#ITS MUSTY AND HORRIBLE

[skyward-floored]

I’m usually loathe to call food disgusting because I know different people have different tastes and just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who do and I’m generally on the picky side so I try to be gracious in my opinions on food.

but all that being said Roquefort cheese is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten

[entropys]

:|

[pseudowho]

hi haitch how r you doing

i have a question im sorry if its a little gross or tmi but is it normal for ur period blood to smell really bad and is there anything i can do, im really conscious about it and it feels as though people can smell it on me. ive tried wearing cotton, keeping it clean and all the works, showering every day but it just smells horrible n makes me feel disgusting

Heeeey!

So, weird though this is, I would of course need to smell it to know if it's absolutely normal. Another weird thing about my job, is that you have absolutely no idea how many vaginas, blood, discharge, amniotic fluid, and other loss, I have sniffed just for diagnostic purposes.

Please note, menstrual blood differs from frank blood lost from a wound; it contains normal vaginal discharge, uterine cells, mucous, and mlre. So it's not supposed to smell like just blood. Normal menstrual loss smells fleshier, so to speak, because it contains uterine tissue as well.

That being said, what I would say a *normal* period blood smell is, ranges from sweet, to coppery, to almost earthy, like rain on dirt.

If you have a background infection, you are more likely to notice garlic or fish smells.

If you happen to use tampons, the period blood on that would smell 'rotten' quite often, because it's sat soaking internally for a few hours.

Many sanitary products worsen the smell of menstrual blood. The "smell" you get when removing your underwear is very likely to smell quite *sour* on your pads, as it will hold onto normal genitalia odours and worsen them too. Especially disposable plasticky pads-- they simply make vaginas smell grim. That's not your fault-- it's the product...though they will try to convince you that women smell weird and gross because it makes them money.

So, to really gauge what your menstrual blood smells like, I recommend this; shower or bath, and when completely clean, blot some fresh menstrual loss straight from the source onto an unfragranced tissue.

How does THAT smell? That will tell you if you're harbouring an unusual infection or if you're normal. If it spells coppery, kind of sweet, or musty/earthy, I'd call it normal.

Plus, also consider that many many women report a heightened sense of smell while on their period. You may be smelling your normal odour more acutely.

I certainly do, and when I take into account everything I've just told you, I am also convinced that I smell bad or weird when on my period.

Give me a brief moment to slap your wrist about considering yourself gross while on your period. We do not need that misogynistic, woman-hating rubbish.

If you follow my advice and you still feel like you smell weird, please go to a NICE doctor, and request some vaginal swabs, to be cultured to see if you're harbouring any infections or unusual bacterial imbalances.

Phew!

All my love,

-- Haitch xxx

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 3

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic. Previous - Next - First

This chapter is horrible and I'm sorry.

Chapter warning: Slight violence.

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: I don't know where I found this gif anymore, sorry.)

The house you're in is old. Not just because it seems to be crumbling into dust, nor because it's mostly home to spiders and rats today. The structure is old, probably Victorian with Gothic touches here and there. The fact is, you've had time to visit it several times, the clown not having visited you since your altercation. That was several hours ago now, maybe even a whole day has passed, impossible to say without any landmarks.

During your time in this creaky house, you've noticed several things. Firstly, there's no way to get out, or even to see the outside - all the windows are far too filthy, no matter which room.

Next, most of the rooms are normal, if you forget the general decrepitude, and there's only one you want to avoid at all costs: the room with the clown dolls. You've been there once, but you don't intend to do it again.

Then, even if it seems completely unthinkable, the house has running water. Cold, admittedly, and the pressure leaves something to be desired, but you were able to relieve yourself in the toilet without too much trouble. You even took the risk of drinking it, and so far, so good.

Finally, you've found a well in the cellar. An old, half-collapsed stone well with a pestilential smell. You've thought about getting going down it, eventually, if you really have no other choice and if at least it's possible…

After a while, you really got the feeling you were going round in circles, bored even. Hunger began to make itself felt, and you were able to more or less calm it with water. You also wanted to take care of your wounds, especially the one on the back of your head, but you concluded that it wasn't a big deal, so as not to admit that it healed on its own…

You've found a bookcase next to the fireplace, but the books it contains are strange… The only one in English is 'House of leaves', a book you tried to read once and it made you lose your head. You didn't want to repeat the experience.

After a while, as you sit idly on the sofa, sleep catches up with you and you fall asleep in spite of yourself. You've had that dream again, and this time you're able to recall it with unnerving accuracy: You're in the forest, getting closer to the big oak tree, it's daytime but Derry and the surrounding area are engulfed in thick gray smoke, like the remains of an old fire. It's hard to breathe and your eyes are undeniably watering. In this sad, gray landscape, you catch a glimpse of color: a red balloon. You rush to grab the string and it carries you upwards. When you finally break through the cloud of intoxicating smoke stuck to Derry, you see the lights and colors of the sky, dazzling you with a magnificence you simply can't describe.

You wake up at this point, wondering what the clown - for you no longer doubt, he's the one responsible for these dreams - is trying to convey to you. Maybe he's trying to reassure you, so you won't be afraid anymore? That would be consistent with his requests. Or maybe he knows about your paralyzing fear of heights and you always wake up before he drops you and you crash like a bird poop in the dusty Derry of your dream.

In any case, at least you feel rested, despite your situation and…

One second. You don't remember covering yourself up before falling asleep. Where did that blanket come from…?

For a moment, you hold your breath, attentive to the slightest noise in the house. But apart from a few creaks from the old wood it's made of, you hear nothing that would suggest anyone's there. Suddenly, a scent tickles your nostrils. It's not a musty smell or old dust, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your stomach growls, encouraging you to follow the scent and forget about being careful.

In the kitchen, on the table in the center of the room, you find the culprit of that delicious smell: a children's menu from McDonald's. You resist the urge to throw yourself on it. You move closer, checking every corner of the room to make sure no one's there. Then you stare at the menu box. Red and yellow, just like you remember. Is this for you? You don't hesitate long; you don't have to answer to that damn clown.

The smell becomes more intense as you open the box, and your stomach gurgles again. You grab the first thing that comes along, the French fries, and devour them without manners. Then you slow down for the hamburger, savoring it a little more until you're halfway through, when your eyes land on the toy still in the box. You pick it up with an unsure hand, bringing it closer to make sure it's not a dream. It's a Ronald Clown figurine, or so you first thought. But no, it's the clown, your clown (your clown?). What did he say his name was again? Pennywise? Yes, it's a figurine of him in Ronald's clothes, about the size of your palm, with a sign between his hands that reads…. You guessed it…

DON'T BE SCARED

Your eyebrows furrow in a mixture of puzzlement and exasperation as you watch every detail of the toy between your fingers, as if expecting to see it move. After a while, when you realize that it's indeed plastic, you toss it across the room with annoyance and it bangs loudly against the door of the old, worn fridge.

You bite into your hamburger once more, then a slow grinding noise makes you stop in your tracks. You turn slowly towards the fridge and your eyes widen in terror at the sight before them: the clown, Pennywise, his body curled up and twisted in a way impossible even for a contortionist, is wedged into the fridge, looking at you with his head upside down. You move backwards at an extremely slow speed, your body paralyzed by a kind of terror mixed with fascination, as he emerges from the fridge, turning his limbs at impossible angles to get back upright. When he's done, smiling and leaning slightly forward as if waiting for your reaction. In fact, you hesitate between running away and applauding.

When you don't react, the clown's smile turns into a disappointed pout and he straightens up. Then his eyes alternate between you and the toy at his feet, as annoyance twists his features dramatically and he picks it up with a theatrical gesture to place it on the table.

"This is a gift." He says to you in a deeply offended tone.

You're not sure how to react and it takes you several seconds to reply.

"Sorry, I'm not a child anymore."

Your words only darken his gaze, which changes from a sulky expression to real anger. He takes a heavy step towards you and you drop your burger, really backing away this time. You find yourself trapped in a corner of the room, with nothing to defend yourself, and your anguish mounts as his face contorts into an inhuman grimace.

"Stop. Being. SCARED!"

Pennywise jumps on you, slamming your arm against a wall and grabbing your chin before sniffing loudly. You see his eyes roll back and his teeth become as thin as toothpicks as he opens his mouth, drool dripping from his lips.

You scream and push him away as best you can with your free arm and legs, but there's nowhere to run. You watch him shake his head and speak sharp words you don't understand. As he turns to face you once more, the clown has regained a more normal appearance and is contorting himself as if to restrain himself from attacking you again. He swallows doubtfully before speaking.

"If you continue to offer me such irresistible fear… I'll have to eat you."

In your brain, a light goes on. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, silently repeating your question to yourself several times before asking it aloud.

"You mean… it's my fear that makes you want to eat me?"

An incredulous smile lights up Pennywise's face and he starts clapping, hopping and giggling like a real clown.

"Oh oh oh! Well done! You've finally figured it out, clever girl! You've earned my toy!"

He's clearly making fun of you and, even if it annoys you, it has the merit of calming your fear. You cross your arms in annoyance, waiting for him to finish his act, which he eventually does.

"Now… Now you can help me." His eyes light up like a child's at Christmas.

"Help you?"

"Yes, that's why I'm keeping you alive, after all. You see, for ages I've been playing with humans, haunting their dreams, their nightmares, terrorizing them with their greatest fears and then devouring them."

He pauses, clearly enjoying the fearful look you're giving him.

"It was fun, yes. A lot of fun. Until those filthy… Losers got in the way. That they spoiled Pennywise's fun and forced me to hibernate early and…"

The clown's eyes grow distant, empty, and you get the impression that it's costing him to finish his sentence.

"…they killed me. Just when Pennywise had missed them so much… and we still had a lot of games to play…"

He turns his head sharply towards you, annoyed again.

"But it doesn't matter because now Pennywise doesn't need them anymore. Pennywise found you and you're going to help me understand what they did to me. To understand what's changed and why playing with human fears isn't fun anymore."

His words are totally confusing for you and you haven't understood how you could be useful, but you understand that it's a subject that affects him and he seems very angry, so you prefer not to say anything for the moment. At your lack of reaction, the clown approaches you again, more slowly.

"I won't hurt you if you help me. And if you're not scared…*

You hesitate, but do you really have a choice? Even though you don't really know what you're accepting, you finally nod. He seems happy with it, because he smiles at you and you notice that his sharp teeth have disappeared, that they now resemble rabbit teeth.

"Excellent! I'll come back later. You can occupy yourself by playing with the toy." He says before leaving the room towards the staircase that leads to the cellar where the well is.

Silence returns and you're still stuck in a corner of the kitchen, processing what's just happened. You conclude that you need to find a way out quickly, or risk spending the rest of your life helping a demon clown figure out who-knows-what, and spending your free time playing with Happy Meal toys featuring him.

[crazylittlejester]

Here's the little snippet as promised- I got a little carried away lol

By the time they'd managed to track down their missing brother, the chain was more like a frayed string. When Warriors had gone missing after a fight, it was like a constant blood moon; with no professional medic, they could only hope fairies and Time's uncanny ability to find them would fix the worst wounds. With no teasing yet caring and painfully observant eyes watching out for everyone, communication dwindled into whispers, banter into hurling insults. But most importantly, they'd all lost their collective big brother. And nobody was taking it well. Time's dark circles had only grown darker over the month that his brother was missing. He became overbearingly protective over the rest of the chain, though it manifested in him becoming snappy and strict. He refused to talk otherwise, unless it was to discuss theories of the Captain's disappearance. Well... and to soothe the nightmares that plagued Wind at night. But now? Now daybreak is drawing closer and the blood moon is nearing its end, for Sky had managed to track Warriors with Fi's dowsing abilities after a month of failure and dead ends. Dead ends that took the form of cryptic puzzles whose answers revealed nonsense that made Time grow pale and sickly. They were secrets of their missing brother being taunted by the malice, perhaps in an attempt to corrupt their view of him? It didn't work. In fact, it just strengthened their resolve to beat up the stupid lizalfos and rescue him. Their wanderings brought them to an abandoned bunker in the middle of nowhere. Sky was panting with exertion, doubled over by the time it appeared in their sights. Wind wound up giving Four a piggyback after the latter had been sent flying by a hidden bomb, since he wouldn't play such a vital role in the potential fight. They'd need Twilight for heavy hitting, powerful attacks while Time got him out, Hyrule for his healing and magical expertise, Legend for his swift reaction time and quick thinking, Sky for the holy magic his blade gleamed with, and Wild for his archery skill and unpredictable attacks. Though, Wind had to wonder, did they think he was too young to face what might've happened to his brother? He huffed, tightening his grip on Four's thighs as he propped the dazed hero up on his back. He was a hero, just like them! He could help. But... Four also needed help. And he wasn't important enough... no, no, scratch that. Wars wouldn't want him thinking like that! He needs to be happy for when his brother returns to them. And he will return, Wind knows it. When he looks over, the rest of the chain are sipping water from their waterskins, restless hands checking over weapons one final time. Their shoulders are tense with the weight of a brother's life. Time was ready to fucking murder that shadow. Though nobody could have prepared them for the sight that met their eyes. (Tw: graphic injury description, implied torture) Warriors, their collective big brother, the comforting presence beside the fire after a nightmare, was bloodied and shirtless. His body hung limp from shackles secured to the top of a cage, cuffs crusted with blood that had dried running down his arms. Whip marks marred his back, cutting deep through innumerable scars of similar shape and where his flesh had melted in a fight against a dragon. Black bruises painted his front in a cacophony of agony. His face was almost unrecognisable; gaunt yet swollen and horribly disfigured with flaky dried blood and open, seeping wounds. His eyelids hung nearly closed, though any light in his eyes was gone. His lips, cracked and vaguely swollen, appeared grey in colour. His ribs appeared visibly broken beneath purple skin drawn tight. Every bone in his upper body was visibly protruding. They could see every. Single. Bone. Despite it all, no futher life was in the musty stone coffin. "Oh, Link..." Time whispered, and blue eyes suddenly flickered open.

Anyways, I hope you like this :) it isn't that good but still, Wars whump

- sadistic anon

my god, the devil works hard but you my friend work harder. IT’S BARELY BEEN AN HOUR HOW DID YOU WRITE THAT THAT FAST??

OUGH. oUGH. WHAT THE FUCK MAN. OW??? HIT ME WITH A BRICK NEXT TIME IT’LL HURT LESS

i seriously liked your descriptions of how losing wars impacted the others. printing this out and eating it

also i will be spawning at your location because oh my god you beat the fuckin shit outta him whatd he ever do to you, go give him a hug and atone for your sins /j :(

you cooked tho. but god DAMN. OW.

