#whatever floats your goat is fine by me

[zsbrainrot]

Rei finally being able to feel safe while he’s sleeping is very important to me.

[luciana-silentstar]

Old vs new. I have Big Feelings, but ultimately I'm excited about it(shocked?). Since I've always wanted to keep this blog strictly Luciana/game based, I have created a sideblog for rambles, critiques etc. where I can engage in Discourse™️

[ceilingfan5]

[id: a simple drawing of a sun wearing sunglasses and smiling]

HEY idk about you but the weather has been shitty here and i have been aching for sunshine so i have manufactured some with my bare hands

here is nearly 4,000 words of taakitz ridiculousness, while i take a break from my cruise fic, which was initially supposed to be a break from a different fic--it's fine. you get to eat these delicious words don't WORRY about it.

go read As Luck Would Have It (rated T) if this sounds like it will warm your bones and make you smile:

Kravitz gets invited to a weird party and then the only person he knows there disappears, so he ends up having to get friendly with the host. But that's a good thing.

or read it below but again it is 3.7k: (minor warning for brief mentions of alcohol)

“So, got your goth speedo ready?” Sloane needles, throwing her arm around Kravitz. He nearly gets knocked over and the guy behind them in the coffee line looks a little annoyed that she’s butted in, but not enough to be unpolite about it yet. 

“My fucking what now?” Kravitz half-drags her forward as the next shmuck in line gets a frothy caffeine milkshake. 

“I thought I told you that we’re goin’ to a beach party tonight. What’s the problem? I know you don’t work tomorrow. I have your gcal and everything. No escape.”

“Well,” Kravitz says, fishing for an excuse and coming up fishless. “It’s, listen, I know it’s April, but it’s supposed to snow tonight. The weather is garbage, and you want to have a beach party?”

“Uh, for one thing, it’s not my beach party, it’s Tres Horny Boys’ beach party-”

“What.”

“And for another-” they move up in line again, Sloane making it no easier on him. He’d have more to complain about if it wasn’t really nice, having someone lean on him after a long day at work. “It’s inside, so you have no excuse.” 

“What am I supposed to do, come in a bathrobe?” 

“Whatever floats your goat. Either way I said you’d be coming, so whatever your evening plans were-”

“Watching youtube until I pass out, I think?” They’re almost to the counter. Soon he will be buzzing enough to handle this.

“Cancel them! You’ve got places to be!” 

“Hey, Sloane? Not to sound like Winnie the Pooh-”

“Great start, continue.”

“But- oh bother .”

“That’s the spirit!”

Kravitz does not know how to dress for a beach party in the warmest, buttered-toastiest weather, so dressing for a beach party in the literally-beginning-to-snow ass weather was vexing beyond measure. Much laying on the floor about it had to happen. But god as his witness, he is going to follow the fucking rules, and he ends up in long black shorts, a casual black short sleeved shirt over a band t-shirt, and a scarf and gloves. He goes back and forth on the hat. It ends up jammed in his pocket on the way to the front door of the Tres Horny Household. 

He wishes he had come with Sloane. He’s afraid he won’t know anyone here. He’s been spiraling about parties and their insurmountable social nature for the last several hours since their coffee moment, but now new and fresh terrors assault his imagination. What if he took the dress code wrong? What if he has nothing in common with the guests? What if Sloane wasn’t allowed a plus one? What if-

The door opens. Music spills out, jaunty and warm and unseasonable. The guy standing in the heavenly rectangle of light, illuminated like some kind of angel royalty, puts his hands on his hips and squints at Kravitz.

He is absolutely wearing swim trunks and not much else. There are novelty sunglasses propped on his head that look like sunshines, and the sunshines are also wearing sunglasses. Kravitz is incredibly aware of the snow. It is in his hair and everything. Blowing about like dollars in a horrible game show or something. Will he win the grand prize (out-of-season frostbite)? 

“Hello,” Kravitz tries, great start, classic, tried and true, familiar, 4.8 stars, 14,956 reviews. “I’m- Sloane invited me, I- hello-”

“Hello,” surfing angel replies, looking incredibly amused at his squirming. “I was gonna let you ring the doorbell or something, but you were just standing there.”

“Guilty as charged,” comes out of Kravitz’s mouth, unbidden. 

“Well, come into the beach, dork,” he says, biting back a grin. “I’m Taako. This is my party.”

Kravitz mumbles a thank you and moves into the very warm house, looking around and finding all sorts of brightly colored wildness. There are leis on nearly every surface, blow-up palm trees, surely at least fifteen beach balls at first glance, a photo background that looks like a shark’s open mouth, a literal kiddie pool filled with sand– real sand. What are they going to do with it when they’re done? How hard is it going to be to clean up?? Why did they think that was a good idea indoors? Why are three different people collaborating on an elaborate sand castle already?? 

“Food’s in the kitchen, you know the party rules, yeah? Key bowl’s over there if you’re planning on needing it.” Taako stretches and pops his back, and Kravitz glances away, cheeks warming. His soft middle is so touchable, is the thing. And this is a complete stranger he needs to demonstrate his good skills at being a regular person to. 

So that he can get invited to the next bonkers party?? What’s the goal here? What’s the rubric?? 

“You good, cowboy?” Taako asks, slipping his hands into his board short pockets and making them slide down just a little bit more. He’s so pretty. His long hair is tied up, but what if it wasn’t? His eyes are glittering with the kind of mischief a person would need oodles of to plan such a ridiculous shindig, and Kravitz is distracted. 

“Yuh-huh,” he says. Kravitz tugs at his short sleeve, feeling exposed. Some of his non-face skin is showing. He’s practically nude, here. “Have you seen Sloane?”

“Last I saw her,” Taako whistles softly. “She was filling water balloons to cause problems and kissing her girlfriend, so I assume she is either still doin’ that, or isn’t.”

“Thank you.” Very helpful. Super duper productive line of clues here. 

“For sure.” Taako points out the shoe rack and nods his head as a song he must really like comes on. “Come try my food when you’ve found her. Hopefully you actually have a palate and won’t just shove shit in your mouth ‘cause it’s there like these chucklefucks. You look like a guy that chews his food.” He winks, and even though that’s an insane thing to say to someone you’ve just met, Kravitz is oddly pleased. 

“Definitely. I will definitely chew your food.” 

Taako giggles and covers his mouth, like the odd sound that came out of it could have been anything but supremely enchanting. 

“I gotta go- be somewhere else,” he says, with serious confidence, and so Kravitz accepts it at face value and nods as Taako about-faces and skedaddles.

Kravitz debates leaving his gloves with his shoes. His hands are gold, but he doesn’t want to be a total goober. And should he? Or shouldn’t he? 

It’s easy to get tangled up headphones style, but he crawls out of this pocket and leaves both behind.

Keeps the fuckin’ scarf on though. It’s cold. His knees are cold, even. Not that a scarf can fix that. But if he warms some of his blood, it can travel around and share that warmth with the rest of his body juice? Right? Probably? 

Either way, he heads for a bathroom or something to find Sloane. Or not find her. But he’s going to start somewhere with a sink. If he gets hit by a water balloon later he will yell. Definitely. She’d better know that. The hallway is a little less loud, although he does accidentally kick into a beach ball on the floor. The light is off, and he breathes a little.

Nobody is in the bathroom, which will probably not stay the same for much longer, but right now that’s just a problem, because where is the only person at this entire party that he knows, actually?

He nearly bumps into something as he goes back into the hallway, and it turns out to be, not a coat rack, or a decorative table, or like, something a regular person would have in a regular house, but instead, yes really, a capsule machine. 

Kravitz squints at it (once he has determined it is not at risk of tumbling and shattering on the carpet, where he will definitely step on the treacherous bits). He looks both towards the living room (lively, loud, beachy) and presumably the bedrooms (relatively quiet, only one door slightly open) and then again at the actual capsule machine. It looks a lot like a shiny red gumball machine, just rectangular and filled with little plastic acorns full of mysteries. 

It’s incredibly tempting, is the thing. Kravitz has a few emergency quarters in his pocket. You know, just in case. And obviously it is here for a reason, right? If it doesn’t accept his quarters, then it will be fine, and he will put them back in his pocket and go find Sloane. Yep. Probably not haunted.

Tentatively, he inserts two coins and turns the mechanism, and something clicks and churns out a little plastic container. Kravitz takes it out and holds it up to the light from the living room, and not quite sure what’s inside, pops it open. 

It’s a squishy glittery rubber duck. It is perfect, down to the eyes that have seen the Horrors (™). Kravitz laughs delightedly and quacks softly to himself. 

Okay, well, if that’s what’s going on here, he has two more quarters. 

His duck needs some friends, obviously. 

He takes his last two coins out, pops them in the thing, excitedly turns the knob, and another capsule drops. He removes it, and it rattles strangely. Is it full of…skittles? Almonds? 

He pops it open and it smells like fish. And he kind of gags about it. This is not a skittle treat. This is not a skittle treat at all. If he is not mistaken, those are fucking cat treats. In the capsule machine. In some guy’s house. 

“What the actual fuck,” he says softly, and, not expecting a reply, is startled when he hears a gravelly meow from the open bedroom door. 

The skrunkliest cat he has ever seen appears, haunted lamp-eyes first, white tail flicking behind it. It is also wearing a flower lei and appears to give not a single rat’s bananas about it. It meows again and Kravitz nearly drops the capsule. He kind of feels like he’s summoned some sort of Beast. 

“Hey there,” he says, squatting down to see the critter. “Did you come to party?” 

The cat paws at him and yowls, seemingly knowing exactly what the fuck is going on, and befuddled but pleased, Kravitz gives the cat the treats. 

He’s kind of glad he was invited to this party full of insane people. Truly the guys who live here can’t be regular. Right? Like, something has to be a little wrong with them. There’s some texture in this salad. Crunchy. 

The cat rubs against him and purrs, sounding like some kind of motor boat chewing aquarium gravel, and he’s fucking enchanted. He puts the capsules in his pocket, and after loving on the cat for an extended period of time, he decides he definitely needs more quarters. Like, if that’s what’s in there, either way it’s good, right? He tries to peer in the transparent sides of the machine, but it’s kind of difficult to tell what other curiosities await inside. He’s so fucking tempted. What if it took paypal is the thing? Or credit? 

No, that’s dangerous. Like one more dollar would be fine, and then he can socialize. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and the cat chirrs at him with a knowing look in its glittery eyes. Kind of like Taako’s. 

He braves the party again, which in less than twenty minutes has gotten even weirder. The cat, wiser than he, did not follow. Kravitz politely pushes through to the kitchen, where he can still hear people sing-hollering Boat Drinks at the top of their lungs. The only person in there is Taako, who is sitting on the counter and looking kind of put out, but perks up like an animated sunflower when Kravitz walks in the doorway. 

“Hey hey,” he says, kicking his legs and nearly thumping the opposite cabinet. “Wondered where you were. Sloane went to pick up some pizzas. They were all like, weh weh, our driver got abducted by aliens or whatever so if you want your pineapple shenanigans you gotta come down to main office, so she was like, I volunteer as tribute, and I was like we have perfectly good horse divorce right here, but okay I guess, and anyway hello again, hi.” 

“Hi,” Kravitz says, smiling at Taako. He’s kind of picking up on what he’s putting down now, actually. He hasn’t met the other two Boys, but he wants to assume that the capsule machine was his idea. “I met your cat.” 

“Yeah?” Taako blooms about it. “That’s my sweet boy who has every disease. His name is Garyl, and he is a menace to society. He is on house arrest until they find the Picassos.”

“Picassos, huh? I figured him for a Monet kind of guy.” 

“Picassos are easier to forge,” Taako says with an impish shrug. “What’s up? Come to sample my wares?” He does a sweeping gesture at the half-demolished spread of appetizers and desserts. 

“Definitely!” Kravitz is feeling more like a person again. This, he can do. Solve mysteries, pet cats, eat little pigs in a blanket? Absolutely. Dance to music that rattles his bones until he feels like a skeleton getting played like a xylophone, no thank you. He gets a plate, paper, printed with cute little animal faces. It was probably meant to be a joke, but Kravitz finds it kind of charming. “What’s your favorite?”

“Well obviously, it’s all good, ‘cause cha’boi made ‘em, but uh, like, the desserts are lip-smackery, and the, yeah,” he waves at Kravitz, who is already loading up. “Yeah, some of those, and the little, yeah, those are spinach puffs, but if you’re like, augh, spinach? Spinach poisoned my crops and shaved my dog to look like a monk, then you’ll be pleasantly surprised, ‘cause they fuck verily.” 

Kravitz pops one in his mouth, and is wonderfully surprised.

“Verily indeed,” he says, mouth still kind of full. He picks through most of the rest of it, and comes to lean on the cabinet sort of by Taako so they can, he doesn’t know, chat, or something? He’s trying. He’s trying so hard.

At least Taako looks thrilled about his food interest. 

“Knew you could chew,” he says. 

“Lots of experience,” Kravitz says. “Been on my resume for years.”

That makes Taako giggle-snort, and Kravitz counts it as a win. 

“So, what do you do?” 

“Me?” Kravitz sweats. “I mean, me? What I do?”

“For sure that is what I meant, yeah?” Taako raises his eyebrows. “I mean, you want me to go first? I work at a bakery. So like, if you see your boy fall asleep mid-sentence, be regular about it, yeah?”

“Noted,” Kravitz says, affectionately. “I do not work at a bakery. I work at Sniffem’s, and also the funeral home.”

“Sniffem’s??” Taako cackles. “You’re a candle merchant?” 

“Candle stacker,” Kravitz corrects. “My candle hawking was not aggressive enough, and I got demoted to the back of the store.”

“Couldn’t up-smell, huh?” Taako says, barely containing his laughter enough to finish the sentence, and Kravitz snickers. 

“Little more interesting, than uh, than Neverwinter Rest and Crematory, so uh, I tend to lead with that one-”

“I mean,” Taako covers another laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t joke, you might be, you might not think it’s funny.” 

“Listen,” Kravitz says. “You aren’t going to offend me, unless you’re trying to be mean, in which case I will cry. Like if you criticize my penmanship or something, I’ll dwell on it, but like, if you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say-”

“That’s the thing-” Taako’s voice is pitching up and he nearly looks like he’s going to explode. “I’m not quite there? There’s- listen- I’m not trying to be a dick- but there’s a burning joke in there and I just can’t quite crack that nut- ”

“Maybe,” Kravitz starts, mostly amused by it all. He’s heard all sorts of things about the funeral home, and he’s gotten over it a long time ago. He’s struggling to force that connection too when someone–handsome, weirdly long sideburns–pops his head in. “HEY!” he shouts, into the much quieter kitchen. “Can we get five more mulled strawberry daiquiris and a Long Island Hot Tea?” 

“Fuck off!” Taako says, cheeks pinkening, as Kravitz tries not to gag about the idea of hot beach drinks. Like, he gets the math there, but no, jail for a thousand years. “I’m talking to my friend-!”

“Thanks, Taako!!!” The guy, who could be, mm, maybe not a lumberjack, but like a model dressed up like a lumberjack who would hurt himself in the photoshoot by getting too enthusiastic about the ax? Ducks back into the party, as if Taako had responded positively. 

“Hey, what fucking is your name though, gorgeous?” Taako says, incredibly directly, piercing through Kravitz until he could be used as a colander in a pinch. 

Did he fucking forget, like, the basic bit? Like, the second thing? He got as far as hello and ate shit? He wants to evaporate. 

“Kravitz,” he says. “Did I not-”

“Nope,” Taako says, popping the p like a balloon in a sharp things factory. “But if there’s anything else you wanna do backwards, I’m open?”

“I do actually have a question,” Kravitz manages, despite the delayed hit of gorgeous flooding his bloodstream like a designer party drug of some nature. He’s not sure. He’s never really engaged with that sort of scene. 

Taako blinks at him, but congenially goes, “Shoot?”

“What- hey, what’s the deal with the capsule machine in the hallway?”

Taako regains that mischievous look tenfold. Funny business and hanky-panky, thy name is Taako Lastname. 

“That? Oh, that? That’s an investment, my man. I, so listen, there was a sale, right? And I figured- I mean, it’s a little joy in a popbubble whenever you’re feeling down, yeah? Marie Kondo, live your life, et cetera, but also like, good for parties, you know, we do lots of parties, maybe you can come to the next one? Gonna be casino themed.”

“Love that,” Kravitz says. “Poker.”

“Dressup,” Taako nods. “Like- like me and the guys, we’re, you know, just dudes, not like, heroes or whatever, but we’re joy-dealers, you know? Merchants of smiles, yeah? Does that sound insane?”

“Maybe, but I like it?” Kravitz smiles at him, and eats a little tart thing so he doesn’t have to say more. It’s–get this—so fucking good. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, well. Yeah. So, like, we do these weird parties, right? Like- when shit’s got you down, we can get you up, wink, and like,” he kicks his feet like he’s trying to slow down his thoughts so they don’t all tumble out of him. Kravitz is immensely charmed. “I mean, I just thought it was funny.”

“It really made me smile, Taako,” Kravitz says honestly, and Taako lights right back up. “And it’s sweet that you put something in there for your cat, too.” 

“Yeah?” Taako beams, vindicated. “Garyl loves that shit. Normally he’d fuck off entirely, but he must have heard you fuckin’ round and got excited. Good thing you got lucky.” 

“Right,” Kravitz’s cheeks burn. “I only had a dollar in quarters. I’m kind of surprised I even had quarters on me, but- you know, it was fun. You’re really- fun.”

Taako’s smile softens a little. He brushes hair back behind his ear and glances away. 

“Sure,” he says. 

“Is it weird I’m really tempted to do it again? Like, you wouldn’t have-”

“I one hundred percent have rolls on rolls of quarters specifically for this situation,” Taako says all in a rush. He hops down, and then tries to pretend to be chiller about this. “If, you want? I mean, you can go do sand karaoke-”

“I do not see myself doing sand karaoke right now,” Kravitz says, as politely as he can. Taako looks pleased, and snatches a ziplock bag full of coins off the microwave. “How much do you wanna spend?” And he heads back through the party to the hall, Kravitz plodding baby-duck like behind. 

He ignores the wild overstimulation of the party. He focuses on Taako’s long braid, and the jaunty way it swings, and the soft slope of his back, a star-field of freckles exposed by his silly beach party outfit, when, again, it is one hundred percent snowing out there. 

Affection warms him from the inside out. He may as well be glowing. Aw, fuck, is he getting a crush? Oh no. Oh lord. Oh bother. 

“Hey Garyl,” Taako announces to the empty doorway, as he stops in front of the capsule machine. A person waiting for the bathroom glances at them, and then looks back at their phone. 

“I can give you some bills-” Kravitz tries, but Taako waves him off and hands him the bag. 

“Later,” he says. “Let’s see what else you get. Try for a real prize, right? There’s all sorts of weird shit in there. I think I put a ring, you know, I put a little jerky snack, a whole bunch of these ugly little alien guys? And there’s the balloon animals, the glitter ducks,” he starts counting on his fingers. 

Kravitz takes out two quarters and pops them in. Taako delightedly watches him turn the crank and remove the purple-capped plastic gift. 

“What’dja get?”

Kravitz pops it open, unsure- and then nearly perishes on the spot. It is, there is no denying it, the familiar foil square of a condom. 

There’s a beat. And then Taako begins to die laughing, as Kravitz nearly melts into the resell-beige carpet. Taako laughs so hard he nearly chokes, and grabs onto Kravitz’s elbow for support. Kravitz, despite his mortification, can’t help it–Taako’s laughter is contagious, and he starts into it too, and nearly falls apart when Taako manages to get out– 

“The thing is-” he wheezes. “The thing is? I’m not- listen. The thing is? There’s only one of those in there-”

“Guess I got lucky,” Kravitz has to say. Taako actually falls to the floor laughing. 

And Kravitz? Well, maybe he’s going to have a good time after all. 

[arandombiped]

gonna get a little personal on this one, so I’m putting it under the cut

it’s a bit of a play on one post I saw forever ago that was kinda like “at least I’m not 14” also! If you can help me find that post I would love to give credit where credits due. This is kind of my long rant on how i survived being 14

(ALSO!! cw/tw for covid/pandemic, sh and sui ideation)

I saw something once that said something along the lines of “life is hell right now, but at least I’m not 14.” Not in a way to diss 14 year olds (or anyone who is a teenager), but as a way of saying, “being 14 sucked.”

when I was 14, I struggled with passive suicidal ideation. I would often count the days between times I would sh to keep a streak. I was trying my hardest to want to keep going. I had very recently realized I was queer, and my life as I knew it had already been thrown out the window by Covid. Because when I was 13, I was ready for life to be over. I had tried asking for help from my parents, but I was told I was “too young” to be depressed. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

being 14 sucks. You’re stuck between being a kid and being an adult. you have 4 years until you can make the Big Decisions and be independent, but you have to survive that long. You’re just trying to figure out what’s going on. And also pre-algebra got thrown in the mix somewhere just for some extra spice.

Let me offer an honest ounce of hope. I am 17. I have less than 6 months until I am an adult. It gets better.

My parents didn’t take me seriously, but guess who did? I did. I talked with school counselors until I could convince my parents that therapy could help. Barely anyone was there for me when I started exploring my sexuality and identity in general, so you know what I did? I got a TrevorSpace account. I found my first online family. My friends didn’t know how to handle queerness in their lives, so you know what I did? I taught them. If they didn’t accept it? They were no longer allowed to be invasive of my generosity.

