the same once again, an act that actually cracked him a smile, right in that moment his father came back with some fishing stuff for the two, the inventor turned off the TV and got the stuff in the way he could, getting some help of the small girl who incredibly managed to carry out some of the complicated stuff. From there they went to the docks, to the same docks where he found her.

The day was still fine, they had their fishing hats to avoid sunburns as much as possible, vests and other stuff. He still wasn't a huge fan of fishing but, now knowing a bit more of her musical taste maybe he could learn more... it was a way to reach her core... well kind of... when he was going to ask her if she ever went fishing, he saw her maneuvering the rod with elegance and carefully, then spinning it in the air three times before letting the tackle fly away to the sea, to then sit down upon the wooden dock with a small smile...

"Nice one Al," He praised, "Is not your first time, right?" She shook her head slightly, then he did the same she did and launched his hook to the sea, smiling at it. Then looked at her, "Hey, I got something you may like," He said and took out what looked like an MP3 player mixed with a phone... kinda, "It's my Super Flint Lockwood Music Player!" It had to work, "This one got internet wherever you are, and you can play whatever song you want! You just got to imput the song you want to listen and bam! You'll have it." He hoped it to work.

She looked at him for a moment, then just took the device with curiosity, she tried to use it, turning it on, it didn't explode yet so that was a good signal, there she input something on the device and placed it somewhere safe, then waited a minute for it to load, it didn't take that much for the song to start to play, it was a piano song that sounded familiar, one he knew was called Somewhere Only We Know by a British band whose name he felt unable to remind, but brought him some nostalgia...

"Hey, don't you mind to be far away from home...?" He asked her without looking, only to receive a puzzled gaze from her, "I mean, if you don't miss your family, friends..."

"No..." She just said in a slightly cold way, looking away from him, "There are things that we all do for love even if it can be the most stupid thing you've ever done..." He detected a wide bitter-sweetness in her words, as if it supposed to mean 'danger' or something similar, "So... well... I try to not think about it... I'm actually used to it though..." There she seemed to realize something, "You know just... nevermind... as a short answer I don't mind it." Again he was curious to know what's she actually hiding.

"Alright then..." It was a lie, he wasn't alright with it, "Also, what's the name of the band you were singing before?"

"Coldplay," She replied with a small smile, "They're my favorite band... I love them a lot... I started to listen to their songs a couple of years ago when I accidentally stumbled with their music..." She took a pause blushing a bit, "And I'd like to meet them one day, too..." The small smile upon her face then vanished, "Their music saved my life..." Oh God, did that mean... depression? Mental illness? Then there was silence, with the music filling their air for a while.

That was deep now, whatever that was happening was deep indeed, probably a problem beyond his reach, which felt... saddening... the song changed then, there were no comments from her, neither him... the thing he couldn't avoid think is about her petition last night, adding the recent things she mentioned...

"So you don't know where you're going and you wanna talk..." He sung in a low voice, low enough for her to not listen, "You feel like you're going where you've been before..." The song just reminded him how he wanted to talk to somebody about a certain something he needed to tell to anyone and get ridden of the weight upon his back and shoulders, but he felt fully unsure to tell her about... "Achoo!" He sneezed, she looked at him curious, "It was just a sneeze don't worry." She didn't say a word, to then look back at the sea, he just bit his cheeks thinking that it was better to wait some more time for it... about what? Well, about–

"I caught something!" She exclaimed and started to roll up the line seeming excited, when the hook came, there was a small sardine hanging from there, she was beaming with happiness.

"Well done Alice!" He said with a smile, then he saw her taking out the small fish and throwing it back to the ocean, of course they were just spending time so they wouldn't eat them, at least that wasn't the plan as much as he could see. She just gave him a smile with a glint of happiness in her eyes, which made him feel proud of her...

An hour passed, with them catching a few fish and returning them to the ocean, giggling a bit at time to time, with music still filling their air and talking about random things as a way to have a way to not let silence invade them until they decided to leave back to the house. The young inventor turned off his MP3 device and placed it back in a pocket of his lab coat having learned a bit more about her tastes in music – which was fairly a something; getting everything ready they got themselves in the same way to make their way back, then...

"Hello nerd!" An annoying voice said, the inventor tensed a bit of too much knowing who was coming...

Alice turned around to see the source of the voice, he did the same with annoyance and a hint of worry in his gaze, slightly biting his lower lip. "Baby" Brent McHale was coming with a couple of his friends, the girl tensed with them coming near, the inventor had to place an arm in front of her to protect her, making her get behind him as the group of three was staring at them with a stupid grin upon their faces. "Hello, Brent..." He said, only staring at the fat blond, keeping his arm up and the girl behind him in every moment as an indication to remain hidden. The tension in the air was palpable, "What do you want?"

"Oh, I thought you were nerding again with your silly inventions!” He mocked, Flint just rolled his eyes with a groan as he heard them laughing, "Come on! As if any of your inventions ever worked out!" He felt Alice clenching his coat with certain nervousness he translated to anger, the fat teenager took a peek to her, "Who's your girlfriend Lockwood?"

"Just leave us alone, Brent!" He said angrily, one thing was mock about him, but it wasn't right to drag her into it, without his realization she was inching away, "We're not doing anything right now!"

"What are you going to do if we don't leave, nerd?" He asked threateningly, getting close to him with the couple of gorillas. He gulped knowing that it was a terrible mistake, that he was going to get an atomic wedgie even if his underwear were wedgie-proof (they always managed to pull out a solution anyways), and only-God-knew what they had planned this time, "Eh? Are you scared to talk?" Well, pretty much he was.

Whack!

He felt a pain on the back of his head that made him flinch, then felt how something whacked his arm, back, and other part of his body, the same happened to the others, having to back off from the inventor, who turned to see Alice holding one of the fishing rods with both hands as if a sword was, her legs spreaded in attack position and her back bowed to the front... that was a reminder, she arrived with a sword on her back which meant she actually knew how to use it. Contrary to her normal retreated self, this time her gaze was stern and firm, with determination in her eyes, "Back off!" She threatened, to then get in front of the inventor.