[crushedsweets]

I am so curious as to what you'd think about Nina and Hoodie as a duo. They've been two of my absolute favorites (even if Brian technically isn't even a creepypasta) since I was younger and I've always loved them as a sort of big brother/little sister pairing. They are so siblings to me I adore them. What are your thoughts on the sillies..

OHHH this is actually super interesting... but also im worried i do not have a lot to say because they won't mesh very well/very much. but i will try. not super realistic headcanons i think but what do i know... <3

brian isnt very present in my story, partially bc ik some mh fans dont like the crossover very much. and by time ninas in the story, i want him+tim to kinda separate from slenderman as toby and kate take over. he's still involved and coming around since he gets horrible slender sickness(but its from the operator) if he's away too long, but he doesn't live near or befriend most of the main cast..

nina is very present in my story because i love her and she is such a good and fun representation of the fandom yk. but brian is much more realistic and late 30s man, while nina is a very cartoonish early 20s girl. theyre on very different fields character and life wise...

BUUUUUUUUUT they would still meet of course.

she'd be bubbling around the entire cast, meeting people through jeff. people initially think she's in the same vein as jeff, natalie, and toby, with a LONG list of blood on their hands influenced by the operator, so they just don't think much about it. theyre mostly surprised by how cheery she is, but the proxies are the first to find out she's just... obsessed with jeff..... so thats very off putting. brian isn't fond of it.

nina would develop some light slender sickness(again, from the operator) just by being around jeff all the time, but the operator never infected her because he didn't see her as a worthy vessel. so, she would have to come to the proxies about it. if toby isnt in the mood or busy, she'd just have to hope brian/tim are around with some pills that'll soothe the pain

brian is more likely to help. with nina, he'd be quick to take on a more protective role, trying to console her as she cries on the couch holding her head whining about static.

initial convos would go smth along the lines of "do you want some coffee ? or uh kids like hot chocolate huh... maybe tea" "i'm literally in my 20s please tell me toby has weed somewhere" "that does not help with this pain i promise" "how would you know" "haha. water it is."

brian was a major stoner back in his early 20s and nina thinks its fucking hilarious. . . she'll try to get him to smoke with her but he's rlly not interested LOLLLL.... hes like 15 yrs older than her he thinks its weird .

again, he's not around a lot, but she's always happy to bump into him. she'd be squealing n shit 'HIII BRIANNNN how r u :3' and he'd just be like :) hey nina. and then never answer the 'how r u' bc he doesnt actually wanna sit and talk .

its a good change of pace. he's been through hell and back for well over a decade by this point, everyone around him is a sad sack of shit, and he spent a long time just. fighting to be an optimistic, cool guy to hang around . . but .... like.... um..... its hard to be that kind of person after all he's been thru. something about nina just forces that sort of like..... glee out of him . its not a huge difference where he's suddenly bouncing and giggling and whatever, he's still just Some Guy. but he'll be like :) lol .

mayhaps he'd catch her trying on toby's goggles and he'd offer to let her try on his mask. but nina would fake gag and be like 'no i dont want that dirty musty nasty sack on my head' and he'd be like ?????. then he'd say she can wash it and then try it on. which.. as an older sibling.... is the type of shit i'd do just to get my sister to do smth for me that i dont wanna do LMFAOOO. she might fall for it just cuz my dear nina is the ultimate fangirl

i dunno i kinda struggled with this one just cuz in my au, they wouldnt be all that close and the Type of characters they are don't mesh very well, but i am super fond of the concept and would love to try expanding on it more

[mister-eames]

My write-along contribution to AELDWS Round 5. I took the word limit as a... lovely, helpful guide. But just a guide.

Arthur/Eames, 548 words. Prompt: Touch Starved Genre: Canon

---

“What are you wearing?”

Arthur looks down at his plaid pyjamas and woolly socks and pauses. He drops his voice, aiming for playful; for sexy. “What would you like me to wear?”

On the other line Eames growls, a gritty, gravelly sound not even a shitty phone connection can distort. “I’d like you in nothing but your own sweat.”

Arthur shifts, enjoying the mental image. “Just that?”

“Maybe some lacy knickers.”

“Maybe you could bring some back for me.”

“That’s my Arthur,” Eames replies fondly, “already fishing for gifts.”

“I wasn’t fishing,” he denies.

He was. If he’s going to be left on his lonesome for weeks he might as well get something out of it and put in an order.

“Mhmm. What are you actually wearing?”

“PJ’s,” he admits.

“The ratty ones?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…” Eames trails off, “...actually a fright more sexier than I was thinking." He sighs. "Arthur, you dog. I love peeling those off you.”

“I know."

The memory of the last time Eames had done just that surfaces. It's pleasant, until a sudden, horrible want washes over Arthur with such ferocity that his fingers ache.

The smile drops from his face.

Eames goes on, unaware. "Tell me more."

"Um," he begins, trying to think. "Well..."

Except he can't think. It’s been four weeks since Eames left for a job and Arthur's skin feels tighter, thinner with each passing day. A slow and steady gnawing becoming more pronounced, hollowing him out in odd, uneven places, rivulets and valleys of an unfamiliar need in places he didn't know he could feel it. 

Maybe it's the newness of joint home-ownership, but it's never been like this.

He closes his eyes and recalls the heat of Eames’ skin, the heaviness of his leg when its hiked over Arthur, either mid-coitus, or mid-slumber. In the dark of his imagination he can almost feel the scratch of Eames’ beard on his skin and the wet heat of his breath, the dig of his fingernails when he pokes Arthur between his ribs. 

“Still there, love?” Eames comments at the moment Arthur stands from the couch.

“Yeah. One sec, sorry.”

He narrowly avoids stepping on their cat, Morticia, on his walk over to their bedroom. Out of their closet he fishes out a large, threadbare hoodie and threads his arms through it.

Arthur has never been more glad that Eames is an enthusiastic proponent of the sniff-test. It ends up working in Arthurs favour; it hasn’t been washed since it’s last wear and it smells a little musty, and a lot like Eames. 

It’s too large for Arthur. But it’s warm. 

And it helps to abate the restless, quivering discontent under his skin at least. For that, he’s quick to forgive himself for his incredibly embarrassing behaviour. No ones around to see it anyway, except Morticia. 

“What’s that sound?" Eames queries when Arthur tugs at the zip. "Are you lubing yourself up for some dirty photos?”

“Yeah, Eames,” he rolls his eyes, returning to the couch, “that’s what I’m doing.” He picks up the remote and switches to an NCIS rerun.

"Oh my. Now we're getting to the good stuff."

He deadpans, “Uh-huh. I’m three fingers in. Ooh, baby.”

“Well, it’s the least you could do.” Eames voice is light, but drops to a whisper. “I fucking miss you something sinister, you know.”

“I’ve got something that might help with that.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Guess what I’m wearing now.”

“What?”

Warm, Arthur yawns widely. “Your hoodie.”

Eames pauses. “The ratty MU one?”

“Mhmm.”

“Fuck,” Eames swears. There’s rustling on the other end. “When I get home next week I better see you in it.” More rustling. “Can you send me a photo?”

The smile returns. He can do that.

[xxsksxxx]

Liberating the Mirage

Summary:

When an assignment goes horribly wrong, Mulder has to race against time to find Scully.

But sometimes the line between reality and illusion blurs—and it turns out there’s more than one locked door that needs to be opened.  Notes:

This is my little contribution to Fictober, a yearly event that celebrates writing and reading—and fall. All of which are good things in my world. 

Since there’s no way I can come up with a new story every day, I’ve decided to write one fic that includes all prompts from the Fictober 2023 prompt list. They’re all in bold if you want to seek them out specifically. You can find the list here: Fictober 2023

This story is complete, but to keep in the spirit of Fictober, I’m posting one chapter a day.

I hope you’ll have as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it.

AO3 | @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Chapter 1: Trouble Loves Company

Bladensburg Road, Washington, D.C. Warehouse

“Motorcycle approaching from the left,” Scully reported crisply into the mouthpiece of her microphone. She unobtrusively observed the upcoming vehicle in her rearview mirror. “Estimated time of passage: 15 seconds.”

“Confirmed,” Mulder replied, his voice tinny through the earpiece attached to her head.

She pulled the sun visor down and pretended to check her makeup in the small mirror attached to the back as the motorcycle passed her van slowly. She watched out of the side of her eye to avoid causing any suspicion, but the driver didn’t seem to pay her any attention. Mulder's car discretely pulled out of its parking slot, only a few cars down the road, and followed at a distance.

“I believe it’s our target,” Mulder’s voice crackled through her earpiece. 

“Confirmed,” Skinner joined the conversation from his car on the other side of the warehouse. 

Scully squinted against the rising sun and watched as the motorcycle rounded the corner and disappeared from view, Mulder’s car not far behind it. “Visual contact lost,” she reported into her microphone. 

“Copy,” Skinner’s voice replied promptly through the line. “Maintain position, Agent Scully, in case of a potential escape.”

“Understood,” she confirmed and leaned back in her seat. All she could do now was wait. She turned her head to keep an eye on the warehouse, making sure she wouldn’t miss Eddie Connolly if he decided to try to escape through her side of the building.

*****

Mulder pressed his back against the stonewall and moved closer to the steel door Connolly had walked through only a few moments before. He checked his gun one last time before gripping the handle and carefully pulling the door open. He squeezed through the small opening he had created and closed the door softly.

The musty smell of old wooden crates filled the abandoned warehouse. He was surrounded by boxes that were stacked to the ceiling, and everything was eerily silent. Mulder tried to make out any sounds that would reveal where Connolly had disappeared to and carefully pulled up the tiny microphone at his collar. “I’m inside. I don’t see anyone.”

Careful to not step on anything that would give him away, he moved slowly across the room. After rounding a stack of old wooden boxes, he finally heard murmuring voices. He pressed his back to the wood and carefully looked around the corner. Connolly was animatedly talking to a tall man who was leaning against a table in the middle of the room. He seemed to try to explain something to the other man. From what Mulder could tell, the other man wasn’t impressed, his arms tightly crossed while listening.

Just as he was about to raise his gun, a third person joined the group, and Mulder swiftly moved his head back to avoid being seen. He cursed silently, wondering why there were three men. Their contact had told them Eddie Connolly was going to meet with the head of the group alone.

He couldn’t make out what the three men were talking about, but their conversation grew louder and more animated, suggesting they were discussing something quite important. Mulder debated risking another glance but turned his chin down into the collar of his tactical vest instead. “Our target met with two other men. It’s getting heated,” he whispered into his microphone.

“Three men? We only knew about one other person. Can you confirm?” Skinner’s voice sounded through Mulder’s earpiece.

“Confirmed,” he whispered and slowly moved his head back around the corner— just in time to watch the tall man giving a signal to the third person. Mulder scanned him with a quick glance. He was at least 6’5 and built like a brick wall. A bodyguard? Mulder wondered just as the burly henchman closed in and swiftly seized Connolly by the throat. The tall man moved closer and bent over Connolly, whispering something. Mulder watched the man’s eyes widen, but he couldn’t hear what they were talking about. He cursed again silently. He needed to get closer.

Maybe he could sneak around the back of the crates, he wondered, while carefully retreating from the corner. He eyed the boxes stacked around him with a critical eye.

As silently as possible, he crouched down and moved behind the next stack of boxes, slowly making his way closer to the group.

Just as he was about to get close enough to hear what the tall man was telling Connolly, the bodyguard looked up and spotted him.

Mulder had only a slit second to react. He raised his gun, aiming at the burly man. “Federal agent! Stop right there! Move into the light. Hands where I can see them!” he shouted. Dimly, he registered Skinner’s voice in his ear giving orders to storm the building and for Scully to watch the exit for anyone trying to escape.

For a second, the three men froze and stared at him. Then all hell broke loose as the tall man opened fire before darting around one of the tall crates, disappearing from view.

Mulder retreated quickly behind his stack of boxes, his heart racing. He tried to calm his breathing when suddenly a shadow rounded the corner and crashed into him. The thug landed on top of him, and all the air went straight out of Mulder’s lungs. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

The other man wasn’t faring any better. He cradled his arm in his left hand and tried to get past. Mulder tackled his legs and brought him back down, swiftly turning the man’s arm behind his back and kneeling on his lower back. The henchman screamed in pain.

Just then, Skinner came running onto the scene, followed by two other agents, who immediately swarmed out to search the warehouse.

Mulder tried to catch his breath while handcuffing his suspect. The man lay grunting on the floor, no longer a threat. “Did you get Connolly and our head guy?” he asked Skinner, jumping back to his feet.

Skinner held up a hand, listening intently to his earpiece. He let out a frustrated groan and turned back to Mulder. “This one here seems to be just a thug that follows orders. We’re searching the warehouse, and Scully got the front exit covered. It’s not too late to arrest them all, let’s go!” Skinner turned around, clearly expecting his agent to follow, but Mulder was rooted to the spot, staring at his boss with wide eyes.

Scully! Mulder thought frantically. In all the chaos of the last few minutes, he hadn’t heard Scully’s voice in the mix at all. The realization hit him like a truck. Scully would’ve reported in by now. Something must’ve happened.

“Scully!” he shouted and took off towards the front entrance in a dead run.

*****

Scully gingerly lifted her hands in the air, palms facing out. “My gun’s attached on my right side,” she said, pointing with her chin, her eyes never leaving the tall man standing in the open passenger side door, aiming his gun at her.

She turned her back all the way towards the driver’s side window, facing the armed man fully and giving him her full attention. The tall man got into the passenger seat without missing a beat and closed the door without moving his eyes away from her. “Hand me your gun,” he said icily and held out his empty hand towards her, making an impatient gesture with his fingers.

Slowly, she pulled the weapon from her waist, careful not to startle him. If I can slow him down enough, backup will be here ASAP, she thought. Mulder had probably already noticed that she hadn’t reported in. All she needed was some time.

“All right. I’m handing you my gun,” she replied and slowly moved her hand with the weapon closer to his outstretched hand.

“I wouldn’t play any games if I were you,” he said calmly, completely unfazed by the fact that several FBI agents were looking for him only a few feet away.

An icy chill ran down Scully’s back. This guy was no ordinary criminal, she realized. This man had seen far worse than an observation and bust from the FBI. She shouldn’t have underestimated either of the men. He’d been clever enough to know that the front door was under surveillance. That meant he’d come through the back where Skinner and the other agents had come in to back Mulder up, she thought. He’d known they wouldn’t expect him to come towards them instead of taking the supposedly easy front exit. He’d outsmarted them all.

