#I’m already preemptively irritated because I’ve just had enough

[rawmeanderson]

pretty please ― thursday.

ft. Kevin Hayes.

plot: with Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy all gone from New York and the new season about to start, everyone gets together for a long weekend. warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of anxiety/depression. word count: 4.9k notes: this is a slight AU I suppose, in the sense that the pandemic doesn’t exist here bc escapism, y’know? basically, this takes place in August 2020, where there was no pause and the season ended normally. also, this is kind of forgetting the fact that Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy didn’t live together during the last season they were all together in New York but whatever. Y/N is also plus sized!! title is from Pretty Please by Dua Lipa. there’s also more notes at the end!

Rain was hitting the windshield, the sky gloomy and grey as leaves on the trees outside the car. At least the weather was playing into your mood.

“Last time I checked, this was the only rain we’re supposed to get all weekend thankfully,” Sophie said from the driver’s seat as she adjusted the speed of the wiper blades. When she glances at you, you force a slight smile, nodding in acknowledgement. She looks like she wants to say something else but doesn’t, and you turn your head to look out the window.

The dread and disinterest swimming in your stomach, the car ride that seemed to go on endlessly reminded you of all the times your mother had driven you to your dad’s during the summers. You’d sat in the passenger seat then just like you are now, anxious, irritated, and on the verge of begging her to turn around.

You hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, knowing it was meant to be a last hurrah of sorts. Thursday to Sunday at a lake with friends sounded great in theory, but the changes that would be happening in the weeks that followed were what scared you. The finality of it all.

“I’m glad you decided to come, Y/N,” Sophie told you, and you could feel her glance at you again. She had been your roommate for almost 10 years now, since the start of college, and she knew you were doing your best not to spiral. 

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, opting to nod like you had earlier as your gaze drifted to your lap. Running your tongue along your teeth, you tried to think of something to say that would ease the tension in the vehicle. Un-crossing your legs, you shift in your seat slightly as you hear Sophie exhale a quiet sigh through her nose.

She knows your feelings aren’t personal, that you’re not blaming her for moving on with her life, but your general sadness about all of it weighed on her either way. She was right there, but that didn’t stop the preemptive pangs of loneliness that hit your stomach.

In the last two years, every person you’d spent most of your time with had left New York, until Sophie was the last one. And in two weeks, you’d be the only one left, leaving you feeling as grey and sad as the weather outside.

After chewing on the inside of your cheek for a while, you pick a piece of invisible lint off the fabric of your shorts. You’d meant to buy new ones before the trip since most of your pants cut into your waist anymore, fueling your self-consciousness. “I’ll...I’m sure I’ll feel a little better once we’re there and I’ve been able to take a nap,” you tell her, trying your best to sound optimistic about it. Blaming your bad mood and distantness on being tired, classic.

Sophie glanced at you and nodded, accepting what you’d said despite knowing you as well as she does.

It would’ve been hard to argue about it, considering you’d both been up before 5am to make this 4 hour drive. You’d left the city around 6, the car packed with the bags for the weekend, plus a good number of totes of Sophie’s stuff for Jimmy to take back to Buffalo with him. There was still about an hour left in the drive, and the iced coffee you’d chugged at the start of the drive had done nothing but make your heart race soar as you fidgeted in your seat.

Sophie had always been the early bird, with the two of you poised to be some of the first people to arrive at the lake. Jimmy and one of his buddies had gotten there last night, with everyone else slated to show up in the early afternoon. The only reason you’d agreed to leave so early was because Sophie promised to let you nap as long as you wanted once you got there. You were grateful that would allow you to avoid people for a while.

For what was left of the drive, Sophie didn’t speak, letting you sit there in your tired sadness as music hummed through the speakers.

When you parked at the massive cabin overlooking a lake that stretched as far as you could see, it was still raining. The sky was just as grey, and it gnawed at you, the perfect cinematic backdrop for what felt like the beginning of the end.

Your mood was sour, and as you unfastened your seatbelt to exit the car, you felt goosebumps rise along your skin even though it was warm out despite the rain. The same worry you’d had the whole drive was still swirling through your head, that your mood and your emotions would put a damper on the trip. You hoped that a nap would help calm those fears.

Jimmy was already on his way out to greet you and Sophie, his smile fixed on your roommate as you open the back door to grab your bag. He approaches with a grin as you’re already making your way toward the cabin. 

“Take any room you want,” he tells you, like he already knows that you’re going for a nap. You salute him in acknowledgement, deciding to greet him better later as he continues on to greet his girlfriend.

Your shirt is covered in raindrops by the time you get inside, glancing around curiously. There’s a couple of people hanging out on the sofas that you don’t recognize, but they wave to you either way then go back to their conversation.

After wandering down the hall, you nudge open a door and decide that the room is good enough. There’s a window looking out over the lake, and even as grouchy and sad as you’re feeling, you know it’ll be a gorgeous view when it’s not so gloomy outside. You close the door behind you and unceremoniously drop your bag on the floor while kicking off your shoes. Collapsing into the middle of the bed, you sigh, running on auto pilot as you pull the blankets over yourself. 

Shifting around slightly, you’re aware of how the shorts are cutting into your waist and your bra is pinching somewhere, but you’re too settled to do anything about it as you stare up at the wood paneled ceiling. The sound of the rain hitting the roof is soothing, and you let out a breath that seemed to have been held since the moment you got in the car.

Your eyes trace the woodgrain, remembering when Sophie told you about Jimmy’s roommates shortly after she got with him, that they were funny, cool guys that she knew you’d get along with. You’d partied with them first, but it turned into movie nights, casual dinners, enjoying the group of newfound friends that you saw several times a week. With how often you ended up hanging out late or bar hopping in their area, the guest room had practically been designated as yours.

Then Kevin was traded to Winnipeg. Then Jimmy was traded to Buffalo. Then Brady was traded to Carolina. Your found family in the city had practically dissolved within a year, and now Sophie was two weeks away from moving to Buffalo.

You knew there was little choice in the matter for anyone really, that it wasn’t their fault, that it was just how worked, but it still hurt, remembering you’d be the last one of the group in New York. You had other friends that you saw every so often, but it didn’t stop how lonely it all made you feel. Being sad about it made you feel selfish, so you buried it behind frequent naps and iced coffee.

Your internal monologue continued until tears stung in your eyes, and you blinked them away, turning on your side as you willed yourself to get some rest.

By the time you woke up, it was mid-afternoon, and you stayed curled up on your side for a moment. Sun was streaming in through the window as you took a deep breath. You could hear people outside, along with splashing from the lake, and when you rolled over, you saw somebody zip past in a jet ski. After a taking a few minutes to scroll through your phone, you finally get up, stretching as you smooth your hair down.

You came out of your room and found Jimmy and Sophie in the kitchen. Yawning as you approached, Sophie smiled.

“Good nap?” she asked knowingly, and you nodded once you were close enough to hug her.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said, arms wrapped around her. She hugged back tightly, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades before you pulled away. 

You felt better. The nap and the better weather helped kick the sadness out of you. You hated this part, feeling better and realizing how cynical you’d been earlier.

“Good to see you, Slim Jim,” you told Jimmy, hugging him quickly as well. You were happy to see him, deciding to focus on enjoying and savoring the long weekend with everyone instead of being miserable with sadness. Leaning back against the edge of the counter, feeling content, you smile. “Who all showed up when I was out?” 

“Uh, some friends of mine, Derek and Amy, showed up, Kev too, and he brought a friend,” he said, glancing down at the water like he couldn’t even remember who was there. “Brady’s about an hour or so out.”

The three of you chat for a while, catching up since it had been awhile since you’d seen Jimmy. He introduces you to the friends of his that were splitting the cabin for the weekend when they come through, and a moment later, you promise to catch up more later, deciding to head outside for a bit.

Outside, the sun beats down on you but you lift your chin to greet the warmth as you walk. It felt particularly good after the heavy rain of the drive in, the humidity from it clinging to the air still.

Making your way to the dock, someone you hadn’t met is standing there, football in hand. Kevin’s on the back of a jet ski with someone else driving, and it didn’t surprise you at all to see him jump off for the football when the man on the dock through it. No surprise, he missed the ball and landed in the water with a splash, and was already laughing when he resurfaced a moment later.

That’s when he spots you, hand shooting up in a wave with a wide smile. “Heyo!” he yells, already swimming toward the dock. You could hear the excitement in his voice, and nervousness pangs in your stomach.

You had only seen him once since he’d been traded a year and a half ago, when he’d been in town for a game and you hadn’t even realized it. Sophie had invited you out, and there he was, happy as ever to see you. You were grateful that the bar had been loud and that Brady had been occupying most of Kevin’s attention. After a drink and a half and a quick conversation with Sophie, you’d taken off, managing to avoid Kevin other than the hug he’d given you as a greeting.

Since Jimmy and Sophie were together and Brady had Gracia, you and Kevin had been the odd couple out, paired together during group activities. It worked out at least, considering the two of you got along great.u seldom hung out once  When all three of the guys lived together, the two of you always seemed to be the last two up, chatting or finishing a movie even after the others had gone to bed.

It had felt so natural to hook up with Kevin the handful of times it had happened in the months leading up to when he was traded. Each time had been when you were both the last two awake, lingering on the sofa, usually at least a little drunk. It had always been casual, and you told yourself the only reason it happened (and kept happening) were out of convenience. You’d certainly never seemed like his type, considering almost every girl you’d ever seen him talk to at a bar had the same slender build and the confidence that came with it.

You snapped yourself out of the thoughts, and tug at the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, feeling like it’s clinging to all the wrong parts of your body. Kevin’s eyes are on you still as he climbed the ladder to meet you on the dock, making you feel even more aware of yourself. He paused to grab a towel off the rail, rubbing it over his hair, then settling it over his shoulders. His swim shorts hung low on his hips and you force yourself to meet his eye, happy to see that he was smiling widely at you as he approached.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, sounding as sincere as you could ever imagine. It felt like his smile had grown, and it made it impossible for you not to mirror the expression right back to him. “I’d hug you, but in case you didn’t notice, I was just in the lake.” You had forgotten how deep his voice was, and you tell yourself that it’s the sun that’s making you feel hot all over.

“I’m good with a rain check,” you responded, nodding at him. From the golden tone of his skin, you can tell he’s been outside a lot this summer. He looked great, as always, and you hadn’t expected anything less. 

“Good by me,” he told you with a laugh, bringing a hand out to ruffle your hair in lieu of a hug. You laugh with him, not quick enough to stop him. “How’s life been? Man, I feel like I haven’t seen or heard from you in forever.” You don’t let yourself think about his tone, how he almost sounds a little sad about it.

You shrug quickly in response to his question, still grinning. “Things are okay. Nothing’s really been going on, I guess. I miss you guys though.” Your hand comes up to shield the sun from your eyes, tilting your head up to see him better. He’s so tall that looking at him heads on would have you staring at the bit of hair that covers his chest, at how broad his shoulders are, and you were worried that you’d never stop if you started. “What about you? How’s Philly?” 

“I miss New York, but damn, Philly’s been great, I can’t even lie about it,” he admitted with a bit of a laugh. It was good to know that he’s happy, and you can feel it radiating off of him. “It’s a good city, and a good group of dudes. And this guy, over here,” he paused, voice a little louder as he motions behind him to the guy who’d thrown the football, “is Nolan. We lived together this year.”

Nolan looked at the two of you, holding up a hand to wave before turning his attention back to talking to one of Jimmy’s friends that’s floating in an inner-tube close to the dock. You were both silent for a moment then before whoever was on the jet ski yelled Kevin’s name, waving for him to come back out.

“You should come swim,” Kevin told you, motioning to whoever it was that he’d be there in a minute. 

Your eyebrows rose and you were quick to shake your head, even before self-consciousness dug its claws into you. “Nah, not right now at least,” you said, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “I just came down to say hey, I’m actually going to go chill on the deck and read for a while, I think.”

For a short second, Kevin looked a little disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He instead nodded, smiling again already as his hand came up to your shoulder. “Yeah, gotcha.” It’s hard to ignore how large his hand is on you, the way he squeezes just slightly, his thumb brushing against your collarbone. “We’ll catch up more later.”

“Yeah, of course,” you told him, doing your best not to lean into his hand. Thankfully, he stepped away before your willpower went out, and you watched as he damn near sprinted back to the edge of the dock, jumping into the water in an effort to splash a friend.

You stopped in the cabin to grab your iPad, and on your way out to the back deck, a girl who introduced herself as Amy put a margarita in your hand and hugged you like she’d known you for years. It was a damn good margarita too, you realized as you settled on a lounge chair, stretching your legs out in front of you.

The rest of the afternoon ticks by easily. The margarita is rather strong, relaxing you into the chair as you read for the next hour and a half until Brady showed up. You’d been able to hear laughter and the occasional shouting from the water every so often, Kevin’s voice usually the loudest. Brady, Sophie, and Jimmy joined you on the deck a while later, and the four of you take the time to catch up a little more and figure out how to spend the next few days.

The sun had just stating to set when pizza arrived for dinner. The air is still warm, and someone was already working on starting a bonfire. Sophie was to your right at the picnic table, a little tipsy as she munched on some garlic bread.

Across the table, Brady was talking about his upcoming nuptials. Gracia hadn’t been able to make it for the trip, but you were glad he’d decided to come. Next to him, Kevin interjected with a dumb comment at one point, making Jimmy snicker.

“By the way, Kev, do you need a plus one? Have you been seeing anybody?” Brady asked, turning his head to look at him rather pointedly. It takes everything you have not to snicker a bit, lifting a slice a pizza to your mouth. 

“Naah, I’m not seeing anyone,” Kevin responded, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m sure I could find someone to go with, but I haven’t really dated much since Y/N.”

You freeze when he says your name, your mouth already half open to take a bite. What the fuck is he talking about? 

“We never dated,” you said, the words more sharp than you’d meant them to be. Your eyebrows have practically shot up, and you look away from him as an awkward silence hangs over the table for a beat until Sophie exhales a laugh.

Jimmy really came to the rescue by changing the subject, and your cheeks were burning by the time you met Kevin’s eye again. He actually looked a little amused, but rather than making you feel relieved, it makes heat curl down your spine. 

By the time it was completely dark, part of the group had settled on the sofa and chairs in the living room to watch a movie, while others decided to go on late ride on the lake. It was still plenty warm out, and you’d really hit a stride in the book you’d been working on, so you ended up back in the same chair you’d spent most afternoon in. The line of string lights gives the deck a nice glow to it, and you can hear the buzz of the TV in the living room.

The sliding glass door opens then closes, at you look up to see Kevin walking towards you.

“Is the movie no good?” you asked, tilting your head as you look at him. He had a beer in one hand and a hard cider in the other that he offered to you. The fact that he recognized your favorite brand in the fridge made you smile as you thanked him quietly for it.

“Movie’s fine, just thought I’d come see if you wanted to go for a walk or go hang by the water,” he responded, shrugging as he took a sip from the beer still in his hand.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You shrugged back at him, flashing a grin as you got to your feet. Leaving your iPad on the seat for the time being, you follow him to the stairs, then down the trail to the dock.

“How are things in New York?” Kevin asked after a moment’s silence, and you glance up at him with a skeptical look.

“I thought we talked about this earlier,” you counter, taking a sip of your drink. He scoffed, shrugging beside you as the pair of you started down the dock.

“Yeah, I guess we did, really, how are things?” Kevin’s voice was lower this time, making your back straighten when he looked at you again. “How are you?”

You weren’t expecting such a direct question, and you’re grateful to deflect it for even a moment longer as you take the time kick off your shoes and sit on the edge of the dock. An answer still hasn’t found you, so you take a drink instead of speaking. Kevin watched you all the while as he sat next to you, making self-awareness prickle at the base of your neck.

“Life’s fucking weird right now,” you admit finally, looking at the reflection of the moon on the water. “And it actually kind of fucking sucks too.” Kevin doesn’t respond right away, but when you took a deep breath, his elbow nudged yours lightly.

“You’ll get through it,” he assured you, with such sureness in his voice that you looked at him with a warm smile.

“I know I will. It’s just hard, but I’m dramatic, so of course it feels like the end of an era or something.” Your shoulders rise then fall in a shrug, still looking at him. “And then I feel selfish for even feeling that way to begin with. I know it wasn’t your choice to leave, or Brady’s, or Jimmy’s. I’m trying not to let myself be too sad about it.” You were surprised that your voice remained even as you spoke.

The words hang in the air and Kevin nodded, bring a hand up to touch the back of your shoulder. You feel warm all over as his fingers splay over your upper back, and you find yourself biting the edge of your tongue when tears sting in your eyes. 

“I was sad about leaving too. I knew I’d miss the guys, that I’d miss you, but that’s what makes trips like these nice, getting to catch up and just hang out for a few days,” he said finally, his hand still on your shoulder when he met your eye. “I’m honestly surprised you’re not following Sophie to Buffalo.”

Your nose scrunched at the thought and you shook your head, exhaling a quick laugh. “I honestly thought about it, but I know she’s excited to be moving in with him, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to always keep me company or something,” you explained, peeling at the edge of the label on your bottle with your thumbnail. You weren’t sad enough about being alone in New York to justify moving upstate, you knew that much.

“Philly’s not far from New York, y’know. You can always come hang with me and Nolan, and I know there’s a few other guys on the team you’d have a good time with,” Kevin offered, taking a long swig of his beer as his hand finally fell from your shoulder. “Or I could visit you. We could go to that one bakery you like so much, watch movie or TV all day, just kind of chill.”

A wide smile spread across your face. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, taking the chance to nudge him with your elbow. Kevin nodded, still grinning as he nudged you right back. It felt good to be talking to him, to have him close enough to smell his cologne for the first time in a year and a half.

There was another pause, and you both took a drink, the sound of frogs and crickets hanging around you.

“Sorry for putting you on the spot like that at dinner. It was meant to be a joke,” he said finally, taking another drink to finish off the bottle. You glance up at him and it almost looked like he was blushing a bit over it.

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, but Kev, you know we never dated,” you told him, laughing as you finish off your own drink.

“We kind of did!” he responded, laughing with you. “We went out plenty of times!”

“Dude, texting me ‘hey, are you hungry?’ at 11pm, then going to a 24 hour diner does not count as a date.” You snorted, shaking your head. When he caught your eye, he was smiling almost bashfully.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded, holding your gaze. “The next time we go on a date, I’ll make sure you’re aware of it, deal?”

Your response is to laugh again, nodding and looking away this time. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re back on the sofa in their old apartment at 2am. A chill ran down you and you exhaled a breathe, watching the way the water rippled as a breeze swept through.

“I’m really did miss you,” Kevin told you, and from the corner of your eye, you know he was watching you again. Nervousness plucked along the back of your neck, and you kept your eyes on the water. “Like, way more than I miss Jimmy and Brady, honestly.” You don’t fully believe him, but either way, the sentiment makes your heart ache. 

With your jaw clenched, you exhaled a breath as your eyes burned with the threat of tears. “I missed you most too,” you assured him, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Good.” He paused, tilting his head up to look at the stars for a moment. “Can we watch season two of Fleabag sometime this weekend?” Kevin looked at you a second later and blinked as you laughed.

“Yeah, of course. That’s an oddly specific request,” you said, letting your eyes move over the lines of his face as he shrugged.

“I haven’t watched it yet, I was waiting until I could watch it with you.” His words made you blink, and your throat swelled, hating this rush of emotions now that you’d felt happier for most of the day. You didn’t really know what to say, so you just nodded again, suddenly feeling the urge to lean into him to bury your face in his neck comfortably.

A few months before he had been traded, you’d started the first season at 1:30am after a night of drinking. Brady had been at Gracia’s, and Jimmy and Sophie hadn’t even made it through the first episode. Considering the season consisted of six 25 minute episodes, it was easy for you and Kevin to stay up and watch the entire first season, curled up together on the couch.

You and Kevin had spent the following half hour making out like teenagers until he absolutely begged you to come to bed with him. Feeling heat beside your thighs, you now wish you had said yes, just to have that extra memory.

The two of you spend the next several minutes in silence, sitting side by side on the dock in the dark. You can hear music playing from the cabin behind you and the murmur of voices surrounding the fire pit that was a dozen feet away. Your heart was racing as you fidgeted after a while, trying to ignore the feelings for him that you had buried when he was traded that were now bubble at the surface.

Eventually, Kevin mentioned going up to the house for more drinks, and you agreed, getting to your feet with a sigh. You looked up at him briefly, then toward the house behind you.

“Before we head up, can I cash in my rain check for that hug from earlier?” he asked, running a hand over his hair as he watched you.

“Yeah, of course,” you responded, smiling widely as you walked into the arms he held open for you. 

You let out a breathe as he hugged you tightly, your face pressed into his chest. He smelled as good as he always did, and warmth of his hand rubbing over your back had you relaxing into him. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt when he kissed the side of your head once, then a second time. 

“It’s gonna be a good weekend, yeah?” he murmured, the words muffled against your hair. It took everything you had not to shiver against him, and you nodded, happy to keep yourself nuzzled securely against him for a while longer. 

A FEW MORE NOTES: Well, this fic feels a lot more emotional than I’m used to writing, and it’s one of those things that I really like where I’m heading with this, but I worry about it seeming whiny or wishy-washy, but here it is anyway. How typical of me to vanish for months, then show up with a new story when everyone’s been waiting for Bring You Back to Me’s next chapter 😂 I love whoever of you are still reading at this point, and I hope you enjoy this fic. I loved the first part, but I’m so not used to writing anymore and that, paired with my ever present self-doubt, I’m like “is this fic good at all??? let’s fucking see!!!” and here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️

FRIDAY

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes fic #kevin hayes imagine #hockey imagine #forever terrible at tagging these whoops #pretty please

[frustrated-writer-skyeknight]

S.q.u.a.d. reacts to the Lion King

Based on this article: I watched The Lion King as a grown-ass man.

"Man, Disney should just stop with the remakes already." Jamie sighed as he took some textbooks from his locker, "I mean, I think the Lion King one was just a CGI version of the original."

Jack frowned, scratching the back of his neck. "There was an original version?"

"What? Dude, of course there is. It's a classic. Everyone's seen it." Jamie snorted, turning towards the approaching brunette trio. "Hey guys, you know about the old Lion King movie, right?"

Dimitri shrugged, "I know there's a new lion movie out." He said. "Looks more like a documentary thing, if you go by the trailer."

"Didn't have cable growing up," Jim replied, "still don't. Plus, Disney is overrated anyway."

Hiccup hummed thoughtfully, "What's lion king?"

Jamie stared at his friends dumbfounded. "Okay, we are so having a movie night now." He said.

Later that Friday evening, Jamie and his friends find themselves in the den of his home, parents out with the younger sister, and three bowls of popcorn with different flavors; cheese, butter, and barbeque. Plus, two boxes of pizza.

"Wow, Jay," Astrid whistled as she settled on a spot next to him, "you sure went all out for this."

Jamie shrugged, "Disney is my childhood." he said.

"I still say they're a gold digging empire," Jim deadpanned, but took a handful of popcorn. "But I never say no to free food."

Dimitri took a slice of pizza as Jack had too, and they 'toasted' to it, "Preach."

