#but all in all not a difficult process at all! my cake sank a little in the middle and im not really sure why that is but i just flipped it

[peachcitt]

i made the chamomile cake with strawberry icing from this post and y’all……………….it really is tasty

[wattpadscapcons]

Just Another Day to Him (Pregame Kaito x Reader)

tw: brief mention of violence, implications of past domestic abuse, the rest is supposed to be fluff

Word Count: 1401

=

"I'm riding with you to the very end."

Kaito seemed a little caught off guard by those words, if anything, he was expecting you to ditch him. He didn't exactly want you to stay around when he got himself into a fight. He wish he didn't start the fight in the first place, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some random just objectify you right in front of him. You can't make remarks about his S/O's body within his ear range unless you're wanting him to knock your teeth out.

=

"That really isn't a good idea Y/N."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving you behind."

"I can take care of myself."

This really wasn't the best time to talk, as these pricks quickly surrounded the two of you. They most likely thought that Kaito was just some lightweight punk, to which extent was true, he definitely tried to act like a punk. You hiding behind him was all the motivation he needed to knock the closest guy's teeth out.

One after another, he brought them to the floor. On a few occasions they had to attempted to attack him all at once, but Kaito has been in enough fights to use that to his advantage. You thought that a one on three match was unfair, but he held up his own very well. Escaping with a few dozen gashes and bruises, he stood on one of the douchebag's heads. You had to stop him before he did something he'd regret.

=

"Y/N, he deserves-"

"I don't care what "he deserves", let's just go home."

He growled but obeyed, he was too tired to actually do anymore damage anyways. He seemed a little more chipper by the time you got him back into the car. He sank into the seat and let out a sigh, expecting another lecture from you about how he should stop picking fights with random people in public. It was rather lucky that no one called the cops on him, for the both of you really.

Reaching to the backseat, you got the first aid kit to deal with his cuts. He winched at the feeling to of the rubbing alcohol on his skin. He was smiling though, feeling proud of himself.

=

"You aren't going to lecture me now are you?"

"No, if anything I should praise you for defending my honor. I just wish that didn't have to include hurting yourself in the process. I know very well just how calm you can be if put in the right situations."

"I can't help that these prick make comments about your ass Y/N."

"I'm so glad I don't wear mini-skirts now..."

"You'd look nice in one...."

"Oh hush you."

=

He seemed ok with going home after that whole ordeal, saying,

"There isn't anything fun to do in town anyway. That bar was fucking lame. I don't know why I didn't just let you pick the place this time."

Upon seeing a pleased smile from you, he knew he made a good decision. He seemed to be working towards keeping you pleased more often lately. You wondered if that was only because of his history, and he just wants to make sure that he doesn't screw up again. Of course, if he did, you never seemed to do anything but lecture him and check to make sure he didn't hurt himself.

=

"You continue to amaze me you know."

"What you mean?"

"You took on three guys at once and won. I know back in high school that would've been a little more difficult...."

"Yeah, hell of a birthday am I right?"

"You aren't going to do this every year are you?"

"No. It just happened, like usual."

"I hope you aren't just using that as an excuse to get me to take care of you. You know just how worried I get."

"I know, I know. Trust me I won't make it a habit if I can help it."

"Enough of that though, you think you're ready for cake and ice cream now?"

=

This wasn't exactly the best birthday he's spent with you, but he's not complaining. Any time that he gets to spend with you is good enough for him. Besides, something cold and sweet would make him feel better anyways. You hadn't really noticed it back in school since Kaito was rather.....obsessed with keeping that "bad guy" image, but the guy has the bigger sweet tooth than you do. The time you actually surprised him with candy he actually seemed to lighten up immediately.

That doesn't mean just chocolate either, it was hard to have candy in the same house as him. Pretty much anything with a lot of sugar in it was a target for your boyfriend. Which is why you had to hide his cake and the ice cream in different spots every day leading up to today. Hiding his presents was way easier than that though, he didn't even bother looking around even though he knew very well you bought him something.

=

Getting him in the house was a little more painful for him than he was wanting for today, but he could only blame himself for that. Traditional birthday's weren't his thing, even if it was, he didn't really have many friends to celebrate it with, and his family is insufferable for the both of you. The guy seems to like his mom, but if she came over so would that old bastard he refuses to call his dad anymore.

You had thought of inviting Kiibo over, but decided against it. They'd been having a few issues getting along recently, and there was no reason to make it worse. Gokuhara and Harukawa were busy the entire weekend, so that wasn't an option either. It seems like it'd just be the two of you again this year.

The first year you two spent together was strange, he didn't even want to acknowledge his birthday, but went overboard for yours. You basically had to get him in the habit of celebrating at least a little bit. He didn't really seem to think it was all that big of a deal due to not having parties since he was a kid. You had a feeling it was more than just that though, most likely having to do with his family "history" of forgetting. After a while it just didn't seem to matter anymore.

=

He still seems really happy tearing away the wrapping paper around his gifts though. That's one of the times where you get to see a more childish side of him. Just that genuine happiness that seems to reverberate off of him. It's absolutely adorable to you.

=

"I don't know how you keep managing to find things I didn't even know I wanted Y/N."

"I find a lot of stuff I'd think you'd like, maybe if you'd go shopping with me more often I'd be able to spoil you more."

"Meh... I'm good."

"You just don't want to get out of bed before one."

"True, but I don't really care for being spoiled in anything other than your attention."

"Says the guy who spent an entire day locked up in our room."

"I was feeling moody."

"At least you're honest about it...."

=

He's been having trouble sleeping again, he tries to just chop it up as just not being tired, but you can see it at this point. You just hope that whatever's happening with him right now will improve before you have to force yourself into fixing the issue. You want to be able to trust him and his opinions, so you'll let it go for now.

=

"Where's the cake?"

"Coming, just got to get the candles."

"You seriously going to make me "make a wish" like last year again?"

"Kaito. It's tradition."

"Whatever. I just want cake."

You tried to sing to him again like last time, he just rolled his eyes. You could see past that though, knowing he was happier than he was leading you to believe. Maybe one day he'll grow out of this tough guy persona of his and start to enjoy little things like this more. After blowing out his candles, he claimed he already got his wish.

"What are you going on about now?"

"Well I got you didn't I?"

"Heheh...Yeah. Happy birthday Kaito."

[cakesunflower]

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 18

A/N: so sorry for the......6 month wait omg. hope y’all missed Aspen, Calum, and Luna as much as i did. yeeeee happy reading!

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Chapter 18

“IT’S LIKE PULLING teeth, trying to get them to talk,” Mali whispered, leaning towards Aspen as she spoke, eyes on the scene in front of her rather than on the wine glass she was cleaning with a dish towel. “It’s painful to watch.”

Aspen’s throat worked. She could only see Calum’s profile from where she was standing, his dark eyes set on the television as it played Home Alone. He sat on the single lounge chair, while his mom sat on the smaller couch opposite of him and his dad and Luna occupied the other couch opposite of the TV. The two of them seemed to be in their own world, Luna having gotten along with her grandpa exceedingly well, talking amongst themselves about the movie. Calum was pretending to pay attention to the movie, while Joy was pretending not to be staring over at him occasionally.

That’s how dinner had gone. It was awkward and seemed to drag on forever, but at least Aspen had Mali on her side, the two of them making up for Calum’s silence at the table. It wasn’t like he didn’t speak at all, dropped a sentence or two here and there, but he didn’t directly speak to his parents. Well, at least not to his mom, anyway. He was still upset with his dad by association, but the true object of his anger was Joy, and he wasn’t too subtle about it either.

Not even the pretty Christmas lights they’d decorated the apartment with could bring a sense of tranquility and joy. Not to this group, anyway.

Aspen would be exasperated by his lack of trying if all of this wasn’t her doing to begin with. She called his parents behind his back. She’s the one who invited them for Christmas dinner and ambushed Calum with it. Shit, what had she been thinking?

The sound of Luna’s giggles broke through Aspen’s thoughts, and she felt herself relax a little bit. At least she could count on her daughter to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know what to do,” Aspen responded to Mali quietly, gripping the bottle of wine. She was ready to down the whole thing by herself. With a disgruntled hand running through her hair, Aspen added, “This was a terrible idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mali disagreed, wiping the last glass. “You’re just trying to save Cal’s relationship with our parents, like any caring partner would want to do. It’s not your fault they’re being stubborn about this.”

Aspen wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, but—” She sighed, eyebrows drawing together in distress, looking towards the living room before her gaze met Mali’s again. In a quiet voice, she added, “I knew he wasn’t ready to move forward and I pushed him anyway. I didn’t—” Aspen paused, frowning as her gaze dropped to the counter, twisting her lips as the guilt started creeping through her veins. “I didn’t give him enough time to be angry—”

“He needs to let that anger out before it becomes too much,” Mali told her. “He needs to say his piece and try to move on. What’s done is done and no one can change the past, no matter how much we all want to, and the sooner Calum accepts it, the sooner he’ll feel that burden lift from his shoulders.”

Aspen took a breath, processing Mali’s words. She was still afraid of pushing Calum, not wanting to push him too far and have him be upset with her again—truthfully, she wasn’t even sure if they were okay from the last time they argued about the very situation. Ever since the arrival of his parents, he’s been in an off mood, which Aspen had expected, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed with his lack of trying after he said he would try. She knew she was at fault for springing all of this on him, knew that if he didn’t hold up his end of the promise then she couldn’t entirely blame him. Still, the dismay was present when all throughout dinner Calum didn’t really make conversation, didn’t engage if it wasn’t with her or his sister or Luna.

Before Aspen could say anything to Mali, Joy’s voice sounded from the living room. “I think it’s time we get going; it’s getting late.”

“No.” Aspen didn’t realize it was she who had protested Joy’s statement until all eyes were on her. Though, all Aspen could feel were Joy’s surprised ones and Calum’s irritated ones as he looked at her over his shoulder. Taking a breath, Aspen offered an encouraging smile. “We haven’t had dessert yet and I was just about to open the wine. Please stay, at least for a little bit.”

She figured, in that moment, she didn’t really want Calum’s parents to leave until at least there was some kind of step forward made. Was she pushing it? Maybe.

“We can’t force ’em if they wanna go, Aspen.” Her eyes met Calum’s dark ones, noted the silent way he told her to just let it go. To let them leave. There was a hint of edge present in the undertones of his casual voice, and Aspen fought from rolling her eyes because she knew he could’ve pretended harder if he wanted to.

“Noooo, I want Grandma and Grandpa to stay!” Luna whined, sitting up on the couch with a frown and pout on her face. Looking at Joy with a puppy dog look the five year old had terrifyingly mastered already, Luna begged, “Please stay! There’s cake and cookies.” Looking at David, she added, “Home Alone isn’t done yet.”

“Lunes,” Calum started, tone genuinely becoming soft as he addressed his daughter. “It might start snowing soon and they can’t be on the road when it does.”

Mali and Aspen both exchanged flat expressions at the lie. It wasn’t going to snow, Aspen knew for a fact, and Calum lying to Luna about it just so she’d possibly drop the subject was ridiculous. So with a lick of her lips and trying to keep her tone even, Aspen said, “Hey, Cal, can I talk to you for a second?”

His gaze met hers once again, the tension in the room returning as she nodded towards the hallway. She noted the way his throat worked in annoyance before pushing himself to his feet, and Aspen shot everyone else a quick reassuring grin as she walked out of the kitchen. They went to Calum’s bedroom and Aspen felt his presence behind her looming as they reached the room, and she shut the door behind her before turning to face him.

Together, both of them demanded simultaneously, “What the hell are you doing?”

Calum exhaled forcefully as Aspen’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? I’m trying to salvage your relationship with your parents.”

He shook his head, jaw tight before retorting, “That’s not your concern, Aspen.”

“We’re partners, Calum, so yeah, it is.”

She saw the anger flash across his face, accompanied by a sense of hurt she hadn’t expected as Calum returned, the edge back in his voice, “If we’re partners then you should be on my fuckin’ side!”

Aspen blinked on an expression of incredulity, lips parting as she inhaled a surprised breath at Calum’s accusation. There was a brief numb silence in the space of the room before Aspen’s brain caught up with her. “I am on your side, Calum,” she exclaimed, fighting to keep her voice low enough so it didn’t travel to the living room where everyone else was. But it was hard to keep her voice from raising with the surprise Calum’s accusation brought. For him to think she wasn’t with him was upsetting and insulting. “I just—I want you to say what you need to say to them and try to move past this.”

Calum gave a shake of his head, slow and defeated. “There’s nothing left to say, Aspen,” he said, voice lower yet still carrying that same level of intensity. He licked his lips as his dark eyes flickered past her and towards the door, thinking of who was currently in his living room, and he expelled a breath. Looking back at Aspen, he continued, “I’ve already said how pissed and upset I am. I’ve told her how she’s fucked up and she’s apologized and I don’t know where we go from here.”

Her heart bled for Calum and the pain he still so obviously was in, attempting to hide it behind anger and stubbornness. But she knew Calum, and as much as it hurt to see him hurt, to see how difficult it was for him to have his parents here, Aspen knew for a fact that he wouldn’t truly feel better until all of this was done with. Calum had always been so close with his parents, was a family oriented man that could be seen in his relationship with Luna, and to see his relationship with his parents crumbled into dust was heartbreaking.

Forgiving Joy wasn’t something Aspen ever thought she was capable of. For the longest time, she hated the woman for everything that happened. But holding onto those kind of strong, negative emotions wasn’t doing her any good. It was only weighing Aspen down, sometimes suffocating her, and it wasn’t until things with Calum had been mended and she finally decided to forgive his mom that Aspen could feel completely okay again. And it was no secret her accident played a big part in Aspen wanting things for Calum to be alright, too. Life was too short to remain under a dark cloud of anger.

“You move forward, bub,” Aspen told him, her own tone growing soft as she took a step towards him, green eyes never leaving his brown. “We can’t change what happened, but we can change how we go from here. I know how much it hurts you to not have your parents, your mom, in your life like you used to. I—”

“I have you and Luna,” Calum cut in, eyebrows drawing together in a subtle frown.

Aspen pressed her lips together into a kind, genuine smile. “You do,” she agreed with a nod. Calum’s throat worked as Aspen looked at him, and she felt herself take a breath. Her shoulders sank in acceptance, her hand finding his. A warmth spread through Aspen as he looked down at their joined hands, maneuvering his fingers to interlock with hers, the sensation of his cool rings one she never tired of. “And if you genuinely feel. . . Complete. . . with us—which is totally and utterly fine—then I will go back into the living room and tell your parents goodnight.”

Calum blinked a couple of times at her words, taking a breath as he lifted his chin, eyes never leaving Aspen’s. She didn’t look away, either, wanting him to know that she genuinely meant it. Sure, Aspen wanted Calum to make amends with his parents, and maybe it was a little too late to realize, but she shouldn’t have pushed him on the matter. She understood why he’d been so pissed off when she told him she’d invited his parents, understood that she’d crossed a line. If Calum genuinely did not want to engage with his parents, if he was content with not restoring a relationship, then Aspen would support him. She couldn’t force him more than she already had, not if she wanted to fuck up their relationship.

Supporting Calum was all that mattered.

“You would?”

Aspen’s smile softened, squeezing his hand, taking yet another step towards him. Her heart thudded within her chest at the look he gave her, uncharacteristically shy and looking so small, and it only reminded Aspen of how difficult this was for him. She nodded. “If that’s what you want, then yeah.”

He was silent as he considered her words, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as he chewed at it thoughtfully. She let him have his time, let him carefully think about what he wanted their next move to be. It concerned all of them, but this was Calum’s decision to ultimately make. Aspen felt badly about taking the choice away from him in the first place, and the least she could do was be by his side and support whatever he chose.

She watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, her eyebrows drawing together worriedly as he squeezed his eyes shut, head lowered as he shook it. Through gritted teeth, Calum confessed, “I want to move on but I just. . . I don’t know how.”

Aspen’s free hand lifted to cup his cheek, lifting his head to connect their gazes once again after he opened his eyes. She offered him a sweet smile. “We can figure it out together.”

They entered the living room, the credits for the movie on TV now rolling, everyone’s eyes on Calum and Aspen as they walked back in. Expectant expressions were painted across all of their faces, and Aspen took a breath before smiling at her daughter. “Hey, Lunes, why don’t you go show Aunt Mali all the presents you got, huh?”

The five year old grinned, jumping off from the couch with Duke hot on her heels as she ran over to where Mali stood, grabbing her aunt’s hand as she tugged. “Come on, Aunt Mali!”

The blonde grinned happily, letting her niece pull her along as her dark eyes met Calum and Aspen’s briefly. She understood the need to get Luna out of the room, happy to comply as she silently agreed to keep the little girl occupied.

An anticipating silence fell upon the room as Luna’s giggles soon silenced behind the closed door of her bedroom. Joy and David watched them patiently, and Aspen glanced at Calum in time to watch him take a breath before gesturing to the couches. “We should, uh, sit down, I guess.”

His parents shuffled around the coffee table, settling on the smaller couch against the wall as Aspen followed Calum to the one diagonal of them. It was silent in the room save for the ever so subtle thick clinking of the chains Calum wore, disappearing under the neckline of his full sleeved dark red sweater. He ran his fingers through his curls, ruffling the shaggy dark locks before he interlaced his fingers together. Calum bowed his head, lips parting as he ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, running the words through his head before he finally spoke.

“I’ve told you how I feel. . . And I know how sorry you are.” His words were slow, careful, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he uttered them. Aspen watched him, knowing he was thinking while he spoke, making sure whatever was running through his mind, whatever he was feeling in his heart, was properly articulated. “I just don’t know where we go from here—how we find. . . A sense of normalcy in all this.”

“We find it slowly, son,” David spoke up, his voice a wave of smooth calmness as he looked at Calum. He glanced at Joy before looking back at his son, adding, “This won’t be an overnight thing, we understand that. Still, we would. . .” David let out a soft sigh, his hand finding Joy’s before nodding at Calum. “We would like to try and earn back your trust.” His eyes met Aspen’s. “Both of yours.”

“That’s—” Calum breathed out with a shake of his head, wringing his fingers together as he let out a forced chuckle. Aspen pressed her teeth together as she watched him, wanting to jump in with something. Anything. But Calum needed to do this. So she resorted to resting a hand on his knee, a comforting act of encouragement. “That’s not goin’ to be easy.” Calum looked up, looked at his parents, expression a mixture of the conflict he was fighting and tiredness from it all. “You gave me everything I could’ve asked for, but took away the family I never knew I had.” Twisting his lips, Calum added, “Trust and forgiveness, that’s gonna take some time.”

Joy nodded, looking desperate for some kind of relief, some kind of step forward they all were in search for. “There’s no rush,” she assured with a somewhat nervous smile. She looked between both Calum and Aspen, and even though this was about her boyfriend getting back on the right path with his parents, Aspen was appreciative of Joy and David making her feel included in this. Her and Calum were partners; she was glad his parents saw it, too. “Take all of the time you need. Whatever you think is best for your family, it’s how we’ll deal with this, okay?”

Aspen watched as Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, considering their words. She knew that Calum, just like her, was taking note of how Joy and David were giving them the power, a vast difference from the part they’d played in when it came to the situation that led to all of this in the first place. They were in total control over what was to happen, how they were going to move from here, and the importance of that wasn’t lost on Aspen or Calum. They had basically been kids when they’d unknowingly gotten into this mess with his parents; now they were adults, with a daughter to think about and a family they had no intention of ever losing. They were finally in control, just like they should’ve been since the beginning.

Calum nodded, biting the inside of his lower lip as he sat up, shoulders straight. He sniffed, rubbing under his nose with a finger as he looked at his parents once more. Then his gaze shifted over to Aspen, his expression softening once his brown eyes met her encouraging green. A small smile tilted at his lips, hand coming to rest on top of hers that was on his knee. He took a breath, decided and sure. “Baby steps.”

She nodded along, mirroring his smile, turning her hand under his to properly hold his hand. “Yeah,” she agreed, returning the meaningful look he cast her way before shifting her gaze to his parents. “I’m sure we’ll figure this out.”

For the next hour or so, they brought Luna and Mali back out before they divulged into the wine and desserts Aspen had promised. The shift in the air was noticeable, the tension from before having dissipated significantly. Aspen sipped her wine, watching Calum finally be at ease for the first time since his parents’ arrival, Luna sitting on his lap as he held a plate with a slice of chocolate cake, feeding both himself and her. Mali had decided on playing some music, finding a Christmas playlist on Spotify, to keep the light mood in the air. Aspen figured she was maybe worried that lack of it would bring back the tension from before. Aspen found the gesture cute—and probably needed.

