#why else would she be wearing those arm warmers with bandages over them

[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter One)

Word Count - 1550

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgment with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warnings - Some Swearing

Inspired By - Cold - Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Masterlist

Tick.

“What do you think about your day to day habits?”

Screams flooded her ears, a deep, guttural rumbling playing in the background.

“Nothing of it.” A pen scratched away in a notebook.

Tick.

The older woman watched as her eye fluttered about the old wooden floor. “Nothing?”

A cold breeze suddenly reached her numbing skin, her mind unable to comprehend the sensation of an ever true freefall.

“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over her left. The sensation was left unfelt, unnoticed if it wasn’t for the rustling of the oversized jacket.

Tick.

A brown eye shifted to the clock on the wall. 5:53pm. Another sigh. The pen stopped, then the notebook closed. Hands folded over the leather cover. “I’m afraid that’s the end of our session, Miss Bishop.”

“Of course.” Her eye stayed focused on the clock, yet grew more and more distant.

“Miss Bishop?” With a sharp inhale and whip of a head, the woman knew she finally caught her attention. “I said that’s the end of our session.” She raised her eyebrows at the younger female whose eye shifted to the floor once again.

“Right,” Her right arm pushed her off from her chair, walking - practically stumbling - to the door to grip the knob. It swung shut with a slight thud, a sign of underlying frustration.

Her hands stuffed in her pockets she started her journey through the woeful streets of the city, her eye dancing around cautiously at those around her. The sky was clouded, grey and foreboding over the already depressive buildings and people. Her shoes softly padded against the gum and puke stained concrete, silent compared to the heels that clacked around her obnoxiously. She felt the faintest amount of joy upon seeing a familiar building, the chipping white brick a comfort.

She followed the steps up to the third floor, keys noisily being shuffled to unlock the door to what she called home. She took a deep inhale, the scent of lavender filling her senses to bring a light smile upon her face. The apartment was small, obviously run down to fit the exterior, but her choice of furniture made it seem somewhat younger. She had spent at least a week removing mold and a few stains, and by the time she had finished it seemed almost brand new. The bleach smell took a while to wear off, but it was worth it to her in the long run.

The living room was just a bit larger than the size of an average bedroom, furnished with a small kitchen, dining table and couch. It was all put together and connected through accents like curtains, family photos and knick-knacks. She quite liked that it was smaller, that everything was visible save for the bedroom and bathroom which had their own separate rooms for obvious reasons. It left little room for any intruders to hide and she knew exactly where everything was, knowing someone had come through should anything have moved in the slightest.

She hung the tan jacket on a hook by the door, kicking off her shoes and throwing her keys on the table. She made her way to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom, clothes thrown in the hamper in the corner. Her nimble fingers grasped at the soft padding that hid the left side of her face and neck, the cotton coming off with ease as she pulled. She chewed on the right side of her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The once soft, pale skin now uneven, scarred and discolored even where her eye used to be. As they traveled down they seemed to fade, stopping at her mid thigh. Though her arm had received the most damage, the deepest scars.

They used to bother her when she looked at them, but back then they had been far worse. By now, they were incredibly soft with her years of routine moisturizing and upkeep. She hadn’t been to physical therapy for almost two years, not after they told her they had done all that they could, to just continue exercising the muscle that was left before pushing her out of the door. Nothing but another block to check off.

She was now snuggled under her blankets after a soothing shower, the soft warm glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the area just enough to read the book she had recently invested in, Atlas of World History. While others indulged themselves in the words of romance, fantasy and thrillers, she much preferred factual information. Knowledge. To her, even the smallest bit of information that seemed useless could possibly save a life at some point.

__________________________________________

The bitter morning cold was relentless against her skin, encouraging her to attempt to tuck her face further into her jacket. It was moments like these where she was thankful for the bandages as they kept half of her face warm. Cars and buses alike filled the streets during the rush hour, jaywalkers slipping between them when the chance presented itself to involve themselves in the madness. She shook her head to herself, hand reaching up to open the door to a petite shop with a ‘ding’. It was warmer, even somewhat humid. The smells of different flowers and herbals were dominating. She walked behind the small wooden counter to set down her shoulder bag, hearing faint rustling from the back room of the shop.

“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. Her figure towered over her not only with her already shorter stature, but also because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.

“You saw me yesterday, you goof.” Penelope practically mumbled, attempting to bite back a smile.

“Still too long.” The woman ruffled her black hair, giggling as she watched her scramble to fix it once she pulled away. She disappeared to the back once more and Penelope picked up her pencil, beginning to jot down some notes as the brunette reentered with a small vase of assorted flowers. “Lunch is on me today, by the way.” She started to touch up the flowers to her liking. Penelope furrowed her brow at her, mouth moving to question her friend before she was cut off. “There’s a food truck just down the street I thought we should try. It’s mostly sandwiches, but I’m sure they have other things, too.” She looked up and smiled at the younger woman who gazed at her with doe eyes.

“Um-” She gazed nervously at the floor before looking back up at her. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” The woman laughed and went around the room to reorganize other vases and pots. It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of pencil scratching on paper and her friend’s footsteps adding to the peacefulness. The outside streets were muffled in the background and Penelope relished the calming atmosphere, the ghost of a smile gracing her face. It was soon washed away when a thought reached out to her, buzzing in her head. She started to chew on her cheek.

“Emma?” Penelope asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, hun?” The woman’s chirpiness had died down slightly, sensing the more serious tone in the woman’s voice.

“Do I-” She started, pausing to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. She started to regret her decision of bringing it up, but decided that she now had to commit to it. “Do I have… habits?” It seemed the roles had been reversed, for now Emma was the one furrowing her eyebrows.

“I mean, everyone has habits, hun.” She looked at her friend’s face and immediately noticed the racing thoughts just from her eye, sighing once she did. “Penny, is this about your therapy?” Her voice took on a motherly tone and she slowly made her way over to Penelope who just nodded her head. “I don’t understand why you even visit her, still.” Her arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulders, her hand rubbing the farther one in small circles. “All they do is pocket your money for hearing your life’s story and feed you bullshit.”

“I guess I’m just too scared to stop visiting.”

“Why, because it’ll break your routine?” Emma leaned on the counter with her elbow, eyebrows raised.

“She knows the most and I’m scared to break that tie because of how much she knows.” Her large eye finally looked up to Emma, filled with desperation and fear. “What if she uses it against me somehow? Or tells someone else and then they use it against me? What-”

“Penny.” Her mouth snapped shut and her gaze cast down to the floor once more. “Not only are your conversations confidential, but - and I don’t mean this in a rude way - what would be so special about you that would make her spill your life story to someone?”

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 14: A Welcome Distraction

((Abe takes to the streets in search of the Host, but instead he finds a different kind of performer. Back at his office, he finds a new, seemingly unrelated case waiting for him.

Here are links to the previous part and to the whole series.))

Abe chose to walk to the coffee shop, hoping the walk would help clear his head after a long night and that conversation with Google. That, and he wanted the extra time to take a different route, to see if he was still being followed or not. Problem was, he forgot that weekends were a thing, and it seemed like half the city was out shopping and enjoying the warmer than usual fall weather. He checked faces at every crosswalk, doubled back and looked over his shoulder whenever he had an excuse to do so, but if he was supposed to recognize any of those faces, he didn’t.

Instead, the walk just gave him more time to think about what he wanted to say to the Host once he got his hands on him, and a few creative things he’d like to do to…pretty much everyone who had a hand in getting him involved in this case. All this time spent watching a doctor, and he could have been using it to find out more about the Colonel’s new alias—if he even really was going by a ridiculous name like Wilford Warfstache these days.

The bench in front of the coffee shop was taken by a pair of ladies happily chatting, and a quick search up and down the street found no sign of the Host. There was another street performer there though, who had set up a small booth set up to look like a stage and curtains that could just barely fit one person inside. A burst of laughter came from the crowd gathered in front of the temporary stage, with a few kids sitting so close that they had to look up to what a sign pinned to the top of the stage proclaimed to be “Jameson Jackson’s Jolly Jaunts.” Jackson, probably, was pantomiming alongside a pair of puppets, shock on his face as the cloth detective puppet accused him of stealing a diamond while the other, a cutout of the most stereotypical burglar you could image on a stick, proclaimed that he knew it all along.

As Abe watched, Jackson appealed to the audience and an increasing number of puppets for help, the bit going on until the detective puppet slapped him on the back of the head and he coughed up a shiny rock to the puppets’ shocked silence before they all piled on him, dragging him out of view to the audience’s cheers and laughter.

Cute, but not the reason Abe stuck around after a “The End” card was drawn up on a string, and the puppeteer and a few of his favorites appeared to wave goodbye to the kids before they ran off. A few minutes after the crowd dispersed, the hunter watched Jackson step out of the back of the little popup stage, two shoebox-sized boxes tucked under one arm.

“Need some help cleaning up?” Abe asked as the puppeteer set the boxes down on top of the booth and stretched, visibly glad to be out of the confined space.

Jackson dropped his arms mid-stretch and pointed at his throat, drawing a line across it with his finger before shrugging.

“Oh, you can’t—” Abe paused. “But your show, I heard…”

Jackson smiled and opened one of the smaller boxes, tilting it to reveal multiple identical devices. He tapped a button on the one labeled “Diamond Heist”, causing the puppet detective’s voice to ask, “But what about the cookies?!”

“That’s…actually pretty clever,” Abe said, causing the puppeteer to smile. Especially considering he recalled at least one of the puppets directly responding to something one of the kids called out.

Jackson started to sign before catching himself and pulling a small notepad and pen out of one of his waistcoat pockets. There he wrote, “Thank you, my friends were kind enough to supply the recordings for me. And a few other tricks, to keep it interesting.”

He winked, and only grinned wider when Abe said, “Guess I don’t need to bother with complimenting your ventriloquism skills then. Do you do a lot of street shows like this?”

“Different places, but yes. Mostly on the weekends, more often during the summer for the kids. I’ve done a thing or two in more traditional venues, but that’s more for the older crowd.” Jackson shrugged again once Abe was done reading, as if to say one place was as good as the other.

Abe nodded before asking the question he had been leading up to, “I ran into a guy the other day who apparently sings on the corner around here sometimes, but I’m having a hard time finding him again. Called himself the Host, had bandages around his eyes. You haven’t you seen him around, have you?”

Jackson tapped his chin with the end of his pen before writing, “Can’t say that I have, but I try to avoid performing in an area when I see someone else is already there. Don’t want to be rude!”

The puppeteer hesitated before adding, “I know a few places that tend to be popular with street artists. Why are you looking for this Host fellow?”

“I know the owner of that coffee shop over there, Carla. He was coming around here a lot for a while there and suddenly stopped, and she’s just a little worried so I thought I’d check on him,” Abe lied. Last he checked, Carla wasn’t worried at all, probably because she was used to customers like Abe disappearing for days or even months at a time before showing up again like nothing happened at all. At least, he assumed he wasn’t the only one who did that. Either way, wasn’t like he was about to explain the real reason to some random guy on the street. “Do you mind helping me out?”

Jackson pulled a fancy-looking silver pocket watch out of his other waistcoat pocket, opening an intricately carved cover to check the time before writing his response.

“Looks like my friend is running a little late. If you were serious about helping me pack up, I can give you a few ideas.”

Easy enough, and between the two of them the stage was soon a folded bundle that, while a few feet long, the puppeteer could at least manage to carry by himself, although add in the boxes of recording devices and puppets and it all seemed like a bit much.

“You sure you can manage all of this?” Abe asked as he tucked the list Jackson gave him into his pocket for later. Not that he was about to volunteer to lug all this stuff anywhere, especially considering he hadn’t taken the car today, but he did feel a twinge of guilt at leaving the hipster puppeteer to fend for himself.

Jackson nodded and started to write before he was distracted by a text notification. He took out a basic-looking phone that he probably only used for the text function, considering how he fumbled with it before smiling at the message.

“He’s on his way! Thank you for the help,” he wrote for Abe’s sake.

The hunter tried not to look too relieved, which became a lot easier when for the second time today he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the clear, sneaking sensation that he was being watched.

Jackson stared as he looked around, Abe’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the people walking by, the busy shops, before landing on a figure standing too still in the narrow, shared drive between the nearby laundromat and florist’s shop for deliveries. A figure who disappeared as soon as the hunter glanced his way, leaving a vague impression of someone wearing red.

“Good,” Abe said, barely listening to what he was saying. “Uh, thanks for the list, I should…get on that now, for Carla.”

Jackson nodded and waved as he walked away, looking bemused and a little concerned for the hunter. Almost as soon as the hunter disappeared around the corner, the puppeteer jumped at the sudden presence of the man standing next to him.

“Don’t do that!” Jameson signed.

“Sorry,” Jackie said out of reflex, not that it ever stopped him from doing it. He was staring at where he last saw the hunter, the corner of his mouth turning down in a grimace. “Who was that guy?”

“Not sure,” Jameson said. “He was asking about another street performer, a singer, I think. Said someone was worried about him.”

“Just that?” Jackie asked, and Jameson shrugged. “…Okay. Let me know if you see him around again, maybe I can help him find what he’s looking for.”

Jameson paused, wondering if he was reading too much into Jackie’s expression and tone of voice, but the vigilante shook his head and picked up the folded stage.

“We should get back,” Jackie said. “I left Chase trying to convince Y/N to wear their collar and go for a walk.”

“Oh, that would be nice!” Jameson signed. “I certainly don’t want to miss that.”

“Great, then you can be the one to tell them about the leash law,” Jackie said, waiting for Jameson to pick up the rest of his materials before motioning for him to lead the way.

Behind Jameson, Jackie shot one more look at where he lost sight of the hunter. He’d have to ask Jameson a few more questions about what, exactly, the hunter had said, and maybe encourage him to set up his act somewhere on the other side of the city for a while. Better to have to get a ride from Chase than to risk running into that man again.

---

Red.

He was sure of it, the person watching him had been wearing red. He hadn’t been able to make out anything else in that split second, but did he really need to?

Google. That thing was watching him, had to be. Probably whatever magic kept him running also made it easier for him to get around without being noticed, or maybe it was a special feature whoever he was working for had added on.

The longer Abe thought about it, the surer he was, until by the time he returned to his office he was furious enough to punch the tin can man, consequences be damned. The fact that his walk around half the city failed to turn up the Host or seemingly anyone else who knew the guy, and he was not in the mood to find someone waiting outside of his office again.

A fact the young woman who looked up and saw him coming seemed well aware of, as the second she saw him she stopped leaning against the office door and rubbed the back of her neck with a heavily-tattooed arm.