They were going to do something, try to get close in fact, in a sudden movement she whacked them again with the fishing rod painfully, he noticed a couple of her movements, showing that indeed her technique was one of a sword user. Some action movies were enough to tell that honestly. The three bullies couldn't do anything else but back off and run away screaming that they weren't going to stop there, and once they were away from their view, she relaxed in her position by letting out a deep sigh and lowering her improvised weapon. At least they did take off the hook just in case... there she turned around to him, "Are you okay, Flint?"

The inventor seemed to snap out of his surprise with the question, "Yes, I am, thanks Alice..."

First of all: he was totally impressed to see a fierce personality coming from someone so shy like her, with a complete right-hand to fight like that with a rod.

Second: He was grateful to her for helping him like that, otherwise it could've been worse, and that was almost for sure.

Third: All the damn questions were back.

She saw her lowering down the rod with the other one, cracking her knuckles with her thumb as she seemed quite nervous and trying to ease herself down from the intense rush through her veins due the adrenaline of the moment, "I'm glad they didn't do anything to you..." She said with honesty in her voice, "I mean..."

"Where did you learn how to fight?" He couldn't hold up the question, she jumped a bit with it, he was just curious, "I just want to know. That was really impresive and brave..." He gave her a patient smile there.

"Well... I was taught a couple of years ago..." She said, "I'm not as good as I should though..." She still seemed nervous once again, "H-hey... let's just go back to the house... alright?"

Well, another attempt of her to divert the conversation to anything else but not herself nor her life, which still, in his honest opinion, felt annoying. Of course he didn't really have another option but accept her request, so without any more delays they headed back to the house, in any case, Tim would take all the stuff back to the shop the next day...

Talking about him...

"FLINT!" His screams were heard from blocks away. The teenager and the girl looked to each other worried as they rushed to the house. When they arrived to the front door they stopped as they were hearing stuff breaking down, then the sound of Steve repeating his mess like crazy, the two of them looked to each other again and got in.

What a beautiful disaster awaiting there!

Oh well...

20 minutes later and they were finally able to catch the mischievous animal and take him upstairs, giving him again the wooden spoon and the bucket to bang and get entertained for a good while, then go back down and make a clean-up for a long hour, with any invention of Flint made for said task ultimately forbidden (also, for obvious reasons) which of course made him groan as well, but at least in the meantime he had Alice to talk with. He noticed that she had her times to be retreated and others to socialize with him a bit more than the usual, in any case he considered them as progresses on their curious friendship (which still had in part, a scientific purpose). Once done they both had a shower, to then meet up in the laboratory again where she helped him to keep re-making the broken stuff from days ago, which quickly leaded them to night already.

It wasn't that late either, around 11-and-something PM, the inventor accompanied her downstairs to her room to tug her on the bed and wish her a goodnight, pass her Newt the bear, and give her a goodnight kiss... God! It felt so weird yet good, his softest side showing up with her... he couldn't help it, he actually liked it a lot. Again, once she fell asleep he left the room silently, to then stretch up his limbs and go back to the lab with a serious face with the images of the ten-years-old swordswoman, but instead of seeing her using the rod, he actually pictured her with the sword she was wearing when he found her...

Making a throwback to her movements, her lunges were precise in points where, in a normal case would cause a severe wound that would need some good points to stop the bleeding, in another case slightly farther, it'd be possibly meant to kill with enough pressure and strenght that, hopefully she didn't own, but judging the height the weapon had, he hightly doubted about it. Grabbing her weapon by the belt of the scabbard, he carried it next to a scanner and left it against the metallic body of the machine, sighing deeply he proceeded to unsheathe the large blade of the European-like sword...

He was in shock to see it: the blade was perfect, in a dark-grey tone that didn't have any single imperfection nor scratch on the surface, which was amazingly surprising, it reflected the lights of the laboratory in a perfect way, and the way he was holding it, well, he felt powerful... as if he was actually able to slice the entire planet with a single swing. As much as he was feeling it he couldn't believe that it was an amazingly light weapon, only needing a hand to raise it, Steve looked at it closely too, with his eyes wide open in surprise, saying "Shiny..." as he reached out a hand, and then jump away because of a sudden movement of the inventor.

"You're right Steve, this thing is so shiny..." First of all, before doing anything else, he decided to focus and placed the weapon on a large surface, to then turn on the scanner and wait for the results in one of his screens, and a while later: "What?! This doesn't makes sense at all!" At least, a total of two percent of the components of the sword were an alloy of the hardest metals in Earth, which were steel, titanium, tungsten, inconel and chrome, "98% percent of the rest of the components made of an unknown component?!" He looked again to the blade, whatever the other component was, seeing the molecular structures of the metals all together, he got into a very shocking conclusion: "The sword is indestructible..." At least the blade was indestructible and light like a feather.

He couldn't avoid giving the weapon another glance and get back to it. Even if he wasn't exactly a blacksmith (in the sense of forging weapons of course), he had to admit that it was probably one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen... now the hardest part for him was get his mind back to business and find out what the 98% of unknown metal actually was, as he was like a bug attracted to light. Like any good scientist in its field, he needed to make some tests, but in this case it wasn't related to that but a genuine curiosity, how did it actually feel to handle a sword.

One hand on the handle, the cover of it didn't feel worn out at all, then another one; he felt powerful. Then, he took it up, he felt powerful once again, as if the sword was giving him the confidence he needed to take anyone down; frowning his lips and raising it up, he quickly swung the weapon down before screwing it up, just like she did with the fishing rod, hearing the blade cutting the air in a sweet metallic sound... the only thing is that he did a spin due the light weight and his own inexperience, quickly putting the sharp point down against the floor with his blue eyes wide open in surprise with a joyful glint... he had to be careful to not get severely injured for a simple stupidity.

