#one thing about the day 6 drawing is that i briefly considered drawing blue crying as well

[atomicnumber47]

DAY 6 ... AND.. 7 !! (two different types of tears) happy birthday silver!

#spesilverweek #pokespe #pokemon #pokespe silver #pokemon adventures #one thing about the day 6 drawing is that i briefly considered drawing blue crying as well #but i decided not to. i feel that. even as kids she held all of that in in for silver #no time to cry when you have to protect this little kid. your little brother #even if you're a little kid too. but you wont just be a little kid for long #you'll be a big kid. you'll HAVE to be a big kid. a big sister. responsible. you'll have to be responsible. #but maybe you can shield him from that. maybe he can be a little kid for just a bit longer #even if you cant be. #yknow? ..yknow? i dont know. i think blue has . so much going on with her. #ah well. they're both big kids now. #happy birthday silver! you deserve to cry a little . not in a threat way. ...well #pokemon special #dexholder silver #dexholder blue #pokespe blue #dexholder crystal #pokespe crystal #dexholder gold #pokespe gold #dexholder green #dexholder red #dexholder yellow #pokespe yellow #pokespe red #pokespe green

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: The Blue Spirit is a Bitch LMAO

This WiP Wednesday brought to you by “wouldn’t it be funny if only Zuko could see the Blue Spirit and they’re just damned annoying?”

So far, I’m working on Chapter 6 of this, so here’s some random scenes that make me laugh and/or cry.

From the very beginning, taking place during/before Zuko Alone.

In Zuko’s defense, if he’d known that the Blue Spirit was real, he never would’ve used their name! In point of fact, the correct name for his mask was the Dark Water Spirit, but that seemed like a technicality that wouldn’t matter to the spirit he’d apparently offended.

You steal my name, my face… the spirit rumbled, something about their voice sending chills down his spine, I will take you up on the offer.

Zuko gulped. He hadn’t meant to offer anything.

Somehow, he didn’t think they cared.

You want to be the Blue Spirit, they said, and the thing in front of Zuko grinned a wide, creepy grin. Wish granted.

Very abruptly, Zuko’s constant headache spiked enough to make his vision white out.

When he blinked back to awareness, he was lying on his back in the grass and the sun had begun to start peeking over the horizon. Perhaps that was what had woken him, because typically, Agni’s rays energized him.

He could use some energizing right now, because he felt like he’d been hit with a fucking airship traveling full speed.

“Ugh,” he groaned, rubbing his head. “What–?”

Oh come now, it’s not that bad, that chilling voice from earlier spoke and Zuko’s eyes snapped open to see that the bizarre creature in front of him – it almost looked human, except for the complete lack of features beyond the freaky smile – was still there, but had also become solid in a way they weren’t before. When he moved, they followed him. You’re stuck with me, they grinned.

Oh Agni, what had Zuko gotten himself into?

Given his complete lack of supplies, heading for the nearest town seemed sensible, but as soon as he grew close enough to hear the bustle of people, he knew it was a mistake. He could see something weird surrounding each person, a kind of colorful haze that – oh. Oh, dammit, had Ty Lee been right about auras this whole time!?

Ugh, if so, he owed her a massive apology, because he’d always dismissed the silly idea.

It was disorienting, but Zuko fixed his eyes on the ground, only glancing up briefly to ensure he was going in the right direction and not going to hit anyone. No one reacted to his new ‘friend’, despite the clearly inhuman appearance of them.

Yeah, no one else can see me, the Blue Spirit said casually, stretching strangely blob-like hands over their head. Ah, it feels good to move around. I’ve been cooped up in that stupid grove for way too long.

Zuko frowned, wondering if he should ask – but the last thing he needed was to draw attention by talking to himself.

Maybe the spirit would go away and it would become a moot point?

He snorted quietly. Yeah, his life was never that kind.

From Ch 2, where The Chase takes place

A few days later, he actually felt fairly stable with the whole seeing auras thing and the spirit that only he could perceive haunting him.

Actually, it was… weirdly kind of nice? To not be alone. Even though the Blue Spirit was creepy, it was nice to have someone during the long trek across the rocky plains.

A flutter of something beige caught his attention and his hand snapped out automatically to grab what turned out to be… hair?

Specifically, bison hair. The Avatar was nearby.

Heart suddenly pounding with hope, Zuko wondered if perhaps this was his chance to change everything. If he could just capture the Avatar, then – then – then what? He was considered a traitor to the Fire Nation with orders to be executed on sight. What could he actually do if he did manage to catch the Avatar?

Which was far from guaranteed. He’d never successfully held the Avatar for more than a few hours before, and even then, he’d had a blizzard to help him.

Huh, the Avatar really is back? The Blue Spirit asked. Where have they fucking been?

“Uh,” Zuko coughed. He wasn’t wholly sure, but… “I think they got frozen or something?”

…you’re kidding, right?

Zuko just shrugged, changing direction to follow the trail of bison fur. Maybe he didn’t know what to do if he caught the Avatar… but he had to try.

He literally had no other purpose in this world now.

Well, I wouldn’t quite say that, the Blue Spirit grinned. He was starting to get used to seeing that grin on a face with no other features, including no eyes, but it was still creepy. You are the Blue Spirit now.

Zuko frowned. “What does that mean?”

Their grin just widened and Zuko tried not to worry too much about it, but his hackles were definitely up when he spotted the abandoned village in the distance. The Avatar had probably gone there, which meant Zuko would be going there.

For three years, his entire purpose had been pursuing the Avatar. He didn’t know how to stop doing that, especially when he had nothing else. So maybe he didn’t have a great chance of capturing Aang (based on all of their past encounters and Zuko’s usual luck), but he had to at least try.

Never give up without a fight. Intriguing concept.

Zuko scowled at the Blue Spirit, stomping towards town.

Then he saw blue fire blossom above one of the buildings and suddenly, he had cause to run. If Azula was here, if Azula was after the Avatar – no. He had to stop her. Without the Avatar, he had no way of ever returning home. He couldn’t let her take that hope from him, even if it was a frail and fading hope.

When Zuko made his appearance on the scene, Azula and Aang were facing off down a street – so he threw a blast of fire between them and jumped down from the neighboring rooftop, landing lightly on his feet.

Concerned primarily with not breaking his legs, Zuko hadn’t really made notice of what his fire looked like. But Azula had.

“White fire? Really, Zuzu? Can you grow anymore freakish?”

He bared his teeth, snarling at her, but part of him was startled to note that she was right. Instead of the usual orange-red, his fire came out white when he struck.

He had no idea what was up with that, but he set it aside. Maybe it was a side effect of the whole spirit possession thing.

What was important was that the white fire was even hotter than Azula’s blue fire, and he could see on her face when she realized it, her calm veneer broken by a frown. Then she moved, darting between buildings, and the chase was on.

The Avatar followed her, too, and Zuko shot a few blasts at them just to keep them out of the way and on their toes. (If some of those blasts happened to cause them to jump out of the way of Azula’s shots, then that was pure coincidence.)

Zuko’s main focus was Azula. As much as he wanted to capture the Avatar, Azula was the more prominent threat.

She laughed. “So you really are a traitor. How delightful. Father will be pleased when I bring back your corpse.”

Zuko flinched.

“What–?” the Avatar started, brow furrowed in confusion, but Zuko couldn’t look at them. He had to stay focused on Azula, or she would take advantage of his distraction.

The fight continued and he wasn’t quite sure when the others showed up, but somehow, six of them ended up backing Azula up against a wall, bending (and boomerang) at the ready.

She held her hands up with calm deliberation. “Well, look at this,” she smirked. “Enemies and traitors, all working together.” She raised her hands in a peaceful gesture, but there was no way she was actually accepting defeat. “I know when I'm beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honor.”

“Like fuck,” Zuko couldn’t help but retort, and her eyes narrowed.

“You’ve never known anything about honor,” she responded and he couldn’t help his flinch.

“That is not true,” Uncle said firmly, somehow here beside him along with the Avatar’s group.

Azula smirked slightly. “Do you doubt my royal word?”

“Every word you say is a lie,” Zuko said automatically, because it was true. Azula always lied.

“Oh good,” Azula said casually, “then you know I’m lying when I say that I’ve missed you, dear Brother. The palace just hasn’t been the same without you. So quiet, so tranquil – so much better without you there.”

Again, Zuko couldn’t hide his flinch and Azula’s smirk sharpened.

It was only the Blue Spirit’s warning to block that let him raise a fire wall in front of all of them, unsure of who Azula was aiming for. Her blue fire combined with his white and exploded, sending them all flying back with a wave of heat.

Zuko managed to land on his feet. He was the only one.

A quick assessment of their surroundings showed that the Avatar’s group and Uncle had fallen to the ground, and Azula was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, moving to help his Uncle up.

“Thank you, Nephew,” Uncle smiled at him as though things were at all normal. “It is good to see you well.”

“...yeah.”

“Azula’s gone,” announced the Avatar’s strategist – the fucker with the damned boomerang. His name was… Suki? Socket? No, that didn’t seem right.

“That doesn’t mean we can let our guards down,” the waterbender said icily, glaring at Zuko.

Which… fair enough, but suddenly, his motivation to fight the Avatar and get blown through walls was waning. He already hurt enough. He really didn’t need to add additional injuries to his collection.

Aang looked at him with innocence and a slight smile, aura bright like sunshine. “Hi, Zuko,” he greeted, as though they weren’t enemies.

Zuko had no idea what to do with that. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a silent groan.

“Who the fuck are you?” the little Earth Kingdom girl that had apparently joined the Avatar’s group asked.

“Who are you?” he asked in return.

She grinned widely and honestly, it was almost on the same level of creepy as the Blue Spirit’s smiles. He swallowed back a shudder.

“I’m Toph Beifong,” she introduced, “I’m the Greatest Earthbender in the World!”

Zuko blinked, staring at her. “Aren’t you like… ten?”

“Twelve,” she corrected. “And if you don’t believe me, I’d be delighted to demonstrate.”

Something told Zuko that this demonstration would be very painful.

“...I’ll take your word for it,” he decided. Mostly, he was too tired to deal with getting beat up, but he could admit – bright blue streaks of confidence dominated in her aura and he figured that probably meant she could back up her claims.

“So… are we fighting?”

Zuko sighed, really wishing he had a better answer than, ‘do I have to?’

Of course he had to. His Father had assigned him the task of capturing the Avatar. He could not fail. Again. He had too many failures on his record as it was.

But also… his ribs were still healing and frankly, getting blown through a building did not sound appealing.

“Was I imagining things or was your fire white?” Aang asked.

Zuko just shrugged, but yeah, it had been, and he had no idea what that was about.

White fire is not achievable by humans, the Blue Spirit said casually, walking around Aang and examining the Avatar. But you are no longer human.

Zuko’s eye widened and he almost choked at the words. What the fuck did that mean?

You’re me now, remember? The Blue Spirit’s grin was feral and Zuko gulped.

“Right,” he muttered.

And a little later:

“I have a proposal,” Uncle began. “We are all tired and worn. Perhaps we can make camp, get some rest, and deal with things later?”

Zuko sent his Uncle a disbelieving glance. No way would they consent to sleeping with him around. Why the fuck would they!? He was their enemy!

“Okay!” Aang agreed instantly.

“Not okay!” exclaimed the strategist – seriously, what was his name? Zuko really should know it. Soup? Socks? No, that was stupid.

…maybe Suki? His mind kept coming back to that, so that had to be it, right?

“Maybe two separate camps?” Toph suggested. “We can take over some of these abandoned buildings. Or I can just make us an earthen camp.”

“Do you think any of these buildings have real beds?” the waterbender asked with something longing and utterly exhausted in her voice.

When was the last time these idiots slept?

“I don’t care,” he decided, choosing a building at random and stomping into it.

As if to specifically spite him, the Blue Spirit lounged on the bed that was in fact there.

He sighed heavily, but called out, “yes on the beds.”

“Dibs on the next house!” Aang cried out immediately, and from the woosh of air Zuko could hear, he’d probably barged right in.

Zuko shook his head. Was this for real? Was he really about to make camp next to the Avatar? Why!?

Oh, I’d say it’s pretty obvious why, the Blue Spirit smirked.

Zuko frowned, confused. “What?”

What’s the Avatar’s name? They asked out of nowhere.

“Uh…” Zuko glanced around, trying to figure out the relevance. “...Aang?”

Mmhm. And what are the others’ names?

“Um,” Zuko flushed. “I mean, there’s Toph. And… Suki?”

“Are you talking to me?” Uncle called, making his way into the house.

Zuko shook his head, flushing.

The Blue Spirit smirked and suddenly he knew he was going to hate whatever was said next.

You have a crush, the Blue Spirit announced.

“What!?” Zuko flushed bright red, sputtering in disbelief. “Do not!”

The Blue Spirit just cackled, that same ghostly laughter that sent shivers down his spine.

“Nephew?” Uncle approached, a look of concern across his face.

Zuko covered his blushing face. “Nevermind,” he muttered.

Uncle’s eyebrow arched, but he let it go. “Are you tired?”

“Uh. Kinda?” He was… but he’d also noticed that he needed a lot less sleep now than he had before.

“Then let us rest,” Uncle smiled. “A man needs his rest. We can speak in the morning.”

After Zuko has a nightmare:

Fortunately, Zuko awoke with the scream trapped in his chest, the memory of his Father’s fist of fire making him shake.

He needed air, so he launched himself out of the chair and stumbled out onto the streets, where the sun was about two hours away from peeking over the horizon. Fortunately, Uncle had taught him to meditate on where the sun wasn’t as much as where it was, so Zuko chose a nice spot and settled down.

Naturally, that was when the Blue Spirit plopped themselves in front of them with – actually, with a strangely serious expression. As much of an expression as one could make with only a mouth.

That’s fucked up, the Blue Spirit opened with.

Zuko blinked. “...what is?”

Your memory.

Zuko’s eye widened. “You can see my memories!?”

Only when you dream. For now.

Well. That wasn’t ominous.

“How long am I stuck with you exactly?”

Oh, you’re never getting rid of me, the Blue Spirit laughed.

Swallowing hard, Zuko decided he couldn’t think too hard about that.

He was wrong, the Blue Spirit said, mouth flattening into a serious line again. You know that, right? Like, I don’t even have human morals and holy fuck, he was super wrong to do that to you.

Zuko frowned. “He was punishing me for disrespect,” he whispered.

Yeah, I’m a spirit of justice, the Blue Spirit said bluntly. There was nothing just about that.

“Yes there was,” Zuko objected. There had to be. Otherwise, how could everyone else have acted like it was okay?

He was always forcing his Father to punish him. It wasn’t that Father wanted to – but Father wanted him to be stronger, to stop being a disappointment.

He deserved everything Father had ever done to him.

That’s bullshit, the Blue Spirit said.

“Well, what do you know of it?” Zuko snapped. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

On the contrary, the Blue Spirit grinned. I am the spirit of vengeful justice. It is entirely my business how my host has been mistreated.

“I haven’t been,” Zuko said, but somehow it felt like a lie.

Yes, the Blue Spirit said simply, you have. But not to worry – you can now take just revenge for each slight!

“There aren’t any slights!”

Really? Not even against the Blue Fire Girl?

Zuko hesitated.

That’s what I thought.

“Ugh,” Zuko groaned. “Just… shut up.” He’d come out here to meditate, not to question everything he’d ever known.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop circulating around his head when he tried to meditate, so he changed his plans, instead pulling out his swords.

In the prior village, he’d combined his swords and his fire together. And he hadn’t noticed if his fire was white there – more concerned with the whole stone mallet to the chest thing – but it certainly was now.

It was kind of unnerving, so Zuko stuck to playing with his swords only, doing his best to mitigate how much he pulled on his ribs. But he couldn’t afford to be idle while they healed, so he needed to learn how to fight with them.

It wasn’t the first time he’d learned to compensate for an injury limiting his mobility. (In the most memorable previous time, he’d had to figure out how to practice dual dao with one arm in a cast after Father had broken it as punishment for playing with swords when his firebending was a disappointment.)

Again, the Blue Spirit said, that’s fucked up. Like, seriously. No wonder the world has gotten so out of balance if that’s what’s leading the Fire Nation.

Zuko felt like he needed to defend his Father, but he really didn’t know what to say. It was Father. Everything he did was right by definition.

But the Blue Spirit said nothing else and Zuko let it go, shedding his shirt when sweat started to make his skin itch. Then he focused only on moving his swords the way they were supposed to move, filtering out all other input from his senses.

Which is why he jumped about three feet into the air when Aang’s voice asked out of nowhere, “what happened to you!?”

“Fuck!” Zuko swore, pressing a hand to his pounding heart. “Fucking Agni, don’t do that.”