“Sorry, think I’ve got the wrong place,” she muttered, already stepping aside to go around him.

Abe sighed and said, “Well, if you were looking for someone who knows what he’s doing, I think you might be right about that. Still willing to give it a shot, if you need help with something.”

She hesitated, giving him time to look her up and down. Short dark hair, young enough to be in her late teens or early twenties if he had to guess. Despite the cold weather, she was wearing a sleeveless top over her ripped jeans, which showed off the full spread of her tattoo sleeves. The ink on her dark skin was dominated by images of waves and schools of fish, to the point the sleeves would have looked just as at home on the arms of a sailor.

“I was told you could help with…finding something of mine,” she said, unable to completely hide her doubt.

“You know I’m a hunter, right? I don’t usually look for things.” Someone sent her here? Carla, maybe, he had asked her to keep an eye out for any potential cases, but of course his luck meant she would she show up now.

“I know, I wouldn’t be here at all if—” she stopped herself and took a breath. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I can’t go to anyone else because…It’s complicated.”

“I get that a lot,” Abe muttered. As much as he didn’t want to, he already knew where this was going. “We can talk about it in my office.”

She nodded, and it wasn’t until after he unlocked the door that Abe thought to say, “Right, sorry about the mess.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she said, not even blinking an eye at the state he’d left the place in this morning. Still, she waited until Abe sat behind his desk before she slowly sat down in the opposite chair, her arms pulled in tight around her. “Like I said, I need help getting back something—something very important to me. I know who has it, but I’m afraid if I try to get it back myself, he’ll…”

She swallowed, hard, and not for the first time Abe thought maybe he should try to keep tissues around here. Then again, she looked closer to being sick than actually crying.

“You know this guy?” Abe asked.

“I thought he was a friend, he thought we were something else,” she answered. “Still does. This is just a stunt to keep me from leaving, or maybe he’s just being vindictive, but either way I can’t risk getting it myself.”

“And this thing he stole would be…?” Abe asked. Kind of an important part of this, after all.

She swallowed again and hesitated, eyes searching him as though trying to find some clue whether she could tell him or not.

Abe returned the stare, before his eyes drifted back to the tattoos on her arm. Loves the ocean, a guy steals something so personal from her that she can barely speak of it, can’t take it to the police…and suddenly it became a story he’d heard too many times before, usually after it was too late to do anything about it.

“Your sealskin?” he asked, and her expression answered for her. A selkie, a seal who could remove their skin and pass for human. Without that skin, she couldn’t change back. “Let me guess, you’re not registered with the city.”

She shook her head. “Couldn’t afford it, and the job at the bar, they don’t really like…my kind. Not human...Are you going to report me?”

Report her, and by the time she was done dealing with the aftermath, wannabe boyfriend would have had enough time to hide the skin or sell it on the black market to the highest bidder, if he didn’t just shred it out of spite.

“Where’s he live?” Abe asked.

Meri, that was her name, was surprised when the hunter returned under an hour later. It helped that the guy lived only a ten-minute drive away, and Abe was lucky enough to find him at home and willing to share where he had hidden the skin, or at least he was after Abe may or may have taken the opportunity to work out some pent-up aggression.

If she noticed the hunter’s split knuckles, Meri immediately forgot them the second she saw the smooth, dark pelt he held up. Her eyes watered as she smiled for the first time since she got here, and Abe rocked back on his feet as she tackled him in a hug.

“Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you,” she said, repeating the words over and over again as she pressed her sealskin to her chest, and now she really was crying and Abe really, really needed to invest in a box of tissues.

“He’s going to report you, you know,” Abe said.

“I know,” she said. No matter how he went about getting the skin, they both knew that’s what the outcome of getting it back would be. A guy like that didn’t just stop, even if Abe left him with a few things to consider. “I was already planning on leaving the city, I just couldn’t go without this. I know someone who can help me get through the watch on the harbor, and from there…”

“Well, good luck with that, and here’s hoping you never have to see me again,” Abe said.

She smiled, and for a second Abe was afraid she might hug him again. Despite her size, that last hug had threatened to crack his spine. Instead, she settled for another round of thanks before walking out of his office, leaving him to sigh and hunt down some ice for his knuckles.

If only all of his cases were so easy to take care of, Abe thought to himself as he glanced at the clock. Looked like he had just enough time to get a nap in before nightfall, when he’d take a drive around a certain neighborhood. Spotting the doctor leaving his home or returning in the morning seemed like too much to hope for, but at least it would make a change from staring at the door to the clinic all night.

Both would be a little more bearable too, after that little reminder that he could at least get something right every now and then.

((End of Part 14. Thanks again for reading! Sorry that I haven’t been responding to the comments--it’s really, really hard not to spoil stuff! I have seen them though and it sounds like a longer part is okay, so that’s what I’ll do for tomorrow. Can’t wait for you all to see where that one goes. :)

Edit: And here’s the link to Part 15: Going for a Walk.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Another Word for Family - erasermic

Title: Another Word for Family

Rating: M

Pairing: erasermic

Word Count: 10k+

Summary:

Shouta would never forget the way she’d whispered, in a voice that made it sound like she was on the verge of breaking apart from the inside out, face pressed into Shouta’s shoulder, thank you.

The words were haunting, as if she’d never expected to be saved, as if she never thought they’d keep her, as if she was still down there, in those dark labs, arms covered in bandages, being torn apart. 

Notes: A fic for the lovely @corndog-patrol for our server’s giftswap, who probably had no idea that I would somehow combine all of their prompts (1. Sexiest Mic Ever, 2. Dadmic with Eri, and 3. Erasermic formal wear) into one fic. I know you said no rats or you would scream, but there’s no way I could resist that. Please don’t yeet this into the void before giving it a chance, lmao. Love you!

Read the full fic on AO3 here

Another Word for Family

“She seems upset.”

Shouta’s thumb slips where he’s feeding his baby blue silk tie through its knot. He licks his bottom lip, tasting a bit of mango from the chapstick Hizashi had less than subtly thrust his way once he’d stepped out of the bathroom, the blond’s palm scrubbing over his freshly shaven face. Hizashi had said, “Soft…” before sliding the pad of his pointer finger across Shouta’s mouth, and continuing with, “Unlike other things.”

Now, he turns around, pulling the tie through and smoothing it down against his dress shirt. Hizashi is standing facing the full length mirror, eyebrows pulled together in contemplation, green eyes shining more than usual with the thin line of glimmering gold eyeliner penciled along his upper lid. They’re downcast, though, seemingly staring at his equally metallic oxford shoes.

The last time he’d worn them, Hizashi’s face had been dimpled by his stretched grin, eyes curved up in little crescents, happily tapping the hard soles against the wooden floor of their living room. It had been their anniversary, and Shouta had decided that while he may have said he hated the shoes when his husband practically pressed his face against the display window in the mall, he quite loved the way Hizashi’s smile seemed to inch larger and larger each time his feet skipped across the floor.

That was the thing about being in a relationship, something Shouta quickly learned the first time he felt himself falling in love with the other man, it wasn’t about you anymore.

Humans are inherently selfish, but Shouta would give Hizashi everything he had, and when he had nothing left, he’d go find more just for him, all for him.

Shouta walks across the room, coming up behind his half-dressed husband, Hizashi’s shirt still hanging on the back of their closet door, along with at least seven other options. It’s times like these Shouta is happy he only has about three suits, and that his hero work bulked him up enough that formal wear was one aspect of Hizashi’s closet he couldn’t really slip into with the blond’s penchant for wearing everything very tight.

Shouta slips his hands through the space between Hizashi’s arms, pulling the other man against his chest as he rests his chin on the blond’s bare shoulder. His palms go to Hizashi’s lightly fuzzed stomach, stroking over the soft skin.

Maybe he couldn’t fit into Hizashi’s clothes like he could in college, but he sure as hell had plenty of fun appreciating the way they looked on his husband’s body.

One of Hizashi’s hands comes overtop his, and the other reaches up to stroke through Shouta’s hair.

“Who is upset?” Shouta asks. “Right now, it looks like you.”

Hizashi snorts lightly, a forced, sarcastic laugh. He sighs out heavily afterward.

“Eri.”

Shouta’s teasing smile drops off his face, his body straightening up to look at Hizashi in the mirror.

“What makes you say that?” he asks.

It had been a little over two months that the girl had been living with them as an official member of their family. Before that, she’d been living at the dorm, hospitals, and being traded around between the teachers. She certainly spent a fair amount of time at Shouta and Hizashi’s house, but never permanently, never as part of their household, not really. It took a lot of paper work and house visits, and more than one very difficult meeting with the adoption representatives in which they discussed the morbid possibilities of their chosen professions, but they’d finally adopted Eri.

Shouta would never forget the way her eyes spilled over with tears, the way her cheeks flushed red with joy as she laughed and smiled and hugged them both with a grip tighter than he knew was possible from a girl her age.

He’d never forget the way she’d whispered, in a voice that made it sound like she was on the verge of breaking apart from the inside out, face pressed into Shouta’s shoulder, thank you. The words were haunting, as if she’d never expected to be saved, as if she never thought they’d keep her, as if she was still down there, in those dark labs, arms covered in bandages, being torn apart.

In that moment, he’d looked to Hizashi and saw a harsh determination in those eyes. It was one he hadn’t seen since the man was a boy, shorter, lankier, face shoved into the pavement, speaker prototype crushed beside him, staring at Shouta from across the alleyway where their first internship experience had gone more than a little bit wrong.

I’ll get us out of here, he’d promised, blood spilling out of the corner of his mouth, mixing with the gravel.

He did.

Shouta didn’t have to voice his thoughts, 10 years of marriage made silent communication easy.

We’re not done rescuing, he’d thought. We still have to save her.

Hizashi’s eyes bore into his, answered, we will.

Shouta sighs, steps back from Hizashi, using his hands on the other man’s stomach to turn him around. Hizashi looks sadly up at him from beneath his long lashes.

“I know,” Shouta admits. “Some days are good...but…”

“More days are bad,” Hizashi finishes. “Anymore, at least.”

“She seems to be getting more distant again, like she was when we first took her from Overhaul. I thought she warmed up so much...I don’t know why she’s reverting…”

Hizashi shakes his head, stepping around Shouta to sit on the bed. He lightly clicks the toes of his shoes together, a sad half smile flicking onto his face for a moment.

“Do...do you think it’s us? Or…”

Shouta narrows his eyes, assessing the slump to Hizashi’s shoulders, the way his arms are held tighter against his sides than usual. Everything about him screams defeated, insecure.

“Or what?” Shouta prods, already knowing the answer.

“Is it me?”

Shouta opens his mouth, rebuttals piling up inside his throat one after another, but Hizashi holds up his hand and closes his eyes.

“I just...I know I’m not doing anything wrong. I know. I don’t mean that I think she hates me or something, but she doesn’t seem comfortable with me the way she is with you. Her face lights up when you come home...she wants you to read her stories...she brings her drawings to you first. It’s just…obvious she prefers you.”

“That’s not…” Shouta shakes his head. “That’s just because I was on the rescue mission. She prefers Midoriya to the other students as well because he saved her. That has nothing to do with who you are...it will fade.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I just wish I could make her feel safe and happy.”

“You do.”

Hizashi opens his eyes and gives Shouta a soft smile, but it doesn’t feel confident.

“I just worry that the reason she’s becoming more distant is because you’ve started picking up more patrols and I’m home more than you now. Maybe she just doesn’t feel comfortable with me.”

“That comes with time,” Shouta insists, sitting down on the bed beside Hizashi. He reaches a hand over to grab Hizashi’s hand, squeezing gently.

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to not warm up to you,” Shouta says. “I certainly did, and believe me, I tried very hard to ignore you.”

Hizashi laughs, a genuine, rich, charming noise. It makes Shouta’s heart pick up a bit, makes his skin feel a little warmer, relaxing into the sound.

“I’m serious,” Shouta says, leaning over to kiss Hizashi’s cheek. “Even if she’s still a little guarded around you, it will go away. She has a home now, for the first time, and that’s going to take some getting used to. Having people around her constantly, having someone excited to see her, interested in what she’s doing, that’s all foreign to her. I’m...calmer...you know? It’s easier for her to relate to.”

“Are you telling me I have to be quiet, is that it?” Hizashi’s pout is over the top, exaggerated in a way that lets Shouta know he’s kidding, teasing, that Shouta’s words are making him feel more like himself again.

“Well, a little quiet couldn’t hurt,” Shouta jokes back, sliding his hand around Hizashi’s back to place it on the blond’s still bare hip. He pulls Hizashi toward him, into a half hug.

“We’re a family. It’s not about you or me. It’s about us. All of us. If she’s sad, that’s on both of us. We’ll help her, we’ll fix it. She’s still recovering and it’s our job to make sure we do whatever we can to help that process be as painless as possible,” Shouta says, rubbing his thumb into Hizashi’s side soothingly. “But we’re all recovering. So it’s okay for you to have off days too.”

Shouta knows this part is important, makes sure Hizashi’s eyes are focused on him when he says it, because the other man had a tendency to put everyone else’s needs before his own in a way that sometimes became unhealthy. He also had an insane ability to manifest self-guilt out of seemingly nowhere, over seemingly nothing.

“She loves you.”

“I know,” Hizashi says, and his voice is confident, clear. A smile sits comfortably upon his face and Shouta feels himself exhale.

“Okay, now are you going to let me go to this fancy award show of yours with my hair the way I want it or are you-”

“No way! I’m doing it!” Hizashi jumps up, his energy rebounding spectacularly.

Shouta sighs, but it’s fake, and the quirk to his lips makes that plenty clear as Hizashi runs to the bathroom to grab a brush and some hairbands.

He leans back on his elbows, staring up at the ceiling with a half-smile on his face, listening to the sounds of his husband rummaging around in the drawers.

Slowly, though, his smile drops off as his mind wanders to Eri. Was she doing alright getting ready? She’d insisted on picking out her own clothes, but had hesitantly agreed to allow Hizashi to do her hair as well. Shouta bites at his lower lip.

Hizashi had been doing her hair since before they’d adopted her. Some days she’d practically skip over to him in the teacher’s lounge with a hand full of colorful clips and bobbles that one of the students had bought her.

So why had she looked so unsure of herself when they’d offered to help her get ready for the event tonight?

The door to the bathroom swings back open and Shouta is torn from his thoughts, watching as Hizashi approaches with a smile and a bottle of hairspray.

“No, no, no, none of that!” Shouta protests, sitting back up, glaring at the metal spray can.

