#now that I’ve got the Ground Work thoughts..... I could probably do snippets for this some day

[pretty-chips]

Howdy. I’ve started writing a thing and I want to share the beginnings of it, because I absolutely am too excited to keep it to myself. Here’s a lil’ snippet of the beginning of Electric Love, my Rocket x Brita work. let me know if you enjoy! Thanks to @raccoonfallsharder and my angel babies in the discord server for unearthing my desire to write.

I’ve never uploaded writing to tumblr, especially on mobile, so apologies if the format is weird! The spacing between paragraphs was a lot and that bugged me lol.

“You’re freaking joking. You haven’t seen Footloose yet??” Peter’s voice is kind of shrill, and it makes Rocket’s ears pin back. “DUDE, I’ve talked about it like a million times! You guys kidnapped Kevin freakin’ Bacon for me!”

Two hours of Peter Quill being back on Knowhere, and he’d already brought up stupid flarking Kevin Bacon twice. Sheesh. Rocket shrugs defensively, lifting his hands and gesturing wildly as they walk. “Dude, I don’t know! The only place I ever get earth movies is here in Knowhere and I’m, like…busy, I dunno.”

Peter stops in his tracks, his face screwed up in confusion and surprise. “Wait, there’s a place with earth movies here?”

“Yeah.” Rocket’s arms fold as he regards Quill with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t know?”

Peter looks absolutely appalled. Offended, even. “NO, I did not know. What the heck, man! I thought you guys were just…getting them somehow with the satellite or something.” Peter holds his hand up to his eyes and scans around, a bit dramatically, and Rocket roll his eyes. “Where the crap is this store? We’re going. Right now.”

With an amused huff, Rocket starts walking and gestures over his shoulder for Quill to follow. “C’mon Pete. Let’s get your stupid movie.”

He catches Peter smiling. Good. That means he heard the ‘I missed you’ buried in those words.

~

“I think I’m going to go insane.”

Brita’s elbows slide across the counter as she holds her chin in her hands. “We’ve heard this song five times. Why can’t we play a radio station or something? We’ve got the satellites for it.” She glances out the big window by the front doors, her eyes flicking wistfully back and forth between every person walking past. They probably had more exciting lives than this.

Her coworker, currently alphabetizing a row of media disks, shrugs impatiently. She doesn’t even give Brita a side glance or anything.

Brita huffs and shuffles her feet back to lean down onto the counter even more, bent at quite the impressive 90 degree angle.

This coworker girl had proven to be quite a stick-in-the-mud, which made for a pretty lame conversation partner. And as awful as it made her feel, Brita still couldn’t remember her name. Calling her Krylorian Coworker has worked just fine in Brita’s brain, but that probably isn’t going to last very long without accidentally slipping out one day. Oh, well. Maybe soon she’ll pull a good old, ‘So how do you spell your name anyway?’

Brita had pretty much used every ice breaker she could think of today, which had very visibly worn Krylorian Coworker’s patience pretty thin. She had only really responded to like, three of them. Brita sighs, her gaze out the window again.

It wasn’t her fault that today had been so slow and sludgy. Like tromping through the sloppiest terrain of the swampiest planet. The ground would probably suck at her boots, making her legs magnet to the mushy ground and her whole body burn with exertion. It would probably be hot, too, the combination of muggy air and sweat plastering hair to her forehead. She’d push it out of her eyes, blinking away the blur, and she’d see a figure come into focus. A familiar figure also trekking through the muck in front of her, strong and stout legs visibly strained with effort. He’d be holding a big gun, of course, probably one with little red blinking lights that flash through the murky air. Air you could feel as you inhaled, such thick and humid air in this swampy environment. He’d turn his head back to look at her, pretty auburn eyes alight with mirth. That fluffy ringed tail would swish behind him, an ear flicking as he opens his mouth to say something clever…

“You’re daydreaming, Brita.”

Krylorian Coworker stares, a hand on one hip and her eyebrow raised. “I can literally see you disappearing.”

Brita blinks hard, the yellow lighting of the media store melting away the trees and mud from her imagination. She lets out a breath as she comes back to reality, straightening up and stretching her arms above her head. “And that’s why I wanted some new music. I’m getting bored out of this dimension.”

Coworker shakes her head, huffing in amusement as she goes back to her alphabetizing.

Brita gives her own huff, and walks around the counter. It’d be better to actually do something with herself. Maybe she should alphabetize like Boring Coworker.

She makes her way down a couple aisles of holo-vid disks, glancing at the labels. She smiles, her heart doing that skipping thing it always does when she thinks about her favorite things. She’d apparently subconsciously wandered to her favorite section, the Terran holo-vids. Movies, she knows they’re called, but that’s not universal enough according to boss man who was in charge of this d’ast store. And the tech is different, anyway, he’d said. Whatever, Brita knew better than that old fart.

Her fingers run along the labels, stopping to reminisce at a few favorites. One day she was going to consume every single piece of Terran media in the store, and even further one day, the whole Terran planet. Every movie, every song, every book…everything.

Ring-ding-ling.

The little bell on the door announces, after at least an hour of nothing, a living being. Brita leans back, angling her head to look at the front doors. A guy with somewhat curly hair and a red leather jacket is stepping through, looking…amazed, actually. As he makes his way towards the aisle she’s standing in, Brita studies him further and is pretty sure she recognizes the things on his t-shirt. Her eyes widen.

An earth dude!

Before she can even process her body moving, she’s in front of him, all smiles. “Hi, how are ya?”

The guy blinks at her, seemingly coming out of some kind of trance, and his face lights up. “How long has this place been here? I’ve never noticed a…what, record store-slash-bookstore-slash-Blockbuster?”

Brita figures that’s an earth thing, and her heart flutters in excitement.

“Yeah, maybe a few months? Short enough lots of people haven’t been in yet, long enough it feels like ages if you’re working here.” She grins, leaning against the shelf next to her casually.

The comment lands, and the guy laughs. “I get that. But, I feel like this is probably the coolest place to work in all of…anywhere. You’ve got something from every planet I know the name of in here, just from what I can tell right away. That’s freakin’…epic.”

His enthusiasm is intoxicating. Brita beams at him, anxious to make this interaction last as long as possible. “Oh, dude, believe me, it is epic. Working here has permanently changed my life. I get to hear earth music and talk about movies…that’s a dream.”

He lights up even more, which Brita didn’t even think was possible, and his big open-mouthed smile says, “You like earth movies?”

She feels a beautiful conversation brewing, the feeling punctuated with Coworker’s exasperated sigh from across the counter, and Brita nods with a grin.

“Hell yeah I like earth movies.”

She’s not even sure how many minutes pass, she’s so enveloped in her favorite conversation she’s ever had. They gush over their favorites, which somehow don’t overlap at all even though they’re both familiar with everything brought up. The difference in taste is almost comical to her. She feels like she could be here for days, the world could pass away and she’d be completely content just standing here, talking to this man in a red jacket. Brita doesn’t even process her surroundings until she hears someone clearing their throat behind her.

Snapped back to earth, she realizes Coworker is raising a brow. Right. Work. Job.

“Sorry,” she laughs lightly and folds her arms as she leans against the shelf again, “you were looking for which one?”

“Oh, yeah. Footloose, can you believe Drax and Rocket both haven’t seen it yet, even though it’s the greatest movie of all time…”

Every muscle in her body stiffens. Her folded arms tighten against her chest and she feels her fingers dig into her arms. He’s still talking, she can tell with his mouth still moving, but nothing he says is reaching her ears anymore.

Rocket. Rocket. All she can see now are those bourbon eyes. A voice rings back into her processing, but not the voice of the dude, it’s deep and rumbles through her core. This guy, this Terran guy, was friends with Rocket. An earth dude that’s friends with Rocket AND Drax, how did he get so lucky…

Suddenly, it clicks.

“Wait, wait, stop.” She knows she’s interrupting, and she doesn’t care. “You’re freaking Peter Quill.”

He mouth quirks into a bit of a confused grin, one eyebrow inching up. “Uh, yeah I am.”

She blinks at him. She knows she looks stupid. “Sorry, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t... Not to be, like, weird, y’know. I just. That’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to actually talk to the guardians, they seem like, such…incredible friends. I hear about you all the time.”

His smile is sly, but there’s a heartwarming expression in his eyes. “They talk about me, huh?” He nods and glances over behind her shoulder. “…They are the best friends I’ve ever had.”

Before she can respond, another voice materializes behind her. One she’s only heard once, months and months ago in real life, but countless times in her imagination. Gravelly yet liquid gold at the same time.

“Pete, holy crap, d’you get lost or what?”

Peter Quill smirks and lifts a hand in mild defense. “Just talkin’ to…” he glances at her name badge, “Brita here about stupid earth movies, man.”

Brita is frozen in place. She desperately begs her brain to send any kind of signal to her body, to make it move, but it’s complete radio silence up there.

The presence behind her moves past, then stands next to Peter Quill. That tail swishes casually and those ears flick, just like in her dreams.

Peter is saying something. She tries to tune in. “Brita, this is my buddy Rocket.”

The furry face tilts his chin up in a nod. The auburn eyes flit up and down her body, studying her.

“How ya doin’?” Says Rocket Raccoon, who is standing directly in front of her on purpose for the first time ever.

Brita can feel how huge her eyes are, the skin above her cheeks and under her eyebrows feels strained. She probably looks ridiculous. Why can’t she say anything? She glances at Coworker for a lifeline. A clue of what she should even do right now.

Krylorian Coworker’s eyes widen, and for the first time since Brita can remember, she looks genuinely interested in what’s happening in front of her. Coworker has been told possibly way too much about the hearty interest in this particular guardian of the galaxy. The subject of all of the daydreams Brita keeps getting caught in. The one that brought her here, to Knowhere, even though he definitely had no idea that was the case.

Brita can feel her mouth opening and closing, and she just knows she looks like a stupid fish. She smashes her mouth shut and conjures up a smile that is probably a little too big. She forces a word out of her mouth.

“Hi!”

#rocket x oc #rocket gotg #gotg oc #rocket raccoon #rocket x reader #brita x rocket

[defendersalliance]

Letter from a Villain

for @flashfictionfridayofficial 's prompt #FFF162: The Letter. ~700 words.

I wrote this so it could be read alone, but it’s basically a follow up to this snippet which gives more context on Valentine’s job tracking down the villain

~

The villain’s letter landed on Valentine’s desk three days after he’d escaped custody.

“I’ve heard he can be…more annoying in writing,” Brontide warned. Valentine’s hero co-worker gave the envelope one last glance before returning to his desk.

Valentine sighed and grabbed the envelope. “Has this been checked for poison?” he called. Sure, their branch of the Defenders Alliance was lacking in funding, but that didn’t mean they had to throw caution to the wind.

“You’re the ex-assassin!” Brontide replied. He glanced back and flashed Valentine a grin. “Poisons should be your specialty.”

He did know a thing or two about poison. Probably the reason they’d assigned him Sundew. Unfortunately, carnivorous plants were less up Valentine’s alley, and the villain’s new acid trick had made escape easy when he’d finally been captured after a month’s pursuit.

Valentine gave the envelope a closer look. Its pale green color was unusual, but he couldn’t find any discoloration or warping to suggest the paper was carrying extra ingredients. Still, he slid on his gloves before drawing a letter opener from his desk and tearing in. A pale piece of paper came out with letters typed in dark green ink. 

My dear Valentine, Sundew had written.

Great start. Valentine wondered if it was too late to pick a new hero name. Sticking with the fake last name he’d used as an assassin was…not his first choice. But no one asked him what he wanted when he’d agreed to join the Defenders.

With a heavy sigh, he continued reading.

It was lovely finally seeing your place after so many failed attempts to catch me. But let’s arrange the next date somewhere that isn’t falling apart.

The jab at the West branch made Valentine roll his eyes. Flickering lights and strange puddles, sure. But ‘falling apart’ was a stretch.

An art museum could be fun. I think we have different ideas about what “enjoying a museum” entails, though. I am looking forward to adding to my collection this weekend. And now that I’ve said that, I’m looking forward to imagining you on the streets all night in hopes of running into me. Weather says it’s supposed to rain, and I for one would love to see you drenched and miserable.

With Valentine’s luck, that was exactly how he’d be spending his weekend.

Since I’ll be giving myself the gift of stolen art, I thought I’d give you a gift as well. These seeds are so easy to grow that an amateur like yourself should be able to manage. And before long, you’ll have tomatoes! Or pumpkins. I forgot what I put in the envelope.

Valentine, with the utmost caution, tipped the envelope over his desk. A few small seeds rained onto his paperwork stack. Unlike last time, they didn’t explode into vines or venus flytraps.

Sundew, apparently, anticipated his concerns. And relax. They are ordinary seeds. Not my creations. I grow normal plants, too, in my garden. And I make a pretty good grape wine I’d be happy to share sometime.

Despite the promise that the grapes were grown from the ground, Valentine figured he’d have to pass, given the risk. Sundew’s powers also let him generate plants laced with deadly poison. Or, worse, put people in a hypnotic trance.

Though, Valentine suspected he had a different idea of ‘worse’ than most people.

I’m sure you’ve got work to get back to. I do too. I haven’t forgotten my promise that I’d find your real name, Val. 

Catch me again, and I might grant you the privilege of calling me your rival.

Valentine tossed the letter back on the desk with a huff of annoyance. Why couldn’t his first job as a hero have been a villain with a little less…personality?

He eyed the seeds. They hadn’t been the only thing to fall from the envelope. A fine layer of dirt had scattered on his papers as well. And he’d had enough brushes with forensics to know the value of dirt. Intentionally or not, Sundew had just given Valentine a clue to the location of whatever mountain cottage he was shacking up in.

The question was whether it was an accident, or a trap.

#writeblr #heroes and villains #da west #valentine #sundew #brontide #my writing

[linasqueersocks]

Snippet #2: Captain, Deal (Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: threats of violence/maiming, brief thoughts of suicide

———————

Emerson stumbled and almost pitched backwards from being pushed so hard. The sound of metal clanging and the key turning told her that she was in a cell. While Emerson glared through the blindfold covering her eyes, Lydia said, “Don’t worry darling, I’ll be back for you soon.”

Lydia stayed true to her word, greeting the incredibly muscled person who had brought her to (presumably) the captain’s quarters with, “Thank you Charlie.” A pause while who knew what happened. “I’ll take care of her from here.” Emerson heard Charlie leave. “Why don’t you come inside, sweetheart?”

Emerson sighed, “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I knew you were beautiful, but clever too? Looks like I caught the best fish in the sea.” Emerson sneered but let herself be pulled into the room.

Lydia steered her into a seat at a table.

Something sweet and fresh smelling was held just underneath Emerson’s nose. A pear. A fresh pear. “You’ve had an exhausting night. Eat.”

“Untie me.”

Lydia chuckled, “And give you a knife? Darling, I’ve seen what you can do with those hands.” She held the pear closer to Emerson’s lips. “Open.”

The danger in Lydia’s voice did not go unnoticed. Emerson decided to ignore it and kept her lips sealed tight. “Open your mouth or I’ll sew your lips shut with twine.” Emerson’s face burned and she almost decided to keep her mouth closed and take her chances. Instead, she dutifully chewed and swallowed, face burning at the humiliation.

It had been so long since she had had anything fresh to eat. When Lydia held another piece to her lips, it took a second prod for her to open her mouth. The third time Lydia offered a slice of the pear, Emerson didn’t hesitate a second to be fed. It was embarrassing, really, how easily she had crumbled. It was fruit, for crying out loud! …Well it was also the threats but that’s not the point. Emerson was supposed to be the most fearsome pirate in all the seas, yet here she was surrendering to Lydia because she had saved her from an inescapable death sentence and happened to have fruit on hand.

I’m a joke. It’s so pathetic! I should toss myself overboard, at least then I can still have some dignity.

“I’d rather you don’t waste all of my hard work because you’re feeling lowly. You’re not a captain anymore, darling.”

Emerson heard Lydia chewing a slice of the pear. No piece came to her lips. Instead, hands undid the top few buttons of her shirt.

“Wha- what are you doing?! This isn’t what I agreed to!”

“Not what you think I’m doing. Besides, we never agreed what specifically you’d be doing on my ship.” A cold hand placed itself on Emerson’s collarbone. Her heart tried to beat out of its cage. Colder fingers picked up the chain around her neck. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I won’t tell the crew what you fancy me.” Lydia said the last two words in a horrendous impersonation of Emerson’s accent. Probably on purpose.

“Ha, you wish.” Emerson tried to cover her discomfort with a smirk.

Lydia ignored her. “Now, I’m fairly certain you want to keep your fingers, so how about you tell me where you got this pretty little ring.”

Emerson swallowed hard, flooding with relief at the more familiar ground. “I found it.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Try again.”

“I’m not lying.” …Technically.

“Then you should be happy to tell me more.” Lydia yanked on the chain so that Emerson was forced to lean forward. Lydia’s breath was hot on her face. Her cheeks heated again.

“Tell you more about what? I found it.”

“The dumb look really doesn’t suit you. If you want, I could bash your skull in and feed your brain to the salt, then you’d really be mindless.

“You value me too much to kill me.” The question was why.

“But hurt you, no.” Lydia’s grip on the chain tightened, bringing their faces closer so that Emerson could practically taste the salt on Lydia’s skin. “Tell me how you found the ring.”

“I found it in Mum’s things when she died. My parent gave it to her for their wedding.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Emerson tugged her neck backwards, hoping to get her personal space back. “Ah ah ah,” Lydia brought their faces even closer, but somehow still not touching. She whispered, “Not so fast now. I’m not done getting to know you.” A shiver went down Emerson’s spine and her blood ran cold.

“Get away from me.” Her voice was a dangerously low growl, face contorted into a storm cloud that barely masked the beginnings of panic in her chest.

Lydia replied as pleasantly as honey, “No.”

This was going to be a long night.

#lina writes #writing #my writing #fiction #my fiction #pirates #snippet #my snippet

[dyketectivecomics]

I started typing this out last night & work was slow today, so here's some backstory/building blocks for the Batcavers AU (long post is Long so under a cut it goes!):

Bruce's adventures in solo spelunking & cave cartography started about when he's 15/16 & goes back down the well on a whim. Martha gets worried when he starts spending too much time alone down there tho & makes Bruce promise to never go without a friend

his usual go-tos are Harvey & Tommy, but a couple times when Zatanna was in town, she joined him. we love childhood friendssss

(now insert some benign reasons for idk other heroes/rogues to join him somehow fdjksla idk man. these are early years stuff)

i know i said it earlier, but all the rooms/Major formations follow a shakespeare theme. all of bruce's friends call him a Nerd for it fjdakls;

Bruce becomes a professional spelunker & speleologist and develops out the cave for the public to enjoy & continually explores and maps out the system. he's a big advocate for Bats too

and that's how the Media dubs him..... "The Bat Man" fkjdsalf; ROLL CREDITS

So the Tour Guide Kids:

So Dick & Babs were some of the first kids hired who have stayed the longest, obvsly. (dick's nickname is still robin bc circus origin is the same lmao. Babs gets the 'Batgirl' nickname for a few years when she gets chased by a couple of them lmao)

Dick fell in love with the cave when Haly’s visited gotham and his parents took him on one of the tours. When Dick starts college in Gotham, he works at the cave part-time mostly in the ‘off’ season (but a little over one summer too when he doesn’t tour with halys bc of some summer courses he’s signed up for).

