#time to do something about the dreams perhaps? but i like to leave them unfiltered as a rule

[feytouched]

i've been having eerie dreams. tonight it was that my father began bleeding from many minuscule cuts, from his eyes and nose and mouth, under his fingernails; we knew it was too late to call the doctor. last friday i dreamt that my grandmother (almost 90, still living in waking hours) and my aunt informed me in a calm and direct manner that she would be gone before the 30th of this month. i'd like to stop being plagued by such images, they make me more anxious than normal

[revoleotion]

Sometimes I think about the fact that one of the .5 chapters in the manga it seems like shamrock woke up just turned in the team M base, so that means that Tsubaki carried him from where the fight was back to his home and that image makes me feel things lol

:))) this inspired me. so. (drops this and runs)

content warnings: references to canonical suicide (attempted)

.

He wakes up in a bed.

It's comfortable, more so than what he is used to from the C3 quarters, and this really confirms his suspicions that this wasn't all a dream – nobody came back for him either. For a few seconds, he remains in this position, unmoving, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of not having to react to this, of not having to figure out what happened, why he isn't dead, why he was reduced to nothing but a pawn to sacrifice.

Betrayal. He's going to have to confront it.

He didn't want to. He wanted to die. He wanted to die so he'd never have to think about how his closest friend left him to die.

And now he's...

He opens his eyes.

The world looks different. Brighter. Like he had been blindfolded all his life and now someone freed him from that. The angles are off; there's a bandage covering one eye, but the single one that remains is better than both of them combined used to be. His other senses are sharper too. Everything is louder. The smells are more intense.

A hotel room. The scent of cleaning supplies. Voices, muffled. Music, somewhere.

And then it's all gone, replaced by a feeling so intense that it hits him like a physical punch: hunger.

He gasps out loud, the sound in the otherwise quiet room startling him. It's the first breath he's taken ever since he woke up.

And of course he knows. He knows what happened to him. He knows because he shot himself in the head and he's somehow not dead. Or perhaps he is. Perhaps he died and was dragged back, against his will, because his enemy – unlike his allies – refused to abandon him.

The hunger is spreading. His limbs are trembling but he's not terrified; perhaps he should be but death destroyed this part of him – he's not human anymore, he's a monster, or perhaps something in between.

Footsteps. A knock.

"Can I come in?"

(He can't remember the last time anyone did that for him. Knocking. Giving him the opportunity to refuse.)

The enemy. The enemy. His body tenses and trembles but he's a monster now, so does that make him the enemy? Did he become the enemy the second his people abandoned him?

"Show yourself," he replies.

The door opens.

Tsubaki, camellia, looks almost... normal. He can be neither, known for his extremes, his unpredictability, but right now, he is calm. He's smiling. The sunglasses are sitting on top of his head, so his red, vampiric eyes are looking straight at him. Unfiltered. Genuine.

The hunger recedes a little, calmed by the presence of another person to distract him from it.

"I don’t expect your forgiveness," Tsubaki says. "Not now. Not ever. But I couldn’t let you do that."

He steps closer, extending a hand to him.

(He did that on the battlefield too. Vampire to vampire hunter. Except now it's master to spawn. Servamp to subclass. Vampire to vampire.)

Tsubaki continues, "You died, and were born again for a second chance. For that, you deserve a new name, Shamrock."

It goes through him like a shock wave; he knows all about the importance of names, especially for a Servamp. Tsubaki is changing the rules, just like he did on the battlefield, when he turned from an enemy to a friend, when he offered him mercy where his friends only offered betrayal.

Shamrock accepts the hand offered to him.

Tsubaki pulls him up from the bed and once he is standing, puts both hands on his shoulders, his gaze not once leaving him.

"This can be a home. If you wish," Tsubaki says. "But it doesn’t have to be. I will provide you with blood and then you are free to go wherever you want. Just know that I will always be there for you. I won't abandon you. I won't betray you. I would rather let you kill me instead."

Shamrock takes a deep breath, not that he has to. It feels right to perform this act of gathering oneself, as human as it may be.

He says, "I'm yours. You have me, my loyalty, all I can give."

Tsubaki's eyes grow... pained. Like he didn't expect it, like the concept of mutual devotion is entirely foreign to him.

"I don't demand this from you," he finally responds after a few seconds.

"I know," Shamrock says.

Tsubaki lets go of him. His fingers reach up to his sunglasses; he pulls them down and adjusts them until they're covering his eyes.

"Let's get you fed," he mumbles, almost distractedly. "You will change your mind afterwards.

Shamrock thinks, You don't consider yourself part of it all, do you? You expect to be used. You expect to be left behind.

You expect me to do to you what was done to me by my friends.

He dreams of it sometimes. Death. The hazy hours in between, before waking up reborn. He dreams of Tsubaki's hands picking him up, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Being carried home, a little like a child being carried to bed by a parent.

This can be a home, if you wish, Tsubaki said.

But he didn't mean it. Or rather, he didn't believe it.

Later, Shamrock will think that the hotel was chosen deliberately – nobody stays forever.

Watch me, he will think in his more fierce moments. Just watch me. This will be a home. You will be a home.

i just love them ok also this was written on a train with half a braincell, no guarantees for accuracy or correct grammar/spelling

[god1ngs]

━‎ release

synopsis; a visit to the prison doesn't go as you planned

contains; manipulation, implied character death, major violence, swearing, power trip, bunny as a petname

c!dream / reader, 1.3k wc

note; this is for @cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc 's 600 writing contest! congratulations & i hope you like this :)

masterlist

   this would be your last time. your last time standing outside this wretched obsidian building, with the smell of death lingering inside. the promise of corruption haunted the atmosphere, one you cringed at whenever you walked inside. this would be your last time visiting dream.

   your last time ever seeing him again.

   coming back to the prison every week had taken a mental toll on you, causing your figure to slump more. your sobs after each visit to the prison didn't get easier nor did it get better. the prison, a symbol of a man who had once caused more evil than good, plagued you. you could see it.

   you could see how it had been affecting you, dream and the prison had. both of them had caused damage to you, however dream won that twisted race. your fists clenched, staring the building in the face. "why are you scared of me?" it whispered, taking pleasure in the shiver crawling up your spine.

   "no way in hell am i scared of you."

   it was always cold in the prison, you noticed. perhaps it was the promise of once forgotten memories, and once forgotten people as well. it reeked of death, death of a once good man who let power corrupt him.

   it was always depressing to be in the main room of the prison, a wave of unknown feeling washing over you ─ a sadness you couldn't quite describe. a pit in your stomach deepened at the call of your name by the warden, the queasy feeling of nausea guiding you towards him.

   "you're here to visit dream, correct?"

   "yes, sir, i am."

   the routine you had done several times in the past had become daunting now, a task seemingly hard to complete with each of your visits. you put your possesions in the first locker room, the memory of the first time you were forced to do this making you sigh. you nearly choked up on yout resolve, running out of the prison with a deafening sob.

   your feet only followed the same mantra every other time though, following the warden as if your body was programmed to. it didn't listen to your commands anymore, only the one of the prison; of dream. the process was the same old by now, reciting the instructions you would be given.

   by now, when the warden pulled out his sword, you knew to only close your eyes and clench your teeth. there was little to expect with this visit, only expecting what would happen each time: you'd visit dream, talk to him for half an hour, only to go back home with yourself. you hadn't noticed the difference between this visit and every other.

   one would soon come up.

   the lava highlighted your features, the bright liquid making you shudder. it wasn't new, yet it had felt like you were coming face to face with it for the first time again. however, instead of fleeing as you would usually do, your feet only stayed in place. and soon moved with the platform, towards the stranded room in the middle of the ocean of lava.

   dream stood there, calculated green eyes watching your every moment. the same amusement as when he was out danced in them, rejoicing with the pleasure manipulative tendencies brought him. you swallowed harshly, and with that, the platform was brought back towards sam and the gate was opened.

   the lava cascaded down, the image of sam becoming a memory now. it was only you and dream, along with the taunting voices bouncing off the walls. voices wishing for your demise, however you knew better than to give it to them. you stood there, unwavering. dream only smirked.

   "come to visit me again, bunny?"

   that horrible pet name. it was used in a way that made your stomach turn and your thoughts twist into raging ones. you shuddered, a reaction you could feel dream enjoying. before he was boxed in the prison, he would often talk about how you and him were like wolf and bunny; predator and prey, similarly.

   it was the excuse he would use whenever he would scare you, laughing as he told you: "you're just my prey, bunny, and i'm the wolf on its way to hunt you." they replayed in your mind, a sick reading of the same syllables that made you choke on your words. you couldn't focus on the past right now though, not when he was right in front of you.

   "it's my last time." you spoke, breaking the violent silence. your unwavering force you promised to be was getting harder to keep up, especially when he stared at you like that ─ eyes wide, yet filled with manic thoughts instead of surprise. you flinched when he stood up from his place in the corner.

   he stared at you for a few minutes, before throwing his head back in a series of chuckles. your thoughts went into overdrive, confused and fearful shouts in your mind mixing. "last time? really? you're going to leave me?" there was no hint of desperation in his words, only unfiltered anger being masked by something else.

   he strided up to you, head tilted and frame towering over you. he held the same air of death as the prison. you scrunched your nose and took a step back, yet he only followed until you had been pressed against the wall. he didn't touch you, but his stare was enough to hold your shaking form in place.

   being strong was hard when the one person to break through your defenses was standing right in front of you. he broke down the walls gaurding your feelings and left them broken and unchecked. "you're not allowed to. not coming to visit me, are you crazy?" he told you, the force in his words making you gulp.

   you almost apologized, his old manipulation tactics flashing in your mind. you couldn't let him get the best of you; not right now, and not ever again. your brows furrowed and your teeth clenched, pushing the masked man away from you. "don't try to tell me what to do! i'm never coming back, and you can't change that!" you shouted at him.

   you had never shouted at him before. it was always good and obedient [name], following his orders with little to no complaints. you didn't want to be his doll anymore, you didn't want him to take everything from you only to never give it back. you were tired of being pushed around with no credit being given to you.

   your rage had carried through your words, a force not even dream knew you had. but with every word you spat at him, his vision got tinted with red. a ferocity like no other had shown on his expressions, yet you couldn't tell underneath all the rage you were experiencing as well.

   his fist clashing with your throat had stopped your ranting, effectively making you be quiet. you gasped for air in front of you, the harsh awakening making you fall to your knees in front of him. you held your throat in your hands, and with the time you had managed to get oxygen back in your lungs, he had kicked you in the ribs.

   "stop fucking yelling. cut it out! you're not stronger than me, you're not better than me; you're weak! you're just a plaything for me to use when i get bored!"

   the words cut deeper into you than you had realized, sobs racking your body at the harsh truth. he had stopped attacking you for now, but his words cut deeper than daggers. your eyes fluttered close, and by the time you opened them again, dream was crouching in front of you. the smile on his mask mocked you.

   "if people don't know their place," be continued, voice low with rage. "they don't get a place at all." with that, his fist drove into you again. left and right, he punched you. left and right, you took the beatings with slurred pleads of mercy. none was granted and, by the time he had taken a break, you were still begging and pleading for your life.

   "please, dream, we can talk about this!"

   "there's nothing left to say."

   the lingering smell of death inside the prison got stronger.

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

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

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 4 – Recovery

Chapter 1       Chapter 3

Conner’s fists were clenched so tightly they were past white, verging on translucent.  Everything about this day was terrible and it seemed to get worse with every passing hour. They had been invaded.  Their home had sustained significant damage and was no longer safe.  Red Tornado had betrayed them and the Justice League was cutting them out of the capture efforts.  Chimera had been hurt, she had almost died and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.  

It had been hours since they had received an update on Chimera and she was alone in the Watchtower.  She was protected by the Justice League, but as they had just violently discovered, that didn’t mean she was safe.  Although one saving grace was that by being here, she had been saved experiencing the attack by Red Tornado.  From the description Aqualad had given on her status, he wasn’t sure she would have been able to survive it.

The Team needed to pull together right now.  They were the only ones they could trust and Chimera had been isolated from them. The rest of the Team had been busy freeing themselves, checking each other for injury, working with the Justice League to assess the damage to the Cave, figuring out how the Reds got into the Cave in the first place, figuring out where their security had let them down, and recovering from Red Tornado’s attack.  All of that meant that none of the Team had been able to be with her until now.  Kid Flash, Robin, and he had finally been able to come and check on Chimera and bring her back to the Cave with the rest of them, while Artemis and Aqualad stayed in the Cave and tried to figure out what needed to be done next.

Batman met the Team at the doors to the infirmary.  “I should warn you, I’ve given her quite a bit of pain medicine and I just woke her up for you so she could transform, so she’s a little out of it right now and honest… extremely honest.  Beware.”  Batman warned them wryly.

“Was she honest with you?” Robin asked with a smile.  He would pay to have heard what an unfiltered Chimera would say.

“Yes.” Batman answered, not looking at him.

“Care to share?” Kid Flash asked with a grin.

“No.” Batman responded turning to peek through the door to assure she was fully transformed before letting them in.

They made it through the door just in time to see Chimera fall as she tried to stand. Kid Flash was there to catch her before she hit the ground.  She looked at him slightly dazed, her movements sluggish.  “I know you, right?”  She concentrated harder on his face.  “Right?  We know each other.”

The Team gasped in fear and looked over to Batman for an explanation. Batman took a deep breath.  “She needs rest.  She doesn’t have a concussion, but her body has been through a lot.  Combined with the pain killers, like I said before, she’s a little out of it.  She should be fine after a rest.”

“No, it’s okay… it’s not… I just… I’m okay.  I just need to sleep… or to wake up… I’m not sure which.  This is… I’ve done this before… I think.” She slurred her words slightly as she tried to assure them.  She looked at Kid Flash with a guilty expression.  “I sometimes go too long without sleeping.”

Superboy moved over to her and picked her up, cradling her in his arms, holding her close enough to speak quietly to comfort her.  “Hey Chi, it’s okay.  We’ve got you.  You know us. You’re safe.  I won’t let anything happen to you.  You can sleep.”

She leaned her head back to study his face.  She smiled sleepily at him and ran her finger along his jaw.  “I definitely know you.”  Conner blushed deeply, but then balked at her next comment.  “You’re the flirty one.”

Robin came over to double check for signs of the concussion that Batman must have missed.  “Maybe she doesn’t recognize him after all.”

Chimera tried to turn over to him but stopped when she saw Kid Flash again. “No, wait… You’re the flirty one.” She tried to point in his direction.

“She may not recognize Superboy, but she definitely remembers Kid Flash.”  Robin smirked.

Chimera looked back and forth between the two boys a little too quickly and groaned in pain.  “You both are the flirty one.”  She pushed her head against Conner’s chest trying to alleviate the pain in her head and stop the spinning.

Batman nodded to someone behind them and stepped forward.  “Since you guys are here I’ll let you know now.  Green Arrow and Black Canary have already discussed this with Aqualad and Artemis while you have been here.  With Red Tornado… missing, the Team will now be overseen by rotating supervisors.  Captain Marvel has volunteered to take the first shift.”

Superboy turned around to see a man larger than Batman walking toward them next to Superman.  “I’m really looking forward to hanging with you guys.” Captain Marvel said with a smile.

Superboy scowled at them and adjusted Chimera slightly.  She turned to face the newcomers.  She quirked her head at Captain Marvel and concentrated on him for a few moments.  “Who’s the kid?”  Captain Marvel’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Oh no.  Do I know you too?  I’m sorry. It’s been a… day.  Night?  Day…  I think.”  She scrunched her face trying to figure out what general part of the day they were in.

“I’m not a kid!” Captain Marvel exclaimed a little too loudly.

Chimera snorted at him.  “Whatever you say, kid.” She settled her head back on Superboy’s shoulder and closed her eyes.  “It’s really bright in here.”

“We’re going home now, I promise.” Superboy said quietly.  She hummed in response and curled into him a bit more.

“It’s going to be a short visit.  I have a new mission for you.” Batman unceremoniously informed them.

“Chimera can’t go on a mission right now.” Superboy said lowly.  “And I’m not leaving her alone in the Cave.”

“Someone will be there to watch over her.” Batman assured him.

Kid Flash scoffed and shared a dubious look with Robin and Superboy.  “Another Justice League member?  No, thanks.” Superboy argued.

“It’s normal to be paranoid after an experience like this.  There’s a lot of new things you don’t know how to process yet.  Perhaps if you let her stay here in the Watchtower, you can feel more secure.” Superman offered awkwardly.  

“It isn’t the Cave I don’t trust.” Conner narrowed his eyes at Superman.

“I understand wanting to keep her close.  Your team means a lot to you and you guys weren’t able to keep her safe. It’s natural to overcorrect to overprotective and suspicious.  But I can assure you she would be safe here.”  Superman tried instead.

“Excuse me?” Kid Flash demanded angrily.  Robin and Superboy scowled in anger next to him.

“You all assured us we would be safe in the Cave as well, and that Red Tornado was trustworthy.  Your assurance doesn’t mean anything to us.” Superboy hissed at him.

“Black Canary will stay with her at the Cave while you guys are on the mission.” Batman assured him.  “She trusted Black Canary with her identity.  You should trust her too.”

“Did she trust her or did you tell Black Canary and Chimera had to accept it?” Robin asked skeptically.

“Regardless, she accepts it and trusts her.  Her identity is more important to her than almost anything else.  If she trusts Black Canary that much, you should too.” Batman answered coldly.

Superboy stared at him unsettled.  His whole body tensing.  They were trying to distract them from what was going on, from what they let happen. It had ripped the Team’s lives apart and the Justice League wasn’t going to let them react, was blaming them for allowing it to happen.

Chimera furrowed her brow sensing a shift in his body and temperament.  She looked up at Superboy and followed his eye line. She blinked a few times at Superman before speaking.  “Oh hey, it’s the Boy Scout.”  She turned back to look at Superboy.  “Look Conner, it’s the cold bastard.”  She leaned her head back on Superboy’s shoulder before realizing what she said. She popped her head back up once she realized.  “Oh my God! I remembered your name!”  She smiled at him, proud of her accomplishment. “I usually can’t remember names until after I sleep.”

Kid Flash and Robin started laughing hysterically.  She frowned at Kid Flash and tried vaguely to figure out where the rest of the laughter was coming from or was it just her ears playing tricks on her and figure out why he, or they, were laughing.  They only stopped laughing when Batman walked next to Superman and glared at them.  But the glare only reduced the laughter instead of eliminating it.

After a few moments Chimera’s eyes widened in mortification as she realized what she had said just after Conner’s name.  “Boy Scout!” she exclaimed loudly looking at Superman apologetically, or trying to, and trying to sit up straighter in Superboy’s arms.  “I meant to say the Boy Scout.” She cringed and tried to hide her face in Superboy’s neck, but still mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, “I mean, not that I was wrong. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

She looked up again when she heard raucous laughter coming from all around her. She looked slowly from Superboy to Kid Flash to Batman to Superman to Robin.  “Why are all the people I work with either incorrigible flirts or cold bastards?” she asked nobody in particular.  “At some point that says something about me, doesn’t it?  Is there something wrong with me?”  She looked up to Superboy as she said the last part.

Superboy smirked at Superman and held Chimera tighter against his chest as he turned and made his way with the Team to the zeta tubes.  She burrowed deeper into his arms and started to fall asleep to the rhythm of his walk.  Just before she fell asleep he leaned down to whisper into her ear.  “There is nothing wrong with you.  Other than working yourself so hard that you forgot our names, you are absolutely perfect.  You’re doing everything right.  I’m proud of you.”  She smiled peacefully as she fell asleep.

<><><><><> 

“So this is where you are.” Chimera called out to Conner after she finally found him sitting on the rocks outside the Cave.  He was staring out at the last bits of light reflecting off the ocean with an angry concentration.  “I don’t think I would have found you without this little chiot’s help.”  She smiled at the wolf and ran her hands through his fur. “I guess ‘little’ isn’t really accurate, is it?  He’s bigger than me.  How was the mission?”  He grunted but kept looking out at the water.  She gave him a concerned look and moved closer to him.  “Conner?” She asked carefully.

“You shouldn’t have gone in to wherever it is you go.  You’re still recovering.  It was stupid, Chimera.”  He growled at her, refusing to look at her.  “Stupid and dangerous.”

She looked at him in surprise at his tone.  “Ah.” She started delicately, looking around awkwardly trying to figure out if she should approach him or let him continue to brood alone.  Brooding is best done alone, after all.  

She hadn’t gotten a report on the mission they had just returned from yet, so she wasn’t sure how bad it had been.  She had rushed to find him as soon as she got back to the Cave after the showing and clean up.  She had stayed for enough of the celebrations to satisfy her supervisors then rushed home. But it appeared that whatever did happen on the mission, it had taken a severe toll on Conner.  He was in a significantly angrier mood than usual.  She wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit alone, sit quietly with someone, or talk through the anger.  

“What do you think, mon petit chiot?” she whispered barely loudly enough to be heard over the tide washing in.  “Stay or leave?  What should I do?”  Wolf whined and bumped gently into her.  She smiled gently at him and patted him reassuringly.  She turned back to Conner and approached him slowly like he might explode at any moment.  She decided to see if he wanted to talk.  If he didn’t, she could always back off.  She started by trying to lighten the suffocating, dark mood.  “Is it okay if I sit and glare at the sunset too?”

He sent her a devastating glare that caught her completely off guard.  She stumbled back a half step in surprise, backing into Wolf.  Conner stood up and stalked toward her as he roared in anger at her.  “Why did you bother coming back to the Cave to recover with people you trust, people who can keep you safe while you recover, if you were just going to leave immediately?  What is the point of helping you recover if you’re just going to go out immediately and make yourself worse?  Run yourself into the ground… again? And what happens if we get attacked again?  What happens if Red Tornado comes back and tries to finish the job his siblings started and you’re too tired to fight?  Then you die, or we die trying to save you.”

She reeled back like he struck her, staring in shock at the seething mass of teenage boy in front of her.  Wolf moved closer to her and angled himself so he was slightly in front of her, keeping his eyes on Conner.  

As soon as the words left his mouth, Conner wanted to take them back.  The look of betrayal and hurt in her eyes was heartbreaking.  She hadn’t even looked that betrayed when she found out Red Tornado actually did betray them. But now, at his words, she looked absolutely devastated.

Wolf nudged her lightly and whined quietly.  The nudge was enough to wake Chimera out of her stupor.  “Don’t. Do. That.” She scolded Conner suddenly, slapping his arms and chest punctuating each word.  “You. Are. Large. And. Intimidating. And. You. Scared. Me. You. Big. Broody. Jerk.” She huffed at him with one final slap.

He made a show of protecting himself from the hits that were barely hard enough to even gain his attention regularly.  He stared at her in shock, eyeing her cautiously, waiting for her to start up again.  When he decided she was done, he frowned guiltily and looked over to Wolf, scratching behind his ears to reassure him.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” he said quietly, darting his eyes over to her.  The dejected frown she had didn’t suit her at all. He needed to figure out a way to put a smile back on her face.  He watched her quietly for a few moments while they both pet Wolf.  A smirk suddenly appeared on his face.  “I just forget how small you are sometimes.”

She glared at him, “That is not how you apologize!”  

He chuckled at the pout she sent him.  “Sorry.” He repeated more seriously this time.

She pet Wolf as well for a few moments.  “What is his name?  We haven’t been properly introduced yet.”  Her tone was still guarded, but soft.

“Wolf. It’s okay that I brought him home, isn’t it?” he suddenly realized he hadn’t asked her before bringing a new and massive creature into the home they shared.  “I should have asked before… but I thought you were sleeping.” There was a sharper edge to his last comment.

She looked at him with a touch of guilt.  “Yeah, it’s okay.  I’ve always wanted a pet but I was never allowed to have one before.” She answered quietly.  She looked down and pet Wolf quietly for a few moments, giving her anxiety something to focus on.  After a few moments she spoke up again, “I had to go today.  This is…”

“Yeah, yeah, an important time of year.  You said that already.”  He grumbled, glaring at Wolf’s fur as he pet it.  He didn’t want to look in her eyes and see the betrayed look again, but he also couldn’t stop from reprimanding her.  “You’re hurt.  You could have died in that attack.  You can skip a few days while you heal from almost dying, Chi.” He finally looked up to shoot a glare at Chimera who seemed to wilt under his glare.  “You didn’t even come home at all last night.  We got here this morning to check on you, to make sure you were okay, and you were gone.”  Wolf whimpered quietly at him and nudged against him.  Conner looked over to Wolf for a moment and frowned in annoyance at his interruption.  He looked over to Chimera and sighed at the conflicted, guilt-stricken look on her face.

“… the reason I can be here.  I couldn’t skip today.  Today was the culmination of months of work, not just mine.  I skip, I not only lose out on seeing everything come together, I let down that team, and I get fired.  I get fired, I go home.  I go home, I’m not only no longer part of the Team, I’ve lost my career.  The only reason I haven’t been fired already for missing two days ago is because Batman somehow talked Bruce Wayne into calling my boss and vouching for me personally and promising to appear at… and promising to give them some Wayne Enterprises support.  Apparently, it took promising to get Oliver Queen to agree to… to promise Queen Industries support as well in order to get them not to fire me.” She said defiantly but tears she refused to shed were still lining her eyes.  She subconsciously leaned into Wolf for support.

Conner huffed and looked down at his feet.  “It’s not worth your life.” He grumbled.  He wasn’t trying to make her feel worse but she needed to stop, to pull back, to heal.  She had pushed herself too hard because of them, for them.  And she was still pushing herself.  She was going to push herself into a grave because of him.  He couldn’t save her during the attack and clearly, he couldn’t save her from this either.

She followed his lead and looked down for a few moments as well trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall.  She absentmindedly pet Wolf as she processed what was happening.  He wasn’t mad at her, not really.  She knew that.  He wasn’t mad, he was scared.  But it still hurt and that was worse.  Things were spiraling out of his control and he needed something he could rely on. She was only making things worse by having to leave.  She was hurting the Team by not being able to devote her full attention.  She was hurting him by splitting her focus.  She had stayed in the Cave so she could help him, give him someone who was there for him, but she wasn’t and she was hurting him instead.

“I’m sorry I scared you.  I wasn’t risking my life.  It’s chaotic, yes, but it’s a chaos I understand.  It’s a chaos that soothes me.  I know my place in that chaos.  But it’s over now.  I have the rest of the week off and I can stay in bed and relax.  Not even school.”  She gave him a strained smile.  “I’m sorry it was making things worse for you.  I’m sorry I’m making things worse for you.” Damn it, she berated herself.  That wasn’t what she wanted to say.  This wasn’t about her.  It was about him.

Conner’s heart dropped.  Damn it, he berated himself.  He made her think she was hurting him.  That wasn’t what he wanted to do.  He was making it about himself, but it wasn’t about him.  It was about her.  He reached out to comfort her but hesitated.  He didn’t know how welcome it would be.  After yelling at her just a minute ago, she might not feel comfortable with him hugging her.  He winced internally thinking about how he treated her as soon as he saw her tonight.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.  I didn’t have the right to… I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was angry with you.  Like you were doing something wrong.  You’re not.  I mean, I do think you push yourself too hard, but you’re not making things worse. You make them better.  You’re amazing.” He blushed when he realized what he said and grasped for something to change the topic.  “I mean the way you talked to Superman was amazing.”

Chimera barked out a laugh and hid her face in her hands in embarrassment.  “I can’t believe I called Superman and Batman cold bastards.  Well, Superman more than Batman.  I’m sure Batman has heard it lots of times before… and I’m pretty sure I said more devastating things before I fell asleep in the infirmary.  But, it was probably new information for Superman.”

Conner hummed in agreement.  He sat down and leaned back against the cliff, looking out to the ocean, not wanting to discuss Superman anymore, despite him being the one to bring it up in the first place.  Chimera sat on the ground next to him, stretching out her legs and watching the tide wet the sand in front of her.  She burst out laughing when Wolf laid on her legs.  “Conner!  Help me!” she managed to squeak out between laughter.  “I can’t move.”  Conner laughed and gave Wolf a gentle shove to get him to move.  Wolf made a dissatisfied grunt but moved off of her and next to Conner.

They looked out to the ocean in a contented silence, watching the last bits of light glitter on the distant waves.  After a while Chimera spoke up, still keeping her eyes on the water. “Did you know Kaldur and I had to stop Superman from making the entire situation worse?  He wanted to rush into the Cave with no idea what to do then.  Like his very presence would be enough to end it.  All brawn and no plan.  Idiot.” She scoffed.  “Luckily, Batman backed us up or he would have rushed in and gotten you killed.”

Conner scowled and growled.  “He blamed us for what happened, like we didn’t react the way we should have, like I let it happen, and the whole time he would have made it worse.”  He balled his hands into fists, his hands shaking in anger. He turned to punch the cliff side then did it again and again.

“Conner!”  Chimera gently touched his arm, careful to stay out of the punch arc.  He turned to her with wild, angry eyes that softened as soon as he saw her.  “Please stop. You’re going to hurt your hand or cause a rockslide.”

He hung his head with a huff and sat back down.  “You’re lecturing me about doing things that hurt myself now?”

She shrugged taking his hand to examine it for injury.  “I guess there’s a reason we get along so well.  We can keep each other’s self-destructive tendencies in check.”

Chimera sat close enough that their bodies were touching, still holding his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles to soothe them.  After a few minutes she bumped her shoulder into his. “You know, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.  I have a few other good friends with terrible… authority figures in their lives. Authorities that barely acknowledge them let alone give them the respect and love they deserve.”

He considered her words for a while, keeping his eyes on the horizon.  “Must be nice for you… having authority figures that support you and don’t critique every move you make as a hero.” He said bitterly.  

She scoffed.  “I’d hardly call Batman supportive.  Plus, I’m pretty sure I told him I thought turning out like him was a fate worse than death.  So he’s probably even less likely to be supportive now.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “Interesting.  But I meant your parents.”

“Oh.”  Her smile faltered and she let go of his hand as she looked away and hummed in agreement.

“Chimera?” He prompted her.  He squeezed his now free hand.  It felt strange on its own.

“Yes?” She asked innocently.

“If you want me to talk, you have to too.”  He gave her a pointed look.

She scowled playfully at him and looked back out to the ocean.  “I don’t like your rules.”  He chuckled at her and stayed quiet, allowing her to get her thoughts in order.  “My parents are extremely supportive of me. Extremely.” She started tentatively.

“But…” He urged her.

“But they don’t know… about this.” She sighed. “They don’t know I’m a hero.  They don’t know I fight villains.  Nobody can know, remember?  That includes parents.”

“Your parents don’t know?” He furrowed his brow at the thought of her parents somehow not noticing her missing during crises and not having anyone to support her.  “Where do they think you go?”  He looked at her incredulously.

“They don’t.  They think I’m in my room, or hiding during attacks.  Right now they think I’m at an internship in America, which I am, that’s why I can’t always be here, that and school, but...”  She turned away with a guilty look.  “God, I hate lying to them.”

He furrowed his brow and frowned at her. “So who supports you?”

She smiled up at him with a coy glint in her eyes, like he had fallen into a trap.  “My team did, as much as they could without knowing my identity.  That’s what teams are for, supporting each other, helping each other.  You’re on my team, so I’m here to support you, if you want.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and looked away. “I see what you did there.”  He looked out over the water again, watching the tide ebbing and flowing.  “I was right there with you… all, the Team, and let you get captured.  I couldn’t save you or the team.  I wasn’t good enough to.  I’m not good enough.  What am I even doing here?”  

“Hey,” she chided him gently, “Wally didn’t save me either.  Do you think he’s not good enough?  That he doesn’t belong here?  Kaldur didn’t save me.  He helped me but he didn’t stop it either.  Is he not good enough to be here?  Do only Artemis and Robin deserve to be here?”

“No,” he grumbled.

“You need to give yourself a break.  You are amazing.  You can do amazing things.  But we’re a team.  We rely on each other sometimes.”  She gave him a soft smile.  “Sometimes you have to just let us save you and not take that as a fault.”

He turned away, blushing slightly.  After a few moments in silence he punched the ground in front of him.  “What does it matter?  He’s never going to accept me or treat me as an equal anyway.”