"Okay guys," Jamie rolled his eyes as he set Netflix on the television, "at least wait for the movie to start. Since I brought it up earlier, let's start with 'The Lion King.' I've got tissues ready in case you need it."

Jim snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's an Animated kids movie." He said. "Nobody cries over those.

───────────────

🎶On the day we arrive on the planet~🎶

"Well, opening song sounds good." Jack hummed, "wouldn't mind getting it stuck in my head. Unlike that overrated Queen Ella single one."

Dimitri groaned, "Ohmygod, yes." he groused, "People will not shut up about it!"

"Okay boys." Astrid rolled her eyes, "focus."

They did so, but it didn't take long for someone else to speak up. "Whoa, now hold up. So, that monkey dude..." Jim frowned, and Jamie felt the need to pause the movie. "I mean, come on, this monkey chief dude comes hobbling around on a walking stick earlier, and you expect that he can hold a damn newborn over a cliff? That's shady, man."

"Just watch." Jamie rolled his eyes, smirking at his friend's offended expression. "Also, I'm gonna have to preemptively warn you to suspend your disbelief for a lot of these movies." He hits play once more.

And they watched.

"He's as mad as a hippo with a hernia."

"That's some mad alliteration skills," Jack mused, "ugh, alliteration. Still confuse that with assonance."

Hiccup stared at his boyfriend, "The fact that you even bring that up casually..."

"Okay, feeling that Scar's the bad dude here." Astrid interrupted, "but I'm liking the accent."

Rafiki is painting Simba on his tree...

"There's that shady baboon butt again, doing grafitti without his goddamn walking stick." Jim snorted, "I don't trust that punk."

Dimitri chuckled, giving his boyfriend a one-arm hug. "Pup, you have trust issues. It's your thing." He cooed, "it's a cartoon monkey, he can't hurt you."

"But he can hurt his fellow cartoon animal peeps." Jim countered. "Shady bastard."

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "and they say you're a cold, insensitive prick." He snorted.

"Wait, a Lion in a Pride mates with all the lioness..." Hiccup frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "He's literally sleeping with his wife and the rest of his, uh, concubines in a single..."

Jamie groaned, "You're ruining my childhood here."

"So, this is that famous overmemed scene." Jack snorted, "pretty grand, I'll give it that. Tempted to google what the shadowy place is, though."

Jamie shook his head, taking Jack's phone. "No spoilers." He said. "It's coming up soon anyway."

"Forgive me for not leaping in joy. Bad back, you know."

Hiccup nodded faux sagely, "Scar is me at every social gathering." He said.

"No, no! Don't, you gullible lion cub!" Jim shouted at the TV, much to everyone's amusement. "THAT DARK PLACE IS OBVIOUSLY NOT AN ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD, SIMBA. DON'T DO DUMB SHIT. LISTEN TO YOUR PARENTS. GO TO LION CUB SCHOOL!"

Dimitri snickered, gesturing to his soulmark. "He's talking in capslock again." He said.

🎶"I just can't wait to be king~!"🎶

"Okay, I'm so finding a playlist in Spotify now." Jack mused, scrolling at his phone that Jamie returned earlier. "These tunes are gonna be my jam."

Hiccup shrugged, "I still find it funny that the animals are so okay with their predators being their king. No revolution sparked by discontentment at all." He pointed out. "Sounds kinda fishy."

"Okay, anyone else feeling kinda awkward with Simba and Nala's sexual tension?" Jim voiced out, "I mean, they're kids... Or cubs... Whatever. They're young."

Hiccup nodded, "Not to mention, cousins. Being in the same Pride..." He trailed off as Jamie kicks him lightly on the shin.

"Again, ruining childhood for me." Jamie sighed, and Astrid rubs his arm soothingly.

Jim points at the screen accusingly, "Ah! An elephant graveyard!" he gawked. "okay, was wrong on that, but still creepy as hell. Especially now that practically everywhere in the Savannah is an elephant graveyard... Even a rhino graveyard."

Jack shook his head, "Guys, you need to chill."

"Okay, these hyenas reminds me of that old Cartoon Network show, Ed, Edd 'n' Eddy." Hiccup mused, "Especially Ed, who's basically Ed. Can't be a coincidence."

Astrid snickered, "He's also you; laughing or making jokes to laugh about in inappropriate situations." she teased. "Got us in trouble a lot in those 'bring your kid to work' events."

"Aaaand Mufasa comes in to save the day," Jack slow clapped, "knew it. But boy, is Simba grounded. You done fucked up, kid."

"I'm surrounded by idiots..."

Jim huffed, leaning back against the couch and Dimitri's arm. "Mood." He deadpanned. "Also, calling out their cruelty to animated zebras."

"I know right?" Dimitri humored him, "where the fuck is PETA when you need them?"

Jamie snorted, smirking at them, "Uh, I don't know... Reality?"

"Doesn't feel like it either." Astrid quipped, "elephants still dying everywhere."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Fucking chill guys."

"Ah, Hiccup, look. How's that for discontentment?" Astrid pointed at the screen, "Scar's not satisfied with being sass king of the jungle. Wants to run for real king, that can't end well."

Hiccup shrugged, "I'll take it." He said, "and it's not a jungle, actually.

"Dude has mad pipes though." Jack pointed out, "I'd definitely attend the opening night of 'Scar: The Musical.'"

Jamie hummed thoughtfully, "Huh, a lion king remake with his perspective instead would be an improvement." He said.

"Simba, it's to die for!"

"Okay Hiccup, take notes." Astrid quipped, "Scar's pun game is topnotch."

Hiccup snorted, tossing a throw pillow her way. "Must've learned from me." He shot back, "I'm a master."

"Still," Astrid said, laughing as she threw the pillow back, "I have the feeling this is the point of the movie I'm gonna start hating Scar."

Jamie cringed as the stampede started, and he paused the movie much to everyone's frustration. "Okay, guys. Again, maybe you need ti—" he trailed off.

"PLAY THE DAMN MOVIE!"

Jamie did so. And he found it strangely satisfying when everyone cried out a despairing 'NOOOOOOOOOO!' along with Simba as Mufasa fell to his death.

"Mufasa is dead?!?!" Jim gawked, "he died?!!? Just like DUMBLEDORE?!?!?! Just like MY FATHER?!" He whimpered, leaning on Dimitri as his boyfriend reached for the box of Kleenex from Jamie. "Feeling unusually upset right now. It's a damn kid's movie. It has no right to be hitting it home, and right to the feels."

Dimitri sighed, patting his back consolingly. "There, there..."

"Fuck you, Scar. Just..." Jim groused, "Fuck. You."

Astrid sighed, taking a sheet from the Kleenex herself. "Gotta say, though," she started, "for a schemer like Scar, he sure does skimp on the quality of his henchmen. Letting Simba go is gonna bite him in the ass someday. Guaranteed."

"Okay," Jamie paused the movie. "intermission. Who needs a bio-break?"

Jim just stood up and went for the bathroom. The rest finished the pizza and Dimitri made sure to leave some for Jim.

"You good, Jim?

"Shut up and play the movie." The brunette groused, "ugh, I can't believe I cried. Damn you Scar."

Jamie laughed as he plays the movie once more. "Told you you'd need tissues."

"Screw you, man."

───────────────

"Mufasa's death was a terrible loss..."

Jim eats his pizza. He continues to curse Scar as he speaks of Mufasa's death. "Don't fall for his crap, come on!" He scowled. "Zazu, he fucking slammed you to a rock!" He sighed, "Why the hell are you letting him become king? This is why you animals are getting extinct."

"It's.... really not." Hiccup protested.

Dimitri massaged his shoulders, "Jim, you can print out a picture of Scar and dart him, okay pup?" He soothed.

"The hyenas look like they can get shit done, though." Jack mused, "well, except for giving Simba the slip."

Jim hummed, "Oh, baboon guy. Almost forgot about this dude." He said. "Cutting him some slack because I feel he's going to drop some Yoda shit on this bitch."

"You get so feisty when you're irritable." Dimitri mused, "and this is why Scroop secretly has a thing for you."

"WHAT!"

"What?"

"Don't worry," Dimitri shrugged, kissing the tip of his nose. "I don't share."

Jim huffed, "Well, I bloody hope not!"

"You gotta put your behind in your past."

"Gotta get a tattoo of this Pumbaa quote." Jack joked, "words to live by 101."

Hiccup audibly whimpered, taking Jack's hand. "Please don't " he said. "Your skin's perfect. It's bad enough that my choice of words already marred it."

"Aw, babe..." Jack hugged him, "you know I love it."

Astrid blew a raspberry. "Get a room."

"Uh, my house, so no." Jamie protested.

Jim blinked, "Wait, I know this is Timon and Pumbaa because I had them on a pencil case when I was eight or something. Then, I got one of space and that was that." He started. "But damn, I didn't know Hakuna Matata was from here. I have heard this song before, I am not entirely ignorant."

"I'm so hungry, I can eat a whole Zebra."

"I'm condemning this casual Zebra slaughter," Hiccup declared. "Let it be known. You can't just eat a whole Zebra, Simba. Come on."

Astrid gagged, "Insects? Really?" She shakes her head. "Simba's diet is fucked. I'm not a nutritionist or a zoologist, but I really, really, don't think insects are enough to get Simba through all those years in the jungle. I mean, it's like asking humans to survive on dog food alone."

"And yet he has grown into a fine-ass lion over the course of about three bars of song." Jack whistled, "Intriguing. Switching to insect-based diet after the movie."

Hiccup shakes his head, "Snowflake, I rather you go vegan."

Rafiki appears and takes Simba's floating fur with the dandelions...

"There's monkey Yoda again," Jim snorted, "jumping down on trees, not a walking stick in sight. He's on to something though, so I'll let it sli—HOLD THE PHONE!" The brunette balked, "Did baboon man REALLY figure out Simba was still alive from smelling dandelions that floated from miles away?"

Dimitri rubbed his back in circles, "Pup, stop being antagonized by the damn monkey already." he snickered, "it's cute, but I'm worrying over your mental health."

"Don't tell me what to do, dimwit." Jim scoffed, "I mean, really, this insane Yoda monkey with inconsistent usage of walking aids might be the movie's last hope. How to feel about this, I don't know."

"AAAAAAH!"

Hiccup hummed, faux sadly. "We're gonna lose Pumbaa. I can feel it." he said. "Life's just not fair, and warthogs just aren't fast."

"Oh, wait, it's Nala!" Jack cheered, "Yaaay!"

The freckled brunette snorted, crossing his arms. "Nala goes from hunting Pumbaa one minute to having a conversation with him after Simba vouches for him?" he shook his head, "So, tell me how there aren't any riots with the predators being friends with some preys, and others not? Unjustifiable exceptions."

"Guys, suspend your disbelief." Jamie sighed, "I think I gave out that warning earlier."

🎶...You needn't look too far; Stealing through the night's uncertainties, love is where they are~🎶

"Whoa, 'Can you feel the love tonight' was from this movie? Okay, it's official, I'm in love with this soundtrack." Jack made an exaggerated bowing down motion towards the screen, "Hands down one of the best soundtracks I've ever heard."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes at the screen, in scrutiny. "They totally boned at this scene, right?" he deadpanned. "I mean, did you see those bed room sex eyes?"

Jim stuffed him with a pillow, "At least the sexual tension between them doesn't feel as awkward now."

"You said you'd always be there! But you're not... it's because of me..."

Hiccup nodded his head, "Sexual tension replaced with crippling self-loathing, just like real life." he sighed, "feel ya, Simba."

"God, I don't know how many therapists mom made me see until I finally got over blaming myself for my sperm donor leaving us." Jim sighed, shaking his head. "and then guidance counseling when we found out he killed himself a few months before Freshemen year started."

Dimitri stared at his boyfriend worriedly, "Pup, do you need a hug?" he embraced him without waiting for a response.

"It ain't your fault, Jim. Shit happens... Especially stampedes if you're in a forest."

Jamie sighed, "Savannah."

"Real talk, though," Astrid mused, "shit happens when you've got scheming uncles who planned to push their brother off the buffalo freeway."

The brunette stared at his girlfriend before picking up his phone, "I'm tweeting that."

Rafiki appears humming incoherently...

"I swear to god, this monkey is on meth." Jim snorted, shaking his head. "Yeap, he just called Simba a baboon. This primate is trippin'."

Dimitri stared at the rest of his friends, as if he was in 'The Office'. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Better not bring him to any Zoos soon," Jack advised. "He might try to throw rocks at the monkey containment."

"Okay, I take it back." Jim raised his arms, "This is going to be some pivotal revelatory shit." he started.

"Correction, I know your father."

Jim glared at the screen, pointing an accusing finger. "Okay, still trippin'" He scowled at the meditation monkey, "I hope this really is Mufasa and not some metaphorical mambo-jumbo. If not, I call subterfuge."

Jamie was starting to wonder if this whole movie marathon was a good idea. They were just starting with the first one, and Jim already seems like a lost cause. Maybe there was a reason innocent children were the target audience.

"CALLED IT," Jim growled at the television, "that's a reflection, you punk-ass monkey. Way to let a brother down." He shook his head, frowning as the screen shows cloud Mufasa. "Aaaaand now he's slipped Simba some acid. Just great."

Definitely a bad idea.

"Wow, it worked." Even Hiccup is surprised. "who'da thunk it. Hm, might wanna check for hidden projectors, though. Monkey might've pulled a Mysterio... Well, for a good cause, but still. Jim's got it right with subterfuge."

Dimitri glared at him, "Dude, spoiler alert."

"Oops." Hiccup blushed, "sorry."

Jack blinked at the screen, "What the fuck," he scowled, "He just left Nala behind and returned home? When it was her idea in the first place? Bro, that's your soulmark. Boy, is he in for some pain."

"I think this came out before the discovery of soulmarks." Hiccup patted his hand soothingly. "there, there.... What we should really be questioning is that desert. I'm still wondering how there's even an oasis in this movie."

Jamie face palmed, "Suspend your disbelief, suspend... Oh, forget it." he groaned.

🎶"He eeee's a big pig (Yup, yup). You could be a big pig too. Oy!"🎶

"In a movie filled with amazing songs," Jack snickered, "Timon's luau song's gonna be my personal favorite. Bonus points for presentation."

Astrid sighed, placing a hand on her forehead. "And they fell for it," she tossed her hand in a 'I'm so done' manner. "This is why you hire quality hit man, Scar. You can't half-ass a coup and not expect repercussions."

"Well, if he was Loki-smart," Jamie shrugged, "well, there's no Avengers to beat him up and the heroes don't win."

Jim snorted, "Simplified hero-winning's overdone." he said. "Villain redemption arcs like Zuko's should start catching on."

"So, you have no cable for Disney," Dimitri started, "but you know ATLA?"

Jim shrugged, "A therapist was a fan," he explained, "and she thought it'd help with my father abandonment issues. Confirmed: It did."

"I killed Mufasa..."

Hiccup face palmed, and groaned as if he was in real agony. "Aaaagh, typical villain behavior." he groused, "shut your damn Zebra-holes, and finish the job for once, you idiots never learn."

"Chat shit, get banged, Scar." Dimitri snickered, "Chat shit, get banged."

Jim stuffs a pillow at him once more, "Stop it with the innuendos!" he sighed, as he stared at screen. He raised a brow, "Amidst this all-out melee, meth-monkey is doing some serious damage. How, I do not know."

"Well, guess he's been hiding his pizzaz all along."

Simba and Scar finally battle it out

"NOOOOOOO!"

"YEEEEEEEEES!"

Jack cheered, "SIMBA WINS." he grinned, "And the hyenas have also found a temporary solution to their food shortage. Win-win."

"This was a kid's movie..." Jim narrowed his eyes at the screen, "and they heavily implied Scar getting gang-devoured."

Jamie snorted, and snickered. "You should see the one when the villain got hanged from the treetops."

"WHAT!"

"Remember who you are..."

"Feel like 'The Eye of the Tiger' would be a proper song for this moment," Jack mused, before pausing in thought, "wait, wouldn't that be 'Eye of the Lion', then?"

Hiccup laughed, shaking his head. "And just like that, the land is glorious again. No mention of rehabilitation process with might have included replanting trees, and attracting livestock with lucrative real estate prices." he mused.

"Let's just hope this heralds a decline in the merciless killings of animated Zebras." Jim snorted, "still unsure as to how meth-monkey hasn't managed to drop a cub off the cliff yet."

Jamie shook his head, as he went back to Netflix's home screen, and grinned towards his friends, "Now, as payback for effectively ruining my childhood, here's a little piece of info to mindblow you guys: The Lion King is basically Hamlet but with lions, and a happy ending."

"WHAT!"

"Ohmygod!" Jack balked, "IT IS! IT SO IS!"

Hiccup frowned, shaking his head. "I can't believe I didn't see it," he frowned. "And I fucking love Hamlet. I feel like I've let Shakespeare down."

"Baboon man should've made like Yorick and turned into a skeleton head..." Jim snorted, "Wait, was that why they made Scar hold that skull in a certain way?"

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "And here I thought we moved past the whole Rafiki antagonized drama."

Jamie laughed outloud, clutching his stomach. "Just wait till you see the Romeo and Juliet sequel."

"Can we get a movie with more..." Astrid scrunched up her nose, "... humans please?"

#Rise of the Guardians #How to train your Dragon #Jack Frost #Hiccup Haddock #Astrid Hofferson #Jamie Bennett #Anastasia #Treasure Planet #Dimitri #Jim Hawkins

[veliseraptor]

we haven’t slept in years, 2k, thor & loki, cw: graphic self-harm, references to suicidal ideation/a suicide attempt, a (short) direct sequel to we suffer mornings most of all, instead of writing any of the things I’m actually trying to write I did this which at least went smoother than anything else I’ve been doing lately, so thank you @ratsats​ for the accidental prompt, happy thanksgiving kids

A long while ago Loki had read, in a book that was now ash, about the formation of storms. He’d been curious because of Thor and his power, but he ended up finding it fascinating in its own right: the complicated confluence of factors that had to fall into place to create a storm. It made him think that Thor had more in the way of magic than he knew. That set off a strange burst of mingled frustration that he seemingly had no plans to train it, and relief at the same.

Loki thought about that a great deal, though. The way that something so natural, so raw, was in fact the result of an intricate set of circumstances that had to come together in the right way, at the right time, and lightning struck.

It was, Loki thought, examining the wreck he’d made of his left arm, a remarkably apt metaphor. A vicious, vivid nightmare. Formless anxiety dogging his heels, whispering of oncoming disaster. A minor but irritating snide remark from Valkyrie, and his own eternally unsteady core. An unstable atmosphere.

He tried closing his fingers and inhaled sharply for the pain that shot up his arm, then wanted to laugh. Enough damage to the nerves that he couldn’t move properly; not enough to avoid the pain. Wasn’t that nice.

At least he was calmer now. Didn’t feel so much like he was going to burn out of his skin. Was it getting worse? Oh, probably. No surprises there.

It didn’t help that it seemed his - endurance training under the tutelage of the Mad Titan’s lackeys seemed to have had an unfortunate side effect when it came to his coping mechanisms.

Now he was going to have to hole up here, safely hidden, until his nerves reconnected and there wouldn’t be awkward questions. Which meant coming up with some sort of excuse, since he could no longer simply disappear for a day or two without Thor-

I only ask that you find me after, Thor said.

Loki worked his jaw. No, he thought. Don’t be stupid.

You swore.

Loki rubbed his forehead with his functioning hand, took a deep breath, and gingerly folded his left arm into a makeshift sling. He cleaned his knife on his shirt - it was already bloodstained anyway - made himself unnoticeable, and went to do penance.

**

Thor was not, of course, in his rooms; undoubtedly he was off doing some sort of kingly business. Loki let himself inside and sat down, stretching out his legs and trying again to flex his fingers. They twitched, but not more than that. He’d been very thorough, though his memory got a bit blurry after he’d driven the knife between the two bones of his forearm and twisted.

There was going to be a mess to clean up later. This was why he preferred to avoid sharp objects for this sort of thing. Blood was too noticeable.

He’d learned that early on.

Thor’s absence gave him some time to strategize. He still didn’t understand what Thor thought this was supposed to accomplish, other than giving him something else to be worried over; if Loki approached this conversation carefully perhaps he could make Thor see that, too. It was fine, really. He was going to heal, and he was calm, and clear-headed, perfectly in control of himself.

(You weren’t in control when you did it.)

Loki shook that off. Perhaps not, but this was how he regained it.

He moved to the bed, eventually, leaning back and letting himself drift. He was tired, which could be an artifact of the blood loss or of the crash that always followed these - storms. By the time he heard the footsteps approaching he was almost half asleep. They were familiar enough to bring him awake, though he didn’t sit up, just opened his eyes and waited.

Thor opened the door and came to an abrupt halt on seeing him, then frowned.

“For someone who so values his own privacy, you care remarkably little about that of others,” he said, though mildly. Loki shrugged his right shoulder.

“I am just demonstrating the weakness in your security,” he said. “You should ward your doors.”

Thor frowned more deeply. “I cannot cast wards.”

“Have you tried?”

“You could cast them for me.”

“Ah,” Loki said, “but that wouldn’t stop me.”

Thor shook his head, though Loki caught a small quirk of the corner of his lips toward a smile. That was good; the better Thor’s mood the easier this conversation would be. “Are you just here to test me or was there something else you wanted to discuss?” he asked. Loki tapped the fingers of his right hand against his leg.

“A bit ago,” he said, “you asked me something.”

Thor’s brows furrowed. “I’ve asked you a few things,” he said, though now he sounded cautious. “Could you be more specific?”

“Give yourself a moment,” Loki said. “It’ll probably come to you.” He shifted, slightly, adjusting his arm. Thor’s eye flicked over him, the familiar worried line now etched between his eyebrows. The slight smile was gone.

“Or you could refrain from making me guess.”

Loki exhaled. “You asked that I come to you,” he said. “If it was…” Relevant? Necessary? “If there was cause.”

Thor’s eye widened and he jerked forward only to visibly stop himself. He looked Loki over again and seemed to relax. “Yes,” he said. “I remember. So - you are…” He shifted, bracing himself as though about to enter a fight. “What do you need? To keep from…”

“Nothing,” Loki said. “I’m fine now.” He offered a half a smile. If he was lucky - if he was lucky, maybe Thor would think the urge had passed on its own, and Loki would have kept his word, and not lied, and he could figure out how to deal with his handicap without drawing notice.

He’d forgotten that Thor had acquired an unfortunate perceptiveness over the last decade. He went very still.

“What did you do,” he said, studiedly level. Loki sighed and turned his eyes toward the ceiling.

“Is it important? As you can see, I am fine.”

“Are you? You’re favoring your left arm.”

Unfortunate perceptiveness. Loki breathed out through his nose and let the glamour fade. “It looks worse than it is,” he said preemptively, but that didn’t stop Thor from making a strangled noise and lurching toward him.

“Let me see,” Thor said.