Babs has been working at the cave for a few years ahead of him. At this point in time, Dicks been promoted to a supervisor/senior guide position & Babs works mostly in admin and overseeing communication (& eventually earns the New nickname of 'Oracle' bc somehow she's always able to predict exactly what ppl are radio-ing her about lmao)

They’re constantly flirting and it’s an open secret that they’ve dated off and on at this point. Y’all this kinda shit happened SO much at my cave, the drama was RIDIC Aksjaksj

Tim and Steph start around the same time & stick around a little longer than most guides. Tim makes a niche for himself working retail and eventually moves over to the main ticket sales/admin office. He and babs absolutely Crush things when they're working overlapping days. Steph's somehow wormed her way to being under Dicks wing rn being trained as another Head Guide.

tim's nickname is 'red robin' is bc he suggested they all have dinner together after work & they somehow had the Worst Dining Experience Ever™. Steph gets her 'Spoiler' nickname bc she constantly brings up new TV show episodes and just launches right into her Thoughts™ without asking and well fjdk Spoils Things

Harper and Duke start around the same time too, they're both newer to the whole operation & are still learning the Ropes. (yall got some of my initial thoughts on duke, so i'll just touch that Harper gets the Bluebird nickname bc Dick or Steph gives it to her lmao)

You're probably wondering 'wait, where's the Other Kids?' well BUCKLE UP BUCKO, bc its SELF-INDULGENCE TIME

Damian is the easiest to explain, in this the al Ghuls run another rival company, Bruce and Talia met in college and have an off/on relationship (divorced once MAYHAPS 👀) either way, Damian’s the result of that, Talia and Bruce share custody.

Okay, realistically, Everyone’s backstories can stay p much the same or be finagled to work out realistically enough to skirt by. Cass’ backstory needs to be straight up thrown in the garbage in this bc the League doesn’t exist akjsk SO here’s what I’m proposing instead:

We’re gonna shoe-horn the Jason & Cass twin theory and also have Bruce adopt them both bc REASONS. (Those reasons are, they were trying to steal Bruce’s tires and they were doing a REALLY good job of it w/ Cass distracting ppl and Jason doing his nascar tryout lmao, but Bruce caught on bc This Is Gotham and was basically like ‘you little shits (laughing the entire time)’ and the rest is History

ANYWAYS all of that to say that all three of them grow up basically having the run of the the cave and doin what they want aksj, Damian’s a little young yet in this to be giving tours/working, but all 3 have varying levels of interest in the cave

Jason loves being a guide, but is a little abrasive when ppl ask REALLY dumb questions. He WILL sass them if it’s something just objectively dumb. (Someone asked me when we moved closer to the highway. Like SIR) Cass likes giving the off-trail tours more than doing the big guided groups & likes helping with training new guides, so she’s more hands-on in those situations. Damian rlly rlly wants to help map out areas with smaller openings to see if he can find More Cave but it gives Bruce a heart attack having him down there and disregarding all safety precautions so he’s constantly being benched from that

Oh ye, so for nicknames, Jay gets Red Hood bc he’s always wearing a red beanie even when it’s the middle of summer. Cass gets the Batgirl one passed down to her bc she’s a pro at catching stray bats/somehow corralling ‘em to leave the main rooms. Dami is the baby bat/robin bc he’s always following either Bruce or Dick around when he’s on the property.

Let the Not-So-Shitty Summer Job AU begin hahaha

#batcavers au #I won’t tag em directly but ye!!! #now that I’ve got the Ground Work thoughts..... I could probably do snippets for this some day #still wanna finish a few more in the inbox first at least tho ;-;

[theresthesnitch]

Heey! How r u doing? A few days ago I came across to fic (or was it a prompt?) of yours. It was a one shot single mum Lily AU. I think she and James were together and had a kid but he didn't know about it. So a few years later they got together again but James doesn't want to k own about her kid. It was something like that, I don't remember quite well. So I told myself I'm gonna read it later, so later has come and I can't find it anywhere. Where can I find it? Did u delete it? Thanks 😘

Hi darling! That fic is still a WIP so it’s not posted anywhere. And what you and I are both calling a one-shot is currently 16k and not done, so it may end up being chaptered after all.

You can find all the snippets I’ve posted under the tag #one last time (never enough) either through that link or by clicking the tag on this post. (Hopefully the link works!)

I’ve actually worked on this recently, though, so how about one more snippet of it?

(Context for anyone not familiar: James and Lily are separated by the war, and Lily finds out she’s pregnant just after she goes into hiding. Lily comes back 5 years later with a kid, and James doesn’t handle it well. This is a party shortly after Lily’s return.)

***

Inevitably, they ended up coming together on the side of the room. Lily felt like she had been drawn there, not really intending to find him but suddenly looking up and seeing James in front of her. James watched her come toward him, knowing she wasn’t aware of his presence, and yet he couldn’t move to avoid her. His feet were locked to the ground as his heart pulled her in and–

“Hi, James.”

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to. The words were weighed down by emotions and alcohol and something that tied knots in his stomach. Instead, he just looked at her for a moment. She was wearing the dress he had always loved, and she looked somehow better than he even remembered.

His lungs burned, and he hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath until it came out in a rush. “Evans.”

She pressed her lips together, pretending like James reverting to calling her by her last name didn’t hurt. It was fine. Perhaps that was her question answered, then. He didn’t still love her.

James cleared his throat. “You look lovely tonight. I’m not sure if you always looked this good or if I’m just not used to being around you anymore.” His cheeks, which were already rosy from the drink or the heat, colored darker. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Maybe I should stop drinking.”

James turned to set his drink down, and Lily took the chance with his eyes turned away to find her balance again. Being around James was like being on a rollercoaster. As soon as she settled into the smooth ride up, she was thrown over the edge and plummeted to the ground.

James took a deep breath before turning back to her, hoping to somehow keep the swooping sensation from taking over him every time that he looked at her. It didn’t work. Instead he was nearly knocked back by the way her eyes were shining at him and— “I missed you, Lily.”

The words were quiet, so quiet that Lily wasn’t sure she heard them. Except the silence that hung between them was full of tension. James wasn’t sure where the words came from (probably from the alcohol that now functioned as blood in his body), and he wasn’t sure how he hoped she would respond. He wouldn’t blame her if she just walked away.

“I missed you, too, James.”

They both thought, separately, that this moment could make or break them. Ever-confident James froze with indecision. Anxiety-driven Lily wondered if it was too much or too far.

James moved first, he was fairly certain, though Lily thought they might have moved at the same time. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. Their lips met, and it was… it was…

It was like a missing piece slotting into place. It was like finally solving the equation. They fit perfectly, heartbreakingly perfectly, and they both wondered if they would be strong enough for whatever that meant.

James broke the kiss but didn’t release her hand. Instead, he pulled her behind him through the house and back into the room that he slept in when he stayed with the lads after drinking too much. Luckily no one from the party had wandered back there, so James locked the door behind them and turned back to Lily.

Lily followed James, half holding her breath and expecting it to go bad. He led the way through the crowd and back to a door she didn’t even know existed ten minutes ago. He pulled her inside, locked the door, and turned to look at her.

This is a bad idea, they thought, though neither dared to voice it. One last time. One last time will be enough.

#snitch answers asks #one last time (never enough) #jily fic #jily #i have far too many WIPs #and I’m sorry for never delivering on them

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Opposite of Cuddling

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins.

Dome cuddles don't quite work out, but the Mighty Nein make do.

Wordcount: 1.8k (it would be short if it wasn’t supposed to be a snippet fic aaa)

A/N: maybe i am just in the mood for cuddly gang tickles. maybe so. 

---

“So,” Jester is proselytizing, brandishing a diagram from her sketchbook into dubious faces, “if we cuddle up around Caduceus just like this it’s going to be super soft and comfy and warm until we get out of this stupid weather! Any questions?”

Caduceus puts his teacup aside and leans down to peer at the sketch. It’s really good, especially the faces. She must have drawn it while watching them sleep last night.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. It feels good to see her happy, tail flicking as she clutches her sketchbook in clear delight - after two days of nonstop freezing rain, even her forceful cheer has been wavering. “It’s nice, sometimes, but not when we’re, you know. Sleeping.”

“So I could tickle you right now and you wouldn’t be, like, really mad at me?” Jester presses. She’s scooting towards him as she asks, practically trembling with excitement. It’s awfully cute.

Well, it’s been a while, but he can’t say he’s not a little eager for the contact. He ignores the looks from the rest of their group and flops back onto his bedroll, wriggling a little to get comfortable. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Um,” Beau says from somewhere behind him, a little strangled. Oh, right.

“We’re not keeping people awake, are we?” he asks, craning his neck to the various edges of the dome people have settled in. “Anyone set on sleeping right now?”

Beau makes a face. "That's not the weird part, Duceus."

“They can help!” Jester chirps, and then she’s cuddled into his side and wiggling tiny tiefling claws above his belly. “Oh, Ca-du-ceus!”

She’s pitching her voice as deep and scary as it can go. It’s not very far. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your very worst tickle spot?”

He laughs. “Telling you that feels like a bad idea.”

“Then I’ll just have to fi-ind it!” She tugs his shirt up with one quick move, and he barely has time to feel the cold before she’s latching onto his sides and burying her entire face into the downy fur on his belly. “Ooh, you’re so soft and warm! I want to cuddle you forever, Caduceus.”

It tickles, but just a little - honestly, he’s more amused by her. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before,” he chuckles, reaching out to poke gently at her side. “You’re not bad yourself.”

She squeaks, pulling her head up just enough to gasp at him. “Oh my gosh, Caduceus, did you just tickle me back? Guys, you have to come help me!”

“Nah, I’m good,” Beau snorts.

Jester lets out a massive sigh and flops back down onto him, and for a pleasant minute or two it’s just her nuzzling into him as he watches raindrops pelt off the amber dome overhead.

Then there’s a rustle, and some clinking, and before he can do anything more than lazily twitch one of his ears in the direction of the sound Yasha’s upside-down face pushes into his field of view.

“Do you mind if I join?” she asks in her quiet way. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Jester springs upright, grabbing happily for her hands. “Yes! Join us!”

Caduceus echoes her, snorting out a quiet laugh as Jester regains some of her energy and starts to scribble her way up his sides. He doesn't have any quiet siblings - Yasha reminds him a little more of the mourners, so it’s always nice to see her reach out. He's good at appreciating that sort of thing.

Yasha smiles shyly down at the both of them as she pulls his head into her lap and starts to play with his ears. “These are so soft,” she marvels. “Are you ticklish here?”

His ears have always been one of his siblings’ favorite spots to tease him with, and apparently they haven’t gotten any less sensitive in the last ten years. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Heh - just - hehe - a little bit.”

There's a frustrated groan off to his right. “Okay, I’ll bite.” Footsteps track around to his side, fleet and quiet, and he waits patiently for a flash of blue cloth to cross his gaze. “But only ‘cause ears are a fucking weird spot and I want to see if this works on you.”

Beau crouches by his side and curls her fingers loosely. “I’m gonna punch you,” she warns. “Probably not that hard, but don’t tense up.”

He nods as best as he can while tilting his head to better let Yasha worry her fingernails at the backs of his ears - he’s not sure if he could feel more boneless if he tried, right now.

The heel of her fist strikes him right in the middle of his chest, fingers clutching around something intangible - that something scurries its way down every nerve he has, and he coughs out a startled laugh before he can help himself. “What was that?”

“Payback for growing lichen on me back at your house,” she quips, but her eyes are narrowed in clear concentration. “Okay, ears, ears… wrists? And knees? And - fuck, man, your entire back? Really? Jes, let’s flip him over, this is going to be good.”

Well, that’s unexpected.

“Wait - ha!” Caduceus yelps, squirming as fingers start to pry their way underneath him. “Hold on now-”

He’s bigger than both of them by far, but they’re strong and not above tickling the backs of his ribs until he starts to squeal. "You're so thin, Caduceus!" Jester exclaims, hooking a finger into the tender gap between two bones and wriggling it mercilessly - his back arches entirely without his permission, letting Beau pry him another inch off the ground, and he whines defensively. "We have to feed you more!"

They get as far as rolling him onto his side before Beau loses patience and starts prodding smugly at his spine. “Your ki is pretty shivery around here, Duceus,” she teases. “Trying to hide your worst spots, huh? Bet you thought we weren’t gonna take this seriously.”

Caduceus is too busy laughing to deal with - any of that, really, especially when Jester slings herself over him so she can reach his back too. “I’m - ahaha! aaa! - oh, that tickles!”

As if in direct response to his babbling, a small weight bundles into the back of his knees. He curls up reflexively with a strangled shout - it’s Nott, cuddling up to him with a shivery sigh as an invisible hand starts to pinch at his kneecaps. “You’re right,” she crows to Jester. “He is soft.”

It does feel nice, being buried under this many people and tickled till the marrow of every bone in his body shivers, happy and helpless, and when Fjord finally sits in front of him and presses a questioning hand to his shoulder Caduceus doesn’t resist the impulse to clutch his hands and pull him in closer.

Fjord comes easily, huffing in quiet amusement as Caduceus buries his face in him and Yasha and wriggles like a freshly surfaced earthworm. “You alright there?” he drawls. “You sound like they’re trying to kill you.”

Nott snorts from somewhere near his belly. “We should stop, then, we’ve only got the one cleric.”

“Hey!”

Everything abruptly derails as Jester launches herself towards Nott and, from the sound of it, kicks Beau right in the face - there’s wheezing, and then shouting, and then the telltale sugar-sweet scent of Jester’s healing magic.

Caduceus holds very still. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Beau confirms, mangled. He can practically picture Jester frantically squishing her cheeks around as she checks for damage.

A typical tickle fight, as far as the Clays are concerned, just with a different smell - the Wildmother's healing tends more earthy. Even though they’ve stopped tickling, Caduceus can’t help but laugh.

He’s not sure if he imagines Fjord fluttering light fingers along the insides of his wrists as he catches his breath, but by the time he wheezes out one last fit of giggles and rolls himself back over everyone seems to be keeping a respectful distance, if a good deal closer together than they were at the beginning of the evening. “I think that went pretty well,” he says, pleased.

“...so you’re stupid ticklish,” Beau says dryly, scrubbing a bit of dried blood from her lip. “No cuddling Duceus while he’s trying to be unconscious, message received.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from all but one - Caduceus looks around and spots their final member for the first time since they sat down for dinner, nose buried in a book and ears suspiciously red.

He hasn’t moved an inch all night, even to escape the noise, which leaves him only a few feet away from the rest of them. Caduceus gets the feeling he’s about to regret that. “Oh, I’m sure there are those that have it worse,” he grins. “Right, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb’s gaze snaps up over the edge of his book. “Ja,” he rushes out, strangled. “I mean - nein - of course I am not - I am just trying to read here-”

Jester doesn’t wait for him to dig his grave any deeper. “Oh my gosh, Cay-leb, are you super ticklish too?”

Caleb stuffs his book back into its holster and holds a hand out preventatively, reaching with panicked precision for a strip of leather tied just above his knee with the other. “No, I am not-”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Fjord rocks backward and reaches out with one broad hand, latching onto Caleb's wrist, and Caleb promptly abandons all spellcasting to kick at him like a startled rabbit.

Despite that, he reels Caleb in gently, scooping him into a neat little ball before he heaves him into the middle of their little circle and squarely on top of Caduceus. “I think we owe you a nice, long thank you for this lovely dome, don’t we?”

There’s a moment of silence as Caleb presumably thinks about how easy it would be to kill them all in this enclosed space. “This,” he says, as severely as he can with his feet in the air and hair in his eyes, “is the opposite of cuddling, and if you do not leave me alone then tomorrow night I am going to make all of you sleep in the rain.”

Even the seasoned homebody in Caduceus knows that’s the exact wrong thing to say to a group of damp and grumpy adventurers - if the mood in the dome was mischievous before, it takes a steep dive into outright evil.

Beau cracks her knuckles. “Yeah? Let’s see what you have to say when we tickle you again tomorrow.”

And if Caduceus laughs as Caleb gives one startled owlish blink and then scrambles to hide as much of himself behind Caduceus as possible - well, that’s not from the tickling at all.

#Tickling #critical role #caduceus clay #jester lavorre #the mighty nein #bc i cannot tag all seven of them that feels illegal #chocfic

[gwynrielsupremacy]

idk how you'd write a one shot for this cause idk how to properly word it, but gwynriel being soft but in a way that almost domestic? reading books together all scrunched up together and then debating those books and their conflicting views because what's a good couple if not banter? and then agreeing to disagree, but not really because neither of their competitive asses can actually let it go

For Gwynriel Appreciation Week: Reading together

AAAAAhhhh!!! It's being some rough couple weeks, therefore I'm not as active as I wanted in terms of writing, but I'm loooving to read all your content. Gwynriel Week is awesome!

I know this is AU day, so I tried to make this as "freely" as possible, and it can (if you squint, I guess) be fitted in AU! I originally wanted to post this on day 3 (Identity) but life had other plans... Anyways, this is just a snippet, a little scene I loved to write and think about, and aaah what do l care, it's Gwynriel after all!!!!!

Hope you like my contribution to Gwynriel Week and remember, my ask is always open for prompts and ideas! <3 keep on rocking, keep on going :)

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

"This is absolutely ridiculous."

"What?"

Gwyn closed the book with a thud, shutting her eyes and massaging her temples in frustration: "There's no way this could actually happen. Not like this."

"Which page are you on?"

She opened her eyes and stared at him from across the couch. They were a confusion of tangled legs, sharing a blanket, lying comfortably in a C-shaped love-seat in Azriel's bedroom.

"One hundred and forty."

Azriel snorted and shook his head:

"There's still a lot of ground to cover." He said casually, returning to his copy of the novel, but that smirk on his face told Gwyn there was more.

"What do you mean?" It was her turn to ask, and she ignored how high her pitch was at the statement. "On which page are you?"

