#I want to hear those rapid fire thoughts because you just know he is extinguishing them like summertime mosquitos

[laurents-secret-diary]

oh damen we're really in it now.mp4

[engie-ivy]

Yes, it's great that Sirius finally dared to ask Remus out. But... maybe next time don't do it in the midst of a Death Eater attack?

@wanderingbandurria here it is!

(I keep hurting Sirius in all my fics lately! What's wrong with me?!)

It's a date!

“We should have dinner.”

Sirius speaks without pausing the rapid succession of curses he’s firing. Remus gives him a quick look, but almost immediately has to turn his attention back to the darkness in front of them, as a beam of light flies right past his head. He fires a cure back, and three curses come soaring at him in return, only to be deflected by Sirius’ quickly casted Protego Charm.

Before more curses can come their way, Sirius and Remus duck behind a rock on their right.

“Sure,” Remus says. “Let’s tell the Death Eaters to wait here while we go on a food break. Hey, maybe they’d like to join, and we can all go to McDonalds together.”

Suddenly, a particularly nasty curse blows a piece of the rock away, just centimetres from Sirius’ head. Sirius doesn’t hesitate. Using the dust as a cover, he Stupifies the approaching Death Eaters with three well-aimed curses. Then he turns around to follow Remus, jumping and rolling over the floor into the shelter of a battered, but at least still standing, wall.

“I didn’t mean now,” he says, rolling his eyes. “After this.”

Remus peers past the wall, and smoothly disarms the Death Eater trying to attack them on his side.

“Sure,” he says. “Do you want to make a grocery list, or...?”

A beam of light hits the seam of Sirius’ robes and sets them on fire. He spins on his heels and first somehow manages to take out two Death Eaters with one curse, before pointing his wand to his robes to extinguish the flames.

Suddenly, Remus pushes him away so roughly that he trips and falls flat on his back. In front of him, the top of the wall has come crumbling down and large pieces of rock cover the spot he had just been standing.

Remus grabs his hand, pulls him up, and they sprint away again. This time, they end up crouching down behind a low wall that can hardly be called a wall.

“I meant,” Sirius says slowly. “We should have dinner, at a restaurant, together, just the two of us.”

Remus’ eyes widen in surprise and he opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment a flash of green light flies right past his head.

Sirius’ mouth tightens in anger and he jumps to his feet, sending of a rapid succession of curses. Not without effect, judged from the grunts coming from the Death Eaters hidden in the darkness. He feels something scrape his cheek and turns in the direction it came from, but Remus jerks him down just in time before three curses at the same time fly towards where Sirius’ head had been just second ago. Blood is dripping from a deep gash in Sirius’ cheek.

“Padfoot,” Remus says disbelievingly. “Are you asking me out? Now?”

Sirius shrugs. “Seems as good a time as any.”

A shrill, familiar voice echoes through the darkness. “Where are you, you filthy blood traitor? I’m gonna make you regret the day you shamed our family, you foul disgrace!”

Sirius and Remus send a red beam into the direction of the voice almost automatically, which is followed by a loud shriek.

Remus raises an eyebrow at Sirius.

“Alright, maybe not as good a time as any,” Sirius reluctantly admits. “But still, the question stands.”

Sirius’ eye catches two stone pillars, that look like better hiding places than the almost falling apart wall. He motions for Remus to follow him and once again they sprint through the night, dodging curses here and there.

“Since when...” Remus jumps to one side of the pillar to avoid a curse and then quickly jumps back again to avoid another. “Do you even want to date me?”

Sirius casts a Protego on his left and Remus’ right, so they can first focus on the Death Eaters at the other side.

“Couple of months maybe,” Sirius replies. “I found out I rather fancy you, and as much as I enjoy being friends with you, I was hoping it could be something more.”

Remus gapes at him, but even more surprising is the sudden force that blows them both backwards, landing flat on their backs a few metres away from the pillars. From their new position though, they are able to spot a ditch in the ground, and staying low, they manage to crawl in that direction and roll themselves in the ditch.

They take a minute to catch their breaths. Sirius’ face is bruised and Remus has sprained his wrist.

Suddenly, a glowing white deer appears in front of them.

“Padfoot, Moony.” James’ voice sounds grave. “The Prewetts had to give up their position. The Death Eaters who were fighting them are almost certainly on their way to reinforce the group attacking you.”

Remus curses under his breath.

“You have to get out of there as fast as you can,” Prongs’ voice urges, before the deer disappears again.

“Shite!” Sirius looks over his shoulder to where he knows the Death Eaters must be approaching.

“What do we do?” Remus asks anxiously.

“We have to get that piece of parchment to Dumbledore.” Sirius gestures at the folded parchment tucked away in the pocket of Remus’ robes. “Whatever information it contains, he said it may be essential for Lily’s, James’, and Harry’s safety.”

“I know that much,” Remus says. “But how? The anti-apparition zone stretches out for at least another half a kilometre, if not more. We won’t make it like this, but they’re too many to stop and face in a standstill, with even more on their way! And if we turn around and run, one of their curses will surely hit us in the back.”

“I might have an idea,” Sirius says thoughtfully. “You run to the end of the anti-apparition zone, while I hold off the Death Eaters and cover your back-”

“Sirius.”

“No, hear me out. I’ll stall them only as long as to give you a good head start. Then, I’ll turn into Padfoot and follow. Padfoot’s smaller, darker, closer to the ground, and therefore much more difficult to hit, and let’s not forget much faster! I’ll have a much better chance.”

“Alright,” Remus says reluctantly. “But don’t be a stubborn idiot, Sirius! I know you. I know how you get carried away. Don’t think you can take down all Death Eaters on your own. Stall them for a bit, and then follow!”

“I will, I will. Just get ready to run.” Sirius is already turning to climb out of the ditch.

“Wait.” Remus grabs Sirius’ arm and turns him back to face him. “Tuesday night. That Italian place with those almond cookies I like so much. Pick me up at seven, and wear your leather jacket.”

Sirius blinks and then breaks out in a grin. “It’s a date!”

Sirius loves duelling. There’s a reason he was the best duller at Hogwarts. It’s addictive to him, the constant alternation between evading, shielding and deflecting, and attacking. He loves the adrenaline rush when an enemy’s curse just barely misses him and the thrill when he hits his target.

The knowledge that each Death Eater he takes out is one less to hurt Remus spurs him on even more, and he soon gets lost in the sensation.

Suddenly, he hears a chuckle on his left, and sees a hooded figure standing right next to him. It’s more instinct than anything else that makes him Stupify the figure before it can hurt him.

He blinks. Right next to him? How did he let that happen? When did they get so close? How long has he been duelling?

He turns, meaning to change into Padfoot mid-turn, but before he can transform, something hits him between his shoulder blades. A sharp pain spreads through his body and the world around him goes black.

Sirius slowly blinks his eyes open and groans at the throbbing pain throughout his entire body.

Suddenly, James’ face is occupying his entire field of view.

“Padfoot? Padfoot, are you there? Padfoot, can you see me? Can you hear me?”

Sirius turns his head away. “Yes Prongs, and I can smell you too! Merlin, what’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

But James just responds by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.

Sirius hugs back as good as he can. “Close call, huh?” He mutters.

“Much too close,” James confirms as he releases him again. He looks a bit shaky. “Mad-Eye called us sentimental fools when we went back. We thought we were just bringing back your body, so we could at least give you a proper-” He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “Merlin, Padfoot.”

“Sorry,” Sirius winches.

A silence falls, before Sirius asks “What day is it?”

“Friday,” James replies, and Sirius groans.

Downstairs, the front door opens, and Lily’s voice drifts up.

“Hi, Moony. James is with him right now, but I just finished cooking some dinner. Would you like some?”

“No, thank you, Lily,” is Remus’ flat reply. “I’ll be going right upstairs.”

“Remus, what’s the last time you’ve eaten anything? Or slept, for that matter.”

“He’s been taking it very hard,” James whispers.

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. “We were supposed to have Italian.”

James frowns at him. “I honestly don’t think he’s been so upset because he missed out on pizza night.”

Before Sirius can reply, however, the door opens and Remus is standing there. His mouth is slightly parted and his eyes widen as his gaze fixes on Sirius, who’s staring back at him.

“I’m sorry I missed our date,” Sirius says in a raspy voice, and he wants to ask for another chance, but the words die in his throat as Remus strides forward, cups Sirius’ face in his hands and just kisses him.

Sirius doesn’t particularly mind this turn of events, and participates as best he can, his hands clutching Remus’ sweater as he loses himself in the feel of Remus’ lips insistent against his own.

“So,” James says with a raised eyebrow after they’ve pulled apart. “That’s... new. Are you two together?”

“Not yet,” Remus says, without taking his eyes off Sirius. “But as soon as Padfoot is well enough to walk, he’s going to make up for being a stubborn idiot by taking me to a fancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner, and he’ll better have asked me to be his boyfriend before dessert.”

Sirius’ face breaks out in a grin. “It’s a date!”

[marmolady]

The Fountain

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: Post-EndlessEnding. A Broken Chains AU. The world has been restored, but at the price of Taylor's life. And Estela isn't ready to let her go.

Word Count: 2121

Warnings: Major character death.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

Hug prompts-- 29. group hug. Thanks @mauvecatfic! I'll make Raj's next hugs more cheerful.

Through the rumblings of an oncoming rainstorm, the silent figure of Estela Montoya limped and crawled through the thick La Huerta jungle, driven by a thought that had become a need… to see the face of her beloved again, to hear her voice.  It spurred her on, a tiny glimmer of something worth living for that she clung to with desperation that increased with every unsteady step.

Estela’s last memory of her wife, of her beautiful Taylor, wouldn’t be that hollow shell-- bloodless, devoid of all the fire and spirit… all the easy warmth that should have been there-- that she’d laid sobbing next to the dark medical room. No. She was going to take her minute more. Everyone else… they had a world raised from the dead; a world that meant absolutely fucking nothing to Estela now. After everything she’d sacrificed… god, Taylor… the world owed her that moment.

The Fountain of Youth was a long and arduous trek from Elyys’tel at the best of times, but half-dragging a savaged leg, it was near insurmountable. If it weren’t for the promise of hearing that voice, of seeing those sapphire eyes alight with life… well, Estela would endure the harrowing journey over again if that was the end. Her knees, the heels of her hands… they were badly grazed and muddied from catching herself as she’d stumbled again and again. Her senses, usually alert to her surroundings, had been dulled by the haze of grief that preoccupied her every thought. She was lucky to have gotten all this way through La Huerta’s treacherous jungles without coming to serious harm, but it was of little concern to Estela. The worst that could happen was that she’d die. And that…. In all honesty, it would be welcome. What was there worth surviving for now? Were it not for all that had been sacrificed so that she might live, she’d end her fucking life herself and be done with it. There was no future… no future save for this time they had together. When their moment was over, Estela would be once again plunged into the abyss that was the depth of her grief, an abyss that would surely swallow her up. She couldn’t look that far ahead-- she just couldn’t. She had to keep it together for Taylor… one last time.

Estela fell to her knees as she came through the doorway of the abandoned temple. Dread flooded her body. All that was left now was for her to summon the courage to reach out to the woman she loved from across time… to do so knowing that she’d been setting in motion the last minute they’d have together. Once it was done it was done; that much she as certain of. She could keep going back to that tree until she drove herself to insanity-- but doing so would be to inflict that pain on Taylor, forever colouring her too-short life with a darkness she didn’t deserve. Just once. Just once in the rest of her life-- that wasn’t asking too much, was it? Estela’s stomach turned as she thought it out. There had been no thinking it out while she’d slogged through the jungle; she’d moved onwards robotically, her mind and body detached from one another while grief drove her to the last hope, the last scrap of her person. Only now did she doubt everything. She hauled herself back to her feet, her weakened leg trembling violently beneath her weight. And she kept walking forwards, all the while her mind whirred.

It wasn’t as though Taylor would see this future, see the heartbreak in her wife’s eyes, and be able to change the path she’d set herself on. This path had tortured Taylor. She’d sacrificed herself because she simply couldn’t live with the alternative. And she’d died with hope. A hope that had been for naught, a spark extinguished along with the life in her eyes, but a hope that had given Taylor the courage to give away her very life force. What right did Estela have to take that away?

But I need her. I need her!

She’s gone.

The minute would be over and… Taylor would still be… gone. Would Estela hurt any less? No, but she’d endure a world of pain for even a second of feeling Taylor’s presence there with her. She’d endure it again and again, over and over until it killed her.

If it’s gonna hurt her…?

Estela’s shallow breathing became even more rapid as she stood before the tree. Tears spilled down her dirty cheeks. Blind grief had gotten her this far, but she’d been so blind. She couldn’t do this. Not now, not ever.

Taylor was dead. Dead and gone. They’d said their goodbyes down beneath Atropo, before Taylor had touched that damned crystal.  She’d close her eyes and see the terrible, sickening way her sweet Taylor had writhed in agony… the way her face lost almost all semblance of her self as it contorted with the pain. As Estela had seen again and again, near constantly since she’d woken to a healed world, but a world without Taylor. It was more than she could bear.

With tears and snot rolling into her mouth, dripping from her chin, she stumbled toward the tree… toward the Fountain of Youth. If she was careful, if she thought it through properly, she could find solace elsewhere. Panting for air, Estela wiped her face hurriedly. She couldn’t be crying for this, no matter how much she was tearing up inside.

She’d told herself she wouldn’t do it. It was risky; she’d need to be certain not to say or do a thing that could alter the events that would shape, well, everything. But it was different now. She needed it; she needed her mom to tell her everything would be okay. Because the person she’d otherwise have turned to was lost forever, and… because it wasn’t okay…. She wasn’t… she wasn’t.

Raising her hand to the tree’s surface, Estela closed her eyes and imagined her mother’s face… the words of comfort that would come. Just enough… just enough to keep her from crumbling. But as her fingers were about to graze the bark, she hesitated. That face in her mind warped with shock and fear. Of course. That fucking scar. She wouldn’t even be able to get a single word out before it would be clear to Olivia that something had gone wrong… that she’d been badly hurt. Estela felt the cold weight of her heart sink down to her toes. She… couldn’t do that to her mama.

A tortured cry wrenched itself from Estela’s lungs as she threw her body forward against the hard, cold bricks. There were no more loopholes… no cheats that could give her even a moment more of an existence that wasn’t this fucking, fucking nightmare. She screamed into the damp ground, and screamed until her throat and lungs were raw.

Why did she have to go on living?

It was like she was drawn to people who were like her-- people who cared too much, people who would die for a cause. They’d die and they’d leave her. She’d tried to warn Taylor off; ‘you get close to me, you’ll get hurt’. Bullshit. Because no matter how Estela might put her life on the line for what she believed in, somehow she ended up the one still breathing. But she didn’t fucking want to. She didn’t want to live anymore. She didn’t… want to….

She howled.

_________________________

A small party emerged at last from the thickest part of the forest, the ruins of No’ox Naj illuminated by a flash of lightning as if to welcome them to shelter.

Shivering from the wet that sent a chill to his bones, Diego huddled close to Varyyn, who guided him with a gentle steer of a long and muscular arm.

“You must watch your step. It would be easy to slip on the wet moss.”

Gazing around the temple, taking in the gloom that hung there, Raj shuddered violently. “Maybe it was all that talk of ghosts and the whole ‘dead Zahra’ thing, but this place just gives me the heebies….”

“Well, yeah. That’d… that’d do it.”

“Estela?” Quinn called out, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “Esteeelllaaaa…!”

No answer. Diego’s heart sank. He’d been so sure he’d been onto something. Not only was this place a strong connection to the Endless-- and by association, with Taylor-- but it held within a magic gift that could never be more tempting than it was right now.

“We should go further in,” he decided. If this ‘Fountain of Youth’ thing did work, maybe they could ask…? The thought made a hard lump rise in his throat. The thought of seeing Taylor again. But they couldn’t… they couldn’t.

“You’re right,” Michelle agreed. “As if Estela ever comes running when anyone calls her name at the best of times…. If she’s anywhere, she took herself there to be alone; she was never going to make this easy.”

Diego winced so hard he was certain it hadn’t gone unnoticed by a single one of the group. She’d have come running for Taylor. Every time. He cleared his throat. “We should at least check around the tree. Um, maybe check in with the others?”

Somehow, he’d found himself leading the search party. A role, he was so painfully aware, that would usually have naturally fallen to Taylor. That should still be falling to Taylor. His imaginary friend had left him, so… so it was time to grow up. To step up. He supposed it helped that everyone was handling him with kid gloves just as they were Estela; if Diego needed something to happen, everyone just about fell over themselves to make it happen. Right now, all he wanted-- all any of them wanted-- was to know that Estela was safe. If anything happened to her now….

