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saphie3243 · 3 years

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First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this.

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year.

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting.

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass.

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares.

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it.

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.”

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers.

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented.

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.”

“Why is there an R in it?”

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?”

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes.

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop.

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?”

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?”

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me. Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first.

“Not sure, why?”

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta.

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.”

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew.

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.”

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced.

“I would have picked you up if you asked.”

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian.

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch.

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either.

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.”

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper.

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.” Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.”

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie.

Surprisingly, he didn’t push.

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.”

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in.

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted.

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window.

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved.

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning.

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him.

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.”

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle.

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do.

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out?

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited.

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal.

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.”

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?”

“The bacon looks done.”

“Azriel.”

He sighed. “No.”

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.”

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him.

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered.

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.”

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.”

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then.

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room.

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year…

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up - but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents!

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year.

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked.

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices... even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society.

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip.

“It is the longest night of the year.”

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army.

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.”

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?”

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed.

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them.

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring.

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another.

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.”

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.”

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.”

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something.

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time.

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there.

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound.

“Devlon,” she said very carefully.

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.”

“We need to get him out.”

“His friends will get him out.”

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it.

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.”

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit.

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own?

“Nesta!”

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?” She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso.

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie.

“He needs a healer.”

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.”

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night.

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked.

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table.

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know.

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter.

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong.

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.”

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway.

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note.

Dear Nesta,

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help.

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry.

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me.

Your sister,

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out.

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who?

“You’re up.”

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.”

“How’s the boy?”

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.”

“That’s good.”

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?”

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed.

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

#secret snowflake #Nesta Archeron #Nessian #Cassian #post Acowar #post acofas #elain archeron #emerie #Nesta and Emerie will be besties if it kills me #Nesta and Cassian adopt that kid.#Potato-burp is ask-able tumblr #so that one is in the exchange.#but my writing goes here so here we are #never posted fic directly to tumblr before.#weird

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lilbit-of-kizzy · 3 years

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I found all the Pokémon in snap!! Finally!! (I had help lol)

My tips?

Just play the game, no seriously most of them are going to show up eventually on their own! Most on lvl 3 maps.

If you level up a map DON'T HIT REPLAY you will replay at your old level! Exit to the camp and go back into the map for new stuff to start appearing!

Complete quests! Try them first on your own, some of them are very straightforward and simple, some of them are gonna require a walkthrough 😅 that's ok! Just understand that most of the walkthroughs online were created quickly with "wait how did we do that???" players behind them! You may have to tweak what you do to get them to work (or find a different guide)

Don't get so caught up in completion that you forget to have fun! I did this, realized I was frustrated and not enjoying the things I was achieving and took a step back! It's a buggy game, just have fun with it!

Realize you can change the lvl of any map! I did not!! Lolol in small letters it says "x to change level" There are some quests and pokémon unavailable in the higher levels!

Those are the basic ones I can think of rn 😅 if you're ok with spoilers see below the cut for how to find some of the harder ones!

Ok! So some of the names of the places are just gonna be what I call them because I'm tired and don't have my switch on me 😅 you'll know what I mean I promise, also I'm not including different star walkthroughs! Only how to find the Pokémon!

Lugia: I'm putting this one first because I loath it in it's entirety. I swear the rest are nowhere near this complicated

Location: Undersea Cave (underwater map) must be a least lvl 3

Instructions: Scan to take the alternate path into the deep cave (once you're at level 3 this will be open automatically but you can open it before by throwing an orb at the Clawitzer as it shoots into the cave on the left early in the map! If you hit the kelp forest you've gone too far/haven't unlocked Clawitzer yet!)

You should see Starmie swimming around, this is how you know you're on the right level and path! As you pass Tentacruel you'll start your decent to the sea floor.

Look around spastically (I'm not kidding every walkthrough video I've seen has just turned in fast, crazy circles) until you see a Lanturn against the wall and immediately hit it with an orb, you'll know you've done it in time if it dives down instead of joining the throng of pokémon swimming up.

Wailmer/lord will block your view for a second but you should see a couple of Frilish now harassing said Lanturn. Hit it with and orb again to help it fight off the Frilish. It'll be grateful to you and show you a new path! (You'll still need to scan it!) You'll find Lugia around the corner on your right (it's hard to miss!)

There's a Crystal Bloom above it near a sleeping Magikarp, if you hit the bloom it should wake Lugia up! Have fun and memorize this because you have to do all of this EVERY TIME 😄

Celebi: It's just there!

Location: Evermore Forest (is that right??? The mystery forest)

Instructions: get to level 3 on the forest (you may have to "beat" the game I'm not sure) and make your way to the end! Don't take the Sun Field route, go where the Beware are, then look immediately to your right! Celebi is flying around and will continue to zip around you!

Jirachi and Absol: again they just show up after beating the game!

Location: The Ruins

Jirachi is sleeping on top of the 2nd flower pool and Absol will be hanging out near the end! Once you find/interact with them they'll be around in other places as well!

Mew: mew!!

Location: Jungle Forest (night) you must "beat" the game first!

Immediately upon start turn all the way around, hit the two Murell with an orb and play the melody, they'll dance and a familiar pink orb with spring out of the trees!

After a few seconds of flying around it'll pause in front of you, throw a fluff fruit at it and start snapping pics!

I haven't managed to achieve this myself yet but apparently if you manage to hit and get a picture of Mew every time it shows up, it'll then appear right in front of you at the end of the course! Get pictures and they should be flying around day and night without prompting!

Suicune: tiny bit complicated

Location: Snow World (names man I'm sorry) Night

So actually activating Suicune isn't hard, getting to them isn't either but it's a lot of steps!

So if you haven't unlocked the 2 alt paths for this level you'll need to do that first so let's go over that!

Start in the day at lvl 2 and look to your left to see an Alolan Sandslash, take its picture! Keep looking to your left and, just beyond Beartic, up high on a snow drift you'll spot the rascal again, again snap a photo! And he'll lead you to a new path! Hurray! (Scan for it of course)

Now that path is open at night as well so, once you're finished, head back in at night lvl 2. Take the new path and you should find a Crabominable punching trees (as you do). He'll eventually go to punch a tree on your left that an Abomasnow is sleeping beside. Chuck an orb before he punches, this'll drop snow on Mr Aboma who will wake up pissy and will scare out a Froslass, take her picture! She'll be shy and show you yet ANOTHER path! (Scan ofc) Now you may want to just explore this area first as there's quite a few new Pokémon here! Both routes are now available day and night!

Anyways once you're out of a cave you'll pass through, you'll emerge to a Jynx riding an Avalugg through the water. Throw an orb at her and she'll raise her hands. At this point look to your right and Suicune should eventually run out from behind the glacier!

(btw Glaceon is up on top of the cliff at the natural end of this level! Where all the Spheal are!)

Ho-oh: just chillin

Location: Volcano

Immediately look to your right between the two cliffs to catch them in flight! You have to take pictures every time they show up to get them to spawn at the end and I have yet to achieve this 😅 but hey we're just here to fill out the photodex right?

Dianice and Jolteon: Oh THAT'S where Jolteon is hiding!!

Location: Ice Cave

I'm pretty sure you have to be at lvl 3 but not 100%

Take the Crystal Cave route near all the Croagunk (on the other side of the river) once you pass through the smaller cave, look down to find a Malwile and two Carbinks, orb all 3 of them and look to your right, Dianice will come out towards the happy sounds! If you orb her she'll give you some multi star reactions!

Her presence will have made the 2nd Malwile, the one standing on the crystal who refuses to face you, move revealing a secret path, scan for it, take a picture of the Malwile cause it's finally facing you and you'll descend behind the wall! Jolteon will be hiding in some leaves to your left! (The pictures will register! I'm sure it comes out eventually)

Gardevoir and Ninetales: and the winter route!

Location: Evermore Forest (again!)

Be sure to be at lvl 3 as it's the only lvl this works on (not max!)

Scan and melody until you can make a right turn, this will ensure Trevenant is out of the way of the path! Espeon will run in front of you and sit, orb her! She'll lead you to the winter forest path!

Gardevoir is hard to miss and Ninetales shows up to your right far away, and towards the end of the winter path will still be to the right but closer!

Have you managed to do the Lost Little Deerling quest/path yet? If not:

Once you pass to the next part of the forest (where Sawsbuck jumps in front of you...3 star pic btw) look immediately to your right and orb the flower. You'll hear and then see a Deerling pop up! Orb the next flower, then you'll see 2 flowers, you wanna hit the one furthest back but NOT the closer one. Then hit the Espeon flower, which will still draw out Espeon but this time she has a friend :3 papa (mama?) Sawsbuck will be thrilled (pics of Deerling to complete the quest!) and all 3 will lead you to the Sun fields! Scan to take the path, it's near those two adorable Espurrs!

If you took the winter path Gardevoir and Ninetales will be here as well! Gardevoir will eat a Fluffruit now and Ninetales will be happy with an orb!

(a loooot of the quests for this map are also in this part of the forest!)

Welp...that was long!! But I hope it helps!! Let me know if there's any Pokémon you're missing that I didn't mention!!

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franciium · 3 years

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I swear to fuck, some people don't take the fucking hint.

My ex-roommate contacted me almost two years after she flipped her shit because I lied to her that one time, and the only reason I had lied was because she was being a fucking nosy brat and kept pushing herself into my personal shit.

I blocked her the moment I got her first message (email) to me and thought that would be it.

It was not.

Months later, about sometime in March of this year, she sends me a text saying 'Happy Birthday', and since I deleted her number, I didn't know who the fuck sent it.

So I was like "who is this?"

Surprise, it was my nosy ex-roommate.

I didn't want to talk to her, I'm absolutely furious she even decided to contact me AROUND THE TIME OF MY BIRTHDAY BECAUSE IT'S THE LAST THING I WANTED WAS SOME PRICK TO PISS ME OFF ON A DAY I WANTED TO BE FUCKING SELFISH FOR ONCE, and she's acting like she's never been an asshole to me in the first place.

She ALWAYS wanted to talk, and ALWAYS keep trying to pressure me to talk to her with 'I hope you can find the time to catch up with me!!' and all that bullshit.

With some help from my best friend, Jay, I was able to block her, and thought 'FINALLY, NO MORE OF THAT ASS'

...Except, JUST A FEW MINUTES AGO, my ex-roommate DOESN'T TAKE THE FUCKING HINT.

You would think 'Oh they blocked me both through email and phone, maybe I should move on and leave this person ALONE'.

INSTEAD, SHE DECIDES TO CONTACT ME THROUGH ONE OF OUR OTHER EX-ROOMMATES BECAUSE THAT'S SOOOOOOO A 'GOOD IDEA'.

And, as I suspected the moment from when she first sent me that email, she went on and on about how she 'wanted me to move in' and how 'great it would be', while also saying that 'I was the best roommate ever'.

That's funny, considering she LITERALLY JUST SAID THE VERY OPPOSITE THE DAY SHE MOVED OUT.

So I let her have it.

"_______, on the very last day you lived at that house with me and _____ (second roommate), you told me I was the worst roommate ever and flipped your shit. You are nosy, you complained every single time I cooked beef in the house and then complained some more when I opened windows or used peppermint candles to clear up the smell because it was 'too cold' and 'I hate the smell'. You complained when I made too much noise even though all I did was open the door to my room or used the microwave, and you KNEW I worked late. You keep pushing yourself into my personal shit, and I kept trying to push you away from it because, SURPRISE SURPRISE, IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. That one time I lied and said it was this one thing was because I just wanted you to get off my back about it. Again, NOT YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. I had a feeling you only contacted me because you were trying to lead up to this conversation, and I wanted NOTHING to do with it. I blocked your email and your number, and yet you didn't take the hint because now you're contacting me through _____. I'm going to make this very clear; I don't want to talk to you EVER. Leave me alone, stop contacting me."

And before anyone gets on my case about it:

1. She ALWAYS got pissy whenever I told her it's none of her business and kept asking after a day or so later, thinking I was 'more likely to talk now than before'.

2. Peppermint candles I did not even buy myself, but my mom gave to me because she buys them when they go on sale and they help clear up any cooking smells. She literally demanded I buy different scented ones that she didn't hate or used the one that a friend from class made for me for my birthday...ON THE DAY I GOT IT FOR MY BIRTHDAY.

3. My door is squeaky, and I tried to fix it or get our landlord to fix it, but it still makes noises whenever I open it. Even after explaining this, she complained ANYWAY and continued to do so no matter HOW HARD I WAS TRYING TO SLOWLY OPEN IT.

4. She sleep at weird hours of the day. Sometimes she sleep through the entire day, and sometimes I'll see her up late at 3am. Apparently wakes up the moment the microwave rings to let me know that it's finished heating up my food. She complained about it a lot, so I had to stand by the microwave and time it where I would stop it a second or two short so she would nag at me about it. It doesn't matter I need to cook something else to go with that thing that I'm trying to heat up in the microwave, or that I have something I need to attend to personally. I tried to be very understanding of it because our rooms directly lead into the kitchen, despite my room being the closest to the microwave and hers being the furthest.

5. She started getting really nosy by demanding information about how much rent I was paying for my room, and got pissy at me when she found out from our landlord that I was a day late from my normal pay date. I always paid early, and the day I chose to 'pay late' was the day of when I was supposed to actually pay rent. Why I was late that ONE SINGULAR TIME? BECAUSE I WAS SICK AFTER CATCHING THE FLU THE DAY I LAID MY GRANDMA TO REST.

6. The reason why I'm so angry about her going on and on about me moving in with her was because she and I originally planned on moving out together in the current house she's in. However, she never told me any news about what was going on with it the moment I stupidly gave her my slip, and kept avoiding me throughout it. It was only THE DAY OF HER MOVING OUT, that I found out she threw away my slip instead of handing it in together to the new landlord, and then proceeded to flip out and say that I'm an awful roommate.

Honestly, fuck my ex-roommate.

I hope she takes this message and leaves me the fuck alone.

#fran talks about stuff #long post #do not reblog

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screensirenfic · 4 years

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Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 16

“So let me get this straight, because I’m not sure I’m following this....” Dad asked again for what must’ve been the third time, and I was beginning to understand why cyanide pills were a thing.

“You met this boy; Billy in your English class when he asked you to borrow a pen...”

Dad began to recite the story I’d told him that wasn’t entirely the truth, but I couldn’t exactly lay the ass slapping thing on him if I didn’t want to be pulling out lead from my boyfriend.

“And at first you didn’t like the kid, but then you talked again at Tina’s Halloween Party, and you liked him, but then you got in an argument, which somehow ends with him turning up at your work, and you going on date...”

Well; it wasn’t exactly a date, but it ended the way most good dates did, and who was honestly gonna tell their father they got nailed to the bed by a boy the first time you went to their house?!

“So you two argued again of god knows what, and somehow that ended with you dating Harrington...”

He glanced at me, checking he was still following so far, and I nodded in encouragement; hoping that understanding might be the first hurdle to forgiveness.

“Then you two argued, and somehow you ended up getting back together...”