She paused while she thought about it.  “I think he will.  He’s scared and unsure right now but he will eventually get over himself.  But however long it takes, it’s on him.  It is a sign of his inability to process his emotions in a healthy way.  It has absolutely nothing to do with your worth or skills. It says nothing about your value.”

“That’s not how it seems.” He grumbled into the sand.

“Yeah.  I get that.” She nodded in agreement.  “The downside of being the offspring of an idiot.”

He laughed at that and leaned in conspiratorially. “I believe the official term is ‘cold bastard’.”

She groaned and hid her face in his shoulder. She turned her head to rest it on his shoulder and look out at the crests of the waves in the moonlight.  “What people say about us can affect us.  It can hurt, especially family because we’re supposed to have a stronger connection to them than anyone else.  But he doesn’t.  He doesn’t know you better than we do.  He doesn’t have better insights.  He isn’t your family.  We are. And we say you are more than enough. You are amazing.”  She hugged his arm.

“You’re my family?” Look at her hesitantly.

“Found Family, baby.  One of the best tropes.” She grinned widely at him.

“Tropes?” He looked at her questioningly.

“Found family, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, and they were roommates. All good.”  She nodded with a smile.  “I highly recommend them… well maybe not to you.  But to other members of our family.”

Conner slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into a side hug.  “I like this family.”  He gave a small smile as he leaned his head on hers.  He frowned suddenly when a thought occurred to him.  “But, found family rules aren’t the same as regular family are they?  Because I don’t think… Wally wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Chimera giggled at the thought.  “No, no he wouldn’t.  How long do you think before he and Artemis start dating?”

“You think they’ll date?”  He pulled back and looked at her like she was crazy.  “They hate each other.”

“Oh God, yes they will.  That tension has nowhere to go but on a date.  I give it a month.”  She laughed. Her laughter quieted after a few moments and she moved further into Conner’s embrace.  “Found family is about loving and supporting each other no matter what.  Understanding we all have problems and helping each other deal with them and loving each other in spite of them.  You can definitely date within a group that offers you that.” She confirmed, circling back to his original question.  “Most people do.” She added quietly.

He looked at her softly and laid his head back on hers watching the stars twinkle on the ocean surface like a distant, enticing dream.  “Good to know.”

 Tags:

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[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

🌼 any of them

Whoops, wrote a fic

Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

An optimist would look at the world of divination with wonder. The universe is a but a magnificent hall of tapestries, beautiful pieces of art woven into anything you could imagine. Tapestries where you are a hero, tapestries where you are royalty, tapestries where your people live with riches, tapestries depicting your eternal victory over your enemies. The universe is endless and bountiful, for in the future, all futures are possible.

This is how Astor usually can depict the good fortune tellers from the worse.

If they’re an optimist, they’re most likely a faker.

The only true divinator that he had met that was even a bit of an optimist was his mother, and even then, he had always had the sinking feeling that she hid a deeper sorrow behind her simple shoes of colorful flames and shining moon and starlight. No, it was quite hard to stick to true, unfiltered optimism in this field, as while it was true that all futures and choices were possible, that freewill ran its course through all who walked the vast possibilities of the universe, the issue came in the fact that you could not travel it to and fro.

There are futures where you live, there are futures where you achieve your wildest dreams, timelines where your childhood is happier, and timelines where you find true love and satisfaction.

But you aren’t in those timelines. The future you have is this one, and it is set in stone.

Walk all the roads you want, say all the words, read all the stories, but when a seer analyzed exactly what world we live in, exactly what end is destined for this string of the universe, there will be no holding back. There is only the unfiltered, raw, typically pessimistic truth of the end. Savor it.

“In truth, Elane, I hate my job. Fear it, even,” Astor set his teacup down, looking out the balcony towards the inky, midnight view. “I fear one day I will find the prediction—the true, ultimate glimpse into the night, that seals in the fact that we’re doomed.”

The Queen only cocked her head with a smile. “Well, I’m flattered that there’s still a ‘we’ in this scenario. Good to know I’ll be joining you in the lockup when my mother find our contraband cucco nuggets—“

“I’m serious, Elane.”

She only laughed quietly, before leaning back in her chair, and gazing out into the pleasant evening. “I know...”

There was a quiet between them, not quite awkward or stiffening, but quiet in the way that you might hold your breath after someone embraces you warmly. Quiet in acceptance, quiet to make room for the sounds of something rare and fickle.

“I swear, I might retire early,” Astor finally said. “Quit while I’m ahead. Head off to Hateno or Mabe and bury my head in the sand.”

“You might want to try Gerudo then, if sand is what you’re searching for. I’m sure Urbosa would be thrilled.”

“Tsk. I am inclined to disagree.”

Elane chuckled again, and she let the quiet embrace her for a moment.

“Eternal doom aside, for a moment, I would posit that there’s hardly anything to fear. You’ve foreseen my daughter’s growth, analyzed the future livelihood of the kingdom, and predicted our victory over Ganon. I’d say it’s hard to bargain with that.”

“Maybe, but I could be wrong.” Astor circled his finger on the lip of his cup. “It happens, people make a prediction, but miss one star, or slip up one word...or perhaps one cow suddenly dies, or one ember quickly fades, and suddenly we’re actually in an entirely different timeline than predicted.”

“Didymos Astor? Wrong about something? Oh my, I never thought I’d see the day...” Elane smiled to herself again as she lifted her cup for another sip.

Astor clicked his tongue. “Well. You should hope I’m not wrong about anything. If someone of my skill makes an incorrect prediction, it would probably be disastrous for everyone.”

Elane winked as she set down her cup. “Well, good thing you’re a prodigy, then.”

“Good thing, indeed.”

Quiet keep their third company once again. Astor still had not sipped from his cup, but Elane was already heading for her fourth refill, no doubt begging for any energy after tucking her daughter to bed. A young toddler with enough energy to power a Guardian army, Elane has always found it quite odd that she used up a lot of her energy to annoy the Royal Seer. It was charming to see him get put off by a Mallory’s boundless curious aura, but mostly relieving in the sense that the Queen could get a moments rest and trust little Zelda would be alright.

Elane looked back inside through the half open door, and smiled at a bundled sleeping figure, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. She then turned back and finally noticed Astor’s continued silence on the next refill.

She sighed. “Although I would be saddened to see you leave,” she began, “If a retirement would make you happy, Astor, I would loathe to do anything to stand in your way.”

He looked up at her, analyzing her body language and expression. She was genuine, of course, as she always was in these sorts of talks. Astor finally let himself exhale in peace, as he smiled and shook his head.

“Unfortunately I don’t think it would do me much good, anyways. Location won’t let me escape my own thoughts and visions.” He took a sip of his tea—a bit citrusy this evening, a hint of apple—and relaxed. “I’d imagine His Majesty would miss me dearly, and I simply wouldn’t want to leave him in distress.”

“Ha! Oh yes of course, Rhoam would be crying tears if you left us...” she replied, sarcastically. “Tears of deep, deep sorrow.”

Astor looked out into the night in silence again, not touching his cup.

“But I’ll tell you what Astor,” Elane began again. “If you ever receive that world dooming prediction, whatever may happen that may instigate your view of the deepest hells,” she raised her cup. “You come find me, and we’ll have a drink.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A drink? What sort of drink?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like. Tea, wine, beer, water or juice if it’s your fancy. Whatever will keep your spirits high.”

Astor smirked, solemnly. “I don’t think you understand just how severe and dreadful certain predictions can be. When we say ‘all futures are possible,’ we do mean all possibilities.”

“And I understand, dear seer. I truly do.” She tilted her head as she kept her cup in the air. “But the way I see it, is that with divination or not, doom and hell come into people’s lives one way or the other. But it hasn’t really stopped the majority from loving their lives now, has it?” Her eyes twinkled like starlight. “Dearest Astor, if our destined doom is predicted one day, I command you to at least smile through our tea party.”

Quiet.

He finally sighed, the corners of his lips perking. His protests drowning in her expression.

“I suppose if you’re the one pouring, it’d be difficult to refuse.” He raised his cup and clinked it with hers.

She was dead eight days later.

With her death came the final factor. The final star.

“Your daughter is destined to fail us,” he said again. “The Calamity shall rise and consume us all, and she won’t stop it in time.”

Rhoam slammed his fists on the desk, but the seer did not flinch. “We’ll train her hard, we’ll start now, even! I’ll get those clerics from the temple to teach her the starting prayers!” he yelled.

“It won’t work.” Astor replied, simply. “Perhaps she might attain them down the line, but she most certainly won’t awaken her powers by Ganon’s rise. It’s over.”

“You told me we could do this!” Rhoam pointed a finger, accusingly. “You saw our prosperity, our victory!”

“That was what I initially saw, yes. But unfortunately we live in world where the Queen of Hyrule is dead, and thus the threads of our future weave accordingly.”

“You’re a liar!” Rhoam bellowed again. “You saw her death, saw our end and lied to us since the beginning, haven’t you?!!”

“Don’t you think that if I knew Elane would die, I would say something?! That I would give ample time for her to say goodbye to you and her daughter??” Astor finally raised his voice, met with equal silence. “I failed to correctly analyze our timeline the first time around, and for that I am sorry. But I can not control what pieces of the future fate allows me to see. It’s not an open novel for you to give me a bad book report grade on. It’s a museum of endless tapestries, of which I am task with analyzing one stroke at a time to identify which is woven to a singular man, and the fact that I have given you a complete enough answer now is a gift within itself, so don’t even try to accuse me forgery and lies.”

The two men clenched their jaws, staring angrily at each other.

Astor finally whispered. “Overtime I might gather more specifics, but overall—this is over.”

Rhoam balles his hand into a fist. “We’ll start a new schedule for Zelda first thing in the morning—“

“It won’t work, it’s futile—“

“We’ll make it work—“

“This is set in stone, this is the world you live in—“

“Well what if you’re wrong again?”

“I’m not.”

“But what if you are?”

“I’m. Not. I’ve read the signs again and again and again, in fact I’ve been reaching the same conclusions repeatedly for the last four weeks. It. Is set. In stone.” He tapped his finger on the wood with each syllable to emphasize. “Perhaps the futures of prosperity are accurate for the Rhoams and Mallorys that live in a different time, but unfortunately for us, we live in one where Elane is dead. This is our reality and you’re doing no good denying as such.”

Silence.

Rhoam made his way towards the door. “You’re a liar.” The seer scoffed. “You’re a liar and you don’t know what you’re saying! Borderline treason if I’m being honest! You’re pathetic, and a rotten fake—“

“If it pleases His Majesty to confirm the integrity of his humble subject,” Astor cut in, sarcastically, “It might be good to know that also I’ve predicted you won’t imprison me, or exile me, or execute me, given you’re still ever reliant on my uncontested skills for more personal matters. That, and you wish to try and keep me around to hopefully prove me wrong, in which you can then tell yourself you’d be in the right to truly punish me.” He stared the regent dead in the eyes. “But don’t worry, you won’t.”

Rhoam slammed the door shut as he stomped off.

That night, Astor has another dream. Or perhaps it was a vision, he wasn’t sure, as the details were so surreal and horrific and captivating that it would have surely been a blessing to chalk it up entirely to vivid imagination.

There were screams and the sound of rocks crumbling. Bones were cracking and monsters were squealing and shrieking. And be felt his arms burn, and he felt his soul drain, and he looked down to see his skin peeling into dark flakes, his muscles, sludge. And in the distance, a young woman with golden hair laughed at him, but her eyes were hollow and gold. And she laughed and laughed as his body was slowly broken to pieces, bones torn asunder, skin burned to smoldering malice, senses vivid until the final moment when he woke.

But the good thing about nightmares, was that...that was it. There was no where else to go. There was nothing left to offer. No more pain to fear.

It made sense of course. Of course, of course. He never went to the funeral, he never offered his sympathies. There was no longer anything to mourn, as he allowed himself to view the world in its true, disgusting form. The people were doomed, and the dead, well...perhaps they might have deserved it. Yes, that was the only way this all made sense, of course. He even stopped trying to warn other folk after a few too many dozen harsh rejections to his character. No, now in complete isolation and resignation of his path, there was nothing else that could possibly drag him back to—

“How do I die?” Zelda Mallory Hyrule asked, one day.

At first, he was confused, and he turned in his chair. “What?”

She was seven at the time, and it was truly an odd and concerning thing to be coming from a seven year old girl’s mouth. Or perhaps it wasn’t, given the circumstances.

“How do I die?” she said again. She was laying down on his worn carpet, fiddling with the frilled edge.

Was she truly that bored? Already out of other questions? Hmph, he had always warned her to stay away, as a seer’s office wasn’t really meant for childish entertainment. Yet still she always came and asked to hide away from her father, and, well...anything to spite that man...

“Why do you ask?” he finally replied. Had someone said something to her? A threat? He clenched his jaw. I swear, if that fool tried to force her powers by—

“You’re always going on about how I’m wasting my time with praying and stuff...but father says I still gotta to stop the Calamity or else we could all die.” She didn’t look up from the bits of carpet string she was playing with (and contemplating on popping in her mouth), “So I figured if you tell me how I die we can settle the debate for good!”

Astor just sighed. “Well, of course you d—“

He stopped himself, but not for the reasons a more put together person, might. Not because of the generally frowned upon action of telling a child how she dies, no, that was not exactly beyond him. No, Astor cut off his sentence simply because it had crossed his mind that—

“...I’m not entirely sure...” he whispered.

He suddenly stood. Walking towards the other end of his office, carefully stepping over the child. “E-Excuse me a moment.”

Why had he never considered this? Of course, he had seen the signs clearly enough, the visions, the stars. A girl cries over a corpse, a light vanishes in the night. Malice plagued the sky and dooms the day. But did the Calamity actually kill her? Does she drown in rubble and malice like the others? Slain by a demon or monster perhaps? Or if not, then, would that mean...?

The princess soon forgot about the question by the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next.

Astor spent nearly eight sleepless nights into finding an answer.

But he never truly did.

These things happened more times than one may think, when it came to predictions. Vagueness was commonplace, but specificities and straightforward answers were about as rare as a green sunset. Of course, he knew she would die, goddess blood or not, she lived the life of a mortal. But how? When? While it certainly wasn’t impossible to predict a person’s death, but whatever the circumstances of Mallory’s was made the process was infuriatingly impossible.

It was possible she would die of malice or suffocation under rubble, even circumstances where she dies at the Ganon’s hand himself. But then there were clear visions of her living, walking through a grassy field, ruins in the distance covered in leaves and moss, her turning and calling to a friend to keep up with her pace.

But no, nonono. She would die during the Calamity’s rise, that was the majority of what the futures offered to her were. That was the probable outcome.

But the factors and visions and signs and alignments were so fine and minuscule in difference, that Astor truly couldn’t a true statement, a true prediction, a true answer to the question. What timeline did we live in?

It taunted him.

Maybe it was better if the question was put to rest, did it even matter?

“Mallory?” he asked. “That’s a stupid name.”

“What?! No it’s not!” Elane laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Please, YOU’RE not one to talk.”

“Well as a victim of stupid first names, I think I’m qualified to speak accurately on the subject.”

“Aha! But it’s not technically a first name.” Elane tapped his head. “It’s a middle name, her first name would be ‘Zelda,’ of course.”

“Yes, and that is also a s—“

The queen shoved his shoulder into the wall before he even finished the sentence. “Oh would you shut up...”

He laughed, unconventionally carefree. Her Majesty’s happiness these days truly was contagious. Or perhaps that was a side effect of pregnancy? Did all expecting mother’s give off this aura?

“I think it’s a wonderful name.” Elane said. “Reminds me of a cute little duck, like a mallard!” She tucked her arms and flapped her elbows to imitate as such. “Quack, quack!”

“This is further adding to my argument actually”

“Hmph! Ok then Mr. Overseer of all names” She tapped a finger to his chest. “If it’s such a stupid name, then when she starts getting bullied for it around the castle, I shall expect you to take care of her in full.”

He scoffed. “Oh, I’ll be sure to do so. She’ll definitely need it.”

Elane pecked his head with a kiss.

“Good! I grant you my blessing lovingly tease her, as well. And I expect the best from you, Astor!”

His face suddenly warmed for some reason, and he couldn’t form words.

“What?”

“.....W...”

He was suddenly whack in the head with a rolled up piece of paper. Astor sprang awake from his desk. “...W...What...?”

“Morning, Mr. Astor!!” Princess Zelda-Mallory beamed. “And happy birthday!!! Sorry I woke you up early, but I needed to give this to you before the winter solstice festival later and—“

She continued to ramble on and on, but Astor simply opened the rolled up paper she had handed to him. It was simply filled with dozens and dozens, arguably hundreds, of hand drawn stars. In the corner was written, “You always look at the same stars so here’s some new ones!” in crude purple crayon. At the time, he failed to notice the accompanying note on the back that read “One for each year of how old you are!” Thankfully he was too busy looking through the different stars, with varying degrees of sparkles and smiley faces.

He finally looked back at the princess, who was still rambling on and on about her day, and her father’s day, and her newest stuffy dress, and her latest adventures with her stuffed toys, and—

“Why are you always here, Zelda?” Astor finally said. She stopped talking, looking at him, quizzically. “I mean...” he grumbled, “You know I don’t really like you, right?

“Eh, I don’t care. I think you’re neat!!” She held out her arms as she zoomed around his circular office. “Your room is so cool! And you got fun books!”

“Necromancy isn’t necessarily what I would consider ‘fun’ reading material—“

“Plus your outfits are cool, and you’re super smart, like my mom.”

He blinked.

“Plus, you’re the only one that’s not mean to me about my dumb powers. But really that’s just a chair on the top!”

“Do you mean cherry on top?”

“No! I meant chair! Watch me!! I’m gonna do a backflip off of this—“

“NO.” Astor immediately stood up, and snatched the girl off of the wooden chair. “NO. No backflips.” He set her down on the rug and pointed to a side of the room which held a broken table, stool, and a few old chairs—the victims of the princess’ previous acrobatic attempts.

She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m running out of furniture, is what I am.”

“But I’ll let this slide since it’s your birthday! Hmph.”

She started pulling at the loose threads of the carpet. “Don’t know why you had to stop my birthday backflip! Who cares if I get a little scratch?”

“I do—“

“YOU DO?!” Mallory was immediately up and clinging to his robes.

Astor sputtered, instinctively waving his arms to free himself from the child’s grip. But then he finally processed her question, and...

“I...” He looked at her starlight eyes. She had that stupid, naive grin that he always remembered from her mother. A stupid, pathetic, horrible, terrible, optimistic smile.

He finally scoffed. “I just can’t have you getting hurt on my watch, as otherwise, I’d probably be a dead man. That’s all.”

The princess lifted her hands in a “hooray!” fashion, and yelled the exclamation, accordingly. She then resumed her zipping and zooming around the room, much to Astor’s unexpected relief.

That night, he visited the question again.

Why? He didn’t really know.

The question wouldn’t offer him anything, it wouldn’t relieve him of anything—in fact it really did just the opposite. If he found that died miserably, it would be another scream in the nightmare, another nail in the comforting coffin of despair. But if he someone found that she lived, that there was a day after the Calamity, where even a child such as her could possibly prosper...

Having hope and seeing it fail anyway would probably be the most torturous of all.

Again, he had a dream, of a world tainted by blood and malice. But this time he was floating. He was floating and watching the end of it all.

Castle Town was nothing but ruins and ash, and no colors existed but red, black, and grey.

He couldn’t hear anything but a shrill hum in his ears, but he knew there was screaming. He looked to his hand, expecting to see malice or blackened skin, but instead found a strange floating device in his palm. It spin slowly, pink constellations drifting across its surface.

The hum in his ears turned into a groan, and then a whisper. It said something familiar, but he was sure he had never heard it before.

It is time.

The next night he had a dream of a girl standing in a green field, calling out to her friends somewhere behind her. She rested under the ruins of a collapsed pillar, and ate a homemade sandwich with a memorable smile.

Astor reached a conclusion.

In most futures, the girl dies horribly. He wrote in his journal. To be expected, I would assume the rise of the Calamity isn’t exactly easy to survive from.

But what I have discovered is a very specific set of circumstances that lead to a more favorable outcome, at least for her.

I have no way of knowing if it accurately depicts the comings of our time, or another. There are too many variables and specifics. Too long I have spent trying to discern our fate, but the probabilities and possibilities for doom are so interchangeable that it really go either way. The only truth I know is that she lives if—

He paused, tapping the dry quill to the desk again in thought. He dipped it once more.

I’ve decided that if I ever find myself in the scenario where I can solidify her a more favorable destiny, I will take it. I can only hope dare to alter my existing nightmare into something different, there’s really nothing left to lose, is there?

Astor leaned in his chair for a moment, savoring the silence of his office. He looked out the window and took in the night. The stars were gorgeous this evening.

Although if it fails I hope it kills me.

Call it arrogance, but I don’t think I can handle being wrong again.

The seer sighed, then suddenly flipped to the next blank page, angrily.

If I had never met her it would have been fine. If I had just minded my own damn business and continued to work in being resigned to our fate, at least then I could have—

There was a soft knock at his door.

He knew who it was.

Astor pinched the bridge of his nose as he opened it. “It’s past 2am, Princess, what could you possibly have to tell me?”

She looked down and shuffled her feet. “I had a nightmare...”

“Yes, people do have those sometimes.” He immediately closed the door.

Another knock.

After a moment, Astor opened it again. “Don’t you have guards outside your room, how did you sneak up here?”

“Secret tunnel!” She grinned, proudly, as she replied with a sort of sing-song tone.

“That’s nice.”

The door slammed shut again.

She knocked once more. There was the longest pause.

“FFFFFFine!” The world was out of his lips before he even fully swung open the door, and Mallory happily scrambled inside. “But no touching anything, I’m working.”

“It’s ok, I just wanna stay up all night and read your books!” She was already scrambling for the necromancy section, again.

Astor sighed, and went to slump back into his desk. The princess was already sprawled across the floor, distracting herself with another stack of wondrous, ill-recommended book. He didn’t really care.

I don’t really care. He wrote once again. I know there are futures where I dedicate myself to the Calamity, and she dies anyway. I know it doesn’t really matter, I know it’s hopeless to care, and that’s why I don’t.

He looked back at Zelda, he saw her slowly blink back her tiredness. He knew in a few hours or so, he’d have to drop her sleepy figure back off to those useless guards, and berate then for letting her wander off again, as it always was.

If I do this and it’s all for nothing, he began, I fear it will be worse than if I had just stood to the side and perished. It’s already doomed, and this pathetic, foolish optimism might cause me to turn this nightmare into something even worse.

He sighed, and the hours passed as he just sat with his thoughts.

Zelda was using and open book as a pillow.

Astor opened the door, and went to pick her up.

I’m not living through another nightmare. He thought, as he descended the stairs from the observatory. The girl’s breathing was steady as she wrapped an arm by his shoulder.

If it fails I hope it kills me before I see it. He repeated again.

I can’t handle being wrong again.

[chipper-smol]

Vanilla 1 Chain

Prompt: The Aftermath of Ghost banishing the Grimm Troupe from the Troupe’s perspective.

lAST ONE!

( https://twitter.com/BerryCannibal )

Grimm let out a hum as he danced with himself, going through yet another imaginary routine as he allowed his thoughts to drift. The tent was unusually quiet without Brumm around - he was still surprised that his worried conduit had offered to take up a torch and pass out some of the scarlet flame this time around, perhaps he was finally warming up to the ritual? - allowing the perfect space for him to practice his final audience with The Pale King’s vessel.

He chuckled to himself at the memory of that wyrm... Always so frazzled, with his thoughts scattered all about, never in one place. He never did get to teach that fool how to relax before he up and disappeared, leaving this kingdom to be ravaged by Her incurable sickness. What a shame...

He was just coming out of a twirl when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. His knees buckled. He fell. Where were the Grimmkin when he needed them?

Letting out a faint growl, he tried to get back onto his feet as he clutched his- His... He looked down to where his hand was ​supposed ​to be touching the smooth, red carapace of his chest, horrified at the sight that greeted him. An open wound, leaking with bright, scarlet flame where the heart of any normal bug was supposed to be located. It was only after that first moment of shock that the pain set in.

Collapsing to the ground once more, Grimm let out a roar of misery and shock and anguish and pure, unfiltered ​agony​. It felt as if the fires that once kept him fed and warm as a child was now burning him up from the inside, taking every part of his body with them. Under his claws he felt his body coming apart, leaving less and less shell to grip on to as he was consumed by what once kept him alive. ​What was happening? This was not how the ritual went. This was not ​supposed ​to happen-

~ Curtains closed. Lights out. Our lead actor has disappeared. ~

Grimm jerked up into a sitting position, breath laboured and raspy as he clutched his chest. It was solid now. Ok. He wasn’t dead, at least. The legacy didn’t end with him as he had feared when... Wait.

He glanced around the room, feeling his metaphorical heart sink when he saw the stitched-together crimson and plum and wine-coloured fabrics that covered the floor, the ever-gently pulsing veins, the scarlet, firelit lanterns... He wasn’t in the physical realm anymore, he quickly realized.

Rolling over, he grabbed a small hand mirror from beside the bed, frantically checking his physical appearance. The ritual hadn’t failed, had it? No. It was still going if the coal colouring of his crescent-shaped horns was anything to go by. Then that must’ve meant...

Oh. Oh, that ​traitor.​

Grimm could feel a growl bubbling up from his chest as he considered what might’ve happened. He must’ve tried to stop the ritual ​early,​ perhaps even tried to ​kill​ the troupe as a whole by banishing them back to the dream realm. He must’ve manipulated Grimms poor co-actor in this important play into following him, they seemed so glad to help out with the ritual, after all...

Wait. The ritual. The child. Where was the child? Why hadn’t it called out to him yet? Where was the child?

Frantically, and yet gently, he began searching through the satin sheets of the bed he had woken up in. If the child wasn’t dead, it had to be there somewhere, right? Right? Ri- Ah. There it was...

He carefully picked up the limp grimmchild, studying it for a moment. It worried him how he could only barely see it’s chest move, and it wasn’t chirping or making any other kind of noise at him like it usually would, even in its sleep. Not that one could truly sleep in the dream realm.

“My child...” He rasped, quietly, holding it close to his chest, still feeling the gentle pulse of fire inside it. It was still alive, that much was true, but it would not remain that way for long at this stage of the ritual. It would need more flame, and quickly, but finding it could be difficult without his grimmkin to scour the vast wastelands between kingdoms for something worthy of the presence of the troupe in its entirety. Sighing, he cradled his child close as he sat for a long moment in hopelessness, considering his options.

“Marintide...” A voice murmured in his mind, the rasp undoubtedly belonging to The Nightmare King himself.

Right. Of course. They had received another call while performing their ritual in Hallownest. The other kingdom was far geographically, but travelling large distances had never been

much of a problem for the troupe. But then again, the troupe hadn’t been in this situation for several centuries. Last time they were banished was way back in-

A soft cough and whine of complaint sounded from the starving child. Right. Best not to dwell on that with a starving grimmchild in his arms.

Slowly, Grimm laid back down on the satin bed, still holding the child close to his chest as he focused on the brief glimpses he had been given of the kingdom when they had received their call. He admittedly struggled a little with remembering the less interesting details, such as the dying corals and thick bramble forests, but he managed none the less.

--

Waking up on cold, hard stone was not a welcome experience, but it was the best way to tell that they had arrived. Huffing as he got up, Grimm took a moment to look around. Without the Grimmkin to go before him and set up a comfortably warm tent, he was immediately exposed to the cold breeze coming in from the ocean and the sight of the beautifully ruined architecture that once was this great kingdom.

The stone beneath his feet was a brilliant cobalt blue, and he could see the sunlight reflecting off something gold in the distance. Sunlight? Ah. An aboveground kingdom, then. Something that looked like a lighthouse of sorts was off in the distance as well, just barely visible if he squinted through the gleam of gold from fallen pillars and monuments. The sun was glinting off the sea as well, the water so reflective that he almost missed the large, pale form that smoothly broke the surface and went back under in the same movement. A seawyrm, perhaps. He had been told of these before, though he couldn’t recall much...

Shaking his head to clear his mind of thought and clutching the grimmchild closer still, he made his way through the ruins towards the woods he had seen. Extracting flame from living creatures was a painful process for both him and the second party, but in this case, it would have to be done. The Grimm lineage would not end with him.

Stepping into the woods, there was immediate rustling to his left. He barely had time to think before a large, hunter-esque creature had him pinned to the ground, teeth bared, ready to end him.

He remained calm, though, reaching up and firmly placing his open palm over its eyes as he focused, sending into a deep, nightmare-ridden sleep... Sighing, Grimm nudged the large creature off of him, finally untucking the grimmchild from his cape. His expression quickly dropped when he saw the state they were in, flopping over limply in his hands instead of flying up and readily feasting on the nightmares of the sleeping hunter.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Quickly, he crouched down by the sleeping hunter, carefully placing his child upon their head. “Sorry about this...” He murmured, though he knew his apology would never be heard, though he knew there was no forgiveness to be had for what he was about to do.

Then, he started chanting.

The words that spilt from his lips made the fire inside him roar back to life. It was painful, but he had to endure. For his child. For the troupe. He gritted his teeth together to keep himself from screaming, wanting so dearly not to distress his child...

“Ngahhh...”

Grimm glanced up at the noise, finally stopping his chanting, smiling when he saw his child just as lively as ever. But...

He brought his hand up, gently touching his left horn, quickly finding a large patch missing, replaced by openly roaring scarlet fire. He was weakening, he realized, tucking the child close once more. They would need to finish the ritual soon. He’d just need to find Brumm so-

Right. Brumm wasn’t part of the troupe anymore. That traitor.

He didn’t have a conduit now. And he didn’t have a helper either. As sure as he was that he could get the vessel to meet him outside Hallownest, the banishment ritual would not allow him within several miles of the place.

He’d have to wait.

Slowly wasting away into a fire ghost, he’d have to wait.

He’d be willing to make that sacrifice for his child, yes.

He’d keep them alive and safe until a proper ritual could be conducted again, or until he finally grew unable to help it and it’d have to starve.

He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

( donotgogently )

( @wasabi-arts​ )

Grimm pets the small creature in his arms, looking over Dirtmouth from the cliff. “What a shame for our little friend to abandon you in such a place,” he cooed, starting his descent down king’s pass, “ and a place so dangerous and cold. To think that vessel didn't even bring you back to our Trope.” The child purred in his arms, content with the situation despite the abandonment.

The trek back to the troupe wasn’t long, and Grimm made his way into the tent. “Good evening, Master.” Brumm said, already offering to take the torch from Grimm’s hands, surprised by the sight of the child, as well as Grimm’s damaged horn. “Master, why do you hold the child? And may I ask what happened to your right horn?” Grimm simply smiled at Brumm, dismissing Brumm’s second question while petting the child. “I hate to admit such a circumstance, but I do believe our little visitor has abandoned the child. Brumm was silent for a moment, looking at the child. He didn’t like the idea of Grimm dying for the sake of a ritual, and would much rather let the ritual die. At least for a bit longer, if it must continue.

“Why do you think they abandoned it?” Brumm asked, curious. “The traveler seems attached to it.” With a thoughtful nod from Grimm, he pet the child once more to hear it purr. “Maybe it has something to do with the roar heard earlier?”

“Roar?” Grimm asked, cocking his head with curiosity. “I heard no such thing.”

Brumm was surprised at this comment, stopping his music at the thought. “But Master, the roar was quite loud. It rattled the tents of our troupe and the homes of this here town. The bug near the bench described it as something akin to a cry.”

“I see...”

Grimm looked out of the tent in the direction of the crossroads. The abandoned Vessel of the Pale King himself had likely gone down below, Grimm thought. That ​was the location of the black egg that the king set up long ago to contain the infection. And since The Knight was a vessel themself, that is likely where they went.

“I don't think we’ll see them for a while, my dear Brumm.” The child snored in his arms. “May I ask why not?” “Well, do believe our small friend has gone to fight the creature inside the

crossroads.” “...”

Brumm looked back at Grimm’s shattered horn. “Master,”he asked,resuming his music,”May I ask what happened to your horn?”

Grimm turned away from the tent’s entrance to face Brumm.