They started doing that the last couple of months, eventually borrowing two copies of the same book and reading it together. An amusing experience, especially considering how competitive both of them were. Not that they minded, anyway.

"Keep on reading." He answered, eyes darting from the page to her.

But his smirk only grew wider:

"And..." He paused, pretending to check. Gwyn saw right through him. He knew all too well in which page he was; they had the habit of tracking each other's progress: "Two hundred and thirty two."

"What?! That's impossible!" Her eyes widened "We started it yesterday, and got to the same page."

Azriel shrugged irreverently. "I'm a fast reader. And since we're on that... You should keep on reading."

Gwyn scoffed, feigning irritation. How was it possible he read so quickly already? They spent the day busy and that was only the second night both sat down to read. Unless...

"What did you do?" Her tone was accusatory. "You kept on reading after I fell asleep, was it? Or..."

He had shut down his copy now, but said nothing. Gwyn sat up straight, retreating her legs and crossing them, and ignoring the strange sensation of not having the weight of his legs against hers:

"You have read this already, haven't you?"

As he didn't respond immediately, she pressed: "Shadowsinger."

He straightened, features changing slightly as he blinked, looking at the ground.

"I knew it!" She leaned over to tap on his shoulder playfully. "I can't believe it! Why didn't you say so?"

"To be fair, Gwyn" He raised his hands in surrender "I only remembered I've already read this in the last hour. It's not like I don't have five hundred years on my back. "

She shook her head, but couldn't hide her smile.

As he watched her schooling her expression into a serious one once again, Azriel realized he didn't plan to tell her about it for two reasons. The first was that he really couldn't remember almost anything from the plot, so it wasn't that big of a deal. And the second, and that one was hidden deep within him, he didn't want the precious expression from the moment she first read the synopsis out loud to fade if he told her the truth. That excitement and pure joy only Gwyneth Berdara could express.

Besides, he was more than content in casually sitting beside her, feeling the smooth touch of her legs against his or her feet atop his knees, in comfortable silence as they both read; it almost didn't matter which book they were reading. Not that he would admit that.

Not just yet.

"Anyways" Gwyn's face was dead serious now, as she returned to the subject in question. "Since you read it, we might as well discuss it already. For Mother's sake, why did Aliana lie to Milfred?"

Azriel frowned in confusion, waving his hand for her to remind him, trying to retrieve the scene of a book he'd read over two centuries ago. "Again, Gwyn. Five hundred years on my back."

She sighed, and unconsciously fell back against the cushions, extending her legs to their previous spot. She didn't let herself dwell on how Azriel's expression softened at that, as if he'd also been missing their touch:

"They are best friends, and Aliana chose not to tell Milfred she knew about what she truly was, even if it could change the entire plot; and their entire friendship was based on trust! Cauldron, why do authors keep on doing that? She should have told her from the first time Milfred saw the Oracle."

"I can see your point" Azriel murmured after he drew on a breath, cocking his head.

"But?" Her eyes narrowed.

His expression was cautious for a moment, but when he spoke, he was assertive: "Sometimes we have to lie to the ones we love, even if it hurt us to do so."

"I'm aware of that, but that's beyond the point. It's controversial to Aliana's character. Not to say it would've probably reduced a lot of the drama and angst. They are stronger together, and this should be obvious to both of them."

They were in a dangerous territory, Azriel could feel.

Truth is a delicate matter, Shadowsinger.

His shadows coiled around his ear, whispering. He ignored them and studied Gwyn. Her copper hair in a messy braid, clad in her usual robes. The priestess he have come to call a friend. Best friend, even.

"Is it?" The corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily as she crossed her arms against her chest, and he kept on "Controversial to her character? I mean, I know that they value trust above everything, but sometimes feelings may come in the way. And that doesn't necessarily mean they are controversial, just... Flawed."

Gwyn huffed, and something about the way the Shadowsinger averted his gaze at the last word, hazel eyes flashing a glimpse of pain, urged her to talk. Or hug him. Which she wouldn't do.

Not now, at least.

She opted for the former:

"If well written, yes. It does show complexity in a character. But I haven't advanced enough so far to determine that, so... To me, right now it only screams inconsistency." She shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

To make the brooding Spymaster smile again.

"Ah, and lack of originality, of course."

It worked.

He chuckled and grabbed his book, that frown going away and almost making Gwyn sigh with relief:

"So you should keep on reading." He nodded to her copy, that crooked smile still on his face. "To confirm your opinions, that is. Not because I've said it three times already."

It was like Azriel couldn't control himself when he actually winked at her. But he enjoyed it, almost too much.

"I guess I should. Meanwhile, let's settle on agreeing to disagree." She opened her book once again. Her eyes glinted with mischief, but her blushing cheeks gave her away.

And damn him if the thought of making her flush didn't spread his smile even further.

"Besides" She added, brows high, eyes never leaving the page "It's obvious I'm reading for this sole purpose."

"Of course you are." His answer matched the tone of her statement, and they fell into comfortable silence once again. Effortless, like they could just be around each other, without second thoughts.

But the words she said before still ringed in Azriel's ears. Were echoed by his shadows.

They are stronger together, and this should be obvious to both of them.

And as he kept his gaze on her for a moment longer, who now was absorbed by the story, he realized maybe he should start admitting some things.

#gwynriel #gwynriel week #gwynrielweek #az and gwyn reading YAY #and bantering YAY #and flirting YAY #this is kind of a multipov and i've never written this way before but i liked the overall result #hope it's clear #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel drabble? one shot? idk #post acosf #azriel #azriel x gwyn

[glimmerglanger]

Snippet for Home (On the Range): I'm curious about any past relationships Cody and Ben have had, and so if you feel up to it, I'd love to watch them have the conversation about past loves that always has to happen eventually. :D

:D GOOD MORNING! I almost said this was the first of the follow-ups for "Home (On the Range)" but, in fact, there've been two already aha. This is the first one set AFTER the fic, though only by a week or so.