A lot of this is work, and I know it’s hard and it’s stressful and it’s vulnerable. But I got to know myself, and I grew to like them quite a bit.

If you are 14, stuck in a rut, or otherwise just here, know this: it gets better. Take a minute to see the person you are. Think of all the things you want to do. Nothing coming to mind? That’s fine too. After working a couple of jobs, I’ve realized a lot of people (even adults!) have no idea what’s going on. Most of us are making it up as we go.

My best advice? Let time pass. So far, you have a 100% survival rate, and I strongly believe you can keep that up. Gravitate towards what makes you happy. Pick up whatever hobby, drop it in a month (or a week), buy a fun snack, wear whatever clothes, cuddle a plushie, find a neat fandom, try out new pronouns, date whoever, don’t date anyone, get a new name, whatever floats your goat. The pain wants to last, and it might stay around for a while. Hell, I still have days where I think I’m better off dead. But as Cave Johnson once wisely said,

“All right, I've been thinking, when life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man who’s gonna burn your house down - with the lemons!”

all that to say, life is worth living. You are worthy of life. Even if you don’t think you are, well, you’re here anyway and you might as well combust some lemons. You deserve love and care and support. Not everyone is going to give it to you, and some people are going to make things worse. But you really gotta get mad. Life isn’t fair. So scream your lungs out and cry and crawl your way through and just generally be mad about it until you can make it fair. Because one day you will be able to. (I, personally, will be doing a lot more social justice work once I’m not in a conservative household. I’ll probably dye my hair ten million colors and get my relatives mad at me, but what do I care? They won’t get to have an opinion once I’m older.)

Being 14 sucks sometimes, so you have to make it to 15. then 16. then 17. then 18. fight your way there, then you can do anything.

Stay alive. Stay strong. Stay safe. Keep going. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. It’s so worth it.

Sincerely, 17

[birdwatching-goesbothways]

Hi, I was wondering what you'd like as a gift for secret santa?

Oh my god, I’m so sorry for a late answer!

I’m open to receiving anything, be it art, a story, something else… whatever floats your goat.

As is probably pretty obvious from this blog, I ship Oswald and Jim. But it’s totally fine if you don’t, I know many in the fandom don’t.

However, please no Jim hate. If you don’t like him, please don’t write him at all. It’s a bit of a pet peeve.

But non-shipping stuff is also fine!

With tropes, I basically like almost everything except second hand embarrassment or hurt no comfort. I like exploring Oswald’s manipulative, violent, dark side, I like fluff, I like hurt/comfort. :3

If you have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me! I’m so excited!

[lonely-lost-soul]

Daddy's Little Girl Pt. III

Pt III: Revenge

Pt. I, Pt. II

(Technoblade x reader, and Wilbur x Reader)

(brother tubbo and sister reader)

~~~

Sam’s eyebrow twitched as he eyed The Blade wearily, who stood with his arms crossed completely void of any weaponry. So far the Blood God listened to Sam, he had disposed of all his weapons in the chest and complied with all the prison security procedures. It was rare to see, Technoblade having no weapons and Sam being completely decked out in armor. The only thing the creeper hybrid couldn’t pinpoint was the motive, why did Technoblade suddenly have an interest in visiting Dream, it just didn’t add up. To protect the sanctity of his prison he had to figure out just why Technoblade was visiting Pandora’s worst and only prisoner.

“Technoblade?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

“I already told you that, didn’t I? I’m here for a friendly chat with my good pal Dream.” Sam pressed his tongue to his teeth and frowned under his gas mask, “What? Don’t believe me? How rude. Are you this mean to all of the visitors who enter your prison?”

“You don’t exactly have the best reputation around,” Sam grunted, while Technoblade made a sound and adjusted the mask on his face.

“Who’s talking bad about me?”

“Tommy.”

“Tommy’s biased,” he scoffed watching the lava slowly descend in front of his eyes. Sam trained his green eyes on Dream across the way,

“Technoblade. Does this have anything to do with Wilbur’s revival? Cause whatever it is you’re thinking I can guarantee it’s not-”

“Sam has anyone ever taught you to mind your own fucking business?” Technoblade snarled baring his teeth at the warden. Sam blinked a few times his grip tightening on his trident, Technoblade stepped on the platform and it sent him forward. Dream’s head was tilted to the side, his dirty blonde hair fell across his shoulders. His bangs fell in front of his face as his head perked up seeing Technblade,

“Technoblade to what do I owe the pleasure?” Dream mused tapping his foot against the obsidian floor,

“Morning Dream.” Technoblade mused cracking his knuckles, “we have a lot to talk about, but I’m going to cut right to the chase. Give me the revive book.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dream mused innocently, “Does this have anything to do with Wilbur being revived? Or a certain lady goat hybrid?” Technoblade growled viciously, “Does the name (Y/n) ring any bells?”

“How the fuck do you know her name?”

“Oops did I hit a nerve?” Dream mused his lips curling up into a grotesque sneer, Technoblade’s fist balled at his sides trying to keep his composure and not listen to the roaring voices who demanded blood be spilled.

“Answer the question Dream,” Technoblade demanded through gritted teeth. Dream dared to laugh in his face, “I’m assuming Wilbur shared that information with you?” Dream hummed softly neither confirming nor denying The Blade’s statement but he got the picture. Dream kicked off the wall tilting his head to the side a coy smile on his lips,

“I met her, and not just her ghost.” Technoblade’s entire body froze and he pushed Dream against the wall, his fist was curled around his jumpsuit.

“How?”

“When I revived Wilbur. She was there in his limbo, what happened to her horns I wonder?” Technoblade snarled deep in his throat, “Wilbur left her there you know? Did he mention that to you?” Techno wasn’t a fool, he knew what Dream was trying to do but kept his composure, not letting the master manipulator get under his skin.

“That’s exactly why I’m here. You’re going to revive her or I’m revoking the favor I owe you. I don’t care about morals, I care about bringing her back to me.” Dream grit his teeth,

“Well, how do you expect me to do that without Ghost-(y/n)?”

“Who says I don’t have her?” Dream’s eyes bulged in his head, he saw no invisibility particles,

“SAM!” Dream tried to shout as Technoblade covered his mouth, Dream saw the wall rippled beside him as a very hesitant-looking ghost came through the wall. Not even Ghostbur was able to do something of that caliber, but she again was a ghost longer than he ever was, she must’ve picked up some fun little tricks. She floated over to Techno and hid behind his shoulder, her grey eyes looked up at him,

“You promise I’ll get to see Ghostbur again if I do this?”

“Of course sweet one,” Technoblade responded watching her nod gently. Technoblade loved the alive version of you, and when your ghost came to him sobbing about Ghostbur being gone and Alivebur not giving a single shit. She begged him for help and he answered her call, he failed to do so before, and he wasn’t going to let the same thing happen twice. You wanted to be with the sweet warmhearted version of Wilbur, who was he to stop you, plus he would have the alive you back.

When you came back Technoblade wouldn’t let Wilbur have you again, he wouldn’t let anyone else lay a hand on you. Well, other than your little brother of course, even if he was an ex-president Technoblade wasn’t evil.

“You still can’t make me do it!” Dream snarled as you hid deeper against Technoblade’s shoulder, “Sam won’t let you.”

“I think Sam’s going to have something else to worry about.”

A roaring sound of explosions went off nearby, Dream’s eyes widened in horror.

“That,” He smirked, “Is the power of the syndicate. Niki really knows how to come through in a pinch. I won’t ask again.”

Dream grumbled assessing his options, on one hand, he could revive you and he’d still have that favor over Technoblade. Yet, on the other hand, he couldn’t use your resurrection for more of those future favors. Dream clicked his tongue, although he could use that to his advantage if she was alive once more.

“Fine. Come here,” He held a hand out to the little ghost, she looked meekly at Technoblade. He nodded and motioned his head towards his outstretched hand, she took Dream’s hand, and he muttered some words in another tongue that even the great Technoblade couldn’t decipher. A bright light surrounded your ghost’s figure, and in a matter of moments you, the alive you stumbled forward. You gasped for breath as you fell against Technoblade’s chest, you had a bright white streak in your hair, and dried blood on your head and by your nubs. You were breathing heavily, pupils were blown wide, as you looked up at Technoblade. He felt his throat close up and he removed the mask on his face,

“Where am I? Who...Techo?” You gaped cupping his cheeks within your palms, he melted into your hands with a soft whine he tried to cover up. “Holy fuck you look so old!” Moment completely spoiled and ruined,

“Hey Dream I changed my mind.” You yelped hitting him softly on the arm, “kidding.” He spoke tenderly trying not to show his soft side around Dream, he was a tough killer, not someone who melted at the sight of his old childhood crush. Technoblade turned towards Dream and saluted, an arm wrapping around your waist, “sic semper tyrannis, Dream.” He mused disappearing with you, Dream should’ve known the Syndicate set up a stasis chamber for their leader.

Technoblade held you tight so you didn’t tumble over, you did look a little green in the face, “You alright?” He spoke softly as the fresh snow of the Tundra tickled your nose. You reached out your hand to touch the falling flakes, it was almost like you were mesmerized by the sight of them. “Sweet one?”

“I can feel them. I haven’t felt anything in so long,” You whispered brushing your hair out of your face. “Technoblade...Did you revive me?” He swallowed thickly, your eyes held a certain look to them, sharp but eager.

“I did.”

“Why?” You titled your head to the side, pursing your lips. He turned his head away from you to hide the flush to his cheeks, your frown seemed to deepen on your features. “Technoblade, why did you revive me? I’ve been dead for...god how long has it been for you?” You sighed heavily, “What use is there for you to bring me back?”

“Wilbur-”

“Don’t mention his fucking name!” You spat harshly, eyes flashing a dangerous shade of (e/c), “That son of a bitch!” Your hands clenched at your sides as Techno’s eyes widened, he wasn’t used to you cursing but it made sense. “He left me in his limbo after he promised me we’d leave together or not at all! I’m going to beat the shit out of the bastard!” You snarled as Technoblade reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, he squeezed it lightly.

“That’s why I revived you. You didn’t deserve to get left there, you deserved to be resurrected more than Wilbur did. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were like Ghostbur sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t know about revivals. You would’ve been my priority, you should’ve been my priority.” Techno stared into your eyes as the rage swimming in them dissipated, instead, they were replaced with a fond look. “I don’t know what you and Wilbur had, but ever since I found out about your death all those years ago, I don’t live a single day without regret. I should’ve pushed for you to stay with us and Tubbo, I should’ve killed your dad the minute I set eyes on the bastard. I should’ve listened to the voices-” Technoblade grit his teeth and it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek, he came back to you as soon as he felt your touch against his skin. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the first-ever apology you’ve ever gotten and you felt a tear roll down your cheek at his words. Technoblade looked at you hesitantly and pulled you into a hug, he made sure he was gentle as to not hurt you further, “Stay with me?”

“I promise.” You whispered burying your face in the crook of his neck, “Thank you Techno.”

Maybe things would be okay for you after all. Maybe this one was different, maybe Technoblade wouldn’t let you down like so many have done.

“What was it like? Coming back?” Technoblade asked as he leads you in the direction of his once retirement home. He watched you tilt your head to the side rolling your bottom lip between your teeth,

“A train came and picked me up.” You looked distant for a moment as you remembered your resurrection.

Ghostbur was peeking over his handful of cards to look over at you, “Go fish?”

“Ghostbur this is poker.” You sighed pinching the bridge of your nose, he made a soft ‘o’ with his mouth his brow furrowing. He shuffled in his spot eyes flicking down to his cards then back up at you, “You don’t remember how to play do you?” He shook his head no in response to your question. You sighed softly brushing away the annoyance that prickled against your skin, “That’s alright come here.” He shuffled next to you resting his chin on your shoulder, as you taught the ghost the rules of the game once more, it seemed no matter how often you taught the ghost the rules he’d always forget something.

“You’re a really good teacher.” He murmured against your shoulder, “I’m glad I’m not alone here.” He refused to meet your eyes, “but…”

“You’d rather it be ghost me huh?” You hummed looking at him out the corner of your eyes, he wilted under your gaze and you chuckled sadly. “Don’t look so upset I’m not insulted,” You waved him off carelessly, “you loved her?” He stiffened sitting up straight,

“I- I don’t- she’s my blue you know? She’s so kind and wonderful! I just- she doesn’t like to be left alone-!” You placed a palm over his mouth to shut him up, you eyed him before removing your hand slowly. The ghost swallowed thickly and nodded, “I love her a lot.” His voice cracked a little in embarrassment, you smiled sadly, your finger gently caressed his cheek.

“I know you do. Cause I know how much she loves you,” He turned redder as you sighed softly,

“Do you love Wilbur?”

You choked on your spit, your entire face turning a dark shade of red, “Do I WHAT?”

“Love Wilbur?” The ghost repeated curiously, “You were so upset when he left you here.” You grit your teeth and punched the ground of the train station, you thought about all the time the two of spent in limbo. You had grown so close to the man only to have him rip apart that connection in a matter of seconds boiled your blood.

“Yeah. I guess I did, but the motherfucker ruined that the moment he broke his promise.” You kissed your teeth in frustration running a hand through your hair, “Whatever love that was it is long gone I’m afraid. Especially since time moves so differently here, it’s been years since he left me behind.” Your eyes glazed over as Ghostbur gently wrapped you in a hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Alive me is kind of a douche.”

You burst into laughter, a bright smile spreading across your lips, “You’re not wrong Ghostbur, ya know you’re pretty alright.”

“You’re pretty alright too (Y/n).” A smile spread across his lips, in a matter of seconds that smile vanished as a train horn sounded in the distance. Your entire body froze as you whipped towards the sound, you felt the air around you grow hot and your mouth go dry. “Hey, Hey,” Ghostbur cupped your cheeks pulling you in his direction, “Focus on me. I won’t leave you.” The rumbling of the tracks grew louder as the both of you stood up, another horn blared causing you to flinch at the noise, ears twitching. The wind whipped both you and Ghostbur’s hair back, he held tightly to the beanie on his head not wanting it to fly away. The train screeched coming to a stop right in front of the both of you, immediately you recalled the same scenario, years prior only this time Ghostbur was by your side. The doors creaked open and fog poured into the station, inside was Dream, but by his side was a ghostly version of yourself. She was fiddling with her hands, almost anxiously,

“(Y/n)?” Ghostbur breathed his hand extending shakily towards the ghost version of yourself, her eyes lit up like stars.

“Bur?”

“This is your stop. Off.” Dream commanded, forcefully shoving her off of the vehicle, she landed gracefully in Ghostbur’s arms. He peppered her face with kisses, tears spilling down her cheeks,

“You’re okay. I’m here now.” He spoke softly running a pale hand through her hair, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to be with you,” Ghostbur looked a little surprised, turning his head to look at your figure. You and Dream seemed to be having a staring contest with one another, “Plus…” The ghost of yourself murmured, “Someone really wants her alive.” That snapped your attention away from Dream, brows furrowing in confusion,

“Who would-”

“Tik Tok, you getting on the train or not?” Dream snapped impatiently, your stomach churned at the thought of riding with the masked demon. On top of that who would want you alive? Definitely not Wilbur, he seemed pretty content on leaving you behind, unless he felt bad. You cursed the way your heart hopefully fluttered at the thought, Tubbo probably doesn’t understand how to bring you back there wasn’t anyone else. You glanced over at Ghostbur who was still holding your ghost close to his chest, he gave you a gentle nod,

“I’ll be alright. You’re not breaking any promises, I swear. Go with Dream.” He reassured as you stepped onto the train in front of you, the doors shut on Ghostbur and your ghost they shared a tender kiss and you smiled sadly from behind the glass.

“Who wants me revived Dream?” You asked voice tense as the train pulled out of the station, he scoffed pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You’ll see. Just keep quiet or this is going to be a long trip for the both of us,” Dream turned back to the front of the train. You clenched your hands into fists and sat down in one of the train seats, Dream was right about one thing this was going to be a long train ride.

Technoblade placed a hand atop your head careful of your injured horns, you sighed looking up at him. Technoblade was never the best at comforting people, let alone comforting the newly revived but he would try, maybe not with words but with actions. He watched a smile spread across your lips, pink appearing on your cheekbones,

“Thank you for doing this for me...” You smiled softly, “Why else did you decide to bring me back to life Techno. I know you...there’s more to just your original explanation.”

Technoblade blinked in surprise and for a few moments he was silent, he was trying to process the proper words to describe why he did what he did. Plus Technoblade wasn’t any good with words, in the first place.

“I revived you because you never got a chance at life. You could be so good for this server, you’ve been hurt and done wrong even in death. If you want a peaceful life I can give that to you, or if you want revenge I can help with that too.” He watched your eyebrow quirk up into your head,

“Revenge?”

“On Dream, on Wilbur. Whatever you seek I’ll help you get it.”

“What if it means killing Wilbur a second time?”

Technoblade tensed his entire body stiffing, “If it comes to that yes.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

You reached up and brushed a finger across his cheek, he melted so easily into your hand, it was cold. “Lucky for you I’m not a murderer, but...revenge does sound very sweet,” You breathed eyes going half-lidded, “You’ll help me with that won’t you?”

“I’ve made a Syndicate,” Technoblade grunted, “Join it.”

“Yes. Thousand times yes.”

“You’ll need a greek alias,” Technoblade added as you both finally walked towards his house, smoke from the chimney curled in the distance and you smiled. You didn’t need another moment to think about it,

“Nemesis. What better than the Goddess of Revenge herself?” Technoblade hummed leading you inside, he seemed to deem that association representative of you and your goals. “Also, do you have any warm clothes?”

“None that will fit you,” He snorted and you huffed, blowing the white strand of hair out of your face. “Go upstairs see what you can throw together,” He motioned to the ladders "tea will be ready when you’re done.”

“Thank you Techno. For everything.” You whispered pecking him on the cheek before ascending the ladder in front of you. Technoblade stared at the spot you disappeared from for way longer than he should’ve, face a light pink. He was snapped out of his stupor by the teapot letting out a loud whistle signaling it was finished. Techno cleared his throat and poured both of you a cup, he remembered just how you liked it...or at least he thought he remembered. He heard the floorboards creak above him signaling you were moving around trying to find proper clothes for yourself, maybe he should’ve gotten more prepared.

Then again, that would have caused suspicion.

Once more he was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud knocking on his door. He grumbled under his breath and spotting a crow out his window, at least the guest was Phil. He opened the door and leaned against the frame, Phil stood there a nervous smile on his features,

“Uh hey mate.”

“What’s up Phil,” Technoblade’s ear twitched, “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“Ah, no worries, we won’t bother you then.”

“We?”

“Hello, big brother,” Wilbur mused with jazz hands popping out from behind his father’s elegant wings. Technoblade’s entire body tensed and he bared his teeth,

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“We’re living together-”

“He can’t stay on my land.”

“Techno, mate he’s you’re brother.”

“Yeah Techno don’t you care about your revived brother.” He mused pushing past the blade and walking into his house, looking at the decor. “Wow! Your house is shit!” Technoblade spun on his heel, absolutely livid, “Oh? Two cups of tea? Are you expecting someone? A date maybe?” Wilbur snickered holding up the tea that was going to be given to (Y/n), “Cinnamon?” His eyebrows furrowed, “but you hate cinnamon-” They all turned towards the ladder hearing the wood creak beneath it, you had fashioned one of Technoblade’s white button-ups into a shirt. One of his thicker belts was hanging on your waist, sinching it like a corset typically would, the bottom of the shirt flared out beneath the belt. You had a pair of his black pants, they were the smallest pair he owned and luckily fit you decently, his boots however did not fit you that way, they looked like they were swallowing your ankles. Wilbur’s eyes blew wide, his jaw-dropping to the floor, it took all of Technoblade’s strength not to rush over and shield you from his brother’s gaze.

You weren’t Wilbur’s anymore, you were his.

“(Y/n)? Who? How? Look at you…” He said tenderly, the cigarette he was smoking dropped out of his mouth and onto the floor.

“Wilbur.”

“You...You revived her?” Wilbur turned to face Technoblade, “How did you manage to convince Dream-”

“Easily.” You said stiff voice cutting through the air like a blade, “Cause he tried.”

“Darling that’s not fair,” Wilbur grabbed your forearms squeezing them tightly, “I didn’t want to leave you behind-”

“Bullshit!” You snarled ripping yourself away from him like he was made of fire, “You left me without a second look! The minute you saw a way out you didn’t hesitate to take it, you broke your promise!”

“Are you still hung up on that?” He asked groaning, seeing he wasn’t going to get his way the considerate way, “I had a plan.”

“No, you didn’t! If you did you would’ve revived me right away, as Technoblade did!” You argued motioning to Technoblade with a snarl, he smirked at his brother who glowered at him. “You’re a bastard Wilbur Soot, I loved you but you just needed someone convenient to you. I was a convenience.” Wilbur didn’t even deny your words and for some reason that hurt you the most, “You’re just as bad as my dad.” Wilbur saw red and before you knew it you were pinned up against the wall, his fist was reeled back ready to hit you, and before Technoblade could intervene Phil moved first.

He grabbed his son’s fist out of the air and held it tight, he gently pushed Wilbur away from you. Wilbur growled and ripped his fist out of Phil’s hand, and shoved them into his pockets. You stayed flushed against the wall, hands balled into fists at your side, Phil glared at his son,

“Step outside. I’ll join you momentarily,” He told Wilbur the man grumbled flicking the lighter in his pocket.

“Fine. I needed a smoke anyway.” Wilbur scoffed marching towards the door not before giving you one last look over his shoulder. Technoblade tensed fingers twitching at his sides, just begging for Wilbur to try something towards you. “I hope we can have a calmer conversation once you’re settled in my dear, sleep well.” Wilbur mused adjusting his glasses, “I know you don’t mean those harsh words, you’re just exhausted.” Technoblade watched you grit your teeth as Wilbur exited his home, as soon as the door clicked shut you were surrounded by an entourage of feathers. You made a frightened sound but the grip on your body only tightened, you calmed down the moment you realized it was Phil. You couldn’t process why the old man was hugging you, he barely knew you, and if he did he probably only thought you were Tubbo’s protective older sister.

“Phil…” You whispered quietly and you felt wetness on the skin of your neck, was he crying?

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry.” His voice quivered against your neck and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You couldn’t see Technoblade over Phil’s wings but you hesitantly tried to peak over them to find your safety net.

“Why exactly...are you apologizing?” You asked hesitantly, hands gently resting on Phil’s lower back. He pulled away from you now it was his turn to be confused,

“You...I didn’t do anything to help you back with your father.”

“Oh, there’s nothing you could’ve done. Really it’s alright-”

“Alright?! Alright! (Y/n) he let you die!” Phil exclaimed wings puffing up in shock, “I was the adult, I saw what was happening to you and I didn’t do anything to put a stop to it. I took Tubbo in because you pleaded with me too and because he was a child, but so were you- close your mouth don’t argue with me- I should have forced you to stay with us. You could’ve gone and visited your father but I should’ve taken care of you, if I did...maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened.”

“But that wasn’t what I wanted…”

“I shouldn’t have mattered what you wanted. I should’ve overruled you as the responsible adult...although.” He laughed wetly pulling away from you, “Back then I wasn’t a responsible adult, I’ve learned so much.” Phil shook his head, he reached out and cupped your cheek, “I’ll do better by you, we all will.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before fully pulling away from your body, he turned toward Technoblade with a weak smile. “You take good care of her alright mate? Don’t let her cause too much trouble.”

“I will.” Techno said with a stern nod, “I promise.” Phil nodded at him before smiling back over at you, he gave a little salute before heading out of the door. Your brows furrowed and Techno walked over to you, “You alright?” He watched you shake your head and he wrapped you in a tight hug, “It’s okay I got you.” You buried your head in his chest, your shoulders began to shake and Technoblade brushed his fingers through your hair. “I won’t leave you sweet thing,” he whispered more to himself, you were so emotionally fragile.

He wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on you, if a single hair was out of place he’d paint the ground with their blood.

Frantic knocking startled him out of his stupor. Technoblade snarled against you and you felt his chest rumble, couldn’t he just be left alone for two seconds.

“You should answer,” You pulled away whipping your wet eyes on your sleeve “it might be important.”

“Nothings as important as you.” The knocking continued, just as loud and frantic and he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“It’s alright,” You smiled kissing his cheek, “open it.” Techno flushed and nodded opening the door so aggressively it was almost ripped off its hinges. Ranboo was outside and his brow furrowed. Ranboo wasn’t surprising but the government he was with sure was,

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t not tell him-”

Tubbo pushed past Technoblade releasing Ranboo’s claws from his hand. He lifted his bangs from his eyes to stare at you, oh my he’d gotten so big. The horns on his head curled around his ears mimicking your father’s, a golden ring fits snuggly on one of them. His hair was longer than you would’ve liked, it covered his beautiful eyes, but even so, it fits him well. The only thing that concerned you were the scars littering the left side of his face and body, and the nuclear symbol that seemed to replace his electric green eye on the same side. You saw his eyes grow glassy as he reached out to you, you couldn’t help but think he must be so disappointed in you. Your horns were nubs, ears were torn, your hair had a permanent streak of white, you probably looked so much older, so much weaker.

“(Y/n)?” His voice cracked stumbling forward to grasp your shoulders,

“Hey, bumblebee.” You spoke weakly holding up your hand, “You’ve gotten so big-” You were cut off by him engulfing you in a hug, you were taken aback, he should be screaming and yelling at you. Why wasn’t he angry?

“I missed you so much!” He sobbed against your chest, “Please, don’t ever leave me alone again.” He was trembling in your hold, his hands clutched at the back of Technoblade’s shirt, his breathing was shallow. “I love you,”

“I...I love you too Tubs…”

“Promise you won’t ever leave me again.”

“I promise.”