“But it’s humid today! They’re taking pictures outside when we arrive!” Hizashi defends as he sits down on the bed again.

“I don’t care. That stuff is so hard to get out.”

“I’ll get it out for you!”

Shouta raises his eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Hizashi says, smirk on his face, as he drops his voice lower. He leans close, chest pressed against Shouta’s upper arm and shoulder as he whispers into his ear. “I’ll lather it up real good, my hands massaging your scalp, sliding through your hair, then down your neck, your back, your-”

“Okay, okay-” Shouta gasps, pushing Hizashi away. “Save it for later. We’re running out of time.”

Hizashi laughs, sitting back a bit. “Since when do you care about being on time to these things?”

Shouta looks away, to their slightly cracked bedroom door and the hallway beyond it.

Since Eri.

“I just want to get this over with,” he says instead, not wanting to let Hizashi know he shares the other man’s concerns about their new daughter’s emotional state.

“Fine, fine,” Hizashi says and begins brushing out the tangles in Shouta’s hair. “I’ll make this quick.”

Shouta leans into the touch, closing his eyes. As tense as he was feeling right now, this was always relaxing. Hizashi had an amazing, gentle nature.  

If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up being lulled to sleep like this.

Then we’d never make it to the award show, he thinks.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

Read the rest of the fic here

[haledamage]

“Is that my shirt?” from the fluffy prompts, please!

Kai found Edér outside, chopping wood in the midday sun. Two of their dogs, Lady and Bear, lounged on the porch, and she leaned against one of the support posts near them to keep them company and enjoy the show.

While she’d forever be grateful for his presence at her side, him and his larder door standing between her and the gods themselves, Edér really was at his best here on their quiet little homestead in Dyrford. They certainly had enough work to keep them from getting bored, but the stakes were considerably less apocalyptic. It was peaceful. Kai didn’t have much experience with peaceful, and she was pretty sure he didn’t either, but they were learning together.

She let her eyes follow the arc of his spine as he brought his axe down on another log. She’d never allowed herself to admire him this openly in the past; he was her best friend, it didn’t seem right, but now… just when Kai thought she’d seen it all, life found new ways to surprise her, and the recent developments in their relationship were a very pleasant surprise.

Edér really was breathtakingly beautiful. He’d eschewed a shirt, or maybe just gotten rid of it when the day’s heat became too much, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the miles of sun-bronzed skin on display. He was built like a man who’d had to work hard every day of his life, solidly muscled and effortlessly strong and so much bigger than she was. It made her a little giddy if she thought about it too much - or maybe she just needed to get out of the sun.

A cool breeze blew through, interrupting her reverie and tousling her already wild hair. She turned to face the wind so it would at least blow her hair away from her face, and as she did she caught sight of a green flannel shirt on a hook next to the door. That must be Edér’s missing shirt.

Kai glanced over her shoulder, but his attention was still fully on his work. She grinned to herself as she took the shirt off the hook and pulled it on. It was almost as long on her as the dress she wore, and she had to roll the sleeves up a comical amount just to be able to uncover her hands, but it smelled like him - pipe smoke and leather and a hint of something summery and distinctly Dyrwoodan, like honeysuckle and pine - and it was nearly as warm and comforting as the man himself.

She went back to the post she’d been leaning on before, but this time he must’ve seen her out of the corner of his eye because he lowered the axe and turned in her direction. She waved at him, and he dropped the axe entirely to come join her in the shade of the porch. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” he said, his smile even warmer than the sun. “Done with your meetings?”

“For now. Kurren wants me to come to Defiance Bay. They’ve got a case that he thinks could use a Watcher’s eye.” It had been a few years since she’d worked at Dunryd Row; she wasn’t entirely sure how Kurren had known where to find her, except that he was a very good detective.

“Makes sense.” Lady stood from her napping spot and pressed her wet nose insistently into Edér’s hand until he scratched her ears. “We can talk to Vela, see if she wants to stay in town with her friends or come with us. Should be able to leave by--is that my shirt?”

“Is what your shirt?” Kai replied, eyes as wide and innocent as she could make them, but her smile betrayed her. “And here I was hoping this was for my benefit.”

“My shirt?”

“Your lack thereof,” she purred.

She’d never seen Edér blush before. He turned the most delightful shade of pink, all the way down to his chest. “You’ve seen me shirtless before, darlin’. Loads of times.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, but I never took the chance to properly admire you. It was improper.”

“Never? Not even a little?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, maybe once or twice. I’m shy, not dead.”

“Yeah?” He took a step closer, and the smirk he gave her did nothing to cool the heat settling under her skin. “You like what you see?”

“You know I do.” She clenched her hands by her sides in an effort to resist reaching out to him, now that he was close enough to touch. “I did then too. Not that I’d have ever admitted it, even to myself. You may not know this about me, but I can be a bit…”

“Reserved?”

She laughed. “That’s a kinder word than most would use.” She looked down at her feet. She could feel herself blushing, but she still asked the question burning in the back of her mind. “Did you? Ever sneak a peek? All those years sharing a tent or a room, all the times you bandaged my wounds for me…”

Edér watched her face very closely, like he thought it was a trick question. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“That would be a bit sanctimonious of me, wouldn’t it?”

“Sure, but that ain’t what I asked. Of course I looked. Every chance I got. As you said, I’m not dead. Not shy either.” He took one of her hands, lacing their fingers together. His thumb caressed her palm in tiny, maddening circles. “There was a time, when we first met, that I thought maybe you and me… but then we got to be real good friends. I knew one night with you would never be enough, and I ain’t ever been the marryin’ type, so I let it go. Forgot about it.”

“And now?” It came out barely more than a whisper.

“Well, I was right. One night sure as hel ain’t enough. As for the rest…” he took the hand he was still holding and lifted it to his chest, pressing it over his heart, “you’ve got a habit of provin’ me wrong.”

“Is that your way of asking me to marry you, darling?” The words were out before she could stop them, and she bit her lip before she said anything else.

Edér thought about it a moment, then shook his head, “Not yet. Someday. Hel, maybe someday soon.” His smile was a sweet, delicate little thing, shy despite his insistence that he wasn’t. He took another step closer, close enough that Kai could feel the heat rolling off of him. “Is that something you’d want?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” She was so surprised to hear herself say that that she paused to really think about it, but it remained true. “I’ve never been the ‘marrying type’ either, but… it’s different with you. Everything’s different with you.”

“I know everyone says we’re basically married already, but I don’t want to rush this. You mean too much to me to risk ruinin’ it like that.” He chuckled, but it sounded unusually nervous. “Though I’ll admit, the thought of hearin’ folks call you ‘Mrs. Teylecg’ makes my stomach do somersaults.”

“It would be Lady Teylecg, actually,” she said, and the words made her own stomach fill with butterflies. “I am still a thayn after all, even if I don’t have my keep anymore. You would be too, if you married me.” She tried to say it casually, but it came out much too serious, so she added, flippantly, “Quite the upward mobility, darling. From farmer to Lord of the Vale before you’re forty.”

“Huh. I never thought about that.” His eyes went distant and she could see the wheels turning behind them as he figured out exactly what ‘Lord of the Vale’ might entail. She was certain it was much less dramatic than whatever he was imagining.

“Well, consider it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his attention away from his thoughts. “I can understand why it would be a bit off-putting.”

“No more so than anything else we’ve done,” he said, and just like that his smile was back. “You destroy a cult, you hunt a god, everything else feels like child’s play.”

“It certainly gives you a sense of perspective.”

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but their lips met in a lazy kiss, as slow and steamy as the summer air around them. They stayed there for a long time, neither in any hurry to get back to the work they should probably be doing. Eventually, they were interrupted by the dramatic sigh and cold nose of Bear, who had apparently decided it was her turn to be showered with attention. They gave her her due and let the heat that had been building between them dissipate on the breeze. At least for the time being.

“Hey, Kiki?” Edér asked, once the dogs had been appeased. “Could I have my shirt back now?”

Kai had forgotten she was wearing it. She started to reach for the hem to pull it off, but a different idea came to her suddenly. “Nope.” She grinned and slipped out of his arms, putting the dogs between herself and her dearest friend (boyfriend? Lover? One of these days, she should really figure out what to call him). “You’ll have to catch me first.”

She only made it two steps before he looped an arm around her waist, and she shrieked with laughter as he swept her off her feet and carried her into the house.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{January Collection} #21

Ocean Floor

Theme: Multiples Monday

I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea.

January isn’t typically considered “beach weather” but Monica has a hard time saying no to people.

Jokingly, sure, it’s usually the first word out of her mouth and is often met with a cocky grin or a knowing smirk. But when Abe Sapien asked her if she would accompany him to the beach, the first word out of Monica’s mouth was--

“Me?”

Abe Sapien hadn’t smiled at her incredulous expression; rather, he blinked those curiously bright eyes, leaving Monica to marvel at the sideways lids that moisturized eyes capable of seeing at the deepest depths of the ocean.

The reason he hadn’t smiled is because he had been confused.

“Yes. Why not you?”

“Isn’t the ocean...more Dot’s thing?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to have things anymore.”

The third voice to join the conversation was by far the deepest; far more gruff, and rumbled like brimstone over dragon scales. Monica turned in surprise to find Hellboy, known more intimately as Anung Un Rama, towering behind her. His cigar glowered dully, and as she stared up at him that massive stone right hand came up, pulling the cigar from red lips, his brow lifting and forcing a reply from her.

“W-What do you mean?”

“Dot said you guys aren’t supposed to have things anymore,” Anung rumbled. “You two are supposed to share everything, right?”

“W...Well, yes.”

“Then you can take Abe to the beach.”

It was cold, but that didn’t seem to affect Anung or Abe. Anung was still in his BPRD shorts, his cloven hooves bare and his brown trench billowing in the sea spray. Abe wore matching shorts and nothing else, leaving Monica to marvel at a body she hadn’t realized was more muscular than movies made him out to be. Abe was also tall, nearly locking shoulders with Anung--which was a feat in and of itself. Brilliant sea-green gills worked, drawing moisture out of the air like magic. Abe took a deep breath as Monica watched, his broad chest filling with sea foam.and his eyes drifted closed in silent bliss. Abe truly was of the sea, of the water, and around them the setting sun kissed the waves so they glittered as if made of diamonds. The sand slipped between Monica’s toes and she glanced down, wiggling them so the painted nails dipped beneath the silk-soft grit. Standing between Anung and Abe, Monica didn’t fear the large body of water. It’s unexplored depths hid monsters and ghost ships but on it’s shore, it seemed a lover to her, beckoning with each swell and receding as if to say, chase me, chase me, catch me if you can! It flirted with her, the waves crashing together in displays of raw power and playfulness, wanting her to be apart of their eternal dance.

The sun was a beautiful compliment to Abe’s smooth, silken skin, but it betrayed a battle-worn body that was still recovering from fresh wounds. Bullet holes on his chest and abdomen, and even one on his thigh, were still on the mend, covered by bandages and his left bicep was wrapped to protect open wounds from the sea spray and infection. The duo’s latest mission with the BPRD had left Abe a little worse for wear but he hadn’t complained once; Monica was learning that simply wasn’t his way. It wasn’t Anung’s either; the big lug griped a lot during the missions, but Monica found it was more his way of letting off steam so he didn’t get burnt out doing what the world needed him, needed them to do.

Monica folded her arms against the breeze but she had no complaints. Anung noticed her movement immediately, as he always did, and moved closer. Instantly the wind ceased, blocked by that wall of a body and Monica couldn’t help but lean a little closer. Anung was a walking furnace, his body a betrayal of his birthplace; heat seemed to radiate off his brilliant crimson flesh and Monica took comfort in it. That doomed right hand remained at his side even as his left arm swept around her, pulling her beneath the hollow of his shoulder and into the warmth of his trench. Anung was always careful to keep Monica to his left side so she always had his softest side; he could protect her with his right hand, use it like a shield if necessary (and he had for her before, on missions she’d accompanied him on) but the fact of the matter is he liked her on the side he could feel her. He could feel her with his left hand, the soft, hesitant touch as she gave in to his proximity. He never could get used to how small she was, how she fit so perfectly against him. He was never more grateful for his lack of dress than when Monica entered his life, as her touch was soothingly cool against his ever-raging flesh. Anung’s dull, yellow gaze lowered from the ocean to the top of Monica’s head and he lowered his, bending that proud spine to kiss the top of hers even as his smooth tail wrapped around her calf, squeezing with possessive rhythm against her.

“Will you walk with me?” Abe turned to face Monica, immediately committing the sight of her looking so small inside Anung’s coat to his impressive memory. Monica nodded, and Abe held out one of his webbed hands to her with a full-lipped smile. “Thank you. She’s anxious to see you, again.”

Monica knew from experience Abe was speaking of the ocean; he talked about the ocean as if she were a living thing and she knew he wasn’t the only one who did so. Monica likened it to a relationship between mother and son, and the fact that Abe wanted to bring her back to the ocean again touched a curious place in her still heart, melting it even as she placed her hand in his.

Abe sucked in a small gasp at the contact, and Monica could hear and feel the curious crackling arcing between her skin and his; she knew what it was, knew Abe was an empath and knew he was connecting to her more and more as their skin touched. She didn’t mind, and he loved it. He gasped every single time they touched, unable to get used to the way it felt to be so connected to the woman he loved. His webbed fingers cupped hers, possessive in the same sense that Anung’s tail was still wrapped around her calf. Abe’s eyes roamed her face, searched her expression even as he read her emotions like the books he devoured in his spare time--but as he read her, so could she read him. She could hear him admiring her in his head, felt the way his heart was hammering against his chest at her close proximity. She wanted to shy away from his thoughts of how beautiful she was, how she stole his very breath, how even the ocean couldn’t compare to her, but she couldn’t let go of his hand. All she could do was turn her head, out to face the sea again, wrapped up in her very own BPRD coat and flanked on both sides by two monstrous men who coveted her above all else.

The ocean was warmer than she would have expected it to be. It rushed up the sand to kiss her toes and she made a quiet squeal of surprise, her hold tightening around Abe’s; he returned the contact with a smile, pulling her a little closer to kiss her forehead.

“I told you,” he murmured. “She’s happy to see you.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Anung asked, cigar flaring to life between his teeth. He had his hand in his pocket, but that tail kept it’s hold on her the entire time and there was a hard edge to his deep voice, as if he wasn’t above fighting the ocean and everything within her for Monica’s attention.