He must’ve seen the realization hit her because his mouth moved into a sarcastic smirk. “I see we understand each other. So if you don’t want me to shoot the first person that comes running out of that building and make you drive me out of here anyway, I’d suggest you turn on this car and drive,” he said. “And make no mistake, if you try to trick me, and we get caught, I’m taking you with me!”

Scully offered no response and shifted her gaze to the front, fully aware that Mulder might burst through that door at any second, unprepared for anyone just waiting to shoot at him. If she wanted to make sure that he wasn’t killed, she needed to get them away from here. She turned the key and the car came to life effortlessly.

“Where do you want me to go,” she asked calmly, ignoring her racing heart.

“I don’t care, just drive!” the man said, looking outside the window towards the front entrance of the warehouse. When he was sure that no one was in sight, he turned his attention back to her.

Scully expertly steered the van onto the road, driving as slowly as possible, hoping that Mulder would notice what had occurred and reach her in time. However, the man sitting next to her had different plans. “What are you doing?!” he yelled and pressed his gun right into her side. “I said drive!”

With a sigh, she pressed her foot down on the accelerator, knowing she’d have to find another way to get out of this.

*****

Mulder sprinted towards the front exit in a dead run. He threw his shoulder against the door and shoved it open. Outside, he frantically scanned the sidewalk for Scully and the green van she’d been in. It wasn’t there.

His eyes moved up and down the street anxiously, catching sight of the van just as it gained speed. “Scully!” he yelled, sprinting in the direction of the disappearing van.

He ran as fast as he could, but the car was getting further and further away. By the time he reached the next traffic light, it had rounded a corner and disappeared from view. He grabbed his knees, breathing heavily. That’s when he remembered the microphone attached to his collar. “I need help,” he shouted. “They’ve got Scully!”

After taking a long look in the direction the van had disappeared, he turned and sprinted back to the warehouse as fast as he could.

***

Thank you so much for reading. You can also find this fic on AO3.

[palladiumfragments]

modern frankensteins

i thought i heard a telephone ring. muffled, as if coming from my sister's old room. i faltered at the door but quickly snapped out of it. it's just one of its tricks, the hurt doesn't stop just because you turned your back on it but you know better now. it is an empty house, a space of susurrations, a graveyard for the last strains of our voices. it's dim and musty, all seven of its big windows are boarded up. the washed-out aquamarine paint had chipped of, the doors creak at the slightest wind, cobwebs and water stains blemished the ceiling. it's a dilapidated house after all, with mold and rot and rust clinging to it like a skin disease.

the house regonizes me. even in its slumber it made sure to let me know my presence didn't go unnoticed. i see blear figures move out of the corner of my eye, manifestations of memories half-remembered, vanishing behind moth-eaten curtains whenever i turn to look. the remains of resigned sighs pool at my feet as i go further. dust hung suspended in the bars of light thrown by the little windows above the kitchen counter. i didn't linger long in the hallway that leads to the rooms which doors were left ajar. it looks like an entirely different space now, eerily inviting and at the same time driving me out.

a few years ago, i had my fingers wrapped around a crowbar, pried out one of the floorboards to see what lies under and found the bones of the words that didn't make it out of the mouths of the women who lived here. i never indulged my curiosity about this house after that. but looking at it now, stripped of us, i see why this house have never felt right ever since. the skeleton is horribly disjointed, evident that it was built only to hold but not belong together, like body parts of six different corpses sewn together by a madman.

it's alive, and in its deathlike agony it drove the men mad, reminding them of what their fathers before them had done, coaxing them to do the same. it's in there the women saw the silhouette of rage for the first time in their lives, but no one risked another step to see its face, consequently dooming themselves to pine for their young spines forever. and the trembling children, they would become like the house. solitary despite society, possessing disfigured souls that momentarily extend to their limbs when you look long enough, and when you snuff a candle and the dark claims the tendrils of smoke as its own, their names take the shape of the monster that made them.

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3

While Day Court descended into madness, preparing for Amera’s birthday, Elain was descending into a different sort of hell. A letter had arrived from Killian, speaking the words she’d dreaded for so long.

Elain, 

Spring has been lonely without your presence. Each morning I stroll through the garden, past your crocuses and lilies thinking I’ll see you with your hands buried in the dirt. I forget you’ve left, and embarrassingly, drag tea out only to find its only the gardener. And you’re gone, locked up in a musty Day Court library.

I should have offered to train you myself. I was a fool—a fool who is in love with you. It is but another thing I should have said before you left. I imagine you agreeing to stay had I gotten on my knees and told you those words. If you’d known I’ve loved you your whole life, and have only been too cowardly to admit it, would you have stayed here with me?I’ve asked Helion Spell-Cleaver if I might represent Spring during the celebration of his mates birthday and he has agreed. I mean to tell you in person and to offer myself to you however you wish to have me. I can be whatever you like, so long as you want me.

Your ever faithful servant,

Killian 

Elain had the letter memorized. She’d read over it, certain there was some sentence she’d missed in which Killian admitted the whole thing was some horrible joke. That he hadn’t written to Helion before Elain, and he wasn’t plotting to drag her back to Spring. Elain knew Killian believed it when he said he’d be her instructor, just as she knew he’d spend the whole time trying to get into her skirts before he abandoned his tutelage entirely. 

It felt horribly selfish to go to Amera for another favor, and yet the day before her birthday, Elain couldn’t contain herself. She and Lucien had devolved into horrible squabbling, a direct result of her own frustration and inability to pay attention. Lucien had stormed out, hands in the air while declaring her utterly hopeless.

She certainly felt like it. 

She just needed to clear the air, and so Elain found Amera perched in her mates lap in a small nook while he fed her berries. It was so soft, so romantic that Elain’s chest ached. She wanted that, too. 

Helion spotted her first, offering her an unrepentant grin that was so reminiscent of his son. Helion wore it better, she thought. His eyes were kind. Lucien was always looking at her as though she were something nasty stuck to the bottom of his shoe. 

“Is everything well?” he asked in that rumbling voice of his. Elain felt strangely settled. Warm and calm. 

“Yes. I was just hoping I could speak with Lady Amera?”

“One day,” Helion murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck, “you will be only mine.”

She smiled, practically glowing as she slid from his lap. The High Lord left her at the table, giving Elain leave to occupy the opposite chair.

“Is this about a certain High Lord’s son?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed, relieved Amera already knew. “He’s confessed his love and I–”

“He what?” she replied, a hand pressed to her chest. Finally, someone understood how dire the situation was.

“Yes! He wants to get married and take over my instruction entirely, but I can’t—he’ll…I—he just wants a dutiful wife. Please—”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Amera said with wonder, her eyes as wide as saucers. “It’s just new to him, that’s all.”

Elain felt strangely betrayed. “New?”

“Being in love, I mean. He’ll settle once he gets used to it. How can I help, Elain? What can I do to make you feel comfortable—”

“Forbid him from taking me back.”

Amera blinked, confusion gracing her lovely features. “Take you where?”

Elain swallowed the urge to scream. How did she not understand what Elain was trying to say, of the risks of allowing Killian into the place to begin with. “Spring. Helion has promised me a year, but Killian—”

“Killian,” Amera interrupted, eyes glassy. She sat back in her chair, fingertips pressed against her lips. “Of course. From Spring Court. He’s in love with you.”

“I—” Who else would Elain be talking about? “Yes. He wants to get married and I don’t. He’s going to ask me and I need…I am hoping you’ll intercede on my behalf? Warn him of some unbreakable vow I’ve made, a bargain between us?”

“Of course,” Amera agreed, nodding her head like a true conspirator. “I’ll inform Helion of a bargain between us. A year in Day Court, during which you cannot leave with anyone…with anyone but Lucien.”

A decent loophole. “And in exchange I…”

“You work solely on our behalf?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. The deal hung between them, though, shimmering like golden sunlight. Elain offered Amera her hand, and the Lady took it, binding them in gold thread.

“I suppose I should have asked my son before agreeing he’ll take this on,” she said with a sweet smile. “I trust he’ll understand. All you need to know, Elain, is that in my court, females are allowed to reject a male suitor without consequence. Regardless of where they call home. If he asks, you are free to say no—the High Lord will back up your choice.”

Elain took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Perhaps you might do me a favor as well?”

Elain raised her brows, curious what the Lady of Day might need from her. “Anything.”

“Will you keep an eye on Eris when he arrives. Show him around, make him feel comfortable? If he relaxes, so will his younger brothers.” 

“I could do that,” Elain agreed. She’d have agreed to anything in order to secure Amera’s support. Elain knew the stories about Eris Vanserra. He was cruel and mercurial, his fathers right hand man. No one had anything good to say about Eris except Elain, who still remembered how he’d lept into that pond after her, saving her from a miserable drowning death.

She’d always wanted to see him again, if only to thank him. 

Elain slept soundly that night, her dreams sunny and pleasant. She woke early and dressed in one of the Summer Court fashions Arina had found for her. Elain slid the silken fabric over her body, marveling that after just a week under the Day Court sun, her skin was starting to glow, just like everyone else's. She looked tanner, her shoulders dotted with a constellation of freckles. 

She looked happy. 

Elain supposed she was, though she was lonely, too. She’d struggled to make friends, though in truth, she wasn’t trying very hard. Arina had extended an offer to show Elain the city which Elain had rebuffed. Arina intimidated her, with the easy grace with which she moved and the confidence she carried herself with. Arina wouldn’t have to bed the Lady of Day to save her from a potential suitor.

She probably would have put Lucien in his place if he was rude, too. Elain vowed she would try harder, starting right then, to make Arina like her. The cerulean dress, with its little triangles cut out of the waist, had the lowest neckline on a gown she’d ever worn, and no sleeves at all. Elain used a pretty, pearl studded headband to hold back her hair and placed little blue gems in her arched ears for effect. She painted her mouth and her eyes with just enough shimmer to be lovely without being overwhelming, and then she was off to find Eris. 

She found Lucien instead, dressed surprisingly well in a pair of well-fitted white pants. He wore, of course, nothing else, unless you counted the golden cuff around his bulging bicep, but that was pretty normal for Day. He was clearly attempting to be formal if the crown placed atop his head was any indication.

He took one quick, sweeping glance of her before turning his eyes back toward the entrance of the grand hall. “What do you need, Elain?”

“Your brother,” she replied, keeping her voice light. Lucien fiddled with a ring on his pointer finger, his face contorting in a scowl. “Your mother asked me to greet him.” Lucien turned to face Elain fully, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. He was decidedly distracting that day, though Elain couldn’t determine why. Only that scent of him—wood smoke and leather—invaded her senses in a rather visceral way.

“I thought she liked you.”

Elain wasn’t going to let him get under her skin. Not today. “Maybe she’s trying to avoid a fight.”

“Oh, that’s a certainty,” he grumbled, looking back at the arching pillars with moody eyes. “Eris can’t help himself. None of the Vanserra’s can.”

“And you, Lucien? Can you help yourself?”

He shuddered, as if the mere notion of being a gentleman revolted him. “Of course I can,” he said snappishly. “I—what is he doing here?”

Elain had forgotten Killian was coming and Lucien had been utterly unaware, it seemed. Killian strolled in, handsome as ever in a spring green jacket buttoned to his neck and immaculate black pants tucked into his riding boots. His hair hung around his tan face, a golden halo that wasn’t entirely unappealing. She’d forgotten how good looking he was and though Elain didn’t want to marry him, she caught herself wondering if convincing him to court her wasn’t the better strategy in the long run. 

Maybe she could change him. Convince him that the Spring Court was antiquated. 

Of course, that would require loving him, and Elain wasn’t sure she ever would. Killian grinned, bright and warm, as he came toward her.

Lucien stepped just in front of her before Killian reached her, russet eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

“Welcome to Day Court,” Lucien said, his face very much communicating the opposite. “Elain is working.”

“Surely she can be spared for five minutes,” Killain all but growled. Lucien squared his shoulders, an edged smile gracing his features. 

“You’ll see her tonight I’m sure.”

Killian’s lip curled over his teeth, his disdain plain. “Little Lucien is all grown up, then. I remember when you were crying in my mothers garden.”

Lucien stood ramrod straight with a good three inches on Killian despite the differences in their age. Lucien’s expression flattened. “I’ll bet you remember the same for Elain, too. How old are you, again? At least as old as her mother, right?”

Killian’s snarl of anger ricocheted around them. Elain had allowed this to go on for too long and if she wasn’t careful, Killian would think something was happening between her and Lucien. She stepped around Lucien, placing a polite hand on his forearm. 

“Killian, I—”

She gasped, momentarily overwhelmed by an image shoving its way into her mind, forcing her to bare witness. Elain’s knees buckled, dragging her to the marble. In the distance, she could hear male voices arguing, but Elain couldn’t hear them.

Screaming invaded her senses. Somewhere, a man was in pain, shouting, pleading. Elain, Elain—don’t you touch her—

The vision shifted to an Autumn wood, to Lucien in bloodied, golden armor holding a ruined animal limb in one hand. With a feral expression he turned, looking down at her huddling on the ground. He bared his teeth, dripping red and brutally sharp.

Elain screamed. Someone was holding her, moving quickly. “Stop it, stop right now,” Lucien panted, striding through the halls of the Sun Palace. His expression was ashen, his grip unforgiving. “He’s going to figure it out, you have to stop yelling, Elain.”

She moaned in pain. Elain’s knees were bruised and her head pounded. 

“What’s going on?” 

That was Helion. Elain felt Lucien set her against something soft. 

“I have to go,” Lucien breathed, running a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Helion asked a second time, gold eyes focused wholly on Elain.

“I told Killian it’s just too much sun and excitement and I think he believed me—but fuck,” Lucien swore, turning his back to Elain again. She’d begun trembling from the aftershocks of her vision. “Did you know?”

Elain swallowed hard, sitting herself up on a long divan. She was in the High Lord’s private chambers if the scent was anything to go by. “Yes.”

“Fuck,” he swore again, looking to his father who was, understandably confused. “Does he know?”

“No,” Elain said, wrapping her arms around her body. “And if he finds out…”

Helion sat gingerly on the edge of the divan. Lucien cocked his head, some of the color returning to his cheeks.

“What did you see?” he asked, ignoring his father entirely. Eain opened her mouth, closing it quickly the moment the sound of scream flooded back through her mind.

“A Seer,” the High Lord breathed. “You’ve kept it a secret.”

“No one is supposed to know,” she all but pleaded, looking from Helion to his son. Lucien’s glazed expression made her nervous.