“I don’t think-”

“Loki,” Thor said, in warning, and Loki gave up and stretched out his arm. The bandages he’d so carefully wrapped were spotted in places. “Did you go to a - no, of course you didn’t go to a healer,” Thor said, and swore under his breath. His hands were gentle, though, cradling his limb lightly; even so, Loki wanted to flinch. He didn’t, just let Thor unwrap the bandaging and study the half-healed mess he’d left behind. Scored down to the bone. With the fog wearing off, Loki could look at what he’d done and feel an abstract kind of horror: well, that isn’t good.

Thor closed his eyes and visibly counted his breaths, probably to hold his temper.

“It’s healing fine,” Loki said. “The only problem is that some of the nerves were severed, so it isn’t going to be very useful for a bit.” And the healing would be excruciating.

Thor’s jaw clenched. “You severed,” he said. “You severed some of the nerves.” He dropped his head forward. “I asked…”

“I know what you asked,” Loki said.

“How can you do this to yourself?” Thor sounded plaintive. It was such a wrong way for him to sound that Loki didn’t know what to do about it.

“Relatively easily, really,” he said without thinking. “All you need is a sharp knife.”

For a fraction of a second Thor looked like he was going to hit him. For another he looked like he was going to cry. Then he just released Loki’s arm and stood, running his fingers through his slowly-growing hair.

“Do you hear yourself?” he asked. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Loki-”

“I know,” Loki interrupted. “Thor, I know that, only - I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say you’ll stop.”

“It isn’t that simple! I tried to explain to you-”

“I know! And it didn’t make any-” Thor sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and continued in a quieter voice. “I know. You did. And you’re right that I don’t understand, but I don’t think you do, either. I think you’ve gotten so used to this that you don’t - even think about there being another way.”

“Because it works,” Loki said.

“It’s dangerous,” Thor said. “It is-”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Mad? I am that, aren’t I?” Thor’s expression tightened like he wanted to argue, and Loki pressed onward. “I am not saying I will not - try to come to you, as you asked. But I think it would be better for us both if, in the event that I...fail to do so, you were able to remain in blissful ignorance.”

“No,” Thor said.

“Thor…”

“I said, no.” Thor set himself as though bracing for an attack, but when Loki didn’t answer immediately, he deflated a little. “Since we spoke,” he said, “do you know what I have dreamed of? More than once.”

Loki tensed. “No one finds other peoples’ dreams very interesting, Thor.”

Thor ignored him. “Finding you dead,” he said flatly. “I don’t see you for a day, or two, and I go looking and find your body drained of blood, or hanging from a noose, or-”

“I am not-” Loki cut himself off, moving to clasp his hands together only to stop at the violent twinge from his left. “Don’t be absurd.”

Thor’s eye pierced him. “Is it absurd?” he asked. “What is the difference, except in degree rather than kind?”

He wasn’t, Loki realized with a sinking of his stomach, exactly wrong. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t...the Bifrost had been the first surrender. But not the first temptation.

And not the last, either.

Loki glanced aside and bit the inside of his cheek.

“At least if you come to me,” Thor said, “even if it is too late to stop it - at least I know that you are not slipping too far away.”

He sounded - Norns. So unhappy. “I am sorry,” Loki said, the words awkward in his mouth.

“I do not need your apology,” Thor said heavily. “I only ask that you not try to hide from me.” His smile was weak, and not much of a smile. “Haven’t we had enough of secrets?”

Loki sighed. “I suppose perhaps we have.”

Thor’s shoulders fell in clear relief, and he walked back over and clasped the back of Loki’s neck. “Thank you.” Loki shrugged uncomfortably, and Thor jostled him a bit. “I mean it.”

Thank me when I do something right, Loki thought, but he didn’t voice it. The exhaustion was sinking in, again, the pain starting to register properly.

“What happened?” Thor asked, after a few moments of silence. Loki shook his head.

“An unstable atmosphere,” he murmured, and when Thor gave him an odd look said, “it’s complicated. No one thing. Too many, overlapping, colliding, and I can’t…” His lips twisted. “I scarcely realized until it was too late.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Thor said. He sounded a bit disappointed, like he’d been hoping for one single thing that he could have eliminated from the ship. “I am glad you came.”

“Are you?”

“In the end,” Thor said, “yes.” He said it so firmly. Like he really meant it. Which, of course, he did.

“Let me get you fresh bandages,” Thor said into the quiet. “And some salve. I can at least do that much.”

“Yes,” Loki said eventually, half to himself. “I suppose you can.”

#tragic siblings #loki's a goddamn mess #thor is my favorite puppy #a wild fic appeared #self harm cw #suicide mention cw #ratsats

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (8)

warnings: deceit (morally ambiguous), lying, arguing, negative thinking(lots)

Chapter 8

Apparently, ‘longest nap of his life’ meant three hours, because that was all he got before Patton came knocking gently on his door, snapping him out of a hazy nightmare in a cold sweat.

“Hey, kiddo!” He greeted, eyes suspiciously bright. Ugh, morning people. “We’re having a house meeting!” 

“A what?” Virgil responded automatically. He, of course, knew what a house meeting was, but- “You’ve never invited me to one of these before.” 

Patton had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, we don’t have them very often, and you didn’t… really want to talk to us last time we had one!” 

Oh yeah. He’d been absolutely certain it had only been an excuse for them to all complain about him suddenly ‘moving in’, so to speak. It’d taken actually eavesdropping before he realized it was actually an argument over who kept stealing Logan’s jam. He was fairly sure Roman had only passed up on accusing the new ‘unfriendly neighborhood Dark Side’ because he was the actual culprit. 

“...Sure, okay.”

He followed Patton downstairs, and found the others sitting already in their customary spots on the couch. Out of habit, he stepped towards the spot he normally sat as ‘Puff’, before remembering himself at a slight look of surprise from (still normal-sized) Roman. He propped himself up against the wall closest to Logan’s chair, not in the mood to loom menacingly by anyone who might be perturbed by it.  

As expected, Logan ignored him completely. “Good. Now that we are all here, I believe we should address the situation regarding Roman’s recent shrinking episode.” 

“Did you figure something out, Microsoft Nerd?” Roman asked, leaning forwards slightly. Virgil wondered how the nicknames had such little bite when they were directed at anyone but him.

Logan glanced at Virgil, but upon seeing no question about the situation in his expression, simply continued. “Currently, my hypothesis is that this size reduction happens to us due to the fact that we are incorporeal manifestations of a personality. For example, things like feeling overwhelmed or vulnerable might cause us to involuntarily shapeshift as a mechanism to protect Thomas or ourselves.” 

He flipped a few pages in his notebook. “I believe that is why access to our normal functions is limited whilst in the reduced form, as well, which is highly inconvenient.”

That would really stress Virgil out if he hadn’t already mastered the art of driving himself into the exact mental state needed to trigger his transformation either way. 

“As such,” Logan continued, “we need more information in order to find a solution. I believe Roman can help me test this hypothesis by focusing on aforementioned overwhelming thoughts to see if he can activate this reaction at will.” 

“What? Why me?” Roman protested immediately. “Why don’t you do it, Specs?” 

Logan gave him a condescending look. “Because I have no feelings, obviously. You are the only one we know of showing this symptom, anyhow. Our control group, so to speak.” 

Roman groaned, and for a moment, his gaze flicked to where Virgil was standing, wishing he was in bed as they talked about stuff he already knew. He straightened up a bit, narrowing his eyes back at Roman. What?

The creative side pulled his eyes away without giving him any sort of answer, but Logan hadn’t missed the byplay either. He stared between the two of them for a moment. Patton blinked at all of them mutually, lost in the silent stare off. Slowly, Logan leaned back. 

“If you’d prefer to do this at a later time-” He started, but Roman cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine.” He stared at Virgil like he was trying to convey something meaningful with the words. Virgil stared back, catching exactly none of it.

A moment and a flash later, Roman was sitting on the couch, doll-sized. Patton made the ‘oh no, cute!’ face again, and Virgil couldn’t help but stare. He was so… small. He couldn’t believe Roman had let him pick him up at all, so much could have gone wrong- 

“Oh, it worked!” Roman said, surprised. Logan hummed consideringly, already deep in thoughts he didn’t bother to share with the rest of them. 

“Can you turn back?” Virgil asked, voice sardonic. Roman scowled imperiously at him, but very noticeably did not get any bigger. 

“That part… appears to be more complicated.”

“Maybe try thinking about the opposite of what got you that size!” Patton offered, Logan nodding in agreement. 

Roman didn’t seem as easily convinced, but he did close his eyes and make an expression of thinking very hard for a few moments. Virgil took the opportunity to go make himself a bagel. It went perfectly up until the toasted bagel popped up loudly, and Roman groaned, presumably at his concentration being broken. 

“Anxiety.”

“What?” He responded through a mouthful of crunchy bread. “I’m hungry, I don’t have to watch you focus. You always figure it out eventually.” 

It was definitely meant to be delivered dismissively, but a second later there was a loud clatter from the lounge. Virgil poked his head around the corner. Roman was full-sized again, and had knocked a cup off the table in the process. He squinted at the startled creative side for a second. This was the second time in a row that had happened after he’d spoken.

Was Roman fucking with him? 

… No, Princey was too clueless for that. It was probably just coincidence.

Logan had taken it all in stride, turning to Patton and asking him to replicate Roman’s feat. Virgil took the opportunity to steal some of Logan’s Crofters and smear it over the other half of his bagel. Petty crimes. 

Once he re-emerged, Patton was still the same size, midway through an apology for not being able to manage it. 

“It’s quite alright, I have plenty of new information to look through. Oh, and Anxiety?” Logan called out, making him freeze where he was three steps up the stairs already. Could he seriously smell jam like a hunting dog? 

“Have you experienced anything like this before?” Logan asked, and everyone’s gaze turned to him.

Great, it wasn’t about the jam. It was so much worse. There was no getting out of it this time.

“No.” He answered bluntly, and ignored the way the lie tasted sour in his mouth. “I haven’t.” 

He looked away before he could see the mistrust form in their eyes, and retreated to his room. He hated lying to them, partially because it felt awful, wondering how and when they’d find out his untruths, but also because the more Virgil lied, the better of a grasp he got on the situation.

As such, it was almost unsurprising when he opened his door and found Deceit, standing in the middle of his room and eyeing his messy floor with distaste. He still felt his heart jump, though, looking over his shoulder as though the others would have trailed after him to witness the impromptu meeting. He slammed his door shut after him, already scowling darkly.

“What are you doing in my room.” He asked, flatly. Deceit gave him a deeply patronizing look. 

“Oh, because I can totally just stand around in the plain sight waiting for you to get back from your little get-together. That definitely wouldn’t get me harassed by those naive idiots.” 

Virgil gritted his teeth at the insult, voice coming out sharp. “I’m the one being harassed. I told you to leave me alone. Get. Out.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Like you weren’t practically calling my name with all the lying you’ve been doing. Obviously, you know that even just hiding the truth counts as a lie. You’re clearly doing much better than a liar like me.” 

“Shut up.” Virgil snarled, the shadows in his room curling around his feet. He clenched his fists, ignoring the feel of nails biting into his palms. “You’re just sour that Thomas still hasn’t noticed you, even after I split off and proved that Dark Sides can appear to him.” 

“Oh, you’re so right. It’s not like I want to keep helping him without needing all that attention or anything.” Deceit smiled smugly, as Virgil worked his jaw. “You can’t play the villain forever, Thomas won’t still hate you and get hurt because of it. I’m much worse off, helping keep him safe by keeping him in the dark.”

“I don’t care if he hates me.” Virgil returned, ignoring the way Deceit’s lips thinned knowingly. “Thomas needs his friends, needs people, and if he goes down the road you want him to take, he’ll be alone and hated his whole life, and he won’t even know why.” 

“Virgil, you’re the farthest thing from a hypocrite I’ve ever met.” Deceit offered, saccharine-sweet. “After all, you certainly wouldn’t know anything about being alone and hated, now would you?”   

“Yeah, it’s my job.” He spat, furious. “I’m supposed to keep Thomas from feeling the way I feel preemptively, genius.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to prevent his voice from slipping. “I knew what I was getting into when I revealed myself. Maybe you should focus more on your own role instead of nosing into my business.”

Deceit’s eyes narrowed slightly with irritation. “Yes, I’m definitely the one slinking about where I don’t belong. You’d never take advantage of someone’s trust under false pretenses, after all.”  

Virgil bit into his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Deceit smirked, as though he’d never been irritated at all. After a moment, the look smoothed over into something more contemplative.

“You are so obsessed with Thomas upholding society’s standards, so afraid of him becoming a bad person. But you don’t have anything to worry about. After all, you’re a reflection of him, and you’re so very selfless, aren’t you?”  

Virgil recoiled as though struck, but there was no victory in the other side’s expression. 

“You made the right choice. The others will accept you when you’re exposed. You won’t regret it.”

With that final condemnation, he sunk away, and Virgil was left alone with the silence ringing in his ears. He hated fighting with Deceit, hated that the man wasn’t above tearing at sensitive spots to get his own point across, hated the raw, cut-open feeling that came with it. 

Most of all, he hated that Deceit was right. 

He was just using the others, lying to them to assuage his own pathetic loneliness. He’d made his choice, he’d known he’d be surrounded by people who didn’t want him there. He’d known, he’d known, and it still never got easier.

The transformation was at the edge of his senses, only a grasp from shifting him, and for a moment he entertained the thought of letting it happen. Running back to them, curling up in the presence of Thomas’ best attributes until Deceit’s words were barely even whispers in the back of his mind… 

Something clicked in the subconscious, and he let the errant dream go, sinking onto his bed. Thomas was making another video, and though it didn’t seem like he was going to be summoned this time, he still had work to do. He pulled up a screen of the scene through Thomas’s eyes, attention catching on every possible minor flaw, predicting the audience’s every possible reaction, determined to make the editing process hell so that only the best of Thomas was shown. 

That was his job, after all.

#sanders sides #g/t #giant/tiny #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts deceit #tiny dragon virgil #tsits #writing #my writing #the shapes in the silence #posting this early since ill be gone all weekend #taglist soon to follow! #deceit is both fun and hard to write...

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

*Victorian England little orphan boy voice* please sir, tell us a story. Any story you like. Just hopin' tho if ye please that it be gay? Thank you kindly sir. Thank ye

June I’ve had this sitting in my inbox for AGES with no idea what to write for you even though that’s absurd because EVERYTHING I write is gay so I’ve decided to just. give you the 4400 word first chapter to a possible future fantasy heist novel that I wrote the other day. hope you like it, I liked writing it.

Fen Davos was no stranger to being woken in the dead of night. It had been a hallmark of the neighborhood in which she had grown up, soothing as any lullaby, and was a staple of her current line of work. One did not last long as a guard in the Royal Palace of Deralia, not even a low-ranking guard, if one was not willing to jump out of bed and snap to attention at the oddest of hours. 

Even taking that into account, it was not often that her wakeup call came from excitable urchins who had plainly clambered in through the window. Alarmed to find the ragamuffin child shaking her and leaning right into her face, Fen did the only thing that made sense at the moment: she swung a fist to put some distance between them.

“Oof!” The child hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, rolling and clambering back to her feet immediately to sulk. “Why’d you have to do that? I only wanted to wake you up, you big skunk. It’s an emergency out there.”

Fen knew that voice. Groaning, she slid out of bed and touched a hand to the globe of moon moths that stood on her night table. Startled, the insect began to flutter around their enclosure, filling the room with a soft white light.

The urchin girl’s mismatched eyes went wide, either marvelling at the splendor or adding up how much she could earn selling such a thing to a pawnshop. “Get a load of that! That’s fancy!”

She would be impressed by that, wouldn’t she? Fen had, when she was first promoted into the palace lodgings. She’d spent a fortnight worrying about the poor moths living and dying in that glass prison before it dawned on her that they were only little wisps of magic, not real flesh and blood creatures that could live and die. Grouty came from the same neighborhood, only a few blocks poorer; of course she’d want to have a good look.

Fen to a firm step to the left, putting herself between the moon moths and Grouty. “Focus up. Why are you here? Is someone from the neighborhood hurt?”

“Not exactly.” Grouty rocked back and forth on her heels with a sly look on her face. “I don’t know, wasn’t really that important. You’re probably too busy. Guess I could scurry off and grab a constable…”

“I’m not going to pay you for the pleasure of being woken up,” Fen snapped. Nevermind that she couldn’t have even if she wanted to; guards’ wages were doled out in the form of credit that was handled by the palace’s Master of Credit so that they never saw a single cold, hard coin. The idea was that they were more likely to live more virtuously if all their purchases had to be approved by someone else - or that they would at least have to pay for their guilty pleasures with their own coin. For someone like Fen, with nothing in the way of family money or extra income, that meant living an upright life indeed.

Still, she wasn’t without a few little luxuries. Knowing perfectly well that Grouty was unlikely to budge without bribery, she yanked open the drawer of her bedside table and withdrew a bag of sweet, soft caramels. She hurled it at Grouty, who let out a little yelp of surprise.

“There, you little louse. Now, for the last time, what’s going on?”

The urchin girl had already fumbled a candy halfway unwrapped, looking gleeful. “Lighten up, would you? It’s Maricelli, over at the theatre. She’s gotten in some trouble with a burglar.”

“You mean she’s been burgled?”

Nah, of course not,” Grouty said, teeth already caramel-bound together. “I mean some idiot tried to burgle her and she’s got him tied up to a chair with a crossbow pointing between his eyes. I don’t know what she needs you for.”

Fen sighed, then started on gathering up her boots, jacket, and sword. It was amazing, really, how the old neighborhood had a way of dragging you back.

A flying carpet for two across the city at such an unorthodox hour didn’t come cheap, but Fen consoled herself by thinking of it as an investment - as in, by not running the entire way on foot, she wouldn’t have to worry about her heart or lungs bursting from the strain, which was surely investing in her future. 

The carpeteer let them off in front of the Perlicker Theatre, which proclaimed its name loudly with a sign that had been done up by some enchanter so that the words shone in a truly eye-watering shade of pink. After a few piteous early years of struggling for respectability the Perlicker had accepted its lot and proudly declared itself ‘The Best Worst Theatre in Town,’ becoming known for shows that featured death-defying fire stunts, incomprehensible musical numbers that frequently ended in nudity, and fake blood that could squirt fifteen feet into the audience - sometimes all at once, if you were lucky. Throughout the early evening the whole street was rocked by the laughter, screams, and music emanating immodestly from the Perlicker. 

Peak hours were long over, though, and even scandalous entertainers needed their sleep. Fen followed Grouty around to the back door, where a low-rent guard nodded and let them into a stairway that led up to apartments reserved for the Perlicker’s best and brightest. 

In the finest of these suites - a spacious arrangement with its own bathroom built in and a balcony that overlooked the theatre’s discrete maze garden - was Mericelli Rabineaux, sitting daintily cross-legged in a claw-footed armchair. She was wearing a gauzy floral robe, her purple hair in curlers, balancing a cup of tea on one knee, and, as promised, aiming a crossbow at a most unfortunate fellow who was bound and gagged with a variety of silk scarves in a chair that matched the first. 

“Lovely to see you, Fen. It’s been too long,” Mericelli said with an unnerving calm. “I’d love to catch up, but I was hoping you might be able to help me with this teensy little situation first.” 

Fen gave the man in the chair a long, hard look, and wasn’t sure whether or not she was relieved not to recognize him. Things would be messier if he were some unfortunate from the old neighborhood, of course, but at least she’d be in her element. Without that sort of advantage she wasn’t sure what would make Mericelli assume she was the right person for this job. 

“No promises. I’m assuming there’s a good reason you couldn’t grab a constable off the street to handle this?”

Mericelli laughed in a showy way that belied no actual humor. “Naturally. This is no petty theft. We’re dealing with heartbreak! Betrayal! Scandal! The potential ruination of a perfectly good career!And worst of all, the potential to inconvenience someone irritably wealthy. Would you like to tell it?”

This last question was directed at the man tied to the chair; Mericelli even jabbed the crossbow a little in his direction for emphasis. He was looking a little queasy from the odreal, and the appearance of Fen - a strapping young woman, armed with a sword and an expression that said she wasn’t very fussed about using the sword on someone if it meant getting back to bed sooner - had done very little to put him at ease. He shook his head as well as he could. 

“Fine. It’s about those,” Mericelli said. She nodded at a hatbox on her coffee table, overflowing with handwritten notes and pressed flowers the like. Groaty, who’d never met a personal possession she didn’t want to put her hands all over, descended on it at once, pawing through the papers with abandon.

“Gosh, this still reeks of perfume!” she announced. “The really hideous-smelling kind that you know must be expensive!”

“My former lover is a man of good breeding, not good taste or sense,” sighed Mericelli. “I always urged him to try a new scent, and every time he’d return with something more offensive. I found that charming, for awhile.”

Fen looked between the actress, the burglar, and the box of letters and thought she could see the equation answering itself as plainly as if the numbers were floating in the air before her. “Good Brights, please don’t tell me you’re blackmailing him.”

“Me? Blackmail him? I would never! Unlike him, I have no need for other people’s money,” Mericelli sniffed. “This a cowardly preemptive strike, according to our friend Mister Burglar, because the little gibbon is afraid of me doing something to ruin his wedding.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because he broke up with me a week ago by sending me the newspaper announcing their engagement.”

“It’s right here!” Groaty piped up, waving the offending clipping with obvious glee. “I remember hearing the newsmongers talking about this. ‘Lady Ifi Suwayama to Marry Sir Edwin Nicely in Surprise Ceremony.’ It’s all very suspicious on account of how sudden it was and how much more money her family’s got than him.”

“I can’t stand rich people,” Fen said with feeling. “I still don’t understand why I’m here, though. You clearly handled the burglar all on your own.”

Mericelli looked solemn, drawing her robe more tightly around herself as if the diaphanous flowers could protect her from what was coming. “There will be more, though. Neddy is a nervous boy, and once he’s got an idea in his head he can’t shake it until he’s done everything in his power to get rid of it. At risk of sounding like some fainting damsel, I am afraid of what he might do to me if he’s gotten the idea that I’m dangerous to him and his new bride.”

And I want you to fix it, was the unspoken end to that sentence. That had been Fen’s role for as long as she could remember, ever since she’d been old enough to toddle and hold a bottle and started getting left in charge of other children around the neighborhood. When you were flat out of luck and couldn’t out a single step in the right direction, good old Fen Davos would always be there to figure it out. She’d spent her whole childhood running herself ragged to fix other people’s messes, then grew up and decided she might as well get paid for it.

There could be no getting paid to straighten things out between Mericelli and Sir Nicely. Fen would have to be very discreet indeed, as it would look unseemly for a palace guard to be meddling in the affairs of actors and high society. She was pretty sure she couldn’t get all the way fired, not with her track record and connections, but there was every chance she’d get demoted back down to the city beat. No more cozy room of her own in the palace, that was for sure.  

Mericelli gazed at her imploringly, the effect greatly magnified by her smudged black eye makeup making her appear extra tragic.

“Fine,” Fen said. “But let’s show Mister Burglar out before we give him any valuable information.”

He was small and wiry, as many of the best burglars were. Unfortunately for him this also made him extremely easy to pick up for somebody built like Fen, which is to say, the opposite of small and wiry. She untied him and hefted him easily, holding him by the seat of his pants and back of his neck before he could so much as squirm. 