Abe ignored his apeish partner’s tone, too busy enjoying Monica trusting him enough to walk a little ways into the waves at his side. He was in front of her, holding onto both of her hands as the waves brushed past his knees. He kept her in the shallows, so the water caressed along her ankles, her calves, and only just met her knees. She kept a tight grip on his fingers as they went but Abe never failed her; he murmured encouragements and every time she looked at him, he was smiling. A glance up at Anung would make him smile, twisting that stone resting face in a way only she could. The ocean sizzled as it came into contact with Anung’s fiery flesh and his hooves splashed a little as he went, the ends of his trench soaking wet because he wasn’t allowing for much space between himself and Monica--Abe wasn’t going to steal her away to the ocean floor without him. He’d been down there before, he’d do it again if it meant spending a little more time with Monica.

On some level, Monica knew this was therapeutic for Abe. After missions he normally spends time in his tank, recovering from his injuries and taking a break to rehabilitate himself if need be--but the ocean seemed to be the best way for him to detox. At least, that was what she’d thought.

“Nothing compares to you,” Abe interjected, picking up on her thoughts easily. They were still hand in hand, after all. “I don’t even have my nightmares anymore.”

Monica didn’t know how to respond to that, ducking her head shyly just in time to see a colorful little fish dart between her legs, curious to see who big brother Abe brought to visit.

“The sun’s goin’ down, Abe,” Anung reminded, nodding his head toward the horizon. “We don’t want her catchin’ cold, she just got over hers.”

Abe nodded; of course he would never risk Monica’s health and he was feeling immensely better already. “Of course, of course, let’s get you out of the water.”

“I-I’m okay!” Monica interjected, looking between Anung and Abe. “This is good for Abe, r-right? I’m not cold.”

“That’s just because I’m here,” Anung swept his arm around Monica’s waist and immediately she was flooded with warmth, heat. “See.”

“Well, if you’re here then that means I can stay out here longer.” Monica countered, using her logic to help balance out her emotional need to be here for Abe. “Abe’s having fun, and so are you! That’s important.”

Anung lifted his gaze to Abe. “Can you believe her? This isn’t even a fairy tale, some legend or some shit. She’s just like this. A literal angel, surprised she doesn’t burn my damn skin when I touch her.”

Abe was staring at Monica with his heart in his eyes, and his hands connected to hers made her well aware of the loving nature of his thoughts. He felt the same way Anung did, and Monica would have been blushing had she the beating heart to do so. It was hard enough to take all this emotion as it flooded her, surrounded her as the ocean was--as Anung and Abe were. Abe could hardly believe he wasn’t in a fairy tale, some story he’d fallen asleep reading adrift in his tank, of a princess falling for a frog that could no longer be a man True love’s kiss is fabled to be the cure for anything and Abe was in the mindset to test that theory. In an easy stride he closed the distance between himself and her, moving her hands to his injured chest only to bend his spine, eyes searching hers for a moment or two before he kissed her in the ocean waves.

The best medicine isn’t sleep, it isn’t laughter, it isn’t even home.

It’s love.

[5lbsofsmarties]

A Lion Still Has Claws - Three

Word Count: 3486 A Game of Thrones AU - Part 3 of ? Once again @ryanhayword is the best ever.

No matter your title or stature, while being in King’s Landing you were never truly alone. There were eyes and ears in every bend of the corridors within the Red Keep, and just as many on the streets of the city itself. Someone was bound to be watching or listening and the truly off putting fact of the matter was that you could never actually be sure who was watching you and for what reasons. For that fact alone, it was extremely difficult to feel at home or even have a sense of privacy even within your own bedchambers or suite within the Keep. It seemed as if no matter where you went, even if you thought you were alone, someone was there or knew exactly how to find you.

The gardens had always been your favorite place to be in all of King’s Landing. Since you were a small child you liked to run and play in between the flowers, bushes, and trees. It was some of the only real adventure that you were allowed to have. You could remember when you were only six, hiding with Gavin in a particularly thick patch of flowers surrounding a fountain while Ryan looked for the both of you. Ryan had been in the middle of a riding lesson with the Stable Master when Gavin had gotten the bright idea to throw pebbles at him. One small stone that you had thrown had nicked the horse that he was on right by her ear which had spooked the mare and she threw Ryan right off of her back to the ground below.

Ryan spotted the both of you giggling from behind the stables and charged after you. When he finally found you in the gardens, he’d given the two of you - mostly Gavin - a good wallop upside the head.

You really could not help but smile a little to yourself at the memory as you perched yourself on the edge of the fountain, allowing your fingers to gently dip into the cool water behind you. Your eyes slowly slipped shut and you angled your head back just enough to feel the warm caress of the sun against your skin. The mixture of the refreshing water and the balmy sun was the perfect combination for a sense of relaxation and peace that you hadn’t felt in a while. Realistically you knew that by simply being born into the Royal family of Westeros that you had no real reason to complain about. There were people living in King’s Landing who had much harder lives than you could even fathom.

The hardest decision you had to make from today going forward was who you were going to marry.

The sound of footsteps against the stone walkways found your ears but it was the sound of someone calling your name that roused your attention. You quite deliberately lowered your head and peeled open your eyes to see Ryan coming up the path with a man that you were sure you had never met before at his side. He was definitely shorter than your brother, the top of his shaved head just barely reaching the bottom of Ryan’s neck. He was wearing a deep black doublet with a jerkin made of black leather and studs of polished iron all over the quilted pattern sewn into it; you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the heat in all of that dark clothing. You dragged your hand out of the water and carefully got to your feet as the pair of them approached you.

“Y/N, this is Jeremy Dooley of the Iron Islands. Jeremy, may I introduce, my sister Y/N, princess of the Seven Kingdoms,” Ryan introduced.

You wanted to laugh at the obvious discomfort in not only Ryan’s tone of voice, but also his body language. You knew that he truly hated the formality that came along with the family you had been born into. He would much prefer to be able to come and go and do as he pleased. However, you shook your head to rid yourself of the urge and looked back at Jeremy with a polite smile. Jeremy stretched out his hand and very gingerly took hold of yours to lift it up and press a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

“Your Grace,” Jeremy said as he lowered your hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

With a small curtsy, you nodded and smiled at Jeremy, “The pleasure is mine, Ser.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ryan attempting to hide his smile, but instead of ignoring it like you really knew that you should, you turned to face him. “Dear brother, it seems to me that you are finding all of this to be quite humorous. If only you could go off and find someone else to bother in our small corner of the world,” you said smoothly, blinking slowly up at him. Ryan only chuckled and raised the both of his shoulders in a shrug of indifference. “You know it would be improper of me to leave my sweet younger sister, the princess, alone with an eligible suitor. Think of the whispers,” he teased with a deep laugh.

You let out a small huff of a breath, gave Ryan a hard look, and turned back to meet Jeremy’s gaze. “Lord Jeremy, if you would be so kind, would you accompany me around the garden? It seems as though my brother is intent on being an intrusive little prince,” you suggested, tossing a playful smirk in Ryan’s direction.

Jeremy only laughed and nodded his head before he extended his arm for you to take, which you gladly did. Your hand wrapped securely around the bend of Jeremy’s elbow and he placed his own hand delicately over your bandaged one. The two of you turned and slowly began walking in the opposite direction of Ryan, off towards a different fountain further in the gardens. There was a bit of silence that had settled slightly uncomfortably between the pair of you. After a moment or two, Jeremy paused and you noticed his hand come off of yours to go to the belt at his waist.

“Your Grace,” Jeremy started to say but you held up a hand. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion at your motion. “Please… Y/N is just fine,” you told him with a soft smile. Jeremy returned your smile and nodded his head slightly. “Right, Y/N… would you mind terribly if we had some wine?” he asked as he pulled a wine skin off of his belt. You couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight; you knew full well that you definitely should not be drinking at midday in the middle of the gardens. But you thoroughly enjoyed Jeremy’s brashness and lack of concern for the thoughts of those wandering and curious eyes around you.

You shook your head and motioned for him to continue, “By all means.”

Jeremy took a small step to the side and used his head to nod towards a bench at his side, shadowed by a large tree. You took his lead and walked over to sit yourself down on the carved stone seat, laying your hands in your lap as Jeremy took the spot to your right. Jeremy unstoppered the skin and handed to over to you. “Ladies first,” he said with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You could only roll your eyes slightly as you took the offered skin and raised it to your lips.

After you took your drink and handed the skin back, you eyed Jeremy for a moment. “How are you liking King’s Landing? It must be very different from the Iron Islands,” you asked as you leaned back slightly. The rigid stone back of the bench pressed against your back and you could almost feel the hot prick of the rock through your dress, but the cool breeze that gently shook the leaves overhead was more than enough to distract you from that slight unpleasantness. Jeremy hummed to himself in thought and leaned forward to rest his arms on the tops of his thighs as he stared out of the gardens in front of you.

“It’s certainly warmer here than it is at home,” Jeremy said with a small chuckle, “And there is quite a bit more fanfare in these parts than the Iron Islands.”

You snorted back a laugh, raising a hand to cover your mouth and nose in an attempt to stifle the noise. Jeremy’s head snapped to the left into your direction and let out a boisterous laugh of his own. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head as you lowered your hand. “Shut it, and hand me that wine,” you snickered, holding a hand out to beckon the wineskin from Jeremy. He chuckled lowly to himself and handed the drink over. You grasped the skin in your hand and raised it to take a long sip. “I will say, however, there is much better wine down here in the South,” Jeremy said.

His hands grasped at the tops of his knees and sat up a little straighter as he leaned back on the bench, allowing himself to relax ever so slightly. You smiled and nodded your head as you looked him over. “The Arbors make a fine drink,” you grinned, taking another sip and letting out a happy sort of hum.

Finally, after a few moments, you let out a low breath, “Lord Jeremy… I take it you know why my father wanted us to meet.”

“He’s looking for a proper match for you. Which, unfortunately, I am not,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You raised a single eyebrow in Jeremy’s direction, unsure of what he meant. It wasn’t as if you were clamoring to get married as soon as possible, but you weren’t sure what it was he meant that he wasn’t a match for you. Jeremy must have noticed the look on your face and he let out a low chuckle as he reached out to take the wine from you again.

“On the islands we have what we call our Rock Wife, an Iron born woman to marry and raise your children, and our Salt Wives, women we steal when we go and pillage. You cannot be my Rock Wife, you’re not from the Iron Islands. And I’m sure that if I tried to steal you away from the Keep I would be run through with a sword,” he explain with a grin before taking a large gulp of wine, “So, I’ve mostly come to the city for the free food and drink.”

There was a brief pause as you thought over Jeremy’s words before you let out a loud laugh of your own, doubling over at the waist. You wrapped your hands around your middle and ducked your head down enough hide your grinning face from Jeremy. It was refreshing to hear someone be so honest about their intentions in King’s Landing. You took in a deep breath as you straightened yourself up and placed a hand over your chest as you looked back over at Jeremy. “I don’t think I’ve laughed like that in ages,” you sighed, smoothing out your dress.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” Jeremy grinned, shaking his head from side to side.

From behind Jeremy, the way that you had come from, you could see Ryan along with Ser Adam approaching the pair of you. You sighed and looked over to watch them with curious eyes. “Your Grace,” Ser Adam greeted as he stopped in front of you, “Lord Jeremy, my apologies, I’ve been sent to take the princess to her royal apartment.”

Jeremy got to his feet and put the wineskin back onto his belt before holding out a hand to help you to your feet, which you gladly accepted. “Y/N… I’ve had a lovely time speaking with you,” Jeremy said as he took your hand once more to press a kiss against it, “I hope you find your match, Princess.” You smiled warmly and nodded before stepping forward to press a small kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you, my lord,” you said as you took a step back.

Ryan came forward and held his arm out for you to take, which you did, and the pair of you started to walk behind Ser Adam. You’d barely taken a handful of steps before Ryan looked over at you with a smug sort of look on his face. “So, you won’t be marrying Lord Jeremy, then?” he asked with a grin. You rolled your eyes and shot back a slight sneerful look in his direction. “I’m glad you find this whole thing funny, Ryan. However, could you for once just be a kind brother and not an idiot?” you asked, nudging his side with your elbow.

“You’re not the only one who needs to marry someone, Y/N. We all have things we must do. You should be thankful that mother and father are allowing you to pick whom you’re to marry,” he said, glancing down at you.

As you approached the holdfast, you sighed softly and shook your head. “This is all nothing I want, Ryan. I don’t want to be shopped around to every eligible man in the Realm. If I marry, I want it to be on my own terms, in my own time,” you tried to explain. Ryan nodded his head and gently patted the hand you had on his elbow. He let out a low breath and looked around the area you were walking through. Ser Adam stopped just outside the door leading to the tower and stood to the side. Ryan stepped forward to open the door for you to pass through. Once inside the tower, the door closed loudly behind you and Ryan; a sudden silence filled the air surrounding you.

“I know you want to be kept in the loop with all the goings on but you haven’t been,” Ryan started as he lead you to the stairs, “So hear me now. There are murmurings of possible rebellions and father is trying his damnedest to keep a hold on the Throne and assuage the worry of the people. He needs us to do our part - all three of us. It may not be how you like, Y/N, but it is how it needs to be done.”

You stopped your walking at a landing in the staircase and turned to face Ryan with a truly shocked expression on your face. How could your father keep this from you? Sure, you knew you were but a princess, but if he needed this to happen he could have been honest with you. You let out a low sigh and began to fidget absently with the bandages on your hands. “If keeping appearances and becoming betrothed was so vital, why did you let Gavin and I scheme to get me into the tourney? You could have refused us,” you asked cautiously.

Ryan shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle, “No, I couldn’t have. After that tourney in Oldtown where I was gravely injured, mother refused to let us do anything she considered dangerous. Gavin was no longer given leave to ride off and go where he liked, I could no longer compete in tourneys, and you… you were held on an even tighter leash. Mother knows your spirit, Y/N, because it was her own.

“She may not have been one to act so recklessly as you, but she’s seen what can happen and it scares her. I knew that if I had told you no, you would have found a way around it and it wouldn’t have been as safe. I wanted you to experience something of your own, see what you’ve been missing, and maybe then you’d get it out of your system and see where mother and father are coming from.”

You leaned back against the wall and stared at your brother for a few beats to simply mull over his words. You were quite a bit younger when Ryan got hurt in the tourney but you could remember mother not leaving his side, how she would fuss if you and Gavin were too rambunctious when you came to see them. She must have been terrified that her eldest son was so hurt in what was meant to be a silly competition. Finally, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around your brother to embrace him tightly, an embrace he quickly returned. As you pulled away, you looked up at him with a small smile on your lips.