Joy and David didn’t leave until everything was cleared out, both Joy and Mali insisting on helping out in the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes and put the leftovers in the fridge. When it was time for Calum’s parents and sister to head out to their hotel, they all gathered by the door, Luna insisting on hugging her grandparents and aunt goodbye. As Mali pulled Aspen in for a hug, she rubbed her back before whispering, “Good job.”

Aspen let out a quiet, breathless chuckle at that, Mali grinning as they pulled away, the two of them sharing a pointed look. And then Joy stepped up in front of Aspen, bringing her a step away from everyone else, and Aspen still felt a prickle of surprise when Joy took her hand in hers and squeezed. “Thank you,” the older woman whispered, the sincerity crystal clear in her eyes. “It means a lot that you invited us. And it shows just how much you care about Calum.” A sadness swept over Joy’s face as she gave a regretful shake of her head. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it before.”

Throat working, Aspen felt her heart stop for a brief moment at Joy’s apology, taking a breath. The sense of relief was only growing at this point. “I know you are,” Aspen nodded, offering a kind smile. “Thank you for coming.”

Luna ended up in her arms after hugging her grandfather goodbye, and Aspen rubbed at the little girl’s back as Luna rested her head in the crook of her neck, tired after the day’s festivities. She gently swayed her, the movement subtle yet still soothing Luna, as she watched Calum bid his mom goodnight.

“Our flight isn’t until seven tomorrow night,” Joy was saying to Calum. Aspen watched them, trying and failing not to do so, noting how small Calum’s mother looked in front of him. Not just because of their physical height difference; she took in the way Joy, a woman she’d always known to be assertive and bold in her own right, seemed to fold into herself. She hugged herself, as if she was protecting herself from any oncoming rejection, totally uncharacteristic and Aspen understood why as Joy added, “Would it be alright to see you before we go?”

She spoke with trepidation, not wanting to push her luck after only just beginning the process of making amends. Aspen watched on as Calum looked at his mother for what seemed like minutes that stretched on forever, until he finally answered with a single nod, “Yeah.”

Joy smiled in return, shoulders sinking in relief, as the goodbyes and goodnights came to a close, Calum’s parents and sister leaving with smiles and waves as they closed the door behind them. Calum let out a sigh as he locked it, the night coming to an end, turning around just in time for Aspen to whisper, “Hey, you wanna put her to bed? I’m gonna clean up the living room.”

Calum nodded, gaze shifting to a near slumbering Luna, as he stepped forward and reached for his daughter. Luna easily shifted from her mother to her father, arms lazily going around Calum’s neck as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He felt and heard her take a breath before snuggling closer to him, and it easily brought a gentle smile to his face as he walked down the apartment and towards her bedroom.

He settled her down on the bed, switching on the bedside lamp that provided for a dull glow as opposed to the harsh brightness of the ceiling light. Calum brushed some dark curls out of Luna’s face as she sleepily smacked her lips together, and he suppressed a fond chuckle as he made his way over to the dresser to get her pajamas out. He sat down on the edge of the bed, murmuring quiet encouragements to the little girl who was seconds away from completely falling asleep as he changed her into her pajamas.

But just as Calum laid her upper half back down after putting on her shirt, thinking she was already mostly asleep, Luna spoke up. “I had fun today.” She spoke in a slow, tired drawl, a bit of a wistful hum in her voice as Calum settled her blankets over her.

He sat right next to her on the edge of the bed, hands on either side of her as he looked down to see her dark eyes blinking open. Calum smiled at the sight of her; for her to be this tired, he knew she did have fun. Despite his own issues, Calum had seen, much at the expense of his tightening jaw, that Luna had been enjoying her time with Mali and their parents. Calum hadn’t made for a much pleasant host to his parents, but Luna made up for it with a newfound excitement towards them. A childlike thrill that had, for the most part, put everyone at ease. “Yeah?” Calum mused, smiling down at her teasingly. “You liked all your presents?” They may or may not have spoiled her—Calum more so than anyone else; his first Christmas with his daughter had proven to be his favorite despite the initially unwanted presence of his parents.

“Mhm,” Luna responded, pulling the blanket up to her chin as her brown eyes met Calum’s. “I like Grandma and Grandpa, too.”

Something tightened in Calum’s chest at that, not entirely sure if it was a good or bad feeling as he heard Luna’s words. He’d been struggling with his emotions ever since his parents had arrived, knowing he hadn’t done a good job in keeping his promise to Aspen in trying to be civil. To actually try. But it hadn’t been too bad towards the end. They had made some progress, as much as they could tonight, and Calum had even agreed to see them again tomorrow before they left. That was more than he’d expected to do. And even though he’d been upset with Aspen over inviting his parents without even telling him, Calum knew his anger had dissipated at this point. Not entirely gone, of course, but slowly crumbling away. Slowly.

Calum took a breath before smiling, finger brushing away a stray curl from her face, brushing along her cute, soft little cheek. “They like you, too,” he told her truthfully. Because they did. He could tell. He wouldn’t agree to seeing them tomorrow if they didn’t. “Come on, bug, get some sleep.”

Luna hummed, giggling ever so softly as Calum leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss. He bid her goodnight after switching off the lamp and turning on her nightlight, leaving the door just slightly aja before stepping out into the hallway. He glanced in the direction of the living room, realizing all of the lights were off and that Aspen was probably back in the bedroom.

He walked in, shutting the door behind him just as Aspen emerged from the bathroom. Her makeup was already off, changed into her pajamas, which only consisted of sleep shorts and one of his shirts, and she offered a small smile as he took in the sight of her. “Hey,” she greeted softly. She nodded towards the door. “She’s down?”

Calum nodded, pushing himself off the door. “Out like a light,” he confirmed.

Aspen smiled, running her fingers through her hair. “Good, that’s good.” Licking her lips, her smile turned a bit shy, and she added, “I, uh, have something for you. One more gift.”

Calum blinked, fighting the urge to laugh because of how similar they were. He watched as she walked towards her bedside before his gaze shifted towards his own bedside, more specifically, under the bed where he’d hidden his last gift for Aspen. They’d exchanged presents in the morning, of course. Gifts they’d bought one another by knowing the other’s likes, gifts they’d both loved. He was gonna give her the last gift before bed, but looked like she had beat him to the punch.

Calum approached the bed as Aspen climbed onto it on her knees, him doing the same on his side, eyes going to the very familiar book he’d seen in her apartment. It was Luna’s baby book, and Calum’s eyebrows furrowed together as she held it out to him, slowly taking it from her but not before shooting her a confused look.

Aspen let out a breathless chuckle, rubbing her hands down her sides as she said, “Just look inside. I, uh, added some more pages.”

His eyebrows raised at that, settling back on his legs as he opened the book. He’d seen the familiar pages, all of Luna’s firsts and the pictures that went along with those moments, until he got to the pages that were definitely new. Calum could feel Aspen watching along in anticipation, in nervousness, except all he could focus on was the pages he was looking at and the tightness of his throat.

There were pictures added in there that Calum knew about, and some he didn’t know anyone—Aspen—had taken. Pictures with the labels of “First Spaghetti Sunday w/ Dad”, or “Dad’s First Gift”, or “First Birthday w/ Dad”. Aspen had added all of these pictures of Calum with Luna, or of the three of them together, of moments that had become some of his favorites. A warmth spread through Calum as he took in every picture, every word, heart picking up its pace. He could hear his own breathing, heavy with the emotion that suddenly washed over him, fingers brushing against the photographs of him with his two favorite girls. Aspen had made sure to make him as much a part of the baby book as he was in their lives, and while Calum was not much of a crier, she did a good job in springing the tears in his eyes with this thoughtful gift.

“Aspen,” he breathed out, voice thick and throaty with appreciation and adoration. “This—” Calum let out a short, disbelieving chuckle as he looked at her. He saw the hopeful expression on her face, eyes wide and small smile, and Calum shook his head. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I don’t—I love this.” He put the book down on the mattress before reaching for her, pulling her into a hug and keeping her close as he said, “I love you.”

He heard her let out a relieved laugh, returning his hug, and Calum shut his eyes as she squeezed him, the smile on his face hurting his cheeks as she returned, “I love you, too. We’re in this together, right? You and me.”

He pressed a kiss to the skin of her shoulder where his shirt fell off. “You and me.” Calum sniffed as they pulled away, and Aspen let out a soft, adoring laugh at the flush in his cheeks, cupping his face as she shot him a grin. “I’ve got somethin’ for you, too,” he told her, prompting Aspen to blink in surprise.

He shifted backwards, one foot touching the ground so he could bend down and pull out the gift bag from under the bed. Aspen raised her eyebrows as he handed it to her. She took it with an anticipating smile of her own, and right as she reached into it, Calum said with a nervous chuckle, “It’s really cheesy, okay? So don’t laugh.”

Aspen rolled her eyes at him, dismissing his thought. “I’m not gonna laugh,” she said, hand reaching past the decorative red tissue paper to grab onto the gift.

Calum pressed his lips together, watching as Aspen pulled out the medium sized decorative jar with a gold lid on top. He watched as Aspen observed it, took in the custom made label on it that read a simple and cheesy message of My Love For You. He felt the heat spread across his cheeks at that, mentally chastising himself for writing something so utterly cliche on the label. Then again, the entire idea of the gift was utterly sentimental and cheesy.

“It’s, uh,” he began explaining, chuckling shortly. “There’s a message on every slip of paper inside for you. Like, uh, reasons why I love you and stuff. There’s, um, one thousand six hundred and forty three little slips in there. . .  One for each day we, uh, weren’t in each other’s lives.”

He watched the way her lips parted at his words, eyes widening as she returned her gaze to the jar she held in her hands. He wasn’t sure why he felt so shy about giving her the gift, the vulnerability not something he was entirely fond of, though when it came to Aspen, Calum was quick to realize facing these types of things was a lot better than running away from them. His throat worked, waiting for her to say something, heart jumping when her glassy green eyes met his dark brown ones.

“Calum, it’s—this is so sweet,” she breathed out, her voice thick with awe as she let out a gentle laugh. Her voice took a teasing tilt, wanting to lighten the emotional mood as she playfully asked, “You have over a thousand reasons why you love me?”

Calum cracked a small smirk, quirking an eyebrow despite his racing heart. “It’s funny that you think I can run out of reasons.”

Her expression softened, a soft chuckle escaping at his words as she gave a shake of her head. Before she let the tears escape, Aspen put the jar down before one had found his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Calum returned it eagerly, softly, arms winding around her waist as he kissed her, settling back on his legs once more before using his hands on her thighs to lock her legs around his hips. She tasted like mint toothpaste and he reveled in the familiar softness of her lips, in the touch of her hands on his face as they kept each other close.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he found himself whispering against her lips, wanting nothing more than to melt into her.

Aspen sighed against him, utterly content. “Merry Christmas, Cal.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @sweetcherrymike​ @meetashthere​ @valentinelrh​ @softforcal​ @astroashtonio​ @hereforlukescruff​ @novacanecalum​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @calntynes​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @imfuckin10plybud​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @gorgeouslygrace​ @cocktail-calum​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @theagenderwhocriedwolf​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @fluffsshawn​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @tea4sykes @lukeinblue​ @mysteriouslycali​ @hoodcentral​ @rosecoloredash​ @hearts-to-the-sky​ 

[thelioncourts]

story: liminal fandom: captive prince - c.s. pacat pairing: damen/laurent rating: general words: 2883 summary: curtain rods, boxer briefs, family favorite recipes, The Princess Bride, and weighted worries all find a place at 2 a.m.; or, a simple story of domesticity and being there to bake a cake at the oddest of hours.

The first crash didn’t wake Damen up, but the second one had him jolting like he’d been electrocuted. He jolted so violently that he sent his pillow tumbling over the side of the bed. That hardly mattered at this moment, however, especially not when his hand that had instinctively reached out for the warm body always next to his own felt only cold sheets and tangled blankets.

He rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to adjust to the darkness when the third crash, this one the loudest, echoed eerily throughout the house. Adrenaline pushed him to stand and caution kept him from calling out for Laurent even though desperation told him to.

Silently hoping his bare feet would be as quiet as possible on the hardwood floor, Damen tiptoed around the perimeter of the bedroom, searching for something that could constitute as a weapon. When his fingers encircled something metal and cylindrical, he simply went with it and continued his trek until he was at the door.

The hallway light wasn’t on, but the kitchen light was. Damen could see shadows dancing along the dining room walls. Outside the bedroom, it was easier to hear the other sounds, the quieter ones, that had accompanied the crashes. There was a shuffling sound interspersed with the opening and closing of cabinet doors and drawers. Damen edged closer and closer until he was at the corner where the hallway opened to the kitchen. He steeled himself, took several slow and deep breaths, counted to three, and jumped around the corner with his weapon wielded like a sword.

He screamed at the same time Laurent screamed. They drowned out the shattering of the bowl that had been in Laurent’s hands.

[Continue on AO3]

“What are you doing?” Damen yelled.

“What are you doing trying to hit me with a curtain rod?” Laurent yelled back.

“I heard crashing,” Damen justified after a beat of silence. He lowered the curtain rod slowly.

“And you assumed it was an intruder as opposed to the other person that lives in the house?” Laurent asked in the same tone as his first question.

“You could have been kidnapped,” Damen said. Laurent rolled his eyes and bent down to start extracting the largest pieces of broken glass from the pile on the floor. Damen bent down with the intention to join him. “You could have been held hostage,” he tried again.

“My knight in shining armor.”

Laurent was already standing and moving to the trashcan to dump the shards into. After that, he disappeared only for a moment as he went to fish out the broom from their supply closet. His momentary absence gave Damen time to look around.

The countertops looked like a war zone. Mixing bowls and spices and a variety of pans littered the space that was dusted in a light coating of loose flour. The refrigerator door was cracked open the tiniest bit from the carton of eggs. Cupcake liners appeared to have exploded in a mess of white and yellow paper all from where they stored the handheld mixer. When Laurent came back, still focused on cleaning up the glass, it gave Damen time to look at him as well.

It appeared as though Laurent was wearing Damen’s old Akielon Lions practice jersey and nothing more. Knowing Laurent as well as he did, Damen knew that underneath that was most definitely Laurent’s favorite pair of shorts that he had owned since being fifteen. Though the expanse of his legs was distracting, Damen was more drawn to the frazzled look behind his eyes and the windswept appearance of his blond hair. He must have been running his hands through it.

“I’m aware that I may have jumped to some drastic conclusions,” Damen started, and Laurent threw him a look, “but I have to ask: what are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” Laurent answered. The rhythmic swish swish swish of the broom against the floor matched the steady rate of Damen’s heart.

“It’s two in the morning.”

“I know that.”

After sweeping the tinier bits of glass and clinging dirt into a neat pile, Laurent gathered it all in their tiny handheld dustpan before tossing it in the trashcan with the larger shards of the once-bowl. Then, as though nothing had happened, he went back to baking his cake.

He wasn’t very far in the process, Damen observed. A good handful of the ingredients were out already, but he hadn’t yet preheated the oven, let alone actually started to mix the batter together or grease the cake pans.

There were plenty of questions swirling in Damen’s mind as he watched Laurent level off the first cup of cake flour and empty it into their largest mixing bowl. But one look at the tense lines of Laurent’s shoulders had him postponing them...for right now, anyway. Instead, he walked over to the counter and leaned a hip against it

“What kind of cake are you making?” he asked. His voice was quieter than it had been since he awoke.

“Red velvet,” Laurent said.

Ah, Damen thought to himself, it was one of those nights.

“Can I help?” Damen asked in the same quiet voice and he kept his gaze steadily on Laurent’s profile. He watched as Laurent’s eyes flicked toward him for the briefest of seconds before turning their focus back to leveling off the third, and final, cup of flour.

“Sure,” Laurent said. “You can turn the oven to three-fifty and cut this stick of butter into cubes.”

Damen began to do as he was bid. The buttons on the oven beeped a high-pitched sound as he pressed them to the needed setting. There was a perfectly ready stick of butter at the top of the door in the refrigerator and he grabbed it alongside a cutting board to get to work. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Laurent was measuring out the sugar, cocoa powder, and baking soda and Damen’s knife was hitting the cutting board mutedly.

Without a word, Laurent started to toss some of the cubes of butter into the dry ingredients. The loud whirring of the handheld mixer rang out loudly as he beat everything together until it represented a bowl of coarse crumbs. Damen waited until Laurent was mixing the wet ingredients together to speak again.

“You’re probably freezing, Laurent,” Damen said. “You’re always cold in the morning.”

“Is it technically considered morning if the sun isn’t due for another four hours?” Laurent asked rhetorically. “I hadn’t noticed the cold. This must be what it’s like for you.” The look he threw, both appraising and judgemental at once, at Damen’s boxer-brief clad body was impossible to miss.

Damen’s grin was deep as he responded, “I’ve always told you, there’s something freeing about walking around your own pace in as little as possible.”

“Yes, well, you’re lucky we’re only baking something as opposed to frying it.”

The handheld mixer was back on and this time Damen watched as the tan colored mix quickly turned a deep red as the wet ingredients were poured into the dry ones. Laurent mixed it until it was free of any clumped pieces and he eased the machine setting down until the beaters came to a complete stop. Silently, Laurent offered Damen one batter-dripping beater.

Moving to the side so Laurent could momentarily claim the counter space all to himself once more, Damen watched him while curling his tongue around the thin rods to lick at all the red. It was hypnotic in a methodical way, watching Laurent scrape down the sides of the bowl with the silicone spatula before carefully pouring half of the batter into one of the greased and floured pans. When both pans were filled halfway, Laurent took them to the oven and placed them on the first rack. They were layered to fit both on the same level; one toward the back left corner and the other at the upper right one.

Damen was going to start the conversation again. He had a sentence all thought up and everything, but when Laurent turned around and his face transformed from its solemn lines into that soft and private smile, Damen forgot his words. They completely melted away when Laurent walked up to him, toe to toe, and gently thumbed away the red clinging to the corner of Damen’s mouth.

“How is it you always do this?” Laurent asked him.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that those beaters are almost impossible to do anything with gracefully. I think they were invented with the sole intention of making dessert-eager people look the tiniest bit unhinged.”

Laurent made a noncommittal hum, but he was still smiling and that made Damen feel better.

Cleaning up really wasn’t as difficult as it appeared it would be. Damen set forth putting away everything that belonged in a cabinet or the refrigerator. Meanwhile, Laurent got to washing the mixing bowl for the batter, the mixing bowl that the wet ingredients had been in, the spatula, and the twin beaters which now both already appeared “clean” thanks to Damen.

When everything was delicately placed on the dish drying rack, Damen waited to see what Laurent would do next. He made no reaction when Laurent sank to the floor and stretched his long legs out.

“Are you going to join me?” Laurent asked him, patting at the empty space of floor next to him. Then he shifted his position ever so slightly, just so that when Damen sat it wouldn’t have to be against a cabinet with a bunch of knobs and handles.

The cakes still had twenty-two minutes and they would need to cool before they were ready for the cream cheese icing that had been sitting out to get to room temperature. Damen eased himself down next to Laurent.

“So,” Damen started, “red velvet, huh?”

“It’s one of those nights,” Laurent answered with Damen’s earlier thought. Damen’s shirt was even shorter on Laurent when he was sitting down. “I remember once, when I was eight, maybe nine, I woke up like you did tonight. I heard these sounds coming from the kitchen and I snuck down the staircase to find my mother and Auguste in the kitchen. Auguste was rambling about school and about our father’s unrealistic expectations for him and mother was baking him his favorite cake.”

Damen listened, but allowed his hand to dance across Laurent’s bare thigh until his fingers could curl around Laurent’s own fingers. Laurent squeezed his hand once.

“When mother got sick, I wanted to learn how to make the cake so Auguste could always have it when he was feeling down.” Laurent laughed a hollow sound. “I only got to make it once for him before….”

“I bet it meant everything to him,” Damen filled the silence with his sincerity.

“The cakes got stuck to the pans,” Laurent said. “I had sprayed them with cooking spray, but I hadn’t known that it would be better greased and floured. Auguste probably missed our mother more than ever with my shoddy excuse for baking.”

There was nothing to say to that. Damen wrapped his arm around Laurent’s shoulders and pulled him in tight instead. Laurent’s ear found the space above Damen’s heart.

“Is this about Nicaise?” Damen asked, but he already knew the answer was yes.