The Avatar just frowned at him, face pinched with what almost looked like concern. “What happened?”

“None of your business,” Zuko snapped, reaching for his shirt and quickly covering his torso – and the very obvious bruises and scars scattered across it.

“Katara’s a healer,” Aang offered.

Katara. Was that the waterbender? He had read that waterbending could sometimes heal. But even if she could do it… “yeah, I don’t think that’s on offer for your enemy,” he said bluntly.

“Everyone deserves healing,” Aang disagreed. “And we won’t know until we ask.”

“Well, I’m not asking,” Zuko snapped.

“But–”

“Fuck off,” Zuko said, turning away from the Avatar. This… was actually the perfect opportunity to attack, with no one else around but them. But right now, Zuko was angry and confused and in pain and he did not have the mental capacity to deal with the Avatar trying to help his enemy. Again.

He spun his swords, moving through the katas Master Piandao had once taught him and paying the Avatar no mind. He kind of figured Aang would go back to his friends – but instead, when he finished the kata, Aang clapped.

Zuko whirled around to stare at him.

“That was really cool!” Aang enthused. “I mean, I knew from before that you were good with swords, but like – wow! You’re really good!”

“...thanks?” Zuko hazarded, uncertain of what to do with the Avatar’s praise.

Cruuuuuuuush, the Blue Spirit’s singsong voice said from way too close, and Zuko jumped again, earning him a surprised look from Aang.

Ugh. He did not have a crush.

You so do, the Blue Spirit responded, clearly amused.

“What do you want?” Zuko demanded, and he honestly didn’t know if he was asking the damned spirit or the Avatar.

Aang shrugged. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“...shouldn’t you consider that a good thing?”

“Hmm,” Aang paused to actually think about it. “There are positives to it,” he said eventually, “but there’s something reassuringly familiar about you chasing me.”

“...are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, I mean, since I woke up from the ice, you and Katara and Sokka have been the most consistent things in my life,” he said, smiling brightly at Zuko.

Zuko… did not know what to do with that.

“Hey, can I ask?” Aang began, “why do you chase me anyway?”

Because the Fire Lord is a sadistic asshole, the Blue Spirit said.

Zuko froze, which apparently worried Aang, because he held his hands out, quick to assure, “you don’t have to tell me! I’m just curious.”

You know, the Blue Spirit observed, if you won’t believe me, maybe you should tell him. I guarantee he will tell you that your Father is seriously fucked up beyond belief.

That made Zuko scowl and Aang winced, leaning back and murmuring an apology.

It was ridiculous that Zuko felt guilty for making him think it was his fault that Zuko was pissed.

He wanted so badly to respond to the Blue Spirit, but there was only so much responding to things no one else could hear that could be excused. So he grit his teeth and bit out, “go away.”

Aang pouted. There was really no other word for the expression. “Aw, c’mon,” he whined. “We can talk about something else!”

“I don’t want to talk to you at all,” Zuko said without thinking and the hurt that crossed Aang’s face made something uncomfortable twist in his chest. He huffed, annoyed with everything about this situation.

“Okay,” Aang said quietly, voice small. Zuko did not feel guilty about that. “But can you at least come see Katara and get healed? It can’t be easy to fight with… all of that.”

It wasn’t, but like hell was Zuko admitting that. “I’m fine.”

“Those bruises looked really deep,” Aang pointed out.

Zuko shrugged. “Nothing broke. Probably.”

“‘Probably’!?”

He sighed, “what do you care?”

Frowning, Aang looked up at him with earnest eyes and said, “no one should be in pain.”

That actually made Zuko laugh, which was horrible for his ribs, but… “I don’t remember what it’s like not to be in pain,” he admitted. “You get used to it.”

Aang’s look of horror just reminded Zuko of how different their lives were. This was an airbender who had grown up in a world without war, in a temple where fun and serenity were considered to be the most important things.

It was such a foreign upbringing that Zuko couldn’t really understand it. His entire life had always been a struggle. He’d never been given anything for free – but the Avatar? They probably got offered free shit all the time.

Shaking his head, Zuko turned away. “Go away, Aang.”

Aang did not go away. In fact, when Zuko headed towards the house Uncle was sleeping in, the Avatar followed him.

“You know my name,” Aang said, surprise in his voice.

Zuko’s face scrunched in confusion, unsure why that mattered. Then he spotted the Blue Spirit’s wide grin parting to say something and he snapped out, “shut up.”

Aang ignored that. “Do you know the others’ names?” he asked curiously, skipping up next to Zuko.

Zuko’s fists clenched and the Blue Spirit laughed.

No, the Blue Spirit said, smugness in their voice. You just know his because you’ve got a crush.

He did not! Desperate to defend himself, he blurted out, “I know Appa and Momo!”

“You… do?” Aang blinked at him in surprise.

Zuko flushed. “Um. Admittedly, not sure which is which.”

That made Aang burst out into giggles. “Appa is my bison,” he said with a grin. “Momo is our lemur.”

And a little later:

“The world has changed so much,” Aang said, voice quiet. “It scares me.”

“I mean,” Zuko heard himself say before he knew he was going to, “even a hundred years ago, your perception of the world was probably pretty different from most people in the other nations.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re an Air Nomad.”

“...yeah?”

Zuko flushed. “The other nations don’t really have so much emphasis on ‘fun’. Even historically. And I mean, not saying that you were ignorant of the other nations – I’m sure you visited them plenty – but Air Nomads… the other nations aren’t like that.”

“What do you mean?” Aang frowned.

Zuko sucked on his bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “Probably the closest to the Air Nomad lifestyle would be the Water Tribes. They’re communal too – or at least, the South is. I dunno much about the North that’s not eighty years out of date, and as of then, they’d moved away from that a couple thousand years ago. But that makes a pretty significant difference. When you know your needs are provided for… it’s different. But the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom… they’ve never been like that. I mean, I’m sure some places have done it on a local level before, but like, nationally, there’s no guarantee for Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom citizens that they will always have food or shelter or water or–” he spotted the look on Aang’s face and broke off. “Um. Yeah.”

“Really?” Aang whispered. “I mean, I guess I knew that a little bit? Bumi lived on the streets in Omashu a hundred years ago.”

Zuko blinked. “Bumi? As in King Bumi!?”

“Yeah, he became king at some point?” Aang shrugged. “He – he was always good at taking care of himself that I guess I never really realized… how can the Earth King and the Fire Lord not feed all their people?”

“Well, scale is definitely a factor,” Zuko said. “Like, there is a point where a society gets too big to effectively manage. I mean, there were around twenty-nine thousand Air Nomads. The Southern Water Tribes, too, were around twenty thousand at their peak. But the Fire Nation has a hundred-seventy-nine thousand people, and the Earth Kingdom has at least three-point-five million.”

Aang’s eyes were wide. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. So size is a factor. But probably also culture? Like… before the Fire Nation unified into one country, we were a little more like the Southern Water Tribes. Each island had their own clans and good rulers took care of their people. But then we came together as one nation and…” he frowned, horrified by the thought that it all went downhill from there.

“But…” Aang’s face scrunched up in confusion, “I mean, I don’t really get how having a single ruler works, but like… how can they not take care of all their people? Isn’t that the purpose of having a ruler?”

Zuko had no response to that.

He’s got a point, the Blue Spirit pointed out, watching Zuko and Aang like they were the best entertainment they’d seen in years.

…which might actually be the case, but Zuko determinedly did not care.

He scowled at the Blue Spirit, just on principle.

“What are you looking at?” Aang asked curiously, following his gaze – and probably seeing nothing more interesting than the dust-swept ground.

“Nothing,” Zuko muttered, realizing that at some point, he’d stopped walking just to talk to Aang. Frown deepening, he resumed his journey to Uncle.

Aang continued to skip alongside him until they heard Katara’s voice snarling, “where is he!?”

They shared a concerned look and ran.

Katara stood over Uncle, icicles hovering threateningly around him. The only thing that stopped Zuko from attacking was the fact that Uncle appeared entirely calm, sipping a cup of tea.

Where had he even found tea?

“Katara?” Aang called, and she whirled around.

“Aang! Are you okay?” she asked, running up to him and glaring fiercely at Zuko.

“I’m fine,” Aang said easily. “What’s wrong?”

“We woke up and you were gone and then it turned out Zuko was also gone, so…” the Water Tribe boy – Aang had said his name, hadn’t he? What was it? – shrugged, looking bored. There was clear relief on his face, though, and his boomerang was in hand.

Agni, Zuko hated that thing.

Then the boy’s words penetrated his head and he realized that he hadn’t even tried to capture the Avatar. Like, at all.

Was he really so scared of getting his ass kicked that he didn’t even bother to try!?

Yeah, I don’t think that’s the problem, the Blue Spirit said, a smirk on their face. Zuko’s brow knit in confusion and they clarified, do you really want to bring that innocent and gullible Avatar to the man who burned your face off?

Zuko couldn’t help his flinch and it garnered him strange looks, but he tried to ignore it.

What do you think your Father would do to him? the Blue Spirit asked curiously. Which body part do you think he would burn first.

Zuko’s inhale made sharp pain spread through his chest and he winced, pressing a hand to his ribs absently, more focused on the Blue Spirit than the way the Avatar looked at him with obvious concern.

He wanted to tell the Blue Spirit that they were wrong, that Father wouldn’t – wouldn’t–

Would your Father keep him alive, you think? Or let him reincarnate eventually?

“Stop,” Zuko whispered, eye wide as he processed the Blue Spirit’s words.

“Stop what?” Aang asked, standing too close to him and looking curiously between him and the presumably empty patch of street where the Blue Spirit stood. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly unspeakably angry, Zuko grit out, “I’m fine.” Then he turned on his heel and marched away – away from the Avatar, but more importantly, away from the Blue Spirit and the horrible things they said.

They were wrong. They had to be. Father wouldn’t–

But. But he’d never thought Father would burn him so badly either, and what if the Blue Spirit was right!? If – if Father could punish his son so severely… what would he do to the boy who happened to be the Fire Nation’s most wanted enemy?

Zuko had deserved his punishment, but Aang…

No, not Aang. The Avatar. The one being powerful enough to challenge the Fire Lord.

Father would have no mercy. He certainly hadn’t had any for Zuko.

And that was right. That was just.

The problem was, Zuko wasn’t sure he could sentence anyone to worse than what he got. The burn on his face had been deep enough to steal not just his sight on that side, but his hearing, too. It hurt constantly and made his whole head throb.

But he’d deserved it. Right? He’d – he’d spoken out of turn in the Fire Lord’s war room. He’d shown unforgiveable disrespect. That – that was an offense serious enough to warrant such a punishment… wasn’t it?

An hour ago, he wouldn’t have questioned it. But now? Now the Blue Spirit’s complete disapproval of his Father had instilled doubts in him.

Father wouldn’t be happy.

It was fine, though. Zuko wouldn’t succumb. He would always be loyal to his Father, as a good son should be. He wasn’t a good son, Father had made that clear, but he had to try.

So why couldn’t he dismiss the Blue Spirit’s words?

Trying to stop thinking, Zuko dove into a kata that he knew well enough to be comfortable with, but not so well that he didn’t have to pay attention to what he was doing. His fire came out bright white, but he refused to let his mind contemplate that. It didn’t matter what his fire looked like. All that mattered was that he execute the kata correctly.

Next Chapter:

Iroh was used to worrying about Zuko. In general, his nephew excelled in reckless behavior – but now especially, with everything in their life so shaken up, he felt that worry more keenly than ever.

He shouldn’t have let Zuko go alone.

“Uh…” the Earth Kingdom girl coughed, “what the fuck just happened?”

“Got me,” the Water Tribe boy said. “Zuko just started staring into space and freaking out.”

“I don’t think he was staring into space,” the Avatar said, frowning. “It seemed more like he was looking at something.”

“But there’s nothing there.”

Iroh stroked his beard, intrigued. “Nothing we could see. Which does not necessarily mean nothing at all.”

“...are you saying that Zuko’s seeing things?”

“Actually, I was thinking more about the white fire. The spirit fire.”

The Avatar gasped. “You think Zuko saw a spirit? But why couldn’t we?”

“Very few beings can see a spirit’s form without the spirit intending it.” Iroh was actually one of those beings, but he’d seen nothing either. The question was, did that mean there was nothing to see? “Some of it comes down to power – not many spirits are powerful enough to manifest physically unless something serious happens to set them off.”

“Like the fucking Hei Bai spirit,” the Water Tribe boy muttered.

“What,” the Avatar asked hesitantly, “what would it mean, if Zuko sees a spirit?”

“I’m not sure,” Iroh admitted, but now that the thought had occurred, he worried about it. What could the spirits want with his boy?

“He’s injured,” the Avatar’s quiet voice said.

“What? Who?” the waterbender blinked.

“Zuko. He looked pretty badly injured, but he wouldn’t come back to ask you to heal him, so…”

She sniffed, sticking her nose in the air. “I wouldn’t anyway.”

The Avatar frowned sadly. “He guessed that. But – but he could have broken bones, Katara!”

“...he did touch his ribs like he was in pain,” the boomerang kid said reluctantly.

Iroh fretted, but he knew nothing he could say would help this girl decide to heal her enemy, so he stayed quiet.

“So what? He chased us across the world!”

The Avatar chewed on his lip and then admitted, “he also saved me from Zhao once.”

“...what?” Iroh wasn’t the only one to look at him in surprise.

“I – I got captured by Zhao,” the Avatar explained hesitantly. “After that big storm, you remember? Where you guys got super sick? Well, I went looking for medicine and these freaky archers came after me and… Zhao strung me up in this stronghold. And he – I was so scared,” he admitted. “I could barely move. I didn’t know what to do. But then the door opened and–”

The waterbender scoffed. “And Zuko appeared? Yeah right!”

“He did!” the Avatar insisted. “But I didn’t know it was him at first. He wore a mask and used swords instead of fire.”

“...Zuko can use swords?” the Water Tribe boy asked, looking mildly disturbed.

“Yeah! He was practicing with them earlier and wow! He’s really good! I mean, I kinda knew that, because we had to fight a lot of firebenders to escape, but like…” he shrugged.

The waterbender crossed her arms. “Well if he’s so injured, what is he doing practicing?”

The Avatar frowned. “I mentioned that. He just said that nothing was broken. Probably.”

“‘Probably’!?” Iroh couldn’t help but burst out.

“That’s what I said!” The Avatar looked distressed. “He – he said he doesn’t remember what it’s like not to be in pain.”

Iroh winced. It wasn’t that that came as a surprise, exactly, but it was difficult for him to acknowledge the reality that his boy experienced constant pain and there was nothing he could do about it.

He did not like feeling powerless.

“What does that mean?” the Water Tribe boy demanded. His sister’s face was a strange mix of horrified, disbelieving, and sad.

Iroh sighed. “Such deep burns are not without consequence,” he murmured.

“Who–?” the Avatar dared to ask.

Part of Iroh wanted so badly to tell them. Their goal was to face the Fire Lord and stop this war. They should know just how terrible Ozai was.

But… Zuko wouldn’t want his enemies to know. Zuko hadn’t yet come to realize just how unforgivable it was for his Father to do such a horrible thing. It broke Iroh’s heart, but he hoped that one day, Zuko would be ready to acknowledge that his Father was wrong.

Iroh sighed, shaking his head in response to the Avatar’s question.

The Water Tribe boy coughed. “Um. Who are you, anyway? I mean, obviously you’re always following Zuko around, but…”

That made Iroh’s lips twitch. “I am Zuko’s Uncle,” he introduced. “My name is Iroh.”

“His… Uncle?” the boy said with a strange expression on his face. “As in… his Father’s brother?”

“Indeed,” Iroh agreed.

“...younger brother, though, right?”

“Ah,” Iroh clicked his tongue. “No. Ozai is almost twenty years my junior.”

Not me just sharing practically the whole next chapter oops

“Nephew!” Uncle beamed at him, looking up from the Pai Sho board he’d found somewhere. “Would you like some tea?”

Zuko sighed, taking a seat across from Uncle (carefully holding his torso still, because fuck, his ribs hurt). He would not be playing Pai Sho, but he did want to talk to his Uncle.

“What’s on your mind, Nephew?” Uncle asked, inviting him to share.

Zuko wanted to ask. But it was also really hard to get the words to cooperate. In the end, his question was blurted out with a complete lack of tact.

“What do you think Father would do to the Avatar?”

Uncle blinked in surprise, then took a moment to think, looking contemplatively down at the board. “I am not sure I can theorize,” he said.

“He’ll,” Zuko stuttered, “he’ll do worse than he did to me, won’t he?”

“It is highly likely,” Uncle said carefully. Too carefully.