“Ah, I almost forgot.” He stated, touching the broken spot with his hand.”I had gotten into a bit of a scuffle with the creatures up in the cliffs trying to obtain the child.” The spot hurt, yes, however Grimm paid it no mind. It was merely a minor injury, he was far more concerned about the child in his arms.

“Well, Brumm, we should take care of the child in the knight’s absence, hm?”

Brumm nodded in agreement. “I do think we should take care of your injury too, Master.”

( @ouliarts​ )

( @null-icon )

It is the dead of night and the big top is quiet with the whispers of a phantomly audience. Your Master had told you to keep watch before he had rushed out in a hurry - the fastest you’ve seen him move outside of performance - but it is still the same dark, dreary town at the base of the looming cliffs off to the left. Winds still whipped about and crept underneath the tent fabrics, the scarlet haze of an ethereal presence flickers with the chill, and with a rumbling sigh gathered from the depths of your chest, you reach behind you to pull out your trusty accordions and begin to play a slow melody from something beyond your time as a Troupe member. It’s a delicate number though sharp and stuttered even to your skilled hands, suggesting that the you of another lifetime had not gotten to learn it well, but you are alone with your thoughts and the mumble of an uncaring audience so you practice and improvise in hopes of making it something worth playing for someone beyond deserving.

The tent flaps flutter open long after you’ve sat down with your legs crossed and your instrument falls silent. The winds outside had gotten stronger, but it was hardly an observation relevant when shortly after the flaps are sealed you feel your fur near singing from the blast of furious heat. Where you previously would have no need to look up at the looming figure that storms past, you can’t help but to draw your gaze upon him. His stance is proud and he glides elegantly through the entrance chamber, nodding to you his curt greeting as he adjusts something under his thin cloak. You would have assumed nothing was off if he wasn’t radiating the hellish heat of his rage, and when he exited into the main ring, one of the heads of his curving black horns snapped clean off bleeding an otherworldly vermillion that trickled into his wiry fabrics.

Sometime when the sun should have broken over the peaks, you decide to pay your Master a visit, your curiosity and concern uncharacteristically getting the best of you. You don’t get much more than a few strides into his secluded part of the big top when the maroon walls shudder despite his quiet rasp, “I do not believe I summoned you, Brumm.” 

“Mmmrr… So it may be. You are not well.”

“Is that so? What makes you question my state of being? What is it you find in the need to bother my rest?”

“The tent still simmers with your anger. My sight did not deceive me when I spotted your-” You are interrupted when the soft grizzle sounds, the pale pink of small irises blinking through where your Master is concealed. “... If that is all you dare approach me for, be on your way, Brumm. You have disturbed me, and now my child. Let us sleep.”

“Have you bandaged yourself, Master?” The hesitance you are greeted with tells you all you need to know, and you go digging in your fur for the roll of fabric you sew onto the shreds of your patchy sleeves. “Mmmh. Let me cover the wound, then I will leave.”

“I do not remember giving you permission.” “I do not require it for this.” Grimm uncovering himself enough for cat-like eyes to stare into your mask is simply affirmation to your statement. His horn had stopped oozing, now simply glowing dimly, but still you settle beside him to begin carefully swathing his horn in gray linen. “Did you fight, Master?” “Yes.”

“What for?” “My child. You must understand, the child is the future of this troupe. Of us.”

“Hrm. Why was the Grimmchild beyond the big top?”

“I do not know, Brumm, but it does not matter. Our caller approaches us soon, and the ritual will soon begin. That is what’s most important.” After the timbre of his voice falls out, you have nothing left to say and so you shift the rest of your energy into securing the wrap you have now made. “It will grow back, but thank you regardless, Brumm.” And when you turn to leave as promised, Grimm speaks up again. 

“Will you play me a song, musician?”

( https://twitter.com/Heck_Yena )

( tfwhynot)

The troupe was always on the move. When the ritual wasn’t in the picture they, for the most part, had to travel the old fashion way. The tents could be instantly packed and unpacked with a snap of Grimm’s fingers, coming in and out of the Nightmare realm with ease. The Grimmkin were a similar story, though they themselves were in control of which realm they were in at any time. It was the more unique bugs that couldn’t though, Brumm, Divine, and the Grimmsteads were anchored to the waking realm.

Grimm led the caravan on a wagon all his own. It held everything he needed to plan, maps, lists of supplies they had or needed, and written plans for performances of future and past. Brumm followed in the wagon behind. It carried all the other things that didn’t originate from the nightmare heart; containing currencies from lands of all sorts. Things to trade away for other things they may need or want, rations of food and water, and nicknacks collected for sentimental purposes.  In the very back, the strongest and most loyal steed followed, wheeling Divine’s wagon with them. Jars of the various substances she excreted were stashed, herbs, and remedies, each with their own uses.

Brumm’s music floated around the caravan, the familiar tunes of his accordion helping fight off complete boredom. Grimmkin popped in and out, joking and chatting among themselves. The newest of them excited to be on the road again, the long darkness to come not quite setting in on them yet.

The road they traveled slowly grew rough, the wagon wheels bouncing slightly on the rocks that were sprinkled across the road. Two mountains off in the distance came into view, a thin and winding path was carved through, old and uncared for; it was made a mess by time. It had been made by a kingdom long gone and forgotten. 

He waved down a few Kin that was chatting above him, “Explore the hills we are to tread,” He rasped out, “Report any dangers or curiosities you come across.” They nodded and dashed off, nothing but a rapidly disappearing blaze of scarlet fire left behind.

Time passed as Grimm waited, the steed pulling his wagon huffed at them, silently asking to rest soon. The road was still uneven, each wagon still bouncing off the occasional rock, tilting to and fro at the uneven path.

The Grimmkin still hadn’t returned as the wagons began to pull through the mountains. The walls of rock were high on each side, holes were mirrored on each side. A few old corpses could barely be seen, legs and arms of bugs both wild and sentient lay idle, their chests gaping open, innards long eaten by what lived here. He placed a hand on the child’s back where they were curled by his side in worry. They murmured in their sleep, still so small and weak. It’d be a while till the next ritual.

The walls were close together, they only just let the wagons pass without the worry of scraping the sides. There was no way to turn around once the caravan walked past the entrance, let alone run the other way if something happened.

“The path through should be short,” Grimm thought, “We’ll stop for rest and food on the other side,” he waved down more kin, a dozen more than last time, “If something happens we can deal with it,” He instructed them to carry torches and light the path, and most importantly, report back if they saw something, “We’ll always make it through.”

Music seeped through the artificial canon, echoing through the caves along each side. The old familiar tune felt uneasy, the vague feeling of nervousness permeating through the troupe enough to effect Brumm. The steeds began to slow, the sounds of their marching quieting as they pushed through the fatigue encasing their shells.

A puff of red smoke and a small novice was sitting beside Grimm. Their shrill and panicked voice woke the child, their words were spoken quickly, half slurred together, and hard to understand.

A sharp scree cut through all the noise, leaving a deafening quiet in its wake.

The Grimmkin immediately started to panic, “That’s the noise! Tha-”

A kin was slammed against the wall with a loud crack, their shell breaking on impact as a creature dug into them, shredding their garments as they fell, the Grimmkin wailing.

Jumping up Grimm tossed the reins to a nightmare kin. As he got on top of the wagon another scree rang out; the grimkin this time successfully dodging. Brumm’s wagon shook as the creature collided with it, the steed leading it letting out a panicked whimper.

The creature hissed on the ground, mandibles and legs flailing as for a moment before righting itself. It crouched down, ready to strike again when the wheels of Divine’s cart rolled over, only pinning it at first,  the steed struggling to pull over the living speedbump. A squeak and a squelch and their rigid shell shattered, Divine letting out a startled yelp as the wheel suddenly dropped back to ground level.

Another screech, Grim immediately aimed to intercept it when yet another rang out. 

It was like a domino effect, one after another after another screaming before leaping at the caravan. Grimm dashed, intercepting as many as he could before they hit, the air was just as full of fire as it was the creature as the kin attempted to help kill their attackers.

Still more kept coming, “Take them through as fast as possible,” Grimm barked at the nightmare leading them.

“Master?” Brumm called out, worry lacing his voice as much as panic.

“I’ll meet up with you on the other side, just go!”

They didn’t need to be told twice, the steeds immediately attempting to move as fast as their tired legs could carry them. 

Flinging himself into the air Grim puffed up with a loud scream, doing his best to draw all of their attention. Fire flung from around him, lighting the small canyon with fire. 

It worked, the beasts focusing on the largest threat. The wagons now having to deal with fewer things under their wheels could actually hurry, fear coursing through the steeds giving them new energy. The sound of Grimm’s fight growing more and more distant till it was nothing but an echo on the other side.

Once out the steeds couldn’t go any further if they tried. Their shells heaved as they drew breath, legs shaking as they unhitched themselves, collapsing on the ground with exhaustion. They huffed at the kin who immediately checked on them, shaking any attempts to get them to stand up, just wanting to be left alone.

With a grunt Brumm hopped out of the cart, afraid of what he might see. 

It looked like the fuckers had attempted to burrow through the wagons. Shallow divots in the repurposed shells that made the walls and ceilings were spread across all the wagons. 

He made his way to the front, seeing the nightmare doing their best to comfort Grimmchild as they cried.

“Mrmmm. Is the child hurt?”

They shook their head no, rubbing their back as they clung to the kin, “scared and worried for their father, but completely unharmed,” they rumbled.

Brumm nodded as he looked to the other kin. A few quickly busied themselves but most were unsure, not knowing what to do without instruction from the master. No one could properly hunker down for the night without him and there wasn’t really a second in command for situations like this.

“Try and get some to start repairs on the wagons,” Brumm told the nightmare. He shifted in place trying to figure out what to do, he wasn’t a leader, he hated giving directions to others. There was a reason he was the only musician, as the sole bug who composed the music he just could never direct others to play something right.

Walking back to Divine he could hear her talking, her airy voice louder and sharper than usual.

“Aaaah! Where’s the master? He said he’d meet us! I can’t smell him here! Where is he?” The kin outside her wagon shrugged.

“Mrmmm. How are you fairing Divine?” Brumm asked, already knowing the answer.

“Aaaahhhhh! Just terribly! What are we supposed to do? The master said he’d be here!”

“All we can do is wait. Master will come with time.”

Divine hissed in worry, she shifted and wiggled as much as she could, “But couldn’t he just puff back in any second? Why isn’t he here!” Her face was in a deep frown, something no one saw often, it made her smiling mask half look out of place and strange.

“Mrmmm. He may still be trying to buy time, he can’t see how far we are.”

“Aaahhhhh! But what if! What if…” She trailed off, not wanting to say what she thought. If she said it, what if it came true?

“Impossible, it’s never happened before. He’ll return. Master may come back hurt, but he will come back.” Brumm reassured.

Divine still wasn’t sure about that but dropped it, “What are we supposed to do till he comes back?”

“Mrmm,” Brumm had to think for a moment, “I don’t know. I’ll start getting food ready I guess. Keep medical supplies at the ready when he returns.”

“Ahh… But what am I supposed to do? I’ll worry myself into knots if I don’t do something!”

“You can watch the child. The nightmare caring for them now has more important things they can do. Just make sure they’re calm, try to get them to sleep.” Divine nodded at Brumm and he set off to try and put things together. 

As time passed though Brumm couldn’t stop worry from clouding his head. He kept a bag of medical supplies on him while he cooked while doing his best to focus on the task at hand, making a basic soup from what they had. Though the spot they were at wasn't the best, the kin were able to find a river, grabbing buckets to add to the cauldron and give to the steeds. There wasn’t any promise of something that tasted amazing but everyone would appreciate having something in their stomachs for now.

There was little conversation as food was passed around. Not even the novices, often cheerful and mischievous, found it in them to crack jokes. Brumm at least took the chance to fully get what damages were. The wheels would need to be replaced, many cracks and deformations from the blasted things would make it risky to set off too soon, they’d need some material to make some final repairs but the wagons were still okay enough that there wasn’t worry of them falling apart or rain seeping through, the steeds were tired and a bit scratched up but would be okay with rest, and while a few Grimmkin had been lost the majority were okay, shaken up, but okay.

The tents appeared in a flash, faster and more sudden than Brumm had seen in a long time. It was almost dizzying, everyone having to be moved and placed within different rooms.

“Master!” Brumm realized. He had to find him, figure out what happened, make sure he was okay.

Where was he even? A quick turn around and he was in the main stage with a few other confused kin, a few mourning over dropping their meal in their daze.

Master’s room, Grimm had to be there. He was quick to shuffle as best as he could in the darkened stage. 

“Master?” Brumm called.

“Come in Brumm.” 

Brumm tentatively moved the curtain, peering in. His mast was sprawled out on a fainting couch. 

“Master! Your horn-”

“I know Brumm, it looks worse than it feels.” 

Brumm couldn’t believe that. One of Grimm’s horns had been torn off, the thick shell left was jagged and cracked around it. The soft flesh within weeping blood now that it was exposed. 

Grimm had been injured before but this… This had never happened. Maybe a crack or scratch, but even during the ritual Brumm had never seen a piece of Grimm torn off.

“You-You need to get that cleaned immediately!” Brumm moved closer, trying his best to see if there was anything else.

Grimm chuckled, “I haven’t heard you order someone around in a long time.”

That made Brumm freeze, “I… Mrmm. I’m sorry master that wasn’t my intent.”

Finally, Grimm turned to face him, “There is no need to apologize, my friend, I was only teasing.”

Grimm had a tired smile, blood slowly winding its way down the side of his face. There were a few other scratches and cuts, small tears in his cloak, but nothing nearly as bad as his horn.

“I’m just glad everyone is okay,” He turned back looking down to what Brumm could now see was the Grimmchild. They rested their head on their father's arm, purring softly as Grimm’s other hand lightly scratched their head.

“Please master, let me dress your wounds. Even if it’s not as bad as you say it still needs to be taken care of soon rather than later.”

Grimm looked back at Brumm, seeing him fidget with worry, “Very well.”

He shifted into a better position, sitting upright with his cloak completely out of the way, much to the complaint of Grimmchild. Grimm shushed them as Brumm moved in front of him. Even sitting on a couch this low to the ground Grim was still at eye level with Brumm.

Brumm had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves as he pulled out supplies to clean his master, “Mrmm. This is probably going to sting,” he warned. 

He poured a cleaning acid on a clean towel, it wasn’t strong enough to do much more than sting, but it still cleaned. He carefully dabbed at the wound, waiting to see if there was any reaction. Grimm’s eye twitched slightly but he kept calm as Brumm thoroughly cleaned his head. 

Placing the used rag aside, pulling a large pair of tweezers out. Grimm bowed his head slightly, allowing Brumm easier access. Carefully Brumm pulled bits of shell that had embedded themself in the wound. Grimm huffing as a large piece, roughly the size of a piece of geo, was taken out.

After cleaning it again Brumm placed a layer of protective shell over it, a large circular disk of shell cleaned and cut to help cover a wound till it healed so nothing got in. It was a bit big but it did the job. With some adhesive strips, it was secured.

Brumm stepped back, “It’s done, master. Mrmm.”

That same tired smile from before appeared again, “Thank you for caring for me, my friend. Tell me, was the rest of the troupe okay?”

“Yes, a few kin were lost but given some time to rest everyone will be okay. The wagons will likely need to be replaced soon though.”

Grimm nodded, “Rest, that certainly sounds nice. Would the troupe be okay if I rested for now?”

“Mrm. I believe so, though it would be a good idea to talk to everyone and address what happened.”

“Of course, of course,” Grim, let out a slow sigh, looking down as the child got comfortable again. “Could you leave me to rest then?”

Brumm nodded silently and left. As he lifted the curtain he turned again, taking one final look at his master. He was too tired to hang as he usually slept, instead opting to curl around the child on the fainting couch.

“Rest well master.”

( @kiwikoala​ )

( @vibeseeker​ ) 

Crimson flames slowly licked up the draping curtains, draining away all color except the ocean of red that surrounded the young king and the visage of the ever beating Nightmare Heart. The ever present silence within the realm was only pierced by the steady thump of the constantly beating object, joined soon by the child's own pulse.

That is until a sharp crack echoed through the red hued abyss, quickly following the noise the growing troupe master had been blinded by a bright light. He quickly beat his wings in an adrenaline fueled struggle to wipe away the blazing heat that seared into his retinas, only to be met by a new presence that felt somewhat familiar. However the very energy called out to him, drawing him to cautiously approach.

"So I see the mewling cub shows its strength, choosing to find me within my own realm," The figure slightly turned and with a snap set their hand alight with a crimson flame, unveiling the form of the Nightmare King "It's almost cute, though that won't prove you as a worthy enough vessel alone."

"I... I just... I wasn't trying too..." Grimmchild nervously spoke as he pushed off the larger beings baited words, fanning out his wings and drifting to the floor below "my... my father, he... where is he? I... I was just with him..." panic started to grip at the small things words, as his eyes darted around and finally took in the lack of a landscape around the pair "...where am I? Who are you? What did you do?"

"Hah, poor thing, did your father never tell you of your purpose?" The Nightmare spoke with a chuckle and slowly bent down to be a little closer to the child's level, the pinkish red of his eyes burning deep within "a shame then, a kin not properly warned will make the process far more difficult than it should be..."

"...kin? My... my purpose? Wh..what do you mean?" Grimmchild asked with a slight hitch to his voice, pulling his wings back as worry tugged at the edges of his mind "I... I really want to go home... where is home?" He asked again, not expecting a real answer but hoping that the strange 'kin' would take pity upon him.

The larger figure let off a deep sigh as it drew back up to its full height, looking away with an almost bored expression adorning their face.

"Fine, perhaps you were simply dragged here out of pure luck then, as I doubt a weakling could get here of skill alone..." The Nightmare King then lifted one of his hands before giving a simple snap that caused the child to burst into crimson flames, almost immediately cooking them inside and out as their skin was charred and reduced to ash.

Grimmchild awoke with a start, jolting up upon the soft sheets of a fine bed deep within the maze of tents that was the troupe. His breathing was laboured and irregular, and a tear was starting to build up on the edge of his eyes, that is until a black wing gently pulled him back into a kind embrace.

"Is everything alright little one?" Grimm spoke out with a softer tone, moving himself a little closer in order to better comfort his son.

"A... a nightmare... it... it felt s..so..." the child stuttered for a while, struggling to form words until Grimm tightened the hug a little further and carefully wrapped his wing around them. Laying the both of them back into the bed.

"Its okay little one, nightmares are just that, nightmares. Just try and get back to sleep, alright?"

"A..alright..."

( @doodle-chris​ )

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Seklos and Gaylen, They Were Cagemates! Chapter 1: Captivity

Agents of Area 49-B are there during the chaos of the Eternal Night, and unnoticed they manage to capture two specimens: an emo wizard and an Akiridion prince. Douxie and Krel must rely on each other to make it out alive, but neither expected such a deep bond to form between the two of them.

Do not let the meme title fool you, this fic will be dark.

Trigger/Spoiler Warning for Chapter 1: electrocution, kidnapping, and references to canon-typical violence as well as child abandonment.

AO3

FFN

Douxie wasn't sure why he expected the future to be void of Gumm-Gumms. Sure, according to Zoe, trolls had largely disappeared from the world at the same time that Merlin and Morgana did. And Tatik Margarid had only seen a troll once. Thus, Douxie had assumed that trolls had largely disappeared, having crawled deep underground. Orglak and his horde had stopped trying to kill humans, and the only threat to stray cats (or dragons who looked like cats) were Shadow Mephits.

Naturally, Douxie had been wrong. Gumm-Gumms had attacked the Battle of the Bands. And obviously, some people had known about them, like Claire. She had been better prepared, with her armor. There was something familiar about it. Something that made him feel homesick for Camelot.

It really sucked. And the Battle of the Bands had been going so well before the sky went orange and the Gumm-Gumms attacked. The competition was, for the most part, the way it had been last year - a bunch of amateurs who were looking for fame and had thus trained themselves to sing and badly play guitar in a month, and music students hoping to impress their teachers even though the school year had just ended. But there had been a boy who fulfilled two out of the three indicators of Douxie's type. He had wavy, chin-length hair, and he was good at music. Douxie didn't normally like dubstep, and yet that boy's music had been so mesmerizing.

Oh, who was Douxie kidding? The dubstep artist was mesmerizing in general. Douxie got the feeling that the others in Ash Dispersal Pattern would be teasing him about his latest crush right now if they weren't…

Douxie didn't know where they were. He bit his lip. Could they be dead?

He shook his head. No. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. He knew that a lot of normal humans had immediately ran for cover, so he had to think that his bandmates were still alive and in hiding. He could find them, and possibly grieve them, when the Gumm-Gumms were gone. Or he could finally reveal to them what he had been keeping a secret from the world ever since he was fourteen, and before that, until he was taken in by Merlin. It was lonely, having to keep the truth about himself hidden from his friends, and maybe this sudden incursion of Gumm-Gumms were a blessing in disguise. A chance to reveal himself. Though, he would have to check with Tatik Margarid and the hedge wizards first. He wouldn't put them in danger for his own desire to not have to hide a part of himself. After all, they couldn’t be sure if humans would accept them or not.

Douxie pushed the thoughts out of his head as he readied yet another spell. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted. Not now, not when he was in the middle of a battle. If he got too distracted, he could lose a limb or have his head bitten off.

Or, as he would later piece together, if Douxie got too distracted a normal human could hit him with a taser, knock him out, and kidnap him.

Krel let out a sound that might’ve been considered a scream of frustration had it been louder. The Mothership had been fixed! They should have left sooner, but no, they had stuck around on this mudball so that Krel could have made his mark on the humans of Arcadia Oaks. Kleb, that decision was so stupid! They should have just left. His family and Zadra would be safely hiding, and the traitor would be exiled in a place that Aja and Krel would know about.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Krel had been so stupid. Stupid, and egotistical, and so many other things he wouldn’t dare to admit to anyone.

Krel stood up and stretched. Ricky and Lucy were always trying to tell him that fresh air was good for him. It was a fault in their programing, to try and be parents to the human versions of Aja and Krel, since Akiridions didn’t need to breathe. How could the freshness of the air affect him? Moreover, how could the unfiltered air outside be fresher than the air inside?

But after all these horvaths of trying and failing, Krel would take their more-than-likely faulty advice.

Zadra was arguing with Ricky and Lucy, so Krel was able to sneak around her. Aja was closer to the door, talking on her phone.

“One moment, Steve,” she said before pressing the phone to her chest. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“Yes, Aja.” He held up his serrator. “I’ll be fine. Don’t tell Zadra.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, before going back to talking to Steve. Ugh, hopefully they weren’t planning on doing more K-I-S-S-ING.

Krel exited the Mothership, looking up at the evening sky. Given how far they were from the city, Krel could just make out the beginnings of stars, as well as the brighter, more constant glow of the other planets in this system and the moon. The sky was so different here, compared to home. If he really focused, maybe he could figure out which star was nearest to home, but from so far away he would probably need some of the Mothership’s help.

Krel sighed. He didn’t need to, since he didn’t need to breathe, but it did have a calming effect. Huh. Perhaps Ricky and Lucy were right. The outdoor air was helping him.

Maybe Earth wasn’t too bad. They had to constantly hide, and it was a primitive planet, but Krel felt like he was starting to understand it. Leaving would throw the bounty hunters off their trail, yes, but it would also be a new set of social rules to learn.

Likewise, maybe it was nice that the Mothership had landed so far from the city, instead amongst all the trees. No pesky humans were there to watch Krel in his true form and talk about how all aliens wanted to suck humans’ brains out through their ears. He wouldn’t need to hide like this.

He tripped over a tree root.

Stupid. This planet was so stupid, and so were trees. Krel couldn’t wait to leave this stupid, stupid mudball.

Krel picked himself up, dusting himself off. Home didn’t have dirt. The Mothership didn’t have dirt. He hated it. Its texture was so gritty and frustrating. Stupid mudball made of dirt. Oh, why had he left the nice, clean Mothership?

Krel began to turn around when he saw bright orange through the trees. He would be best off ignoring it. As the past delson had proved, Earth was a very strange place, with things that Krel didn’t need to investigate.

But he was curious. Besides, it could be a threat.

He walked towards it. He wouldn’t get too close, just close enough to take a picture and tell Aja so she and…

Oh, kleb, he was going to have to tell Zadra that he snuck out.

He stepped on a twig. As it snapped loudly, he realized the orange formed the shape of a bipedal, two-armed life being.

It wasn’t the first time Krel had been electrocuted, but it was the first time he was knocked out because of it.

It had been a long time since Douxie had had to sleep cold, in threadbare clothes and sitting up, pressed against a wall. And never had he been alone; even as a street rat he’d had Archie. Then again, the last time he had been in this position, it had been on rough stones with space to stretch his legs and only the light of the stars, moon, and perhaps a distant home washing upon him.

He had awoken in a glass tube with an aching back and dressed in a thin white hospital gown and a pair of cuffs around his wrists with strange green flashing lights on them. Overwhelming green light lit the tube from multiple angles, and no matter how Douxie turned his head the light was always in his eyes. He’d tried to talk to the few, orange-suited figures walking around, but they had all ignored him. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here, but he had started to become hungry when the orange-suited figures had tossed a four-armed, blue-skinned person into the formerly empty tube that had been near Douxie. Douxie’s first instinct was to assume this person was a troll, but the person had been glowing blue before the green light of the adjacent tube had washed it out. Troll bodies didn’t glow.

Who or what was this person?

Krel came to with an aching shoulder. It felt like he had messed up on the wiring and –

And he’d been electrocuted by it. Or by the figure in the woods. They had been wearing orange, like the scientists of…

Krel opened his eyes to the green lighting of Area 49-B.

No.

No.

Oh, kleb, no!

Krel looked around. Had they gotten to Aja and Zadra? Or worse, Mama and Papa? What about –

Krel grit his teeth. If they had found the traitor, and Varvatos had told these humans roughly where to find the Mothership, then Krel would kill him, Aja’s pardon be klebbed by Seklos and Gaylen.

“So, you’re finally awake.”

Krel’s head snapped to the direction of the voice. There was a human, trapped in a similar cage to Krel’s. “Why are you here? You’re human.”

Well, was Douxie human like this person thought Douxie was? That was a question that both magic and mortals had been arguing about since long before Douxie’s birth. It seemed that the orange-suited figures thought that Douxie was too magic to be human, and they were the ones doing the trapping.

“I mean, I don’t exactly know where here is. You do?” Despite the fear coursing through his system, Douxie felt the smallest of smiles beginning to form on his lips. He wasn’t completely alone.

[redmaneroster]

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [4-5] [6] [7] [x-x] [10]

PART 8 – Permutation

Its almost strange to call it home, Yang thinks, staring up at the house she grew up in. She'd spent so much time in a cozy little dorm and a browning two-bedroom apartment that a house in the woods almost seems like a distant memory. (She hadn't spent Summer here either. She was in Menagerie with Blake then Mistral with her dad for a getaway, and the rest she spent kicking back with Jaune).

"A lot happened this year," she says.

Jaune's eying the woods around them, trying to see a break in the pattern outside of a few distant houses lost between the bark and autumn leaves. He swallows cause he knows that, if it weren't for Yang, he'd have been terribly lost. "Hm? Uh… huh?" he garbles, unable to hide the tinge of panic.

"A lot happened this year," she repeats. "What's up with you?"

"The woods are thick is all. How you only got lost in it once is beyond me… So, what's with the nostalgia? Old house got you thinking?"

"Something like that. Mostly, I didn't think I'd end up here, getting ready to reacquaint with Raven, and getting you of all people to meet my parents."

"Yeah, didn't think I'd end up introducing another blonde to my sisters either. Future seemed full of redheads and I stuck with it like an act of defiance."

"Defiance? Why's that?"

"If you haven't noticed, we're all terribly blonde. Even Adrian's hair is a dirty gold and we thought for sure he'd be a brunette. It's either a curse, or fate is terrible at jokes and uncomfortable at parties."

She chuckles. "Calling fate out like a loser isn't going to win you any favors. Besides, can't help it when both your folks are blondes."

"One of my sisters is adopted. A blind adoption, mind you. From Vacuo. You know what we got? Chocolate brown skin and dusty blonde hair. Boom. Curse."

There's the sound of fluttering feathers behind them. Qrow straightens his back with a snap as he shapeshifts. "Ngh, agh! Ha… What are two doing just standing outside? Expecting another invitation?"

Jaune and Yang exchange a look. "Stalling," they say in unison.

"W-what? How did you two…? Nevermind." He pinches his forehead cause the moment is too familiar and he feels an irrational envy creep up his cheeks. "You two coming in or not?"

"Why so impatient all of a sudden?" Jaune asks.

"I don't take enjoyment out of watching a train wreck but if I can't stop it, I'll at least hope it's over quickly."

Yang puts a hand on her hip. "Not very optimistic, are you?"

"I prefer cautious," he says as he waves a dismissive hand and stalks ahead of them. "Besides, I don't want you two walking in there expecting things to go off without a hitch." He glances back to see them roll their eyes at the same time and that uncomfortable shiver is back.

"Now that you're here, a disaster's all but guaranteed," Jaune quips.

Qrow glares but neither of them lose their cheek. He rolls his eyes too, but doesn't show them his smile when he's got his back turned. He isn't too sensitive about his semblance – if anything, he's glad Jaune can treat him like he isn't a wounded animal – but he notices the twitch in Jaune's eye. It's there cause he's too soft a soul to have all the bite that quips demand. He almost wants to say sorry for it. "He's a good kid,"

Qrow thinks.

With a twist of the knob, he opens the door and then kicks up his heel to slam it open the rest of the way. He wanders in with a swagger and a mischievous grin. Both fit him naturally.

"Rae!" he shouts. "Your brat and her boyfriend are at the door!"

Jaune balks and shoots Yang a look. She gives him a quick, "He's just like that when he talks to her," and ushers him in.

"And you didn't let them in like a normal fucking person!?" Raven shouts back and it's like a nostalgic gust has poured over Yang. Raven's every inflection is recognizable, echoing deeply from buried memories. They argued like this often when she was small.

"They can walk through a door just fine," Qrow says, swinging into the archway that leads into a tall kitchen. "And lest you forget, I'm a guest here, too. Not your chaperone."

Jaune lets Yang wander ahead, eying her backside as she inches a trail behind Qrow.

Yang peeks in to see her mother chopping something on the kitchen table by the sink. Bravado has taken a backseat and the very reality of the situation has settled in like a bat to Yang's blindside.

"Do you really have to be difficult with me right now?" Raven says with a huff but there's no bite to it, just lazy exasperation.

"Yeah, I do…" Qrow replies. "This is our normal. The minute I go easy on you, assume I'm dead and you've encountered a terribly tolerable doppelganger."

Raven's cheek quirks and it triggers in Yang things she half remembers, and half convinces herself she'd seen in a dream.

"Hmph. Bold of you to assume I won't just take the trade as an act of divine mercy. Maybe this doppelganger can cook for the house every once in a while instead of free loading off my dinner."

"If you wanted me to cook venison, you could have asked."

"Not the deer again… Tai hates it when you bring the kill into the kitchen. I personally don't care that you track blood on the carpet, but he refuses to agree with my sentiments about a house that's lived in and not one you find sterilized in catalogs. Ugh, I'm getting tired just thinking of that argument."

"I know," Qrow agrees, leaning on the counter. "That's why I do it on purpose."

Raven tilts her head back to give her brother a smirk. "You're a scoundrel, Qrow," she says just before her eyes catch Yang's.

"Hey, Mom," Yang says out of instinct. It's too late to take it back.

"Yang, you–" she crosses her arms, "–who is this?"

Jaune's heat presses against her arm like the partner he is. Not in front like her protector, but beside her like her equal. She can feel the way he's hiding his nerves with the shudder in his arm. "Dad didn't tell you?" she says. "This is Jaune. My boyfriend."

Jaune, borrowing confidence he's learned from her, doesn't back down. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he greets, standing proudly. His fingers twitch against Yang's arm.

"Oh, he told me about him alright. I just wasn't expecting a familiar face." Her eyes lock onto him. She smirks when she sees he doesn't flinch. "You're an Arc, I take it? I recognize that face. Your father was in the news once or twice."

"Oh, you heard about the manticore horde? Or was it the behemoth at Glenn?"

"Neither. He blew up a dust shop."