Licking his lips he made another attempt to raise it up again, the blade was still calling his attention: so light, long and indestructible... his brain was repeating himself several times something like 'Must... repress... stupidity...' Well, there was this cartoon show he used to watch a lot when he was a child asides of that one of the scientific sardine, he first shook his head trying to get the ideas incoming ridden from there and get back to real business and try to repress a childish as hell behavior incoming... but that sword was just impulsing him to do it... "No, no, stop it Lockwood!" He said red, "You're already a grown up teenager and you don't do these things anymore."

.

5 seconds later...

Now we see him standing in the middle of the lab, not using his coat for some reason, with the scabbard of the sword hanging on his back. He giggled several times like a fool, having wanted to do that for a good long while already; he took the handle of the sword with a huge grin on his face, "For the power of Stormderia," He exclaimed, then unsheathed the sword and raise it in high "I am the powerful Thunder Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawk!" The loud chirping of a hawk and his own (?) voice were heard in the background, funny enough with special effects of thunders and lightnings around.

"Stormy!" Steve exclaimed as he hid under a table scared.

He was playing a fool of himself alone now... he swung the weapon down, hearing the metallic blade cutting the air once again, it sounded like music for anybody's ears who had a sensible hearing, then to a side, realizing that even the air seemed to change with the movement of the blade, leaving a quick trail of light in every swing; he kept going like that for a while, amused like a child playing with a toy – but this time was a real weapon so, almost. The "act" ended when he cut down a wooden plank with a clean slice, for a moment he thought nothing happened, to then see it falling in two to the floor... the blade was so perfect that he was seeing the results now...

But why was she carrying it anyways? And where did she get it? Of course were things that didn't make any sense at all yet, and the pieces of the giant puzzle she supposed to be were so scattered and so small that he didn't actually know how to build it. Carefully he placed down the sword again and took out the scabbard from his back ready to sheathe the blade back in its place, at the moment he put it upside down to look at the details of the case, something slipped out there to the floor calling up his attention, he took it, it was a folded piece of paper covered with a plastic film for some reason, he opened it...

He didn't understand...

It was large, rectangular piece of paper that looked like those ones that uses to hang on those Japanese wind chimes, he couldn't just figure out what was written on the paper: there on the very middle was something written in Japanese, he bit his cheeks a bit trying to figure out though, he knew a bit of the language so he had to know... "Sa... kka... ku..." He raised an eyebrow confused, the symbols around the word seemed so messy and nonsensical, "Why does this piece of paper says 'illusion' though?" He wondered out loud, still biting his cheeks carefully... another mystery added to the list, possibly...

Or probably it was nothing...

Folding back the piece of paper in the same way he found it, he slid it into the scabbard and did the same with the blade, placing it back on a dark part of his lab... he sighed deeply, Steve looked at him with curiosity for a moment, like wondering what could be roaming the mind of his owner; it was day two of knowing her, he still had his questions, she still was keeping away some secrets from him which felt quite annoying, he still wanted to know about her biology, but at the same time it was still his moral and integrity against his scientific side... there he got to his bed and flopped against it, to then look to the crystal heart she gave to him the day before... it still felt like she gave him her actual heart...

And next to it there was the picture of her mom, he sniffed and whimpered, "Oh mom... I wish you were here..." He whispered with a hint of sadness, looking at the photograph, "You wouldn't believe how wonderful and smart is Alice... and how she quite of reminds me about you..." That still was true, she may be young, but physically looked like his mom, not exactly of course, but some features were so familiar, "She even defended me from Brent today... and I guess she actually sees me as a friend... something almost no one did before... but there are some things she doesn't wants me to know... and I'm feeling totally worried about what can it be..."

There was this small tear rolling down his cheek, his guard was getting down again letting his feelings kick his system... again so many questions... memories...

A silent agony of his lonely life...

He didn't want her to leave him alone again... it's been two times already and he didn't want her to leave too...

One more thing crossed his head before darkness surrounded him:

Alice complete trust...

...

(1): The name of Waterfront Street has been taken out of the art book of the first movie (which I gladly own to add a few more details to this version of the story), which, as mentioned in the chapter, is the address of Tim's tackle shop.

(2): Can't remember if the Sardiner was a thing in the movie, but it was a thing in the series and the Art Book, which I'm using to take more accurate references.

...

Previous

Next

First Chapter

[thelastspeecher]

Spy AU - Toxin, 3.5

Why yes, yet another ficlet based in the story arc where Ford gets exposed to a de-aging toxin while out in the field, making him stuck as a three-year-old for a while.  This one is cuter than the last one I posted.  It’s basically Ford just being a cute toddler in public, getting carried and dozing off and telling off randos.  Enjoy.

(This takes place between this ficlet and this ficlet.)

              A flight announcement sounded over the intercom.  Ford paused for a moment, trying to make out what it said.

              There’s too much ambient noise. Even if I could hear it clearly, it’s unlikely that the plane would actually be canceled.  Things aren’t going my way right now.  If they were, fewer people would be here to witness me boarding a plane as a toddler.  The airport was no less busy than the last time Ford had seen it.  Or at least, it didn’t appear to be.  It was difficult for Ford to estimate how many people were present.  He stared at his surroundings.  All I see are legs.  Panic bloomed in his chest.  Where’s Stan?  I lost him!  I don’t know what he-

              “Hot Belgian waffles, Stanford,” a voice said.  Ford felt someone behind him pick him up.  He turned his head.  It was Stan. Stan’s face was pale and drawn in worry. “Why’d you let go of Angie’s hand?”

              “I didn’t want someone to see me holding a fellow adult’s hand,” Ford replied. A pained expression replaced Stan’s worried one.

              “Ford.”

              “…I know,” Ford said quietly.  “No one who sees me would assume I’m an adult.  I’m- I’m biologically three and wearing a dinosaur backpack.”

              “Yeah.  Thanks for agreeing to the backpack, by the way.  That’s how I found you so fast.”

              “I thought it was just to keep up the illusion.”