“You forgot the part about him being Maxine’s brother...” I added; hoping the mention of the spritely redhead might bring some favour to him.

“Oh; trust me, I was getting to that...” He assured me; still looking the furthest thing from reassuring a man could get.

“I’m sorry, Lo, but I still don’t see how any of this justified you lying to me!” He lectured; opening up a classic can of good parenting, as if it was easy as just belting out the truth all the time.

“Come on; dad! We’ve been over this like three times! I’m sorry!” I complained; still not getting what exactly he wanted to hear from me.

“I mean; I just don’t get why you’re so pissy about it?!”

“Pissy?! Young lady; you haven’t even begun to learn the meaning of the word pissy!”

Already pulling out the “Young Lady” mark! He really was feeling pissy.

“I mean; when were you planning to tell me about this boy?!” He ranted, pacing the room like he was a caged animal.

“When you get married?! When you’re pregnant?!”

“Jesus Christ; dad! I am not getting married, and I am not pregnant!” I groaned; tired of him making a marathon out of a sprint all the time.

“I just thought it might be nice for you to meet him. You know; sit down and talk for a while-“

“Oh; I’ll talk alright...” Dad interrupted; that same crazy look in his eye that he had every time he fantasised about killing off Mike Wheeler.

“I’ll tell that two-bit, smart-assed punk exactly what I think of him-“

“Nicely; dad!” I yelled; really wishing he was more grown up than the comic book cookie-cutter cop he often came across as.

He shut up; pausing in his pacing to actually look at me for the first time since he started this lecture.

“I really like this one...” I admitted; fiddling with my sleeve nervously, because I was never this honest, especially when it came to boys.

“And... and I think you’ll like him too.”

I got up to my feet, walking over to him and grabbing his hands so I could make one last petition for amnesty.

“So please; promise me you won’t mess this up for me...” I begged; hoping that my dad would at least have enough self control to get through one dinner.

Dad looked at me for a second, and I could already tell that the puppy dog approach was winning out; his eyes already softening at the corners.

“Alright. I’ll try not to scare this boy away-“ He offered; resigned that he had to let being a good father win out over being a protective one.

“Promise?” I asked; knowing better than to just trust him on his word, and hardly even at that.

“Okay; okay!” He relented, deciding that this wasn’t a hill worth dying on.

“I promise not to scare off your not-so-secret boyfriend...” He promised, pulling me in for a warm hug.

“No matter how much he may or may not deserve it-“

I swatted his arm, knowing it was probably a joke, but still; it was in bad taste.

I smiled at him; pleased that things were finally getting better.

Dad trusted me, and I guess; I trusted him.

We made a promise about trust between ourselves over three years ago, and we were finally delivering upon it, and that felt good.

“Okay; so I’m gonna ask him to come for dinner tonight; so it would be a real big favour if you could pick something up at the store that didn’t need microwaving...”

I already began gathering up my jacket and keys, knowing that if I wanted to catch Billy before his shift, I’d have to move quickly.

“And for God’s sake; try and wear something without mustard stains...” I asked, knowing better than to ask for an entirely clean shirt, because this wasn’t thanksgiving.

“No microwave; no mustard. Got it.” He paraphrased, watching as I snatched up my backpack from the kitchen counter.

“Dad; Eggos-“ I reminded him, catching a whiff of burnt pastries in the air.

“Oh; shit!” He raced over to the toaster, pulling them out with his bare hands.

“Hothothothothot!”

“Gotta run, but catch you tonight...” I said, quickly heading for the door.

“Love you sweetie.” He called after me, already putting the Eggos onto clean plates.

“Love you too, dad” I called back, opening the front door.

“Hey; what about your Eg-“

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crystalelemental · 5 years

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FE Fates Replay - Part 1

Introductory segment, starring the better cast!

I did keep to the plan and am running Female Corrin. I gave her the light purple hair. It looks surprisingly nice on her. Everything else was kinda standard. I thought about alternate hair styles, but honestly her default looks the best. I will say that I think the grids they use are stupid, though. They list girly as one of the qualities in expression types, but one of the options furthest on that slider just had her eyes closed all the time like Brock, so I’m not sure that’s...girly, exactly. My boon/bane layout is Clever/Unlucky, which translates to big magic but no luck. Luck should always be your bane, kids. I do find it annoying that they replaced the obvious descriptions with these new terms. It’s not hard to figure out what’s what, but I know the stats and their associations. If you’re new to the series, you might have no idea what Robust is. Is that HP or Defense? If it weren’t for keeping them all in the same order, I wouldn’t know. It’s a similar thing to changing up class names; it’s really kinda pointless and only serves to confuse. My subclass was Samurai, because I like the idea of Vantage and Swordfaire, which I feel is harder to find on her through the castles than all the other really good options. Also I already have cards with Renewal and Luna, and it’s not gonna be hard to find Aegis/Pavise, so these two seemed like more interesting options. With character creation out of the way, let’s get started!

The prologue is mostly just the now-standard in medias res tutorial. Only, they had you side with the Hoshidans, because they’re totally not trying to sway your judgment here. There’s not much to comment on, but I will note this, because it’s interesting: every time the Hoshidans talk about Nohr, the words “scum” and “filth” seem to come up every time. They seem completely incapable of referring to the Nohrians as anything else. Also, it’s absolutely hysterical to me that Xander nearly one-shots Ryoma, and Ryoma needs to activate Astra just to make an attempt at keeping up with damage output. I think we all know who the better brother is here.

Chapter 1 is another simple tutorial, this time with Xander. Not gonna lie, it might be Heroes influence, but I like Xander. He’s nice. He’s tough on Corrin, but is invested in helping her improve as a warrior to escape the fortress and be able to go out like she’s wanted. He’s a good brother. Who I thought was older, but may not be. Unclear. The other siblings are okay. Camilla hasn’t really done a lot, Elise is just adorable, and Leo also hasn’t done much but prove that he’s kind of a klutz who’s like “there’s more to being strong than just slapping hunks of iron together!” We also get a brief introduction to Flora and Felicia, who are pretty fun. Nothing substantial on them yet.

Chapter 2 is a bit more interesting. You finally meet the dad, Garon, who is a transparent villain that’s really not interesting at all. He gives Corrin a suspicious sword, and tells her to kill off their prisoners from Hoshido. The map itself...honestly is still mostly tutorial, this time for weapon triangle matchups. It even gives you free healing in the center of the stage. It’s more about developing small tactics and seeing how the different weapon types match up now. I still don’t care for tomes being lumped in with swords and having a universal weakness. I greatly prefer magic being outside the weapon triangle, and having its own matchups. Still pissy about that... Anyway, Corrin refuses to kill defeated prisoners, and Garon orders Xander to take care of it, so he gets involved. Leo’s quick thinking keeps everyone out of trouble, and lets the prisoners, Kaze and Rinkah, survive. Honestly, I do kinda like Leo after this map. I forgot how clever he can actually be at times. The whole family being against their father’s orders to kill the defenseless is also nice, though it makes you wonder about Garon himself, you know? I know he used to be a good king, and suddenly changed, but like...when did the change happen, anyway? How long was the family raised by good king Garon, and how did they not notice the drastic and immediate shift? Corrin’s pretty nice here too. Callie made a good observation for the series as a whole: “For a lot of these stories about kingdoms, the focus is on who’s in power, but the Fire Emblem lords tend to be way more concerned about how to help their people, and it’s really nice.” I would agree, and Corrin does keep this trait. She’s very concerned about establishing peace again after the war, and wants citizens on both sides to be safe. Corrin’s alright.

Chapter 3, the doofening. Hans and Iago, the other transparent villain idiots, are introduced. Xander makes mention of Hans being arrested a few years back, which I guess alludes a bit to time frame for Garon’s transformation. Law and order was properly upheld until “a few years ago.” Without a proper scale we can’t say how long that was, but Xander was old enough to be on the job upholding the peace, so I’d assume no more than like...4-5 years, maybe? Basically, the Nohrian siblings should’ve been old enough to recognize the sudden and drastic change. Anyway, after your defiance of the king last chapter, you’re given a new mission and told you won’t even need to really fight this time. Your objective is to scope out an abandoned fort near the Nohr/Hoshido border. Gunter, Jakob, and Hans will be going with. Corrin arrives, finds that the fort is filled with Hoshidans, and makes the sensible decision of “whoops, it’s not abandoned, better report this and not engage in needless conflict.” To which Hans, predictably, runs in and kills a guy, then run into the fray and gets himself killed in like two turns because he’s inept. Now...hear me out. This guy’s plan was to kill one soldier, then charge in. During this, Corrin shouts that Hans is disobeying orders, and acting independently. In a sensible situation, this should be an easily resolved problem. Corrin and the others actually following her orders stand back, or accost Hans themselves, and parlay with the Hoshidans, who have no intention fighting. Instead, you engage them needlessly because Hans ran in. So...okay, I guess.

You clear out the map, and get an introduction to Saizo and Kagero. They’re not exactly compelling, beyond Saizo being kinda sexist here? He dismisses Corrin as just a girl who couldn’t possibly know how to fight, but as soon as Xander shows up is like “Ah, this must be their real commander.” Fuck you too, buddy. Camilla’s actually hilarious at this point. She decimates Saizo’s allies, and Corrin is momentarily taken aback by her usually gentle sister’s ferocity. Elise is just like “Oh right, you’ve never seen her on the battlefield. She’s just like this.” It’s kinda great. Kagero notifies Saizo that Ryoma is on his way with support, and Xander finally, FINALLY makes the sensible call to just fucking leave.

Oh, but of course it’s not that easy. Hans is still alive somehow, despite rushing into enemy territory, having no support from us, and getting immediately blasted as he ran toward a heavily fortified post. He also, somehow, knocks Gunter into the bottomless pit. Corrin is outraged and demands answers, doing some weird body morphing dragon stuff in the process. Not gonna lie, I forgot she did this, and it does look pretty cool. Hans tells her was only doing it under the king’s orders, then he runs off. Your weird evil sword tries to throw you into the pit as well, somehow, but wait! Lilith is here, and she’s apparently a baby dragon creature that saves you! You’re brought to a pocket dimension that the dragons can access, and this is how My Castle is established. I will bitch endlessly about My Castle soon, I promise. But for now, we’re just as quickly sent back out to where we warped in, and are immediately knocked out by Rinkah. Nice.

Overall I’d say there’s nothing too egregious yet. Chapter 3 is the least sensible, but I’m willing to waive some of the decisions as just pushing the plot along. The only real hang-up I have is about Garon, who I just feel like should’ve been found out a long time ago. Like...immediately, perhaps. The Nohrians presumably had years with their true father, being raised with the moral compass they all have, yet the guy changes overnight and no one really questions it? It’s a bit far-fetched, even by this series’ standards. But, I guess we have to get the board set up somehow, or maybe Xander keeping the peace around the kingdom was on his own initiative and not the king’s orders. Who knows. Anyway, part 2 will happen eventually. I’m mostly getting to play when Callie’s bored of the game, so expect some slow progress, but our next update point will be after the Hoshidan tutorial chapters. Stay tuned.

#fire emblem fates replay #fire emblem fates

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keena-kapu · 6 years

Text

Acoustic Version

Pairing: Blake/Weiss (Monochrome) Words: 7′740 AU: @dashingicecream‘s RWBY!Rock AU Content Warnings: NSFW AO3 link (Recommended for mobile users!) Summary: Tensions are high. The night before had Blake questioning how she truly felt about her and Weiss's arrangement and left her craving more, but just as she tries to confess, Weiss accidentally dashes that possibility away. But perhaps Weiss is in fact just as interested as Blake is. Ko-fi | Commissions

The journey to Beacon was a long one. The hours seemed to span on forever, and asides from talking to one another or using personal entertainment, there wasn’t really much to do. For Yang and Ruby, that wasn’t a problem. They had plenty to talk about or games to play. But for Weiss and Blake, between each other that was impossible.

The fact remained, no matter what they’d agreed in terms of their arrangement, they were hurt. But the problem now was how to get out of it. Weiss felt she couldn't say anything, not without it easily being rebutted with the ‘no commitment’ argument; but Blake also felt like she shouldn't say anything again, knowing bringing it up once more would hurt Weiss. While they had good intentions for the other person, remaining silent just let emotions stew on for longer and longer.

It wasn't just them that could sense it. Ruby and Yang could also feel the tension between them throughout the journey. And of course they would, it was strange for the two going from best friends to barely speaking a word to one another in the course of an evening. Such things got both sisters worrying if there would even be a show at all.

Finally, they’d arrived. The bus pulled into the concert hall’s parking lot, stopping itself as close to the main doors as it could next to the stage crew trucks and vans. From there the hotel was within walking distance, but it kept the van out of sight from prying eyes.

“Phew, can't wait to stretch my legs.” Yang arched her back, holding her arms and legs both out and yawned whilst stretching her back, before getting herself up and making her way out the bus. “Better give’em a hand with the bags too.”

Shutting off the game from her scroll, Ruby nodded. “Good idea! Last time Qrow looked a little pissy at us cause we forgot.”

“Yeah, but it was funny though,” Yang admitted. She then looked at the end of the bus toward its last two passengers.

Weiss was sat at the small table, looking at something on her scroll and occasionally flicking her finger to look through, and Blake was right at the rear of the bus, reading a book in bed. The furthest away from each other anyone had seen them throughout the tour. They never said a word to each other, or even prepared to leave just yet.

This couldn't go on forever. The first to break the silence was Weiss, who lowered her scroll with a sigh.

“Actually, could you guys go ahead? I need to speak to Blake. Privately.”

From behind, Blake’s ears had just started to perk up. She’d heard Weiss’s request, looking up toward her and then to the sisters for their answer. Thankfully Ruby gave a small nod.

“Sure, just remember your cases. Um… Are you two still ok to room together?”

Weiss looked back toward Blake for a moment. Neither responded directly to it, so Weiss answered honestly. “Once we talk things out I believe so.”

“Alright, good then! So we'll… see you guys later I guess?”

And with that, Ruby followed Yang to the doors, hopping out and closing the doors behind them, leaving the two girls alone with one another. Weiss placed her scroll back into her pocket and away, walking into the bed area to be with Blake as she started putting her book away as well.

Both were once again quiet. How could they even begin this? In Weiss’s head, she knew she needed to apologise for upsetting Blake with her feelings, and somehow try to express that all she wanted was to make her happy, regardless of the emotions she felt for her. But Blake’s head was thinking of something else.

It wasn't exactly good the night after she’d slept with her ex to admit that she wanted to make their relationship more serious, but that had been the stepping stone to make her realise that. She also wanted to make Weiss happy and wanted to be happy with her. It was time to move on and had been for a long long while. She just needed to say the words.

Both of them took a deep breath, and then...

“I kinda want us to start dating-” “I’m sorry for how I reacted-”

“Huh?” “What?”

Both had blurted out in unison, unable to hear what the other said. Weiss cleared her throat, looking to one side. “I’m sorry, I interrupted. You go first.”

“No, no, you go first, really.” Blake insisted, shuffling to sit on the edge of the bed. “Please, what was it?”