When the letter had arrived in their mailbox on Monday morning, Damen had known it would lead to something like this. It wasn’t everyday that you were subpoenaed to testify on behalf of your abusive uncle in a custody case for your cousin. Laurent nodded mutely against Damen’s shoulder.

“He’s going to end up in my uncle’s household with every material thing his tiny heart could ever desire, but the remainder of his innocence beaten away from him. Or he’s going to end up in a group home with little to nothing to his name until he eventually ages out of the system all alone. There’s no winning for him here and yet he’s going to testify that he wants to go with my uncle. And I can’t blame him. He doesn’t know.”

“You’re very sweet,” Damen said after a moment’s silence. “But sometimes I wish you would worry about yourself more than others.”

“Nicaise is all the family I have left,” Laurent said. The admission was raw.

“Oh, that’s not true. You’ve got me.”

He could feel Laurent’s mouth turn into a smile.

“And your multitude of crazy relatives?” Laurent asked, and Damen could hear that smile in his voice.

“Yes, and them. Especially my uncle. You know Uncle Mak thinks of you as the son he never had.”

Laurent didn’t move his head from Damen’s chest and Damen didn’t say another word until the oven began to beep. It took a moment for Laurent to react to the noise and stand, and Damen stayed sitting. He watched, a small and private smile of his own on his face, as Laurent opened the open door, checked the center of the cakes, and gently pulled them out with the white oven mitts. Then he came back.

“Would you call me an optimistic idiot if I told you that I believe everything is going to be okay?” Damen asked him.

“Nothing my uncle is near ever turns out okay,” Laurent said as opposed to answering.

“You turned out more than okay,” Damen said with an intensity betraying the odd atmosphere of being up at, now, three in the morning. He turned his body to face Laurent head on and didn’t allow the passion of his feelings to dim at the sight of Laurent’s open and taken aback facial expression. “It’s crazy to me that you don’t see what I see.”

“I think you’re a bit biased,” Laurent said. He was smiling again though.

Damen leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “You leave me breathless,” he whispered.

Kissing was the most natural thing then. It was soft yet unyielding, like the stillness of the night outside, and Damen smiled into it when he felt Laurent’s shuddering breath against his lips.

“We should definitely eat cake now if we’re planning on getting any sleep before sunrise,” Damen said, regaining his voice first.

“I long gave up on sleeping tonight,” Laurent admitted, but he was standing reaching for the softened cream cheese. “You should go try to get some rest though.” He was talking as he threw all the ingredients into one of the bowls, his voice as soft as it had been earlier. “Thank you for getting up for me. Thank you for talking. I’m sorry I took away your sleep.”

Damen’s arms hooked through Laurent’s own, ceasing his movements, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Laurent’s waist. Laurent immediately leaned back into the touch.

“You know you don’t have to thank me or apologize. Especially not for something like this. We’re a team, you and I. Isn’t that what you told me when I was waking you up at all hours of the night trying to deal with the situation with my brother?”

“I suppose,” Laurent didn’t sound convinced. “Though I can’t recall you doing anything as odd as waking up to bake a cake at an ungodly hour like this one.”

“No, but I did make you watch The Princess Bride with me three times in a row in one night.”

“We should do that again,” Laurent said. His hands had snuck out of the trap of Damen’s arms and were stroking at the soft skin on the back of Damen’s hands instead.

“You did say you had given up on sleep for the night,” Damen trailed.

And that is how they somehow ended up on the sofa at almost four in the morning, eating too big of pieces of red velvet cake and watching as Princess Buttercup threw herself into the gorge after her beloved Westley.

“We should take a slice to Nicaise tomorrow,” Damen whispered minutes later as Westley was taken to the Pit of Despair. Laurent’s head was back on his shoulder and their feet were tangled on the foot rest of the sofa.

Laurent hummed sleepily and placed a barely-there kiss at the hollow of Damen’s throat.

“We should. We could even take him out for dinner afterward.”

“Dessert then dinner?” Damen smiled and placed his own barely-there kiss on Laurent’s temple.

“Dessert then dinner then dessert again,” Laurent yawned. “It’s the only way to do it.”

“As you wish.”

Laurent laughed.

At six, they both jolted awake to a crash as the curtain rod, placed against the hallway wall hours earlier, fell over in a clatter of metal.  The only things chirping outside were still just the crickets.  Damen tried to stretch out the crick in his neck.  Laurent, meanwhile, seemed unaffected by the crash and immediately fell back into soft-breathing slumber.  

The first peek of the sun and the shifting of time made Damen grateful for many things.  He thought of those things as he carried Laurent back to the comfort of their own bed.  

But mostly, he realized as he pulled the blankets over both of their bodies, he was grateful for red velvet cake at 2 A.M.  

Laurent, still asleep, seemed to agree.  He made a quiet sound as he snuggled in closer.  

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars (Week 26)

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Miss the last piece? Read it here!

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My summer vacation is off to a great start! I don’t get a lot of time to work on personal projects during the school year, but this week I’ve gotten a good chunk of translation done, worked on some personal writing, gotten back into a daily running routine, and finished a cross stitch I’ve been working on as a wedding present for a friend. It feels good to be so productive!

Enjoy this week’s RDG!

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 3: Winter Solstice Part 4 (2 of 2)

The Christmas party was still going on.

It was uncertain how many people had noticed that something strange had occurred. Still, there must have been some sort of indication that something had happened because compared to the energy of the first half of the party, the mood had lessened somewhat. Mayura chose this opportunity to change into Cinderella’s ballgown, and she joined Honoka in her prince’s outfit. That brightened the mood again and caused the crowd to break out in a round of applause.

Izumiko couldn’t watch Mayura in her new outfit. Now that it was clear that the ghostly hunters in their black garb were gone and the space had fully returned to reality with the party going continuing, Izumiko suddenly felt all of her energy leave her body, making her knees grow weak. Noticing this, Miyuki and Claus took her by the arm and led her out of the room.

The moment they stepped through the door that led from the spare room on the side of the auditorium into the hallway, Izumiko sank down into a nearby seat. Miyuki hurriedly pulled the reindeer head off of her, alarmed by her inability to stand.

“Are you alright, Izumiko?”

Izumiko appeared from inside her disguise, covered in a cold sweat and letting out gasping breaths. Her braids were messy and parts of her hair were sticking to her forehead.

“I… I was so scared…”

Claus repeated her sentiments from his place beside her, his expression serious. “I get that. Those apparitions were scary. You did really well.”

“What exactly happened?” Miyuki asked, looking troubled. “Why did you panic like that? This time, no one was bothering you. You were just standing there in your costume, but then the power went out, and the auditorium went into another dimension…”

“You haven’t been feeling well, have you, Izumiko? Not for a while.” Claus said.

For a moment, all Izumiko could do was keep gasping for breath, unable to say anything. But little by little, the sharp fear that was making her body tremble all over lessened, and the feeling of danger left her. Now she could speak to Miyuki and Claus. Unfortunately, even after her breathing had quieted, she found that she couldn’t put the situation into words well.

“…It was dark in the costume. So, it was getting hard to breath. I could barely see the people around me. It made me think that everyone was far away and I was completely alone.”

“Izumiko, you’re not afraid of closed in spaces, are you?” Miyuki spoke up quickly. “You’ve got the symptoms of claustrophobia. Have you been feeling badly since you put the costume on?”

Izumiko blinked a number of times. She hadn’t considered it before, but now that she thought about it, she had never liked closed in spaces. She had pushed herself too hard and hadn’t noticed that her discomfort had begun as soon as she had put the reindeer head on.

“…That sounds about right. There’s not much space inside the mask and I don’t like being completely wrapped up in this costume from head to toe.”

Surprised by Izumiko’s declaration, Miyuki let out a long sigh.

“Why didn’t you say from the start that you didn’t like the costume? You’re so dumb.”

“I couldn’t say anything though. Everyone’s going out of their way to think about my wellbeing,” Izumiko protested weakly, but Miyuki frowned.

“If you’re getting hurt in the process of people trying to be nice, they’re not taking care of you. You have to make it clear when you don’t like something. Didn’t something big just happen because you didn’t say anything? And what was up with those ghosts at the end? Once you seemed to get control of your powers again, it was like you gave them a power up.”

“I don’t know. I think it happened on its own.”

Izumiko was a little frustrated to see that he was getting upset over something he didn’t have anything to do with. A little of that energy returned with her frustration though.

“I might not have been able to say that I didn’t like the costume before, but if it’s alright with you, I’ll say it now. It’s pretty difficult standing around in a full body costume when everyone’s talking and laughing and having a good time. Only people who have experienced it would know though.”

When all I’m doing is standing around on the edge of a party, I just can’t find the urge to give you the present I bought for you…  

She realized that she wasn’t actually angry—she wanted to cry. And with that, whatever willpower that had been holding back the tears that were now pooling around her eyelashes disappeared. They overflowed and dripped down on the brown fur of her reindeer costume.

“…This is the first party I’ve ever been to.”

“I know. Stop. I get it, so stop crying,” Miyuki said quickly, caught off guard.

He leaned forward towards Izumik, who was still sitting down, and placed a hand on her small head.

“I know you were only trying to get through what you had to do, but don’t cry in a place like this. Nothing happened during the actual party in reality, so I think we can say it’s a success. That’s a reason to smile, you know.”

“Yeah… But still,” Izumiko said, tears still streaming down her face. “I bought clothes specifically for today’s party. Jewelry too!”

“Then that’s even more reason not to be crying,” Miyuki replied, easily rejecting her words. Before Izumiko could respond, he continued. “Even if you don’t get a chance to change outfits today, doesn’t that just mean you should find an opportunity to wear them some other time? If it’s that important to you, I’ll come up with something. Christmas Eve is coming, you know.”

Izumiko had continued to sniffle while listening to what Miyuki had to say, but when she heard his last words, her tears abruptly stopped. She wiped her eyes with a costumed hand.

“Come up with something… For what?”

“Something for us to do. We could go to karaoke or see a movie or something.”

“Really?”

Now certain that she was done crying, Claus’s face broke into an expression of candid relief.

“I’m going to go see if they’ve brought out the cake for the end of the party. I’ll grab both of you pieces, and let’s eat together.”

*****

While Izumiko, Miyuki, and Claus were sitting in the spare room eating their cake off paper plates, Ichijo Takayanagi walked in.  

He was still wearing his diviner’s outfit, but he had taken off the tall hat that went with it. As a result, he didn’t look as tall as he had before. His expression was calmer than it had been at the beginning of the party, too.

“Now I get why you have to hide, Izumiko. It’s not a question of the level of your abilities. It’s when they’ll appear next,” he said, not bothering with a greeting first.

Surprised by his entrance, Izumiko, Miyuki, and Claus all stopped eating.

“Would you say that we entered another dimension back there?” Miyuki responded very carefully.

“If you thought that Izumiko’s powers were the opposite of diviner powers, you’d be wrong. She’s the source of all the power that’s been appearing here. She’s a powerful point of magical reference.” Takayanagi wet his lips and then continued. “Izumiko didn’t seal away my shikigami. She doesn’t know how to do things like seal or bind. That’s not what she’s doing. She’s altering the flow of magic from its origin even though she has no clue what she’s doing.”

“Aren’t you the one benefiting from this alteration?” Miyuki said, sounding unconcerned. “From what I saw, your magic seems to be more powerful than it was before.”

“In divination, there are rules and logic. Fundamentally, the idea is that chaos builds up in our world, and rules and logic are the restraints that we have been provided with to hold it at bay. Therefore, the ability to bind magic is essential. That’s not what Izumiko’s abilities are though. They amplify things. That’s what she does.”

After finishing a large bite of his remaining cake, Miyuki put his plate down.

“And?”

“And, you say? Izumiko has shown you what she’s capable of. So why aren’t you frightened by it? She amplified the good and the bad indiscriminately just now. My shikigami and those unidentifiable spirits of the dead!”

Takayanagi waved both his hands around as he spoke, but Miyuki only shrugged.

“Well, that’s probably because she’s not used to what she’s doing yet. It’s not that I don’t get what you’re saying. The whole reason why the ascetic monks call the goddess the goddess is because she’s a source of power. But it’s ridiculous to be afraid of her. Izumiko’s the one with all that power and all she can think about is party clothes.”

“That’s a terrible way of putting it, Miyuki,” Izumiko complained, setting her own plate down. However, now that she was feeling better, she could reflect calmly on what she had done. Even when Takayanagi met her gaze, she was able to speak her mind without backing down.

“Today, I thought a lot about the things you’ve said to me. I don’t think what you’re feeling is wrong exactly. That’s why the ascetic monks need to hide me away. So that I’m not used for something strange and dangerous.”

Takayanagi looked at Izumiko and let out a short sigh.

“I’m aware that you were the one that so easily made my shikigami so powerful and allowed me to achieve the feat I did today. I can’t say why or how from what I saw, but the thing that descended on the party was probably trying to test the power that it felt here. It was something that leaked out of its own barrier.”

Miyuki glanced at Izumiko next to him.

“The group that appeared were demons from the west. Was Izumiko influenced by hearing their story from Hoshino?”

“That may have been it, but…” Izumiko murmured.

Had she been that frightened by the story, she wondered. She was suddenly embarrassed.

“I believe it’s possible that they may have come that far, even though they aren’t familiar with our campus,” Takayanagi said with mixed emotions. “Situations like that have happened before, so it’s likely that’s what happened here. It seems that there’s still reason to examine what it would mean for us to cooperate with each other.”

“Yes, yes. We need to look into that,” an unexpected voice said, interrupting Takayanagi. “But this time, at least, you get passing marks for cooperation.”

The four students in the spare room all turned their heads to look towards the door. Angelica was standing there in her umbrella-like pink skirt.

“My father’s going to be extremely pleased that there are such outstanding students here,” she said in a carefree tone. “It would be amazing if you all joined forces. My father said you’d become World Heritage Candidates, just like the Kii Mountain Range.”

Izumiko felt her heart speed up at the mention of her home. “Um, what do you mean like the Kii Mountain Range?”

“The Kii Mountain Range is a group of World Heritage sites like none other in the world. There are so many temples, shrines, and spiritual places, all connected by pilgrimages by people of all different religions. You’ll probably be recommended as a team for World Heritage Candidate. At least that’s what my father said.”

“As a team?...”

Dumbfounded, Takayanagi asked suspiciously, “Angelica, who’s going to be on this team? Are the Soudas included in this too?”

“Everyone’s included. The student government too,” Angelica answered with a bright laugh. “Izumiko and everyone who protects her are valuable. Also, I don’t think you know this yet, but this was what the chairman was aiming for from the start. My father is finally going to be interested in what’s happening here!”

Keep reading!

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mahiru visits his old home and discovers Touma is his dad. (KuroMahi)

“Nothing has changed. There’s a lot of weeds in the yard though.” Mahiru said as he walked through the gate. He looked over the simple bungalow that he lived in with his mother. After his uncle adopted him, he moved out of the quaint house. He hadn’t returned since he was a child. He thought that it was a shame that the house had been empty for such a long time. “Hopefully, the dust won’t be too bad.”

“I should remind you that we’re only staying the night so you don’t need to clean this entire house. Knowing you, you would think about it.” He joked and Mahiru rolled his eyes. While Kuro was speaking in a teasing tone, he watched Mahiru’s expression carefully. He could only imagine what he was feeling now that they were in his childhood home.

The house had a small yard and he pictured a young Mahiru playing there. Kuro knew how much Mahiru loved his mother and there were likely bittersweet memories in the house. He wanted to ask him how he felt but he thought that it was best to wait. Mahiru would wait for him to be comfortable before they talk and that helped him. Hopefully, he could do the same for Mahiru.

“I don’t know why C3 couldn’t ask your uncle or someone else to pick up those files.” He pointed out.  

Mahiru reminded him, “My uncle is busy and he can’t drive all the way to the countryside. Thinking simply, I should be the one to retrieve the files since I know this house well. What I want to know is how he could forget important documents here. Uncle Toru would visit us a lot and play with me. I never imagined he was fighting vampires. I’m still trying to process it.”

He unlocked the door and they walked through the door. Kuro opened the curtains and let light into the home. While he did that, Mahiru pulled a white cloth off the furniture. Dust leapt into the air and made him cough slightly. It wasn’t much but Kuro patted his back tenderly. Mahiru smiled at him and said, “I’m fine. Thank you, Kuro.”

“This is cozy.” The compliment made Mahiru smile. Kuro placed their bags on the couch. Since the house was on the edge of the city, they had to take a train. They decided to stay at the house for the night and take the train home the next morning. He rubbed his stiff neck and groaned, “That chair was impossible to sleep in. Do you want to order dinner now or search for that file first?”

“Uncle already told me where it likely is. Hopefully, the documents will help us learn how to contain the Jinn released and heal your siblings. You can order take out while I get it.” Mahiru said and Kuro nodded. He preferred to cook dinner for them but the house wasn’t equipped with food. He reminisced about a simpler time and the memories were bittersweet.

Mahiru walked to the cabinet and pulled open the bottom drawer. He found a few books and small items he didn’t pack when he moved out. His uncle helped him pack back then and Mahiru couldn’t be more grateful for his support. “Oh, what’s this?”

Kuro knelt next to Mahiru and looked over his shoulder. A photo album was tucked into the corner of the drawer. He knew how important his mother was to him so he was surprised he hadn’t taken it with him. But Mahiru didn’t recognize the album. He flipped it open and the first picture was of his mother. “This looks like photos from when my mom and uncle were in high school.”

“You get a lot from your mother’s side of the family.” He mused as they flipped through the album. “Are there any baby pictures of you here?”

“I think this is Mom’s photo album from her high school days.” Mahiru didn’t know if his uncle merely forgot or if it was too painful to take. His mother’s death was difficult for both of them but he didn’t see his uncle’s pain because he was only a child. But they became a family and helped each other move past their mourning. “I should bring this home. Simply put, there must be important memories in here.”

“Photos can be made in seconds these days. In the past, we had to sit for hours in front of a painter. Lily made us pose for a portrait once.” Kuro regretted that they didn’t record more memories together. He didn’t have many pictures with his family because they had to keep their existence a secret. If someone discovered a photo of them from centuries ago, they would ask questions.

When he explained that to Mahiru, he said, “It’s never too late to make memories and take photos with your siblings. After this war is over, we should take group photo with everyone. Right now, we need to find that file and help your siblings recover their Jinn.”

A knock woke Kuro later that night. He groaned loudly but he did his best to fight against the haze of sleep. It was likely Mahiru knocking on his door since he was the only other person in the house. Kuro opened the door and he was standing there like he predicted. He wasn’t expecting Mahiru to look so pale and shaken though. He immediately reached out to him. “Are you okay, Mahiru?”

He didn’t answer him aside from shaking his head. He stepped aside and let him into the room. Mahiru walked to the bed and he sank onto the mattress. Kuro noticed that he was clutching a photo and his hands were trembling. He turned on a lamp and saw that it was a photo of his mother holding an infant. He guessed that it was Mahiru. “Do you miss your mother?”

Mahiru turned the photograph around so he could see the writing on the back. August 7th. Our son is a month old now. Mahiru has your nose, Touma.

Kuro gasped when he read the name. He looked from the photo to Mahiru who was still silent. He touched his arm and wished he was better with words. What could he say in this situation? Mahiru’s hands stopped shaking but Kuro knew that he was still trying to process the meaning behind the words. Touma was his father.

Mahiru did the last thing Kuro expected he would. He laughed bitterly. “When I used Elpis and entered his mind, he tried to taunt me with my father. ‘Your father is a terrible, wicked man.’ If only I knew the truth then, I would’ve punched him a second time for making Mom’s life difficult.”

“I’ll hold him down for you.” Kuro offered and Mahiru made a strained laugh. His brown eyes didn’t hold the same warmth it usually did whenever he smiled. He shifted closer to him and leaned against his arm. Mahiru wrapped his arms tightly around Kuro’s waist, wanting to borrow his strength and composure.

“After my mom died, I accepted that I would never learn who my father was. Isn’t it ironic? I learned who my father was but I still can’t ask him anything. He’s dead.” A tiny sigh escaped Mahiru. “There’s a lot of things I wanted to ask my father but I doubt I would forgive him no matter what he said. I just wanted to have a few answers like why he left us.”

“There are a few things you can be certain about.” Kuro wrapped his hand around Mahiru’s. He guided his hand and urged him to turn the picture again. “Your mom loved you.”

“She was a great mother and she did her best to raise me by herself.” Mahiru nodded and finally smiled.