              “It can have more than one use.  First one is to make sure people see you as a normal kid.  Second is to help us find you.  Third is that it’s got snacks and books in it for the plane ride.”

              “Great.  Toddler activities,” Ford mumbled.  Angie emerged from the crowd of people.

              “There you are!” she said in relief.  She immediately strode over to Ford and stroked his hair.  “Don’t run off like that again.”

              “I didn’t mean to.  I got a bit lost.”

              “I figured.  At least Stan found ya.”

              “Please set me down, Stan,” Ford said.  Stan hesitated.  “Stanley?”

              “I’ll set you down, but you have to promise not to let go of whoever’s hand you hold,” Stan said.

              “I can keep up without holding hands.”

              “Ford.”  Stan looked around, then walked over to a secluded corner free of people charging their phones.  “You’re three years old right now,” Stan whispered.  “We’re in an airport.  I don’t care that you’re not really three, you look three and it would be way too easy for you to disappear in these crowds.   It’s dangerous for you to lose sight of us or for us to lose sight of you.”  Ford’s heart sunk as he began to understand the enormity of getting separated from Stan and Angie in his state.  “In order for us to keep you safe, there are two options.  First is that you hold my or Angie’s hand until we get on the plane. Second is that one of us carries you. You can choose, but those are the only options.”

              “I can hold Angie’s hand,” Ford said after a moment.  Stan nodded and carefully set Ford on the floor.  Angie immediately grabbed Ford’s hand.

              “If you slip away again, you’re getting carried the entire way, just so you know,” Stan said.  Ford nodded silently.  “Good.” Stan looked around.  “Where’s our gate?”  Ford pointed to the left.

              “I think it’s that way.”

              “He’s right,” Angie said.  Stan nodded.

              “Let’s go, then.  Before we miss our flight.”

-----

              Despite Stan’s warning that they’d miss the plane, the three of them got through security with plenty of time.  Angie bounced Ford in her arms instinctively while she waited for Stan to check the status of their flight.  She had picked Ford up shortly after going through security, when a stranger approached Ford to comment on how cute he was, making him nervous.

              “Please stop bouncing,” Ford said quietly.  “It was all right at first, but it’s uncomfortable now.”  Angie stopped.

              “Sorry, Ford.  Instincts.”

              “I know.”  Ford rested his head against Angie’s chest.  He yawned.  “I’m a bit tired.”  Angie looked down at her wristwatch.

              “Yeah, this is about the time that we used to have Danny and Daisy take their first nap,” she said.  Ford yawned again.  “Well, Stan?”

              “Delayed,” Stan said.  He grunted in frustration.  “We’ll have to take the red eye back at this point.”  Angie grimaced.

              “I don’t want Ford on the red eye.”

              “Me neither.  But your mom could only get your family and the girls out of the house for a couple hours. If we stay the night-”

              “I know.  And Gumption doesn’t have any hotels.”  Angie adjusted her hold on Ford slightly.  “Stanford, will you be fine if we take the red eye back?”

              “I’ve been on red eye flights before,” Ford replied.  “It should be fine.”

              “Hopefully he’ll sleep the whole time,” Stan said.

              “I’m right here you know,” Ford said irritably.  He sat up straighter in Angie’s arms and rubbed his eyes.  “I’m tired, but I’m not actually asleep.”

              “Sorry,” Angie and Stan said together.  Ford huffed impatiently.

              “What are we going to do until the plane gets here, then?”

              “Well, we brought some activities fer the plane that we could do in the meantime,” Angie said.  “And there’s one of those cinnamon roll places nearby.  Are ya hungry?”  Ford’s stomach growled.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

----- 

              Half an hour later, Ford sat on the floor, frowning at the cards Stan had laid out on the carpet in front of him.  His earlier tiredness seemed to have vanished shortly after eating the cinnamon roll Stan bought for him.  He reached out a sticky hand to pick up the queen of diamonds.

              “This one, right?” Ford asked, showing Stan.  Sitting on the ground across from Ford, Stan nodded.

              “Yep.  Good work.” Ford beamed.  To occupy him, Stan had set up his travel deck of cards in a Solitaire-like game.  Ford was still learning the rules.

              Though I’m starting to wonder if Stan is just making it up on the spot.  Ford set the card down in a separate pile.  He heard Angie make a small noise.

              “What?” Ford asked.  Angie smiled weakly.

              “Yer grubby lil fingers are gettin’ smudges on the cards, that’s all.”

              “I don’t mind,” Stan said.  Ford stared at his hands like he had just realized they were dirty from the cinnamon roll.

              “Could I have a napkin?” he asked.  Angie nodded.  She sat down next to Ford on the carpet and took a wet wipe out of her purse.  She paused.  “…Please don’t clean my hands for me.”

              “Yer right.”  Angie handed the wet wipe to Ford.  Ford carefully cleaned his hands of frosting and cinnamon residue.  Angie took the used wet wipe from him and tossed it in a nearby trash can.  An employee walked behind the desk in the boarding area.  Stan looked over.

              “I think we might finally be boarding.”

              “Thank the Lord,” Angie mumbled.  Ford got to his feet while Stan picked up the deck of cards.  He yawned.  “Still tired?” Angie asked, stroking his hair.  Ford leaned against Angie’s leg.

              “A bit.”

              “You can sleep on the plane.”

              “Mmkay,” Ford said sleepily.  His eyes began to close.  He jerked them open when someone picked him up.

              “It’s okay, it’s just me,” Angie said.  “I think you’ll be sittin’ on Stan’s lap on the plane, but is it all right if I carry you on?”

              “Yeah,” Ford said.  He let his eyes close again as Stan and Angie gathered their things to board.

              “Oh my gosh, your son is so cute,” he heard the flight attendant say to Angie when she handed over the tickets. Angie chuckled.

              “Thanks.”

              “He looks just like you,” the flight attendant gushed.  Ford opened his eyes, confused.  The flight attendant beamed at him.  “Such big brown eyes.”