“Okay…” Taking another deep breath in, Weiss sighed slowly to try and calm herself down, before looking up again and making eye contact. She wanted to be completely open with her words.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted last night.,” Weiss took her seat on the bed opposite, holding her hands together. “We’d said we didn’t want anything messy and it was all just for fun. I don’t know why I got so upset about it.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking to one side. “I guess… Since you’re the first person I’ve ever really slept with, I just got ahead of myself with it. I just assumed that I’d be the only one you’d want to do that with.”

Blake looked shocked. Did that mean she returned her feelings? This was her chance! “Weiss, I-”

“No, please, let me keep going,” This time Weiss insisted. “I’ve started, I need to finish.”

While Blake wanted to confess there and then, she stopped herself. She nodded to her, encouraging her to keep going.

“Anyway, it wasn’t fair of me to make that assumption. I was selfish, and as it stands… I like what we’re doing right now.” Looking back again, Weiss chuckled to herself, thinking about their recent moments together. “This is probably everything I could ever wish for in a first time. No messy endings or mixed feelings, just two people exploring and having fun. Hell, it's every bit of the rockstar lifestyle I thought I’d never fit into when I first left home.”

Smiling fondly, she shrugged her shoulders lightly. “I guess I went off on a tangent, but the point I made stands. I want to keep having that freedom with you, and I still want you to feel as free as you want too. So from here on, I’ll keep my awkwardness to myself. Deal?”

How could Blake respond to that now? That pretty much answered the request she was about to make, and any commitment was a downright no. To ask again now after hearing her pour her heart out would be truly disrespectful. But just as Weiss agreed to, Blake decided to keep her own feelings to herself. It's what Weiss wanted. And what they’d agreed. No mess, just sex. She forced a smile, nodding. “Deal.”

“Alright. Excellent.” Weiss grinned in response. “Anyway, what were you going to say?”

“U-uh…”

Shit, why didn’t I just go first?! At least that way Blake wouldn’t be stood around awkwardly umming and ahhing about what to say instead of asking Weiss out. Scratching her head, she laughed nervously, looking toward the ground.

“I… was just gonna apologise as well. I know we said it's no commitment but the least I could have done was kept you in the loop. Especially since it was your hotel room as well.”

Weiss seemed oddly surprised at the response. She raised an eyebrow at first, as though she were about to question it. But in the end, she said nothing. She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, that’s fine. I had anything embarrassing packed away, if that’s what you mean, so her seeing any of my stuff was not an issue. Speaking of which...”

Sliding forward, Weiss got to her feet again. But instead of making her way off the bus like Blake had expected, she was instead looking under her bed, pulling out her case from beneath the bed. She opened it up, starting to look through. “I bought something a few nights ago I’ve wanted us to try.”

“Oh?” Blake’s curiosity piqued. Once again, Blake was pushing her feelings to the back of her mind to deal with later. “This isn’t gonna be liked the flavoured condoms, right?”

“We agreed never to speak of that again,” Weiss said in a hushed tone, “but at least we now know you’re allergic to honey. Ah-hah!” Moving aside one of her shirts, she’d found the item she was searching for. A cardboard box. Opening it up rather hastily she first tossed out some of the packaging that came with it, and then brought it into view, revealing a sight that made Blake’s eyes widen.

“... You bought a strap-on.”

“I did indeed,” Weiss confirmed, holding it up for Blake to see. The ice blue toy, probably just over six inches in length made Blake continue to stare with wonder. Even compared to the very real cock she saw yesterday, seeing this new one in Weiss’s hands had a way of already getting her excited. A fact Weiss giggled when she picked up on it. “You look like you’re about to drool.”

“Huh?” Realising her mouth had been hanging open, Blake shook her head to focus again. It never stopped the huge blush forming on her face when she realised what it meant Weiss had been thinking about. “S-Sorry. I just… didn’t think this would be your thing.”

“To be honest, I don’t know if it is yet…” Weiss chuckled, clearly noticing the blush on Blake’s face and her eyes occasionally glancing at it. She could read her like a book. She looked over with her eyes half closed, smirking lightly. “Looks like it's yours, though.”

Blake swallowed. It certainly did appeal to her to imagine what they’d do, imagine that Weiss was the one in Ilia’s position last night, taking her for a change. Seemed like Weiss knew all too well what got her going these days. Or perhaps… “Did you guess that just because both my partners before had dicks?”

Seemed Weiss was caught in the act, given how red that question made her cheeks. “Well… Alright, that fact may have slightly influenced the purchase.” Though she placed it to one side, instead tilting her head to Blake. “Does that really matter? You still looked eager to try it the moment I pulled it out.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t matter.” Blake really was eager to try it, staring at it on the bed next to Weiss. The bus was empty, but Ruby and Yang had gone ahead to check into the hotel, and probably would remain there to use the facilities and settle. Chances were the drivers would be taking their well-earned breaks too. They had a lot of spare time.

“... Don’t suppose you want to try it now?”

Weiss froze solid, looking at Blake wide-eyed, sparing only a few blinks every so often. “Wow… You really are eager, huh?” Though taking the length into her hand again once more, she took a look at the ‘strap’ part specifically. It looked simple enough, like a pair of underwear with the toy sticking out of the front. There was nothing to adjust or alter in any way. And yet still, Weiss questioned. “ Can we try it now? Do we need anything special to set up?”

Blake couldn’t help but laugh to herself. “It’s sex, not a science experiment.” She found herself crossing her legs, trying her best to hide the growing length from the view of Weiss. She really was eager just as expected. “Well, we shouldn't even need a condom so it's just lube-up and go, really.”

Weiss blinked again, staying very still. “... Lube?”

“Mmhmm.” Blake hummed to confirm, nodding her head. But Weiss still didn’t move. Blake raised an eyebrow. “... You did buy some of that too, right?”

Again more silence for a moment, until she looked to Blake instead. “... In my defense, the video I watched didn’t show that part.”

“Weiss!”

“Well, I’m sorry! I thought it would be informative, okay?!” She was completely red with embarrassment, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to hide it and looking toward the ground. "The girls I watched just did it and they seemed to enjoy it without any.”

Blake raised an eyebrow again. “Were they both cis girls, by any chance?”

“... That makes a difference?”

Blake sighed deeply, trying to stop herself laughing again at the whole scenario. That was another feature about Weiss. Even if she didn’t mean to, she made her laugh. And no doubt they’d both look back on this and end up laughing.

“First off, never take lessons from porn, it's nothing like real life. And second, yes it does. The back end doesn’t work the same way as the front does.”

“Well forgive me for being a distracted enough to not consider that!” Bringing her hand to her forehead, Weiss shook her head in disbelief. If she didn’t laugh about it she’d cry, but being able to laugh about their mishaps was what made everything so meaningful. Taking the toy again, she began to shift off the bed to pack it away again…

“Hang on,” Blake was quick to stop her. “I think I might have picked up the bottle Ilia left. Should still have some in it.”

Weiss said nothing. She sat back on the bed again, keeping the toy in her lap just until she’d confirmed. While it wasn't a problem to go out and get some for later in the evening, Weiss felt the sooner they tried this toy out, the easier everything could be after. Talking, figuring things out, anything. But they needed that moment of intimacy first to truly move past the events of last night and prove that terms were still good.

“Yes!” Blake couldn't help but whisper to herself with glee, pulling the half-empty bottle of lube from her bag. “More than enough for now.”

In another moment of confidence, Weiss looked up from the toy again, only to smirk in her direction. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Her hands lead to the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and waiting politely for Blake to do the same. “Let’s get using it.”

Blake didn't have to be told twice. It seemed her and Weiss were in the same frame of mind, where the sooner they had an intimate moment the better. Both hurriedly undressed, throwing their clothes into a pile together. The bus’s beds didn't exactly offer the most spacious area for this sort of thing, but they would make do.

Blake, now naked, sat on the edge of the bed, watching in anticipation as Weiss pulled their new toy into place. And once it was in position, she was speechless. But the redness in her cheeks now that she could see it on, see the length there and ready, that spoke more than any words could.

“ Now you’re drooling,” Weiss commented.

“If you could see what I could, you wouldn't blame me.” She hesitated. For a moment she debated to herself, before taking the risk; “There’s something about seeing you with a hard on that’s just… wow.”

Weiss raised a brow. She began to run her hand along the length as though it were a real one and she was keeping it erect. “Well, glad I look pleasing to you. I was worried it wasn't going to be my look.”

Honestly, you could do any look. That was all Blake wanted to say. But she wasn't quite brave enough to do so. Instead, she stayed silent, tilting her head and wearing the blush with pride. Might as well make it look attractive and lure Weiss in. She crossed her legs again innocently. “It definitely is, if it helps to hear it.”

Weiss scoffed, trying not to be distracted from the job at hand. She collected the bottle, looking at its label for short moments and the contents within, while her spare hand continued to stroke the toy, clearly to put on a show for her. “Hmm… according to this, I need to put it on the toy and your-” She had to clear her throat. Blake really wasn't the only one getting flustered by thinking about this.

Blake spared her the trouble of finishing the sentence. “You can use a condom over your fingers for that part. Saves you clean up.”

“Right, y-yes.” She took Blake’s advice, quickly grabbing her handbag and searching through for a condom and immediately tearing it out of its packaging. This is certainly not how she expected their morning to be going a few minutes ago. “Just… be sure to talk me through this. I don’t want to do it wrong and hurt you somehow.”

But as Blake watched Weiss coat her now covered fingers in the lubricant, she couldn’t be surer of her response. “You won’t,” Already she pushed herself back onto the bed, laying back onto the covers and spreading her legs ready. “I know you won’t. I trust you.”

It brought a warm smile to her face. Amazing how Blake could make her feel so confident in her moments of weakness just with the right words and phrases, no matter what it was. Getting back to the task at hand, she stepped forward and pressed the fingers between Blake’s cheeks.

To which she suddenly flinched at in response.

“What? What is it?” Weiss pulled her hand away instantly. “What did I do wrong?”

“No, nothing!” Blake tried to laugh it off. A familiar problem she’d had the night before had returned. “It’s just a little cold, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Weiss nervously laughed with her. She placed the spare hand on Blake’s thigh, gently rubbing it to soothe her somehow. “Do you want me to keep going anyway?”

“Please.” This time, Blake made sure to grasp at the blankets below, bracing herself ready. “I’ll try not to this time.”

“You don't have to. I’ll just have to remember how you twitch in the future.”

And once again, Weiss eased her fingers forward to Blake’s opening. And once again was met with a series of twitches and shudders. But this time, she persevered. She pushed the lubricant against the opening, circling and prodding to prepare Blake for what was to come. And judging from the way she gripped the sheets and bit her lip, it was met with positive response.

“Oh my god why does this look so good?” Weiss asked herself, unable to stop herself looking away from what was happening. When she felt things loosen up enough, she pushed her fingers inside.

And was met with a muffled moan from Blake.

When she looked up towards her face instead, it was a picture of pure bliss. Red cheeks, eyes closed and her eyebrows furrowed while she bit her lip to contain her sounds. It looked like she was having the time of her life already, something truly hypnotic to watch.

“Oh my god… why does she look so good?” She couldn't draw herself away from looking. It truly was wonderful to watch Blake come loose under her fingers. How far could that go? She decided to experiment a little more to find out. On the next thrust inward with her fingers, she decided to curl them to watch the reaction.

“Hoh!”

Immediately Blake grasped the sheets even tighter. And it only continued when Weiss teased more. She continued to move her fingers in and out, curling each time and sending pulses of pleasure through Blake’s body.

“I could do this all day…” It was accidental that Weiss said that out loud, but she meant every word. Somehow seeing Blake so pleasured by the simple movements of her fingers brought her far more satisfaction than receiving pleasure herself.

She really couldn't keep it up all day though. With the next thrust forward, Blake had to reach between her legs and grasp Weiss’s wrist to stop her. Absolutely breathless, she’d only just managed to rasp out. “D-don't. I’m… I’m gonna finish early if you keep it up.”

It was tempting to keep going anyway and finish Blake this way, a call back to their first sober encounter this way. But seeing as she was already dressed for the occasion, she did as Blake asked, drawing her fingers back from their full depth to allow her to recover. “Alright. Are you ready for the full thing now?”

“Yes.” She released her grip from Weiss’s wrist. “Just cover the toy with lube too.”

Weiss nodded, finally withdrawing her fingers and removing the condom from them.

Now the real fun was going to begin. Blake watched Weiss eagerly as she grabbed the bottle of lubricant again, giving the toy a fair amount and rubbing it over. But there was another important question. Position. As easy as it would be to repeat the position from last night with Ilia, she didn't want that. She wanted something a little more interesting. Not just for herself, but for Weiss to experience as well.

After realising her feelings last night, all she wanted was to be as close to Weiss as possible, in any way she could. There was certainly a position she could think of that would allow that.

“... You mind if we try something?”

Weiss looked up from what she was doing, having just finished coating the member. “I can't see how I can say no. What are you thinking?”

“Sit on the edge of the bed.”

Although skeptical, Weiss obeyed. She sat on the bed next to her as Blake asked, positioning the toy upright and ready. The confusion didn't last long when she finally realised what Blake was up to, however. She sat up and climbed up onto Weiss’s lap, straddling herself across mere inches from the coated length. To support herself, she held her hands on Weiss’s shoulders, looking down with a rather nervous smile.

“Is this alright?”

“Oh my…” Something about this position brought a lot of heat to Weiss’s face. And down below as well. Sure, Blake was usually the party on top, but this was in a very different way. She’d be riding her, she’d be the more submissive party. Something about that just got Weiss’s heart racing like nothing she’d felt before. Supporting Blake’s waist, she looked up to her with a flustered expression of her own. “More than alright.”

There weren't many more words to be said. Blake stared into Weiss’s eyes for a long while, almost finding herself getting lost within them. Were they really that pretty before? She really hadn't looked. But now that she was seeing Weiss in a whole new light, she could truly compare them to sapphires. Rare, precious, and beautiful. But that was Weiss all over.

Rather than getting started straight away, she brought a hand back so she could lift Weiss’s chin up, and bring her lips to meet hers in a tender kiss.

A kiss which Weiss insisted on continuing. One of her hands came to support Blake’s shoulders instead, holding her as she rolled her lips around hers, occasionally capturing the lower lip between her teeth. This was so different to any of their kisses before. It was slower, for starters, but something else felt different. It was intimate and loving, the kind of kissing that lovers did.

Were they both mutually feeling that? Blake knew in her heart how she felt but was still clueless as to how Weiss was. And yet, she wasn't backing away yet. In fact, she was the one that wanted the kiss to keep going, that rubbed between her shoulders to encourage her to stay. Maybe… just maybe-

“Hmgh!”

A thrust upward from Weiss cut that thought off completely. Within their kiss, Blake had entirely forgotten where she had been sitting, and what was so close to her opening before. Now the head was pushed in, and she found herself falling away from the kiss to moan out in surprise.

When Blake looked to Weiss’s expression, all that was looking back at her was a smirk.

“Y-you did that on purpose.” She just managed to rasp out.