~~~ Wilbur "gaslight and gatekeep" Soot everybody Tag list:

@iamsuchasimp

@ignat1usaquar1us

@mack4676 @victory-is-here

@pastelmoonwitche

@boiled-onionrings

@mack4676

@woman-soot

@amibismexy

@jadynchronicle

@scarletrosesposts

@afifaj

[sulky-valkyrie]

hi and welcome to dadwc! how about "[ PUSH ]: the sender gently pushes the receiver back to lie down so they can check them properly for injuries." for anders and nathaniel (or anyone from awakening!)

First off, your profile pic is ADORABLE

Now, moving on . . . . 

for @dadrunkwriting 

~~~~

“Stop fussing.”  

“Hoooooowwwwe,” Anders drawled out with a smirk, “do you not believe me that’s not going to get better on its own?”

“It’s always been fine before,” Nathaniel groused.

The mage grabbed the back of the archer’s collar and tugged him so hard he almost fell over into the muck.  “Before?  Before what?”

“Before now, before this?”  he waved a hand vaguely at the swamp.  

“Before we were wading up to our waist in Maker knows what?” Anders supplied helpfully.

There was a trap somewhere in that question, no matter which way he answered.  Bloody mages - no, bloody Anders, the smartass infuriating beautiful - nevermind.  Best to just be honest.  “Yes?”

“So, you don’t normally drag horrible blisters and cuts through filth, hm?”  the mage asked, dragging his thumb across the archer’s palm.  “Did you even put a poultice on this?”  At Nathaniel’s sullen silence, Anders sighed.  “Commander?  Ser Noblebritches believes his blue blood will protect him from rot and infection.  We need to stop and let me fix it.”

Cousland looked over his shoulder.  “Nate, what did you do now?”

“Nothing!”  Nathaniel snapped, pulling his hand away.

Anders grabbed it back.  “That’s the problem!  You didn’t do anything and you should’ve, and so help me, I will tie you down if that’s what it takes to fix this.”

Oghren snorted.  “Whatever floats your goat, you weird ass Sparklefingers.”

Cousland snorted.  “I think you mean boat.”

The dwarf shook his head.  “Nah, those two aren’t good enough for boats.  Sodding rutting animals, the both of them.”

Panic bubbled up inside.  They knew.  They knew.  They knew.  Maker, he was going to get drummed out of the Wardens for this, sent back to the Free Marches.  Shit, it was like getting caught with Cailan all over again and -

The archer shrank back.  “It’s not - no, I don’t - it’s not like that,” he hissed, ignoring the hurt look on Anders’ face. 

Cousland laughed sympathetically and put a hand on his shoulder.  A hand that brooked no argument and pushed him back toward Anders.  “It know it’s hard -”

Oghren snorted.

The Commander’s mouth twitched, but he ignored him otherwise.  “I know it’s hard to believe, but I really don’t care.”  He pointed at the dwarf.  “And he only cares so he can make fun of you, but he’d do it if you were chasing skirts, wearing skirts, or avoiding them completely.”

“What about robes?” Anders asked cheekily.

“They’re all skirts,” Oghren huffed.  “Looks like there’s something close to dry land up ahead.”

Cousland pushed Nate into Anders’ arms before hurrying to join the dwarf.  “Don’t let him get into any trouble until we’ve made camp and you’ve healed him.”

Nate coughed awkwardly.

Anders cleared his throat.

“So I -”

“If you don’t -”

They both shut up.  

They both glared at each other.

“Are you two coming?”  Cousland shouted from across the marsh.  Maker, how did they get so far away already?

Nate turned to follow and yet again, almost was pulled backward into the blighted marsh.  He squawked in surprise as the mage caught him.  “Commander said I’m to keep you out of trouble,” the mage murmured in his ear.

“Not bloody likely,” the archer mumbled.  “You’re the most trouble I’ve ever been in.”

Anders snorted and let go of his shirt.  “Come on then, Ser Noblebritches.  Let’s get in trouble where it’s dry at least.”

Cousland pulled their packs off their shoulders as they neared, and tossed one to Oghren.  “We’ll finish setting up the other two tents.”  He winked at both of them.  “Take care of that cut, then each other.”

“It’s not that bad,” Nathaniel protested as he was pushed, possibly manhandled, toward the nearest tent.

“No, I’m very good,” the mage quipped.

Nate shot Anders a withering glare as he crawled inside.  “Not what I meant.”

“Shut up and let me look at your hand.”  

He rolled over and offered it up for inspection sullenly.  “There’s really no reason to -”

“Nathaniel, please.”  A firm hand pressed his shoulder to the ground.  “Just . . . let me be useful.  Let me take care of this, okay?”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Begone, Bitch

Prompts: Hi ! I just wanted to say that i love your stories and the way you write the characters ! If you want, could you write about Virgil being comforted by the other sides, or him getting hurt while protecting the others ? - anon

I am beyond grateful for every fic you write, you are so good at pushing all the right emotional buttons to just make my entire day. I don't want to be greedy since you already make so much good content, but in 'Lie to Me' there was that little one off scene in the kitchen where Virgil pushes Janus behind him to 'protect ' him from Roman and I *cannot* stop thinking about it. I would die for a whole fic of Virgil protecting Janus(and the others, but mostly Janus, I like when people are sweet to the snake boy) from danger by physically shielding him with his body. Overprotective Virgil is my favorite. So this is a prompt/request but only if you really really want to <3 And thank you for writing such wonderful fic. - awitchbravestheverge

Ah yes more opportunities to write in Virgil's narration style.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, not really. Some creepy shadow shit from the Subconcious and Virgil gets a little hurt but nothing graphic

Pairings: platonic found family babey

Word Count: 4504

The Subconscious is a nasty piece of work. It’s not quite powerful enough to overtake the Mindscape by itself, Roman and Remus do too good of a job holding the barriers in the Imagination, but that doesn’t mean little shits don’t worm their way through every now and then. Guess who gets the fantastic job of being alert to each and every single one of them?

No fucking prizes for guessing who.

The Subconscious is a nasty piece of work. It’s not quite powerful enough to overtake the Mindscape by itself, Roman and Remus do too good of a job holding the barriers in the Imagination, but that doesn’t mean little shits don’t worm their way through every now and then. Guess who gets the fantastic job of being alert to each and every single one of them?

No fucking prizes for guessing who.

For the most part, Virgil’s able to work undetected. Or, well, no, the others will see him doing shit but they don’t know that’s what he’s doing. He just has to stand between them and whatever gross slimy black thing has crawled its way up from the depths of the Subconscious and it’ll get absorbed. Part of Thomas’s background anxiety until he can banish back to the hellhole from whence it came.

That doesn’t always mean it’s…painless.

Some of them are fine. Some of them are like little misty bits that just putter around where they’re not fucking supposed to be and Virgil can just pluck them out of the air and stuff them into the pockets of his hoodie and wait. These ones really like to bother Patton, for some reason.

Patton’s baking today, cinnamon sugar muffins. He’s humming to himself as he bustles about the kitchen with that weird boundless energy of his that makes everyone want to think about nothing but sunshine. Ruins the hell out of Virgil’s gloomy emo image but hey, fresh muffins. Sacrifices must be made somewhere.

“Did you want to help, Virgil, or are you fine with just sitting there?”

Virgil blinks, having zoned out after the third time watching one of the containers almost fall over. “Nah, I’m good.”

Patton shrugs. “If you change your mind…”

“I won’t, Pat, I’m good. You’re doing great.”

“Aw, thanks!”

Virgil opens his mouth to say something else when he sees a little grey thing twisting in the air next to Patton’s head. He suppresses a sigh and reaches out, careful to make sure Patton’s back is turned as he snags the pesky little thing and whips it away. He stuffs his hand in his pocket as soon as Patton turns around.

“What was that?”

“What was what,” Virgil asks, blinking innocently as he squeezes the icy thing in his pocket, “what’re you talking about?”

Ah, it’s the hands-on-the-hips dad pose today. “I saw you reach for something, mister, now what did you do?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The misty little shit shrivels and disappears, leaving an ice-cold sting on his hand out of sight. “It’s fine.”

“Show me your hands.”

“What?”

“Show me your hands, Virgil.”

Virgil sighs and pulls the unstung hand out of his pocket. “See,” he says, waving it for good measure, “nothing to see here.”

Patton just raises an eyebrow. “And what about the other one?”

“C’mon, Pat—“ he sighs when both of Patton’s eyebrows go up— “fine, here.”

Patton’s eyes widen when he sees the mark on Virgil’s palm. He rushes forward instantly, cradling the injured hand and reaching for a towel. Conveniently, he gets one that was quite near where the misty thing had been floating.

“You could’ve told me you were hurt,” he says softly, tending to the sting with such tenderness that Virgil almost believes it’s something to worry about, “I would’ve helped.”

“But it’s fine, Pat,” Virgil sighs, “I could’ve dealt with it.”

“I know, I know.” Patton gives the hand one last dab with the towel before pronouncing it good enough. “But it’s never a crime to let us help you, kiddo.”

The corner of Virgil’s mouth tugs up. “Thanks, Pat.”

“Oh, of course, kiddo. Now you sit tight, the muffins won’t be another ten minutes.”

“Can’t wait.”

2.

Sometimes the Subconscious decides it’s bored of letting just the little misty bastards out and lets out the fucking ooze.

Have you ever seen Venom? Know how the symbioses move and how weird it is to look at?

Yeah, it kinda looks like that, just without the gay domesticity and mutual pining.

Nah, this ooze is mindless, just wants to—well, it doesn’t want anything, it just gets fucking everywhere. Makes it real hard to think sometimes, messes everything up.

Really likes fucking with Logan. Which first off, is not allowed. Don’t fuck with Logan. Don’t fuck with any of them, Virgil can and will kick your ass, but especially don’t fuck with Logan. Remus will tear you apart and no one will stop him. Except for Logan. Maybe. ‘Cause he’s nice like that.

Anyway, Virgil gets a weird tingle between his shoulders when there’s an oozy bitch up and about. He’s sitting on the couch, minding his own damn business, but then there’s that itch between his shoulders and he perks his head up.

Logan sits in a chair, alternating between scrolling on his laptop and making notes in one of his many notebooks. Virgil frowns, looking around, seeing if there’s any goo to keep track of, only to come up with nothing. Huh.

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

Logan tilts his head, concerned. “Are you alright? You look worried.”

He shakes his head, still squinting around the room. “Weird feeling, that’s it.”

“Will you let me know if it gets unbearable?” Virgil nods. “Thank you. Well, I’m going to get some more coffee, would you like any?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, L, that’d be great.”

Logan nods and stands, going to the kitchen. Leaving his laptop unattended on the coffee table.

Virgil watches as a truly massive ooze slides out from between the couch cushions and toward the laptop.

Not today you slimy bastard.

Unfortunately, he’s just a second too slow as a tendril from the ooze touches the laptop and yanks, pulling the laptop off the coffee table and sending it hurtling toward the floor. Virgil bites back a curse and lunges. His hand grabs the ooze just as his arm catches the laptop.

“Get back here, you little shit,” he grunts, opening his hand and using his power to suck the frothing fucker into his arm where it can go the fuck back to the Subconscious.

“Virgil, you—“

Shit.

Virgil looks up, a little guilty, as Logan comes back around the corner holding two coffee mugs. He looks down and raises an eyebrow.

“You…saved my laptop?”

“It was falling,” Virgil mutters, setting the precious cargo back on the coffee table, “didn’t want it to.”

“Ah. Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” Logan sets one of the coffee mugs down and reaches out a hand to help him up. “Though I assure you it is not the first time that laptop has been dropped.”

“What do you do with your stuff, Lo, I swear you make more cryptic remarks about it than J.”

“It’s all part of the experiment.”

“See, there you go again!”

3.

And then, then sometimes the Subconscious decides oh, it wants to get inventive and spawn this horrific little ooze-demons. Goat head, four legs, runs about like a creepy little horror game creature, they’re fucking awful. They don’t all look the same but they’re always running and climbing about like some gross as hellcat gremlins. Their nails are so sharp.

These fuckers really like messing with Janus. He’s got too many fun things to pull on, too many heavy clothes for them to pull and make him trip, and they like scurrying up his staff too much. They’re absolute fucking nightmares.

The good news is they’re by far the most obvious of the obnoxious little shits that manage to slip through the barriers of the Subconscious. Virgil hears a weird skittering in his ears and knows that one of the little monsters is loose again. Given how they all flock to Janus like he’s some fucking homing beacon, it’s easy to find them.

Janus is pacing back and forth, yanking angrily at the end of his clothes like they’re about to snag on something, his staff clutched in his hand. His head is down, muttering to himself as Virgil walks up.

“J?”

His head whips around. “Oh. Virgil. Certainly expected to see you here.”

“That’s me, always turning up where I’m not wanted.”

“I didn’t say that,” Janus mumbles, resuming his pacing, “though I didn’t mean to summon you. You can go.”

“You didn’t summon me, J,” Virgil says, leaning against the wall and looking around for wherever the bastards are, “I’m here of my own free will.”

“Free will,” Janus scoffs, turning around, “what the hell even is that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil spots movement.

“It’s not like there’s some master document of humans where free will is written into it.”

Slowly, Virgil raises his hand toward the spot, not tearing his eyes off it.

“And the belief that animals don’t have it! Ha, some of them exhibit characteristics of choice much more than we do.”

The little fucker snaps at his fingers as he makes a grab for it. He snags it by the scruff of the beck and yanks.

“And what is this about it being provable? Show me one scientific theory that has space in it for free will. Do it, I dare you.”

Virgil bites back a curse as he wrests the pesky shit around the middle, ignoring the way it chomps and snarls at him.

“Just because you have or don’t have free will doesn’t make you exempt from the constraints of society. Even if you aren’t making your own choices that doesn’t mean you’re the exception to the consequences.”

The teeth that sink into the sleeve of his hoodie are the last to vanish as Virgil breathes out, watching the last of it fade as Janus turns around.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tugging his hat and gloves, “haven’t been…”

“S’okay, J,” Virgil waves with the hoodie sleeve that isn’t ripped, “you’re good. Come on, let’s go eat something.”

“…pasta?”

“Sure thing, danger noodle.”

“Ugh, I take it back.”

“Whatever you say, hazard macaroni.”

“I’m taller than you!”

4.

It makes sense that the Subconscious decides to send the most insidious shit after the twins. They’re the reason the pieces of shit monsters can’t make it up to the rest of them. And for the most part, they know what to look for. They don’t have the same awareness of all the little idiosyncrasies that Virgil does, but they beat back a fair number of them on their own.

Which is why the ones they can’t are tricky.

Remus is Dark Creativity, he lives in the muck with the monsters. Thrives in it. Loves the way the gross and the unwanted and the sickening twist and turn about his realm, thrills in the horrified swoop in his stomach when something truly gruesome rears its ugly fuckin’ head.

What he can’t deal with is the fog.

The first time Virgil saw it, he honestly thought it was smoke. He thought Remus had set something on fire and panicked, reaching through to try and find the blaze, find Remus, find a goddamn fire extinguisher, but it was cold.

Like…really cold.

You know how when the air is really humid it feels like it has a weight to it? Like it hangs over you like a wet rag that you just can’t shake off?

Imagine that but cold.

Virgil shivers and reaches forward, trying to find Remus. He’s still never gotten used to it, even though he’s seen it so many times now. Remus doesn’t make it out of his room when the fog comes. He blames it on creative block but Janus always hisses gently when he says that.

“Remus? Remus,” Virgil calls using his tempest tongue, “where are you, buddy?”

He can’t see Remus yet, but the call did its work. The fog ripples in front of him, almost shying away from the sound waves as he moves. He keeps calling, keeps watching the fog almost flinch as it recedes from him. His voice grows louder, louder. The fog begins to retreat in earnest.

Finally, he sees Remus, curled up on his bed, staring at the wall. Virgil muffles a curse as he strides forward, crooning as softly as he can in tempest tongue while glaring furiously at the fog as it sheepishly retreats. As the last of it fizzles, Remus’s head comes to flop on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Hey, spider-ling,” he mumbles, “when’d you show up?”

“A few minutes ago.” Virgil brushes Remus’s hair off his forehead. “You looked upset, bud, wanted to come check on you.”

“Fucking fine,” comes the slur, signifying that Remus is anything but, “I’m fucking fine, babe.”

“You’re exhausted and cold.” Virgil scoops him up into his arms. “Come on. Let’s go find J. He’ll spoil you.”

Sure enough, as soon as Janus sees Remus lying in Virgil’s arms, he jumps up with a coo and takes the other side from him, lying him down on something warm and promising to get him something warm to drink. No, Remus, not engine fuel. Something safer, at least for right now.

Virgil stands at the door, waiting.

There’s an itch between his shoulders and another chill down his spine.

A cloud of fog emerges from down the hallway. From it, three shadow gremlins canter toward him.

He grits his teeth and braces.

The first one collides with his shoulder and he grabs it, squeezing until the shadow folds in on itself. The second hits his shin and he punts it into a wall, scooping the remnants and absorbing them. The third one vanishes in a quick shout of tempest tongue.

You’re not gonna get them, he thinks as he shouts the fog away, not on my goddamn watch.

5.

The worst part of the Subconscious is the shadows.

Because they all have shadows. They all do. That’s just the nature of being an opaque thing and existing in proximity near light sources. Shadows are a natural by-product of blocking light, that’s it.

Wow, he’s been spending more time with Logan than he thought. Sweet.

But the Subconscious shadows are different. There’s no such thing as dark. Only an absence of light. There is no substance known as ‘dark,’ sure there’s dark energy or dark matter if you go the physics route, but there isn’t a thing ‘dark’ the way there’s a thing ‘light.’

If you looked at the Subconscious shadows, you’d believe otherwise.

They look normal. They look just like normal shadows. Something resting against the wall casts a shadow. Something moving in front of a window casts a shadow. Something sitting on the edge of the desk casts a shadow.

But these shadows move.

You have to pay such close attention to even catch them. You have to know precisely what on your desk is casting what part of the shadow when—hold on, what is that? Is it the water bottle? No, you pick up the water bottle and the cylinder two spaces across move. So you pick up the lamp and no, that’s not it either. You move your hand—your hand’s shadow is easy to track—and you move it to where it should be overlapping with whatever’s casting that shadow. You look closer. But there’s nothing blocking the light where your hand is, nothing between the light and the wall.

You stare at the shadow.

And then it moves.

See? They’re fucking terrifying. Like some Peter Pan gone wrong shit. Creepy, sinister, innocuous-looking, you’ve got to be constantly on guard to catch them. You have to be smart. These ones, out of all the Subconscious monsters, feel the most spiteful. Like they’re doing this on purpose, to terrorize the Mindscape.

That’s probably why they go for Roman.

Roman holds the barriers the most. Remus pushes them to reinforce them, but Roman draws the lines in the sand. Roman is responsible for keeping Thomas safe from the barriers breaking, is largely responsible for Thomas being able to see the Sides at all.

So of course the Subconscious hates him.

Roman is the only one who will summon Virgil when he thinks there’s something wrong. Sure, it’s never been quite as simple as Virgil showing up and Roman telling him he’s scared, he thinks something just moved. They used to just throw barbs at each other until Roman was distracted enough for Virgil to suck up the shadow, or fight until Virgil pointed out where it was and Roman said it was just a test, but they’re better now.

Virgil appears in Roman’s room and immediately looks around. Roman sits on the bed, his hands folded primly over the sword in his lap, polishing the pommel with forced calm.

“There are at least three,” he says, his voice perfectly even, “I can’t keep track of them anymore.”

“It’s okay, Princey,” Virgil says softly, turning and turning to try and catch them, “I’m here now. You did a good thing calling me. Are you alright?”

“I’m here,” Roman says, forcing a little false cheer into it, “not the biggest fan of what’s happening, but I’m here.”

Virgil smiles at him briefly before he sees the flicker.

There.

“Roman,” he says calmly, “I need you to go stand by the window.”

Roman gets up and walks to the window, sitting under the sill and closing his eyes. Virgil grits his teeth and makes his shadow overlap with the one on the wall.

It burns as he starts to absorb it, writhing in protest and screeching silently for the others to come help. Sweat begins to bead on Virgil’s forehead as two move shadows race to enlarge his silhouette. Goddamn, they’re vicious tonight. What the hell would they have done to Roman if he hadn’t called?

Not on my goddamn watch.

He’s panting by the time they’re gone, but he’s alright. He’s good. They’re gone. Roman is safe. He turns and opens his arms, letting Roman come and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” Roman murmurs quietly, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Princey, this is my job.” He claps Roman on the shoulder. “You did good too.”

Roman huffs. “I sat in the corner. That’s not much.”

“And you did great. Now come on, Pat’s making cookies.”

“Oh, right, is it Remus’s night to help?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm…maybe we should swing by and warn Logan first.”

“Good idea.”

+1.

Nothing’s happened in a while and Virgil is getting worried.

Normally the longest they go without an incident is a month, maybe, and then it’s normally back-to-back nonsense for like a week.

But it’s been three months. And nothing. No misty tendrils, no puddles of ooze, no snapping gremlins, no fog, no shadows. Virgil’s just about on the verge of running a round-the-clock patrol of the damn place just to make sure he doesn’t miss anything.

As it turns out, he needn’t have bothered.

Stupid, stupid. Idiot.

He fucking missed it. He fucking missed it.

All the other Sides had monsters that went after them specifically. Why should Virgil get left out?

The Subconscious hadn’t been stopping, or slowing down, no. It had been biding its fucking time.

And now…

Virgil scrambles backward, trying to keep himself between the door to the Imagination and the figure in front of him. They slash at him again and he dodges just in the nick of time. He winces, claps a hand to his chest, and literally feels his heart skip a beat as his hand passes right through.

He’s being absorbed.

The figure raises a dripping, shadowy arm and brings the weapon down again. Virgil can’t stop dodging long enough to get a good look at it. He only knows that it fucking hurts and that it’s draining him. Draining him back into the Subconscious.

If he can just keep it here, if he can just hold off long enough to figure out what to do—

Another slash comes down on his arm and he yells, tempest tongue dying in his throat. That one fucking hurt.

He throws a handful of dirt up just to see if maybe it will blind them or give them a moment’s pause but no. The dirt just sinks into it like some fucking nightmare vacuum. The next strike collides.

“Virgil? Virgil?”

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“It’s draining him, move!”

“Hang on, Virgil, we’re coming!”

“Don’t you fucking dare hit him again!”

The figure turns, only to jump out of the way when Remus’s Morningstar smashes into the ground where they had been standing. Remus growls, ripping it out of the soil and swinging again. The figure parries the blow only to let out an inhuman wail as Roman’s sword slices its arm.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Remus snarls.

“Back!” Roman swings again, driving them away from Virgil. “Back, foul beast!”

“Don’t insult them by comparing the beasts to whatever the fuck this is.”

Logan rushes up before Virgil can open his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, dropping to his knees and pressing something warm to Virgil’s chest.

“Virge? Virge, stay with me,” he calls softly, “come on, it’s alright, we’re here now.”

“How—“ Virgil gasps as his chest starts to…resolidify? “How did you—what? How?”

“Oh, Virgil,” Logan murmurs, rubbing whatever the miracle thing on his chest is in small circles, “did you really think we never noticed that you were trying to fight them by yourself?”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“Shh,” he soothes, helping Virgil up into a seated position, “it’s okay. We’re not mad. Just worried. You’re hurt.”

“Fuck!”

“Just stab them, Ro.”

“I’m trying!”

Despite himself, Virgil huffs a laugh as he leans against Logan. “Are they—we should help.”

“You,” Logan says sternly, “will sit here and let me finish making sure you won’t be drained. The twins can handle themselves.”

Still, Virgil’s heart stays in his throat until he spies something else running up the hill. A shadow beast, a massive one.

“Logan, look out—”

Logan turns and—

Who the fuck gave Logan a gun?

The shadow beast has flopped over onto its side and dissipated, Logan already back to tending to Virgil’s wound but the time Virgil’s dizzy, half-drained brain figures out what just happened.

“You…you shot it.”

Logan quirks an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“Remus!”

“Get back!”

“What the hell is it doing?”

“It’s growing, shit, Ro, we gotta fall back.”

“Guard Logan, check on Virgil, I’m right behind you!”

The twins rush up and form a guard around Logan and Virgil as the shadow figure swells. Virgil’s eyes widen as it growls, growing larger and larger and larger still until the shadows look strapped at the seams, fit to burst. It grows claws. It grows teeth. It grows more limbs than he can count.

It leers down at them and opens a gaping, black maw.

“Now!”

Roman crouches down to shield him as dirt flies up around them. Logan bends in too as something equally massive soars overhead. Virgil manages to peek between Roman and Remus to see a blur of green tackle the monster.

“Is that…is that Patton?”

“I believe it’s ‘Lily Pad-ton,’” Logan corrects wryly as the twins snicker, “but…yes.”

Judging by the roar of the monster, he’s doing something.

“Where’s Janus,” he hears Roman hiss, “he should’ve been here by now.”

“There!”

Remus points and Virgil spots a fucking enormous yellow snake unhinging its jaw. The monster howls as it starts to vanish down the snake’s gullet.

“Holy fuck.”

“I think Janny’s hungry.”

“Pissed off, more like.” Roman lays a hand protectively on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing encouragingly as Virgil gasps at the contact. “Whatever that thing is hurt Virgil.”

Remus growls in assent.

The thing in Virgil’s chest starts to burn hotter. Logan shushes him gently as he whines in pain.

“It’s alright, Virgil, you’re almost done. We’re right here, just breathe.”

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” Roman murmurs as he starts to list side to side, “we’ve got you.”

“Nothing’s gonna fucking touch you,” he hears Remus snarl as he passes out, “promise.”

He comes to an indeterminate amount of time later, laid out on the couch, his head in Patton’s lap. He blinks.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, stroking his hair, “you feel any better?”

“Um, yeah,” he mumbles, turning a little and wincing at the pull in his chest, “what…what happened?”

“We won.” Roman pats his arm. “All safe now. You did great.”

“All I did was lie there.”

“Yeah, and you did great.” He winks.

Virgil’s gaze rolls around to catch Logan setting down a glass of water and crouching by his head.

“L?”

“You’re all better physically,” Logan says softly, “but it might take some time for you to feel like it. Just take it easy for a while.”

“And that means,” comes Remus’s voice from over the couch, “you gotta let us help defend you too.”

Virgil flushes. “But it’s not your job.”

“Are you insinuating that our job is not to take care of you?” Roman holds his hand to his chest in a mock gasp. “Because that is rude.”

Patton gives his hair a gentle tug. “We’re gonna look after you, kiddo, you deserve it.”

“I—um…” Virgil swallows heavily. “But if I dealt with it properly you wouldn’t have to.”

A soft hiss comes from the chair. Virgil looks and sees Janus sitting there, one leg crossed over the other. He smiles softly.

“You can let us help you, sweetie,” he murmurs, “rest for a little. Don’t try and take on the Subconscious by yourself.”

“…okay.” He squints. “Wait, why are you all the way over there?”

“Digesting,” Janus says, completely dignified.

Virgil snorts. “I’m just sad I missed it.”

“Oh, it was fucking epic.”

“Language, kiddo.”

“Oh, come on, you were great—“

Logan chuckles next to his head as Virgil drifts back off to sleep with a smile on his face.

…he is gonna ask who gave Logan a gun after he wakes up properly.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 119

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: More of Y/N’s stay in Wakanda.

Y/N was still in a little state of shock, pacing back in forth in her room. Bucky was here. Bucky was alive and had been getting help. She hadn’t spoke to him since Siberia and that was…. Y/N froze in her place when she realized that it had been nine months. Nine months… She should have had her baby by now. She would have had her baby… her precious baby that she didn’t even know the gender of. She collapsed to the floor on her knees. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and cried. She stayed like that into the morning hours.

Bucky wasn’t acting much different. He had paced across his small house so many times, he swore he could feel a mark in the floor. He was nervous. He had imagined so many times how his first meeting with Y/N since Siberia would go, and that definitely wasn’t it. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even though he could tell the last nine months had not been easy on her. Bucky felt immediate guilt. Blaming himself for what had happened in Siberia.

In the morning, Bucky went to the palace, wanting to talk to T’Challa. He found the King walking down a hallway.

“Your Majesty,” Bucky called, jogging to catch up. 

“Oh, Sargent Barnes,” T’Challa smiled, stopping and turning slightly. “How are—“

“Where you ever going to tell me that Y/N’s staying here?”

“T’Challa sighed. “How did you find out?”

“Last night. I was taking a walk in the fields and so was she.”

“Did she see you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she leave?”

“She told me she wouldn’t. But—“

“But you’re not so sure. Follow me.” T’Challa started heading towards Y/N’s room with Bucky in tow.

“T’Challa, why is she here?”

“Like you and the Captain, she’s a fugitive. I promised Steve that I would look for her, look out for her. I found her staying in South Africa, longer than she usually was in one place.”

“I thought she was with Stark. Hasn’t she been with him this whole time?”

T’Challa sighed. “She was missing for six months before we started noticing her movements. From what I know, Stark has been searching for her since then as well.”

“Six months? Of nothing?”

“Yes.”

“Has she…”

“She hasn’t opened up to me. But Y/N has just gotten here. She needs time.”

“How long is she staying?”

“As long as she likes. Here we are.” The men stopped in front of a large door. T’Challa knocked. “Y/N?” He called. No answer. He tried again. “Y/N? Can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky physical deflated. “She’s probably gone.”

“You don’t know that… Y/N, I’m coming in.” T’Challa opened the door, looking around the room with Bucky following.

“Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed, noticing her unconscious on the floor. He and T’Challa were quickly at her side. “Y/N.” He gently shook her. Just by her face, they could tell she had been crying, recently. “Come on, doll. Wake up.”

“Hmmm?” Y/N hummed, coming back to consciousness. She blinked her eyes rapidly a few times. “Bucky? T’Challa? What’s going on?”

“You tell us,” T’Challa said. “We walked in to find you on the floor, unconscious.”

“Oh… I must have fallen asleep.”

“Doing what, doll?” Bucky questioned.

“I… uh… thanks for the concern. Both of you.” She pushed herself up to stand. “But I think I’m going to go get ready for the day.”

“Y/N…” Bucky reached out to stop her but she pulled away.

“I’ll see you guys around.”

She quickly disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Bucky sighed.

“Do not get discouraged, Barnes,” T’Challa said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Like you, she just needs time.”