“Lucien,” his father said sharply. It was a warning, one his son beheld immediately. Helion reached for Elain’s shin, squeezing gently. “Is your High Lord aware?”

This was the test. If she said yes, Helion might reach out to Spring, inform them of what they’d let slip, and force her into a marriage she didn’t want. But if she told Helion no, he, too, might try and find a way to keep her.

She’d been silent for too long, and the High Lord of Day was canny. He sighed a controlled breath.

“No else is to know. Not even your mother. The fewer people who are aware, the better.”

Elain didn’t feel relief at his words. Her parents had warned her of what would happen—of wars, of kidnappings, of assassinations. Elain hadn’t made it a week.

Her eyes lifted to Lucien, still staring with a peculiar look. Elain forced herself to look away. Smiling, she told the High Lord, “I’ll make apologies to Lord Killian. I’m sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused.”

She rosed, despite how her vision swam with black. She wanted to lie down again, wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep the rest of the day. Lucien pressed a hand beneath her elbow in what she supposed was his attempt from keeping her upright. 

“Can you control them?” Helion asked, cocking his head to the side. Dark hair fluttered to his shoulder, obscuring one of his piercing gold eyes. Wildly, Elain wondered if Lucien’s eyes would do the same when he became High Lord. 

“No.” What was the point of lying if the High Lord was thinking of making her his weapon. Elain wanted to pull out of Lucien’s grasp given he was so obviously his fathers right hand man. She didn’t, if only to remain on two feet. 

“As far as I know, only Day Court has hosted Seers. At least, in Prythian,” he said, his voice deep and grave. “Regardless of where they were born. It is always our privilege to have you. Consider in keeping with tradition and transcribing your visions in detail, along with if any come to pass. I could assign a scholar to you—only they would ever read them until the time of your death.”

He wanted to study her? Elain didn’t drop her smile.

“I’ll consider it.”

Helion nodded, his eyes flicking to his son. Something unspoken passed between them and then Lucien was leading Elain out, his touch feather light. It remained that way until the doors were closed fast behind them. Only then did he reach for her, dragging her with an ironclad grip toward a large pillar half shaded from the sun. 

“What did you see?” he demanded, holding her far closer than she would have liked. If Elain closed her eyes, she could still scent the metallic salt of blood clinging to his skin.

Lucien in armor, Lucien ripping something to pieces. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” she retorted, pulling her arm from his grasp. 

“You touched me,” he reminded her, drawing in deep breaths. “And then you collapsed. Tell me what you saw.”

But Elain couldn’t. She didn’t know how to interpret it and risked telling him something he shouldn’t know. Elain’s eyes drifted toward the portrait hanging behind. She could see her reflection in the sunlight and glass, her own eyes staring back at her with anger. 

Lucien shook her lightly. “Tell me, Elain.”

He looked up at him. “Why, you have a mate, my lord. I saw her, and she’s as beautiful and charming as you. A true match—”

“Elain,” he warned.

She wrenched her aching body from his fingers. “You’re so arrogant to think that vision had anything to do with you. That you were the catalyst that brought it on, or that the Mother is so interested in your fate she’d seek to warn you off your current path.”

Lucien took a step away. “So she sends a warning for you, then?”

Elain looked at the blazing anger in his eyes. All that loathing, and still it didn’t compare to how he’d been in her vision. Elain couldn’t hide her shudder.

“Yes. I think she was.”

LUCIEN: 

In all Lucien’s life, he didn’t think he’d ever been so rattled as he had when Elain had touched his arm. Why she’d done that, Lucien would never know. What he did know was the moment her fingers connected, something went taut in his chest. She’d collapsed immediately after, her skin so cold that for one sickening moment, Lucien thought she’d merely dropped dead. 

But Elain had been alive, and in the aftermath—learning she was a Seer, that it was a secret burden she’d been carrying her whole life—Lucien knew Elain had seen him. It was the way she stared at him with such unguarded horror. As if she knew the terrible, gruesome fate that was awaiting him. 

She wouldn’t say. With her usual disdain, Elain refused to tell him what she’d seen before she took off to fix her mistake with Killian. 

The worst part of all of it was not being able to tell anyone. Not Arina, who’d come to replace Elain. He still had to meet his brothers and Arina, beautiful in vibrant orange, was someone Eris wouldn’t care at all about insulting. She was pure Day, utter, burning sunlight. Eris hated everyone and everything about Day. Elain was harder to insult. Lucien was more likely to keep control of his temper if he was also trying not to embarrass his father in front of Spring.

“How long do you think they’ll make us wait?” Arina asked, examining long, polished nails. 

“Maybe they’ve changed their minds,” Lucien grumbled, turning in a circle in the middle of the hall. 

“Did you see Lord Killian?” she asked, raising her brows with interest. “He’s handsome.”

“He’s a prat,” Lucien mumbled, still annoyed about Elain’s vision. “Don’t fuck him.”

“I don’t think I could. He’s got eyes only for Elain.”

A growl slipped from Lucien’s throat at the mere mention of Elain’s name. Arina’s brows all but vanished into her hairline at the sound.

“Fighting again?”

“She is irritating,” Lucien said, not for the first time. Arina took a breath as long shadows darkened the marble floor in front of them. Whatever defense Arina might have made for

Elain Archeron died when Tanwen strolled into the Day Court palace with those sharp, cruel eyes. He’d come armed, two crossed axes strapped to the back of his red tunic. A sword hung from a belt at his hips, marking him a warrior. Lucien hated him for it. 

Cadmus and Connal had come dressed like courtiers. Lucien clocked the matching auburn hair, those russet eyes that came from his mother. His brothers were leaner, shorter, and far, far paler than Lucien. It othered them. 

Eris strolled in the very last, hands jammed into the pocket of his dark brown jacket. His hair looked windswept, as if he’d just come from the Autumn Woods on a casual stroll. Only his cheeks, bright pink from the unforgiving midday sun, betrayed Eris. 

“Baby brother,” Eris crooned as his brothers parted for him. Cool boredom dripped from his every word. “Where is mother?”

“Waiting to greet you,” Lucien replied as Arina edged away. Eris cut a glance in her direction, doing a double take when he caught sight of how lovely she was. For one flickering moment, a shock of emotions flamed in Eris’s amber gaze. Lucien was smug knowing one look from Arina was enough to silence his infuriating eldest brother. He knew Autumn Court couldn’t compare.

Eris blinked, turning back for Lucien. “I thought she’d be waiting on the front steps—”

“I’ve been sent as a warning,” Lucien interrupted, his anger already threatening to get the best of him. “By my father.”

“Ah, yes, of course. The bastard sons of Autumn threaten his carefully cultivated peace, right? If we don’t behave, he'll lock mother away for another century as punishment?”

“My father isn’t the one who does the locking up,” Lucien spat angrily. Behind Eris, Connall's hands bunched to fists. “No one wants you here but mother, and inevitably, the four of you will fuck it all up. Like always.”

Arina put her hand on Lucien’s shoulder, a warning he’d taken things too far. Eris clocked the movement, his hatred plain.

“Of course. Will you take us to her now?” Eris asked flatly. 

Lucien was spoiling for a fight. Flame crackled between them, warming his already hot blood. Lucien had but a drop of his mother’s magic, magic that flowed so strongly through Eris that Lucien recognized what he was on instinct alone. Eris had been trying to learn the depths of Lucien’s power his whole life and wondered if Eris wasn’t snapping for a little blood, too. 

Arina tried to slip off but Lucien caught her around the waist and pulled her into him. The second he deposited his brothers off to his mother, Lucien intended to get so drunk he forgot he was a prince, forgot his own name. He needed Arina for that. Only she could convince him to come back up instead of sleeping in a gutter.

Arina squirmed, so obviously uncomfortable. “Lucien,” she tried to whisper, but a soft growl from behind them silenced her. Lucien started to turn, to demand which of his brothers had demanded she quit speaking, but Lucien’s father was waiting at the end of the hall with a tight smile. His father intended to make the best of it.

“Eris,” he said, inclining his head with respect. It was loathesome to offer any kindness to Beron Vanserra’s spawn. Lucien pulled Arina back, out of the sight of his brothers now bowing to his father. Only Eris turned to look at them, his amber eyes alight with some violent emotion Lucien couldn’t place. Couldn’t name.

Didn’t want to. He turned the two of them around, shaking with hatred. Arina, too, was trembling so hard Lucien thought she might vanish. Neither said a word as Arina reached for his hand, pulling him through the open corridors toward the courtyard. The coolness of the palace evaporated in the humidity, clinging to Lucien’s skin almost instantly.

“Arina—”

“Send me to Naxos,” she breathed, looking up at him with wild, terrified eyes. “Send me to Crete. Better, send me to Night Court as emissary—”

“Arina!” Lucien gripped the tops of her shoulders, blinking as some strange scent wafted over him. It made his hair stand on end, made his blood sticky and hot. That scent was a warning to back away from her.

A warning she’d been claimed. 

They were both panting in the heat, eyeing the other with open fear. “Arina,” he whispered, trying—and failing—to think of a worse fate. “Which one?”

She pressed her palm to her mouth to suppress a scream. Her eyes flooded with tears, sparkling in the daylight.

“Send me away.”

“Which one?”

Lucien thought of Elain, of her irritating words. You have a mate, my lord. 

Had she mistaken him for Eris, then? Or had she known the entire time? 

You’re so arrogant. 

Lucien suppressed a slithering disappointment as Arina responded. “Eris.”

He burst out laughing. “Eris is foul. He has no equal—you are far superior.”

Arina wrung her hands before her, looking behind him with fearful eyes. He’d never seen Arina look like that. Not when her mother had died and she’d been left in the care of her father. Not when that male from Winter had pursued her so relentlessly there had been concern he might try and kidnap her.

Only Eris could elicit such a response. Lucien imagined Arina trapped in Autumn just as his mother had been, stuck in that miserable Forest House forbidden from ever seeing the sun. How had so many females under Lucien’s roof suddenly found themselves in danger of being trapped in terrible marriages?

“We’ll tell him we’re engaged,” he said immediately, before he could let himself regret it. He loved Arina—and he’d marry her to keep her safe. But he didn’t love Arina. And despite what he might say late at night, Lucien was holding out for love like his parents had. Even if he had to wait centuries for it.

Arina shook her head. “No. No that—no. Will your father intercede on my behalf?”

Lucien opened his mouth to assure her he would. That Helion had meant it when he’d said no female was required to be with a male she didn’t herself choose. But he knew his father regretted the tension between Autumn and Day, and both of his parents hoped to bridge that divide. 

A marriage between her eldest son and one of their scholars was certainly an easy way to create those ties. Lucien closed his eyes and forced himself to think like his fathers emissary. There was a way to navigate all of this without starting another war. 

“If we’re careful,” Lucien said, wondering what he’d trade for his best friend's happiness. “And we can find something Eris would prefer more.”

Arina didn’t seem convinced. In truth, Lucien wasn’t, either.

What male would trade all the riches in the world for his mate?

[p-artsypants]

Would You Still Love Me if I was a Worm?

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Was the declaration he made. Robin kind of figured that would have consequences, but not like this. Now they were stranded on an alien planet, isolated from each other. Robin thought this new slug-like alien was his end, until it spoke with a familiar inflection. “…not…friend…not…girl…”   

Ao3

---

This fic is based off the episode Stranded. It's also gross.

—-

“Give me space!” 

If you were to ask Robin later, he’d say he’d been a little harsh. But they were in a life threatening situation, so not that harsh. 

The fact that the alien came back and attacked the ship had been bad enough, but then when his teammates did the exact opposite of what he wanted and separated, Robin felt betrayed and frustrated. 

Now as he hung upside down, dazed and nauseous from his crash, Robin had to wonder where exactly the day went to crap. 

A very cynical part of his brain would say it was when Cyborg made that stupid joke. 

“…unless you want to stay here goofing around with your girlfriend.” 

Cyborg and Beast Boy commonly teased him about his affections toward Starfire, and he could roll with it. But he could not handle the teasing in front of Starfire. 

Feelings. The one thing he just couldn’t tackle. 

Granted, he didn’t have superpowers influenced by emotion like Raven. And Batman taught him how to harness his anger into strength and not let him go too far. 

But a crush? Anything near romantic love? 

Forget it. 

His reaction to their dumb joke had been just as immature as the joke itself. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker. “She’s not my girlfriend!” He declared. 

“I am not a girl?” Starfire had squeaked behind him. “I am not your friend?” 

And he hadn’t clarified anything. Hadn’t had the brains to retort, to reassure, to do anything but stammer and blush. 

“If I am not your ‘girlfriend’ then what am I?” 

Then the space station they were trying to save started falling apart and the alien that caused all of it returned, and they had to flee. 

He glanced at the environment monitor. Luckily, despite the outward appearance of the planet, it looked like it was hospitable. Breathable air and slightly cooler temperature. 

He kicked the window out. “Titans! Come in Titans! Is everyone okay?”

Nothing but static. 

He dropped to the ground. 

The air was musty and damp as he landed. He had landed on a fallen tree, and walked out to the end to get a better view of the landscape. 

“Cyborg?” His voice echoed. “Beast Boy?” There was no life for miles. “Raven?” He was alone.

“STARFIRE!” 

Utterly alone. 

But they had to be here, right? Hopefully. He had crashed because the alien had landed on his pod and he had lost control. The rest of them separated and flew away. Did they join back up in space without him? 

He opened his communicator, looking for their positions. There was nothing yet. 

He used his grapple to get back up into his ship and activate the beacon. Maybe his friends would be able to find his pod eventually, but for now, he would look for shelter. 

Nothing more to do than go off and see the lay of the land. 

It wasn’t long after he cleared a ridge that he saw another pod from the T-ship. 

Starfire’s. 

“Starfire!” He shouted, running toward the ship. It was still, and still smoking from the back. It didn’t look like Starfire had opened it. The window was cracked and a long crater dug through the rock where she had crashed. With the state of the ship, she could very well be injured…or worse. 

He dug a birdarang into the crease of the window and popped the pod open. 

“Starfire! Are you okay?” 

There was a vicious snarl before a horrible, ugly, black and green slug-like monster emerged and attacked. 

It had a bit of purple fabric in its mouth. 

Robin kicked it away, his foot colliding with its head. “What did you do to Starfire!?” He snarled. 

The creature let out low grunts like a pig and snorted as it recovered. 

Robin attacked again, tackling it and sending them tumbling down the ravine. 

Robin had the wind knocked out of him and only had a second to recover before the six legged beast was on him again, its pincher-like jaw snapping at him. He kicked it away again, sending the thing rolling down a hill and colliding with a hard rock.