A few minutes earlier, he had been looking through the old photo album and then he discovered the truth. His world spun until he was dizzy and confused. Everything he thought he knew suddenly became questionable to him. As he worried over the possibilities, he instinctively went to Kuro. He knew he could rely on him when things became confusing. Kuro protected him throughout all the supernatural scenarios they found themselves in.

“Thank you for talking with me about this.” Mahiru said.

“I didn’t say much. We can both agree that you’re better with words and comforting others.” Despite his protests, Mahiru shook his head. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. He placed the photo on the bedside table and then laid back on the bed. The tension Mahiru felt was almost gone and there was one more thing he wanted to ask Kuro.

“Is it alright if we have a little sleepover in your room? I would like to talk a little longer.”

“This is your house so you can sleep wherever you want.” Kuro shrugged but his answer made Mahiru smile. He jumped to his feet and walked out of the room. Mahiru soon returned with a heavy futon and pillows. Kuro helped him when he almost tripped over the blanket. He spread out the futon but Kuro laid down on it before Mahiru could. “You take the bed.”

“But the bed would be more comfortable for you. I don’t mind sleeping on the futon.” Mahiru insisted and nudged his shoulder. Kuro grunted and pulled his blanket over his head. Even if he didn’t say anything, he knew that Kuro was being thoughtful and kind. He smiled and climbed onto the bed. Mahiru leaned over the edge slightly and tapped Kuro’s shoulder. “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Maybe doughnuts. I don’t know if we can find anything good at the station tomorrow.” He pushed the blanket off him and saw Mahiru staring back at him. The light from the lamp softened his face and there was a warm glow on his skin. Kuro whispered, “How are you feeling?”

“I already came to terms with my father a long time ago. The only thing that changed is that I have a face and a name for him.” Mahiru reassured him. He closed his eyes but he felt Kuro lock their fingers together. His touch was light but also warm and comforting. “I’m my own person. If I ever adopt a child, I’ll never abandon them.”

“You’re already act like a mother hen with our friends so you’ll be a great parent.” The encouragement was mixed with a joke and Mahiru lightly flicked Kuro’s forehead. Then he rubbed his finger over the spot he flicked. Kuro chuckled and said, “You’ll be a strict mom. Maybe the person you marry will be more laidback. They can teach that kid the wonders of cake after midnight.”

“That’s bad, Kuro.” He said and Kuro laughed. He found himself laughing along with him. Mahiru had to admit, “I never thought much about romance and dating. It’s simpler to let these things happen naturally. I have to focus on school too.”

Despite his lazy nature, he was kind and dependable. He would like to be with someone like Kuro. When the thought crossed his mind, Mahiru blushed. He laid back in the bed and pulled the covers to his lips. “It’s late so we should go to sleep. Are you sure you’re comfortable down there? I can share.”

“I already said it’s alright. Just lend me your shoulder when I fall asleep on the train tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Mahiru gave him a smile and whispered. “Goodnight, Kuro. Thank you for everything.”

[mademoiselleseraph]