“Maybe?” Weiss tilted her head and looked up innocently. “Are you upset about that?”

The question was another distraction. Blake felt Weiss’s hands pulling her downward, pushing more of the member inside her and sending yet more shudders up her spine. Oh god, she most definitely was not upset. When the member entered by another three inches Blake moaned out again, her arms returning around Weiss again as she nuzzled her head against her neck.

“I take that as a ‘no’.” Weiss grinned, nuzzling back against Blake in return as she continued her movements. Now they’d settled into a comfortable position, Weiss was able to focus on making this the best experience possible for her. Each time she pushed Blake down, she thrust up, meeting her rear and burying the member in as deep as possible. It started at a slow pace, enough for her to figure out how to do it correctly. So far there were no complaints.

In fact, Blake was joining in, and began to speed up the pace. She felt her matching the movements as her grip tightened, heard the moans in her ear each time she thrust forward. Suddenly she found herself wondering why they hadn't done this weeks ago. Feeling the way her lover was pushing forward with her and showing her need was an experience she couldn't explain. But it was addictive, and brought her far more satisfaction than she could have imagined.

It was certainly creating a burning heat for herself. Even if there was no physical pleasure to be gained, listening to the pleasure Blake was receiving was more than enough for now.

That was displayed again with another gasp. Blake’s grip tightened around Weiss’s body as she shuddered. She could feel her muscles tensing as her finish came closer, shown when her member throbbed between them. “Fuck…!” She bit her lip, desperately trying not to call too loudly.

All Weiss could do was smirk. This really was a callback. She continued to thrust, leaning forward to whisper in her ears the very words that had her screaming that first time.

“Stop holding back. It turns me on when you moan.”

It was Blake’s undoing. She let out a final desperate moan louder than Weiss had ever heard before, shuddering hard in her arms as she felt her finish arrive at last. Her legs tightened around Weiss, forcing the member as far in her as it could possibly get, muscles tensing to try and keep her there so she could take as much of that feeling as she possibly could. It felt so good she’d barely even noticed her member had finished up between them.

Weiss did though. Once she allowed Blake the time to recover she pulled herself back, looking down at the speckles Blake had made on her stomach.

“Wow, that was rude. You made a mess all over me.”

Still breathless, Blake could barely focus her vision when she looked between them to see what she meant, let alone think of a real response. She could barely even speak out between breaths to apologise.

But Weiss only giggled in response to it. She was simply enjoying the show too much. Seeing Blake in such a pleased and exhausted state offered a huge amount of satisfaction. That only grew when she thought of the reason for that. Her. She was the one that pushed Blake to this peak and over the edge. Not so bad for her first time with this toy.

She moved her grip to Blake’s cheeks, using it as leverage to lift her up and off the length, resting her back down on her lap again after. Neither were too interested in moving just yet, enjoying each other’s embrace for a while longer as Blake recovered.

She’d had her finish, now it was time for Weiss to get hers. She pressed her lips up against Weiss’s neck over and over, peppering up and down with small kisses up and down the skin.

A quiet giggle followed as she leaned into the kisses, holding Blake close to her as a hugged her chest instead. The kisses didn’t stop though. They got harder, mixing with the occasional bite. It wasn’t tickling any longer, now it was starting to build Weiss’s own heat up, just as intended. It wasn’t long until she was pushing Weiss back on the bed, pinning her there and continuing her kisses down from her neck to her collarbone.

Then her cleavage, then her breast, then the top of her stomach… Blake was sure to avoid the spot she’d ‘made a mess’ on. The longer that reminder stayed there, the longer Weiss could enjoy it alongside what was about to happen. She had to climb off her lap to continue the kisses, first unbuckling the strapon to remove it from her then kneeling at the foot of the bed to instead begin kissing Weiss’s upper thighs again and again… until…

There was a hum of delight when Blake hit the spot. Her lips met Weiss’s delicate sex, treating her to a variety of kisses and laps with her tongue. Pleasing Weiss in this way was somewhat of a rarity for Blake to try, she usually preferred to stick with fingers or ‘the typical way’, but it was something she wanted to improve. First, she treated the soft nub at the top to a flick of her tongue, focusing her attention there to circle it back and forth.

That small hum very quickly evolved into something more. Blake’s feline ears perked up to listen as Weiss moaned out into the air. She brought her hands up to her thighs to keep her in place, supporting her throughout as she continued the movements with her tongue, but also to feel every twitch and shudder. She craved Weiss’s response just as much as Weiss had craved her own.

‘This is where I mix it up, right?’ It seemed like the right thing to do. In all honesty, whenever she’d asked Weiss for the best advice on how to please her, there wasn’t much that she’d offered in critique. It was hard to give any when she hadn’t had anyone else to compare it against. In fact, it was her best friend she had to ask for tips from.

“Clit’s a good spot, yeah, but like… Well, you wouldn’t just lick the head of a dick to give a blowjob, would’ya?” She thought back to Yang’s advice. It might have been embarrassing at the time to listen to, but now she was thanking her lucky stars she did. “Vag’ is the same. You wanna mix it up. Treat the lips as well, tease the entrance, all that stuff. Least, that’s what I always like… Basically, if she starts pulling your hair or pushing your head against her for more, you’re doing a good job.”

Tilting her head to the right, Blake experimented with that advice. She instead lapped at the inner lips, both to the right, then to the left.

“Ooooohhh…” It was met with a mixture of a moan and an exhale. Definitely a good sign, even more proven when Weiss gripped the sheets below and allowed her eyes to fall shut. It only continued as Blake did, and Weiss found herself shaking every so often, quivering with the dull pleasure as it swam over her. “H-have you r-read a new boo- Oooh!- B-book or something? Because t-THIS!- this is so new…!”

Blake didn't want to break away to respond. Instead, she offered a small growl in the midst of her work, hoping her warm breath might also help with the building pleasure. Next, she lowered her head a little more. This time when she lapped, she was sure to do so right at Weiss’s entrance.

“WHOA! Shit!”

Hands reached into Blake’s hair in an instant. The response was electric! With each lap around Weiss’s entrance, a moan followed, the grip on her hair seeming to tighten as she tried to keep Blake right where she needed her. More and more shudders came the more she continued, it became very clear that Weiss was coming undone.

That much was obvious when Weiss tried to pull her closer, voice dripping with need. “F-fuck! Blake I’m-... I’m gonna-!”

No more needed to be said. Blake knew to finish the job by returning to the clit above, focusing the last of her attention there as she circled it with her tongue over and over, opening her eyes and looking up toward Weiss so she could soak in her response to the full.

Weiss was done for. She shuddered in Blake’s grasp, moaning her name loudly as the last of the pleasure seared through her veins and washed over her in wave after wave. Waves that Blake managed to maintain for a few seconds longer with each flick and circle of her tongue, being sure her lover would receive as much joy as she could possibly deliver.

It took nearly a full minute for Weiss to come down from her high. She gasped for breath, panting loudly and laying on the bed. It was heavy breathing mixed with a very weak laughter when she tried to look down, unable to even open her eyes. “That was… wow. Holy shit…”

“It was okay?” A stupid question perhaps, but Blake was eager to know.

“Okay?!” Weiss laughed again, this time using all her remaining strength to sit upright, having to hold her arms behind her for support. “Blake, that was probably the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. Where on earth did you learn to do that so good all of a sudden?”

Red dusted Blake’s cheeks once more as she looked off elsewhere, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “You know me and Yang talk about anything, right? Well, I just happened to ask and she gave me some tips.”

“ Yang told you how to do that?!” It looked like she was embarrassed at first. But as quick as it appeared, it faded. “You know what? If her lessons make you that good , I don't even care if she knows you’ll be using them on me. I’m not complaining about that performance at all.”

“Didn't think you would.” Blake giggled quietly. But speaking of the other band members, it only just occurred to Blake how far behind they really were. Their ‘moment of madness’ must have delayed them by a good half hour at the very least. “We’d better get showered up and go, I’ll bet they’re waiting for us.”

“Of course, yes. But first, Blake?”

The soft voice stopped Blake in her tracks just as she was about to fetch her clothes again. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for forgiving me. I’m really glad we’re still doing this.”

Such a simple phrase had completely caught Blake off guard. In her head, Weiss hadn't absolutely any reason to be sorry in the first place, but in her heart, she wished for so much more than this. And she was so very close to telling her that fact too… If only she’d spoken first, maybe she wouldn't be stuck in this limbo of her own feelings.

But it didn't matter. She smiled back in return to Weiss and nodded. “You didn't have anything to be sorry for, but I’m glad we’re together too.”

A subtle word choice perhaps, but it seemed Weiss didn't focus on it while she concentrated on cleaning up her stomach. Blake did, however. And now a different focus was on her mind.

‘Maybe I should be asking Yang for more advice other than just sex stuff…’

Hours later, everything had been back to normal. The two had reassured the others that they were back on good terms then got straight to unpacking for their week’s stay. The first performance was tomorrow, but tonight, everyone had their own plans to unwind before the big night.

While he was in town, Blake took the opportunity to go out with her friend Sun to a local bar upon hearing it was ‘Faunus night’, so Weiss had made plans to keep herself occupied with Ruby. It had been too long since she last hung out with her best friend, and room service with a side of pizza was just what the doctor ordered. Might as well have a chilled out evening and a friendly chat and save the drinking for tomorrow after their show.

“I’m surprised you weren’t out with Yang tonight,” Weiss mentioned, taking another slice of pizza from the box. “Or that she’s not come back here.”

“She said she was seeing someone tonight?” Ruby took a sip from her can of soda, still scrolling through the TV to try and find something decent to serve as background noise. “And then said ‘don’t wait up for me’ in her special voice. I’m guessing that’s sister code for ‘I’m getting laid but I don’t want to tell you out loud ‘I’m getting laid’ ’.”

Weiss couldn’t help but scoff at that while chewing on her pizza, nodding her agreement before she could answer. “ That voice. Yes, Winter is also a user of ‘the voice’ when she tries to discuss her evening plans, and she too used ‘the voice’ to describe tonight.”

Ruby paused a moment. “Hey, wasn’t your sister in town this week for one of the shows?”

“Indeed she is, we’re meeting tomorrow morning for coffee. No sooner than that. I think she’s eager to ‘relax’ now that she’s back for a while. Hence the voice.”

“Maybe they’ll meet up and go date hunting together.” Ruby smiled, leaning back against the wall and taking another sip of soda. “Oh, hey! Did you and Blake figure out that thing you needed to?”

“Yes, we did,” Weiss responded to Ruby now she’d finished the last of her pizza, crudely licking her fingertips to clean them. A rather bad habit she picked up from her friend. “It was easily figured out. Just a small disagreement we had the night prior with the… sleeping arrangements. I don’t understand how we let it drag out for so long.”

Ruby tilted her head. Sleeping arrangements… that’s what the kids were calling it these days, huh? Rather than drag this out for longer or even use it to tease, Ruby cleared her throat. “Y’know that Yang already told me that you two are kind of a thing, right?”

To which Weiss sighed in response. A mixture of both annoyance and relief, but she brought her hand to her face. “Please tell me it’s only you two that know? Because it’s really not enough to make a big deal out of.”

“Just me and her,” Ruby confirmed, offering her a reassuring smile. “But you do both make a cute couple! I’ll admit I did squeal a little bit when Yang told me.”

“Yeah… Right.” Weiss didn’t seem as thrilled at that as expected. In fact, she looked off into the distance instead, bringing her hands back and holding them in each other. “We’re not a couple. Not really. We’re just… Experimenting, or whatever you’d want to call it.”

“Oooh…” The cogs seemed to have turned for Ruby as she nodded, also avoiding eye contact as she looked towards the TV instead, but not truly watching. “You’re just ’doing stuff’ . That’s cool too! As long as you’re both okay with it and safe and… whatever.”

“Of course we’re both okay with it. We’d never arrange it if we weren't… although…” Weiss had been about to begin, though hesitated. Eventually, she shook her head. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. You won't want to know.”

“No no, I do!” Ruby took her focus back on Weiss again and looked over, moving the last pizza boxes to the bedside table instead so she could shuffle closer to her. “C’mon, it’s been ages since we last talked like this. You can say anything to me if it’s bothering you so really, go ahead.”

Weiss continued to stare at her hands for a long moment. She really hadn't confided in Ruby in a very long time, since she and Blake started to do things with one another in fact. It would feel good to have an ally that knew the circumstances, and even better for that ally to be Ruby once again. She shuffled on the bed, facing toward Ruby instead. “Okay. This arrangement we have? We’d agreed to have it open-ended. No commitments, no ‘girlfriend’ label, nothing like that. I thought I’d be okay with that until… well…” She sighed, looking down again. “Until she actually did sleep with someone else.”

“Oh? OH! Oooohh….” Mere seconds it took for Ruby to figure it out, to which she then winced. “So that was the issue with sleeping arrangements…”

“Well done.” Weiss shook her head as she smiled to herself. At least Ruby could make her laugh in a topic where she really didn’t think she could. But the smile soon faded again, giving way to a much more vulnerable expression. “So now I feel really stupid for how I reacted. This whole ‘no commitments’ thing was my idea in the first place so I had no right to be so hurt by it! But… But it did hurt, a lot. It… It still hurts now.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “If it hurts so much, then why are you keeping it going?”

That was a very good question. Weiss shrugged her shoulders, taking a long while to think about that answer. Thinking about it alone was enough to make her eyes begin to water. There must be a reason she wanted to keep it going, and in her gut, she knew it went hand in hand with the reason she was hurt in the first place. It was about time she admitted it to herself as well as to Ruby.

“Because it would hurt more to not have her at all.”

To that Ruby shuffled closer. She placed a hand on her shoulder to rub in the hope it would comfort her a little. Anyone could see the past twenty-four hours had clearly taken their toll on the poor girl and thrown everything she knew so far into question. Ruby didn’t have any answer to give in response, but she wasn’t about to turn her away.

But once the silence was dragging on for too long, she spoke up. “Do you want input? Or is this more ‘I’m letting this out’ right now?”

“It’s definitely the latter.” Weiss sniffed, rubbing her eyes to catch a tear before it fell. “But what advice do you have to offer?”

“Well, firstly… It sounds like you want to be more than an arrangement. ” Ruby was pointing out the obvious, but a good place to start. Sometimes having someone else say it aloud helped. “Do you think she does too? Like, are there any hints?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

But the instant she spoke it aloud, she paused. “Wait… There might be?”

Weiss’s cheeks were turning red as she remembered. “I mean… During uh… ‘making up’ today she did initiate a kiss that was kind of…” She tilted her head, thinking back to that moment back in the van, to that intimate kiss they’d both shared right before Weiss used the toy properly. The one that Blake herself started. “Okay, I’m sorry if this is dumb or TMI or whatever, but it didn’t feel like an ‘I want to screw you’ kiss. It felt like a nice… romantic kiss.”

“So… what did you do? Other than kissing back, I mean.”

Weiss’s blush intensified further. “Well, I got excited and I jumped and it pushed the toy into-”

“OKAY THIS IS THE TMI PART NOW!” Ruby called out quickly as she reached to cover her ears instead.