The Blue Spirit’s words ran through his mind again and he had to whisper out the question that scared him more than anything. “Was Father wrong?”

“What?”

“When – when he – I – I deserved it, right?”

“No!” Uncle said with such emphasis that it made Zuko tense. He clearly noticed and calmed himself. “No, Zuko. There is nothing you could do that would deserve such treatment.”

Zuko frowned. How could that be? “But…”

Told you, the Blue Spirit chimed in, and Zuko suddenly noticed them lounging across the moth-eaten couch.

But that didn’t make sense. How could he not deserve it? Why would Father do that if he hadn’t deserved it?

Because he is cruel, the Blue Spirit said simply. But don’t take my word for it. Ask him.

Zuko chewed on his lip, not quite able to look at Uncle. “Why?” he asked quietly. “If – if I didn’t – then why?”

“Zuko,” Uncle began, but Zuko had to finish.

“If – if what he did was wrong, then why didn’t anybody stop him!?”

Uncle set his teacup aside, and when Zuko glanced up, he was looking at Zuko with a serious expression. It made him look sad.

“There is no excuse for cowardice,” Uncle said, and his voice shook in a way it never had before. “But sometimes fear is easier to succumb to than courage.”

Zuko frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Uncle said, “that not only did Ozai wrong you, but you were failed by all of us who should’ve done something and never did. It is unforgivable, Zuko.” Uncle met his gaze with shiny eyes. “Of everyone there that day, Zuko, you are the only one who did not do something wrong.”

“But–”

“You were right, Zuko,” Uncle said clearly, stopping for a moment to clear his throat, voice thick with emotion. “You were right to speak up for the 41st. You absolutely did not deserve what happened – no one ever could.”

“But how can that be!?” Zuko burst out. “If – if it was so wrong, then how come no one has ever said that before? How come you’ve never said that before!?”

Uncle flinched. “You love your Father,” he said after a moment. “When you love someone, it is difficult to see the ways they are wrong. When others criticize those we love, we rarely believe them. But that does not mean it is not true.” He sniffled and cleared his throat. “I never wanted you to push me away.”

Zuko’s face was scrunched in distress. “But – but even the Earth Kingdom merchants and the gossips in every port and the soldiers everywhere – everyone acted like Father was right. How can that not be the case?”

“Your Father has a great deal of power over the world,” Uncle said slowly. “Not because of his crown, but because of his cruelty. People the world over fear him. Fear makes us cowards, and sometimes it is easier to pretend it’s not there than to admit that we failed. Because if we acknowledge that Ozai is wrong and we do nothing… we are not less guilty than he is.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!”

“No,” Uncle agreed, voice so very sad. “It doesn’t. The world has become terribly broken, Zuko, and too few remember what it is to act with compassion and love. Our family has brought a century of war on this world and people have become twisted with malice and desperation. That does not make it right. What Ozai did was wrong. And there is no possible way anyone could deserve that.”

Zuko shook his head, not able to accept that. It was ridiculous. If Uncle was right, then the whole world was wrong. That couldn’t be possible.

It made much more sense to think that the problem was Zuko. Maybe… maybe other people wouldn’t deserve it. But Zuko did. Zuko had to have, because otherwise, every single person he’d ever met had been wrong. All those people who sneered at him and laughed at him and made jokes about it and–

It was too many people. Surely they couldn’t all be in the wrong.

No, it had to be that Zuko was the one wrong. It had to be.

Uncle reached out slowly to touch his arm and Zuko couldn’t help his flinch, head spinning with confusion.

It couldn’t be. Uncle had to be incorrect, that was the only thing that made sense.

But… but Uncle looked at him with such guilt and pain and heartbreak and Zuko didn’t know what to do with that and–

“I need air,” he grunted out, scrambling to his feet and bolting.

Unfortunately, while Uncle could be outrun, the Blue Spirit could not be.

He’s right, they said, strolling alongside Zuko.

“Fuck off,” Zuko grit out. “Just – just go away!”

Fine, the Blue Spirit agreed. But he’s still right.

A moment later, they popped out of existence, and Zuko let out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling a hot burning behind his right eye.

They were wrong. They had to be.

Right?

Now Aang’s POV

Aang was floating on cloud nine. He could earthbend! After a horribly long day of failure after failure after failure, he could do it! He could move rock!

Katara left to start dinner and Sokka and Toph had eagerly followed her, but Aang had too much energy to stay in place, so he wandered through the streets, bending pebbles around just because he could.

So when he spotted Zuko stomping down an intersecting street, he raced after the Prince excitedly.

“Hey Zuko, guess what?” He used his airbending to speed ahead and come around to face Zuko, a bright grin on his face. Then he spotted Zuko’s expression and his smile fell. “Are you okay?”

Zuko turned away instantly, sniffling and wiping his right eye. Aang… was pretty sure he’d seen tears on Zuko’s cheek and he didn’t know what to do with that. It had… never really occurred to him that Zuko could cry.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

“Nothing. Go away.” Zuko’s voice lacked any force and he wouldn’t look at Aang, even when Aang circled around him again.

“Is there anything I can do?” Aang asked quietly.

“Yeah, fuck off,” Zuko grunted, twisting on his heel to stomp away from Aang.

Aang chewed on his lip. He – he didn’t want to not respect Zuko’s wishes, but something was very clearly wrong and he couldn’t just leave Zuko to be upset alone.

“I can distract you, if you want?” he offered. If Zuko wouldn’t talk to him, then he could at least help Zuko take his mind off whatever had happened… right?

“Why!?” Zuko demanded, rounding on him. “What do you care!?”

Aang frowned. “Why… wouldn’t I care?”

Zuko sputtered. “Because we’re enemies, maybe!?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want you to be unhappy,” Aang pointed out. “I don’t want anyone to be unhappy. So if I can do something about it when someone is…” he shrugged.

Zuko stared in disbelief. The eyelashes of his right eye – the only eye that had eyelashes – were clumped with tears and it was pretty obvious that Zuko had definitely been crying.

Aang hated when people cried. He wanted to give Zuko a hug, but that might be pushing things a little too far. Still, he could at least do something to offer comfort.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay,” he said, voice as gentle as he could make it. “You don’t have to tell me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take your mind off it.”

“...how?”

“Um,” Aang considered his options. “Oh! Would you like to fly on Appa?”

Zuko’s face made it clear he thought Aang was crazy.

“Flight is amazing!” Aang insisted. “C’mon, I’ve taken a lot of first-time flyers out. It’ll be fun!”

“Fun,” Zuko repeated blankly. “You… I don’t know why I’m surprised,” he huffed.

Aang attempted a smile. “As you know, Air Nomads are big on fun,” he said easily. “Do you wanna go flying?”

There was definite temptation on Zuko’s face, but the frown stayed dominant. “You realize I could just knock you out and fly to the Fire Nation, right?”

“Well, I guess it’s possible,” Aang acknowledged. “But I think Appa would have something to say about that. He can be positively unmoveable when he’s feeling stubborn, you know?”

Zuko blinked slowly, processing that. Then he actually snorted.

“Sky bison were considered to be one of the most willful pack animals in the world,” Zuko muttered.

“Yeah!” Aang nodded, though he was definitely surprised Zuko knew that. But it didn’t really matter. “So… wanna go flying?”

“...fuck it, why not?” Zuko said after a moment.

“Great! C’mon!” Aang positively beamed, grabbing Zuko’s hand and dragging him towards Appa.

Zuko asks the burning question

When Zuko’s eyes opened again, there was a considering look on his face. “Can I ask you something?”

Surprised, Aang nodded. “Sure!”

“In – in the Air Temples,” he began, voice hoarse, “how were you punished if you disrespected the elders?”

Aang tilted his head. “Disrespect how?”

“What do you mean ‘how’?” Zuko frowned. “Disrespect is disrespect.”

“Well, I guess, but like… it kinda depends on how much of a sense of humor you have, you know? Like – like Master Gyatso and I would prank the other elders all the time, and Monk Tashi would get super mad, but Monk Pasang usually found it funny. He’d even give us feedback on how the pies tasted!”

“...pies?”

“Oh yeah, see, Master Gyatso is a great baker. And pies are perfect for throwing at people’s heads.”

Zuko stared at him. “You… threw pies at your elders?” There was clear horror in Zuko’s voice. “What did they do to you? How were you punished?”

“Oh, usually it was just more chores and stuff,” Aang shrugged. “I’m very good at cleaning bison stables.”

Zuko’s stare almost turned gaping.

“What?”

“You,” Zuko’s voice was strangled, “you attacked and humiliated your elders and all you got was more chores!?”

“Uh… yeah?” Aang frowned. “Why? What do you think should’ve happened?”

Zuko clutched at his hair, face distraught. “It’s – that can’t – it’s not – what!?”

Aang wasn’t sure what was troubling Zuko so much, but he reached out with clearly telegraphed movements to touch Zuko’s arm. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

Zuko’s muscles flinched under his fingers, but Zuko didn’t actually pull away. Instead, he sat hunched over, tugging at his own hair.

“Zuko?” Aang shifted closer, hoping to offer what comfort he could. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Zuko shook his head, very obviously focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Even so, each exhale shuddered, and Aang was pretty sure that wasn’t just because of the bruising he’d seen earlier.

“Can I hug you?”

That made Zuko jerk back, gaping at him. “What!?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Aang said very seriously, “but you seem like you could use a hug. So… can I?”

For some reason, his question seemed to cause Zuko great consternation, but after a long moment, Zuko said, “I… guess?”

“Okay,” Aang smiled. “Just tell me when you want me to let go.” With that said, he shifted so that he could hug Zuko properly, pulling Zuko into him and pressing their chests together.

Zuko was tense in his arms and he kept his touch gentle, not wanting to aggravate the unknown injuries Zuko definitely had.

It was kind of awkward, just sitting in silence, hugging someone who was stiff as a board, but Aang ignored that, focusing on offering whatever comfort he could.

He didn’t know what was wrong or why Zuko was upset, but he did know that he liked Zuko and he didn’t like Zuko being unhappy.

So he held Zuko close and gradually, Zuko’s muscles unwound. At some point, Zuko even tilted his face into Aang’s shoulder, hands coming up to clutch at the back of Aang’s shirt. Aang smiled slightly, leaning his weight into Zuko and slowly rubbing Zuko’s back.

They stayed like that for a long time, just circling in the air above the village their families were in and hugging tightly.

And finally, a fun little distraction

Aside from Uncle, it had been a very long time since anyone had hugged Zuko. And even Uncle didn’t do it often.

It was… kind of nice?

Embarrassing beyond belief that he needed it, but he could admit that after waaaaaaay too long spent hugging Aang, he… did actually feel a little bit better. It hadn’t fixed anything, but he felt sort of like it had grounded him. There was still a typhoon of thought and emotion in his head, but he’d managed to push it down enough that he felt like he could actually breathe.

Unfortunately, that meant that he then had to acknowledge the part where he’d basically just broken down in his enemy’s arms.

He flushed, swallowing uncomfortably and drawing away with a mumbled apology.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Aang said softly. “Are you okay?”

Zuko opened his mouth to respond and then realized that he didn’t have an answer. He… wasn’t entirely sure he knew what it meant to be okay.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Aang’s smile was compassionate in a way that made Zuko feel exposed like a raw wound.

“No!” he lashed out with a scowl.

“Okay,” Aang said easily. “If you decide you do wanna talk about it, you’re welcome to come to me any time. In the meantime, do you wanna do a barrel roll?”

Zuko’s face was probably a fascinating thing to study as different emotions flashed through his mind.

But honestly, that did sound pretty cool.

“Yeah,” he decided, setting aside all the things he didn’t know how to feel about.

“Great!” Aang grinned. “Hang on to my arm, just in case. Appa knows what he’s doing, but it’s still best to be careful with people who can’t fly.”

The barrel roll was actually completely amazing and Zuko actually felt a smile pulling at his lips. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

#atla #wip wednesday #zuko x aang #zukaang #i mean really pretty gen #but the INTENT is to get there at some point #lord only knows if that will happen #season 2 au

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Scythes And Stories Chapter 2 - The Shading Of The Sky

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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

The sun set over the magnificent castle, shining in opal whites, scarlet reds, and deep deep golds. The castle of Vesperum, capital of Solis. Crown jewel of the world, supposedly. Rich, vibrant, and full of life, where everyone’s needs are cared for. All of this was said, but not all of it could possibly be true, Princess Ariadne thought melancholically as she sat in her bedroom. “If Solis is as perfect as everyone in the castle seems to claim, then why do I see so much suffering, not even including my own. I see the poor crying and desperate for sustenance. All of this, while the rich and ignorant fill their bellies with decadent meals and recline on satin chaises. I see the beautiful landscape razed to create room for the invasive spread of buildings our city’s population requires, while the buildings already standing are falling. And, I suppose, I do see my own pain.” Ariadne thought. “I sit here, day after day, trussed and dressed up and presented like a prize peacock. I’m nearly 18 and I have yet to do one thing of value my entire life. I cry out to do something, anything, but my life is one of silk, and just as flimsy and gaudy as such.”

“Miss Ariadne?” echoed a call from just outside the door. It was Rose, Ariadne’s nursemaid since birth, who had since changed into Ariadne’s only constant source of support, comfort, and a shoulder to cry on. Stifling her exhaustion, Anna stood and swung open the fine oak door of her bedroom. The rest of Ariadne’s room was just as opulent as the door. A fine four poster bed, piled with velvety pillows. A wardrobe full of the finest clothes. A rub from Stellae, the finest producers of textile products in the world. “Why do you look so troubled Ariadne?” Rose asked, settling into the comfortable armchair by the window to catch a brief respite. “Have your parents done something again?” Ariadne’s mother and father’s faces briefly flashed before her eyes. Her father’s stern gaze and neatly trimmed beard, mouth shouting she was a disappointment. Her mother’s amber eyes, those same ones now in Ariadne’s own head, sad and woeful. These visages dissipated quickly, but not before Ariadne’s throat closed. “Oh, you must not have heard yet. Not surprising, it’s a very recent development.” Ariadne choked out, close to breaking. Rose stood and drew Ariadne into a hug. “What happened, Ria?” Rose asked, using the nickname few had ever used. Ariadne lifted her head and stared out the window, wishing to be anywhere but here.

“I’ve been engaged to Commander Charles.” she whispered, tears brimming on her eyelashes, hovering, and cascading down.

Mouth open wide in horror, Rose gasped. “Your parents cannot be serious? You’re not even 18 yet, how are they even considering this? And Commander Charles is… a qualified but questioning option.”

“I believe their chosen words were ‘You will never amount to anything without a man and large coffers.’”

“That is ridiculous. You are strong and could easily make your own way…” Rose trailed off, realizing quickly the problem. Ariadne’s parents did not know Ariadne had been training with a variety of weapons since a young age. They did not know she spoke several languages and loved to read, and was a master of poisons. They didn’t know she had taught herself, had not cared enough to pay attention. And they especially did not know Ariadne had no intention of marrying a man ever in her life.

“I am so sorry my Ria. I am so, so unbelievably sorry. If there was any movement I could do to stop this, I would. But-”

“I know, Rose. It’s ok. I am barely in a position to help myself. I guess this is my fate, isn’t it? Everybody has to deal with things they dislike in life, and this is my lot. However, this doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Miss Ariadne, sometimes I believe you are too wise and nihilistic for your young age.”

“I sometimes think that too. But what can I do about it? If my parents will not hear or see me, I’ll be loud and brash and sad in my own head.”

A half hour and several nostalgic conversations later, Ariadne was curled up under her covers, staring out the window. The sky was sprinkled generously with stars, glowing white against the black and indigo shading of the sky. A soft breeze drifted in, smelling of the ocean. Ariadne was supposed to draw her curtains and shut her window at night, but she refused. “I will not be cut off from the outside world any more than I already am.” she told Rose before freeing her for the night. Now, she found herself unable to find peace within her own head, instead allowing the thoughts she never allowed in daylight to surface. “Somewhere out there, there must be a chance. A chance for me to love who I do, and be content in it. A chance where I don’t have to marry a commander who is a war criminal and a menace to people less fortunate than him, stealing and taking what little they do have. A chance for me to be, for once in my lifetime, happy.” Ariadne drifted off soon after, into a restless sleep filled with dark shadows, gleaming scythes, and ancient storybooks.

Ariadne startled awake in the dark of the night, eyes searching for the source of the disturbance. It didn’t take long. There was a lithe figure on her windowsill, silhouetted in the light of the stars and moon. The two stared at each other for a moment that hung suspended in time. And then, the figure moved. Ariadne scrambled backward and off her bed, thumping onto the rug and attempting to run for the door. She made it a few feet before the figure caught her. Wheeling around, Ariadne grabbed her hidden dagger from under her nightgown and brandished it. “Get back.” she snarled, not allowing fear to lace her voice. “Well well.” a voice emerged from under the hood, smooth and confident. “Who would’ve known. The little Princess knows how to use a dagger.”