~~~

When Y/N exited the bathroom, she was relieved to see that both T’Challa and Bucky were gone. She did notice that there was some food and a small note on the small table near the door. She walked over, slowly picking up the note.

Y/N - I’m sorry that you found out about me being here the way you did. I understand if you don’t want to be near me. Just know that I will wait however long it takes for you to be ready to talk to me. Cause I understand. I’m going through things too and need time. I’ll be here though, whenever you need. - Bucky

Y/N sighed as she set the note back down. He was clearly trying to get better, to heal from what had happened. Why was it so hard for her to do so? She decided that she needed to go clear her head again, so she headed outside. Y/N wandered around the kingdom, through the streets and market, until eventually, she found herself back at the spot she had run into Bucky the night before. Looking around, she tried to see if there was anyway she could tell where he had come from, or where he had been going.

Y/N turned around, observing her surroundings. She stopped when she noticed a small clay house, not too far away. It was just off the bank of the river with a large tree in front of it. As Y/N slowly moved closer, she noticed a small fenced off area with a few goats. She froze when a man came out of the house, holding some hay, and threw it to the goats. She must’ve been too obvious because Bucky turned, meeting her gaze.

Slowly, Bucky walked over. He stopped far enough away for her to still hear him but wasn’t too close, just incase. Her eyes didn’t stray from his figure.

“How are you?” He asked. He’d been worried since this morning.

“I’m… fine,” she answered. “I’m good.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.”

“Yeah… I definitely think I’ve been better.”

Bucky nodded. “I know the feeling. Do you, uh… do you want to come inside?” He motioned to the house.

“I, um…” She was nervously playing with her fingers as she took a small step back. “I… don’t know…”

“That’s okay. Do you want to stay out here?”

“I don’t know…”

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

“I think… I… I want to apologize…”

He quickly was confused. “Apologize? What do you have to apologize for?”

“For the way Tony acted. He shouldn’t have done what he did.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing for Tony. Plus… I deserved it. I killed his parents. You should be mad at me too. You were friends with Howard.”

“I’m not mad about that, cause I know that was HYDRA’s doing… I was only ever mad that Steve knew and kept it a secret from us… from me…”

“How— how is Stark?”

“I… I don’t know…. I haven’t seen him since Siberia.”

“Why? I thought you two were a… a couple.”

“Because… he…” Emotion took over her eyes and throat. “He… I…”

“It’s okay.” He stepped forward. “You don’t have to talk about it… you don’t owe me that.”

“I feel like I need to talk about it though… I haven’t really said a whole lot about it since then…”

“Only if you’re ready.”

“I… I don’t know… All I know is that I miss talking to you… I… we used to tell each other everything…”

Bucky nodded. “We did. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go run and get a blanket for us to sit on. Is that alright?” Y/N nodded in response, not able to met his eyes or open her mouth. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He rushed away, back to his house. He quickly grabbed a few blankets and snacks, just in case. When Bucky left his house, he paused as he watched Y/N nervously looking around. He wasn’t used to this side of her. Yes, he had since it before, growing up, but she had always quickly hidden it behind her strength. Bucky laid a blanket down underneath the tree. As he set everything else down, Y/N walked over.

“I thought it would be nice to sit under the tree,” Bucky said as she neared. 

Y/N simply nodded. Bucky motioned for her to sit down and she did. She leaned up against the tree, nervously playing with the edge of the blanket with her left hand. Bucky watched, noticing the scaring on her hand.

“Your hand…” he whispered. Y/N looked at him as he studied her hand. “How… what happened?”

“When I fell from the plane,” she answered quietly. “I was holding onto the Tesseract. A power source. It burned my skin.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She shook her head slightly. “It’s not as bad as not having a left hand.”

“True.” He let out a small chuckle. He looked over where his arm was suppose to be. “Shuri’s made me two new arms. I just… I don’t want it yet. Even though it’s not the arm HYDRA gave me, it reminds me of all the things I’ve done.”

“It wasn’t you. HYDRA did those things.”

“That’s what Steve said.”

“Have you…. Do you know where he is?”

“No. We’ve had some small phone conversations here and there, so that I know he’s alive. But we haven’t seen each other since I went back under.”

“I haven’t seen him since Siberia…. Is he… is the team with him?”

“Sam, Natasha, and Wanda are. Clint and Scott took a deal for their families.”

“Good for them.” She nodded, looking off in the distance.

The two sat in silence, simply letting themselves try and enjoy each others company. Bucky watched Y/N as she took in the area around her. He could tell she was trying not to look at him, for whatever reason. But he was okay with that as long as she wasn’t running. 