“You asked!” Still flustered, Weiss shrugged her shoulders. “I panicked! I had to play it off smooth as if I meant to do that, else it would have been really awkward!”

“Alright alright, okay, we’re going slightly off topic.” Ruby only just uncovered her ears again, trying to hide her own forming blush before it got any worse. Once clearing her throat, she looked back to Weiss again. “I think, even though you might be a little scared to… You should tell her. Because holding this back, letting yourself get hurt by something she doesn’t even know hurts you? That’s just not fair on you. And it might lead to a fight, then… Then you really could lose her.”

Weiss held her head in her hands once more. “God, you’re right. You’re completely right.” It pulled at her heart to admit that, and to even think of what could happen.If she confessed and Blake didn’t feel the same way too, what would happen to their arrangement? Could it even go on longer or would it get messy?

Even bigger than that, what would it do to the band if there was a huge fallout? This was their final show, on their biggest tour ever. There was no way she could allow this mess to ruin that for everyone now, not when they were so close! But that meant swallowing her feelings for a little longer, and possibly being hurt for longer.

But for her friends, for her new life, for Blake , she’d do it.

“I’ll wait till after the last show.” She looked downward again, sighing quietly to herself. “It’s only a couple of days, then if anything does go wrong… At least the shows will be done.”

That was that. While Ruby wasn’t a fan of her friend putting it off even longer, she understood. In a few days, all the questions would come to an end, and the answers for the future would become clear for everyone. The band and their careers, Blake and Weiss with their relationship; all of it could possibly hang in the balance. It was just a matter of waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to finally confess her feelings and reach the closure that they both deserved.

As long as nothing worse happened first.

#Kapu fic #NWDE #Part four!#the calm before the storm...#sorta #FEAT BEST BUDDY RUBBLES #and Yang 'here's advice' Xiao Long

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as-be-low · 7 years

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THCM, Chapter 8

His Thorns Are on the Road

Free from it all Breathe in the darkest fall We laugh and cry through a brother’s eyes for now

The Hunter–Mastodon

Stanford learns nothing, though he discovers many things he didn't expect all the same.

Shortly after Ford had absorbed himself in his work, small footsteps flapped their way down the stairs. He looked up and spotted a blur of brown and black headed for the door before he heard it skid to a stop with a soft whump against the sturdy wood. “…Stella, are you trying to go outside?” He inched his chair back, palms flat against the table.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Did… Did Stanley say it was okay for you to go outside?”

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Just as he moved to stand, the soft little footsteps padded into the room. He’d have to invest in a rug soon, he mused. The little girl sent a cursory glance around the room, her eyes brightening as they fell on Ford and his workstation. He hadn’t expected that. She squinted at him, long and hard.

“Books?”

He hadn’t expected that, either. He stared down at her, doing nothing to hide his confusion as she toddled over. Her hair had been washed and pulled back into loosely-braided pigtails and Stan’s—no, this was his, actually—shirt billowed around her like a tent. Stanley had rolled the sleeves up so that they bunched up around her little elbows. She made herself at home and grabbed hold of his pant leg for leverage as she climbed into his lap. He remained still, unsure of whether he should help her or remove her from his person. “Well, hello?”

“Hi.”

“Is there…something I can help you with, dear?” From this vantage point, Ford could see the small little spirals of hair at the nape of her neck that had escaped and decided to make a name for themselves.

He could also see the little flecks of Stanley’s blood that had dried along the neckline.

Her little hands trailed over his stacks of papers and he leaned forward with her, pushing them out of her reach. She stretched further and claimed a dense, spiral-bound article for herself.

“Books.”

“I’m afraid you won’t want that one.” He eased it from her grasp and set it aside, raising an eyebrow at her little harrumph. “Was it picture books you wanted? I’m afraid I don’t have anything suitable for one as young as you, my dear…” he scanned the table with a slight frown of his own. “Well,” he unearthed a thick red book and pulled it close, staring at the gold-leaf cutout of his own hand. He shouldn’t.

He really shouldn’t, but the child wanted books. He wasn’t going to dissuade a child from literary endeavors. This journal he knew was at least slightly more child-appropriate. In some parts. Somewhat. It would be fine. He’d ripped out the more dangerous pages and anything pertaining to Bill after he’d reconfigured the portal and shut everything back down. There were many pages of mistakes he’d since burned, much like the bridges that led him to where he currently was. “Where’s your father?” he asked, affecting a casual tone. The man had been irritated at him when he’d sat with the child he’d brought into his house earlier. He didn’t need him getting pissy at him again.

“Takin’ a sour.”

“Taking a… Oh, a shower.” Fine. That was fine. He’d just…watch the child for…however long that took. Oh, sweet Moses, hurry up and come get her.

It was fine. This would be fine. He’d just show her the sketches. That should be enough to placate a child. That’s all children’s books were, anyway. A small hand patted his, then tried to push it out of the way. He let out a nervous chuckle and removed his hand. His niece turned and squinted up at him, then pushed the journal away and off of the edge of the table. “That bad, huh?” He stood, setting her on her feet as he went to retrieve it. “Well there might be something you might find interesting in it. They do say not to judge a book by its cover.” He chuckled at his own little joke. Stella’s face remained scrunched and she blew him a raspberry for good measure.

“…Right.” He reclaimed his seat and settled the toddler back in his lap. He supposed this was to be his afternoon now. Ford flipped the book open before she had a chance to push it away again, and began idly turning pages. He distinctly remembered cataloguing several of the more benign creatures he’d encountered in this particular journal. The small child slapped a hand against the pages as he flipped, stilling his hand.

“Birdperson!” she beamed up at him. He stared in return.

“Ah, no, that’s the Mothman, not a… Not a bird person.” He tapped a finger to the heading he’d written. “See here? It says—”

“Mothman.”

He paused. Was she reading or imitating him? Surely she was too small for her literacy skills to have developed quite yet. “That’s…That’s right. The Mothman.”

“Why not a bird?”

How was he supposed to answer that? “Well, he didn’t ask to be a moth over a bird, I don’t suppose...”

“You should write about birdperson.”

“Lets move on.” Ford gently nudged the little hand aside and turned the page. The offending little appendage reappeared along the edge of the book and Stanford stared at it before slowly dwarfing it with his own, letting his calloused thumb move run back and forth across her pudgy knuckles. Baby soft holds merit as a description, it appears. The child lifted her head to send him a puzzled look. “Right.” He lifted his hand and rifled through the journal, stopping on his leprecorn entry. Stella let out a little gasp.

“Lucky!”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s your…little friend.”

“Lucky.” She corrected.

“Apologies.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, nor the look of surprise as his niece leaned back against the source of the faint vibration.

“You purr like a kitty.”

What on earth? “If… If you say so.” He cleared his throat. “But yes. This is the…the leprecorn. Can… Can you say that?”

“Lep’core.”

“Good enough, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

“Now—”

“That’s Lucky.” She slapped a hand against the sketch.

“Yes, I’m aware. The leprecorn is one of the…least interesting finds I’ve stumbled across.” He pulled the journal closer. “Stella, do you know what this says?”

She squinted at the page for a moment, then frowned back up at him. “I don’t wanna read that.”

Ford snorted. “Fair enough.” Maybe cursive was pushing it. It was probably best she didn’t read it. He truly had nothing positive to say about the beast she so loved.

“More pictures.”

“More?”

“More pictures, please?”

“I suppose you did ask nicely.” He thumbed through the journal. The entry on unicorns was in here. The only issue was that unicorns were assholes and he didn’t care to validate their existence. The gremloblin was decidedly out of the question. He worried his lip between his teeth briefly, and pulled a small stack of clean paper closer. “Alright. What pictures would you like?” He watched the child begin to flip the pages, tiny handfuls at a time, with the easy recklessness that came with childhood. “No, no, none of that.” He tutted, gently prying the book from her grasp. She blew him another raspberry. Cute. “How about we draw you a horse? Like earlier.”

“’Kay!”

“Alright. Good.”

Stella settled back against his chest and he began to sketch the rough outline of a horse. He let a faint smile cross his face as his focus drifted away. His hand moved on its own, each pen stroke closely watched by the small child keeping her nose pressed against the page. It did make drawing a hair more difficult, he had to admit.

A pudgy little finger prodded his hand.

“Yes?”

“Draw it a unicorn?”

He hesitated. Unicorns were infuriating, but that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know that. He didn’t have to tell her they were real. “We can certainly make it a unicorn.”

“Yay!”

With the unicorn finished—though not without adding himself astride the beast for reasons he’d never understand—Ford found himself scribbling down Stella herself, holding onto her unfortunate beast of a friend.

“His name is Lucky! He’s a good uniperson. Yes he is. Yes.” She cooed, patting the page as he worked on it.

Odd, but all right, then. Stanford shuddered as he hatched out the finer details of the creature’s features. Whatever the child saw in the bizarre monstrosity, he would never see himself. At least she seemed quite pleased with it all, if her increasingly animated, babbling comments were anything to go by. It gave Stanford pause to see that anyone, a small child, no less, would seem to enjoy his company. She didn’t know any better. Not yet.

She’ll learn soon enough.

The floor began to creak and groan as heavy footsteps drew closer. His brother hunched in the doorway, a slight scowl in place. He seemed to wear that frown often; Ford wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or if it had come to replace that easygoing smirk Stan had once perfected as his resting expression.

He said nothing as he entered the room, just sat in the chair furthest from Stanford and…zoned out. Stanford watched him for a brief moment. His hair was thrown behind him in a wet, loose braid, much like the plaits he’d given Stella. His ratty red jacket was zipped up in lieu of the shirt he’d put on Stella and what looked to be the jeans he’d arrived in. Surely he’d prefer wearing something else. He opened his mouth to proffer the suggestion, but caught the tired, frustrated look Stanley shot him from the corner of his eye and promptly let his mouth snap closed. Never mind, then. He’d just…go back to sketching things with Stella. She seemed happy, at least. The toddler was currently tugging at a fresh sheet of paper. He reached out and straightened it in front of her. “Are you planning on drawing?” he hoped his tone was nonchalant.

“No, you draw it.” Well, alright then.

“Sweetie, can you say ‘please?’ You gotta ask things nicely.” Stanley interjected.

Stella squirmed in Ford’s grip and twisted to face him, staring him down. He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a death stare or puppy dog eyes, if he was honest with himself. He found both compelling; she had that going in her favor. “Please?”

“Absolutely.” He mumbled, huddling forward slightly. “What am I drawing?”

“Everybody!” she cheered, slapping her little hands against the table.

Shit. “Everyone? That sounds like quite the…quite the tall order.” Ford let out a nervous chuckle.

“Me ‘n Daddy ‘n you. ‘N Lucky.” He heard Stanley’s hardly-contained snort at her afterthought and looked up in time to catch him rolling his eyes. Nice.

“Sweetie, how many things have you made ‘im draw already?” she shrugged. “What if he doesn’t want to draw anymore? Don’t make ‘im tired. That’s not nice.”

“He isn’t tired.” Stella sounded affronted.

“You sure? Did you ask?”

Ford chewed his lip. “I don’t mind, really.” Stan eyed him and Ford shifted under the scrutiny.

“You don’t hafta do it just ‘cause she asked.”

“I don’t mind, Stanley. Truly, I don’t.”

Stan seemed uncomfortable with that. “Yeah, well…” His brother crossed his arms, turning his gaze away.

Ford patted the tabletop gently. “Now. Who shall I start with first?”

“Daddy.”

So matter-of-fact. He should’ve seen that one coming. “Alright then. We’ll start with… We’ll start with Daddy.” The word still felt strange tumbling from his mouth. He worked a rough outline of the man, sparing surreptitious glances upwards to scrutinize his subject. It was disheartening, needing a reference to draw your twin brother.

The three sat in silence, save for the soft scratches of Stanford’s pen. “I assume I’m drawing you next?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then.” He shifted his hand, when Stella slapped her palm over it.

“Draw me there.”

“…In his arms? I’ve already drawn them by his side. I don’t think that will turn out properly, I’m afraid.

She wrinkled her nose at that. “Okay. Draw me there?” One pudgy little finger shifted down to the space near Stanley’s feet, where he’d originally planned to place her.

“Alright.” He drawled, nudging the damp little hand away, slightly disconcerted by its warmth and sogginess. Children were strange. He slowly sketched the little girl, though he found himself needing to contort on more than one occasion to study her little face; she was too preoccupied with watching his hands move to look up as he tried to coax her to look at him. It became a challenge to work around the child as she stuck her head and various limbs in his line of vision. “That’s a very nice foot, but could you move it?” he chuckled, patting the pudgy little leg. She responded with a giggle and a small kick to the arm. He pretended to be hurt. It was minutely painful, he reasoned. He hadn’t expected her to sit up from her contorted, reclined position to kiss his forearm better.

“Now it won’t hurt.” He was a bit choked as he nodded, swallowing to work at the frog forming in his throat.

“Y-yes. Thank you, darling.” He mumbled. “That feels much better.” It did. It truly did.

“I know.” The toddler hummed. How cheeky. Just like another child he remembered. Ford closed his eyes and hunched forward, ignoring the look Stan was surely sending him in favor of pressing his nose into the child’s clean hair as he fought back the sting in his eyes. Her hair was still wet, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Ford finished the rest of the sketch with minimal fanfare, quickly slapping his own likeness onto the page and attempting to do the same with the leprecorn, though his niece quickly called him out on the attempt. “Oh, of course. You have my apologies.” He’d mumbled at his gaffe while grudgingly adding more detail to the well-loved monstrosity.

Once the sketch met the child’s arbitrary and unknown specifications she slid out of Ford’s lap—much to his alarm as he tried to stop her from falling—and took the liberty of taking the paper down with her as she made her way to her father.

“Whatcha got there, pumpkin?”

“A picture.”

“A picture, huh? Let’s see it, then.”

She held the sheet high in the air as she tried to hike her leg up high enough to reach Stanley’s crossed knee. “Oop!” she stumbled and Stan jerked forward, lifting her to properly settle her in.

“You’d climb mountains if only you could get that lil’ leg high enough, wouldn’t ya?”

“Yeah.”

Stanley laughed. “That’s my girl.”

Drawing sufficiently made-over, Stella slid out of Stan’s lap, choosing to settle at his feet for reasons that, once again, eluded Stanford.

“You wanna color it, sweetie?”

“Yeah!”

“Good idea.” Stanley hummed as Stella toddled back over to the table, reaching up on the tips of her toes to grab the assorted, stubby crayons she’d used the day before. Ford nudged them closer to her, watching in amusement as she grabbed them in both hands and ran back to sit cross-legged between her father’s feet.

“ ’M gonna make it pretty.”

“Very nice.” Stanley hummed, watching his child with one eyebrow raised. “They’re nice already, but I bet you can make ‘em look even better.”

The three sat in silence. Stanley didn’t seem to mind, but Ford found it unbearable. He shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable at the thought of speaking with his brother. He needed to say something. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, but he knew something needed vocalizing.

He settled for talking to Stella.

“So… You like coloring?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… that’s good.” For fuck’s sake, Ford. Get it together. “Do you like school?”