This is a (not that) little Codywan snippet. Established relationship and it got VERY SPICY. Grown-up conversations ensue.

~~~~

The temperatures had dipped well into chilly, at least overnight, when Cody suggested they head out deep into the ranch one evening. “You can see every star up there,” he said, pulling Ben into a kiss. “Thought it might be nice. And we’ll want to do it before it gets any colder.”

Ben wondered if the suggestion had anything to do with the astronomy lessons he’d been prepping for class, even as he hummed agreement. They piled blankets into the bed of Cody’s truck, along a sleeping bag and a few thermoses full of something warm.

It was dark by the time they pulled up onto the ridge of a hill, deep inside the borders of the ranch. Cody turned the lights off, nothing but the rumble of the engine breaking the stillness of the night, and said, “It’ll take a bit for our eyes to adjust. Half an hour, maybe.”

“Oh, really?” Ben said, hooking a finger into the collar of Cody’s shirt and pulling him over, murmuring, against his mouth, “whatever shall we do to fill the time?”

Cody huffed a laugh, mouth welcoming and warm, swearing briefly when Ben added, after a beat, “You know, I’m not sure there’s any way I can fit into your lap over there.”

Cody’s eyes caught the light of the stars outside, just a little, as he rasped back, “Good thing we’ve got the entire bed of the truck, then.” And he popped open his door, allowing in the cooler outside air, even as he turned off the truck.

The air felt nippy on Ben’s face as they climbed up into the bed of the truck, but it wasn’t so bad, really. They’d spread out the sleeping bag along the bed, keeping away the chill of the metal, and there were plenty of blankets.

And, well.

Kissing Cody always warmed him up, anyway. Ben thought about pulling his close, the stars as yet unseen stretching overhead and the hills rolling all around them, the Tetons watching, sentinels in the distance.

Cody swore when his phone buzzed, pulling it out of his pocket and taking a step away from the truck as Ben finished sorting the blankets, considering that he’d never had sex in the back of a truck before. It seemed a nice idea, making love out under the endless sky.

He grimaced when he recalled that he’d left his wallet back at the house, condoms along with it, though he’d slid a packet of lube into his front pocket. He frowned, swinging over the side of the truck to see if Cody had brought his wallet, plucking it from his pocket as he said, “--Rex, I swear to God, if you try to come out here right now--”

He winked when Cody looked over at him, waving the wallet, and listening to Rex laugh, his voice distant and distorted through the phone.

Ben left them to it, climbing back up into the truck, flipping Cody’s wallet open, pleased to find a familiar little foil square tucked inside. He drew it out, planning to set it aside for use in a bit, when they needed it, and frowned.

It felt...odd.

He tilted it around - noting the brand - and peered at it in the light provided by the moon and the stars. He blinked, grabbed his own phone, and turned it on to get enough light to read it properly, sure that he’d misread the expiration date, because--

“Something wrong?” Cody asked, the truck dipping slightly as he stepped up onto the bed, apparently done with Rex.

“Well,” Ben said, putting down his phone and turning the condom in his fingers. “Aside from the fact that this condom expired five years ago, not really.”

Cody paused, still standing, looking down at him. “Oh,” he said, as Ben turned the little packet again and then, on a whim, tore it open. He’d never actually seen one expire before.

“Hm,” he said, wrinkling his nose. Apparently, they were not one of the things that stayed good, even long, long after they expired. Any moisture had long since disappeared. The condom itself looked like a dessicated snake skin, or something like it. “I don’t think this’ll work,” he added. “Though we could try rehydrating it, I suppose, I--”

“Let’s not do experiments on the condom,” Cody said, taking it out of his fingers and tucking it into a pocket. “Should we go back to the house? Get another one?” He sank down, close by, and Ben considered it, but--

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to entertain ourselves,” he said, looped an arm around Cody’s shoulders, and pulled him close.

He’d gotten familiar with the best ways to take off Cody’s clothes, unbuttoning his flannel shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, tugging his undershirt out of his waistband. Cody pulled the blankets up around them, the warmth from his skin translating into Ben’s body as Ben shimmied out of his jeans, pulling his own shirt over his head.

The moonlight shone off of Cody’s skin, caught in the dark curls of his hair. Their breath steamed the air - the temperature had really plunged with the fall of night - but Ben didn’t feel cold, not as they tangled close together, trading kisses that set a fire in his veins, not with Cody putting off heat like a furnace, warm hands all over Ben’s skin.

And Ben had become rather fond of the idea of getting fucked under the stars, in the brief time he’d had to consider it. Just because it wasn’t going to happen the way he’d initially assumed didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen at all.

“Here,” he rasped, rolling onto his side, grabbing for the jeans and the lube in his pocket, pulling it out, “Here, like this, ah, Cody.”

Cody’s weight felt good against his back, warm and solid, Cody’s teeth scraping along the curve of his shoulder as he settled, taking the packet of lube from Ben’s fingers without any of the hesitation he’d displayed the first few times they were intimate with one another.

“Like this?” Cody rumbled, right against his shoulder, and Ben heard the wet movement of Cody slicking up his own cock, felt the smear of the rest of the lube over the back of his thighs and--

Exhaled, hard, when Cody ground against him, overheated flesh sliding together. Probably, they were making more of a mess than they should have done, out in the middle of some field, out in - in such an exposed place, but--

It was hard to care, with Cody sucking a kiss into his neck and grinding against him, panting out, “Spread your legs, just a little,” and when Ben listened, slotting his cock right between Ben’s thighs, rocking them together.

If there were anyone around, Ben hated to think what would have been overheard, the two of them swearing and gasping and groaning. He knew he cried out, loudly, when Cody slid a hand over his hip, gripping his cock and stroking him, so sure and so steady and--

Well.

The sleeping bag was going to need a wash when they got back home.

So was Ben, in all honesty.

He laughed, hoarsely, when Cody pulled away from him, leaving his inner thighs smeared with come. It was quite warm, at first, but Ben knew that wouldn’t last. “See,” he said, sprawling onto his side, thighs held apart, groping for something to wipe up with, “a condom would have prevented this mess.”

“Sorry about that,” Cody said, and then, “here, use my shirt.”

And then he used it himself, wiping up the mess all over Ben’s legs and cock. He even smeared away the mess on the sleeping bag, as best he could. Ben watched him - he was easier to see, Ben’s eyes must have adjusted, and said, “Why did you have an expired condom in your wallet, anyway?”

Cody balled his shirt up, the mess tucked away inside, and shrugged. He tossed it into one corner of the bed of the truck. “It’s just the one I’ve always had. I never really checked the date on it.”

Ben blinked, turning that over in his head, even as Cody settled close to him, naked under the blankets. Ben said, as Cody curled an arm around him. “The one you’ve always - you - what does that mean?”

Cody shrugged, stubble rasping against Ben’s shoulder, while Ben wondered if Cody had really avoided using a condom before, because that didn’t sound like him at all, and--

“I got it, ah, years ago. When I was - when I thought I might need it. But then I didn’t. I kept it, just in case. But…” He trailed off, shrugging again.

Ben blinked up at the clear, shining stars, and then rolled to face Cody, gut doing something strange. “Wait. Did you never--”

“I did stuff,” Cody said, still staring up at the stars. “A few times with, uh, with a guy I really liked. He competed, too. We were friends for a while. And then one day I just wanted to kiss him, so I did. And we, well. Fooled around, I guess. But then I beat him, pretty soundly, and he didn’t want to anymore.”

Ben blinked, processing that. He’d known that, sooner or later, they’d end up having a talk about their pasts. That kind of thing happened. “He didn’t want to anymore?” he asked, trying to get his mind around anyone not wanting Cody anymore, he was--

“Yeah, I guess.” Cody sighed, tucked his arm behind his head, and stared starward. “And I’d already bought the string of condoms, even though we’d only needed two. But then it was over, so. And I put one in my wallet.”

Ben watched his expression carefully. He didn’t seem upset. Just...relating the story. “And then you never used it,” Ben said, quietly.

“Never needed it,” Cody said, shrugging against the sleeping bag. “I’ve been busy since then. And didn’t have anyone I particularly wanted to use it with.”

“Oh,” Ben said, the cold air nipping at his exposed skin, but ever so warm under the blankets.

“What about you?” Cody asked, before he could wrangle another thought together. “Yours aren’t ever expired.”

“Ah, no,” Ben said, and then shrugged, settling against Cody’s side. “I’ve always been very careful to use them.” He felt his ears heat.

Cody hummed, curled an arm tighter around him, and said, “I know you’ve been with more people’n me, Ben. It doesn’t bother me. Hell, I’m glad one of us knows what we’re doing.”

Ben exhaled a little, snuggling in closer against the cold. It had, probably, been foolish to worry, to brace for disapproval. He traced patterns on Cody’s chest under the blanket and said, “I had no idea that you didn’t, ah, know what you were doing.”

Cody snorted, rolling onto his side, brushing a kiss to Ben’s cheek and then his mouth, fingers tracing down his spine. His expression, what Ben could see of it, looked a bit smug. “I learn fast,” he said, tone warm and low. “Especially when I get hands-on instruction.”

“I see that.” Ben crooked his mouth, brushing Cody’s hair back from his face. He figured, feeling soft and content, that if they were going to discuss their histories, he might as well finish it all, and went on, “I haven’t had many long relationships. Just...brief flings. A longer thing with a girl, right before I started college. And Luminara and I tried to make something work, once. But we’re much better friends than lovers.”

Cody nodded, said, “I never was very interested in girls.”

“Mm, I gathered.” He leaned in for another kiss, shivering when Cody brushed his callused fingers a little lower. He rasped, gut tightening, “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry,” Cody murmured, nipping his bottom lip. “And sorry we don’t have all the supplies we need.” Ben hummed, not overly concerned by the lack, not when they could trade sweet, lazy kisses, occasionally glancing at the stars, until Cody went on, “You know. We could - well. We’re together. Just the two of us.”

Ben turned away from his contemplation of a constellation he couldn’t name, nodding, and Cody went on, “We could get tested. I mean. I don’t think I could have caught anything, to be honest. And if I had, I think I’d have noticed in the last couple of years. And you’ve been careful, you said. But better to check. And then…”

He shrugged, and Ben considered it. He’d never slept with anyone skin on skin. Qui-Gon had been exceedingly clear about all the possible consequences of skipping out on protection. Even with Satine, young and giddy half the time, he’d always been careful.

But - he didn’t plan to share his bed with anyone else, he considered, staring across at Cody in the dark, under the brilliant light of the stars and the moon. He didn’t want to kiss anyone else. Or pull anyone else close in the night.

His heart ached in his chest, sweetly, and he said, “And then we wouldn’t need supplies to have sex in the back of your truck?”

“Mm,” Cody said, rolling closer to him, one elbow braced by his head, leaning down to kiss him, “Or to make love under the stars, either.”

Ben shivered, curled an arm around him, and felt his stomach swoop, imagining that, imagining them skin to skin everywhere. He said, his voice gone to a rasp, “That sounds very nice,” and Cody smiled against his mouth, kissing him again.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #home (on the range) #the cowboy au #follow ups #snippets #codywan #SPICY #enjoy!

[azaisya]

here the xuexiao snippet from the daemon au i mentioned (rating t, 2.4k words)

Xiao Xingchen was sitting on the ground by the fire, a ratty grey blanket draped over his shoulders and his head bowed as if that would help him see A-Qing’s tunic better. The pads of his fingers fluttered over the cloth, deftly seeking rips and tears so that he could sew them shut. His sewing needle flashed golden in the firelight. 

It should’ve been frustrating, watching him work. It was slow and clumsy, and he frequently had to stop and make sure that he was still sewing in the right spot. 

It wasn’t frustrating, though. It wasn’t even boring. Xue Yang could watch him for hours, delighting in each tiny, uneven stitch. A-Qing and her dumb daemon were asleep in the house, and so he didn’t even have to deal with her irritating comments or half-pretend that he was doing something other than staring. 

This was a picture of Xiao Xingchen that few ever saw: ratty blanket and flickering firelight and soft-edged fondness. 

Xue Yang wanted to marinate in it.

A-Mei, lying folded at his feet, huffed into the dirt. He kicked her lazily, and she snapped her teeth at him. She could snap his bones up, if she wanted to. She liked snapping bones, whether they were human or daemon or animal. 

Xiao Jia was the exact opposite of her, all white elegance and delicate lines. He was curled up in the shadows beyond the firelight, head resting in the dirt and milky eyes staring into nothingness. He didn’t seem to be paying attention, but he was rarely ever paying attention. He’d been different before, when he’d had his eyes. Xue Yang missed his eyes, sort of. They’d been dark and watchful and so very interested in everything they saw. 

Well. That wasn’t quite true. He didn’t miss the eyes, because if Xiao Jia still had his eyes then none of this would be possible. But he missed the daemon’s clever quickness. He was strange and somber, now, and it was rare to see him alert and talkative when he didn’t have the adrenaline of battle to spur him from whatever quiet fugue he normally existed in. 

Xue Yang would love nothing more than to dig his hands into that daemon, to find just how deep his scars ran. 

Xiao Xingchen let out a sharp ah of air, and the golden needle paused. 

“Poke yourself?” Xue Yang asked, grinning his lazy cat-smug grin. 

Xiao Xingchen smiled, a touch ruefully. “Just a little.” 

Immediately, Xue Yang abandoned his seat, crowding into Xiao Xingchen’s space and grabbing his hands. Xiao Xingchen let him, and Xue Yang grinned even wider. He reveled in Xiao Xingchen’s trust. It made him feel like he was burning. He thought he might explode, when the tension finally built up just so and he could call Xiao Xingchen’s name in his true voice. 

Even the thought of his reaction—that perfect face going stark white, those perfect lips parting in shock—was enough to send a delightful shiver down Xue Yang’s spine. 

It just wasn’t time yet. 

“Ai, Daozhang, what am I supposed to do with you?” he asked, teasing and shameless all at once. Xiao Xingchen had stabbed his index finger, and a tiny bead of blood welled to the surface. It glimmered tantalizingly in the firelight, like a little drop of amber. 

Xiao Xingchen’s lips twitched. “I don’t know, what are you?”

Xue Yang beamed. “I’m laughing at you. This is a very important fact that I’m telling you because you can’t see it.”

Xiao Xingchen’s smile transformed into a grin, and a startled laugh escaped his lips. “Ah—”

Lightning quick, Xue Yang darted forwards and sucked the tip of the finger into his mouth. Greedily, eyes locked on Xiao Xingchen’s face, he hollowed his cheeks and swirled his tongue across the pad of his finger. The iron taste of blood bloomed over his tongue, but mostly he just tasted the salt-and-flesh of skin.

An intake of breath slipped through Xiao Xingchen’s lips in a tiny gasp. 

Satisfied, Xue Yang sat back and deposited Xiao Xingchen’s hand back into his lap. 

Xiao Xingchen just sat there. He didn’t even seem to be breathing, a statue frozen with its lips parted in shock and its spine taut with tension. 

Except he wasn’t a statue, of course. The evidence was in the subtle taste still lingering on Xue Yang’s tongue and in the brilliant scarlet spreading across his face, his ears, his neck. He was gloriously, undeniably alive—

And he was all Xue Yang’s. 

Xue Yang’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. He felt like he was about to come apart at the seams. He felt like he was half-awake. He felt immortal. Unable to keep the hitch from his voice, he said, “Better, Daozhang?”

“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen said, voice faint, “Yes.” His fingers twitched towards his needle, still poked through the folds of A-Qing’s tunic, but he didn’t pick it up. He seemed to have lost the ability to function. 

Xue Yang leaned back against his elbows, head tilted towards Xiao Xingchen, angling his body to put himself close to Xiao Xingchen’s thigh. He could feel the too-hot heat of the fire against his toes, but it was nothing compared to the warmth emanating from Xiao Xingchen. 

Xiao Xingchen let out all of his breath in one, long exhale. And then he shifted, pressing himself entirely into Xue Yang’s side. Xue Yang didn’t move away, and Xiao Xingchen’s lips settled into the tiniest of smiles—his content one, the one that came out when he was warm and happy enough to stop thinking—as he picked up his needle and thread again. 

Xue Yang could hardly breathe past the satisfaction beating in his ribs. He’d done this! Him. Not anybody else. 

A-Mei sent him a wave of prickly irritation. He responded with a concentrated spike of pure smugness. 

Grumbling, she dragged herself to her feet and plodded across the dirt to throw all forty pounds of her body into his stomach. 

Xue Yang grunted, knocked breathless by the collision. “Bitch.”

She yowled in his face. 

Xiao Xingchen paused, fingers carefully laying the needle down so he didn’t poke himself again. “My friend?”

Xue Yang grimaced. “It’s just the bitch.”

Xiao Xingchen hummed, disapproving in a way that meant I don’t think you should call your other half a bitch and not I don’t like you using that language because I’m a prude. Xue Yang had mistaken it the first few times, but then he’d sworn up a storm when he’d dropped a stack of wood on his toes and Xiao Xingchen had laughed. 

Laughed!

A-Mei shoved her head into his stomach and he grunted, irritably lifting a hand to flick her in the nose. 

“You’re so strange,” Xiao Xingchen murmured, smile audible in his voice. 

Xue Yang pouted adorably at him, and then pouted more when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to see the pout. Oh well. It came through in his voice, probably. “Me?”

Xiao Xingchen laughed. “Both of you. I’ve never met somebody who fought with their daemon.”

Xue Yang shrugged. He wouldn’t really call it fighting. They never fought, not properly. They just had fun together, and that was all. “That’s just how we are,” he said easily, running his fingers through the soft fur on A-Mei’s chest. There were lots of things that were strange about him. A-Mei didn’t even make the top ten. Sure, she didn’t like to talk. But if he had a jaw strong enough to bring down even full-grown deer, he wouldn’t bother talking much either. 

He and A-Mei didn’t need to talk, anyways. They understood each other on an instinctual level, one that required no thought and little emotion. They were one, in a way that even most people and their daemons weren’t. 

If he was the sort to introspect, he might postulate that it was because he didn’t bother with the trappings and facades that normal people reveled in. He knew himself, in a way that people like Jin Guangyao—with his masks upon masks upon masks—could never. He didn’t let himself be trapped by what he should be or what society thought he was supposed to be. He simply was. 

Mildly, he said, “We’re not as strange as you and Xiao Jia.”

The easy contentment didn’t fade from Xiao Xingchen’s face, but his lips twisted ever so slightly down. “I suppose that’s true.” 

Xue Yang looked over his shoulder to where Xiao Jia was lying in the darkness. His eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping. 

Suddenly, Xiao Xingchen said, “That’s just how we are, too.”

Xue Yang scoffed, but he didn’t say anything. He knew that wasn’t true, but Xiao Xingchen’s dear, harmless friend wouldn’t. He could say something, but what would be the point in ruining a nice night like this?

Xiao Xingchen tilted his face towards the fire. The smile was completely gone now, and he looked all melancholy and somber, like he got on cold nights when the snow buried them inside the little coffin house and he thought everybody else was asleep. 

Xue Yang scowled. He didn’t like that expression. That expression meant that Xiao Xingchen was thinking of Song Lan, and fuck Song Lan. Xue Yang had half a mind to run out and find him, just so that he could stab his eyes out for real this time. 

Well. Maybe not. Those were Xiao Xingchen’s eyes, and Xiao Xingchen had always had such pretty eyes. 

Without a trace of his irritation in his voice, Xue Yang rolled over to pillow his head in Xiao Xingchen’s lap and declared, “Nevermind that. What do I care about strangeness?” He tilted his head up, lips curled into a teasing leer that A-Qing’s stupid daemon would bite him for. “He’s pretty, anyways.”

Xiao Xingchen had gone very still beneath him. But that lost expression was gone, chased away by a blush that flared over his entire face. The daozhang didn’t blush prettily, but that was okay. Xue Yang liked him better this way. “Ah,” he said, faintly. 

Xue Yang grinned, thinking that that was the end of that. Xiao Xingchen would call him shameless—not in so many words, of course, because he was polite and flustered—and Xue Yang would tease back before retreating to the other side of the fire, and then they could continue their lovely night without A-Qing or Song Lan’s stupid memory. 

Instead, Xiao Xingchen’s fingers alighted on the crown of Xue Yang’s head. Xue Yang’s breath caught in the back of his throat, his muscles seizing up and his heart beating rabbit-quick against his lungs.

Which was silly. He had a knife up his sleeve, and he could bury that in Xiao Xingchen’s heart before the other managed to close his fingers around Xue Yang’s throat. 

Xiao Xingchen’s touch was gentle and cool. It fluttered lightly over Xue Yang’s brow before settling in his hair, fingers tangling in the ink-dark strands and stroking as if he were an animal. 

Xue Yang should snap at him. He wasn’t an animal, and he wasn’t going to be treated like one. 

“Ah,” he said, a meaningless exhalation of air. “Huh.”

Xiao Xingchen’s expression was radiant beneath the blindfold. Also, infuriatingly smug. Xue Yang couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’d return the compliment,” Xiao Xingchen said, sounding just as light and soft and delighted as Xue Yang felt, “but I don’t know what your daemon looks like.”

A-Mei let out a grumble yowl-snarl at that. Her claws dug into Xue Yang’s gut. 

Xue Yang heroically resisted the urge to shove her off. She should be grateful. 

A thought struck him, and his eyes locked onto Xiao Xingchen’s pleasant expression. “Aww, daozhang,” he said, pitching his voice saccharinely sweet, “Is this just your way of asking to touch my daemon?”

The results were spectacular. Xiao Xingchen’s blush deepened, red crawling down his neck, and his fingers stuttered in Xue Yang’s hair, “I— I wouldn’t presume—”

Xue Yang wanted to press his lips to that blush. He wanted to follow it, to see how far down it went. He wanted to swallow it whole. “No, no, not at all!” he said, grin wide enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if his face split in two. This was their game, after all: Xue Yang pushed and pushed and pushed, and Xiao Xingchen blushed prettily-not-prettily and demurred.

“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen said, that delightful punched-out surprised sound. 

Xue Yang loved that sound. It was quite possibly his favorite sound in the whole world. This was quite possibly his favorite game. “This one would be honored if daozhang touched his daemon.”

Except Xiao Xingchen didn’t get flustered. He didn’t back off. He reached out to A-Mei. 

Xue Yang’s jaw dropped. He’d expected Xiao Xingchen to balk, to surrender to the courtesy his oh-so-fancy upbringing had imparted to him. He’d forgotten that, sometimes, Xiao Xingchen flipped the game right on its heels. 