“Better luck next time,” Fen told him. “Don’t hit the pavement on your way out.” 

Easier said than done, considering the way she tossed him over the balcony. The good news was that the burglar - who had some experience with this sort of thing - managed to aim his fall so that he landed on the heaps of trash set out behind the Perlicker, which had a bit of a cushioning effect. The bad news for him was that this trash drew stinging possums by the dozens, and they were fiercely territorial critters.

Don’t worry, he didn’t die.

As soon as he’d topled out of sight Mericelli put aside her teacup and crossbow and got to her feet, stretching so dramatically that you’d have thought she had spent a century in that chair. “Goodness, that was unpleasant. I really do appreciate you getting over here in such a hurry, Fen, you’re a pal. Can I get you any refreshments? I’m about to ravage some instant ramen, personally.”

They reconvened around the table jammed in the tiny corner kitchenette, over which a small facsimile of a chandelier twinkled. It seemed every inch of the place shimmered or shone in some way, every surface festooned with cast-off pieces of costumes, wigs, dancing shoes, masks, and outrageous costume jewelry, interspersed with candles, empty cups, and old magazines. It was an impressively ostentatious sort of clutter, and suited Mericelli well. She was much more at ease now that the burglar had gone, bustling around fixing up eggs and a mix of spices to dress up the cheap noodles.

“I have no excuse for not inviting you over sooner,except that it’s been one thing after another. Ned was taking up a shameful amount of time for awhile, and of course there’s always work - shows almost every night, choreography to learn and costumes to fit during the day. I suppose I don’t have to tell you how that is; the guard must keep you busy. You got the cactus I sent when you were promoted to the palace, didn’t you? Did you think it was funny? I thought it suited you better than flowers, and it lasts longer anway. And that’s all going well? It must be. You look good, definitely better fed than I’ve ever seen you. What’s the food like up there?”

“Can’t hold a candle to your ramen,” Fen said as a bowl was set in front of her - chipped, secondhand, with faded images of saccharine puppies gamboling around the rim. “You look nice. Purple hair suits you.”

Mericelli, seated now at the head of the table, preened happily. “It’s lilac, actually. Isn’t it something? You’d be astonished how often they make me dye it some fiendish new color. Pretty soon I’ll have to go blue and green again, for the Mermaid Festival, and before that I spent practically forever with silver hair for The Widow of Salamander Street.”

Groaty momentarily paused slurping up her noodles and looked thoughtful. “I liked the posters for that one, they were scary. Only you’re too young to be playing the Widow, though.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t realize you were a discerning theatrical critic. I’m playing the Littlest Fairy in Springtime Follies now; is that better for you?”

“You’re too old for that!” Groaty protested. 

Fen raised an eyebrow. “You do the Follies here? That’s a children’s story.”

There was just enough reproach in her voice to make Mericelli look ever so slightly ashamed of herself. “Yes, well, we’ve made some changes. Fluffed up the songs a bit, added some conflict and drama and the like, threw in a few jokes. Not much actually happens in the original, if you think about it.”

“Not much needs to happen,” Fen said stubbornly, “it’s a lovely poem about doing good and helping others.”

“Exactly, and now it’s a lovely poem about doing good and helping others that happens to have a bit of racy stuff added in for flavor. I have a very suggestive dance with the flock of satyrs, it’s great fun!”

“Thrilling. Not that I don’t want to hear more about you defiling nursery rhymes, but why don’t we talk about your Nicely fellow now. Namely, how you think I can help.”

Mericelli’s face fell immediately, but as always she was able to collect herself and carry on. “Of course. First point of order, I’d like his letters kept somewhere safer, because I may need them if he tries to force me out of the city.”

“Is that likely?”

“He didn’t just send me the newspaper,” Mericelli said. “There was also a very long, rambling, painfully insincere letter about how he’s cherished our time together but feels he has to grow up and do the responsible thing by marrying a woman wealthy enough to let him be a kept man. He unsubtly suggested that it might be best for me to leave Brighthaven altogether, on the grounds that it would be terribly embarrassing for both of us if certain details of our relationship were to get out. You know how the upper crust are - they get terribly fussy about their children mingling too much before marriage, and I have enough of his awful attempts at erotic poetry to potentially call his whole wedding off.”

“Gross,” Groaty said vehemently. 

“Seconded,” Fen agreed. “What about you though? No offense, but I thought actors were supposed to list scandals on their resumes. How does this hurt you?”

“Well, the sex part certainly doesn’t. But I’m afraid that in the course of our relationship I may have shared certain other intimate secrets with him, pertaining to my profession. I said some things about certain senior members of the theatrical community that wouldn’t reflect kindly on me at all, and could possibly keep me from ever coming near a leading role again if they were feeling petty. And I may have revealed one or two things about a few of the… less advertised events we put on here at the Perlicker. Those could get the whole place shut down, if I’m not mistaken.”

She delivered the monologue well, with clear eyes and hardly a quaver to her voice, but Fen could see how much the idea of it distressed her. Her work, her art, was everything to Mericelli, and she’d spent years taking undignified, unmemorable roles to get as far as she had. The Perlicker may have been a hotbed of ill-repute and tackiness, but it did command a certain kind of glamour and the dependable audience that Mericelli craved. The idea of having her entire career yanked away so soon after her star had finally started to rise had her more scared than she could admit.

“Right, then,” said Fen. “Here’s what we’ll do. You don’t panic, okay? I know someone who knows everything that happens in this city; I want to talk to her before we decide how worried we should be. He might just want his bad poetry back.”

“So I’m just supposed to live with burglars letting themselves in at all hours at my former lover’s behest?” Mericelli demanded.

“Absolutely not. If you trust me to, I’ll take them with me now and move them to the safest place I know later today. Groaty? You’ll need to run over to Ardessa’s and let her know I’ll be stopping by. Tell her I need a favor and that she’s probably not going to like it.”

Groaty pursed her lips, thinking it over and weighing it on her mental scales. “That’s a pretty big ask. You know how cranky she gets about same-day appointments. What’ll you give me for it?”

“What about this delicious meal I fixed for you, little ingrate?” Mericelli asked.

“Nah. That just covers me getting Fen in the first place, ‘cause you made me do it in a hurry and promised you’d pay me back later,” Groaty insisted. 

“Alright, a week of baths here in my own tub. I’ve got fancy soap for bubble bath and everything.”

“Urgh, a week? What do I want that many baths or?”

Fen was feeling wildly out of her depth here. She didn’t want any of this showing up in her credit records, not to mention she didn’t think the Master of Coin would approve of her using palace funds to bribe a little urchin girl.

“How about this, then?” Mericelli went to her coffee table and fished around in the mess of handkerchiefs and playing cards, coming up with moonstone brooch painted with sinister black spiders. “I wore it when I was playing the Widow. Pawn it, wear it, put it in our slingshot, I don’t care. It’s yours.”

“Geez, that’s great! I’ll go hang around Ardessa’s right now, so I can get her first thing in the morning!” Groaty snatched the brooch up eagerly, immediately disappearing it into one of the many coats that comprised her shapeless gray coat. She slurped down the last of her ramen and hurried out the door, giving Fen and Mericelli an awkward little salute as she went.

“I should be on my way as well,” Fen said quietly, getting to her feet. “It will be sun up soon, and there will be questions if I’m not accounted for. Get some rest, alright? I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything, I promise.”

She gave her old friend a hug, during which Mericelli squeezed Fen a little extra tight, then departed with the incriminating hatbox tucked under her arm. She considered finding another carpeteer but ultimately decided against it. Saving money never hurt, and in any case she needed a chance to think. Prestigious as working at the palace was, there was nothing like a walk through the streets of Brighthaven in the wee hours of morning to really get the brain working. Fen had told Mericelli not to panic and she meant it, but she would personally be planning for the worst case scenario so that she could be twelve steps ahead if it arrived. Already there were more moving parts to this than she liked, and she had a gut feeling things would only get more convoluted.

By the time she got back to the palace she was tired in body and mind. She nodded to the guards on the gate, who gave her an odd look but didn’t make a fuss about it, and headed straight for the most secure place she could currently access. Ardessa’s tower was the ultimate goal, of course, but a princess’ chambers would do until then. No one stopped her there, either; everyone was well aware of the young princess’ special fondness for Fen.

Twelve was already awake when Fen entered her room, hunched over her workbench in pajamas and a pair of enormous magnifying goggles and tinkering with the mechanical innards of her latest cuckoo clock. 

“Hello, you,” the princess said vaguely when Fen hugged her from behind and kissed the top of her frizzy head. “This is awfully early. Would you like some breakfast?”

Someone had been around with a tray, fat blue pancakes and fresh fruit and bacon done perfectly crispy. Fen helped herself to a few grapes as she kicked off her boots, then had a heavy seat on Twelve’s canopy bed. 

Twelve wasn’t her given name, of course, but the Deralian royal family were sticklers for tradition and only had so many names to go around. Twelve’s given name was shared with two of her eleven older siblings, several aunts and uncles, and innumerable distant cousins, so being referred to by birth order had honestly seemed more affectionate to everyone involved. 

Her family did cherish her, truly, but they were also large and sprawling and had quite a lot on their royal platters, but given how far removed she was from any chance of ever sitting on the throne she did tend to slip through the cracks from time to time. Twelve’s parents had long since lost their patience with arranging for etiquette lessons and politically advantageous marriages by the time their last child was of age for such things, and as such she was largely left to do whatever she liked so long as it didn��t embarrass the family too badly or cause any international incidents. For the most part Twelve was perfectly content to spend this freedom in pursuit of increasingly niche hobbies.

There were a few downsides, of course, namely practical ones: when it came to protecting the line of succession, the palace guards started cutting corners somewhere around number six. Still, even the worst-protected princess enjoyed security miles better than the average person. 

“I need to hide this here for a few hours,” Fen said, sliding the hatbox beneath Twelve’s bed. “Sorry, it’s a long story. I’m trying to help a friend.”

Twelve spun her chair around, pushing her goggles up to get a better look at her girlfriend. She was concerned by what she saw. “Helping friends is always a yes from me, but you look exhausted. What have you been doing?”

“Had to get across town to help clean up after an almost-burglary,” Fen said, yawning through half the explanation.

“Good Brights, is your friend okay?”

“She’s fine. The burglar had a rough time though.”

“Ah. Atta girl.” 

“You know I hate to ask for favors,” Fen said, “but I still need to do a few more things today to wrap up the loose ends. Could you tell the Captain you need me all day, to stop her harassing me about it?” 

“Only if you’ll get a few hours of sleep before you go. Uh uh, no arguing about it!” Twelve said, swiftly anticipating the next words out of Fen’s mouth. “The sun’s not even up yet. You can at least have a nap before you go running off to be dashing and noble and heroic.” 

Fen lay back on the bed, smiling as she shut her eyes. “Not hardly that exciting, goose. I’m doing what’s right, that’s all.”

Twelve clucked her tongue. “Get under the covers, would you? Get comfortable. I’ll go see about getting you the day off.”

She dropped a kiss on Fen’s cheek and disappeared into the hallway for a bit, having some word or other with the other guards about a dire need to requisition Sergeant Davos for the day in order to have her run some very important personal errands. No one was likely to question that too closely; the last time Twelve had requested Fen’s presence for personal reasons neither of them had left the princess’ room for a solid day. 

By the time Twelve returned Fen had dutifully crawled under the covers and was already half asleep. Fen could hear her girlfriend taking great pains to move as quietly as possible and slide into bed with as little jostling as possible, and it made her smile into the pillow. Twelve was not particularly graceful or stealthy by nature, but it was sweet how she tried. She wrapped an arm around Fen’s middle, cuddling her close and planting a kiss on her neck, and Fen exhaled contentment. It took a lot to quiet her mind and put a pause to her planning, but falling asleep cuddled up with Twelve worked better than any sleeping potion she’d ever tried. 

#a writing #trans-zatanna

[frigginwriting]

Howdy howdy! As I’ve mentioned before I changed my Nanowrimo goal to write The Tales of Kredos with @sweetfaerycherry, and we’re making fair progress on that. Only 5k words behind now.

I thought I’d put up the first chapter to see if I could get some opinions on it! We’ve written a lot more than this of course, but one chapter is long enough as it is. I’m gonna pop the first chapter under a read more here, if anyone gets the time some feedback would be delightful~

The world itself had no name, or at least the name was long lost in the tangles of vines around ancient ruins. Light from the moon peeked through dark clouds, and laid against old alabaster walls that shimmered with ancient enchantments. 

The walls stretched each way for thousands of miles, straight through the sacred forests. On the other side were massive pits where foul smelling black smoke billowed into the air. It blanketed the small rickety towns of the outer ring with an eternal overcast, as night bound people sulked around, looking to complete what they needed before the sun rose and the majority of the population was out for the day.

Further in, the smoke dissipated. Past the forest between the rings, were the second ring cities with better infrastructure and cobblestone streets. Then were inner ring towns with asphalt and oil street lamps. From there was the epicenter of the Triune Kingdoms– Centura. It was the Capital of Kredos, the walled continent safe from the savagery of beasts and monsters in the Wilds.

Centura was an odd assortment of buildings cobbled together, as the next technological century rammed full force into the past. It was the pinnacle of humanity, in all of its various forms. Near the center was a massive blocky skyscraper, metal shining in moonlight. Near there was the Palace of Power, where the four royals met twice a year. The last landmark was the capital temple, a big grand building of white marble, meticulously maintained. Inside was the large gold plated insignia of the sun, and in the still dark morning hours the new neon lights that lay over it’s edges lit the way.

Surrounding these three impressive landmarks were numerous businesses, and further out houses of gothic architecture. Down the street from the marble temple was a house that stood from the rest, small and old, unpainted wood, with sigils carved into the door and window frames. It had one large door, and on this early morning it swung open.

One person emerged with an errand to run, Runimo Avis, a seventeen year old with an array of colored hair and dark skin. As he left he carried with him his bag, one empty bottle, the goggles he wore, and the cane he kept outstretched in front of him.

The walk from his house to the main street market was more than most people in the capital cared to take, and by the time he reached it the sky was lightening up. He saw people roaming about already and felt relief, thinking he might have been too early still. As the light grew clearer with the rising sun, shapes grew clearer, still blurry and dark but with enough of an edge and enough contrast for him to tell where one thing ended and another began. 

Runimo kept a hold of his cane anyway, knowing it would make the shopping trip quicker and easier. He couldn't imagine anyone remembering all of their customers in the capital, but he of all people should have been a face one couldn't forget easily. Still, holding it, he got far less of an annoyed or irritated tone when he asked people to point him to something or read a label for him.

"Runimo!"

Focused on his own preemptive agitation, Runimo jumped at the call of his name.

"Oh, gods, sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

David, Runimo's friend. A light elf in shift, apparent by the point to the ears and to a lesser degree, his sturdy features and aquiline nose which weren't uncommon in them. The most notable trait of elves outside of the ears was the metallic, foil-like sheen to the iris of their eyes.

Runimo relaxed when he realized who it was.

"Nah, I just was thinking about stuff." Runimo said. "What are you doing up already?"

"Couldn't sleep." said David. "I suspect you're in the same boat?"

"Kind of." Runimo said. "Been up since two. I thought I'd run a couple of errands and maybe get a short nap in before. Hey, listen, do you smell coffee?"

"Coffee?" David asked, and paused to smell the air. "Huh. Yeah I suppose, do you have some, or..."

Runimo could tell from the cutoff of David's voice, that he'd come to the same assumption that Runimo had some time ago.

"I've been smelling coffee since I woke up." Runimo said. "I'm pretty confident in Granddad's wards, but I'm not particularly fond of the idea that some dark magic source has been following me all morning."

"Oh Lessers," David looked around as if he could spot the source, "have you told anyone? Have you told your grandpa?"

Runimo made a face.

"I'd rather not stress him out I think." He said, and it was obvious what he really meant.

"Hey, look," David said, "your grandpa wouldn't keep you from running the course if it wasn't for a good reason. You aught tell him, maybe he can do something about it, or at least make sure it's something unimportant. What if something messed up happens while you're out there?"

Runimo huffed a little. He knew all along, of course, that he should have told his granddad from the start. Part of him was hoping someone would say something to the contrary. His grandpa was already worried about him running the course as it was, the last thing he really wanted was to put out another excuse for him not to.

"Yeah alright, I know." Runimo said. "I'll tell him when I get back. I've just got some fish and sunflower oil to pick up for him, maybe a couple other things here and there."

"Yeah alright, mind if I come with?" David asked. "I'm just killing time until graduation."

"Haven't any reason why not." Runimo said, as he went back to browsing. "Makes my time easier."

"So Gavin says they finally told him what temple he's going to be assigned to, and you're never going to believe which one." David said, walking with Runimo.

"He wanted to go to one of those poor outer ring towns," Runimo said, "that hasn't changed has it? Is it one of those?"

"He's going to Pigsfoot, when he graduates." David said. "And he's actually excited about it, can you believe that?"

"He wanted to go to one of those poor little towns, so I mean yeah, one of the county capitals makes sense." Runimo said, and then with a teasing tone– "I can believe he's happy about it, some people are actually in this for the benefit of others."

"Listen, I want to help people as much as the next guy," David said, and placed his hand on his chest with a tilt of his head, "I didn't go through five years of priest's training because it was a cushy job. If I wanted high paying and cushy, I'd go work for Osseo... but I can smell that place just thinking about it."

"Well I mean it's a recycling town." Runimo said, and he paused to ask David to grab him a bottle of sunflower oil and leave the bottle be brought back. They paid the two gold kredits, and continued on. "I imagine you just get used to the smell after a while. It's probably not as bad as you imagine."

"Get used to the smell." David scoffed. "I tell you what, if you ever see me in a place like that, you can just assume I've lost my dang mind."

"You say that as if you aren't crazy half the time anyway." Runimo said, glancing David's way.

"Then assume I've really lost it." David said, pointing his finger at Runimo. "Speaking of crazy, there's supposed to be this new stall in the market today, we should check it out before you go home again."

"What's what have to do with crazy?" Runimo asked, and the two paused briefly in their walking.

"It's crazy because," David said, voice practically bouncing with anticipation, "it's apparently a stall for Grim Curios."

"Oh gods, that place." Runimo leaned his head back rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I know you've the tackiest taste of anyone I've ever met, yet still you continue to astound me with it."

"It's an airship shop," David said, "I've always wanted to see what they have inside, it's suppose to be real freaky. Beatrice said her aunt got her a nice necklace from there last Che'ibas, and it was enchanted so that she couldn't tell any lies."

"It was what?" Runimo asked.

"Yeah, I guess she ended up telling like half her family during dinner that she thought they were all uptight, overbearing, and ignorant." David said, and shrugged his shoulders, mirroring Runimo's surprise. "Of course she also told her aunt that her awful hairstyle looked like a nest of rats, and was probably what kept scaring away her various boyfriends so..."

"Lessers, and you want to get something from there?" Runimo asked, incredulous.

"Well at least look." David said. "Buy something if I think it's worth it, but mostly look. I don't know if it's going to be a permanent Sunday market thing or if it's just in town since the ceremony is today."

"You want to do an awful lot before... What time is it?" Runimo asked.

"Uh," David checked his watch, "six forty-five."

"You want to do an awful lot before it's even seven in the morning." Runimo said. "How do you know it's even open yet?"

"I passed it a bit ago, someone was setting up. They looked about finished to me." David said, and Runimo shook his head in the way that one did when feigning disappointment with their friends.

"Fine, if we simply must indulge in your terrible tastes." He said. "I want to get the fish first though."

"That's fair." David said, and they continued walking again. "I think it's nearer the back today."

They walked a ways back and Runimo knew they'd arrived when he heard a familiar voice speak.

"Good morning Avis, you're early today. You want the usual?"

"Yes please, Mr. Charles." Runimo said, coming to a stop beside the stall.

"Keep it cold for an extra gold?" 

"Yes as well, I think I'll be browsing a bit before going home." Runimo nodded.

The man behind the stall laid out a paper that was marked with sigils that Runimo couldn't see but knew would be there. He laid out two large fish and wrapped them, then a separate package of prawn, before wrapping them all up in the paper that had first been laid out.

The corner of the paper was pressed with a sticky seal, and for a moment the sigils lit up, before becoming dull marks again. Mr. Charles handed Runimo the package, and it felt chilled in his hands when he took it.

Runimo pulled out five gold, the usual price, and Mr. Charles tried to stop him.

"Nah, on second thought, don't worry about it. It's on the house just this once, you've got a lot to handle today." He said, and Runimo laughed slightly, pressing the coins down onto the top ledge of the market boxes.

"Let's not jinx me." Runimo said. "Thank you Mr. Charles, hope you get to see the ceremony."

Runimo and David set off once more, this time to the stall that David seemed so eager to drag him to.

When they arrived it appeared unattended, and Runimo was underwhelmed, unable to make out enough details to tell what all was there.

"Wow," David said, "they've got a pretty good collection of wands here."

"Wands are expensive as is." Runimo said, moving the goods he carried to his other arm. "I can't imagine coming from an airship shop. What else have they got?"

"Uh, some accessories, some spell scrolls, runestones, and potion and ingredient bottles." David said. "Looks like hand made foods too, probably enchanted like the rest of it all. Some bones."

"Bones?" Runimo said, reasonably off put.

"Says they're replicas." David said. "Though I'm not sure what someone would want them for."

He'd barely finished when someone spoke up behind them.

"Can I help you two?"

The voice was somewhat deep, but seemed genuine in it's inquiry. Regardless, when the two turned, they both let out a startled shout. 

David saw the details Runimo couldn't. Skeletal face paint that stood out on dark skin, a black and white pinstriped suit, and a bright splash of neon green hair.

Runimo saw the figure of a man who was no doubt nearing eight feet tall, looming over them.

"Wh– uh– Grim?" David managed to get out, and gestured a thumb behind him to the stall, flustered at his involuntary shout.

"Hex." Said the person who stood over them. "That is, Gossamer Hex. I am maintaining the stall here today."

"That's quite a name." Runimo said. 

"I'd agree it makes a bold statement. Whether it's a good or bad one is debatable," Hex said, "but I would say as far as rarity is concerned, it's about as common as a name like Runimo one would suppose."

Runimo blinked behind his goggles.

"You look like your grandfather, that's all." Said Hex. "The priest's outfit makes it a dead giveaway. Anyway, can I help you two?"

"I think we're just browsing for now." Runimo said. There was a moment of silence, a bit uncomfortable, as Runimo could only assume Hex was looking them over. Finally the guy piped up again.

"That's fine. I got a special going on today." He said. "First time with a stall here, and ceremony day and all, seemed like a good plan."

"Uh, what's the special?" David asked.

"Cracker candies." Hex said. "Of my own making. One free."

Runimo could say that neither he nor David had any real interest in children's toy housing candies, but it was free so he shrugged at David and nodded.

"Sure I guess. You make them yourself?" Runimo asked, as Hex rummaged through a bag on his waist. "Anything particularly special or just something to hand out to kids?"

"They aren't for kids." Hex said, pulling out two candies wrapped in wax paper. "They don't have toys in them. They have fortunes."