12th Perigee's Eve with Some Minor Celebrities

A very belated secret santa gift for the @hiveswapsecretsanta2018 and @the-bisexual-dumpster about Charun, Chixie, and Cirava spending the holiday together and being best buds

~~~

Charun was running late, but when weren’t they running late? They supposed it was a small price to pay for looking nice.  They knew looking nice for them meant looking like a disaster to others but it was typical for -- what did people call them? -- oh yeah, avant garde types.  They were so avant garde. The avant-est of garde. Yeah.

They had already combed their hair (just to muss it up just right), brushed their teeth (doing what they could to dull their fangs), and washed their face (and applied some blood based paint to the sides of their mouth and one of their temples).  Next step was to say goodbye. They patted the shell of their lion-faced snail lusus, Speedy, promising to be safe. Then they went to the ventriloquist dummy they found one day and had a strange attachment to though they could not, for the life of them, remember where it came from or when they first saw it, let alone what species it was supposed to portray.  Some kind of demon thing? Maybe. They gave it a strong hug and gently placed it back down on the floor. Finally, they went to the wall.

The dummy always gave Charun what a friend of theirs would describe as “weird fucking vibes, man lmao.”  Looking at its glassy eyes and painted smile unsettled them. It gave them a jittery giddiness for pain and destruction that itched and disoriented.  There was a wall in the cave that had the opposite effect. The words scrawled all about in various shades of blood had a somber, melancholy look, but filled them with hope.  They ran a finger under the words where they seemed to start.

“Let it be known before all else,” it read, “that there is no sin in wanting to live.  Second, that to help instead of harm one’s fellow troll is nobler by far. Third, that worth and character cannot be determined by blood.”

And it went on.  Their favorite part of it was the tale of Twelfth Perigee’s eve.  This figure and his group traveled by day as often as they could, shielding themselves from the harsh sun with parasols, cloaks, and scarves.  But the Twelfth Perigee was the darkest of all perigees, and one could could walk freely without fear of burning on that one day. They celebrated the ease of their burden, baking sweet cakes for the orphans and sharing cordial among the adults.

And then they remembered the sweet cakes.  They had baked them in a fit of inspiration from the ancient scribblings to take to their friends for their Twelfth Perigee’s Eve get-together.  Oh right, they were really quite late now. They put the still warm cakes into an insulated bag, and then into another insulated bag to be sure they were kept warm, and then in a basket for that rustic charm.  They slipped on a coat, shaped to look like it had odd growths under the material and decorated with scrap metal, and headed out.

Meanwhile, Chixie was worried.  She was often worried due to various factors, mostly having to do with cameras and what they would capture and what others would do with it.  But it wasn’t entirely about that this time.

Her worrying was a major reason her friends agreed to meet at her place for Perigee’s Eve.  That way no one would catch her walking to anyone’s hive and start rumors that would convince her more powerful and more obsessive fans to take out the competition in gruesome ways.  Would that happen? No way to say for sure, but she’d rather stay on the safe side.

It must have been around the fifth time she looked out the window in the span of twenty minutes when Cirava called to her from the couch.

“Chix, I’m gonna need you to calm down,” they said.  “This isn’t the first time they’ve run late and it won’t be the last.”

“I know,” she replied in as un-snippity a manner as she could.  “but it’s been a while since you got here and you never know what kind of creeps are out there or what they’re seeing or what they’re saying.”

“Are people really watching your hive to see who comes and goes?”

“It’s not like I’m that hard to track down and it’s not exactly difficult to get into the bronze side of town.”  Her breathing quickened and her face contorted in panic as she continued: “And you know whatever they write about me, he’s gonna see it, and --”

“Chixie!”  They clamped a hand on her shoulder, trying to snap her out of it.  “This is ultimately your place so you’re gonna do what you’re gonna do.  But when you get worked up like this, you get agitated, then bitter, then hopeless, and that’s about when you tend to hit the bottle.”

Her shoulders drooped and she sank into the couch under their arm and squeezed the hand still holding her shoulder.  They were a wispy thing and by all logic their bony limbs should have hurt to be held in, but nothing could make anyone feel safer.

“I don’t mean to cross any bounds by sounding all conciliatory and shit,” they continued, “but you said you were tryna cut back, so I figured we should at least wait til Charun gets here.”

“You’re not crossing anything,” she insisted, hugging them back.  “I know you’re not meaning it like that, and I appreciate you trying to help.”

“While we’re at it maybe we could not talk about him today?  Whenever he gets brought up, you seem to feel worse, and I know I don’t have any fond memories of the guy.”

“Yeah.  I could use a break from even thinking about him.  When do you think Charun will get here?”

And just then there was a knock at the door.  Speak of the devil.

Chixie opened the door and drew Charun into a warm hug.

“I know I’m late...” they mumbled.  An unfinished thought, but soon to come again.

“Oh, we’re just happy your safe!” Chixie chirped.

“You had her worried sick, dumbass,” Cirava joked.

“...but I brought food,” they concluded, holding up the basket.  “Cakes for everyone.”

Cirava took the basket to the table and opened the insulated bags.

The lovely smell hit Chixie’s nose instantly.  “Chocolate?”

“And raspberry!” Cirava murmured, mouth already full of a bite.

“Glad you like ‘em...” Charun droned on.  “Made plenty…. Have ‘smany as you’d like….”

They tactfully did not mention the lack of cordial in respect for Chixie’s little problem, or the fact the inspiration came from a wall someone had written on in blood.

They talked fans, making sure to exclude him as promised, and the pressure of fame, and lusii of course.  They were still young after all. Eventually they stumbled on the subject of Chixie’s lovely home and decorating.

“Yeah, I normally don’t get too festive,” she admitted, “but I wanted to go all out for you two.”

“It’s….” Charun mumbled.

“Bitchin’,” Cirava stated.

“....Pretty,” Charun concluded.

She swelled with pride, took a deep breath, and let herself process that pride.  “Yeah, it’s not too shabby,” she said. “Actually, I think I did a great job!” It felt good.  It felt true.  None of that coy oh, you bullshit or false modesty.  She didn’t have to pretend around them because they knew it too.

Her hive really was decked to the nines.  Tinsel garlands, evergreen wreaths, the bones on the mantle, a roaring fire, candles, and of course the behemoth leaving with its own decorations.

“Why is that even a thing?” Cirava asked, gesturing to it.  “Like how did that start? It’s not entirely sanitary.”

“Oh, I know this one!” Chixie said.  “It’s excellent fertilizer. It used to be that you’d keep it in the hive so no one could steal it, and you’d put it on your crops through the planting season and they’d grow like crazy.  The decorations started with cloves and evergreen twigs to make it smell better.”

“And the bones…” added Charun, “...were good for crops too…. But also… after you suck the marrow out… you can string ‘em up like windchimes….  Scares off some aggressive species... if you live out in the middle of nowhere….”

“Speaking of aggressive species,” Cirava noted, setting up their husktop, “you guys wanna shout out to my fans with me?”

The others agreed and sat on either side of them as they got the microphone ready, put on their camera face, and hit record.

“Hey all you funky little weirdos.  I’m taking a break from streaming to spend the holiday with some dear friends, but I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.  Thank you so much for all the love and support, and I’ll be sure to link in the description where you can listen to some of my fresh beats til I get back.  But hey, from me and mine to you and yours--”

And then they all said, more or less in unison, “Happy Eve!” and waved at the camera. Cirava shut it off and posted the video to their chittr and other social media accounts, then put the husktop away.

And with that out of the way, and some touches of worry as to what her fans would make of it, Chixie decided it was best to break out the punch.  She made it in advance and left it to chill and had completely forgotten it. That must have been Cirava’s doing, she realized, keeping her mind on other things and away from the drink.  Though she restrained herself and made it significantly less boozy than she usually did, and apologized if that made it taste funny.

“Actually,” said Charun, “I think it’s… better.”

And she flashed a quick but genuine thank-you smile.  She never really drank it for the taste before.

And they went on like that.  Cirava and Charun passed a pipe between them, offering to Chixie.  She only took one hit, not wanting to dry out her throat. Cirava, on the other hand, blew all manner smoke rings and swished their hand in the smoke to make blurry semblances of shapes.  Charun tried to trace abstract outlines of them with their own finger. Something about it gave Chixie a cheery sense of ease that was quite rare to her. She asked Cirava if the case for their husktop was soundproof, which they confirmed, and she suggested they all put their palm husks in with it.

“So….  What was that about?” asked Charun.Chixie had the beginnings of a mischievous little smirk at the corners of her mouth and replied, “How about singing some carols?”

“Um, are you out of your gourd?” Cirava shot back.

“I already plugged the TV and anything else that might be bugged.  And besides, what’s Twelfth Perigee’s Eve without a little illegal activity?”

“We should steal…” Charun trailed off, “from highbloods!  And leave shit… on their lawnrings.”

And after some scared looks from their companions, they took it back.

“Nah…. You’re right… that’s a death sentence…. Let’s just sing some songs.”

Chixie started with the old familiar melody:

“Oh, merry moon

Lend me your tune

For on my pipes to play”

And then Charun in a surprisingly graceful baritone voice:

“And may the lonesome

Find a home

On this most holy darkest day”

And they both looked to Cirava waiting for them to join.  Eventually they caved.

“They killed him

And they cursed him

But it’s said he’ll come again”

And all of them in unison:

“So merry moon

Lend me your tune

To welcome an old friend”

And they sang songs about respite and recovery and joy to be found among friends and a fruitful new sweep with burdens lifted.  Songs that were outlawed and had to be sung in complete secrecy for fear that they could start a riot. Songs that made one feel like an honest rebel just for singing.  Man, Twelfth Perigee’s Eve carols are hardcore! Well, maybe not outside of that context.

And hours stretched on and on and the three friends drew closer until crammed together on a single couch cushion.  The smiles were genuine and the hands gestured naturally as they spoke about what happened sweeps ago and what might in the sweeps from then.

The softest, weakest bits of sunlight slipped in through the shades as dawn broke, getting a gasp out of Chixie.

“I didn’t mean to keep you out so late!” she apologized.  The light was dim enough to walk in but highblood customs involved drugs and destructive raiding well into the morning.  As one could imagine, it wasn’t safe.

“You’re fine,” Cirava said.  “Cool if we crash here?”

“Sure!” she replied.  “I just have the one ‘cuperacoon though.”

“Cirava can take… the couch,” said Charun.  “I just need… some pillows….”

“Well, actually, if you two don’t mind, maybe we can share it?”

“You sure…?  That wasn’t...virgin punch… it was still spiked….”

“Yeah, Chix, you really okay with this?  We can sleep out here.”

“I’m sure!  If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but it’ll probably be much more comfortable.”  There was a slight pause as she gathered up the courage to say, “I trust you guys.”

That came as a pleasant surprise to both of them.

“Alright,” Cirava said, followed by Charun some time after.

They barricaded the doors, not that it would really stop anyone, but it did make them feel a little better, and Chixie led the way to her respite block

There they took their waking clothes off and realized just how wonderfully not-awkward it all was.  At no point did they feel like they should be ashamed or that they shouldn’t do it. Though it did get them all cracking up about a conversation they had earlier that sweep, about how if they couldn’t fill their quadrants in adulthood, they’d somehow find each other and pail.

“I really hope that’s not the case,” Cirava said after a good chuckle, “for your sakes.  I wouldn’t want either of you having to fill a bucket with my ugly mug.”

“That’s what…” Charun replied, “...paper bags are for…!”

And there was another round of hearty laughter as they all squeezed in together.  Admittedly, it was a tight fit, but not uncomfortable. Three kids in one recuperacoon.  That would have been some kind of safety code violation if there existed safety codes to violate on Alternia.  Besides the basic “do not fuck with the drones” but that was more common sense.

They realized just before drifting off that they were all holding hands.  And that morning with its cloudy skies and lazy sunshine was the most restful sleep any of them ever had.

[blankdblank]

My Pearl Pt 3

Pt 1 - Pt 2 -

Smut warning, so, ya...

Tags –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @abiwim​, @jotink78, @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @thequeenoferebor

…

No matter what he did Thorin couldn’t sleep. The image of you with your arms wrapped around the neck of another paired with the momentary pressing of lips to the stranger’s face led him to a boiling rage the longer his mind played it again and again. Yes you had turned out to be relatives but that momentary sting just dug at him. He trusted you, completely, there was no doubting that, his main pain was in realizing just how much this quiet little stranger had worked her way so deeply into his heart without even trying. Minute by minute he replayed each moment you had spent together in the kitchens and the two times you had spent alone weren’t enough to find out if you had cared for him in return. There was respect there and grounds for a pleasantly playful relationship between you mixing in with your clear welcoming of collaborating on dishes in the future, should the union hold.

Hoping it would hold he did what he always did to wear himself out, bake. One idea had been lingering in his mind all day and he felt a smirk ease onto his face when he had finally gotten to it. Meringues, five of them in varying mixtures, nipping at his lip his eyes wandered to the hall leading to your home. Without reason he walked to your door and pressed his ear to it and smirked at the sound of music playing. In an abrupt turn he collected two of the pies and walked back to the doorway he’d quietly propped open. A smirk eased onto his lips as he spotted you lounging on an arm chair twirling a pen between your fingers with a notebook resting on your lap. Quietly he left the pies on your counter catching a glimpse of your sitting up on his path to grab the others, your eyes trailing over his shirtless muscular form with just a pair of cut off sweats coating his every rippling fluid motion.

In his momentary absence you hopped up and darted into your room to claim a pair of shorts then walked through the house toward the kitchen eyeing the stomach churning cakes and pies he set out before you. After wetting his lips he stated, “I was thinking, Amad has been pestering me for what to specialize for next week’s menus, and, meringues came to mind.”

You nodded and flashed a weak smile accepting the fork he offered you before he turned to grab a set of plates from your cabinet and raised the slicer he’d brought along with him to cut a fairly good sized piece of each of the brightly covered dishes. Each one you tasted and managed to hide your puckers and shivers at least until you reached the last one, ginger and lime, a single forkful and as he returned with a glass of water for you both after his sharing in the tasting he froze at your fork shifting in your hand you held in front of your mouth as you painfully chewed and swallowed. The glasses met the counter as he grabbed his fork for a taste of his own, “Did I mix the salt and sugar in the crème?”

Your head shook just a moment before your body shivered and you drew in a breath and softly stated, “I like the ginger. Texture’s good.”

He blinked at you curiously after sampling his forkful, uncertain of what had bothered you with it forcing to fill his fork again as he furrowed his brows, “What was that reaction for? What is wrong with it?” He asked before shoveling his forkful into his mouth with a determined scowl testing it as he chewed.

“Nothing. It’s good. Certainly up to par with being specials for a week.”

He blinked at you curiously after swallowing, “Then what was the shiver for? No one has ever had that reaction to any of my dishes.”

You wet your lips and grabbed the meringue cake you split the meringue from the chocolate sponge layer and you filled your fork with it again, “When I was five my Nana got this client, couldn’t afford to pay for the alterations and costumes she made, so she baked. Unfortunately she lived on a great stretch of land where they grew orchards of just about every fruit,” he nodded and claimed another bite of one of the other pies, “Her specialty was meringue.” Your next mild shudder at the memory drew a weak smirk from him, “There was a bad winter, and, it changed the soil, which made everything tarter. And somehow it’d affected the chickens as well, the eggs, it just all, was off. Then everyone that had their pies got sick, and I haven’t been able to eat it easily since.”

His cheeks rose as he smirked and glanced at his plate, “Ah, I have a few dishes like that. Eel for one. Any other dishes you don’t like?”

With a brush of your fork you stripped the almond layer from the side of the sponge replying, “I don’t like nuts in desserts, or mushrooms.” He nodded, “And my kin rarely enjoy seafood. A few common breeds of fish are fine, but outside of that-.” His smirk halted your words earning an eye roll from him as you raised your fork, “Now you’re the one with a look.” Shoving the mouthful into your mouth with a playful glare at him.

His smirk grew as he swallowed his mouthful, “You certainly cut down a great deal of my famed dishes with those limits.”

Covering your mouth you replied, “Cook what you like. I’ll eat what’s put in front of me.”

He raised a brow at you, “You’re not a child, and I certainly am not going to force you to eat something you dislike, or makes you shiver like that.”

“Hmm, I’ll try to remember that.”

He rolled his eyes then glanced at your pantry then back to you, “So, mousse, how easy of a recipe is it?”

You smirked and helped him move his desserts back to his kitchen then used his kitchen, at his instance so he would know the full process to repeat it later. Step by step you couldn’t help but smirk at his peering over your shoulders, just barely touching them to ask random questions as the heat from his body right behind you. His awed smile growing as he watched the masterful creation of the mousse after he’d whipped up the square sponge you would layer it on. The whiskey you would use for the chocolate drizzle kept getting lower and lower at your sips between shared comments and joking stories about when you’d first tried your dishes. While it set in the fridge you spooned the last of the mousse and offered it to Thorin. His smirk broke as he accepted the spoonful from you with a pleased hum. In a low rumble he praised it and claimed another for himself smirking at you after wetting his lips.

Clearly the whiskey had set in as your joking conversation grew a bit more difficult at the distance closing between you. A soft ding split you apart as his lips had just barely ghosted against yours, snapped back to reality you placed the cooled dessert on the counter and sliced a piece free once you’d removed the plastic guard holding the mousse in place until it set. Leaving that in the sink you went to pass the plate to Thorin only to pause at his arm crossing over your chest with fork in hand to claim a bite. His spot remained there as he hummed happily and went to claim another bite. A crumble and a drip of the chocolate sauce later a pair of warm lips met your neck to claim the drizzle he had dropped there.

With parted lips your head tilted as his head tilted to press his lips a bit higher on your neck. The heat from him now melting through your skin when he pressed against you drawing your attention to the truth behind his murmured Khuzdul purrs against your neck came when a firm pulsing muscle was felt against your backside. Tender strokes of his fingertips brushed along the bare strips of skin under your brushed up tank top, a simple tilt of your head brought his warm purrs to an end when his lips melted against yours. Between the low moans and firm hands trailing over you your hands smoothed around his shoulders while his sank lower to pull your hips closer to his, that made his arousal even more evident to you in your place pressed against the pantry door. Quickly your hands dipped under his waistband pushing his sweats and briefs down while stealing a firm graze of your fingers over his ass. A deep chuckle came from him as he stripped you of your shorts and panties and sank into you.

Firmly his lips met yours again in the deepening kiss muffling your moans through his thrusting into you. A soft cry broke from you when his mouth returned to your neck when he shifted your hips to sink deeper into you hoping for earning louder cries of pleasure from you. Each thrust and deliberate teasing of his lips, teeth, tongue and fingers over your skin bringing you startlingly to a coursing wave of pleasure through you until the firm dragging of your nails across his back and ass earned a low chuckle from him as you pulsed around him in your climaxing slump against his shoulder and chest.

Tenderly his lips trailed along your neck and cheeks through another wave of purred sentiments slid across your skin between kisses. Firmly his hands shifted your legs around his waist and he carried you to his bedroom chuckling as you giggled against his lips on his laying you back and slipping out of you to trail his lips lower past your navel. His eyes hungrily taking in the details of the eagles and petals inked onto your hips and eased your thigh he stroked and nipped at gently before he turned to your core. Lapping and teasing you his smirk returned at your soft gasps and arches between cries of ecstasy.

Propped above you his eyes shifted to his drawer as he purred, “I bought something, did you want to try it?”

A nod later he’d slid the ring around his shaft and broke your muffled moan as he sank inside you again causing you to release your lip you had nipped at to melt into the heated kiss in your tangling of tongues. Deeply his thrusts began as his hand switched on the vibrating ring that drew a soft gasp from you. Firmly he held your hips up while on his knees, smirking as your legs wrapped around him through your near whimpering moans through his deepening thrusts while your hips worked against his. In a snaking you’re your fingers latched onto his hair earning another deep chuckle from him at your holding him into another kiss allowing him to work his tongue against yours when you darted yours between his lips.

Two more near breath taking climaxes later he gripped your ass with one hand as the other slid under your shoulders lifting you onto his lap when he sat up on his knees. Gently his lips peppered across your skin as he let you steady your breathing and collect yourself before your hand gripped his now drooping bun to firmly press your lips to his in your next wave of spiking lust and rocked above him. The hushed whimper from you drawing his hand to switch the ring on again when the lack of it spurred an ache in you. When it switched on he chuckled weakly as your head rested against his shoulder and your hands left another white pressing trail across his back in your whimpering moan at the toy being just where you needed it for full body tingling waves to course through you as it easily drew you towards the edge again.

Instinctually while Thorin’s hands gripped your ass and smoothed across your back with a deep moan himself at your hips rocking against his. Again he drew you closer to him and thrust deeply upwards between your rocking motions. Moans and cries came from you both as he joined you nearly finishing on your first clench around him when the toy was turned on again. Finally his hips gave one last trust against yours when you slumped against him in your shared climax. Slid out of you again his lips met yours for a tender kiss on his path to slide to the end of the bed to guide you to the shower. Your lack of soaps spurred him to grab his soap and a new pair of briefs, then followed you to your room to join you in your shower.

Adoringly soapy hands coated the both of you before your hair was washed and you both exited and dried, stealing the chance to help one another with a simple braid, redressed and slid into your bed. Warmly you curled together for as much sleep as possible in the short time you had left.

.

A low grumble trailed after the distant doorbell sounding. Blinking awake Thorin’s head rose as his body shifted to press against the body scooting closer to his for warmth. In a glance down as a grumble sounded from you his mind raced through the night before with a smile easing onto his face that only flinched back at it occurring after remembering the alcohol that had brought it on. Through his panicking thoughts about your reaction another distant ring sounded causing you to roll onto your side with one eye open that promptly shut as you sighed, “It’s the boys.”

The pounding in your heads earning another groan from you as he mumbled, “I, um. The boys needed a lift to work.”

Distantly fists pounded on the door calling out his name making you grumble again and press your hands to his chest giving him a gentle push, “Go shut them up.” He couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at your trying to burrow under the covers again. Leaning in his lips met your forehead, “We can talk later.”

As he sat up you groaned and buried your head under your pillow at your shrill alarm sounding. “For the love of Eru!” Your Elvish mumble muffled by the pillow as Thorin turned it off and turned to go shut up the boys in his struggle to stay upright through his pounding migraine.

With an unsteady glare Thorin answered the door to his two grinning Nephews who eyed him curiously, “In the shower?”

Thorin shook his head watching as they brushed past him. In a staggering stance he turned closing the door and grumbled his way to the kitchen where the boys were too distracted by the desserts on the counter to catch him grabbing your panties and shorts he shoved into the pocket of the sweats he pulled on again.

Kili smirked at him gesturing to the counter, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Fili curiously looked over the mousse asking, “Sharing recipes?”

In a deep sigh Thorin turned to walk to his room to change as he mumbled, “Yes to both.”

Their smirks grew and Fili called back, “We’ll start on breakfast then!”

Thorin growled back as he rubbed his temples, “Whatever you do, do it quietly!”

Fili’s brow rose then fell as Kili nudged his elbow and raised the now empty bottle of whiskey, chuckling as he said, “I think somebody had a party.” Making the Brother’s chuckle again.

Slowly you pulled out from under the covers and pulled on your work clothes then trudged to your kitchen starting on a hangover shake after brushing your teeth. The second shake you made rested in your hands on your path to Thorin’s kitchen where the boys smirked on your approaching the stool beside Thorin in his hunched over stance. His low groan ending when your glass sat on the counter in front of him, curiously he raised his head eyeing the oddly purple mixture and turned his head to see you downing yours in one go. Raising it he sniffed it only to furrow his brows at the orange smelling drink he only tasted after you mumbled between sips, “Don’t ask.” A tight pucker of his lips was struggled through to down the mixture that instantly cleared his pain freeing him to enjoy the sub par egg scramble the boys had lazily slapped together between curious glances your way.

.

On the short drive over you could feel all eyes on you nearly the entire time while you trailed off in your own mind running through the night before in a frozen struggle trying to understand what would be expected next. Quietly you exited the car and walked to the door beside the men and joined them inside. On your path to start on the dishes all the Durins started arriving stealing their own glances at you through their first tasks between hushed inquiries with Thorin about why you had withdrawn into your own mental world. Through the shift you’d woven through them all as usual while Thorin just barely managed to make it through without hungrily brushing his lips against your neck each time you passed in hopes of hearing your heavenly sounds again.