“Don’t call me Princess.” Ariadne sniped back, not yielding an inch.

“I think I will continue to.” the figure said, a smile in their voice.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” Ariadne asked, swallowing hard.

“That’s a fascinating question.” the figure replied. “Why don’t I let you answer.”

It was at this moment the figure threw back their hood. Revealing a face Ariadne would’ve never, ever expected to see. It was a woman, no a girl. She couldn’t be much older than Ariadne. A beautiful, stunning girl with raven black hair and eyes as piercing and as blue as ice. Ariadne froze in that moment, dagger still clutched in hand. The woman strode closer and stopped just in front of Ariadne. Heart pumping suddenly very fast, Ariadne raised her gaze to the woman. “You didn’t answer my question.” she gritted out, trying to calm her racing head and heart.

“That is quite true, I didn’t. Which is exactly why things are about to get so very interesting.”

#ariadne bridgestock #anna lightwood #arianna #AnnaXAriadne #tsc #megans writing #the last hours #shadowhunters

[thetimelesscycle]

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 6

Morgana and Archie find more than they bargained for in the Shadow Realm's hidden corners. Douxie is having the worst day in nine hundred years of history worth of bad days.

 A/N: In which we fudge Shadow Realm rules and everyone is traumatized.

Chapter 6

All Around Me Are Familiar Places

She stumbled into a bookshelf with a cry of denial still lingering on her lips, a half a dozen volumes toppling to the floor along with some sort of ornamental statue that shattered on the impact. They were no longer in the study, a soft rug beneath her feet, and the glowing vines now a curling pattern on the floral motif that adorned the walls. The colours here were less faded, the shadows less deep. To her left, what had probably once been a gentle fire for warmth was currently a growing inferno escaping its hearth, creeping up the wall as it blackened the painting that hung above it.

“Douxie?” Focussed more on the room’s occupant than its furnishings, Archie trotted to where his familiar was kneeling in the centre of the room, a stark sense of grief in the words he whispered to the time map’s heedlessly flickering colours.

“I tried to fix it. I tried.”

Banishing her own disquiet to the back of her mind, Morgana followed Archie to crouch before the young wizard, her eyes catching on the illusions rising and falling within the strange little device in flashes of red and blue. She saw herself and Arthur, at peace and at odds. She saw their battle on the clifftop, her victory swiftly becoming her end. She saw the somber march back to Camelot, and she saw another scene altogether. A pale, faded alternative, where the fight had started in Merlin’s tower and it had been her old master, not her brother, who drove her out of Camelot.

None of it made sense, and none of it mattered right now. It wasn’t why she was here. She was here to save a soul someone had torn to shreds and left to be taunted by what he considered to be his greatest failures, and that was what she was going to do, irrespective of the dread taking root in the back of her mind. Tentatively, she laid her hand on a bent shoulder, prompting the boy to raise his head.

“I’m sorry.” Hisirdoux’s voice cracked, colour flooding his form as her hand settled into place so she could clearly see his pained expression. “I tried to stop you, but I was too late. You weren’t supposed to die.”

She recoiled as though she had been struck, only to snatch her hand out again as he began to fade before her eyes. He solidified the moment she made contact, and she released the breath she had been holding, acutely aware of the fact she really had no idea what she was doing. She hadn’t studied Shadow Magic for the purpose of tormenting souls, and she certainly had no idea how to undo someone’s else attempt to accomplish the same. All she could do was trust her instincts, and hope she didn’t make this worse.

“Maybe we should stop,” Archie began hesitantly, clambering back onto her shoulder as he watched his familiar return to his stricken whispering. “This is—”

“No.” She turned on him, something fierce and determined drowning out the fear in the back of her mind. “I can feel him. This is real. We can’t leave him like this.”

“But, that vision...”

It wasn’t a vision. Impossible as it was, they had stumbled into a memory. A memory that hadn’t happened yet, but had left a mark on Hisirdoux’s soul that was strong enough to endure in this realm. There had to be others. More of these preserved flashes of time that would hold the answers to the questions burning in the back of her mind, as well as the key to Hisirdoux’s salvation.

“We need to keep going.”

She laid her hands over the top of the time map, closing it and locking the churning images inside. It glowed as the lid sealed, the runes on Douxie’s bracelet coming alight as the box dematerialised in a bright flash. He stared blankly at his empty hands when it was gone as she waited to be certain nothing more would happen. When the world didn’t shatter around them, she reached out to pull him to his feet, careful to keep a firm grip on his arm as she paused to look about the room.

At first glance there was nothing to see. It was a library of some sort, a good deal tidier than Merlin normally kept his own. Random trinkets and paintings interspersed the numerous volumes lining the shelves, and there were glass cases in a neat row beneath the frost covered windows. The only odd thing was the fire slowly consuming one wall, and the thick, decorated tome standing on a pedestal all of its own.

She frowned. That certainly hadn’t been there a moment before. Making sure she never lost her hold on Douxie, she crossed the room to examine the large book. She could feel the magic rising off it before she had even drawn near, a clear indication of what she was looking at. This was a grimoire. This was a great wizard’s legacy... and all of his secrets.

Curiosity swelling, she reached to open it.

Douxie objected.

Vehemently.

“No.” He yanked against her grip, trying to take a step back. She didn’t let him, keeping a tight hold on his wrist. “No, please. Not again.”

She didn’t need to guess the reason for his resistance. The Shadow Realm fed most strongly on negative emotions; Grief, loss, pain. The memories that were the most powerful here would not be the echoes of happier times. With the sight of her own death still seared into the back of her mind, she could easily imagine what they would be walking into next.

“You have to, Douxie.” It felt cruel, but the fire was still spreading, insidiously creeping outwards to start on the nearest of the bookshelves, working its way around the vines that resisted its touch. She didn’t have time to be kind. “It’s the only way.”

He didn’t listen, devolving into wild flailing as he tried to free himself from her grip. She braced herself against his efforts, hooking her fingers beneath the cover of the book and throwing it open.

The smell of old trees and damp earth assaulted her senses, the taint of dark magic dangerously strong for a fleeting moment. It faded as soon as she recognised it, replaced with the no less disturbing scent of spilt blood, and the lingering, electric feel of dissipating, powerful magic.

“I can fix this!” Douxie’s voice was frantic this time as he knelt beside an indistinct shadow, one hand running through his hair as he held the other before him, palm up in a gesture of helplessness. “I—I can fix this.” He lowered his left arm, desperately cycling through the runes on his bracelet. “I can—I, I…”

“It’s Merlin.”

Archie spoke the words numbly, a strange expression on his face when she glanced at him. When she looked back the image had crystallised, coming into focus so sharply it took her breath away. Her old master lay sprawled upon the grassy ground, bleeding out as his apprentice tried to conjure up a miracle. 

She found herself stepping forward slowly, deliberately ignoring the dying Master Wizard as she knelt down, reaching across and intercepting Merlin’s ghostly hand to close her own, very solid fingers about Hisirdoux’s vambrace. The illusion shook briefly, the dying wizard fading away, leaving her staring directly into the devastation Merlin’s death would leave behind.

“I can fix this,” the boy whispered the same mantra again, a promise and a plea. “I can fix this.”

“You don’t need to.” Memory or not, this hadn’t happened yet. “He’s not dead.”

The panicked words slowed to a stop, the eyes that met her own exhausted, reflecting a weariness that made her chest ache in sympathy.

“Not yet,” he answered her. “None of this has happened yet. Not you, not Merlin, not the end of the world.”

“What are you talking about, Douxie?” Archie’s question, as gentle as it was concerned, snapped the young wizard’s attention away from Morgana to rest on the feline familiar still seated on her shoulder. His eyes widened, and he started to pull away from her.

“No. No, no, no. Not you too.”

“Hisirdoux...” She reached for him, but he lurched away, his left hand glowing blue as he raised it. She braced herself for a spell, only to find herself wholly unprepared when the ground beneath her feet opened up and dragged her down into a pool of pale, blue light.

She plunged through empty space, her fall ending with a violent jolt that had her teeth slamming together and every bone in her body screaming in protest. She found herself standing in another room when the light faded and her vision cleared. The walls were an off-white; What little she could see of them beneath the various colourful drawings and sketches that had been plastered haphazardly across their surface. There were pictures as well, moving portraits that portrayed faces she didn’t recognise, a looping series of movements that repeated as they ended. It was a lot, yet not quite enough to hide the cracks, though she rather doubted the real world equivalent of this room housed glimpses into the abyss in its walls.

The vines this time were harder to see, lost amidst the chaotic clutter of a space that was well lived in. After a few moments of searching she found them, curled like gentle fingers around the edges of a strange looking lute that held pride of place atop a three-legged pedestal. It was glowing gently, the cyan light familiar and distinctive, and she turned at once in search of Douxie.

She found him curled atop the unmade bed that took up a good half of the space in the room, pressed against the far wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head buried in his arms, shaking quietly in place. At his feet, glowing with a light that pulsed softly, was Merlin’s staff.

She approached slowly to settle on the bed beside him, ignoring the strange creak it emitted when she did so. With careful hands, she lifted the staff and held it out as an offering, waiting the long moments it took for him to raise his head. He met her gaze only briefly, dropping his to the precious object she held, not moving to take it.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” she agreed softly. “It’s not. But the only way out of here is to put all the pieces back together, Douxie. Even the ones that hurt.”

He smiled through the tears — brave boy — and answered her in a voice that only shook slightly. “At least those are easy to find.”

He reached out, wrapping his fingers around the staff and lifting it from her hands. The emerald that had been its master’s pride and joy shattered the moment he did so, the handle turning to dust as a swirling cloud of glowing, green smoke rose from the remains and briefly enveloped the young wizard.

It faded as quickly as it had appeared. Douxie exhaled shakily, then accepted the hand that she offered, allowing her to help him to his feet for the second time. They stood together amidst a wafting cloud of smoke, the flames that had thus far been absent from the illusion gnawing at the walls and the images that hung upon them. The moving portraits had shifted, the people who had been smiling before now battle worn and weary, a thin layer of ice forming along the edges of the frames. The lute glowed brighter in response, its pale light warring against the shadows pressing down on them all.

“Shall we continue?”

Archie’s voice was steady, deliberately pitched to be calming. Morgana waited for Douxie’s silent nod, unwilling to force him again, and then walked him across the room to the instrument. He lifted it with care, its form shifting as he did so, and she had a brief moment to recognise the staff that had started all of this, whole and unbroken, before the illusion of safety crumbled once more. A whirlwind of colours flashed by, echoes of a wild array of emotions battering against her senses as they were flung into the midst of another memory.

They came to a standstill in the centre of a calamity; A city aflame and encased in ice all at once. It was a strange place, forged of metal and glass instead of shingle and stone, but she could spare no more than a bare glance to study their surroundings. There was fighting taking place in the streets. It looked as if the darker denizens of the magic world had all emerged at once to take their revenge, the ferocity of their attack met with the equal determination of this kingdom’s defenders. The clashing figures were indistinct, too far away for her to make out, but she understood what was happening nonetheless, and was powerless to stop it. Instead, she found herself rooted to the sidelines, Archie on her shoulder, helplessly watching disaster unfold.

“Go!”

A shadow portal opened to her left, a girl no older than Hisirdoux gesturing frantically towards the opening as she and several others ferried terrified civilians towards salvation. Battle raged all around them, spells and blades alike being flung with utter abandon, and the rescuers were too slow to see the fireball hurtling at them from behind.

It bounced off a glowing blue rune circle instead, exploding in mid-air and prompting everyone in the vicinity to duck. Hisirdoux hurtled out of the smoke so fast he staggered upon landing, his vambrace and hands aglow as he pivoted in place and threw an orb of arcane energy back in the direction he’d come from. He didn’t wait to see it land, whirling on the stunned survivors and shouting to be heard over the cacophony of battle.

“We’re out of time. Move it!”

The group started running again, but it was too late. Morgana sensed that much even before the ground started rumbling, erupting a second later in a deadly barrage of pointed icicles. Somebody screamed as they were impaled, the shadow portal closing as the survivors threw themselves through it with desperate abandon. They had barely had time to react to that threat before another fireball detonated amidst the newly formed field of death, splintering the ice into a thousand lethal projectiles. They flew in all directions as the flames surged across the battlefield; A violent wave consuming all in its path.

Morgana saw Douxie raise both his hands, fingers aglow, but the shield he was casting did not form around him, and she could only watch in horror as he vanished within the inferno.

When the smoke cleared it left an eerie stillness in its wake. So far as she could tell, there were only two sides to this battle, and that spell had consumed many of its caster’s allies as well. An accident, or a callous disregard for the lives they were using? The question was hardly the most pressing right now, and Morgana unwittingly released a sigh of relief as Douxie rose, coughing and swaying but still alive, from amidst the wreckage. He was still regaining his bearings when the ice lance flashed through the air, and an unmistakable, winged shadow swooped out of the sky to intercept it.

“Douxie!” The first of the flying projectiles shattered in dragon’s fire, but the Archie of this memory had missed the second, and it struck him mid-flight. He dropped like a stone to crash amidst the debris and lie deathly still. 

“Arch!” Heedless of the shards slicing through unprotected skin, Hisirdoux scrambled to his familiar’s side. “No. No. No, no, no!”

“And so our little game comes to an end.” A small, floating figure clad in ragged black emerged from the mist, smiling as he twirled the staff in his hands. Douxie was too slow to turn, ice flaring about his wrists like shackles to yank him back to the ground even as he fought to stand. “It was fun whilst it lasted.”

“We told you you would die for this.” A second figure snapped into place in a whirlwind of flame; Morgana could feel the heat against her cheeks despite not being a part of the scene herself. “You should have run when you had the chance.”

Someone was screaming in the distance as the fire wizard stalked closer, their staff extended and glowing. Hisirdoux paid no heed, his eyes fixed on Archie’s limp form. Something cracked, a ripple of arcane power that sent an electric jolt up her spine as the shackles holding Douxie in place abruptly shattered.

Reacting to the impending threat, the second figure moved with sudden urgency to slam their staff against the young wizard’s chest. “Not this time.”

The boy started to scream, the power he had called on dissipating as the spell took hold. Morgana tried to move, to intervene, and found herself locked in place.

“A pity you shan’t live long enough to see what you have wrought.” Watching with morbid fascination, the smaller of the two lifted his eyes. For a brief moment, he seemed to be smiling at the interlopers standing witness in frozen horror. “Merlin would have been so disappointed...”

“You can’t have him!” Amidst the red and blue that had overtaken the battlefield, a surge of pale green light flooded the scene. Thin, glowing lines moved in spiralling patterns across the ground, rising in the form of woven vines to wrap themselves about Hisirdoux’s writhing body as a third being stepped into the frame. She held her hand aloft, her golden eyes glowing with unveiled fury that overshadowed her tiny frame. “I won’t let you!”

Whatever she had done, it had granted Douxie reprieve enough to try to shout at her,  though it came out as more of a whisper, nothing but horror in his shaking voice. “Nari, no. Run!”

The ice wizard lifted his staff, preparing to lash out as his fiery companion renewed their assault with a fierce snarl. The sorceress raised her other hand in the same heartbeat. From the opposite side, the young shadow witch stumbled out of the wreckage, her eyes turning black as she hurled her own magic into the fray.

The combination of spells collided in an explosion of chaotic magic that consumed the entire battlefield, reality itself bending beneath the force of the implosion. Morgana felt what was coming, and had just enough time to wrap her own magic around Douxie and drag him with them as both she and her dragon companion were thrust out of the memory.

It wasn’t until her back struck the wall that she realised they had been ejected from the Shadow Realm altogether. She barely had time to figure out which way was up and hurriedly right herself before the room came alight with magic, Merlin’s carefully organised books scattering in all directions before a wild force seeking an enemy and finding none. Hisirdoux shot upright amidst the chaos, flinging himself out of the bed and staggering across the room to lean against the far wall, gasping for breath like a drowning man.

“Douxie!” Archie pelted to the boy’s side, lifting a paw to rest against his familiar’s leg. “Douxie, are you alright?”

“J—just a minute, Arch.”

Morgana paused halfway towards the pair, startled by the coherency of that response. She jumped when the door behind her swung open, Merlin storming in with staff in hand, only to pull himself up short as he drank in the disastrous scene. His eyes darted from Morgana, to Archie, and finally settled on Hisirdoux, watching as the boy wrestled his roiling magic back under control.

When the last sparks of cyan light flickered out, the apprentice turned his back to the wall and slid to the floor with a light thump, letting out a low groan. “Ow. That settles it; Bellroc is officially the worst.”