"Fortunes?" David asked with a weak incredulous laugh. "What, like you're an oracle or something?"

"No, nothing so complex. I assure you if I was I'd be living the high life in a decked out palace room, not selling candy on the street." Hex said, and handed the two each a candy. "I don't come up with the fortunes, I simply enchant the paper. When it comes into contact with a new person, the fortune writes itself. It's random, mostly a novelty as opposed to a real fortune."

"Oh," David said, looking at the candy in his hand, "that's actually pretty neat."

It was a rather fun idea, it was a wonder someone hadn't thought of it already. Runimo and David unwrapped their candies, and bit them in half. The candy was sweet and tart, firm, but not tooth breaking. Both boys pulled out the little slips of paper as they ate the candy that held them.

"So what's your say?" Runimo asked David.

David held the paper up, chewing on the candy, as the words wrote themselves onto the slip.

"...Huh. Golden eyes tell golden lies. A gentle hand means to do you harm." David said. "I don't think these make much sense. It is good as a novelty though I guess, but you might want to work on them more."

Hex only shrugged, and Runimo handed David his piece of paper. The words had already written themselves on there.

"What does mine say?" He asked. David took the paper and brought it up.

"The path to your future is paved with injustice. It begins with a ruse, and ends with a universal truth." David handed Runimo back the slip of paper. "These are kind of depressing, buddy, I don't think people are going to buy them if they just keep getting weird ominous junk."

"I suppose you may be right," Hex said, "I think I have to tweak the enchantment some. Perhaps I'll refrain from giving out the rest of them. The candy good at least?"

"Oh yeah, the candy is good." David said with a nod. "The tart sells it I think."

"Appreciated." Hex said. "How about one more thing, on me? Nothing fancy, but hopefully considerably less depressing."

Runimo and David couldn't help but snicker a little, and Runimo tucked his fortune into his satchel as Hex grabbed a couple of things off the table. Runimo didn't even have to ask what he was being handed, as David made it clear right off the bat.

"Oh lessers, wands?" He said, upon being handed one.

"Sure," Hex said, "but don't get too eager. I only do this because I make these in mass, so they're not really personalized to your magic."

"Don't these take a ridiculous amount of effort to make anyway?" Runimo asked, feeling the one he'd been handed. It was light and smooth, with a cool band of metal around the handle. He could feel a gem embedded into the band, something smooth, not cut.

"I mean I could take them back if it makes you uncomfortable." Hex said. David nudged Runimo.

"No no, we'll keep them for sure." David said. "I mean, even if quality suffers a little, I'm not going to lie, these things are usually expensive. You'd have to be a pretty big idiot to pass up free wands."

"I figured as much." Hex said. "Go easy on them now. They're made resilient, but I don't think they'll take big surges of magic. I'm still working on that."

"You sure make a lot of stuff yourself." Runimo said. "That's pretty cool. How long have you been doing it?"

"Oh, maybe about two years. I didn't start until I was seventeen."

"Wh– wait you're only–" Hex cut Runimo off.

"Oh, I think you ought to get going, haven't you?" He said. "The sigil on that packaging doesn't look like it's made to last real long, you should get that fish in your ice box before it's allowed to get warm. It'll start getting hot out here before long."

Runimo looked down to the package of fish and bottle of sunflower oil he held, and then he tucked the new wand into his bag and picked up his cane again.

"I suppose you're right." Runimo said. "Thank you again for this. I’ll give the wand a whirl, spread the word if it's good and all."

"It would be much appreciated." Hex said, and waved. "Good luck today you two."

The two boys headed off once more, Runimo ready to head home, and when they god out of earshot David spoke up again.

"Well that was weird." He said, and nudged Runimo. "Can you believe he's only nineteen? The guy was huge!"

"Gargoyle hybrid maybe." Runimo said. Very unusual to see in the capital. David scoffed as the suggestion.

"With all the free samples and not a single purchase?" He asked.

"Fair point." Runimo replied. "I'm not sure what else is that big though."

"Something we'll have to contemplate later," David said, slapping Runimo's back, "I've got to get back to dad. He wants to get as much help out of me at the shop as he can before I graduate, and I'm sure he'll be opening up any minute now, if he's not already."

"Suppose he'd have quite the fuss to find you're not there." Runimo said with small amusement. "Alright then, I'll see you and Gavin later, if you see him first let him know I said hi."

"Will do!" 

David waved, gesturing wide, before hurrying off and leaving Runimo to head home. Runimo went ahead and kept the cane in hand so that he could relax a bit more on his walk home. As he walked he passed someone headed the opposite direction, back into town.

He caught a strong whiff of coffee, as if the grounds had been shoved in his face.

He stopped and turned to look behind him, but when he did nobody was there. He paused, watching people further away walk back and forth, before turning back ahead on his path. After another beat he continued on his way, shaking his head.

Nerves, perhaps. He would be dealing with demons today after all. Someone walks by with a cup to go, and suddenly he thinks he’s smelling dark magic everywhere.

#writeblr #writblr #original writing #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2019 #Friggs Bullhockey #Kredos

[kaoru-takaida]

Shadowbringers chapter

*Contains Shadowbringers spoilers*

IN MOTION

Tius walks into Matoya's cave. He chokes in surprise as Hope turns from her seat to look at him. "Hope?!"

Hope drops the tone she was reading down next to her notes. Tius opens his mouth to respond. But Hope cuts him off. "Save it, Tius. I know everything..." Tius looks over at Arenvald, who had been sitting next to Hope. He gives a nervous shrug. Hope stands up from her chair. "It's fine. I'm not mad or anything. Just wanting to help." Hope replies. "Where's Kaoru?"

"Here..." Kaoru says, stepping out from the entrance. She twirls her hair nervously around her fingers, while her right hand grips the side of her hempen tunic. "I stepped out to check on our friends." She walls forward, joining them. "I..." She quickly bows to Hope, hands on her knees. "I am so sorry..." Hope take a step towards Kaoru. "I should have told you. But I was selfish and I-." Hope reaches forward and flicks Kaoru in the forehead. "Ah!" She stands quickly, holding her stinging forehead.

"Enough of that. There will be plenty of time for apologies and catching up." Hope tells her. Kaoru cocks an eyebrow. Hope smiles. "Me and Tius have a spell to learn..."

"YOU'RE going to learn the spell as well?!" Kaoru asks. "You mustn't! I'm only doing this for the Scion's sake! Think about Alphinaud!"

Hope grabs onto Kaoru's tunic. "Listen to me!" She tells Kaoru. "You don't get to be the only one to worry about the twins anymore!" Tius puts a hand on Hope's shoulder. But she slides it away. "I let it go because I thought that just MAYBE you'd find yourself in a position where you'd be comfortable leaning on me and Tius to help. But now that I know what's at stake and what you're sacrificing, I won't just stand by when I can do something about it!" She shakes Kaoru a second. "So, so help me Gods, if you tell me not to worry about this or to let you do it by yourself, I'll beat your ass into next week!" Kaoru gives Hope a long, surprised expression. Then, without warning, she snorts. She falls into a fit of laughter. Hope cocks an eyebrow. And scoffs, a smug smile on her face. "Why the hells are you laughing?"

Kaoru smiles, wiping tears from her eyes and holding her stomach. "Hehe... Because..." She sniffles. "I'm a bloody idiot..." She gives another few weak laughs. But her smile morphs into a grimace and the tears continue the flow as her laughs turn into sobs. Hope tsks and pulls her into a hug. She holds Kaoru, resting her chin on her shoulder. "I am... such an idiot..."

Tius gives a little bow to Riol as he leaves. Tius turns to the others. "So he confirmed it. There's a base hidden in the area where the rest of the assassins are holed up." Tius unrolls the scroll in his hand, setting it on the table. He points to where a red X is marked. "Here is the only entrance."

Hope scowls. "In the water?" Tius nods.

"Pretty clever in my opinion..." Tius tells them. Kaoru puts a hand to her chin, already considering a plan. "It's only accessible with submarines. And the base is a few malms from the entrance on land in this rocky area." Tius leans onto the table. "The rocks hide it and an electrical field keeps anyone out."

Kaoru nods. "Pains me to say... but tis a very smart location to place a secret base." She puts a hand of reasoning out. "Given the Neutrality of Mor Dhona, twould be foolish not to have some sort of preemptive solution in the possibility of invading Eorzea. The neutral zones would be the easiest to conquer..." Kaoru faces Tius. "Did Riol mention there being more of these bases?"

Tius crosses his arms. "I'd be surprised if there weren't..." Tius began. "This possibility came from Gaius."

Kaoru sighs. Her hand goes to her chin again. "Suffice it to say, it comes from a wholly reliable source..."

Hope speaks now, arms crossed. "So what's the plan here?"

Kaoru thinks a second before stepping forward. "Theoretically, should we destroy the base, we can stop the attacks on the Scions, albeit temporarily." Kaoru tells her.

Hope purses her eyebrows. "Why is it temporary?"

"With the possibility of other bases hidden in different sites around Eorzea, and with no idea what they number, the probability of another attempt on our comrades' lives is imminent. Especially since the orders come from the Royal family, the Emperor at it's worst..." Kaoru points a finger upward. "But, we shouldn't worry about that just yet. Destroying this first base closest to the Rising Stones is more dire... And I've a plan that might just work."

"This is ridiculous... Ridiculous and super embarrassing..." Tius's voice comes from the linkshell.

"I'm with Tius on this one..." Arenvald says.

Kaoru and Hope chuckle to one another. "Hey, you guys pulled the shortest straws. And Arenvald doesn't have the Kojin's Blessing to breath underwater." Hope says, checking her gear.

Kaoru adjusts the hood on her new robes, given to her by Master Matoya. "Besides," she adds, "you both are doing so perfectly."

Tius, glamoured over as Alphinaud in his blue outfit from the Source provided by Tataru, taps his white pointed boot in irritation before him and Arenvald, disguised and glamoured as Thancred, leave the Rising Stones. "Alphinaud" scoffs. "This is bullshit..." Tius says.

Arenvald gives him a worried look. He leans over and whispers into Tius's ear. "You need to act more like Alphinaud... We need to draw the assassins' attentions."

Tius clears his throat. "Oh, I'm Alphinaud!" He quips in an over exaggerated Sharlayan accent. One that makes Hope and Kaoru visibly cringe and grimace at, hiding in the brush at the waterfront in Silvertear. Tius crosses his arms dramatically. "I'm a prodigal political and strategical badass with a hero complex and the inability to tread water when attempting to swim."

Hope facepalms and Kaoru sighs, eyes narrowing. "Mayhap, this was a foolish plan..."

Tius smiles a devilish smile to Arenvald. "No no no. This is getting fun!" He says. He hops onto the bench, placed in the Aetheryte Plaza. "As you are doubtlessly aware, I learned to draw to woo the girls in school and am scared of ghosts and heights!" He shouts. Passersbyers all stare in confusion and awe. "Tis I! Alphinaud Leveilleur! In the flesh! Not my twin Alisaie, though it is very common to get us mixed up because I look like a girl myself!" Arenvald snorts, trying to look away with Thancred's body features. Hope sighs now too.

Kaoru points as a submarine surfaces in the lake. "There!" She says. They both duck more and watch as 10 stealthily dressed soldiers leave the ship and beginning running towards Revenant's Toll. "It's working you two. You're about to have company..."

Tius and Arenvald give each other meaningful looks and nod. Kaoru and Hope wait for the submarine to drop back into the water. "Five... Four... Three..." Hope swallows hard. "Two... One... Let's go!" Kaoru says, gesturing forward. They both take a running start before diving into the water.

Immediately, they feel the Kojin Blessing take hold as they descend deeper, following the lights of the submarine. They swim with all their might. Malms away, Tius and Arenvald sprint through the entrance gate of the Crystal Tower. "Keep going!" Tius shouts as they run up the stairs. Arenvald stops to catch his breathe, hands on knees.

"They've yet to make the entrance gates." Arenvald says. "Can we dispel the glamour yet?" Tius opens his mouth to respond. But before he can, they hear the stone gates open.

Tius gasps. 10 Garlean assassins clad in light versatile clothing stride up the steps. Tius looks at Arenvald. "Follow my lead." He whispers. He clears his throat. The soldiers stop in front of them. Tius puts a smile on Alphinaud's face. "Hello there." He says in a scarily similar voice to Alphinaud's. Indeed, it took Arenvald by surprise how eerily similar Tius switched to being Alphinaud.

The man in front removes his mask, exposing a rugged red beard and eyepatch with scars covering his face. "Are you Alphinaud Leveilleur of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn?"

"Alphinaud" scowls slightly. "Might I trouble you with my own question?" He says. "Who might you be?" He looks down at the long gunblade at the man's hip. "And why are you armed to the teeth?"

The man points to himself. "We are of the Populares in Garlemald." The man replies.

(Liar...) Tius thinks. He took note of the man's shifting weight. A dead giveaway to him that he was hiding something, not that he didn't already know that. "The Populares? Then did the Emperor send you?"

"Yes, we were sent by His Radiance." The man answers.

(Without hesitation or any tonal change to his voice...) Tius took note. (Even though the first answer was a lie, he's telling the truth about this. The Emperor was the one who ordered the hit on the Scions then...) Alphinaud smiles. "Ah, then he came around to wanting a cease fire then... How admirable..." He gives a bow. "Aye, Alphinaud Leveilleur at your service." Arenvald gives Tius a concerned glance. (We just have to stall long enough for them to get into the base...)

Kaoru and Hope surface, climbing up a railing and into the base. "We're in..." Hope says on the linkshell. "Hold them as long as you can. We need to find the main comms room." Kaoru and Hope sprint through the base.

"The room is most likely located at the heart of the base. If we take it down, there will be no way for them to call reinforcements and they'll have little recourse but to retreat." Kaoru scowls. "That being said, they number against us a couple hundred. Being spotted will hinder us greatly." As if on que, Kaoru yanks Hope backwards and against the wall. A second later, 2 Garlean soldiers pass into the hall in front of them, missing the girls completely.

Hope looks up at the corner. In Garlean lettering, she can make out the word "communication" and an arrow pointing down the next hall. "There." Kaoru nods and they both head that way.

Meanwhile, Tius as Alphinaud crosses his arms. "Might I ask why your envoy has followed us?"

The man gives a Garlean Salute. "Eagan Suz Partus, sir." He says. "The Emperor sent us to escort you to Garlemald for peace talks. There was word of the failed attempt some moons ago. We were sent to officially escort one Alphinaud Leveilleur to the capital personally."

Alphinaud closes his eyes, sighing. "Unfortunately, I am a tad bit preoccupied with the Scions at the moment to make for an expedition to the capital, envoy or no."

Eagan removes a knife, promoting Arenvald to choke in surprise. "Then we'll have to take you by force..." Tius opens his eyes. The man reaches forward and latches onto Alphinaud's jacket. He yanks him down a step or two and turns him to face Arenvald as Thancred, placing the blade to "Alphinaud's" throat. "You're both coming with us. Or else this will become bloody."

Tius sighs now. He looks up at Arenvald. "Shall we drop the charade?" He asks. Eagan doesn't say anything. Before anyone can respond, Tius latches onto the man's arm and pulls downward, slipping from the man's grasp and yanking the man entirely off of his feet. The man flips over Tius and onto the ground with a dry thud. With a smirk and a dangerous look in his eyes, Tius dispels the glamour, removing two daggers and assuming a ready combat stance. Arenvald dispels his glamour and removes his sword and shield.

"We've been tricked!" Eagan shouts. He jumps back, jumping fulms away from them both. "You four, follow me!" Tius and Arenvald choke as they turn their backs. "The rest of you dispose of this ilk!" The five men run toward the gates, leaving 5 in number against Tius and Arenvald.

"We have to stop them!" Tius shouts.

#kaoru takaida #hope gallant #tius mason #arenvald lentinus #master matoya #ff14 #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv shadowbringers #ff14 shadowbringers #shadowbringers #post shb #shb spoilers #ffxiv shb #ff14 shb #Shadowbringers spoilers #alphinaud leveilleur #ffxiv alphinaud #alphinaud #ffxiv alisaie #alisae #alisaie leveilleur

[ringmaster-jack]

Pass the Kerosene

[ An intermitted drabble elaborating on what occurred between Jack and his firebreather during the events in Early August.  It’s long as shit and it took me forever to write but I’m sick of looking at it so herE.  Preemptive apologies for all the god damn fire puns.  Also this drabble gets kinda dark and psychological-like so if you’re bothered by that kind of thing, warnings inbound. ] 

                                                        ♤ ♠ ♤ ♠

"What do you mean he's GONE?"

"I mean what I said.  He's gone.  He left."

The ringmaster clutched his face in his hands, a desperate and unyielding attempt to quell some of the disorganized jargon that threatened to spill from his lips.  It took him a few moments to collect his barrings enough to speak again without screaming, but even then, it was barely contained.  There was only so much one man could take over the course of a day, and there had been too many days like this over the passing months.  Chaos, change, danger and all that came with it; it was something Jack had more than accepted as a part of his life, long before he ever began his showmanship.  But everything was moving too fast, now.  Much too fast, and much too much of it, with repercussions he couldn’t even begin to unravel.  The way his brow tightened against the press of his roughened fingertips seemed to mark the coming of a nasty headache.

"What did you say to him.”

It took a hyper sense of focus, an ungodly shade of self-control for him to even manage one line to the woman in front of him without snapping like a territorial wolf.    

"What he needed to hear." Just one.

"...SERA.  What does that even MEAN?  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO.”

Even if the sturdy-shouldered firebreather had wanted to respond to him, he didn’t really allow her the time with which to do that before he began flapping his jaws again.  Never shutting up was one of the ringmaster’s most defining features.  It was why a lot of the crowds he drew in enjoyed him, though to this woman, it was his most aggravating trait.  He never listened. 

 For a time, she allowed him to continue his yammering, though she felt herself not far from her own tipping point. Jack was the only one who could insight such a very specific and special sort of rage in her that was otherwise left unexpressed to their fellow carnies.  Amber eyes narrowed gradually the more she listened to him blather on, locked to his frantic and emotive pacing.  

"This is...bad. This is really really bad, this is not good this is a damned--catastrophe-- he can't--he has no place else to go, Sera, ANYTHING could happen to him--ANYTHING could just-- what, what was it?  What did you say to him?  WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHY? What the fuck possessed you to think that sending HIM --of all people--out-- THERE-- He was hurt, he--"

"He wasn't in critical condition. And he left on his own. He's a grown man, Jack, he can take care of himself."

"NO, HE CAN'T. HE'S NOT...THERE. MENTALLY."

"Okay, so then you took advantage of someone with a serious psychological condition.  That’s what you did, you haven’t done anything to actually help him. That’s pretty horrible, Jack.  You, you are pretty horrible. Y’know? "

Miss Seraphina Lefevre was many things, but she had never been one to pussyfoot about when it came to matters such as this.  For at least 5 years now she’d known and followed this man, which was why it came as no surprise to her when he turned on a dime and launched himself into her personal bubble to thrust her to the nearest tent rafter.  The framing of the big tops always held considerably sturdier than any of the personal tents, but even they shook with the force of his motion.    

"Don't you dare put that shit on me, Sera.  It’s not like--" 

The ringmaster didn’t have time to finish speaking before he felt a pain strike him where he touched her, a scorching heat that left blisters on his hands.  He should have known by now to never even try with this woman; the fire witch hadn’t even the need to struggle in order to get him to back down with a startled shriek.  

She pushed herself away from the pole she’d been so rudely knocked against, arms folding as she approached the man who by now had gotten over the momentary shock of having the first layer of his palm skin burned off. 

She spoke before he could finish, contemptuous and lucid in her speech, despite her obvious irritations over his lazy threats of violence.  Some people feared this man, but she knew him for what he was.     

"What is it like, Jack? Because from where I'm standing, this isn’t exactly out of your usual routine.  Maybe you’re invested in it now, but you know as well as I do you’ll eventually lose interest.  You always do.  You can go on and lie to yourself, if you want to believe you actually have feelings for him, then fine.  But it’s not the truth.  If you actually cared about him then you’d realize all you were doing was using him and playing games with his head. Hurting him. Like you do with everyone.  All. the time."

The heat that radiated from her person felt like stepping into a sauna, but Jack refused to swallow his pride no matter how many steps she took towards him.  He was sweating now, but his expression refused to crack under the very literal heat.  He was a stubborn sort.

"Why are you such a fucking bitch to me--”

"No, Jack. You're going to listen."

With every breach of distance, the showman's posture would sink.  Even with disregard to her firepower, this woman stood at a respectable and athletic 6′2″-- she was no delicate flower, and Jack, although he’d been healthier than in previous months-- was still not much of a match by comparison.  Not without his toys, or some backup-- and she was supposed to be his backup.  

"I don't care how much you think you want him. You do this every single time. You fixate on one person or thing and drain it of everything it has until there’s nothing good left."

"I don’t--want him, Sera, I need him--it was different with him.  I don’t know how to explain it, it just...I’ve never felt this way before.  You don’t understand-- you don’t-- get it.”

"Oh, I don't?"

Though she’d stopped moving toward him, her words were no less harsh than the fire in her veins.  Perhaps even worse, to one such as the ringleader.

"4 years ago, Cayri. Do you remember that name? 3 weeks of courting and one pregnancy later and suddenly you're not interested. She's madly in love with you but you push her away to the point of emotionally crippling her despite the child you left in her belly.  3 years ago, Scout. How about him? You certainly loved to push him around, and he was ready to give you the world, but whatever happened to him? You think he just--disappeared, Jack? He's probably dead now, and you don't even care anymore.  Left to rot somewhere in the catacombs for centuries, I’m sure of it.  2 years ago, Alice. Dead from an overdose on stimulants that you provided her with. She’d never done anything like that in her life before she met you.  2 years ago, Rosalie-- a prostitute and an addict now in the red light district.  She was in school to become a teacher before she met you, Jack. A teacher.  1 year ago, Khai. You--"

"Stop, stop-- just-- stop it. I get it.  I get it, okay?  What do you want from me?  I can’t control the way I feel. I don't know what to do. You don’t know all the shit I have to deal with Sera. I'm doing the best I can."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH."

Ah, there it was.  Her breaking point. One could only listen to the crying, blithering bleats of a spindly, insane man-child for so long before losing their cool. She never really had that much ‘cool’ in her, anyway.  This was made abundantly clear by the flames that danced between her fingertips a mere inch or two from the man who spoke, exaggerating her gestures in the most intimidating of styles.  Jack ducked away from each movement she made-- she wasn’t making any conscious effort to injure him, not yet, anyhow, but he could still feel his unshaven chin hairs singe when she got too close.  

"I don’t CARE if you’re trying.  You need to be better.  You need to be a better PERSON.   Your mental disorders aren’t justification to be a horrible human being. You ruin everyone you come into contact with and you don't even CARE.  You can’t just keep doing this shit every other month and going on about your business like it’s okay.  It’s not fucking-- okay, Jack.  There are consequences.  Maybe not for you, but for everyone else who has the fucking misfortune of having to deal with you.  If you actually care about anyone then get your shit together."

Silence.