Robin didn’t relent. He ran, slid down the hill and came into a flying kick to its chest.

The creature’s soft underbelly absorbed the hit, coating his foot in a thick green ooze. 

He punched once, then again, both limbs getting coated as well. 

He was stuck, and the creature snapped at him. 

Robin contorted and kicked it in the face, getting just enough leverage to break free and get away. But not too far away, since the goop was like glue and kept him firmly stuck to the ground. 

So this was it, huh? He had a feeling he’d die on the battlefield, but he was hoping it would be on Earth, where his friends and family could find his body and give him a proper burial. 

The creature approached him, huffing and grunting. Its pinchers clacked thoughtfully, as it grew closer. 

Robin clenched his eyes shut, preparing for the worst. 

Instead, the creature let out a long huff, almost like a sigh, and started to lick the goop off his hands and feet, freeing him. 

“Uh…” Robin said aloud, as he was able to get to his feet. 

The creature backed away slowly, then, with a very guttural and nearly incomprehensible voice said, “…end…me…” 

Robin stared in surprise. “You…you can speak? You can understand me?” 

The creature nodded its head slowly, “…end me…” 

“I don’t want to do that,” Robin declared, “you spared me when you had the chance to kill me.” 

The worm skittered around him, crawling on all six legs. Its acid green eyes squinted at him. 

“I’m looking for my friend,” Robin tried again. He gestured back up the ravine they had fallen down. “That pod you were in, that belonged to Starfire. She’s a pretty Tamaranean with red hair, wearing purple.” He swallowed thickly. “I saw that fabric on you. Please tell me you didn’t eat her.” 

The alien shifted its jaw, but said nothing. 

“Please, I need to find her. She’s important to me.” 

The creature slowly backed away, and then turned to leave. 

“Hey! Wait!” Robin called, running after. “You didn’t say if you saw her or not!” 

“...leave me…alone…” 

“I will, I just need to know what you know, please!” 

The creature stopped mid step. “...Troq…” 

Robin’s nostrils flared. “Hey! She is not a troq! You don’t know anything about her!” 

The creature huffed. “...I…am Troq…” 

“Oh.” Robin halted. “You mean, that’s your name? Or that’s what you are?” He was under the impression that ‘Troq’ meant ‘nothing’, but it could possibly mean this species of alien…which would also be an insult, he supposed. The alien was pretty hideous and gross. “My name is Robin, and I’m a human from Earth.” 

“Rob…in…” 

“Yeah! Look, maybe we can be friends? If you help me, I’ll help you.”

“...end…me…” The alien pleaded again. 

Robin shook his head. “I can’t do that. Are you in pain?”

“...so much…pain…” 

“I’m sorry. Did…did I cause that?” He thought back to the ruthless attacks he’d unleashed when he first saw the creature. 

“...yes…” 

Now he felt bad. He hadn’t known this was a sentient being. 

“I’m sorry. I…I thought you hurt Starfire. If we find all my friends, we can help you. My friend Raven can heal you.”

“...can not…” 

“We don’t know if we don’t try.” He got in front of the creature, making it halt its retreat. “But first, I need to know what you know about Starfire. Please.” 

The creature shifted its jaw again. “...I…am…”

“You are what?” He pressed, when the creature seemed to trail off. 

“...give…you…space…” The worm said then, and attempted to move past Robin. 

But Robin got in its face, looking it dead in the eye. “What did you say?” 

“...give…Robin…space…” It whimpered, shuffling away from him. 

Then it clicked. This thing was in Starfire’s pod. 

He gaped. “Star? Is that you?” 

She whimpered again, backing away from him. 

“Hey, hey,” he reached his hands out in a soothing way. “I’m your friend, Starfire. What happened to you? Why do you look like this?” 

Starfire looked around, looking for a way out, and presumably found it as she darted away. 

“Starfire!” He chased after. 

She was fast, but not very coordinated with six legs as she skittered, tripped, and slid. She let out a long whine. 

Robin caught up to her quickly. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Star.” 

“...leave me…”

“I’m definitely not! I’ve been looking for you!” 

“...ugly…”

“You’re certainly…a little different looking.” He offered.

She snorted.

“Okay, so you’re a lot different looking. But we’ve been through this before, when you went through Transformation. I’m your friend. I don’t care what you look like.”

“...not…friend…not…girl…” 

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Star! You’ve transformed into a worm and you’re still caught up on that?! Seriously?!” 

She whined again, and covered her head with her front legs. 

He sighed, wiping a hand down his face. There was no getting out of this conversation, huh? “Look, uh…’girlfriend’ means something different on Earth. It’s like…a special relationship. Boyfriends and girlfriends go on dates and stuff. You’re my friend, but you’re not my girlfriend. Does that make sense?” 

Starfire whined again, and growled, “...I am…not special…” 

Robin’s shoulders sank as he felt frustrated and a little forlorn. Starfire was hurting, and somehow transformed, but it was like trying to reason with a wall. 

Maybe he needed to change communication tactics. 

He knelt down in front of her, and rested a hand on her head. Even through the gloves she felt slimy. “Hey…Star, you are special to me. I think…whatever this is, whatever turned you into this, is clouding your mind with doubt and self-loathing. Once we get you fixed, you’ll see. Everything is fine, okay?”

Starfire didn’t answer right away, but looked up at him. Her pinchers fluttered and she let out a snort. Then she said, “...always trust…Robin…” 

He offered her a smile. “Hey, I’ll take it.” He checked his communicator again, seeing her signal faintly. “Do you have your communicator?”

She quivered and made a horrible gagging sound before barfing up her communicator. 

Robin suppressed every disgusted reaction he had, and just said, “ah, I’ll hold onto that for you.” As he tucked it into his belt, he said, “let’s go see if we can find the others. Raven might be able to figure out what’s wrong with you.” 

Starfire snorted, whatever emotion she felt clouded by her hideous form. Then she scurried on ahead, at a nice clip. 

“Hey wait!” Robin ran after to catch up. 

She turned to him. “...find friends…or wait…?”

“We’ll find them, but let’s travel together.”

“...must we…?” 

“Uh, yeah?” He asked, a little offended. “They won’t recognize you. I didn’t. You don’t want to travel with me?” 

“...give…Robin space…” She said again, trudging on. 

Robin quickly caught up with her, but didn’t stop her. 

“I’m sorry if that hurt you. I was panicking and needed to think about escaping the space station. I don’t need space anymore. I need my friend.” 

“...not friend…” 

“Yes, you are!” Robin shouted, honestly a little harsher than was necessary. “In fact, I’d say you’re my best friend!”

“Do not…believe you…” 

“Ouch. Why would I lie about that?” 

“...try to…save my feelings…too late…” 

Robin had to remember that whatever form this was was extremely pessimistic. 

Heck, he’d probably be pretty depressed if he was a worm. 

“Well, I’m not lying. I’ll find a way to prove it to you.” 

“...does not…matter…” 

He rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe walking with Raven would have been sunnier. 

He gave her some time in silence, as it was hard enough to find something to talk about. This form didn’t allow her to freely communicate either. 

“I hope we find the others…and soon,” he muttered. 

“...silence…” Starfire said, quietly. “...ground…unstable…” And she carefully started stepping with purpose over the slightly glowing surface. 

Robin mimicked her movements, his brain still wrapped up in Starfire’s predicament. There was plenty he didn’t understand about alien biology, but he couldn’t imagine that Tamaraneans spontaneously transformed into worms. 

Did they?

“Look, Starfire—” 

Ah right, the ground was unstable. 

Robin screamed as a burst of flames and gas exploded under his feet and he was sent soaring across the landscape…right towards a crevasse filled with hot pink lava. 

He was only saved from certain death by a slimy purple appendage wrapping around his waist and yanking him to safety. Once on solid ground, he caught his breath and realized the appendage was Starfire’s tongue. 

He decided not to comment on how gross that was, and instead said, “thanks, I thought I was done for!” 

Starfire grunted, and started waddling away from him. 

He only sped up to keep pace with her. “So…are you still able to fly?” 

“No,” she spat. 

“And no starbolts?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s fine! I can protect you!” 

“I…almost killed you…” She hissed. 

He came up short, and then chuckled. “True. You don’t need me to protect you. I guess…you never really did, huh? You’re stronger than me, and you can fly. You’ve caught me more times than I can count.”

“...you are…valuable ally…” 

Robin felt his heart shrivel. ‘A valuable ally’ was how he felt about Tram, Aqualad’s aquatic partner. 

She kicked him out of the friendzone and into the Tram-zone. Harsh! 

The barren wasteland they traveled didn’t get any less treacherous, and there was still no sign of the other Titans. Robin feared the worst. Were they trapped here forever? Would Starfire remain like this? 

A plume of orange smoke erupted from the ground, obscuring Starfire from his sight. 

“Star?” He called out, moving to where he had last seen her, but finding a drop. He followed the edge, keeping his eyes on the plume. When it finally cleared, he saw Starfire standing maybe 50 feet away, on the other side of a ridge. The bottom was dark and deep. 

“Starfire!” He shouted to her. 

She turned and stared at him, nervously shuffling her many feet. He had a horrible feeling she was going to bolt. She would run and he’d lose her, and maybe never see her again. 

“I’m coming over!” He withdrew his grapple line, and shot it into the rocks behind her. Then he simply glided over to her. “We shouldn’t get separated.”

Before she could respond, the ground shook beneath their feet, before giving out. 

As Robin fell, he twisted and turned, looking for a way to safety. Nothing but sheer cliffside and his spent grapple line disappearing rapidly above him. 

It seemed like Starfire would be his savor again as her tongue wrapped around his waist and he was pulled against her with a slimy splat. 

She scurried up the rock face like a lizard, keeping him firmly tucked to her sticky underbelly with her front legs. Then she darted into a cave, where the entrance caved in immediately after them. Then they were alone in the dark.

“...am sorry…” She pried him free and dropped him, dripping with goop, onto the cave floor. 

Robin suppressed a gag and a shutter. “Uh…don’t be. You saved my life.” He attempted to shake the goop free. 

“I have…stained your suit…”

“I have others. It's fine, Star.” 

She grunted, not believing him. 

Since all his gadgets stuck to his gloves, he simply peeled them off and dropped them on the ground, then he was able to pull his communicator out for faint light. 

The cavern wasn’t very big, but thankfully contained some old, dried tree roots that would burn fine. Besides that, there didn’t seem to be any other way out. 

“Looks like we’re stuck here.” 

Starfire whined again. 

“Well, for now,” he added, trying to be optimistic for both of them. “The ship should pick up our communicators when Cyborg gets it up and running.” 

“...leave me here…” 

“Not happening,” he said without hesitation. He got to work collecting firewood, made a pile, and lit it using one of his emergency flares. While he did all of this, Starfire just sat a few feet away with her back to him. 

“Do…you want to come closer?”

“No.” 

He sighed. This was not going well. It was going quite bad, actually. It was one thing to be stranded on an alien planet, but if Starfire had been in her normal form and able to communicate like usual, he wouldn’t have worried at all. They were unstoppable together! 

But this was…different. This whole dynamic was wrong. He hated it. And he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it. 

Just then, a new thought occurred to him. One that probably should have crossed his mind earlier, but his thoughts were always a little jumbled when it came to Starfire. 

“Star…do you know what transformed you into this?” 

Her answer made dread coil in his stomach. “...yes…”

He clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Right. Of course she did. And if he had bothered to ask instead of just assume, maybe this would have been solved a few hours ago and they could have had a pleasant search instead of this awkward…whatever it was. 

“So, what happened? How can I help?”

She glanced at him with her acid green eyes. “...not friend…not girl…”

He groaned. “Starfire! We are sooo far past that!” He didn’t want to yell at her, but he was certainly ready to. 

“...not understand…”

“Okay, where did I lose you? What do you not understand?”

“...no…Robin…not understand…” 

Well now he felt awful. He sighed again. “You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand and it makes me really frustrated. I want to help you Star. I don’t like seeing you like this. So just…” he sat on a rock by the fire, and took a long deep breath. “Just tell me what’s going on.” 

Starfire whimpered. 

“I’m sorry I was short with you. I will just listen, and I won’t judge.” He folded his arms over his knees and just waited. 

Eventually, Starfire crept a little closer. “…Tam…rean…” 

“Tamaraneans?” 

“…yes…powers by…feeling. Fly joy…strength confi…dence…” 

He nodded in understanding. He’d seen Peter Pan as a kid. Happy thoughts equal flight was not a foreign concept. 

“...feelings…emotion…is everything.”

“And a strong enough emotion can change you?”

“...Tam…reans…love once. Mate for…life. When love…rejects…” she whimpered, bowing her head. “...heartbreak…chaos…” 

“Wait,” Robin held his hands out. “Wait wait wait…let me make sure I understand this. You’re saying that Tamaraneans…love once? Like, they only fall in love one time in their whole life?”

“...yes…”

“And if the person they fall in love with rejects them, the heartbreak they feel causes chaos?” 

She nodded with a grunt. 

“But how did—?” It took a second but he got it. “ME?!” 

She shuffled backwards, awkwardly. “…Robin said…not friend…not girl…broke heart…”

“So you literally became something that’s not a friend or a girl.” He groaned. “Starfire…you’re in love with me?” 

“...sorry…” Acid tears rolled down her hideous face and sizzled on the ground. 

He fought for words for a long time, because on one hand, he was thrilled. Elated even. She loved him! It wasn’t that surprising, given how close they were and the amount of teasing that came from Beast Boy and Cyborg (it had to be prompted by something) but to hear it! She loved him, before anyone else! He, who was a little short, ill tempered, and job obsessed. 

On the other hand, it meant that this was all his fault. His inability to talk about his feelings, his hesitation to clarify the misunderstanding, and his wildly immature reaction to Cyborg’s joke. He could have laughed it off. He should have just ignored it, but because he made the bold and angry declaration, ‘she’s not my girlfriend!’ of course Starfire would feel rejection. 

“Starfire…” his shoulders sagged. “I didn’t know.”

“...did not want to tell…happy being on Earth…happy just being…Titan…” 

“You were never going to tell me?”

She shook her head. “...heartbreak…dangerous.” 

He threw his head back with a groan. He felt like the absolute scum of the earth. “What do we do to fix this?”

“...cannot…”

“So…you’re stuck like this? There’s nothing I can do?”

“...if I…kill you…” she whimpered. “...but cannot…will not…”

His eyes widened. “That’s why you attacked me at the pod. But then you couldn’t go through with it.”