This went on for weeks. Each day, Y/N would find her way to Bucky’s small house, never entering, and they would sit under the tree. Sometimes they would talk, about the old times mostly and the new inventions Bucky was still getting used to. But other times, they sat in silence. And that was perfectly okay.

~~~

Y/N had been in Wakanda for a little over 5 weeks. She had spent the day at Bucky’s once again, enjoying her time there. She was tired, so falling asleep wasn’t hard for her. It would be staying asleep that would be hard.

She had seen the scene before her, before. People screaming, dust or ash floating around. A Stone covered gauntlet snapping its fingers. Y/N snapped up in bed, panting and sweating. Her mind replaying the scene over and over. She trembled as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. Taking a few unsteady steps, she eventually fell to the ground.

Moving her hands to push herself up, she realized that the ground was dirt. Y/N’s head snapped up to look around. She quickly noticed that she was in front of Bucky’s house. A portal must’ve accidentally opened as she fell. Y/N picked herself up off the ground, debating on whether or not to go back to the palace. Honestly, she really didn’t want to be left alone. But she didn’t want to put Bucky in an awkward position.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N slowly made her way to Bucky’s doorway. There was no real door, just a curtain, so there was no place for her to knock. As quietly as she could, she slipped through the curtain. It surprised her to see a modern kitchen designed to look like it fit in with the clay house. There was a small table near it. Looking the other way, she noticed two other doorways. Taking a brave step, she went over to on of them, peeking through the curtain. It was Bucky’s room. He was seemingly asleep on his bed. Not wanting to wake him, she backed up. As she did, Y/N accidentally pulled on the curtain, causing the rings holding it to the pole to make a sound.

“Who’s there?” Bucky’s voice called out. Y/N froze. “I know someone’s out there.”

Y/N waited a few long seconds before swallowing and answering, “It’s me…” She opened up the curtain to see Bucky sitting up on his bed. “I’m sorry to wake you… I’m just going to leave.”

“No!” He quickly stood up. “Don’t. Is everything okay?”

“I… I’m fine. It’s silly.” She turned to walk away but Bucky quickly halted her with a hand to her arm. 

“I’m sure it’s not silly if it brought you here.”

“I… I had a nightmare. But I don’t want to intrude, so I’ll just—“

“You’re staying.” Bucky grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N shook her head. “Not really. I want to try to go back to sleep.”

“Okay. You can take the bed.”

“I don’t want to push you out of your bed.”

“It’s fine. I can take the flo—“

“Sleep with me.” It was quiet for a couple awkward seconds. “Not like that! Just… I don’t want to push you from your bed. I’ll stay on my side and you stay on yours.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

With a nod, Bucky led Y/N back into his bedroom. He pulled back the blankets and they both slipped into the bed. They both awkwardly laid there, staying on their sides while staring at the ceiling. Eventually though, the warmth radiating off of Bucky’s body, lulled Y/N to sleep, with Bucky slowly following.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[iamkidfish]

So happy to read your writing again!! If you’re still accepting prompts could you do #6 for leatin?

Read on ao3!

(chasing someone's lips after they pull away)

Honestly, Leah should’ve expected it, considering Shelby’s enthusiastic insistence of  those ridiculous middle school basement party games, but it takes her by surprise when Toni suggests they all play spin the bottle and Shelby agrees. And okay, it probably helps that they're totally, like, in love or whatever, but still. It’s only been a few weeks since Shelby and Toni called an impromptu meeting so they could announce to the rest of the girls that they were officially together. Shelby’s gotten more and more comfortable each day with the whole “being physical with a girl” thing in front of the rest of them. Well, at least during the day. For the past month or so, Leah’s had to pretend like she hasn’t seen Toni curled in between Shelby and Martha when she's the first to wake up in the morning besides Nora. 

It’s even more surprising when everyone else also agrees to play spin the bottle. That, Leah knows, is no doubt influenced by the second round of Jeanette’s gummies they all ate earlier in the day. This time, they make sure Martha takes the appropriate amount and that she doesn’t wander off into the woods by herself. 

After they gather everyone (it’s even more difficult when they’re all high), it becomes extremely clear very quickly Toni only suggested the game so she could make out with Shelby at any given opportunity. Plus, having both Rachel and Nora playing complicates matters so after two disappointing rounds where nothing really happens except for a lot of bickering (which isn't new) and Toni flat out refusing to kiss Martha (“You had your chance for years but I'm a committed woman now, Marty”) so, according to Fatin and the rules, that meant Martha and Nora, but they giggle so much it's not so much of a kiss than just pressing their smiles together.

Leah can’t say she's too disappointed with the change of game. Yeah, she’s pretty fucking bi and the rest of them are all gorgeous and even though she’s been rubbing some of Fatin’s toothpaste on her teeth every morning, Leah’s fairly confident too many rounds of spin the bottle will give them all whatever the deserted island equivalent of herpes is. She’d rather not repeat any mass outbreak of any type of sickness, once with the mussels was enough. 

Once they get going again, it’s pretty easy to think of questions and before long, Leah’s heard how Shelby vandalized a car, a truly awful description and mental image of Rachel’s first kiss, Dot’s dream Survivor cast, including Jake Gyllenhaal for some reason, and enough knowledge about Fatin’s various sexual fantasies that Leah kinda wants to run into the ocean (again). Most of their truth questions just turn into group discussions but there’s some good dares that get passed around including Martha having to talk dirty to Fatin’s toothbrush for three straight rounds, Dot and Fatin streaking completely naked across the beach, and Toni performing a lap dance on Marcus. For the last one, Leah takes the liberty of covering Martha’s eyes with her hand and Dot covers Shelby’s after her face turns bright red. 

There's a lull in the conversation after Dot tells everyone the time Shelby rapped on the morning announcements and they all laugh, Shelby the loudest out of all of them. Leah doesn't mind the silence since, for once, her mind is blissfully empty of any thought at all—except maybe how laying on the sand kinda feels like floating.

Leah might even say she's...happy. 

Toni's voice cuts through the haze in her brain, “Hey Fatin, truth or dare?” 

She looks up and sees where Toni is leaning against Shelby's leg. There's something about the glint in her eyes, something too mischievous, that makes Leah wary. About what, she doesn't know, but on guard nonetheless. 

“That's easy Shalifoe, truth. I'm an open book.”

“Unfortunately.”

Leah hears Nora whisper to Dot, “Everything we’ve learned about her sex life has been against my will.”

“You’re telling me, she’s been talking about this shit with me since day four. I’m still trying to figure out what she meant by reverse 69.”

“Physically, it shouldn’t be possible. But maybe, Fatin transcends physics by like, sheer power of will,” she hears Nora mutter back to Dot. 

“Alright, who would you kiss on the island if you had to,” Toni asks. Then she adds, “but you can’t say Shelby.”

Fatin laughs and Leah can hear the rumble of it in her chest, from where it’s resting against Leah’s shins. She’s not really paying attention just because she assumes Fatin will say Dot (like she always does and crack a joke about being lesbian lovers, which doesn’t not make her stomach clench uncomfortably. What she actually says kind of shifts Leah’s entire world just slightly off of its axis. 

“Leah, no question. That was supposed to be a hard question, Toni? You gotta step up your game.”

“Okay then, if you’re not a pussy, kiss her right now,” Rachel says. 

“Yeah, no can do.”

Does everyone not realize that Leah’s right here, when everyone’s talking about her?

Rachel looks victorious, like she’s finally outsmarted Fatin, but then Fatin adds, “that wasn’t even a dare.”

“Fine, I dare you to kiss Leah,” Rachel and Dot roll their eyes. 

“There we go, okay,” Fatin shrugs and finally, rolls over to face Leah. 

She doesn’t even get to protest that Rachel wasn’t the next person, so technically, her dare shouldn’t count, but Fatin has either conveniently ignoring the rules or she wants...yeah, Leah doesn’t let herself finish that thought

“Well, wait a minute. Y’all should only be doing this if Leah’s okay with it,” Shelby interrupts and Leah could kiss her, if not for Toni. She smiles a grateful smile to Shelby, who flashes a bright, kind one back.

“I mean it’s cool, I guess,” she mutters. By now, Leah knows she definitely can’t kiss anyone casually and she thinks Fatin should know this too by now.

“See, it’s okay,” Toni says, “Fatin’s finally gonna get some and we get free entertainment.”

“Go on then, put on a show for us, Jadmani,” Rachel heckles and Leah wonders what would happen if she tried to run into the ocean again, right now. 

Fatin stands up and apparently this is going to be a Thing so Leah does too, desperately hoping when she rinsed her teeth off this morning with Fatin’s toothpaste and using her finger as a toothbrush that she didn’t miss, like, any three-day-old goat meat that’s stuck between her teeth. Fatin’s options are pretty slim, so Leah argues with herself that Fatin should appreciate any action she’s getting, regardless of the potential surprise of goat meat.

“You know, you can look a little more enthusiastic about kissing me,” Fatin tells her, quieter so that no one else hears. Leah’s grateful for at least that. 

“Fuck off,” but there’s no real bite to her voice. Leah wonders when that happened. 

Fatin tries to caress her arm and Leah slaps her arm away. Distantly, she hears Toni whisper to Dot: “this is definitely considered foreplay right?”

Leah turns her head, looks to the ocean. It’s not even twenty feet away…

No, she shouldn’t.

Past Fatin’s head but still in her line of vision, Dot and Rachel are making various scissoring gestures. Leah shouldn’t run into the ocean to avoid kissing Fatin, she shouldn’t. Should she?

“Hey, you good?” Fatin’s voice is softer than Leah’s ever heard it. “We don’t actually have to go along with this stupid game if you don’t want to.”

But that’s the thing, Leah wants to. Like a lot. 

“What’s the fun in that?” And it’s not exactly an answer but Leah’s not really concerned when Fatin’s face is so close to hers. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Fatin says, maybe out of breath but she’s too focused on keeping air in her own lungs.

“Okay.”

Fatin’s lips are a little dry like she expected but Leah kind of likes it.

She has to bend her neck down to keep her lips pressed against Fatin’s and in the middle of the kiss, Leah realizes there’s this awkward amount of space between their bodies like she’s fourteen and dancing with a boy at her cousin’s bat mitzvah, so Leah pulls Fatin closer by her hips. A low, strangled kind of hum escapes Fatin’s lips. Interesting. 

But then Fatin’s pulling back and really it was too short of a kiss (even for their stupid dare), so Leah’s only a little ashamed when she chases after Fatin’s lips, eyes half-closed.

 Some of the girls (Toni) are wolf-whistling but it’s all white noise to Leah. She opens her eyes and Fatin’s hasn’t quite moved out of her space yet. 

“How was that for you?” She jokes and yeah, Leah knows she’s bad at flirting, but even that was awkward for her. 

Fatin doesn’t say anything, just looks at her (well, at her lips) with a kind of glazed over look in her eyes. Leah never anticipated Fatin ever being speechless but there’s a first for everything.

Leah opens her mouth to talk but Fatin’s eyes snap up to her eyes and Leah wishes Fatin wasn’t so hard to fucking read all the time. Then, it doesn’t really matter because she turns and runs away without saying anything. 

“Omg, Leah I think you broke Fatin,” Martha says. 

“Yeah right Marty, more like she’s off to go masterbate with her toothbrush,” Toni responds.

Leah’s scared it’s the former.

[tmngoose]

Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 7: FIRST DAY OF CAMP

Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever we went, campers pointed at us and murmured something about toilet water. Or maybe they were just staring at Annabeth, who was still pretty much dripping wet. She showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough. Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins. "I've got training to do," Annabeth said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall." "Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets." "Whatever." "It wasn't my fault." She looked at us skeptically, and I realized it might've been my fault. I may have made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures and made the ground shake. I didn't understand how. "You need to talk to the Oracle, both of you." Annabeth said. "Who?" "Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron." Percy stared into the lake, I rested my head on his shoulder wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once. I wasn't expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below. They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend. I didn't know what else to do. I waved back. "Don't encourage them," Annabeth warned. "Naiads are terrible flirts." "Naiads," Percy repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. "That's it. I want to go home now." Annabeth frowned. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us." "You mean, mentally disturbed kids?" "I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human." "Half-human and half-what?" "I think you know." "God," I said. "Half-god." Annabeth nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. And one of your parent isn't your parent, Y/N. You are both a child of one of the Olympians. " "That's... crazy." "Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?" "But those are just— But if all the kids here are half-gods—" "Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods." "Then who's your dad?" Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling we'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject. "My dad is a professor at West Point," she said. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history." "He's human." "What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?" "Who's your mom, then?" "Cabin six." "Meaning?" Annabeth straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle." Okay, I thought. Why not? "And who's mine?" "You grew up with both a mother and a father. So only your Olympian parent knows." "And my dad?" "Undetermined," Annabeth said, "like I told you before. Nobody knows." "Except my mother. She knew." "Maybe not, Percy. Gods don't always reveal their identities." "My dad would have. He loved her." Annabeth gave me a cautious look. She didn't want to burst my bubble. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens." "You mean sometimes it doesn't?" Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us." I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. But gods should behave better. Whoever my Olympian parent better suck up and claim me or I will show him. "So I'm stuck here," Percy said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?" "It depends," Annabeth said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that." "So monsters can't get in here?" Annabeth shook her head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside." "Why would anybody want to summon a monster?" "Practice fights. Practical jokes." "Practical jokes?" "The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm." "So... you're a year-rounder?" Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring. "I've been here since I was seven," she said. "Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college." "Why did you come so young?" She twisted the ring on her necklace. "None of your business." "Oh." I stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. "So... I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?" "It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission." "I've never had anything weird going on. I had a perfectly normal life." "It's because you don't give much of a half-blood scent. Even Grover didn't knew you were one of us until you came here. Even now they still don't smell you." "I just... want to go somewhere... else." I could see that Percy was guilty. "They wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless..." "Unless?" "You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time..."

Her voice trailed off. I could tell from her tone that the last time hadn't gone well. "Back in the sick room," Percy said, "when you were feeding me that stuff—" "Ambrosia." "Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice." Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you do know something?" "Well... no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?" She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time I was there, everything seemed so normal." "You've been to Olympus?" "Some of us year-rounders—Luke and Clarisse and I and a few others—we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council." "But... how did you get there?" "The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." She looked at us like she was sure I must know this already. "You are a New Yorker, right?" "Oh, sure." As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out. "Right after we visited," Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping... I mean— Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something." I shook my head. I wished I could help her, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions. "I've got to get a quest," Annabeth muttered to herself. "I'm not too young. If they would just tell me the problem..." I could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must've heard my stomach growl. She told me to go on, she'd catch me later. I left her on the pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan. Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to us as we walked in. Percy left me to settle at his spot while I sat at mine. Luke, came over. He had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact. "I hope you settle in just fine," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store." He had a very friendly and welcoming aura around him, I couldn't help but giggle, "Thanks." "No prob." Luke sat next to me. "Tough first day?" "I don't belong here," I said. "From what I've heard about other campers. I had a perfectly normal life. Nothing weird... I-I don't even believe in Gods..." "Yeah," he said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier." The bitterness in his voice surprised me, because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything. "So your dad is Hermes?" I asked. He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes." "The wing-footed messenger guy." "That's him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you're here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors." I figured Luke didn't mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind. "You ever meet your dad?" I asked. "Once." I waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell me, he'd tell me. Apparently, he didn't. I wondered if the story had anything to do with how he got his scar. Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other." He seemed to understand how lost I felt, and I was grateful for that, because an older guy like him—even if he was a counselor—should've steered clear of an uncool middle-schooler like me. But Luke had welcomed me into the cabin. He'd even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me all day keeping Percy's works. I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me and Percy being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?" Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies." "What do you mean?" His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... somebody special came to the camp." "Somebody special?" "Don't worry about it, kid," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for." I didn't know why... but I grabbed his hand, he turned to me surprised. "I-I... Uhm, I want to get to know you better... I... I'm here if you want to talk. A-As a thank you for helping me since I got here! I-I..." He gave a warm smile and ruffled my hair. "Thank you. Now, come on, it's dinnertime." The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!" The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last with Percy. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down. "Percy," "Hmm?" "Are you okay?" I was about to grip his sleeve when he moved away. "I'm sorry... I'll tell you after dinner." I looked at him sadly while he thought to himself. We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods— and when I say out of the woods, I mean straight out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill. In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads. At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven's was way overcrowded. I had to squeeze on to the edge of a bench with half my butt hanging off. I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur. Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey-blond hair. Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends. Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!" Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!" Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! Percy sat beside other kids of the Hermes cabin. My glass was empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want—nonalcoholic, of course." I said, "(Favorite Drink; F/D)." The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid. Then I had an idea. "F/C F/D." The drink turned a violent shade of F/C. I took a cautious sip. Perfect.. . . . . I drank a toast to my loved ones. They're not gone, I told myself. I felt like I was forgetting something. Like I know I will get too them all soon. "Here you go," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket. I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. I wondered if they were going for dessert or something. "Come on," Luke told me. As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll. Luke murmured in my ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell." "You're kidding." His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food. Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes." I was next. I wished I knew what god's name to say. Finally, I made a silent plea. Whoever you better claim me, or I will come for you and you won't like what I'll do. I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames. When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn't gag. It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn't have gone well together, but did. I could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke. When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention. Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels." A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table. "Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new campers today. Peter Johnson and (Wrong Name)." Chiron murmured something. "Er, Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on." Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s'mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn't feel that anyone was staring at me anymore. I went up to Percy. "What's wrong?" He sighed. "I... I feel like everything... All of this," He signaled at everything, "happened because you met me. When you told Annabeth about your life and how nothing had been going wrong, while I had trouble following me every step... I couldn't help but feel guilty." I knew it... He felt at fault. Taking his hand I looked at him, "I chose to be with you at the beach. I wanted to follow you. I wanted to stay with you. Yeah, troubles came and I lost everything... I would rather have you with me through that. Please?" He rested his head on my shoulder, "Yeah..." Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. It was late at night some were asleep, while some were screaming around. I stayed up looking out the window since Luke had warned me about going out. "Long day, how was it?" Luke greeted taking the spot beside me. "Almost had my face flushed down on smelly toilets, so real fun I guess." Luke rested his back against the window and looked at the two boys wrestling each other few feet away. "You know how you told me you wanted to get to know me more?" "Yeah... I mean it. You're the first person I met here. From what I heard you helped me after getting here." "So you feel obligated to get closer to me?" He raised a brow at me with a smirk. "No, I think you're interesting. I want us to be friends. I want to be a person you can trust." "Why?" "I... don't know. I guess I just want to. I mean yeah I also low-key kinda have a crush on you but oh well." I joked. Hearing his laugh I was relieved he was a cool guy. "I'll keep you in mind." "Really now? Okay dream of me I guess." "For a 12 year old you're a flirt." He shook his head with a smile. "It's my mom, she told me the best way to make friends is by flirting. If they're cool with you flirting they're perfect candidate for a friend, if they aren't, you'll have an awkward friendship." "I don't know about that." "I know right? Imagine teaching a 5 year old how to flirt." We laughed. We continued to chat about little things until it got quiet in the cabin. Most of them were now asleep. Percy slept as soon as he lied down, after all. "Good night." Luke smiled. "Yeah, good night." I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on the bed. When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly. That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood. I already felt like I belong. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all...

Previous | Masterlist | Next

I am in love with Luke I'm sorry Here's another chapter Another horirble caphetr UwU -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[CS] 9. Team APCX

Cutting Strings

Characters: Aurora Glade, Penny Polendina, Ciel Soliel, Ashley Xanthic, Winter Schnee, May Marigold Word Count: 4k