Lost in the focus of his cooking each caress and firm trail over his skin occurred once again earning a heated gaze he held onto his skillets in front of him. Only glancing up when you neared him to answer his purred requests he tried and failed to reign in his obvious urge to take you back home again. A struggle he and the others only attributed to your withdrawal leading them to assume you’d possibly had a fight. When the kitchen was cleaned and you had helped clearing the dirty table cloths you waited near the door and flashed a weak smile at Thorin when he approached you from the kitchen.

After wetting his lips Thorin eased the door shut on your side of his vehicle and walked around to open his own door and climb inside. In a glance at you he flashed you a weak smile and asked, “Are you upset with me?”

Your eyes shifted to his as you shook your head, “No.”

“Then,” He wet his lips as his brows furrowed curiously, “You’ve been so quiet.”

“Thorin,” you paused as you caught his flinch of a smile at your stating his name, “We’ve spoken only a couple times and in the past couple days we’ve filled out contracts and I’ve been moved into your place, then, last night obviously-.”

“You’re regretting it?”

“What? No.” he nodded wetting his lips again, “I just, it’s a bit, different.”

Near a whisper he repeated, “Different?”

“I really don’t know how to word it.”

He nodded, “Well,” he shifted his hand to rest on yours, “I don’t regret it. It wasn’t ideal, downing a bottle of whiskey beforehand.”

Your sharp gasp drew his brows to raise curiously as you covered your face and you mumbled, “I forgot the strawberries.”

He couldn’t help but smirk, “Strawberries?” He let out a soft, “Oh,” remembering the chocolate dipped strawberries and cherries you had added to your freezer when his was filled with the desserts he had made, “I’m certain they are fine.”

“The chocolate’s going to be bitter without the proper drizzle though.”

He patted your hand, “I’ll make you more. Now, I give you my word, how we move on from here is on your terms.” His eyes locking onto yours adoringly, “If you wish for it to be a one time thing then that’s what it is.”

“You just-.”

“For my people a woman’s safety is everything. We were inebriated, I don’t expect to maintain that intimacy if it is not your wish to do so with me. So, from before last night, nothing has changed in our agreement. I will still care for you and protect you no matter your decision. As slow as you wish to take it, and as much time and space you need to settle into all the changes.”

Another soft gasp came from you as you jumped at Fili’s knock on the window, you turned and looked at him with a quick smile when Thorin lowered the window for him to ask, “So, Gran wanted to know, Meringue for next week, right?”

Thorin nodded, “Yes.” Easing his hand a bit farther around yours as your fingers on your free hand slid across your mouth.

In a glance at you Kili asked, “Alright there Jaqi? You’re looking a bit pale.”

You nodded lowering your hand, “Ya, just, meringue makes my stomach turn.”

Fili nudged his Brother’s arm, “Ah, so that’s why you were so quiet.”

Kili nodded looking at Thorin, “Uncle, you really shouldn’t have made her sit for your tasting last night.”

Fili met your eye, “No worries Auntie, if you don’t feel better tomorrow then Uncle can let you rest at home till you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile as they turned calling for their Cousins and raced off to spread the discovery. Thorin chuckled softly and rolled the window up again softly saying, “At least now they won’t believe we fought anymore.”

With a sigh you settled back in your chair as he started the car and drew his hands back to the wheel, “I assumed it would be better than the alternative.” He glanced at you, “They hear we had sex in your kitchen they might not ever stop teasing for little ones.”

Thorin smirked at you, nearly purring, “They wouldn’t rush Children. Plus, if Amad heard we had sex in my kitchen she’d scold me on betraying the boundaries of the kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes through his chuckle and watched their group growing in the parking lot as you pulled away to head home again. Easy on the wine you both prepped the meal you’d agreed to and served it out onto two plates. With the movie Bofur had mentioned to you both playing on the large tv in Thorin’s living room you ate quietly and lounged after he’d cleared the dishes and you carried the thawed chocolate covered fruit to the couch with the mousse left over. The pair of you relaxed sharing the desserts through the following film as well before you left to shower and change with an agreement to watch the third after if you couldn’t sleep still.

Pacing in the living room after finishing the last of his glass of wine Thorin turned to walk towards your house as he nervously adjusted his waistband and ring on the way. Wetting his lips he entered after his knock went unanswered, curiously glancing in each room until he peeked inside your room and smirked at you laying back across your bed in your underwear beside your towel and comb after what he remembered to be a very strenuous task of combing and braiding your hair. Stepping closer he gently brushed down the covers and lifted you to his chest, moving you fully covered under the covers after tossing the towel into your hamper. In his rise to return home your hand slid over his arm drawing him closer to you, wetting his lips he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, then covered you and shut off your lights when he pulled his arm free from your grip. Quietly he left you to sleep and cleaned up for the night then went off to bed to lay there aimlessly watching the tv along the wall.

A few hours passed and your eyes opened to the sound of the ac kicking on. With parted lips you sat up curious about how you’d gotten to bed, eagerly you sat up and slid out to walk towards your closet grabbing a tank top and a pair of shorts. Silently you walked through Thorin’s home wondering where he was, the sounds of a row of explosions and soft screams brought you into the doorway of Thorin’s bedroom. Across the room his eyes turned to the doorway at your appearance. With a quick finger wave you flashed him a weak smile missing his hand slipping free from his waistband at his passing thought to ease his arousal at the former night passing through his mind again.

Softly you said, “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

Thorin, “The movie didn’t wake you, did it?”

You shook your head asking, “Any good?”

“Not particularly.”

With a smirk you asked, “Want some company trashing it?”

He smiled and nodded, “Always.” Beside him he brushed the covers back and watched you settle against his pile of pillows beside him. Warmly his arm draped across your legs resting against his as you tried to ignore the obvious pulsing muscle under your knees. Slowly you settled beside him and focused on the film while his fingers trailed in small circles on your legs. A sigh left you when you could no longer focus on the film as you dozed off again, your hands moved to curl around his arm as you settled against his side making his smile grow. His lips met your forehead and he nuzzled as close to you as he could manage without moving you and closed his eyes finally feeling himself drifting off to sleep when he was sure you were fully covered still as he purred in Khuzdul, “Goodnight My Precious Pearl.”

Pt 4

[entomjinx]

Empath

Natsu could feel his fists go numb as he slammed the repetitively into the solid mountain side. He ignored the blood that ran down his knuckles, just like he had ignored everyone asking if he was okay. None of that mattered right now.

The mountain was slowly giving way to the force of his fists, cracking in some places and chipping in others. The thudding echoed across the area with every punch, and eventually, a piece of the large, rocky structure collapsed in a pile of rubble. Natsu sank to his knees and then to his back as he shouted into the darkening sky. Hot tears ran down his face as he screamed curses in every language Igneel had taught him.

Igneel had also taught him his magic.

The very same magic that burned everything it touched.

Earlier that day:

Gray wouldn't make it in time, and barely had enough to wonder what a child was doing on the battlefield. The little girls eyes went wide while she stared at the darkness rushing towards her, and Gray was running. He wasn't stupid. He knew there was too much ground to cover, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

Natsu go there first.

The ice mage couldn't process what the dragon slayer was doing until he'd already done it. His body was wrapped around the girl's like a shield, and his back was alight to keep the darkness from getting any closer. It didn't, but there was no way to stop her from getting hurt.

There was no way for the crying toddler to realize that the light coming from his back was fire. There was no way for her to understand not to touch it.

She threw her arms around him as she bawled, but Natsu's flames were hot, and the millisecond it took him to stop them was enough.

She screamed an awful, blood curdling scream that forced the slayer to his knees, and Gray couldn't help but think that he'd never looked so far away.

It was almost like he wasn't in his own head. One minute, Natsu was shouting insults at the enemy in response to their own. Now there was nothing but silence as he made his way to Gray. He'd left to Lucy, trusting her to wrap the wounds.

Nothing but silent anger, silent anguish, as they clasped hands.

Nothing but pure intentions as they synced themselves in mind, heart, and soul.

Nothing but power as they allowed it to flow through them, connecting them further.

Nothing but destruction as every enemy, seen and unseen, fell beneath the crushing magic that hit them.

Then the focus vanished, and Gray felt every ounce of what Natsu was. He past out, tired and overwhelmed by the special ability that Natsu possessed, and suddenly the word "empath" had a feeling to go with it's definition.

Gray hadn't woken up until that evening, and the first thing he felt was the emotion of everyone around him, "Are we still connected?" He could feel all of their worry turn into relief, their sadness become happy, and he briefly wondered if this was what Natsu felt constantly or just a diluted version. It was probably the latter. It wasn't quite the overwhelming mess that Natsu described to him when they were kids.

"It's good to see that you're alright, Gray," Erza said gently, "You had us all worried when you lost consciousness."

Before Gray could answer, he registered Natsu's own feelings. This was much closer to the strength that Natsu mentioned feeling, and it forced a gasp from his lips. Erza was by his side in a second. "I'm fine," He said. He wanted it to be forceful, but it sounded more like a whisper. "Where's Natsu?"

"We don't know," He heard Lucy mutter, but it wasn't necessary. The second he asked the question, his mind supplied the information. He was on his feet before he realized it. "Gray? Where are you going?" He ignored her.

The last thing he heard before the door slammed behind him came from Wendy. "You said they did a Unison Raid, right?"

Those words didn't matter.

Guilt.

Sadness.

Inadequate.

Frustration.

Pain.

Gray had forgotten just how many emotions people could feel.

Gray found him laying in a crater, dirt caked across his skin and blood on the wounds he didn't bandage. His arms were thrown across his eyes, hiding the source of the tears running down his cheeks. His breathe was uneven, but he didn't make a sound beyond that.

"He's screamed himself hoarse, hasn't he?"

The feelings were coming much stronger now; Gray could pick out exact thoughts.

When Natsu made no move to make him leave, Gray slid down the edge of crater. He sat down in the dirt and pulled the pinkette's head into his lap. Natsu moved his arms, revealing red and puffy eyes. The whisper that tried to leave his lips came out as a croak, and Gray leaned down to make it easier for the pinkette. "...I hurt her..."

"You didn't," Gray insisted, "It was an accident."

"I burned her," He said helplessly. The tears started flowing again, and Gray was assaulted by Natsu's thoughts.

I am fire.

It is fluid, adapting to the situation.

It is flexible. It can change itself to lift people's spirits and keep them there. It knocks down people's walls to protect them from themselves.

It keeps them warm, like a campfire on a cool summer night.

It loves being around people. Seeing them happy makes it happy, which is something it wasn't prone to. The kindness of the raging fire kept them from looking too deep. It kept them from seeing what lies behind the kindness.

Fire is fragile, and therefore I am fragile.

Fire is fragile, and when the balance is tipped, it gets out of control, hurting everyone around it.

I hurt those around me.

Fire burns and takes and destroys.

I take and burn and destroy.

It makes me a monster.

Maybe I already was one, but the flames make it worse.

I hate that about my fire. It takes the life from everything it touches, even on a small scale. Or it goes out, and does nothing. All or nothing. Destructive or worthless.

I wish I was ice.

I wish I was like Gray.

I wish I was like you.

Gray is reliability and protection.

Gray was strong and perfect, and sure of everything he did. He was strengthened by his with to shield people, not weakened by it. He was strong, and he could only get stronger, never weaker.

Ice kept people alive.

You keep people alive.

Fire damned them.

I damn them.

Ice is life, and fire is death.

That's how it is, and how it always will be."

The flood of thoughts that hit Gray's mind made him dizzy, "That's not true." Natsu shook his head, but he didn't bother to reply. "It isn't." He knew he couldnt change Natsu's mind with words.

The slayer was a lot of things, and stubborn was all of them.

Gray decided he'd use the link while it was still active. He thought for a moment, twisting Natsu's own words to fit his own purpose. He would show the slayer that he was wrong.

"I am ice.

It is sturdy, never once bending under pressure.

It is solid. It lifts people up and keeps them there. It creates walls to protect them and keep them safe.

It is cold like the arctic tundra, designed to keep people away from him.

It likes the solitude. The frigid chain that keeps it's heart, mind, and soul out of the reach of others is comforting to him. It kept them all out. It kept them from finding out.

Ice is fragile.

I am fragile.

Ice is fragile, and when it brakes it turns into brittle shards that hurt everything around it.

I hurt people.

It was cold and unforgiving. It would bite into your skin and nip at you until you submitted, and that made it dangerous.

It makes me dangerous.

I hate that about my ice. It can take so much, but only that much. Any more and it shatters like the worthless frozen water it is.

I wish I was fire.

I wish I was like Natsu.

I wish I was like you.

Natsu is warmth and protection.

Natsu was fluid and ever changing and open. He was fueled by the emotions of people, not weakened by them. He was strong, and he could only get stronger, never weaker.

Fire kept people alive.

You keep people alive.

Ice damned them.

I damn them.

Fire is life, and ice is death.

That's how it is, and how it always will be."

"Do you understand now, ash-for-brains?" The insult lack all of it's usual heat, and a single tear made it's way out of the corner of Gray's eye. Natsu reached up and brushed it away, leaving behind a smear of dirt and blood in it's place. "We're human, and humans make mistakes. It's not your fault."

"Okay," Natsu said quietly, "Okay."

The reason Erza hadn't told Gray where Natsu was is that he was unstable at the moment. She didn't want the two to fight at all, but when one was in a self-destructive state? Absolutely not. She loved both of them, but they had a habit of beating themselves up that they never quite grew out of.

"You said they did a Unison Raid, right?" She turned away from the door and to Wendy, who looked giddy about something.

"They did," the redhead told her, "but I'm not sure what that would have to do with anything."

"Fire dragons sometimes have a very rare, very special ability called-" The blunette launched herself into a rather scientific explanation, and Erza found it difficult to keep up with the unfamiliar terms. "-and that's why we call the Empaths." The small girl looked around at her audience, realizing that she'd lost most of them at some point. "They feel other people's emotions with such an accuracy that they can basically recreate a person's thoughts from them, which is displaying an incredibe amount of empathy, hence the name empath." The simpler terms allowed everyone else to understand the long winded, probably medical explanation that had escaped Wendy's lips. "Anyways, a Unison Raid requires every part of everyone involved to be in sync with each other, including thoughts and emotions. Gray has temporarily gained Natsu's ability."

Erza smiled, "So he'll be able to help him?" She asked hopefully.

Wendy wasn't paying attention anymore. "I wonder if he'll let me test how strong it is..."

Gajeel shot the younger slayer a strange look, "Wendy."

"Yes, Gajeel?" Her tone was sickeningly sweet, and it actually managed to set the redhead on edge.

"You're not allowed to emotionally compromise or fuck with Natsu for an experiment." Her face fell, and the realization that she was just as crazy as the rest of the slayers sank in.

"But-"

"None of that. I said no."

Wendy puffed up her cheeks and sat in the corner sulking, "He wouldn't care... Much."

"Devious psychopath," Gajeel muttered. She didn't deny it.

"Are you done with that?" Gray asked quietly. They hadn't moved from the bottom of the crater, but they'd eventually ended up in each others arms.

Natsu raised his head from Gray's chest, "Done with what?"

"Being mopey," Gray clarified. "I'm already a hopeless, self-depreciating person, but with this weird link thing, it's both of our hopeless self-depreciating personalities combined." Natsu snorted once, then twice, and then he was bursting out laughing. The link had faded considerably now, but that didn't mean that Natsu's laughter was any less contagious. "What's so funny?"

Natsu looked at him with the flattest look he could manage, "Depression squared." The flat looked vanished, and both of them were gone.

As long as fire and ice had each other, the could could keep the darker parts of themselves away.

Words: 2,080

[im-abanana]

-The Demon and The Angel- ch.3

I was inspired, I dunno, don’t even mind me and my author block. Here’s another Fluff/Domestic Bendy x Alice One-Shot.

Summary: If you’re a dancer, pulling a muscle can be the worst thing ever.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12736851/chapters/29507064

-Muscle-

“What? Com’on! It was just an innocent accident Joey, for God’s sake!” Charley kept saying for an entire hour in front of his angry boss, the cartoon’s deep and irritated voice echoing in the empty corridors as his old fellows Barley and Edgar nodded silently without saying a word, to prove their leader’s point. “We didn’t mean to push Bendy against the corner of that chair, but he started the fight! It happens, the fault isn’t ours this time.”. “It’s not true, you did that on purpose! Liars! Mobsters!” Bendy yelled back with a cracked and pissed voice, holding his aching spine with both hands and dropping heavily on his sofa, a sad and desperate pout painted on his round face. “My poor back… assholes.” he concluded, groaning. “Wanker.” the three antagonists replied spitefully, frowning deeply and cracking their knuckles, aggressive. “You want some more, sissy?”. “Stop it, I’ve had enough!” Joey snapped all of the sudden and punched the study table to shut them up, evidently tired of all that screaming and bickering between those four, taking his final decision and huffing. His creations jumped in fear and closed their mouths as they heard the unexpected thud, sitting down and listening to their dad’s scold closely. “Alright guys, first of all I don't care who started the fight, or why it happened in the first place. You all are guilty, and this means that you all are grounded for two weeks.”. At that exact moment, hearing the previous noise and the complaints that followed Joey’s last phrase, the wooden door behind the group’s shoulders swung open and a very confused Alice peeked through it. “What’s happening here? Henry just told me that- oh.” she mumbled and then smirked, spotting The Butcher Gang standing next to Bendy, the little demon pathetically laid on the reddish couch with a contorted expression. “Henry wasn’t lying then, it’s true. You idiots seriously injured each other before an important performance that, I’d like to point that out, takes place in three days. My sincerest compliments, boys.”. “Great, gang: first the demon bitch, now the wingless cunt. Where’s the pussy wolf, uh?” Barley rolled his pitch black orbs and crossed his muscular arms to his hairy chest, clearly not happy to see the fallen angel or pay attention to her sarcastic comments. “Don’t you have anything else to do, Angel? Like, I dunno, go fuck yourself for example?”. “Says the one who’s in trouble. And not really, I’d rather stay here and quietly enjoy the little show you put up for me, especially the part when Joey shames you all.” the beautiful singer of the band lifted an eyebrow with a satisfied motion, calmly sitting down next to her dancing partner and making herself comfortable. “Oh, please Joey, don’t stop reminding them how stupid and irresponsible they are just because I’m here. Don’t mind me, I beg you.”.

“Alice, not you too, please. This is not a joke, and I need your help.” their annoyed creator sank his head between his fingers, groaning out his frustration and explaining his worst worries to the tall girl, to his only beloved daughter, who was definitely the most mature of the toons: “Bendy probably twisted a muscle in his back, and if he can’t dance or even stand in three days max, we’ll be ruined. We should give the money for the tickets back and apologize to the parents, and I don’t want to do that; I know it’s late and you’re tired, I know that you two don’t get along so well, but I’m kindly asking you to prepare him some herb tea and send him to bed. I’ll deal with those three in the meantime.” the man angrily declared, shooting an icy glare to The Butcher Gang. “I hope you understand.”. “I do understand, don’t worry. I can’t say I’m happy about this job, but I’ll do it anyway.” Alice immediately obeyed to her boss’ orders, sighed out and took Bendy in her thin but strong arms, ignoring his enraged protests and trying not to drop him as the demon squirmed wildly. Oh, she wished she could indeed drop and trample over him… “Goodnight, Joey. Fuck you, Charley, Barley and Edgar. See you all tomorrow morning at dawn.” she said before walking outside the busy room and closing the door behind her, heading for Bendy’s private room. “Ehy, hands off, Angel Cake! Let me go! I’m not a kid anymore, and I can walk by myself.” the short devil screamed and kicked the air like a mad horse, offended and in a bad mood because of the stinging pain. “I don’t want some stupid tea, and I won’t go to bed just because you’re ordering me to do so.”. “Honestly Bendy, I couldn’t care less about what you want or not. You don’t want my herb tea? I’ll simply shove it down your fucking throat when it’s still boiling, at least you’ll shut up and won't wake the others that way.” the fallen angel shrugged it off and placed the dancer on his own bed, making sure not to hurt him more despite the intimidating threats. “And if you don’t want to sleep, I’ll just hit your skull with my horns and knock you out for the next… let’s say twenty-four/forty-eight hours. How does it sound, my dear?”. “… on second thought babe, tea and nap sound nice. But I prefer lemon tea.”. “That can be arranged.” Alice happily agreed to those terms with a sly grin, satisfied and proud of herself, as she opened the thick door before her.

“Ehy toots, back off this second!” Bendy cried out in pure terror as his elegant jacket was quickly removed and tossed away by force, detail that made him feel terribly exposed as his naked chest brushed against the greenish blankets that covered the comfortable mattress. He tried to jump off the bed and run away despite the ache, but found that option unattainable when Alice gently sat down on his spine, her greater weight blocking the thin cartoon. “No! Don’t touch my back, you’re gonna make it worse!”. “Trust me Bendy, I know what I’m doing. I might not be a dancer like you or a doctor, but I sprained a lot of back muscles as we moved into the new studio.” Alice patiently explained and pinned the boy down without any effort, her smaller thumbs energetically pressing against his dark skin and working around and on the knot, trying to loose it and ease the pain at the same time. She also kept a close eye on the water on the stove as she eased his pain: the most incredible thing about their rooms was that they looked like small houses, provided with a bathroom, a small kitchen and even a sort of living room. Being a star surely had its advantages. “And I never complained about it, not even once. I guess I’m stronger.”. Feeling the young woman’s fingertips massaging the sore spot with such care and self-assurance forced the small demon to let out a quiet and relaxed moan, and his blurred mind barely registered what the black haired girl just said. The tension and irritation disappeared all of the sudden, and every single fiber of his previously tense body fell limp under her lovely touch. The boy asked in hilarious submission: “W-what do you mean with that, toots? Joey and Henry did all the work when we moved here… right?”. “Wrong. Do you really think they could transport and place all the boxes, stuff and furniture around all by themselves? No, not at all. Without me and Boris the process would have been much more complicated and long. We worked as a team, as the family that we are.” the horned angel explained in composed silence, putting more strength in her precise and careful movements and pressing deeper, earning another content yelp from her calm partner. That sound made her smile a little, but the slight frown carved on her slim visage showed how concentrated she internally was: Alice knew that a single imprecise touch could damage the musculature even more, so attention and composure were the key words. “You and The Butcher Gang are the lazy ones here, that’s for sure. You don’t like working or helping the creators and the crew, I get that, but at least try not to cause any trouble or get into those violent fights ever again. Now you have a sprained muscle, and that’s bad enough for a dancer, but next time you could find yourself with a broken bone or worse, a concussion.” the stunning cartoon sadly sighed out and deeply stared into his guilty eyes, severe, sweet but assertive, almost like a maternal figure. “Don’t make things more difficult for Joey and me. It’s tough enough as it is, we don’t need other problems because of your egoism.”. The last and cold sentence hit and slaughtered Bendy’s soul to its very core, forcing the demon to look away and rest his face against the soft pillows, in pure defeat and inner humiliation. “Who am I kidding? It’s true, everything she said is true.”, deep inside the star of the show knew there was a ring of truth in those words, and that hurt. It hurt like Hell. “Alice is right. We always say that we’re independent adults, but at the end we behave like brats.”.

A respectful silence filled the room as a thousand thoughts and faults invaded the devil’s mind, the only sound the fallen angel could clearly hear was the wall clock ticking, gradual and inexorable. “Are you ok, Bendy?” Alice questioned when she counted at least five hundred ticks, tilting her neck and watching her co-worker with puzzled eyes; that kind of behavior wasn’t like him, she knew that cartoon too well to fall for it. “You’re oddly silent tonight.”. The black demon snapped out of that state of trance and shook his big head with vigor, struggling to hide his worries and speak up: “I’m just… thinking.”. “About what?”. “About stuff.”. “Could you be a little more specific, pray tell?” the raven-haired girl groaned a bit and crossed her arms, interrupting the relaxing massage and waiting for him to open up and confess what was evidently torturing his conscience. “There’s something wrong with you, you wouldn’t just shut up for entire minutes. Not that I’m complaining, but you know… I’m here to listen.”. “Oh, for Satan’s sake Alice, stop it! Leave me alone!” Bendy literally boomed at that point, feeling enraged and defensive, a visible grey blush covering his cheeks as the inky blood pumped in his veins. “Why do you care so much?”. Blinking a couple of times in confusion and disorientation, Alice replied to that nasty question with spontaneity and slight rage, standing up and yelling her answer right in his face: “Because I care about you!”. Boom, crash and burn. “Well, I do not… I…” the little demon opened his mouth and pointed an accusing finger at Alice, ready to shout back without even thinking, to insult the singer or at least preserve his dignity, but he immediately perceived his own artificial heart sink deeply in the middle of his chest and his throat dry up, like a river during a hot summer day. But worst, he felt shit about himself; everytime something went horribly wrong, someone scolded him for something he did, or even when he fucked things up, Bendy always found a way to blame someone else for his mistakes. The Butcher Gang? No, the pride was probably his worst enemy. “I’m sorry, Alice. I was unfair to you while you only wanted to help me.” Bendy whispered sadly as he realized how much of a dick he had been, staring at his knees and nervously playing with his moving and pointy tail, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll try to do better.”. “No, don’t try to do better.” the fallen angel wisely declared and forcefully grabbed both sides of his round head, turning it and literally forcing her amazed co-worker to stare into her serious pitch black irises. “You have to do better. You can do better than this, than fighting all day and cause trouble. You’re the protagonist, our leader, and we all look up to you.” she forced a tiny smile and gently caressed his left cheek as her delicate traits appeared sweeter, more sympathetic. “We all count on you, Bendy. Don’t let us down, please. I believe in you.”. We count on you, Bendy. Don’t let us down, please. I believe in you.