She laid on the ground and covered her face with her front legs. “...still love…even now…” 

Tears welled up in his eyes. He hated to admit that this was killing him, but it was. He shook his head, resigned. “I’m such an idiot, Starfire. Even if I told you right now that I love you too, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

She whined loudly, the sound akin to a sob. 

“I’m so sorry. The truth is that I…really care about you. Like...you’re the first thing I think of in the morning, and the last thing before I fall asleep.”

Starfire lifted her head to look at him. 

“Our relationship is…probably the most important one I have in my life. Yes, I love our friends and I consider them my family, but you…you’re extremely special.” 

She crawled closer, her eyes still dripping acid. 

“I’m so out of my depth right now,” he confessed. “I’m not good at talking about my feelings and stuff. Batman wasn’t good at it. So we never practiced.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”

She crawled ever closer, making little huffing sounds. “...please…keep going…” 

He patted his thigh, inviting her closer. 

She rested her head on his leg. 

Even though she was gross and slimy and her hide had a weird texture, Robin rested his hand on her head and started petting her. He simply refused to be repulsed. Just like he refused to be afraid when they first met. 

“I think I always knew you were special to me,” he stated. “When you kissed me when you arrived on Earth, I think it left a pretty big impression on me. After that, I found myself seeking you out. I enjoyed spending time with you. I liked showing you all that Earth had to offer. I liked listening to your stories of Tamaran. I was…sensitive to you. I knew when Blackfire came to visit that things weren’t okay. I kept an eye on you, because I didn’t want to lose you. I almost did…” he swallowed. “That fight was amazing to watch. You were so focused, so resolved to take her out, it just took one bolt. It was…awesome. Everytime I watch you fight I’m amazed. You’re the strongest girl ever, and you’re really graceful when you fly.” 

She released a low moan, and he realized talking about her ability to fly was probably a sore spot at the moment. 

“Star…I’m not a perfect person. I think I’m far from it. I’ve done a lot to hurt you and the others. I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you loving me…” he gnawed on his bottom lip. “There was this moment that has always stuck with me. It was during that battle while I was Slade’s apprentice. You and I were squared off. I had that laser, and you had a bolt aimed at me. I couldn’t shoot you. I just couldn’t. I was silently begging that you would shoot first so I wouldn’t have a choice.”

His voice warbled. “But then you dropped your hand. You said, ‘I cannot live in a world where we have to fight. So if you are truly evil, do what you must.’” He shook his head, new tears coming to his eyes just remembering it. “You were willing to die. You would have rather died than hurt me. I shared that sentiment, but it wasn’t until I infected myself with those nanobots that I was able to act on it. But that’s when I—-” 

“Rob…in…?” 

His lips twitched as he held back a sob. This vulnerability was uncomfortable, but Starfire needed it. So he’d push on. 

“That’s when I knew. I knew I wanted to be with you, somehow, forever. It may have been a crush, or maybe the beginning of love. I don’t know. I hadn’t felt like that before. Nothing to compare it to.” 

He wiped just under his eyes with his free hand. “I think Cyborg figured it out first. He kept teasing me about being jealous when Aqualad or Speedy talked to you, or when you got betrothed to that gurgle-what’s his face. And he was right! I was jealous!” 

“…didn’t need to be…” 

“I know that now!” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I wish I had known.” 

In hindsight, it was actually pretty obvious she had feelings for him. She always sought him out first. She was quick to fret over him in a fight.

How many movie nights had she ‘accidently’ fallen asleep on his shoulder? She was always the one that begged him to come out of his office to eat or spend time with them. 

She made sure he was safe, healthy, and happy. Is that not what love boils down to?

And he constantly took advantage of that. Instead of the gratitude she deserved, he gave her grief. Even now, being the person that he was caused her great pain. 

“I’m so sorry…” He cried. “I did this…”

“...Robin is good…at being mean…to Robin…” 

“And you were always so good at stopping me from doing that. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. It might actually destroy me…” He saw it all unraveling, just like she had relayed from the future she had seen. His friendships falling apart, and he becoming a carbon copy of Batman; brooding, obsessed, and alone. 

“We’ll just have to adapt,” he said stubbornly. “So, you’re a worm now. You still kick butt!”

“...Robin…” 

“The others will just have to get used to it. And to the rest of Jump, you’ll be my lizard-alien girlfriend. They already think we’re together, so it’s not that big of a stretch.” 

“...Robin…” she grunted. “...this body…hurts. It is…unnatural…” 

He used his hands to wipe away her tears, but when he found them to burn his flesh, he used his cape instead. 

“...when the others…find us…please…end me…” 

“I…I don’t know if I can do that,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I want to make all your pain go away. I want to fix all of this, but…I can’t kill you, Starfire.” 

More burning tears fell. 

“I know I’m being selfish. All I ever do is hurt you.” 

“...untrue…”

“Well, it certainly feels like it. And right now, I want to see if there’s something else that can be done. Maybe Raven can help. I want to try everything we can first.” 

“...alright…always trust…Robin…”

He clenched his eyes shut, guilt swirling through his veins. “Can I hold you until they find us?” 

“...am…disgusting…”

“I don’t care, Star! I don’t care!” He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her head to his shoulder. 

She was cold. There was no warmth to this hug. She secreted a foul smelling ooze that coated his arms the longer he touched her. Her acid tears dripped on his shoulder and burned through his cape and tunic, right down to his skin. 

He winced in pain. 

“…repulsive…” 

“Do you not want me to hold you?” 

She didn’t say anything, unwilling to lie. She was in pain, emotional turmoil, completely unable to love herself. Being held by the man she loved was the smallest favor she could ask for. 

“I wish I had told you months ago,” he lamented. “Romance, dating, that all scares me. I think Batman did it to me on purpose. He always said that love is a weakness, and that a girlfriend would be used against me. I was scared.” 

Starfire made a little trilling noise. 

“But it’s so stupid, because our bad guys tried to target you to get to me anyway. Not that they were very successful since you kick butt. But it was like I had the weakness of loving someone without the benefits of getting to enjoy…you know, romance. There are so many places I wanted to take you, just you, but I didn’t know how to ask without it sounding like a date. We could have held hands, or k-k-kissed or whatever the Tamaranean equivalent is!” He sighed. “Bruce made it seem like falling in love is the scary part. He’s totally wrong. This is the scary part. I could have spent the rest of my life learning about you and falling in love with your quirks. But losing you? Imagining what comes after? No, this is the scary part.” 

“…Bruce…?” She asked. 

He was surprised that’s what she chose to comment on. “That’s Batman’s name. Bruce Wayne.” 

“Oh…” 

“And my name is Richard Grayson, Dick for short.” 

“…I know.” 

“…you did? When did—how did—?” 

“…first met…lived with you…before tower…saw mail…your secret…I keep.” 

“Thank you. It means a lot.” 

“…what is John?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“…Rich…ard John. What is…?” 

“Oh. John is my middle name. I guess Tamaraneans don’t have those. John was my father’s name. My mom's name was Mary.” 

“Pretty name…” She sighed. “...gone?”

“Yeah, they’re both gone.” Then he realized that her curiosity never left. Even in this painful slug-worm form, she still wanted to learn.

Or maybe it was just because it was him. Any opportunity she had to catch a glimmer of what hid behind his mask, she took. 

So he took the mask off, dropping it to the floor. Whatever came after today, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to give Starfire anything and everything she wanted. 

He told her everything. His life story, his tragedies, his cherished joys, his darkest secrets. At first, it was uncomfortable. It was like confessing a crime, but the longer he spoke, the easier it became. The truth poured out of him like a fountain. 

His fears on the field with Batman, his insecurities, his likes, dislikes, anything he could think of. 

“...do not need…to share all this…” 

His gentle petting of her gross hide had progressed into a massage, as he hoped it would ease some of her pain. “Sure, I don’t need to, but I want to. Because I trust you. I’ve always trusted you to catch me on the field, or perform a maneuver when I call it…if I can trust you in a situation where lives are at stake, there’s little room for error and very little time to think…why shouldn’t I trust you with everything else? You’ve had my heart for a long time, Star, and you’ve taken good care of it. Better care than I have. I know I am completely safe with you.” 

He swallowed and exhaled as the last little bit of truth came out. “When I’m with you, I’m home.” 

Her reaction was not what he was expecting, or wanted. She cried out in pain and writhed away from him. 

“Star! Star, what’s wrong?” 

She didn’t answer as she snorted and grunted and contorted on the ground. 

He hovered nearby, his hands reaching for her, but not quite touching, as he didn’t know what to do. He grimaced as she cried out again. 

“I’m so sorry,” he cried. “I don’t know what to do!” 

Slowly, she stopped wriggling, and laid still on the ground. 

“Starfire?” He breathed. 

There was no movement. All the acid green coloring to her eyes and mouth faded, until she was all a dull dark green. 

Robin swore as he slumped back against the rock. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. Not now, when all the pieces fell into place. When he finally felt peace, when he finally figured out what he needed and what he so desperately wanted…it was gone. She was gone. 

He buried his face in his hands as the tears came. Bitter tears of searing loss that were painfully familiar. Tears of losing someone you loved and not being prepared for it. A lesson he didn’t learn from. 

He didn’t cherish her enough. Didn’t love her when he had the chance. 

Stupid and foolish and cruel and—

There was a crackling sound. 

It came from her body. Something was shifting under the skin. 

“Oh, this just keeps getting worse, huh?” He lamented. 

A fist punched itself free of the confines of the worm, a humanoid hand with sun kissed skin. 

“…Starfire?” Robin squeaked. 

Another hand ripped the slimy black skin away, and a head with red hair emerged. She had her back to him, but he knew those shoulders. 

Starfire shook her arm, flinging some strands of green goo away from her. “I wonder if this is how it feels to be a freshly molted Tomethean fly.” 

“Star…?” he asked again, crawling towards her. 

Starfire whipped her head around to stare at him. “...Robin…” She said, just as softly. 

He knelt at her side and withdrew a birdarang to cut away the rest of the worm-carcass. She was completely naked, but he tried not to dwell on it. 

“I thought…” she whispered. “…I did not…” Her lips trembled as she tried to collect her thoughts. 

“It's alright now, Star,” he wiped some slime off her cheek. “You’re okay.” 

“Robin…” she sobbed. “I did not know it could be reversed!” 

He held her face tenderly. “I’m glad it was,” he smiled at her softly. 

She self-consciously pushed her goopy hair back and covered her chest with an arm. “Surely, I am still disgusting and you do not need to touch me until I have had a proper bath.” 

“Actually,” he grinned. “I think you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Really?” She stared at him, those beautiful green eyes sparkling like emeralds. 

“Yeah,” he pulled her forward so they could touch their foreheads together. “You’re out of this world.” 

She giggled, and rested her hands on his shoulders. “On this planet, we are both aliens.” 

“Hey, I guess you’re right.” As he wiped more goop off her face, he realized it didn’t smell foul like the slime earlier had. And it dried rather quickly, like Aloe Vera.

“All those things you said, it was all true?” 

“I meant every word, Star. I love you. I want to be with you. I want a future with you.” He cringed slightly. “As long as you want that. I’d understand if you had mixed feelings or needed time after all of this.” 

“Robin, if you can say you love me after seeing me in this most foul state, then I shall certainly take you up on that offer.” 

He pulled her into a tight hug, a hold so tight it would have hurt any other woman, but Starfire just gleefully returned the hug. He’d savor the bruises for later. 

“Come on,” he scooped her up into his arms and lifted her out of the remains of her cocoon. Then he walked them back over to the rock and sat with her in his lap, keeping her close. He unhooked his cape and draped it over her. “I know it’s not much, but at least you’re partially covered.”

“A state of undress does not bother me,” she said casually. “In fact, it is a sign of affection on Tamaran to have skin to skin contact.” 

“O-Oh?” He squeaked. 

“Yes. Your lip contact is just used for language assimilation, and then of course, copulation is used solely for reproduction. Of course, I am not adverse to these practices if it is something you wish to partake in. I am sure that with you, I would find pleasure in most things.” 

Robin felt his face color several shades. “Well…the uh…copulation thing…let’s not worry about that for a while.” He rested his bare arm on her stomach, his hand slightly massaging her side. “How else do Tamaraneans show physical affection?”

She became shy, a cute blush dusting her cheeks. “We…touch our tongues together. Though humans have much smaller tongues than we do, I imagine it will be difficult.” 

“We have a similar practice, actually,” he gently bonked his forehead against her temple. “You may have heard of it as French kissing, or making out.” 

“Oh! Yes! I have heard that on the television! Also, Beast Boy once told me a joke about it that I did not understand.” 

“What was the joke?” 

“He asked if I had ever heard of Australian kissing. I said I hadn’t, and he said it was like French kissing, but down under.” 

Robin scoffed. “That’s so crude. He should have known better than to say that to you.” 

“But I still do not understand it.” 

He sighed. Maybe the real joke Beast Boy told was imagining this exact scenario. “Australia is commonly called ‘Down Under’. The joke is that an Australian kiss is a tongue kiss…down below, instead of on the mouth.” 

Her eyes went comically wide. “Are you suggesting that your people have tongue to gential contact?” 

“...yes?”

“I cannot imagine that would be sanitary.” 

He chuckled. “We do a lot of gross things.” 

“Perhaps we shall try it sometime, and I will change my mind.” 

He sputtered as he blushed harder. “Again, we’ll worry about that later.” 

Starfire had her arms around his neck. She reached a hand up to hold his face. “Another form of affection we have is prolonged eye contact. I will admit I tried to do this often with you, but your mask…” 

“I’ll try to have it off when we’re alone.” He offered. 

“Your eyes are so very beautiful. I am grateful you allowed me to see them.” 

“Thank you.” I could say the same about your breasts, he thought. “Your eyes are pretty too.” 

Starfire just sighed happily and batted those big green eyes at him. 

He gazed into them lovingly for a while, and then begrudgingly broke contact. “Hold on. Now that you’re okay, I should probably check to see if the others have gotten any signal yet.” 

Starfire rested her head on his shoulder, embarrassed. “I had forgotten.” 

“You forgot?”

“I was caught up in the peril of being a worm, and then the euphoria of being loved in return.” 

“Well, when you say it like that, I understand completely.” He kissed her temple before he took out his communicator. Thankfully, there was a new blip on the screen, marked as Cyborg. He called to see if they could get through. 

Starfire quickly put his mask on for him. 

“––bin? Tha–you?”

“Cyborg? Can you hear me?”

“Kinda fuzzy. —fire with you?”

“Yes, Starfire is with me.” 

“BB—me. Fixin’ —ip. We’ll meet up—done. Might be—while.”

“Have you heard from Raven?” 