Apex. The edge or outcrop of a vein. The highest point of interest, excitement; the climax. The highest point; peak; vertex. The pinnacle of an achievement. The predator surprasing all others, without equal.

Team APCX. Specialization: Search and Destroy.

Read on Ao3

PREV - NEXT  

  Combat Performance at 78%  

The training today was a little different. Or At least it felt a little different. For one, Ciel and Aro was early. Second, May and Fiona was sparing Aro and Xanthic, instead of the usual one on one with their unofficial mentors.  

“Will you Happy fucking Huntresses stop giggling!?” Xanthic yelled. Winter and Penny briefly glanced at the doubles fight. Fiona only laughed harder, her Deep Pockets swallowed every hard-light knife Xanthic would create and throw. As an excessive display of skill Fiona even summoned the push knives, throwing it back and colliding with another aimed at her head. “Aaagh! Are you serious Thyme?!”  

Penny couldn’t help but to giggle behind her hand. May’s experience and history with Aro put the mechanic at a sever disadvantage. Fiona was already able to cloud Xanthic’s high cognitive functions with both verbal and nonverbal taunts. The pair was hopeless out matched on nearly all levels but awareness, thanks to their cybernetics, and Dust manipulation.  

“Aaagh!” Aro’s feet slammed the ground, the immediate area glowing bright with purple Dust. May and Fiona floated off a few feet before vanishing. Arrows lodged out of the ground floating several feet above her. Then it pulsed, arrows shooting down with so much weight it either snapped or logged deep into the metal tiles.  

They didn’t hear the sound of flesh and bones slamming onto the floor. Xanthic fired and threw knives into the Field. It disappeared and reappeared to hit the wall. Sometimes there would be a surprised gasp or a taunt, “Oh! That was close.” Fiona would sing. The geniuses was separated and had no intentions of regrouping. In fact… perhaps Xanthic was trying to distance herself from Aro?  

“Marigold!!” Aro roared, “I promise I won’t burn ya’ too bad, doll!” Penny’s processors nearly caught on fire as she tried to analyze the sound. It had a deep distorted rumble and an echo. Where did it come from? According to her databanks, feline Faunus could roar but Aurora Glade was a goat.  

Aro spun around, embers of smoke and fire slipping past her lips. Penny leaned in, but was held back by Winter. Focus completely engulfed Aro’s eyes. They glowed a bright blue, the pupils a devouring white. There was also a red glow on her face. From the Dust infused jewelry that pierced the bridge of her nose.  

May was suddenly behind her. She glanced at Winter then at Penny. Her grin grew larger. Hands reached for those golden cybernetic horns. She winked. Then pulled. Aro gasped, head jerked back and back crashing to the floor. A cloud of fire plumed out of her lips, harmless against May’s Aura. The Huntress laughed. She pinned Aro with a boot to the mechanic’s sternum. The bayonet and notched arrow of her crossbow pointed at Aro.  

"You lose, doll." May drawled back. With no signs of exhaustion.  

Aro took several deep breaths, embers fluttering from her lips. She eventually relaxed, hands held up in surrender. Focus fluttered off. The glow from the Dust jewelry faded but Aro’s face was still very rosy and red. Without her semblance, Aro didn’t trust the words on her tongue. Penny could see the mechanic work her jaw but it eventually slipped out, “I… disagree…”  

“Of course you would,” May grinned. She offered a hand and effortlessly pulled her up- “Duck!” Just to shove her back down.  

Across the room Xanthic and Fiona was still fighting. A hard-light arcing off a saber and soaring further into the training room. Penny gasped hands up and Aura bolstering. Instead she was swept off her feet and tackled to the ground, Winter pressing her body tight to the floor.  

The arc of hard-light energy was larger than anticipated, that or it was growing as it moved. The wind it dragged behind it nearly lifted Winter off her, but Penny wrapped her arms around the Specialist until it passed.  

Winter got to her feet, “Marrow! Ciel!”  

The arc of light was definitely growing. By now it was nearly a tidal wave or a wall.  

“Shit!” Marrow growled.  

“Slow!” Ciel’s Clockwork hit the hard-light attack. It nearly paused in the air, moving inch by inch instead of yards. Without movement it seemed to slowly fade and flicker out, as if a fire was burning through its oxygen. Ciel groaned, Clockwork collapsing just as the hard-light wave completely flickered out.  

“Sorry! Sorry about that!” Fiona yelled.  

Everyone grumbled and Winter stood. Her hand offered to Penny. She didn’t need the help but showed appreciation for the gesture with a smile. It was a little tricky to control how much weight Winter pulled. When they looked back at the duo Xanthic was a little dazed on the floor with Fiona sitting on her abdomen.  

During all the panic, the Aura buzzer went off. Xanthic was at five percent while Aro’s technically good enough to continue with her Aura at fifteen percent. Fiona and May helped their defeated opponents out of the training room.  

Winter cleared her throat. She was now a few paces away, sword pointed at Penny with her free hand behind her back. Penny frowned at it. She knew from pre-installed recordings and live observation that the second blade only came out when Winter was challenged. The Specialist had yet to wield the second blade at Penny.  

“Shall we continue? Or would you like to forfeit, Ms. Polendina?” Winter taunted. Her smirk wasn’t as guarded.  

"I’d prefer it if we continued, Opponent Winter," Penny said. Behind her Floating Array flourished all fourteen components.  

Every sparing match with Winter was frustrating and intense but it was the little things that made this different. Winter moved more like Aro, fluid and loose. Almost like water but still not completely free of the stiffness the military had beaten into her. She smiled, taunted, sneered and goateed Penny into several mistakes. The Specialist always commentating on the opening but never actually taking the chance to strike.  

Penny huffed, synthetic voice trying to restrain a noise of frustration but only vibrated in her chest. The elite graduates were toying with them. No matter what variable Penny adjusted, her calculations and assessments about Winter and her summons were wrong.  

She couldn’t calculate how many creatures Winter could summon. They ranged from a tiny flock of Nevermores to the current pack of towering Alpha Beowolves. They lunged straight forward. All five pierced straight with one sword each in its skull. Five more appearing above her. Penny was forced to doge backwards, her visual sensors barely catching a glimpse of white as Winter entered striking distance.  

Her processors were nearly overheating. Multiple swords and guns yet she could not find an opening to strike Winter directly. With simple gestures, summoning Glyphs appeared around Penny. Sometimes close enough that a claw would emerge first, a solid hit chipping away at her Aura levels.  

“Stop reacting and force me on the defensive!” Winter yelled.  

Penny paused and frowned at Winter. Whatever expression she had stunned the women and her Beowolves for a moment. Theoretically P.E.N.N.Y could take initiative but without any kind of input to create a solution or to even analysis a problem-  

“Penny? Penny!” Several voices yelled for her.  

Her vision went black for a moment. Under her eyelids Penny could see lines of code and a list of errors. For a moment Penny thought she overheated, forgetting to breath and exhale all the hot air her power unit and Aura generated. The errors did list some heating problem in her processors but the main source of the errors the logical contradiction.  

Penny took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Her head still felt hot, and the light seemed too much for her systems so she shut them again and waited a few moments. She did sit up, which was effortless, much to the relief of Winter.  

“What happen? You’re Aura level was fine then…” the Specialist paused. She didn’t mutter or mumble, but the soft tone was definitely close to it.  

“Cutie dot exe stopped working,” Aro blurted out. Penny frowned, squinting open her eyes to glare at the mechanic. She blushed, ears flickering around in embarrassment. Aro tried to hide behind Focus but that just caused her eyes to flicker. It reminded Penny of the little robotic goat she was still working on, how it processed knew information with blinking lights and tilting it head.  

“Please stop being adorable so I can stay made at your for that horrible comment,” Penny grumbled. That had the opposite effect. Aro scoffed, trying to rebuff the statement by crossing her arms and straightening out. The act wasn’t complete due to her red cheeks and nervous twitch of her ears. Thing she couldn’t hide without Focus.  

Winter and May sneered and chuckled. Winter handed Penny some water and she gulped it down. Her systems instantly improved, transferring the liquid to her cooling systems and lowering the temperatures in her head.  

Fiona and Xanthic didn’t pay them much attention. They were too busy watching the last bout. Marrow and Ciel were tied with both their Aura levels around 50 percent. The Ace Oprative looked nervous and surprised. During all these practices… they haven’t sceen Ciel fight.  

Ciel’s weapon of choice was Dust infused chakrams which would let out a powerful explosion on contact with about a minute charge between. Penny’s data was inconclusive. Penny was sure Clockwork was effecting the charging rates and force of the explosion as they rewind through the air to return to her hands.  

“Stay!” Marrow’s voice rang out. His semblance stopped one chakram in midair. He turned quickly throwing Fetch to counter the second. Too close. Marrow grunted as the explosion nearly threw him off his feet. He reach out as Fetch made its return to his hands-  

“Fast forward” Ciel yelled. Fetch’s speed suddenly increased to a near blur! Penny’s software correctly updated, predating Ciel the winner. Marrow gasped, taking a solid hit to his chest. With his concentration broken the first chakram collided with his back.  

Marrow’s aura level was finally below Ciel’s.  

One more hit-  

“Slow!” Clockwork hit Marrow. The chakram that was deflected by Fetch was in her hands, charging bright with red and yellow Dust. Marrow tried to turn, to face her or to dodge but his speed was nearly halved. He didn’t even see the circular blade collide into his back. Clockwork turned off, sending Marrow flying to the ground.  

The buzzer rang with Marrow’s Aura levels at 2 percent.  

“Congratulations!” Penny yelled to her teammate. May and Fiona cheered with her. Winter wouldn’t but there were still two more voices missing. Penny frowned and looked at her teammates. Both genius look put out and unhappy for APCX’s only victory.  

Xanthic let out an annoyed sigh. “Out of all of us… It was her that won against the graduates,” She grumbled, lightly glaring as Marrow and Ciel walked towards them.  

“Perseverance triumphs natural talent,” Winter said. Eyes paused on Aro who signed something at her, "And no effort." Her eyes shifted to Xanthic who did a universal insult gesture with her fist.  

Aro sighed, handing Ciel a water bottle. “Congrats…” Aro said. Ciel sneered before taking small sips between heavy breaths.  

“I’d like to think she had a good teacher!” Marrow mumbled. His arms were crossed and jaw jutted out in a pout.  

“You were brilliant,” May said patting his shoulder. The praise felt more like condolences even to Penny. Marrow only grumbled a little more. “But we got good news for APCX!”  

“Oh?” Penny asked tilting her head. It must have been really good if it kept slipping past Winter’s stoic professionalism.  

“We might be able to start Team APCX as second or even third years on the Accelerated Program.” Winter said.  

“How exactly?” Ciel asked.  

“A field test!” May said with a grin. She looked at Aro who was already smiling, “Seems like I finally dragged you on a mission.”  

“Only took five years,” Aro rolled her sea-green eyes. “When? My remaining customers are Atlas students so I might be able to hold it off.”  

“I’m free.” Ciel said with a shrug. There was a long expectant pause from everyone but Xanthic who nearly seemed amused. Ciel glared at the younger Spymaster, even elbowing her. Xanthic’s broken blue Aura flared cross her body. “You didn’t tell them?”  

“Ow! It’s public information!” The hacker said, “Not my fault if the military over looks shit.”  

Ciel sighed, rubbing her temples. “I graduated yesterday.”  

An awkward silence fell over the graduates. They looked immensely guilty though Penny failed to reason why. Ciel hadn’t requested any special accommodations, just a reasonable request not to be disturbed during class. Aro tapped her chin a little in confusion as well.  

“Congratulations? We don’t really have formal schooling in Menagrie.”  

“I graduated when I was 14.”  

“I think my education would be similar to homeschooling,” Penny finished.  

Ciel scowled at her teammates, “And I was the only one that won, so stop showing off.”  

Despite May’s reasoning, Ciel refused to celebrate and insisted on continuing to the field test. Upon hearing it was immediate, Xanthic tried persuading Ciel into a small celebration or even small lunch out. With a wicked smirk Ciel refused. Winter and May took some pity and took Team APCX around to buy clothes appropriate for combat outside of the protective walls and heating grid. Fiona and Marrow didn’t accompany them but left for other errands. Ciel didn’t look happy that Winter payed for it but relaxed a little seeing the Atlas Military logo on the credit card.  

Xanthic continued to stall, arguing with Aro and Winter about who’s transport to take. Xanthic’s was airship may be the fastest but it was also not equiped for combat. Winter’s was the most durable in the odd chance they ran into flying Grimm but not suited for sustained nights out. Aro was a non-military but due to business trips was equipped with defensive turrets and comfortable living space.  

"Tsunami has made it out of several fights with the White Fang, Bandits, and Grimm," Aro argued. “Besides we have two of the best huntresses in Atlas!” Penny tuned the elite’s arguing and antic for while now.  

Instead enjoying a calm conversation with May and Ciel.  

“Honestly I’m just lucky it was Marrow,” Ciel admitted softly. “He’s a rookie and underestimated me. I think Aro and Xan have it the hardest. You and Fiona was just playing mind games the entire time.”  

May huffed playfully, arms crossed over a her chest, “They deserve it!”  

“I still think you could have won if you didn’t feint,” Ciel said looking at Penny. Penny heated up, and played with her hands. She was confident in that assessment but so far the statistics were proving her wrong. “You and Winter don’t have years of history, she’s just better and smarter than Marrow.” Penny nodded but couldn’t particularly voice anything.  

“Winter right though,” May said. “You need to stop waiting for the first move.”  

“It’s difficult,” Penny protested weakly. If there was a pattern Penny could easily plan ahead but Winter had to many variables. And that was without adding the Glyphs.  

“You have good instincts,” May ruffled her hair. “List to 'em.” Penny grumbled and pouted.  

The arguing trio finally settled for Aro’s airship. The AI was advance enough auto-pilot a course and take off so even Aro could be present during the mission debrief. Though when Penny glanced over to her she wasn’t really paying attention. She frowned, elbowing the mechanic to focus.  

Their mission was a simple Search and Destroy. There was a few packs of Sabyrs and Nevermore wandering closer to Mantle and growing in numbers. Team APCX would be clearing them out.  

The first Sabyr pack was killed before they had a chance to leave the transport. While May was trying to convince the newly graduated Police Officer to jump out of an airship, hundreds of feet off ground and into a pack of Grimm, Xanthic had created a hard-light sniper canon. Practically a cannon or a railgun. Each shot was powerful enough too jerked the transport a little.  

One shot split into three and within a few minutes the pack of Sabyrs fell.  

By the end of it Penny’s audio system was on a horrible feedback loop. Her processors frying until she had to reset them. She could only imagine the physical pain everyone else must be in. With the exception of Deaf Aro who was laughing. She weakly seperated May and Xanthic, her head tucked into May’s shoulder as the Huntress made grabs for Xan’s neck.  

The hacker grin’s smug grin briefly disappeared and reappeared as she signed, expressions melding into shock that was still sarcastic without words. May tried shouting back but it was garbled and crackling to Penny’s ears. She restarted her audio systems again as May shoved Aro to the side, hands furiously signing insults and other comments. By the time Penny’s hearing was functioning, Winter had walked back into the main cabin.  

“Enough,” She sighed. Winter looked slightly in pain. Penny wasn’t sure if the cockpit would have amplified the gunfire or not. “Can you two please play along?” She asked Aro and Xanthic.  

“Fight to the best of your abilities but somehow limit yourself so we can conveniently judge you into arbitrary categories!” Xanthic said. Her lively sarcasm and faux cheerful tone making everyone chuckle or giggle. Even Winter.  

“I’m trying my best to appease both parties,” Winter explained rubbing her temples again.  

“Fine,” Xanthic drawled. “I’ll pretend to be a hopeless damsel.”  

The next pack of Sabyr wasn’t much of a challenge. The hardest part was getting Ciel out of the transport.  

“Just land near me!” Aro yelled up as she fell.  

Penny stood at the edge of the airship, grinning at Ciel’s unease expression. “Aro has masterful control over gravity Dust and your Aura should protect you from further damage.” She said before stepping off. Ciel could soften her landing with her Clockwork, though that would be better tested in a nonlethal scenario.  

Far below Aro’s cybernetic legs fired a powerful burst of fire. It cleared the area of Grimm, the Sabyr directly under her now faded into ash. Penny unfolded Floating Array from her pack. She charged it at her leisure, the cold of Solitas allowing for increased power without overheating. All fourteen guns fired at the ground, softening her landing until she angled them forward. Penny intercepted a Sabyr lunging for Aro’s back, two blades slicing it open with a flick of her wrist. Aro hummed. Or purred? Penny would probably need to have a hand on her chest to feel if it vibrated or not.  

“I’ll be sure to return the favor, doll.” Her glowing blue eyes winked at her. Above them, Ciel’s scream was increasing in volume while Xanthic’s laugh was much fainter. “Xan probably had to push her out… or May.”  

“Or Winter,” Penny mused beside her. Penny sent her blades out again, piercing two creeping Sabyrs and causing the rest to hesitate. Aro stomped on the ground, her metal legs humming loudly as a pulse of gravity Dust engulfed the area. Ciel’s fall slowed when she finally entered the gravity field. She took deep breath’s clutching her chest and flailing to get her feet under her.  

Penny helped the official officer land. Then the field shut off and Xanthic slammed deep into the snowy ground, “Ow…” Penny stared at her a little skeptical. It was still at a mildly unsafe height but snow is supposedly soft.  

“See! It wasn’t so bad.” Penny smiled at Ciel.  

“Yeah, no one of important social value got hurt,” Aro with a Xanthic-eque bored tone. Ciel sneered, it turned into chuckling when Aro lightly kicked the hacker. “Come on. The faster you quit dragging your feet the sooner we can go back to the stuffy kingdom and the nice warm smog and shitty walls.”  

“Ugh. Fine.” Xanthic huffed. The hacker finally got to her feet and brushed the snow off her new thick coat. “You’re paying for Ciel’s celebration dinner.”  

“We are not celebrating.”  

They naturally drifted into pairs of twos. Penny and Aro naturally dashed into the growing horde of Grimm. Penny was the only person able to keep up with Aro and had the close range abilities to defend them both. With hard-light blades being propelled at explosive force, the Sabyrs fell in one hit. Any that tried flanking was pierced, sliced, or shot down by Penny.  

Ciel and Xanthic almost seemed bored, taking care of the Grimm from a distance. Whenever Penny was jumped high in the air she could see an undisturbed radius of snow around the pair. Even without Xanthic’s ridiculously overpowered sniper rifle, Team APCX finished the pack faster than expected. Winter landed the airship looking a little flustered and frustrated. May laughed trying to rub her shoulders to calm the women down.  

“Maybe we should just drop you on a pack of Sphinx and Manticores,” Winter said under her breath.  

“Let’s start with the Nevermores,” May suggested.  

The Nevermores was much more challenging. Penny and Xanthic were the only ones with weapons able to reach them. The cold of Solitas made their hides thicker than the average Grimm. If one managed to through the thick layer of ice. Every time Penny would charge Floating Array or Xanthic would fire up Alter Ego, feathers tripled their size would sail at them, interrupting their focus and causing the ground to shake a little at the impact.  

“Rewind!” Ciel tried firing those feather back but only managed one hit. The bone of the feather pierced into its wing, crippling its altitude. It screeched loud, causing everyone but Aro to wince.  

The mechanic launched herself into the air. Several explosions pushing closer and closer until the injured Nevermore beat its good wing. The gust of air sent Aro flying back towards them but the gravity manipulator righted herself and skid to a stop.  

The second Nevermore cried out louder, it’s attacks growing more frantic. A hail of razer sharp and incredibly dense feathers was shot at them. Penny frowned. It had created a clear divide from Aro and her team. Penny tried closing the gap as much as possible. Then the uninjured Nevermore started it’s dive. The snow made it a little difficult, even with it melting against her heated body it was still up to her thighs.  

Aro’s passive gravity didn’t cause her to sink into the snow. She stood atop of it, lowering herself to a crouch. Aro flashed a few signs at Penny without glancing in her direction. Then she suddenly moved, jumping onto the talons.  

“Aro!” Penny fired Floating Array quickly closing the distance. Aurora held out her hand and just managed to pull Penny onto the Grimm’s feet before it took off into the air again. The metal women took a deep breath, venting all the heat her Aura was generating.  

“Sorry, I forgot you don’t know sign language,” Aro said with a guilty smile. They briefly glanced down. The injured Nevermore was grounded, the large feather that Ciel shot back at it made it impossible to fly but it’s ridiculous size made it hard to approach or even damage. “Plans?”  

Penny watched the Nevermore screeched, mouth wide open. “Insides are always soft and unarmored.”  

“And… red,” Aro said with a blanch. Red was commonly associated with blood. Was Fiona and Robyn’s story about her hemophobia accurate? Penny shelved the question for later.  

They made their way to the top of the Grimm. Aro simply ran up it’s curved body, the gravity core in her legs roaring over the hard winds and heavy wingbeats. Penny slowly pulled herself to the head with Floating Array and the near invisible strings.  

Once it noticed the two huntress-in-training, the Nevermore screeched and thrashed in the air. It had little to no effect on Aro. Holding onto a Grimm the size of a building was the easiest accomplishment Penny had in months. The mechanic continued up until it reached is jaw. She stomped one foot into the hinge of its jaw and looked at Penny.  

“Ready? This might blow me off!” She yelled and signed over the wind.  

“Combat Ready!” Penny yelled back.  

She heard the cartridge in Aro’s legs change. Then a loud explosion. Penny could even feel the heat from the shoulders of the Grimm. Once the bright flash had died Aro was nowhere to be seem and the mouth was hanging open. Penny winced, happy that Grimm were mysterious creatures void of proper biological functions. The blood would have been horrific. The Grimm screeched and thrashed much more. Instead of charging all fourteen guns of Floating Array she kept four embedded into the bone like-texture, keeping her grounded as the rest of the guns charged.  

This blast completely pierced the Nevermore. The sudden silence confused her audio sensors. It fell from the sky and Penny rode the disintegrating corpse down as long as possible. She regrouped with her team, easy to find with a cloud of steam rising from Aro’s heated augments. Ciel and Xanthic had easily finished off the downed Nevermore and seemed to be helping Aro cool off by burying her legs in the snow.  

Combat Performance at 95%

[pandoraborn]

Throw me to the Ground (and watch me fly)

Chapter Three (AO3 Link.) Word Count: 2709 words Characters: Schlatt, Dream Content: attempted manipulation, jealousy

-----

The office is unusually quiet this time of night. Normally, Niki or Quackity would be hovering nearby, but evidence shows they’d left early, probably due to the random announcement Schlatt had made, concerning Tommy. He’d been so sure of himself in the initial moment, and after Tommy left, Schlatt had promptly announced it to the entire white house staff. The majority of them had seemed pretty stoked, especially considering Tommy already had experience with leadership and power; it was natural he’d be the perfect fit.

However, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Schlatt isn’t so sure of himself. Tommy hadn’t seemed as excited as everyone else, and he can’t figure out why. It hadn’t been until he’d agreed to take on the role of vice president that his wings lifted up off the ground, and he’d seemed happy. There had been something off about the teen this time, and Schlatt feels like he’d been played.

It has to be Wilbur’s fault.

No, he’s not going to start thinking like that. Wilbur had never lied to him, Wilbur had never once led him astray. The man was always honest with his words and intentions, and if he had wanted Tommy to be vice president the whole time, he’d have made that perfectly clear. Schlatt has to admit that this had been entirely his idea. It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

Who would be? He’d appointed a sixteen year old to be vice president of an entire country. It doesn’t matter if Tommy had helped create and build it, he’s still a teenager and should be treated as such. Schlatt wonders if it’s too late to take it all back, to find someone else who’s older. Then again, Tommy does have the most experience out of everyone who works under him. Tommy would know best how things are run, or supposed to be.