The child stared at him.

“She’s not old enough to be in school, Ford.”

“…Oh. Right. Of… of course.” Fuck. Why is this hard?

“Soo. What’s your favorite animal, then? Besides… Besides the leprecorn. Uniperson. Excuse me. Besides that.” He mumbled. “Maybe we can switch it out.”

He heard Stan snort.

“All the animals!”

“All of them? Even snakes?” Children didn’t like those, did they?

“Snakes can’t be animals. They’s snakes.”

“Of course. Apologies.” Ford drawled.

“Geez, Ford. Get it together.” Stanley chuckled, much to Ford’s surprise.

“What’s your favorite color?”

The child sat up for a moment, wrinkling her little features in thought. “I like green!”

“Green? That’s a nice color.”

“Now you ask.”

Ford was confused. “Pardon?”

“You gotta ask Daddy’s favorite color.”

“I know Stanley likes red.” Did he still like red? How embarrassing it would be if he didn’t.

Stella crossed her arms. “You gotta ask.”

“Stan, what's your favorite color?”

He removed his knuckles from in front of his mouth with a roll of his eyes that Ford almost missed. “Red.”

“Now you ask.”

Stan sighed. “What's your favorite letter?”

“Red—what? What? You're supposed to ask my favorite color.”

“Wild card. Switchin' it up.”

“My favorite letter is S.”

“S for Stanford? That's a copout.”

“How is that a copout? What's your favorite letter, then?” Ford leaned back, folding his arms.

“The letter S.”

“Oh, good grief, Stanley. What's your favorite food?”

“Uhh, Ma's roast beef. You?”

“I also enjoy Ma's roast.”

“Me too.”

Stan and Ford both looked down at Stella in faint amusement mixed with confusion.

“I’m glad you like it, too, sweetie.” He scooped her back into his arms to place a kiss on the top of her head.” There was a lull. “I can't remember the last time I had roast beef. Or the lil’ potato balls she’d put inside with the carrots. Those were nice.”

Ford bit his lip. “We could try to make it ourselves.”

“It's not that serious.“ Stan looked uncomfortable.

“Why not? You and I both—excuse me—all three of us like it, and neither of us have had it in ages.” He snorted. Another lull.

“It could be fun.”

“Ford.”

“Well, Thanksgiving is coming up, is it not? It’s not the most traditional meal, but…it’s still an option.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Why would we even be here that long?” Stanley shifted Stella with a sigh. “Roast beef is not a Thanksgiving food. Why are you even talking about Thanksgiving?”

“Then we’ll have to do a roast beef alongside a turkey.”

“There’s no way in He—no way in heaven that could possibly sound like a good idea. No way. We won’t—”

“Variety, Stanley.”

“‘Variety,’ my foot. That’s too much food. Why are we even talking about Thanksgiving?”

“We have to eat something either way, and this just gives us a better range of leftovers to choose from. It’s sound reasoning.”

“For the love of—you know what? Fine. Why not?” Ford would have been lying if he said that reluctant concession on Stan’s part hadn’t given him hope. Asinine or not, Stanley agreed to stay and do something with him. It was an important step forward, in his opinion. “It’ll be an absolute cluster—uh, fustercluck, but fine.” Stan jiggled the child in his lap, though Ford couldn’t be sure if his leg wasn’t bouncing in agitation. Stella seemed pleased, for whatever reason, and opened her mouth to let out a happy little shriek.

“Fustercl—!”

Ford’s eyes widened. Stanley cut the child off with a swift kiss to the cheek, which quickly turned into a loud raspberry. The toddler squealed, one little leg stuck high in the air.

“Nothin’ slips past you, huh? Does it? Does it?” Stanley affected an angry tone—which was ruined by the grin that stretched his cheeks—and jiggled his daughter with each question. “You lil’ gremlin. What’m I gonna do with you? Huh?”

Stella dissolved into laughter and contorted herself backwards. A broad hand shot up to support her back, letting her flail back as she pleased while he tickled her tummy. Her rosy little foot found its way back to Stan’s face and he blew on it briefly before scooping her back upright.

“Ohh, you ‘n this foot’re really somethin’ today,” he sang tunelessly, “aaaand, I’m guessin’ you don’t want it since it stays in everyone’s face! I guess it means I’ll have! To! Eat it up, eat it up, eat! It! Up!”

He curled his lips over his teeth and doubled the child over backwards across his legs, grabbing the little foot to nip at her heel. “Omnomnom. Nomnomnom.” He paused briefly in his ditty to watch her giggle and squirm, his eyes filled with a level of warmth Stanford wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. Was he grinning? Truly grinning? Fatherhood had really done a number on him. Ford hadn’t realized his brother was even capable of handling anything with such overt care. It seemed that he would never cease to rattle his expectations.

He continued his song, slightly muffled though it was by the twelve small toes that wiggled against his nose and jaw. “’N since you don’t want either of ‘em, someone’s gonna hafta call ‘im! Gotta call the foot monster!” he paused to tickle her again. His little niece squealed. “’N then the foot monster came ‘n ate all the feet, ‘case he’s a really weird guy ‘n we should talk to ‘im about that maybe. But he came ‘n ate the feet, I guess…” He trailed off.

A smile broke across Ford’s own face and he couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled forth. Stanley jolted and looked around, pulling himself and his child perfectly upright. His eyes settled on Ford with what looked to Ford to be bewilderment. He fell silent.

His discomposure would unsettle them both, it seemed. Stanford couldn’t mask the startled look that crossed his face at his brother’s abrupt change in demeanor. His nostrils flared briefly as a puff of air hissed out. The singing had stopped, and there seemed to be no hope of Stanley starting back up. The man stared stiffly ahead for a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shifted Stella in his lap, pulling her into a proper, seated position. From the looks of it, she was content to play with Stanley’s hands folded across her tummy.

Well, fuck.

He’d only chuckled. He didn’t know it would ruin the moment so thoroughly. Ford held back a sigh of his own and burrowed down in his chair, settling for watching the two remain idly seated. How could he fix this? This wasn’t a machine that could be analyzed and diagnostics run. These were Stan’s emotions, a shuddering, amorphous beast that writhed and balked at stimuli that Ford could not gauge. He didn’t know if the man himself could do it, either. He bit back an agitated bark of laughter. ‘Who’s driving this thing,’ indeed.

His eyes lingered on the dingy cuff of Stanley’s jacket sleeve as his wrist moved, slowly and rhythmically patting his daughter’s pudgy little tummy. Six tiny digits fumbled with Stan’s wristwatch. Oh. She was still wearing the shirt he’d lent Stanley. He’d forgotten for a moment that she was running around in twice-borrowed clothing.

He cleared his throat, breaking the burgeoning silence that was taking over once again.

“If… If you want, we can go ahead and start a load for the washing machine.” Ford offered, wincing internally at the hopeful uptick his voice took on.

“No, thanks.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s…just a few things. S’not enough to worry about.”

“And what are you going to do in the meantime?”

“I can just do it later. No big deal.”

“Stan.” Ford shot him a look.

“Oh, for—What?”

“If you’re going to have to do it regardless, it follows that it would be easiest to do it here, when required—now, for instance, as opposed to…somewhere with a considerably less convenient layout.” The man scowled back at him.

“Don’t see why you’re puttin’ so much thought into this. Sheesh.”

“You make it sound unreasonable.”

“Because it is.”

Ford sniffed. “I—”

“Maybe later, okay?” Later? When the hell was later? Everything they wore was dirty now. The uncomfortable stillness grew heavier in the room, unbearably so as Stanley began to hunch over and curled in on himself, blocking Stella from view as he pulled her closer. The child seemed used to this apparent routine and hunkered down without so much as a peep. She had been babbling to herself moments before, but as soon as Stan doubled over, she quieted and moved to tuck herself away as though through muscle memory. From what little Stanford could still see of her face, she seemed completely unperturbed by it all. That worried him. He chewed on his lower lip. What was he supposed to do? He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue crumbled to chalk behind his teeth.

He’d have to wait it out, it seemed.

He waited a great deal longer than he would have hoped.

The silence remained thick; from what he could tell, Stella was still content to alternate between playing with her hands and the tassel of Stan’s braid, and otherwise made no sound or movement. What child could remain that still and quiet? Ford was a grown man and found himself growing agitated and restless. Though he was somewhat grateful for the knowledge that respite in silence was possible from her should he ever need it, but he wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be normal. Little old lady, indeed.

When Stanley finally did unfurl, it was a slow process and he refused to look anywhere but down. When he dared to look around, the eye Ford caught was defiant and wary all at once. He shifted Stella in his arms and she seemed to take it as some sort of cue and returned to her babbling, humming some little song she made while Stanley patted her chubby little legs. At least someone’s content with this situation. Ford had set this whole incident off, hadn’t he? He was a useless brother, constantly causing his tween anguish. He stared off with unfocused eyes, and was jerked back into cognizance when Stanley let out an undignified squawk. Stella was upside down with a foot pressed into his collarbone. Again. “Seriously, what is it with you ‘n this foot today? Hm? Please don’t be a kicker. Or a biter. Please don’t go back to biting.” He worked his jaw with a wince as he pleaded.

Ford needed to get him more arnica. The bruises would linger otherwise. Ford rested his mouth against the heel of his hand, fingers splayed across his cheek. Why couldn’t he talk to his brother without provoking an incident? Why was it all so difficult?

≈

For the life of him, Stanley couldn’t figure out why Ford couldn’t just leave well enough alone. What did it matter to him whether or not he did laundry? Get real. Ford always had to go above and beyond with everything. He always had. Stanley knew this. Regardless, his laundry wasn’t something to make a big deal out of. He’d already scrubbed Stella’s stuff in the sink and laid it out to dry. His own things would take longer, but that was fine. It was a non-issue.

He saw the looks Ford kept shooting his way. He didn’t need any more of that. Ford may have known his living situation was a mess, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to hold on to the last of his pride while he still could. He could almost smell the pity coming. He couldn’t stomach it. He just wanted his privacy. This whole thing was starting to set him on edge. For years, he’d been alone and estranged from the people he cared about. To say they cared about him in return seemed like a bit of a stretch after roughly 20 years’ separation. People went out of their way to ignore his presence, though there’d been more shock and shuffling, hesitant eye contact thrown into the mix since Stella arrived onto the scene. Him opening up to people only ended with him bleeding and left to rot in a prison cell or with him stupidly hoping that things would change, just this once, only to have his chest torn open and salt poured in with a serves-you-right as a garnish. The first time Stanley met up with family after years tramping around on his own had ended in a five-year shitshow. They both knew this, at the very least. Affection for Stanley was inherently out-of-place and to be suspicious of. So what in the fresh hell was all of this? It made his skin crawl. This wouldn’t end well. It couldn’t. No way in Hell. Stanford had to have something planned for him, and it had to be something awful. Nobody went out of their way to be kind for kindness’ sake; they always wanted something in return. And Stanley, fool that he was, had been fool enough to pay that toll time and again.

This was his carrot. He’d just have to wait it out until the time came to get the stick.

With his luck, the stick would be a branch.

He sat up, setting his jaw, letting his eyes trail around. He spotted Ford’s uneasy glance his way, but chose to ignore it. Whatever it was, he’d ask him soon enough. And this time, he’d be prepared for it. He wouldn’t put his heart on his sleeve to get ripped off and burnt away again.

“Stanley.” Here we go. “Is everything…are you alright?”

“Just peachy, Ford.” The ropelike tendon in his neck twitched and rolled as he scowled ahead. Was that a fish tank across the room? Why was it stuck in the dark? Stan decided he didn’t care.

“No you aren’t.” the man mumbled under his breath.

A certifiable fuckin’ genius, Stanford was. What was Stan supposed to say to that? What the hell? “Askin’ stupid questions, then, are we? Just for fun?”

“I didn’t—Stanley, it’s not even like that. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doin’ a thing, Ford. Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” What in the hell was the point of all this? They were both nice and quiet, and then he had to go and ask these awkward, loaded questions. Then he had the audacity to complain about it when he answered.

The other man sighed. “Don’t be like this. Please.”

“Like I said, I’m not doin’ anything. Please. Why don’t you tell me what it is you think I’m doin’, since it bothers you so much.”

“What is it with this sudden—ugh.” Ford groaned, lifting his glasses to stroke the bridge of his nose. “Why are you being so standoffish all of a sudden?” he huffed, scowling across the room at him. “Is this because I asked you if you wanted to do laundry?”

Stan could’ve punched him for that incredulous tone. So he thought he was doing him a favor? As condescending as he was? It was a wonder Stanford didn’t get hit wherever he went. Nope, that’s just me, probably. Stan snorted.

“I’m glad you find this funny.”

“With this nonsense? Somebody has to.” He watched Ford’s upper lip curl under and flatten against his teeth.

“Nonsense? For fuck’s sake, Stanley, all I did was ask you a simple question!” Stanley didn’t notice the small thud as a small cheek pressed against his chest.

“Why can’t you just let this go?”

“Really? Would you let it go if you were in my place? You act like I shouldn’t even care.”

“That’s because you shouldn’t.”

“You can’t possibly believe that. Stanley, you’re—”

“What? I’m what, Ford? Family? I’m your brother? Is that what you want to hear?” He let out a wheezing laugh. “You expect me to believe that matters to you?”

“Of. Course. It. Does.” He rumbled, his words precise and clipped through grit teeth.

“Ohh, it matters. Right.” Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. “It sure as hell didn’t matter to you up until now.” Stanley took a bit of perverse satisfaction in the other man’s flinch. Enough to miss the squeeze around his middle.

“That’s absolutely not true.”

“Ohh. It isn’t, huh? Figures, then. Stupid Stanley, missing the obvious again. Well, then. Fuck me for not noticing, am I right?” His hand began to pat his daughter’s back as she began to fuss, as if on autopilot. His glare never left Stanford’s face.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Ford let out a bitter laugh and shook his head, his grin lined with frustration. “You are so full of shit, you know that?”

“To be honest, you keep your head so far up your own ass, I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Damnit, Stanley!” Stanford snarled. “You absolute—” he was cut off by the wail that emanated from Stanley’s lap. It started out low, more of an insistent whine, but quickly pitched up to an outright sob. Both men froze. Stella was crying.

“Ah, shit.” Stanley wheezed, tightening his arms around the child. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. So sorry.” He began to rock her side to side, pausing as she pushed herself away. “Oh, sweetheart…” he sighed. His little girl was doing her best to glare up at him, though her efforts were marred by the little hand rubbing at her wet eyes as she sobbed. He began to bounce her, which only served to make her cries come out as hiccups. “Oh, sweetie...” He pulled her close once more and stood, attempting to cradle her head close as she pushed and wiggled and fussed.

“No!” She twisted and writhed, nearly toppling out of his arms as she pushed herself away. Oh, geez. This wasn’t an ordinary bout of fussing, infrequent though they were. She was legitimately upset.