              “Yeah, he gets that from me,” Stan said.  Ford continued to stare at the flight attendant in confusion as Angie and Stan walked onto the plane.  “Apparently you look just like Angie, Ford,” Stan said quietly.  Angie laughed.

              “What was that about?” she asked.

              “People see what they want to see, I guess,” Ford said.  Angie adjusted her hold on him slightly.  “Is everyone going to comment on my appearance?”

              “Pretty much,” Stan said.  “I mean, can you blame ‘em?  You’re almost as cute as Danny and Daisy.”

              “That’s quite the compliment,” Ford remarked.  Angie came to a stop.

              “I’m goin’ to hand you over to Stan now, okay?” she said.  Ford nodded.  Angie carefully placed Ford in Stan’s outstretched hands before sliding into her seat by the window.  Stan then handed Ford back to Angie and put their carry-ons in the overhead bin. Ford blinked.  “What is it?”

              “It’s a bit odd to be passed around so much.”

              “Heh.  It’s like a game of hot potato,” Stan said.  He sat down next to Angie.  “Makes sense, since you’re about the size of a potato right now.”

              “Am not,” Ford protested.  Stan and Angie chuckled.  Ford yawned. “I think I might take a nap.”

              “Go ahead.  Whose lap do you wanna be on?” Stan asked.  Ford looked back and forth between Stan and Angie before climbing off Angie’s lap and into Stan’s.  “Good choice. I’ve got more cushioning,” Stan said, patting his stomach for emphasis.  Angie rolled her eyes.  Ford leaned against Stan’s chest tiredly.  Stan rested his hand on Ford’s back.  Ford’s eyelids drooped.  A young man and woman took a seat across the aisle.  Ford watched them with bleary interest.  The man elbowed the woman and jerked his head in Ford’s direction.  The woman let out a small gasp.

              “So precious,” the woman whispered.  Ford continued to watch them.  “Aw, he’s looking at us.”  The man began to make faces at Ford.  Ford scowled.

              I’m not some baby that will laugh when people look at me weird.  He sat up straight and looked the man in the eye.

              “Stop being patronizing,” Ford said in a commanding voice.  The man and woman’s jaws dropped.  Stan laughed uproariously.  Ford turned his back to the strangers.  Angie seemed just as amused as Stan, but she put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

              “We’re on a plane, dear.  And Ford’s tryin’ to sleep.  Keep it down.”  Stan nodded, stifling a few chuckles.  Ford closed his eyes.  He was asleep before the plane took off.

[hecate-herself]

Empty chairs at empty tables

~set just after the Burning Page

It was silent when they managed to make it back to Irene's quarters, bloody and bedraggled. A part of her mind said that it was deathly silent and try as she might, she couldn't drag herself away from that thought.

Quiet as the grave.

"Irene?" Kai touched her elbow, she had been staring down the corridor, a blank look on her face, but something in her eyes that he really did not like the look of. She shook herself and tried to look less... Well, she wasn't sure how she looked. She suppressed the urge to just turn to him and cry on his shoulder.

"I'm fine." Voice still a little hoarse from smoke inhalation. She tapped the code in and unlocked her door and flicked the light on. It blinked a few times before staying on. Vale sat Kai on the small couch tucked in the corner. "I'll get my first aid kit."

"Irene." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I'm fine. Go and wash up and change alright, I'll survive."

She turned the water as hot as she could tolerate, steam flooding the small bathroom, before stripping out of the tattered remains of the previously beautiful ball gown, and kicking it away from her. Her legs wobbled as she climbed into the tub and she put a hand to the wall to support herself. Her head was spinning, eyes burning, breath catching in her throat. A tear slid down her cheek.

And the dams burst.

The sobs wracked her body, making her shake. She leant all of her weight against the wall, and slipped, it was slick now. She hit the floor of the bath with a loud thud and a jar of pain. She was coughing, choking on her anguish. Tears streamed down her face as much as the hot water did. She pressed her hand to her mouth, she could taste blood and Ash on her own flesh and she thought for a moment that she was going to throw up, but there was nothing in her stomach.

Dead.

So many were dead. Because she trusted Zayanna and didn't think. Because she was stupid. Blind. Useless.

She gritted her teeth, trying to stop herself from crying. But she couldn't. She sniffed pitifully before coughing up bile and spitting it out, it washed away in a swirl of grey and brown.

She lost track of time, how long she sat there and let the water beat down on her back, hot enough to make her skin turn pink. Eventually, she got up again, and washed. She scrubbed her skin raw, not satisfied when the water started to run clean, not satisfied until it hurt, until all of her hurt. Good.

Her hair was a horrid birds nest that took time to pick free of knots before cleaning it, again watching the water streak grey with soot because it finally felt clean underneath her fingers.

Still she didn't get out. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

Oh my friends, my friends.

Maybe Zayanna wasn't a friend, but people on the list of deceased could have been called that. Her friends. Dead and gone and because of her. Because she was wrong.

Finally, she shut off the water and stood shivering for a minute, before she grabbed a towel and roughly dried herself before dressing in loose fitting pyjama trousers and a hooded sweater that was far too big. She felt like she was drowning in it, maybe it would smother her if she was lucky.

She threw her ruined dress on top of the one that she had been wearing when her and Kai had stopped off... Was it only two days ago? Passage of time was a funny thing when your life was going to hell in a handbasket. Finally, with her first aid kit under her arm, she returned to her living room.

Kai was laying down now, Vale sat at her cluttered desk. They both looked up at her.

"Come on." She said, patting the kit. "Let's stitch you up. You're welcome to have a shower Vale. I don't have anything you can change into though." He looked down at his clothes.

"I think I'll manage in these again." He wasn't in anywhere near as messy of a state as she or Kai were.

"Ignore the mess in my room I know it's bad, I can't bring myself to care right now. Clean towels are in the cupboard above the sink." He nodded and disappeared as Irene began to peel back the temporary bandages wrapped around Kai's middle.

"Irene."

"Don't distract me." She said, threading a needle. "This will scar badly if I make a mistake."