“You know, if you were this nice all the time Gavin and I wouldn’t be such little twits to you all the time,” you teased as you playfully nudged him the shoulder.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed in your direction and you immediately recognized the look, making you take a few small steps backwards. “Ryan… don’t,” you admonished him. Your back foot lifted up onto the step behind you and you dropped your hands to grab hold of your skirts and hoist them up enough so that they would not impede your movements. In a flash, Ryan had all but launched at you and you whipped around with a peel of laughter as you hauled yourself up the steps.

You could hear Ryan calling after you but as you reached the proper landing you could see the door leading to your royal apartment. “Get back here,” Ryan shouted, his words echoing off of the walls around you. You could only huff out a breathless laugh and push yourself to run faster. You felt your hair jostling and your hairnet falling loose but you paid no mind as your curls fell and landed upon your shoulders. As you advanced on the door, it suddenly opened and Meg stepped out into the hall. You had to slow yourself down so that you would not run headlong into her, and ended up bumping into the wall by the door, bending in half and heaving in an attempt to catch your breath.

Ryan came barreling around the corner and skidded to a stop nearby when he spotted Meg there watching you with amused eyes. “Lady Meg,” he greeted, breathing heavily and falling against a pillar. Meg could only laugh and roll her eyes at the pair of you, she had grown quite accustomed to whatever nonsense you and your brothers could get up to. “Your Grace… your queenly mother has brought by a gentleman for you to meet and break bread with. But it seems you need to freshen up slightly,” she said, picking at a strand of your hair.

You laughed and waved her off with your hand, “I shall be fine. That hair net made my scalp itch.”

Meg laughed again but led you into the solar where you spotted a man in a green doublet and a bright white jerkin standing by the windows overlooking the Blackwater. “Princess Y/N, may I introduce you to Ser Trevor of Highgarden,” Meg said, her voice catching the man’s attention, “And Ser Trevor, it is my honor to present you with Y/N, princess of the Realm.”

The man in front of you was dashingly handsome; he stood taller than even your brother and his dark hair was swept up, out of his face giving you a look at his dark eyes. You couldn’t help but smile shyly as he stepped confidently over to where you stood. “Your Grace,” he breathed, lifting your hand to his lips. You were sure you could feel the heat through the bandages. He eyed your wrapped up fingers with a sad sort of look on his face.

“I hope you are healing just fine, my lady, such an injury has no place on one as radiant as you,” he said as he flashed a brilliant smile.

You were sure that your heart had stopped beating for just a moment inside your chest and you hadn’t a clue what to do at that point. From behind you, Ryan cleared his throat and stepped closer to the pair of you. “So nice of you to join us, Ser Trevor. It seems as though a light meal has been brought up so why don’t we sit and chat? I’m sure my sweet sister would love to hear about your exploits at this last tourney. You came close to winning, yes?” he probed before turning to sit at the large wooden table in the middle of the room.

Trevor moved to pull out a seat for you and shook his head, “I did, my lord. I came in second to a mystery knight who, sadly, unhorsed me in the last round of the joust.”

[gabrieltheamazing-blog]

Call the angel

my laptop is getting cleared so im putting this on here

_____

"Friday… why can’t it be Friday…”  I get out of bed and try to find the right clothes, today is the day I go to my transfer school after a break and I’m not ready for the pain, and suffering… ok its bad but I don’t think that bad, kids at my old school made fun of me all the time. Now it’s mostly just my accent they mock, but hey I’ll take that over how it was before any time.    

‘Mum, have you seen my black coveralls anywhere? I can’t find ‘em?” I shouted downstairs, “Yes, I put them on your chair, but you put your coat over it.” I looked and sure enough it was. I pull them on after my… other stuff… yha, find my checkered shirt, nothing says ‘don’t look at me’ like black and white clothes. Old vans and my dingy green bomber that has half a dozen pins on it, well it's not that bad, just not the newest one out there.  

I head downstairs and put together my pack for school. I’m almost out the door when my mum stops.

“Gabriel, come here love.” I head over worried; she never uses my full name. “don’t let them bring you down today, you’re my son, and I couldn’t lose you.”  

I softly smile at her, “I won’t let em, trust me.” She nods her head, “good, and don’t forget your wallet dear.” I grab it and show her I did and stick it in my pocket and head out.  

Nothing like a day of hateful teens and one that matters. And that one would be, well, my boyfriend. Yha, shocker I'm gay, anyway school is about 3 blocks and I don’t feel like driving my scooter there. Nothing says bully me like a white and gold scooter.  

---

I finally make it there, not that long a walk but its warmer than it was before but the schools always a temperature to make you cold. I walk down the halls trying to stand up to my full extent, I'm 5' 6" but I wear insoles because I’m a prick and why the hell not. So thank god I’m about as tall as everyone else. I see him down the hall, Yonnei, ma boy, lovely boy, I walk quicker to reach him and quick slam into him last second when he sees me. "HEY, got you mate!" I smile at him and take a small step back, "Why you gotta be like this.." He looks at me disappointed then grins and reaches out for a hug that I gladly give back.

We wander around for a little bit and I got to observe him in side glances, his sliver hair is always one of my favorite things, his glasses the round ones he custom got and I think makes him look fine as hell... but he always does. Before I can keep looking he notices and gives me a questioning look, "what are you doing?" He asks softly. "nothingg, just uhhh, admiring the view." I grin at him and he smiles and shakes his head at me. I laugh lightly and we stand in our stairway, the one that leads to the basement because we don’t want to be interrupted or stared at.  

"Hey..." I quietly get Yonnei's attention, he raises his brows then furrows them looking at me tilting his head in that slightly puppy way. "What's up?"  

I shift from foot to foot and rub my head, "It's Just... well do you know what day it is?" He looks confused for a second then looks at me and grins slowly, "I think so. Why what day is it?"  

I reach into my pocket and pull out a pin, on it says 'cutest person' with an arrow pointing to the wearer of it. "Oh, my goddd." He laughs and tilts his head back with it, I grin, "Do you like it? I had to get it online, almost ran out."  

"Yes! It's great." He pins it onto his jean jacket and smiled, he pulled me into a hug that I happily returned.  

"Well, I'm glad you like it." I tuck my arm through his and we walk off slowly to the direction of our first hour classes because we know the bell will be ringing soon anyhow. As we walk we run into a few kids that are taking up most of the hallway, and they seem like they won't move at all. They ignore us and talk loudly amongst themselves.  

"Excuse us." I say loud enough that they can hear me. They at look us up and down and make a face of disgust. I try lower my voice, so my accent is more prominent, "Sorry lads, are we goin' to 'ave a problem?"  

The one blocking the way the most grunts and moves out of the way. "thank you, that wasn't that hard was it." I say and walk through with Yonnei behind me. Under their breath I hear one say "fag..."

If there is one thing that turns my blood cold is that word. "Fuck you say?!" I whip around and give an almost snarl.  

"You heard me, it's just gross, not natural." He says and makes a face, I stand up and Yonnei holds onto my arm, I look at him and he gives me a look of, 'don’t do it' because if anything I overreact when someone says something mean. I shake my head at him and turn away and I see him smirk and look at his friends.

"Yha, that’s right, go with your gross boyfriend and-" as he says gross, he shoves me and Yonnei forward, and before he can say anything more Yonnei whips around and punches him square in his nose.  

"Yonnei! What are you doing?" I exclaim and look shocked as they pick him up and haul him away, most likely to the nurse then the office. He grunts and flexes his hand that has bruises that are already forming and blood, some from the kid, some from his two busted knuckles. "Come on, let's get that fixed, and going to the nurse isn't a good idea right now..." I take his other hand and hold it in mine, despite the fact that he just punched someone, holding his hand still gives me feelings of pure joy. Anyway, back to the wound.  

We go into the men's bathroom and I drop my bag and search through till I find gauze and a padding it use under it. "Are you mad?" Yonnei asked me with what first seems like anger then I look at him and see he's worried, my face softens from the annoyed expression I didn’t know I was holding.  

"No, I'm not mad, not at you. I'm just pissed and... sad at those guys and how, stupid they are."  I give him a tight smile and take his hand to wash it in the sink to get the blood off it and cool it down. He flinches but nods me on, I grab a paper towel and pat as much dry as I can. Then I place the padding down and wrap it up.  

"Hey, why do you have gauze in your bag?" Yonnei questions and softly flexes his hand, "Uh, special effects bag." "Ohhh, makes sense." We smile at each other and I pack my bag up, thankfully no one comes into the bathroom as I quick lean in and give him a small kiss that he returns.  

"Ok, should we report them to the office orr wait it out?" Yonnei asks skeptically and looks at me.  

"Oh, you want me to decide? Mate, you know I' m bad at decisions." I look at him back.

"Maybe we should ask the group?"  I thought about it for a moment. "Mmmmm, I guess that seems like a good idea."

We made it down to the table where the gang was sittin' and started to ask what they thought. Jack said we should tell the reason to administration and get our story in before they get a bad view of us. Makes sense, with his frizzy and wonderful big hair, he seems to be the peace type and he is, Mac said we should wait it out, but he's so scared of conflict I don’t know what to do with his advice. Indigo was next, she first sided with Jack but then added that maybe we should just call our parents and tell them and head home after that.  

Right as we were going to head to the office, an office member came down to our table and looked at me and Yonnei skeptically, "Are you two Gabriel and uh, Johnson?" Jack looks confused and says, "Wait, who's Johnson?" I glance at Jack and he gives me a look of 'you got this' with mild confusion. We both nod and she ask us to come with her.  

__

We get up and walk with her to the office, worry runs through me, but we are in the right anyway. As we get closer I see them sitting in the office with the principle and the one that was punched is now holding an ice pack too his face and under it I see a bandage covering it. That's so lame, there wasn't even that much blood from it, Yonnei got it much worse and didn't even get to go to the nurse yet.  

We come in and sit down, them on one side of the room, us the other. The lady who led us here walks out and the principle sits forward in his chair and looks at us.  

"So, gentlemen why did this happen? I have already here their side of the story, what's yours?"  He looks at us waiting for a response. He's looking at me funny, I can't tell why...

"They called us a slur and we tried to stay neutral, but they didn’t let up. He was harassing us, so I stopped him."  Yonnei calmly replied and looked at the principle right in the face.  

"Well, Johnathan here told me that he said hi and you yelled at him to move and when he didn't fast enough you punched him." He pauses for effect and starts again. "So either one of you are lying or something is not adding up." I sit forward and look Johnathan in the eyes, he tries to hold it but looks away quickly.  

"Sir, he called us a slur and then when we asked for him to stop and let us through he did. But then called us... disgusting and shoved us." I paused before saying disgusting to try and control myself, "So Yonnei was defending both me and him."  

He looks at us skeptically and looked back at Johnathan, "Alright boys, were going to interview you individually."  

--

It's 2nd hour now, they are so slow with interviewing us all, because it's that important. I texted Jack asking if anything was happening in the normal world when the door opened and Yonnei came out and they called me in.  

I sat down and waited for the principle to come back in, when he did he started out with something I didn’t expect. "So, we called all four of you parents in, Johnathan and Will said more of their friends were there but didn’t do anything. Uh, Yonnei" he said his name funny and awkward, "Said they didn’t do anything too but didn’t help either." I looked at him indifferent and remembered back to last year.

Something you should know about our school is that when we had a week for LGBT and most everyone in the school was indifferent about it or was happy for recognition. But as it was happening and we who are in that were just having a good time, Mr. Hate over here, yha that was kind of lame nickname, decided to end it early.  

Now I don’t know exactly why, but I heard from a girl that was leading it he said something along the lines of "we shouldn’t give these weirdos too much attention." Yha, idiotic.

As he finishes up talking about who knows what I hear a knock on the door and the secretary pops in, "Gabriel, your mom is here now." She says to me and smiles and nods to the principal. Something he didn't expect is that my mom is head welder at Samson's CO, so when she walks in that door dresses in a worker one-suit that smells like hot metal and burnt fabric he isn't ready to talk with her.  

My mum sits down with I look that say she could kill him right then and there and turns and looks at me.  

"Are you ok sweetie? Not hurt?" Her voice is strained like it usually is when she's been yelling over machinery and now because I know she is risking a lot coming in on trainee week.    

"Now, Mr. Lark, what is so important that you called me in even after I said I cannot leave work? Because right now there is about 20 new workers at Samson's that have no experience and are waiting for me and only me to come back. No one else can work with them."

He adjusts his papers and sits up straighter, every man I've seen talk to my mum thinks they can talk down to her or she won't fight back. Mostly it's because she's about 5'3" and looks like she weighs 95 pounds. But she can be very scary.  

"You see ma'am," she looks at him pointedly when he says that and in response he shifts in his chair, "your son and his friend, Yonnei, were in the hall harassing other students." "Oh. Were they now?" She turns to me, "Gabe, love, tell me what happened." I explain what happened like I did to Mr. Lark and when I finish she turns slowly back to him.  

"So, let me understand, you let your students bully and won't believe what my son says at all? Why's that?" She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms, brows drawn together and a look ready to kill.

"Well you see, some students has the tendency to, well, follow the wrong lifestyle and it-" "Wait, lifestyle? What do you mean 'lifestyle'?" He shifts and his eyes flicker around not settling anywhere.  

"Well, it's only my guess as to why your, son was being picked on." He takes a breath and licks his lips nervously and continues, "Well, we can't stop students from being, open in their choices and many don’t approve of such things."  

Mum turns to look at me and I look back at her the same way, disgusted.  

"Are you telling me that my son and his boyfriend were bullied because they are gay? And you can't do anything about it?" She sits forward in her chair and juts her chin out in question.

"Well, I...I wouldn’t say they are, gay. I mean if you just didn’t try and be a boy this wouldn’t happen." He points at me and I give him a look he flinched.  

"I am not 'trying' to be a boy, I have been my whole life, and if you want proof look at the school records and my driving license, it says male and there." I speak with gravel in my voice and so much poison in my tone the words almost burn my lips.  

"How dare you attack my son like that, Gabe, come with me, we are talking with those boys now."  

We walk out and stand in front of Johnathan and Will, my mom waves Yonnei over too. They both sat up more and looked at her.  

"So, you two got anything to say for yourselves?" She questioned and waited for an answer, both looked at the other.  

"They were provoking us, we were just defending ourselves."  Johnathan said, with a hint of smugness.

"Really? And what did they say to you dear?" She said her voice raising an octave and her Scottish tone coming out, commanding the truth... or commanding weird looks from the kids.  