“Bellroc?” Merlin barked in confusion, whilst Morgana and Archie exchanged an awkward glance. “What on earth have you three been doing?”

“Master?” Douxie dropped his hand from his chest to rest on his familiar’s head, blinking owlishly at the fuming Master Wizard. “Oh, blast it. I’m not dead again, am I? Zoe will be furious.”

Merlin’s face went through a series of peculiar contortions. “What do you mean, ‘dead again’?”

“Uh...” Hisirdoux froze, looking to Archie for help, only to find his familiar looking just as aghast as the rest of the room. “Right, um...”

“Never mind.” Rolling his eyes, Merlin crossed the remaining space between them. “Can you stand?”

A pale tinge of hysteria to his voice, Douxie shook his head. “I’d really rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Then I suppose we will have this conversation here.”

Glancing about the floor, Merlin waved a hand to restack some of the books that had been scattered in the latest magical mishap, settling himself atop the pile once he was done. After a moment of incredulous staring, Morgana followed suit, and Archie pointedly climbed into his wizard’s lap. Effectively surrounded, Hisirdoux glanced between the three of them uneasily for a moment, then let his head fall back against the wall with a painful sounding thud.

“Probably should have seen that coming, huh?”

“Probably,” Archie said agreeably, masking his worry with wry humour.

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Morgana interjected, not flinching when Douxie’s gaze snapped to meet her own. “We are all just worried.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the dragon in his lap, swallowing, before lifting his head to offer them a watery smile. “It is good to see you again. All of you. Even if you are just an elaborate hallucination.”

“And why would you think that?” Merlin demanded, scowl darkening by the second.

“Well, you’re both dead, for a start.”

To his credit, Merlin took that in his stride. “I can assure you that we are no more dead than you are, Hisirdoux.”

“That’s kind of the part that’s worrying me, Master.”

“Douxie.” She’d never intended to hide what they’d done from Merlin, so she didn’t hesitate to use what she’d seen now with him sitting right beside her. “It was real, wasn’t it? All of that... it actually happened. You lived through it.”

The look he gave her was haunted, an answer in and of itself, and she watched him open and close his mouth a few times in complete silence. “Then, this is...?”

“You are in Camelot,” she supplied. “We are all alive and well at present.”

He swallowed, face twisting into an uneasy grimace. “I’m... not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Merlin suggested, eyeing Morgana with clear suspicion and a good measure of irritation at being left out of the loop.

“It’s a long story,” Hisirdoux warned, then shrugged slightly. “And it started, Master, the first time you decided to take a nap...”

#hisirdoux casperan #toa morgana #toa archie #toa Merlin #claire nunez #bellroc #Skrael #toa nari #Fanfiction #Hurt/Comfort #Angst #Time Travel

[willowandfog]

Chapter Two Is Here!

This new fic is the second part to my fic I wrote for InuKag Week, One Week Sooner. If you haven’t read it yet you can read it here.

I would like to dedicate this new fic to @ruddcatha​, she was a huge supporter and a tremendous help to me when writing One Week Sooner, and when we were so choked up on the tragedy of the story she suggested I write a sequel. So a huge thank you @ruddcatha​, I love you!

Summary: When you look at me, do you see what you lost or do you see all of me?

Read it:

FFN or AO3 or below the cut:

If you would like to be tagged for this fic, please let me know!

Chapter Two

Two days passed before she considered texting Inuyasha. She was glad she hadn’t given him her number, it gave her time to process and decide what to do. Now that she had met him she was eager to know him. Despite her negative thoughts on the situation she found herself pulling out her phone to text him. 

From: (Maybe Kagome?)

3:56 PM

Hey, it’s Kagome. If you’re free I’d love to go out tonight.

From: Inuyasha

4:15 PM

I’m glad you finally decided to go out. I’m available, did you have something in mind? 

From: Kagome

4:16 PM

Kinda. Could you pick me up at like 9? Dress cas

From: Inuyasha

4:16 PM

Mysterious. Yeah, I’ll be there at 9, where do you live?

Kagome gave him her address before sighing with relief and nervousness. She glanced at the time. She had a little time but was too nervous to do anything other than start getting ready. She showered and was blow drying her hair when she got another text from Inuyasha. She turned off the dryer and set it down on the sink, picking up her phone. He had sent her a picture of an outfit laid out on a bed. A red polo shirt and simple black jeans.

From: Inuyasha

5:56 PM

Will this be ok?

From: Kagome

5:57 PM

Lol. Are you getting ready all ready? =P

From: Inuyasha

5:59 PM

Just making sure I have something appropriate to wear. Since I don’t know where we are going.

From: Kagome

6:01 PM

What shoes are you wearing?

He sent her a photo of a pair of black converse. 

From: Kagome

6:01 PM

Lol. That will be fine. Looks like I’m changing what I had planned though. 

From: Inuyasha

6:02 PM

Why?

From: Kagome

6:02 PM

One sec.

Kagome ran to her room to lay out the outfit she had planned on wearing on the bed. She laid out her black leather jacket and tucked her red lacy camisole inside of it, grabbing her black mini skirt to lay beside it before heading to the door to snag her red high-top converse from the floor. She carried them to her room, setting them strategically and snapping a photo. She sent the photo to Inuyasha and laughed at the irony. 

From: Inuyasha 

6:05 PM

I thought you said casual? You look like you’re going on a hot date.

From: Kagome

6:06 PM

It is casual! I’ll see you in a few hours.

Kagome took her time getting ready, deciding to leave her hair down she curled it into gentle waves. After failing for the third time to get her shaky nervous hand to draw a wing on her eyelid, she sighed and tossed her pencil down. She crossed her arms across her vanity and laid her head down with a groan. She had apparently fallen asleep because when she lifted her head back up and glanced at the time on her phone it said 8:47.

“Fuck!” She jumped up and looked around her room, she was still in her underwear and hadn’t finished her makeup. “Shit, shit, shit.” She was in a panic, her heart racing. She reached for the outfit on her bed, then stopped. Remembering that she couldn’t wear that. She wanted to cry. “Ok.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Calm down.” She told herself. “It’s just a date, he might even be late picking you up.” She opened her eyes and groaned, knowing that wasn’t true. If anything he was probably gonna be there any second. 

She went to her dresser, pulling out a black camisole identical in style to the red one she had wanted to wear and putting it on. She grabbed her light colored high waisted skinny blue jeans from another drawer and yanked them on, hopping around to get them over her butt. She tucked her camisole into them before doing up the button. She raced back over to her vanity and grabbed her eyeliner, giving the wing one more try, perfect. It perfectly matched the one she had on the other eye. “Of course.” She mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. She gave the air a super light spritz of perfume before spinning herself in it. She waved at the air, hoping to disperse some of the smell. She should have put some on earlier so it had time to settle and not be so strong but it was too late now. 

She dabbed some blush on her cheeks and a gentle sweep of highlighter across the tops of her cheekbones. Setting her brush down she took a deep breath studying herself in the mirror. She didn’t look half bad, she was proud of the look she’d managed to throw together in, she glanced at the clock, four minutes. She sighed in relief. She grabbed a pair of All-Star socks from a drawer and her leather jacket off the bed, making her way to the living room. She sat down on the accent chair to pull her socks on, and when she leaned down to pick up her shoes, they weren’t there. She dropped her head in defeat before making her way back to her room to grab them off the bed. She was back in the chair and in the middle of tying her first shoe and tucking the laces into the sides when there was a knock on the door. Her heart jumped and she felt her nervous panic start up again. Pushing it away she called out towards the door. “It’s open!”

The door swung open and there stood Inuyasha looking like God’s most gorgeous gift to womankind. Even in his jeans and polo, he was stunning. She blushed, looking back down to pull her other shoe on.

“I hope you knew that it was me. You don’t even keep your door lo-”

She glanced up at him when he stopped. He was staring at her, and she realized that she was bent over so far that her boobs were about to pop out of her camisole. She smirked, clearing her throat to get his attention. “I keep the door locked at night.”  She finished tying her shoe and stood. She grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair and tugged it on. 

They rode in semi-awkward silence, Kagome was too nervous to talk and Inuyasha seemed… She looked over at him, he had one hand on the wheel, and his left elbow was propped up on the window, with his hand to his face in a deep contemplating gesture. She told him he should turn at the next light, and when they were heading down the next street she sat forward and gestured to a parking garage on the corner. Inuyasha finally found an open spot after a few minutes of circling and parked the car. 

He followed her lead down the block, walking close beside her. “I thought you’d be more talkative.” Kagome said, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye.

His gaze turned to her and her heart skipped. “Sorry, lots on my mind. But you’re right. I’m probably making a horrible first impression.”

“You were the one that said dates are for getting to know each other.” She teased.

“Right I did. So, care to tell me about yourself?” He raised a brow at her.

“Not really.” She mumbled before stopping at an unmarked door on the side of the building. She smiled at him. “Hope this is ok.” She yanked on the heavy door, and led the way in. 

They were bombarded with loud thumping music and the sounds of a crowd, as they approached the bouncer Kagome remembered Inuyasha’s sensitive ears. She turned to look back at him, his ears were wilted slightly but his face didn’t show his discomfort. “Are you going to be ok in here?” She asked, raising her voice slightly for him to catch her words. He raised a questioning brow but nodded. Kagome turned back to the bouncer.

“Kagome!” The bouncer said, smiling. The big shouldered man had ginger hair and a scruffy beard. He stood from his stool and hugged Kagome briefly. 

She smiled at him while handing him a fifty for their entry. “Good to see you, Doug.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked past. 

Inuyasha followed, leaning down behind her to talk into her ear. “Do you come here a lot?” 

She looked back up at him, smiling. “No, not really.”

“But that guy seemed to know you well.”

“I know a lot of people.” She led him over to the bar area. The club was fairly large but there was nothing fancy about it, it looked like a normal club, the only thing that made it special was how exclusive it was, not many people knew it existed. 

She ordered two shots of Buffalo Trace from the bartender and handed one of them to Inuyasha. “You do drink right?” 

He rolled his eyes at her before taking the shot and setting his glass down. He motioned for the bartender for two more. When the bartender handed them over, Inuyasha scooted one towards her with a raised brow. He motioned with his head towards the shot that was still in her hand as he took another. “Need me to finish that for you?”

She stuck her tongue out at him before taking the shot in her hand and followed it with the one on the bar. “We didn’t come for a drinking contest. I know I’d lose that.” She said to him. “How many you need for a buzz?” 

He shrugged. “A lot more than two.”

Kagome laughed. “You can decide how many you want.” She motioned for one more and when it was handed over she told the bartender to put all their drinks on her tab. He nodded before walking away. Kagome raised her shot to Inuyasha before downing it, then made her way to the dance floor. She didn’t wait to see if he followed but went out and began dancing to the dubstep style music. When she felt hands on her hips she glanced behind her, it wasn’t Inuyasha but a very drunk blonde girl. The girl smiled at her and tried to get Kagome to join her group of dancing friends. Kagome glanced around for Inuyasha but couldn’t spot him over the crowd. She was dancing with the girls for a bit and drawing the attention of some guys when she spotted Inuyasha not far away. He danced like he was straight out of a Justin Timberlake music video, and a group of girls had surrounded him. He was allowing them to dance on and around him but was keeping his hands to himself. 

Kagome slowly made her way towards his group, starting to feel her slight buzz. She watched him dance from the edge of the crowd, a smile on her face. She liked that he seemed to be enjoying himself. When his eyes lifted and met hers, she found herself biting her lip through her smile and giving him a small wave. Still dancing, he made his way towards her and when he was close enough, he reached past some of the other girls to take her hand. Pulling her through the crowd and into his chest. 

“Hi.” He purred into her ear. 

She blushed up at him, “Hi.”

He began dancing with her, keeping her close against him. “If you don’t come here often, why are we really here Kagome?” His face was close to hers and she suddenly found it hard to breath. 

“Mostly to see how you’d react.” She confessed, flushing. 

He put his lips to her ear. “Did I pass your test Kagome?” 

She leaned her own head up toward one of his ears. “Not yet.” Pulling back she began dancing with him, while pulling out her phone and shooting off a text. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and turned so her back was to him. He stepped forward to place a hand on her hip, and began moving along with her. 

They’d been dancing for only about five minutes when one of the female bartenders approached them, carrying drinks. Kagome gratefully took them from her, turning to Inuyasha with a grin. She handed a shot glass to him. They clinked their glasses and took their shots. Kagome handed the empty glasses to the woman and she in turn handed over two more. Kagome handed another to Inuyasha. He raised a questioning brow at her but joined her. They did one more together before the bartender left them. 

When Kagome turned back to Inuyasha he pulled her against his chest. His brow still raised, he leaned down to sniff her. “Your shots weren’t really shots were they?” 

She fought down her grin and shook her head. “The ones at the bar were though.”

He shook his head at her. “Why would you do that? You do realize it’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to get me drunk. So why are you doing it?”

“I wanted to see if you would notice. Did you smell it or was it that you were questioning my tolerance?”

“I know you can only hav-” He stopped abruptly. 

Kagome leaned forward. “What did you say?” She spoke loudly over the music. “Look I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to do that if I did. We can still have a good time.”

Inuyasha shook his head and took her hand in his, he pulled her towards the exit. She frowned but didn’t resist. When they were outside back on the sidewalk she finally spoke. “Look I’m sorry if it really upset you this much.”

He was leading her back towards the garage but suddenly stopped and turned to her. “I’m not upset, Kagome. But now that I know this was all some kind of weird test and you didn’t actually want to be here, I’m going to take you somewhere else.”

“You are?”

“Of course, this was hardly a real date apparently.” He scoffed. 

They made it back to the car and were on the road soon after. Kagome felt a wave of guilt come over her. She felt like she had messed things up but was still conflicted if dating him was even a good idea. 

“Where are we going?” She asked. 

“You’ll see.” 

Fifteen minutes later he parked outside of a large building. Unbuckling he smiled at her. “Come on.”

He took her hand and led her up the stairs to the entrance. There was a man dressed in a suit standing at the door, he opened the door for them as they approached. “Mr. Takahashi, we haven’t seen you here in some time.”

Inuyasha nodded to the man but went inside. There was a huge ballroom inside, large round tables took up one side of the room and there was a huge dancefloor. Couples twirled and danced around each other on the floor, each one was wearing a suit or long gowns. Inuyasha stopped near a coat attendant, turning to try to take Kagome’s jacket from her.

“Inuyasha!” She hissed at him, holding her jacket firmly around herself. “What are we doing here? I am not dressed for this!”

“Neither am I, it’s ok. No one's gonna care.” When she gave him a panicked look he leaned over to speak into her ear. “Have faith Kagome. Trust me.”

She looked into his honey eyes, trying to find something that wasn’t there. She bit her lip before nodding and allowing him to take her jacket. She rubbed at her arms, suddenly chilly at the loss of the jacket on her now bare arms. Inuyasha handed the jacket to the attendant and took the stub from the man. He turned back to Kagome and chuckled a little at her nervous look. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her towards the dancefloor, rubbing her arm with his hand to supply her with some of his warmth. “It’ll be ok.” He whispered to her. 

Kagome looked around nervously, some of the people looked at them with odd looks but most didn’t pay attention to them. There was no music currently but the couples were already waiting on the dancefloor for it to begin again. Inuyasha gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her. When they reached the edge of the floor he turned to her. “Ready?” He whispered.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to slow dance Inuyasha.” She hissed at him. 

He took one of her hands and rested it on his shoulder before taking her other hand in his. “Just follow my lead, that’s all you have to do.” Then the music started. He placed a hand on her waist and began to lead her through the steps. Kagome could only guess that it was some form of a waltz. She tried not to watch his feet as they moved, trying to feel the direction his body was directing her. She let out a slow nervous breath. 

“I don’t think I’m good at this Inuyasha.” 

He smiled a sweet smile at her. “It takes practice. You’re doing fine.”

By the time the song was over, she was able to follow the simple pattern the dance seemed to be. The next song began and the steps seemed to be different and she found herself trying to follow the previous pattern and stepped on Inuyasha’s foot a few times. “I’m sorry!” She squeaked. She found herself having to watch his feet again to follow along. When the song came to an end she finally looked up at him and he was grinning at her. 

“Doing ok?” He asked. 

“How do you remember all of this?”

“Like I said, practice. You’re doing great. And my feet are fine.” He winked at her.

She bit her lip, blushing and looked away. They danced through a few more songs and she found that she didn’t need to look at his feet through any of them. And when another began he pulled her closer, so she was pressed up against his chest. She looked up at him and saw a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Now you can’t watch my feet.” He teased into her ear. 