"I don't know, it could give me charac-" He sharply inhaled as he felt the needle pierce his flesh, he hissed. "Some warning would have been nice." She didn't respond, ignoring him in favour of concentrating, trying to stitch him up as tightly and as neatly as she could, before adding new padding and proper bandages to it.

"That should hold." She said. "Don't play with them, and please don't tear them."

"I know, I know." He slowly pushed himself up, breathing deeply through the pain. Irene tossed the needle and bloodied, torn fabric strips. "Thank you."

"You shouldn't thank me. You were right all along, my stupidity got people killed." She said quietly, bitterness seeped into her voice, more venomous than any snake or spider, a poison that affected more than just ones body.

"That isn't true."

"I should never have trusted Zayanna and now my friends are..." She inhaled, heart pounding, throat feeling too tight, like the words were a noose. "People are dead. And that's my fault. Zayanna sacrificed herself for me and then... And then?" She laughed, Kai looked alarmed. "I burnt books. I'm... They're dead when they should be alive. I'm alive and do I deserve that?"

"Please don't say that." Kai said, voice quiet.

He slowly got up, trying not to wince too much. Irene was about to order him to lay down again when he caught her in a tight embrace and kissed the top of her head.

"You are not to blame. You did not hurt anyone. You saved countless lives and you deserve to be here Irene. You deserve to be alive and here, even if you don't see that right now."

She felt empty inside and when Kai finally released her and she went to see if there was any tea, the rooms she passed were empty too. She couldn't hear anyone, it was always quiet but there was always a background, ambient noise. Computers, pages turning, people talking about books. The table at the small communal kitchen was empty, belongings on the table sat there as if they were waiting for their owners to return and carry on from where they left off. They probably wouldn't.

It was raining outside, it was only right.

Empty chairs at empty tables, in empty rooms in a silent library.

[stuffylana]

writer tag

@pens-swords-stuff said I can say she tagged me, so here I am!

1: Pen or pencil?

Pen. They come in different colors, and even though pencils do too, I find it uncomfortable to write with any pencils except for lead ones. But, to be honest, I prefer my laptop most because I can write really fast when something strikes my mind, and my handwriting gets really bad, plus, it’s easier to edit typed texts.

2: Have you ever drawn your OCs?

No, because I can’t draw, but I created them in Sims 4, does it count?

3: Does your writing ever make you cry?

Yes! I really get into the events I made up and they seem so real that it makes me cry. Once, I wrote a scene when my protagonist witnessed her bff’s death. It was the most painful scene I’ve written so far.

4: If your Muse was a person, what would they look like?

This is possibly someone who gets interested in me for a few first chapters, then starts ignoring me, but still stays with me, then comes back to being interested, then leaves for a long while, and comes back to the first state. Circles, we’re going in circles...

5: Which of your pieces would you choose to be remembered for?

Hmm, ‘The Second Chance’, I guess. I can’t be sure because I’ve just started it, but I love what it turns into. Also, I love my novel called ‘The Morpheus’ curse’, it’s the one which made me cry sometimes, and it’s about a girl who's been in a coma for a year after the accident, and during that time she lived in another universe (yes, I live for AUs). It’s in Russian, and I love it! I have already 25 chapters finished. 

6: How much have you written or worked on your WIP so far today?

Well, I thought about possible events and plot twists, and noted them, I guess, it counts as working?

7: Have you ever based a piece (or a portion of a piece) on a dream?

Nope, because either they don’t fit, or I forget them.

8: Do you prefer silence, a little noise (music, ambient noise, fan etc) or a lot of noise when you’re writing?

Music! It’s been mostly Eminem lately, but I also love to listen to Melanie Martinez and Twenty One Pilots.

9: Do you have any routines before you sit down to write?

make some tea;

turn the music on;

open a document (it’s always A5 Word document);

and lately I’ve been using writer’s lists to make my writing better because I’m not a native English speaker.

10: Have you ever participated in NaNoWrimo or a Camp?

I’ve never heard of them until I joined writeblr community! I don’t know, are non-Americans take part in those? I also wanted to take part in the WritingDigest contests but I’m too bad in short stories. I tried to write one, and it turned into TSC!

I’m tagging guys from the #new writeblr tag, so feel free to say I tagged you as well if I didn’t! @feathersandfortunes, @thedarkperidot, @r-avenlee, @writing-in-the-margins, @fictionalthrills.

Also, feel free to follow me because I’d love to interact with other writers more and I have no idea what I do wrong because I only have 12 followers so far lol, maybe that’s because it’s a secondary blog (I can only interact using @lanasblood). Anyway, welcome and feel free to ask for help or something if you need!

[shardclan]

In the plaza of House Betelgeuse, what had once been a mere sprig of the Great Staroak had grown into a mighty new tree. Like Clover's bees, it had been hybridized with local species. It had a stunning mix of branches that sprouted leaves of gold or silver, each color shining correspondingly to whether it was day or night. It had long since outgrown the small arcane biome constructed to help it survive the early process, and lived on a healthy swath of wild grass that the fountain had been expanded to accommodate.

Rebis sat under the boughs alone, her nose deep in a book to avoid meeting any of the pitiful, apologetic looks she had been getting since case with Hihi'o had been resolved. She had insisted Prophecy had nothing to do with it, had waited patiently for her teacher to return so she could share the great news of her blessing from the Lightweaver. And that loyalty had all been for nothing. It was mortifying, but worse still it was terribly lonely. So when Apokathisto crossed the ornate stepping stones in the fountain to join her, she didn't immediately turn him away. 

"It's the last day of the jubilee," he said quietly. "Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

She shot him an irritable glare. "I can't believe you of all people are coming to me with small talk. Am I that pitiful?"

"It isn't about pity. It's about norms." he sat next to her, gently turning his thumbs one over the other. "Brightshine is the exact kind of celebration I'd expect you to be enjoying with all the people who love you."