“Not yet.––location on ship. She’s not––far from us.” 

“Okay. We’ll sit tight for now.”

Robin very clearly saw Cyborg and Beast Boy smile smugly on the other side of the screen, before Cyborg sang, “have fun with your girlfriend!” 

Robin just smirked back and said, “thanks! I will!” Then he turned the communicator to Starfire’s face, and kissed her fully on the mouth before ending the call. 

She squeaked as he made contact, before she melted into the kiss. 

He attempted to pull away, but she held him firmly in place, deepening the kiss and carding her fingers through his hair. Oh yeah, Robin thought. I could definitely spend the rest of my life getting used to this.

[triforce-of-mischief]

[@batrogers requested b squeezing a's hand like crazy, terrified of letting go.]

[this is a followup to all my teeth, and includes references to recent mouth trauma.]

****

Minish hated this place. They wanted to get away from the musty stable, with the chains still hanging on the wall, and never have to encounter those horrible people again. Every swallow and movement of their just-reformed tongue was still agonizing, and they wished it would heal faster.

They were lucky their natural magic meant that they didn’t lose their tongue entirely.

Looking at the bridle and its spiked bit made them dizzy, and they pressed close to Ordon so they didn’t have to see it as he led them outside. They didn’t even want to be around the others yet, especially not Chief (who had reminded Minish exactly why they didn’t trust him), and Ordon and Minish were left alone as the rest of the group discussed where they should go next.

Ordon’s attention shifted, watching Prince as he signed something, and Minish made a nervous sound. They lowered one hand from where they were fretting at their mouth and grabbed Ordon’s hand, afraid that he would leave them. Ordon glanced down at Minish, smiling as he closed his hand around theirs.

“I’m right here,” Ordon assured them. “You okay?”

Minish nodded slowly, feeling their tail twitch anxiously. They would need to hide it under their robes again if they went back through the town…

They saw Chief, talking quietly to Hateno, and almost choked as they remembered too late that they still couldn’t hiss. They squeezed Ordon’s hand hard, for balance and comfort, and the older man gave them another worried look.

“Do you want up?” Ordon asked, and gently lifted Minish when they nodded again.

Minish wrapped their tail halfway around Ordon’s waist and buried their face in his shoulder, keening softly. Maybe, with their friend holding them tight, they could forget how much everything still hurt.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Congrats on your milestone! I just started following you ☺️ I would like to request an Edwin short story - maybe a picnic around the time Edwin had to visit Win to repair his damaged arm before the final showdown, or whatever inspires you.

Thank you @mistresslrigtar ! And tysm for both the follow and the prompt! <33 This is my first time writing these two so fingers crossed that I did ok!

————————

It is a treacherously beautiful day.

Ed sets down the basket in his hands and flops beside it. The sky spread out above him is robin’s egg blue. Soft grayish white clouds bob lazily upon it. The breeze is soft, gentle. It smells of spring rain and fresh grass.

Ed inhales the scent, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment.

Here beneath the warm sun, he can almost forget what is on its way.

Promised Day. A day of death.

The very thought makes his stomach turn. Even with all the skills and manpower in the world this could go horribly wrong. And they definitely do not have either of those.

Their team is small and the opposition is monstrous.

…literally, Ed thinks with a dry chuckle. Against beings like Pride and Wrath the chances of their failure are far, far higher than that of their success.

And the costs are so high. He opens his eyes just slightly, staring through the slits at the automail hand he holds up to the sky. If he and Al don’t manage this, they will lose everything.

Their friends, their family, their home, their chance at getting their bodies back and their very motivation to do so.

He – Ed swallows against the lump in his throat – he will lose her.

“Ed!”

As if she has heard his thoughts from afar, Winry’s voice carries across the lawn.

“You forgot the blanket!”

“What?” Ed shoves himself up onto his forearms, frowning. “Why do we – oof!”

The object in question comes careening off of the porch and comes down upon him. For a moment the world is narrowed to gray fabric and a nose-clogging musty scent. Then, he manages to tackle the hefty thing to the ground.

Winry has walked down the stairs by that point and is standing in front of him when he scowls up into the sun. He pointedly ignores how her hair glows in its golden rays.

“Did you have to chuck it at my head?!”

“You can’t have a proper picnic without something to sit on.”

She grabs the blanket out of his hands. With a hearty shake, she sends it floating down to the ground.

“Did you get the sandwiches?”

Grumbling under his breath, Ed reaches for the basket.

“Yeah, yeah I got them.”

Now that he thinks about it, maybe suggesting a picnic was not the best idea. He’d believed it would be a great way to get out of the dark, stuffy house and get to spend some time with his best friend soak up some sunshine before it all goes down. And it still is, probably. Or it would be if Winry wasn’t being so nagging.

She takes the food he hands her and sets it out on the blanket. Then, she pats the spot beside her.

“Why’re you sitting over there in the grass? Come sit with me!”

Sighing, he drags himself up off of the ground and shuffles the two inches it takes to reach the blanket. It’s sizable enough for two people to sit on it, but only if they are seated closely. And when Ed sits down, he finds his shoulder brushing up against Winry’s.

Instantly, his cheeks heat. He can feel her warmth through the sleeve of his shirt. The smell of her wafts to his nostrils — automail grease and the hearty bar soap Granny always buys.

It is a familiar scent that makes something twist painfully inside of him. A knot he didn’t fully register being there wound tighter, begging to be undone.

She smells like comfort and safety. She smells like home.

“Ed? Are you okay?”

Winry is looking at him, her face so close to his that if he wanted to he could lean forward just a bit and…Ed’s cheeks grow even hotter. He must be as red as his coat by now.

“What?” His voice cracks at the end, squeaking slightly. He shakes his head, clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Definitely fine.”

Desperate to distract himself, he grabs his sandwich and takes a bite. It works about as effectively as reciting the periodic table.

“You’re thinking about the Promised Day, aren’t you?”

Ed pauses mid-chew, turning to Winry. She is gazing down at her own sandwich, long strands of golden blonde hair hiding her face. But the tension in her shoulders tells him all that he needs to know.

She is as scared as he is…and trying desperately not to be.

She is as scared as he is and yet, she believes in him nonetheless.

That knot within him clenches again, harder this time. Ed gnaws his lip.

“You’re leaving for Amestris tomorrow.” She raises her head, looks at him. A small, sad smile lifts her lips. “Right?”

Ed gazes down at his lap. His shoulders hunch slightly. It feels as though an immense weight sits upon them. Far more than even that of solely regaining he and Al’s bodies.

He sighs. “…yeah.”

It is quiet for a moment. Then, her hand finds his. She squeezes and he drags his eyes up to hers. Gold meets blue, fire and fear in both.

“You’re gonna win, Ed!” She says, voice tight with emotion and determination. “I don’t care what doubts are in that head of yours. I know you will! You’re gonna save the world and get you and Al’s bodies back!”

Ed swallows, hard. His throat is horribly tight. His stomach is a mess of butterflies.

But Winry’s hand is warm and steady in his, a comfort and a reassurance. The callouses upon it tell of the lives she has saved.

…his included.

Ed sets down his food and places his other hand over the top of their entwined ones. Tentatively, he rubs his thumb over her skin. He can’t feel her with this one — his automail is as unreceptive as Al’s armor. But his every sense is alive anyway.

They are so close now that it’s agonizing.

“I want…” He breathes in, breathes out. He is certain that his grip is horribly clammy. “Winry I…”

It is pure torture. The words won’t come. Ed shakes his head.

Why is he so bad at this?

He looks at Winry and she looks back. He feels paralyzed by her gaze.

“Yeah, Ed?” She cocks her head. “What is it that you want?”

You.

The thought pops into his head before he can stop it, taunting like Riza’s voice proclaiming his love. His entire face flushes red.

“Ed?” There is a question in those beautiful blue eyes now, one Ed can’t seem to answer.

But there is something he has to do regardless. Because he might not be alive to do it later.

He steels his resolve, leans forward, and kisses her.

Winry makes a little surprised noise. And Ed wonders if maybe she doesn’t want this after all, if maybe he’s overstepped and messed everything up and this will be one of the last memories Winry will have of him — Ed being an absolute idiot.

But then she is leaning into him and her hands are free from between his and they are on his face instead, cupping it as though he is something precious to her. Something more important than even the automail she adores.

He brings his hands up too, brushing her hair behind her ears, brushing his thumbs lightly on her cheeks.

They only pull back when they are both breathless. And then, they merely sit for a moment, foreheads pressed together, both blushing madly and grinning like they have already won the coming battle.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d do that,” Winry says, at last, matter of factly.

Ed sits back with a start. His eyebrows dip into a frown.

“You’ve been waiting for me to kiss you? For how long?!”

Winry shrugs. “Since your promise at the train station.”

Ed gawks. “You’ve known since that day?! And-and you didn’t — ”

She doesn’t let him finish.

When they separate the second time, it is with even more reluctance than before. Somehow this has made his leaving all the more terrifying, and certainly more painful.

And it seems Winry feels that too.

“Come back to me, Edward Elric,” she whispers, as they sit close beneath a smiling sky, food forgotten in the rush of this moment.

And though he has no way of guaranteeing it, Ed promises that he will.

[alicewritingstories]

Febuwhump Day 2: Solitary Confinement

CW: Hallucinations, confinement, starvation, dehydration

AO3

---

When Twilight stepped out of the portal, he wondered if he had. The space on the other side was completely dark, all the darker compared to the sunny field he'd been in before. It was disorienting and he stumbled slightly as he stepped aside, hand outstretched to check for obstacles, to make way for Four, who had been behind him.

The silence stretched. No sound of anyone following him through the portal.

"Four?" Twilight called softly. His voice echoed back to him, but otherwise he was met with absolute silence. His heart rate started to pick up with anxiety. What was going on? Had something happened on the other side of the portal?

He tried to step back towards it, his hand outstretched again. It was impossible to walk back through a portal, but he hadn't gotten this far by not trying things anyway.

No sign of any of his brothers.

No sign of the portal.

Normally if he drew too close to the wrong side of a portal he would feel a prickling in his skin, growing to something more painful if he kept trying. As he waved his hand around in the dark, though, he felt nothing. The portal had closed.

"Four?" he called again. "Time? Wild?" Legend had gone through before him. "Legend? Anyone?"

Nothing. He was alone.

The absolute darkness was starting to make him dizzy and he stepped carefully away from where the portal should have been until his hand met a stone wall. While not especially encouraging, it was blessedly solid. He leaned on it with a sigh, letting his head hang.

What now?

Well, it wasn't the first time the portals had separated them, but he should do what he could to make sure he really was alone and none of his brothers were lying unconscious in this room somewhere. It was unlikely - anything that had attacked them would also have attacked him - but not impossible. That was the first priority.

Despite the best efforts of his eyes to get used to the darkness, he was still entirely blind and it would be impossible to thoroughly search an entirely unknown space, but his sense of smell was keen even in hylian form and all he could smell was the musty, stale odor of air that hadn't been disturbed for far too long. That raised its own concerns, but he set those aside for now. He couldn't smell any of his brothers and he also couldn't smell any hint of monsters or - importantly - gas. With that reassurance, he swung his bag off his back and fumbled in it to take out his lantern, lighting it by feel.

The soft glow of the flame illuminated a stone room about fifteen feet by fifteen feet, completely bare, with one panel made of a different stone that Twilight recognised as a door. At once, he walked over and looked at it more closely, his heart sinking. It was firmly locked, with no sign of a keyhole or anything else that might give him a clue about how to open it. He was in some side room of a dungeon and the puzzle or key to open this door was on the other side. He had a horrible suspicion that his only routes out were to wait for the rest of the Chain to find him or to hope that another portal appeared before he starved.

He huffed out a breath and judged the weight of the lantern. Too light and he didn't think he had another bottle of oil. He was going to be doing his waiting in the dark. But in the meantime, at least he could try to find out if there was a trick to the door or another way out.

No such luck. He felt all around the edge of the door, checked the stone walls for any sign of cracks or weaknesses or blocks that could be moved or slid around. He looked at the ceiling and checked the flagstones of the floor. Nothing. He was well and truly trapped.

With a sigh, he sat down next to the door and blew out the lantern to save the few drops of oil left in its tank. Utter darkness fell once more. Twilight rested his fingertips against the edge of the door, tuned his ears towards it so he'd know if anyone was outside, and settled down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Before long - or after some time, he wasn't sure - the rushing of the blood in his own ears was drowning out anything he might have heard. He tried to ignore it, took a sparing sip from his water bottle, and continued to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

He heard footsteps and sat bolt upright, twisting to bang a fist on the door.

"In here!" he called, and startled at the sound of his own voice. "Hey! Can you hear me?"

There was no response. He pressed his ear to the door, but there was nothing. His heart sank again as he realized he had imagined the footsteps. He sat back again with a sigh, drank a little more, and went back to waiting.

It happened twice more.

Once he heard Wild's voice.

Every time, there was no answer to his cries for help and he had to conclude his mind was playing tricks on him.

He tried to ration the food and water he had with him, but he knew he was starting to run low. If nobody found him and he didn't find a way out soon…

After a while longer he tried breaking down the door, but it was as strong as the walls and all he achieved was a collection of bruises.

A few times he saw lights, but when he called out - increasingly hoarse now - they twisted away mockingly into nothing.

When he realized he was almost out of water he started to panic despite himself. This was not how he planned to die. He was not going to die alone, trapped in a hole not even knowing where the rest of the Chain were or if anyone would ever find his body. He was not.

But when the panic faded, he was left lying on the floor beside the locked door, his throat raw from screaming, his hands raw from tearing at the edges of the door, and his heart raw from clinging to the hope that he would be found and rescued.

All he could do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

He thought he heard voices: Time, Rusl, Midna… but even as he looked around, trying to call to them, the voices faded away.

Lights whirled in front of his eyes, but even as he tried to reach out they were gone.

He was alone.

He was going to die alone.

When his eyes finally slid closed, he didn't even notice.

Noises echoed through his head again. Voices. Lights shone behind his closed eyelids. He ignored them. He was done startling up at every hint of rescue only to be disappointed.

But amid the muddle of anxious sound, a loud command made his aching head throb.

"Link! Open your eyes!"

His eyes blinked open. He thought he saw Warriors bending over him, Time leaning from somewhere above him, Legend standing over them both with a lantern. It was the most vivid image yet.

Again, he heard a clear, echoing memory of Warriors' Captain voice. "Keep them open."

Twilight obeyed. There was nothing else to do.

"Stay with us, OK, Pup?" said Time firmly, the faintest tremor in his voice. "Stay with us."