"Exactly my point, you did the wrong thing and called then names, just say so and we can all leave, and you won't be in more trouble." She said and waited, they said what really happened me and Yonnei filling in a bit more and they were scolded and dished out ISS, in school suspension if you didn’t know. They left and my mum pulled us both into a hug and asked if we were ok. After reassuring her, many times she left back to work and we got to go home for, 'recovery from harassment'.

__

We decide to stay together and go to Yonnei's house and chill for the rest of the day. We arrive and head to his room, it is all a cream-ish color with one wall chalkboard that is covered in drawings and sketches with one corner in the bottom having messages I wrote to him. You wouldn’t even know it's there because he had to cover it with a poster of the flash, so his mom couldn’t see it, she didn’t exactly know that me and Yonnei are together... or that he's into guys.

When he came out as bisexual to her she went crazy and just, was horrible. After that we were careful to never let her even think there was anything more between us.  

He took his bag off and tucked it next to his desk, I put mine against the bed and flopped onto it and closed my eyes relaxing. I heard him switch the tiny projector on and felt the bed dip where he lied down next to me.  with my eyes still closed I reached over and pulled him closer into me, he softly laughed earning a grin from me.  

"Hey, you alright?" I ask Yonnei and open my eyes looking at him. He turns to look at me briefly looking everywhere all over my face then back to my eyes, "Yha, I'm fine now...Why do you ask?"  I shrug and rest my head on him.

"I just didn't want them to get to you, it's stupid and they are stupid." I smile softly at him and he returns it. I look at his fascinating eyes then down to his lips, my eyes darting back up hoping he didn’t really see that. I don't think he did considering he is looking at mine. He carefully tilts his head down to mine, and i gently stretch up to meet his. Suddenly my phone buzzes loudly and I groan and pull it out, Yonnei jokingly rolls his eyes and lays back down watching the projector. I answer my phone, the call from my transition therapist, the one from my old town, odd she'd call, it must cost a far bit to call from Scotland.

"Hello?" I reply with, "Hello Gabriel," her accent is thicker than mine, I forgot she can't speak English as well as me.

"Sorry" I say switching to Scottish, "What’s up?" I hear her almost sigh on the other end.

"I was calling to let you know some information about back here." There was the sound of papers rustling on the other end and then the phone clinking against her ear again.

"I know you won't like to hear it, but your uncle had come into my office the other day and demanded that he talks to you. Would you like me to play a recording of what he said?" I sigh slightly and drop my head back, seeing Yonnei look at me slightly funny with a smile, I guess loud Scottish can do that to someone.  

"Yes, go ahead, I assume it's from the uncle on my dad's side?"  

"Yes, I wanted to make sure, it is quite rude and wanted to let you know." I tell her again its ok and she plays the recording. At first its muffled and sounds like someone is moving the device under a piece of fabric then it's clear and rudely loud.

"I want to speak to my niece, where is she?" The loud rough sound of his smoker voice comes through my phone, feeling like a curse. Yonnei looks at me questionably knowing the sound of his voice and checking if I’m ok. I nod and take his hand to hold and he gently squeezes it.

"Alright sir, what is her name?" Ms. Kurter, the therapist asks, she doesn’t know my uncle that well or that he is talking about me.  

"******, her name is ******." I hear a pause and my therapist taking a deep calming breath.

"Sir, that is Gabriel you are talking about, he is not a female. If you wish to speak to him, you will have to make a call. He is still in America with his mother." I smile at how well she explains it and corrects him properly. But it doesn’t last.

"That’s idiotic, she is just a faker!" He switched to English, "Fake you 'ere? Fake! If I evea see 'er again ill show 'er how we treat boys!" The recording end and I tell my therapist yes I will be ok and that her for letting me know of this.

I hang up and toss my phone to the side and Yonnei looks at me worried. He heard the English part of it and i can tell is bothering him, he doesn't want to say anything though.  

"Don't worry." I say and open my arms to a hug, that he happy falls into, "I don’t look or sound like a girl at all, it doesn’t affect me." He sighs deeply and returns the hug.

"I know, but it's still mean, and I remember back when you just started testosterone was so scared for you because it was so easy for people to hurt you... I still worry all the time something will happen to you."  He held on to me and rested his chest down again.

"No, I should be fine, but sometimes things get to yeh." We lay there for just a but before I feel his head tilt like he wants to say something. I tilt down to look at him more and he could apparently feel me move and turned his head to look up at me. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met and he pushed himself up and high so now we were eye to eye. Mine flickered around his face taking it in and rested last on his lips. Slowly, his head dipped down to mine, and I reached up to meet him halfway and I don't feel fireworks. I feel a rightness, the perfect fit of my lips against his, and how I could live off the joy from being so close to him.  

Once we both pull back i can't help but smile and he does too, laughing softly.  

___

It's dark, I can barely see, I can only feel the whisper of damp hot air across my exposed neck, I walk forward slowly, not trusting this area that despite all the lights my vison is almost black.  

Surprisingly I see Gabriel, he's looking around in the other way that I am, i walk up to him, "Gabe? Where are we? Why is it so dark..."  

I grab his arm with my hand letting him know it's me and he turns to me, "Yonnei! There you are." He smiles and pulls me along to what looks like a beach side pier, below the waves are softly stirring. He takes my hand in his, its warm and soft witch is odd... Gabriel's always cold and has rougher than that hands.  

without warning he turns to me and kisses me on my cheek, then softly on my neck. I get chills, i shiver slightly from the soft brush of lips moving down to my collarbone. He pulls back and laughs.

Slowly a low sound of heavy iron being dragged across another piece of metal sounds out, making me jump and look around, I can't see anything but when I look at Gabriel my blood runs cold.

He's standing there. But, something is wrong.  

A smile is on his face, but it doesn't seem... Real, like he is looking at someone he hates, its bitter and I want to look away, but I can't.  

I can feel the waves crashing hard, so close, the wind isn't warm anymore.  

Its freezing, what's happening, he's laughing. Make him stop.

I wake up suddenly, it was just a dream, Jesus...  

Gabriel sits up and blinks, eyes barely open. I must look worried because he sits up and gets closer finding my hand.  

"Wot's 'rong love? Somthin' 'appen?" His voice his still slightly heavy from sleep but he blinks again and looks wide awake, I softly smile and squeeze his hand and tell him what happened.

"Well I can tell yeh that I'd never do that Yonnei," he says. I smile and open my arms for a hug, he grins and drops into my arms and I fall backwards with him. Gabriel laughs and pushes his head into my neck, breathing in deeply and it tickles slightly but I smile.

I'm ok. I have him.

_____

I reach out and wrap my arms more around Yonnei, I hug him to me and we curled up together. And I hold him slowly getting tired again. right before I drift off I feel him softly kiss my nose, I half smiled and reach to kiss his neck. I do and I hear him laugh right as I fall asleep. My head crashing into him.  

____

I wake up supriesed and confused to where I am. I don’t smell any home sents and someone is yelling, I instantly turn to flight mode and find a pillow to defend myself. I stop when I see Yonnei lying there looking confused and worried, I settle back down and smile apologetically.

"Mmm, what just happened?" He said rubbing his eyes and slightly laughing. I placed my head next to his shoulder and rested my arm across his chest holding him close.

"Ah, I 'ere voice's yellin' and I panicked for a second. Don’t know why me mum yells all the time."  

[the-jade-cross]

The Lannister Wolf - Part 3 Chapter 3

“I still cannot believe that they haven’t tried to take you prisoner or kill you,” Jaime observed.

Evelyn shrugged as she sat before him, tending to his wounded arm, “They did, but failed.”

Jaime smirked weakly at her reply but hissed when she poured water over his wound.

“When we get to Harrenhal tomorrow, this needs to be tended to immediately.” Evelyn observed.

Jaime rolled his eyes, “I doubt Locke and his friends would allow their prisoner to get medical treatment, considering they either rape or remove a limb from their prisoners.”

“You know, your hand is not a limb. You still have the rest of your arm, “Evelyn observed. “I could have been worse.” “How?” Jaime snapped.

Brienne was about to scold Jaime for being rude when Jaime felt a chill run down his spine as the stranger looked at him from within the depths of her hood.

“Your head could have been removed,” Evelyn pointed out with a deadpan tone in her voice.

Jaime looked down, suddenly feeling guilty.

“The Kingslayer makes a valid point though,” Brienne intervened. “How will he get treatment when Locke will not even let him near the fire for warmth?”

Evelyn smiled and while the two couldn’t see it, they sensed mischief radiating off the mysterious stranger.

“Locke cannot deny you treatment if you aren’t his prisoners.”

Jaime frowned, “I doubt he is going to free us.” However, Brienne caught onto Evelyn’s plan. “You’re going to take us prisoner from him?”

Jaime’s eyes suddenly widened and he tried to scoot away from Evelyn, “Why would you want us as prisoners?”

Evelyn chuckled, “I have no need of prisoners, which is why I will set you free the moment you two are safe and cared for.” “but why?” Brienne insisted. “Why spend so much time and effort helping us, to not get anything in return?”

Evelyn smiled, “Closure. That’s what I get.” Brienne and Jaime looked at her confused, but Jaime yelped when Evelyn pulled him back in order to rebandage his hand.

“Though, if you do want to do something for me, you could relay the message.”

“TO whom?” Brienne asked, wholly intrigued.

Evelyn finished tying Jaime’s bandage and set about using the rag and water to clean off the mud and blood from his arms.

“Cersei Lannister. Tell her that I may not be the one to come and take her down but tell her that she will pay for the things she has done.” Jaime’s eyebrows shot up in amusement, “Why is it that my sister is on the top of every hit list?”

“Gee,” Evelyn observed sarcastically, “I wonder.” Brienne covered her mouth to hide her grin but Jaime noticed.

“At least there will be one person I’ll get to see when I get home who isn’t on a hit list or out to kill me.” The guy remarked.

“Who?” Brienne teased. “Your stable boy?”

“My wife,” Jaime snapped back defensively.

Evelyn felt her heart freeze. He didn’t know…. H didn’t know she ran…. He didn’t even know that she had been with child at the time she left…

“How long has it been since you were home Kingslayer?” Evelyn asked.

Jaime pursed his lips in thought, “Almost a year and a half…. Maybe twenty months.” Evelyn chuckled, “Your poor wife. I hope your sister didn’t try to do anything in those twenty months of absence.”

Jaime bit his lip, “Even if she did, I know Evelyn could take care of herself. She was always able to handle herself without me. Whatever she chose to do in my absence, I know it was the right thing to do.” Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat. Even after a year of being apart from her, after a year of being a prisoner of her brother, after losing his hand and dignity, he still trusted her.

Brienne seemed to notice Evelyn’s interest in the young Stark who had taken the name of Lannister. An interest in a girl she had never met, obviously something Brienne held in common with this stranger.

“it sounds like you love her a great deal,” Evelyn said at last, skillfully disguising the lump in her throat.

Jaime smiled, his eyes drifting into another world with a look of fondness in his eyes, “Aye, I love her more than anything.” Brienne noticed the way the stranger was totally absorbed in Jaime’s words and it confused her.

“I just hope that when I return, she will still love me,” Jaime whispered.

Evelyn smiled, “if this lady was able to make the Kingslayer’s heart skip a beat, I am sure she will love you till her dying breath.” Jaime smiled sadly before turning to look across the camp at where Locke and his men were watching them warily.

“That bracelet,” Brienne said, pointing to the bracelet on Evelyn’s wrist, the only form of jewelry that the stranger appeared to be wearing.

Evelyn looked down at what Brienne was referring to and smiled. “My brother gave it to me when I was but a child.” Jaime studied the bracelet and Evelyn was glad that she never wore it around him and had kept it hidden in her bags until the day she ran away, then she brought it out and hadn’t removed it since.

“Eve!” a ten-year-old Jon called out.

Evelyn turned to see Jon dragging himself through the knee-deep snow which, for little Jon who hadn’t yet hit his growth spurt, was closer to his mid thighs than his knees.

“What is it Jon?” Evelyn asked, sitting up from where she had been lying on her back on her and Jon’s thinking rock, leaving a print of her body in the snow.

Jon finally reached the thinking rock and climbed up to sit in front of Evelyn, “How in the world do you not freeze to death lying in the snow?” Evelyn shrugged, “Maybe I just have a warmer body than you.”

Jon nodded in agreement, shivering. Evelyn scooted over and quickly wrapped her arms around her brother, pulling him into her side and rubbing his arms to warm him up.

“What are you doing out here if you’re so cold?” she asked, blowing warm air on his bare hands to warm them.

“I wanted to give you something,” Jon replied. “I know your birthday was three weeks ago, but this took longer to make than I thought.”

The boy reached into his pocket and drew out a small brown leather pouch barely the size of his hand and placed it in Evelyn’s hands.

Evelyn slowly moved her hands to open the pouch and pulled out what appeared to be a bracelet. Made of pure silver, the top looked like a dragon’s head and from how hard Jon spent on the band part of the bracelet, it looked like he meant for it to look like the tail of a dragon.

“it’s beautiful!” Evelyn whisper yelled, admiring the hard work that her half-brother put into her gift.

“you like it!?” Jon asked, hardly believing his ears.

Evelyn smiled and wrapped her brother in a tight hug, “I love it! I will treasure this forever!”

******

“We may never see each other again,” Nanteza pointed out as she and Evelyn walked toward the stables where the hands had brought out their two horses.

Evelyn nodded as she took the reins of her furry brown horse while Nanteza was handed the reigns of a lovely white stallion.

“That is how life is isn’t it? You meet someone but then you never see them again,” Evelyn sighed. “One of the reasons why I hate traveling because I meet new people but when I return home, I never see them again.”

“Writing is also hard because I live in Dorne and you in Winterfell,” Nanteza sighed, gathering the reins of her horse and lifting herself on with the grace of a dancer.

Evelyn smiled as she lifted herself up, a little less graceful than the slender Dornish girl before turning to Nanteza. “It is just like what you told me last night when we slept in Maya’s room. If fate sees it fit that we meet again, we will run into each other.”

Nanteza smiled, “I truly hope so. You, Maya and Lillia are the best friends I have ever had… not many people want to be friends with a bastard.”

Reaching over, Evelyn patted Nanteza’s tanned hand, their difference in skin tones contrasting before Evelyn reached into her saddle bag and drew out something.

“Here, I want you to have this.” She said, holding something small out to Nanteza.

When the girl looked at the cold metal object in her palm, she saw that it was an arrowhead. Long and slender, not bold and large like a hunting arrow nor incredibly slender and cylinder shaped like a warrior’s arrow but unique and elegant, the two-pointed barbs swirled around the arrow shaft like spiral stairs before disappearing into the end of the arrow where it would attach to the wooden shaft.