"Well they're all gone!" she exploded. "Azricai and Equinox and all of Kea's family are dealing with the aftermath of that case! Penitence and Copernicus are in Feldspar! Dantalion and Camellia haven't been in the mood for company since Heaven ran off, Stellaria is busy organizing that surprise thing for Telos and when she isn't she hangs out at Bramble Step now! And Telos isn't even here! The list goes on!"

Apokathisto quietly let her have her moment. She sniffed, and shut her book. "Nobody has any room for me right now," she said tersely. "Happy?"

"No." He threw a comforting arm around her, momentarily making them both uncomfortable. He aspired to be more honest with his feelings, but casual physical affection wasn't normal for them. he settled for holding her hand instead, which had always been their way.

While it was weird, Rebis immediately missed the comfort of the hug as soon as he took it back. She sagged into him, her eyes stinging with angry tears. "She didn't even think about me, did she? Before she decided to just run off with Hihi'o."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't fully understand the feeling of having a charge. I haven't found mine."

"Good." She turned her face into his side, and from under his robes he felt both her hitching breaths and the wetness of her tears. "You're better off that way."

Apokathisto pressed him lips together and let her cry. He sympathized with Telos a little--how was he supposed to tell her? Especially when she was already in such a bad place? He wished he had more time, but when Telos returned she would almost certainly make her announcement. He wished Rebis were a little older, but she had always hated being small and spent much more of her time in glamour than he had. Though they were the same age, she hadn't matured as far as he had. And there was no time to wait for her to be older. He had looked out for her since they were young. She trusted him. And he couldn't betray that by not telling her.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I know it hurts. And I hope you know it isn't your fault. Is there anything I can do to help you enjoy the last of this celebration?"

"Why do you care?" she sniveled. "What's so important about this festival. There'll be more. There'll be Thundercrack."

"...Things might be different by then."

She pulled back and searched his eyes fearfully. "Different how?"

He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. There was no point in dodging the truth when she was asking him so directly. He had come there to tell her after all. He just wished things were different. He wished he wasn't explaining while she was already hurt. "Telos is going to leave, Rebis. She's going to pass the crown. To us. She was always going to."

For several tense moments, he watched her try to digest this information. He remembered how it had felt when he learned it. But he had asked--demanded-- to learn it. Rebis was having it dropped on her when she hadn't asked for it and probably wouldn't have wanted to know if he had given her the choice.

The strain proved too much. Throwing her book aside, she ran. Apokathisto scurried to give chase, following her into the deeper parts of the ground level. "Rebis!" He shed his glamour and got ahead of her. "Rebis stop!"

She shed her glamour just as readily, abusing her tiny size and a flash of light magic to pass him by and disappear into the shadow under the Obsidian Disc. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he followed after her, his massive size working against him as he tried to figure out where Rebis was. He circled the Chalcedony Seat in a panic, his hackles raised by either the possibility that she might be there or by the thick, barely restrained energy that made him feel he was being watched by something from within the Celestial Vault.

A pop of light from the Starwood Portal got his attention and he sped toward it, only to find Rebis working some sort of spell before the writhing wood. The remains of a barrier were dissipating at her back, and without it there was no one there to stop her. "Rebis, please calm down," he tried. "We can say no. We don't have to take the responsibility. I've already told her I won't and you can too!"

"I'm sure that's what she said," Rebis said with surprising sobriety. "But I'm also sure that all it will take for you to change your mind is for to find out your charge is related to this."

The words hurt, even though he knew she was merely lashing out. Before he could think of a rebuttal, she had completed her magic. The wood that bound the portal was sparse--the dryad had taken a substantial chunk of it. There were plenty of holes big enough to fit a fae, so all Rebis had to do was mask her own magic, rendering her effectively invisible, and fly through.

Apokathisto's fear shot through into panic. He rushed after her, but the irritable wood of the Archmage's former staff was not blind to him. His massive form was easily too much for it to fully snare, but the magic it lashed him with seared his scales, near paralyzing him with pain. Desperately, he abandoned his form for the smaller target of his glamour. He slipped through the grip of the wood, and tumbled through to the other side.

Almost instantly, the pain vanished. He breathed in deep and felt the steam of his breath on condensing on his skin. The chill was as refreshing as it was biting, and the ambient arcane energy was nearly overpowering. Overhead, bright pink bursts of magic popped in a sky the color of pink chalcedony, while below stray formations of natural celestine glittered in the earth as brightly as starts in the night sky, punctuated by the odd short pillar towering above his head. Far, far above, the Eye of many Lenses was a bronze crescent of reflected light.

"The Isles..." he whispered reverently.

The awe was short lived as the memory of just where the portal naturally led came back to him. The density of scattered celestine chunks were an indicator he hadn't quite caught. They were in the former site of the Seat. The Chalcedony Circle remained, 36 stones perfectly aligned to the stars and to the distant Observatory. A sense of deep unease came over him as he looked at them.

"Rebis?!" he called desperately. "Where are you?!"

He found her taking refuge in the shadow of a celestine pillar. The density of Arcane magic had clearly taken a toll on her, as it would have for any acolight. He grabbed her, but she forcefully swatted him away.

"What are you doing?" he cried. "Why did you come here?"

Truthfully, she didn't know. She didn't know if she cared about the crown one way or the other. Being granted responsibility for Telos' legacy was daunting, but it certainly felt like the greatest acknowledgement she could get from the queen she was so attached to. But she knew Telos. She knew if Telos stepped down, she would leave. She would go to where everyone she loved was, and leave this realm behind. And she felt a stab of childish guilt that she had somehow caused it during those fleeting moments she would wish Telos gone so Arcanus and Gethsemene and herself could be free. There was too much to unpack. Too much to make sense of. So she didn't.

"Before all this happened, I met with the Lightweaver, and she blessed me with a Truth related to my thesis." She assumed the position of the Arcanist’s Meditations. It felt simple in her draconic form. It felt natural. "I'm going to try and prove it."

"Rebis," Apokathisto said carefully, still glancing nervously at the Circle. "What does that have to do with the crown?"