Oddly enough, Yang feels him relax.

"Yeah," he says, scratching his head, "Arcs really shouldn't have guns."

Raven nods. There's no tension here, and Yang feels it's gone all too smoothly.

"Perhaps you can tell me the story," Raven offers as she turns back to chopping. "I have an old bet with Qrow I'd like to settle."

"What did you bet on?" Jaune asks.

Raven snorts. "And let you lie to give my brother the win? Please. I know you two are friendly." She glances back. It's the only other time through this whole conversation that she's looked Yang in the eye and it's still only for a second. She goes back to chopping. "Why don't you two go into the living room and wait for Tai while my silent shadow of a brother here helps me sort out this recipe."

Qrow shrugs and continues to say nothing other than whisper something to Raven that makes her blush angrily.

Yang peels off of Jaune and her insides broil unsteadily.

"Sounds like she's changed," Jaune says when he's in the living room alone with her on a wide U-shaped sofa.

She shakes her head. "She hasn't though."

"What? But the way you described her before–"

"–is all hearsay. I had a mom who left out of the blue. Before that she was jabbing back and forth with Qrow, needing help in the kitchen, and trying her best to be on top of things. Everything I said about her between that time was just me making assumptions about a woman who wasn't around for me to judge in person. I never actually knew if she changed any since leaving."

"So this is Raven Branwen: Unfiltered? If this is what she was like before, then maybe she's just trying to fit back into place the only way she knows how."'

She raises her knees to curl up but she forces them back down. She doesn't want to appear too obviously vulnerable. Not when her mother is still in the house. She tosses Jaune a meaningful glance. "Is it wrong for me to hate that?"

"Some people might say it is, but I think it's too much to ask someone who has had to raise her little sister all on her own to let her absentee mother just waltz back into her life like nothing's changed."

"I still don't know if you're agreeing with me or not."

"Cause I don't know either. Give me a minute to think on it and I'll probably pick a side but I'd much rather stay right where I am. On neutral ground." He squeezes her hand. "I'm here to be your backup, not your coach." Because they don't solve each other's issues, not every time, but they always help each other along.

She knows this, of course. She hasn't deluded herself into thinking that they could crack every case just because love had lofty ideas about making everything right. Being in love doesn't solve everything, it just gives you a partner to solve them with.

"I think I'm suddenly very tired," she says, leaning on his arm. "Wake me in an hour when dinner's ready."

"Uh… shouldn't it be done sooner?"

"Raven used to wake up at five AM to make breakfast in time for school. She takes breaks cause she doesn't always have the patience for it. Don't expect it to go any faster with Uncle Qrow in there. He's just there to make sure she doesn't skip any steps."

"That doesn't fill my with confidence," he says but she's already snuggling into his arm with a contented sigh.

With the sound of clattered pans and restrained yelling from the kitchen, Jaune decides to shut his eyes too.

-0-

Jaune is violently awoken by someone grabbing him by the collar and shaking him awake.

"You!" says the messy tuft of blonde hair presently pressed against his face. "You're… yer…. Hic!" The scent of alcohol is palpable. The smell is dizzying.

He blinks himself awake. "Uh, you're Mr. Xiao Long, I'm guessing? I'm Jaune. Yang said she mentioned me?"

The tuft of hair pulls up revealing the chiseled scruff of a well-worn huntsman. Faded scars litter his neck and chin, but that's where all the menace in him ends. Despite his tone, Taiyang has the look of a desperate man. His eyes are wide and a solid, beautiful blue. His cheeks have a slight plump to them that make him just shy of an Adonis.

Jaune makes the executive decision not to think along that line any further. But it's clear that Yang's got stellar genes and – No! Bad Jaune! Stop it!

Tai glances at the slumbering Yang, snoring softly against Jaune's arm. "What did you do to my daughter?" he says with a drunken pout that would look more intimidating on a pug.

"Uh, nothing!" he whispers urgently. "Nothing I swear."

He squints so much that he closes his eyes and nearly passes out before he jolts himself awake. "You… You and Qrow really are friends. 'Nothing,' he says… that's just code for plowed her till sunrise."

Still in a sleepy haze, Yang pushes her father's face away until he falls back onto the coffee table behind him. "Dad… leave him alone," she groans. "He wouldn't touch me even if I tore off his clothes and –" Her eyes shoot open, fully awake and painfully aware. Her scream then is almost silent, Jaune thinks, but he's pretty certain that's cause Yang's vivid horror is blasted like shellshock when she abruptly screams louder next to his ear and scrambles over the sofa to hide behind it.

He's still shaking his head to get the ringing out.

Qrow bursts in, Raven meekly peeking behind him. "What the fuck – Oh."

Tai is sprawled over the coffee table, squinting angrily at everything.

"Bird!" Tai accuses, swinging his arm out to point at him but slamming it on the hardwood coffee table. "Ow," he mutters as his aura flares.

"Drunk," Qrow greets. He hoists the man over his shoulder. "Sorry about this, kids. I think Tai's got his nerves bundled up again. I'll get him to detox upstairs after a nap."

"Uh, it looks like he'll be out for the week," Jaune says, shaking his head still. "I doubt a nap will fix him by dinner."

"Nah. Tai can burn all the alcohol out of his system with enough motivation and calories. He'll be ready by the time Rae manages to get something on the table."

Tai wiggles like an insolent child, fists lightly beating on the man's back. "Back off, Qrow!" he slurs. "You're not taking this one – hic – too… guh…"

"That's my twin sister, you dunce."

"Really?" Tai pushes his head up, eying Raven. "Pfft! Qrow, you are not that pretty."

Once the two of them have rounded the corner into Tai's bedroom, Jaune asks the quietly smiling Raven, "This happen often?"

"Not as much as it used to," she says. "Was a time when there were two whole families in this house and it was never quiet. Two men and enough testosterone to make a third made competition between them frequent. Qrow got Tai to drink and you can see that he hasn't acclimated to it as well as my brother does."

"Do you drink?"

"I'm a Branwen," she shrugs, "our blood is two parts alcohol. Small mercy that Yang hasn't picked up our habits. Or Ruby for that matter."

Jaune raises a brow. "Ruby's a Branwen?"

Yang nearly gasps from behind the couch, hands clutching her mouth.

"No," Raven says. "Well, she should have been but Qrow basically raised her all the same. He even knit her a tiny red hood when she was barely a foot tall, and it's been her motif ever since." Raven, eying him, closes her arms a little tighter around herself. As if guarded. Uncertain. "Despite how it may appear," she says, "I am glad my daughter found you but there's something you should know moving forward…"

Jaune prepares for the inevitability of the 'boyfriend' talk. It doesn't come. Raven is beside herself, eying the floor. "No matter what happens today, I do not intend to reconcile with my daughter."

He realizes that she doesn't know that Yang is in the room, just by the sofa. His heart knots. "You don't know if she wants that yet."

She laughs. It's bitter. "It doesn't matter. What Yang wants isn't coming into the equation. She needs to distance herself from me."

"What was the point of coming here if not to bridge the gap between you two?"

Raven chews her lip, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation and walk out of the room. She doesn't. Can't. "To prove that things have changed here. That me and my brother talk, and that Tai has… met me halfway."

"So this – all of this – is for show?"

Her features darken, her face hardens. "Yes."

He pushes himself up, almost prepares to march up to her. His feet don't push him any further. His willful restraint is there but it's paper thin. "And if she wants more?" he asks, inwardly begging her to give him a reason to meet her up close.

Her eyes narrow at the floor. "All you have to do is make her an Arc and she'll live a life better than anything I can give her!" Her gaze is at him, dangerous and unafraid, but its desperate. She's asking him a favor. "Asking me to be a part of her life is like active theft. You will give her all she'll ever want, but me? I'll only ever take things away. And if you give me the chance, I'll end up taking her too. She'll leave you like I did Tai."

The silence wanes and Jaune can hear the thumping in his own chest. She's making claims for things that haven't happened yet. As if she can't promise to give as well as she takes. As if she can't meet her own daughter halfway. As if she can't compromise. His ears strain to hear anything from Yang, but she's so deftly quiet that he feels alone in the room with her mother.

Muscle fastens onto bone, curling his fist inward till digs into his palm. His aura flares. The sound of it jolts him awake. He'd been holding his breath.

Then… he plops down onto his seat. Tension in his skin unwinds. All his disbelief slips away. Any anger he feels pools into his back to weigh him against the cushions. "But why?" is all he asks, looking up at her.

Raven is so taken aback by his sudden shift that she shows the tangled fear she'd tucked away for a moment. The question is genuine and – like her many nights moonlighting bars – she is tempted to bare her soul to a stranger. "Because I'm a Branwen," she says, eyes deadened. Scowling as if the name is a profane. "And even a terrible mother wouldn't wish that name on her daughter."

When she leaves the room, Yang rises from behind the couch. She doesn't focus on anything. She looks bewildered, pained.

Qrow comes down the steps and they look at him. He looks like how she feels. "I'm sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting," he says.

Yang clutches the backrest of the sofa. "I don't know what I was expecting."

Qrow gives her a worried look. "Maybe… maybe it's better that way."

He wanders into the kitchen, leaving them alone.

Jaune doesn't hold Yang. Instead, he fishes her gauntlets from the duffel bag, takes her by the hand, and pulls her outside.

-0-

She sets fire to a dead tree. The blast of Ember Celica ripples through the woods, scatters wildlife, shakes the canopy, and rustles the owls awake. She doesn't care. The blowback from her gauntlets as it makes contact with the deadwood is cathartic. Reflective of what she's feeling inside.

But it isn't anger.

"What does she even… Ugh!" Another blast, sending out a spent shell, light casting over her cheek and hair with accompanying heat. "I don't get it!"

She breathes in and out. Blinks moisture into her eyes. She's been doing the very opposite of crying and drying the liquid in her sockets. She's starting to feel dizzy. She slumps back onto a rock Jaune is sitting on, using his shoulder as a backrest. "I'm not… mad at her. I'm confused. And I'm mad that I'm confused. Does that make sense?"

"About as much sense as she was making," he says with a sarcastic smile.

She's trying to smile back. Even a little one might do but her lips down-curl. Her frown tightens and she sighs into the open sky. "I wanted to give her a chance," she says. "Maybe see where this goes but… now that I know she won't even try? How am I supposed to process this? Do I just do what she wants and not try either?"

He plucks a twig from a dead branch, snapping its length into little pieces. "Do you even want to do that? I mean, if leaving things as they are isn't what you want, then ideally how would you like all this to end?"

She takes half of the twig – snapping it between them. She picks it apart too.

An answer doesn't come.

They gather the tiny bits of branch and bunch it into Jaune's hands. Yang pulls out a fire dust shell from her gauntlet and cracks it open over them. Red particles filter over and into the loose wood bits. He spools them into a ball and his semblance surges over his arm.

His muscles tighten when he approaches the dead tree. It's barely as tall as he is now. His arm pulls back. The chunks in his palm ignite. He throws them like a man-propelled buckshot, scattering burning holes through it.

Even charred, the thing has dangerous embers dancing off its broken pieces.

"We should put this out," she says.

"Mm!" He kicks it down, unrooting it. Then he hoists it up. "Got another good punch in ya'?"

"I've got a few, yeah, but I'll save the rest for later. I only need one for this."

He crouches low, prepping to toss. "Ready?" he asks.

"Pull!" she shouts.

He tosses it into the air, scattering the scent of ash and char, and she swings her fist into it. The sheer force of the blow consumes the flame as it rockets and splinters into a tall rock.

"Y'know what?" she says. "If it's taking me this long to even answer, maybe this isn't what I want."

"So what now, chief?"

She snorts. "Don't give me ideas. Anyway, I say we take the aggressive approach. We got them a present, I say we break it out instead of handing them the box. Invite them to try it with us."

Jaune turns to the house where they left the duffel bag. He winces. "Are you sure about this?"

"I don't see an elegant solution. And it's probably stupid, yeah, but stupid has worked for us so far."

"Really? How exactly has it worked for us so far?"

"In what universe do hickeys stop two primed teenagers from having sex?"

"Ours, apparently…"

"Gets the tension out. Would be genius if I didn't find it by accident."

"Speaking of which…"

He comes up behind her and pushes her hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck.

"What are you – Ah!" she gasps when he bites her neck. Her aura lowers on instinct, letting him mark her.

He pulls away and wipes her dry with a handkerchief. "You taste like saltwater and ash."

She rubs her neck as the pain subsides rapidly. "We should bathe when we get back. What was that for anyway?"

"Revenge, mostly. Feeling petty."

"On me?"

"Your mom."

"Heh, yeah, she's gonna ask questions or implode trying not to. Actually, since we're getting shiners, we should get ones to match."

He doesn't protest but he's not happy about it. With a sigh he leans down but she's already jumped up to latch onto him.

She bites down so hard that he swears that she was actually trying to eat him. He'd be more okay with it if she didn't keep trying to one-up herself.

-0-

Dinner, somehow, is always pleasant. True to Qrow's word, Tai comes in completely sober. Jaune chalks it up to having a very useful semblance.

Tai is a chill dad. He nudges Yang when he sees the hickey, even when Qrow refuses to make eye contact with Jaune and Raven squints while warring with herself to say something but won't. Tai reintroduces himself and sits next to Jaune to strike up a conversation with him.

It takes minutes for Tai to fish out that Jaune has seven sisters, that he met Yang by throwing up on her boots, and that he used to have a crush on Ruby. The last bit comes as a surprise to everyone but Tai who pats himself on the back for having incredible girls in the family.

Jaune finds out that Tai is very much like Yang. Despite closing himself off for a good chunk of her childhood, he's clearly had a great influence on her disposition. Father and daughter joke and jab at each other, laugh just as loudly, crack the same kind of jokes (he tries not to think of them as mom jokes when he looks at his girilfriend).

Jaune eventually gets to tell the story of how his dad blew up a dust shop during his third year in Beacon. Just a mishap with a loose dust feeder, a weapon he didn't know how to use, and a particularly handsy bully. By the end, Raven cheers when she wins the bet. Apolian Arc punched a cop. Qrow bet that he punched a civilian.

They're unwinding in the living room when Jaune's eying the wall of photos. Summer's only in a handful of the group shots. Qrow explains that she insisted on being the photographer and didn't like being in photos herself. It's why she has the hood. It's comforting when she can pretend to be hiding.

She sounds like Ruby.

"I just noticed," Jaune says to Yang, "your mom's smiling in every photo. Qrow's the only one who occasionally doesn't."

"It was a different time," she says. "Qrow told me that she was cheery and crass. Would even crack a joke or two whenever she found the time to stop training and be a teenager."

"I'll be honest, it's still weird seeing her smile so much. I came in here expecting a variation of Glynda Goodwitch, not Qrow Branwen. Speaking of which," he glances back at the adults huddled laughing by the sofa, "we should probably break out the gift."

"Speaking of speaking of things," she rubs the hickey on her neck, "it still stings."

"Oh, sorry. Let me heal it."

She pushes his hands away. "No, I –" Her eyes widen. Pressing two digits into the bruised flesh, she feels the ache but doesn't hate it. "Okay, heal me quick before this turns into a fetish!"

Warmth pools out of his palms.

"Could you not make out in full view of her family?" Qrow calls from across the room, and they realize they're leaned a little too close.

"We weren't gonna!" Jaune calls out.

Yang rolls her eyes cause she's comfortable with them coming to their own conclusions about her relationship but Jaune's stint with Tai made him want to make a good impression. It was already easy enough what with Tai admitting that as long as Yang chose and continues to choose him, then he'll rest easy knowing she's in good hands, but Jaune wants to pile on the goodwill.

Those thoughts take a backseat when Yang reaches for the duffel bag by the coffee table. Goodwill be damned.

It's time.

Yang parts a few clothes and a hollowed-out cushion for their scrolls to fish out a crystalline bottle. "We wanted to hand this off in the box but we figured we might as well crack it open tonight."

With the way they're all staring at the bottle, it's clear they recognize it.

Qrow roars with laughter. "Ha! Diadem, the dirtiest fucking drink on the planet!" He comes up to it and holds the bottle aloft, fingers running over the bumpy, crystalline surface. "Ah, look at it. All prettied up for the upper class. Diadem used to be homemade and brewed in a shack. Used to be so strong that you could feel nothing for hours."

"'Course, the stuff's a little better refined nowadays. You used to taste fire dust in it too cause their shoddy furnaces were held together by spit and prayers. But look at it! Pricks like Jacques fucking Schnee or that Lucius ass-end-of-an-ass Merrigold would down this like it's water, having no idea that they're chugging the equivalent of desert moonshine."

Tai licks his lips and it almost feels like a bad idea before he shoots up from his seat. "I'll get the shot glasses!" he announces.

Raven is the only one not smiling. She's suspicious, but the minute the drink touches her lips and she's made wide awake, she melts into the same stupor as everyone else.

-0-

Yang barely registers what their plan was supposed to be. Loosening Raven's lips with the stiffest drink since frozen stalactites seemed a half-baked plan at best, but they didn't plan passed that. They might have been able to salvage it if they didn't take many drinks themselves.

Jaune took exactly one and he's already left her alone to start an intimate relationship with the toilet.

He did, however, get the ball rolling about last names for some reason. He might have explained why to her but she can't remember.

"They'll lose sleep over a friend who's had a bad day," Raven says with a snarl that isn't sincere so much as it appears to be her permanent tipsy-face. "Worrying up and down but will leave you alone after a smile cause that's all they need to calm their nerves. Their hearts are too kind…"

"Who…?" Yang slurs, struggles to think of the rest of the sentence, then starts over. "Who… who are you talking about?"

Raven scrunches her nose. "The Roses," she answers.

Yang buries her head in her hands and curls into her seat. "No… I don't wanna hear about Uncle Qrow's god-damn garden again…"

Qrow, sporting alcohol like one does water, kicks back beside her. There's something in his eye though. The alcohol is getting to him. "We're talking about the Rose half of the family. Y'know, Summer and Ruby?"

"Hm?" She squints. "Oh yeah… Ruby's a worrywart."

"Qrow!" Tai calls from beside Raven, looping an arm around her. "What's a Xiao Long like then?"

"They're all fucking crazy," he jabs. Yang and Tai simultaneously pretend to be hurt. "But! I've found that the more obnoxious they seem on the outside, the more worth you'll find underneath."

Raven leans into Tai and stares at Yang's feet curled up on the cushion. It's the closest she'll get to meeting her eyes. "They can be in your face," Raven says, "deftly abrasive, louder than foghorns, and wilder than ursa! But they're steadfast partners…" She looks up at Tai who has a half-lidded gawk to him that's like he's falling in love with her again. "Painfully loyal… and… dangerously persistent."

Yang feels a heat roll over her side. She leans into it until she realizes that Jaune's slid beside her and pulling her in by the waist. "She's right, y'know?" Jaune tells her quietly. "You never did listen when I asked you not to pursue me and, yet, here we are. You never did know when to quit but I'm glad you never quit on me."

She wants to return the sentiment somehow but words don't form and she's making faces that she worries he'll misunderstand. She's just mad at herself for not finding words. "F-fuck… That was a human sentence you just made. Why aren't you drinking?" she says instead, pushing an empty shot glass to his lips.

"No thanks. Diadem will literally kill me. I felt like I was throwing up my own organs. I swear I felt my lungs pull up into my throat. I am not touching that decanter ever again." He turns to Qrow who is squinting at them as if they're all out of focus. "Oh, shit, sorry, Qrow," Jaune says. Cause the man is sat alone in front of two couples.

Jaune tries not to wince when Qrow downs a shot and his eyes go glassy.

He is sat slumped at the last corner of the large U-shaped sofa. His scroll, set neatly below him on the coffee table, flashes over his gawk face as he leans into it. His hands are beside him, palms pointing upwards while his fingers twitch like roots animating in intervals. His slack jaw regards them with his deep gaunt, eyes meeting every face before he points his head to the ceiling as he falls back into the seat. Seems he's not quite as adept with so many drinks in him. Or maybe Diadem is a weakness.

He lets each eye blink individually before he announces, "I'm dating again!"

Everyone sits up. Okay, only kind of. They lean out but can't peel off the sofa. Except for Jaune who is sober. "Since when do you have time to date?" he asks.

"I don't," he chuckles, shaking his head as he comes back to his senses. "I flirt while on the job. Closest thing either of us will get to a date at this point."

Yang mumbles something.

Jaune strains his ears to hear her. Maybe the ringing from earlier hasn't stopped. "What was that? I'm sitting right next to you and even I couldn't hear you."

She pulls up before falling sideways onto Jaune's shoulder. "Who!?" she calls out to the room cause she doesn't know where Qrow is. Her eyes are still closed.

Qrow grins. "Winter… Schnee."

At first, when he starts talking about a mission they had together in Mistral, they think he's going to segway into a conquest. But he doesn't. He starts talking about how he and Winter shared in the fact that they both had a responsibility they shirked for duty. To protect the world their loved ones live in, they've chosen to abandon having lives of their own.

No one calls him out for clearly being drunk out of his mind nor for opening up.

He's got an anthology of moments with Winter. And each time he finishes a story, they're surprised whenever it doesn't end in heat. One time they do end it in a kiss, but it was on the cheek. She'd done it comfort him but they both knew it was hollow. It was an appreciated gesture, but it wasn't something that could help. They aren't wired to let something like that heal any kind of wound.

Winter doesn't know what it's like to have a delicate heart anymore and the idea of quiet comforts like a hug or a kiss feels so… unsubstantial to them both. They either needed more or that wasn't the kind of comfort they needed. Realizing this is why they started dating.

The stories are nicer then. They leave a movie theater ten minutes in when they realize that sitting around to watch actors pretend to be heroes isn't for them. They instead find a quiet corner in a bar but they don't drink. They talk and he jokes and she's smiling and they kiss and…

Raven is curled up into Tai now, staring at her brother with a look that can only be pride.

Jaune is smiling sleepily at him. Yang nestles into his chest as they scoop together on the sofa's corner.

Qrow gets up, scroll in hand, and leaves the room to call Winter.

Tai and Jaune fall asleep.

Yang catches Raven staring but is so out of it that she isn't sure if Raven caught her staring instead. The quiet makes the crickets fill the spaces beside something crackling outside.

"What are Branwens like?" Yang asks.

Raven squints, pulling herself out of her dreariness. "…What?"

"If a Rose cares too much but loves unconditionally, and a Xiao Long is a dependable but gets in your face, then what is a Branwen?"

She huddles into Tai, looking vulnerable. "We…" Her eyes narrow at the floor and she hisses quietly to herself. "I…"

A pang of empathy makes her sit up. "Mom…" she says consciously.

Raven stares at her. Yang can't tell if she's touched or just shocked, but when her eyes draw away and she clutches at Tai's shirt, words pour shaking out of her lips. "Branwens… are a curse." Something awful crawls into her cheeks, her features squeezing together so her few wrinkles cast shadows. There's a pain there that almost looks familiar, as if she'd had this look about her forever but only now is Yang seeing it for what it is. And whatever that pain is, it's old. Maybe even older than she is.

Raven whispers something to Tai before getting up. Halfway up the steps, she looks at Yang and Jaune before saying, "You should take him to bed. I don't care what you do with him but I'm sure he'll appreciate a warm mattress over a sofa."

"That's very considerate of you," Yang says as she eases Jaune's arm over her shoulder. "Thanks."

Raven blushes, deeper than the alcohol might, as she marches back up the steps. "Don't get used to it," she says, not meaning it.

Jaune sleepily wakes up with a good shake. "Ugh, babe, could ya' not?"

"Pfft! Since when do you call me babe?"

"In my head, mostly. Giving you a pet name will actively worsen my experience. You've got enough ammunition to tease me with."

"I'll fish them out of you yet. Pick up your feet a little. I'm taking you to bed."

"Please, no," he says, pretending to resist. "I'm still tender…"

She rolls her eyes. Even in a drowsy state, he still finds time mess around. "Don't cooperate and I'll sling you over my shoulder."

He scoffs playfully. "As if a free ride is gonna stop me."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm really going to do it."

"Whoa, whoa! Hey, I'll do it…" He yawns. "See?" His shin hits the coffee table and he stumbles.

Yang grabs him and leads him by the arm.

Tai stirs when they pass him by. "Honey?"

"Go to bed, Dad."

"Good night, Mr. Xiao Long."

"Please," Tai grins, "call me Tai."

Jaune squints. "Yeah, I'm not doing that."

"You're not –" Yang starts. "Oh, hey, look at us. Still in sync!"

"I think there just isn't a universe where I call your dad Tai." His nose scrunches up. "Yup, even sounds weird saying it out loud."

-0-

Yang's room is as she remembers it. Only, for once, it's completely tidy. She always had a habit of leaving a little mess somewhere. Sometimes it was hidden, like in a drawer or a corner under her desk, but not this time. Her dad (or maybe Qrow) keeps it cleaner than she ever would have.

Even her strung-up photos along the ceiling are still there. Dates and names and faces she thought would be her whole world. Only now she has a new circle of friends.

"This feels like a room for a different person," she says to Jaune after she's laid him in her bed. Her comforter is freshly pressed and still warm. "Like I'm looking at old me through a lens."

Jaune's eyes are still closed but he reaches for her hand over the sheets and says, "Or maybe this is the version of you your dad remembers. How different are you now from back then?"

"Not a lot, I think. I mean, we're only over a year apart," she spies a photo of her and Ruby glistening in the moonlight. It's of her last day in Signal. It was Ruby's last day too, apparently. "Or maybe I just haven't noticed." She shoots him a look and he can feel her stare enough to crack an eye open. "Comparing me now to when we met. Was I different?"

He shuts his eyes again, but he finds her hand and tugs once. Yang willfully falls onto the mattress next to him. "Hm… well you used to have anger issues in the ring. Even Ms. Goodwitch is starting to notice how you've mellowed out."

"Heh, I guess I have you to thank for that."

He places a hand over her face. He's still not opening his eyes but his nose scrunches up again. "No you don't."

She moves his hand off her face. "Eh?"

"That's all you, Yang. You made that change. If I helped at all, our friends did just as much."

Her lip tilts. "I was trying to flirt."

"I know but… we can't about this. Part of me still worries we'll do that stupid couple thing and forget we have friends."

"Hey, we've been good so far, I think… Look, we can talk to them and figure things out."

"Yeah, compromises."

"Yeah!" She curls into his arm. "But not tonight, please… I've enough things to worry about right here."

"Right… Okay, big picture later." He kisses her forehead. "Now sleep. We've had a day…"

"Yeah, a day…"

She gets comfortable under the sheets and on his shoulder for exactly a minute before she remembers something. "Fuck…" she whispers as she pulls out.

"What is it?"

"Forgot the duffel. I'll go get it and be back in a minute."

"Leave it, Yang. Come back to bed."

"Not taking any chances without our scrolls. Ruby might call us." She's already at the door. "Just a minute, I swear."

She finds her dad slumped against the railing that overlooks the living room. Steam billows hazily off his skin and through his jacket, his semblance burning away the alcohol. The area smells thinly like Diadem but mostly of water vapor. Yang's nose twitches at the familiar scent.

He's blinking a lot, head shaking.

"Dad?"

He turns in a start. Breaths pass through him in labored chunks, chest heaving. His eyes are puffy. Fingers twitch and his eyes steal glances at her as he turns away. There's a want – need – to reach out but she can tell that he doesn't think he's worthy of it.

So, she crashes into his back and hugs him.

A palm runs down his face. "I'm so… so sorry, honey," he says.

He tucks his arms into his chest so she can hold all of him. His hands clutch over her encircled wrists. "Dad… Dad it's okay. You were in a rough spot…"

"That doesn't matter… I'm still your father. You needed a parent and you ended up having to be one for Ruby. I… I hate myself everyday thinking about how you didn't have anyone… I… I should have… I'm so sorry…"

She knows telling him that he didn't do anything wrong or that he didn't have any control over himself would only be excuses upon excuses, perhaps only a handful compared to the thousands he'd piled for himself over the years. He knew he did wrong, and none of her strength coming out the other end of it is going to change that.

So, instead, she shifts to his front and pulls up his head. She wraps her arms around his neck. "I don't care about any of that anymore… I already forgive you. I did a long, long time ago."

She feels his tears running down her neck. Then she realizes that some of them are hers.

-0-

Jaune winces. He's been up for over an hour now. Yang slipped into bed with him but she'd been shaking and sniffling. He could tell that she'd been crying but the tears had dried and she'd been fighting off all that was left of whatever it was in his arms. Now she's sleeping soundly while he's been trying to piece together what happened on his own whilst constructing a speech in case it's Raven's fault.

Finally, he settles with getting up and loosening his nerves before really doing anything. Yang groans from the missing warmth as he stumbles out, scroll in hand.

"No new messages…" he mutters. "I hope you're alright, Rubes."

Pushing the door open, he notices an orange glow coming from downstairs. Over the railing, there's nothing below but darkness and moonlight through the windows. Even then, dark shadows waft passed the moon, clawing darkness across the floor.

"Strong, windy clouds tonight… It didn't look like it was gonna rain earlier."

The smell of ash filters into the air. "Ick… Wait."

He's awake now as he stumbles down the steps. The shadows in the window are moving too rapidly for any passing cloud. That's smog, and it clears passed the window for a moment long enough to show the orange glow outside.

The forest is on fire.

"Shit!" he howls as he runs back up the steps. Thinking quickly, he sets his scroll to Seven Rapids and blasts the heavy chorus riff at max. Leaving it in the hall, he can already hear everyone else waking up, groans and thuds all.

He busts through Yang's door. She's rubbing her eyes awake. "Jaune, what –"

"Forest fire," he says quickly, pulling out their weapons from the duffel bag.

She shakes awake. "What?"

Ember Celica crashes into her hands when he tosses them at her.

"The forest is on fire!" he says, not even waiting for her as he busts through the door again and leaps over the railing.

He tucks and rolls along the carpet, nearly colliding with a lamp as he slams through the front door into the suffocating smoke.

Heat rolls through the air like he's sitting in a boiling pot. Even his aura flares at the licking flames that whip in the wind, coiling off the trees like infernal tendrils.

Jaune thinks back to the embers they tried to douse. "Did we do this?" He shakes his head. The thought is useless right now.

The fire burns over a host of trees like charred pillars to the darkened sky, but they're all centered ahead. Most the forest is untouched still. They can contain it if they hurry. They can't stop the fire, but they can stop it from growing.

So he speeds towards the outer rim of the roaring flame where the trees are unburnt and pours his semblance into his arms. One enhanced swing fells a tree, then another, and another, but he knows he can't keep it up. He can't cut these down so easily once he's out of juice.

Qrow blows passed him, slicing a tree himself, clad in only his pants and the greatsword in his hands. "I'm guessing you and Yang have the same plan?"

"Cut off its fuel?"

Tai runs by them as sand pours out of his skin in layers. He's using his semblance and earth dust in his palms to cover the dried leaves on the ground. "Fell those quick!" he shouts. "We don't have much time!"

On the other end of the fire, Yang and Raven are busting a row of trees. Yang's fists tighten with every strike, but even if she can split a tree in a single blow, her aura suffers from the blowback. It isn't any better with Raven whose forearms flare with every swing against the sturdy oaks.

"This isn't working!" Raven shouts.

Tai sprints passed them with the familiar glow of Jaune's semblance running over him like a white shell. A layer of sand up to their ankles forms underneath them, burying dry leaves and loose branches. They could really use Jaune's semblance too. Their arms are aching.

"There are people in these woods," Yang says. "We can't let this get any bigger. Vale's never gonna send any help here fast enough without someone getting hurt."

The fire spits pillars of ash and smoke their way by a rogue wind. They turn to shield their eyes. Yang blinks through the haze and sees something in the distant dark of the woods behind them. Glowing red eyes bob rapidly between the trees, charging towards them.

Yang growls. "Ugh, we do not have time for this!" The cylinders in her gauntlets click together as she loads in fresh shells. "Raven, you're clearing the wood better than I can. Keep at it while I cover you."

Raven's hand fall quickly on her shoulder. "No," she says sternly, "this is all pointless. We're destroying our bodies for a cause we've not the strength for."

"I don't care!" Yang hisses. "I'm still doing this. Whether or not you're behind me helping at all won't change that." And with that, she bolts into the dark and the twisting red eyes in the woods collide with her.