There’s also the question of whether or not Tommy can follow orders. The teen is known to be very stubborn, with an inability to listen very well. Would the new president have his hands full? He hopes not. Tommy is the younger brother of his closest friend, Schlatt has to put trust in the entire family as a whole. They would never betray him. Tommy would never betray him.

He hopes.

Coming back to reality has Schlatt realizing he’s still sitting in his office. He’s still behind his desk, staring at the dark oak, the computer that’s shut off, and the mess of papers scattered around the edge of his desk. Had his office been like this when the others were here, or had he messed it up somewhere in between then and now? He had been jovial when Wilbur and Tommy had been here, sitting on his desk and creating a mess. He barely remembers the meeting though, but that logic does make the most sense.

With a sigh, Schlatt leans forward, reaching out to grab at the mess in some hurried attempt to organize it. He wants to get home and relax. Being here in just making him think strange things, like feeling resentment toward a kid. There’s a mess of papers that still need to be sorted too, like documenting the new addition to leadership.

That alone is going to be another several signatures and faxes for official purposes. Tommy’s going to need a letterhead of his own. Fuck.

“Knock knock?”

The voice is not what he had expected to hear, and it comes with a slight reverb. Schlatt jumps out of his chair, glaring at his door frame. He’d expected Quackity or Wilbur to come back, so to see Dream standing there is different. Dream has no business being in the white house. Schlatt narrows his eyes, but beckons him into the office anyway. If Dream’s there, it’s bound to be something important.

“It’s after hours, Dream. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” The mask on Dream’s face is the only emotion being shown. The rest of him is nothing but a sea of green, with only the vaguest of silhouettes to show he has some shape to him. Schlatt finds himself wondering what Dream even is, if not human. Angel? The wings on Dream’s back would indicate as much. The faceless, endless green would also indicate as much.

“Schlatt, I came because I had a feeling you needed some help.”

“No thank you.” He offers a smile as he stacks papers. Maybe the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. He’s itching to go home at this point. “I’m a very busy man.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I didn’t come to take over your job. I wanted to bring up a few concerns I had.” Dream walks further into the office, pressing his hands to the desk. The more Schlatt looks at him now, the more he can see a humanoid figure. He can see a faint outline of a face underneath the mask, too. There’s an urge to ask what creature Dream is, but Schlatt bites his tongue. That would probably be a rude question to ask in the first place.

“What concerns?” He asks. “I wasn’t aware that I needed help from someone like you.”

“Everyone always needs me for something.” Dream pushes the mask up, showing his mouth. There’s a grin on his face that doesn’t exactly give off a friendly aura. “It’s why I’m here, Schlatt. I’m always needed, whether or not people realize it.”

Sitting back down, Schlatt gestures for the sofa. “Alright Dream, if you’re so smart, then enlighten me. What could I possibly need any help with?”

“Tommy, of course.” Dream takes the silent offer and perches himself in the middle of the couch. He spreads his wings out, overtaking the length on either side of him. Feather flutter to the floor, as if Dream had detached them himself. Shades of black, white and green feathers fall all over the place, almost like they’re taunting him for his lack of wings. Schlatt can’t help but stare at them. He continues to stare until Dream clears his throat, causing his gaze to snap back to the entity.

“Tommy,” Dream repeats. “You appointed him vice president earlier today, if I’m not mistaken. You’re having doubts about the position because of his age. There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?”

The blood drains out of his face. How does Dream know about that? He’s sure Dream hadn’t been in the office when he told Tommy, unless Dream has the ability to turn invisible. That thought is unlikely.

“How...how do you know that? I barely even told the rest of the white house staff.” Schlatt’s gripping his desk now, refusing to look in Dream’s direction. His mind is racing, trying to come up with every likely scenario possible. More than that, it’s the thought that Dream had just hinted he knows there’s more to the situation. He knows Schlatt is doubting himself. How does he know that?

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Dream says softly. “Nothing has to make sense for it to exist. Life itself doesn’t make sense. Why else would a sixteen year old help build an entire nation?” He tilts his head to the side. When Schlatt looks at him this time, there’s no trace of humanity in him. He’s back to being a vivid, bright shade of green that’s almost blinding. The wings seem to be glowing as well. Dream is painful to look at. Yet, he’s radiating a sympathetic aura that Schlatt almost finds comfort in. Someone who understands him…

Wait. Dream is speaking about sense while not making any himself. He shouldn’t be listening to the words coming out of the entity’s mouth.

“What are you doing, Dream?” Schlatt asks. “You can’t come in here and start acting like you know what I’m thinking. I trust Wilbur, and I trust Tommy. Furthermore, you can’t possibly know things unless you were actually here.”

“But I was here, and I do know things.” Dream folds his wings around himself, once again drawing his gaze. “I see the way you’re staring at my wings, Mr. President. I’ve seen the way you stare at their wings too. Anyone with half a brain cell can tell you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” The reply is immediate, terse and overly defensive. He winces at his tone, trying to backpedal. “I’m not exactly fully human myself, you know.” A grin is forced onto his face as he turns his head to the side. “See these horns? I’m also a hybrid. I have nothing to be jealous of, especially not wings.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious.” Dream’s mask seems to smile wider. “Everyone can see you’re a goat hybrid, it’s not exactly a secret. I wouldn’t mind being a goat hybrid, the horns are pretty cool.”

“I guess.” Schlatt’s already done with this conversation. If kept up, they’d go around in circles with this pointless small talk.

“You want wings though, don’t you? It’s why you’ve always kept Wilbur close. You’re clearly hoping to gain something out of the friendship. So I’ve come to offer that to you.”

“That’s not true.” Schlatt abruptly gets to his feet. He’s done with this conversation, and he’s tired of Dream poking holes in his life. It’s decidedly not fun having some godlike entity poking at his vulnerability, pretending to know and understand him. He especially doesn’t like the insinuation that he’s using Wilbur.

Whatever spell Dream is attempting to weave is shattered the second he’s on his feet. “Wilbur’s been a great friend to me, his family’s wonderful. They’re great people, very law-abiding and upstanding. I’m not going to let anyone talk me out of my decisions.”

“If you say so.” Dream stretches out his wings again, mirroring Schlatt. He’s on his feet, and there’s that faint outline of a human face beneath the mask. Schlatt can see freckles. “It’s clear you don’t trust Tommy though.”

“I trust him just fine,” Schlatt snaps. “I think it’s time you leave.” He waves toward the door. “He’s already had a hand in running this country, I know he’ll continue to uphold it to my liking.”

“Yeah, but he said ‘maintain its dignity.’ It’s like he doesn’t trust you, Schlatt. You’re smart enough to see right through him.” Dream lets out a giggle as he moves toward the door, wings fluttering. Dream is still taunting him, and feathers are still floating around. Schlatt has a vision of himself burning every last feather left on his floor.

“I’m busy,” he says instead. “I have a lot of work to complete before I go home, and you’re just taking up time with random bullshit that’s not even true.”

“Oh, of course, of curse.” Dream nods. “Because you don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve, and you don’t get moody whenever someone calls you out on your own bullshit. You’re the president, Mr. Schlatt, you definitely know what’s best for this country.”

“I was elected, wasn’t I?” Again, he waves toward the door. “It was a fair election, and even Wilbur conceded. I’m the one in charge. Don’t come into my office and start trying to dictate things to me. You’re not even a citizen.”

“No, but considering this country is in the middle of my land, I think I have a right to express my concerns. I was under the impression you shared them. I’ll admit I was wrong though, once you admit that maybe, just maybe, I know you better than you think I do.”

Schlatt shakes his head. “You don’t know me at all if you think anything about what you said is true.”

“So why constantly stare at their wings? Or mine, for that matter? It’s like you’re hypnotized. I know that look, I’ve seen it before. It’s envy to an unhealthy degree.”

“Because they’re pretty, duh.” Schlatt rolls his eyes. “The only thing you might be right about is the fact that Tommy’s young.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that part.” The mask seems to grow even wider. If Schlatt squints, he thinks he can see teeth in that poorly drawn smile. It’s downright terrifying, and the implications that Dream has more power than anyone knows is even more so. “You said that, not me. I just said to you that he might be a problem.”

“He’s sixteen years old. Anyone with, what was it you said? Half a brain cell- would be concerned about his leadership skills.” Schlatt is no longer feeling so tired. Adrenaline is pumping through his body, making him feel on edge. Something about Dream’s presence is unsettling, and Schlatt wants to put as much distance between them as possible. “This is my country, and I get to make the final decisions.”

“But it’s not really your country though, is it?” Dream’s hovering in the door frame now, as if that too is framing his silhouette. Everything about him seems to be glowing, and Schlatt once again is staring. This time, with disgust rather than awe. “You appointed the person who found it as vice president. I mean, I didn’t come here to tell you what to do or how to run things. Yeah, it’s your country, but you just ensured that Tommy’s always going to have a say in how things are done. I’m not sure you’re not his puppet anymore.”

“Get out,” Schlatt snarls. “I’m busy, and you’re just throwing random shit out there and hoping to get under my skin. I’m not falling for it, alright? You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re not part of the cabinet, you’re trespassing and it’s after hours. Don’t make me page security.”

“What security?” Dream laughs. “Alright, I’m going. Just remember though, Tommy never lost power. You might be president, but he still has a lot of power and ability to sway people. Where he’s concerned, I’d watch your back.”

“Goodbye, Dream.” Schlatt marches around the desk and slams the door shut. He can hear Dream laughing as he leaves the floor, before the sound abruptly stops. It’s hard to tell if Dream had just left the building or vanished into thin air. He doesn’t even know if Dream can do that.

He goes back to his desk and stares at the mess of papers. He hadn’t made much headway in cleaning up his office, but now he’s especially not feeling it. He thinks back to Dream’s wings and how bright they were.

Why can’t he get them out of his head?

Why can’t he get Tommy’s wings out of his head?

The doubts he’d had earlier come back full swing. He’s not sure Tommy is a good fit for the position of vice president, and previous experience no longer matters. Still, the decision is made, it’d be shitty of him to go back on his word just because of some stupid green entity that likes to play around with words. Schlatt just has to trust in himself. Plus, the other employers will help keep Tommy in line, no doubt.

He’s the president, he’s not going to let anyone forget that. He’s the one in charge, and Schlatt is going to remain in charge. This is his country, the people wanted him in charge.

No idiot with wings, no matter who they are, is going to take that from him. He can instate Wilbur as part of the cabinet and it doesn’t prove anything other than Schlatt deciding who rules with him.

He mutters to himself angrily as he finally cleans up the paperwork. He’ll sort it all out later, when Tommy starts his first day. They’ll work on the letterhead, on the signatures and policies and everything Tommy might need to know, and it’ll be fine.

When finished, he shuts off the lights and heads out, turning back only once to glance at the dark building behind him. By this point the sun had long since set. Streetlamps are the only source of light as he wanders down the path. Hardly anyone is out at this time, most citizens either heading to their homes or enjoying a night on the town.

As for him? He goes home. He has a busy career ahead of him and he’s going to take any downtime he can.

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 2

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: House Caspian’s only daughter returns to Winterfell, with her family in tow. She’s delighted to see her friends again, but with the end of the visit comes very startling news.

Want to see your name in this fic? Use this fantastic extension for chrome!

✨🐺For mobile users, here’s my masterlist 🐺✨

Only two weeks passed before Y/N got her first letter from Lyanna. It was a long one, full of enthusiasm and clumsy penmanship, asking after Y/N, her family and full of questions about Ramsgate and their keep, Whitetide. Why are your lands called Ramsgate? Are there lots of goats when you move away from the sea? How big is Whitetide? Is it really right on top of the beach?

Y/N eagerly wrote back, and her mother gave her the idea to include some seashells, a starfish and a sand dollar, all little treasures that Y/N collected on her many walks on the beach. She couldn’t wait for Lyanna’s response, asking the guard who watched for deliveries every day if there was something for her. Lady Talia finally had to ask her to leave the poor man alone.

But the next correspondence was by raven, of all things, a little message with a cute drawing of a direwolf and a big thank you from Lyanna and Benjen. The maester handed it to her parents with great confusion, and they in turn blinked at it before giving it to Y/N. She gladly kept it safe in her sketchbook.

The next letter detailed the great scolding Lyanna received for using one of Winterfell’s ravens. She worried her mother wouldn’t let her send any letters at all, but instead she was forced to stay inside for two weeks helping Nan knit and practicing her penmanship with the maester. Y/N giggled at the thought, and made a point to compliment Lyanna’s handwriting. She could already imagine the girl’s grimace and cramped hand.

The letters became a staple in the next year. It was towards the end of the ninth moon when Lyanna sent an especially long one. Y/N read it halfway before she was jumping on top of her bed in excitement.

She ran down the steps, nearly crashing into a washerwoman and narrowly avoiding a guard. Lady Talia frowned at her daughter arriving in the great hall in such a breathless flurry. “Y/N, you’ll trip over your skirts and break open your head if you carry on like that —”

“Mother! Are we going back to Winterfell?”

Lady Talia almost dropped baby Rickard. She recovered herself and sighed. “Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise! Did your father tell you?”

“No, Lyanna did!” Y/N waved the letter at her mother, too fast for the woman to actually look at it’s contents. “When are we going? Is it soon? Is it tomorrow?”

“Yes, soon, sweetling. Think about what things you want to pack. It will be a long stay, so bring all your dresses and some books.”

Y/N almost didn’t hear her. She was buzzing. How long was a long stay? How soon was soon? She would’ve asked a dozen more questions if her mother hadn’t shooed her out.

Two maids helped her pack. Y/N expected to use the small wooden trunk she and Willam shared last time. It was colorfully painted and had manta rays carved into the sides, so she especially liked it. Instead, the maids brought in two large trunks, the ones grown-up ladies used to transport their fine gowns and furs. She gaped at all the space on the inside, and how finely it was lined. A whole person could fit in there, or at least both her and Willam!

She already pulled dresses from the armoire — it was easy, she only had so many — but the maid was taking everything out of her closet, even her long winter socks that probably didn’t fit anymore. The other maid was neatly stacking all of her books.

“Oh, um, I was only taking four,” Y/N said to her.

The maid smiled. “You’ll want all of them, milady.”

No, I only wanted four, Y/N thought, but the maids listened to her lady mother, not her. It would be useless to argue with them. If the men who packed up the carts complained about the weight of her trunks, she’d know what to tell them.

At dinner, her father asked, “All excited for the trip, little ray?” and he was delighted with his daughter’s enthusiastic response. She hadn’t noticed her mother looking less excited, but Lady Talia still gave Y/N a smile when she looked her way.

“I’m going too!” Willam declared, as if he worried he was going to be left behind. Lord Gareth tousled his hair and promised he could ride along with the knights and guards.

Seeing Winterfell for the second time was just like the first;  breathtaking and no less a marvel. It was still hard to believe that a castle that big existed, and it was so close to Ramsgate, and she had a friend waiting inside. She was buzzing to get out of the carriage and just run up to the gates herself, but her mother was far less permissive than her uncle. She fretted over Y/N’s hair and tried to smooth her dress as they rode through the gate, and Y/N used every fiber of self-control not to squirm away. Her mother’s eyes said she was not in the mood to be disobeyed.

Finally, finally, the carriage door opened. Before the Winterfell guard could even greet her, she was flying down the steps.

Y/N heard her mother calling, but she pretended not to hear. The cold, saltless air blew through her hair, and she took a deep breath. It smelled like the dirt of the yard, the savory smoke from the kitchens and the distant pine of the forests. She only had a few moments to take it all in before the wind was thrown right out of her lungs.

Y/N choked as arms were thrown around her. She very nearly teetered over, the only thing stopped her was Lyanna yanking her back. The girl had a frightening grip. “Y/N! You’re here! It’s been forever!”

“I-I am!” Y/N coughed. “My mother is here this time, and Willam is back, and I have some things for you, and —”

“Lyanna, unhand the poor girl.” Lady Stark’s voice was familiar, but her appearance was a surprise again. Y/N realized she’d somewhat forgotten what the Lady looked like, but she remembered the pretty, long hair and grey eyes. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again, sweetling.”

Y/N was able to do a proper curtsy once she was unhanded, but she still felt a little dizzy. “Thank you for having me again, Lady Stark.”

“Where’s your lady mother, and lord father? Goodness, did you run ahead of them?” Lady Stark shook her head, but she didn’t seem truly upset. Had she always been so pale, though? Y/N couldn’t recall, and her friend easily took her attention away.

“Y/N, we have some new horses! You haven’t seen them yet, they’re so pretty. I’ve gotten to ride them already.” Lyanna just realized something. “Mother, can I show her?”

Y/N was expecting Lady Stark to put up a fuss, as her mother might have, but the woman looked too tired. She simply nodded and waved the two girls away. Y/N wondered if it was truly okay, even as Lyanna pulled on her hand. Y/N went along, figuring she’d see her parents and the Lord and Lady Stark at dinner tonight, anyhow. She could do her proper courtesies then.

To Lyanna’s disappointment, the new horses she was so proud of had been taken out on a hunt, so the next stop was the library of Winterfell, which surprised Y/N. She hadn’t taken Lyanna for the type to read these huge, dusty things, but it wasn’t a huge or dusty book that Lyanna pulled out. There was an old chest at the bottom of one of the bookshelves, and when she opened it, a collection of rolled-up parchment was inside. 

Y/N’s nose wrinkled at the smell. “Are we allowed to look at these?”

“They’re here for the Starks.” Lyanna replied. Y/N felt like her friend could have unrolled the old parchment a little neater.

Lyanna set two heavy inkpots in either side of the parchment to keep it from rolling back. The beautiful drawings unfurled before her, and Y/N realized it was a stylistic, detailed map of Westeros. She gasped in delight. “Oh, it’s so pretty!”

The linework was so fine and detailed, each little mountain, tree and even tiny ships on waves were drawn out. She immediately looked for Ramsgate, and it saddened her that the Caspian ray was not there. It was still the merman of Manderly. This must have been a very old map, then.

“Your manta ray isn’t here!” Lyanna realized it as well, perhaps for the first time. “Hmph. They should update these dusty old things.”

“I don’t think that’s possible ... It’s still beautiful.” Y/N said. She sat in the chair with Lyanna; it was so wide, both of them could sit in it with just a little discomfort. Lyanna was skinny for her age, but she was already taller than Y/N. Y/N could swear they were the same height last year. “I love how they painted Winterfell. There’s even direwolves around it, and look here, each castle has its Godswood drawn, too. You can even see some of the Godswoods in the Southern castles, but they’re not as good as the one in Winterfell.”

Lyanna was proud of that. She pointed out some of her favorite parts of the map: The kraken encircling the Iron Islands, the collection of trouts running down Riverrun, the beautiful flowers and crops that covered most of the Reach. She and Y/N shivered as they saw the detailed flayed man of the Boltons, and they admired the horses of the Ryswells.

Lyanna pointed toward the Vale, where the Eyrie was drawn in splendid detail, its white, blue and dark grey ink only slightly faded. A beautiful sky-blue falcon perched on top of it. She tapped it with her finger and sighed. “Ned’s here.”

Y/N didn’t quite understand. She floated her own finger above the parchment, tracing from Winterfell all the way to the Eyrie. “But why? It’s so far away,” She said. “It takes days to get from Whitetide to Winterfell, and only if the weather is good. That’s what my father said.”

“I don’t know.” Lyanna crossed her arms. “I didn’t want him to go. He didn’t, either! But mother and father said it was important for young lords to learn … whatever they said. Hmph. Why couldn’t our maester just teach him?”

“And Brandon is the oldest. Shouldn’t he learn all the important things?”

“He should! He’s thick as an aurochs, though. That doesn’t mean I want him to go away to a big, stupid mountain, too. Even if he deserves it.” Lyanna huffed. “Ned writes sometimes, but letters take too long to go up and down the Eyrie, he said so. He said you have to take a donkey to go up, or ride in a basket of turnips!”

“A basket…?”

“They use a rope to pull you up, like getting water from the well.”

That didn’t seem right, but Y/N didn’t know anything about the Eyrie. Lyanna continued with a huff. “The last letter he sent was all about some lord he’s friends with, a boy named Robert. He’s a Baratheon from Storm’s End. He’s the first son of that house, so why did Ned have to go?”

Y/N knew where Storm’s End was. She was familiar with most coastal cities and keeps, like Oldtown and Lannisport, and Storm’s End was no different. It’s two great walls that looked like big drums, her Uncle said, and she was delighted to see it painted just as he described. There was a rearing black stag sitting atop it, and it was just as far from the Eyrie as the direwolf was.

“It must be very sad to be so far from home,” Y/N said. She couldn’t imagine.

Lyanna frowned. “Ned should come home so I don’t have to hear about stupid Robert anymore.”

“Who’s Robert?”

The sudden voice made Y/N yelp and jump almost a foot in the air, and that reaction made Lyanna fall right out of the chair and onto the floor. She scrambled back to her feet. “Benjen! Don’t sneak up on people!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention. Who’s Robert?”

“The boy from Ned’s letter, remember? We read it together!”

“Are you allowed to take these maps out?” Benjen asked.

“Ugh, we’re done with it, anyway. You really do sneak around like a shadowcat.” Lyanna removed the inkpots and Y/N took charge of carefully rolling the map. Maybe I can look at it later? The pictures are so pretty … Even if it doesn’t have a manta ray.

“I’m bored.” Benjen said. He clearly expected his sister and Y/N to do something about it.

“We can play a game?” Y/N offered. She watched with some concern as Lyanna closed the trunk and tried to shove it back on the shelves. She couldn’t remember if that’s how it looked when they found it.

After much discussion and debate, hide and seek was declared the game of choice… with some rules. Lyanna made it very clear that they were only hiding inside the living area of the keep, and only in rooms they were allowed inside, and only in rooms with no adults. She looked directly to Benjen as she said all of this. Lyanna was declared “it”, and Benjen wasted little time in grabbing Y/N’s sleeve when she began counting.

“Where should I hide?” Y/N asked. “I don’t know the castle. I could get lost.”

“Just keep going down that hall until you see a big window, and choose any of those rooms,” Benjen pointed. “There’s lots of tables to hide under. Oh, if you find a blue yarn ball anywhere, that’s Nan’s. Tell her I didn’t take it.”

Before Y/N could question that, Benjen shoved her in the direction of the long hallway and went scurrying off. Y/N could only faintly hear Lyanna counting in the library, so she hurried, trying to decide which room to dart into. Lyanna would expect her to hide in one of these rooms. After all, Benjen went somewhere else, somewhere that was actually difficult to find.

She noticed one of the rooms was being occupied. The door was closed, but there was light and warmth coming from under it. Y/N suddenly felt she was intruding, so she walked carefully past it. The voices from inside were feminine, and very familiar. She stopped suddenly when she heard her mother’s familiar laugh.