Kagome found that she was glad that she didn’t need to as she took the opportunity to rest her head against his chest, taking in the scent that was uniquely his. She sighed in contentment. After a few moments, Inuyasha laid his head on top of hers, moving his hand from her waist to wrap his arm around her. She relaxed, feeling comfort and safe in his arms, the feeling foriegn to her. 

The song ended and she pulled back away from him, avoiding his eyes. She cleared her throat and pretended to straighten her shirt, slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so comfortable with him so quickly. The next song started immediately but unlike the others this one had a much quicker pace and seemed to be in the jazz genre. 

Kagome shook her head, making a move to leave the floor. “Nope. Can’t do this.”

Inuyasha grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving. “Come on.” He pleaded. 

She laughed pulling against his grip. “No! I can’t do that, look at them. I don’t know how to dance like that.”

“That’s ok, it’s still fun.” He yanked again, pulling her to him. “Just watch and try to mirror the movements.” When she stood there stubbornly he laughed. “You’ll have fun, I promise.” He joined the others in their fluid movements, eyes never leaving hers. “Come on, Kagome. You know you want to. You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Besides it’s fun just to try.” 

She sighed and tried to join in, turning a bright red. “This is payback isn’t it?” She asked him. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s fun, and you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

She managed to watch the other ladies nearby out of the corner of her eye, Kagome was able to follow along but caused them to be a few steps behind the others. She reached her hand out to Inuyasha like the other ladies did and when he took it, he spun her around before bringing her close to him and dipping her down. He held her there for a moment, looking into her eyes. 

Kagome blushed, biting her lip slightly, staring into his amber eyes. “I think in the movies this is where we would kiss.” She whispered. 

Inuyasha let out a burst of laughter and he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the end of her nose, Kagome’s heart skipped. He leaned forward again, placing his lips next to her ear. “I heard that.”

Her blush deepened and she smacked his arm. When he stood her back up, Kagome realized the song had ended and everyone was clapping. “Why is everyone clapping? Is it over?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, we came in late. Why? Disappointed?” He lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually.” She stuck her tongue out at him before turning to make her way back to the coat attendant. 

The ride home was in silence again, Kagome still feeling a bit embarrassed about him realizing she was affected by him. I mean, what woman wouldn’t be. He must be used to it.

Inuyasha walked her to her door, and after she unlocked her door she turned back to him. “Ummm.”

He stepped forward and pulled her in for a hug. “Look.” He swallowed. “I know we just met, but I had a lot of fun, even though the night started out kinda odd. I hope we can try again sometime.”

“I think I’d like that.” She whispered. 

He pulled back slightly from the hug to look down at her. Hesitantly he leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight Kagome.” He pulled away and turned, heading down the stairs. 

#inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #sequel #one week sooner sequel #all of me #willowandfog

[cowboyguts-moved]

tell me about your new ocs ^^

so any and all artwork i show you is done by @shit-stains (: 

everyone listed is from a made up oregon beach town called Mystic Overhang infamous for its creepy bottomless lakes and a cliff that leans over the pacific called Mystic Overhang. the town is full of mysterious happenings and unexplained missing persons and something downright evil is going on under their noses..but more on that another time ha ha. the story takes place in 1989. and i just realized this is basically just IT but i didn’t exactly mean for that…they definitely are not plagued by a killer clown.

Church Shelton (my oc) is 17/18. His mom had him too young and didn’t want to have to raised him, frankly, so she ended up leaving him on the stairs of a synagogue. His biological family is Jewish even though Church doesn’t grow up with religion and didn’t even know he was Jewish, because Josiah (Jo), tristan’s oc, was about 2 years old when he and his mom came by and saw a baby crying on the steps and the boy wanted to keep him and name him Church because he thought it was a regular christian church and… it’s cute. And through a ton of convincing and considerations, his mom agrees to care for Church and adopt him. Its a simplistic way of putting it, but there’s a lot that goes into it. He and Jo grow up as brothers and Jo takes such good care of him (: sometimes he has to be a parent to Church even though he’s only two years older, especially when their mom gets UHHH murdered during a robbery in their own house… ……….and they come home and find her at about 12 and 10 years old and Jo makes the decision that they’re not going to tell anyone and risk him living with his father and Church being placed in foster care. so they run away and become street kids for 4 years. When they’re older, 14 and 16, they get caught for stealing when they weren’t careful enough and the social workers put them in foster care, seeing as Jo’s dad is very unfit. They stay there until Jo aged out at 18 and got guardianship of Church after getting them a place to live, that’s a long complex process as well… and was obligated to care for him and provide income and stuff and they live together, just them two in a trailer, for awhile.

Church’s whole thing is that he loves to read and write. He reads so many books and he’s not great at first and is in remedial classes, but then he advances a shit ton with how hard he tries and how much he wants his love for English to succeed. Uh he has narcolepsy!!! Meaning he has a lot of daytime sleepiness, falls asleep frequently in the day and has bad insomnia at night and this hinders him a lot. In some cases his narcolepsy comes with cataplexy, this is when he has muscle weakness/paralysis caused by strong emotion like excitement and laugher. His brother Jo helps him a lot through that. I theorize that it happened because of a natural immune issue he has, which was most prevalent when they were living on the streets. 

Church is really funny and sweet and sarcastic. He’s such a cute boy and everyone in their town LOVES him just cause he’s so charming. he gets really cynical and depressed sometimes and can be mean when he wants to be, however and it’s his biggest downfall. He’s a bit of pyro he loves to set shit on fire. Oh, and he has a southern accent (: he loves to eat too, he’s always down for snacks. He’s bisexual but he doesn’t really call it that, he doesn’t take much note of his own sexuality, he does what he does. He works at an amusement park most of the time and has to put up with Jo constantly coming to his work when he gets lonely and riding the roller coaster he’s operating. Then when he graduates he goes to University of Oregon and has a bit of a big depressive self destructive path he follows and ends up overdosing on drugs on what of his partying nights, he self harms by being uncaring and his many intrusive thoughts about his mother dying and his huge fear of not seeing the world and being too dumb and poor to get an opportunity to really live. He’s put in the hospital and goes to rehab and Jo is there with him every step of the way. He’s so sweet and caring and worries about him but Church is a little belligerent sometimes. He wants to get better and be better for everyone and himself, and he does through a long emotional school break. He doesn’t end up going to his previous college again but he transfers and gets in the Columbia in new york for his English degree (: he lives in an apartment with his boyfriend Mason. 

Church is white, 5′7 and he’s stout and chubby. He’s got green eyes, freckles, a piggy nose, big sunburnt cheeks, and auburn hair, mostly shaved into a curly mohawk. and he got a fat ass and killer thighs. 

His beautiful big dumb brother Jo Shelton (tristan’s oc) has a story that is obviously parallel to church’s, but i think it’s important to mention that he’s kinda slow, slow thinkin’ and a bit hyper…and an asshole to everyone but the ones he really loves like church, he’s as sweet as he can be with him. he loves working on cars and he has a beautiful truck that he put a lot of work into..that is until he crashed it horribly while drunk driving after he got into a fight with church when church was in the hospital recovering from his overdose. and he got mild temporary brain damage… so…and then had to spend 6 months in jail for a DUI. that really fuck him up for a good while! and that’s a huge dent in their lives.

but anyway lol… he also loves to meet chicks and do speed dating.. and he hooks up with a wide variety of girls, he’s not picky at all and doesn’t believe in types, he just loves dominant women. he does have one important stable girlfriend for awhile named Rosa that he met at his grocery store job! he spilled spaghetti sauce on her white shoes (: and they were truly in love and dated for 3 years until it became dangerous for her to be with him because one of her weird ass fuckinnnn dangerous ex boyfriends got out of prison and she didnt think he would be safe if they remained together and it’s devastating for him and hinder him for a good while. he kinda fills that void by becoming a big brother figure to church’s biological sister Jude, who is 12 and in need of good old fashion josiah guidance. jo has that natural dumb dad vibe to him. (by the way..church’s mother reenters church’s life very briefly and that’s why jude and church meet and jude eventually lives locally to the boys because she moves in with Her real dad.) Later jo works at a mechanic shop and his ultimate goal is to open his own! uh also haha important detail..jo struggles with his sexuality and on the low meets up with dudes in alleys and lets them smash cause he’s a big bottom so. and he has sorta of thing for someone he met in the mess of foster care, just one of the kids he hung out with in passing, and his names Riley and they meet up later on when they’re older and fuck around a bit.

jo is 6′3 and he has golden honey hair and blue eyes and he’s freckly and has some beauty marks on his face. he’s pretty darn hairy..and he kinda smells. he’s a real country bo. he’s super skinny and hes got huuuge hands!

here’s jo and church (:

Mason Uley (mine), Church’s boyfriend, doesn’t meet church until he’s 22 and Mason is 13, and is a rich boy who’s siblings all died in one way or another…JDBSJD he’s the only child left and he is very neglected by his parents because of their coldness and grief and little regard for caring for their last kid. They’re never home and they ignore him completely which leaves him in search for attention in all sorts of wrong ways and he acts out. He does motocross at the local track. He loves rap music and is very embarrassing about it considering he’s very white..he loves flexin’ with that name brand clothing and shoes and wears skate shirts even though he doesnt skate which is a big smelly whatever but in general he’s a big poser. but its fine because we love him and its apart of his charm. He has a slight limp because at 13 he shattered his ankle and it never healed right. He loves Church very much and they’re SUPERR gross and lovey, their dynamic is so adorable, as you can imagine his goofy ass and church’s more dry sarcasm. He wants to be an architect and goes to college for that at Columbia later. He’s smart and has a very dry kind of humor and he hates Jo until he’s forced not to because of their mutual love for Church. He’s 1000% gay. He has blond hair and he looks like a 90s heart throb and Jo affectionately calls him “faggot” more than his name.

i dont have a Current drawing of mason all i got are old ones that tristan doesnt really like l o l

Okay……….. and then there’s Lewis. he’s 18. His full name is Aloysius St. Lawrence (AL oh wish iss) (mine), and he grew up in a deeply religious cult in northern California where many Horrible things happened to him that I’ll spare the details on but he’s a very traumatized boy and i thinkg about the complexity of him trying to come to grips with it and learning how to live with the immense pain he was dealt with! so. it’s really fun.

he was born with a sorta Purpose, his dads family started this commune, and the dad wasnt at fault, he’s not malicious he’s really sweet and a bit slow and is often mistreated, he’s forced to have relations with lewis’ mom, who was sort of a nomadic runaway girl perfect for procreation after she got caught in the entanglement of this commune business in california. theyre both really young when they have lewis and his twin sister, lewis being prime because he’s the Male. lewis grew up believing all kids in the commune were his siblings and so he never realized the one girl he’d see all the time was his biological sister. so bascially they take lewis from the mom, say he’s not only her child but the communities child, just how it is with all kids, and she betrays the commune in a way i havent figured out and goes beserk because obviously everyone there is insane and shes exiled and lewis, all the while has no idea shes his mother. so great childhood… full of hard labor and sleeping in a room with rows of beds and dreaming about a woman and not knowing why, not knowing its because shes your mom (: haha

In 6th grade he’s finally allowed to go to a school with other boys because before this he was homeschooled and his world was reduced to the confinements of his commune. He goes to a spooky and prestigious boarding school in southern Oregon and wears a uniform. The place is really huge and brick and creepy but it feels like paradise with this freedom he finally gets to some extent and he’s learning how to function as a regular boy, although he finds it kind of impossible. 

CHRIS!!!!! Is his roommate at this boarding school in 6th grade. Chris is a very goofy lovesick boy who believes heavily in the energies of the earth and charging his crystals his hippie mother gave him and he paints his nails black and pushes the rules of the dress code every single day and tends to break it completely. He’s a punk who loves to piss adults off. He was forced to go there by his very strict abusive father and there he meets sweet sweet Lewis (:

Lewis has never had a friend like Chris and he doesn’t know how to successfully keep one and it’s a really stressful emotional cycle of enduring the weekends at the commune and coming back to school and to Chris amongst all the happy boys that lead mostly normal lives. Chris sort of realizes that he has feelings for boys in this time and has strange urges to hold Lewis’ hand and kiss him and stuff, but he refuses to truly acknowledge his feelings about who he is.  but he does, in fact, hold his hand and Lewis lets him and they’ll just hang out for hours in their room holding hands and talking about silly stuff. They come to be really close and mean a lot to each other, chris invite him over to his house on the weekends and lewis sneaks off with him, risking being punished because he didn’t go back with one of the Father’s or Brother’s of his commune. Chris and lewis are very adorable and they play with makeup together in chris’s room and eat snacks and explore mystic overhang and chris teaches him about the ways of modern life. in 7th grade they grow apart when they don’t share a room or anymore and Chris gets involved with different people, starts smoking weed and eventually gets with a guy in 8th grade hhhh… and Lewis focuses really hard in class and it’s sorta the end of that. 

When chris gets expelled in 8th grade they don’t see each other anymore, the only departing thing being chris’s journal that he gave to lewis before he was escorted off the premises, and in it is filled with entries about him. this journal was taken and destroyed at his commune by one of the Fathers when it was found, though :/ so yes, Lewis goes back to the commune because they plan on keeping him homeschooled for high school but there’s a group of 5 kids and 3 men from the commune that are heading to Nebraska around the time he’s 16, and they force lewis to be the 6th child that accompanies them in their trip. once there, he’s kept in a creepy abandoned house, hardly set up for living in and he’s living with these other children, like an odd family that has to function around one another, him being the oldest of “siblings”. he finds out eventually that they’re there for a weird ritual/sacrifice thing.. probably the most horror-ish horror element i developed for him thus far, its frankly insane and disturbing and theres a lot of layers and rituals they must do and humiliating tasks they must do all for a Grander godly purpose. the sole purpose of it is to reach ultimate redemption in heaven after a sinful life ahahahaa.. so basically the whole time they’re there, they’re trying to accumulate sin by being unloving, disciplinary, neglectful, …uhh…and lewis kept in a dark room, only candles and daylight light the house and they’re severely mistreated and malnourished. Lewis runs away at 18…but, through constant mistreatments of his body he ends up having gangrene in his left leg and has to have it amputated above the knee by a doctor he meets whom he has to give a Favor to as payment because he doesnt have money. and he gets a real shitty wooden prosthetic that isn’t comfortable at all and its not healing right, it’s a bit botched actually.. and he has crutches and that’s how he gets around. He goes back to Oregon to the town Mystic Overhang that Chris is from because remembers the town name vaguely, not even who said it or when he heard it, but he goes there because he doesn’t know many towns, so he decides to settle there and he makes a living prostituting for awhile at an area called Mouth’s Edge. he sees Chris again when Chris pays him for a bj l o l. and Chris recognizes him even though chris is coked out of his mind because he had a really rough night and got his shit kicked in by his dad… and Lewis almost shits himself because someone from his past is back and he’s really paranoid and weird about it cause he just blew one of his only friends he used to have. and he wants Chris to fuck off, but eventually Chris keeps coming back just to talk to him and see what he’s been up to and stuff, cause he still feels this familiar need to protect Lewis that he had back in middle school. He’s very consistent about seeing him and does every single night even when Lewis is working. lewis’ love for him comes gradually, even through chris is in love with him pretty much instantly. It takes a long time for Lewis to want to be touched and held but he lets people do it anyway, including chris, it’s an unhealthy thing he obviously needs therapy ha ha. they don’t officially date until an entire year later

lewis is very sweet boy he’s shy and he has trouble making eye contact. He’s really smart and loves to paint! That’s what he wants to do with life. He’s not gay per se, he doesn’t really feel much romantically unless someone, anyone is kind to him and patient and reeeeeeeally really consistent or else he would probably never fall in love, but any gender has the potential with him. He loves 40s-80s music so much and dances to it really dorky when he thinks no one is looking and Chris has sooooo many records. he loves to rollerskate! and he’s really good at it. he’s pretty damn masculine, more so than chris. and he’s strong (: and he wears ugly clothes that he finds in dumpsters. eventually he gets enrolled in college for art and sees a therapist he grows to love like a dad to be honest.. lewis he dyes his hair a lot (: it’s naturally golden but at first when he’s prostituting its short and purple and then grows out very long and then he cuts it a lil and dyes it pink..orange..etc etc. he’s a hard worker and he gets a job at the Junkyard where he meets his best friend Cody (: 

This is Lewis :) he’s white, 5′4 and he’s soft but strong and handsome and he’s got golden eyes and hair and he’s sweet n freckly.