And, normally, it was fun when Xiao Xingchen surrendered to one of Xue Yang’s shameless whims. It was satisfying, to drag him further down to earth. 

But this was—

This was—

A-Mei pressed her snout into Xiao Xingchen’s palm. 

Xue Yang died. He was dead! There was no reason for anybody else’s hands to be on his daemon unless he was dying and they were killing him. 

His body didn’t seem to care. It went entirely boneless, sagging like a wet rag into Xiao Xingchen’s lap. A-Mei shifted, crawling up Xue Yang’s chest and closer to Xiao Xingchen.

Xiao Xingchen’s touch was just as feather-light as it’d been in Xue Yang’s hair, the pads of his fingers brushing over A-Mei’s eyes, A-Mei’s ears, A-Mei’s back. 

It felt like bursts of starfire or summer sun or revelations. 

“Ah,” Xue Yang gasped again. 

A-Mei hit him with a wall of superior-smug-satisfaction-mine-hah-MINE. 

Xue Yang couldn’t care less. 

“What is she?” Xiao Xingchen asked, voice hushed with the enormity of the moment. 

Xue Yang opened his mouth. Like a cloud passing over the sun, like a sword punching through flesh, reality crept back in. 

Would Xiao Xingchen remember her shape? She’d bitten Xiao Jia, once. Would he know the name of what she was? Would he think to make that connection?

Feeling suddenly cold, he sat up. A-Mei flopped onto the ground with an irritated hiss, and Xiao Xingchen made a questioning noise. Xue Yang just laughed. “Something with teeth.”

He could’ve said it with his real voice. He could’ve revealed his soul for what it was. 

He didn’t, though. 

It wasn’t time.

[the rest of the au]

#xue yang #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #mdzs daemon au #uhhh yeah thats all im gonna tag #ill add my usual fandom and organization tags later #candleswriting #a series of increasingly terrible dinner parties

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Winter Solstice

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Seven

A JSE Fanfic

Well after last week’s brief foray into writing for a different fandom, we return to the septics once again. The FM!septics to be exact. It’s the winter solstice, meaning there are holidays to celebrate! Chase, Jackie, and Henrik have a great day that totally doesn’t become suddenly serious near the end haha nope just fun times all around with some world building and character development :) Enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The day dawned cold and snowy, but nobody at Wyvernlair cared. Not when today was the winter solstice. This was a time for celebration! And with all the people in the camp, there was bound to be a big party. Preparations had been ongoing for the past few weeks. Food was made, games were planned, and time was set aside for those honoring the various holy days. When the day itself dawned, normal duties were put on hold so that everyone could join in. 

Chase woke up at sunrise. He had a quick breakfast—light, since there would be a lot of food at the feast planned for that night—and strolled about, taking in the changes. Everyone was bustling about as usual, but now they chattered with excitement. Some people had hung decorations outside their tents: replicas of snowflakes made from white-painted sticks, candles with carved designs set on the ground, pine branches and snippets of other winter-blooming plants scattered about. Combined with the white layer of snow, it was quite beautiful.

Yet, Chase felt a pang somewhere deep in his chest. Last year, he’d spent Longest Night with his family and the rest of the village. There’d been town celebrations in the square. He helped Quentin carve his first candle. And now? Now, he didn’t know where his family was.

“Chase!”

He was snapped out of his melancholy thoughts when he heard someone call his name. In the middle of turning to see who it was, that ‘someone’ barrelled straight into him. “Oof!” He was about to respond, but found he couldn’t, because he’d been wrapped in a tight bear hug.

“Sorry, did I knock the wind out of you? Sorry!” Jackie was too full of energy to notice he apologized twice. He gave Chase one last squeeze before breaking off the hug.

“It’s okay, just give me more warning next time.” Chase took a minute to catch his breath. “Well. Happy Longest Night, then?”

“Happy Longest Night, then!” Jackie repeated. He whirled his cloak around dramatically. It was still red, but slightly nicer, with a fur lining. His wolf mask was pushed back, sitting on his forehead. “You know the plan, right? We’re having games all day. War games, dice games, card games—a few strategy games, too, the ones we have the boards for in storage. Then there’s the feast later, and the Dark Vigil tonight.”

“Yea, I understand,” Chase said, a faint smile on his face. He couldn’t help it; Jackie was contagious. “How many people will be at the Vigil?”

“A fair share. Schneep won’t; he does something at moonrise instead.” Jackie shrugged. “Are you planning to do any of the games? What about archery?!”

Chase laughed. “No, no, I’m not good enough to compete in a war game. I’ll probably just drift around and join in where I can. Do you think anyone will be playing Luck of the Deal? I’m very good at that.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s good at Luck of the Deal. That’s the whole thing about it, it’s luck.”

“You don’t know that. There’s skill involved, too,” Chase insisted.

Jackie patted his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Hunter. It’ll be some time before everything really gets going. Anything you want to do before that?”

“Umm...” Chase thought about it. “Well, is there anything I can do to help with the feast preparations? That’s usually a community thing, isn’t it?”

“Well we already have a lot of volunteers for cooking. They’ve already gotten started, in fact.” Jackie thought about it. “But if you want to help, you could put your hunting skills to the test in the surrounding woods. Always good to have more food than less, on these occasions. People would eat their plates, if it was possible.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I know that. Amabel would eat us out of home on Longest Night. She must’ve gotten her appetite from Stacia’s side of the family.” Saying their names, the melancholy threatened to return.

“Honestly? I have a confession.” Jackie leaned closer. “I’m one of those types, too.”

“Oh? Somehow, that makes sense.”

“And somehow I’m offended.” Jackie gave him a playful shove. “If you want to go ahead, you know where the shortbows and arrows are. Oh!” His eyes widened as he remembered something. “But try not to shoot any pigeons. Those are important.”

“Important?” Chase put the pieces together. “You mean...messenger birds?”

Jackie nodded. “I don’t expect anyone to send messages on the solstice except for an emergency, but there might be some arriving that were sent a fews days, or even a week, ago. It takes a while to fly across the island.”

“Got it. I won’t shoot any pigeons.” Chase shook his head, a bit in awe. “Messenger birds.” He’d heard of them, but never seen them in use. Somehow, they seemed almost as magical as actual magic. Getting letters sent across the kingdom in a matter of days? That was amazing. “I’ll just head out, then.”

“Good luck, Chase!” Jackie said cheerfully, waving as he turned to leave. “Be back before noon, that’s when the fun will start!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

If possible, it was even colder out in the forest, away from the magic heat of the dragon bones. Chase clutched his jacket tighter and made sure his hat was securely on his head. He doubted that he’d find any animals out here. By Longest Night, most of them were hibernating. But it was worth a shot.

Snow crunched under his feet, so he slowed down, carefully placing every step so it wouldn’t make too much noise. There wasn’t a lot of foliage to hide behind in the winter, but he had made sure to grab a white jacket from storage to help him blend in. He’d also turned his hat inside out so that the red ribbon around it didn’t show. After a while, he found what he thought was a good spot to wait. So he settled down, nocking an arrow so it would be ready to fly at any moment.

The world became very still. The only sound he heard was his breath, accompanied by the small puffs of mist that breath caused in the cold. He made sure not to move a muscle.

Until there was a sudden sound. Footsteps, very light, being pursued by much heavier ones. His eyes darted towards the sound. The bare branches of a bush rustled, and suddenly a streak of brown fur dashed out in front of him followed by something much larger—

Chase reacted, letting go of the bow string and loosing the arrow. It shot through the air and landed solidly in the brown furry something. Shocked, he laughed in the rush of actually shooting something moving that fast. But then a voice cried, “I knew it!”

“Wh...?” And Chase finally noticed what the large something pursuing the small animal actually was. He looked up from his position near the ground to see...Lukas. It took him a moment to recognize him without his usual fox mask, but once the brown-auburn hair and tall longbow registered, his heart immediately sank with dread. “What are you doing—”

Lukas took an arrow out of the quiver on his back and nocked it, aiming at Chase. “Did you think you could take me out when nobody was looking?! Claim it was an accident?!”

“What in the world?!” Chase stood up. Slowly, of course, he didn’t want to get skewered by that massive arrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to play dumb, you just tried to kill me!”

“I was shooting the rabbit!” He pointed at the small animal, which was, in fact, a rabbit.

“A likely cover story.”

All of a sudden, Chase felt hot rage rise up his throat. “I know you hate me but you don’t have to be an idiot about it!” he burst out.

That seemed to take Lukas by surprise. He blinked, and lowered his bow slightly.

“I don’t know what kind of trust issues you have or where they come from, but I’m sick of you always acting this way! I’ve been here for almost a full season now, and you still act like I’m about to stab you in the back the first opportunity I get! I know, you’re probably thinking something like ‘he’s playing a long game to get everyone to trust him,’ but let’s be honest, you’re just looking for any justification to be like this. I wouldn’t trust someone like me in your position either, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. You don’t have to like me, you don’t have to trust me, but elders be damned, you don’t have to stir up this much trouble for Jackie and Henrik and everyone else here!” Chase ran out of breath and was forced to stop. He waited silently for Lukas’s reaction.

For a while, there wasn’t one. Lukas just...stared at him. Then he lowered his bow fully, putting the arrow back in its quiver. “What are you doing out here?” he asked in a carefully-neutral tone.

“We have some time before the real celebrations start, so I thought I’d help out by trying to find more food for the feast,” Chase explained. He walked past Lukas and picked up the rabbit, trying not to feel sad. Something about shooting rabbits made him feel guilty. Maybe he respected how hard they worked to stay alive, running so swiftly. Or maybe he thought they were cute. “What are you doing out here?”

“The same thing,” Lukas answered.

Chase snorted. “And you decided to bring that monster of a bow for hunting?”

“It’s more powerful than yours,” Lukas retorted.

“Yes, but it’s also heavier and more cumbersome. I remember my second day here, Holly said that big bows like that were more suited for long range, while shortbows—” Chase waved his bow as an example. “—are better for mobility. Look at all these trees. Do you think you’re able to shoot long range in a forest? Not to mention if you miss, you’ll end up burying your arrow in a tree with all the force you need to fire it. That’ll just be a pain to pull out.”

“I know all this,” Lukas said irritably. “But I’m most familiar with this style of bow. I can make it work.”

“Maybe if you weren’t stomping around the woods,” Chase muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You were running after the rabbit. Bad idea; you’ll never catch up with them. It’s better to wait and let the animals come to you. If you have to move, be quieter about it. And slow. Conserve your energy; animals get tired faster than humans.” Chase glanced downwards. “You’re wearing heavy boots, I see. Those will make a lot of sound no matter how much you try to be quiet. And your clothes stand out, too. Especially that red band on your wrist. It’s bright and you have to hide it. Like I did.” He turns his cap right-side out again, letting the red ribbon show.

“Hmm.” Lukas eyed him. He did that quite a lot, but somehow, it felt different this time. More...respectful. “Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned away.

“Um...right.” Now that Lukas was leaving, Chase felt the sudden energy that had filled him starting to fade away. “I’ll...see you at the celebrations, then.”

Lukas didn’t say anything, but he raised his hand in acknowledgement, not stopping as he headed back to camp.

Well...that wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Lukas clearly didn’t think worse of him. And he had managed to shoot a rabbit, something he’d rarely done in all his years as a hunter. Though he’d only done that because the rabbit was too busy running from Lukas to notice him crouching nearby. So really, he should thank him.

Maybe later. For now, Chase headed back to camp, ready to join in on the festivities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   

By the time Chase returned to Wyvernlair, the festivities were starting to get underway. Games, mostly. People gathered in circles playing cards, or in threes playing dice, or in pairs playing board games. Others clustered around the players, watching the game and shouting encouragement. Some food was already prepared. Plates of sweet buns and meat pies were passed around. Chase grabbed a couple buns as he looked around.

But though the camp inside the circle of dragon bones was crowded, most people were out on the combat field. That was where the war games were set up. Chase decided to stop by for a moment. Even if he wasn’t going to participate, he wanted to see how things were going.

Targets were set up for archers to test their skill. People had grabbed close-quarters training weapons and were sparring, onlookers cheering on their favored winner. Someone had dragged over a rock and a large branch, setting up a makeshift see-saw that people were standing on top of, trying to knife-fight without losing their balance. Chase shook his head at that particular event. He himself had some scars on his hands from knife-fights as a young man; they really weren’t worth the bragging rights. 

There was an especially large crowd gathered around one particular sparring match. Chase stopped, edging his way into the mass of people as he tried to see what was going on. Wait a minute...was that Jackie?

Indeed, Jackie was one of the sparring participants. And he was easily outclassing his opponent. He easily danced around jabs and swipes, not striking for a while, then jumped forward and hit his opponent on the side with his wooden practice sword. The crowd cheered, and the two participants backed away, shaking hands as they parted. Chase could’ve sworn he saw money change hands among the watchers.

“Anyone want to go for another round?” Jackie called to the crowd. “Doesn’t have to be to the first contact. What about to the ground?”

At that, a tall man grabbed a practice sword from a nearby rack, stepped forward, and announced, “I accept the challenge!” The crowd cheered again. “To the ground!”

Jackie grinned. “To the ground! Someone give us a count!”

In unison, the crowd started chanting, counting down from five as Jackie and his opponent started circling each other. Chase joined in. “Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Clash!”

The two men immediately started going at each other with the practice swords, jabbing and backing up, swiping and dodging. The new opponent tried to make use of his height advantage, but Jackie was just too fast. The sparring lasted a few minutes and the crowd was enthralled for every second. Until Jackie managed to get behind his opponent and knock out his legs, making him fall to the ground. The crowd cheered. The opponent got up, looking no worse for wear and in good spirits. He shook hands with Jackie before leaving. Now Chase was sure he saw people exchanging money.

“He’s got skill, doesn’t he?”

Chase looked up, and saw Holly standing beside him. “Oh. Yea, he’s really good.”

Holly laughed. “That’s an understatement. You know he trained at Fíornear Field?” Chase nodded. “Well, so did I. But he could beat me in a fight nine times out of ten.”

“Really?” Chase asked, interested. “That many times? I thought it would’ve been closer between you two.”

“Everyone does. I say it’s the size difference. But what Jackie lacks in height, he makes up for in practice and sheer determination.” Holly watched as Jackie started sparring with another opponent. “Anyway, Chase. Come to watch or try your hand?”

Chase laughed. “No, no, just watching.”

“Well. In that case.” Holly leaned closer. “Care to try for chance?”

“You mean betting? Don’t tempt me.” Chase shook his head. “Besides, I can tell that betting against Jackie is a waste of time and money.”

“Doesn’t have to be at this spar. There’s many more war games to be had. I hear there’s axe throwing.”

“Axe throwing?” Chase perked up. “Alright, I have to see that. Lead the way.”

Holly laughed, and the two of them left, heading towards a set of targets. Indeed, some people had taken up throwing axes at these targets. Not competing against each other at the moment, only themselves, and also showing off for the passersby. Chase watched as one of the axe-throwers hit the center of her target. Then, surprisingly, he recognized the axe-thrower. “Nemet!” he called.

Nemet turned around, smiling at him. “Hello, Chase! How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. What are you...uh...I didn’t know you threw axes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is it so unexpected?”

Chase shrugged. “Well, you’re a doctor.”

“I am. I am a doctor who likes to throw axes.” Nemet picked up a throwing axe on the ground beside her. She held it back, paused to aim, and threw. It landed right next to the last one she threw. Holly and Chase clapped, impressed.

“Wanna shoot something, Brodyson?”

Chase yelped in surprise at the voice that came from behind him. He spun around to see Tripp grinning up at him. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Maybe,” Tripp said. He was tossing a rock back and forth between his hands. Getting bored of that, he threw it to the side. Magically, the rock curved around, shooting for the target, where it bounced off the handle of one of Nemet’s axes. “Ah, almost a bull’s eye. Anyway, wanna shoot something, Brodyson? We could have a triple competition, axes versus arrows versus sorcery.”

“Hmm.” Chase considered it. “You know I had only planned to watch, but...that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Don’t let him pressure you if you don’t want to, Chase,” Nemet said.

“No, do let him pressure you, I want to see this!” Holly insisted.

Chase laughed. “Alright, fine. Just a few rounds.”

Though as the afternoon passed, those few rounds stretched out into many. Chase had never been one for war games, but somehow, he didn’t mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Eventually, of course, came the main draw of the winter celebrations: the feast. The people who’d volunteered to cook had been preparing food all day, and shortly before sunset, declared it ready. Instantly, a good half of everyone dropped what they were doing and headed over to the cooking fires.

Chase wasn’t sure what to expect from the feast. Wyvernlair didn’t use tables for food, so would everyone be standing around with plates? But it seemed as though they’d found tables, if just for today. Probably borrowed from storage. Some of the meat stayed on the skewer, roasting over the fires to keep it hot until someone wanted it. But most food was lined up on the tables, free to take. Sweet buns and meat pies, of course, but also preserved fruits that had been kept for a special occasion like this, and tarts covered in sugar, and pumpkin pie, and roasted potatoes, and more than could be counted.

Everyone ate until they couldn’t anymore, washing down the food with water, juice, and ale. Chase savored it, mingling and talking with the other Phantoms. And for once, he didn’t feel out of place here.

Time passed. The sun set. And as the feast died down, most people began talking about the Dark Vigil, the ceremony used to honor the Elder of Dark and thank them for protecting humankind from the shadows. Chase yawned. They’d be holding that in the center of camp, where a spot had been cleared specifically for that purpose. But it would be some time before everyone was ready. So, Chase decided to slip out. He headed towards the outside of the skeleton, away from the noise and bustle.

The stars were beautiful tonight. It was clear, without any clouds fogging the view, and the moon was nearly full. Chase leaned back against the bone and stared upward. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to appreciate the world lately. It was all busy, working with the Masked Phantoms. But it was nice to slow down for a moment.

Some minutes passed in silence. Then, he heard footsteps approaching. And then, a small thud, the sound of stumbling, and a muttered “Shiesse!”

Chase looked over towards the sounds, already grinning. “You doing alright there, Henrik?”

With a huff, Henrik emerged from the darkness. “I would be better if I know no one heard that,” he muttered.

Chase laughed. “Anyway, how’re you doing? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, I am fine.” Henrik leaned against the bone next to Chase. “I have been stuck in a dice game for most of the evening. I almost missed the moonrise.”

“I see. Jackie told me you had to do something around then. Is it like the Dark Vigil?” Chase asked.

“Similar, in ways. Different, in others.” Henrik looked up at the sky. He pointed upwards, at the moon. “She is beautiful tonight, yes? I never understood why your Elders never come from the sky.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, I understand there is the Winged Elder One, but they are for more weather, yes?” Henrik kept his eyes fixed skywards. “None of them are for the heavens.”

“Well why would they be?” Chase shrugged. “The sky’s beautiful and wonderful. But it’s so far away. We live on the earth. Shouldn’t we be more concerned with what’s down here?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Henrik sighed. He reached down his belt, removing his flask and taking a drink.

“Oh—” Chase started to say something, then stopped. It would probably be rude to ask, wouldn’t it?

Henrik looked over at him, and guessed what he was about to say. “Yes, I am still taking the medicine. It is...not something that goes away.”

“Sorry,” Chase mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Is okay,” Henrik said, giving him a small smile. “You are polite about it, so I do not mind.” He returned the flask to his belt. “Ah, though I am afraid I must change the subject now. I just remembered. We managed to get the materials for more plaster this week. So you can finally have a mask of your own!”

“I can?” Chase repeated.

“No need to sound so surprised,” Henrik chuckled.

“I did? I didn’t mean to. It just seems a bit...unreal.” Chase had left his borrowed mask, the hedgehog one, back in his tent. Most people had—or at least he assumed they had, since most of them were walking around without them.

“Yes, I understand.” Henrik nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to wait?”

“Wait no, I didn’t say that—”

“I am just making sure.” Henrik playfully nudged his shoulder. “You will need to choose an animal, you know. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Oh right. I forgot about that part.” Chase thought about it for a moment. “What about...a deer?”

Henrik raised an eyebrow. “A deer?”

“Is that not allowed? I mean, Tripp’s mask has those ram horns so I figured antlers would—”

“No, is not that, I just suppose I did not expect that.”

Chase shrugged. “I like deer. They’re good animals. Um...do I have to make the mask myself, or...?”

“You can if you want, but if you’re not artistically inclined, someone else could do it easily enough. It’s not that difficult if you are...�� Henrik trailed off. He was staring out into the trees, eyes fixed on a point. “Chase. Is something moving there?” And he pointed.

“Hm?” Chase peered into the darkness. Indeed, he could see the faint movement of shadows. “Oh, yea. It’s probably just an animal.” He paused. “That’s...getting closer?”

They looked at each other, but unsure what to do with this information, just turned back to watch the animal get closer. And closer. It was too small to be a threat, but Chase felt Henrik tense anyway. Eventually, the animal got close enough to make out what it was. “A...cat?” Chase asked, confused.

“A cat,” Henrik agreed.

“What’s a cat doing all the way out here?”

“I am not sure...” Henrik said slowly, brows lowered as he thought through the possibilities.