  The ringmaster heard nothing from her that hadn’t already been reeling around in his own mind-- and pretty often, in truth.  It didn’t make it hurt any less to hear it out loud.  Although his eyes followed the fire that swirled within her calloused hands, he gave no real reaction to it, now, unblinking and motionless.  There was a stillness that followed before his voice made its reappearance, indignant and soured.  He turned up the collar of his coat, a small expression of anxiety that he rolled into with a hefty side step, away from his second in command and her judging stare.

"...If that's really how you feel, then why don’t you just leave? Just.  Go. Get out.  Go ahead.  I don't need you."

"I can't.  I made a promise. Unlike some people, I actually keep my promises."

"And what promise is that, Sera?  To irritate me relentlessly until I develop high blood pressure and die of a heart attack at the age of 42?”

"This isn't funny Jack."

“No, it’s not.  You think I’m joking?  Leave.  I told you to go.  That wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand.  Good day to you, madam.  Au revoir.  You are dismissed.  Goodbye, I am tired of listening to your bullshit.  Do not pass go, do not collect 200 gold.  Make sure to leave your keys by the door.  Get the fuck out.”

This did not earn the look of shock or terror that the jackal had initially expected.  In fact, she actually laughed at what he’d had to say, and genuinely so.  It wasn’t because of the content in his words; though, and he knew that long before her merry sounds were quelled.  Even with the heat of her flames still twitching through the air, he felt his blood chill.

“Jackie...” the redhead began, her voice softened from its previous state of enmity.  Coming from her, that didn’t necessarily mean something good was inbound.  

“I do...at least 70% of your paperwork.  Most of the documents for all this?” She gestured around them, her fire leaving streaks of afterglow in the dim light of the tent. 

 “Most of this is in my name.  Just because you’re the poster boy doesn’t mean you’re the showrunner.  I got you here, not the other way around. This is my circus.”

Well... she had him there.  It was never something he’d actually thought about, though.  Ever.  In fact, it was such a distant concept in his brain that it almost felt as if he’d just learned it.  How was he supposed to come back from that?  He hated arguing with this woman.  He hated this woman, period.  

“Well...then...fine,” He was defeated.  He knew when to admit that.  But it didn’t mean the lanky showman was going to take his defeat lying down.  

Instead, he’d walk away from it entirely.  

“Then I’ll leave!  I don’t need this place.  And I especially don’t need you.  See how well this garbage runs without me, I’m gone.  I don’t have time for this.”

A dramatic exit was the goal, here, but yet again, the witch superseded that in an instant by way of magic.  Before the ringmaster could even get halfway to the door, he’d been cut off by a wave of fire-- if he hadn’t sucked in and allowed himself to stumble and fall back, it would have most certainly burned him.  The uncharacteristically high pitched shriek that came from his lungs would have been funny in other circumstances, but this wasn’t really that sort of moment.

 The fire that spread formed a ring around them, a cage of flame that suspended itself at a height that made it nigh impossible to take his leave.  He was more than just a bit upset, now.  He was pissed.

“No.” the fire witch exclaimed, her voice strong and unyielding.

“Sera, what the fuck?”

"Jack..."

Through the veil of flame, the fire dancer had coast towards the ringmaster, unscathed by the heat of her element.  She’d made a point to kneel down beside him, her hands to her knees to speak to the man as if he were a child. Jack rebound from his momentary startle and returned to a state of violent irritation in record time, his brow heavily knit in her direction. 

"Why am I here?" She asked of him.

"Well, presumably to make mon--can you please stop it with the fire?  My nuts are getting steam-cooked here, "

"No. Besides that."

"Because you enjoy making my life miserable?”

"Jack...”

“...Let me go, Sera, I swear to your gods...”

Seraphina didn’t seem to have any intention of dropping the firewall that surrounded them.  Even as the ringmaster tried to slip back on his rump, she stayed where she was -- it wasn’t like he could really go anywhere unless he wanted to burn.  The possibility of crossing the flaming barrier wasn’t completely out of his mind, though.  Especially when she began talking again. 

“She asked me to stay with you.  Tabitha. She asked me to keep an eye on you if anything happened to her.  To make sure you don’t get into trouble.  I’m basically your caretaker, Jack.  We’ve talked about this.”

“I can assure you we most certainly have not.”

“Three times.  I’ve discussed this with you three times, now.  You’re not...well, Jack.”

“No, but I’d be a whole lot fucking better if you stopped holding me hostage like some kind of fucking domestic terrorist.”

While his anger was mounting, the firebreather remained static, indifferent.  Jack had begun the task of pushing himself back up to his feet again, though with a brief curse beneath his breath when he used his scorched palms to do so.  He’d forgotten about that.  

 “I need to go, Sera, I need to-- I don’t have time for this, I have to-- find him, he could be--”

“He hates you.”

Although he’d begun pacing around the flickering heat that surrounded them to try and find a means of escape, the showman stopped in his tracks when she spoke again.  Of all the things she’d said to him, this was one he hadn’t anticipated.  He gawked at the woman with more confusion than antipathy, his forehead dripping with sweat.    

“...What?  What does that even mean?”

“He said he hates you, Jack.  The jester.”

“...You’re lying.”

“Do you really think he would have just left like that if I was making shit up?  I didn’t want to tell you that part, Jack, but you left me no other option.  You nearly got him killed.  The gods know what else you’ve done to sway him in the other direction, but he told me himself how he feels.  Not in...so many words, but-- just let it rest.  Persuing him won't get you anywhere.  You’re just going to make yourself even more miserable. It’s been a long day.  For everyone.  It’s time to give it up.”

Whether she was being honest or not, this new revelation was one that Jack hadn’t the mind to even begin contemplating.  He didn’t want to contemplate it, but he knew that the moment he actually had a second to relax, it would be the first and only thing he’d be able to ruminate on.  He felt a hollowness in his chest that crept into his belly like the sensation one felt when falling.  He didn’t like it.  Not one little bit.  

“...Okay.  Fine, just.  Whatever, I won't--I won’t go -- looking for him.  Please, just... take down your stupid firewall. I need to get out of here, Sera, I need to--”

“You need to calm down.”

“I AM CALM.” Hardly.  He inhaled sharply and shot her a glare that was even sharper.  Everything in him was tense.

“I have to feed Umbra.  Do you have any idea how much I’m trying to placate this absolute trainwreck of a situation that is my life without having a total and complete nervous breakdown?  Because frankly you’re doing nothing to help with negating that scenario, woman, so if we could just please please please continue this conversation later, I promise promise promise you, I won't-- leave, okay?  Scout’s honor.  But I need to fucking go.  Now.  He has to be fed before this gets any worse.”

“I’ll get him food.  You need to go rest.”

“You can’t give him what he needs, I--”

“I know, Jack.  I spoke to him.  He told me what you’ve been feeding him.”

“...You...spoke to him?”

“Yeah.  The night you got stabbed, actually.  I took him to a diner.  Bought him a milkshake and everything.  I know what he is, Jack.  It’s inconsequential.  You were supposed to stop--”

“I did--I did stop!  But I have to now, for him.  You don’t know what will happen if I don’t...”

“You don’t know either, Jack.”

She just wouldn’t let up, would she?  The fire still blazing around them, Jack pushed his fingers into his eyes-- not enough to really hurt, just enough to blackout his vision and show him stars.  He pinched the bridge of his nose after this, no longer even attempting to take his leave as he tried, tried to compose himself.  As was the case with most situations for the ringmaster, he knew that the only way he was likely to get out of this was to smooth talk his way to the end.  But he hadn’t felt this angry in a long, long time-- and when he opened his lips to try and convince her again, all that came out was a bitter, tired,

“I fucking--hate you.  I hate you so much.”

The firebreather had pushed herself back into a standing position, if only to keep on level grounds with the ringmaster.  She’d remained unphased by the lazy insults or Jack’s penchant for traipsing the tent floor, something that had started again, like a caged lion.  When she spoke, it was much calmer than it should have been.

“I think you need to go back to Zaun.”

He halted in his tracks, but only to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you need to be hospitalized again if this is how things are going to be with you. In the past half a year alone you’ve almost died at least 5 times, you’ve happily invited an assortment of demons and malevolent spirits into our place of work, endangering everyone in the process, you’ve murdered an unknown amount of innocent people to use as sacrificial fodder to a literal dark god-- do I need to go on?  Because I definitely can, you’ve also-- ”

“Shut up.” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper.

“You’ve made it crystal clear to me that you’re a danger to yourself and to others.  You need things that I’m not capable of providing.  With the record you have, getting you involuntarily committed is a non-issue, Jack.  But I’d really rather have your consent.  You need help.  Please recognize that.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!  They don’t help anyone there, Seraphina!  They make everything worse!  Exponentially!  Do you know what they did to me in there?  Do you have any fucking idea--”

“I’ve been given a basic summary of your history, yes.”

“Then you know it won't make anything better.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“NO.  NO I AM REALLY, REALLY NOT.”

Incapable of finding an exit within the ring of fire, he turned back to the flame dancer instead, her self-righteous attitude and confident stare doing nothing but fueling the anger that bubbled in his stomach.  He wanted to approach her, to scream in her face, or worse-- but he knew any attempt at fighting this woman would probably end poorly on his behalf.  Especially if what she said was the truth.  So he continued speaking, instead.  Aggressively and with a bit too many flippant hand gestures, but maybe she’d listen.

“2 years in that place was enough.  They kept me so doped up I could barely function-- I’m only just now remembering bits and pieces of it, Sera, but I don’t need to remember any of it to know the shit they do in there-- it’s not fucking good.  By ANY stretch of morality!” he exclaimed, to which the witch seemed apathetic.

“They don’t heal people there, Sera, it’s where you go when no one else will take you anymore.  They just lock us away with disregard to any kind of human dignity and throw away the key.  They do things that would never fly anywhere else in the world because nobody actually gives a fuck about people like me.  Do you understand where I’m going with this?  I don’t know what misguided garbage my sister funneled into your thick fucking skull, Seraphina, but I’ll tell you right now--her whim isn’t worth the trouble.”

“It’s absolutely worth the trouble.  I loved her, Jack.  And she loved me.  And regardless of what you think, I’m not your enemy.  You’re like family to me, now.  I just want what’s best for you.”

My gods, the emotional rollercoaster they’d been on over the course of the past 15 minutes was one for the history books.  Now, it was the ringmaster’s turn to laugh.  It was a cold sound that built up from a soft chuckle into a half-exhausted but deep-bellied cackle, one he made zero effort to hide.  It made the elemental hesitate; if only for a moment, shifting her weight to the opposite foot in discomfort.  When he looked at her again with a shimmer in his eye, that hesitation grew.

“Is that really what you think?  You think she actually loved you?  Oh, honey-- if that’s really what your whole life has been based around for the last 6 years, do I have some sad news for you--” 

She’d wanted to interrupt him before he spoke again, but she didn’t get the chance.  His body lethargic in the heat, Jack floundered his way in her direction-- though this time there was no intent to try and assail the witch.  His cruel smirk betrayed his intent.

“Tabi didn’t love anyone.  You think I’m bad?  At least I have the capacity to actually feel something.  I fucking hate it, but it’s a thing, no matter how much I try to ignore it, y’know?  Her, though-- all she ever cared about was power.  Progress, at any cost.  What she thought was progress, anyway. She’d do anything if it meant furthering her ‘career’.  She slept around a lot more than I ever did-- you were just one in a long, long list of others.  I really don’t think she wanted you to babysit me with my best interest at heart.  She never really did care what happened with me.” The bitterness that hung on those words was enough to crumble his facade of egotism, at least for a moment, before his speech would continue on, more somber than before.  Sera was left to her own rumination for those few protracted seconds.  

  “If you’re really telling me the truth-- if you really do care about me, then.  Prove it.  I made a promise to you, and I don’t intend to break it.  But I need.  To go.  And you need to trust me.  Please, Sera.  I’m begging you.”

The firebreather knew that Jack had a way with manipulating people in his favor, regardless as to whether he was in the right or not.  She was one of the few mortals who had lifted that veil and seen the ugliness beneath the surface.  She didn’t buy his bullshit, not for one minute-- but in the stillness of the evening, with only the sound of her embers crackling in a coil around them... she saw some sincerity left within this filthy but charming man she’d followed for half a decade.  Maybe it was something in the way his eyes gleamed with unshed tears, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion in his voice.  She didn’t know at that moment.  He’d hit her in places that were much more damaging than the scorch of any flame ever was.  Things weren’t adding up.  

“...Fine.”  

Jack let forth a triumphant but passive ‘woo!’ when the intense temperatures that surrounded him where uplifted in a flicker of hot ash.  He knew better than to bolt immediately, so he took a moment to wipe the sweat hanging from his skin with the sleeve of his jacket, and offer her his graciousness.  Of course, the almost sardonic tone to his voice belittled that sentiment, now that the danger had been extinguished.  

“Thanks, boss, you won't regret it, I--”

Well, maybe not extinguished, so much as... muted.  Temporarily.  

His words garbled by the sensation of the firebreather taking clutch to his throat, Jack’s own hands instinctively moved to try and grab her arm-- a poor choice, as it only reignited the sting on his palms.  Her grip was so rough that the tips of her ruby-polished nails left crescent brandings around his neck.  Speaking was nearly impossible when you had a fire witch strangling you, which had perhaps been her intention.

“But let me make one thing clear to you first.”

Her amber gaze left holes in the man’s skull.  Jack did his best to avoid eye contact, but the panic in his expression was undeniable.  

“You’re not a hard man to track down, Jack.” 

That was all she said.  Nothing more, nothing less. One cryptic line that would stick with him in the coming weeks, though the burns on his neck would fade in a matter of days.

It didn’t take the woman long to release him, giving him the freedom of speech again-- but it took Jack a moment to compose himself through the fit of dry hacking.  He managed to rasp out a passionless, 

“Okay,” 

to her statement, though nothing more came for a minute still. Fire mages were never any fun, and though it was in his nature to poke fun of her for her amusingly heated temperament, he toned it down.  For once in his life.  

“I’m... leaving now.  If you want to dance again later, you know where I’ll be.  Thanks.  I suppose.”  

It was an anticlimactic ending to an incredibly intense night, enunciated with wounded pride that he did his best to uplift long enough to carry out the door with him.  He was no gentleman, but Jack would still do the bare minimum to at least present some sort of dignity, whatever that meant in his mind. It was a fine note to end on, he pondered, as he knew somewhere in the back of his thoughts that this was far, far from over.  

The stench of paranoia lingered in the air beneath the saccharine smell of late summer.  It hung itself heavily on the evening breeze that kissed the showman’s wet skin when he stepped out of the big top.

#ooc #drabbles #writi #long post #thIS TOOK A LOT LONGER THAN I WANTED IT TO #I'm just gonna end it there and post it #even if I haven't really proof read it officially #because imM TIRED OF LOOKING AT IT #jfc #seraphina #jack #tw: abuse #tw: swears #tw: violence #tw: asylum? #tw: drug implied #tw: dark themes in general #idk what else to tag this

[a-classic-story-so-far]

Of Course, Ms. Lovecraft

The sun was already high above the horizon when Sydney arrived at the posh Stormwind apartment. As Olivia’s personal assistant, the young woman already had a key to the front door, so she let herself in just as the bells of the Cathedral sounded the hour.

“Good morning, Ms. Lovecraft,” she called as she entered the kitchen.

Her employer had a strict routine in the mornings, and Sydney played a primary role in the mid-morning ritual. She put on a kettle for tea and washed any dishes in the sink. Olivia was, thankfully, a tidy person, so Sydney moved right on to plating the morning’s pastries and delivering them, along with the day’s paper, to the breakfast table.

“It is good to see you, darling,” Olivia offered as she entered the kitchen.

Although their relationship was strictly professional, Sydney always felt a little giddy with the sincerity of her employer’s greetings. It was a blessing she had counted each day for the last two years. It was also a stark reminder of the place in which Sydney had been when Olivia found her.

“They didn’t have chocolate croissants at your typical bakery, so I went to the one in Mage District to get these,” she remarked as she set down the small rectangular treats.

“I appreciate that, dear. However, you really don’t have to go to that trouble, you know. I like the muffins at Sunkissed Sweets, and they always have those in stock,” Olivia explained as she sat down and started to page through the paper.

“It is true, but I know last night was looking like a stressful one, so it was worth it to me,” Sydney called back as went to tend to the teapot.

“Well, thank you. You really do a great job of looking after me. That does remind me though. I need you to visit a couple rug makers and get estimates for an area rug to replace the one in the ‘guest’ room. I have the addresses for the shops tucked in with the week’s shopping list. I also took down the colors and dimensions I am looking for. Remember to tip them for their time, even if we won’t be commissioning them.”

“Oh no. Do you want me to also try to clean the rug?” Sydney asked as she returned with the tea for each of them. Olivia always asked her to have mid-morning tea with her while they discussed the day’s errands and gossip.

“There is no longer a rug to clean,” Olivia chuckled darkly. “It went out with the rubbish very early this morning.”

A pleasant chill danced up Sydney’s spine as she registered the veiled meaning of her employer’s words.

‘There is no rug because the ‘guest’ who soiled it went out was the rubbish.’

“Very well. I will see to the rugs promptly after tea. I will have the figures for you tonight.”

“Oh, no, darling. Not tonight. You can have the night off. I plan to see a show and maybe pay a visit to a reluctant associate. And before you even ask, I am hiring some arm candy for the occasion. I am going to be fine.”

Olivia’s preemptive assurance did little to dispel Sydney’s anxiety. However, in the two years she worked for the mage, she learned that it was futile to argue with the daring woman. In fact, it was downright dangerous if she believed you were underestimating her. Sydney was new to Olivia’s worlds, even after those two years, so she was afforded some patience.

But that was bound to run out one day, and it wasn’t worth risking a good thing over a bout of butterflies.

“Of course, Ms. Lovecraft.”

“Your private box, sir. Madame.”

Olivia reward the attendant’s attention to details by slipping her a few extra gold coins as she followed her companion the loge. The smile on her features conveyed her genuine approval as she picked up the complementary bottle of wine. Following his surveillance of the space, her companion returned to her side, silently offering to take the bottle from her.

“Are you alright with me calling you Neil?” Olivia asked as she surrendered the wine and went to survey the view.

“Of course, Ms. Lovecraft,” he replied.

The rumbling baritone of his murmuring sent a pleasant chill through her, but it was not so carnal as others may assume. His voice was like the false purring of a large cat retreating with its kill, a steady growl that was more promise than threat.

“Do you feel you have been properly briefed on my expectations?”

“Yes, Ms. Lovecraft. No physical contact unless you initiate or request it. I am not to speak on your behalf, and you’d prefer it if I didn’t speak at all during the show. When the show is complete, I am to escort you to the Slaughtered Lamb and then wait for you at the Blue Recluse.”

Olivia nodded along as he recited back her demands, her expression of esteem growing more affectionate.

“Good. And as for the potential use of your specialized training, I ask you only act if someone attempts to assail me here at the theater. Anywhere else, I will handle it.”

Neil paused before pouring the wine to look at the small woman curiously. She knew the look and it immediately dashed some of the emergent fondness. He questioned her and there was very little she hated more than doubt. Neil sensed her irritation and raised his free hand in silent apology before resuming the pour.

“I am not assuming you can’t handle things. I was just wondering if there was a reason, I should be on alert here at the theater.”

“Ah. Madam Reed didn’t tell you? Well, I forgive you, then,” she smirked as she took up her glass and retired to a plush seat overlooking the stage. “Someone decided that a dark theater would be the perfect place to teach me a lesson about crossing them. They got a rope around my neck and shoved me over the balcony. Fortunately for me, I was fast enough to translocate myself before the rope went taut or we wouldn’t be having this conversation, I imagine.”

She could see the questions swimming behind his beautiful brown eyes but appreciated that he had sense enough to leave them unspoken. Instead, he raised his glass to her.

“Well, here’s to your good fortune and disciplined training,” he offered in toast.

“Here’s to a quiet night,” Olivia added.

“Of course, Ms. Lovecraft.”

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

Noah Knottley sat nervously at one of the corner tables at the Slaughtered Lamb. His lips moved with the minutes as he counted them down while he prayed Olivia would be late. His bloody, gnawed nailbeds tapped over the box’s exterior and his eyes surveyed every passerby who even so much as breathed in his direction. He drew a relieved breath as the late hour sounded in the distance. He scooped up the box and started for the door, but before he could exit, before the last toll sounded, Olivia stepped into his path. A manicured nail caught the dingy light as she pressed it painfully into the center of Noah’s chest.

“Are you going somewhere, Mr. Knottley?” She asked softly.

He took a retreating step and she advanced, seemingly pushing him back towards his seat in the corner.

“You’re late,” he grunted weakly.

“No. I’m not. The hour just sounded, and I told you I would be here right on time.”

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled as he turned to the table.

He set down the box and looked around anxiously, checking for anyone who was obviously watching them. At the Slaughtered Lamb, spies were never so obvious, so Olivia let out an impatient sigh to passively encourage a bit more haste. Noah took a chance to shoot her a dirty look, but it withered under her cold, calm green stare. With a nod to himself, he opened the box and displayed the chalice set within.

“Do you have the appraisal paperwork as well?” Olivia asked as she extended a hand.

Words of power slipped easily from her lips as she compelled an unseen force to trace the magical signatures of the chalice. She read the invisible sigils easily and turned to Noah as he offered a crumpled mass of paperwork.

“And the relic hunter who retrieved it? Has there been any further word from them? I entertained their former employer last night and he proved terribly uncooperative and now today he has simply disappeared. I doubt he will be much trouble, but I’d still like to assure the buyer that this piece isn’t dragging loose ends.”

Noah shuddered and looked around again. Now, though, he was looking for someone to notice his distress. This web he was stuck in shivered with the spider’s approach.

“He’s not in the city anymore. I’ve heard my employer saying he’s going to send his best men after him, but…well…it’s just…”

“Not promising,” Olivia concluded with a nod. “It’s fine, Mr. Knottley. Tell your employer I extracted insurance from his share. He can come talk to me if that is a problem.”

To punctuate her sincerity, she snapped the box closed and subtly summoned a sack of gold to hand. She had anticipated the man’s failure, so she had no need to make a show of the assurance. She slipped it to Noah, keeping eye contact with him. It was as though Olivia was daring him to protest. If he feared his employer more, he may have. However, of the two, Olivia proved the greater threat.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from him,” Noah grumbled as he turned and started towards the door.

“Mr. Knottley?”

The sickening sweetness of her tone turned his stomach, but he turned to regard her all the same.

“Have a goodnight.”

“Of course, Ms. Lovecraft.”

#story #olivia

[millennialdemon]

Summer 2019 First Impressions, Round 2!

Premieres the past few days have mercifully been better -- but that’s not saying much considering how awful the earlier releases were...

-- Dr. STONE

To be honest, I had already developed a bad taste in my mouth for this just based on the trailers I had watched weeks before the premiere. I thought the protagonist was wildly unappealing and unrelatable, not just because the art/design style is not my favourite, but because of his personality... I was crossing my fingers he wouldn’t be as insufferable as he was in the trailer clips, but alas...