Chris Russell (tristan’s) is 19… chris is greek and pakistani from his dad and white italian from his mom. he grew up an only child with them in an upper middle class environment because his dad … i don’t even know the legit title but he buys and sells properties for a fancy shmancy company. his mom is just a kindergarten teacher and that’s not a killer wage but. he’s very close to his mom he loves her to pieces, she’s a big stoner hippie (:. his dad on the other hand has always been really disciplinary and cold towards Chris, his dad is straight up abusive though, so there’s no excuses being made for him, but at first he didn’t do it just because he felt like it. he was just raised learning that it was the only effective way to discipline your kid and that it was the dynamic that Worked the best. Chris is a little problem child though, and not so much when he was a kid! he was so sweet and all he wanted to do was wear his mom’s makeup and clothes. he wore clips in his curly hair and pretty skirts and he loved music and being a mama’s boy and he loved her cooking. he loved reading and writing. but he was still abused by his dad, especially for his natural femininity. and as Chris got older he was such a rebel. he’s a mouthy, snarky, blunt little shit that never behaved or was cowered into doing things as his dad wanted. it wasn’t like he wasn’t afraid to get hit or anything but he didn’t show it and constantly provoked it. that’s in his teen years though especially

chris goes in and out of depression and mania constantly after middle school. he’s doing drugs, just weed at first but he’s always always high and he’s a big loner until he meets his Boys in 10th grade (: mikael ben and kylo. his parents divorce when he’s 15. he tries to convince himself he’s not gay and he gets with a girl but the ordeal is humiliating and she spreads the rumor that he was so bad at fingering her and touching her boobies that he must be Gay and so he retaliates by making photo copies of her nude pictures and spreading them. chris has questionable morality. you GOTTA know that about him.. he has problems and he can straight up not be a good person sometimes but overall he really is one and we be loving him or whatever. and he evens out in his 20′s and 30′s so it’s fine. HFSFSS but yeah! after awhile it’s sorta easy just to come out, and then he gets cocky and his gayness bleeds through everything he does. he starts dressing more effeminate again and he fucks around with a lotta guys and is really stupid about his recklessness. he gets into cocaine and gets so fucked up he doesn’t know who he’s banging half the time he just parties and is a big smelly butthead. and around the AIDS crisis no less… dumb ass. by some miracle he doesn’t catch anything or get anything so… this all happens, the worst of it anyway, when he’s 18 and stuff after he has this weird hook up relationship with Mikael his friend and our other OC hsdhbsd. and then he kinda just Takes himself off it after he bumps into Lewis again and goes through his withdrawals and smokes a ton of weed, i mean he’ll never quit that, its fine.

he loves to skateboard! he loves reading and writing. he aces his english classes and was in AP his whole life in that subject. he’s a big debater and critical thinker in those classes and the teachers love him and hate him for that. he writes in his journals constantly and he wants to be a writer someday.. he loves drag. he has a whole persona. her name is Crystal Balls. he’s really fuckin good at it too, he’s good at makeup and tucking and dressing up and caring for his wigs. he’s a big major faggot. he’s a top! even though everyone in the world does not think he is (: he’s a big top. and he can be masculine when he wants. he has masculine body language and a manly voice and he’s a big stoner skater but he can turn on that faggotry whenever he wants and its especially apparent in his Crystal persona. he plays piano and is very good at it (: he’s bipolar clinically but does not take meds (:  he self harms as a result of his polarizing emotions and his home life. he’s the horniest emo anyone will ever meet and legit is addicted to feel-good stuff and has a really addictive personality in general. so weed, food, sex, Lewis, etc. he’s really insecure and he thinks he is BUTT ugly but high key he’s the hottest OC either of us have like he’s just gorgeous that’s all there is to it. and he’ll go back and forth from Damn im fuckin hot to holy fuck i look like my dad i want to wear a ski mask everywhere. its mostly the latter though (: he hates his dad and hates that he looks so much like him. the only thing he likes about himself is his big dick and his legs that are straight up chick legs

here’s chris heh

Cody Glorymoon (mine), Lewis’  best friend, is 20 and she’s very pretty and she has delicate features but she’s big tomboy and works for her dad at the junkyard. she’s a ginger and she’s very tall and slim and she’s a little rough and cynical but she’s super soft and loving and smart.  and she cares for lewis so much that she’s a little in love with him at one point and it hurts her to be that way because she’s having her own sexuality and identity crisis and shes knows they can’t be together. she hates chris…because the girl chris used to date and spread her nudes was her sister and she’s extremely protective of her sister because they grew up very close and had traumatic experiences being put through frequent pageant shows and training as little girls? their mom was a piece of shit and eventually dumped them on their dad who previously was kept away from them. she also, in general, just doesn’t like chris and his personality. he’s a huge douche to her. until she softens for him in later years when she sees him a lot because he’s her best friend’s boyfriend. chris actually needs her help pretending to be his girlfriend in order to please his dad and keep him off his back so he can see lewis on the low… and she does it because she’s the only girl he knows that tolerates him enough and would do it for him and she comes over for dinner and other events hsdfjsdf its really funny watching chris pretend to like her. they grow closer this way and become real friends even though they always have this love/hate dynamic.

heres cody and cody giving lewis a smoochie 

here’s some gay and lesbian solidarity between chris and cody

Mikael Taylor (tristan’s) is 19 and one of the boys in Chris and Lewis’s friend group. He’s a foster kid who has really long hair and smokes too much weed because if he doesn’t his adhd gets the best of him. He and church have an on and off thing for quite a while until they break up and church moves away and gets with mason, although mikael is sort of crazy in love with church whether he likes to admit it or not, he’s always sorta waiting for him and mason to be Done even though it takes a long ass time, he really misses his opportunity with him the beginning. He likes to fuck and be with all kinds of different people, though, and commitment is definitely a fear of his (hence the on and off thing with church). He’s really sweet though and he loves lewis to death. Hes funny and outgoing and cool and Everyone likes him. Everyone. He’s got a cool septum piercing and one of those gum piercings right under the lip as well. He’s also huge gauged ears and he wears a beanie and hawaiian shirts with dad shorts and socks and sandals (which are like the only shoes he owns). He’s half native american and half caucasian, he sleeps a lot and he has a huge thing for milfs. (chris and ben’s moms especially)

mikael is 6′4, and pretty lean and has got some muscles. he’s got sharper features and he has green eyes and gross facial hair wispies

Benjamin Jacobs (tristan’s) is 19 and is another one of the boys from the friend group. He’s a big, heavy jock who really enjoys theatre and foootball. He’s from up north, so he has an accent thats quite strong and pretty cliche. He’s got pretty short blonde hair and freckles spread across his soft cheeks. He’s quite angry most of the time and he can be very loud, especially with chris whenever chris is being himself and annoying the shit out of him. He does have a temper but he tries his best to control it around lewis. Oh yeah and he also loves lewis a lot (: he lives in a really nice suburban neighborhood and his home is loudly occupied with his mother, dawn, who is your classic 80’s rhode island mom complete with the big poofy curls and the hoop earrings, and his two brothers and one sister. He has a man cave which is the entire home basement that he and the boys all hang out in 24/7, filled with beanbags a television, a pool table and a blow up doll named Patrisha that chris drew a penis on. Again, he hates chris. ALSO he’s in love with kylo’s sister named Leslies and he pines for her 24/7

ben is big chubby and blond, he’s 6′1 and hes so hot i think he’s so hot bro. he’s juicy he’s a thick quarterback with blue eyes

Kylo Cavillo (tristan’s) is the last member of the boys group. Kylo is a sweet Hispanic boy with vitiligo who has a hard time expressing himself. He’s very excitable and he falls in love with people very easily… he has this weird crush/obsession with chris that’s not talked about within the group much but it can be more than obvious at times even though he denies that he’s gay. He and lewis get along very well and he loves him a lot, they both were deprived of a lot of the modern things like certain tv shows and games and phrases and ways of doing things so they’re able to bond on that fact. Kylo lives at home with his mother and father, who is a big part of the Mystic Overhang Tiburón’s (a gang) and he owns their family restaurant called El Baño HHHDSF which kylo comes to take over himself when he’s older. He has three sisters and he is the youngest of all siblings, so he grew up with girls his entire life and definitely has some femininity to him. He’s very sweet and innocent, though, and means well with all his endeavors. He likes to grease his jet black hair back and wear gold chains with his baseball jerseys and blue jeans. OH he also has epileptic seizures and it’s very scary but mikael knows well how to deal and handle them when they happen because he has experience both with his foster siblings and kylo himself because mikael knew him the longest!

and here’s mister kylo, he is very small about 5′1 and skinny, he has big pretty expressive brown eyes and lil cute mustache and unibrow (:

#ocs #lewis #church #chris #mason #jo #abuse #self harm #drugs #cody #kylo #mikael #ben

[dcbicki]

I'm sorry to double dip but could you do danxamy for 14 and Jonsa for 6? Those are my two fave pairings!

I did the Dan/Amy one, but (if you’re still interested) could you send me a different message for the J/S one - it makes things easier to post? Also, I love how this was supposed to be a ‘few short paragraphs’ meme but I went over 3k words with this… Enjoy! :)

14. Things you said after you kissed me | Post-s6, in which Amy is ready to give birth, and Dan’s feelings are semi-ready to express themselves.

-

“If I find even one picture of this on that phone, you’re a dead man.”

“Ah, come on, Amy,” He starts, grins - that prick! - and then he’s scrolling through what she can only guess is a new photo album on his fucking iPhone. “Don’t you wanna have something memorable to show people, to commemorate this joyous occasion?”

She can’t tell if he’s fucking with her, or if this is actually all just a part of his stupid fucking plan.

“I think the probable sociopath I’m squeezing out of my fucking vagina is gonna be enough of a souvenir, thanks.” Her teeth grit and she’s frowning, reaching for something to hold onto other than the railing of the hospital bed.

She’ll commemorate this joyous occasion by chopping his balls off and force-feeding them to him through a tube. That sounds like a pretty solid revenge scheme right now.

“Dan! Can you just put the fucking phone down and get me some ice chips? For fuck’s sake.”

Amy doesn’t notice the two cups already on the side, chips melting. So, he just smiles, picks one up and hands it to her. There, hold that.

She doesn’t though – instead she finds herself grasping at his shirt, knuckles whiter than usual, face a pretty picture of sheer agony, “You’re gonna pay for this, you dick.”

“So you’ve said.” He’s rolling his eyes, and he laughs (because he’s not the one forcing an infant through his genitals) like the asshole she knows him to be.

And then he smirks, because he’s Dan, because he can, “You can only kill me so many times, you know?” The threat count is probably nearing the two hundred mark at this point.

Apparently, within the next couple hours, she’s castrating him with children’s craft scissors, gauging his eyes out with bendy plastic spoons, ripping his hair right from his scalp with just her bare hands, carving out his shrivelled up black heart and proceeding to feed his carcass to a pack of wild dogs. Oh, and she’s gonna feed him his ballsack through a fucking tube. Whether that’s pre or post heart failure, he isn’t sure.

Sure thing, Ames.

“I still get to torture you beforehand.”

“True. But you know I’d just consider that brutal foreplay.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She’d let go of his shirt sometime in the past minute, and her palm is wrapped so tightly around the frame she’s sure, he’s sure it will snap. Fuck, it’ll probably shatter.

Dan looks over at her then, (attempts to) run a hand through over-gelled hair, phone finally shoved inside his back pocket, “D'you want me to leave? I can just wait in the hall. I mean, I’ve got some calls to make and-”

Yeah, Dan, you’re not good with hospitals or empathy, I know.

“You’re staying right here.” Her blue eyes are like frozen blocks of ice, and her lips draw thin, cheeks puffing as her face flushes, neck tenses. “You’re gonna stand there, and only there, and you’re gonna hold my fucking hand like the nice man your mom thinks she raised.”

He nods, complies, shuffles forward so he’s leaning over the side of the railing. Even when she’s sat and he’s slouched, he still towers over her, still doesn’t loom. What kinda bullshit-

“Okay.” Dan sighs, adds, “Your mom’s outside, by the way.” As though that will get her to change her mind.

Oh, yes, Dan. Yes! Go get my mom, and you can wait in the hall with fucking Gary! That’ll make you happy, won’t it? Go!

“Well, then, that’s where she’ll stay.” She huffs out, eyes closed since he agreed to stay. Her head’s thrown back, blonde hair askew, face pink, lips plump. God, he wants to fucking straighten her hair. She isn’t her.

“Really?” He frowns anyway, confusion clear across his face, “Don’t you want some other woman here? I thought that was like a… thing.” His nose crinkles, “What about your sister?”

He doesn’t quite understand why she wants him here, especially with her mother right outside and she’s always seemed closer to her than anybody else in her family. Hell, Gary’s probably better suited for this kind of thing than he is - he’s into all that feminine crap, right? And he’s just-

Well, he wasn’t even all that great when they went for checkups. He just sat there in the chair and smugly grinned like an asshole whenever the doctor pointed at the screen, at the bean-sized, peanut-sized, melon-sized spawn of his that Amy was incubating.

Come to think of it, he’s not even sure he’s ready for the little bugger to be born yet. Then again, him not ready being ready isn’t the worst thing. Amy’s the one having to do all the work.

Push, scream, push, push, scream, cry, push, sweat, cry, sweat, scream.

Hopefully, she doesn’t die. Hopefully, she won’t leave him alone with a newborn. That would be some serious fucking divine retribution right there. Dan, you take this. You deal with it. Have fun, fucker.

“That’s not a fucking thing, and if you ever fucking bring up Sophie again, I swear to God I will have you murdered in your sleep.”

He’s brought back then, all wide-eyed and lost-looking.

With a sigh, he concedes. He is the father. (Wow, that’s fucking weird.) He’s the one who did this to her, with her. He’s the one who fucked her, and subsequently fucked them both over.

“Nah, you wouldn’t.” He glances down at Amy, raises one eyebrow pointedly in that way she really, really, truly fucking detests, “You wouldn’t deprive yourself of that pleasure.”

His gaze shifts to the door then as it swings open, allowing Amy’s (midwife? obstetrician? fuck knows!) doctor to walk through. A nurse follows, and Dan catches a quick glance of Amy’s mom talking to Gary in the waiting room.

Are they deciding which one of them is going to watch over the kid first so that Amy can catch some sleep, and Dan can go home and change out of his day-old shirt? He’s actually surprised that, for once, Gary isn’t at Selina’s side like a fucking half-turtled turd.

Amy’s been here for fucking hours – all bed-ridden and shit in a sweaty dull-coloured hospital gown, and (truth be told) he’s still pretty pissed about the blue balls she’d left with him earlier. (Granted, she went into labour, but still.)

Going home to stroke one out might actually come in handy. Pun fully intended, he grins. Just as long as he doesn’t catch a view of her child-baring vag beforehand-

“How are we feeling?”

He’s flicking open the chart the nurse hands him - Dan’s forgotten his name because it was some European-sounding bullshit and he had more important stuff to do than learn it - and he smiles up at Amy, all red hair and freckles and glasses.

“Just tell me if I’m fucking dilated.” Amy writhes on the bed, focuses her attention on the patterned ceiling, and Dan’s damn sure she’s gonna pull a fucking Exorcist in a minute and start levitating. It doesn’t look comfortable. Maybe Mike hadn’t been lying about his surrogate’s birthing story, after all.

The doctor shoves his glasses up his nose, snaps the chart shut and smiles (like a fucking teenage boy who’s gonna get his first upfront look at a woman’s privates).

He leans forward, does his thing (and Dan watches him out of the corner of his eye because focusing on that is a little more personal than he’s willing to get right now, or ever.)

He’d rather not see some guy - trained professional or not - put his hands anywhere near Amy’s crotch. (Unless it’s in a mirror… and he’s the guy.)

“Looks like I was right on time. You’re just about ten centimetres.”

The blonde sits up in her bed then, neck muscles still tense, shoulders raised and bony, “So the little fucker’s finally ready to come out?”

“Amy.”

“I can… start pushing?” She corrects herself with a sigh, half-ignores Dan’s burning stare. Fuck you.

“Seems so.”

She briefly relaxes then, lets herself fall back for only a moment, but then another contraction hits her again, only it’s worse this time, and Dan’s hand is actually there for her to hold and bruise and fuckin’ crush. Jesus, woman!

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“If we’re waiting for that, the kid’s never coming out.”

It’s intended as a joke, but Amy just tightens her hold around Dan’s hand, waiting until his knuckles crack before finally softening her grip.

Prick.

He holds up his other hand (semi-apologetically given the proud look on his face) before lowering it down to the side of the bed, wrapping it around the metal post and leaning closer to her.

“Okay. Push.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Just fuckin’ push, Amy.” He sounds ticked off, worked up, “Jesus, it’s not hard.”

Despite herself, she finds herself reassured when his hand reaches for her own, and then she’s going for it.

-

Turns out, it’d been harder than he thought it would be.