The cat continued its course, walking in a straight line up to the two of them. Chase crouched down and held out his hand. “Here, kitty.” Once it was close enough, the cat sniffed his hand. Then, satisfied, butted its head against it. Chase laughed. “Y’know I haven’t met that many cats. When I was young, maybe about twelve, Pastor Cait had a cat. We joked about that, since her name was so similar, ha. But it’s gone now. I don’t think the town had another cat since then. A couple dogs, but no cats.” He reached out and petted it. And after a few seconds of that, scooped up the cat and stood. “Does someone here have a cat?”

“No, there are no animals in camp,” Henrik said, still puzzled. “Does it have a collar?”

Chase checked. Difficult, given that the cat clearly didn’t like being held and was wriggling a bit. “Yea, right here.” He pointed to a braided leather collar around the cat’s neck. “No name, though. For the cat or its person.”

“Well. It is cold and snowy, and even with that fur, I don’t think the cat enjoys being out here,” Henrik stated. “Maybe we should take it into camp? We have that fire set up in the skull now, that could warm it up.”

“Good idea.”

The two of them headed back, passing between the dragon bones and into the main body of Wyvernlair. By now, the festivities were starting to die down. Games were ending, and a lot of people were getting ready to attend the Dark Vigil. Chase and Henrik walked quickly by, since the cat was really struggling against being held by this point. Luckily, it hadn’t used its claws yet, but Chase could already feel them digging into the fabric of his jacket.

They reached the skull soon, passing through the gap where it joined the rest of the bones and ending up inside. It was almost empty here. Except for two people and several birds. Chase blinked a bit at the surprising sight, but then remembered what Jackie had told him that morning. So these must be messenger birds, then. There were about seven of them, pigeons in a variety of colors; white, gray, brown, spotted. Actually, Jackie was here, too. Along with Ana, who Chase had figured out by now was the head of organization at Wyvernlair. They both seemed rather impatient, quickly putting away documents. Probably heading to the Vigil like most others.

Ana looked up, noticed Chase and Henrik, then turned to Jackie and said, “It’s your best friend and his best friend. They have a cat.”

“They have a what?” Jackie spun to look at them. “Oh elders, you have a cat. Where’d you get a cat?”

“It just wandered up,” Chase said. “We thought it might like to get out of the cold—ow!” The cat dug its claws into his skin, managing to pierce the jacket, and Chase instinctively opened his arms. Of course, the cat landed on its feet, and trotted over to the side of the fire, which was slowly dying but still giving off a lot of heat.

“I’ve never seen a cat like that before,” Jackie muttered. “That’s a really unique pattern, isn’t it?” The cat was mostly a brownish off-white, but its ears and tails were dark gray, almost black, and the tail had rings of lighter gray. Its legs were striped with light brown, and it had markings on its face of the same color. Big blue eyes stared up at the strange people.

“Oh!” Henrik’s eyes lit up. “I had not noticed outside! It was fairly dark. Oh, you are a pretty kitty, aren’t you?” He slowly approached the cat, and when it didn’t run away, bent over and started petting it.

Meanwhile, Ana was bored, and anxious to leave. She looked at Chase, and her eyes lit up with a strangely sly expression. “Hey, it’s Chase, isn’t it? Do you mind helping me open this?” She held out a small tube made of metal and leather. “I’ve been trying for a while, I think it’s stuck.”

“Um..sure,” Chase said warily. Was this going to be a joke of some kind? He took the small tube and turned it over in his hands. There was a door on the side of it, and after some effort, he figured out how to open it. Out fell three items. Two folded pieces of paper, made of pressed wood pulp and therefore pale brown, and a rolled-up piece of vellum tied with twine. “What’s this?”

“Messages,” Ana said, grinning. “Can you see names written on them?”

Chase looked down at the items, sorting through them. There was writing on the folded papers, but...well, it could just be his lack of reading skills, but it looked like absolute nonsense. “These are names?” he asked doubtfully.

Jackie and Henrik looked away from the cat, noticing the exchange between Chase and Ana. “What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“These words written here, these are...names?” Chase shook his head. “I’ve just never heard names like this before. Um...here, I-I’ll try to read them. Uh...” He squinted at the writing in ink on the two papers. “This one is ‘Ee-uh-oo-koh’ and this one is...um...‘Ffssehffmuh.’ I think? The handwriting could be—”

Henrik’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he was right next to Chase, grabbing his arm and squeezing it tightly. “What is it?! The two papers?! Which one is—that one, can I see that one?”

“Whoa, hey, calm down!” Chase leaned back. “You mean this one?” He held out the paper with the ‘Fsefma’ name on it.

“Yes!” Henrik snatched it up, then retreated, unfolding it.

Jackie leaned over his shoulder, then grinned. “Oh, I see. Vsevna sent you a little letter, didn’t he? What’s it say? Is he confessing his love?”

“Shut up, Jackie,” Henrik said, holding the letter far away from him so he couldn’t read it. “Is just another report.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, with your name on it. Come on, Henrik.”

“That does not mean anything.”

Chase, listening, raised an eyebrow. “So...I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I think I can figure out that this Fsefna person—”

“Vsevna,” Henrik corrected.

“...Vsefna—”

“Vsevna. It is important that you voice those sounds.”

“He’s the person you’re pining for, huh, Henrik?” Chase pressed on.

Henrik was slowly turning red. “I say nothing.”

“Right,” Chase said, grinning. “So, who is he?”

“He’s another one of the Phantoms,” Jackie said, sensing that Henrik wasn’t going to answer. “He and Yuko—that’s the other name on that second paper. Last we heard, they were in the Southern Moors with the rest of their crew. They said they’d scout it out for a bit more, then move on. These are probably their reports. Or...Yuko’s is a report, at least.”

“Shush,” Henrik muttered. He retreated a few steps away from the others, clutching the letter. As he passed Ana, he shot her a glare. “You make Chase open that on purpose.”

Ana just smiled. “Same results, right? Anyway, that’s the last capsule. Do you mind if I head out now?”

“No, go ahead, Ana. Send Harrison to take care of the birds,” Jackie said. She nodded, and left the skull. He then looked at Chase. “Uh...can I have the other two things?”

“Oh right.” Chase forgot he was still holding the other paper and the vellum scroll. He handed them over to Jackie, and the metal tube as well. “I’m surprised. That’s a lot for a bird to carry.”

“Well these guys are trained for it.” Jackie gestured at the pigeons, now strutting around the table. “Especially Mokin here, who had this stuff.” He patted the wings of a particular pigeon, mostly white but with brown wings, which had strangely curly feathers. “They all deserve the best seeds before we send them out again. Anyway.” Jackie unfolded the paper with Yuko’s name on it, scanning the words written there. At first, he looked excited to get a letter from this person. But the more he read, the more serious his expression became. “Henrik.”

Henrik looked away from his own letter, picking up on the tone in Jackie’s voice. “What is it?”

“I...read this while I open this scroll.” Jackie passed Henrik the letter, then began working on the twine knot holding the vellum shut.

Henrik read the letter quickly, and soon his expression matched Jackie’s. “Oh. Oh, Schwestern. Oh, no.”

Chase started to back up, feeling he shouldn’t listen to something like this. But Jackie noticed him leaving and said, “No, it’s fine, Chase. We should tell everyone this, anyway. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“What is it?” Chase asked anxiously.

“Well...you remember we told you about Marvin, right?” Jackie said slowly. “About how he went out on his own and we sometimes get reports of him?” He waited for Chase to nod before continuing. “This...was a report about him. Apparently, he was in the Moors. But...he didn’t just cause chaos and leave. He’s been...caught.”

“Caught?” Chase repeated numbly.

Jackie managed to untie the twine, and unrolled the vellum, scanning what was written there. He nodded grimly. “Yep. You know what this is?” He turned it around so Chase could see.

“That’s...a royal declaration, isn’t it?” Chase asked slowly. He recognized the format, and the royal seal in the corner. “Um...‘The King...announces a...mighty...triumph.’”

“You do not have to keep going, Chase,” Henrik said bitterly. “There are better words to read than that.” He took the declaration from Jackie, glancing at it for just a moment. “I see. Marvin is accused of attempting to kill the King and some other nobility. They caught him in the act, and now...they plan to execute him. Four weeks from now.”

Jackie looked over at the cat, now sitting and licking its paws, and gasped. “Henrik. You don’t think that’s his cat, do you?!”

“What? I suppose perhaps. But if it is, how did it get all the way up here?” Henrik sounded puzzled. “It takes a week or two to get to the Moors from here, and that is for humans on horseback. For a cat...”

“Wizardry?” Jackie guessed. “I don’t know, it was just a thought, since he likes cats so much.”

Everyone fell silent. Henrik looked back at the royal declaration, reading it slowly, taking in the information. “So...how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?” Jackie asked.

Henrik stared at him in surprise. “Well, we have to rescue him, of course.” Jackie didn’t say anything. “Do not tell me that you’re going to let your grudge stand in the way!”

“No, it’s not that!” Jackie protested. “It’s just—you read the letter, right? Yuko said that these declarations were sent everywhere. Since when has the King announced his next move like this? Everything he does, he does in secret. I mean, damn, the Phantoms are just rumors, and we’ve been taking serious action for years now. He’s hushed up so much, why wouldn’t he just make Marvin...you know, disappear? Why a public execution?”

“You think it is a trap,” Henrik stated.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted.

“That is fair, but if it’s a trap, who is he planning to catch? If he wants information about us, he could get it from Marvin.”

“But Marvin hasn’t been part of the group for a year now! His information would be out of date.”

“This does not change the fact that there is no guarantee it’s a trap in the first place. Perhaps he wants to strike fear into the population. Given his actions, it seems likely.”

“If it does turn out to be a trap, though, we can’t afford to lose anyone!”

Chase coughed awkwardly. Jackie and Henrik jumped, then turned to him, looking embarrassed to be fighting while he was still there. “You know...I don’t know if I have any place in this. I mean, you two are in charge, after all. But...I think you should try to get him back.”

Henrik and Jackie looked at each other, then back to Chase. “Are you trying to say something?” Jackie asked.

“I just...” Chase paused for a moment, searching for the words. “I don’t think...you should leave someone behind. He was still part of the Phantoms, right? Didn’t he help create it? A-and weren’t you three...Well. You don’t have to talk to him after we rescue him, but it just doesn’t seem right to leave someone behind in this situation. I know you had your fight and all, but maybe...this could be...you know.” He paused. “Also, I want to know if this cat is his or if some random cat just wandered by.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, that would be good to know, wouldn’t it?” He sighed, and his expression fell, becoming serious as he was lost in thought.

Henrik leaned closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jackie. Chase is right, this does not mean he is rejoining the group. You do not even have to go. But...we should do it. Marvin does not deserve this.”

After a moment, Jackie nodded. “You’re both right. Of course. Even though he was an ass last time we talked, that doesn’t mean I want Marvin dead.” He took a deep breath. “But we should prepare for the possibility of a trap. Just in case.”

“Of course we will,” Henrik assured him.

“...Hey. Chase.” Jackie gave him a smile. “Thank you. I-I don’t know what it is about you, but you know what to say. It’s really easy to talk to you about stuff like this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Chase said, returning the smile. “But, um...I think the Vigil is happening soon, so if we want to go—”

“Shit, I almost forgot about that!” Jackie gasped. “Henrik, I don’t want to leave the cat alone, can you look after it or something?”

“Don’t worry, I will take it to my tent,” Henrik said. “You two go and...is it alright to wish you fun? In a ceremony like this?”

“Come on, Schneep, you’ve lived here for over a decade, don’t talk like it’s so strange to you,” Jackie chuckled.

“I think it’s fun,” Chase said.

“Well, you two go have fun, then,” Henrik said. “I will see you later. Tomorrow, if not tonight.”

“Thanks, Schneep.” Jackie gave him a quick one-armed hug, then headed towards the skull entrance. “Let’s go, Chase. We don’t want to be late.”

They almost were. The Dark Vigil was about to start when they arrived, shuffling into the crowd. Everyone stood in a circle around a set of candles, one blue and the rest black, which were in turn set in a circle around several smooth, round pieces of black onyx. Three people stood inside, lighting the candles.

After the candles were alight, everyone sat on the ground, clashing a bit as they all tried to make room. Then once everyone was sitting with their legs crossed, the three in the center started the Vigil. They spoke the traditional lines, describing the Elder of Dark—their vague appearance, their actions, their history with the other Elders—and finished it by thanking them for their guardianship. Everyone joined in on the final part: “As you stand and watch vigil, so shall we this night.” And then silence fell.

During the silence of the Dark Vigil, each individual offered their thoughts about those who needed protection. In the past, Chase had asked for his family to be alright. For them all to stay healthy and happy. Today, he asked for that again. He wished, silently, desperately, for them to be safe. And not just them, but everyone else who had disappeared from his town, as well as all the other mountain towns that had been destroyed. He thought about Henrik and Jackie and all the other Phantoms he’d met here, and wished for them to have luck in this fight against the King. He thought about Marvin, someone who he’d never met but who was dear to his friends, and wished for them to be able to rescue him.

As Chase stared at the candle flames, he thought he saw...something. He wasn’t sure what. A shape in the smoke. The shape of a four-legged animal, with...antlers. A deer.

Then as was the tradition, the candles were extinguished, and the night was left in darkness.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

[transgirl-catra]

Alright i started writing snippets from the catradora firefly au I've been kicking around for a while as a way of beating writer's block so. here u go if that sounds interesting.

“Understood, captain. Running dark until your signal,” Entrapta’s voice crackles over the intercom, enthusiastic as ever even in the face of the worst possible danger. As loathe as she is to admit it, Catra finds it… comforting, in a strange way.

“Thanks ‘trapta. I’ll hit the light when we’re clear. Stay shiny.” Catra returns as she settles herself into the captain’s chair. She can hear her engineer start to echo the statement before the last traces of power bleed out of the onboard comms.

The main generator shuts off with an abrupt clunk, the sudden deceleration of the flywheel shuddering the entire ship with a force that she can feel even all the way forward, about the furthest point on the entire ship. They still have some power, of course. The life support systems and the low-powered emergency lights along the base of the walls switch seamlessly over to batteries. But crucially, batteries don’t make noise. Meaning that the entire ship is completely, eerily quiet.

And with that, there’s nothing for them to do but wait as the Melog coasts forward on its own momentum. Catra hates this part, no matter how many times she’s done it. She trusts her crew, of course. And she trusts Melog, even if no one else does. And she, at least mostly, trusts herself. Which is exactly the problem. Running dark means having absolutely no control over the ship. Playing dead and hoping to pass yourself off as just another piece of space junk until you can skate by unnoticed, before powering back up and putting as much distance as possible between yourself and whatever you were hiding from before they can turn around and catch up.

They’re almost in the shadow of the reaver ship now, darkness filling the glass of the viewport and blocking out the last bit of light that Catra has. It’s huge, easily a dozen times the displacement of the Melog at a low estimate. Far, far too large to be out this far into alliance space normally.

That’s an advantage for them, she tries to remind herself. A larger ship means its easier for Melog to slip by unnoticed, really.

It sure doesn’t feel like one. They’re all the way under, now. It would be absolutely trivial for a ship this size to pull them in, and then…

Catra cuts herself off before she can start thinking about what would happen next, gripping the armrest so hard that she can feel it creak under the strain. Deep breaths, she tells herself. There’s nothing she can do now but wait.

Time is crawling now, despite the fact that Melog is moving as fast as she was when she went dark. Catra is trying, she really is. Drawing breath, counting to five, exhaling. Over and over again. It’s tenuous, but she still feels present at least. It's her duty as captain to be the one to stay aware during situations like this, and she intends to do it.

Maybe it's the stress of the day, the unexpected return of someone she thought was out of her life for good, or maybe its the fact that she could swear she sees something shift on the vessel above them, even though it’s probably just a trick of the slight warping of the viewport glass. Either way, something snaps. Catra draws her arms to her shoulders and pulls her legs into the chair, pressing her knees to her chest, the panic that's been swimming around the edges of her mind finally consuming her. Her breaths are sharp now, failing to draw much in the way of useful oxygen. She can see her reflection clearly in the glass before she screws her eyes shut. She looks pathetic. The fearless smuggler, Catra D’riluth, captain of the last of the fireflies, reduced to a crying mess. This is why she had come up here the second they spotted the ship. She can’t let anyone see her like this.

-------------- “I just… can’t believe they’re actually real,” Glimmer says nervously, staring at the scrap of napkin that she’s folded and unfolded dozens of times in the last few minutes, “I thought that they were just a campfire story”

“Oh yeah! They’re actually pretty routine out here, honestly,” Scorpia answers with a disturbing amount of cheer. “A lot worse than the stories, though.” She adds, making Glimmer and Bow cling to each other even tighter, somehow.

“Scorp. Not helping,” Lonnie interjects from the other end of the dining table where she’s been perpetually checking and rechecking her gun ever since the lights went out. “She does mean it about the routine, though. Get up and walk around if you need to. We might be like this for a while.”

“Okay. right. Adora, you need anything? Food? Water?” Glimmer asks, turning her gaze over her shoulder to where Adora had been sitting against the wall just a moment ago, only to find it completely empty.

“Fuck”

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

Catra is almost on the verge of passing out, simply allowing the panic to pull her under, when she feels a hand softly brush against her own Normally, being touched unexpectedly when she’s like this would send her jumping out of her own skin, earning whoever was responsible a quick claw to the face. But there’s… a strange familiarity to this one, the way the fingers start to press between her own and the way that her own allow them to do so, parting without resistance as they slowly intertwine.

Scorpia doesn’t really have fingers to do this with. Entrapta tends to be pretty respectful about the no-touching-me-without-warning rule (and would also probably be using her hair). Lonnie, much like Catra herself, is just… not a very touchy person in general, outside of her partners. Which means…

Adora is silently standing in the doorway when Catra manages to look over her shoulder, those wide, pale-blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m fine, okay? Go back to the mess with everyone else, your friends are probably looking for you,” Catra manages to choke out, despite the fact that she is, very visibly, not fine.

Adora stands her ground wordlessly. But no matter how much time and distance is between them, Catra and Adora don’t need words anymore. She knows what that pleading look means on a basic, almost instinctual level: let me help?

“Fine. You can stay,” Catra relents more out of curiosity than anything else. Something in her just has to know if the girl that she fell in love with is still somewhere inside this strange, broken shell of a person that’s wound up wandering her ship.

Adora looks delighted at that, more emotion on her face than Catra has seen since she climbed out of that cryo-crate as she steps forward, never letting her hand leave Catra’s shoulder until she’s effectively draped herself over the back of the chair. Only then does she allow it to move, wrapping her arms around Catra’s chest and dropping to press her face into Catra’s hair, brushing slightly against her ears as she does so.

And then she starts humming, and that’s when Catra knows. The rise and fall of the song is familiar, because they’ve done this more times than Catra can count. Catra doesn’t even like this song, really. Just some old thing from their homeworld, romanticized ideals of freedom in space that have never really been true. But it was the one that Adora knew how to sing reliably. And so she did, over and over again whenever Catra’s anxiety got bad. In their bunks as children, on the battlefield, dozens of other places throughout their life.

Even just from Adora humming the tune against her, Catra can feel her breathing starting to calm down, her body starting to unwind.

She didn’t even realize she had started muttering the words that go with it under her breath, in absence of Adora being able to use her voice. She didn’t even know she still remembered them, really.

Adora shifts against her, and Catra can see her expression of surprise reflected in the glass. She hadn’t been expecting this to work, but she still had to try.

“Of course I still know it, dumbass,” Catra says, voice still shaking as she elbows Adora lightly, “Start over?”

Adora obliges, burying her face in Catra’s hair again and resuming the tune from the start. And Catra allows herself to sing for the first time in… god knows how long, honestly, her soft voice filling the cockpit and mixing with Adora’s humming. It’s shaky, at first. She’s rusty and stressed and hits all the notes just a little to the left of where they should be, voice nearly breaking on some of the higher ones. But she gets progressively more steady as it goes, and it feels good to be working in tandem with Adora again, regardless of her feelings about the sudden reunion.

By the time the song finishes, they’re well clear of the other ship, and Catra releases a long breath as she slips her hand from Adora’s, flipping the red switch on the console to turn on the signal in the engine room. Seconds later, the Melog roars back to life, Catra ordering Scorpia to punch the throttle. The danger has passed now.

Catra pushes Adora’s arms off her as she stands up, desperate to reestablish her walls.

“You should go back to your friends. They’re probably still worried about you. And I have a ship to run.”

Adora looks… sad, almost. But she nods, and then disappears down the hallway. She’s gone almost as quickly as she had appeared.

Leaving Catra with one answer, and a whole universe of new questions.

#my writing #firefly au #this isnt gonna turn into a real fic but flora convinced me to post the snippets here so

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Sixteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3021

Warnings: None

A/n Every chapter, you all make me smile so much <3 Thank you!

Haldir leaves and I let out something halfway between an exhale and a groan.

What. Was. That.

My room, which is a very respectable size, felt like a matchbox as the space between Haldir and I minimized. He went from weeks of keeping a consistent physical barrier between us to ghosting his hands over my arms, my hips, my waist…It’s…new.