Flashes of her gauntlet colliding with grimm flesh light up the yawning dark. Blackened fur rimmed with pale external bone all scorch and smolder with her every blow, a comet to meet the streaks of vicious red eyes.

Raven backs away from the sight, seeing Summer Rose instead.

Jaune comes up behind her and Raven feels a rush of power coursing through her veins. Her pain vanishes. Her strength feels like it's multiplying. Trees fall with ease then, matching rhythm with her daughter as Jaune runs to her side to fell grimm together.

Raven sees Tai in Jaune's place too.

Minutes pass as the fire is choked on all sides but one. Raven sees Qrow and Tai on the other end, making progress. They're exhausted, heaving through labored lungs, and she can feel her own trying to crawl out of her throat.

She dares to glance back at Jaune and Yang. Something looms overhead of them: a single red eye in the canopy. There's no time to parse what it is. Raven's already sprinting over to them.

She cuts a portal mid-sprint and she leaps into it. Her momentum carries through and into the air as she rockets up from the other end of the portal that manifests at Yang's side. Omen surges with dust as she empties the canister in her sheath and swings into the red eye above.

Fire dust surges in a swath against a mass of stone and charred bark. It's a geist amalgamated into solid wall of wood and stone.

Raven swings again, ice dust crashing into it and pushing it up. Again and again and again. Wind, earth, lightning, gravity. The last one splashes a purple glow over the grimm as it slowly floats, all of its form ensconced in a gravity well that tugs it into the sky.

She swings but she's out of dust… And she's falling. Her skin rustles like pinpricks as she starts to shapeshift into a bird, but she stops when Yang zooms passed her. Jaune's semblance is folded over her, making her glow like an ascending meteor as she crashes dead center into the red eye.

With a thunderous crackle, she breaks through and the night sky gleams passed her. She whoops while she's up there against the moon.

Raven falls into Jaune's arms below. His semblance is already working its way to ease the ache but she pushes off of him. "Thank you," she manages behind a heave of her chest, "ha… but the boys aren't done yet. Help them with the fire. They'll need it more."

Jaune nods without hesitating and sprints off towards the remains of the flame.

Yang falls into a controlled descent as Ember Celica slows her momentum with a few blasts. Her arms aren't blasting evenly. They probably still hurt. She lands into a stumble and lets herself fall into a sitting up position. She's breathing a lot.

Raven sits beside her. Somewhere in the distance, the boys are cheering.

"We did it," Yang says.

"You sound surprised," Raven says.

"Cause just like you, I didn't think we could do it either."

Raven lifts a brow. "So why did you keep pushing?"

"To prove to us both that we were wrong."

And Raven laughs, hardy and true till she's tearing up in one eye for a moment. "You really are Summer's daughter," she says. Her smile is infectious.

Yang hides her smile in her knees, huddling them close to her chest. "I'm yours, too."

Raven's mouth thins sadly. "But you shouldn't be."

"I don't think you have a choice."

There's a blue shimmer through the treeline now. The boys are trying to finish this quicker by using ice dust to enclose the largest parts of the fire in pillars of ice. The pale light resembles frosted glass.

"We're pragmatists," Raven says.

"What?"

Raven tilts her head at her. "You asked what the Branwens are. That's it. Pragmatists." Not a curse this time. This is her honest answer.

Yang huddles closer as Raven's gaze turns faraway. She knows what's coming because Raven, in her disheveled shorts and worn shirt, her ragged hair and muddied skin, is vulnerable. Her artifice, the one of strength that championed her tribe, is gone.

"We like to pretend we have room for love," Raven continues. "That's never the case. Never true. My mother and father died at a burning beach while Qrow and I fled with the tribe. Nevermind that our eldest sister died with them, more brilliant than either of us will ever be. It didn't matter that she deserved a life brighter than either us could ever make it. A Branwen is hardwired to protect something bigger than they are. To us, that was always the tribe. The whole of it. Not its members, not its kin, nor the ones we dared to love. Just the tribe. The larger whole."

She sighs slowly, letting her breath catch in the now cold air. "Then Beacon came and Ozpin changed all that. Suddenly the tribe wasn't our greatest responsibility. Ozpin had drilled in us the want to protect the world of all things, and he gave us the means to do just that… I remember being excited to save lives. Plucking civilians from impossible odds and reveling in the praise. Summer and I even seemed like sisters for a while – we were so giddy. Like sisters…"

Yang unfurls when Raven tucks into herself. Yang's hand is warm on her shoulder. "The day Summer died was the day we realized we'd made her a Branwen. That she chose the world over us. Over her daughter." She glances at Qrow slumped against the ice wall. "Over her fiancé."

"It wasn't why I left, mind you. That was different. That was futility on my part. I couldn't save the world from something impossible, not with what Ozpin had us face. The tribe had to be my answer after that. Something I could save. Thought I'd find a little peace in scaling back. Scaling down. It felt like I was regressing but I wasn't like Summer. Didn't have the courage to face insurmountable odds like the compassionate fool she was…"

"Mom…"

"You… don't have to do that. You don't have to call me that. I know it doesn't mean anything."

Yang chuckles. "It means whatever I want it to. And right now, it means this." She squeezes her arm again. She knows it isn't forgiveness – not quite yet – but it's a step in that direction. More than she expects. More than she deserves.

"No room for doubt," Raven says. "You're Tai's alright."

"So, I've got some Rose and Xiao Long in me," Yang says proudly. "Doesn't mean there's any shame in having a part of me still be a Branwen."

Raven's lips thin. "Yang…"

"Hush," she says quickly. "Part of me still wants to save the world but I'm also in it for the thrills. I might not end up like Summer. I might not choose to martyr myself if I know I have people waiting for me. I can be selfish too. We all are. I think… I think there's value in being a part of all three."

"Four," Raven says. "That boy you've tied yourself to. You seem content when you're with him. Comfortable even. If he's involved, you're as much an Arc as you are a Branwen…"

"God…" Yang blushes. "You make sound like I'm married to him already."

"If it comes to that, you have our blessing."

"W-what!? Mom, isn't it a little soon for that?" Yang's shock fizzles at her mother's sad smile. "…Mom?"

Raven's gaze is on the house now. She's tearing up. "It's… it's funny," she says with some difficulty. Not through sobs but grit, almost anger. "I feel like I have everything I dreamed about having. I've got family again, a daughter that might love me, a loyal husband, an honest brother. I've even got a quiet home in the middle of the woods. It already has a rose garden and a dog. All its missing is the white picket fence." Her teeth grinds. Her head shakes in disbelief. "But I have to throw it all away…"

Yang's chest squeezes. "What… what do you mean?"

Raven won't look at her. "By Summer's end, that house will be empty. And it will stay that way until you decide to enter. To come back here." Raven's hand finds Yang's. "Because we – your father, uncle, and I – will be going back to Ozpin. We'll be gone for months doing work for him. And maybe we'll see each other again, but it won't be much and never for long enough."

Yang's skin grows cold and clammy. She doesn't like what she's seeing, the sheer finality in her mother's eyes. Resigned to some inevitability. So this is what it means to be a Branwen. Somehow, she understands but she has coasted along the unknown for long enough.

"What is Ozpin doing, Mom?" She asks. "He sent out Ruby earlier this week and –"

Raven jolts into standing. "What!? He has Ruby!?" Her eyes are white with fear. She doesn't wait for Yang to answer, sprinting back in the direction of the boys. "Qrow! Ozpin has Ruby!"

Yang follows, jogging behind her.

Qrow curses. "No, no, no!" Frantically, he fumbles for his scroll. "This can't be real…" His face is going red with panic.

Tai snatches his scroll from him. "Enough! The both of you!" He breathes. "Enough… If Ruby is with him, then she did so willingly."

"But she… she…!" Qrow stammers.

His hand goes to squeeze his shoulder. "I know…"

"I can't lose another Rose to him," Raven gasps. Her sword is already out, prepared to open another portal. Tai's hand takes her by the wrist.

"And we won't," he assures. "We'll cover every gap and protect her ourselves. Maybe even see her on the field."

Jaune joins Yang's side as the other three huddle together. "What's happening?" he asks her, squeezing her hand. "They mentioned Ruby and I'm more than a little worried right now, I'll be honest."

"I don't completely know either," she says. "But it's larger than we are… Than all of us."

Raven rips open a portal before hugging Tai. She nods to Qrow, and they step into it, leaving Tai behind. With a sigh, he ambles over to Jaune and Yang.

"We should talk."

-0-

Tai explains that they all had a job from Ozpin a long time ago. That there was a serial killer and a disgraced Atlesian scientist, and that those two unsavory sorts were only scratching the surface. It was saving-the-world type stuff, and along the way they lost Summer because of it.

It still isn't done. Those two are still at large and there's word of there being more in league with them. That's all he's allowed to say but Tai has – for the past few years – allowed himself to grow complacent since they went underground.

Not anymore. He, Raven, Qrow, and Weiss's sister, Winter, will spend everyday onward tracking them down.

He lets slip that there's whispers of missing huntsmen in Mistral. Yang mentions that Ozpin had Ruby go out to that kingdom to meet someone. Tai tries not to show how much that bothers him.

They won't be seeing each other much from then on, he says. They'll try to keep in touch but they'll be knee deep in places the CCT has no signal in. He doesn't look forward to it but it'd make Summer proud that they're out there doing what needs be done.

The next morning, Yang wakes up alone in bed.

She stumbles down the steps into an empty living room, but then she hears the clamber of porcelain plates in the kitchen. She runs in only to find Jaune at the sink.

Behind him, the dining table has five plates of a warm breakfast. Omelets, tiny sausages, and a minced venison smothered in soy sauce till it's a blackish brown. Three of the plates are half eaten. They were here but left in a rush.

She slides into her seat. The noise of the chair catches Jaune's attention. He drops a letter beside her. Both their names are scrawled onto the poorly folded note.

He sits beside her. "I didn't get to see them myself but I found this and a set of keys." She shows her the worn keys and drops them neatly by her plate. She recognizes them. They're for the house and they aren't spares. One of them even has the word "FRONT" roughly carved into it. It's filled in with golden stencil. She and Ruby did that, back when they were kids.

She opens the letter and reads it aloud. "Sorry. We'll try to be home by tonight. Don't wait. House is yours."

"Not very eloquent," Jaune says after swallowing, "but they were probably in a hurry."

"Eloquent?" Yang laughs. "Where'd you pick that up?"

"Weiss had a few choice words for my poor poetry back in first year. I told you I picked up a few things from her."

He's already finished the sausages on his plate. Yang remembers to eat.

"So, what now?" he asks her. "We house sit for a few days until Ruby shows up?"

Yang shakes her head. "No… that isn't what they mean by the house being ours. They don't actually know when they'll be back. School year might even end before they do."

"That's… a long time."

"It is, but in the meantime," – she wiggles the keys – "we actually own the house."

Jaune frowns. It's deep and it cuts just as well. "That sounds like a parting gift."

Swallowing an omelet, her head falls onto his shoulder. "It is."

Then the door busts open and they hear Qrow slurring in the next room. He's accompanied with another voice, Winter's, as she shoulders him into the kitchen. She's stringing together insults whilst blushing up a storm. They're quiet them when they find Jaune and Yang.

Qrow squints as if unsure of what he's seeing. "Ohhhh," he bellows before whipping his head back. "They're still here!"

"Ahem," Winter says. "Forgive my intrusion. Present company often ends our meetings this way."

"Which is weird," Jaune says, "cause Qrow can walk just fine when he's drunk."

"He can… what?" She shoots Qrow a glare and he gives her that stupid grin of his. He's not even close to sorry. She shoves him off her and blushes against her pale skin. "You're insufferable. Trying to get a rise out of me.."

He hobbles back a step but his grin seems carved into his cheeks. "Heh, nah. I just like being close to you."

Raven peeks into the room then with Tai close behind. Her hesitation lasts only a moment before she hurries in and Yang's already bolted out of her seat to hug her.

"You came back…" Yang says. Her hands reach out grab her dad so they can sandwich her mother between them.

Raven squeezes. "I'm as much a Rose and Xiao Long as you are. I figured the world could wait till we could all say goodbye. At least."

They pull away. Raven's age shows along the harsh circles around her eyes.

"So, this really is goodbye," Yang fathoms, weaving her digits into that of her parents'. "This… doesn't feel real. Everything's happening so quickly and I just got you back and… and…"

Tai pushes strands of her hair behind her ear. "Life's abrupt," he says. "Especially when you become a huntress. You'll often find that your whole world can change in a day. Adapting to that is a skill you have to learn."

Raven's eyes narrow. "But we're not worried. I was scared for you all my life but every time I looked back, you were already over another hurdle." She holds her daughter again. "And just like then, I'll miss you every day."

Yang's grip tightens around her. Like she's hanging off the edge, held on by a thread. She can feel it slipping, digging into her palm. She knows she has to let go but there's a part of her now that's made her an Arc. She's defiant. Foolishly, optimistically, defiant. And it's with that nonchalance that she peels away and suggests, "We're all home. We should have breakfast. Like a family."

Qrow's already sat down and Winter has already eaten most of his venison. Tai insists on sitting next to Jaune again, and Yang huddles the closest she's had in years next to her mother.

Ruby never makes it to Patch. All they get is a nerve-wracking call from her that's more apology than explanation. Qrow tells them she's in a good hands.

They don't tell him that that isn't the point.

-0-

It's halfway through their second year that Jaune and Yang step back into their dorm rooms. They'd come two days early since they didn't want to stay in an empty house and an empty apartment didn't feel much better.

Jaune finds Ren and Nora snuggling by a bean bag. (Nora's messing with his hair while he goes through a book on Vacuan flora). Pyrrha isn't home since she's with her family, but Sun is lying on her bed and he greets Jaune with the kind of enthusiasm he needed.

It takes him a while to realize that his smile is forced. "Sun, please tell me there's nothing wrong with you and Pyr."

"What? Oh, no! Everything's fine with us!"

"He's been fussing about something else," Nora chimes in as she twists knots in Ren's hair. "And he won't tell his big sister, Nora, so you know it's gotta be big."

"Uh, I'm a year older than you."

She squints. "Why is everyone older than me!? I know Ruby's sixteen but I'm starting to feel like a toddler here."

"Nora," Ren says, "I'm younger than you."

Nora wraps her arms around his head to squeeze him against her chest whilst clasping tightly over his mouth. "Shh, same age, honey."

Sun turns to Jaune. "What…?"

"Nora made them have the same birthday when they were kids. Flipped a coin on who got to keep theirs. Ren lost." Jaune decides not to mention that it was to simplify a holiday for two survivors in the woods. Less stress on their resources when they buy only one cake a year and have to share it. "But enough about them. What's got you all knackered?"

"Knackered? Who even says that anymore?"

"Ylda Braveheart. Now quit stalling! What's going on, man?"

There's a knock on the door. "Come in!" Ren says. He's already put his book down and is snuggling back into Nora. She and Jaune exchange a look. Something's up.

Yang and Blake walk in. Yang joins Jaune on the bed while Blake crouches by Ren and Nora who both drag her into the bean bag with a yelp. They laugh at her expense, and for a moment it seems like it's just a visit.

Then Weiss and Neptune walk in and stand there in front of them all, locking the door behind them.

There's a thickness in the air. Jaune and Yang are already holding each other for strength. Sun curls into his knees beside them but Jaune won't have that. He reaches over and grabs his shoulder. He shuffles a tiny bit closer in response.

Weiss shuts her eyes, squeezes Neptune's hand, and stands tall. Like a performance demands, she is rigid and neutral, but it's too much and her knees wobble. Neptune catches her and reaches for a nearby chair. He rubs her shoulders after he sits her down and she's starting to breathe evenly.

"Nice and quick," Neptune whispers to her, and it's audible in the relative silence.

Yang and Blake have been standing since she buckled, unsure if they should run over and hug her. She spots them and raises a hand. "Sit, please. This will be easier if I do this without having to cry on something…"

Neptune kisses her head. Her hand finds his massaging her shoulder, and her other balls into a fist. "I'm… leaving team RWBY."

PART 9 – Adaptation

Yang is afraid she's hurting Jaune when she hears the news and tenses up, her fingers closing tightly over his. Little parts of her feel pain, like her pulse is bulging in her veins and stretching out of her skin. Then she realizes that it's her body telling her to go and hold Weiss close. Stop her talking cause it's easy to see how much all of this is hurting her and she's still so painfully afraid that her friends are going to hate her.

Yang bites her lip and leans out. Her hand is suddenly cold. Jaune had let go of it. "Go," he whispers.

She's off the bed and crashes into Weiss just as she's inhaling. Neptune backs away just as Blake runs over to join them.

Weiss stops talking cause she can't at this point. Her arms reach around them both but her nails curl into their backs as her fingers twitch and anything she wants to say is lost in her sobs.

"It's okay," Yang says. "We know you have a good reason."

"We'll still love you," Blake adds. "Doesn't matter if you're here or not. We're still a team."

To Weiss, that all seemed enough to uncoil her fears and breathe relief.

-0-

"I have to be his daughter. His heir," Weiss explains when they're all gathered at the empty cafeteria. "I'll have to play his games and do everything I can to keep my integrity and still be me."

Her sister informed her around the time of the boat trip that her father was planning to discredit her and seat her brother as next-in-line. "I know it sounds almost foolish but my plan was always to juggle life as a huntress and as an heiress. To prove that I could follow in my sister's footsteps without needing to make any of her sacrifices." Her hand, the one not holding Neptune's, falls to Myrtenaster resting magnetically at her hip. "Winter gave me so much when she trained me. I wanted to prove to father that none of that was a waste of time. It worked for a while, too. Atlas was abuzz with news on my departure. That I'd taken the strength of the old Schnee vanguard and vowed to marry it with the capitalist empire. That we were still the staunch knights we always were and that our nobility hadn't tarnished that."

"Why can't you just stay?" Nora asks, eyes gleaming like the absent Ruby. "Why does your dad get to take even more from you?"

Weiss smiles placatively at her and wishes Ruby was here too. "Because I've learned a lot in my time here with all of you. I've learned that Remnant will always have enough amazing huntsmen – there's already so many at this table." She eyes them all but stops at Blake. "But I've also learned that there's a lot of good I could be doing. A different kind of good for my people in Atlas. Human and faunus."

Blake gasps. There's a sting in her chest. "I'm… so sorry."

"Don't be. All that time staying up together has given me perspective. The kind I feel is uniquely distinct to a Schnee. I need to use that. Maybe get my brother to see it the same way."

"Will you have help?" Yang asks, locking eyes. "I'm not willing to let you go alone."

Weiss leans into Neptune. "I won't be alone."

"We'll have to keep our relationship secret," Neptune explains, "but I'll be at every function, every gala, every fancy dinner. Dad's a shipping baron so we've already let rumor spread that I'm looking into partnering with the Schnees to get trade into Vacuo."

"In a few months' time we'll be married, too," Weiss adds, giggling in way that's resigned and heartbreaking. "It's hardly the way we wanted it to go but it's how it has to happen so father doesn't marry me off for a business venture. We'd do it today if I was already eighteen."

"Are you sure he won't reject you at the door?" Jaune asks.

"Not when I come in as bargaining chip. I'll flirt my way through a few prospective suitors and he'll see I'm still too useful to throw out." She snuggles into Neptune's side and he wraps an arm around her. "We've spent weeks planning. And though I'm sure things are going to go terribly wrong at some point…"

"…We'll adapt," Neptune finishes.

Even though there's hope here, the moment feels strained. A tension in the air is either like knots in the heart or the tightening of a noose. So Jaune and Yang put on brave faces and stand up.

"This isn't how we should be spending this day together, isn't it?" she asks with a grin.

"It's a going-away party," he says, "so we should have a party. Ren? Join us in the kitchen. Let's bake a cake."

Nora's already on Weiss and Blake. "C'mon! I know a buffet outside of town that sells their raws cheap. I'll even show you two how me and Renny grilled fish! I guarantee that you two princesses won't find anything like that at your fancy dinners."

Blake opens her mouth. "Actually, we–"

"Hush! Mommy's talking."

Neptune and Sun trade looks.

"Should we get the drinks?" Sun asks him. "I know a way into campus we can smuggle alcohol through."

"Actually, just pump me full of sugar. This might be the last time I get to have soda since I'll be spending the next few years getting used to wine."

"Ew!"

"I know!"

-0-

When the semester starts, Glynda Goodwitch announces that Ozpin won't be back for a month or so still, so she'll be acting headmistress.

The sister teams are all worried about Ruby but she sends them messages with a few photos that she's on a mission with Ozpin and what looks to be a farmhand. They don't expect to be back for a while and she isn't even allowed to update them but she slips them messages anyway. (She doesn't know how long she can keep up the ruse that she had a spare scroll from before Beacon).

Yang's nerves get the better of her until Jaune convinces Qrow to give them an update. Somehow the photo of Qrow, Raven, Tai, Winter, and Ruby together like the disjointed family they are is a monumental comfort. She makes it her wallpaper. Jaune promises that they'll all get a chance to get in that picture together at some point.

With Goodwitch so busy, it leaves combat class to Professor Port. It's a blessing in disguise since the extra class drains him enough to sleep through most of his own class. He gets worried for a while until everyone gets visibly excited for what is effectively a free period and some students actually get comfortable enough to sit with him on his desk and share real stories for a change. He isn't always telling them this time either.

The teams spend a lot of time on the roof where they're allowed to grill. Jaune, Nora, and Blake make a show of their techniques and Weiss, who is sitting on the sideline, lets the collective aroma of their sizzling platters soak into her skin.

They also take turns teaching Weiss and Neptune how to cook. It'll be useful when they get a place of their own. They hadn't considered an apartment yet, actually.

"Trust me," Yang says, "after what you two are gonna go through, you could use a getaway that's just yours." She shares a meaningful glance with Jaune who blushes, suddenly unable to keep eye contact.

They make that second boat trip with the same crusty boatman. Sun and Blake tie on the number of lobsters.

They spend a night in the apartment, cramped together and drinking till sunrise. (Pyrrha learned to mix drinks with her uncle over the break and Jaune hasn't puked so much in his entire life).

They joyride in Jaune's new Highway Aries and the boatman's Beluga van to the same cabin they went to with Saph and Terra. Joan can drive too, apparently, and they decide that seating her next to the excitable Nora is a recipe for turning the winding country roads into a roller coaster. (Jaune, Yang, Weiss, and Neptune end up trailing behind the van because of it.)

They rent out a thawed ice rink and have their own school dance. (Jaune spent the week teaching Neptune how to lose his second left foot).

And they skip class on Friday to spend their last day together. Ruby even manages to call Weiss and they find out that they might even meet in Atlas for a while. (Jaune and Yang are starting to suspect that Ozpin already knows about the scroll).

In the next morning, Weiss's bed is empty cause she had to go alone in a separate flight. Neptune has to arrive a day later on a separate trip. It's abrupt and even though they all knew it was going to happen, it still feels like it came out of nowhere. The space Weiss leaves behind is palpable.

She manages to send them all one final message with a photo. She's holding Blake's little triangular team flags she made for them during last year's Vytal Festival against the window of the bullhead.

"We'll always be a team."

-0-

Jaune cracks an eye open at the sound of clicking on screen . He's in the apartment, in his room, but his door is open halfway. Through the dark he can see Yang and Blake's faces lit against a scroll on the couch. Blake is sleeping on her shoulder.

They set her up with the guest room (Yang's long since migrated all her things into his anyway) and they must've gotten up at some point last night to chat.

He shuffles out of bed, scratching his bare chest and blinking away his drowsiness.

Yang can hear him. "Mornin'… Evening? Morning. It's one-AM."

He peels around the doorframe. "Shouldn't we be quiet?" he says in a hush.

"Nope," she says, not even looking up from her scroll. "Blake said she wanted to wake up to the sound of people so the room feels less empty."

Regardless, he sits on the softly beside her. "Is that why she stayed up so late?"

"She used to wake up early with Weiss. Sometimes she'd fall back asleep when Weiss got her early morning shower, but with her gone she's hoping to sync up with me instead."

"Maybe Ren's more her speed. He gets up early to get breakfast prepped for Nora the rest of the team if she didn't eat it all when we got there."

"Too bad they're not roommates."

"Yeah…"

Blake shuffles. Her ears twitch and there's a smile on her lips.

"She seems comfy," he says, laughing. He can't help but think they've adopted a stray though he won't say it aloud.

Yang's thinking the same thing but keeps her mouth shut too. "She met with Sun and Ilia for brunch yesterday. She came in when they were already talking about him losing Neptune. She felt like an outsider listening in."

"She didn't walk away, did she?"

"No, she sat with them and they talked. Even admitted to how she felt. They tried to make her feel comfortable and Sun had no trouble talking about it, but even they admitted that it feels like she's just a step out of her element. She's going with Pyrrha to meet with them again later tonight."

"I'm guessing she's not particularly enthused?"

Yang nods. Blake stirs but doesn't wake. "She thinks losing Weiss is upsetting everything else in her life. She usually doesn't feel that kind of doubt when talking to them. Pyrrha's doing her best to help on her end, too, but she might need some more outside help to get her out of this funk."

Her scroll buzzes. Jaune instantly recognizes the sender. "Ruby?" His voice is hopeful, almost desperate.

She ruffles his hair. "Don't worry about it. If you start losing your cool, then I will too."

He rolls his eyes with a smile. "Sorry, I just miss her."

"She wanted to talk to you but she's only got enough courage to message her big sister. She's still beating herself up for being gone so long. She's afraid you might hate her."

He fishes his scroll out of his pocket, squeezes his face next to Yang and Blake's, and takes a photo. "Morning…" he types, "…Crater …Face." A moment passes after he sends it.

Yang's scroll is then blasted with exclamation points before a video call starts. Their hearts soar when they hear her whine for the first time in weeks. "Yang…! I wasn't ready!"

It's dark wherever she is, huddled in a closet judging by the hangars swinging above her. Zwei is whining and scratching somewhere in the background.

"Sorry, Sis, but we're a package deal now!" Yang says.

"We miss you," Jaune says, the look of him is anything but teasing.

"I miss you guys, too…" she looks away, head half hunched in shadow. Her expression is unreadable.

There's a shuffling on her end of the call, she looks up, eyes wide, as some light pours into the closet she's in. "Ruby?" a hushed boy's voice says. "Is everything alright?"

Her eyes dart and she gets up in a panic. Jaune and Yang stay quiet as the closet is shut and the scroll spins in the dark for a moment before her face shows up again next to the same farmhand in her photo with Ozpin. "Keep this a secret. Please?" she asks him.

"I… sure. Lips sealed. What are you–?"

"Yang, Jaune," she says quickly. "This is Oscar. He's my, um, partner for the mission I'm on."

"I, oh, uh, hi," Oscar stammers. "I'm Oscar." He slaps his forehead. "Stupid. She already said that…" Ruby giggles.

"Aw, Jaune," Yang nudges him. "He's you, freshman year."

Jaune huffs. "I like to think I was as confident as I was awkward." He gets up. "I'm getting peckish. You want any coffee?"

"The orange juice, please."

"Weak!" Ruby teases through the screen. "Milk is the way to go. Keep up the store-bought pulp and I'll be taller in no time!"

"I prefer oranges freshly squeezed myself," Oscar adds before he shuts himself up. He seems afraid to add to the conversation.

"They are freshly squeezed though," Yang says. "Right, Jaune?"

"If two days ago counts as fresh, then yeah. Reminds me of home."

Yang sniffs the air. "Are you cooking tuna and eggs again?"

"What? Clove didn't have much fish and poultry. We had beef, pork, and way too many vegetables."

"It's one-A.M.!"

"And we're out of snacks. Now do you want some of this or am I gonna split it with Blake?"

Blake rolls her cheek up the backrest to look at Jaune. The smell probably woke her. "Mm… You'll have no objection from me."

"He was a farmer?" Yang hears Oscar ask Ruby. "I thought he was a huntsman."

"Huntsman-in-training," Ruby clarifies for him. "He grew up in a farm. I don't think that counts as a farmer but he used to herd cows. Even had this brief stint when he was ten where he'd run with the farm dog and bark at the cows to help wrangle the cattle."

"Pfft!" Yang and Blake snicker. "What?"

"What are you laughing at?" Jaune asks from the kitchenette, stood in the lowlight.

"Nothing!" Yang calls back. "Feeling better, Oscar?"

"Oh. You noticed?"

"It's okay. Meeting new people can be scary. Can't have been any easier with Ruby."

"Actually, she could barely look me in the eye." Ruby bumps him but can't deny it. Oscar stays smug. "Ha ha… Had to ease into meeting her. She caught me in the middle of work and she scared me so much that I almost fell off the hayloft with the way she squeaked her greeting. I thought a mouse got in the feed again."

"Oscar!" Ruby whines. "I'm putting you through the ringer for this."

He looks scared. "Uh… mercy?"

They spend the some of that morning together. Ruby builds confidence enough to promise to make another call if Oscar can keep covering for her. They also find out Ruby is training Oscar and Yang couldn't be more proud.

They're somewhere remote and secret so Ozpin isn't taking chances with the security breach but Ruby hopes that a closet is enough to be inconspicuous. She still can't tell them why she's there but she will when they arrive.

They. As in both of them. Oscar is coming to Beacon. It should be exciting, even just a little bit. It's not going to fill the gap Weiss left behind but it means less quiet. Plus, Penny is with them and she might come too. But Yang picks up the sadness in Ruby's eyes whenever Oscar asks about Beacon. There's something wrong.

When Oscar goes off to distract Ozpin and Jaune takes Blake to the convenience store, Yang asks, "Sis, what's going on that you're not telling me?"

Ruby chews her lip. "I can't say," she says for the umpteenth time, but Yang can feel the weight of it now that it's coming out of her mouth and not through text on a screen. Somehow, that makes it harder to let it go.

"I'm scared for you," Yang admits, "I'm worried that something else irreversible is coming and…" No, she tells herself. She can't put this on Ruby. "It's okay. I trust you. I'm worried but I trust you and before you say anything, nothing you say will break that trust."

Ruby curls closer to the scroll, like she wants to hug her. "Thank you…" she whispers.

"Just come home safe…"

"I love you, Yang."

"I love you, too, Sis."

-0-

The dorm room doesn't have the comforts it used to. Yang almost feels ashamed for leaving it behind half the time but Blake tells her that it isn't something she should worry about. She always made time, even if her memories seem like a blur of blonde hair and blue eyes. It doesn't mean she valued her time with them any less.

No one can blame her for falling in love.

Still, with Blake snoozing under some double-wide bedding across the room, Yang feels alone in the room.

She sits up and she hears a startle somewhere. She realizes the silhouette she thought was Blake has been just a mess of pillows. (Blake pulled her and Weiss's beds together to get comfortable. Didn't work. All she's got now is more room to feel cold in. They still miss her).

Another hushed sound reaches her. She gets up and walks around but she stops when she spots Blake sitting on the floor against the wall. Her ears are twitching.

"What's happening?" Yang asks.

"I can hear Goodwitch in the JNPR dorm."

Yang shuffles closer. She can hear the faint tap of the headmistress's heels but nothing more. "What is she saying? Are they in trouble?"

"I thought so at first, but no. It's something about a transfer."

"A transfer? Like a student?"

"I don't know. I'll keep listening."

Yang wants to go back to bed and grab her scroll. Jaune could answer her if she asked. She bites her lip.

"There's someone else," Blake says. Yang's limbs stiffen again. "She sounds familiar but I could be wrong. She's talking about… Moving furniture?" She peels off the wall. "Maybe I shouldn't be listening in."

Yang realizes that she's probably working herself up over nothing too. "Maybe, but it got you out of bed at least." She laughs. "I've been worrying myself ragged about this team, but unlike the other two, you're actually here." Arms wrap around Blake's thinner shoulders. "I hope you aren't blaming yourself for all of this."

"I am but I know it's stupid," she admits. "Weiss having an epiphany was bound to happen anyway. And her father would have forced her to leave whether we turned out to be friends or not. But there's always that little side of me scraping at the back of my head. I'm so painfully aware that it's there that I could almost reach out and strangle it."

"Pfft! You sound like Weiss."

"Heh, well we'd spent over a year together. Some things were bound to rub off on each of us. In fact," she looks at Yang meaningfully, "you didn't explode once during that whole talk about Weiss's dad. Jaune have anything to do with that? You've been minding your temper."