That epidural – no, those two epidurals – clearly hadn’t done shit because she was still in pain throughout, and her body was on the brink of a fucking collapse. Maybe that’s just what happens though. How the fuck is he supposed to know? He didn’t even wanna be here for this until she roped him, forced him into it.

Watching Amy Brookheimer give birth (to his child) hadn’t ever been on his bucket list, and now, he notes, there’s a reason that was. The whole thing had been brutal. She screamed, in his face, into his shirt. She cried, in his arms, into his shirt. She sweated, like a fuckload.

She’d been all red and warm and horrifically in pain, and Dan’s pretty sure he’s going to picture her mid-labour face whenever he’s holding himself back from coming from now on.

At least now she’s calmer, and quieter, and she’s finally fuckin’ let go of his hand. Honestly, childbirth turned out to be much more of a team sport than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t think he’d ever have to be someone’s punching bag, or actual fucking support system, so that was an experience.

At least now she looks like herself, and her blonde hair is straight again because she (post-labour, of course) practically assaulted a nurse until they gave her a hairbrush. Type A, confirmed.

At least now, he can run his hands through pretty, long, straight blonde hair and grab it, tug it, pull it. Maybe once she’s out of here, and he’s changed out this bloody tear-stained, snot-ridden sweaty mess of a striped shirt, they could-

Honestly, she’s really fucking glowing and he’s kind of enjoying it. Is she supposed to look this fuckable after just giving birth? He’s probably a mess himself, all bruised knuckles from her death grip, and aching legs from standing up for so long. Oh, well.

Their son is born at a healthy weight, with blueing grey eyes and a patch of light dark hair atop his head. But he’s all gunky and gooey and just plain fucking gross, so the nurse takes him away to be cleaned up when Amy’s had just about a minute with him.

He was actually kind of… cute? Fuck, she hates that word.

Cute in a way that meant if she stared at him for too long, she’d fucking vomit. Cute in a way that meant he was cuter than most babies – but then again, that’s just their genetics.

“You did great.” Dan’s grinning (again, like a dickhead), “You know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I’m serious.”

It’s not the first time he’s complimented her skills, competence. But it’s a strange kind of sincerity, one with a little more meaning, depth behind it than she’s used to receiving from him, from anyone.

Pushing herself up on both palms, her back aches as she stretches, props herself up into a comfier position against some square pillows. It’s not soothing, though, and she has to readjust the shitty cushions behind her to find some kind of comfort. She’s fucking sat on one, and it’s doing nothing to alleviate the pain she’s feeling down below.

“When do you think I can leave?”

She wants to be working, walking about, running around, doing things. Being cooped up in a hospital bed is not fun, is not productive, is not rewarding. Granted, she can still talk and call and email but it’s not the same as being up and about, out where the action is, where she’s actually useful.

Dan gets to leave whenever he likes. Dan doesn’t have to remain on bedrest for an undetermined amount of time. Dan doesn’t have to deal with a sore vagina and everything else that entails. Dan is a man, got the ‘get out of jail free’ card when she drew the one that forces her to take five places back.

Dick, she scowls.

“Probably tonight. That nurse said there weren’t any complications so we can probably go home later.” He reasons, shrugs as though it’s nothing major. Dick.

“We?” Amy lifts a brow, sniffles, “You can go home already, you know.”

“What, you think I’m just gonna fuckin’ leave you here?” Dan stares down at her, runs one hand along the cool railing, “Jesus Christ, Amy, you just had my kid. Even I’m not that fuckin’ cold.” He almost looks appalled at the idea – he’s desperate to leave though, to go home. Fuck it, he’s half-tempted to pack her bag, get her dressed, grab the baby and make a run for it.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to wait for me-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His head ducks, eyes closing. What the fuck is he doing?

“I can have my mom bring me back to the apartment later. It s fine-” Because she’s still here, because Grandma B likes being involved in all things Baby Brookheimer-Egan related, because she’s just that kind of person. At least they’ll have someone to babysit for them that isn’t hired or fucking Gary.

“Amy, seriously. Shut up.”

“Why?” She smirks, figures she can get a rise out of him and whatever the fuck he’s trying to conceal. Is that… fucking emotion, some kind of weird display of fucking devotion? What- “Or Gary. It’s not like he has anything better to do anyway, other than trim Selina’s nails or wipe her ass.”

“You’re not going home with Gary. For fuck’s sake, Amy. Is it so hard for you to just shut your fucking mouth every once in awhile?”

You getting worked up there, Danny?

He sighs (deeply, strangely), and then he’s leaning down and kissing her before she can even say anything else, anything at all.

It’s a weird kiss, different from their normal, their usual. There’s no tongue shoved down her throat (which she almost sadly longs for), no hand on her neck (which is oddly irritating), no hair-pulling or shirt-tugging (which she really fucking craves).

It’s just a kiss on her lips (soft, surprisingly bland yet somehow charming), and then it’s over.

“What the fuck?” She exclaims when he’s pulled back, scratching the space between dark furrowed brows. “What, did you develop some kind of sappy dad hormones as soon as the fucking baby started kicking and screaming?”

“No, I-” He begins, shifts his gaze from the white sheet of her hospital bed to her face, all pink lips and flushed face. “I don’t know, Amy. Fuck!”

He doesn’t know why he kissed her - like that - save for the fact that he wanted to (almost desperately), so he did. Fuck, he feels feverish. He’s flushed, more than she is, has been, and he doesn’t understand why. His breathing is faster than it was a moment ago, and he wants nothing more than to take that kiss back.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Amy leans back against her pillows, hitches up the bottom of her gown and stretches out her legs. “Fuck.” Her eyes close and she swallows a breath, way too calm for his liking.

Why isn’t she on edge? Why isn’t she begging to be let out of this room? Why isn’t she bribing nurses?

Why isn’t she Amy?

“You know I like you, right?”

“You like me?” She grins despite her eyes remaining closed, and her neck reddens, “Wow, Dan. What a revelation.”

“As in, I like you more than I like anybody else.” Dan shrugs (for no good reason), and he clears his throat with one hand smoothing along the bed railing, “As in, I say I like you, but it’s more than that, and you know it.”

“Oh, I do? Because you’ve made it so blatantly obvious over the years?” She laughs, once, practically hiccups. “Sure, Dan. You like me like that.”

His fingers dance along the thin mattress, curling around the hem of her gown, all pale skin and pastel blue cloth.

Why is she Amy?

“You never wondered why I stayed?”

“Because you think you’re getting something out of this.” She reasons, peeks one eye open and looks at him, flicks both eyes open when she notices his frown. “Jesus Christ, why do you look like someone just reported you as a sex offender? Sort your face out.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” He nods. He did get sex out of this. He did get Amy out of this, in some way, in some capacity. He did get a mini version of himself out of this, and his narcissistic ass kind of really loves that part of the deal. “Not entirely.”

“Oh, go on.” Amy smiles, “What am I missing? Why did you stay?”

“Because it’s you.”

Why is she Amy?

Because if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be Dan.

“Is this the part where I swoon, and you get down on one knee, and the whole hospital staff applauds when I agree to marry you?” She’s smirking - that bitch! - and she licks her lips, holds her breath for a second.

“Is this where we elope and move to the suburbs and fuck maybe once every three months and I don’t let you finish?” Biting her lip, “Is this where you say you love me?”

She drags out that word, and Dan’s face near drowns of all colour. Fuck her.

“You’re a real cunt, you know that?”

She just nods, sheepish, lets the hand in her lap move to brush against his own, toying with her blue gown, “You love this cunt.”

“I do.” His palm runs along her stomach, stops just above the space between her legs. “And you love this dick.”

Amy smiles, ducks her head, understands him straight away yet doesn’t exactly deny it, “Fuck you.”

“Oh, believe me, you will. I’m just waiting until we can leave and they clear you for sex.”

“You’re seriously fucking turned on by this, aren’t you? That’s some next level, twisted mommy-issue shit right there, Dan.”

“Babe, the only mommy I’m thinking about right now is you.”

“If you start calling yourself ‘daddy’, I swear your balls are getting the chop.”

“Daddy Egan?” He boasts, beams.

“Just my luck.”

#dan x amy #fic* #dan egan #amy brookheimer #veep #anon #answered #ship: dan x amy

[emospritelet]

If you're still taking prompts for your new verse, I'd like to submit #16. “If you want, we could go together?”

A fic based entirely on prompts from this post. AO3 link

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

The cabin was cold, and Belle shivered a little as she watched him turn on lamps and squat before an open fireplace.  She looked around the cabin as he began stacking kindling, noting the couch and armchairs around the fireplace, a thick rug between them.  There was a small kitchen area with a table and two chairs to the side of it, and a dark corridor which she presumed led to the bathroom and sleeping quarters.  It seemed a comfortable retreat, and she wondered how often he came here.  Not that it would stop her pursuers from finding her, of course.  Nothing did.

Once the fire was going, Gold placed a couple of logs over the crackling flames and stood up, brushing ash from his hands and turning to her.

“Now,” he said, gesturing to the couch.  “Tell me about the men that are chasing you.”

“It’s because of my father…” she began, but he shook his head impatiently as he took a seat.

“I don’t need the back story yet, I need to know about them.  You said they always find you.  Tell me what happened since you started running.”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to remember exactly what the sequence of events had been.  So much of it was a blur, terror and pain and sleepless nights and the feeling of constant dread.

“When I left home, I knew I’d be followed, so I hid my phone on a bus headed fo Seattle,” she began.  “I thought that would throw them off the scent, and it seemed to, at first.  I went to New Orleans, instead.  Two weeks later, they were waiting for me outside the apartment block I was crashing in.  I ran before they saw me, took a bus to Atlanta.”

Gold nodded, patting the couch beside him, and she sat down, her legs shaking a little as she remembered what had happened.

“It only took them a few days the second time,” she said.  “I was sleeping in a warehouse when they found me.  Nott - the one you hit - he cornered me.  I - I’d managed to find a box cutter.  Slashed his face open.”

Gold nodded approvingly.  “And then?”

“After that I stayed away from the larger towns,” she said.  “Cut across country where I could, getting rides on farm trailers and tractors.  Slow going, but it’s not like I had a plan of where I wanted to end up.  I just knew I had to keep moving.”

“And they always found you,” he said, hs tone grim, and she nodded.

“I have no idea how,” she said.  “I never saw any evidence of them putting the word out - I mean it’s not like they’d put my face on a milk carton, or anything - so I don’t know how they did it.  My father…”  She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.  “My father had a fairly large network of associates, but it never stretched as far as Maine, I don’t think.”

Gold tapped his fingers on his thigh, looking as though he was considering something.

“Do you have anything with you that you’ve carried from the start?” he asked then.  “A piece of jewellery, an item of clothing - anything that could be used to keep tabs on you?”

Belle blinked.  “I - well, there’s my mother’s locket, I guess.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course.”  She turned her back to him a little, lifting her hair with one hand to expose the nape of her neck.  “Would you mind?”

She felt his touch then, cool fingers on her skin, making her shiver.  He unclasped the thin gold chain, drawing the small locket from around her neck.  She expected him to sit back, but instead he ran his fingertips over her once more, his touch sweeping over her neck and beneath her shirt, across her shoulder.  A moment, only, and then his touch was gone, and he was holding the locket in his hands.

“Is that it?” she asked.  “Is that how they found me?”

Gold pressed against the edge of the locket, prising it open, but the inside was just as it had always been, empty apart from a lock of chestnut hair, the only relic Belle had to call her own.

“It’s not this,” he said, closing the locket, and pressed it into her hand.  “But I felt something on the back of your neck, just between your shoulder blades.  A lump, under your skin.”

“Oh!”  She laughed.  “Yeah, I’ve had that for a while.  It’s nothing.”

“Turn towards the light a little,” he said, and she obeyed, shivering as she felt his touch once more.

“Yes, I can see the lump,” he mused.  “Only a small thing.  You knew about it?”

“Yeah,” she said, unconcerned.  “I forget it’s there most of the time.  A benign cyst, or something.  My father said he’d called the doctor, asked if I should have it taken out, but it’s no problem.”

“There’s a scar,” he observed.  “Very small, very fine.  Has this been operated on at some point?”

Belle shook her head.  “No.  My father said it was nothing to worry about.  I’ve had it since…”  Her voice trailed off, a sinking feeling in her stomach.  Gold’s fingers were a firm, comforting pressure on her shoulders.

“Belle,” he said gently.  “I’m not sure what this is, but I want to take it out of you.  Is that okay?”

She nodded, wishing she could stop shaking.

“It’s going to hurt,” he added.  “Do you want something to bite, or squeeze?  Would that help?”

“Just get on with it,” she muttered, and he nodded.

“In that case, could you please put on one of my shirts?” he asked.  “Wear it back to front, so that your back is visible.”

“Like - like a hospital gown?” she asked, and he smiled.

“That’s right.  Is that okay?”

Moving somewhat woodenly, Belle got up and went into the dark corridor off to the left, where she found a bedroom containing a small closet with some of his clothes.  She pulled a shirt from its hanger, pressing the dark blue silk to her face and imagining she could smell him on it.  She laid it aside, unzipping the dress she was wearing and letting it fall.  After a moment, she decided to remove her bra too, and she slipped her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, leaving it open at the back.  She rolled up the sleeves a little, the tails of the shirt hanging down her pale thighs.

When she returned to the lounge area of the cabin, the fire had roared to life, filling the room with a pleasant heat.  Gold had set out gauze and antiseptic ointment and surgical tape.  A small, sharp knife sat beside him, and Belle eyed it warily.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the couch, and she sat down, turning her back to him.

He pushed the silk apart, his touch light, and Belle sucked air in through her mouth, holding her breath.

“Ready,” he murmured, and all at once there was a sharp pain between her shoulder blades.  Belle bit back a cry, tears welling in her eyes.

“Good girl,” he said soothingly.  “Cry if you need to, we’re almost done.  I can see it.”

“See it?”  Her heart thumped.  “See what?  What is it?”

“It looks like metal,” he said.  “And it’s blinking.  The tiniest red light, flashing away.”

Anger roared to life in her.  Anger and fear.

“A tracker?” she said bitterly.  “You mean they - they tagged me like I was a fucking dog?”

“I’ll get it, Belle,” he said soothingly, and there was more pain, enough to make her cry out.  “There!  There, sweetheart, it’s out!  It’s okay.  It’ll be okay.”

She wept anew, hardly hearing him, and glared at the tiny bead of metal and plastic that he dropped on the slate hearth of the fire.  There was blood on it, and the tiniest grim red light, flashing away, announcing her presence to those looking for her.

“Get rid of it!” she wept fiercely.

Gold got to his feet, striding from the cabin and returning with a long-handled axe.  A quick blow with the base of the handle and the tracker was dull and silent, a few scraps of metal on dark grey stone.  Belle couldn’t seem to stop crying, and he grasped her shoulder with a gentle hand, whispering soothing words to her as he cleaned the cut he had made with something that stung and burned.

“I think we should be alright with a couple of paper stitches,” he said quietly, and she wiped her eyes, trying to stop sobbing.  She felt pressure on her shoulder, a new flare of pain as he pressed paper stitches over the cut flesh.  Finally he folded some clean gauze and taped a pad of it over.

“There,” he said quietly, drawing the silk shirt around her.  “You’re safe.”

She nodded, although she didn’t entirely believe him, but she offered to make them some tea for something to do.  Gold said that he had a call to make, and went out to the rear of the cabin.  She pulled off the shirt, turning it around and pulling it on properly, her fingers shaking as she buttoned it.  She filled the kettle with water, hearing him speak, but unable to make out much of what he was saying, other than that he was offering an assignment to someone called Mr Dove.  He returned as she was pouring the tea, a weary smile brightening his face for a moment, and Belle carried their mugs over to the couch.

Her shoulder was painful, and she still felt violated over being tagged like an animal and hunted down, but it was calming to sit with him.  He made her feel safe, this small man with the smile that suggested he knew too much, and the way his eyes would soften when he looked at her.  She watched how the fire cast flickering light over his face, shadows cast by his cheekbones, warmth in the deep brown of his eyes as he glanced over.  That heavy, tugging sensation gripped her, low down in her belly, and she licked her lips, wanting to feel his touch, wanting that closeness, that comfort.  Gold looked away.

“It’s late,” he said eventually.  “You should go to bed.”

Belle put her mug down, swallowing as she tried to find the courage to ask for what she wanted.

“We could - we could go together,” she ventured, and he smiled briefly.

“I’m not tired, but you go on.  Choose either of the bedrooms, they’re very similar.”

“No…”  Belle closed her eyes, flicking the open again to meet his.  “I mean - to bed.  If - if you want, we could go together.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #fic: outsider #prompts #ficlets #quinninthenorth