“D’you want your paci?” he flinched, dodging an arm. “Okay, yeah. Paci.” He stole a quick kiss to her cheek, putting himself well within slapping range. She landed a weak shove to his jaw. There was no real force behind it, though it hurt all the same and on several levels. Stanley inched down into a crouch and set her on the floor, watching for a moment as she tossed herself back against the floor with a whump. “Oh, babygirl, don’t hurt yourself. Here,” he darted of towards the stairs in a full sprint. “Paci, paci, where the fuck is the pacifier?” He knew he still had it. Those things were expensive, and even though she was weaned, it still calmed her down on the odd occasions when she got herself really worked up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Was it in the car? He hoped not. He stumbled into Ford’s guest room and headed straight for the haphazard pile of his and Stella’s belongings. He tossed his stuff aside and grabbed a small drawstring bag, tearing into it with a fervor. How in the hell had they managed to start a fight in front of a child? She was right there the whole time. Not in another room, she didn’t toddle over into the scene; she was in his lap the entire time. “Shit.” He could keep his cool. He knew he could. So why did he have to lose his goddamn mind when it came to Stanford? We just bring out the worst in each other.

To be fair, Stanley brought out the worst in most people.

He rifled through the bag, his shoulders falling slightly in relief as his fingers hit soft rubber. Got it. He dropped the bag onto the floor and promptly threw himself back down the stairs, nearly tripping, and headed immediately back into the room full of screaming.

“—sorry, sorry, I am so sorry—” Stanford looked up in alarm from his new position on the floor. He held an uneasy hand out towards Stella, who was having none of it. What the fuck is that supposed to do? The kid didn’t want a hand hovering over her. What was the point in that?

He crouched down beside the two of them—as far away from Stanford as was possible—and scooped the flailing child back into his lap. “Here. Sweetie—don’t—” he narrowly missed an accidental headbutt and held out the pacifier, frowning at a bit of lint stuck to it. He stuck it into his own mouth, ignoring the horrified look Ford sent him in the process, and readjusted his grip on the hysterical little girl. “Hnh.” He spoke around the rubber between his teeth before popping it out of his mouth, pressing it towards hers. “I can almost guarantee you Ma did the same to all of us, so don’t even.” He grumbled. It took a few moments, but she finally seemed to realize what she was being offered and sucked the purple piece of rubber into her mouth with an indignant murmur. She pushed away his hand, but Stan didn’t mind. This was definitely an improvement and with any luck, she’d start to calm herself in a short while. Or not. She slapped the arm that braced her back and he withdrew, making the gentlest noises he could at her. Eventually, she’d calm down. He knew Ford was staring at him, but he ignored it. Let him be uncomfortable. He hoped he was confused, too, just out of spite.

It was a while before Stella would allow him to pick her up. The pair watched the child squirm and settle in Stanley’s arms, her large brown eyes falling heavy-lidded as her tears slowed and her sobs turned into hiccups. Stanley’s chest ached with each one. He swayed gently on the floor, lulling her to sleep with his heartbeat. She startled herself upright with a particularly loud hic. She pushed herself away from Stanley’s chest to peer around the room, her eyes settling on Ford with a scowl. The little girl raised a hand to point an accusatory finger at the man.

“Sorry.” She insisted, her little glare darkening as the man squirmed. Ha! Atta girl! That was definitely his child right there.

“I… I am? I mean, I am, so..?” That’s right, baby girl. Make him squirm.

She contorted once again in his lap to face him, sticking a tiny little finger into his bicep. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” She repeated. Sorry? What kind of Benedict Arnold shit was this? He had a scowl of his own.

“Stella, honeypie—”

“No. Sorry.”

“I don’t…” Ford trailed off. Stanley rolled his eyes.

“She wants us to apologize to each other, genius.” It was Ford’s turn to frown.

“Darling, I—”

“Say. Sorry!” she snapped. Ford jumped.

“Alright, dang. Geez, we’ll do it, okay?” Stanley patted her leg. She folded her arms. It would’ve been comical if she hadn’t been so upset. “I… Ugh. Fine. I’m sorry. There, you happy, tiny tyrant?”

“I… I also apologize.” Ford squirmed under the scrutiny the child gave him.

“You have to say sorry.”

“I just apologized.”

“Use the approved words, dingus.” Ford shot him a sour look and seemed ready to open his mouth to say something stupid. He must’ve thought better at the last moment.

“I’m sorry as well, Stanley.”

“There. Better?”

“Now you have to hug.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes. Hug.”

“Nope.” Stanley drawled, popping the p.

“Yes.”

“Stella, honey, no.” he sighed, running a hand across his scalp. “That’s askin’ a little much.”

She spat out the pacifier. “You say sorry ‘n then you hug it better. Yes.”

“Sweetie, that’s for little kids.”

“Now you hug it better.”

“Yeesh. Tiny grandma. You’re a tiny grandma, you know that?” he patted her little back, hoping it would placate her. No such luck.

“Hug it better.”

“You really aren’t gonna let this go, are you?” He slid her out of his lap and plopped her on the floor beside him, popping the pacifier back into her mouth. “Let it never be said that you don’t know what you want.”

She sucked on the pacifier, the round rubber circle bobbing furiously for a moment as she stared up with still-damp doe eyes. And damp nose. He needed to wipe her soggy nose before she did the honors herself. “Hug?”

“Oh, for—fine. Fine.” With a groan, Stanley ambled up to his feet. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.” Ford followed suit soon after and Stan avoided the man’s face. He didn’t need to see whatever stupid look he was sending him. His scowl pointed downwards towards the man’s collarbone as they stood facing one another. Alright, let’s get this over with. Stanley leaned in for a loose, quick one-armed shoulder hug, letting out an indignant squawk as Ford dragged him in closer. Ah, geez.

≈

Stanford, fool that he was, had been expecting an actual hug. He threw his arms around the man’s torso and pulled him in tight, noting with dismay how quickly he went limp in his grasp. He was dead weight, just balancing on his feet. Stanford might as well have been propping an oversized fish upright.

This wasn’t his brother. Stanley wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was nothing like the affectionate child he’d grown up alongside.

The Stanley he knew would have thrown around him and nearly toppled them both over, like he used to. He would’ve said something corny to lighten the mood, and laughed them both to the floor. Instead, he was just there. There, but not as he remembered. Nothing like he remembered. When it came to Ford, Stanley was like an elaborate substitute of what he had been; one that lacked his essence. What had he done to break his spirit so thoroughly? How much of it was Ford’s own fault?

With a sigh, Ford’s grip fell slack, his arms slipping down to his sides. The man had vehemently protested, argued even with a child over the prospect of hugging him. What had he expected?

Naturally, just to spite Ford, the man brought an arm up to slap him on the back a few times, just when he was about to step away. His look of surprise must have been interesting. “I’m glad I could be of entertainment to you.” He drawled.

“Pfh. Don’t think so highly of yourself. You always make weird faces.”

“I didn’t expect… I stopped expecting reciprocation.” He cleared his throat as he spoke. Stan rolled his eyes, turning to scoop up the child who so graciously lifted her arms to be carried.

“There, princess. Happy now?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Well, you make it kinda hard to do anything when you put a man in a chokehold, Ford.” He grumbled, refusing eye contact once again. The excuse was a pathetic one, but it made Stanford smile all the same.

He’d take what he could get.

≈

Stella was blowing raspberries at him. Stan sighed a bit; he guessed he deserved them. He hoisted her weight in his arms and leaned back so that he could see her face. She was busy looking around, her little head tilting to and fro as she explored from her new vantage point, blowing raspberries all the while. Oh. She was just making noises. That was fair. He’d make noises, too, if he was three.

He strained his neck upwards to plant kisses on her salty little cheeks, earning himself a well-welcomed giggle and a swipe of her nose across his shoulder. “Oh, how nice.” He hummed, wincing all the while. He’d seen that one coming. She rested her head on his shoulder—the clean one, he noted—with a hum, earning herself a chuckle in the process. She’d tired herself out with all that crying, most likely.

Not that he blamed her for it.

His hand came up to rub soft circles along her back. He wasn’t quite sure where he was walking; just back and forth between rooms and along the hallway as Stella began to nod off. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to forget his child was in his lap before getting into it with someone. As many run-ins as he’d had, that had never happened before. He must’ve been getting complacent. Or just particularly riled up. Neither would do.

He swayed side to side. “You asleep?” No answer. He’d just take that as a yes. Sweet lil’ girl. As uncomfortable as it had been, she’d only wanted him and Ford to patch it all up. One stupid hug wasn’t gonna fix all their problems, but she was just a baby. She couldn’t know that. And he’d do his best to make sure she wouldn’t have to.

He inched his way to the stairs and up, sighing at the state of the room. He’d torn it apart looking for that damn pacifier, and had left a wreck strewn everywhere. “Okay, kiddo. Down you go.” He tiptoed around the bag he’d dumped onto the floor and placed her at the head of the bed, tugging her grimy blanket around her. Maybe he should wash the thing. It was a soft little blanket someone had given her, stuffed into an old baby bag along with clothes her kid had outgrown. It was the nicest thing Stan had seen in a long while.

People weren’t nice to Stan.

It was a simple fact. A baby, though? People were nice to babies sometimes. He remembered a few times, times when she was really small and he had no other choice, he would sit somewhere, a park or in front of a store, and people would send them both the dirtiest looks they could muster. He heard the mumbling, he wasn’t that stupid. He knew they thought she was just a sympathy ploy. She was his child. He couldn’t help it. If he needed to panhandle, she had to be with him. There wasn’t another choice. Stanley didn’t really care how people saw him, he’d stopped worrying about that a long time ago. He knew how they felt about him. It wouldn’t change. He’d be damned if they looked at his child that way, though.

He grew fed up with those dirty looks soon enough, and began covering her with whatever he had. He’d zip her into his jacket, cover her head with a scarf, it didn’t matter. What mattered was making sure she wasn’t seen, and most importantly, that she wouldn’t have to see them and their ugly judgmental looks. It didn’t matter to him that she was too small to really remember any of this. He didn’t want her to see it.

It was easier to be the man ignored than the man whose child was sneered at.

He leaned forward, pressing a smooch to her little forehead. Lil’ sweetie. He turned and stared once again at the disaster spilled across the floor. Great. Now he had to clean up this mess. Stanley squatted down. Here we go. He shoved the drawstring bag’s contents back inside, then tucked it back into the baby bag. The little back was mostly full of her things from infancy; pacifiers and bottles and the sippy cup he still needed to finagle back together. He wouldn’t throw it away, she might need it again later on, much like the pacifier.

Stanley’s own belongings went back into a small heap on the chair. He kept his crud separate from Stella’s. There was no need for him to dirty up her things with his own. She had to have at least something of her own to herself. He knew he should get a bag of his own, but he’d lost the duffel bag he used to carry—the one that’d been packed and waiting for him when he was seventeen—and he’d never gotten around to getting another one. His money was better spent on other things.

Once finished straightening up, Stanley sat on the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed. He propped one arm up on the edge and rested his chin against it, watching his toddler snooze. Her face had started to relax finally, and he could finally chuckle at those chubby cheeks and the pacifier bobbing along.

No, wait, he should actually take it from her while he still could. She wasn’t supposed to be using it anymore. The last thing he needed to hear was someone clowning him over it and reminding him of how bad a parent he was. He already knew. It didn’t need repeating. He inched over and crept a hand out, giving the handle a gentle tug.

“Nu.” Stella shook her head in her sleep, then rolled over. He leaned back.

“Alright, then.” She’d have to spit it out, eventually. She was still little; nobody said she had to grow up this fast.

She was content, he hoped, he’d just let her sleep.

≈

When Stella finally awoke, Stan had taken a nap of his own and woken back up. It was short—the nightmares had kicked in what felt like moments after he’d truly gotten somewhat comfortable—but he’d take what sleep he could get, when it came down to it.

“Hello, princess,” he cooed as he watched the child push herself into a sitting position, “sleep well? It sure looked like it.” She stared at him for a moment, then held her arms out, leaning towards him. He was more than happy to oblige her. “Hey.” He repeated, his grin evident in his voice. “How’re ya feelin’?” She chose to nestle down in his arms instead of responding. “Alright.” Stanley hummed. She’d babble again when she felt like it. But what to do in the meantime?

He heard a faint clatter. “Hey, I heard some noises downstairs. You wanna see what’s goin’ on?” he felt a nod. “Alright. We’ll go investigate. How ‘bout that? Maybe it’s your lil’ buddy.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. He was supposed to be weaning her away from that thing. So much for that.

Father and child crept their way down the stairs, pausing at the rustling Stan heard in the kitchen, followed by a crash and a string of expletives. Stanley set Stella on her feet, his brows furrowed as he slipped into the kitchen. Ford was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring down at a slew of pans and bowls scattered across the floor. Stan took a look around the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what he was aiming for.

He also wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.

He watched Stanford shove the pots and pans back into the cabinet, only to have them tumble back out moments later.

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Uh.” Stanley interrupted, leaning against the doorjamb. “You look like you need some help. Or… Or a lot. I dunno.” He gave a shrug.

“I, no. No, everything is under control, I can assure you.”

“Alright cool.” Stanley spun around to leave, glancing down as he saw a little brown head traipse its way into the kitchen. His arm shot out and he leaned over, almost losing his balance as his hand pressed against the child’s tummy. “Uh, uh, uh. Where d’ya think you’re goin’?”

“Here.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he drawled, “but how about you don’t, huh? Let’s not and say we didn’t.” He patted the little tummy. Stella grinned up and stared up at him briefly before stepping to the side and continuing on her merry little way. “Or not. Okay.” He reluctantly followed the child into the kitchen, his nose wrinkling. “What’re you doing?”

“Making dinner?” Ford huffed as though it was obvious. The man forgot to buy groceries on a regular basis. Did he really expect Stan to believe this was a common occurrence for him? Get real.

“Okay, dinner. Fine. I’ll rephrase the question. What are you doing?”

“Stanley, that’s—” Stanford cut himself off with a huff. “It’s spaghetti.”

Spaghetti. Stanley eyed the countertops, spotting unopened packs of ground beef and spaghetti. Those were reasonable. The opened cans of tomato puree were also reasonable.

What he found unreasonable was the fact that the opened cans had been emptied into a pot and were boiling away, untouched by any other spaghetti component.

“Why?”

“Because people need food, Stanley.”

Stanley wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “No, I mean that. Why’d you put the tomato in the pot with nothing in it?”

Ford looked at him like there was something new sprouting out of his head. “It’s a tomato-based sauce.”

“That doesn’t… that doesn’t mean you actually put it in first.” He ran a hand down the side of his face. “Y’know what? Here.” He sidestepped Stella, placing a hand over the untouched onions. “Where’s your cutting board?”

“It…was burned a long time ago.”

“Oh my God. Okay. Fine. I’ll use a plate.” Stanford reached across Stanley into a cabinet overhead and pulled down a plate. Stan gave him a grunt of acknowledgment and cut the ends off while Ford watched. He sighed. “Crumble up the ground beef into a skillet, would ya?”

“Right. Of course.”

This was going to take a while.

≈

Stanley stared at the salvaged pot of pasta with a sigh. Halfway through, Stella had decided she would help, mostly by clinging to his leg and making it hard to move without knocking her over. He’d forcibly removed her from Ford’s leg at one point; the man was a disaster. He didn’t need Ford splattering piping hot substances across his child. He’d have to break his face—accident or not—and for that, his own leg was marginally better.