She rubs the back of her head. "No, not entirely. I mean, we've helped each other along but we can't give each other all the credit. I've mellowed out cause we lost at Vytal and I crashed at a bar. Cause I came home a mess and you girls set me straight. I won't say that solved it completely. I think I gave myself enough time to ease out of my anger issues over the summer and finding Jaune and ending up in his apartment gave me places to feel normal and happy for a change." She's blushing now, can't help the heat rolling tight circles in her cheeks. "Did I ever tell you about that? No… I don't think I've told anyone. Being in that apartment let me glimpse a life of being a civilian. Not a huntress-to-be, just a girl living in the city she swears she'll die in. It felt simpler, domestic. And I kind of liked that. I kind of really, really liked that."

"I envy that," Blake says with a knowing smile lying sideways on her knees. "Not the civie life but the happiness. I'm glad you found someone. Honestly, it's kind of crazy you two aren't completely official yet."

"I, uh, I think we are? I mean, it's not like we've talked about it again since all this craziness happened but we've said the three-word thing, named our kids, we own a house together and –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What? Rewind there for a second."

"To which part?"

"I don't know, all of it?"

Yang shrugs and that is equal parts everything so like her and everything that's frustrating. "I don't know. They all just kind of… happened?"

"How do you just happen to own a house now?"

"A couple birds left it on my dining table and flew out the open door."

Blake squints. "I… I can't tell if you're joking."

Yang grins.

Blake's ear twitches to the faint sound of a door closing. "JNPR…" she mouths as she hears it. "…moving out?"

-0-

Blake thinks she heard it wrong. Yang tries to tell herself they could be misunderstanding something but when they meet with JNPR, they don't mention a thing. Jaune and Pyrrha are all smiles, whilst Ren is keeping Nora from any more antics. Nothing's changed.

It eats up at Yang more than she's willing to admit but Blake doesn't need to be told in order to notice her best friend writhing inside of herself.

On occasion she can see Jaune stealing glances at Yang. He's noticed that something's off too. Sure, Yang is keeping it close to her chest, but she isn't loose in the way she usually is. And even though her being a little more guarded might make sense given recent events, Jaune's been with her long enough to notice that she's been easing back into her old self. The regression should be obvious.

Blake nudges him at the end of Port's class. "Talk to her," she says.

He nods, a determined look to him. "I was gonna wait till she was ready. I guess I have to act this time."

Blake smiles. "Just like you, she'll need a nudge sometimes."

Jaune jogs over to Yang as she rolls her eyes at something Nora says. She should be laughing instead. His eyes narrow.

"Yang."

"Oh! Hey, sorry, I thought you were with Blake and Pyrrha. Did you need something?"

His hand clasp over hers and people around them pull away and snicker. He takes her hand and pulls her to the wall and out of the way. "Don't think I haven't noticed you worrying about something. What's wrong?"

Normally she'd come out and say it. Even before they got this close. Before they were together. She isn't the kind of girl that lets these things lie. But she's lost so much in the past few weeks and she's feeling more and more vulnerable. More and more fatigued.

And this? What she's worried about? Hushed whispers in the night that might ultimately mean nothing? Half of her thinks it's fears she's digging up for herself to pile on the already rich avalanche of things she has to deal with. Another hates herself for doubting him, and that she's ashamed to reveal she doubted him at all.

But they were supposed to be able to talk about anything, right?

Her mouth opens.

She remembers her mother. She'd looked so stoic when she said goodbye, daring not to fall apart and swallowing her fears. With a sigh, she lets it go.

"It's nothing," she says with an easy sigh. "I'll tell you about it later if you're so curious but I'd like to stop worrying about nothing and focus on the things that actually need my attention."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Now I'm hungry."

"We still have class."

She takes his hand. "I don't care. Your girlfriend needs a pick-me-up."

-0-

Yang walks back into the dorm with a spring in her step. "Evenin'," she greets Blake who's lounging on the bed.

"Had a good night, I see? He not kissing you goodbye at the door?"

"We parted ways earlier. Said he had an errand to run."

Blake stares at her with a smile. Yang returns it before going back to her scroll. Blake's nose scrunches in confusion. "Well?" Blake asks.

"Huh?"

"What did he tell you?"

Yang winks. "Sweet nothings if that's what you're asking."

Blake's face goes through a series of emotion. "Yeah. Good. Great. Perfect." She sits up as her ears sharpen. "But what about last night? With the whispering and all that?"

"Oh! I, uh, I didn't ask about it."

Blake slips out of bed. "Okay, I've had it. Waited all this time to find out so let's just go over there and ask."

"Right. Sure." Yang picks up after her and doesn't bother to put her school shoes back on.

Blake stops just as she exits the door. Across from them is the JNPR dorm and the door is ajar. She twists back to Yang. "Was that open when you passed it by?"

"I didn't notice."

They approach the door and feel a draft coming through. The door swings to the side as they enter and the thud against the wall is the only sound.

The JNPR dorm is empty. Even the blinds have been stripped away and one of the windows is cracked open.

A hole opens in Yang's stomach. Confusion, mostly. Anger, even if she can't place it. She doesn't know what's happening.

Blake's hands are sweating too when they reach for hers. "Your scroll is buzzing," she says and they run back to their room.

Yang has a message from Jaune.

'are you decent?' it reads.

'uh…. Yeah?' she replies after a cursory glance at her uniform.

'perfect'

Yang stares at the word. His scroll didn't even get to auto-punctuate it. She's already typing another message. Where are you right now? I was at your dorm and it's empty – She stops typing when they hear a grunt and a thud.

Blake's ears perk up. "Nora?"

Something breaks, like snapping wood, then Yang can hear it too.

"Hah!" Nora shouts. The thud after shakes something in their room. "Hah!" Another shudder, louder and resonant. "Hng…!" They can feel the way she's inhaling. "Hah!" Then their wall shakes.

"Hah!" Then a chunk of the wall pops out and swings aside like a portal door. They can see Nora behind the hole. She's in the next dorm room. They transferred next door instead of across the hall.

Nora peeks in with a wide grin, the light behind her shining over her features like a beacon. She pulls away and her hammer carves down into the hole till its roughly the shape of her silhouette. She kicks away the loose boards and cement around her and stomps into the room.

"Evenin' roomies!" she announces with gusto and caked in dust.

Jaune slips passed her in shorts and a worn shirt, pillow under his arm and eyes half awake. He walks up to Yang and takes her hand. "Sleepy?" he asks.

She realizes she's exhausted. Relief lets her body feel its fatigue. "Yeah…"

He pulls her to bed and they fall in together. She's confused but doesn't focus on it.

"What is happening?" Blake asks Ren as he comes in with Pyrrha in tow. (Who has already apologized but her smile doesn't slip away even once).

"Jaune said that it was starting to get a little quiet here in your dorm," Ren explains. "So, we hatched an idea to trade rooms with your neighbor's. Team ASHE took a room on a different floor instead of taking ours."

"Miss Goodwitch was very accommodating," Pyrrha says. "Went so far as to levitate most of our things from one room to another."

"She almost said no," Jaune says with a yawn, "but when I explained why we were doing it, she just sighed and drew up the permit."

"You need a permit to switch dorms?" Blake asked. "Wait, there's a permit for that?"

Nora hoists the hammer back onto her shoulder. "Permit's not for the dorm. It's for breaking down the wall."

Blake can't help but a feel a tingle under her skin, and it rolls into heat when Pyrrha and Ren squeeze her between them.

The night draws down and they got rid of the bits of dust and talk about how they're supposed to tear the down the wall. They'll put up two beams they'll have to pay for themselves but the rest of the wall can go away and there will be nothing between the two rooms in a few days.

And when they're all cleaned up (and splitting two bathrooms between six people), they push the four RWBY beds together so they can crawl under the collective sheets. In the middle, Yang sees Blake shiver happily between Ren and Nora, calmer than she has been in weeks.

Nestled against the curve of Jaune's neck, she nudges him. "Thank you for this," she whispers.

"It wasn't all me," he murmurs.

She flicks his forehead. "You're allowed to take credit for the idea, at least. Besides, I feel like I should reward you somehow."

"Fine," he grumbles but his smile doesn't sell it. "As for the reward, I'd ask about the rent but I think we should stay out and keep the bill thin this month. I don't think I can meet the payment this time if it gets any bigger with electric and water."

Yang chuckles. "Hey, you asked for the heavy down payment so you could sidestep the interest. That car is a money sink and you should've seen this one coming." He whines and she kisses his nose, making him whine some more. "Still, I'll still have to find a way to thank you."

"Missionary always works for Sun," Pyrrha chimes in from behind her.

Jaune and Yang's eyes go wide.

"What?" Pyrrha asks as they stare at her. "Too vanilla?"

Yang squeezes a pillow to her own face. "Pyrrha!"

"What? Oh! Sorry. I hadn't realized that you… It's just that Sun's been gentlemanly and I tried to get him to talk dirty to spice things up so I ended up having to do it myself and –"

"Uh, Pyr?" Jaune stops her. "That's not it. We, uh, we haven't done it yet."

She tilts her head. "Missionary?"

"Sex," Yang whimpers.

Nora shoots up. "What!?"

Yang shrinks even further. "Are you all awake!?"

Ren turns an open eye behind him and Blake peers sheepishly over the length of his arm. No one looks sorry.

"Ugh…" she groans. "Is it too late to call this a bad idea?"

Pyrrha pulls her away from Jaune and into the collective cuddle of everyone else. "Not on your life, Xiao Long."

She mouths a "help me" to Jaune.

He reaches under his pillow, pulls out his scroll into its camera, and mouths a coy "No," before the shutter snaps.

The photo goes up with the rest of the stringed ones Ruby set up earlier that year. Eventually, they flood it with more memories till the ceiling is lined with their found family gleaming from wall to wall to wall.

[idontmeantosoundrudebut]

Many of Horror (Chapter one: This secret goodbye)

Fandom - How to train your dragon (movie franchise)

Ship - Eretlout (+ background relationships)

Wordcount - 3748 words

Fanfic summary - Moving on is hard, especially from something that doesn’t want to be forgotten. But it’s easier when you have someone with you who understands that mind-scarring agony, it’s easier when someone will hold you in the dark when all the monsters come out to play, it’s easier when you’re loved. But Eret is going overseas and Snotlout is left alone in a cold bed. 

The dream is back and he feels sick. Sick in the head. (I really can’t think of a good summary for this, so sorry my dudes)

Tags/Warnings for this chapter - Mentions of past child abuse

So I have yet to finish this Fic yet but I’m just so excited to show it to yall that i just had to give you a little teaser!!! This fic takes place a year after HTTYD3 but the dragons never leave and Stoick never died because Hiccup deserved a whole family for more than one day (Dreamworks, i’m talking to you asshole)!

Also please check out The colour of friendship by Sarahenany and The colour of family by Thurdsday26 on the Archive because it they are big inspirations for this fic and if you love Spitelout bashing and Snotlout whump and found family then, oh boy, that is truly the jackpot of all Snotlout whump fics! Also, the title of this fic is based on the song Many of Horror by Biffy Clyro and this to the first like three lines and you’ll understand why! 

Please enjoy and give me any feedback that you have, negative or positive, do not hold back bitches!!!! Haha lol bruh

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Eret is leaving today, but he'll be back in a few weeks, a month maximum if the summer storms keep at bay (Ruffnut prayed briefly to Thor before bed last night. She doesn't know why; it was an impulse thing). He, along with six other crewmates, will be sailing far up north to the port-island he once called home to establish a trading route for Berk and to perhaps arrange a meeting between Chief Stoick and the chief of his native village. The Northmen are good people, Eret had reassured during a council a week back, who've long been held under the sole of Drago's boot and will gladly reward those who levered that pressure with both miscellaneous goods and a long-lasting alliance.

The only problem with this grand adventure is that they'll have to travel dragon-less.

The Northmen too have been terrorised by dragons for generations and they will not hesitate to net, bludgeon, and flay the first dragon they see, even if said dragon has a rider on their back. Act first and ask later kind of folk, a mindset which Ruffnut is very familiar with. Eret predicts that the concept of living with dragons in peace and harmony is one his people will be suspicious of for a time, but he assures that they'll warm up to it eventually. So, the first few trips will be dragon-less and slowly they'll weasel their Berkian values in, a very cunning plan indeed if Ruff didn't say so herself.

So today is the day of departure and she's on her way to the docks for the send-off, alone for a change. Tuffnut, eager to be out the house and tired of waiting for her to finish braiding her hair, had nabbed Barf and Belch and left her on her lonesome to walk. At first, she'd been peeved to all Hel, rightfully so, muttering to herself about how easier life would be without her dolt of a twin till she remembered just how peaceful, well, peace was. As vexing as Tuff is, Ruff cannot deny her sibling love for him, but she also cannot deny the simple serene beauty of silence.

She's striding down a street of huts, the docks insight, when she hears a terribly familiar voice.

"You better be back in two weeks, if you're not, I'm coming after you,"

Snotlout.

Ruff pauses mid-stride and takes a step back, looking into a narrow alleyway between two huts. She steps closer and presses herself against the left hut wall, slyly peeking her head out to gaze searchingly into the shadowed alley where she'd definitely heard Snotlout's voice. As mad as she is (and she is mad), she isn't to the point of hearing imaginary voices in the shadows (not for a few years, at least).

There. Stuck between a wall and a bulky silhouette, is the short and distinctive shadow of Snotlout Jorgensen. The figure Snotlout is pressed against lets out a hushed laugh, head bowing and if wasn't for that laugh, she'd definitely be able to identify him solely for the dark outline of his facial profile.

Eret, Son of Eret.

Oh, this... This is interesting, very interesting indeed.

"No promises, we might have to delay returning if we see a storm on the horizon," Eret informs and Snotlout makes a displeased snort, to which Eret adds in response, "But if we don't then, we'll be back as soon as we can. Snotlout, you won't even know I've left,"

"It already feels like you've left me," Snotlout murmurs, head hung low, and it catches Ruffnut by surprise, that statement because it's such a vulnerable thing for Snotlout to say and the way he says it, quiet and anxious, is so alien to her.

The use of the word "me" too, makes her mind turn and burn with theories because there is something so very deep in the small, added word. She doesn't know what yet, but there is something painfully human about it.

Ruff watches the shadowed duo, transfixed as Eret lifts a hand to Snotlout's chin, tipping his head up so that they are looking at each other.

It's such an abnormal gesture for her to witness, especially between two people with whom she's never associated such tenderness before.

Eret has always been this tall, handsome, foreign stranger with a silky voice and a self-assured walk, who is as handy with a sword as he is on a boat, who's always there to help and give back to the people who gave him a better life. Snotlout has always been this hot-headed, confident loudmouth who is way too short to be as brave as he is and is way too good at singing for Ruff to admit, who's full of unyielding loyalty and howling laughter. But most importantly, they hate each other.

Or, now that she thinks of it, they did hate each other.

The last few months have been lacking the usual rivalry between Snotlout and Eret and she doesn't know why it's only hitting her now. At some point, they two of them became friends and she's pretty sure she isn't the only one who hasn't noticed, which is so peculiar because she, and the others, have seen the two of them hanging out at the sawmill and flying together at dusk to light the torches. Gods, they drank with each other last night and there hadn't been a single crass word spoken. When did this happen? She and the rest of Berk have gone blind!

"Snotlout, I'll be back. Soon. I can't promise you when, but I'll be back, and next time I go north, you can come with me," Eret assures, and though Ruff can't see Snotlout's features, she can feel the atmosphere lifting and hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah?" There is something so hopeful and childish in the way he breathes that word, something that tugs at Ruff's heartstrings.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can convince Hiccup to spare you of your very honourable duties for a few weeks,"

"Hey, shut up!" Snotlout's foot jerks out sharply to jab Eret in the ankle, the former laughing breathlessly in response, "My work is honourable, okay? Someone has to test all those crazy weapons Hiccup cooks up and I'm the only man for the job, no one else is as brave as I am," He exclaims, all confident and cocky and familiar to Ruffnut.

"You're sure right about that," Eret says as he again raises his hand and, this time, it comes in contact with Snotlout's cheek, she can see the faint movement of his thumb smoothing over the skin beneath his eye. His voice is awfully soft with a terrible fondness that Ruffnut sometimes hears in Hiccup's voice when he speaks about Astrid or vice versa, it's a tone that she automatically links up to people who are fiercely in love.

Oh, Freya, they're in love.

"You gotta head down to the docks, Eret, you'll be late to leave... or whatever," Again, that insecure whisper is back and by Gods, it sounds so brittle and shaky that Ruff almost considers the thought that Snotlout might be crying.

She would be if she was about to be separated from her lover for an unknown amount of time, Ruff ain't afraid to admit that, but if Snotlout is afraid of anything, it's expressing feelings and emotions (He's afraid of proving he's human, proving he's weak). But then again, maybe it's easier for Snotlout to air out his inner thoughts in front of Eret because, well, they're in love and to be so intimate with someone, they're eventually going to see all the ugly parts that you hide beneath the pretty façade. Eret has probably seen the old insecurity they all know that still lurks deep inside Snotlout, raw and unfiltered, a thing from his youth that made him angry and afraid, a thing that was just as damaging as the scars on his flesh.

Ruffnut, nor anyone else on Berk, will ever forgive Spitelout for what he did to Snotlout. She will gladly say that the day he was exiled was the best day of her life and she will not be alone in the statement. Cruel, merciless, cold-blooded bastard deserved to be Blood-eagled if you ask Ruff and Tuff (probably Hiccup too, no one was more enraged than he was.)

(Ruff has never been afraid of Hiccup, except for once. He's far too lanky, too merciful, too kind, to be a scary guy. But that day, when Snotlout had lifted his tunic in the clubhouse and revealed the ivory scars that were striped across his back and chest, she'd taken a step back at the sight of the inferno that had kindled in his eyes, at the sudden look of mercilessness that had steeled his features, at the trembling fists clenched at his sides. He looked like a man ready to kill, like a man ready to burn then world to the ground, like a man ready to give it all up just for revenge. She was afraid of him that day. So, so afraid that she had nightmares about him for days afterwards.)

"I'll be a bit late, the lads won't mind," Eret says lowly, drawing Ruffnut from her walk-in memory-lane, and she feels her heart tug as he bows his head to press against Snotlout's, "I'll stay here. With you,"

Forehead touching, especially in Viking culture, is the tenderest way to touch the ones who mean dearest to you. Be it a lover, a blood-relative, a shield-brother, anyone who is buried deep in your heart. And here, in the shadows of an alley, hidden and quiet like a forbidden dream, two people hold each other. Soon, they will have to let go and isn't that the most heart-breaking thing? Letting go?

Her heart feels too big for her chest and she almost feels like a changed person by witnessing this, witnessing something she was never meant to see. Will love be like this for her too? Terribly tender and awfully soft? She doesn't know, Gods, she shouldn't be here.

Ruff tries to drag herself back but she's like a moth to a flame, unable to pull herself away from this blindingly beautiful display of love, so raw, so real. She never imaged Snotlout to fall so easily to soft caresses, but of course, he would. It is always our deepest wants that will bring us to our knees and all Snotlout has ever wanted is love, a gentle hand, a place to bury his heart.

They share a deep and long kiss. It makes her feel lonely and she doesn't know why. They part, breathing on each other's lips and holding each other tightly because they know, they know, they have to let go any moment. Their foreheads are still touching.

"Promise me," Snotlout whispers and she sees the silhouette of his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, "promise me you'll come back. To me. Eret, promise you'll come ba-"

A quick but meaningful kiss quietens Snotlout's desperate pleas and Ruffnut has never heard him beg before, not like that, not like he's afraid that Ragnarök is about to fall upon them. Eret cradles Snotlout's face with his large hands. They are so close, they've almost become one shadow.

"I promise you, Snotlout," Eret vows, quiet but vehement, his lips brushing against Snotlout's, "I promise that I will come back to you,"

Another kiss is shared between them, sealing the oath that Eret has made and therefore making it unbreakable. Eret will return, he has to, and Ruff doesn't know what will happen if he doesn't. Something tragic, something unbearable to watch, something she can't allow to happen. She will not see Snotlout ruined again. So, she promises herself that if Eret does not return, she'll fly herself up to Valhalla, drag him back to Berk and the Gods best keep themselves to themselves and not get in the way of her mission, lest the know the true wrath of a Thorston woman.

"Come on, before Hiccup starts a search party," Snotlout says, voice stronger now that the promise of returning has been made, "Selkie's gonna want a proper goodbye too or she's gonna follow you the whole way,"

Eret nods in agreement and peeks his head out of the alleyway, looking up and down the street in search of any unwanted bystanders. In the sunlight, his eyes glitter amber and Ruffnut can make out his hand, large and golden, curled around Snotlout's.

"You sure you can handle her? I know that-"

"Gods, Eret, she's the timidest Thunderdrum I've ever seen! If I can handle Hookfang and a borderline psychotic Terror, among other things, then she's going to be a piece of cake," He reassures, almost sounding offended, and Eret chuckles softly as he gives Snotlout a fond look.

Ruff watches them step out from the alley into the sunlit street, hands no longer intertwined. She can make out the red flush on Snotlout's cheeks and the faint wetness beneath his eyes, which he wipes away hastily. The two of them share a look, secret and quiet, lips curled into gentle smiles, fingers twitching with the longing to touch. Then, as sudden as lightning, the tender-faces fall away and they leave, together but still somehow so far apart. They enter the real world not as lovers, but as friends, as a secret waiting to reveal itself.

For a few moments, she stays where she is, staring into the unlikely place of a secret lovers' farewell. Who knew that a place like this, small and dark, would hold such a tragic and beautiful moment? Ruffnut feels a mixture of emotions, the biggest one being happiness because bless the Gods, Snotlout has found love and if anyone deserves it, it's him.

At the after ceremony of Hiccup and Astrid's wedding a year back, a drunk Snotlout had suddenly embraced her tight and long and said; I'm gonna be alone forever, Ruffy, but that's okay, I got you guys, so... I not really alone. And being just as drunk as he was, she'd laughed and poured him another drink, dancing with him till the sun came to steal the night. She didn't remember what he said till a few days after and it had filled up with such a fierce and sudden sadness that Tuffnut had dragged her home, demanding an explanation for the terrible look in her eyes.

That's the thing with a twin like Tuff, the second her mood changes, he can sense it like a hunting dog catching the scent of blood. She can do it too, but Tuff has never been one to hide his true feelings while she, similar to Snotlout, would rather avoid the conflict of talking sentiments (even with Tuff). Her brother has to drag it out of her most times, corner her and say stupidly melancholic stuff like;

I can smell it, sister. You're sad.

Tuffnut is a curse and blessing all at once and she wouldn't have it any other way.

But anyway, she's overjoyed to see Snotlout in love and loved, but she's also anxious about it. Anxious in a way an older sibling is over a younger sibling when they start to dabble in dangerous things, in things that can get them hurt. And if love is anything, it's dangerous. If love can do anything, it can get you hurt.

Snotlout has been hurt enough. Snotlout has endured and lived through torture and torment, through betrayal and loss, through things she can't imagine surviving. She will not see him hurt again, not by Eret, not by love, not by anything. He doesn't deserve it.

The others will also share her feelings when they discover this secret love story, that she is sure of. Especially Hiccup, who in the past few years has become like an older brother to Snotlout (like the same way that Stoick has become a father to him, the same way Valka has become a mother to him). He takes his new sibling occupation very seriously and it is comical, the wiser brother and the reckless brother always at odds but always there to protect each other.

There's a headache brewing in her temple. Gods, she's been thinking and overthinking again.

It'll be fine, she reassures herself, stepping away from the alley and making towards the docks, the Gods wouldn't curse them all with more bad fortune, would they?

It's probably the most stupid question she's ever thought, in hindsight.

When she gets to the docks, it's jam-packed with dragons and Vikings alike, friends and family saying farewell to the crew and wishing them good fortune on their journey. The sky is clear and blue, perfect for sailing, and Ruff concludes that she wasn't the only one begging Thor to keep his storms to himself.

Immediately, her eyes are drawn to Tuffnut, dangling upside down from Belch's neck as he converses with a bemused Fishlegs. She's tempted to go over, but not yet, she has to do something first.

She quickly surveys the area, seeing one of the Berkian members of Eret's crew giving his vermilion Nadder a thorough farewell and a Northman kissing his Shield-maiden fiancé goodbye.

The Northmen, Eret included, were intrigued to see such wild and free women when they first came to Berk. Berkian women are hearty and frightening and hard to impress, daughters of wolves, bearers of warriors, the fiercest things on the battlefield.

So it had been a cultural shock to them, Eret had admitted one day, for their home only holds women who sew the clothes and make the food, who bear the children and tend to the house, who are quiet and timid and easily won over by a half-assed sonnet. Most marriages are arranged and many daughters are traded for land or gold, true love is a rarity to come by. Eret is proud of his home, but these are the parts he is ashamed of.

Astrid was the first woman Eret had ever seen to hold a weapon and he'd never met a woman as savage as Ruffnut before. Ruff will forever be proud that she was Eret's first taste of wildness.

There. She's found who she's looking for.

Eret kneels on one knee before Selkie, his beauty of Thunderdrum. She's orange like a sunset, pale and washed-out, with white flecks scattering her hide like parted clouds, matching her ivory belly, and Ruffnut has never seen a dragon with eyes that blue before. Selkie lets out an unhappy groan as she presses her face further into Eret's hand, eyes low in her grief as she listens to his whispers. Ruffnut can't make out what he's saying, but she's sure it's everything soft and reassuring.

Snotlout is close by, she notices, watching Eret with an open fondness. If Hiccup or Astrid walked by right now and took notice of the raw love in Snotlout's gaze, they would immediately know the truth. Clearly, she isn't the only one thinking this because Hookfang, stood beside his rider, nudges Snotlout with a warning hiss in the back of his throat. Never let it be said that Hookfang doesn't look out for Snotlout, he's ornery and easily distracted, but he makes up for it all with his loyalty.

Soon enough, the ship is ready and it's time to go. People gather along the docks and make their last hurried farewells. The drums begin and the chants of fortune echo across the waters, there's an intoxicating atmosphere permeating the air. Ruffnut hurries through the crowd, easily shoving unmoving folk to the deck in her haste because she has yet to speak with Eret. He's shaking hands with Chief Stoick and is about to go up the gang walk when she suddenly lunges herself at him.

"Ruffnut!" He gasps, surprised and clearly a bit uncomfortable, but he'll have to deal with her for the moment, "Thought you weren't going to- uh- show,"

"Course I was, idiot, and anyways-" She leans her head close to his ear and wraps a hand around his bicep, digging her sharp nails into his flesh threateningly as she whispers, "-I have to remind you to keep to that promise, Eret, son of Eret, I'm not going to have Snotlout hurt again. I was robbed of my revenge last time, I won't be again,"

When she pulls back, she flashes him a smile with too many teeth and bats her lashes with an intimidating gleam in her eyes. She's given this look to men who are now dead and it is Eret's choice if he wishes to be added to that mass grave. Eret stares back at her with shocked eyes, cheeks slightly red, and he clenches his jaw as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand over the raised welts on his bicep. The drums echo across the water and the chanting voices chase after in earnest. After a bewildering moment, Eret gives her an awkward but thankful smile and nods his head in understanding.

"I'll keep that in mind," He says and all the tension in his muscles seem to slip away as Ruffnut softens her menacing gaze on him, clapping him boisterously on the already injured shoulder.

"Atta boy," She cackles, shoving him up the gang walk as she calls after him, a throaty laugh colouring her words, "You better be back in two weeks, you son of an Eret, or I'm coming after you!"

To her delight, she hears him laugh back at her.

The ship finally departs from the dock, sail high and proud as its pushed by the encouraging wind and the waves part smoothly as the bow cuts through the water, sure and steady. Some of the crew hang off the ratlines, saying goodbye to Berk (for now), and Eret stands, tall and almost warrior-like, on the stern. The salt-touched wind carries his dark hair and the sun reflects off his dark eyes, they glitter with a sadness that Ruffnut wouldn't have noticed if she didn't know the things she knew. His smile is melancholic, Gods, he already looks homesick. He's looking at someone and she already knows who.

Turning to look at Snotlout, she can see that his hands are balled up into white-knuckled fists, that his smile is forced and pained, that his eyes shimmer with tears.

Snotlout has always hated goodbyes. Especially ones that aren't supposed to last. Because they always do.

[florencwrites]

ever since phoenix 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay has earned himself the name dreamboat, short; dream. a mcyt spin on macgyver where reader deals with remnants of trauma.

(!) blood, mentions of emotional trauma, kidnapping (!)

"Soooo," Jack trailed cautiously. He was not a man of deliberation per se, however, he knew when a certain level of carefulness was needed. This was one of those times. "How are you and the missus?"

"Fine." Brief and effective. That's Clay for you. "Now is not exactly the time for relationship advice, Jack."

"So you agree, you need relationship advice." He scanned the room again, gun tight in his grip; leading his gaze. "Boxed yourself there, pal."

"Let's talk about this after I've disarmed this, alright?" A huff of annoyance from the crouching blonde, his face a mere few inches from the ticking device. A device that normally would've taken him barely a minute to take apart, but with his good friend hanging from his lips; it took a little longer than expected.

Jack, in response, cleared his throat loudly, raising his eyebrows in mock warning. "I'm just saying, something's not right and maybe genius over here needs some help." He rolled out the tension in his shoulders, his gun still pointed at the entrance. He shot his eyes back to his friends after his lack of reply, only to see him dropping the now useless device. "I don't need your help, we're doing fine."

Clay rose to his feet, dusting off his pants before pushing past Jack to head for the reinforced door. Of course, being the armed one of the two, Jack pushed himself back in front of him, clearing the hallways before continuing their journey through the complex. Their backs pressed against the rough concrete, bullet holes still decorating them almost entirely. Reaching a junction, Jack lowered himself slightly before peeking his head around the corner. "Clear."

The pair moved onto the next hallway, Clay mirroring his companion's steps almost entirely. "Come on, Dreamboat, just admit there's some things that little brain of yours just can't wrap itself around."

"There are many things my brain can't comprehend, love isn't one of them." He rolled his eyes, knowing fully well that Jack had his back turned to him anyways. "It's just chemistry, simple."

"You're wrong, I'm telling you." A sing-songy tone to his words, Jack taunted the blonde some more. "Chemistry's just the first step, my friend. After that, it's all up to you."

"We've got company."

"Fine, do your thing. We're talking about this later." A promise, one made while firing several rounds of bullets into enemy lines.

-

"You might be the dumbest genius I've ever met." Sheer annoyance laced the older man's tone, immediately tracing his words with a swirling sip of lukewarm beer. The other side of the dialogue, too, showed serious signs of irritation. A drawn-out groan while throwing his head back, Clay replied, "Fine, I'll bite. Why?"

"Well, where's the lady of the house?" He threw out the bait. However, Jack had neither been a man of patience, so as Clay opened his mouth to answer his rhetorical question, Jack already intercepted him, "Bet she's real tired, huh?"

"Yeah, how'd you- Nevermind." He glanced over the look on his friend's face, soon realizing he bit right into his hook.

A sigh, a genuine one. Reaching forward to lean his elbows onto his knees, staring into the flames of the firepit they had grown so used to. "So, what does she sleep in?"

"Dude! Gross, I'm not answering that."

"Bet it's that beige shirt of yours, right? The one with the big red letters." He never once averted his gaze to meet Clay's, keeping them entirely trained on the fire. Clay furrowed his eyebrows, his emerald eyes slowly making their way to the bottom left corner of his vision, a tell he often showed when deliberating his next move. He then, too, leaned forward to rest on his knees. Once again, mirroring Jack's motions. "It- it is."

"Please just tell me what's going on, Jack." And at last, his normally monotone features showed a glint of desperation.

"It's the last shirt you wore." Another swig of beer landed itself in his mouth, quickly swallowing before continuing, "You wanna know why she's always so tired when you see her?"

"I'll give you a hint, it's not Lyme's." Finally, a light chuckle from his side, followed by a faint hum in affirmation. "She doesn't sleep when you're gone, dude."

Finally, the pair met eyes. A saddened shimmer in both their glances, Jack continued, "All the signs are there."