"I don't know," she answered blithely. "I don't know what to do. So maybe I'll just leave it up to fate. If I prove my thesis and earn the right to be an Archmage, I'll take the crown. If I don't, I'll refuse."  Tears dripped freely from her eyes as she tried to laugh casually. "An Archmage queen sounds cool, right?"

Apokathisto was at a loss. He had expected many things, but this was beyond even his wildest imagining. He had pushed her over some threshold he didn't know she had, and when he opened his mouth, he found he didn't have words for her. She wasn't going to be swayed, so all he could do was watch her sink herself into a meditative state. But when her repeated monotone whisper reached his ears, it sent chills of fear through him.

“The sun is a star. The stars are the light. Light is reality. Arcane and Light are one.”

Rebis quickly forgot he was even there. The more she chanted and channeled the ambient energy carefully through her own body, the less she had room to think about anything else. Just as she had hoped. Her fae heritage seemed to be doing her a significant favor. The energies were rough on induction, but there was no immediate rejection. The energies danced within her, intertwining harmoniously even though bearing such a merge left Rebis drenched in sweat. She turned her mind to the Observatory, pleading for the acknowledgement of the stars--challenging them to tell her she was wrong before she crafted the spell that would cement her magical prowess and assure her the title of Archmage.

She hadn't expected such a clear answer.

DO YOU WISH FOR MORE THAN MY SISTER’S HALF-TRUTHS?

She had scarcely realized who was answering before He snatched her mind from her body and showed it the true scale of the Truth--and her place in it. Light was not reality. Light was time--a mere dimension and one eternally soiled by the perceptions of living creatures. And it was a byproduct among so many others of the chaos that saw stars born and galaxies merged. The Lightweaver may have been born first, but the Light was merely a finite aspect of Arcane infinity. An aspect that shed its truth only on the denizens of the present plane and could never seek truths beyond itself. When it tried to...

Rebis returned to herself with a sharp image of the Hewn City, and a cold and terrifying but unspeakable understanding of the things that lived under the eternal moonlight there. Her magic went haywire at that moment. The magic she had been working inverted, her Light magic losing itself and scattering across other points in light; in time. Her consciousness spread thin across the ages, delicate as a thread of spidersilk threatening to snap at the slightest disturbance. Faintly, she sensed beings outside of light, outside of time, watching her dissipation with cool interest, as if seeing a strange bug passing through their midst. Her light, sublimating across the enter timeline of Sornieth, didn't interest them.

...rebis...! ....re......biiiis!

That voice, she knew, was somewhere she was supposed to be. It was the when she was supposed to be. She clung to it with what little sense of herself she had, and called back.

Back inside the circle, Apokathisto was pacing, his chest hammering with panic. From his perspective, he had seen her fins raise, as if hearing something he couldn't, and the next thing he knew, she blurred out of existence right in front of his eyes with a look of pain. The Circle around him had begun to hum and flow with faint throbs of light. He had screamed for her out to her several times, and each time her voice seemed to call back to him from somewhere else. She was still right in front of him, in a way he didn't fully understand, and the stones were reacting to her.

He reached back out to where she was, and shouted for her to take his hands. There was a faint tingle in his fingertips, but nothing else happened.

He turned to the Observatory, and begged the Arcanist to bring her back. Nothing happened.

Finally, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, he gazed frantically down to the stones. Without thinking he ran to the nearest one. He was no mage, but he understood his way around Arcane element. He called the magic from within the stone into himself, and it leaped with predatory eagerness into him. The surge was enough to distort his horns and blacken his wings, charring patterns into them as he screamed. He tried to take his hands away, but found he couldn't. The energy poured into him, and he wasn't released until it was done.

He looked at his magic-burned fingers. They were massive. Clawed. His jaw was elongated. His body felt strange. The energy had partially peeled his glamour away. Numbly, he noted he could not feel his magic. But there was no time. He went back to where Rebis had been, hobbling and clumsy in this form that he had never been taught to use. He reached out with the magic of the Circle, and he could feel that Arcane energy that had bound itself to her. When he called out to her this time, he felt her small fingers touch his. She came back with an shuddering rumble of thunder.

And she wasn't alone. Something came back with her, and he felt a flush of adrenaline as he watched their indescribable shapes disperse. But he remained with Rebis, clutching her protectively. She hadn't come back quite right either. Her whole body was studded with pale stars and twinkling galaxies that could not possibly have been there. And her eyes were...

She gasped in his arms, and reached weakly and wretchedly for the celestine pillar. He held her close to it, and only when she touched it did she seem to relax, passing peacefully into an exhausted sleep.

"Rebis..."

There was a sharp pain at the back of his neck, and he too passed into darkness.

Lutia's temper was foul as she stood before her portal. First the dryad, then that over-curious fool Crucis dabbling with things he shouldn't have. Whoever had passed through her portal had certainly spared him, but they were going to take the full consequences of her anger two-fold on his behalf.

So she immediately cursed when it was Arcanus that she blasted after passing through the portal. He had been quick enough for a barrier, but her magic had gone through it like it was mere paper. He was only a magic knight, while she was an Archmage who was having a very bad day. 

"Gods, Arcanus what are you doing?!" she shouted, coming fretfully to his side. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?!”

He groaned, and carefully sat up, revealing Apokathisto and Rebis clutched gently and carefully to his chest. "No time to worry about me. I found them here. They need immediate medical attention--the kind where you or Ashes need to be with them the whole way."

She bristled. That meant a serious magical problem. Something that wasn't as simple as inundation, but potentially just as deadly. Still she sputtered when he pushed them into her and turned to go. "Wait, help me!"

"I can't. I am not meant to be here." He looked sincerely into her eyes. "As my old friend, please care for them. I trust you with this."

Lutia was left alone with the two children who stank fiercely of Arcane element, and a peculiar dread. As she realized it was because she could not feel the familiar thrum of the Circle's energy, she glanced at the children, and quickly returned through the portal to rush them Noon Point Medical.