Quinn checked her phone; still a bizarre feeling after so many months without such communications. Her face fell, even expecting no different to the response she got. “Still nothing on their end. But the Elysian could take days to check properly, even with whatever scans Iris has access to, and all the cameras-- just because they haven’t found her there yet, doesn’t mean….”

“We’re not losing anyone else!” Michelle said shrilly as she paced the floor. “I’ve just lost one sister and I’m not about to… about to….” She gasped and dissolved into sobs. “…Taylor would be losing her mind.”

There was a shuffling sound… stumbling feet. Everyone hushed, a joint breath held.

Limping into view, one hand-- stained with blood as were her forehead and knees-- propping her up with the wall as she came forward; Estela.

“It’s okay. I… I’m safe.”

Safe. Not ‘okay’, but safe. It was all she could give them.

She could have hidden away. Her friends--- though she loved them so much-- were living reminders of what had been torn away. She could not look at a one of them and not see Taylor.

“Oh, thank god!” Michelle exclaimed, and she rushed forward. She had a moment’s hesitation, holding back from taking her friend in her arms and squeezing her to within an inch of her life, not knowing if any physical show of affection would be welcomed. But Estela reached out, her eyes welling, and Michelle guided her into an embrace.

The feeling of being taken in a friends arms, of being held… it was wonderful, and yet it hurt, and all at once the dam broke and Estela could not have held back her tears if she’d wanted to. She collapsed to the cold, damp floor, eased down by her friend's steadying arms.

Raj was next in-- never one to hold back when a group hug was in the offing. As he got down on the ground, Estela flopped forward and cried into his chest. There was nothing to say, so he just wrapped her in a hug and squeezed her there, while Diego and Varyyn, and Quinn piled in too. There they wept together. Sharing in loss and relief and exhaustion and a deep and overpowering sadness.

In the centre of the mass of arms and bodies, Estela closed her eyes against Raj’s warm chest… surrounded in a scent so reminiscent of happy memories and better days when the world was not so dark… feasts and laughter and… her. Her Taylor. She sighed deeply… and let herself feel it.

The comfort she needed was right there. It wasn’t enough-- how could it be when her world had ended?-- but it was warmth and it was love, and her heart was not breaking alone.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15 (Kiro’s Chapter) Part 6 [Eager Move] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED!!!

For the previous translations of chapter 15: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Part 5

[Eager Move]

When we hurried back to the fire control room, the two people were already gone.

Sure enough, a metal object is glued to the side of the console and the countdown shows that there are more than six minutes left.

Helios sat down without saying a word, opened a program on the computer, and started typing on the keyboard proficiently.

MC: Do you also write code as a hacker?

Even if time is urgent, I can’t help but want to tease him as I watched him sitting so calmly in front of the computer.

Helios: Go out the door and then ask again when you come back.

MC:…Let me change the question. Can hackers still use programs to dismantle bombs?

Helios: Give me five minutes.

I was relieved.

Helios: But I am not dismantling the bomb.

I stood still in the same place, but after a while I realized what he meant and couldn’t help but raise my voice.

MC: What are you doing now?!

Helios: The hunter game has been disrupted. Joker will definitely think of a way of getting the game’s program back.

Helios: The computer I left on purpose was just a decoy.

Helios: Once they connect to this computer, the other party’s program can be hacked and locked by me.

MC: Haven’t you hacked the entire hunter game before? Why invade the other party’s program?

His fingers paused, and then he began to type quickly.

Helios: Not the whole game. The other party still has control over the collar.

Helios: The data of the collar is more complicated than the program of the game system and many layers of “firewalls” are added.

I was stunned for a moment and I couldn’t help but rub my neck nervously with my fingers. He was right, the “ghost” collar was indeed in working condition.

Helios: The principle of ghost “catch people” is probably similar to NFC technology.

Hearing this obscure terminology, I didn’t understand it but I didn’t interrupt him to ask.

Helios: When “ghost” and “human” come into contact, the “ghost” collar will automatically send its coordinates to the system.

Helios: After the terminal confirms the coordinates, the teenager responsible for the transmission can transfer the “human” directly.

MC: In other words, if the collar problem is not solved, the “ghost” will still disappear when it meets the “person”.

Helios: But now the game is in my hands, even if their collars are still there, they can’t keep the game going.

MC: And so…

Helios: What they want to do now is to take back the initiative of the game but the problem is that they can’t determine my IP address.

Helios: So they can only use a fool’s way.

MC: Come to you directly?

Helios: To be precise, I want to directly connect to their own program through my computer, so as to crack the program from the inside.

Helios: And this is exactly what I want.

Helios: They overestimated themselves and opened the last door that was locked.

Helios’ fingers on the keyboard moved quickly and a string of codes laid out before his eyes.

MC: So when they find that the program is locked, they will know that this is a trap…

MC: And decided to destroy this place!

He nodded, speeding up his hand.

I glanced at the only four minutes left on the bomb and then returned my gaze to Helios.

He pressed his lips tightly and locked his eyes on the screen. Lines of incomprehensible codes landed on the screen with his fingertips.

I held my shaky breath, tried to calm down, and stopped talking in order to not disturb him.

Since he did not choose to leave, it means that he is sure to crack the program while ensuring our safety.

Helios: How much time left on the bomb?

MC: Three minutes and 56 seconds.

Helios: All right.

As he said that, he pressed the Enter key firmly, and at the same time, my collar made a beeping sound.

There was a tingling pain in my neck and the collar automatically injected me with a potion.

Everything happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react. I saw him get up and come to me. He did not speak but only reached out to me.

This seems to be Helios, reaching out to me solemnly for the first time.

He doesn’t seem to just want to prove to me that the collar has been cracked.

I looked at those azure blue eyes, those bright eyes that were always full of smiles were so peaceful at this moment.

Perhaps since he decided to take me back here with him, he has been tentatively confirming  and testing when he cracked the program in front of me.

This is actually an invitation, a middle question, a step he took slightly.

And only I have the answer.

I put my hand in his palm without hesitation.

The moment the skin’s warmth came through the fingertips, something started to disintegrate.

--The silver-white arc did not appear and Helios was still standing in front of me.

He then raised his other hand and quickly pressed it behind my collar. The collar was removed smoothly.

The weight in my heart fell instantly and I smiled at him excitedly.

MC: I knew you would succeed!

Helios: We’re leaving.

He pulled me and ran to the safe passage.

I can’t see his expression but I can clearly feel his hand gradually tighten and the reassuring warmth wraps around my fingers.

As long as he is here, there is nothing terrible about all of this.

Following the safe passage, Helios and I ran out of the underground parking lot again.

We walked non-stop through the messy hall and the door of the mall was right in front of us.

Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, a loud sound suddenly came from the soles of my feet and dust particles mixed in the air rushed towards my face, and I instinctively squinted my eyes.

The ground beneath us seemed to be uneven and shook violently with an ear-splitting boom.

Helios: Hold on to me.

The world is spinning around and the strength on my hand tightens a bit.

In an instant, the surrounding window glass shattered from the strong vibrations and the huge display in the middle of the mall, mixed with cracked reinforced concrete, came crashing down.

The billowing smoke was like a dust storm, which made me unable to keep my eyes open.

They only wanted to blow up the fire control room. The mini-bomb was not enough to destroy the entire department store building.

We were sitting next to a huge concrete pillar and the sharp ringing screamed in our heads, and bursts of dizziness swept through one after another.

I reflexively wanted to turn around to see Helios’ condition, but at this moment I felt my ears being firmly covered by a pair of warm hands.

MC: Helios, what are you….

Although the sharp noise could not be completely isolated, it was more or less blocked with those hands.

The whole world is muffled under his palms and I can even hear my rapid breathing and heartbeat more clearly.

He held my body so tightly that I couldn’t turn around.

MC: …What happened to you? Is something wrong?

Helios: Wait a while…

Helios: Just wait…

His voice seems to come from far away, disconnected, hidden in the sound of falling objects, making it impossible to hear.

On the surface of the broken glass, I could vaguely see his expression. The moment I saw it clearly, I was stunned.

I have never seen Helios show that expression.

His pupils were slightly dilated, his eyes lost their focus in panic and horror, and his lips seemed to be trembling a little bit.

He covered my ears rigorously, like an involuntary action.

I want to make a joke to comfort him. Tell him that I am not injured and he doesn’t need to overreact.

But seeing him like this, a ridiculous thought came to me for no apparent reason---

This seemingly abrupt movement seemed to be of great significance to him at this moment.

As if…this action can really protect me.

The sound of falling objects continued and all of this was concealed by him, leaving only noisy ringing.

My previous guess back in the utility room is more clearly engraved in my mind at this time.

First, it was that one-way message with the phone, the lip-reading book in the ward, the avoidance whenever I asked him questions directly….***This one was quite a challenge to translate cuz Google Translate is weird so I did my own interpretation based on what has happened and MC’s mindset. Basically, MC never found out about Kiro’s hearing loss so now she’s starting to get an idea based on Helios’ actions during this scene.***

And the strange earphones in his ears after Helios appeared…

All the details that I can’t figure out and felt strange are like puzzle pieces. Finally, I was able to put together a complete answer.

An answer that I dare not say easily.

There seemed to be a heavy, sinking feeling in my heart and my chest felt a tingling pain as I breathed.

Kiro’s ears…

I didn’t dare to think about it anymore, but there was a burst of discomfort in my nose.

His silence was the most sufficient reason at this moment.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust me enough, or that he doesn’t want to shoulder heavy responsibilities alone.

He was just scared.

His whole world has changed, becoming silent and unbalanced.

The dizziness gradually subsided and I raised my hand to cover his which were a bit stiff because of too much force.

MC: Helios, there is something wrong with your ears.

This sentence is not an interrogative sentence.

The moment he heard me speak, his fingers shook.

I closed my eyes, but his blue eyes still appeared in front of me.

There is a deep pain in those deliberately cold eyes. Why didn’t I find out earlier?

How can Kiro, who always pursues perfection, accept such a self?

That’s why he ran and stayed away.

It is not so much that he is unwilling to accept that he is not perfect but more like, it is better to say that he wants “Kiro” to always be the most perfect image.

That is his pride.

MC: Kiro…

I couldn’t help but call his name in a low voice and my hands seemed to react and suddenly they withdrew.

When I turned around, the anxiety in those eyes had been extinguished, and there was silence once again.

“Click—”

The door of the mall made a slight noise, and then the door was slowly opened, interrupting what I wanted to say.

Helios immediately guarded me vigilantly.

Unhurried footsteps sounded outside the door and three figures appeared from the darkness.

??: Oh, it’s you.

Helios nimbly stood up, watching them with a cold expression without saying a word.

I saw the person coming and gasped. I lightly touched the corner of his clothes and whispered to him.

MC: Helios, he is Joker.

-End of Part 6-

Continue to Part 7 aka “Showdown: Helios vs. Joker”

[overdrivels]

The Way to a Heart (14)

/SCREAMS LIKE A BANSHEE

IT TOOK FOUR MONTHS HOLY SHIT THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR PATIENCE

I was also starting to lose hope, but thank you, several comments (unrelated to TWtaH but was still about Hanzo) brought me back to life. Thank you, thank you.

<< Chapter 13

Tracer’s and Lúcio’s arrival brings in the morning sun and an amount of supplies that could only be bought on a superstar’s salary. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but Winston treated it as such, calling down every awake and able member on base to come down and help unload them and the overwhelming mountain of gifts from Lúcio’s adoring fans. (When Hanzo first set eyes on it, he was sure it'd topple over him and that would be his death—buried by the overwhelming show of affection for another.)

Sourly, Hanzo notes the disproportionate number of bodies present to those he knows is on base. Soldier and Tracer spend their time bickering near the pilot’s seat instead of helping—something about bringing the gifts back to Brazil immediately—and he wants nothing to do with that, spending as little time away from the ramp and ship as possible in case Soldier’s argument wins out and the Orca suddenly flies off on a ten-plus hour flight across the equator with him in it.

“Your timing couldn’t be more impeccable,” Winston says cheerfully to a passing Lúcio as he loads one of many heavy crates onto a trolley. “We just finished doing an inventory check and found that we were very short on supplies and our monetary support is temporarily unavailable and suspended indefinitely, so all of this couldn't have come at a better time.”

Lúcio gives him a curious look. “How were you guys surviving before I got here? Don’t tell me you were just starving and selling scrap.”

“No, of course not! We had funds coming in but...circumstances got in the way and, well…” Winston trails off with a heavy sigh and recovers in the next inhale with the fakest smile Hanzo has ever seen any gorilla make—not that he’s had a wealth of experience with such a thing. “Murphy's law, wouldn't you say?”

Lúcio spins on his heel mid-step and begins to walk backward to keep talking to Winston. “Can’t imagine what sort of circumstance could stop you, big guy. Whoops—!” He almost slams into a too-sleepy Mei. “Sorry!”

She mumbles something, dragging her fuzzy yeti-clad feet across the floor toward the ramp to the Orca. Hanzo feels just a little bad for her.

“The situation is very complicated,” Winston admits. “And the circumstances are less than ideal. Very complicated.”

“Oh come on, something you can’t solve? Phh-shaw. Now you’re just underselling yourself. You gotta have more confidence.”

“Well—”

“Who brought back Overwatch?”

“I did.”

“And who recalled everyone?”

With more confidence, Winston answers with his chest more inflated, “I did.”

“And who—”

“Less talking, more lifting,” Soldier: 76 barks as he emerges from cockpit, clearly annoyed.

And Soldier: 76 has just earned himself a higher spot on Hanzo’s shit list.

“Oh, come on, dad!” Tracer yells behind him, voice echoing too loudly for this hour. “Lighten up, just a bit o’ curiosity, is all!”

“Yeah, dad. We can work and talk.” Then, Lúcio nudges Winston, ignoring Soldier’s irritated huff. “You brought this operation together, you brought us together because no one can do it on their own. What is it you always say?” The man puffs out his chest and fixes a pair of imaginary glasses on his face. “‘Together, we can solve any problem.’”

And Lúcio is quickly surpassing everyone else on Hanzo’s...other list. Or rather, he’s just joining you and several few people on a list that he never knew he was putting together.

It's plain to see the gears turning in Winston's head and the spark in his eyes as those words inspire a newfound hope.

“That’s right, together, we can solve any problem.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Soldier grumbles something disagreeable beneath his mask about being a father, walking away with three boxes, hefting two over one arm and the last tucked beneath his other. With the old man out of the way, Lúcio's good mood is nothing short of infectious.

Story after story is doled out in rapid-fire succession. The world tour. The fans. His home. The orphaned children he sometimes looks after. The man so desperately wants to tell everyone he's joined Overwatch, barely restraining himself until he gets the green light from Winston interspersed with anecdotes from his days before he reached international fame, chasing after his young dreams and led forward by his frustration and powerlessness, keeping everyone in the docking area long after they've finished loading their supplies.

Lúcio, Hanzo concludes, is an excellent storyteller.

But even better at making other people talk.

“We're facing a bit of a financial crisis,” Winston finally admits.

“Financial crisis? Wasn't Overwatch loaded? Where'd all that go?” Despite the heavy-handed questions, none of them sounded particularly accusing in Lúcio's voice. Hanzo isn't sure how he does it, but mentally notes that he is still not above learning something new from someone ten years his junior.

“Well, all the accounts related to Overwatch got frozen following its disbandment. So, when we initiated the Recall, we were essentially penniless.”

“But Recall was months ago, so you had to be running somehow. How were you all getting money anyway? Second jobs? Selling scrap?”

“No, no. None of that. We had...an arrangement with someone who funneled money to us. As you know, Overwatch is currently outlawed—not that it should be—so we couldn't blatantly accept money from just anyone.”

“So did you get yourselves a sugar daddy or…?”

Winston chokes, dark skin going crimson. “N-n-no! No!” He clears his throat, attempting to compose himself. “No, absolutel—no. No.”

Hanzo thinks the gorilla protests too much, but he stays quiet as Lúcio continues his line of easy-going (but effective) questioning. If he recalled correctly, there were ‘donors’ who gave Overwatch the funds they needed. Did the situation change somehow?

“We initially received a large amount of funding, but we seem to have...misbudgeted many things.”

“Like…?”