A nearly audible click in the genius blonde's head. "She's been having nightmares."

"She's been having nightmares." Jack affirmed for him once again, "Trust me, I know what they look like."

They shared a pause of breath, allowing themselves to take a deep breath simultaneously. How could he have been so stupid, of course, she was having nightmares. All the things she went through back in April, all those questions he was forced to leave unanswered. The exhaustion radiating from her pale skin, for weeks now. Jack was right, she had been sleeping in his shirts constantly, sometimes even once he was sure he had put in the laundry basket just hours before. "God, I should have known."

"There's nothing you could've done, Dream." Another sweet reassurance, one that didn't mean a whole lot to him right now.

"I could've known- I should've known." He abruptly pushed himself from his seat, leaving his emptied bottle by the pit. "She doesn't feel safe here."

"I don't think that's it, mate, I think she just feels unsafe anywhere." He followed his friend's face to where it was now stood next to him on the patio, peering up to try and meet his eyes. "Anywhere that's not with you, probably."

"She doesn't deserve any of this." Pacing slowly between the pit and the wall a few feet from him, the man was wrecking himself with guilt, already. Quickly, Jack intervened, noticing his friend's 'spiraling look' from miles away. "Hey! Hey, hey. No one deserves this alright?"

"She should've never been there.." Running a hair through his locks, Clay sat back down by the fire. His head now covered by his hands, leaning forward to hide his features entirely in guilt and perhaps shame, too.

"That," A gentle pat landed itself on his back by Jack as he used his other hand to finish off his beer. "That, I agree with you, pal."

-

Sheer terror painted her face that day, bound and gagged in some concrete box. In the movies, they always say how it was 'cold and eerie', and however ghostly the situation might have been, there was no cold in this room. Not a single cooling breeze, just pure and unfiltered heat. The concrete was entirely warmed up, too, the only thing that refreshed her even in the slightest was the chilling nature of her shackles, the ones that restrained her to the sticky leather chair she was stuck in.

She assumed it was leather, she had no real way of knowing. Her vision had been blocked by some kind of rag, a different texture to the one that was balled up in her mouth. The duct tape used to secure it in place was pulling at her skin, uncomfortably so.

So, with her hands bound, vision blocked and mouth gagged, there were but two senses left to her. Three, if you include the dooming shadow of possible death that loomed in her head. She'd do anything to just hear his voice right now, he'd know what to do.

Instead of his voice, there was a soft ticking in the room. More specifically, on her abdomen. A scorching hot box was tightened to her abdomen, burning the feeling of its ticking into her mind. She was sure there'd been no way this thing was actually that hot, but the idea of it being stuck to her, it killing her, was enough to leave scars on her stomach.

The other sense that was left unaltered, was her nose. Her sense of smell. Iron, mold, sweat. The last two were logical. She'd been locked in there for hours, in the absolute heat of southern America, there was no way she wasn't sweating up a storm. Mold, she was probably in a basement somewhere, her feet had given away the concrete flooring. But iron, iron wasn't something you usually smelt. Rust, maybe. But this was metallic, and it wasn't from her shackles. If it were, she'd have smelt it was before now.

The screeching of a metal pipe on the concrete walls shook her, the gag keeping her from letting out a loud squeal. Someone was in here with her, for the first time in hours, someone was in here with her. A few faint tuts, heavy footsteps carrying themselves around her perimeter.

A sharp blade running itself along her cheek, barely not breaking skin. "Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok."

She scrunched her eyes even tighter as a hand dropped onto her head. The single thing that brought her comfort right now was the fact that there was no way this lunatic would detonate the bomb on her abdomen while in the room with her. "Wonder what's taking him so long, aren't you?"

He stopped talking, his steps carrying him back to wherever he came from. However, his taunting continued in her head for the coming hours she was left to fend for her own. Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok.

What's taking him so long?

-

She struggled immensely against her restraints, abruptly having been awoken by cold hands on her sides. The man's hands hadn't ever been this cold before, they were horribly sweaty and warm, almost to a sticky extent. "Shhhh."

Familiarity washed over her body, her muscles almost instantly untightening at the sound of him. "You have to stay still for me, okay? I have to get this thing off you first."

"Dream, unblind the poor girl first, will ya?" Jack's mellow voice called out from a few feet beside her. The rag was gently pulled from eyes. His assuring tone filled her ears, his comforting face inches from hers. God, she'd never been this happy to see Jack. "There she is."

She tried desperately to get some words out, however, her mouth was still filled with cloth, and while hesitant, she knew there was probably a good reason they hadn't taken it off yet. "Water! Water, get her some water, she's gonna need it." Jack was quick to order one of the agents to get her something to drink, knowing the feeling very well, having been kidnapped a dozen times back in his day.

"It's connected to another device," Clay exclaimed from before her, his hands very carefully working around the wires connecting her to this bomb. For some reason, it had been scarier in her mind, when she hadn't been able to see it. Now, seeing it rest on her stomach didn't scare her nearly as much as the menacing ticking that had haunted her for so long. "Riley, do we know who's behind this?"

A faint hum from the wire in his ear, she couldn't decipher it. Meanwhile, Jack was rattling her shackles, trying to at least free her hands. However, according to her boyfriend, not a very good idea, "Don't!"

"What? You scared she'll strangle you?" A mocking choice of words from her dear friend, almost allowing her to chuckle. The drought in her throat, however, still wouldn't allow her to make a single peep. "No, Jack, taking off the chains would detonate this entire thing, like the gag."

Jack formed an 'o' with his mouth, shooting his eyes around the room in slight embarrassment, "Where's that water the lady ordered?"

For some reason, the minutes after they had found her felt impossibly longer than the hours she had spent alone. Nevertheless, after 24 minutes exactly, there was a breakthrough. His voice soft, gentle, Clay carefully removed his fingers from the device while simultaneously asking for Jack to put his back on."Okay, try again."

A loud snap and several clangs later, her hands were freed, eyes crunched in expectancy of death, it didn't seem to come. Hastily, she clawed at her mouth, only now realizing the rag had been encased in metal bars and colored wires. Dream carefully lifted the contraption from her face, immediately letting her fall into his arms sobbing.

And so, he let her cry. Bawl her eyes out, drown out the sheer terror she must've felt during these hours he had lost her. He ran his arms around her back, pulling her impossibly tight into his own torso. "You're okay, you're okay."

"I've got you, I've always got you."

-

The night following his conversation with Jack was the first night Clay had seen her cry since that day.

She sobbed into his arms as he assured her that she would always be safe, no matter where he was or what happened between them. He would always keep her safe.

The nightmares disappeared when she was with him because there had never been a doubt in her mind that she was safe when she was with him. She slept incomparably well the first days after every mission, because even if he wasn't in the bed next to her; she knew he was there. She slept well, because the smell of his shirt encased her every sense, rendering it impossible for her to not feel safe, with his cologne evident lingering through her sheets.

[iandthou-hereandnow]

The woman I want to be with

They say when you write something down and visualize something, it will eventually materialize in your life. I’m not one to believe in mystical laws of attraction, but I do believe in setting a frame and adjusting your perspective to change how you actually interact with the world, which will influence the outcomes of your actions.

There needs to be a change.

The person that I’d like in my life is someone who is passionate about living. Not surviving, or making it to the next day, but really trying to make something of their time on earth. It doesn’t necessarily have to be any specific goal, be it in business, art, etc. just a true passion that they dedicate time towards. I don’t believe that finishing a TV show is a hobby. I do believe that writing, building something, and so on - so long as you are creating, I think that’s a hobby. It is progress forward with the time that we have. I think that’s the most salient thing that I am attracted to in people - that they understand the urgency and limited time that we have, and try to be passionate about living through the lives that we have.

Ultimately, the person I will end up with will want to impart good on the world. To leave a lasting, positive impression. Whether it’s through their intimate, one-to-one connections, or if they make waves in society or culture. The idea of leaving an impression is important to me, because if that is in what they do and how they act, they will think twice about what they do or say. This will bring a certain level of awareness that I’ve found to be awe-inspiring, beneficial, and fulfilling - I want them to experience the same. They could be kind and motherly, or they can help those in need, or they can simply uplift people and empower them. That’s what I feel in my heart, and so sharing that with someone would be fulfilling, and add another layer of our own passion and intimacy - it will show me they care, and if they choose to be with me, then we’ll share a deep caring for each other.

I will be with someone who is forward and confident. Not through insecurity, but through the above two items. Their direct and effective communication will allow them to mean what they say, and the more they say what they mean, the more honest experiences we can have together (and with others). Her confidence will allow her to push forward through any noise that will block out the above two. She will believe in herself and what she has to say, because what she has to say is important. The world needs more people like her.

And she will be intelligent, not to benefit her financially or in her career (though it will likely benefit) but through her curiosity of the things in the world and the things she is passionate about, she will be able to gather the understanding necessary to execute on what she wants in life. She will articulate (through her confidence) her desires, hopes, and dreams in a manner that people can be uplifted by, through the facts of the matter, and effectively displaying her emotions. It won’t just general intelligence, but more so emotional intelligence. She will connect with people in a way that the average person doesn’t usually experience - I want her to have deep and meaningful connections outside of just me. I want her to develop a network that empowers her and uplifts her, and I will be a strong part of that, but not the only part. She’ll cultivate this through the above.

My future partner will not be perfect - and she’ll know it. She’ll be confident with herself, but also crave discomfort in order to grow. She will be aware of her flaws, and may even meditate on them, but they will not consume her. She is strong. She understands that failure and fault is a part of life. She will be empowered by this through her confidence and intelligence around the matter to love herself through and adversity that life throws at her. She’s an all-star - and I’ll be there to support her to continue to uplift and help to continue unlock the power that is innately within her and all people.

She will inspire me through all of the above. Her existence will grab a hold of my emotional spine, shake it to the core, and have me take on a new perspective for life. Not that it is dependent on her, or that I’m relying on her, but that her internal beauty constantly reminds me of my own goals and where I am headed in life. She will empower me, as much as she empowers herself, and I will empower her as much as I empower myself.

Our energies will snowball into each other and roll together. The momentum that we both have will merge and continue to push forward at an even faster rate. We will not hinder each other, and that will be through our imperfection and willingness to care, to help, and to uplift one another.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, she will not take all of it too seriously. When it’s time to get on the grind, we’ll do that. We’ll be in sync for when we have to get things done and really take life by the balls. And when she needs alone time she will let me know and I’ll provide her with it. She’ll know that just as important as progression is, taking time to slow down, enjoy the finer and simpler things, and to not take things personally are equally important. We’ll enjoy unfiltered comedy. We’ll enjoy art that isn’t critically acclaimed. We’ll eat food that’s not ‘good’ for us. We will bask in the glory of each other’s weirdness, fueling the socially awkward jokes and horrible (but somehow on-beat) dance moves, and become deeply, passionately engaged in witty banter that leads only to laughter. We’ll fully immerse ourselves in the very human nature that we hold and intertwine with all of our pleasures, be they through taste, sound, touch, sight, and intellectual and spiritual exploration. Most of all, we will just be. We will work to cut out the noise and be humans together. Knowing full well that this life is the only one we have and that it is our duty to make damn good use of our time through ENJOYING life together.

[evansfm]

she’d forgotten just how much she LOVED it : the deafening sound of a crowd to her right and a live band to her left . everything fell away the moment the house lights went dark and the stage lit up ; her view of the world was distorted through a camera lens , and her trigger finger was fast on the shutter button . she’d been told before , time and time again , that photography was something ANYONE could do . . . point , shoot , move on to the next . but years of experience taught her it was more than that . to be the best behind a camera , you had to know PEOPLE . . . you had to recognize minute moments of pure , unfiltered human emotion and grab them before they disappeared forever . and evan was the BEST with a camera in hand , something she was still trying to convince herself of . 

self - doubt was buried deep when she was in the moment , though , focused on her surroundings . live music was the closest thing humanity had to MAGIC , she thought , the way it could bring strangers together in intimacy . . . the way it could make you feel like you were floating if only for a couple of hours . she did her best to translate that into her photographs , but the artists she worked with always made it EASY . they loved their work as much as the fans in the crowd did , and it was evident in the way she watched every musician she’d had the pleasure of working with pour everything into every performance . saint valentine was no different , no matter how BIG they’d gotten over the past several years . 

and they were big . the o2 was the biggest venue evan had ever shot in , and though she’d been the only one backstage , it seemed she wasn’t the only one in the pit , trying to get that coveted money shot of nicky haven at the mic . he was notoriously UNFRIENDLY with cameras , never a fan of being in front of them or having them in his face while performing . it was precisely why evan arrived early that day , camera bag zipped up and tucked away . for the first few hours , she just hung out with the four of them , getting to know them and letting them get to know her . by the time they reconvened in a side room set up with evan’s photo gear , she knew to have nicky’s younger brother –– a roadie that tagged along on all of their tours –– nearby . she knew that their drummer –– with her long , black hair and dazzling smile –– was the only one who could get a laugh out of him . that he was a bit sweet on her . she knew that he looked at his band like family and that he hardly trusted anyone else . 

so she cleared the room . 

it was like that with all four of them ; she’d spent the morning getting to know them , the afternoon shooting what she now knew to be the cover for their next single , and the evening doing what she knew best . she carved out a space for herself in their lives , if only for the night , and made it so hardly anybody noticed when she lifted the camera to her eyes . backstage , then on stage , then in the crowd . photographing live music like riding a bike , because she never forgot how to do it , and she’d only gotten better as time went on . . . evident in the way they’d CHOSEN her to document their first ever sold out arena .

it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced from a creative point of view . occasionally she’d find herself at shows this big , mostly when she was younger –– beck had always been a big fan of mumford & sons , something evan still quietly carried with her . but back then she was one of thousands , a face in the crowd that kept watch on her brother , rarely so unabashedly joyful . being there on the job , though , was completely different . . . having the means to wander where she pleased , slipping effortlessly through an electric crowd , shooting from the shadows of a stage bigger than she imagined . it reminded her of why she picked up a camera in the first place , pausing magic moments in time and turning them into tangible things to be kept forever . 

even more , though , it put her world –– her life in london –– into perspective . moving through concrete halls of the arena as it emptied , making her way backstage , she flipped through some of the raw images she’d gotten in the last couple of hours . her feet felt light , and her stomach was alight with fluttering from excitement . this was what she was BEST at . this was what made her heart feel full . the thought of her desk back at nme , the all-staff meetings and assignments with restrictions or specifications . . . it looked a lot more like what she was SUPPOSED to want . it was logical , working with the safety net of a publication . it felt like a step backwards , a step towards the life she was building in galway , before everything wonderful about manchester happened . 

“ admit it , ” evan peeked up from her camera screen –– beaming –– to see all four members of saint valentine as they lingered outside of the packed green room . nicky had his arm flung around his younger brother , and a crooked smile pasted on his lips , “ that was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before , right ? ”

“ consider me minorly impressed , ” evan said , tucking her dslr back into her bag . her hands instinctively cradled the film camera around her neck .

“ more like majorly . ”

“ are all american musicians t’is sure of themselves ? ”

“ no , ” lindsey , their lead guitarist named after fleetwood mac’s very own –– and certainly living up to it –– ruffled his shaggy hair with a towel , “ nicholas here just has a massive ego to compensate for other shortcomings . ”

an unintelligible grumble sounded from the taller boy , lost in the scuffle of nicky trapping him in a headlock and dragging them into the green room . spencer , their bassist , now back in his wire-framed glasses groaned and followed the both of them , uttering weak words of protest . only izzy hung back , beautiful black hair damp from a hard night’s work and finally pulled back into a long ponytail . evan wondered a few times how she managed to keep her vision clear on stage . she flashed a dazzling smile after the three of them , then turned back to evan .

“ dudes , am i right ? ”

evan’s gaze shifted from her to trail after the three of them , jostling each other about as people began to swarm for congratulations . despite the lightness in her chest , there was something small missing . . . an ounce of longing gripping at her stomach –– she missed all four of them .

“ absolutely ridiculous , ” she laughed before her gaze shifted back to izzy , “ you , miss , could out-drum just about ANY of t’e musicians i’ve worked wit’ . absolutely killer . ”

“ don’t flirt with me when i have no chance , connely , ” deep brown eyes sparkled in jest as she added , “ i know kiv o’niell’s got first dibs . ” shared laughter filled the hallway , “ you coming in ? we’d love to have you . ”

“ um , ” evan turned once more , peering into a hectic , happy room . a smile settled on her lips , “ i’ve actually got plans , but tomorrow ! i’ll stick around after tomorrow . ”

izzy studied her for a moment , giving a slow nod and an understanding smile , “ he’s in boston , right ? ”

“ not yet , ” evan sighed , not bothering to ask how she knew . she was sure she’d slipped it into conversation at some point that day , “ toronto . t’ey play boston in a couple days . reckon i can catch him in between press rounds if i time it right . ”

“ well , go on . we’ll see you tomorrow . bring that magical little machine with you , too . ”

“ you got it , ” evan lifted two fingers to her temple in a small salute , not needing to be told twice . her feet were moving before she’d even finished .

maybe it was the confetti fluttering about in her stomach . maybe it was the realization that perhaps nme wasn’t the dream she thought it was . maybe it was the sight of three boys jostling each other around after a good show . her only instinct , her only real thought , was to call kieran . to tell him all about how she’d gotten an infamous trouble maker to open up , how her photographs would be used as cover art for a stand alone single , how nothing quite compared to being in the thick of a live show . . . and how 20,000 people with a band she didn’t truly know couldn’t hold a candle to THE FOUND in berlin . . . let alone the found later in their career . it could’ve been the endorphins , the adrenaline , but evan felt certain in what otherwise seemed like a whim : being confined to a desk wasn’t it for her . she didn’t know what came next . . . leaving nme or locking down her own studio or heading out on tour with another band , but she knew she wanted to tell him . she was happier than she’d been in WEEKS , and the only missing piece was kieran .

even if things hadn’t been picture perfect with them lately . distance was easy when they were just an easy drive away from each other , but with an ocean , a tour , and ever changing time zones working against them things had been . . .  more difficult than what they were used to . evan tried to chalk it up to overthinking when she felt a hollowness in her chest after he missed a call . . . or worse , after her mentions flooded with a girl she wanted nothing to do with . she’d been familiar with the nastier side of the internet for a long time , if only because of her proximity to four boys rising to fame , but after she and kieran made it clear to EVERYONE that they were far more than friends , things had only gotten worse . it was easy to ignore before bex . easier to brush away as though it were nothing but a nameless , faceless few who put their opinion where it didn’t belong . but now , with evan in london and kieran ( and bex ) in the states . . . things were BRUTAL . especially as more and more usernames tied to the found’s opening act wandered into her tags or her mentions . she’d kept it to herself , for the most part , knowing that he couldn’t really do anything to change it . . . but it wasn’t like bex , herself , was helping . she couldn’t help the occasional curiosity that came when she couldn’t sleep , only to find a clip from bex’s story , fawning over kieran the way she had shamelessly back in manchester as evan was standing right there . 

she learned quickly to monitor her time on social media ; these days she mostly only used it when work required it of her . the last thing she needed was an array of new tagged posts on instagram , all having nothing to do with her and everything to do with her boyfriend . she’d known for some time about the rumors , and since stumbling across them she’d tried her best to tune them out . it did nothing to soothe the things she’d been actively working to unlearn over the last several months . the things her father , who left his entire family for another one , left behind . the things a boy , who she’d thought would be her first love despite his constant need to make her feel inadequate , left behind . kieran walsh was everything those men could never be . . . but it was easy to let the mind run wild when he was thousands of miles away .

even with the recent distance –– with the missed calls and miscommunications –– she still ached with missing him . she still wanted nothing more than to tell him about the night she’d just had , the one he’d been SO SURE would go well . she wanted to tell him that he was right . . . and that maybe she’d leave her desk behind to start something new . so she moved quickly from the empty bowels of the arena to the crowded lobby areas , smiling at but aptly dodging anyone who recognized her by CHANCE , kieran walsh’s girlfriend . she poured out into the parking lot with the rest of them , and only when she was exhaling as she flopped into the driver’s seat of her car did she pull out her phone . 

‘ hey , checking in with you babes . are you alright ? do you need me to come over ? ’ isla’s message sat at the top of a mountain of notifications , every single one from her work email address . . . and her personal .

‘ COMMENT REQUESTED ’

evan’s brow furrowed as she typed back to isla : ‘ great actually ???? why ’

but the answer to that question was tucked away in the emails flooding her inboxes . over a dozen emails from over a dozen different publications were reaching out , hoping for her thoughts on an article linked at the very end of each .

she’d been walking a tightrope over the past few weeks , balancing in the breezes that tried to sway her off center . work . distance . arguments . rumors . however all of it was stuff she could handle , for the most part . . . this , though , was like someone took a pair of scissors and snipped the rope as she was standing in the center of it .

‘ ‘I DON’T KISS AND TELL : Bex & The Found’s Kieran Walsh Confirm Rumors are True ’

it was nothing she hadn’t seen before .

" Rumors have circulated all over the internet throughout The Found’s wildly successful North American tour, and for weeks all we’ve gotten were vague answers from Bex and silence from Kieran . This past Saturday , however , it seems the pair –– speculated to be growing intimately closer over the course of tour thanks to Bex’s ever present social media presence –– finally decided to make it known outside of their inner circle . . . those rumors may not have been rumors after all . Summer in Toronto is warm , but these two were hot (and heavy?) outside of Everleigh . . . ”

and then her vision began to blur as a photograph came into view . she blinked , turned up the brightness on her phone , and held it closer as she stared and searched for some sort of flaw in the composition . . . a tell tale sign of photoshop , a detail that proved it only LOOKED like them , but wasn’t . . . 

but she found nothing . only bex and kieran swept up in each other’s arms in an intimate looking moment , a moment no one was meant to see . the telephoto lens caught her smile perfectly , beautiful as ever as hooded eyes looked over at kieran . what’s worse was . . . it looked like he was smiling too . wrapped up in each other the first photo , walking away from the club’s exit together in the second . 

nausea began to settle in as she stared , unable to read any other part of the article surrounding the photographs . things began to fall into place , one by one . the way she’d picked up the phone –– maybe she truly didn’t remember evan , because maybe evan didn’t exist at all in the states –– , the copious number of videos and photos evan had been tagged in but never got around to seeing , the secret keeping , the missed call . THE MISSED CALL . it was that night . . . when time got away from him and he texted instead of calling . she hadn’t understood then , but she had a hunch now that maybe . . . maybe it was because bex was there , laying on the side of the bed that should’ve been HERS .

her chest began to rise and fall in rapid breaths , every cautionary tale and lived experience flooding her lungs at once . everything from the past few weeks toppled over onto her chest because she’d been RIGHT to worry about bex . she’d been right to feel like the place she left in the boys’ lives was being filled with a girl who had eyes for kieran . she was right to tell kieran to be CAREFUL with that one . . . because it wasn’t insecurity , and it wasn’t being a JEALOUS  girlfriend . it was instinct , and her gut feeling was never wrong . 

or maybe it had been , when it told her it was SAFE to allow herself to believe that love stories didn’t have to turn into tragedies . . . that not every man would hurt her the way declan had or leave her as her father did –– trading her in for a newer , more expensive model . 

but kieran , with his arms wrapped around bex and a smile on his lips , had done BOTH . . . and hadn’t even had the decency to tell her before telling the world . 

am i worth so little ? she thought , am i so easily replaced ? so easily unloved ? how could i be so stupid . . . so naive ?  

her phone screen was a blur without definition , clear droplets hitting the glass like the beginnings of a slow summer rain . her clothes suddenly felt too tight , frantic breathing ripping at the seams of her shirt . her stomach lurched and turned and somersaulted , unsteady and queasy and . . . 

she shoved her door open , slipping out of her car and kneeling just on the other side of it . tucking her hair behind her ears , grasping curls in a ponytail behind her neck , she threw up on the pavement of the parking lot . it brought no relief , though . in fact , her cheeks were still stained with tears . her chest was still heaving with labored breath . her head was still racing . . .

when did it start ? did he put up a front at first or did he immediately find himself in need of a distraction . . . one that was close in proximity and ready and willing . why wouldn’t he just BREAK UP with me ? being dumped would’ve been easier . 

was he bored with her ?

was he in need of someone smarter ? someone prettier ? someone more accessible ? someone who knew the life of a musician far more than she could ever understand ?  

she stood , wiping her mouth with the back of her hand . 

maybe it was a misunderstanding . . . a doctored photo . . . 

the parking lot was nearly empty . . . how long had she been like that ? motionless in her car as tears puddled over the article until she had no choice but to move . . .

evan’s lashes fluttered , blinking away tears as they came ; she had no idea when her hands had begun to shake , but they trembled as she pulled up her recent calls . his name sat there near the top of the list . . . maybe if she called , he’d tell her it was a fake . a rumor . a mistake . or maybe bex would pick up again , still wrapped in his bedsheets in the midst of an afternoon off of press . her thumb hovered over his name .

kieran had WATCHED her change for a boy who didn’t love her . he’d seen the aftermath of a broken heart . he’d witnessed the hurt she felt when it came to her father , the anger . and yet there he was , crystal clear in a photograph breaking her heart for the world to see . 

kieran , who swore he loved her . who swore she had nothing to worry about . who swore that she was just a jealous girlfriend the first time evan brought up her discomfort with bex . who swore he’d come home to her . 

it was worse than declan , because she hadn’t loved him this much .

it was worse than her father , because she’d never really promised to stay .

her thumb tapped the screen and she brought the phone to her ear ; the shrill ring came three times before anyone picked up .

“ evan ? ”

“ mam , ” she huffed , voice cracking as silent , angry tears finally broke into a choked sob , “ can you –– . . . could you –– . . . i t’ink i –– ” 

“ evie , my sweet girl , take a breath , ” her voice was sharper now . evan imagined her sitting upright in bed , spine straightened with worry , “ tell me what’s going on . ”

“ he –– . . . kieran –– ”

“ is he OKAY ? ”

“ YES , ” she shook out her free hand , slight frustration creeping in and only fueling the tears , “ yes he’s . . . i mean he looks . . . i t’ink maybe he’s ch-chea– ” she couldn’t even get the word out ; she was going to be sick all over again . 

“ oh , evan –– ”

“ could you just –– could you PLEASE come to london ? ”

there was a pause , agonizingly long . 

“ i can be t’ere tomorrow . ”

[edelwoodsouls]

wrap me in sunset and sleep [fic]

Wilde hasn’t been fine in a long time. But it’s okay; Zolf can bear the load. (Not to me. Not if it’s you.)

Word Count: 1,776 | Also on Ao3

Nights in the North are cold.

Zolf is used to the cold. Days aboard a ship, soaked in salt water and bitter air, and hours spent in the chill below ground of the mines, have both prepared him for this atmosphere.

Wilde, however, is not. The last couple of years have hardened him, yes- but they haven't changed his love of the finer things. Of the small comforts - a warm bed, a good drink, an arm around him as he sleeps.

It is this argument that convinced Zolf. "I'll be so lonely, Zolf," Wilde had grinned, with a flicker of that old, familiar spark in his eye that has always made Zolf ache. "I just can't get warm, after all that being dead nonsense."

Zolf had rolled his eyes. Grabbed one of Wilde's gesturing hands out of the air, held it close between his own. "Feels plenty warm to me."

Maybe it's his own bias. To him, Wilde is an ever-flickering flame in a world increasingly plunged into dark. Those moments, between a bloody body sprawled across snow, and the sudden gasp of breath in frozen lungs- those were darker than he ever dreamed the world could be.

And he's been living in twilight longer than he can remember.

"Then let me keep you warm," Wilde had whispered, pulling Zolf's hands to cup his face. The touch of skin on skin had felt like an open flame, and a gentle breeze, all at once.

"Okay," Zolf had said, voice barely more than a whisper.

He couldn't have dared to imagine, when they first met, how this man, this insufferably annoying bard, would change him. Worm his way under every steel guard Zolf has ever erected, and find a nook to nestle in, at home in his heart.

It takes them a while to find the opportunity. The news of the seed, the infection, the garden, parade through as cruel distractions, as if fate is counting down the extra days it can keep the two of them apart.

Finally, they return to the ship, newly fixed and gleaming. The garden has left everyone- off, a little. Distracted, and distant, drifting in a sea of memories and what-ifs and heartache.

Zolf isn't unaffected, but he learnt to live with his ghosts a long time ago. Hears their calls every night in his dreams, their sneers at every choice he makes and doesn't make. Just because they were corporeal for a little while, doesn't change things.

It's Wilde he's worried about.The garden definitely hit him worse than the others. His eyes are unfocused, stuck towards the horizon. Head cocked slightly, as if the whispers of spirits haven't left him behind. The tremor in his hands is back, his fingers cold to the touch.

He's quiet, but not in a Wilde-like way - not the stern reservation Zolf has grown accustomed to. It's lost, and vacant. As if the world is merely a stream passing him by.

Zolf links his fingers into Wilde's as they approach the ship. The gesture is accepted without complaint, without any registration. Wilde lets himself be led up onto the deck.

"Get some rest, you lot," Earhart yells down by way of greeting, from up in the rigging. "You can debrief in the morning."

"Not now?" Zolf asks, frowning.

"You look like you're all about to drop dead," she sniffs. "It won't do any good to report in this state."

"Are you being nice, Earhart?"

"Just practical. Go below before I change my mind."

Zolf tips a salute in her direction, and doesn't ask twice.

He turns to Wilde. In the dying light of the evening, the sun unfiltered by clouds, Wilde is haloed in a soft warm glow, not unlike the aura of magic he used to protect everyone in the garden. His shock-white hair almost dances in the breeze, brushing against his jaw, his slightly-parted lips, his distant blue eyes.

Zolf isn't a religious man anymore, but for Wilde he could make an exception.

"Wilde?" he asks softly. "You with me?"

For a moment, the words seem to vanish into smoke, and Zolf is more scared than he wants to admit that, maybe, the void that has gaped beneath Wilde's feet for years has finally claimed him.

Then the clouds seem to part. Wilde's eyes find his, his fingers curl to squeeze Zolf's. Something like a smile, still a little dreamy and disconnected, tugs at the corners of his lips.

"I'm here, Zolf," he says. "Thank you."

"Let's get you into bed."

"At least buy me dinner first," Wilde's smile splits into that familiar, teasing grin.

"Maybe tomorrow," Zolf says gruffly, glad that his beard hides the heat rising in his cheeks, somewhat. "If you can get a full night's sleep, I'll buy you the best dinner money can buy aboard a flying airship in the middle of the aurora."

"Is that a promise?"

Zolf takes a breath, letting the cold air sober the moment. "Yes, it is."

Wilde nods, satisfied. And maybe- a little nervous? Relieved? It's hidden under several layers of bravado, but Zolf has learnt to read every line of that face, every spark in those eyes.

"Come on," Zolf finally breaks their eye contact, feeling sure his blush has crawled to places it definitely can't hide. "Earhart wasn't wrong when she said we need sleep. You look like a strong gust of wind would knock you over."

"I bend with the wind, Zolf. Like a tree. Resilient and tall, and an absolutely stunning view."

"Yeah, yeah. And I'm the boulder that is dragging you downhill to bed."

"Lead on, good rock."

And Zolf does, not daring to let go of Wilde's hand even as they descend into the narrow, warren-like corridors of the ship.

He leads them to Wilde's room, and Wilde does nothing but smile, small and almost-hidden, when Zolf closes the door behind him.

"I'll stay," Zolf offers, as Wilde sits heavily on the bed and begins to unlace his shoes. "If you want, that is. I can stay."

"It would be pretty hard to sleep together, if you were in a different room."

"Well, yeah..."

"And it's not as if we can sleep in your room, half my legs would hang off the end."

"True," Zolf concedes, feeling half a step behind. He has never been sure, exactly, what this thing between them is. Isn't used to people wanting him, choosing him, when there are any other options to go with.

"And it does get dreadfully cold in this room, being so close to the outer hull-"

"Okay, Wilde, I'll stay. Just wanted to check you hadn't..."

"What?" Wilde's face grows serious, and Zolf's gut squirms with guilt at instantly killing the mood. "Forgotten? Changed my mind?"

Zolf nods wordlessly, unable to look him in the eye.