“Well… it’s pretty late, here’s the lemon tea you requested, big baby. Drink it before it gets too cold.” Alice smirked smugly and offered a white, piping cup to the demon, helping him up and covering his tired form with scented sheets and thick blankets, making sure he was warm and comfortable enough for the entire night. “Try to get some rest and don’t move around too much, your muscles need a break. A long break.” the fallen angel laughed mercilessly and ignored his still reflecting expression, scratching her nape and stirring as she was done preparing her injured partner’s refined bed. “If you need something or if you’re simply bored, just punch the wall beside you or talk to yourself for a while. Your voice is so damn annoying that I will surely hear it from my room.”. Despite her sincere words were still echoing in the short demon’s mind, and they’d probably keep doing it during the whole night, he managed to take the joke and grin. “Very funny, toots! You know, you surprise me, teasing your own boss, who’s even suffering, is a risky move indeed.” Bendy snickered back in front of the young woman’s audacity, admiring the brazen singer as he was admiring the most beautiful and breathtaking masterpiece inside an art museum. “Sometimes I forget who’s the devil and who’s the angel, here.”. “Look again, Bendy. Maybe I’m both, and maybe I’m not as generous or kind as I look.” Alice promptly stood up and winked endearingly, pointing at her curved horns and shiny halo with a tapered finger. “Don’t ever forget it.”. “Oh, I wouldn’t, toots.” Bendy shrugged it off, playful and grateful. “I wouldn’t.”.

[ask-me-about-datlof]

Thank You, Friend - Chapter 4

There are some angry bois in this chapter...

You can read this chapter and all previous chapters on AO3

“So, like this?” Lewis gingerly held out the wand that Hannah had given him.

They were in one of the many labs at Yoglabs, a couple of magic books piled on the tables amongst the mess of scientific equipment and half finished experiments. Lewis had asked Hannah multiple times about magic and how it worked and Hannah had eventually decided that the easiest thing would be to teach Lewis how to actually use magic himself. And so she had dropped by Yoglabs with a few books and magic items and was in the process of trying to teach him a couple of basic spells.

“Yeah, but don’t be afraid of it, Lewis. It isn’t going to hurt you.” Hannah said, smiling as she reached out and gently adjusted Lewis’s grip on the wand. Lewis frowned.

“Right. So now what?” Hannah rolled her eyes slightly and chuckled.

“The wand doesn’t do the magic for you, you know. It’s a way for you to channel your own magic through it.”

“So how do I do that?”

“If this is your first time trying magic, you might want to close your eyes. It’ll help with concentration.” Obligingly Lewis closed his eyes and once they were shut Hannah began speaking again. “I want you to try to find the centre of you magic.”

“Where’s that?”

“I don’t know, Lewis, it’s different for everyone. You’ll have to find yours yourself. When you find it, it should feel warm and it might tingle slightly. Let me know when you’ve found it.”

Lewis wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be doing. It was becoming clear to him that magic was obviously a lot more complex than he originally thought. But he wasn’t a quitter, so he began concentrating and trying to find the ‘centre of his magic’, whatever that was. The minutes began getting longer and longer and Lewis started frowning as he couldn’t find where his magic was centred.  eventually he decided that it wouldn’t matter too much if he couldn’t find where his magic was centred; if he had magic it would probably appear without him knowing where it came from.

“Alright, I’ve found it.” Lewis said.

“Good. Now focus in on it. This bit’s a little tricky to explain but I want you to take some of the warmth that you can feel, just a tiny, tiny amount, and guide it into the wand you’re holding.” By this point Lewis was completely baffled. But he didn’t let it show on his face and after a few moments he nodded. “Ok, now open your eyes.” Lewis did as he was told and blinked a couple of times in the now bright lights of the lab. Hannah was in front of him, holding her own wand. “Now watch my wand,” Hannah held her wand up and a moment later the tip of the wand began to glow brightly. “You try that, just channel the magic that you’ve got and make the tip of the wand glow.”

Lewis swallowed nervously and frowned down at the wand. He tried imagining the tip glowing like Hannah’s had done. He tried to visualise some glowing energy flowing from his body into the wand. And still nothing happened. Eventually Lewis decided to give up and leant against a table, running his hand over his face.

“Is it this difficult to do stuff like that normally?” Lewis asked, looking towards Hannah. She hesitated before replying.

“Well, no.”

“Wait, what?” Lewis stared at Hannah and she shrugged.

“Well…” Hannah thought for a moment before she continued speaking. “That’s the most basic spell that someone can do. The only people who can’t do it are non human races, like dwarves.” They were both silent for a moment as the the implications of what Hannah was saying sank in.

“Ah…”

“Yeah.”

Just then the door opened and Lalnable strode into the room. Lewis breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the awkwardness of the situation melted away.

“Just needed to grab something,” Lalnable suddenly stopped talking as he caught sight of Hannah and his lips curled into a slight sneer. “Not interrupting anything, am I?” He asked, scorn laced in his voice. Lewis frowned as he looked over at Lalnable, placing the wand he’d been holding down on the table.

“Uh, no?” Lewis replied.

“Oh good, wouldn’t want to disturb your alone time.” Lalnable turned away and started rummaging around in one pile of scientific equipment.

“Lalnable, is everything ok?” Lewis asked, beginning to walk slowly over towards Lalnable.

“Oh yeah, everything’s just peachy, Mr. Mayor.” Lalnable stopped his rummaging and turned to face Lewis.

“Uh, what?”

“Oh nothing, nothing at all!” Lalnable turned back to rummaging. Lewis frowned at him.

“Lalnable, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Like you don’t know what’s wrong! You’re there parading about, getting all this attention, and like all that media attention isn’t enough, you had to go and hook up with this whore!” Hannah was about to step forwards to lay into Lalnable, but Lewis stopped her, stepping up to Lalnable himself.

“Whatever you’ve got a problem with, Lalnable, talk to me about it! But don’t go calling my girlfriend a whore!” Lewis said angrily. He didn’t particularly care if Lalnable said appalling things about him, but he did care if he said them about Hannah. Lalnable barely knew Hannah. Lalnable stood up to his full height and glared at Lewis.

“Like you actually give a shit about my problems, Lewis!” Lalnable had raised his voice and despite being slightly smaller than Lewis, he was using his full height to be as intimidating as possible.

“Well I would if you talked to me about them!” Lewis replied snappily, also raising his voice as he returned Lalnable’s glare in equal measure.

“Yeah, yeah, you only care about things if it makes you famous, right? That’s why you agreed to take Simon to the moon, and it’s why you decided to run for mayor, you don’t give a fuck about anything unless it’s for your own personal gain!” Lalnable retorted, leaning closer to Lewis.

“I don’t give a single fuck about being famous, you of all people should know that! I took Simon to the moon because he asked me, he wanted to go! And you know the reason why I decided to run for mayor,”

“But it’s all just a big act isn’t it? You love attention and now that you’re famous and you’ve got a girlfriend to fawn over you, you couldn’t care less about Simon and me!” Lalnable cut across Lewis, and as he spoke Lewis’s eyes began to glow, brighter and brighter as the rage built up inside him, his freckles also taking on a slight blue glow.

“I care about you and I care about Simon and don’t you dare ever say anything like that to me ever again!” Lewis’s voice rang out, loud and furious as the argument escalated. “You need to know your place, Lalnable, and you need to know when to shut the fuck up!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you! You can’t keep quiet and you never let people voice their opinions around you! It’s always ‘me, me, me’ and never anyone else, you fucking bastard!” Lewis’s eyes were blazing and unconsciously his hand reached for his sword and gripped on tightly to the handle.

“Really? So it’s always ‘me, me, me’ is it? ‘Cause right now it sounds an awful lot like ‘you, you, you’! And you know what, if you don’t like it here, if you don’t like being my friend, then you can leave!” Lewis heard the words leave his mouth and a small part of his brain that wasn’t wrapped up in anger felt instant regret.

“So that’s how it is? Then fine. Enjoy your life without me, you fucking alien freak!” Lalnable roughly pushed past Lewis and strode out of the lab, slamming the door behind him. Lewis stood fuming for a few moments before the anger left him and shakily he leant himself against the table as Hannah slowly walked over to him.

“What the fuck did I do, Hannah…” Lewis murmured quietly, completely horrified as he stared at the door that Lalnable had just left through. The blue glow was quickly fading from his eyes and he was replaying the argument over and over in his head, the disgusting things he’d said to Lalnable playing on repeat. “I didn’t mean any of it…” Hannah gently placed her hand on Lewis’s shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly.

“You were both out of order in that fight. And you both need to apologise to each other when you’ve cooled down a little.” Hannah said. Lewis glanced up at Hannah.

“Do you think I should text him?” Hannah shook her head.

“No, not right now. He needs time to cool down and so do you.” She glanced about at her things lying around the lab. “Help me clean my stuff up, it’ll help you to think rationally again.” Hannah pulled Lewis away from the table and gently pushed him towards a pile of books.

“Yeah, I need to clear my mind…”

‘If you don’t like it here, if you don’t like being my friend, then you can leave!’ Lewis closed his eyes and shook his head to try to rid his memory of the argument. Hannah gently patted him on the back.

“Come on, distract yourself with other things right now. Dwelling over what just happened isn’t going to help and it’ll just make you feel worse.” Lewis nodded and grabbed a couple of books. The door to the lab swung open and he glanced up quickly, half expecting a furious Lalnable to come storming in again. To his relief, Simon was standing there, a slightly concerned expression on his face.

“Is everything alright? I could hear shouting and when I came to look, I met Lalnable going in the opposite direction, and he was fuming. Hi, Hannah.” Hannah gave Simon a small nod as her hands were full of books. Lewis cringed as he thought of Lalnable so angry that he didn’t even stop to talk to Simon.

“Ugh, no.” Lewis put down the books he’d just picked up and sank to the floor with his back resting against the table as he held his face in his hands. Simon walked over to Lewis and plonked himself down beside him. “Lalnable and I had an argument.”

“I heard. What was it about?”

“Stupid things. I don’t really know. He seemed angry or upset about something and when I asked him about it he just started insulting Hannah and me and then I got angry and oh god it was so stupid, Simon.” As Lewis talked, Simon pulled a small packet of Jaffa cakes out of his pocket and opened it, offering out the pack to Lewis. “Thanks, friend.” Lewis said, taking a Jaffa cake and staring at it as he held it in his hands.

“So what kinds of things were you saying.” Lewis groaned and buried his head in his legs, the Jaffa cake dangling from his hand. Simon looked up at Hannah.

“Lewis told Lalnable that if he didn’t like being here then he should leave.” She explained for the dwarf.

“I didn’t mean it, I was just so damn angry…” Lewis mumbled, his voice muffled as his head was still buried in his legs. Simon wiped his hand on his trousers before he patted Lewis’s shoulder.

“I’m sure Lalnable knows you didn’t mean it. And if not, then I can go and talk to him.” Lewis lifted his head slightly.

“I’m sorry, friend, you don’t need to get involved in a stupid argument like this. I’ll go and apologise to Lalnable later, after he’s calmed down.” Lewis said, glancing up at Hannah as he spoke. She nodded slightly. Lewis climbed to his feet and helped Simon up once he was standing. “Don’t worry about it, friend. Hopefully this will blow over soon enough.”

“You both needed to blow some steam off I think.” Simon said, grinning slightly. “Your shouting was loud, I could hear it from the other end of the corridor.” Lewis grimaced.

“Were we really being that loud?” Both Simon and Hannah nodded.

“Yes.” Hannah said. She held out the pile of books she was holding for Lewis to take and he took them from her. “But don’t worry or think about it now, help me tidy this stuff up.”

“Yeah, yeah alright.” Lewis said. He smiled over at Hannah. “Sorry this whole thing got cut short.”

“Not a problem, just help me clean it up.” She said, returning Lewis’s smile. She handed him a couple more books. “Can you take them outside to my car please?” Lewis grunted slightly under the weight of the books before nodding. Hannah went and opened the door for him and he vanished out into the corridor, leaving Simon and Hannah alone in the lab. She busied herself picking up the rest of her things and for a few moments the pair were quiet. Then Simon spoke up.

“Do you think Lalnable will forgive Lewis?” Simon asked quietly. Hannah looked down at Simon in surprise and thought carefully before she answered.

“I don’t really know, Simon. I hope so. Lewis has only ever said good things about Lalnable, but they both said some really horrible things to each other.” Simon looked down at the ground worriedly. Lalnable and Lewis had had arguments before, but this was the first time they’d had such a serious argument. And Simon was terrified that his two closest friends wouldn’t forgive each other for what happened. “Simon, I want to ask you something about Lewis…” Simon glanced up at Hannah. She was leaning against a table and gazing at a wand in her hand. “Is he…” She trailed off and shook her head slightly. “Lewis has no magical ability whatsoever. And only non human races don’t have magic… and in the argument just now his eyes were glowing, Simon. They were glowing so brightly and I can’t help but wonder, is Lewis human?” She glanced up at Simon and it was his turn to glance down at the packet of Jaffa cakes in his hands.

“I don’t think he is. But I don’t think he realises it yet.” Hannah frowned slightly.

“What do you mean?” Simon shrugged.

“Has he told you that he can’t remember most of his life?” Her eyes widened slightly.

“He’s mentioned a couple of times that he can’t remember some things, like if they came up in conversation but he never said how much he can’t remember.” Simon was fiddling with the packaging of his Jaffa cakes. While he felt guilty talking about Lewis like this, he was glad he finally had someone to talk it through with. He’d never talked to Lalnable about it, mostly because Lalnable had no reason to assume that Lewis wasn’t human. At least up until now.

“Yeah… well he crashed in a spaceship and he woke up with amnesia. He doesn’t even remember crashing. And right from that first night I’ve had my suspicions. Especially when I first saw his eyes glow. I’ve never mentioned his eyes glowing to him and I don’t even know if he knows when he’s doing it. But…” Simon trailed off and shrugged again.

“Are you going to tell him?” Simon shrugged one more time.

“I don’t really want to be the bringer of news like that. Especially now with this whole argument that just happened. And I know I should tell him, because that’s what a good friend would do, but I don’t know how to go about telling him. And I almost feel that he needs to figure it out on his own.” Hannah nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I think I understand.” She said quietly.

The pair fell into silence again and Hannah continued gathering her things. Simon was surprised to discover that the conversation with Hannah hadn’t made him feel more relieved, rather it had made him more worried about the whole situation. He began wondering what might happen if he told Lewis, would he get angry and shout at him like he’d shouted at Lalnable? Would he never want to speak to him again? And what would happen if he didn’t tell Lewis? Simon grew more and more worried until the lab door opened and Lewis walked in.

“All your books are in your car.” He said, smiling at Hannah as he walked over to her and when he was close enough he leant in and gave her a quick kiss.

“Thanks, Lewis.” She said smiling. “I’m just going to take these things down and then we can go get some lunch?”

“Sounds like a plan. Simon do you want to come?” Lewis looked over at Simon.

“I’ll be alright, I’ve got some food stashed in your office.” Simon grinned as Lewis rolled his eyes.

“Alright, well clean up any crumbs you make.” Lewis said grinning. “And I’m sorry you had to hear me and Lalnable arguing, friend. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure everything’ll be fine.” Simon said, smiling as he waved his hand in the air. Despite his relaxed attitude and his smile, he was still worried they wouldn’t make up and he’d have to choose between them.

“Thanks, friend.”

“No problem, spaceman.” A frown flickered across Lewis’s face for a moment, so brief Simon almost missed it. But he was sure he saw it for a second. But as quickly as it had vanished, Lewis was smiling again, his hand around Hannah’s waist.

“Well I’ll see you in an hour or so, friend.”

“Have fun you two!” Simon said, winking towards the pair and making Lewis blush slightly. Hannah just smirked.

“Bye, Simon.” She said as she pulled open the door.

Lewis waved at Simon before he left and then Hannah followed after him. Simon stayed in the lab for a few minutes, thinking quietly to himself before he too left the room and headed towards Lewis’s office to get himself some food.

[boreum-dal]

soul to keep, ch. 4

summary: marinette dupain-cheng is no stranger to unusual situations. a ghost wandering into her bedroom and pulling her into the mystery of who he was and how he died, however, is a touch out of the ordinary for her–and falling in love with him might just take the cake. ghost!adrien au.

genre: romance with equal parts (hopefully) humor and angst

cross-posted: ao3

previous: i | ii | iii

next: v

—

iv.

Marinette opened one eye, and then the other. Bright light poured into her bedroom, and for a millisecond, a wave of panic engulfed her before she realized that it was Saturday; there would be no public humiliation for her tardiness today.

Her pillow sighed as she sank back into it, now too awake from the brief adrenaline rush to fall back asleep. She couldn’t remember what she’d dreamt, but she was certain it had been about Chat. Something about the way he’d looked back at her last night, the outline of his face barely visible as he’d insisted he was all right, even as he was surely not, had ensured that the image would stay ingrained in Marinette’s mind for some time.

She threw her forearm over her eyes.

From her loft, Marinette heard her bedroom door creak open below her.

“Marinette?”

Sabine Cheng climbed carefully up the loft and made her way to Marinette’s bed, sitting just at the foot of it. The process was very slow—she had never liked heights very much.

Marinette removed her arm from her eyes and sat up. She knew where this was going. In addition to heights, Sabine had never liked conflict much, either. “Good morning, Maman.”

Sabine smoothed some of the wrinkles in the duvet where she sat. “Did you sleep okay?”

Marinette nodded. She bunched up the the sheets in her hands and then released them.

Sabine leaned forward on one hand and reached out to brush some of Marinette’s hair out of her face. Kind brown eyes crinkled as her lips curved into a remorseful smile. “You must be hungry after not eating any dinner.”

Marinette’s stomach gurgled, just so that only she could hear it, but she shook her head. “I got some leftovers out of the kitchen late last night.” She sucked in her cheeks before letting out a long breath. “I’m sorry, Maman. I shouldn’t have done what I did yesterday.”

Her mother scooted closer and wrapped Marinette in a hug. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“It’s tough to be your age. Teenagers can be very mean to each other. Your father and I should have been more understanding.”

Marinette laughed and brushed at an eye with the back of her hand. “Not all teenagers. Just Chloé Bourgeois.”

Sabine hid a smile behind her hand. “I'd say she couldn't be that bad, but what do I know?" Marinette knew that Sabine had witnessed Chloé's diva behavior in person on more than one occasion when the girl had barged into the bakery for her parents' famed pastries. "Do you have plans today? I thought we could go to breakfast together—I could use some time out of the bakery.”

Marinette was delighted. Her parents rarely ever left the bakery during business hours. “I have to meet Alya for a movie around noon, but that’s it.”

Sabine clapped her hands together. “Great! Get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs. We’ll stuff ourselves, and then I’ll drop you off.”

Marinette smiled and hopped out of bed as her mother left the room. Outside, it looked like it might storm, but all the gloom inside her had disappeared. As she wandered down her loft and to the bathroom to get ready, she caught herself hoping, out of nowhere, that Chat would stay dry in the rain.

---

Chat Noir meandered down a neat row of townhomes, turning his head this way and that in hopes that he’d recognize something. A few days ago, he’d stumbled across a large house in a lavish neighborhood, and somehow, it had made him feel a rush of familiarity. Unsure whether it was the size, the neighborhood, or the architecture that had seemed to trigger his memory, he’d returned to that neighborhood again and again, but he hadn’t felt the same pang—not even when he returned to the same house that had started it all. Now, he was trying the neighboring area, but it felt like a fruitless search. And with yesterday’s memory replaying over and over in his head—it was hard to focus on anything else when he only had a few memories stored up—he found it exceedingly difficult to focus.

With a sigh, he trudged up to the stone steps in front of one of the homes and sat himself down on it, briefly wary of being stared at before remembering that no one except for Marinette could see him. The clouds clapped loudly above him for the third time that morning, and before he could blink, he suddenly saw droplets of water begin to dot the ground. He watched as they fell faster and faster, going right through him but making him feel cold, all the same. And he could smell it—sweet, almost like the earth had been baking. It threw him, how he could remember this smell, how—

“Now, look at paragraph four and read it back to me, please.”

His gaze fell, reluctantly, to the book before him. It was so hot and so bright. The words seemed to jumble together. It was so hot, and he just wanted a cup of juice and to go outside for a little while, just to play for a little bit—

“___________.”

He looked up at the sound of his name.

The woman adjusted her glasses and sighed. “You’ve already had your break today. Paragraph four, please.”

But he was so hot and so restless and so tired of trying to read. He felt his lips start to quiver, but he forced himself to straighten them out into a thin line. Maman had said that crying was for young boys, boys younger than nine, and he’d just turned nine recently, so he couldn’t. But even as she’d said that, he remembered how she had let him hug her skirt and ruin it with his tears so many times.

“____________, I won’t ask again. Don’t make me tell your father.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Slowly, he began to sound out the words. The tutor had said this book was for fourteen-year-olds. Why was he reading this again? He rubbed an eye.

“How about I take over for a bit?”

He turned to see his mother in the doorway, and joy welled up inside of him. With a nod, the tutor left the room, and his mother came in and sat beside him, smiling at him with her patient smile.

“_____________, were you being a bad student?”

He shook his head no.

She rumpled his hair. “Of course you weren’t. I think I know what you need so we can focus and get you through today’s lesson. Why don’t we take a break and go outside and play for ten minutes?”

His eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, go get your shoes on and I’ll meet you out in the yard,” his mother said, her smile conspiratorial now.

He got up and ran out into the yard as fast as he could—he’d been spending the last few days trying to perfect his cartwheel, and he wanted to be able to show his mother—and then he looked up, suddenly realizing it was still very hot, but no longer very bright. Dark clouds crowded the sky.

His mother came out just as the first drops of rain started to fall.

“Now we can’t play,” he said, frowning.

“Sure, we can,” his mother responded cheerfully.

“But we’ll get all wet.”

“That’s okay!” She looked up, blinking against the raindrops. “It smells so nice out here during a summer storm.”

He sniffed the air—it smelled like Maman’s cookies, somehow—and begrudgingly agreed.

His mother bent down so that she could see his eyes and slicked some of the hair out of his face. “Now, show me your cartwheels, and then let’s get you inside and dry.”

Chat jolted, as if he’d been touched by something he hadn’t expected to touch him. Although his mother’s face was already fading from his memory while everything else remained vivid, he felt a thrill when he realized that he now had a concrete recollection of one of his parents. And she seemed, from the brief vision, anyway, like a good parent, not at all what he’d expected after the memory he’d gained yesterday. This made him feel strangely buoyant.

He looked down at his hands, which, sure enough, looked slightly more solid, more tinged with apricot than the day before. The rain was still falling through them. He wondered vaguely if, before he’d died, he could still do a cartwheel.

---

Marinette rushed up the sidewalk of the movie theatre, where Alya stood waving two tickets in her hand.

“Sorry!” Marinette said between breaths. “I was having a long talk with my mom because my parents and I got into a fight last night, and—”

Alya raised a brow. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine now. Are we late?”

Alya checked her watch. “Almost! But you made it here with a minute to spare till previews!” She grinned. “Good job.”

Marinette let out a little woop and threw her arm around Alya’s shoulder. “Let’s go, then!”

As the two navigated their way through the theatre, stopping by the concession area to purchase several boxes of candy before making their way to their screening room, Marinette reveled in the freedom of not being in the midst of a bad day. They settled into their seats and traded candy boxes as the trailers began to roll. Since they were watching a horror film, many of the previews that came on were for other horrors or thrillers, already making the atmosphere of the dark screening room a little bit creepier. Marinette didn’t spook at the movies too easily, but some of these trailers really seemed to amp up the scary factor, and as the music of the trailer currently on the screen began to crescendo—

The seat on Marinette’s left, which had been empty, suddenly filled. The music came to an abrupt halt, and Marinette looked at the seat and found herself staring into green eyes. A loud crash played over the speakers as the face of a demon flashed over the screen, and Marinette let out what she could only describe as an alarmed yip—and just like that, Chat Noir disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Alya poked Marinette’s arm on her right. “Are you okay?”

Marinette looked over at her friend, realizing that her heart was thumping very quickly against her chest and that she’d just spilled her gummy bears all over her lap. “Y-yeah, why?”

“I know the trailer was kind of creepy, but you look like you just saw a ghost.”

Marinette let out a nervous laugh. “Funny you say that.” She swallowed. “I just—these previews have really been upping the intensity. I guess I got a little scared.”

Alya looked at her dubiously. “You’d better get ready, then. I heard this movie is supposed to scare the pants off of us.”

“O-oh, good. I can’t wait,” Marinette said, but her mind was already elsewhere. Why had Chat shown up here? And why hadn’t he said anything? She hoped everything was okay.

---

That night, Marinette pulled herself onto the roof and breathed in the summer air, whose sweetness was enhanced by the residual smells of the bakery below and the rainstorm from earlier in the day. She looked around the patio, and almost immediately, her eyes landed on Chat’s sub-solid form, sitting on the ledge. She could see the outline of his legs, each one wedged between a bar of the railings and swinging back and forth over the edge of the roof. Gratitude, cool and soothing, filled her chest. She was always worried about hurting him or having hurt him.