“The cost of maintaining the base, the Orca, jet fuel; we try to recycle as much as we can, but it's not possible in certain cases. We also had to pay the agents for their efforts and supplies, too. Dr. Zielger's nanomachines technology is not cheap to reproduce by any means, and Tracer's chronal accelerator requires unique components that can be very costly.”

“Sorry about that!” Tracer sounds just as sincere as she does guilty.

“But! Dr. Zhou and Ms. Vaswani are a great help.”

Mei blushes, waving away the praise. “Oh, don't mention it. Anything for Overwatch.”

“Dr. Zhou is very innovative in ways I've never considered, and Ms. Vaswani's hard light technology makes many of our endeavors possible and cut down some costs.”

“Glad to hear that,” Lúcio says sourly, corner of his mouth twitching into a frown.

“Though getting cut off so suddenly from our funding and losing the chef made me realize just how costly even our basic necessities are.” The gorilla sighs. “Takeout every day is very expensive and really adds up.”

A prickle of apprehension stabs at Hanzo's stomach, mentally willing Lúcio to dig into that topic as well.

“Rice and beans, Winston. Rice and beans.” Lúcio gives Winston a few pats on the back that are supposed to be comforting, but only receives confused looks instead.

“What happened to the chef, Winston?” Tracer's asks, worry evident in her voice.

The scientist stands up straight, looks around a few times, and then collapses back in on himself, fists on the ground and head dipped low. Everyone, even Hanzo, leans in.

“You see, Chef left us a little over a week ago without notice. We were concerned, of course, but there's a tracker on the chef's communicator which indicated Chef is still on Gibraltar.”

“And how are you so sure it wasn't compromised?” Hanzo spits out faster than his brain could tell him to stop showing that he was invested.

Winston, taken aback by the question, stumbles through his next words. “We-well, we. We thought of the—of the possibility. And so, we sent an agent to track down the chef's current whereabouts.”

““And?””—”Who did you send?” Lena, Mei, and Hanzo look at each other in surprised unison.

Winston strokes his chin. “I sent McCree, of course. Everyone else was on a mission or preparing to be sent off, so he was the only logical option.”

Hanzo is dumbstruck. He had been on a mission at the time, watching the happenings in Gibraltar with a ridiculously close eye. There was no way he would not have noticed if someone as (visually and audibly) loud as McCree was walking around. Either his skills were getting rusty or McCree's ability to hide in plain sight was commendable. Neither sat well with Hanzo's pride, and neither did the knowledge that McCree knew exactly where you were and didn't tell him. Not that he should've expected him to.

“He confirmed that there is no immediate danger, so we're leaving the situation as is for now. We can only wait until the chef decides to return or...informs us otherwise.”

Cold unease settles upon them all along with the implications. They can survive without you, of course, but it was not a future that Hanzo had truly ever considered until the other night. Somehow, he had always thought you'd be there behind that window, cooking for everyone. You had become such a steadfast fixture on base that it feels wrong to think that you would dare abandon your station for something else.

“So long as my customers still require me, I will be here.”

And yet...

“Hey, guys. Cheer up,” says Lúcio, likely noting the sudden shift in moods. “People come, people go. We can't force anyone to stay if they don't want to. And I'm sure that this chef wouldn't want you guys to be all mopey, right?”

Anger sparks through Hanzo's chest. How dare he say that when he doesn't even know you, but that feeling is quickly extinguished. There's no reason to be angry when is logically correct.

“You're right,” Mei mumbles. “I just hope that Chef is okay.”

“Don't worry, if there's any trouble, we'll be there in a jif’,” Tracer assures her with her signature poster smile.

Lúcio claps his hands once. “Great! Now who's hungry?”

Breakfast was a flop.

Among some of Lúcio's gifts—not the ones from his fans—were portable stovetops. Pots, pans, ladles, and other equipment were not among his possessions, so he attempted to go into the kitchen. Lúcio didn't have any of the same reservation the other agents do or any of the memories associated with attempting to enter them.

Unsurprisingly, the swinging double doors remained stubbornly shut.

Athena, when asked to open them, remained cordially (and frustratingly) loyal to you. “The kitchen is off-limits to non-kitchen personnel, Agent Lúcio.”

Hanzo unconsciously breathed a private sigh of relief as Athena continued to persist even against Lúcio's pleading and Winston's requests. At least he is not being discriminated against.

They gave up eventually, leaving your sanctuary intact. Lúcio swears up and down he'll get permission to enter, and Hanzo nearly chokes on his own spit. Preposterous.

Actual breakfast came in the form of McCree dressed down in normal civilian clothing (for once) with takeout from some local restaurant on the other side of Gibraltar. It explains his absence this morning.

Hanzo keeps his distance, the memory of the other night still burning a hole in his brain.

Winston asks between a mouthful of bread, “Where are the Junkers?”

“They seem to have found something interesting and wanted to check it out.”

“They wh—hrk!”

McCree has to clap his prosthetic hand hard against Winston's back to keep him from choking.

“Re-lax. Zenyatta is with them.”

Hanzo tries not to flinch at both the mention of the omnic or the sort of mischief those three might get into. He's heard enough stories to know that having them anywhere without sufficient supervision can only spell disaster.

Tracer leaves not too long after breakfast, citing that she had to pick up a few 'chaps’. The rest of the day is spent getting Lúcio up to speed about the current missions and happenings in Gibraltar. With suspicions of Talon watching them still high, they have to keep their operations small and discreet. It's likely the Orca hasn't gone unnoticed and they're plotting their moves already. Winston assured them that Soldier: 76 was on the case, thanks to the information Hanzo has gathered.

Meanwhile, there was also the matter of Overwatch's current state of financial affairs which Hanzo gave his objective input on, much to Winston's apparent surprise. After a few questions and back and forth, Hanzo was reluctantly tasked with designing something akin to a business plan. It's clear to see Winston wasn't comfortable with the idea, but even he had to admit that they needed money to function (or at least a backup plan until their situation is sorted out). Overwatch cannot operate on goodwill alone.

The day flies by as Hanzo works on drafting different plans and assaults Winston with sharp questions about current risks and exact numbers. Not once would the scientist give him a straight answer as to where the money is—or was—coming from, only defaulting to his vague explanation of 'donors’. Reluctantly, Winston asks Athena to give Hanzo access to the invoices, budget spreadsheets, and other financial documents the AI kept under lock and key. As much as Hanzo poured over the documents, he couldn't see beyond the numbers and vague transaction codes given. There's no indication of where this money came from, all deposits carefully redacted, leaving behind transfers and payments. (Funny enough, Hanzo knew everything is salary, unsure if he should be surprised, offended, or respect the attempt to keep everyone's pay equal.)

Even so, money has trails, transactions that can be traced. If he really tried, he's sure he could find out exactly who and where this money was coming from. It would certainly help in creating countermeasures when the judge's hammer came down on them. The legal angle had to be carefully and constantly considered and contingency plans had to be drafted out depending on what sort of crimes a decent team of prosecutors could peg Overwatch with and under what jurisdiction. Surely the UN would turn this into an international scandal, but Gibraltar may claim legal jurisdiction and decide to try them here and refuse to extradite anyone. It would definitely buy them some time.

Legislation and laws had to be pulled up every other minute and Athena was very helpful with providing the names of attorneys and law firms who were once under Overwatch's employ.

There are ways to operate within the current legal constraints; it's just a matter of being creative between now and when the UN decides to come down upon them. (In truth, it's near impossible to find a way to legitimize the actions being taken now when Overwatch is supposed to represent the 'good’ in the world, but Hanzo has never been deterred by a challenge.)

It was nothing short of exciting, mentally stimulating in the ways that the past few missions weren't.

The planning carried him through the day and dinner which was once again some unknown takeout. Even some home cooking would be preferable to the already-drying noodles clinging tightly to his fork.

When asked if pots and pans couldn't be created from hard light, Lúcio gave Hanzo a bug-eyed look.

“You kidding me? Hard light can't stand up to that sort of heat.”

Hanzo was treated to a surprisingly detailed lecture on the composition of hard light technology on a level that only Satya might be able to understand (or appreciate). Though, it's strange to think they don't get along when they both seem to share a similar interest. Wisdom had him keep those thoughts to himself.

In between listening to the temperature threshold that hard light can withstand or the delicate balance of its composition, Hanzo's thoughts drift as he mindlessly shoves the bland, lukewarm pasta into his mouth. The clumps of sauce do little to improve the flavors.

He wants saucy pasta with enough garlic to kill a vampire and onions that are still not cooked all the way through with too much butter to be healthy.

He wants meatballs that just hold their shape and give way when exposed to teeth.

He wants the clean, greasy crunch of pork cutlets, the juices and fat gushing over his tongue.

Even the dense, tangy European bread with the chewy crusts.

The sticky sweetness of a bread pudding that makes his teeth sing.

Perfectly brewed tea where the flavors of the leaf are present and clear, soothing his soul.

He wants so many things that he can't settle on what he actually desires.

But he can't complain. As long as his stomach no longer grumbles, it's enough.

It has to be.

He drinks away the grease with some tea that's been steeped too long, and talks his way through the toiling in his stomach.

The Junkers return toward the tail end of dinner with Zenyatta trailing behind them, all three dirty in a way that Hanzo has never seen even for the normally pristine Shambali monk: hands and feet caked in muddy dirt, faces and clothes full of soot.

The strange look that crosses McCree's face does not go unnoticed. It's the look of someone on the cusp of realization, separated by one missing piece. But that look is replaced by a tight smile that Hanzo loses sight of when McCree walks up to the trio.

“Hey now, y'all trackin’ mud in here. What sort of mischief did ya get into?”

Roadhog pointedly ignores him with a grunt and Junkrat blurts out a, “Best pull your head in, mate!” that doesn’t seem to phase the cowboy in the least.

If they didn’t want to tell, Hanzo didn’t particular feel like sticking around to watch the ensuing fallout. They probably fell down somewhere and are too embarrassed to admit it.

Returning to his room, he makes a small attempt to flesh out the proposals and plans before he gives up and heads to bed. There's only so much that can be done with this much uncertainty. Their priorities are all over the place, unable to decide if keeping the peace as vigilantes or relegitimizing themselves or earning a grassroots type of support or legislative support is the way to go. Winston's answers to those questions were sincere, but woefully lacking. It didn't help that Overwatch is an expensive operation running on the feelings and good will of others. Such things have limits.

Hanzo stares into the glimmering darkness of his eyelids, inhaling and exhaling in slow, even measures. He needs to stop thinking. That is for tomorrow.

Time slips away as he repeats this process. Even his body begins to swim in the mindless ocean, all solid objects becoming abstract and loose. The only thing that remains painfully intact and sharp is his mind.

Sleep, however much he wills it, does not come.

His brain buzzes with too much data and too many possibilities. Each time sleep twirls into his grasp, the sudden memory or the ever-dreaded 'what if’ would snatch it away, leaving him wondering and in desperate need of his holotablet.

Damn overactive brain.

Tossing and turning a few more times, he gives up and gets out of bed like delayed clockwork, making his silent rounds through the base until he stands in front of the cafeteria again.

A private sigh makes its way out of his lips, rattling his chest.

There’s no point in being here. It’s far too early for your normal meeting time, and he already knows you’ve been gone—the reason is still lost on him, but it’s not really any of his business what the residents of this place does with themselves. You’re all adults.

Regardless, he steps forward, activating the sensors that allow the doors to rush open.

Where he expects darkness, there’s a light. For a foolish moment, he thinks you may have returned and he could feel his whole body lighten.

But all of that dissipates: the lights do not come from inside the kitchen. Instead, the lights right over the counter are on, shining down on one of the last people he would have expected to see at this time of night.

“Miss Mei?”

Disappointment bleeds into surprise. The scientist turns, scrunching her face at him before shifting her glasses from her head to her eyes; they brighten, sparkle even, for a reason that he cannot fathom.

“Oh, Hanzo. Good evening—or, oops, sorry, good morning, I guess?” She gives him a sheepish smile that he can’t be at all annoyed with.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugs one shoulder good-naturedly, gesturing at a stool on the far side of the wall.

“Join me.” She holds up a bottle by the neck and waves it as though it’ll entice him. "I have Chinese wine and beer."

Haltingly, he looks between her, the barely illuminated darkness beyond the window, and the bottle in her hand before he decides he has nothing to lose. It’s late enough that it’s still acceptable to drink somewhere in the world.

Briefly, he has to do a double-take at that. Now he sounds just like McCree.

Hanzo brings the stool over and sits down beside her, careful to keep some distance between them in case she may be one of those people who cannot hold their liquor well. Now that he’s closer, he can see dishes laid out on the counter which Mei repositions to better serve two.

"I think you might enjoy. Help yourself."

“Where did you get all this?”

She brings a finger up to her lips. “Shhh,” she says too loudly.

It’s probably Lúcio. He hasn’t really talked to the man much, but it doesn’t mean the others haven’t. They likely made requests of their own ahead of time. Hanzo eyes the dishes Mei has prepared for this impromptu drinking session: dried squid, some jerky, rice crackers—the salty ones with that sweet icing drizzled on top—and some edamame. Almost all of them delectable and proper accompaniments to alcohol. Strange, considering China’s drinking culture and even stranger when he looks at the bubbly scientist. It’s appreciated, regardless.

"You don't seem like the drinking type," he muses, but not unkindly.

She gives him a mischievous grin, one that speaks of a person who has often gotten in trouble under the guise of being a model child. "My university days after examinations were good practice,” she says casually, popping off a lid of a beer and offering to Hanzo.

Hanzo laughs despite himself, taking the drink in hand. "You sound like Hana."

Despite the MEKA pilot’s appearance, she can put away a lot of alcohol. Though it's only hearsay. Hanzo has never witnessed it himself, but according to the source, she can polish off beer after beer and bottles of soju on top of that. Incidentally, she revealed rather cheekily that her favorite is grapefruit flavored—what Hanzo is supposed to do with that knowledge, he'll never know.

“Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment.”

“It is.”

She smiles and gestures at the food with a gentle sweep of the hand. “You should help me eat some. I have too much.”

“...thank you. I shall.”

He goes for the dried shredded squid first, taking his time with chewing and savoring the changing flavors of spicy, umami, sweet, and back to umami. If his jaw didn’t get such a workout from eating this, he’d have no problems eating it forever.

The bitter taste of beer, cooling the slight spice of the squid brings out a sweetness that's so simple yet delightful, he can't help but sigh in content. The alcohol is not strong, but it’s pleasantly hoppy.

If only he had something fatty to accompany this like a soy-sauce karaage or some meat skewer with seared green onions in between or lightly battered—proper—asparagus tempura or burdock root. Or—his mouth gushes with the thought—chicken skin with ponzu. He gulps down another mouthful of chilling beer, washing away the phantom tastes of his desires.

In another life, perhaps.

If it were you offering, what sort of food would you prepare? How far would you go? Would you change the dishes depending on their drink? Or would you just give everything you have to offer? Maybe, just maybe, you’d drink, too.

He scoffs into his drink.

Ridiculous. That would never happen, not so long as you refuse everyone alcohol.

The rice crackers go next and he can’t help but devour the disk in two bites, chasing it with a nice drink of beer. The bubbles fill the cavities of the crackers, adding a sort of texture play on his tongue.

He goes around, shameless sampling the different nibbles offered, almost forgetting his company who sits quietly, her cheek resting on her hands folded over the bottle she covets.

“It’s not sake, but I’m glad to see you’re still enjoying yourself.”

Enjoying himself?

He blinks slowly at Mei, chewing through the edamame he’s popped into his mouth. Then he furrows his eyebrows. Is he enjoying himself? Quieter, in the back of his heart, he wonders: is he allowed to?

“I hope you are as well, Miss Mei.”

She sighs into her drink, the beginnings of a drunken smile on her face. “Oh please, Hanzo, we’re about the same age. Call me Mei. We've been over this.”

He bites his cheek to prevent himself from mentioning that she is technically two years his senior and then he has to do a mental doubletake at the stunning realization that yes she is two years his senior and he should be the one offering her a drink, not the other way around.

“I was worried because you seemed down these few days,” she admits quietly, pulling up her glass to her lips.

He’s tempted to make some backhanded remark, but barely manages something less. “Your worries are wasted on someone like me.”

“Don't be like that. We're teammates. Of course I'd worry.”

He shakes his head, stewing in the sudden bitter disappointment and the sharp sting of guilt. Another unnecessary person dragged into his affairs. They all just want to get involved some way or other.

“What are you doing up so late, Miss Mei? With alcohol and snacks, no less,” he asks instead.

She turns a secretive smile into her glass. “I just felt like it, you know?”

“Is that so?”