The “novelty” of a shounen where “Science Trumps Magic And Fantasy!” is completely lost on me, because the first episode honestly didn’t feature much science, at least not in a meaningful or interesting way? Sure, the protagonist rattles off some chemistry terms and has fucking E=MC2 on his shirt collar in the post apocalypse (I wish I was kidding...), but him having survival skills enough to build a primitive hut isn’t a display of Genius Intellect, and even at the end when he finally “figures out” how to crack open the shell of stone covering the birds he collected, we didn’t really see him... figure it out. He just did the same thing a bunch of times over a long span of time. Because science is doing the same thing over and over again until it works and not experimenting...?

I assume though that that will be explained in episode 2. I assume. I hope. Or maybe I could rewatch it and see if I missed some pivotal detail of genius realization, but I’d probably still be distracted by Taiju yelling constantly and Senkuu looking at the camera and smirking about #Logic. And some story things that seem glaringly wrong to me even with the hyped up shounen tone, like teenage boys being trapped in stone with their minds aware of it for thousands of years and still having the same personalities as they did before when they finally escape it... 

...I guess what I’m saying here is that the comedy/adventure mashup tone is not terribly appealing to me, and that I think it comes off as a bit pretentious when it tries to lay off the Shounen Shenanigans. The characters range from nothing to sneeze at to actively irritating, and for a story trying to make a statement within a genre, it felt super run of the mill. But I will stick around and see how it goes, I suppose... 

Tepid 5/10. 

-- Fire Force

Probably the best premiere so far, but it still didn’t blow me away, and had quite a few problems just in episode 1... fanservice is the number one turn off of course (and on this note, not just the exploitative visuals of it, but also how it changes the perception of the characters reacting to it... protag boy was alright in my books until the script begged him to look at a co-workers chest, sigh), but I also found the writing very clunky, which is a shame because if it took its foot off the gas re: Flashbacks And Repeated Declarations Of Intent, it could have been more compelling than not at all. You almost had me, protagonist boy, but alas... Anime Bullshit Got In The Way, As It Tends To...

The animation was beautiful (the fire animation! Wow! Cool "firefighting” scenes too) and I actually ended up really warming up to the character designs and weird firefighter-but-a-bit-fantasy aesthetic. I tend to like the shape of over-sized clothing and the modifications to some of the fire fighting uniforms were charming (even though they were pretty silly and unnecessary) like the mage’s witch hat and the nun’s outfit. Other than the outfits, I thought the actual character designs were pretty good too. (Shout out to the protagonist’s mother, who looks like a completely generic, normal anime mom, but she just has pointy teeth! Obsessed with that for some reason)

That’s pretty much all I have to say about it so far. It has potential, I think, but it could easily be squandered with perverse slap stick at the wrong defining moment. 

... Like most anime...

7/10 for now. 

-- GRANBELM

Hmm... I’m not sure what to say about this one. It actually wasn’t as bad as I was expecting based on the super moe art. But it was certainly messy and wore its inspirations on its sleeve with a bit too much pride...

Let me put it this way: Have you ever wanted to watch a slightly dark and serious magical girl anime, except they also have mechas, and once a month they all fight each other in epic mecha battles on an alternate plane of existence for some reason, while wearing frilly dresses or absurdly ugly bikini/frog hoodie combos, because they are mages who can access magic that was sealed away by seven legendary sages hundreds of years ago because humanity was using magic for evil?

I hope the answer is “No, that sounds ridiculous.” Because it was. 

But beyond a few very questionable magical girl outfits, there actually wasn’t any pantyshots or leering cameras, and this is the first show this season to feature an all girl cast that wasn’t completely reprehensible and severely misogynistic.

And I think that counts for something. So 5/10 for being bizarre and average but not making me gag. Yet.

-- Is It Wrong To Try To Pick Up Girls In A Dungeon? Season 2

Alright, I know the “premiere” that dropped a few days ago wasn’t actually episode 1 of the new season, it was a recap episode for the previous season (it has been a few years, I suppose, but I’ve never seen an anime hype itself up so much by releasing a recap before a season premiere)... but I’m glad I watched it anyway. So that I could remember all of the memories of terrible ecchi I repressed when I was 19 (SERIOUSLY forgot about Lili and Hermes existing!!! I wish I could forget again!!!), and could better brace myself for another Godforsaken season. I already watched one season for Bete Loga, I can do it again...

Preemptive, like, I don’t know, 3/10? for being inherently bad, but nevertheless being something I am going to watch and complain about and wish was better the entire time.

and! Thankfully my beloved partner warned me about If It’s For My Daughter I Would Even Defeat a Demon Lord -- which I might have checked out because of positive reviews -- because they had heard that the manga apparently has an Usagi Drop trajectory which is tragic and vile. So anyone sighing in relief and happily reviewing that it’s Unexpectedly Not Horrible!, I recommend holding your breath...

It’s literally the worst, to see an anime about a little girl being adopted, or just existing in general (Dragon Maid...) and having to think “Oh no, this is going to be horrid”, and then being relieved that it isn’t p*dophilia. Only to find out: Actually, it might be! 

The bar is under the ground. It’s in hell. 

See y'all in a few days with the next batch of probably not great anime premieres, maybe!

#dr. stone #fire force #granbelm #danmachi #is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon? #if it's for my daughter I would even defeat a demon lord #preston.txt

[coldace24]

White Elegance In Snowy Splendor (RWBY Fanfic)

[When Everything Inside Suffers Silently]

Head up...

Shoulders back...

Right foot forward...

slow your breathing...

wait for the right time to strike...

...

Now!

She rushed forward, the tip of her rapier raised in front of her for a poised strike. Traveling a few meters ahead, she ground to a halt, pulling back her weapon for a moment, then continuing on with a flurry of thrusts. Suddenly, she pulled back, raising her blade for a parry, then ultimately a counter, before giving one final, powerful, forward thrust.

The air settled quietly as she ceased her onslaught; the dust settling away on a wide radius around her. She adjusted her stance, pulling up the blade in front of her as she stood straight, then delivered a small bow to mark the end of her practice.

A small sigh of disappointment escaped her lips; though satisfied with her skill, she found much discontent with their lack of acknowledgement, especially from her father. Tucking away her rapier to her side, she started to walk towards the fountain at the edge of the courtyard. Sitting down on its surface, her gaze fell upon the vast yet empty night sky, searching for visible stars as if searching for an answer to her own troubles.

"Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company... is out on her courtyard trying to look for non-existent stars." She mumbled to herself, unconsciously letting out another sigh. "Sounds like the perfect summary of my life."

"Aww, don't be so down, princess. It's not all bad." The voice of a young male came from behind her, much to her surprise.

In an almost instantaneous reaction, she drew her sword and turned around, the tip of her blade pointed towards the perpetrator, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Woah, easy there, princess!" It was a young boy, perhaps around the same age as her, dressed in commoner's clothes; his dark hair long enough to almost cover his blue eyes. He had a grin on his face as he held up his hands in surrender.

"W-Who are you and how did you get in here!?" She shouted, still holding up the sword to him.

"Well, princess, my name's Zephyr. Zephyr Monochrome." He flashes a wide smile at her. "As for how I got here... well, I have my ways."

"What do you want!? If you're here to kidnap me...I'm warning you, you'll be in for a world of pain!" As if to make a point, she leveled her blade to the boy's eyes.

"Nah, I'm not here to do that. I was just looking for a good spot to find some stars. And I think I found just the right one." He held up his fingers like a frame towards the sky.

"HUH!?!? I'M SORRY BUT DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!?!?" Her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Hmm, not exactly but-"

"YOU, mister, are trespassing in the home of the Schnee family, owners of the Schnee Dust Company. One of the largest producers and exporters of Dust in the whole world!"

"Oh...cool then."

"Wha- excuse me!?" She was dumbfounded at his indifference. What mongrel would not even care after hearing the Schnee name? "That's it. You, mister trespasser, are going to have to leave, whether you like it or not."

"Oh come on, I finally found the perfect spot. It's not like I'm bothering you or anything. Just here to watch the night sky." As if enforcing his defiance, he crossed his legs and sat on the floor, again flashing her a wide smile.

Weiss's patience had reached its peak. This boy was clearly rubbing her the wrong way, and she would be nothing but more than glad to get rid of him. She pulled back her sword, preparing to launch a strike at him, though she made sure to aim at his forearm so as to avoid major injuries. She thrust forward in a fast, preemptive strike, but before the blade could connect with the boy's arm he had managed to catch the blade with a single hand.

Only then did she notice that the boy was wearing steel-enforced gloves, the kind issued to the military, but seemed more customized and personal. His grip on the blade was strong; strong enough for Weiss to use her entire weight as leverage just to pull it away from him.

"You really shouldn't be stabbing people like that all of a sudden, princess." He slowly stood up, patting his backside to get rid of the dust.

This person is dangerous. Those words rang in Weiss's mind, making her think twice of her actions, trying to find a better solution. But then again, she already attacked him, what other alternatives could there be? If it came down to this, she thought, then I might as well go all out.

Raising up her sword once more, she poised herself into a calm stance; regulating her breathing as she began to concentrate.

Remember your training, Weiss...

Head up...

Shoulders back..

Right foot forward... ...not that forward

slow your breathing...

wait for the right time to strike, and...

"Are you meditating or something?" The boy's sudden disturbance ruined her delicate focus. His face was already an inch away from hers, his eyes darting around as if trying to examine her features up close. She stumbled back in surprise, losing her balance on her wedge heeled shoes and started to fall, but before she could hit the ground, the boy managed to grab her sword arm, pulling her up gently until she was close enough to feel his breath.

Perhaps the shock of losing her balance clouded her mind, as for a moment, she was unsure of what had happened, then noticed the wide smile of the boy in front of her, ticking her off and making her remember how she was supposed to get rid of this accursed trespasser. Pushing him away, she pulled back into a stance, her left arm holding the sword's point towards the boy's direction, ready to strike.

"Look, princess, I really don't want any trouble. Can't we settle this peacefully?"

"Hmph! You can blame yourself for trespassing in Schnee property!"

She lunged, a quick but powerful strike aimed for his shoulder, yet he simply took a step aside and dodged with minimal effort. She skid to a stop, pulled back her weapon, then continued on with a flurry of thrusts. With each strike, the boy would simply dodge to the side or swat the blade away with his hand, resulting in nothing but silly misses that left her feeling belittled; and nothing could have irritated Weiss Schnee more than being belittled.

She pulled her sword close, spinning the revolving Dust chamber at its guard until it settled and locked on a single color; Fiery Red. From the exhaust barrel came red Dust that wrapped around her rapier's blade, and with one, powerful thrust, she sent a wave of flames toward her opponent.

The flames landed and erupted into a large explosion, sending smoke and dust everywhere like a heavy fog. As the fumes finally began to clear, the very first thing she noticed was the wide blast crater that had newly formed on the courtyard's floor; something her father would surely not be happy about.

"...I might have gone a little bit too far." Her words had a hint of tremble in them. The lack of a trespassing boy or a burnt corpse in sight served only to add to her unease.

"...I'm definitely going to get in trouble for this, aren't I?" The words finally escaped her mouth, words she didn't want to hear.

"Well, hopefully not. Although I have to say, you really went all out with that one."

She turned around to find the boy sitting on top of the ornate fountain, his clothes a little charred, but had no visible injury or burn.

"How did y-" She cut her sentence off, realizing how it would make her seem dumbfounded by his escape. "H-Huh, I thought for sure you'd been blown to little bits."

"Well, I'm a bit...skilled, princess." He gave her a sly wink, which did nothing but irritate her more. Fortunately, Weiss had regained her composure after her explosive display so as to not repeat it again, and went with a more...civilized approach.

"Mister...Zephyr, was it?" She tucked away her sword as she started to walk towards him. "Look, how about we put all of this behind us, and settle this peacefully."

"Why of course, yes, we should." Zephyr dropped down from the fountain and slowly walked towards her, hands raised in surrender. "Although when you look back, it was you who started it. But yes, I agree."

"Great!" Weiss was now face to face with him, around a meter apart. "So, how about you leave this place, and I can forget about all of this. Yes?"

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Weiss thought she might have screwed up a bit, but then he started nodding his head as he slowly backed away.

"Alright, princess. I'll do that." He flashed that same wide smile again. "I'll take my leave, seeing as how I've found my star tonight. An especially bright one at that."

Before she could ask what he meant, the boy had dashed away and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Weiss Schnee alone again at the empty courtyard, left to ponder over his parting words.

"...what star...?" She turned to the empty heavens above her. "...there's nothing up there..."

. . .

"Weiss Schnee, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Her father's tone was adamant and strict. She could only stare at the floor in silence, guilty of yesterday's destruction of the courtyard.

It was one thing to be reprimanded for that, but for her father not to believe her story about the trespassing boy, that hurt her the most; she would never make up a story, yet that is how her father sees it, unconvinced and unbelieving of her.

"Hmph! I thought not. If you had just admitted your mistake in the first place, we wouldn't have wasted so much time on this." He turned towards the window. "Now, return to your room. And when you train, make sure you don't destroy anything else, understand!?"

"...yes, father."

. . .

"...why am I doing this?" She could only shake her head at her illogical action. There she was, in the middle of the night at the courtyard; the place she should be staying away from due to the previous fiasco. Yet because of her father's response, some sort of rebellious spirit had found its way inside her, and now, more than anything, she wanted to meet the boy, and perhaps...

"I doubt he would be coming back. Not after my impeccable display of Dust explosions." She gave out a long, heavy sigh as she sat down by the fountain. "Why is everything I do always wrong...?"

"Sulking again? You must really have it tough, huh, princess?"

Before she could even turn around to see, the boy, Zephyr, had settled down beside her, crossing his legs and turning towards her with a grin.

"Y-you!"

"Yes, me."

"H-huh, I didn't think you'd actually return to this place. You must be quite the fool to trespass here yet again."

"You say that but... weren't you waiting for me?" He smiled. "After all, you came back out here around the same time as last night. Surely that's no coincidence, right?"

"Wrong!" She answered almost instantly. "I simply like being here. This is both my training ground and my leisure area."

"Alright alright, if you say so." He raised his hands in surrender. "So, what's gotten you so bummed out this time?"

She could only stare at him in silence. Even when she had attacked him and even insulted him, there he was asking about her problems; perhaps the only one who had shown a sliver of care aside from her butler and her sister. A stranger who barely knew her, how could she ever confide in him? Yet, when she thought about it, who else was there?

"Princess...? Are you alright?" His question broke her train of thought.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm...alright."

His eyebrows furrowed in doubt, but he didn't press on to ask, perhaps understanding how it was a private matter. For the rest of the moment, he was quiet, not saying or asking anything, not even a sound or a grunt, which made Weiss quite conscious, but somehow comfortable just sitting with him in silence.

"You know..." She finally spoke. "I feel kind of...trapped."

"Trapped? Why is that?"

"Well...as heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, I was always told to keep face, no matter what I do. My whole life was dictated by my father, and my future was written in stone." Instinctively, she found herself holding her arms. "I didn't want that...but I didn't have a choice. My only solace was reading about the outside world, about the things I've never had, or can never experience."

"What kind of things?"

"Hm...like, bunk beds." She held back a chuckle. "I've always wanted to try sleeping in those. They seem fun, and you'd get to sleep with...a friend."

"Well you're absolutely right, princess. Bunk beds are pretty fun, especially when there are a lot of them together in a room. You'd have loads of friends to play and chat with the moment you wake up!" He was laughing as he explained in wide motions.

"Yes." She tried to smile, but it felt heavy. "Yet...that is something I'll never be able to experience."

"And why not?"

"I just told you! I can't, because I'm the heiress to the company! That's already decided for..."

"And why do they get to decide that?" He looked dead straight in her eyes, his expression and tone, serious. "Look, princess, you're you. Nobody gets to decide who you are, or what you should become."

"But I can't!"

"Yes you can! For once, princess, try to be honest with yourself." His words struck a cord inside her. "You're strong, you're smart, now make use of those talents and reach for what you want."

"...how?" Her voice cracked. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"The first step...is to stop following what everyone says, and start following what your heart says." He pointed at her chest. "I know, somewhere inside you, you understand what that means, isn't that right, princess?

She did. Of course she knew, but the obstacle in front of her, the highest wall she has to overcome is none other than her father. That scared her, more than anything else; just the thought of going against his wishes made her tremble.

"You know, you don't have to do it altogether at once, princess." He placed his hand on her head and started to gently stroke. Usually, such actions would warrant anger from the Weiss Schnee, but at that moment, she didn't mind; rather, she felt assured that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

"Maybe...you can just start with this." He motioned to her ponytail. "I see how you, in your dress and everything, seem to be going for a symmetric look. Was this because of your father as well?"

"Yes...even that was his decision."

"Then how about you switch it up? Maybe tie it to one side next time?" He smiled. "A small action with a greater meaning. Until you can muster up the courage to go against him fully...you can start with these small things, right?"

"That's..." She thought a lot about it, but ended up laughing instead. It was the silliest thing, but somehow, she understood what he meant. A small action with a greater meaning... those words were soon carved into her heart.

"Perhaps you're right..." She turned to him. "One step at a time."

"Mhm." He smiled at her. "And when you finally break out of your cage, princess, and you have no idea of any destination...then there's a place called Beacon Academy over at Vale. They train Hunters and Huntresses there. With your skills, I'm sure you'll make it in there easy."

"Beacon Academy? Vale? But that's in another kingdom!"

"I know. But you wanted to see the world outside, right? What better place to start than in another kingdom?" He stood up and stretched out his arms. "Take my word for it, princess. The places out there are breathtaking!"

"H-how do you know all that...?" She started to wonder. This boy who seemed like any other commoner was someone who knew so much, not only about other places, but with almost everything else. From fighting to encouraging, this boy was so enigmatic, yet captivating in her eyes.

"Just...who are you...?" The words escaped her mouth.

"I told you, princess. My name is Zephyr Monochrome." He smiled as he gave her another head pat. "As for my occupation...I'm a hunter. Well, a hunter-in-training, to be exact."

"You're...a hunter?" For a moment, she was in awe. "But...why are you-"

"Woops, hold that thought, princess." He interjected. "Seems we're out of time!"

"Stop, trespasser!" A pair of guards shouted from the other end of the courtyard as they ran towards them.

"Well, good luck, princess. And hopefully, we'll see each other again." He dashed away, his smile being the last thing she saw as he disappeared into the darkness just like the other night, leaving Weiss Schnee alone yet again; alone, but no longer lonely. This time...she knew just what she had to do. One step at a time.

. . .

"What...did you do with your hair?" Jacques Schnee, her father, had his eyes set on her ponytail, now tied to her right instead of the back.

"It's a fashion choice, father." She held her stance, looking unfazed.

"Hmph. Whatever." He pursed his lips. "So, what do you need from me?"

"I'm applying for Beacon Academy's Huntress program."

"Nonsense!" His voice was raised, causing Weiss to flinch, but she stood her ground nonetheless. "If you want to be a Huntress, fine. But Beacon Academy!? Bah! You can take the same program here at Atlus!"

"But father I-"

"No!" This time, he was shouting. "I'm not letting you study in such a far away place when the same results can be achieved here, where you're within reach."

"You don't understand, father! I want to study in Vale!" She pursed her lips, so as to hold back her anger.

"Bah! Atlus is better equipped than Vale!" He shook his head yet again. "Stop this stupidity at once!"

"I will not back down, father." She did her best not to falter, but with every moment, and every rising of her father's voice, it became much harder each time. "You will let me study in Beacon, and I will do anything to prove to you that I'm ready to take this step."

Her father fell silent. The look in his eyes was fierce, yet instead of lashing out, he seemed to reconsider, breathing out a heavy sigh as he turned towards the room's only window.

"Very well." He paused to sigh again. "You've been training everyday, haven't you?"

"Without fail, father."

"And you believe these skills of yours will let you survive the world out there?"

"I do."

"So be it." He turned to look her straight in her eyes. "You will take a test, and if your skills and training prove their worth, then I will reconsider your application to Beacon Academy. But if you fail, you will never speak of this nonsense again, understand?"

"I-" She hesitated for a moment, but then bit her lip so as to regain her resolve. "If that is what it takes."

"Good." He sat down on his desk chair. "Then go and be ready. Because your enemy will not show you mercy."

"Enemy...?"

"...the Arma Gigas shall be who you fight."

She pursed her lips. The Arma Gigas, whatever that was, it sounded dangerous; but she couldn't back out from here, not after everything that has happened. She steeled herself once more, holding onto the resolve that the boy had given her, and with one quiet breath, spoke out the words that have lingered in her mind.

"I will be free."

. . .

~ Mirror, mirror, tell me something, Who's the loneliest of all? ~

#Weiss #WeissSchnee #RWBY #fanfic #Fanfiction #Dust #Myrtenaster #Zephyr #fantasy #Magic #romance

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

How do you expect the Hardhome plot to play out in the books? Especially with Arya’s and Faceless men’s investment in the same?

Oh, you’re going to be sorely disappointed with my answer, so I’ll preemptively apologize.

First, I’m no book expert. Second, I can’t help but use the show to paint my understanding of what the books might do. That said, my irritation with season eight has carried over to GRRM. Therefore, this irritation has painted my general opinion on the book series in a more negative light.

To get to what I think happens with Hardhome now, I’ve got to take a few steps back.

Jon’s death is what led me to read the series in the first place - and at the time, it convinced me that YES, there MUST be a reason that he is Rhaegar’s son! SO much foreshadowing and mystery! I thought I had it all figured out! OF COURSE he was going to come back to life! I mean, the show was greenlit BECAUSE D&D guessed that Lyanna Stark was Jon’s mother! Fuckyeah!!

But then… then season eight happened.

And Jon’s lineage and the prophecy surrounding his birth and his parents… meant literally nothing to the narrative except some contention between he and Daenerys.

Oh. Oh, cool. Love that.

So, does Jon… come back in the books at all? Or does it end up that even prophesied heroes can die and remain dead? Every other character who made mortal mistakes stayed dead (well, except Catelyn Stark, but the red wedding wasn’t really her mistake).

If Jon doesn’t come back, then what? Which POV do we even get to inform us of the events at Hardhome? Melisandre? Okay, but then who is left to advocate for it? I mean, Hardhome should be Jon’s problem, right? As Lord Commander? He’s the one that deals with the freefolk and the others, right?

But then… season eight… happened. And boy does pretty much nothing. The others? Amounted to pretty much nothing. Turns out it wasn’t his fight.

But that’s probably me being pessimistic. But my pessimism doesn’t end there, unfortunately.

So maybe Hardhome never gets dealt with in the books. Maybe all it serves as is just a reminder that something eerie is happening beyond the Wall. The others aren’t utilized as much in the books, anyway.

After all, Melisandre had a vision of utter destruction. And while she’s wrong about many things, she was right about the daggers in the dark, sooo… The books also don’t need Hardhome as a vehicle to get Jon killed by his men, since it already happened.