And when he held me close, his chest so nearly brushing against my back—

I shake my head against the onslaught of scenarios that run through my mind.

I should not be thinking of him this way.

Haldir is a friend, a guide, an instructor, nothing more.

I let out a deep breath and begin to pace, trying to work off this newfound energy. Haldir and I trained for nearly two hours, I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel wide awake, invigorated, jittery, like I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. I groan, taking my hair out of its bun and letting it fall around me. I stop in my tracks, glancing at the spot where Haldir and I stood so close together just moments ago.

I cannot stay here.

I tear through the open door, turning right and taking the staircase that leads to the first floor. I turn left and, before I know it, I’m standing in front of Alex’s closed door.

I knock.

The door creaks open. “Hey,” he greets, opening it wider to allow me in. “What’s up?”

“I uh,” I purse my lips, having not really thought through my plan. I do need a distraction though, and being out of my room is already helping clear the fog from my brain. My eyes catch a pile of books on his nightstand. “I came to help you research, if that’s okay.”

His face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’ve read those three so far,” he gestures to a small stack by the window, “and there’s nothing helpful in them. Everything else in English is fair game. Is there anything specific you want to look into?”

“Fæs.” I’m surprised that the answer comes to me so easily, but as soon I speak the word, I know it’s true — I do want to learn more.

Alex nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, I think I’ve got a couple books on that here. Let me….” He trails off, spinning in a circle as he searches for a specific volume. “Ah.” He squats down and grabs a book near the foot of his bed, reaching it up to me.

An image of Haldir, crouched on the ground, hand warm against my ankle, staring up at me with such intensity, so much confidence—

Alex stands and I look to the ceiling, trying to will away the image and the feelings that come rushing along with it.

“What makes you want to learn about fæs? Isn’t that an elf thing?”

I purse my lips, stalling until the embarrassment fades enough to look Alex in the eye. “Haldir mentioned that humans have their own version of a fæ — a little weaker, a little different, but generally the same concept.” An idea begins to take form, and I roll with it. “I was wondering if—assuming that our fæs remained unchanged between our homeworld and Arda—well, if we could use it somehow, tap into it and reclaim our memories. If anything were to remember, wouldn’t it be our spirits?”

Alex nods slowly, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Great thinking! Let me know if you find anything.”

He settles into the couch, leaving the bed for me. Gratefully, I cozy up against the pillows. I open the book, skimming the introductory chapter, which is basically just a summary of the core concepts Haldir has already explained to me. When I’m on chapter three, the sky passes firmly into night, and even the plethora of candles Alex has lit aren’t enough to keep my eyes from straining.

I pull my knees to my chest and lean forward, glancing over at my friend. His cheeks — which had been gaunt when we first reunited, now take a healthy shape. His shoulders no longer hold vestiges of tension — they lean relaxed, leisurely, against the back of the couch. Even in the limited light, he squints his eyes and continues to read, seeming intent on soaking up as much knowledge as he can.

I rest my chin on my knees. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks up, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay?”

“Are you alright?”

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “Cosima…”

“No,” I protest. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable, he needs to talk about things. He’s been bottling it up since he arrived in this world and it hasn’t done anyone any good. “I mean it.”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “Fine, okay. It’s…strange.” He pauses, but I wait, holding out hope that he’ll continue. He does so, slowly. “I’ve…gotten myself to accept that I’m in a different world, but I can’t wrap my mind around the how. That’s stressful. We don’t have a solid plan to return home, nor do we know if we’ll find one. That’s depressing. And, I have flashes and snippets of memories, but otherwise, I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

My heart breaks. Here my friend is, hurting, lost…

And I’ve left him completely alone.

Alex tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “But I do feel better than when we arrived, or even just from a few days ago. Having things to do, feeling useful and like I have agency for the first time…it’s really good for me. And, well,” he dips his head then raises it again, leveling his eyes on me. “It’s helped me realize something else — that I owe you an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I’ve been the one that has pretty much abandoned and ignored him. I should be apologizing.

“On the road, I said some pretty mean things, and I isolated you from your friends and tried to take control. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I was…” he sighs, shaking his head, “scared out of my mind. I already felt like I couldn’t do anything to fix the problem, and then on top of that I felt like you had completely given up and it was my job to save us both. And I know now that’s not the case, but for a while…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just more adaptable than I am, I guess.”

I push myself off the bed, cross the room, and sit next to him on the small couch. Automatically, he throws an arm over my shoulder, the movement so familiar and easy that he must have done it a thousand times before. I lay my head on his shoulder, the bone there pressing against my ear.

I take a deep breath. “If we had really been kidnapped, or injured, or anything more realistic than what actually happened,” he gives a small, tired laugh, the movement shaking his shoulder, “you would’ve been the one to get us out. I know it. Even now, you’re the one putting in all the hard work to get us home. I’m sorry I’ve pretty much left you to handle it alone.”

He squeezes my upper arm gently. “I appreciate it, but I don’t blame you. I get it.” He shrugs again, a measure of sadness creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you remember anyone enough to miss them. If you have people you like here, of course you’d focus on them.”

I feel my lips pull into a guilty frown. “They like you too, you know. You all just need to spend some more time together—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing a smile onto his face. “It’s okay, honestly — we just don’t click. But I have you, and Baranor and I get along well, and I have this project to work on. It’s enough for me.”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. I hope that’s true.

{***}

At breakfast, Lavandil and I make plans to meet at her shop. She gives me directions and I hurry up the stairs to my room, changing out of my tunic and leggings and into something a little more fun for my first day of work. I settle on a dark purple gown, one that billows down my arm in puffy gossamer sleeves and has a slight, sparkly train. I’m probably a bit overdressed, but knowing Lavandil’s extravagant wardrobe, I’ll fit in just fine. I bound down the staircase, eager to discover the market and the shop. I turn left, intent on exiting the building.

And crash into the middle of someone’s chest.

Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me as I stumble back. Once I’m righted, I look up, and my mouth falls open.

“Cosima—”

“Haldir—”

Both of us freeze, having spoken at the same time. I purse my lips, waiting for him to go first. He raises an eyebrow, evidently expecting the same of me.

But I can’t make the words happen. His hands on my arms send my mind right back to the tension of last night, to the room that started light and open and turned more intimate than it should as the night went on.

Haldir’s arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you turning the corner. Are you alright?”

I nod, my eyes darting from his chest clothed in a cobalt blue tunic up to his eyes. The intensity from last night is gone, now replaced with a noticeable degree of hesitance.

Interesting.

Did he feel something last night, too? Or does he know I did, and now feels awkward around me?

That last thought sends a wave of stress through me. Was I horribly obvious? Have I messed everything up?

“Are you off to Lavandil’s shop,” he inquires, pulling my mind away from these anxiety-inducing thoughts.

“Yes.”

He quirks a smile. “Then I imagine you will be seeing a lot of my brother today. He has a tendency to hang around there.”

“Probably a result of him being in love with the shop-owner,” I quip, voice going high with nerves.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

We fall into awkward silence.

Haldir clears his throat. “Well, enjoy your day.”

“You too,” I nod, crossing paths with him to exit the building.

Once outside, I take in a gulping breath.

Did I create all that weirdness? Or is he struggling to figure out how to act around me, too? And why?

Things have never been strained or awkward between myself and Haldir. Once he got over his initial suspicion of me, we got along easily. I feel like he understands me better than the others and, if I had to pick a favorite, as Rumil prompted me not so long ago, it would be, without question, the supposedly-stern Marchwarden leading our company. And, based on the amount of time he spends with me of his own accord, I would say he enjoys my presence, too.

So, that begs the question, what could have happened to turn all that ease on its head and replace it with stilted, awkward, unsure interactions? We were fine until last night—

I suck in a breath.

My brain, apparently useless until I looked the issue straight in the eye, starts piecing together instances of my time with Haldir, forming a terrifying and exhilarating picture.

Sleeping between me and the entrance to our camp so I wouldn’t be frightened. Spending hours alone with me lying on a blanket staring up at the stars. The way he panicked and looked after me when I had my migraine. Big things like that and smaller ones, too — the way he teases me, the way he always makes sure I’m cared for, whether that means sharing from his canteen or sending me with food when I’m likely to miss dinner. The way he’s conscious of my fears—heights, orcs, you name it—and provides support without coddling me, enabling me to handle and face them on my own. The way his arms, so gentle yet so secure, held me close, even for just the smallest of moments.

Could we…have feelings for each other?

Could this rapid and strong attachment to an ellon I met mere weeks ago be something other than friendship?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, the momentary rush of excitement falls into something much more sinister. Something that, in any other world would be a wonderful, thrilling feeling—the one I am developing feelings for maybe, potentially, might see me the same way—is here, horrifying.  

Because elves live forever and love only once.

And a human lifespan is dismally short.

Rumil’s face after our conversation yesterday, crestfallen and saddened, comes to my mind.

If my mere friendship with these ellyn will cause them grief when I’m gone, then even entertaining these thoughts about Haldir….

It’s deplorable.

From the heart of the city, the bell chimes. I’m late to meet Lavandil.

I shove down the ache that makes my lips quiver and hurry down the path that will lead me to the market.

The distraction of working with Lavandil will be my lifeline.

I cannot allow my feelings for Haldir progress any further. So, though I’m not sure how effective I’ll be, I swear not to think about him for the rest of the day.

{***}

“What happened last night between you and Haldir?”

Damn.

I made it two hours.

I swallow, trying to seem busy as I hang a tapestry on a display. “What?”

Lavandil comes up beside me, using her height to hang the art properly. “Rumil told Orophin who told me that Haldir came back from training with you and seemed quite flustered.”

My body runs hot. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” she nods decisively. “Apparently he returned to the room in a rush, wouldn’t say a thing, and then spent over three hours at the training grounds, sparring quite harshly with some of the guard.”

Even though the tapestry is hung, I pretend to fuss with it, not brave enough to meet Lavandil’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Maybe he just wanted a better workout — I can’t imagine I was much of a challenge.” I try for a joke, and mercifully, she gives me a pity laugh.

Her demeanor softens. “Cosima, you know there’s nothing wrong with having an attraction, or even feelings.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it,” I shriek, much louder than I meant to. I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by my outburst.

Thankfully, no one is in the shop, and Lavandil only regards me with calm eyes, no judgement in them.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry to apologize, sitting myself in a chair at a nearby table. On top of it sits a beautiful garnet tablecloth — Lavandil’s work. She sits across from me.

“It’s alright,” she smiles kindly, resting her elbows on the table to mirror me. “I had a similar disposition when I realized I loved Orophin.”

“I don’t love him,” I correct quickly.

She puts her hands up in the sign for surrender, though her bottom lip pulls like she’s trying not to make a face.

“I don’t,” I insist, putting effort into keeping my tone non-angry. I lower my voice, worried, perhaps irrationally, that Haldir himself will go waltzing by and hear my dreadful confession. “It’s, at most, an interest, and probably not even that. Likely more of a curiosity.”

“Well, interests are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her tone matches my low volume and carries in it a gentleness I could never hope to emulate.

“Yes, they do!” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Lavandil, he is an elf. You know I’m human. The two don’t mix well.”

She huffs. “There’s nothing to say that. An elleth here, Arwen—”

“Is walking into a tragedy,” I cut her off.

Lavandil’s eyes narrow. “Too many people see it that way, and it is getting quite old. Do you know what I see? Two souls in love. Though their futures are bleak and incompatible, their presents are filled with joy and love and the connection that can only come from two fæs who want each other so badly finally bonded. They would still face pain if they ignored their love for each other — so why not give themselves what joy they can?”

“But she will die—”

Now it’s Lavandil’s turn to interrupt. “Arwen is fully grown. She is wise, and I trust that she knows herself well enough to make the choices she has. Her life is ultimately her own. She can spend it how she pleases.”

I press my lips together, head falling to stare at the deep red tablecloth. Despite Lavandil’s conviction, her words do nothing to allay my fears.

The only thing that awaits an elf bonded with a human is grief and death.

Arwen may have made her choice, but so have I made mine.

“Rumil said elves can take centuries to fall in love. Is that true?”

Lavandil pauses, caught off guard with my change in topic. “I-in some cases, yes. More that it could potentially take that long for an elf to admit they are in love. Often, even if they are not ready to accept it, their fæs know. And even then, that is the timeline in the most rare of cases. You know, for Orophin and I it only took a matter of—”

I raise my eyes to her, pleading. “Lavandil.”

She sighs, staring at me like she wishes I had asked her something else. “Fine, yes. Elves fall slower than humans.”

I take in a deep breath, nodding.

Good.

Because if I have only just noticed these feelings, chances are, if Haldir were to follow suit, he is way behind. The instance Lavandil described from last night, the other hints that show he might be feeling something…I can end them now.

I have time to stop this.

I have time to save him.

A/n So, funny thing, @errruvande got pretty close to guessing Cosima’s reaction to realizing her feelings for Haldir, so shout out to Liza!!! Seriously though, love her, love her blog, I’d definitely recommend checking her account out! Thank you all for reading! 

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande 

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

[hazelhalfpint]

InuKag Week 2021 Day 5

Another contribution for @inukag-week in the Long-Distance relationship AU for Closing the Distance. I hope you enjoy this sweet snippet into this universe!

I always let the length get away from me lol

Prompt: Firsts

“Inuyasha, are you almost ready?”

Whew, okay. He was ready. Right? Right. Ready and definitely not nervous. He glanced at himself in the full length mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt. Golden eyes lingered on the silver ears twitching atop his head anxiously, a dead give away, okay so what if he was nervous. It’s not everyday you meet your girlfriends family.

He’d finally finished helping his old man get the company’s sect in Washington set up and now he was staying with Kagome in herーtheir apartment full time, working locally with the Japanese branch of Maki Digital. Which meant they both finally had enough free time to pay visit to Kagome’s family home, Higurashi Shrine.

Kagome’s head popped around the corner peeking at him with a playful smile , “You look handsome—and nervous.” She grinned wide as he sputtered out a response, “I’m not nervous, I just wanna make a good impression that’s all.” Her arms snaked around his waist, tucking herself against his side. He sighed and let an arm drape around her back.

“They’re gonna love you as much as I do,” reassuringly she patted his chest with one hand, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head. Taking a deep breath and standing straight her glanced down at her, “You’re sure I won’t get purified upon arrival right?” The laughter that bubbled out from within her made him feel 10x lighter, “No Inuyasha, trust me. Gramps may believe in those sutras but they’re about as effective as a match underwater.” It was Inuyasha’s turn to snort out a laugh, “Alright then if you’re sure,” he grabbed her hand with his leading her out the door,”let’s go.”

They arrived at the shrine gates shortly after 4:00 pm, and made quick work of the many shrine steps leading up to the house nestled behind the main shrine.

Truly, the whole ordeal went exponentially better than he could of ever hoped. He even only felt slightly annoyed by the grumpy old man sticking sutras to his forehead when they’d first arrived, only to be peeled off by an overly apologetic Keiko.

It was plain to see where Kagome got her kind heart. They both smiled the same as jokes were told, and pickles stolen from her little brother Souta, who’d also come to visit from university. Keiko Higurashi was kind and warm, just like her daughter and made him feel welcome from the get-go. Hell, even the old man and himself settled in to conversation as they’d ate, only threatening him with sutras if he broke his grand-daughters heart–which he had no intentions of doing. He smiled, lacing their fingers together underneath the kotatsu.

The evening dwindled, the conversation between the family slowly going with it. His cheeks were warm with the heat of the evenings sake, and Kagome lay against his shoulder. Her eyes drooping every so often as he stroked delicate fingers through her hair. Souta lay sleeping nearby on the sofa and gramps just as deep in slumber in a nearby chair. Keiko’s eyes were soft as she watched them all, “You two are welcome to stay,” she gathered the few remaining dining wares and stood, “I’ve still got Kagome’s old room the way she left it, but you’re welcome to it.”

His cheeks flushed further but nodded gratefully, moving his girlfriend gently, he nudged her awake. “Kagome,” cinnamon eyes blinked at him slowly, “hmm?” a quiet hum in response. He chuckled, “We’re sleeping here this evening, I’ve gotta go get our stuff from the car.” Kagome had mentioned they might need an overnight bag, he was glad he had listened. He helped her to stand, and left to leave the house and make the small trek to his black Nissan. The sun had was slowly lowering beyond the horizon, signaling the beginnings of dusk; the sky a deep shade of blue. She watched him sleepily from the door, body braced against the frame,smiling as he came back into her line of sight with a small duffel in tow.

He placed it in her arms, pushing slightly and her eyes widened in curiosity as he bounded out of sight again. She turned and dropped the bag in the genkan and made her way back to the door. Kagome raised an eyebrow, leaning out of the entryway with neck craned to see where he’d gone. She didn’t see him at first immediately slipping on her shoes she ventured further into the shrine grounds near the home, and then she found him.

He was knelt in front of her fathers memorial altar, hands placed neatly together in front of him, and an incense burning. He must’ve of noticed it when walking to their car. She could hear him, speaking to her dad, and she strained to make out the words. She felt her mother’s presence beside her, a warm arm wrapping around her shoulders as they watched.

“I thought it was fitting, when I saw your altar that I should stop to meet you for the first time too. I know, I’m probably not what you expected for your daughter, but she’s the first and only woman I’ve felt so strongly for. I love her. I hope you can accept us and know that I will love her as she deserves to be loved, please know I am thankful to you for bringing such a wonderful woman into this world with Keiko, which eventually led her into my world as well. thank you, Higurashi-San.” He bowed once, before turning to find both Kagome and Keiko, emotional and watching him.

“Thank you, Inuyasha.” Keiko smiled eyes full of unshed tears, “he most certainly would have loved meeting you” He joined his girlfriend, and wrapped his hand around hers. A warm feeling spread through him; the first of many times he would find himself feeling this way.He was right at home in Kagome’s family. His family.

@inussunflower @liz8080 @superpixie42 @omgitscharlie @keichanz @kalcia @neutronstarchild @lemonlushff @witchygirl99 @clearwillow @fawn-eyed-girl @ruddcatha @lavendertwilight89 @dreaming-of-soup @nartista @noether3 @anisaanisa @mrfeenysmustache @sailorlolo @akitokihojo @mamabearcat @dawnrider @inukag-week

#firsts #first meeting #kagome higurashi #inukag week 2021 #inukag week #feeling mushy #loss #family

[jean-kayak]

Chapter 2

Summary: A relaxing summer after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: Eren being a HUGE fucking tease

Word Count: 1851

A/N: This is lowkey a filler chapter, kinda just something that advances the story, and heightens the tension. And I decided to start to posting on Tuesdays and Fridays bc this series is mad long lmao

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara​, @germfart3​, @styxtm​, @iwascrybaby​, @snkpaths, @prxttyguardian

Chapter Summary: You’re falling deeper and deeper into his spell

Your plans haven't been completely thwarted, you've hung out at Jean's house and haven't seen Eren since, so you feel a little bit better. You're at your house this time, the fans blowing on you as you both lay on the floor.

"Remind me why I keep letting you take me outside," you groan, the fans barely working to cool you down.

"Because you love me," he returns, and you shake your head as you roll over onto your back.

"No, that can't be it," you tease, squealing lightly when a pillow comes flying your way, putting your arms up to shield your face. You hear the front door open, but you don't move, letting your head rest against the cool wooden floor.

"Oh, no, the kids are dead," your mom jokes, and you and Jean both chuckle as you turn your head to look at her. "Sweetie, do you think you could help me with something outside real quick?"

You whine as you scrunch your nose. "But, Mom, it's hot," you complain, and she rolls her eyes before waving you off.

"Girl, come on, it won't take long." You groan but slowly start to get up anyway.

"Ha ha," you hear Jean laugh like a little kid, and you chuck the pillow at him as you scowl at him. You whine again when you feel the heat pounding at your skin, and you follow your mom towards one of her flower beds.

"Uh, Mom, those plants aren't going to survive," you tell her, feeling the humid air suffocating you as you wave a hand in front of your face in vain.

She laughs lightly before wiping her forehead, and she digs another hole. "They'll be fine, it's gonna get cooler." You raise your eyebrows at her words as you wait for her to tell you what to do. "I'm almost out of dirt, so I need you to get some from the garage."