Mei hums, a bit of distance in her eyes as she continues to stare into her drink, seemingly contemplative.

After a long, long moment, she quietly admits, “No.”

“No?”

She shakes her head, the lion’s mane of hair fanning out even further across her shoulders, shielding her eyes and face from view. “If Chef saw us, we’d probably be scolded, right?”

Startled by the change in topic, he stares, slowly letting his beer hit the counter, mouth dry.

“Alcohol isn’t allowed, but...I don’t know.” Mei sighs, a little more defeated than Hanzo has ever seen her. “I sort of thought….if I brought this out maybe, sorry, this sounds silly, but I thought that Chef might just come running out here.” Quietly, she adds, “I’m worried.”

“...about the chef, you mean?”

“Aren’t you?”

Mei turns and looks up at him, her gaze piercing through him like she sees something he cannot. He has to look away.

“The chef is not a child,” he manages to say. “There is no reason to be concerned.”

“Oh. I thought you’d be the most concerned beside McCree and them. You get along so well with the chef that I thought...”

“We do not get along. We are merely...merely…” The words and bubbles fizzle out on his tongue.

Proprietor and customer.

Colleagues?

Friends? He mentally cringes at the word.

There’s nothing he can say that wouldn’t make him a liar. Not that anyone else would know, but it doesn’t feel right saying any of the options that run through his mind.

“...if it seems we are close, it is only because of circumstance,” he finishes. It’s the best he could do for now, and if it sounds the slightest bit off, he could blame it on the beer in his hand no matter how weak it may be.

“I see.” Mei drains the remainder of her drink, sighing heavily before she laughs sheepishly behind a hand. “I guess I just worry too much. Thank you, Hanzo. Chef should be fine, after all, we’re always the ones getting taken care of, right?”

Even though as she says that, he knows it’s far from the truth. She’s probably never seen you collapsed from overwork or know that you’re a fool who would gladly disregard your own health on a whim. Did they even know you’re on medication? Were you taking them properly wherever you are? Did you get tired to watching over them?

Gibraltar is not a large place. Surely you could find some time to return.

But maybe you left for personal reasons.

Health reasons? Family? A lover?

And that thought twists something inside him, and for a moment, he thinks he may have gotten food poisoning and chugs the last bit of the beer to extinguish the ache.

“Thank you, Miss Mei. For the drinks and snacks.”

“Don't mention it. It's nice to have a drinking buddy.” She gives him a heartfelt smile with more teeth than she'd normally show that stood out against the deep flush of her skin.

“Should I help you clean and accompany you back to your room?”

Just as the words left his mouth, his brain screeches to a halt as another inconspicuous realization sideswipes him.

Where did you sleep?

Never once had he seen anything that could have been your room. Sure, there were plenty of rooms that could be yours, but Athena had made it clear that power was limited on the base and all agents were kept on a single floor to consolidate resources.

If you had ever slept or had a room to return to, he should have seen it by now.

Unless….

It is horrifying to think of it, but what if you slept in the kitchen? He spared the darkness another look, searching for what could hint at having been a makeshift cot or sleeping area, but sees nothing but the beginnings of imaginary lights in his vision.

No, that's not possible.

But if it were, it could explain why you left.

Or could it be…

Searching rapidly through his memories, he tries to recount the pages and pages of numbers he saw this morning, trying to put a name, a price, anything that could indicate that you were getting paid or somehow compensated for your time here.

Dread seeps into his skin as he tries and tries but comes up short.

Nothing.

You don't get paid.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

His stomach twists violently and a cold chill cascades down his back, eliciting a shiver that makes his hair stand on end.

It doesn't go out even after he's helped Mei gather all her things and escorted her back to her room, his head buzzing with the implications. He tries to return to sleep after brushing his teeth, swearing to return to this newfound revelation in the morning, drifting in and out between a fitful rest and a steadily growing angry wakefulness.

Hanzo wakes to an inexplicable feeling, but he feigns sleep just as he’s always been taught—there is no killing intent, no presence beside him, just a feeling. He’s acutely aware of the quiet hum of electricity, the eerie and unnatural hush he’s long associated with the remoteness of the base. He knows he mustn’t have been asleep long, so there’s a chance it could be just some other resident making their restless rounds.

The longer he listens, however, the more his doubts begin to pile.

Nothing seems out of place—and that might be precisely what’s wrong—but there is a rolling tension beneath the surface of his skin that hints at the glaring possibility that something is wrong, something that his five senses can’t perceive. There’s a tugging inside not unlike the dragons, urging him to do something.

Bow and quiver jump into his hands and he slinks out of his bed to find refuge in the deep shadows of his room. He presses his ear against the wall, seeking out any hidden sounds past the machinery and wires and shaking metals. Several tense moments pass by, but there is nothing unusual or alarming—no one else breathing outside, no unknown footsteps—just the sounds of the night.

By all accounts, he should return to bed; there is nothing wrong.

But his intuition says otherwise and it has saved him more times than his foolhardy reasoning ever has, and so he pulls away, unsatisfied. Quietly and quickly, he slips in the earpiece to his communicator in his ear, unlatches his window and slips outside. (If an enemy is inside the base, Athena would’ve already alerted everyone, and no one wants to deal with some of the residents when they’re sleep deprived.)

The night has gotten noticeably colder since months past, the wind tugging at his hair and clothes, willing him to fall into the abyss. However, he is not so easily distracted by such mundane things. He scales the walls of the Watchpoint, mindful of the volume of his steps against the cold metal.

The sun is not yet up, but the sluggish fade from black to a midnight blue at the edge of the horizon and the quiet fade of the stars tell him that will soon change. He must not have slept long.

Beneath his ribs, the feeling of panic swells until his chest can’t contain it, spreading and numbing his fingers as he continues his sweep of the compound. In his ear, the communicator remains silent.

‘It’s paranoia,’ he tells himself even as he leaps from ledge to ledge, looking and searching for anything in the darkness that could have even been deemed the slightest bit suspicious, almost slamming straight into a well-hidden turret that swivels its head, the red charge of it nearly opening fire on him before it recognizes him as an ally and turns away.

He nearly misses a landing trying to avoid it.

It takes a few moments for the newfound terror in his heart to settle before he continues his investigation, more annoyed than before and even more unsettled.

Damn Torbjörn.

(It’s smart to hide these turrets, but damn him for it anyway, and damn himself for being spooked by such a little thing. How did he even get them uphere? The man is missing a functional hand and eye. His climbing skill can’t be that good.)

His heart pounds with the adrenaline of a fight and without any release, it toes the border toward panic.

Twice he circles the base grounds, jumping down from a height most would consider dangerous just to feel that swooping fear in his stomach, hoping it would drown out the inescapable buzz in his skin.

Nothing.

His teeth ring from the weight of his jaw’s grinding. Around him, half the sky has started to regain its color, the birds are calling to each other and giving their greetings.

It has to be nothing.

His instincts, no matter how much he wants to trust them, have to be wrong.

Just this once.

[ INTRUDER ALERT, INTRUDER ALERT ]

Hanzo almost slips off the roof.

The base comes alive: light thrown up, and the sounds of movement, and doors shuttering to trap whomever it is in Athena's clutches. Shutters slam down in front of the windows themselves, effectively locking him out of the base.

So this must be what the feeling is about. Annoying, but he's relieved his instincts did not fail him.

“Athena, status.”

The earpiece clicks. “Four armed Talon agents confirmed. Three others have been incapacitated. Soldier: 76 and Winston are on the scene and actively engaged. Agent Mei and Zenyatta are en route. The others’ whereabouts are unknown.”

He jumps down, lands right outside shuttered glass. “Location?”

“They have been stopped in the kitchen.”

His chest is seized with fright for a second before it loosens again when he remembers you're not there. You should thank whatever deity is watching over you or thank your sound judgement for leaving before this happened.

He huffs and shakes his head. Foolish. There's no need to be concerned.

A little more composed, he brings a hand back up to his ear. “Athena, shortest path from here?”

“Head west 27 meters, then proceed south 10 meters. There will be an emergency exit accessible to you on your right that overlooks the cafeteria used for maintenance.” He's moving even before she finishes talking.

It doesn't take him long to reach the location. There's no visibility into the cafeteria—he recognizes the shuttered windows as the ones that normally overlook the mess hall, but he's never noticed this door before. He presses his ear against it.

Clashing and muted rapid fire barely permeate the heavy metal. If he focused, he could almost see it in his mind's eye: Soldier: 76 trying to maintain close combat and reduce damage to a minimum; Winston providing backup. There's other sounds mixed in there as well that he can't easily discern, but it doesn't sound like a losing battle.

Hanzo breathes in deep and exhales slowly, the adrenaline and unease forced to settle at the bottom of his veins. He repeats this twice more, mentally checking off his equipment and condition.

‘Clear your mind.’

He notches his bow, back to the door. “Athena, the door.”

“Understood.”

With a beep and a quiet hiss, the door grants him entrance and he's in before it can fully open and let in the beginnings of a more colorful sky. Running across the thin catwalk that circles the cafeteria, he quickly surveys the scene: an ice wall covering the service window with Mei and ‘Snowball’ right outside. He has no visual on Zenyatta, Winston, or Soldier: 76 and can only assume they are inside the kitchen. All else looks just as it did several hours ago when he was here. The sounds of combat are muted behind the ice, the occasional blast testing the very limits of its strength.

The kitchen is not small, but it’s not so big that a prolonged fight is possible.

He clenches his jaw to avoid clicking his tongue lest someone notices him.

He tries to get to the furthest edge of the catwalk just to see the double doors that Lúcio and Winston weren’t able to enter this morning without much luck.

If only he had his contacts, he’d be able to use his sonic arrows and actually see behind those walls. As it is, he has no choice but to get close. He debates it for a moment: if he breaks position, he might lose any chances at getting any stragglers.

“Athena. Change to main communications channel. What is the current status?”

“Switching communications channel. Soldier: 76, status report.”

Immediately, his ear is assaulted with harsh breathing and the sounds of metal on metal. “—ey don’t know how to stay down, do they? Yarrgh!!”

“Hanzo reporting. I am above the cafeteria. No visual on the team.”

“Hanzo?” He finds himself nodding despite no one being able to see him. There’s more scuffling. “Stay your ground. Keep an eye on the door.”

“Acknowledged.”

Winston’s roar can be heard even without the earpiece, crashing and banging and shouts following soon after. Two loud cracks echo, and from the way Mei has her modified ice-gun out, aimed carefully at the ice, he can only assume it's about to hit its limit.

He keeps his arrow aimed at the door, listening and watching.

Seconds go by at a snail’s pace, each noise and movement never going unnoticed. Hanzo keeps his breathing slow, blinks deliberate. There’s a cacophony of sensations in his stomach, across his skin, itching the back of his mind, that he steadfastly ignores until he finally hears nothing, sees nothing move.

And then: “...all clear.”

Hanzo doesn’t relax even a fraction.

Lúcio skates onto the scene just at that moment. “Someone call for an audio medic?”

“Get in here, punk. Hanzo, you too. Mei, stay outside.” There’s a bite of frustration and perhaps even panic in his voice, but Hanzo couldn’t be sure through the hoarseness of his voice and the wind rushing through his ears as he jumps straight down from his position, landing right beside Lúcio. Mei gives him a nod from where she stands, still at attention despite the weariness in her eyes, and he barely returns it.

The buzzing unease coils low in Hanzo's belly now that he has a moment, the beginnings of which make his hair stand on end. The danger isn't over.

Unconsciously, he takes a breath and both he and Lúcio push the double doors aside with their shoulders. They give without resistance.

The sight of the kitchen stuns Hanzo and even Lúcio has to take a moment to take in the scene and mutter, “Holy shit.” The scent of blood slaps them both in the face—there’s not too much, but enough that it couldn't be ignored.

The normally neat rows of containers, plates, and glasses are mostly askew, their shattered remains all over the rubber-matted floor. The metal work surfaces are pitted with deep dents and dings even Torbjörn would have a hard time fixing. One of the sinks spew water, the faucet ripped clean off. The glass doors of the walk-in freezers are smashed in, shards of glass still coming loose and falling to the ground like glittering snow.

The thought of you returning and finding the kitchen in this state brings a bitter smile to his face.

In the corner, seven Talon agents lay in various states of consciousness and distress. Winston is in the middle of tying them up with some rope, likely something you kept in the kitchen for whatever reason.

How did they get trapped in the kitchen of all places? It’s nearly impossible to enter it without trigger some alert or Athena and there’s nothing of value here. Unless they’re after the Cellar…?

Soldier: 76 hovers over the Cellar door with Zenyatta just behind him. Neither of their faces—covered as they are—give anything away. Soldier tears off his glove and slams his bare hand against the panel which is smeared with a paint of rust.

There’s a beep.

The door rushes open, the suction of air yanks and tears at an immovable Soldier whose red, red gaze seems to cut through the darkness before it drops down to something inside. Zenyatta gasps softly, an “oh my” escaping him just as one of his orbs fly past Soldier. Hanzo doesn’t even have the time to contemplate why the door opens for the man before he dips inside, the door shutting immediately behind him.

Dense silence fills the air as everyone waits with bated breath for him to return.

When the door opens again and Soldier: 76 emerges, Hanzo’s blood runs ice cold and his breath is knocked out of his lungs, his grip over his bow and arrow go slack.

Lúcio lets out something like a curse in his native tongue as he rushes over, but Hanzo barely hears it over the ringing in his ears, his stomach dropping to his feet as he registers the scene. The feeling of dread and panic rises up in his throat, solid and realized.

Lying limp in Soldier’s arms, pale and bloody, held close to his chest like a treasure, is you.

Chapter 15>>

[rhapsody-under-pressure]

Save Me pt 14

What was there to do now? Should he let him go? Should he say something? Or should he stand there until Freddie wanted to pull back? All this time worrying, worrying about what he’d say and how he’d react only to get Freddie holding onto him for dear life, as if the two of them were dangling off a cliff and he was his only thing to cling on to. An overwhelming surge of protection was burning inside his stomach; all he wanted was to keep him safe for just a few seconds, just a few seconds of not thinking about the past or the future or even right now. Just so that Freddie could feel safe after months of being frightened and scared to just be himself. He just wanted to exist outside of time where nothing could possibly bother them, where both of them could just feel like nothing that had happened before could ever happen again.

They finally loosened each others’ grips and pulled away, Freddie not daring to look him back in the eye. The rain continued to slam down from the sky above, John eventually looking away from Freddie and staring down at the choppy pavement beneath him. He wanted to say more, so much more than what could possibly be conveyed. But where to even start? Did Freddie even want to hear anything else from him? When he finally looked back up at Freddie, there was a quick flash in his mind that controlled his movements in which he walked forward and wrapped his arm around Freddie’s trembling body, leading him down the street and back towards the apartment.

Neither spoke, nor did John want to speak at the moment. For the first time in what felt like ages, he didn’t care about his surroundings; the people around him didn’t seem to care either, for they all had their own devices to tend to, just like he had to. His focus was solely on Freddie, just as it always had been, but, just like before, he had no idea what on earth he should do. If only he could read Freddie’s mind so he would know what to do or say. At least then he could calm him down or at least distract him from whatever it was that was going on within his mind at the moment.

A warm blast of air hit them as soon as they entered the building, John shaking the water off his free hand as the two walked up the stairs to their apartment. John bit the inside of his lip, desperately hoping that Roger wouldn’t be home still or would at the very least be passed out inside of his bedroom. He turned once more to Freddie, who stopped walking as soon as they got to the top of the steps. John looked over at him, wishing for some change in his expression or for him to utter a single word once more, yet he got nothing but him refusing to budge from his spot and a tighter grip around his rain soaked arms.

John wouldn’t force him to do anything; Freddie had dealt with enough of that over the past few months. Instead, he just stepped back, took out his box of cigarettes and lighter, and leaned back against the wall, his attention zooming in on the end of his cigarette as its orange glow took hold. In his peripherals sat Freddie, who still wouldn’t move and sat there, staring at the mottled brown carpet beneath them as the wet spot around him slowly made its way through the ground. The smoke filled the air as the ash-ridden scent surrounded his face, John letting out a long sigh that released a massive smoke cloud into the room.

“Pass me one, will ya?” Freddie finally said, John not even recognizing the request for a moment. It wasn’t until he passed Freddie the cigarette that the thought struck his mind: Freddie never smoked, at least not as much as he or Roger did. He hesitated for a moment when Freddie held it out, scouring his own pockets for a lighter. John just sighed, taking his own out of his mouth and lighting the edge of Freddie’s, the glow passing onto his as Freddie murmured a small thanks.