Twilight nodded. "OK," he said softly, the sound only barely making it from his dry throat.  After all, a hallucination of his friends was better than the blank darkness.

But then a bottle was set to his lips and cold water flooded into his mouth. He gasped and choked. That was real.

"Wait…" he coughed. They'd finally found him? He wasn't alone any more? "Y're… you're real? You're…" He looked around. The door stood open.

Time and Warriors looked at each other in concern. Legend laughed, though the sound was forced.

"Yeah," he said. "We're real."

Twilight sighed, letting his head sag back, only now realizing that his shoulders were supported on Time's knees.

They'd found him.

He wasn't alone.

Finally, finally, the waiting was over.

[stripeixii]

Ooooh yooo

Random writing idea

Loosely based on a possessed corpse AU idea I had, but not necessarily part of the AU.

This takes place in the future, I'd say Cassie is about in her mid to late 20s

Word cout: 2,070

Cassie looked over the cluttered driveway she sat in, her cinnamon coloured eyes taking in the decaying house and landscape with nervousness as she tried to will herself to get out of the car. The click and whirr of the seat belt retracting felt unreal as she took a breath and pushed open the car door.

She slipped out of it but hovered around the open door for longer than intended as the vehicle droned out an irritating beeping. She made a face as she bent down and snatched the keys from the car ignition. 

She was just going to leave them in the car, but thought better of it, instead  she retracted herself and shoved the car door shut with a thud.

She wasn't sure what she'd find, if anything but she at least had a small glimmer of hope for an expectation.

 

The dead leaves and dry overgrown weeds crunched with each step, and each step filled her with more dread. The cold breeze tore at her cheeks as it blew past, taking leaves with it into the autumn air. As she walked up the paved path to the house she frowned, she didn't like how time had treated her childhood home. The outside looked battered, dirty with decay, and falling apart. The shudders hung off broken hinges and the windows looked coated in grime. The siding was dingy and discolored while the yard and weeds had grown up around the house to help encase it in solitude.

She had to kick a clump of overgrown weeds and dead leaves to the side as she stepped onto the porch and ascended up the steps. 

She gave a harsh gasp as her foot went through a part of the wood that was weak with decay and yanked her foot back. She was thankful for the boots she wore because that would have probably cut her leg all up. She forced herself to take another breath to calm down as she stared at the hole her foot had just made. Carefully she tapped around its edges with her toe, and then out in front of her in search of any more sunken in and decaying planks that made up the porch.

The cold air smelled like decaying plants and overhanging foliage, it reminded her of the wooded areas she'd sometimes play in when she was younger. It was a memory that felt bittersweet now as her gaze panned up to the door. Its dirty state was saddening.

With a strain of hesitance she grabbed the door handle to open it, but it was locked. She made a face in a moment of irritation, but a bit of pressure and resulting cracking noises had let her shove the door open.

She was immediately hit with the dence musty air and horrible stench.  She recoiled and had to compose herself before entering, unsure if she'd like what she'd find.

“...Dad…?” She called out into the quiet and thick air, the sound bouncing a bit off the walls and decrepit furniture. She looked around the corridor a bit with a twinge of disappointment seeing so many things from memory desecrated with time. She stepped up to the coat hooks near the door, they were empty with the exception of a dirty pink and green windbreaker in a child's size, dust hiding the bright colors under a dull gray overlay. Reaching out to separate the sleeve and examine it she tried to stop the pained expression she made. Instead she released the sleeve and went to unhook the small jacket entirely. The movement jostled it enough to disturb whatever was in the pockets and it fell out in a shower by her feet.

She quietly exclaimed,

“Ah!” As she stepped backwards leaving the coat swaying a bit on the hook, but realizing what had happened she had stepped back in place. Bending a bit she examined what was on the floor; buttons, rocks, a marble, and a decayed piece of hard candy ( it looked like maybe bugs had gotten to it as the wrapper seemed relatively empty but was still wrapped neatly.)

She frowned, deeming it unhelpful and stepping back. Thanks younger cassie.

The silence that had fallen over the house, and the undisturbed creaks as she carefully walked along the floor made her reminisce in the warm memory of running through the house barefoot to see what her dad was doing, probably cooking something in the kitchen. There was almost always a soft ambiance of something playing, he didn't really like the silence either. It was always jarring when the power went out, and even the quiet hum of appliances was gone.

She stopped in about the middle of the small hall that was the entryway and sighed.

“I'm sorry I didn't take my shoes off,” she whispered as she looked to her feet on the dirty carpet and it brought her memory back to the many times she had walked over the nice off white carpet in mismatched socks, something she had taken for granted out of ignorance.

She blew a sigh from her mouth as she turned to walk through the familiar halls, all the while choking a bit on the air having to press her sleeve covered hand to her nose.

Her eyes caught a dust covered Pictureframe, knocked back against the other little decorations on the little shelf hanging from a nearby wall. She approached and scooped up the picture to look at it, it was a photo of the three of them, her momm dad, and her… it too held an odd sadness that distorted her features a bit. 

The day they took this photo was such a nice one… they had gone out to a park with a pond, there were ducks! There were also frogs! Cassie gave a sad smile, even after her parents divorce he had still kept photos around, she knew that, but even now still seeing them about…

She glanced around a bit at the walls so she could look for other framed photos. It was like nothing had changed, had he never moved anything,

She stared at the photo she held a moment longer before setting it back in its place, and swiping at the dust collected on the glass with her thumb, it barely helped.

“Dad..?” She tried again as she continued forward with slow steps “I, Uh-”

She what? 

She didn't know.

She was here, sure, but why?

Another bauble caught her eye, standing watch from inside the open cavity of a cabinet placed over drawers, she approached slowly and carefully stuck her hand in the cavity to grab it.

The movement caused a black blur to unfurl from the darkness and shove outward, nearly hitting her in the face as it flew out of the cubby.

“Ahk!” She yelled as she stumbled back, falling on the floor.

“Ah- Okay,” she tried to reassure herself, “It was a bat, I’m-” She exhaled. “It was just a bat…” she mumbled and after taking a moment she pushed herself up and swiped at the dirt that was collected on the back of her thighs.

“Okay,,,” she said again trying to reassure herself before looking at the item again. A little plush rabbit she remembered well. Again, a bit more cautiously this time, she reached out and pulled it from the shelf. The purple fabric was matted and grayed with dust, and it's face and body were a bit deflated as if it had lost volume over the years. Despite its sad appearance, it still radiates warmth she long missed. She hesitated a moment as she held it out, she was going to put it back but decided to instead  shove it in her coat pocket.

She continued a bit further now and couldn't help but smile a bit as she stood in front of a cute green and purple decorated room, the glow-in-the-dark stars barely clung to the walls any more, they looked like a slight breeze would knock them down. Even coated in dust the frilly room seemed bright. She stepped into it and the familiar creaking from the floorboards of the doorway made her giddy, she wasn't sure if it was excitement or nervousness.

She trailed into the room and picked up

A stuffed toy that lay on the floor and she breathed out a bit of a sigh

The stuffed dog had seen better days, that's for sure. She turned a bit swiveling to glance around the room before deciding to walk across it and take a seat on the dusty bedspread; the mattress of the little twin bed sunk under her weight and the frame creaked. She blew out a breath as she set the dog up against the head of the bed with the pillows and other plush toys stashed there.

She could only handle reminiscing in the memories of the past for so long before she had to leave the bedroom, she thought she might start crying if she didn't. 

Out of respect for preserving it metaphorically she pulled the door closed and stood there a long moment looking at the closed door, her eyes stuck to the funky font spelling out “Cassie” but the stickers were worn and peeling. The name wasn't recognizable from the halves a quarters of letters, more so that the initial lettering left a clean outline from where it blocked the build up of dirt.

She had to manually tear her gaze away and turn to walk back the way she had come.

She was quick to notice this side of the house smelled much worse.

Without thought she idly wondered if an animal had died here. She pressed her hand to her nose in hopes of just smelling the scent that clung to the fabric.

She frowned, and forced herself to pull her hand away from her face as she cautiously pushed open the half closed bedroom door she now stood in front of. It let out a long whiney creak before the top hinge broke and it fell at an odd diagonal with an unpleasant thud, she had stepped back in surprise but managed to not verbally react.

She stepped into the room and the floorboards creaked and shifted with her weight. She wasn't expecting it to break through the eerie silence and jumped a bit before gathering herself. She scanned the room, half darkened by torn and rotting curtains, but in the places they had completely fallen there was plenty of light creeping through to illuminate the room. Like being near the mouth of a cave, not the bright glass house atmosphere of light pooling in through all the windows and bouncing off all the walls like she's used to seeing from this room.

Her eyes finally fell to the bed across the room and she yelped, jumping back into the rotted door and smacking her head against it.

“Ow-!” She gave almost involuntarily as her hand had trailed to her head to rub the sore area.

Her eyes fell back on the bed, and the skeletal decayed mass that lay on it.

It took a lot to force her legs to move forward, but she did finally trail into the room and over to the bed to stand in front of the decrepit sight.

“Oh… god..” She managed to  push out under her breath.  As she looked over the gross pile of bones in front of her, it was vaguely human shaped and barely held together by thinly veiled skin draped around it, the translucency allowed you to see the inactive veins and decaying muscle beneath. There was barely anything left to identify it as even a person.

When one of the fingers twitched she thought her soul left her body as she jerked with a jump, stumbling back a few steps and emitting a yelp.

Panicked, her eyes were glued to it as she watched from this distance to make sure it wouldn't get up and attack her, it took a minute for her to approach again with eyes still a bit wide with shock.

On the left hand she could see the tarnished but barely decayed metal wedding band on what was left of a boney finger.

The realization had crept up on her and not addressing it made it attack her in a flood,

“Dad..?” She whispered

“How long have you been in here..?”

[nihils-trolls]

In Darkness, Wailing

Catill Eidwyn | Wisp's Hollow | Present Night

Dancing lights flick across a pitch-black canvas. Red, yellow, green and white- they swirl in their flight, the light they shed traveling seemingly forever as nothing stands in its path. Suddenly, they separate and disperse into tiny, glittering pieces that scatter across the darkness.

The millions of twinkles hang in intricate patterns, the spaces between them seeming to hold them in their current place.

And yet, something shifts in that emptiness. It writhes in anticipation. In response.

Also sitting amongst the vast nothing, a pure white cat gazes upon the activity taking place just above it. Its four, wide and piercing yellow eyes take in every detail and attempt to process their meaning. It lets out a pained yowl, and begins to bend and contort. Another yowl from somewhere else joins in chorus, and another. And another. They crescendo, becoming discordant as a distinctly different set of screams joins in. Something not like any creature, nor speaking being.

The poor beast’s fur begins falling in clumps, its skin beginning to ripple underneath it all. A black tendril reaches out from nowhere to latch onto the feline-

Catill wakes suddenly, slowly dragging herself to sit up. A decorative, lacquered bowl sits shattered in front of her, and the tablecloth is absolutely soaked with some sort of black fluid. She feels a sharp pang in her stomach, and then in her head and chest as well. Her memory is foggy, and she doesn’t remember how she got here, or what she was doing. But falling asleep at the table doesn’t sound like something she’d do normally.

She attempts to rub the sleep from her eyes, smearing something wet across her face. In fact, her whole face feels weirdly sticky and it makes her want to crawl out of her skin. Catill pauses- resisting the urge- to bring her hand down and look at it. A dark, resinous substance streaks across the back of it. Looks almost black, but fades into murky yellow.

She brings herself to stand. She needs to look at her face, right now.

But standing too fast was a bad idea. Catill’s head starts to spin, and she nearly falls over. Her chest and head throb in pain once again, but she manages to stay upright long enough to get to a decorative mirror hanging in the hall.

Screaming. Gods, the fucking screaming. They ring in her ears again, reminding her of the horrible dream she just had. Catill leans against the wall in an attempt to support herself, panting. Upon gazing at the reflection, her expression twists into a pained grimace.

The same gross fluid stains her entire face. She looks like she hasn’t slept in several nights with the bags under her eyes and wrinkles lining her brow. Her hair is a mess and she’s paler than usual, even.

Something is horribly wrong. The wailing, the feeling horribly ill, the dream- she wasn’t one for divining in that fashion. Dreams were fleeting and there was little chance of remembering details. But clearly, this was a warning. For what, though?

… Her chest feels heavy again, getting another sharp, almost burning pang in the center. It hurts to breathe for a moment, and then it’s gone. It feels almost like-

Mana exhaustion. But that doesn’t make sense, she thinks. She’s barely done anything. The scene at the table suggests she was viewing the stars at some point, but that doesn’t wind her like this.

Catill shambles further down the hall, headed to her bedroom. There’s another familiar feeling to this affliction, one that she hasn’t felt since she was five or six sweeps old. It’s ancient. Musty. Rotting. A tug on her, and an uneasy feeling of being watched. It does nothing to make her feel any better, nor assuage any worries.

She slides open the door, making her way over to collapse into a pile of pillows on the floor. It’s too early in the night to properly sleep, but some rest is definitely in order.

There’s no solving whatever this is on empty energy reserves.

---

The goldblood barely managed to take care of herself. Her body felt heavy, and she just wanted to crawl back to sleep during the whole endeavor. Though, she managed to scrub the guck from her face and find something to eat.

Now all that needed to be cleaned up was the table. Catill finds her way to the kitchen, grabbing another tablecloth from a closet on the way. The bowl was unsalvageable, and the stains on the old cloth were a mix of ink and the same residue from before. Definitely not worth trying to wash out. She wraps everything together and tosses it in the trash.

… Was it always this dark in here? A somewhat unsettling feeling fills the air, and it's noticeably cooler in the room. Catill studies the changes, noticing a shadow swaying back and forth- then it stops. Something is definitely amiss. Catill squints to adjust her vision, focusing her other senses as well. It becomes abundantly clear to her that her hive is inundated with magic- of her own variety.

It's just… strange. Concerning, even. This, combined with the omen, and the reminder of that thing from sweeps past. It's almost as if it's coming to haunt her again.

Maybe she should call someone for help. There aren't many others she keeps close, but there are others more prepared to handle this than she is. Someone like…

Catill's face scrunches at her thought. Absolutely not. Not the fun police. They don't need to be bothering people in the village, and she doesn't want to deal with them.

No, she'll try to figure this out herself for now. If anything, there is one troll she doesn't mind reaching out to. But she hopes it doesn't come to that.

For now, the cat troll shuffles back to her room to try and sleep again. Before nodding off, she sends out a few messages to her quads to let them know she's not feeling well- passing back out shortly after.