You sigh heavily, but turn around anyway and make your way towards the garage. You grimace when the place is way hotter than the outside, and you look for the dirt and sighing when you find it, realizing you have to lift it. You squat down to pick it up, situating it until your arms are wrapped around it with it firmly placed against your chest.

As you walk out of the garage, you look to your left, and you instantly regret it. You don't even realize you've stopped in your tracks as your eyes land on Eren who's working on his truck. He looks up and makes eye contact with you, an easy smirk appearing across his face.

Before you can blink or do anything, he standing upright, slipping his t-shirt off quickly, shoving it in his back pocket before fixing his hair. You bite your lip to stop yourself from drooling which you know you were doing, and even from where you're standing, you can see his chiseled abs and defined back muscles shining in the sun rays with sweat, and he moves back to working on his car, his biceps flexing with every movement.

"Y/N!" You jump when you hear your name, expecting it to be your mom when you look around for the source, but you smile when you see Ymir walking up your driveway.

"Ymir, hey, how are you?" you ask, adjusting the bag of dirt in your arms that's slipping from the amount of sweat on your arms.

"Glad that school is over," she answers, stopping when she gets to you, and you scoff in agreement.

"I know that's right." She laughs with you before turning to where you were looking not too long ago.

"Holy shit, is that Eren Jaeger?" she asks in disbelief, and you smack her with the bag.

"Shut up! He can probably hear you," you scold, and you glance at him. "And yeah, it is."

"I thought he couldn't get any hotter," she comments, and you nod your head as you silently agree with her. "But he's not really my type," she finishes with a shrug, and you chuckle as you turn towards her.

"Yes, we know. Your type is Historia." You laugh again when she shoves at you before you both turn to walk back towards your mom.

You both hit it off pretty quickly when you met, and she was always someone you hung out with whenever Jean wasn't free. Even though you would trust her with your life, you never breathed a word to her about any of your interactions with Eren. Whenever she would ask, you'd give her meaningless or one-sentence answers. Jean finding out what happened back then was enough embarrassment for you.

"How ya doing, Mrs. L/N," Ymir greets, and your mom turns around, standing up quickly in surprise.

"Ymir, oh wow, it's been a while hasn't it?" she asks, resting her hands on her hips.

"It has, it's good to see you," she tells her, and your mom returns it, and Ymir asks what she's doing.

"Planting in the scorching heat of summer," you answer, and your mom rolls her eyes at you. "And now she's got me out here in the heat." She chuckles as she grabs the bag from you, and you wince when you feel how sore your muscles are from holding the dirt when you let them fall to your sides. "Why are you planting anyway?"

"Your father and I made a bet. He doesn't think that I'll be able to grow them," she explains as she gets back down on the ground to open the bag of dirt.

"Can Dad even keep plants alive?"

"You know, I asked him the same thing." You all share a laugh before you and Ymir head inside. Jean's still laying on the floor, but this time his head is turned as he scrolls through his phone. You hear them start talking as you go to get something to drink for you and Ymir.

You walk back into the living room, handing it to her as you find your original place on the floor, and the three of you catch up on what's happened over the course of your freshman and sophomore year, most of the conversation consisting of teasing Jean. You hear the door open, and your mom's complaining about the heat, but what she says after that makes you shoot your head up.

"Come on in, Eren, you've been out there for a while, you're always welcome."

"Thank you so much, Mrs. L/N." You sit up quickly, your eyes landing on a shirtless Eren standing in your foyer, shorts hanging so low on his hips that you're sure it should be a crime as he smirks at you.

"Y/N, why don't you get him some water while I got wash up?" You sit there for a second, dumbfounded before you move, not wanting to raise suspicion as your mom walks out of sight.

"And I still have to see you even when I'm not at home," Jean groans when you stand.

"Love you, too, bro," Eren jokes before following behind you. You open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, and tossing it to him without looking at him. You hear snippets of the conversation between Ymir and Jean, thankful that they're not listening. "Thanks," he tells you, and you trail your eyes up his body, meeting that stupid smirk on his face as he screws the cap off.

He never takes his eyes off of yours, and you watch his Adam's apple bob, some of the water dripping down his face before you snap out of it. "You're, uh, welcome."

He smiles at you when he finishes the whole thing and tossing it into the recycling bin. "I really appreciate it," he says, walking towards you until your back hits the fridge, the cooling sensation not the only thing that causes you to shudder.

"It was no problem. Seriously." You want to push him back, but that would mean you would have to touch him, and every part of his torso is nothing but muscle, and you try to keep your gaze on his face and not his glistening skin.

"I feel like I should pay you back somehow," he starts, his voice dangerously low, and you grip the handles as you shrug.

"You don't have to do that. It's just water," you respond weakly, and he rests a hand flat against the fridge next to your head.

"But I want to," he pushes, and you shrug again as you try to find anything else to look at.

"What did you have in mind?" Your mind isn't even on the right track anymore, Eren is the only thing filling your senses.

He steps closer to you, letting his hand fall, his finger tracing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its path. "I've got a lot in mind."

"L-Like what?" You shouldn't be pushing him, you should be leaving, but he always manages to keep you frozen in place.

"For starters," he says, gripping your hip softly. "I'd pin you down and mark every inch of your skin so that everyone knows that you're mine."

You feel your head spinning, the dizzying feeling nearly making your legs go weak, and when he trails a finger up your neck, you look over his shoulder finding a spot on the wall to try and ground yourself. "Then what?"

He huffs softly as he grips your chin, making you look at him, and you don't fight it. "Then," he starts, leaning in closer. "I'd fuck you until you couldn't walk. Until the only thing that comes out of your mouth is my name."

Your eyes shut for a quick second as you bite your lip to muffle your whimper. "Just for a bottle of water?" you try to joke, but now you're breathing heavy, and the playful tone is overshadowed by lust, your core throbbing almost to the point of painful.

He tilts his head as he smirks at you. "Say it."

Your face scrunches slightly in confusion, but your voice is still wavering. "Say what?"

His response is a chuckle as he's backing away from you, and you grip the handles of the fridge until it hurts to keep yourself from pulling him back to you. "You'll say it eventually."

You don't really know what he's talking about, but he backs away from you to create enough distance that isn't questioning just as your mom comes into the kitchen. "Did you get him the water?" she asks, and you try to nod, but your brain is still foggy so it looks like you're malfunctioning, which you basically are.

"She did. Thanks again," he tells you, flashing that smile that he always put on around your parents. "I think I'm gonna get back to work, but it was nice talking to you."

"You as well." He gives you one last look before he's walking out, and you drop your head as you try to make your breathing even again. "He's just such a gentleman, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he sure is."

|Chapter 1|Masterlist|Chapter 3|

Taglist: CLOSED

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x black!reader #eren yaeger #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

[silverwhiteraven]

Beauty and Self-Expression in Wing Culture

So it's like 3am as I start to write this, and instead of sleeping at 2am I was thinking about the Wing AU I've been seeing for Miraculous Ladybug, courtesy of these three lovelies: @justaferal-bastard @thechatsmeow @tizzymcwizzy

[Warning: I got carried away and this goes from analysis, to idea, and then into a short fic-snippet.]

Actual Warning: It gets kinda, like, minor-angst about how the idea works?? More of a potential hurt/comfort at the end, IDK? But it has character growth! We stan Adrien rebellion against Gabriel! And healthy use of beauty products!

Anyways!!!

I love AUs like this that are saying 'What if Idea! What if apply Idea to World!' And then there's me, who likes to say 'Yes, yes! Now lets take World, and apply it to Idea.' And this is what happens.

So I was having some thoughts and things about Adrien and his wings, ya know? The wings are always tucked in close to back, always straight up, always prim and proper and stoic, as his Father and social economic class dictates. It puts people off at first because wings are one of the first things you see, one of the first things you subconsciously assess and judge and take into account. But to anyone who actually looks at the rest of him and stays around him and pays attention to him notice, there's a clear disconnect between how he holds his wings and how his actual personality is. It becomes obvious that his wings are like that from years of following a rule of conduct given to him, and a lot of birdie-see-birdie-do behavior of being around his own family and the Bourgeois.

Basically, wings, too, are subjected to self-images and self-expression. People of higher classes use their wings to show their class, power, and wealth; 'I don't fly' is basically 'I don't have to work for what I want'. Lower classes do that sort of thing less and less, and their wings are used more freely to express the self; not just free in actual movement, but with decorations as well, with things like feather-dyes, jewelry, and fake/decorative feathers and down to make themselves more unique and more like themselves.

Then I thought, well, what else? What about cultural beauty standards?

Well wing-types likely will be subjected to this, much like body-types. Already certain wings already have inherent uses. Falcon-like wings for speed, goose wings capable of long distances, hummingbird's for agility; all these physical traits that may or may not even match up with the main body that on its own also gets told has types meant for certain activities (tall people and basketball anybody?). Imagine all those wings that are colored and shaped like those of Birds of Paradise, though, swoon. But those weren't the thoughts I had.

My thought was the techniques in which beauty standards are met and maintained. Physical things that alter the looks. For the normal body, we have things like paddings, corsets, binders, and lifestyles, too, like dieting and working out. Extremes can even go to surgery.

So here was the specific thought I had about Adrien:

Wing-Binding.

Using unseen binds like netting, straps, or even cords, hidden underneath the feathers and down, to hold the wings in place and in whatever form is wanting to be presented.

Everyone should know that long-term and over-use of anything that restricts the body is unhealthy and can cause damage, even permanently. And I imagine Adrien has been modelling since he was small, too, so he would have been subjectes to it since before he even knew what it was, what it could do. Before he could comprehend what was happening and give consent to it.

Shealtered and with all his social and media intake controlled, he would have no clue that these are things he should be allowed to not do. And, sorry to anyone who liked the picture-perfect Mother Image Adrien paints of Emilie, but just like with him not being allowed to go to school or socialize outside of Chloé, or having to work a job and take unwanted extracurricular lessons and activities, Mama Agreste, at the very least, enabled Gabriel to doing something such as Wing-Binding to their unconsenting amd still-growing child.

Given! It isn't absolute in how bad it is, he can remove them for physical activities like P.E. and Fencing, or when photo shoots are doing Wing-Fashion, and when he's at home, too, but still, all that time in public having to use them because his Father says so sucks, a lot.

And again, the damage it could cause, both to his wings as they grow, not being allowed to stretch and strengthen, but also to the feathers, having to grow past and rub and push against what's holding them or sitting below.

It's kinda heartbreaking thinking how lovely he looks but just how much getting to that pleasing image might have just crippled him.

And then I thought about Chat Noir.

Chat, with wings free to move as he pleases, free to droop and drag, free to stretch and feel the wind, free to puff up and shield another.

And when he stretches those wings, be they magically dyed a new color or made bigger, they now have an emphasis on the burden they bear outside of the magic.

The feathers once unseen when tucked are now out and bare, spread out as he makes himself look bigger while he hisses and intimidates an Akuma. Everyone can see how the edges of his feathers are jagged and don't smooth out, some of the shafts are crooked or even broke, and as he beats his wings, they swear some will simply come out, from the quil and all, and disintegrate before they even touch the ground.

Ladybug asks him about it, and he grins and shrugs, "Probably a stylistic choice on my Kwami's part; they aren't actually that bad when I'm out of the suit."

"Mon gryffon," she calls his attention to her with one of her nicknames, a serious and sad look in her eyes. "Not that bad is still bad. Why are they like that?"

"Bindings kinda chaff sometimes, I think the suit just makes it look really bad," he answers, but he doesn't understand, why is she looking at him like that? A little bit of it clicks. "I thought most did it?"

She shakes her head, spreading her own, beautiful wings to him, and he can't help but reach out and run his claws gently through them. Her's don't show the signs of the Wing-Bindings his do. His head snaps to look down to the Parisians on the streets and those above them in the air, looking for signs of his own condition in the open wings. His heart beats hard and it almost hurts as another piece clicks.

"No, Chat Noir," Ladybug answers softly, "that isn't normal... Whoever makes you use those, they shouldn't have. No one still growing their wings should ever use those, ever."

He nods in understanding. His grin, long gone, comes back as he whipes away the tears that has built and he holds out a hand to his partner. "Care for one last fly before we part ways? I think I still need the practice." Especially since I've never flown outside of the suit, and I don't think I'll get a chance to yet, either, goes left unsaid.

But sometimes realizations like this are a part of the recovery. Chat Noir flies with his Lady, and thinks about how Adrien is going to tell his Father he won't wear the Wing-Bindings again, or at least about how to hide the future fact that he got rid of them all so that he can't anyways. He thinks about how he's going to practice flying, maybe ask Marinette for tips.

Chat Noir, the Gryffon of Paris, adds a new determination for the future, alongside winning Ladybug's heart and defeating Hawkmoth: Let his wings be free, and heal, because he'll be damned if he lets Chat Noir be the only time he ever flies, and, once his role as the Black Cat is over, with no suit to aid him, he will simply burn his Father's company to the ground if he never gets to fly again because of what Gabriel had done.

Anyways!! That was the thoughts I was having, it's 4:30am and I hope y'all really like, uh, whatever this is!!!!

#ml wing au #wing au #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #willowbendt

[chyrstis]

WIP Friday!

I’ve had some tags throughout the week, so I’m going to cash them all in here, since Friday’s the day and I might’ve been hoping to get this posted last night too, whoops! And I want to thank you all for tagging me even if I don’t always respond quickly! <3 I definitely intend to, but there’s never enough time in a day or a week, is there? 

Tagged by @redroci @tommymillers @jackiesarch @ma-sulevin and @amistrio and @adelaidedrubman !

Tagging: @writerofblocks @twistedsinews @painterofhorizons @hunnybadgerv @cobb-vanthss @shallow-gravy @nightwingshero @ma-sulevin @shellibisshe @jackalopestride @unlikelynick @geronimo-11 @fluttyseed @fadedjacket @weekend-writer @starsandskies @faithchel @belorage @tomexraider @consumedkings @vasiktomis @chazz-anova @aceghosts @ofravensandgenesis @scarlettkat86 (and if you’re already posted WIPs, don’t mind me one bit! no obligation or pressure’s ever intended)

First, a snippet from Lighting the Fuse’s Ch. 2 which I’d love to edit up and post this weekend, so here’s hoping I can kick myself in the butt hard enough to pull it off? *crosses fingers*

---

“Not tonight, hon. Not tonight.” Propping herself back up on her elbows, she gave him a smile. “You’re here now, though. So…how about it?”

“How about what?”

“You ask,” she replied, giving him a lazy smile. “Since I’m clearly on the cusp of benching you if you don’t.”

Sharky clapped his mouth shut. Stood there, rooted to the ground and didn’t let out a single peep. 

That boggled her completely. “Seriously, hon? Nothing?”

It was dark, but Hana could almost swear he was a shade of red darker than her hair right now. “You uh…. See I didn’t think it was-maybe you being asleep kinda threw off my groove a bit.”

Hana blinked at him. Watched a crooked smile settle onto his face as he let a nervous chuckle out.

“Like, like I mean I was gonna-was thinking of maybe doing this sorta-” His words trailed off as he clenched his teeth, swallowed hard, and let out a long exhale.  “Okay, so maybe this shit isn’t exactly-”

A loud sigh came from her left directly from the radio, and the sound filled the entire room.

“…Wait, what the fuck?” Sharky asked, his eyes darting everywhere as he tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. “You hear that?”

Clenching her fists, Hana slowly let her hands relax as she let the tension out. “Unfortunately.”

“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy. I know you’re listening. But I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose. I thought you wanted my attention. Would’ve been glad to finally have it undivided, and yet you deny me the pleasure of hearing a single response in turn. How…cruel.”

---

And a bit more of the Hana/Sharky one-shot I’ve been chipping away at, that’s actually getting really close to being finished too. I just need to jot down a few more moments for it and see if these two can actually clam up long enough to let me finish

---

“Yo, it’s not like I’ve been there any longer than a few days at a time, and half of the shit they’ve dragged me down to the jail for’s legal, just not in any of the spots I ended up doing it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, which is just fucking stupid seeing as lighting a fire by my house’s fine, but if it gets out to the street and catches on the trees ‘cause it’s extra dry out and the wind’s blowing, suddenly I gotta go in ‘cause I’m negligent or some shit. Then the po-po’s claiming I gotta have a permit to burn in the drier seasons, but it rains fucking plenty here.”

He’d draped his arm over her shoulders by this point, the motion coming so easily from him she hadn’t even noticed at first. Just nestled right into that warmth almost on reflex as Sharky kept on talking, and didn’t want to budge an inch if she could help it.

“Man, it’ll be the driest stretch of the year, and the sky’ll just open up and drop a bucket-load on us ‘cause it’s feeling it, but even if it don’t, anything I start’ll get put out. Just ‘cause I’m around doesn’t mean shit’s gonna go down, or nothing. ‘Cause then phone calls are made, people start looking at me funny, and I’m getting pulled out of my car for jack and shit when maybe I just wanted to take a breather there. Maybe get in a few Zs, take five to ten to jerk it, and they don’t gotta watch that too closely if I’m doing it either.”

She’d been nodding along with him, then stopped. Let that statement sink in as her eyebrows drew together before they rose high on her face.

“…Hon, that’s not legal.”

“Aw, come on, Dep! Don’t tell me there’s some kinda permit for parking out-“

“No, not that. You’d probably get slapped with a ticket or fine, sure, but it’s more about the fact that you were  beating it there.”

“It’s indoors.”

That response came quick enough for her to tilt her head back to look at him. To side-eye him heavily as he shrugged, and damn. She’d curled up to him a lot closer than she’d initially thought. Close enough to-

She cleared her throat.

---

And a little more of the No Cult AU, maybe? ...I may have watched Speed again last night entirely due to this. and it might also be up to almost 8K in length as well, pre-edits, so... Help 

---

But that didn’t solve the other problem. Towing it.

A truck would’ve been their best bet, but with him already there it didn’t make sense to try and scrape together cash for a tow truck, or to fire off a call to anyone down at the compound. His car had been used to drag Sr’s truck out of more than a few ditches without tearing the frame up, so this wasn’t a stretch to consider, and leaving them hanging now would’ve just been a shit thing to do when they didn’t even have a working phone or forty bucks between them. 

And while he’d never been able to get a tow bar to last more than a few months max, he had a few solid workarounds that could still get the job done. One of which he’d seen in a commercial a while back. 

He knew it almost by heart at this point, and cool as it’d be to fix their problem by just whipping his pants off and tying their vehicles together with them to help tow them to the compound, he’d gone down that road before. Hell, not just once, but twice now, and considering he’d been left between getting pepper sprayed and arrested, or having a busted set of jeans and his ass hanging out for the rest of the day, he wasn’t sure he liked where that left him on round number three.

Besides these were a well-worn pair, and they seriously didn’t make them like they used to. Long as he tried not to get too creative with them, they had more than a few good years in them yet. So after some sifting and digging through the trunk of his car, Sharky kept his fingers crossed that he’d find an actual tow strap back there. He and Hurk had been through this dance enough times before that he knew he had one, and crossed his fingers that he hadn’t left it over at Sr.’s place. 

Sure enough, there it was. Fucking majestic, and almost crumpled in the back, Sharky withdrew one perfect tow strap and broke out a few moves to celebrate it before hitching the two together. 

Once it was secure, he told them all to hop in, and while trying to cram one extra person into his car was tough three other people might’ve been pushing it. John regularly had the best seat in the house and still hardly made it more than a few miles before fussing at him, and here they were double - and triple stacking themselves in any spare space in order to take a seat. Man, he was already thinking up ways to relay this story to Hurk later on, but with them semi-settled and packed safe as they could be, he fired the engine up and got them all back on the road. 

It wasn’t a far drive out to Joseph’s but he took his time with it. Drove the slowest he’d ever attempted short of being twelve and behind the wheel for the first time, trying to be extra gentle with it all as the van lumbered behind them.

If he went too fast, they’d tear the back of his car off and lose it. If they hit the brakes too hard, they’d get rammed, so he needed to nail that sweet spot. Keep from tipping from one end over into the other as he played his very own version of Speed out on this stretch of road, watching that needle dance back and forth over that perfect point as he started to sweat a little under his cap.

But he had this. Pressed his foot down on the gas and let up when he needed to, exercising the kind of control that even John would give a silent nod of approval to - which would almost make him the Keanu to his Sandra, except John wasn’t there and currently trying to crawl under any of this shit to keep a bomb from going off - but whatever, it was close enough.

So he watched the mile markers fly by as they got closer and closer to the island, and by the time they rolled through the gate and came to a stop, Sharky let out whatever breath he’d started holding, and didn’t even care when the van nearly smashed into them on the home stretch anyway.  

#wip #some of these are incredibly rough b/c my brain's part mush right now #but I've also had some of these segments stashed for way too long too #also if you want a laugh go ahead and look up the the old levi jeans commercial where they're 'towing' cars with it #of all the things to store in my brain over the years as a source of amusement it would be that