“It’s beautiful,” Nanteza whispered, running her fingers over the razor-sharp tip.

“My brother Jon is teaching me how to work with metal and I wanted to design my own arrowheads so when I grow up, my arrowheads are completely different from everyone else’s. Sort of like my trademark!” Evelyn explained. “This is my favorite design. I want you to have it.”

Nanteza smiled, her cheeks heating up at the mention of Jon before she tucked the arrowhead into her pant pocket, “Thank you Eve. I’ll always keep it with me.”

“Hey Warlock,” Brienne whispered, snapping Evelyn out of her thoughts. “We’re here.”

Evelyn lifted her eyes to see that she had been riding on Chance next to Jaime and Brienne who were both hand bound to two separate horses, Jaime flopping forward from exhaustion. Turning to look at where they were headed, she saw that they were riding through the gates of Harrenhal. Good. As they pulled into the muddy, soiled town and Jaime and Brienne were brought from their horses. A man with short greying hair approached them and Locke spoke loudly.

“Lord Bolton, I give you the Kingslayer!” he said, moving to kick Jaime forward but suddenly felt his foot swinging out from under him, the wrong way and he splattered in the mud.

Several of his men tried to hold back their chuckles but when the townspeople laughed, everyone else joined in. Lord Bolton lifted his eyes to see the petite, but intimidating figure move from around the fallen Locke to stand directly behind Jaime and Brienne who were both bound. He had been planning on paying Locke and throwing the two prisoners in the dungeon but when the figure placed a gloved hand firmly on both Brienne and Jaime’s shoulders to offer them support, he reconsidered his actions.

“Who is this?” he asked Locke as the man climbed to his feet, coated in mud.

“Don’t know my lord,” Locke admitted, wiping mud from his face as he glared at the back of Evelyn’s head, “Just came on us in the woods. Threatened to kill us all if we did not bring the prisoners here to be treated for their wounds.”

Lord Bolton raised an eyebrow with interest before turning to Evelyn, taking a step forward but nothing more when he saw Evelyn remove her hand from Evelyn’s shoulder to touch the heavy iron bow on her back.

“Then perhaps you were not the one who brought in our guests,” Bolton said, turning to look at Locke, “Keep your mouth shut and get out of here before you regret living.”

Locke’s eyes widened in shock and scurried back, his men following him as Bolton turned his sights back on Evelyn who had released her bow slowly.

“I take it you want a reward for bringing in these two people?” Bolton asked her.

Evelyn shook her hooded and masked head once, “They are under my protection now. They need food and the Kingslayer needs treatment for his amputation.”

“Of course,” Bolton said, having rethought trying to negotiate with the person when he saw the way the person’s eyes never left his but was aware of all the people around her. “Find suitable rooms for our guests and see to it that they have treatment. We will take later.”

Bolton turned to leave, finding it rather uncomfortable being in the presence of the unnamed stranger when suddenly Jaime spoke, having weakly gotten to his feet.

“Lord Bolton.” He said, causing Bolton to turn to face them. “Any word from the Capitol?”

“You haven’t heard?” Bolton asked, furrowing his brow, “Stannis Baratheon laid siege to King’s Landing. Sailed into Blackwater Bay and stormed the gates with thousands of men… and your sister…”

Bolton, hoping to make Jaime writhe with fear (after all, how could he pass up the chance to belittle the Kingslayer), approached Jaime and spoke softly. “How can I put this. Your sister… is alive and well.”

Brienne frowned in confusion at Bolton’s sudden change in behavior, but then she saw the threatening, warning stance that the Warlock had taken and realized that Bolton had probably seen that and had rethought his last words.

“Your father’s forces prevailed.”

Just then, Jaime’s legs seemed to give out from exhaustion before Evelyn stepped forward and looped one of his arms around her neck.

“Ser Jaime is unwell,” Bolton said, “Take him to Qyburn.”

Three of his guards approached but when Evelyn gave them a piercing glare, they moved to help her but made sure to only touch Jaime enough to support him. Brienne was escorted to a room while Jaime was taken to the healer. Evelyn took Chance to the stables and instructed the stable boy to feed him and from the way the boy avoided looking at her, she knew that she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone mistreating or stealing Chance.

As she left the stables on her way to the healer’s, she spied Ace sitting on a pole nearby. Approaching him, she reached up and ruffled his horned feathers.

“How is Calum?” she whispered.

Ace cooed and the girl smiled. “Tell Zinzi and Lady to stay safe. If it feels dangerous, tell them to move. I’ll come back to you by tomorrow evening.”

The owl rubbed his head against her cheek before flying off. When Evelyn eventually found the healer’s hut, she entered to find the man sitting across from Jaime, unwinding the crude bandages from Jaime’s arm.

Both looked up when she entered, light flooding into the dark room before she closed the door.

“How is he?” she asked Qyburn who gave her a wary look.

“He’ll live. The corruption has spread, I fear it must be cut away. The safest course would be to take the whole arm off.” Qyburn explained.

“Then you’ll die,” Jaime warned. “You are no maester. Where’s your chain?”

Evelyn sighed as she searched through her bag for the thing she knew Jaime would need.

“The citadel stripped me of it. They found some of my experiments too bold,” Qyburn replied. “I can leave your upper arm, make the cut at your elbow.”

Just as those words left the man’s mouth, Jaime grabbed him by the neck with his good arm and squeezed, “I don’t need my right hand to kill you.”

“Ser Jaime,” Evelyn scolded, almost forgetting to disguise her voice. “Let him help.”

Jaime released the man and Qyburn continued. “I can take away the rotting flesh and try and burn out the corruption with boiling wine.”

Jaime nodded in satisfaction, humming at the suggestion.

“With any luck that will suffice but you will need milk of the poppy,” Qyburn told him.

Jaime shook his head violently, “No milk of the poppy.”

The man frowned, “There will be pain… quite a bit actually.”

“I’ll scream.” Jaime suggested.

Qyburn was about to argue further when Evelyn placed her gloved hand on his shoulder and she knelt before Jaime, holding out a small cup of water that had a pink tint to it.

“This will help with the pain,” she explained.

Jaime stared at the liquid skeptically, “What is it?”

“An herb smashed into a liquid,” Evelyn explained. “It was used in the olden days before Milk of the Poppy was discovered. It will numb your body long enough for the maester to fix you.”

Jaime went to object but was met by a pair of shadowed eyes, warning him to not argue and he took the glass, downing the liquid.

Evelyn nodded in satisfaction before turning to the maester who began to prepare his instruments, “I will wait outside.”

The maester nodded and Evelyn headed to the door but not before a weak hand gripped her wrist and she turned to see Jaime grabbing her wrist with his left hand.

“Do you think Evelyn will hate me when she sees what I have become?” he asked her.

Evelyn smiled, feeling tears prick her eyes and thanked the heavens for her hood and mask, “She loves you for who you are. Not for who you aren’t. I have a feeling she will love you even if you shaved all your hair.”

Jaime chuckled softly at the lighthearted tone in the Warlock’s voice and he smiled faintly before leaning back, feeling his body go numb, “Thank you.”

Evelyn smiled, knowing he didn’t see it before nodding and then exiting the building. Cersei Lannister was going to pay for splitting them apart!

[flxwersandgxld]

bloody //if that's okay!! O:

@nullifiziieren ;; DAZAIone word prompts || not acceptingbloody :   my  muse  coming  to  your  muse  with  blood  stains  on  their  clothes  and  hands,  shaking.

When Kouyou received the package she wanted to throw it out. A non-labeled plain box could be a bomb, but the cryptic note attached promised more than a fiery death. ‘ When the fog falls, carry this with you! ‘ was all it said with no sender, but it was clear that it was a message from Dazai.

Who else could send the that man’s clothes, complete with bandages, cottonswab, and a bottle of anti-septic, to her?

Most times when Kouyou comes around to understanding Dazai’s gimmicks, she’s happy. After battling Golden Demon and digging Dazai’s box out of rubble, Kouyou’s not as happy as she usually is. Her ability was back but with nothing else to do there was no choice but to wander towards where she can help. It was a horrible time for a stroll, but with no one else around who was to stop her? (   the cut on her arm stung and her leg screamed in pain but yokohama was still in danger and again, who was to stop her?   )

She wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, but seeing Dazai walking weakly with a tired smile while humming that suicide song of his, she had a feeling that it wasn’t coincidence that they met.

 ❝ Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴜʀᴛ, ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ❞ She should’ve asked what he was wearing, why he was with Shibusawa, but his buckling knees and shaking hands were too difficult to ignore. ❝ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ. ❞ The fact they weren’t all dead by Corruption yet means Dazai found Chuuya before it was too late, and had somewhere presumable safe to stay. A cleared out area between rubble was as safe as any other place in the city, so upon arrival Kouyou figures it may as well be there where Chuuya snores away on debris.

When Kouyou pieced together that it was her job to help Dazai recover she thought he got a cut on his leg or something similar that stopped him from excessive movement. When he strips and she sees his bare back she’s mad at herself, because of course he went and got himself stabbed in the back.

The cut was clean but with the amount of blood that pored from it told her that it went far deeper that Dazai allowed himself to show. How did Kouyou not think that he would do this?

 ❝ Fᴏʀ ᴀ ɢᴇɴɪᴜs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴅᴜᴍʙ. ❞ She’ll acknowledge that the occasional injury is unavoidable in some plans, but never will a stab so close to the heart be necessary. To drive her unspoken point home she uses more anti-septic than needed with more force than needed, attempting to teach him to never even try to worry anyone like that again. Dazai doesn’t so much as flinch, but he felt it and that was enough.

 ❝Cʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I'ʟʟ ʙᴜʀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs. ❞ It wasn’t uncomfortable to see Dazai without bandages, but it was different. It couldn’t have been an intimate gesture as opposed to one that had to be taken, and if it was Kouyou won’t accept. A battlefield was no place for soft gestures and over reacting to seeing his skin wasn’t going to save lives.

No help was offered with his signature bandages, cleaning the open wound was more contact Kouyou presumed he’s ever wanted. Instead she takes the white clothes— half dyed red in blood, bundling them up in one arm. (   all-white was difficult to pull off, the tiniest part of her hopes dazai learned from her how to   )

 ❝ I'ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀɪᴅ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ɴᴏᴡ, sᴀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄʜᴍᴇɴᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ— ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ Cʜᴜᴜʏᴀ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ! ❞ It’s likely that Kouyou just ensured that Dazai will indeed leave him behind, but that’s a bridge to be crossed another day. He’s done winding gauze around his body and now wriggling through his shirt like an infant, and if he was feeling good enough to be childish then she could leave him be. When she gets up and Dazai follows she fixes him with a dry stare, expecting him to stay. Then again, if he did then Chuuya could wake up and beat the remaining life out of it.

So they walked into the city together.

The fire is small and contained in a oil drum but it’s enough to burn white-red cloth to black ash and free Dazai of evidence connecting him to Shibusawa. It wasn’t warm in the least, mist piercing cold as it been all day but Dazai occupying the space next to her made it seem a little warmer.

The weretiger, Akutagawa, and Kyouka all fighting what became of the dragon, and here they were cozing by a dying fire. It was frustrating to Kouyou that she couldn’t do anything to help, frustrations only made worse by Dazai looking almost serene.

 ❝ Yᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ʟᴏsᴇ, ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ❞ It was reassuring, but still stupid. Those three don’t have full control over their powers meanwhile they found something that survived Corruption, and yet Dazai trusts them? How could that be anything other than utter foolishness.

Kouyou fancies herself a rather sharp person. Being caught dim-witted would cost her head, and it’s only her trust in Dazai that irritatingly soothes her nerves. He’s yet to be wrong, and she’s thinking that he’s just going for a perfect track record of being right. 

Still, Kouyou relaxes her shoulders from her stiff position and lift just a bit of her weight off her leg.

 ❝ Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴇxʜᴀᴜsᴛɪɴɢ, Dᴀᴢᴀɪ. Jᴜsᴛ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ Cʜᴜᴜʏᴀ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴏᴋᴀʏ? ❞ It was her way voicing the fact that she believes in him. Chuuya couldn’t complain about being left behind again if those three children lost, so she’ll concede her pessimistic view just this one time.

Just this one time, she’ll trust Dazai to not abandon the mafia, if not just because of the fact that they’re apart of the city.

Just this one time, she’ll let Dazai leave her brother in the cold.

Just this one time, she’ll let Dazai get away with his antics, and let the fact that he sent his own clothes to her house.

(   and next time, she’ll be more gentle with his wounds   )

[trekficsandbobs]

The Captain’s Yeoman (Chapter 4)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Summary: The crew of the Enterprise comes face to face with their attacker whether they like it or not.

Pairing: Jim Kirk x OC

Warnings: language

A/n: I completely re-wrote this to make the conclusion a little more exciting and worth the cliff hanger of the last chapter. Hope you all enjoy.

Words: 1,665

 “Evasive manoeuvres Mr Sulu!” Jim yelled over the barrage of blasts which were rocking the Enterprise.

There were two ways this situation could be perceived. One, that the current onslaught was something of a negative. Or two, that at least now there was some variety in the movements of the attacking ship.  

“Report Mr Chekov” Jim barked at the young ensign, who was furiously tapping at the screen in front of him following Sulu’s commands.

“No deck breaches yet Sir, shields holding at 80%, structural integrity 90%” He replied, “It’s almost as if they do not have the capabilities to damage us as much as we are damaging them.” His Russian accent was much stronger under pressure of a combat situation and his usual hyperactive movements were channelled into his calculations.  

It was true, Jim saw, one of the lights had started to flicker and the combined movements of the two ships were becoming more sluggish by the second. The firing had become more erratic and desperate in their attempt to dominate the highly advanced Starship.

“Lieutenant Uhura, I can’t get hold of Engineering I need a channel” Jim called over to her, becoming increasingly more annoyed at the buttons on his Captain’s chair.

“They’re not responding Sir, I can’t see any faults in the system so I’m not sure why it isn’t working.”

Amelia was stood by Jim staring out into the mess of debris and brightly coloured darts of light which pierced the black of space. She had never been on the bridge during a crisis before. Her heart was pounding and her hearing felt muffled as she stared into through the viewing screen. A hand awoke her from her trance. Looking down she realised Jim had been trying to get her attention. His blue eyes cut through the remaining haze and suddenly Amelia was aware of the piercing sounds of the bridge surrounding her.