He took a deep breath, took out his lighter, and crushed the end of the cigarette into the bottom of it where the grey scar deepened even further. Freddie fiddled with his cigarette, trying to find a comfortable way to hold it as he took multiple quick and jagged drags of it, the smoke flying into the air at rapid speed. It was like watching a scared teenager try to drive for the first time; he had just the vaguest idea of how to use one of these seemingly simple things from seeing others do so, but when left to his own devices, he knew barely anything about them. Yet, unlike driving, John really had no idea how to help him in this situation besides finally deciding to open his mouth.

“I’m sorry for not saying anything…” Freddie looked up at him. “I just...I just didn’t know how you’d react to…” He gestured about. “Me…”

“John, dear, you don’t have to be sorry for, well, you. What’ve you done anyway?”

“Nothing; that’s where the problem is!” His hands tensed up, threatening to ball themselves into fists as his old frustrations began to arise. “I did nothing since I met...met you. I’ve wanted to say something for so long...so, so long about at least how I feel about others in general. I never in a million years expected having to say something to you.”

“I don’t exactly make myself someone who’s easy to talk to.” Freddie said. “Fuck! Have you seen me in public! Most people don’t dare to try and ask me a simple question ‘cause they’re scared I’ll bite their head off.” He exclaimed, adding a weak smile to wrap up his sentence.

“You’d do so to a reporter if you had the chance.” John commented.

“Now you’re right about that!” His face faltered. “Look what it got me, though...I scared you off.”

“I get scared too easily.”

“Besides the point, love.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “I scared you off, that’s something I always do.” Freddie paused for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “People get so fucking sick of me that they either leave or cheat on me. Sometimes it takes a year, other times it takes a mere hour before they leave me be and go off to somebody else. Surprised none of you have threatened to kill me whenever I start bitching about absolute nonsense.”

“You're the mediator though! Even if you start anything you at least apologize for it! You gotta pull teeth sometimes to get Roger to calm down so he'll apologize!” John said.

“Oh yes I know… We all know about Roger's lovely temper tantrums and how someone almost dies each time. But my emotions just go everywhere and you've seen it. You never know if I'm gonna be some puppy who wants their belly rubbed or a monster that'll bite your head off if you just look at me the wrong way. Least with Roger we know what we're gonna get.”

“Believe me, I’d throttle Roger before I think about fighting with you.” John swallowed thickly, goosebumps starting to travel across his body as he let out a resentful sigh. “I’m still mad at him.”

“God, what’d he do now?” Freddie asked, curiosity lighting up his gaze.

For as big of a deal as it had been for John to say it, Freddie didn’t push him to do so. Something else sparked in his eyes as John looked away, scoffing for a second before shaking his head.

Quiet. All that happened was Freddie putting out his cigarette and leaving the extinguished end on the ground by the barely living houseplant near them. His nerves began acting about as all those old emotions began to storm about again, preventing any logical thought from entering his mind as he stared blankly at the wall ahead of him.

“He said he was helping me.” John growled. “That I needed to accept I was like the rest of you. Didn't even consider that I was already forced to accept it! He kept saying I needed a push and then Brian’s got the bloody nerve to say that it’s no big deal. Like he knows anything, he’s only got to deal with it half of the time anyway. He can choose when he wants to be straight so that no one’ll bat an eye in public. I don’t get that chance, now do I?”

“None of us do, not even Brian.” Freddie remarked.

“He’s got a hell of a lot easier time than I did. He was in on it and let Roger have his way instead of letting me choose. The one thing I thought I’d have complete control over was ripped away from me because Roger thought it would help. Did it? Not one bit. Now I just had two other people who knew something about me that I still wish I could change. Just cause I understand it and accept it doesn't mean I have to be happy about it!”

There was a pause, one that made the aura in the room grow thicker and heavier with each passing second. Freddie seemed as if he wanted to bring another topic up before quickly tossing the thought aside, ignoring it and any of the consequences it would’ve brought. With that change of mind came a different spark to his eye, one that lead him to march forward to their apartment, John barely having time to act before he burst through the door, hands balled into fists.

“ROGER GET OUT HERE NOW!” Freddie howled, his teeth clenched as a fire burned in his eyes, one that he hadn’t seen for so long.

Nothing: no response, no shuffling of feet, not even the sound of the bed creaking down the hall. Freddie growled, lunging towards the hall before John reacted out of pure instinct and grabbed the back of his shirt.

“What’re you doing?!” He asked, still fighting to hold Freddie back.

“Getting his ass out here!” Freddie stopped fighting and moved towards him, his arms crossed over his chest. “Aren’t you mad at him? After he pulled a stunt like that?”

John just sighed. “Fred, of course I’m still upset. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna beat him for it. Especially with how he feels right now.”

Freddie took a seat on the couch, leaning back into the cushions and staring up at the ceiling, emotions beginning to swirl about in his eyes as he let out a groan before punching the cushion closest to him. All John wanted to do in that moment was take a seat next to him to calm the aforementioned monster that had reared its ugly head once more. Surely he could, especially with what had just happened outside. But what were you supposed to do after revealing all that? Do you talk more? Do you just jump right into relationship stuff? Or do you just let it be and not push anything? In all honesty, John just wanted to go in his room and see where his mind lead him-knowing his luck it’d end in him crying-but for now, he took to sitting down on the couch near Freddie, not right next to him, but near enough that his stomach was beginning to jump around.

“When did you know?” Freddie suddenly asked, his voice sounding much calmer but still holding a fire that was ready to reignite at a moment's notice.

“Know what?” John replied, his first thought going to Roger and his past, wondering if he should ask Freddie the same question.

“That you were gay.”

Like always, the word sent a shiver down his spine. How anyone could ever say that word so nonchalantly baffled him; the connotations, the impact and consequences that word held were immeasurable and terrifying; if he dared to say it in public, it’d probably end with him enduring injury after injury, insult after insult, or worse: a deafening silence and judgemental glares from those around him, all holding different thoughts in their minds that came together to form one label for him: outcast.

“You don’t have to tell me if-” Freddie began.

“When I met you.” He replied, wishing he could smack himself for sounding like a terribly cheesy love novel. The stunned look on Freddie’s face made him laugh. “I know it’s stupid but...I’d been questioning for years, hoping since I had started my third year in secondary school. I wished that at the very least I could go both ways. There was this girl once and…”

“Oh we’ve all had a girl at some point. Someone who was nice to us and we thought ‘oh, this is attraction’ until someone else came along and proved we were completely wrong.”

“Yeah...I was wrong, wrong about a lot of things. You hear that word every now and then when you're young. You think you might be like that, you wonder if there really are people like that out there besides you who feel the same things. I honestly didn’t think there were besides adults occasionally hissing that word out in vile conversations...Nothing out there existed to let me know I wasn’t alone, so why would I believe that I was something that could fit in if all I felt contradicted one of the main facets of society?!” John spat. “I believed that I could change so that I wouldn’t be alone, that if I just tried hard enough it would vanish, that it would've just been a phase All I got was something that blew up in my face.”

“I tried a few girls too.” Freddie admitted. “These art kids back at university were the oddballs of the school, yet even among them, I’d find myself curious about those...oh how should I put it…I’ll use their words: ‘weird faggots in the restrooms’. Loud, flamboyant, and just...fascinating. But what you said is something you’re not alone in. You think you’re the only one who’s ever been scared?”

“No...I think I’m actually in the majority for once.” He thought back to Roger.

“I tried so hard to convince myself otherwise. So many random broads would come by and I’d try so hard to get into it, trying to convince myself I could at least have a liking for both of them. But nothing ever stuck...I guess I didn’t really want it to anyway.” Freddie confessed.

“Don’t think it ever works that way. Nothing ever does.” John muttered. “You get these damn ideas in your mind and think you can see how it’ll all play out but something comes along and fucks it all up.”

Of course, it wasn’t always a bad thing. John glanced towards Freddie. Never in his life did he expect to come across someone like him. Someone so, he decided to use Freddie’s own words, “loud, flamboyant, and fascinating”. And yet, he was so quiet now, so reserved and calm when not that long ago he probably would’ve beaten or chastised the hell out of Roger for what he had done. It was an enigma; Freddie was an enigma, one that he couldn’t get enough of. To learn so much about him just meant receiving more questions and now that Freddie had gotten answers from him about himself, John couldn’t wait to find out more about him as well.

…

How the days always felt like they fly by but the nights can be longer than the universe’s age. Once that sun goes down, the sky seems to stay black forever unless you also fall asleep with it. Then, the nights are far too short, like a butterfly’s lifespan. It was one of the latter nights. John just didn’t know what to do now besides stay near Freddie. It was what he’d always wanted, but it felt terribly off. Sure, he didn’t expect it to flourish into something like Brian and Roger’s relationship...maybe he just didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps it was those two who were affecting it, or the lack of them precisely. With however many times he had envisioned being together with Freddie, he had always seen Brian and Roger together with them as well.

But now they were stuck with this. It felt rude of him to have finally admitted to his feelings with Roger struggling so much with his own. Not to mention Freddie who he knew wasn’t over Bret as much as he wanted him to be. This was Freddie and Roger though, two of the most resilient people he knew, who just seemed broken and confused at where they were. If it would be anyone, he would’ve seen Brian being the depressed mess that Roger was. And yet...it was Roger who hadn’t come home yet and John wasn’t really awaiting it with joy.

“What’ll happen with Roger?” John asked as he sat down at their counter island with a mug of tea.

“Wish I knew.” Freddie replied. “I know what’ll happen with Bri though.”

“Has he talked to you?”

“God no! You think I’d let him after the shit he’s pulled?! No, he’ll probably sulk for the next few months before growing a pair to go and properly apologise to Roger for what he’s done. Whether or not Roger forgives him is up in the air.”

Something lingered at the back of his mind. “He said it wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh lord what was it then? A magical fairy that made him kiss her?” Freddie sneered, a fire burning in his own eyes.

“I dunno. I mean, it just doesn’t seem like something Brian would do. Especially not here at our apartment. What if he’s telling the truth?”

“If he was telling the truth then he would’ve apologised already. He would’ve come back here and talked it out with Roger. He knows he fucked up, that’s why he isn’t here to say anything after going after him! After cheating on him with some random bloke at a restaurant less than two kilometres from where he lives!” He howled, his eyes going wide with anger before he forcefully shut them.

“Freddie…”

He paused for just a second before exploding  “HE SAID HE LOVED ME! After all I did for him! Buying him a new car, buying his apartment for him, flying him around the world so he could come and see me. What does he do? Cheat on me with some random bastard!”

“Freddie. He proved enough times he didn’t care about you-wait you bought him a car?!”

“I bought him so many things. I gave him all my time and attention because he said he loved me. It seemed so genuine. He’d even show up with these beautiful rose bouquets and would treat me to a wonderful meal at his flat that he would make himself.”

“Freddie, all that shouldn’t matter. He put his hands on you. He scarred you.”

“But they do matter.” Freddie whispered. “John he’s not some brute like you might think he is. No one's one sided no matter how much we wanna believe that. I'd love to to believe that he was just a brute that wanted nothing more than to hurt me. But you've seen him and know that he wasn't always so brutal. He made you guys laugh, he treated me to dinner, he would...he…” His voice gave out. “I know he’s not good for me...I don’t want to see him again. That bastard can rot!” Freddie looked up at him, his gaze softening before he closed his eyes again. “It’s just hard to give up on something you put so much time into… Giving up on something you wanted so bad...I really thought he cared about me. He’d tell me he didn’t mean to hit me, that it was just him being frustrated. I thought I could take it. I did take it! I allowed him to make me his little punching bag!  Jesus I mean, well, we all take daily slaggings and blows from the press, why would something physical be any different?”

“It wasn’t just physical. Those prats at the press are not in your life like he was.” John began. “You didn’t have a face or a voice to put with those reporters, but Bret does.”

“I don’t wanna think about him anymore.” Freddie took a deep breath. “I’m sick of him. Sick of how he used me.” His voice began rising. “That bastard!” He let out a guttural growl before sighing. “I shouldn’t have stopped you from beating the shit out of him.” Freddie gave a small laugh. “I still can’t believe you did that. You! Guess you finally let your feisty side out!”

John scoffed and smiled for a second. “Feisty?” He looked up at Freddie, seeing a small smile replace the anger that had been there a few moments ago. “I just couldn’t stand seeing you like that. Seeing him do that to you just made me snap. I couldn’t let him hurt you…”

Freddie reached his hand over to his, gently clasping it in his hand and rubbing his fingers along the back. “I should properly thank you then.” He leaned across the counter and placed a little kiss on his cheek, making John’s face burn as much as the water within the kettle. Those thousands of butterflies dashed about in his stomach as Freddie began laughing.

“Darling you look like a big ol’ cherry now!” He shouted, baring every inch of his smile as he continued laughing, John still sitting there like a deer in headlights.

“I guess you’re not used to being kissed.” Freddie commented. “No one’s ever reacted like that! Least those I’ve seen.”

“No...No not really.” He replied, his heart still racing within his chest as Freddie tightened his grip around his hand for a second.

“God I wish I just had the damn nerve to say something myself!” Freddie professed “I’ll gladly strip down to my boxers on stage but I could never get the nerve to say anything to you. Well, anyone really.” He said. “But you were different! I wish I knew what it was but there was something different about you! Years and years of being near each other and I could never say a single word to you!” Freddie exclaimed.

John could only think back to when Freddie had stumbled into their flat while completely intoxicated. It had taken that much for him to say something and now John was left with the choice of whether or not to mention it now. He looked towards Freddie, his heart skipping a beat at that pronounced spark in his eyes as he awaited his response, something which forced him to tuck the memory into the back of his mind to bring up another day.  

“Same could be said for me I suppose.” He replied.

“Oh come now love! For you it makes sense! I can’t keep my mouth shut half the time! Takes a lot to tick you off.”  

“I still just wish I’d acted on it sooner. Just coming out to you might’ve helped…” He muttered, looking away to avoid Freddie’s reaction.

There was a pause before he felt Freddie’s grip tighten around his hand once again. He glanced up for a second, his mind swarming with “What if”s while guilt made his stomach shrink.

“John, dear. You can’t blame yourself for not wanting to say anything. You weren’t ready-”

“I should’ve ignored that and just said something to you though. Maybe none of that would have happened. Maybe nobody would be stuck here right now dealing with all of this.”

“John.” Freddie stated in a stronger voice. “Don’t. Just don’t. It’s not your job to watch out for everyone else’s feelings and bottle yours up.”

“It’s just hard. I don’t want others to suffer because I can’t speak up yet I can never find the damn nerve to do so!”

“Find the nerve?!” Freddie scolded. “John look what you’ve done! You beat the living hell out of someone and chased me out in the rain like it was right out of the movies! Finding the nerve to do something, bullshit! You’re better than me ‘cause you don’t act on your emotions as soon as they flare up! And don’t think that bottling things up so that others don’t worry is gonna help either. There are people who care about you and are there when-oh darling don’t cry.”

John hadn’t even noticed the tears that were blurring his vision. He continued to sit there in silence and stare down at the ground. He’d heard everything Freddie had said; every last word of it stuck in his mind and at that point he wasn’t sure if he was crying out of joy or sadness. Perhaps it was a bizarre mixture of both or maybe it was all the words he couldn’t say coming out in a different form to get the point across.

Freddie released his hand and walked over. John just stared up at him, his eyes wide as Freddie cupped the side of his face, running his thumb across his cheek to break one of the streams of tears. He pressed up against his hand, shutting his eyes and savoring that warm, comforting touch against his face. Instinctively, he leaned forward and embraced Freddie in a tight hold, wanting nothing more than to hold him as close as possible. John felt Freddie’s arms wrap around him, holding him even closer and in that moment, it did more than any form of talking could ever do.

“I’m sorry, I just-” John began as he rubbed the remaining tears from his eyes.

“No apologies. I don’t wanna hear any of that crap. Don’t you think for a second that I’m mad at you for tearing up like a big ol’ baby.” He joked. “And don’t think I’m mad at you for not coming out sooner.”

“But what if things were different?” John asked, still avoiding Freddie’s face.

“So? Believe me, I know what it’s like to wanna move on from shit. What you gotta do is actually move on from it. Remember what it taught you but don’t let it control who you are and will become. You came out to me today because that was when you felt ready to do so. Hell lot better then when I came out to you.”

“Freddie I had to deal with you, Roger, and Brian together, the latter two swooning over each other like they were engaged. I think it would’ve been harder not to come out then.”

“See, now there’s that feisty side I like to see.” Freddie commented.