Her mother’s voice drifted behind the wooden door. Y/N leaned against the door, assuming she’d hear her brother or father, but instead there was another lady’s voice. Lady Stark. They were probably doing needlework by the hearth. She was ready to move on, but she heard her name.

“Y/N is a very dear girl, I think she’ll be happy …”

I’ll be what? Y/N pressed her ear against the wood. She remembered the keyhole, and while it was too small to peek, she could put her ear to it.

“You cannot consider the offer,” That was Lady Stark’s voice that sounded so stern, like when she scolded her children. “You musn’t, Talia.”

“I told Gareth about it, but he said …”

“ … Men are foolish about these things, you shall not …”

It was hard to catch the conversation, and Y/N worried about leaning on the door too hard - it might creak - but her curiosity was burning a hole in her. She couldn’t help but pick up several morsels as  she listened in.

“If they think … my only daughter …”

“… We could always … She’s young, but a good child …”

“… It was supposed to be in a few years, Lyarra …”

A pair of hands grasped Y/N’s shoulders, and she screamed as Lyanna tackled her. “YOU’RE IT!”

There was exclamations and the sound of something breaking inside. Lady Stark swung the door open and was greeted to two girls sprawled on the floor. They were promptly dragged inside and forced to sit and participate in the needlework that the two women were doing. Y/N glanced at both Lady Stark and her mother, both peeved, both not picking up whatever conversation they were having earlier … because it was about her.

Y/N tried to focus on threading the needle. I heard my name, there’s no mistaking it. Am I in trouble?

Thirty minutes into the forced needlework, Lyanna gasped and realized they were supposed to find Benjen. Lady Stark sharply told her to sit. Benjen walked past the open doorway a few minutes later anyway, tying some blue yarn into complicated knots. He stuck his tongue out at Lyanna while his mother’s head was down, and Y/N pulled back Lyanna’s arm to keep her from tossing her embroidery hoop.

Y/N enjoyed an entire week at Winterfell, and she didn’t have a moment without the Stark children. Lyanna was an almost constant presence, of course. They had lessons in the day and ate together in the evening, and at night they even shared a room. They’d whisper and chatter under the furs until one of them finally fell asleep, usually Y/N. Benjen often joined in their more lively activities, and even Brandon would come along now and again, although it was usually just to annoy them. He fancied himself an important “man” of fourteen, and didn’t think much of silly girls.

Lyanna didn’t want Y/N to leave, so she tried not to think about how short a week really was. She hated having to waste time doing embroidery and staying inside, even if Y/N made such beautiful drawings on her canvas, and even if she was a surprisingly elegant dancer at her young age.

It was the seventh day, and Lyanna and Y/N groggily went through their morning routine. The septa helped them lace their clothes and braid their hair. Y/N looked over at her chest, still open and … empty?

“Septa Alys, where are my things?” She asked with some concern.

The septa was not terribly old. She had a sweet disposition and was more prone to wringing her hands instead of scolding whenever Lyanna acted up. “They were put away yesterday, dear. Did you not notice?”

“But why? I’m leaving today.”

Septa Alys was more occupied with Lyanna’s hair. “You’ll have to ask your lady mother and lord father, dear.”

“Maybe the servants were mistaken? I’ll help you put it back.” Lyanna offered, but she didn’t sound happy about it. Now that she was properly awake, she was sullen. She spent most of the previous night sulking.

Septa Alys helped Y/N secure the pearl and silver string in her hair, complimenting how lovely it looked with her pretty hair. Y/N didn’t completely hear her. She walked down the hall with Lyanna, who let out another sigh.

“We can still write,” Y/N said. She wasn’t happy, either, but she didn’t want their last day to be so gloomy. “I’ll send you things again, too.”

Thankfully, Lyanna was willing to be cheered. “I want to send you things too, but we don’t have seashells or anything like that here… I’ll think of something. I’ll send you blue rose petals! You wanted to paint them, right?”

“Oh, yes, I’d love that. Weirwood leaves, too. The ones at your Godswood are so big!”

The girls fell into an easy chatter as they entered the great hall for breakfast. The four parents were there, as Y/N expected, but there was no food on the table - they weren’t even sitting yet. Brandon, Benjen and Willam were nowhere to be seen, nor was Ser Roderick or the maester or any of the other staff that were slowly becoming familiar. Lyanna sensed the strangeness, too.

“Mother, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Girls, we have something important to tell you.” Lady Stark beckoned them. She didn’t look as tired this morning, in fact, she seemed like she was trying to keep from smiling too much. Y/N instantly looked to her mother, who was beaming, and her father, who had a smile with tension behind it. Lord Stark looked thoroughly amused.

“Y/N, do you like it here?” Her mother asked.

Y/N thought it was a silly question, and not what it seemed, but she didn’t know how to answer. “Yes, I like Winterfell very much.”

It was Lord Stark’s voice that boomed, and Y/N didn’t expect it. She startled a little. “Would you like to stay here for a longer time, little Y/N?”

She looked to Lyanna, who was just as confused, then to the parents again. “For how much longer, my lord?”

“Well,” Her mother tried to sound excited, but she was using the same voice she reserved for carefully explaining something to Willam, especially after he was about to cry about something. “Until you’re a woman grown, Y/N. In Winterfell you’ll learn to be a proper lady and wife, doing the same lessons as Lyanna. You’ll be like sisters.”

“Sisters?” Lyanna gaped.

“She’ll live with us for a few years, not as a guest, but as family.” Lady Stark said to her daughter. She didn’t speak to them like they were Willam. “You have heard that Ned is fostering in the Eyrie? It is like that, my dear.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was struck with absolute disbelief, like she was still walking around in a dream and she’d wake to Lyanna’s arm hitting her in the face again. Happiness hit her, excitement, but also nervousness, and then —

“But - Willam is not staying? Mother and father aren’t …?”

“Just you, little ray,” Her father finally spoke. He bent down to her level, still in light armor in spite of the early hour. “With Lady Stark and the septa, you can get a proper education here. You’re our only daughter, and we want you to be taken care of.”

He sounded sad, and his eyes didn’t meet her’s completely, but he took her hand. Y/N felt like she shouldn’t be excited anymore. Could her family not take care of her? Was baby Rickard really so fussy, was Willam really so much more important?

No, Willam might foster in a few years, too, but not here. He’ll be a page or a squire. It’s an important thing for lords to do, especially first-born ... Mother and Father must expect a lot from me ... 

Even if they had another daughter, Y/N was the oldest by far. She was always responsible for Willam, and she’d already helped plenty with baby Rickard. Her septa and maester were also often pleased with how she progressed in her lessons. A sense of duty and pride filled Y/N, combined with all the other swirling emotions. She’d miss her family very much, but her mother had told her many times about the duties of a grown lady. Wasn’t this part of that?

She felt Lyanna take her hand and squeeze it. Y/N could have been sent anywhere else in the North, or like Ned, far away to some mountain keep — to a place where she had no friends, and no familiar faces.

It must have been very hard for him, Y/N thought suddenly, but she shook those thoughts free when she realized everyone wanted a reaction from her. She nodded, looking toward her father first, because addressing everyone felt frightening. She might start crying.

“I’m very happy,” She said, hoping she sounded as such. She wasn’t sure how she felt; too many emotions were buzzing about and not staying still. “I’ll miss you, and mother, and my brothers … will you still visit? Can I visit?”

“Of course! Especially during the harvest season and the melees.” Lord Stark said.

Her mother added, “You’ll write me weekly, I want to read about all the things you’re doing. Time will pass before you know it.”

“It will be so nice to have lessons with you!” Lyanna blurted. Y/N was surprised how still and quiet she was being up until now. “It’s fine enough with Benjen, but he doesn’t do the lady things I have to. Oh! Mother, will we still share a room?”

“Yes, especially when winter comes, it will be too cold —”

The situation had fully sunk into Lyanna’s mind, and now she couldn’t stop. “You could have a horse of your own! Can you ride? No, you told me, so you’ll learn! I’ll teach you! We can watch the fighters spar, and we can walk in the Godswood, and sometimes when father goes to Winter Town —”

“Lyanna.”

She was hardly discouraged by her mother’s sharp tone. Y/N noticed her father looked much happier, and he kissed her brow before standing back up.

“Let’s break our fast, then!” Lord Stark went to his old friend and slapped his back. “I’ll call the rest in, the Others know where Brandon ran off to, though. Lyarra, where’s that son of your’s?”

“Your son is in the yard, swinging that new sword about. Sit beside us on the dais, sweetling.” Lady Stark patted Y/N on the head as she walked past her. Y/N’s mother smiled approvingly, and pulled her soft braid forward. The pearl glinted in the morning light.

“I’ll send you many more things, so you don’t feel so homesick, little ray.” She said. Then she turned to Lyanna. “It will be nice to have a sister for once, won’t it?”

“Yes, thank the gods.” Lyanna said bluntly, and the adults laughed to themselves, even Lady Stark, who was failing to look embarrassed. While the servants poured in to serve the food, and men at arms entered, and finally Benjen, Brandon and Willam, Y/N was quiet. She filled her plate, but much of it was untouched. Her stomach and her chest were fluttering at the same time, and if maybe one of them would settle, she could eat something more.

Lyanna was excited, too excited, enough to make Y/N feel uneasy. Her parents and Lyanna’s parents were pleased, her friend was delighted, the various members of Winterfell expressed their well-wishes.

Winterfell is big and beautiful, and Lyanna is my very best friend, and her brothers are nice, too. Lady Stark, Lord Stark, the maester, Septa Alys… No one has been unkind to me.

Y/N wanted to excuse herself. The hall was noisy, so she could have slipped away, if only they weren’t on the dais. Benjen was beside her, and he leaned in so their shoulders touched. “What’s the matter?”

She glanced up at his big, wondering eyes, and quickly said, “Nothing.”

Very little escaped Benjen, she knew. He was a year younger, but sometimes Y/N felt like he was older - only sometimes, when he wasn’t teasing them or playing a stupid prank. “It’s okay to be unhappy.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. “I’m not. I like it here. … I’ll just miss home sometimes, I think.”

“It’d be strange to not miss home, right?” Benjen said. “You said you can’t smell the sea here.”

Y/N deflated. Now she truly wanted to cry, but she held it in, and touched her pearl. There were no pearls in Winterfell, no seashells, no sunsets making the water glitter, no giant ships with their billowing sails. There was no smell of salt or sound of waves.

“I’m sorry,” Benjen said quickly. He touched her hand where she left it, under the table, and squeezed her fingers. It was much gentler than the way Lyanna grasped it. “We should go to Whitetide one day.”

“You’d want to go?”

“I’ve never seen the ocean or a manta ray. Not even a ship.” Benjen looked on the other side of Y/N, where Lyanna was sitting. “Lyanna! Let’s go to Ramsgate.”

“What? When?” She stared at Y/N, as if that was who gave the suggestion.

“Um, some day,” Y/N said. “Maybe some day soon. Our castle isn’t big as Winterfell, or Lord Manderly’s keep, but I’ll show you the  beach and the ships.”

She smiled as she thought of that. She could already see Lyanna building sand castles and getting completely dirty, and Benjen would sneak behind her and dump sand down her tunic. Brandon could come, too. He’d watch the ships with her uncle, or even board one, because he was a lordling and a man now. Maybe, somehow, Ned could come, too. She wondered what he’d like to do on the beach. Perhaps he’d just watch the waves hit the rocks, but that was fine in and of itself - because at night, you could see the stars the sailors navigated with. Y/N knew almost all of them.

This is what she said to Lyanna and Benjen, who listened with rapt attention. As she thought, Lyanna loved the idea of sandcastles, but she wanted to feel the waves crash against her legs, too. Benjen wanted to see a ‘tide pool’, and the little crabs that sat inside them - Y/N couldn’t imagine why he wanted to catch one of the mean things. Even Brandon overheard them, and chimed in. He couldn’t hide his own curiosity as he asked questions about House Caspian’s flagship.

When she returned to Lyanna’s room, her trunk had been stowed away somewhere, and her clothes were in Lyanna’s armoire. Her books were on a small shelf, and her other few belongings were with them. I need to ask mother and father to send my paints. She cared more about that than her cloak and riding boots.

It wasn’t long after that her parents and Willam had to leave for Whitetide. As Y/N expected, Willam cried. She hugged him and promised he could visit, or maybe she’d visit, and she’d write letters, although that meant nothing to him. Sometimes he was more like baby Rickard than Benjen. Still, she was glad her little brother had so much affection for her, and she ended up crying herself as she hugged her mother and father. It pained her that she couldn’t give a proper goodbye to Uncle Cole.

All of the Starks and Y/N watched as the carriage, horses and few men-at-arms disappeared. Eventually Lord and Lady Stark returned to the castle, but the children stayed by her side. Lyanna was holding her hand, Benjen slightly leaned on her other side, and behind her was Brandon’s strong presence. He was already so much taller than any of them.

Y/N thought her tears would have dried eventually, but they kept silently falling. She got tired of rubbing at her face with her sleeves, and she was glad no one was bringing attention to it, even if it was making Lyanna sniff at rub at her own eyes.

Y/N felt Brandon’s hand on her head, and while the gesture would normally annoy her, he wasn’t trying to tease her this time. As she looked up at him, Brandon almost looked sad.

“Manta rays shouldn’t be away from the sea for so long,” He said. “So you’ll have to be a wolf for now.”

“She’s too nice and pretty to be a she-wolf,” Benjen said.

Lyanna quickly asked, “What does that make me?”

“It won’t be for long.” Brandon said. Y/N couldn’t help but notice that for once, he seemed unsure with his words. He was usually so self-assured. The lordling gently touched her hair, where the pearl was tied in. “You’ll always have that to remember.”

Y/N looked down at the iridescent pearl, and while the silver glinted prettily in the sunlight, the pearl’s beauty was something else. It was a little bigger than  her thumb. It wouldn’t be her only pearl, but it was her first, and her father did away with several before finding this one for her. It was almost a perfect sphere, almost.

Brandon seemed done with sentiment for the day. He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned away. “I’m going to practice. Lyanna, your face is going to stick like that if you keep making a stupid face.”

“Your face is already stuck with stupid, Bran!” Lyanna retorted hotly, then added, “And use your sword like a sword when you practice today, yesterday you flailed it like a reed!”

Y/N laughed as she rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. Benjen said, “There’s some snow up on the walls, want to make snowballs?”

“Yes, and throw them!”

“At what?” Y/N asked. “Each other? Our dresses will get wet.”

“So we’ll throw them at someone not in a dress.” Lyanna looked at Brandon’s retreating figure pointedly. She pulled up her skirt to her calves, always the one who had to get a head start, even if it wasn’t a race. “Come on! I know the fastest way!”

[enkelimagnus]

Literature

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1756 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 3 Power Broker

Sam falls asleep on the plane over to Madripoor and leaves Bucky and Zemo alone. They actually talk to each other. I would say it's nice.

TW: brief allusion to past rape, internalized homophobia, brief mention of the holocaust

Read on AO3

Part 20 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

It’s an eleven hour flight from Berlin to Madripoor, even with Zemo’s private jet. Once drinks have been served, food has been eaten and threats have been made, they all find themselves settling.

Sam has dozed off on a seat, seemingly exhausted. After all, they’ve already travelled the eight hours from the states, and the day has been stressful at best. At least, Sam trusts him enough to fall asleep while Bucky watches Zemo. He wasn’t expecting that. Or perhaps his human physiology is betraying him.

Bucky needs less sleep than a normal human on regular days, and he also can survive much longer sleep deprived. He’s well aware of the limitations of his body. Hydra tested them thoroughly and multiple times. Zemo would know as well, that Bucky might look tired but it doesn’t diminish his abilities as much as it seems.

The man in question is at his seat with his book, though he’s regularly looking up through the windows of the plane or around the cabin. There’s something quiet and wistful about the way he stares at a spot where the carpeting is not perfectly set against the wall to the bathroom.

The silence is good, especially after earlier, where Sam and Zemo somehow managed to gang up on him about Marvin Gaye of all people.

It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. He just doesn’t like much music. He’s sort of lost the taste for it. His brain is usually unable to perceive it as anything but unnecessary noise that keeps him from being completely aware of his surroundings. And at least 40s music doesn’t have death and rape associated to it.

And he doesn’t need to know what Steve thought of it, whether Steve loved it or not. He’s not Steve. Steve journeyed light into the 21st century. Everything was something new to learn and experience, it was exciting and bright. Bucky is travelling with baggage. And he has memories attached to songs and tastes and sensations and events.

Bucky simply can’t use the notebook the way Steve did.

Sometimes, he wonders if Sam forgets Bucky wasn’t simply on ice for 80 years. The issue with him is that he lived through most of it, and it was all torture.

Or maybe not all . He woke up craving Karpov’s kasha the other week, and it makes no sense. He only tasted it during one specific time of his life, when Karpov and him got stuck in a safehouse in the snow, with no way to reach the outside world, for two weeks. The Soldier’s rations and formulas ran out long before they were able to leave. Karpov was too smart to let him starve, and perhaps that time alone with the Soldier, away from the world, with no way to freeze him or unplug him had made him see he was still a man. The kasha was warm, and thick, and sweet and sometimes, Bucky remembers that feeling and craves it.

The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.

Zemo’s right.

In all honesty, Bucky believes he’s forgotten who Steve really was.

Memories become blurry when they age and no matter how desperate Bucky is to crystalize them, to remember them, to be sure of what he lived, all he manages to do is to frame faded photographs and fill in the blanks himself.

Steve and him didn’t have time. He found him after two years of searching, only for Bucky to be back on ice within two weeks. After that, Steve visited a few times during his recovery, when he introduced him to the goats he’d named after the sisters he finally remembered. And then, there was the War, and the Snap and once Bucky was back to life, Steve was shattered. And two weeks later, he was gone.

They didn’t have time to learn each other again. Bucky doesn’t know who Steve is anymore, half of his memories feel tainted by Smithsonian explanations, and he hates it so fucking much.

He hates that he can’t remember right, he hates that Steve’s slipping away from him every second of every day, that all that is left is the fucking shield and Captain America. That Steve’s legacy doesn’t seem to run deeper than that, else Bucky would have less of a single-minded focus on that fucking piece of useless fucking metal.

It’s only been three months. Why does Steve feel like he’s been gone for a lifetime?

Bucky breathes out a shuddering breath.

When his eyes focus again, Zemo is staring at him.

The book is open on his lap. Bucky can read the title. Same Sex Fantasies in Heterosexuals. Fucking hell. He doesn’t need that right now. At all.

“You’re a different man than the one I remember,” Zemo says quietly after a moment. His voice is soft, just slightly above a whisper. He knows Bucky has sharp ears. He knows he doesn’t need to wake Sam up.

Bucky dignifies that with a huff and looks away for a moment. Zemo’s eyes don’t leave him. He can feel them on him, on his face, on his throat, on his hands, on his body. They make him itch. They make him want to punch him for looking at him like that.

Like what?

You know exactly like what.

When Bucky looks back, Zemo’s indeed still watching him.

“You’re old now,” Bucky says eventually, in a vague answer to what Zemo said earlier.

“Eight years have passed, James. You cannot blame a normal man for something he has no control over.”

Eight years. So Bucky was right. Zemo wasn’t dusted. He stayed in that solitary confinement cell for eight years as the world moved on around him, as the world fought and lost half of its people.

Had he wished to be one of the ones that were snapped out of existence? Probably. After all, every second Zemo breathes and exists is a second more he wasn’t supposed to have. He tried to kill himself in Siberia, once his mission was over.

“Do you ever read normal stuff?” Bucky asks, a bite in his words.

Zemo raises an eyebrow, head tilting slightly to the side. His eyes are still glued to Bucky’s face. He still wants to punch him.

“I would need you to define ‘normal stuff’ to answer this question.” There is a hint of mirth in those brown eyes though. He knows exactly what Bucky means.

Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes. “Machiavelli, fucking… whatever this shit is,” he makes a motion of his chin towards the book. It’s in German, something about boundaries in relationships. Hilarious, really. It’s not like Zemo has anyone to set boundaries with. Unless those eight years of solitary have somehow driven a rift between Zemo and his own dick. “That’s not normal stuff. Novels, popular stuff…”

“I wonder,” Zemo starts. “Have you any recommendations for titles of ‘popular stuff’ for me?”

Everything Bucky can think of is old. He’d told himself he’d look into acquiring books but… he hadn’t had the time or the energy.

“I see your taste in literature has elected to stay with your taste in music, then.”

Fucking ass. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs so heavily he’s pretty sure Sam’s going to wake up.

“To answer your question, James,” Zemo starts, conversationally, as if they aren’t enemies, as if they are just old friends, so old they have become strangers. “I do read normal stuff.” The phrasing is foreign in his mouth, in that accented voice of his. “I’ve read all the classics, and children’s literature. Eight years are long. I practiced my Russian with translations of Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings at first.”

Bucky hums, looking up at him for a moment. “I noticed your pronunciation had changed,” he says quietly. “Did you read it to yourself out loud? Pretended someone was telling you a story?”

It’s cheap. They’re both aware of how lonely the past eight years must have been. It’s cheap, and it’s low-hanging and Bucky almost feels guilty.

Zemo’s small smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Have you read Jules Verne?” Bucky asks, trying to erase his taunt with some more literary conversation. “Was obsessed with his work as a kid. Kinda like Tolkien, but even better because it was… full of invention, not of magic.”

There’s a floating moment, a few seconds of Zemo just watching him with that slight sadness in his eyes before it is washed away and replaced by a hum.

“I’ve read those books, yes. In the original French,” Zemo points out and Bucky is almost grateful for the boasting. “You should seek a new translation, if you’re not adept at the original language. The one I assume you read was a descendant of 1870 translations, riddled with errors and political censorship. They fixed that in the 60s. You’ll like the new ones better.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that under consideration, I guess.” He’s so sure he’ll like it.

“And if you find yourself in the north of France one of these days, you should stop by this little city called Amiens,” Zemo continues. “A fine place, old and new, in the way only Europe can be. Jules Verne died there. The city’s positively themed after the man and his work. You can even visit his house.”

Visiting a dead man’s last residence? “That’s kinda morbid,” he mutters and Zemo has a small chuckle.

“People visit Anne Frank’s house as if the walls aren’t hollowed with fear,” he points out. “Dying makes one the public’s intimate friend. You know that better than anyone else.” He gives Bucky a sidelong glance. They both know he’s talking about Steve, and the documentaries and exhibits and think-pieces.

Bucky nods quietly and looks back through the window. The sun is painted indigo and pink. It’s beautiful. He’s forgotten the sunset could be this beautiful.

When he looks at Zemo again, he notices the exhaustion written all over his face, in the small wrinkles and under eye bags and the way his eyes won’t settle on anything for too long, desperate to stay awake.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Bucky says after a moment. “We need you.”

Zemo chuckles tiredly, a soft and muted sound. “If that is the one thing that is keeping me alive… I believe I shall keep myself useful, then.” It’s almost sarcastic. A man living on borrowed time, wishing desperately he could be executed.

“You do that.”