"Zolf." Wilde doesn't stand, but beckons him over with a hand. Hesitant, nervous, Zolf sits beside him on the bed, not quite touching.

Wilde reaches out, cups his hands on either side of Zolf's jaw. "I'm not going to change my mind," he says, slowly, watching to make sure each word lands where it's supposed to. "Whatever this is, I need you to know that. I need you to know that I need you."

"Really?" There's a lump in his throat, chewing up any thoughts of words, until they scratch and ache.

"Really." Wilde takes a careful, shivering breath. "You know I worry the same thing, about you? That you'll wake up one day and see the cracks, see that I'm this- shackle, around your ankles, dragging you down. And you'll leave me, and I wouldn't blame you even a little bit."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." Zolf rests a hand against Wilde's, revels in the warmth, in the contact, in the quiet peace of this moment- something neither of them has known in a long time.

"That's good," Wilde breathes. His eyes have drifted downwards, but he says nothing.

"Wilde?"

"Can I-" He's hesitating, unsure. "I don't know, if you- I know you- that is to say-"

"Just kiss me, Wilde."

He doesn't need telling twice. He closes the gap in a moment, magnets drawing the two of them together.

For all that Zolf has, maybe, perhaps, in private moments, imagined what kind of a kisser Oscar Wilde might be, nothing compares to the reality. His lips are warm, and soft - gentle, but insistent. His fingers curl into his hair, resting comfortably there.

A single moment leaves Zolf breathless. Ten seconds, and he thinks he might never come down from that buzzing, lightheaded feeling.

Eventually, Wilde pulls away. Zolf follows his lips for a moment, before the world returns, the chill of the evening air, the wind outside the window, the perpetual ache in his bones.

Everything feels a little distant, in the aftermath. This night, this moment, is just the two of them, just the warmth clasped between their hands and the shiver of their breaths as their lungs try to remember oxygen.

"That was..." The words have scattered, just out of reach.

"Show-stopping? Stunning? Perhaps a little magical?" Wilde grins, preening under Zolf's gaze.

"All of the above," Zolf smiles, softly, carefully. "Definitely worth repeating."

"Maybe in the morning. After all, I need to get that solid eight hour sleep if I want to be treated to dinner, right?"

"Right."

"And before you ask-" Wilde flourishes his hands, face drawn down in an exaggerated frown, "I am the big spoon."

Zolf can't help the laugh that bursts out of him, rough and explosive, startlingly loud. "Whatever pleases you," he manages to say. "Although I have it on good authority I am very good at hugs."

"Oh, the best," Wilde nods knowingly. "But for now, I do the holding. I need... I need to know you're safe."

Zolf throws his arms around him, before Wilde can do so much as process his movements. That fracturing, spiralling look on his face is one Zolf would do anything to fold away in a drawer to be forgotten.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm safe, and so are you. We're going to fix the world, and go on holiday, and settle down somewhere beautiful and peaceful, with a theatre for your plays, and a bookshop with all the latest Campbell novels for me. Does that sound good to you?"

Wilde returns the hug, squeezing him as if Zolf might vanish at any moment. "You know what? I think that sounds perfect."

When they sleep, finally, rocked by the gentle drift of the ship, and the steady rhythm of each others' hearts, it's the best either of them has slept in years.

[fireheartarts]

Like real people do.

ACOMAF; Mor Fanfiction

Summary : After many and many a secret lover, Morrigan finally meets someone whom she wants to keep a secret no more. Her lover Lou (an OC) never minded being a secret, now she's being asked to solstice eve dinner with Mor as the latter comes out to her family. [Set before ACOSF]

Read on Archive of our own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354391/chapters/72104565

It was funny how a small thought might take home at the back of one’s head and live there for days, stirring the loudest of reactions to the smallest of suspicions. And once one finally convinced oneself that such a thought was but a fantasy, there came the moment that proved their fear real.

For Lou, it happened on the morning of solstice eve.

She had felt it coming for a while now. She’d catch Mor opening her mouth to say something then closing it, starting conversations with ‘so I’ve been thinking..’ only to shake her head two seconds later and ask her to forget it. And Lou’s heart skipped a beat or two each time that happened. She finally decided to stop worrying, it was too late now for Mor to ask, anyways.

So it took her by complete surprise when Mor casually blurted it out. No nervous energy preceded the event, no stuttering, no waiting for a solemn mood to reign first with hearts beating too fast and eyes darting all over the place. None of that. Mor had been hurrying about, putting her clothes on and looking for her stuff around the flat _ which had ended up in the most peculiar of places due to the state in which they’ve returned from the club last night.

Warm underneath the bed covers, Lou had been contently watching Mor move around.

“I want you to come to dinner with me tonight, you know... meet everyone.”

Lou blinked, her body had been subject to too much action (and alcohol) last night that it simply could not master a physical reaction. She knew then and there what her answer was: a simple no. Some part of her wanted to just politely decline and be over with the conversation, but the insecure part of her also wanted to play along in case she was getting the wrong idea.

Mor, who had been fixing her makeup at the vanity mirror, turned to fully face her and for a second Lou almost completely forgot about her current crisis. Mor was gorgeous, anyone could see that. She had the kind of beauty people just acknowledged and accepted. Lou was no exception. But that had always felt distant and in a way meaningless. It wasn’t until she associated these looks with Mor’s personality that they started to shine under a completely different light. Yes, Mor had a radiant smile, but it wasn’t until she knew her that she realized that that smile could actually stop her heart and make her world turn the opposite way.

And now, blonde hair tasseled, dress half worn with the side zipper fully open and one strap falling down her arm, face bare of any make-up except for the bright red color on her lips _which made her look a bit ridiculous but she’d pair with piercing eyes and confidence that anyone looking her way wouldn’t find it anything but bold and daring. Her complete attention was on Lou.

“So?” She prompted.

“Well, whatever for?” Lou finally replied.

Mor rolled her eyes and turned back to face the mirror again, working on her eyes now.

“To have dinner, what do you image?”

“Well..” Lou started, shifting to her side and pulling the covers tightly around her. It was awfully early for conversations.

“I wasn’t aware your tight circle was open to new additions.”

Mor looked at her sideways, seeming offended, Lou shrugged sleepily.

The High Lord’s inner circle tried to seem approachable and casual, and they were, to a certain degree: they would never ignore anyone who struck up a conversation with them at a party or at a bar _they hanged out quite often at the local bars and clubs_, they greeted locals and asked about their family and friends if they were familiar with them, they would stop and have a full conversation about the weather with anyone who wished so. But still, they remained untouched and best admired from afar. Lou didn’t think it was something they did on purpose or even were aware of, but it was there nonetheless. She, herself, didn’t like to get too close, only watched from a safe distance. She would have never even dreamed of attempting at anything resembling a small talk with Mor, had not the High Lord’s third approached her herself, quite tipsy and certainly flirting. That was over a year ago.

“We are if said additions are dear friends of ours.”

It clicked then. dear friends that was what Lou going as. She thought she’d be relieved at hearing that, she wasn’t. Not entirely. In fact, It annoyed her a little bit. What the hell was Mor planning?

Mor lifted one perfect eyebrow at the mirror questioningly, knowing that Lou was watching.

“Mor, I don’t think your family will appreciate new ‘dear friends’ on solstice eve. Who just brings a new friend they’ve never mentioned to solstice eve? For no reason?”

Lou realized she was blushing, quite fiercely. This whole conversation was not the best thing to have first thing in the morning with a pounding headache. She buried her face in the pillow.

“What? Well, silly…”

Lou didn’t lift her head from the pillow, even when Mor’s voice sounded closer as she made her way towards her.

“Of course they’ll appreciate meeting the person I'm seeing. I want them to meet you.”

Peaking with one eye at Mor, she was kneeling before the bed, smiling at Lou trying to keep a bright face but Lou knew better.

“Does the spymaster or the commander bring their lovers to family dinners often?”

“Lou,” Mor said in a resigned voice. If Lou was good at reading Mor, so was Mor at reading her, and she knew she was stalling.

Sitting up in the bed, Lou took a breath readying herself.

“Alright..” She ran a hand through her mess of hair before looking down at Mor.

“Mor, they’ve just… They have no idea that you prefer girls. Do you think this is the right way to approach it?”

The truth was, Mor had hidden her sexual preferences from her friends and found family for a very long time and even though they seemed like the sort of lot who would be completely cool with it, they simply had no idea. Perhaps they have never entertained such a thought because Mor had never alluded to it, she’d taken quite many male lovers and made sure to be public about it. So although they’d have no qualms with such a revelation, it would still take them aback, one of them was even in love with her for crying out loud.

Lou loved Mor to death- not that Mor knew that, but she still thought this was a thing Mor needed to do alone, and for herself. It was quite unfair to put her in the middle of it.

Mor had made it quite clear that her relation to Lou should remain a secret and Lou never minded. At the beginning, it was simply because she didn’t care much, now it was because it terrified her to be anything more than Mor’s secret lover and the why of that was something that she stubbornly determined not to think about.

“I just want them to meet you.” She sat on the bed beside Lou and reached for her hand, she held it gently then stared fixedly at it.

“I truly do. Sometimes, I have this maddening urge to just run to one of them and talk about you all day. It was just never the case before. I had managed to keep it a secret for so long, because I had never met someone who was as important to me, as they were” She looked up and met her eyes then, and Lou might’ve actually died there and then. She knew she would go, she knew she’d do anything Mor asked at that moment.

Mor reached and tucked Lou’s hair behind her ear, “I feel like there are these two parts of me that I’ve ripped apart and I’m constantly trying to keep as such and then, at moments when I’m brave and fearless, I wonder why so? I’ve been put into this cage, perhaps against my will, but now I am the very guard keeping me inside it.” she pulled both her hands from Lou and buried her face in them making a muffled sounded that might’ve been a ‘never mind’.

Lou was biting fiercely at her lower lip, she reached for Mor’s hands, pulled them gently from her face, and kept them in her own hands.

“Mor if it’s truly what you want, then I’ll come. Of course, I’ll come. I just don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to.”

She leaned closer before Mor could say anything and kissed her softly. Lou was often hesitant about touching Mor, she’d want to, badly, but was so insecure about her inexperience, and also she never knew how to touch Mor, so she’d always leave it up to her to initiate the first touch. Not now though. Right now, she felt like she was the brave one, which surprised her a little bit because Mor was always so sure of herself, she was so good at putting facades, one never knew what was behind. It took a long time for Lou to be able to read her, and only because Mor would allow, at moments like this, to be seen unfiltered. So she kissed her again, and again until Mor melted into the kiss and leaned in to deepen it. Lou pulled apart, her head meeting the headboard of the bed, Mor followed, resting her forehead against her own, eyes still closed.

“You’ll come?”

“Yes, and get very drunk.” Mor huffed a small laugh and kissed Lou again.

“Thanks.” she opened her eyes “I should really get going. I’ll come by later, be ready at 7”

“Sure”

Lou watched her finish getting ready and leave, she then sunk in her bed and slept till noon.

 It wasn’t until Mor was leaving the townhouse, that she announced absently “Oh, and I’ll be bringing someone tonight, so save an extra seat, would you?”

They all stopped arguing about whatever it was they were arguing about and looked her way. Cassian was the first to speak, arms crossed against his chest. “Since when are we allowed dates? I have a string of lovers that I’d like to impress with a dinner invitation.” She snorted paying him little attention as she threw her scarf around her neck and went to get her coat.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, you wouldn’t be able to impress anyone if your life depended on it.”

She reached for the door before she had to hear any more of it.

“But Who is it!” Rhys shouted behind her. She kept walking.

Once a safe distance from the house, she stopped and leaned against the first solid object in her way, it was a lamppost.

“Fuck.” She gritted out to the ground. She had no idea what she was doing.

She’d been on edge the whole day. Finally, she decided not to have any physical encounter with another being until tonight happened. She had a solitary lunch at her place then, when found nothing to distract her, decided to go to Lou’s earlier than she was supposed to.

She had an extra key and had let herself in. Lou was sitting on her bedroom floor in her shift, facing her wide-open wardrobe.

“Alright, I might not be coming after all. I have nothing to wear!” she exclaimed in a slightly panicked voice. Mor walked to her and leaned down to kiss her.

“You know it doesn’t matter, right?”

This didn’t seem to reassure her and she furrowed her brows. Lou made all sorts of comical expressions when she was nervous which always made Mor want to kiss her all over. Sadly, she couldn’t always do it, and not necessarily because of her fear of being caught. Truth was, Mor wanted to touch Lou all the time. Lou blushed at almost anything, whether she was nervous, or embarrassed, or angry or shy, or just passionate about something, her immediate reaction to anything was blushing. She’ll get red circled high on her cheeks, or on the side of her neck, or her earlobes would turn completely red and it would take actual, significant willpower of Mor not to lean in and touch her lips to Lou’s skin. Lou also rarely got angry, she was the sweetest person Mor had ever met so it was a whole sight when she did allow herself to be upset about something, it was so adorable Mor would instantly forget whatever argument they were having. She also got nervous easily and would freak out about the silliest of things, like right now.

“But what does one wear to meet a High Lord and Lady.”

Mor placed a finger under Lou’s chin, tilting her head up to look up at her.

“Anything. You. Want” Mor said, her worries from earlier completely forgotten.

When Mor winnowed them to the High Lord’s townhouse, Lou was wondering if she could actually die from nerves. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it would stop any minute. She looked at Mor, only imagining what she could possibly be feeling right now, but Mor’s eyes looked hollowed and empty. Lou pulled her closer. “All good?” Mor squeezed her hand

“No going back.”

Lou’s heart broke for her lover.

“We don’t have to, Mor. Seriously!” She said a bit desperately. Mor shook her head, swallowing.

“No, It’s not that. I want to do it, I’m ready. Doesn’t make me any less nervous.” Lou wanted to lean in and kiss her but she didn’t know how Mor would react to a kiss right now so she only pulled her into a quick, tight hug instead.

Tugging her along, hand still in hers, Mor lead them inside, and there they were. The most powerful people in the Night Court in one room. It didn’t seem to fit them. The commander Cassian was slouched on the couch, legs propped on the table, and talking to the High Lady, Feyre. if only focused on Cassian, one would think it was an extremely important conversation, but from Feyre’s expression, it looked about the silliest thing to be talking about. The High Lord of the Night Court stood at the opposite side of the room having a lively conversation with Amren and her lover while the spymaster stood next to him, carefully listening, they all had drinks in their hands. To say she was overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year.

“Everyone!” Mor greeted cheerily.

She didn’t know why, but in her head Lou fully expected Mor to drop her hand at that very moment, walk away and leave Lou to fend for herself, she was surprised when that didn’t happen. Mor didn’t let go of her hand.

Now everyone was looking their way, the slight buzz of conversation that had filled the room a moment ago slowly dying. Lou tried to keep a pleasant expression. She smiled friendly and waved her free hand.

“Hello,” she said in what she assumed was a light and cheerful voice.

“Everyone, meet Lou,” Mor said casually and went for the wine that was on the table.

“Lou this is everyone.” Lou smiled again at all the eyes that were fixed on her.

Everyone looked lost for words. The spymaster was looking at Mor as if she’d grown an additional head right in front of him. The High Lord tilted his head giving them both an assessing looking, a slight smile finally tugged at his lips. Cassian looked confused as though, surely he wasn’t understanding this correctly. Amren seemed completely uninterested in this whole situation. It was Feyre who spoke first, she hopped from her seat smiling warmly at Lou.

“Hello, I’m Feyre, lovely to meet you. Want some wine?”

Lou could’ve kissed her for that bit of normalcy.

“Lovely to meet you too. Thanks for having me” Lou shook the High Lady’s hand. “And yes wine would be great.”

Lou was focused on the task of taking the glass Feyre was offering without dropping it when Cassian said to Mor.

“I thought you said you were bringing a date.” Lou glanced at him, he was eyeing her, not in an unfriendly way but not welcoming either.

“Lou is my date.” Lou’s cheeks heated.

“This makes so much sense” Rhysand muttered to himself, as if satisfied.

Feyre rolled her eyes and said to Lou “Ignore them, they’ve all lost their manners somewhere on the battlefield.” At this Rhysand made his way to them and extended his hand.

“Rhysand.”

Lou stared at his hand. Was her High Lord offering a handshake? She somehow managed to shake his hand, nod, and give a small curtsy all at the same time.

“Do forgive my manners, my mate does make an excellent point. We have indeed thrown all of our manners down the drain,” this with a pointed look towards Cassian who didn’t move from his seat, only waved a casual hand in salute.

“Cassian, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.”

Lou nodded and smiled broadly. “Yes, I’ve actually heard a lot about you all. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Cassian, tilting his head and eyeing her, scoffed.

“Interesting, because we’ve actually never heard anything about you.”

It was then that Lou realized that she got her speculations about this evening all wrong. She hadn’t wanted to come because she had thought Mor was coming out to her family for her sake, that perhaps she had assumed Lou wanted to be introduced and meet the family and was doing this for her. Lou had simply not wanted to put that kind of pressure on Mor. She’d thought by refusing to come, Mor would come out at her own time. And when Mor still wanted to go with it, Lou was only nervous for her sake. How her family would react and how Mor would handle their reaction. It never occurred to her that she would be the one getting scrutinized and judged. If she was blushing before because she was nervous, now her cheeks burned from embarrassment.

“Cassian would you just shove it?” Mor answered for her, meeting Cassian’s eyes. For a long, while they held each other’s gaze, it was like an intense staring contest. Mor was the first to look away.

“Your house is very lovely,” Lou said to the High Lord and Lady, a weak attempt to lighten the mood. Feyre was more than willing to take it.

“Oh, you think so? Thank you.” she beamed, then continued as if the thought just occurred to her “Although it was all Rhys’s, I barely made any additions.”

“You do grace us with your art very often, Feyre darling,” Rhys answered looking down affectionately at his mate. She shrugged smiling at him. They made a very cute couple.

“Any of these are yours?” Lou asked scanning the paintings that decorated the house.

“Some of them,” Feyre answered hesitantly and blushed a bit pointing the pieces. Lou was seriously impressed.

“Oh wow, they’re exquisite!”

Lou said honestly then continued with Feyre about her art. Lou had the impression that Feyre didn’t enjoy much talking about her work, not in a rude way, perhaps she just considered it a private part of her, although she would get excited and passionately talk about one aspect or another if asked the right question. They continued the conversation only because it seemed like the only thing saving this evening like if they stopped the whole house would crumble around them. Mor was talking with Amren and Varian and would turn here and there to their conversation to supply a compliment about Feyre or her work or mention something about Lou.

“Oh, Lou took me to that art gallery too, and gashed about the exact same piece you wouldn’t stop talking about, Feyre” and would give them a look as if to say discuss. The conversation turned to Lou’s taste in art.

Lou loved art, mostly sculptures and the occasional paintings, but couldn’t create anything herself, so she only satisfied herself with reading a lot about it; it didn’t seem to make a difference and Feyre was interested all the same.

The night continued more or less in a bearable way. Once the initial shock was over and everyone determinedly avoided the topic at hand, they fell into what felt like their usual companionship, one they were all familiar with: sharing stories and exchanging banters. The spymaster hardly spoke all evening. Amren was a bit indifferent to Lou, but she felt that it was out of personality rather than anything having to do with her in particular. Cassian was still throwing jabs at Mor but ones that didn’t touch the subject, and she would respond to them with light-hearted vulgarities, she was trying hard to sound her usual casual self.

It wasn’t until dessert was being served that Rhysand asked Lou.

“So, how did you meet Mor?”

it was a light question, he was trying to be polite. But Lou didn’t know how to approach this. Was Mor willing to share? And how much? She didn’t want to make these decisions herself and wished Mor would spare her and answer the question. But Mor was sipping her wine, ready to let Lou take this by herself.

“Mmm at a party, through a mutual friend...”

“Not one I’m familiar with, I’m sure.” Cassian interrupted.

“Afraid not.” Mor’s answer was quick and equally snarky. An awkward silence followed, then Rhys asked, keeping the conversation going.

“You’ve known each other for a while?” Lou thought perhaps he wasn’t solely attempting a polite conversation and maybe he was as curious about Mor as Cassian, just less sour about it. Lou glanced at Mor, who sat right next to her, before answering. Mor kept her gaze fixed on her glass.

“A little over a year, I guess” Her answer was so hesitant, each word less sure than the one before. Mor looked up then and smiled warmly at her. Lou smiled back, grateful for the reassurance.

“A fucking year…” Cassian muttered under his breath, it was nevertheless audible to the rest of them. To Lou’s utter surprise, it was Amren who finally snapped.

“Boy, why don’t you just say what’s exactly your problem?” She stared Cassian down. Lou thought she’d be scared for her life if she were at the receiving end of that stare.

“Stay out of it, Amren.”

“Well I can’t, can I? Since you’ve decided to throw your tantrum now at dinner when we’re all here. So humor us.” Cassian’s eyes were fixed on Mor.

“Well, I’d just like for Mor to explain, to us all” he looked pointedly at Amren as if to show he was indeed including her in his business. “What is the fucking meaning of this.”

Mor leaned casually in her chair, her wine glass between her fingers, and held Cassian’s stare.

Lou was expecting Mor to answer with a temper that matched Cassian’s, but Mor’s voice came out soft and calm.

“The meaning of what? Me bringing someone I care about to meet you all?”

Cassian looked as if he wasn’t expecting Mor’s change of tone either, because he stared at her for a long while before he finally said, with equal softness.

“Is she a first?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you say before?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I? isn’t that enough?”

Mor’s voice was breaking, Lou reached under the table and placed her hand on her thigh. Cassian stood, threw his napkin on the table, and walked away, then out of the house completely. Mor was frozen in her place, Azriel was staring at her, he hadn’t uttered one word to her this entire evening. Lou did not know what to do with herself. She truly just wanted to leave. It was a family matter and she felt like she was intruding on something private. She only needed Mor to tell her what to do. She didn’t want to leave Mor but she didn’t think Mor wanted her there either.

She cleared her voice, “I think, perhaps, I should be going…”

Both Feyre and Rhysand started to protest but it was the hand that clasped her wrist that kept her in her seat, she looked down at it then at Mor, who looked absolutely wretched.

“Don’t go.”

Lou settled back in her chair, her eyes not leaving Mor’s. Trying to read her face. She said in so soft a voice it was a mere whisper.

“Are you sure? I can see you later.” Mor was nodding before Lou even finished.

“Yes sure, positive.” Lou settled back in her seat, slipping her fingers through Mor’s, she squeezed hers back. Feyre sighed loudly.

“We’re usually more welcoming than that, sorry Lou… Oh, what is Lou short for by the way?”

“Eloise” she and Mor answered at the same time, then looked at each other and smiled. The smile on Mor’s sad face almost broke her heart.

The conversation slowly picked up, more about Lou then shifted to Amren then to Feyre’s new art studio.

 Mor was silent the whole walk back to Lou’s flat, she had her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets and was staring straight ahead. That left so much time for Lou to drown in her own thoughts. She couldn’t imagine what Mor could be feeling right now and she felt helpless. She wanted to be the kind of person who knew what to say or do, who would make Mor laugh and not feel so bad about tonight. She wanted, but she didn’t know how to. It was so easy to resume her silence, to convince herself she was helping by giving Mor space but that wouldn’t be entirely true, there was also a bit of selfishness to her silence. So she closed her eyes and actually tried.

“What do I say, Mor? Tell me how to make you feel better.”

Mor only shook her head and kept walking.

Once at her doorsteps, Lou turned to face Mor and made to reach for her but Mor was already turning to leave.

“I’m sorry about tonight, alright?”

“Mor there is nothing…”

“Good night.” Then she was gone.

Lou wouldn’t see her for weeks to come.

[theholyyuunoaduck]

Purpouse......every living thing has it but what is it thats what we all search for what we all crave

Perhaps life is just all of searching for that very thing that gives it meaning so what might be yours....hm?

Copper thats all that was registering towards his senses the taste

The smell full of copper yuu was suspended in the air by his friends possessed body being held by the throat beaten badly the remenants of his sword formed of salt began to crumble yet his hand gripped and gripped the handle of his blade as if it would somehow save everyone and everything the markings across his body from the curse began to receed

"Ah...i wish the sky was blue instead of this red shade" he would think to himself

"You know its rude to ignore the one you love when they ask you something" her voice or perhaps his voice reverberated in his ears the melodic tone of shigamas vocal cords ran through his brain sounding like the mix of the both of them

Go......to hell...

Hmm intresting

Shigama braught yuu's face closer to the body of the possessed girl with lilac hair her wings seemed to suspend them both in the air looking as if her lips were mere inches from his as her lips parted revealing her fangs

What makes you think this isnt hell already

Her lips curled around his exposed neck but stopped midway as her body shook ever so slightly as if there was a break sputtering towards a stop

H..haha...still trying to fight are you shinoa....just stay asleep for a while longer....it'll all be over soon

Yuu now!! A voice entered yuu's mind as if the words were always there the familiar voice of his demon called out to him they wouldn't receive this chance again and yuu knew it

There was no time for hesitation

No room to falter right now everything had been entrusted to him guren his freinds his family everyone was counting on him the entire world but most importantly shinoa was counting on him and he knew this as his blade peirced her heart before shi could regain control of the body he so longed for the perfect vessel as he would always call it

Gh! H-how dare you..! The angelic figure sputtered and coughed blood doing his best to pull away but yuu wouldnt let him get away they both began to fall together towards the fall however this was of no concern to yuichiro as he closed his eyes and took another deep breath within himself

The wind blew through his hair and the sweet scent of roses tickled his nostrils as he opened his eyes he no longer found himself within the world only humans new the plane of existence we could all see and feel now he was within her heart asuramaru had been right this was the only way to enter her heart the sensation falling did not leave him as he looked around the white cloudy noise that seemed to perfiate all around him he was now within the demons heart and his destination where the iron doors leading to the heart of another the source of the sickly sweet smell of petals dancing in the wind his wounds had healed and he felt as if there was nothing that could stop him however he knew this to be far from the truth

Youll only have a few minutes before the angel takes over yuu...and once you give me to shinoa

Ill be gone....right we already know the plan....lets just hope i can do this....

We will....

Right......yuu's eyes no longer held the depth of despair and emptiness his eyes gleamed with new found determination and purpose everyone was counting on him

She is counting on him his eyes began to turn a shade of darkness that would swallow the ocean themselves leaving the iris of them stained with honey a sweet flavor perhaps the only sweet thing that could be said about all day since the fight had begun as he passed through the gates that seemed unmovible before his sense of balance began to shift as if the earth within their hearts rotated and started pulling him up rather than gravity pulling him down and there he was the vestige of everything leading up to this moment all the suffering the pain the loss all of it culminated before his eyes the angel seemed to not have noticed but only a naive fool would beleive in those thoughts it was more accurate to say he did not acknowledged his existence as a threat chosing instead to keep his back turned consuming his long awaited prize blood trickling from his fangs as he panted and let go of the milky white skin of shinoa's neck perverted by the crimson wholes that gave evidence of shigama's testiment towards the word vampire

Shinoa was slumped over chained to pillars as if she was long gone but the world around them the deep red rather than the white skys would say other wise his senses were now more in tune due to the curse and the angel that the boy seemed to be comprised of his ears could catch it the faint yet evident beating of her heart so much of it had already been consumed by the demon a tenth maby even less had remained of the girl and this infuriated him to no end his teeth grinded his fists clenched as he stared down the monster before him the fight against time.....the fight to save her heart her very existence was about to begin and the odds had never been stacked higher against him and he knew this his breath hitched but from what he could not descern from fear? Fear of what? Fear of death? He had died before multiple times in fact no he did not fear death....there was only one word that could describe this feeling

Anger

Pure unfiltered rage thats all that clouded his mind the images playing freshly within his mind of shigamas pale lips against her neck the deep gnashes within his friends his father were they dead? He couldn't think of such things right now

He needed to focus

Thats right yuu focus your attention here...right now for this will be....your final death......the beautifull angel turned to look towards his creation

I will be God by the end of this ba-

He could not finish the words before yuu charged him focusing everything he had towards his speed pushing him farther and farther towards the open gates he had tried so long to open yet could never so much as budge them he was surely suprised by this development as he flapped his wings open hoping to stop the momentum of yuu's wings and physical strength that focused on the point of his neck it was obvious what his goal was remove him.from the heart of his beloved

GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The room filled with his anger his rage but it would not be enough as his heels began to screetch against the walls that were stained red signifying shinoa's humanity

ASURA-KANNON: THOUSAND BLADES

Yuu yelled at the top of his lungs with such force the taste of copper began to fill his mouth again

Thousands of blades appeared from nowhere and everywhere all of them fixed on a single point aimed and poised towards one objective

FORCE HIM OUT

Yuu yelled once again as the blades all flew towards the pair that seemed to slow in their stop every milla second that passed

Youre desperate.... He said calmly as the blades began hurdling towards him causing smoak to rise with each blade hitting him causing his body to take another screetching inch backwards towards the door

He was right yuu knew this all too well this wasnt a sign of strength being able to push shigama doji back this was an act of desperation forcing every muscle strand to strain and pop all in the vain effort to force him out as fast as he could before his body would give out

Klank the final blade hit the floor with the sound that seemed to echo once again deepening yuu's despair he gasped looking up as shigama slapped him across the face sending him huddling towards the spot where this all began rolling through the floor he gasped coming out of the ground panting the dust just begginging to settle

Fuck....

Mmm smart....but that was all instinct wasnt it yuichiro

Had you not blocked that attack when you had

The dust revealed yuichiro's mangled arm that seemed to be a simple cracker after dropping it from the empire state while the other was completely grinded to dust

Youd have lost your head.....

It was a good attempt dont get me wrong...futile as it may have been

Yuu began to wobble back to his feet the blade of salt begginging to form within his palm

Oh please...shigama crossed the distance between the both of them within the flash of a second split by the same blade that so desperately tried to sever his head and push him back a second ago

The explosion of the impact destroyed the pillars holding shinoa down crushing her body underneath the same pillars and sent yuichiros blade flying through the air slicing it and landing near her viscinity

Atop him was the angel that seemed to toy with him yuu's hands seemed to bearly hold hi head away from him

N-nghh!! His grunts where loud and strained he gasped as shi's needle like fangs punctured his neck like wet paper he gasped in pain and tugged at the hair of the beast his body began to go limp as he looked towards shinoa for what felt like would be the last time....how many times has he failed her in such a way..

Shi...shinoa..!....please..!

His hand outstretched towards the rubble and his blade

Shinoa...please was all that she could hear where was she was this a dream it sure felt like one weightless and without strength as if no matter how hard her fists would move itd feel as if something held her force back within a dream but she willed every finger every fiber of her being to reach towards the emerald blade so close to her if only she could reach out for it

Yuu's vision began to fade towards black perhaps this was finally the time to resign there would be no happy ending no hero saving the day after all he aways wasn't much of a hero the real hero to him had always been

Her

His eyes shot up as wide as they could possibly go to see the strands of lilac push against the winds of fate as his head rung from the blow and her battle cry she was doing it she peirced the blade through the monsters shoulder and pushed him towards his destination

HRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

She yelled at the top of her lungs pushing and pushing once again shigama flapped his majestic wings but this time in desperation

Shit!! Stop!

GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

shi turned his head to witness the monester that yelled that same cry once again the angel he had created charged at the both of them and held tight to the appendages that begged to be let go in order to stop the flow of motion however

HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

They yelled in unison as they both with all their combined might threw the first outside the walls and quickly shut behind them the world no longer red but white they had succeded in the first step to victory the first shook in anger and looked towards his hands that trembled but not shierly of anger nor fear but from weakness having been ripped out of his hosts perfect body essentially split his power by half...the other half found its way towards their true owner as she puffed her chest with her trademark smirk

The balls on our side now...

Grr....dont be so cocky now..ive been in before and ill return once more

The both of them stood up panting staring down their assailent hearts quivering in anticipation at what would be undoubtedly their final confrontation as their eyes glossed over with determination and anger every emotion culminated in thousands of years burned within their eyes as they stood up slowly

I forgot who asked me to write what i would think about would be the ending of owari no seraph and i have to say sorry!! Dyslexia is a bitch!! If you remmember who you are please slap me for forgetting

Anyway to keep my stories fresh ill be posting it in peices