John finally looked up at him, not an ounce of annoyance or hatred anywhere upon his face. All that he could see was patience and that comforting spark within his eyes.

“It’s alright dear, no need to cry.” Freddie whispered, wiping away the fresh streams that had started to pour out.

He knew he was right but at the same time he couldn’t help but finally give in to letting someone else see him break down. How he missed that comfort of letting someone console him and not bash him or stare at him like he was some disfigured creature. The last time that had happened, he had been a child. But this was so different and so much better then having your mother comfort you because you bruised your knee outside. John could only relish in every second he had where Freddie tried his best to help him. Perhaps this was how Freddie had been feeling earlier when they were out in the rain. It felt...safe.

Even with Freddie’s reassurance that he didn’t have to cry, he continued to do so, even after his head began to ache. All those months of holding it back and waiting until he was alone to let them out finally came out at once. The amount of times he’d fought them back so others wouldn’t worry about him were all there, the nights he would spend alone after their concerts, the times where he struggled with just talking to people, and all those moments where he’d see those he loved hurt because of others’ actions and he just sat there and did nothing. It was guilt, it was fear, and it was loneliness all at once.

John took in a deep breath, that lovely scent of Freddie’s cologne filling the air around him along with the faint sound of his heartbeat finally bringing the stream of tears to an end. As he pulled away, the urge to apologize arose once more. But the look on Freddie’s face stopped the words from coming out. There wasn’t a reason to do so, not when Freddie himself wasn’t looking at him with any sort of anger or frustration, but a relaxed, comforting smile that let the tips of his teeth poke through.

“Thank you.” Were the only words that he managed to say.

“Oh John darling, it’s alright. I’m just shocked that you broke down like that.”

“Happens when you hold back a lot…” He admitted.

“You’re not the only one.” Freddie replied as John got up from his seat.

He glanced down at Freddie, who, despite that smile on his face, still had a lingering sadness in his eyes that mingled with the overwhelming joy that shined through, like a sole cloud in a bright sunny sky. How John wished that the cloud would go away, yet in that moment, his mind couldn’t help but focus on Freddie himself: he was there, right in front of him, still-unfortunately-covered in tear stains from both his crying from a few moments ago and Freddie’s own tears from before that.

Freddie suddenly laughed out loud. “I must thank you for giving me a new look. Who would’ve guessed darker spots on dark clothing would work!” He beamed, immediately posing afterwards. “Quick, get a camera for the press!”

John shared the laugh, leaning over on the countertop as Freddie continued to strike various poses to show off his “new look” that he had given him.

“Ooh this girl’s in love!” Freddie sang loudly, baring a full, debonair smile as he turned to face him for a quick second before rushing over to the piano and setting himself down by the ivories. John cautiously walked over, his curiosity piquing as Freddie took a deep breath and began playing, the melody instantly filling the room. 

John could almost feel the notes begin to wrap themselves around him, twirling around him, only to begin to mingle with Freddie’s vocals that soon followed.

“It's a little bit funny this feeling inside…I'm not one of those who can easily hide…” He smirked for a second. “I may have some money...and boy since I do...I'd buy a big house where we both could live…”

He played a bit longer, mumbling along to what John figured were meant to be the lyrics to the song. He smiled and watched as Freddie’s hands danced across the piano, playing the keys as if the song was his own. John glanced up, seeing the intense focus on his face as he continued to mutter along to the “lyrics” of the song before resuming with coherent words.

“My gift is this song and this one's for you...and you can tell everybody this is your song! It may be quite simple…” Freddie looked towards him and smiled. “but now that it's done...I hope you don't mind…” He continued to play for a few more seconds before trailing off, his eyes going wide before he gave a sheepish laugh.

“I don’t mind.” John replied with a smile. “I don’t think that’s your song though.” He joked.

“I don’t know the lyrics well enough to my own, let alone Sharon’s!” He jeered. “I’m a performer, not a piece of music!” He scoffed. “Well, I’m a piece of something!”

“How come you didn’t play one of your own?” He asked.

A devilish smile grew across Freddie’s face. “I could try one of ours.” He paused and got up from his seat. “Don't you misfire-”

“Okay okay nevermind!” John interrupted, his face turning red a second later. “Why I let you persuade me into writing a song then, I’ll never know.”

“But look at you now love. You’ve written one of our biggest hits! Besides, all of us write something naughty at one point or another.” Freddie said. “And don’t forget, you’ve got that lovely Spread Your Wings song you’re writing about right now.”

“You remembered that?”

“Darling how could I forget?! I’m the one who got you writing in the first place because you’ve got something special in your songs. Every last one of them’s got something from you in ‘em and I adore hearing them!” Freddie beamed. “Music’s just another way to see into someone’s soul and even though you don’t sing ‘em, your voice is right there in every song you’ve written.”

John could feel his face burning as he stuttered out the beginnings of multiple thankful sentiments before Freddie scooched on the piano seat to make room for him. He smiled and gladly took the spot near him, feeling his leg press up against his. After waiting only a moment, John took to the piano keys himself, starting off with Spread Your Wings, something which garnered a wondrous and proud look from Freddie who just watched in awe as he maneuvered the keys to create his song.

Once finished, he segwayed into another track, one that sounded far too different then he was used to, but Freddie caught on, smiling in response and humming along before he softly whispered the lyrics into his ear.

“Oooh you make me live! Whatever this world can give to me…”

They continued through the duet together, John chiming in every now and then only for his face to burn out of embarrassment a second after. But Freddie lead him on, waving his hands every now and then to sing with him just as they did during their concerts. It felt like a scene straight out of those cheesy romantic comedies but it was one where John couldn’t have felt happier to be in one. He could see multiple scenes of them singing up on stage in front of thousands of people, yet somehow he was able to sing in front of them; all those adoring fans cheering them on as all four of them would sing along together, Freddie pressed right up against him to share the mic for just a few moments. Even with the thousands of faces in the crowd-

“I still come back to you…”

And he couldn’t be happier to share those moments with him. John occasionally snuck a glance towards Freddie as he belted out lyric after lyric, seeming to know his lyrics more than his own, while bearing such a wide smile as he sung along to the first song he had written about him. Perhaps Freddie had hoped for that and thought likewise during all those years. The adoration and joy on his face seemed to tell him so. Even when the song was coming to a close, John still saw that peaceful and joyous shine in his eyes, one that made his heart swell within his chest so that once the final note was sang and the last lyric was sung, John was easily able to lean in and reciprocate Freddie’s kiss from earlier upon his cheek, giving the chance for it to evolve into a shared kiss on his lips once more. The feeling was indescribable, but for a second, John felt the past fly away out of his mind and leave him with nothing but the present.

[tnystrk-exe]

Reckless and Impulsive

Tony Stark x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 End

Baby Steps

Home

Learning to Live

The rapid taps of his mother’s heels was all Tony could hear behind him. He sped up his pace, smirking when Maria’s heels did the same.

“You know I can watch over myself for a couple moments throughout the day? It’s actually a really simple skill,” Tony teased, spinning on his heel to face her.

“Tony, you set yourself on fire yesterday.”

“Details. Small details, really. Let’s just be glad I installed a fire extinguisher to my robot after the last time.”

“Exactly, Tony, the last time. I love you, so much,” Maria stroked, her son’s cheek lovingly, “Sometimes, I think you’re going to give me a heart attack with how reckless and impulsive you can be.”

“I don’t plan on doing that to you anytime soon,” he chuckled, “The plan is to make sure you get all grey and old. You’re only going to die because you’re so tired of seeing me around.”

“Never,” she sighed, smile on her lips, “I’ll distract your father today, just to make sure he doesn’t work you too hard during this vacation.”

“See? Getting tired of me already,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I’ll make myself scarce. You’ll get no trouble from me today.”

Tony turned away again and started walking in the direction with the most noise. His father wanted to show how family inclusive Stark Industries was by buying passage on a cruise for a number of his workers and their family’s and organizing a work conference. Obviously, that meant he’d be dragged along. What better way to prove you’re family oriented then by pretending to love your son?

He drove the thought from his mind and steeled his gaze. Stark men were made of iron. No reason in showing unnecessary emotion. It was one of the first things he learned as a child.

“I’m just saying, we should have had an option of whether we wanted to come or not. Howard Stark doesn’t get to chose where he wants me to be just because my mom works for him,” he looked over to get a good glimpse of the complaining girl. “It’s nice and all. Don’t get me wrong. I just wanted to get a couple of things done.”

“If it’s any help,” he said moving to sit on the empty chair beside her, “even if your mom didn’t work for him, he’d still tell you what to do. Though, that’s just my experience. I suspect me being his kid and all messes up that data in the long run. Tony.” He offered her his hand.

She shook his hand, “YN. Yeah, that probably makes your research null. If it’s any help, the rest of us being here helps prove your theory, genius boy.”

“I scared off your friends.”

“They were all introverted and we’re afraid of doing something to get their parents fired. Let’s face it, Tony Stark is the one to avoid if you got those two things checked off on your list.”

“Can’t argue with those facts. What about you?”

“I was brooding in a corner. They flocked around me. If your asking if I’m going to run away from you, I was here first genius boy.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“It was the first headline I read on my own, ‘Genius Boy Tony Stark builds circuit board at the age of four.’ It’s just association.”

“You know Howard wasn’t impressed? He kept saying it could be better and improved.”

“I would have been such a disappointment in your family. I could have made you look good, Stark. Just starting to read at four versus building tech at four? The competition would have died right away.”

“Then there’s mom who has absolutely no faith in me.”

“I can feel that, you set your bed on fire once and sometimes forget to look at both sides of the street and suddenly you’re labeled reckless.”

Tony, laughed, “But have you set yourself on fire?”

“...Yes.”

He stared at you before finally losing it. “I miscalculated and hadn’t slept for like a week. Woke up to my jacket sleeve cooking. You?”

“It was this dude’s birthday and they asked me to make him the cake. So they got me all the stuff. I noticed at the end that instead of getting a five and a zero they got a bunch of those single candles. By the time it’s lit up it looks like someone started a bonfire in the house. Of course my dumbass walked in front of a fan with the damned thing. So this side of my hair has been burnt.”

“Ah,” He let his fingers slide through your hair, “It grew back nice.”

“Should hope so, mom wouldn’t let me cut it. I smelled like burned hair for a week.”

“Our parents think we’re hopeless cases.”

“They really do.”

“Let’s get married,” he joked, “show them how reckless we could really be.”

“I don’t know, Stark. I’m already committed in a long, healthy fake marriage.”

“Get a fake divorce.”

“What about my children?” You asked keeping up the charade.

“I’ll raise them like my own.”

“Oh, Tony!” You pulled him in for a hug and whispered in his ear, “Do a proposal so that it’s more believable to our parents.”

“YN...” he started as sank down to one knee, “We haven’t known each other for years, months, weeks, or even a day. It’s just so easy for me to see that you’re the one I’m meant to be with. You aren’t afraid of me for my status and you’re funny, smart, and maybe a bit of an arsonist. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He asked pulling off a ring he was wearing on his own hand, presenting it to you.

“Tony! Tony! Yes!”

The crowd already started going off into gossiping circles. Trying to figure out what exactly had happened.

“Come on, future Mrs. Stark. Time to find someone on this ship to marry us off.” Tony grabbed your hand and led you away from the noisy area.

“I’m sure the crew can help with that, the first mate can officiate marriages.” You took the led and took him to someone who looked like they could help.

“We need to get married,” Tony said, straight to the point, “Not for real, obviously, but we just want to prank our parents. Do you think that could happen?”

“Well, Mr. Stark, I don’t know how exactly the captain will feel about it, but we can go talk to him. I’m on board with it.” The woman led the two teenagers to where the captain could be found.

Tony took care of all the planning. He usually could get what he wanted by just being charming. Which was most of the time if the person he was trying to charm wasn’t Howard.

The whole crew seemed excited about being in on the prank. It was agreed that the whole ordeal would take place during dinner. No one would think twice about the dinner hall looking a little more lavish or people being dressed up more than usual. Anyway the parents of the reckless fiancés in question were sure to be there.

“Ready to be my wife in two hours?” He asked, tearing your attention away from the movie the two of you had been watching while you waited for dinner.

You took a moment to think, your hand played with the ring he had given you earlier. “As far as a fake husband goes you have great qualities.”

He rolled his eyes, “Money?”

You made a face at that, “If I really cared about your money, I’d be pushing to make you my real husband. Look, I like you. I want to be your friend, but if you think I’m gonna be someone that’s around just because you have money,” you shook your head, “I need you to change that mentality for me. Be careful around other people. I don’t need anything but friendship from you, genius boy.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to the tv. “There are worst people to be fake married to as far as I’m concerned I lucked out. You’re the first person who has ever said that, by the way,” the usually cocky boy mumbled so quietly you thought you had imagined it.

“Keep me around longer and I’ll tell you more nice things.”

He smiled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When the movie ended you both got up.

“Time to get ready.”

You nodded, “Can’t wait.”

Grabbing your clothes you went into the bathroom to prepare. Tony had made a stop to his place before the two of you had made it to your room. It was easier if he got dressed at your place, less of a chance to run into Howard and change the plans.

Stepping out of the bathroom you took a second to admire his outfit, “Aw honey, you’re matching with me already.”

“Dear, just making sure everyone knows who you belong to,” he winked, “Besides, doesn’t a wedding require some form of color coordination?”

“Maybe so, either way I don’t belong to you,” you led him out of the room by his tie, “Ready to disappoint our parents?”

“That’s an everyday occurrence.”

A crew member met with you at the entrance of the dinning hall. He told you to wait a second so that he could inform the captain of your arrival.

“Ladies and gentleman, tonight a very special request was made of the crew. Two people in love asked us to marry them this beautiful evening,” someone started playing the piano, “They requested to come in together, as they can’t bear a moment apart. I now present you with the soon go be husband and wife!” A small cheer erupted from the diners.

“That’s our cue, dear, you ready?”

“Let’s get this done, honey.”

The two of you stepped into the lavish dinning hall. Smiling as happily as could be, after all it was your wedding day. The two of you stopped in front of the first mate, holding each other’s hands, and looking as if your love couldn’t be contained. You spared a glance at the crowd searching for your mother who was stunned in her seat, Howard and Maria in very much the same position. A quick speech was said before he asked if their were any vows prepared.

“No, lets skip to the good part already. The missus and I can trade all the sweet nothings we want in a moment,” he answered coyly.

The crowed laughed as you blushed.

“Very well, do you YN LN take Anthony Edward Stark as your lawfully wedded husband until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you Anthony Edward Stark take YN LN as your lawfully wedded wife until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“You may now kiss the bride.”

For some reason you hadn’t though this far. You felt Tony reach out and lean towards you, all you could do was mimic the motions before his lips fell on yours. As the two of you kissed the crowd cheered, breaking the two of you out of the kiss and waking your parents from the shock they just received.

“Tony!” Came dual yells.

“YN!” Your mother yelled at the same time.

Tony grabbed your hand, “Well, thank you all! Mrs. and Mr. Stark got some business to settle now. Glad to see everyone!” With that he ran leading you out into the halls. Both of you laughing so hard your sides hurt. “Here, we can hide out here for a second.” He pulled you into a closet.

“They’re pissed.”

“It great. I didn’t think we’d get far enough to become husband and wife.”

“I thought they would have broken it up any second.”

“The kiss was good too,” he chuckled, “Even I believed it for a moment. What are we doing for our honeymoon?”

“Let’s just look at the stars?” You asked simply, “I don’t think they’ll look for us. Especially if they thing were consummating the marriage. Let’s just look at the stars?”

“Whatever my wife wants she gets,” He stated, opening the closet.

The deck, luckily, was empty. The two of you sprawled out on the floor, watching the sky for a couple of hours. The peace was disturbed when Tony sat up and shed his suit jacket. He threw it on top of you as a make shift blanket before laying back down and making you lay your head on his chest.

“Night, dear,” he said as pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Night, honey.” You pressed a kiss to his chest before turning your attention back to the sky.

[sorahana]

[ I’m still 110% stressed out 12 hours later, it’s 2.30 AM and I had a request to continue this drabble so I’m using it to relieve some of the frustration ]

Sitting just outside of the bathroom, Robbie feels awfully guilty. Sportacus’ yell rattles him to the core, as was the hurt look in his eyes. It’s almost accusing, like he broke some sort of unspoken trust. All things considered, he deserves it. He stuck his neck into something he shouldn’t, his curiosity ignoring all the signs until he quite literally stumbles upon that feels deeply wrong.