“I need you to go to Engineering and find a specialist in identifying ship structures, we need to find a weakness” Jim said calmly. He saw that Amelia was in a state of panic, he’d seen that look before on half the bridge crew - even himself. “Then find me someone who can have a go at identifying any cultural markers on the ships.”

“Sir” she nodded, turning to the turbo lift. Upon pressing the button for the required engineering deck she glanced back onto the bridge at Kirk. He was stood now, leaning over a lieutenant in deep discussion.

His eyes met Amelia’s just before the doors slid shut.

An unexpectedly forceful jolt sent Amelia to the floor on her route to engineering. She managed to catch herself before she hit her head on the cold ground, sending a shooting pain through her wrist and up into her elbow. Rolling onto her back, Amelia clutched her arm to her chest, attempting to breathe slowly until the pain had passed. Tears welled up in her eyes, the pain was unbearable.

Get it together she thought as she lay there, you don’t see anyone else feeling sorry for themselves, you have a job to do.

The whistle from her communicator sounded.

“Yeoman, forget what I sent you to do get to the cargo bay. We’ve established contact, they’re on a shuttle to us now. I’ll meet you there.” Jim’s voice sounded through the speaker.

Shit, she thought as she hauled herself onto her feet.

“Fuck” she said as she picked up the remnants of her PADD.

By the time Amelia had located a spare PADD and run to the cargo bay, Jim, Spock, and Uhura were already there. A dozen security officers were milling about the hanger, phasers in hand. The shuttle which contained members of the opposing crew was made of the same metal as its mothership. No windows, lights, or doors could be seen on the exterior. No signs of life could be detected on Mr Spock’s tricorder.

Jim offered her a smile as she rushed into the hanger, stopping to stand a safe and respectable distance from her superiors. Adrenaline had taken over her body on the way down to meet her Captain, but now it was beginning to wear off, the pain throbbing in her forearm, each time more painful than the last. Her breathing was heavy, and the pain was great, but she had to keep it together for just a bit longer.

Suddenly, a burst of air was ejected from the shuttle. A rectangular outline of white light shone, slowly white light began to fill the space until a solid beam of light was streaming out into the cargo bay.

“Fascinating” Spock said from his place next to Kirk.

“I wish they’d turn the damn lights off” Kirk retorted, shielding his eyes from the brilliant light.

A shadowy figure emerged from the new doorway. Amelia observed that no steps had been made from the door, the inhabitants would have to jump six feet to the ground. She was pondering the reasoning for this as the figure appeared to float the distance to the floor. Glancing at Jim she saw she wasn’t the only one a little surprised at this. His eyes were lit up in an almost childlike wonder at the ability of the visitors.

Three figures stood before the congregation. They were tall, maybe seven foot, if Amelia guessed correctly. They were dressed in long, black cloaks, embroidered with silver patterns in delicate thread. The only skin visible was the head. The attending crew of the Enterprise collectively stared with horror. Their skin was grey, they had no hair, no nose, and no mouth. Their eyes were about the same size of a humans, only they were entirely grey. A cloudy, hypnotising grey.

Amelia was fascinated. She stared into the eyes of the first figure, the pain seemingly dissipating from her arm. She felt those eyes boring into her even though they were not turned on her, similar to the effect of the eyes of the ship they had come from.

“I am Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the U.S.S Enterprise. I represent the United Federation of Planets on a mission of discovery and peace. I am willing to negotiate a cease fire. In exchange, I hope that you will share with us your cultural history for our data archives.” Jim was in Captain Mode. His back was straight, arms slightly outstretched in a demonstration of his trust and good will. Amelia loved watching him in this mode. He was completely and utterly in his comfort zone, he knew how to hold himself to appear none threatening yet strong.

The figures were silent as statues. Not a soul made a sound in the cargo bay, you could hear a pin drop from the other side of the enormous space. The security officers shifted uncomfortably from their positions. Jim, Uhura, and Spock stood with unbreaking glares at the figures, unwilling to break the silence.

Amelia was beginning to feel increasingly uneasy. The grey eyes of the figures seemed to swirl like storm clouds and their silence began to bore into her just as the eyes did. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and heard it in her head.

Don’t look away, she thought, you cannot look away.

A grey hand protruded from the black cloak of the leading figure. It was less a hand and more four long, spindly bones wrapped tightly in grey skin, and it was pointing at Amelia.

Her heartbeat elevated, her head pounded, and the pain in her arm came back at full force. She tried to yell out in pain but she couldn’t move a muscle. She began to feel warm. Warmer than she had ever felt in her life but she felt no sweat dripping from her. Now she knew the eyes were on her although they had appeared not to have moved. Her breathing began to feel constricted, like someone had a hold of her throat. She was aware of the security officers firing at the figures to no avail. She could make out Jim calling her name, whilst Uhura looked on in horror. The world turned dark around her as she lost consciousness.

A storm cloud raged above her. Amelia couldn’t move. She felt lifeless as she stared into the powerful cell above her.

Images began to flash through her head. A city, so bright it rivalled stars; the people were dressed the same as the figures on the Enterprise. Heravic. Their name came easily to her. Figures sat in circles embroidering all manner of things: cloaks, large tapestries, blankets - all with the same patterns as the three on the Enterprise.

The scene began to change, now the city reappeared as a dark and desolate wasteland, the buildings brought low by destruction.

We are all that remain of our people, a voice spoke in her ear, now we search the stars for a new home, a peaceful place where we can die with dignity. Our home was destroyed a long time ago. We had no need for weapons such as yours or theirs. When they came we were not prepared. We were slaughtered in our sleep.

Images of bodies began to swim into view, small bodies clutched tightly to larger ones, some alone.

Who? Amelia asked.

They are long since extinct, and soon so shall we. Do not make them same mistakes as us.

The voice was gone, but the images kept coming. Amelia realised what they were. They were passing their history to her through some sort of dream. The images flashed faster and faster before her eyes until all that remained were two swirling grey eyes.

When she came round, she was lying in the clinical white medbay. Her arm was bandaged and a drip was inserted into the other. A nurse was stood making notes at the end of the bed.

“Mr Spock” Amelia said to the nurse, “I need Mr Spock here now.”

tags: @youre-on-a-starship @feelmyroarrrr @webhoard

[carterashofficial]

Okay so I know at some point last week i know I made a post asking about if anyone wanted a sneak-peek of the Sith!Andronikos/Pirate!Wenia fic thing I’m working on

So here are a few excerpts (not back-to-back bits, these are scattered throughout what I’ve got so far)

She ran after the Sith, his monster no longer hulking behind him, and skipped next to him. “They’ve probably set up a camp near the cliffs.”

He was silent under his dark hood, mouth twisted in distaste. Lord Revel didn’t seem like the talkative sort.

Then she’d talk enough for both of them. “Those are Banthas, Lord Revel, over there.” She pointed the top of a dune, smiling. “They’re-“

“I don’t need small talk or nothin’.”

Oh.

She shut up and plodded on through the sand.

Andronikos watched her suspiciously. She’d moved onto the ship quickly enough, and was politely talking to Khem. He could sense her fearful hesitance of the DaShade.

Khem seemed to be doing his best to make her feel welcome. He’d spent a good while hovering outside the kitchen door once the smell of baking bread filled the ship, until she’d caught him lurking and inviting him to taste a cupcake.

Now she and Khem were involved in their third game of dejarik. She’d won both previous games.

Andronikos wasn’t sure if she was alright or not. Wenia the pirate girl was… not the average pirate. She was too… sweet. Nice. Kind. Innocent. When he’d been told about a pirate girl he’d been expecting a hardened woman he could have some unattached fun with.

She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway and her eyes got huge. “You’re… not wearing your hood.”

“No.” He didn’t need to look all scary and mysterious here on his ship. So he’d pushed the damn thing off.

Either Wenia’s fading sunburn had suddenly gone back to being bright red or she was blushing. “I think I like you better without the hood.”

Heh. Maybe he could have some fun with her if she was going to flirt with him. He smiled faintly and headed to the cargo hold to workout.

“It’s just political shit.” Andronikos fixed his hood and stepped off the ship. “Been told Alderaan’s full of snobs.”

Wenia bit her lip. “Alright. I suppose I’ll stay here.”

“Yeah. Khem’s staying, too.” Andronikos turned and headed away from the ship, knowing that spaceport security wouldn’t dare stop him.

He mapped out a plan to get the artifact as the taxi took him to House Thul.

Figure out where it was, barge in and kill everything, and take the artifact with him. Andronikos thought it was a decent plan.

He entered House Thul and was lead to Lady Elena Thul’s office. And outside…

Andronikos appreciatively eyed the woman standing guard. Sith, wearing a skintight white bodysuit that left only a few key things to his imagination.

He knew she could sense what he was feeling. The woman strode towards him, a playful look in her red eyes. “You must be Lord Revel.”

“Yes.” Business first, pleasure later. “You?”

“Lord Moren.” She slowly let her eyes travel over him. “Your reputation proceeds you. I’ll have to see for myself which rumors are lies and which are true.”

Sure. Fine. He’d admit it.

Maybe it was a good thing Wenia was with him, he thought as she bandaged his arm where the ferizand hound had bit him. Elbows were difficult to look at.

She finished taping the gauze and put the supplies back into her pack, eyes downcast. She was avoiding him.

Good. He didn’t want anymore questions over stupid things. She could just look it up on her datapad. So no more questions. At all.

Wenia’s head snapped up and she turned her head, good ear facing the bushing on their right. “Do you hear that?”

What had he just told himself about the questions?

Before he could push out his senses a tiny little gray blob rocketed out of the shrubbery and latched itself onto her.

He activated one side of his dualsaber and raised to, ready to…

What was that thing?

Wenia smiled as she lifted it up. “Well hello there. You’re an adorable little thing, aren’t you?”

It was a baby rakghoul.

“Wen…” he warned. If that bit her and she got infected…

Andronikos told himself the only reason he didn’t want that to happen was because he didn’t feel like finding someone else who could talk to ghosts. It was the only reason. It had to be.

The rakling chittered and bobbed his arms.

“That’s a baby rakghoul, Wen.” He raised his hand and focused on its mind, ready to crush it so the thing could die.

She clutched the rakling close. “No! Please, don’t hurt it, it’s a baby.”

“It’s a plague carrier, it has to die.”

“No, Nikky- Lord Revel, please.” Wenia stared at him, imploring him to not kill the tiny beast. As if it could sense her mood, the rakling curled into her chest and chittered softly.

Nikky.

A nickname? Did she really like him that much? Or… not, he could remember her giggling it those nights they’d spent together.

He hadn’t minded it then, but now, out in public, him a Sith, her a… a nobody pirate cook, no, he couldn’t have her saying that in front of anyone who’d blabber about it. He wasn’t going soft.

Andronikos realized he’d lowered his hand. “If it bites you, it dies.”

She nodded silently, no longer looking at him as she moved things around in the pack so it could ride in the bag.

“And if it pees on any of my stuff, it dies.”

She’d named it Junior.

Andronikos wasn’t sure why that bothered him, exactly, but it did. The rakling looked nothing like Khem. Nothing at all. And they both knew Khem would hate the damn thing being named after him… Zash might not, now that he thought about it.

Junior was burrowed into Wenia’s hood as she talked to another ghost he couldn’t see.

The padawan, Ashara Zavros, was watching this entire exchange the way one would watch a protocol droid overheat and start running around Kaas city screaming swears in hundreds of languages. She must’ve sensed him looking at her, because she rolled her eyes.

Ah, the Jedi.

So pretentious.

Andronikos flicked his eyes over to Wenia, sensing her needing him.

“A- Lord Revel, the ghost said he’ll join you.”

“Good.” He shook her hand off his arm. “Just tell me where to put my arm, I don’t need you hanging off it like a monkey-lizard.”

That’d hurt her.

And the bad feeling in his gut got worse.

Wenia directed his hand to a very cold part of the air and pressed their palms together. Her eyes flashed purple for a moment, and then his bones were on fire, skull splitting in half, everything screaming and burning and-

Silence.

She’d gone as white as a sheet.

Blood was pounding through his ears. Something… he felt… more. Like there was more to see, more to sense, to feel, to hear… It had to be from the ghost. That was the cool sensation settling in the back of his head.

He pulled his hand away from her and whirled to look at the padawan. She could’ve attacked, but no, she was still right where she’d been moments ago.

She was studying him intently. “I want to travel with you.”

What did he look like, the pilot of a Hutt’s pleasure barge?

“Why?” Andronikos asked suspiciously.

“I see that the Jedi were narrow-minded, and that obviously the Sith have things to teach me. If we work together, we can bring peace to the galaxy.”

Sure. Right. Ashara looked like she was the impudent nagging kind.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. You can tag along.” As soon as Andronikos said those words he regretted them.

Talos Drellik rambled.

Not just random babbling, but full-on, archaeological rambling about artifacts he was mining in the cave and how the writing on them was almost pre-historic. For example, these four squiggles meant that food was stored in the jar, but had another, for a total of five lines, then it was waste, so mixing them up-

Wenia smiled encouragingly as he stopped, self conscious.

Andronikos didn’t like how the archaeologist was looking at her. Not one bit, no he didn’t.

Wenia wasn’t some-

He stopped himself. He wasn’t jealous, hell, they’d ended things. It’d been all one-sided, she’d been the one to get attached, he’d been looking for a romp through the sheets. She wasn’t his girlfriend or nothing. So he wasn’t jealous. Wasn’t jealous at all.

But this Drellik was wasting time with his rambling.

So Andronikos leaned forward and put on his most intimidating look. “So about that ghost…”

He was sticking close to her, not that she could blame him.

Yesterday’s blizzard had them all jarred. Even Drellik’s eagerness was dimmed.

The starship was tucked under a fresh blanket of snow, barely visible.

They entered the ship.

It felt even colder than outside as they navigated the maze of corridors.

Something was watching them.

Wenia spun and stared down the dark hallway.

Nothing.

“Wen.” Lord Revel was looking at her, face obscured under the hood’s shadow, voice… that wasn’t concern, could it be?

“I thought I saw something.”

He stalked down the corridor, lightsaber held high.

Empty.

“Nothing here.” Lord Revel rejoined them and nodded for Drellik to keep leading them to the cargo hold.

The wind hissed through the vents, almost saying her name, calling her to the snow, that she’d be warmer without her coat, warmer barefoot, warmer-

Wenia shook her head and followed Drellik, feeling Lord Revel’s eyes on her.

And that’s some sneak peeks at what I’m writing

Feedback is welcome, but keep in mind that there’s a key scenes and stuff not here, these are just some of the bits that I really really like.

thanks for reading!