Even if Jon is resurrected, he’s going to deal with the traitors first, like in the show, and probably try to ride for Winterfell like he said he’d do. Maybe at this point, he quits the Night’s Watch like he did in the show, too. That makes more sense to me. And at this point, I’ve kind of joined the Stannis fans in a way, feeling irritation he was killed off when and how he was in the show, and I hope he succeeds more and for longer in the books. (Considering D&D are petty enough to write a small dick joke for Jon and inform the audience that it is canon just to spite Kit Harington… then yeah, I’d say maybe they killed Stannis off early to spite Stephen Dillane for publicly bemoaning the show)

As for part 2 of the question, about the freefolk taken captive - my impression was that the Sealord was freeing them as a benevolent act, but it’s honestly been a while - that said, it felt like the Kindly Man was accepting information, not that there were any hints that he planned to do anything about the passengers on the ship, or the remaining people at Hardhome. It feels like the Sealord has more investment than the faceless men but it’s been a while, and at the time I read it, I wasn’t yet in ‘conspiracy’ mode, just “TELL ME JON LIVES!” mode.

Aaaand uh, ‘conspiracy’ mode hasn’t worked out for me, anyway. 😂 Somewhere in my posts you’ll find a string of utterly busted theories. Seems like when it comes to this series, Occam’s razor is the way to go! And gods that disappoints me and my trail of busted theories.

TL;DR: Your guess is as good as mine?

#answered #anti d&d #somehow lmfao #hardhome #exhaustion and book theories

[eshidu]

There are a lot of things ppl take for granted, and as a person who both takes things for granted and has to suffer things others wouldn't understand, I have days like today where I’m just so upset at the way things work and how ppl just accept it.

And i know it’s just because I’ve had too many bad days in a row

but my god

I’m immunocompromised. And for me, this means I have to trust that ppl do their jobs right.

When I go into a restaurant, I have to trust that everything in that kitchen is clean and that all of the ppl working back there haven’t been cutting corners.

Because while the 5 second rule might work for you, for me it could mean a night of violent vomiting and a trip to the hospital. 

When I plan to go to a public event, I have to trust that everyone there has done their job in protecting mass immunity. I have to trust that enough ppl in the same crowd as me have been vaccinated so that it’s safe for me to just exist in the same space. 

This last week has been fucking awful. I’ve had a co-worker who came in to work with walking pneumonia because she didn’t stay up to date on her shot records and picked it up from someone else’s kid. 

That whole day I did my best to avoid them, to not breathe when I was too close or to make sure if they needed something, to send someone else to help instead.

Like, you may be well enough to come in and sit and do your daily work, but for me, I could literally die just from being around you. 

I have already battled with pneumonia and it did almost kill me. It got to the point where the hospital was calling family members and asking me to sign papers for my cremation/burial procedures. I survived through what my doctor said was “dumb luck” because I had a sudden turn in my health at the last minute. 

Earlier this week I was running a bit behind one morning and didn’t have time to cook myself some breakfast, so I stopped at the taco bell by my house on my way to work.

That whole day i was in and out of the bathroom, and once i was home it hit hard. A night of running up and down the hall and a serious talk with my S.O. if I needed to go to the hospital and miss work the next day. 

I managed to stop vomiting for a few hours and get some sleep, but the next day my body felt so awful, it was a chore just driving to work, to be there and give orders. Just standing at my podium I could feel how tired my legs were and how badly i wanted to lay down. From a fucking fast food burrito. 

Yesterday I went to san fran pride. a few bumps in getting in (don’t drive in the city, guys. take the damn train, omg) but ultimately i had a nice time and I’m glad I sacrificed some sleep so I could be there.

The food prices were actually pretty decent ($1 waters! $8 plates of chicken and rice!) but the lines were so nuts, my S.O. and I agreed to catch some food on the way home.

We did, stopped at a Jack in the Box about halfway home. Got our food in record time.

Well that convenient cook time was to my disadvantage. I was concerned when I ordered and got my food in less than two minutes. Either my food as been sitting out and might be bad, because I have to trust it’s been stored correctly, or it’s fresh and the employees cut corners without making sure it was finished cooking. 

It was the later.

now, don’t get me wrong. I love uncooked egg yolk- one of my favorite quick meals is some steamed rice and a few sunny-side-up eggs

but I’ve lived my entire life being immunocompromised. I know my own limits, I know how my food has to be prepared, stored, and cooked. A runny egg yolk is one thing,

and entirely uncooked egg in my food is another. 

I’m just. Really irritated at this as a whole.

Food workers have a responsibility to make sure the food is cooked right, or its ppl like me who suffer. In situations like these, I’m paying to get sick.

Another person would be thankful that their co-worker managed to make it into work, they’d be glad for the share in work load- they wouldn’t be stressing the whole time about getting sick and wondering if preemptively admitting themselves to the nearest hospital was the right thing to do or being too dramatic. 

Another person would have been glad that on the day they’re short on time that the local restaurant got their food out in record time.  

For me, these things fill my day with anxiety- more than I already deal with.

And i’m just tired of ppl shrugging it off. Like, they’ll tell me thats “what I get” for ordering fast food, or that I should expect to get sick at public places.

No!! we should all be doing our part to help everyone! That’s how a society works! 

[ghostbustermelanieking]

would you ever consider writing fic where william is sick with a cold or stomachbug and scully has to take care of him? maybe set somewhere post season 11?

Jackson is holed up in his room, and Scully can hear him coughing wetly from down the hall as she paces around the room with her daughter dozing off on her shoulder. She didn’t hear him come in last night. Thank God he didn’t wake the baby; her sleep schedule is fleeting enough without an unexpected wake-up as an added bonus. Scully pats her back, casting nervous looks down the hall as she passes the open door where she can hear the coughing. She has no idea where he’s sleeping at night; he could have pneumonia, for all she knows, from sleeping outside in the cold. She hates not knowing where her son is half the time, but she supposes she should be grateful that he shows up at all.

Lily is blinking sleepily, her fist shoved halfway into her mouth. Scully strokes her downy hair and kisses her little forehead before setting her down in her crib. Lily curls and uncurls her little fingers sleepily; Scully covers the baby with the star-speckled blanket that Tara had mailed about a month before the baby was born, strokes the side of her cheek before leaving to go check on her oldest.

Jackson is bundled up in the guest bed, buried under a pile of blankets. “Dana?” he mumbles underneath the comforter. He sounds like he is speaking through piles of cotton balls, his nose stuffed up.

“Hi, Jackson,” she says, going to the bed to feel his forehead. He is burning up. “You not feeling well?”

“No.” He sticks his head out. “If you think the kid’ll get sick, I can…”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she says immediately. “What are your symptoms? I’ll give you some medicine.”

“I’m, uh, cold,” he says. “And congested. I think it’s just a cold—” He breaks off into a coughing fit.

She checks his fever again, brushing sweaty hair away from his forehead. “I’ll get you some cough syrup,” she says softly. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”

“That’d be okay.” He offers her a small, grateful smile. Scully smiles back, tousling his hair a little, tells him she’ll be right back.

When she comes back upstairs with a glass of orange juice and a bowl of hot soup, Jackson is dead to the world. She leaves the juice and takes the soup, planning to heat it later. She brushes her fingers briefly over his hot forehead before leaving him to sleep.

—

Lily is not at a place where she sleeps through the night yet. She and Mulder are definitely used to it, and Jackson is definitely not. When she wakes them up screaming at two am, Jackson comes padding out of his room with them, sleepy and pale and shaky. “Kid still cries at night?” he mutters irritably in his raw voice, rubbing at his forehead.

“Yep,” Scully says back with her own brand of irritably. This particular part she didn’t miss at all.

Mulder pads past them down the hall. “Go back to bed, I’ve got her,” he says in a cheerful tone that makes Scully want to slug him. He’s still in new-fascinated-parent mode, and his insomnia gives him an unfair advantage. “You too, Jackson, you need to rest,” he adds, before entering Lily’s room.

Scully looks at her grown-up son, blinking blearily in the doorway, flushed and tired, and feels a rush of sympathy. “Are you feeling any better, sweetie?” she asks.

He shrugs. “No, not really,” he says congestedly.

She can hear the sound of Mulder pacing in the background, shushing the baby underneath the brunt of her cries. Rubbing at her temples, she offers, “Do you want to go sleep downstairs? It might be quieter down there.”

He shakes his head, shoving hair out of his eyes. “I’m cool up here, thanks. I’ll just… use headphones or something.”

“Okay.” Scully actually feels a bit envious; she wishes she could just plug headphones in and actually get a full night’s sleep for once. “Well, do you want any medicine? Anything to drink?” As long as she’s already up…

Jackson turns a little green, swaying in place. Before she can ask if he is okay, he’s running down the hall to the bathroom. Moments later, she can hear the sounds of retching. She winces with some sympathy; with morning sickness a not too distant memory, she has too many memories of vomiting herself.

“Hey, Scully?” Mulder calls from Lily’s room, sounding nervous. “Lils just threw up a little.”

“Oh, great,” Scully mutters inaudibly.

—

It seems as though Lily has caught Jackson’s virus. The pediatrician says neither case is severe, but that Jackson has likely caught the brunt of it. He holes up on the couch, covered in several blankets and whining the same way Mulder does when he’s sick. The baby mostly alternates between napping and spitting up. Scully tries to keep her hydrated. Lily lies curled against her stomach, staring up at her with bright eyes while she eats, and Scully is filled with a sudden rush of love and affection for her daughter.

“It’s like we’ve set up a makeshift hospital,” Mulder jokes at one point, and it is somewhat like that. They’ve set the kids up in the living room, mostly because it’s the only room with a TV, a makeshift bed on the couch and the playpen set up by the chair. Jackson and Lily sleep through Alien and half of The Shawshank Redemption. Jackson wakes up for the second half, erupting to life with a coughing fit. “Oh, I love this movie,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“Prisoners becoming lifelong friends and rebelling against the messed-up system?” Mulder asks absently, his hand dangling over the side of the playpen.

“Yeah, classic redemption story or whatever,” Jackson mutters into the pillow. He rolls onto his back, blinking blearily at them. “Sorry I got the kid sick,” he mumbles apologetically, as if just now remembering that he isn’t the only sick one.

As if on cue, Lily wakes up, wailing indignantly. “Right on cue,” Scully says with a little bit of laughter. She lifts the red-faced baby from the playpen, balancing her on her hip. Lily’s hot little hands curl in her hair as she cries. “It’s okay, Jackson,” she says, rocking the baby back and forth. “It happens. We’d rather you be here recovering.”

Jackson says nothing for a moment, watching the baby cry. Scully shushes her for a few moments before passing her to Mulder, wonders if it was a bad idea to go there. Almost a year and they still walk on eggshells in reference to the fact that he’s mostly staying with them, but also disappears for days on end and doesn’t disclose where he’s going. “Do you have The Exorcist?” he asks finally. Scully grins companionably.

Mulder sighs dramatically. “You should be glad you won’t be able to remember this, Lils,” he says to the baby, touching her nose as he stands. “This is the type of movie to scar you for life.”

“And we definitely want to avoid that,” Scully says tenderly, tickling the bottom of Lily’s socked foot. Mulder bounces the baby on his hip as he carries her upstairs, retrieving the bottle from the fridge as he goes.

“So you like The Exorcist?” Scully asks her son, sprawled over the couch.

“Love it.” Jackson blows his nose noisily, his cheeks red with fever.

“Want to watch?” She’s already halfway to the shelf where they keep the movies.

“Yeah,” says Jackson. “The green vomit may make me less self-conscious.”

Scully snorts out a laugh, retrieving the DVD from the lower shelf, where Mulder makes sure to stash the movies she likes so that she can read them. She both loves and hates this.

She brings Jackson a cough drop and another glass of orange juice along with the DVD. “I don’t really like orange juice this much, you know,” Jackson says, his nose stuffed as he takes the condensated glass. “It’s just kind of… okay.”

“I know,” Scully says cheerfully, popping the DVD into the player. “Drink it anyway.”

—

The baby starts clearing up about the same time Jackson does, which is also about the same time Mulder and Scully start getting sick. Jackson offers to hold Lily so she doesn’t get sick all over again. “You know,” he says. “Preemptive strike or whatever.”

Scully hands over the baby just before sneezing all over herself. “Family life,” Mulder says with an equally stuffy nose. “We should’ve seen this coming.” He wraps an arm around her as she sits beside him on the couch.

Jackson sits carefully in the chair, sitting Lily up on his lap, and flips on the TV. It lands on The Bibbletiggles and Lily’s eyes widen in a way that suggests childlike interest. “No,” Mulder and Scully say at the same time. Jackson raises his eyebrows, but he changes the channel. Lily’s eyes well up a little as she starts to whimper in protest. Scully passes Jackson the pacifier.

When Jackson lands on a channel that no one protests, he leans back in his chair and lets out a low sigh. “So I was thinking of taking off soon,” he says. “Since I’m better and all.”

Scully rests her head against Mulder’s shoulder. She’s more or less learned to expect this, but it still stings a bit. “Oh,” Mulder says, the cough drop in his mouth clicking against his teeth. “Right.”

“But I figure I can put that off a bit,” he adds casually. Lily is sucking on the pacifier contentedly, tucking at Jackson’s finger. Scully watches them both with a raised eyebrow. Jackson shrugs. “Return the favor, since I got everyone sick.”

“Oh,” Scully says lightly. She sneezes again, into her elbow, leaning away before snuggling back into Mulder’s side. “That’d be great, Jackson, thank you.”

He shrugs. She smiles gratefully. The TV buzzes in the background and Jackson watches, balancing Lils on his lap absently as she sucks her pacifier. In the moment, Scully feels a sort of blissful, peaceful happiness. She thinks she’d like to stay there forever.

Mulder sneezes violently before he can warn her. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, scooting away from him on the couch. Mulder pats her knee in apology. Without taking his eyes off the TV, Jackson passes them the box of Kleenex.

#i reallly don't like this but i was tired of looking at it lol #i dunno if this is what u wanted anon but i hope it is!! #i felt weird about naming baby 3 but lily felt right #idk what this is tho #xf fanfic #i wrote this

[romionesecretsanta]

Knowing

Merry Christmas, @like-a-whisper​ !! I hope you have a lovely holiday and enjoy your gift. :)

###

“When did you know?”

“Know what?” Ron asked his brother as he motioned to the bartender for another round.

George traced the rim of his empty glass. “When did you know you were going to marry Hermione?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation.”

Ron shot him an incredulous look.

“What?”

“Really, George?”

“Can you just answer the question instead of making this a bigger to-do than it needs to be?” George snapped irritably as the barkeep slid new glasses toward them. “Cheers,” he added shortly.

“Well, I dunno how to answer,” Ron retorted.

“I’m not asking for the gory details,” George replied. “I’m just asking when.”

“Well, I don’t know when,” Ron said. “Long before I actually asked, I s’pose.”

“This isn’t helpful,” George sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I assume you’re asking because of Ange?” Ron guessed, eyeing his brother warily. “‘Cause I think she’d be a great sister-in-law, obviously, but it’s your decision.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So what do you want me to say, then?”

George rested his elbow on the bar and used his hand to prop his head up, tilting toward Ron. “Dunno. I just…I want to know what’s going to happen if we do it, I reckon.”

“Well, you’ll get married,” Ron reasoned. “Which is nice, there’s a big party and all. You’ll have to see a few of our less pleasant relatives, but they do come bearing gifts.”

“Can you be serious for a second?”

“I am. I’m telling you that you’re seriously out of your mind, mate,” Ron said. “There’s no way to know what’s going to happen. And if that’s all that’s holding you back-”

“Then how do you know it’s not going to fall apart?” George retorted.

“Do you think it would with Angelina?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Just that I don’t know that it won’t.”

Ron softened a bit as he watched his brother’s shoulders slump. When he’d first asked the question, he’d assumed George was going to take the mickey out of him something fierce - but there was sincerity there he hadn’t expected, though perhaps he should have. They weren’t teenagers anymore; they trusted each other, and it had taken a long time to get to this point. It wouldn’t help matters if he got preemptively defensive every time George toed the line toward a sensitive subject. He hesitated a moment, choosing his next words more carefully.

“Marrying somebody isn’t saying you know what’s going to happen, though,” Ron reasoned. “It’s saying whatever happens, you’re in it together.”

“S’pose,” George allowed. “I’ve just been waiting for…a realization, I guess? A sign? I dunno. Merlin, this sounds ridiculous.”

“Doesn’t sound like you, honestly,” Ron agreed.

“Yeah, I know,” George admitted. “Maybe it’s just the time of year, you know? The holidays and all that, makes you look for that sort of thing.”

“Well, there wasn’t one big moment for me,” Ron told him honestly. “It was a lot of little moments.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve got loads of those,” George replied. “I could come up with three, just today.”

“Trust those.” Ron finished his drink with one long sip. “Those moments are when life happens. I mean, yeah, you’ll go through a lot of big stuff together, just look at me and Hermione. But those big moments weren’t when I fell in love with her. That happened along the way, every time she believed in me when I thought I was too useless to write an essay or take a test, every time she laughed at one of my jokes while we were playing chess. So I guess I knew, yeah, but I knew because we’d already built something worth fighting for, just being ourselves every day. So it wasn’t just something we felt; we chose each other.”

George whistled. “Right, then.”

“What?” Ron snapped, suddenly self-conscious again.

“No, I’m not criticizing, or whatever,” George said quickly. “Really, I’m not.”

“What then?”

“I…I do feel that way, about Ange,” George sighed. “It’s just not easy, the not knowing how things will play out. Hasn’t been, not since…”

“I know,” Ron said, his voice lower now. “But not knowing what’ll happen a decade from now shouldn’t keep you from taking the leap.”

“Yeah,” George agreed. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not like I have doubts, you know? Not about her, anyway.”

“I know what you mean,” Ron replied. “Just don’t stand in your own way, yeah?”

“Alright.” George finished his drink and slid his jacket on. “Not a word of this to the others, got it?”

Ron smirked. “Wouldn’t want them to know you’ve got feelings, would we?”

“Oh, shut it.”

“Not a word. Promise.”

###

The small bar where he had met his brother was only three blocks away from the flat he and Hermione shared, and Ron was happy to walk. The air wasn’t too cold, despite the thin layer of snow that covered the grass from a small storm that had blown through the previous evening. The trees on the other side had been adorned with strings of lights, and the whole world felt like Christmas.

He’d told George the truth - he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he’d known he wanted to marry Hermione. He could hardly remember a time he hadn’t known, really. From the time they got together, honestly, even if he hadn’t exactly admitted to himself at first. It felt like a lifetime ago, though he supposed it had only been six years - time was funny that way. Some days he could close his eyes and be seventeen again, as though no time had passed at all; others, he could hardly believe it had only been a year and a half since their wedding day - it felt like they’d always been like this.

When he arrived at last to the door of their flat, Ron was greeted by the seasonal scent of gingerbread wafting from the kitchen. It was, if he was being totally honest, the only thing Hermione was very good at baking, but she wasn’t just good at it. Her gingerbread was excellent, and she took the time to painstakingly decorate each little figure as if they were a real person, with details on their clothing and a unique face. Sure enough, when he glanced at the table, he saw row upon row of neatly organized gingerbread men (and women) - but no Hermione.

“Hermione? I’m home!” he called out as he swiped the nearest treat - this one had blue sprinkles for hair and a purple frosted bow tie. He took a bite and instantly felt as though he had transcended several universes - perhaps it had been the first time he’d tasted her gingerbread that he’d decided to marry her, after all!

“I’m in bed,” he heard her voice call back.

“Already?”

“It’s past midnight,” came her response, but he heard no annoyance in her voice. “You’re not eating my gingerbread men, are you?”

“Course not.”

“Liar.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“After you finish chewing, I expect.”

Ron couldn’t help but chuckle; she knew him too well. He scarfed down the rest in two bites, wiped the crumbs from his face and sauntered to their bedroom where he found his wife reading a newspaper by lamplight. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Hermione folded the paper and stretched out her arms. Ron quickly slipped out of his jeans, crawled into bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she laid her head on his chest and snuggled into him. He grinned as her soft curls tickled his chin. “What did George want?”

“Oh, just a bit of business with the shop,” he dismissed, keeping his promise to his brother. “I was thinking of something earlier, though.”

“What’s that?”

“When did you decide to marry me?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked. She was tracing circles on his chest.

“Was there a moment you just knew?”

“Hmm. I…I don’t suppose I’ve ever thought of it like that,” she said slowly. “It was a lot of moments, really.

Ron’s smile grew, and he squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Me, too.”

“Now that I think of it, though, I suppose the first one was that summer after the war. Do you remember?”

“Love, there were about forty thousand moments for me that summer,” Ron said honestly.

“Well, yes, but do you remember the first time I told you that I loved you?”

“Course. I thought I was dreaming.”

“You did seem a bit dazed,” Hermione recalled warmly. “You said it back, though.”

“We were just about to go to Australia, weren’t we?”

“Well, I was about to go. Then you made it clear it would be actually be ‘we.’”

“Wasn’t going to let you go alone, was I?”

“I just remember feeling so unsure about everything,” Hermione said, tilting her head so her chin was resting on his chest and he could peer down into her eyes. “I felt like I was drowning. And then I came to talk to you about it, and it just felt…simple. Like everything was going to be okay, even though it wasn’t.”

“Well, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, either,” Ron admitted bashfully, feeling the tips of his ears burn. “I just knew we ought to face whatever was coming together.”

“But that’s all that mattered, in the end,” Hermione replied. “And that’s what I realized, too. That even if everything else felt like it was falling apart, I wanted you with me through all of it. I might not have been thinking about marriage, specifically, but…”

“Well, no, but that’s what it is, isn’t it?” Ron agreed. “It’s choosing each other, every day.”

“Absolutely.” Hermione raised herself up and kissed his lips gently. “Now, what brought this on?”

“Oh, just thinking about the whole idea of knowing you’ll end up with someone,” Ron replied. “I’ve never really gotten it, I suppose. I mean, yeah, I knew with you, but that’s because we built us, you know?”

“Well, I’ve never bought into the idea that any relationship is written in the stars,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But I do think there’s a bit of that, with us.”

“You do?”

“Well, don’t you?” Hermione asked. “I’ve always felt like things played out the way they were supposed to, if there’s any such thing.”

“I don’t think I’d be the person I am if I hadn’t known you since I was eleven,” Ron offered.

“Same goes vice versa,” Hermione confirmed. “And I think there’s something to be said for that, for meeting the right person at the right time. I think there’s a lot of poetry in the way things happened with us. Whether that’s a happy accident or not, I don’t know, but I like to think it’s part of something bigger, I suppose.”

“Hermione Granger, the girl who walked out of third year Divination,” Ron remarked with a chuckle.

“Yes, well,” she said primly. “Love makes you believe all kinds of crazy things.”

Ron smiled again and drew her in to his chest with both arms, engulfing her in a bear hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her curls. The truth was that he didn’t care - destiny, fate, coincidence, what have you - so long as he got to fall asleep with her in his arms every night, kiss her every morning before he left for work, listen to laugh and feel like the sun was shining from her face. It didn’t matter when he knew or why it happened, so long as he got to love her for the rest of his life.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he murmured into her hair, cherishing the feeling of her pressed against him - and smiling again when her sleepy, contented voice murmured a reply.

“Happy Christmas, Ron.”

#romione #romionesecretsanta #gifts17 #fic #like a whisper