Even when he closes his eyes, all he can see are those scars. Most of them looked faded, no more than dark lines that stands out against his tanned skin. Still, the injuries that led to such scarring must have hurt. There’s also the disturbing looking ones in the sense that it looks too methodical for to be something he might have gotten by accident. 

Robbie shoves aside the possibility that Sportacus inflicted those on himself. If it’s on his front, then that’s another matter entirely. The implications that he gets is no less worse. His mouth goes dry, a sour taste filling his throat. It honestly looks like the marks left behind by a leather whip that struck against naked flesh till it broke skin.

He feels a sudden white hot rage consuming him, his spine going ramrod straight, teeth barred. If that’s the horrid truth, then someone out there hurt Sportacus. He’s marred by the cruel torture, body forever carrying the memory of what is most certainly a pitch black day. Even when Robbie waned to drive him out of town, he never went beyond sugared apples and tampered equipment that’s more likely to be a nuisance than cause any real harm.

A truly despicable person-- no, monster had hurt Sportacus, hurt his partner and Robbie didn’t like that one bit. If given the opportunity for him to cross paths with the disgusting creature, he’ll make sure that they’ll live long enough for him to return the favor, to make them regret ever harming a single hair on his Sportacus and then some.

Glanni at least would enjoy the massacre, he thought grimly. His cousin always loved it whenever he showed something beyond his usual level of villainy. Robbie’s not proud but it’s unfortunately a part of him, no matter how deeply he tried to bury it that he’ll yank back out it it meant dishing out justified--

“Robbie?” He hears a shaky voice calling his name, effectively cutting his rapidly darkening thoughts short. He’s quickly on his feet, lightly rapping on the door to signal that he’s here. Robbie doesn’t exactly trust his voice right now.

“Could you...” There’s a pause, some sniffling and a hitched breath. He’s then struck with the very real possibility of Sportacus crying. It’s like he’s doused with icy water, effectively extinguishing the fire within him. Robbie feels like hitting himself over the head. 

Here he was, entertaining his own selfish thoughts, all without knowing--

“Yes?” Robbie manages to croak out, the guilt from before crashing into him like a tidal wave. Stupid stupid stupid this isn’t about him right now. He messed up already. Don’t make the situation any worse that it already was.

“... I want that sweater...” Sportacus finally sighs out, sniffling some more. Robbie instantly knows which sweater he’s talking about. Without wasting a single second, he tears through the lair, reaching his bedroom in record time. He all but destroys his closet in search of the item in question.

Finally he pulls out a large and purple oversized sweater. It used to be his, too big even for his impressive height. Then Sportacus found it and placed his stake on it. He’s practically drowning with his arms not even making out of the sleeves and the sweater hanging all the way to his knees. It’s only his broad shoulders that keeps it wearable for him.

This sweater is his favorite because he claims it’s like his own portable Robbie hug. When he finds out that Sportacus took comfort in it, he places a subtle enchantment on it, one that keeps his scent regardless of wear and tear. The elf always calms down whenever he buries his face into the sleeves, inhaling what he’s been told as oil, honey and Robbie.

He makes it back to the bathroom with the sweat. That’s the most exercise he’s done in weeks and it’s very much evident from the way his breathing like a fish out of water. Once he gets a hold of himself, Robbie nervously raps at the door, softly saying that he brought what he wanted.

There’s some more sniffling noises before he hears the lock turn, door opening just enough for Robbie to pass the sweater to an awaiting, shaking hand. Robbie wants nothing more than to go in there and protect Sportacus from the world but he has to respect his decision. He can’t break what little trust that he has left, if there’s any at all.

The next fives minutes crawls by agonizingly slow. Robbie paces in front of the bathroom, anxiously staring at the door for a few seconds before he resumed his mindless walking. He’s trying very hard to prevent this thoughts from going rampant and slipping into that darkness he wants to avoid at all costs. Robbie will need to stay decently alert for whatever that’ll happen next.

He practically jumps when he hears the door unlocking again. Robbie stays where he is, heart rapid and his breath coming out in short, sharp puffs. It slowly swings open, further than before and soon, Sportacus steps out.

He definitely looks like he’s seen better days. His hair is like a bird’s nest, eyes red and puffy with tear tracks visible on his cheeks. The sweater engulfs him, effectively hiding the scars sans a single line he sees on his left shin. His expression is a far cry from his usual one. It’s as if a single blow would light out the already weakened flame, snuffing its existence out like it didn’t matter. 

Just like the vile being that gave those scars in the first place. Clearly it didn’t care--

Robbie takes in deep breath before the anger can reignite itself. This isn’t about him, remember that.

Sportacus isn’t looking at him, gaze fixated on the tiled floor. Robbie hesitantly reaches out, observing for any sort of protest before he carefully places a hand on his shoulder. When that is free from rejection, he slowly and carefully pulls Sportacus into a hug, constantly alert for his reaction. It’ll hurt but if Sportacus didn’t want his touch, he’ll let go.

When Robbie can feel his body pressed against his, the warmth, the thump thump thump of his heart beating against his chest, his hold on the elf tightens to an almost desperate degree. He presses his face against his shoulder, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I-- I shouldn’t have. It’s not...”

“I’m tired,” Sportacus responds softly. Robbie doesn’t know if he accepts his apology or even registers his words. That’s okay. He thinks he shouldn’t be forgiven so easily. “I wanna go to bed.”

“Anything you want,” Robbie replies. After making sure his touch is still accepted, the villain showcases a surprising amount of strength for someone of his stature. Robbie scoops up Sportacus, who immediately curls in on himself, face burying against Robbie’s chest. After he adjusts his hold, he carries his boyfriend to the bedroom, mentally preparing himself for whatever that’ll happen after this. 

All he knows is that he has to do something. Robbie doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fix anything but he’ll try. Oh, he will try.

[fanofawesomethings]

Hunting the Hydra

This is another commission for tthemanwithmanyauandheadcannons’ Jasper Mom au

If you want a commission of your very own, just message me and I will tell you my prices.

Flames flowed as easily as water and swallowed the green pasture of the rolling hills in seconds. The bellowing smoke darkened the skies with an unending cloud of ash that poisoned the air. A wave of crimson of unbearable heat in an already hot summer day painted the land. But as the smoke and fire grew in strength and size, and the smoke reached its highest peak in the sky, the fire’s presence alerted the attention of those who were more than capable of extinguishing it.

A burst of light erupted into the sky as the Warp Pad activated. Eager and impatient, Steven pounced off the crystal pad like a young tiger before the light finished disappearing, but he was ultimately met with disappointed when he discovered there wasn’t anything otherworldly about the flames. There were Gem monsters or rouge Gems in sight causing the flames, not even a semblance of the fire being caused by something unnatural, as far as the eager young Gem boy could see. Jack and Jasper waited for the Warp Pad to deactivate before stepping out without as much hurry as Steven had.

“Aww man, it’s just a summer fire,” pouted Steven.

“Come on, buddy, it’s still something we have to take care of. Since no one else is doing it,” said Jasper with a bitter taste in her mouth. They’d been watching the fire for some time before arriving and after an hour of waiting in vain for Firefighters to answer the call, she grabbed Jack to help her and Steven extinguish the flames. “Some of these humans are really lazy.”

“It’s not like Greg is any more active,” remarked Jack.

“I never said he wasn’t,” she said, which she didn’t see as an insult if it was towards Greg because it was one of the things she liked about her husband.

“How are gonna stop the fire? We don’t have water powers like Lapis,” Steven pointed out.

Jasper wondered that very same thing herself. There wasn’t anything that could be of use to them; the nearest building was off in the distance. She walked towards the fire to inspect it and felt the sole of her foot crush a tiny pebble on the ground; from that pebble the quartz Gem found their solution. Jasper dug her hands into the ground and with a mighty pull that engorged the muscles on her arms she pulled out a chunk of the earth and held the crumbling over her head and threw it on the fire. The chunk smothered a piece of the fire and the dirt that covered it stopped the flames from spreading over it.

“I think that’s how we’re going to stop it,” said Jasper, hands on her hip with confidence because she knew Steven’s eyes, bright with admiration, were on her.

“Mom, that’s amazing!” Steven said.

“And what we supposed to do, Jasper? I don’t share your brute strength,” questioned Jack.

           “Your lip seems strong enough,” countered Jasper. She looked around and had the corner of her eye hit with glare of the fire bouncing off Jack’s sword. “You’re sword’s sharp enough, right? Cut the shape into the ground so it’s easier for you and Steven to pull them out.”

           “I can help too?” Steven squeaked with joy.

           “Sure, kiddo, as long as you don’t get too close. Show me what all your rock throwing training did,” smiled Jasper.

           Steven punched this fist into his hand. “I’m ready,” he said with a smile, but when Jasper turned away he let out a quiet groan of pain because he punched his hand a little too hard.

           Jasper pulled a chunk out of the earth and threw it against the fire again, that time with much more force which caused it to burst into an explosion of dirt that covered more land upon contact with the ground. Jack did as he was just, with a sour expression—he didn’t like taking orders from someone other than his mother, and even then he wasn’t happy about being talked down to like Citrine usually did. He stabbed the crusader’s sword into the ground as far down until the hilt touched the grass, and then he ran into a circle carving the shape. As soon as he finished, Jack moved to cut the next circle. Steven jumped into the fray, digging his hands in the lines Jack cut. Summoning all his strength, Steven pulled a chunk of earth from the ground, one piece that was nearly too heavy for him as it made his reel backwards under its weight but he held it; the fruits of his training showed when he threw the boulder with one lunge and it dropped onto a patch of fire, smothering it the same way his mother did.

           “Mom! Mom! Did you see that?” Steven squeaked in excitement for what he did.

           “That’s great, kid, you’re my little human!” Jasper said whilst picking up two equally huge chunks of earth with both hands before chucking them as well.

           The three continued their almost rhythmic strategy with ease. Jack would stab the ground and carve out big shapes for Jasper and smaller shapes for Steven, and while they pulled out the fruits of his labor, Jack would swiftly carve out his own chunks and contribute. After twenty minutes of hard labor, the group had smothered half of the flames faster than the fire could recover. The end of the flames looked imminent.

           Jasper threw a chunk bigger than the other she plucked out of the earth over her head. Sweat dripped from her face while the ends of her long hair clung to her drenched face. The weight of so much activity in rapid succession began to show on the Quartz Gem; though she had much more fight left in her, she began to realize how weaker she had gotten over the years. She looked to Steven who hadn’t shed a single drop of sweat despite moving as much as she did; Jasper acknowledge that as she began to grow weaker, her son, whom inherited her power, began to grow stronger. What feeling that came along with the realization was a mystery to her—she didn’t know if it was pride for her son or fear for her own status.

           Suddenly a drop of coolness tapped the tip of Jasper’s Gem. Water. She looked up expecting to see the rain cloud it fell from, but instead she spotted a figure. Soaring high above them, carrying Peridot with one hand and holding an enormous blob of water hovering above the other hand, Lapis flew into position. Peridot clung to Lapis’ hand, deathly afraid of falling off while Lapis worked. The blue Gem hovered over the flames, eyeing the flames with intent; she exhaled her concentration and the blob of water broke its orb shape and rained down. As though a downpour suddenly came over the land, the water drenched the fire and the Gems down below with a lake-full of moisture that extinguished the flames as fast as it drenched them from head to toe. Not an ember of flame remained.

           “Hey guys, did you see the fire?” Lapis called out ironically as she descended.

           “Steven! Are you okay?!” Peridot shrieked. “Lazuli, get me down faster!”

           Lapis released her grip and Peridot fell to the earth faster just as she wished. She landed on the ground face first. Rather than bask in the pain of landing, Peridot picked herself up as if nothing happened and she raced over to inspect Steven.

           “Are you bleeding? Are you short of breath? Do you taste copper? Are your muscles contracting when you move? Is your heart rate at a normal pace?” Peridot scrambled in a panic, lifting Steven’s arms, inspecting his pupils with a light from her limb enhancers, checking his ears and every other body part of his.

           “Peridot, it’s fine, I’m fine. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle,” said Steven confidently, until Peridot pulled his tongue out to inspect it.

           “My son is okay, Peridot,” said Jasper, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

           “Yes he does appear to be safe, but your parenting skills are still questionable, Jasper. If it were up to me, Steven would be far away from the risk, maybe eating some of your Earth snack cakes and watching some cartoon,” Peridot sweetened her voice with temptation to see if she could bait Steven into wanting to go back to the temple.

“Why didn’t you step in earlier?” Jasper questioned Lapis with a raised brow.

           “We were watching the smoke make shapes in the sky before Peridot spotted you guys working and forced me to step in for Steven’s sake,” said Lapis. “It was fun watching stuff burn.”

           “The humans probably wouldn’t think so if the fire reached them,” said Jack.

           “Oh, you’re here too, wonderful.”

           Lapis and Jack stared each other down. Jack used his furious glare and Lapis countered with an expression that read she couldn’t care less about him.

           “Come on, guys, do you always have to fight?” Steven inquired, remembering the previous times the two were in the same space.

           “She’s the one with the rude mouth!” Jack blurted pointing in her face.

           “And you’re the kid with the touchy attitude. At least I’m chill about it,” said Lapis.

           “Yes you have a calm simulation, until you get home to the barn and start deafening my ears with your rants about Jack,” Peridot intervened.

           “That is not true!” Lapis barked at her roommate.

           “Oh, so you do think about me,” teased Jack.

           “Hey the water is still here, ready for me to use it on whoever I want!” Lapis snapped back at him.

           “Is that a challenge? Don’t forget I beat you the last time,” said Jack.

           “Don’t get full of yourself, I only held back because I felt sorry for you.”

           “It didn’t look like that when you were on the ground in front of me.”

           “No fighting!” Steven pleaded.

           Jasper distanced herself from the crowd, unable hear her own thoughts because of the noise. The patch of dirt and ash lay beneath her feet like a brand new scar on the land. As she assessed the damage, her eyes wondering, she stopped herself when something caught her eye—something huge. She ran across the burned patch and knelt to the ground, her expression read shock.

           “HEY!” Jasper shouted which silenced everyone. “Shut up and get over here!”

           The others gathered on command fast, if there was anything that united all four Gems it was the fear of making Citrine and Jasper angry. When the smoke finally cleared what Jasper knelt in front of was revealed to them. The others were just as shocked.

           A footprint. One ten times bigger than the foot size of any one of them with five sharp pointed on the toes. In front of that footprint was another of equal size, and another, until they saw that it was a trail, leading far into the fields.

           “Look at the size of them. What sort of creature could have made these?” Jack asked, his fingers twitching to grab his sword.

           “Nothing on Earth that’s for sure,” said Jasper.

           “These footprints are twice as big as an Earth Elephant’s, the largest land animal on this planet,” said Peridot.

           Steven eyes widened for he had gotten his wish. “Does this mean there’s a scary tough monster after all?”

           “I think so. Good, I was beginning to worry a fire was just the end of it,” said Jasper, cracking her knuckles.

Steven cracked his hands to imitate his mom but his knuckles were quiet. Peridot quickly snatched Steven close to her and wrapped her arms around him.

“You all can go fight like brutes, while Steven and I watch an episode of Camp Pining Hearts together,” said the green Gem. “Doesn’t that sound like more fun, Steven?”

“No way, I wanna fight too!” Steven escaped her grasp.

“Steven doesn’t need to be babied, Peridot. But we could use some more fire power and you’re the only one I know who can hit a small target from miles away, so you can come too, Peridot, just don’t be a pain,” said Jasper.

“Only if Steven doesn’t leave my sight!” Peridot argued.

“Deal.” Peridot and Jasper shook hands on it; the fingers on the green Gem’s Limb Enhancers were a great deal smaller than Jasper’s mighty hand.

“What? Mom, I wanna fight too!” Steven begged.

“Oh you will. Peridot said you won’t leave her sight. She didn’t say what you would be doing while she watches you.” Jasper’s whit outsmarted the green Gem and she growled under her breath for having been outsmarted by someone Peridot always thought of less intelligent that herself.

With such a obvious trail to lead them, the Crystal Gems and Lapis and Peridot made their way across the endless pasture of green, at an incredibly fast pace. Jasper carried Steven on her back like a koala while she ran at full sprint which was the same speed as a jet-fueled car; Lapis carried Peridot as she flew fast enough to keep up with Jasper; and Jack’s speed could keep up with the rest but there was a minor difference between him and the others.

The breeze from her running cooled Jasper, but as fast as it made her sweat. Her state of mind thousands of years ago would see the fast reaction to stopping a Gem monster from destroying a world as unnecessary, but hearing Steven’s laugh as he enjoyed the ride reminded her of why she liberated the Earth in the first place and why she needed to pick up the pace.