“Alright, gremlin. Time for you to actually sit in a chair.” He gave his leg a playful shake then lifted the child into his arms, earning himself a giggle before Ford startled him with a hand on his bicep.

“Wait.” His muscles tensed for a brief moment before he willed himself to relax. Ford needed to stop springing up on people. He was gonna run Stanley ragged that way, he swore it.

“Jesus, Ford, don’t make me drop ‘er.” He really would have to break his face then.

“Sorry.” Stanford leaned and hovered over Stanley’s shoulder—to Stan’s discomfort—to reach the child’s level, looking her in the eye. “Now, Miss Pines, I have an apology for you.” What? Stanley craned his neck to watch the man sigh. “I shouldn’t have yelled at your father, and I certainly shouldn’t have done so right in front of you. That wasn’t nice of me at all. Will you forgive me?”

Stanley froze, wrapping his arms tighter around the child. What was this? Was this happening? There was a catch. There had to be. Ford must’ve been enjoying taking the piss out of him.

This was the carrot, and Stanley needed to know when the stick was coming. He worked at his jaw, trying to loosen the tension quickly building.

Stanley’s child leaned back to peer at him, then blinked. So she was as confused as he was. Good.

Stanford seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Stella just stuck her hand in her mouth.

“Finger outta your mouth, honey.” He should probably wash her hands.

Her eyes darted between Stanley and Stanford for a moment before she complied. “’Kay.” She offered the damp little hand, followed by the other, out to Ford, who, at a loss, put his hands out to take her.

“And so the princess allows herself to be held.” Stanley mumbled, stifling a snort at Ford’s lost expression. He was lost, too, if he was honest with himself. Ford had apologized to Stella, actually gotten down on her level and apologized. Actually apologized. Never would he have expected that from the man. He wouldn’t have expected that from anyone, for that matter. People didn’t like Stanley. He’d found the easiest way for others to show that was through showing disdain for his child by extension of him.

This stretch of silence was too uncomfortable to let continue. “Alright, princess, let’s set you down.” He mumbled, giving a slight nod of satisfaction as his words lit a fire under Ford. The man stalked to the table, slower than Stan himself thought necessary, and stood Stella in a chair with what seemed like unnecessary caution. Stella, for her part, seemed put-out to be standing in furniture and slid down onto her knees, leaning against the edge of the table. “That’s better.” Stanley cooed.

His brow furrowed again as he watched Stanford fumble to grab plates and cutlery all at the same time. “Hey, we only need two plates. Or bowls. A plate and a bowl. Or a bowl and whatever you want.”

Ford eyed him. “Stanley, there’s three of us.”

“I am aware, thanks.”

“Three people. Three sets of flatware.”

“Me ‘n Mini-me can share.”

“Nonsense, there’s plenty. You don’t have to—”

“Ford. Look at her.” They both turned. She was still perched on the edge of the chair, looking confused. “Sit back, sweetie. Don’t want you to fall.” Stan turned back towards the other man. “But yeah, look at her. She’s big as a fart,” Ford looked taken aback at that, “she eats like a lil’ baby bird. She doesn’t eat a full anything. I’ll have to finish it, or it’ll go to waste. Just let ‘er eat off my plate. It’s fine.”

Stanford pursed his lips. “…If you insist.”

“It’s less cleanup, too.”

“You may have a point.” The man’s face told his lie. Stanley ignored it in favor of collecting his child.

“Alright, missy. Time to wash your hands.” He carried her over to the sink and propped her up on the edge of the counter. “Not… you have tiny hands, you don’t need that much soap.”

“Bubbles are important, Daddy.”

“Oh. Bubbles are important.” He drawled. “My bad.” He heard Ford snickering off to the side. Water ran down Stella’s elbows and dripped on the both of them. “Nice.” It was fine. It’d dry soon enough.

While he micromanaged his daughter’s soap usage, Ford had taken it upon himself to fill their plates and set them at the table. He carried the slippery girl back to the table and sat down across from Stanford, settling her in his lap. He eased the bowl towards the center of the table before Stella could flip its contents across them both.

This was bound to be a painfully awkward evening.

≈

Children were messy.

Stanford wasn’t sure how something so small could make such a contained disaster and smile about it the entire time. Most baffling was that he had been watching the entire time, and in no moment could he pinpoint the exact moments in which the mess appeared. It was as though it just… materialized.

“Stella, sweetie?” Stanley hummed to the child, who turned her tomato-smeared face upwards. “You know you’re cute, right?”

“Yeah?”

“You are so cute, but you’re making such a big mess.”

“Okay?” Stanford couldn’t help the snort that escaped him and covered his mouth with his hand as he tried to contain himself. He could all but hear the ‘And? What’s your point?’ left unsaid as she reached for Stanley’s fork.

“Kiddo. I’m gonna give it to you, can you wait until I actually get it on the fork for you first?”

“But I wanna do it!”

Stanley’s shoulders dropped. “Here.” He offered the fork. She immediately dropped its contents into both of their laps. Perhaps spaghetti hadn’t been the best idea, Ford mused as Stan let his head loll back. “Oh my God.” He sighed. Stella picked the pasta up with her fingers and shoved it into her mouth, unbothered. “Stella, can I at least help you with it, sweetie?”

“No, I wanna do it.”

“Stella, you’re making a huge mess all over the place. You need help. You can either let me help you, or I can do it for you, but you cannot do it by yourself.” The little girl scowled, turning her stare towards Ford. ‘You hear this shit?’ Her unreasonable look of indignation was priceless.

He bit back another chuckle and settled for a raised brow. “It is quite the mess.”

“See? People don’t like it when you make a big mess out of all of their stuff.” Stella folded her arms. “So is that a yes?”

“…Okay.”

“Perfect.”

The remaining meal passed with less fanfare, and Ford watched Stanley as he coaxed his child into letting him feed her with minimal fuss. Ford hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth. “Loath though I am to beat a dead horse, my laundry offer still stands. I’ll even throw in mine.” He gestured to the orange-toned splatters across his own front, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I think I might have a smaller shirt that might suit her in the meantime.” He inclined his head towards Stella, still wearing the blood-stained shirt he’d leant Stanley the day before.

Stanley’s face soured and his jaw tightened, ropy muscles rolling underneath the mottled skin. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, fine.” He handed the child the fork. When she leaned back against him, apparently sated, Stanley grabbed a fistful of paper towels and wiped down her hands and the tabletop before standing. He placed her in the chair before grabbing the bowl, then Ford’s, and plunking them both into the sink. Stanford twisted in his chair as Stan began running the water.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax, I got it. It’ll just be a second. Where’re your containers?”

“The…The cabinet to your left, I believe. Stanley, you don’t have to—”

“I gotta get this mess up. It’ll take ten minutes, tops.”

“What?”

True to his word, Stanley was finished in roughly ten minutes. He’d even wiped the stove down, which Ford had to admit wouldn’t have occurred to him. How did he work so quickly? He watched him give the table another quick wipe and then grabbed Stella, holding her at arm’s length as he sped up the stairs. He could hear the child whine. “Yeah, yeah. It’s bathtime. You got no one to blame but yourself on this one, babypants.” Moments later, Ford heard the rush of water surging through the pipes.

He stared at the clean table.

What a remarkably fast exit. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Of course he wouldn’t want to stay, not after that. It was quite literally the same argument that had caused them so much trouble hours earlier. Plus, the child was absolutely filthy. He needed to find the shirt he’d promised.

With a sigh, Stanford pushed back his chair and stood, letting his feet carry him towards his room while the sounds of muffled splashes, song, and giggles trickled down. The sound of such honest normalcy was jarring. Stella’s existence was jarring, if he was honest with himself.

When Stan had been driven off at seventeen and the informercials had stopped airing late at night, it was easy to imagine that he was off somewhere in Atlantic City or Las Vegas, partying to his heart’s content. That image had been shattered once Ford had begun to worry with upkeep on the Stanleymobile in the years Stan had been lost. The wear and tear and obvious signs that Stanley had been living out of that car spoke of a life far different from what he’d originally assumed.

When Stan had driven off again a few years prior, Ford had hoped down to the pit of his stomach that Stanley would have been able to turn things around for himself. If he could survive the other side, apparently unscathed, then certainly he could prosper with ease with what experience he surely must have gained. One look at him on his doorstep three nights ago had proven that a lie, and the child upstairs had been the laughter and slap in the face to add insult to injury.

Stella was another reality check for Stanford, that yes, his brother was out there, actually interacting with people, and having to work his way through tight situations. Handling a small child in the best of situations was daunting as it was. Doing it with no means must have certainly been unbearable. How does one raise an infant from the backseat of a broken-down car? It wasn’t a question he could hope to earn the right to ask.

Ford found himself staring down at his dresser, numbed. His brother was living out of a car again. There was a baby living out of his brother’s car. What had Stanley done in his years without the Stanleymobile?

He had to fix it. There were a number of things Stanford had to make right, but this one was absolutely imperative. He pulled open a drawer and began rifling through the back, pulling out a shirt for Stanley. He would fix this. He didn’t know how, but he’d come up with a way. He didn’t want his niece to have to experience the same things Stanley had.

He didn’t want Stanley to have to experience the things Stanley had.

For all his eloquence, Stanford wasn’t as good with words as he’d hoped when it came to people. Things always seemed to end in a fight or ruffled feathers, at the very least. It was a wonder Fiddleford had put up with it all for as long as he had. He’d just have to show them both the emotions he couldn’t properly express. Their Ma, silver-tongued though she was, had always been the same way with them growing up. Her words never carried as much weight as her actions did. She had even gone out of her way to make them both a birthday cake each every year, even on years they had decided on the same flavor. He smiled at the thought.

He might not have been able to bake a cake, but he would do his damnedest to get his point across.

He just had to find this stupid shirt first.

≈

Stanford hustled his way upstairs, a shirt tossed over either shoulder. The bathtime noises had quieted, and from the cracked door he could see the light was off. He must’ve taken longer than he’d expected to collect the garments. He continued on to his guest room, pleased to hear the faint shuffling from inside the room. He sidled up to the doorway, one hand pressed against the frame. He watched a slight frown cross Stanley’s face as he squeezed a damp shirt, wiping the water across the lounge pants he’d changed into. So I made good timing. Good.

His brother turned slightly as he bunched the damp shirt up, ready to pull it over his head. Ford moved his hand to tap on the doorframe, but froze. His eye caught the outline of the sigil he’d burned into Stan’s shoulder and he winced at the dark bluish, purpled scar tissue. Fuck. Ford had never gotten the chance to see the aftermath of his handiwork; Stanley had been so closed-off and silent when he’d returned, and had seemingly done his best to keep as far away from Stanford as possible until he’d driven off into the night without so much as a by-your-leave.

The skin was shiny, not unusual for scar tissue, and seemed to dip inwards rather than keloid, forming dips and valleys where the hot metal had seared through his skin and into his actual flesh. The skin around it puckered more than stretched as it pulled taut with his movements. And to think he could still fight, with his shoulder like this. Maybe there was a reason he was taking falls and throwing fights.

He had done that to his brother. Just looking at it brought back the acrid smell of Stanley’s charred skin and the fat sizzling underneath it, mixing with the sharp bite of the molten polyester of his jacket. He had to be able to feel that. Was the smell lodged high in the back of Stanley's sinuses as well? He could almost see the melting fabric darken and dissolve and crawl away from the blinding heat, just to cling to Stan's unaffected skin to scald him further. That jacket had been too light for winter. The skin must have cracked and wept for Stanley, like Ford had wept for him on the other side. Fat lot of good that did. Had it bled? Or had the heat cauterized the wound immediately? Stanford had used that brand to engrave symbols into solid steel. There was no way the damage done could have healed without complications. It was so close to his spinal cord, to top it all off. It was a wonder his brother was still alive.

Stanford’s eyes dropped to the floor, but fell short. Another large scar marred his brother’s body. An angry, pink puckered gash ran diagonally from his back to the tip of his right hip. Ford’s mind was quick to offer the word nephrectomy, and he made a concerted effort to ignore it. No, this scar was roughly-hewn and there were a number of ways Stan could have gotten himself another scar. He could’ve tried some reckless stunt on a motorcycle, or been in a freak hiking accident, or a knife fight, or, or, or—

Stanley rotated his body slightly, moving the majority of the scar out of Ford’s line of vision. He must’ve noticed his presence. With a concerted effort, Stanford straightened his body and face as Stanley tugged the shirt down fully, turning to face him.

“I come bearing shirts.” He held the offending garments up as a lame offering. Stanley’s drawn, contemptuous face did not change. He let his arms drop.

“…Right. Thanks.” Stanley mumbled. Stanford stepped into the room in his best attempt at looking casual, giving a quick glance towards the bundled lump on the bed.

“Is she asleep?” his voice dropped to a near whisper.

“Yeah.” Stanley turned his head to stare at his little lump and remained silent for a moment, a faint smile forming. “Started fallin’ asleep halfway through her bath.”

Ford didn’t hold back his smile. “I… This one is smaller, of course, I’d imagine it fits better than an adult man’s shirt would. I received it by accident and just…never got rid of it.” He rambled away, though it did nothing for the tremble in his hands or the bitter taste of guilt corroding his tongue. He lifted the larger shirt. “Also, this one isn’t wet.” Damnit. Would it kill you to keep your mouth shut? Just once?

Stanley eyed the shirt, then Stanford. “Aaalright, then. Thanks.” He mumbled the word, almost as an afterthought as he stretched a reluctant hand towards the proffered shirts.

Once taken, Stanford took a step back, offering his brother a weak smile. It was painfully clear that Stanley wanted him out of the room, and for once, Stanford felt the same. “I’ll just… let you two sleep now.” He feigned nonchalance as he inched his way out of the threshold. Oh, Fuck. “Wait.” He doubled back to peer into the doorway, wincing slightly. “I’m about to… gather up my own belongings to throw in the washer, if you’d like to add yours in?”

“Okay, Ford. Sure. Thanks.” Stanley mumbled, no heat behind the edge to his words. He just sounded exhausted. And whose fault was that today? “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Stanford Pines dragged himself down the stairs—vindicated, he supposed—though feeling a great deal emptier than he had in quite some time for it.

It's been so long?? How did this happen?? Exactly a week ago I was ready to post this, eleven pages shorter, but my stupid self had to go and say "nah let's make it a little longer." This chapter is over TWICE the length of my average chapters, and to be fair I could've separated it into two chapters, but I didn't want to, so there's that? I really hope it was worth the wait. >.< This past month has been: one week and a half off of work, followed by a 4-day weekend, then ANOTHER 4-day weekend, this week was be a full week, and then we get ANOTHER long weekend on top of that. And another. You'd think that would be a good excuse for getting MORE updates than normal, but uh, every time I sat down to work it turned into "Hey, you wanna go to ___?" and I am a sucker for pretending to be an extrovert, so... Yeah. That's what happened.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #stangst #single dad stanley pines #THCM

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