“Hey kiddo, want to ride the Spinning Mom Ball?” Jasper asked.

“Yeah! You never let me ride the Spinning Mom Ball!” Steven cheered.

           “Jasper, just what is the Spinning Mom Ball?” Peridot questioned.

           Jasper didn’t stop her pace to start. She took Steven off her shoulders, while her legs ran, and held him close to her chest; Steven took that chance to give his mom a hug. The strong Quartz Gem leapt into the air and raised her knees to her chest and quickly her entire body transformed into a sphere which spun like a saw blade, splitting the earth when it landed and took off straight.

           “JASPER!” Peridot screamed.

           While inside the ball, in the midst of all the spinning, Steven and Jasper exchanged a mischievous laugh for getting one over on Peridot. But while her speed was increased considerably while in the sphere form, Jasper had only glimpses of the landscape to go on so she had a vague idea of where the tracks were headed.

           “Lapis Lazuli speed up! We need to catch them!” Peridot howled, frantic.

           “Hey you’re lucky I don’t drop you, I’m not going to make myself tired just because you want to smother Steven,” snapped Lapis.

           Peridot thrashed about. “I do not smother Steven! I merely want to protect from that mother of his who will very likely be the death of him!”

           “Between you and that Quartz soldier who once lifted your barn so her son could get his ball, who do you think is better suited of protecting Steven?” Jack pointed out.

           Peridot couldn’t argue with him so she mumbled bitterly under her breath.

           “Hey look!” Lapis shouted.

           Jasper stopped, landing upright on her feet after changing back. She let Steven down. “You okay, buddy?”

           Steven wobbled, unable to stand up straight because the world hadn’t yet stopped spinning. “Yeah! ‘Course I am!”

           Behind her was a footprint as big as the rest, but in front of Jasper was the tracks were replaced with an enormous crater in the ground as though a meteor had struck the land. The dirt beneath the grass was uprooted, piled into mound as wide as four as Peridot and Lapis’ barn, maybe bigger; as Jasper stood on it she was dwarfed by its size. Beyond the crater the land was untouched, green as it had always been, for as far as her keen eyes could see.

           “Whatever it was must be able to fly. It probably jumped in the air and flew away,” deduced Jasper.

           “That’ll make it impossible to track if we have to check the skies,” said Jack.

           “Don’t worry, it’s gotta come down sometimes and when it does we’ll just look for the cra—”

           A rumble startled Jasper. Another came and this time the others felt it too. When another came Jasper felt a chill go down her spine for she nearly lost her footing with the third quake. Her face went pale for she realized, too late, that the quake was strongest beneath her.

           The ground burst open and an elongated shadow rocketed to the surface. A neck like a snake and scales of countless colors, a monster arose. Its shadow alone swallowed them in darkness as though the sun had been blocked, slithering eclipse. Eyes burning red with black slits at their center, and a fearsome appearance, the monster had snatched Jasper in its jaws when it shot up. With teeth sharper than swords, the beast tried to bite down and swallow Jasper who fought with all her might to keep its jaws from shutting.

           “Mom!” Steven cried.

           “What is that thing?!” Jack drew his sword.

           Jasper pushed against the roof of the beast’s mouth. But while Jasper was caught and stuck in place, she had no free hands to deal with the wriggling tongue worming its way towards her. Slick like a whip, Jasper felt it slashed across her back with a burning intensity. While he winced with pain, the tongue wrapped its around Jasper’s waist and it began to pull her towards the beast’s throat.

           “Peridot shoot it!” Jack commanded.

           Peridot reconfigured her fingers to form a short of pistol. A ball of dancing green light formed at the end of her fingertips; she looked for a target and found one in the tongue pulling on Jasper. She fired and the ball of energy struck the beast’s tongue, burning it. The monster howled with pain and Jasper finally leapt out.

           The monster let out a deafening roar that was unlike any monster or animal the Crystal Gems have encounter. A collection of a thousand sounds fused into one and when they finally got a good look at the beast’s form they understood why. While they watched in concern for Jasper earlier Steven and the rest missed the fragmented Gem shards scattered about the beast’s neck, alongside mounds of flesh stitched together like a deformed jigsaw puzzled with the shards. As its neck moved chimes of the Gem shards clicking against each other rang.

           “What kind of—abomination is that?” Jack gasped.

           “It’s composed of approximately five hundred Gem shards and eight different species of organic matter,” Peridot analyzed with her screen. “A hybrid monster?”

           “Was that what started the fire? What’s it doing here?” Steven inquired.

Another roar was released, thunderous and paralyzing that made them cover their ears against its strength. As they struggled to open their eyes, the creature slammed its head on the ground and swung it towards them.

           Peridot instinctively grabbed Steven and Lapis who flew them both out of the way. Jasper and Jack weren’t so lucky, colliding with the full force of the attack that sent them flying.

           “Mom! Jack!” Steven cried.

           “Lapis, fly us out of here!” Peridot ordered.

           For once Lapis was ready to comply with a Peridot order. Her clear wings flapped in the opposite direction.

           “What? No, Lapis, we hafta go back!” Steven argued.

           “Steven, let Jasper and Jack handle it, they know more about defeating monster than any of us do,” said Peridot.

           Steven looked to Lapis. “Peridot’s right, Steven, this thing looks really strong.”

           Jasper and Jack recovered in the blink of an eye. Jack held his sword at his side with both hands tight on the handle as he dashed. The monster dove down and snapped its jaws; Jack dodged and slashed the blade across its mighty temple, but the beast did not show signs of distress for the attack. It slammed its wide forehead into Jack and threw him into the air. Jasper came in while the beast’s attention was on Jack; she balled her hand into a firm fist and punched into a cluster of shards at the bottom of the monster’s neck thinking it would harm it more to have its Gem shards attacked. The monster didn’t even flinch, turning to Jasper. The pool of blood eyed her as its next prey.

           Steven wriggled out of Lapis’ hand and dropped straight down, ignoring the call of Peridot and Lapis. Summoning Jasper’s helmet over his head, Steven charged, shouting a battle cry that was anything but intimidating coming out of him. But it served its purpose, alerting the beast away from Jasper and on to him. Jasper froze out of shock as the beast eyed her son; its terrifying shot towards Steven and Jasper suddenly moved to reach him, but at her distance she couldn’t reach him in time. The beast slammed its head down and swung it like a golf club. Steven planted his feet firm on the ground, closed his eyes to keep his body from shaking, and stood his ground. The monster’s head collided with Steven’s helmet like two mountain crashing into each other. But Steven did not budge from the collision.

           The shock of the impact harmed the beast more than it did to Steven. Its head lay lifeless on the ground while Steven was virtually unharmed and unmoved. The others were the same level of shock; Peridot had completely passed out cold. When he opened his eyes, realizing he was the victor, he looked upon the beast’s multicolored skin and flinched with pain.  

           “Sorry about that, but you were attacking my mom and no one attacked my mom!” Steven scolded.

           Lapis shook Peridot awake. “STEVEN!”

           Peridot dropped down and clung to Steven with every limb in her body. Steven tried to breathe through her suffocation; he suddenly felt the shadow of his mother over him. She looked at the lifeless monster head and then at Steven wearing her helmet without a scratch on him. A shard on the monster’s body was bigger than Steven and yet he took down a beast. Steven gulped, already dreading what his mother would do to him. Jasper knelt down and as Steven began to tremble she bumped her forehead against his tenderly, but it was a moment that ended too abruptly.

           A rumble in the ground startled them into thinking the creature was not yet finished, but the monster’s head was unconscious and still. The shaking came once again from below.

           An explosion of dirt. Heads and necks just as long and huge as the downed one, each one grabbing Steven and the others one by one and still having a dozen more heads. Steven found himself between a great pair of red eyes staring at him with hunger. Jasper was stuck in between the jaws of one head just as before. Peridot thrashed like a fish of water while her suit was caught between the fangs of another head. Lapis was locked alongside Jack as one of the beast’s heads wrapped its neck around them like a noose. The ground split open, finally the rest of the beast was revealed to have a single body joining all the heads together, a hide with many Gem and animal shards linked together like a ghoulish tapestry.

           “What…a lot of heads you have,” said Steven.

           The head he rode on roared which alerted the closest monster head of the prey nearby. Its forked tongue licked its crusty lips.

           “Y-You don’t want to eat me. I’m all skin and hair!” Steven pleaded. Obviously the monster didn’t hear him.

           The head opened its jaws wide which split its head in half. Steven moved faster than he thought he could, jumping off the head just when the other head crunched down; he slid down the bumpy skin. He could hear the cries of pain from every single head as its own fangs dug into its flesh; Steven realized the heads shared each other’s pain. Steven stopped on top of the monster’s body.

           A vice grip, the monster’s neck pushed Lapis and Jack close together until they couldn’t bear it any more. Lapis could seldom summon the water to her aid, the pressure disrupted her concentration. Jack had his arms pinned so he could not swing his sword.

           Peridot fired widely into the air without any of the aiming Jasper recruited her for. She tried anything to keep the heads away from her, which worked in the lowest sense since the heads were more dumbfounded at the hysterical green Gem firing like mad than they were interested in devouring her.

           Jasper bashed her foot on the beast’s tender gums, anything to cause discomfort so she could escape. Every time she did the head winced. Steven landed on the monster’s body and spotted one of the heads cringe with pain and immediately knew it was the one that held him mother.

           He had to think fast. Steven looked around for anything that could help him. He saw the green pasture below, the two dozen or so heads thankfully ignorant of where Steven was because of his small stature, and each of his friends in their entrapments. Nothing he saw could help him. A boiling noise ran up the monster’s body and split into each of its neck, it was readying itself to unleash its fire. Suddenly a glare from the sun hit his eye; it was small but he could see the tip of Jack’s sword like a drop of silver in the middle of a pool of blackness. But Steven also saw its owner unable to swing it even barely.

           “Jack! Drop your sword down to me!” Steven yelled.

           “Wh—at?” Jack uttered, strained.

           “You gotta do it, Jack; it’s the only way I can get you guys out!”

           “D-D-Don’t you d-d-dare try to f-f-f-fight this thing, Steven! You have t-t-t-to get away while you can!” Peridot stammered while shooting.

           “Peridot! If—Steven—has a plan that’ll—save us from dying—we should—at least—let him—try!” Jasper said through grit teeth.

           The monster’s many pairs of eyes were in front of Peridot, ready to snap once she stopped shooting, and it wouldn’t be long before her Limb Enhancers ran out of energy. She broke out in a nervous sweat while thinking until she at last nodded her head. Jack released his grip and his sword fell through.

           Steven ran to the falling sword fast, without the slightest idea how he was going to catch it. Floundering, he reached out his hand with his eyes shut and waited. By some twist of fortune, the blade landed in Steven’s hand by the hilt and Steven exhaled his fright; meanwhile, Peridot, who watched the sword nearly stab Steven, turned pale.

           Jack’s sword was heavier than Steven expected it to be. All the times he watched Jack swing it without breaking a sweat made him assume the blade was lighter than air, but holding it with both hands Steven was nearly brought to the ground by its weight. The ancient leather, untouched by time since it was made, scratched against Steven’s palms as he raised the sword above his head. He buried the silver blade into the creature’s body, plunging it as deep as he could push it down through the thick skin. Every head on the monster screeched in agony.

Steven quickly pulled the sword out. “Peridot, shoot here!”

           For once, Peridot didn’t stop to worry about Steven’s health. She aimed and with the calmest she’d been since the monster appeared Peridot fired into the tiny wound Steven left for her. The ball of energy slipped through the cracks and struck inside the wound, delivering a stronger, burning pain that tortured the monster. It released its grip on Lapis and Jack, allowing them to escape; and in its screaming state, Jasper jumped free. Peridot fell with a thud. At last the Crystal Gems reunited on the monster’s body.

           “Nice thinking, Steven,” said Jack, taking back his sword.

           “And you thought he couldn’t do it,” Lapis said to Peridot.

           Peridot gave her Steven a weak smile.

           Jasper didn’t drop her guard. The monster’s heads finish screaming and they began searching for the prey that evaded their sights.

           “Got any other ideas, kiddo?” Jasper asked, expecting anything at that point.

           “As long as we hurt the monster’s body the rest of the heads won’t be able to do anything,” explained Steven.

           Jasper cracked her knuckles, a devilish grin outlining her face. “So I can finally hurt this big thing after it got its tongue on me? Perfect.”

           She reeled her thick arm back and struck the monster’s body with all her power, which was an attack that sent shockwaves along the skin. The monster screech all at once. The other Gems followed Jasper’s strategy, attacking the hide with their own attacks. Steven, the odd one out, had only his helmet as a weapon, so he got on his hands and knees and repeatedly bashed the blunt end of the helmet down, a strategy that worked in the first few attacks but afterwards caused whiplash in the poor boy.

The most uncoordinated attacks hurt the monster tenfold. Each attack sent the monster into a spiral of agony, stopping any attempt it made to strike its attackers. Moving failed to shake off the other as well. But as fun as Jasper found it to torture the monster, she stopped her assault to search for some way to put an end to the battle and bubble the abomination. Already the monster had seemed stronger than any the Crystal Gems have faced, being able to withstand the barrage of attacks without collapsing in defeat. Jasper thought back to the moments leading up to this to find anything that could give some clue.

As unpleasant as it was to be reminded of the disgusting instance, Jasper thought back to when she was inside the monster’s mouth, twice. Kicking the monster’s gums made its head wince and when Peridot struck its tongue the monster screamed in pain. Jasper made the discovery and came up with a plan.

Jasper latched herself one of the necks and started climbing it like a beetle. The others watched with puzzlement as she reached all the way to the top of one of the monster’s heads and struggle to keep her balance amongst its many thrashes. She took a deep breath and bolted, jumping from one head and straight into the mouth of another.

“MOM!” Steven cried.

“Jasper, what—?” Jack couldn’t fathom the reason why.

The monster’s heads became empowered with the strongest of them finally gone. They targeted what tortured them, bloodlust bubbling in their eyes. Steven and the others were paralyzed by Jasper’s action, waiting for the results of her plan to show. The monsters began to close the gap between them.

A gurgle in their throats. The monster heads and the Crystal Gems looked down at a bump moving beneath the dark skin. A pause and then the monster howled, louder than before. The heads twisted and flopped wild, their necks crinkling like a slinky. Suddenly every neck stood at attention straight up. A light appeared on the monster’s back and it quickly spread throughout its body, climbing each neck and covering every head. Lapis grabbed Steven and Peridot and flew away; Jack jumped over the edge. In an explosion of light and smoke the monster was at last poofed.

A flurry of small puffs of smoke flew from the big burst. Countless tiny explosions popping as fast as bubbles, and from them fell shards to the earth. They clashed against each other, while others landed on the slabs of animal flesh that fell without such grace. The pasture was full of precious shards that glistened under the sun, more than Peridot had initially counted. And standing in the middle of them all, Jasper, without a single hair out of place on her body. She knelt to the ground and bubbled a tiny orange shard in front of her. Steven and the others started bubbling each and every shard, individually, tapping them and sending them away as quickly as they bubbled. It took hours to bubble the tiniest shard, but they worked without fail and once the sun began to set in the horizon the last of the shards was sent back to the temple. At last all traces of the monster were gone.

“Was this a Homeworld attack?” Jack asked.

“No, Homeworld never deals with organic life. This must’ve been the work of a rogue Gem experimenting,” said Jasper.

“I have no record of any other experimenting Gems stationed on this planet. This must be someone new from when after I left,” said Peridot.

“Whoever it was, she won’t be launching any other attacks for some time after we took down something this big,” said Jasper.

She turned to Steven, hands on her hips, taking on a motherly stance. Steven all of a sudden wondered if she was still mad about before.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” she started. Steven’s eyes glowed. “You stood your ground against a bigger enemy, you made strategies, and most of all you weren’t reckless with your actions. That’s what a true Quartz warrior does in combat. You got strong before I knew it. Maybe one day, you’ll be stronger than me.”

“R-Really?” Steven gasped.

It was all Steven wanted to hear. He looked up to his mom more than any other Gem. Every time he pushed himself to the breaking point he did it to get closer to his mother’s level, not knowing just how much farther it would be. To hear Jasper say that revitalized Steven’s energy. Jasper knew it to be true and while the thought of becoming weaker frightened her a bit she felt it was a sacrifice she could make for her son. After all, she gave up her strength so that Steven could have his life. And she never once regretted that decision.