“Hi, there,” she said, and she walked over and sat beside him, mimicking his pose exactly.

“Hello,” he said pleasantly. “I’m sorry if I frightened you earlier.”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome.”

“You didn’t. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even mean to show up where you were. I just—I just found you.”

Marinette turned to look at him now, staring at the outline of his face. She could make out more of it, she thought, ever so slightly—she wondered if he’d had another recollection since she’d seen him last night. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Chat said, legs still swinging, “the first time I ever found you, there was this…light coming from where you were. I followed it to you, and there you were—and you could see me. And ever since then, it’s always there, somewhere, in the background, no matter where I am.”

“A light?”

“Yes. It’s hard to explain. But it leads me to you.”

Marinette chewed on this in silence. A light. She wasn’t one to believe in magic, even after almost a week spent befriending a ghost. But she couldn’t seem to come up with any kind of scientific explanation for it.

Chat seemed to take her silence as irritation, rather than bewilderment. He said, somewhat apologetically, “Most of the time, until I know it’s time to come over when you’re actually expecting me, I ignore it. But today… I just wasn’t thinking, and I followed it, and I found you.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“No!” Marinette said quickly. “No, no! Don’t apologize. It’s okay! I’m just confused, I guess. I don’t know what to make of this. You’re the first magical thing to ever come into my life, you know. And then suddenly I’m emitting supernatural ghost lights for no reason? It’s a lot to take in and try to understand.”

“Tell me about it,” Chat said, and Marinette could see him holding out his hands before him.

They both laughed, and then they were silent again, Marinette lost in her questions about the light. What could it mean?

“Marinette.”

“Yes?”

“Being out with your friends like that today—do you do that a lot?” Chat’s voice was shy and curious, like he’d been dying to ask her since she’d first stepped out onto the roof.

Marinette pursed her lips. “I guess I do, when I think about it.” She tilted her head. “Do you think you did, too, when you were alive?”

Marinette had a sinking feeling that she knew the answer before Chat would even respond.

“No,” he said, and to her shock, he said it with quite a bit of certainty.

“Wh-what makes you so sure?”

Chat stared out at the city, over the rooftops of the buildings before them. “A couple of things. Today, I had a memory where I was being homeschooled. I was very young, but I don’t think anything changed as I got older. And secondly… Well, you and I are friends, right?”

Marinette nodded.

He turned his eyes to her. Inexplicably, although Marinette thought she could see sadness there, it also looked as if he might be smiling. “This is all very new to me, you see. And… I feel like, if it weren’t a new thing—if I’d had lots of good friends when I was alive—it wouldn’t feel this way. Unfamiliar and exciting, I mean. And I think it would’ve triggered a memory of other friends, from when I was living.”

Marinette was quiet. It was hard to argue with that, and it was even harder to come up with a response that didn’t sound pitying or fake or totally useless. So, instead of speaking, she leaned back and settled a hand over where she could see the outline of his. Of course, it went straight through to the floor of the patio.

Chat’s eyes moved downward, toward their hands, and then back up to Marinette. “Thanks.”

A corner of Marinette’s lips quirked up into a half-smile. “It'd be better if I could actually touch you.”

Chat let out a quiet laugh. “It's the thought that counts.”

They were silent for a while, allowing the sound of cars passing by on the streets below and of Marinette’s breathing to fill the air between them. Marinette felt overwhelmed with the volume of information she did not know about Chat, his life, his afterlife, and the enormity of the task before her. She kept finding herself trying to resolve the situation by approaching it as if he were alive, and therein lay the problem: if he were alive, there would be no mystery to solve.

And even so, if he were alive, she could at least fix his loneliness. She could introduce him to Alya and Nino and some of her other classmates, and they could fold him into their world and keep him so busy that he hardly had time to worry about anything else. And most of all, he'd feel appreciated, something she suspected he'd been lacking in his lifetime.

Marinette chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. She would look crazy if she tried to explain to Alya that she'd befriended a ghost. But, she thought, they'd enjoyed a relatively judgment-free lifelong friendship, and it wouldn't be the first time one of them had told an unbelievable story to the other. It’d just be the first time that the story turned out to be true.

She let out a sigh. Right, then.

“Chaton.”

“Yes?”

“Maybe it’s time to show you to my friends.”

---

i feel like i should have posted this chapter on mother's day or something. alas, timing is not my forte.

next time: marinette and chat experiment with the physics of ghost rules so they can prove to alya and nino that he's real. much trial and error (emphasis on error) ensues.

thank you to everyone for supporting this fic so far! i'm so happy people are finding it entertaining and not just plain bizarre, haha. i've never been the best at updating quickly, but as chapters for this are so short and so fun to write, hopefully, i'll be relatively regular on these. :) see you next chapter!

[theliterateape]

For the Love of Little Broken Things: A Chicago Hairstylist Emerges Stronger After Fire

By David Himmel

 “love breaks my bones and I laugh.” —Charles Bukowski, Fingernails; Nostrils; Shoelaces

Cassie Krepel had worked at plenty of different salons. In Chicago and Nashville and in different corners of Los Angeles cutting California locks. None of these were the type of place where she wanted to style, cut and color hair, so, she opened her own. Something different. Something welcoming. Something for the neighborhood and its creative freaks and weirdoes and straight-laced downtown nine-to-fivers and suburban empty nesters. Something that wasn’t limiting in possibility. She called it Little Broken Things.

Doors opened on Aug. 16, 2017. Right away, business was great. The art gallery concept was a success and word was spreading quickly. The neighborhood was responding. Eight weeks later, it all went up in smoke.

While the neighborhood slept through the pre-dawn autumn hours, the EyeVac used to vacuum up the clippings had gone haywire. The electrical fire quietly smoldered, heating up the split-level salon on the edge of Bucktown. The smoke grew darker, thicker, hotter. The walls, artifacts, appliances and Krepel’s dreams, future, chef-d’oeuvre melted — distorted into grotesque evidence of loss charred black.

Krepel had just returned from a weekend getaway in Nashville. It was meant to be an easy Monday to kick back and recover from the trip to Music City; coffee, read a book, listen to her boyfriend’s band, End It All — whatever people do on a day off, because no self-respecting hairstylist works on Mondays. Her phone rang at 8 a.m.

She and her boyfriend rushed over to Little Broken Things. Fire trucks lined Western Avenue. The large street-facing windows had been smashed out sending glass shards to litter the sidewalk. Her heart sank. Her stomach seized. Her face went numb. She squeezed past the firefighters and looky-loos. The remains inside were hardly recognizable. Dirt from plants knocked over turned to mud in the puddles left by the firehoses. Her hand-picked antiques and furniture and oriental rug were caked in soot and destruction. The large Chicago flag hanging from the wall in the waiting area stained with black smoke.

Little Broken Things was made to create beauty, cultivate artistry and convoke friends. But now, mere weeks after its ribbon-cutting, it was a taped-off crime scene. Do Not Enter. The investigation was underfoot.

Krepel had opened her business fast and furiously. It wasn’t easy. And as she stood among the soaked and smoked-out wreckage, she knew that she had to put it all back together again. What she didn’t know was how and how hard things were about to get.

Finding a place

Cassie Krepel never wanted to work in a salon. Not the kind most of us are used to, anyway. The ones that feel sterile, bleached out and void of personality. The kind where you’re made to feel lucky just to sit in their chair. Or the ones that are out of the box plastered with corporate-approved pictures of power-pop punk bands on the walls. The kind of salon where you’re greeted with arrogance and indifference, where your name isn’t remembered once it’s written down in the reservation system. She never wanted to work in places like that but she had because that’s what so many salons are.

“I was always the odd one out,” Krepel, 32, says. It didn’t matter where she went throughout the 12 years she’s been styling hair — the smug joints in the hipster ’hoods, the Hot Topic-like facsimile salons on any particular corner — she never quite fit in. But she was good at what she did. She built a clientele, which may well be the hardest part of being a hairstylist especially if you’re a rolling stone searching for the place you can comfortably brandish your shears.

In 2013, having grown tired of salon life, Krepel moved to Los Angeles to pursue her other dream of designing film sets. A friend of hers was connected to someone who was connected, and Krepel secured an internship working on a horror film. Hollywood internships being what they are, she spent most of her time doing grunt work, which did not require creativity, but did require a thick skin for getting dumped on by the set design director. If she was going to make it in the movies, it was going to be a long, hard road with next to no financial security along the way. 

L.A.’s saving grace was romance. While still living in Logan Square, Krepel had reconnected with an old friend from high school, a guy she dated for a month their senior year: Eddie Hamel. He was earning his degree in audio engineering in San Diego so they did the distance thing for four months before they both moved into an apartment in East Hollywood. While Krepel toiled on set, Hamel made the commute by train to San Diego every school day. It wasn’t ideal but it was something — they had each other.

The set design grind continued to disappoint. She’d finally had enough when her boss sprung a last-minute demand to work a gig, refusing to let Krepel skip it or be late because of a prior commitment to drive Hamel to work. Bills needed to be paid and her dignity had taken enough of a lashing. She left the Hollywood backlot for a Floyd’s Barbershop in Venice. The horror film she was interning on… it was never released. Not even straight to video.

Happier at the chair, Krepel remained an unsatisfied seeker. “I think a lot of hairstylists have this moment when they say, ‘I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.’ But then, what else do you do? And I was like, I’m going to fucking open my own business.”

After two-and-a-half years and five different salons, she returned home to Chicago and took a job at a chair at Twisted Scissors in Logan Square. She foraged for money, re-animated and built on her Chicago clientele, and when a space opened up at 2137 N. Western Avenue, Krepel didn’t hesitate. She signed the lease on July 1. Six weeks later, Little Broken Things was open.

Into the blackness

The first days after the fire were a blur. Krepel was on auto-pilot — survival mode. She posted the temporary closing on social media; updated the website; called clients on the schedule and emailed the rest. She met with fire inspectors, insurance adjusters and lawyers. Afternoons were spent on hold or leaving voicemails with the adjuster. It was a slog. Insurance companies rarely pay out a policy holder with glee, especially if that policy is only 10 weeks old. Was something suspect? Had Krepel sabotaged her own salon for the money? Of course not. But Krepel was a young women, just 31, with pink hair and tattoos. They all looked at her like, Who is this little girl?

“I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing,” Krepel says. “I felt like no one was on my side, I had no one I could confide in professionally — I didn’t know anyone whose business had burned down.”

She worried about the big things like rebuilding her salon, and the little things like, could she take things out of the salon, was any of it salvageable… Is it all ruined? She knew how to run a salon but this, this was all new and she was alone — adrift rudderless in a sea of firehose water and burned, broken things. One of the stylists who worked there suggested to Krepel that she change the name of the salon to Little Burned Things.

The name of her salon was inspired by the Charles Bukowski poem, Fingernails; Nostrils; Shoelaces. “I was always going to call it Broken Bones — it’s all about resilience. We’ve all had broken bones and survived,” she says. “But as I got closer to opening it, Little Broken Things had a better ring to it.” That name was a repurposing of her Etsy shop where she had been making jewelry and unique trinkets out of broken stuff like watch parts. She was creating little things out of little broken things. And now, here she was, having to create yet another thing out broken things — her broken dreams.

Bukowski’s words and her own resilience got her only so far. Krepel is a doer. She needs constant momentum, true progress to feel anything even remotely like peace. So when the rebuilding’s momentum stopped, she found herself lost again. She sought out a therapist to help keep her from going mad.

“I knew I was repressing my feelings so that I didn’t have a total breakdown. It was important for me to stay level through this thing. But I didn’t want to just breeze past all of this. I wanted to experience my emotions and process them. I wanted this loss to resonate and always remember why I kept going.

“Day after day of having little to no control is my worst fear. I felt like I was drowning, like there was no point in getting out of bed. It came in waves… One rush of momentum when construction started — progress! Then, the next wave… no one does any work and I can’t get the insurance adjuster to call me back.”

Back to beauty

It took her a month-and-a-half to open Little Broken Things the first time around. Coming back from the fire took 11 months. She spent those 11 months trying to stay even keeled, afloat and fighting with insurance adjuster answering machines. She rented a chair in Lakeview. The kind of place she describes as politely as she can as “basically a big space with cubicles and plumbing… It’s where hairdressers go to die.”

But Krepel didn’t die. Her salon may have burned out, but she never did. 

✶

It’s a hot Thursday morning in September. Dana Jerman and I are visiting with Krepel at Little Broken Things. She’s not open for business just yet. In two days, she’s hosting a grand re-opening. There will be food and booze, and I can bring my kid. She’s got a little baby fever. We’re not sure of Hamel’s feelings on that fever. As we chat, it’s difficult to imagine Krepel frustrated with her chosen profession or furiously hindered by the past 11 months of slow progress. She’s cool, measured, funny and hopeful. It’s the kind of attitude that comes only after understanding the darker, uglier side of life’s moments.

“By the time I open these doors, it’s going to be such a relief to me,” Krepel says. Normally, when you open the doors that’s when the work starts. But for me… it’s like now I can fucking relax. Because I know how to do this in here.”

It’s not fair to call Little Broken Things a salon. Yeah, salon things happen here but it’s more of an arthouse. Artists, musicians, jewelers, literary junkies are all on display. “I want artists who you might not see otherwise. I want to highlight people who are just playing with art. When you get a bunch of weirdoes together, cool things happen.”

Cool things are happening. As we talk, alternative music from the ’90s plays on the speakers. Most of the songs I had forgotten I liked. Paintings (for sale and several sold) by David J. Paha hang from long wires on one wall. The Chicago flag is now framed, hung back I place but with all of its smoke damage untouched and on poetic display. Framed photos from the fire line a corner. One eerie image has Hamel standing among the destruction, his long jet black hair hanging over his face. Protecting his eyes from seeing the horror? Advertising that he needs a haircut? Or just a man still standing among the rubble, a show of resilience.

Krepel has a thing for strong, sometimes scary men with artistry and brilliance in their veins. Hamel, for one is a musician, audio engineer and owner of Scripts Records who while kind, dabbles in art’s heavier forms. Hunter S. Thompson’s and Terry Gilliam’s Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas is the theme of the bathroom. It’s bat country in there. Answering nature’s call in this bathroom makes you feel like you’ve ingested “two bags of grass, 75 pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls.” It’s amazing. On the back wall, a large mural of Bukowski’s anguished grin oversees the chairs and art and metal band patches and vintage typewriters (as if there’s any other kind) and earrings made of little broken things. It tells us to “Find what you love and let it kill you.” Taken literally, it’s terrible advice, but the three of us standing at the front desk chatting away all fully understand the sentiment. Just about anyone can. Certainly Krepel’s clientele gets it. Because they get her.

That’s why we’re here, that’s why Little Broken Things exists. It is as much Krepel’s soul put into practice as it is a place to get a cut, color, piece of art or good conversation.

 What’s missing is an EyeVac. “Never again,” Krepel says. She got a little too fancy the first time around. Now and forever more, she says it’s a dustpan all the way. And she says that the gods spoke to her during the 11 months of rebuilding. Slow down. Why are you hurrying such a big thing? Learn more. “Patience is something I struggle with,” she says. “I think that was a big part of it. The fire took everything away. I had to sit and think about my life. I’m braver now. I know a lot more. I’m not so meek about speaking up.”

Little Broken Things opened again on Sept. 25. It’s even more the kind of place Krepel wanted it to be than it was before. It’s even more her sanctuary. And more importantly, it can be a sanctum for any of us. A place to be made beautiful on the outside with the ability to beautify our innards by consuming the art and music and that unavoidable sense of strength and resilience.

“Being a hairstylist, you create change,” Krepel says. “It’s immediate gratification. The idea is to make someone look and feel their best. Your hands are moving, you’re standing, your brain is working to formulate and mold your shape. You’re talking and being social, courteous, conscientious, monitoring your client’s comfort levels. Firing on all cylinders. There’s no time to think about anything else but the person and project you are currently submerged in. I love being a hairstylist, but this fire has given me a chance to step away from behind the chair and learn the way the gears move.”

We’re all rebuilding. We all want to be beautiful. We’re all seeking gratification. Krepel went through the fire and emerged to give us a place that is as much ours as it is hers. A place where we can feel beautiful, where we can feel gratified, because when we feel good, we don’t want to burn the whole fucking thing down. She’s given Chicago a place that proves the most beautiful things often come from the things that were the most broken.

Little Broken Things 2137 N. Western Ave. 773-799-8828 littlebrokenthingschicago.com Tuesday–Thursday 12–8 p.m. Friday–Saturday 10 a.m.–6 p.m. Services Book online

✶

New Art Exhibition Premiere: Featuring Will McEvilly — “Down Faithful” Friday, November 2, 2018 6–9 p.m. @ Little Broken Things

McEvilly’s art will be for sale, as will copies of The Many Splendored (Scripts Records), the latest release from his modular synth/drone project, Holy Family.

If you are interested in consignment sales or sharing your work in an exhibition/performance, please email a brief proposal and links to your work at littlebrokenthingschicago@gmail.com.

[stoneleet]

From Quebec City to Halifax was a very long and uncomfortable train ride.  The train car seemed warm to me, and I was on an aisle seat instead of a window.  Once the sunset I guess that wasn’t a big deal, but trying to sleep proved more difficult than my trip a few years ago on Amtrak.  I just think Amtrak seats are more comfortable for sleeping in a chair.  But I did learn my lesson, a sleeping car on over night train trips in Canada would be worth the crazy price you have to pay; plus dinner/breakfast are include and you get access to a special observation car at the very end of the train.  But enough about the train… On to Halifax…

Halifax Train Station

The train pulls into the Halifax Train Station at 7:06 PM local time takes a bit of time to get luggage, because unlike the previous trains the luggage is unloaded and put on one of those conveyor belts like at an airport.  And since I learned my lesson in Quebec City, I ordered a taxi and get to the hotel by 7:54 PM.  I check in, drop off my luggage and then head right back out to see the water front.  The whole time on the train getting into Halifax the sun had been shining and the day was bright, but it seems a fog rolled into Halifax just ahead of the train so visibility was down to quarter of a mile, maybe?

Its now around 9 PM and I’m hungry.  The turkey sandwich from the train had been hours ago.  So I try to find some place to eat, in what is really a tourist area.  It is a late Monday evening, and the I believe the fog had everyone moving in doors earlier then normal.  Or it could be that the area is always kind of slow on a Monday evening.  I did find a pub on the docks that was open, The Lower Deck.  They served fish and chips and I am a fan.

After dinner, I go walking around a bit more, but there are very few people out and the fog has made everything damp and a bit chilly so I head back to the hotel to prepare for tomorrow’s adventure.

It is now Tuesday, July 3rd and I have a free morning.  My bus tour of Halifax and then to Peggy’s Cove is not until 12 PM.  I decided to eat the breakfast buffet in the hotel.  It was $20 but you get to eat a little bit of everything than just a larger amount of only a few things.  They did serve an interesting egg, broccoli, bread thing that I went back for seconds.  Breakfast all done I head back down to the docks to redeem my voucher for the ticket for the bus tour. By 9 AM the fog has cleared off and you can see across the bay.

After a short walk along the board walk, I decided to head east into Halifax and visit the Museum of Natural History. I head up along Salter Street toward Barrington Street, but half way only my trek I have to make a surprising detour. Like in each of the other cities I’ve visited, lots of construction is going happening.  I’m not sure if the construction worker are responsible or if it was just a bad fire hydrant, but water is gushing into the air a good 12 feet and running down the street about 3 inches deep. How do I know? Well, I stepped in the water and soaked my right shoe.

I continue on my way as another police car arrives to block traffic from going down the street.  So I finally get back on course and head up Sackville Street and I notice the Halifax Public Gardens.

From the number of pictures I took, I think you can deduce I didn’t make it to the Museum in time.  I did go back to the Museum on Wednesday and looked around.  It was a very small museum, but it had an interesting exhibit of artwork created by some of the local tribes of the First People, what Canadians call Native Americans, that visualized the impact of Europeans on the lives of these people.  And remember these are basically the same Europeans that are moving into the America’s and Mexico so when I say things didn’t work out well for the First People, I am making a huge understatement.  And some of the repressive laws continued into the modern era and if I’m remembering the date correctly, it wasn’t until the 1960s before a woman of the local tribes no longer lost her tribal status with the Canadian government if she married a non tribe member.

The museum also has a mascot.  His name is Gus, and at night when the staff is closing up the museum he is allowed to roam his museum.

The museum also has a bee hive behind glass inside the building with a pipe that allows the bees to come and go as needed.  It also has some good displays of the various types of rocks and minerals found in the area along with bones and some fossils of animals from the past and present.  It was a nice museum to visit, and gave me about 45 minutes out of the unusually warm day (The museum visit was on Thursday, July 4th)

After leaving the public gardens, after another quick walk through I walked around one of the edges of the Halifax Citadel National Historical Site.  I didn’t visit, but this is a raised area over looking the lower portion of the city and the harbor where a military fort had been built to defend the port.  From the level I was on it just looked like a huge grassy hill, but when you got to on of the roads leading up, you could see the fort’s structures.

The time is now 11:30 AM and I need to be at the departure point by 11:45 AM which is out side of the nautical museum.  I didn’t visit the museum so I can’t say anything about it, other than its location.  The bus leaves a bit late, around 12:!5 PM, and I am off to Peggy’s Cove which I knew nothing about before my trip and I only booked it because there was a lighthouse.  It’s almost an hours drive out to the location and our tour guide has many stories to tell mostly about tragic events that happened on the ocean.  Halifax was the closest port to the location where the Titanic sank so many of the survivors were taken to Halifax along with the dead that were able to be recovered.

Peggy’s Cove is a fishing village that mainly traps lobsters. On the docks of all the little houses, I saw many lobster trap.  The fog found me again here at the cove, but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t get some good pictures of the lighthouse and surrounding landscape.  I even had time to grab a “lobster roll” for lunch.  Why the quotes, well it was lobster meat, but the “roll” was just a hot dog bun.  Still it was good, better than any lobster I’ve had at Red Lobster.

Another hour drive back into Halifax, with some more local stories that I don’t remember because honestly I didn’t really care.  I just wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean and the light house and I was looking forward to my next tour, The Halifax Distillery.

The Fermentation Pot

The Distillation Pot and Tower

The caskets for aging

The Halifax Distillery is a very small rum distillery located on Lower Water Street.  One of main people responsible for running the distillery gave the tour.  In the pictures above you can see the pot where the mash is fermented. They only use molasses for their rum and I didn’t know this, but as rum is fermenting it is producing so much heat that they have to cool the pot.  That explains the dimples in the outside of the pots.  They run water between the outside and inside layer of the pot to cool the mixture other wise it would boil and kill the yeast and end the fermentation. My beer takes about 6 to 7 days to finish its fermentation process, rum is done in 12 hours.  Because of the heat produced by the fermentation the distillery only runs during the winter months when it is much cooler and their are less people wanting to take tours. After those 12 hours are up, the liquid is transferred to the pot and column still where it is heated and the alcohol is collected. It is than aged for 3 years in old bourbon and whiskey barrels.  Many of those being used here are from Buffalo Trace.  One of the other guests asked how many times a barrel can be reused, and the answer was up to 5 times before it starts to leak too much. I personally am not a fan of drinking rum, even in a cocktail, but the dark rum here was pretty good.  I even bought a bottle of the Rum Cream which is basically like Bailey’s Irish Cream, but made with golden rum and not whisky.  Overall, this was a very good tour, and I learned a few things I didn’t know.  It also helps that the business is still small enough that they owners are the people running the place and giving the tour.

After the tour I head back to the hotel keeping my eye open for a place to eat dinner.  I run across, The Old Triangle.  Maybe subconsciously the math teacher in me is drawn to the word triangle or the fact its an Irish Alehouse either way, that is where dinner will be.

This is Tuesday night, around 7:30 PM and the place is pretty empty.  I over here the bartender and one of the waitress discussing that fact.  About 20 or 30 minutes later after I get my food the manger even lets the waitress go home earlier because she isn’t making any money on tips, because their is no crowd and the place is over staffed.  It seems I decided to visit between the arrival of the cruise ships.  Which is very good for me, I didn’t realize that Halifax was one of the major destination ports for cruise ships.  The harbor is deep enough that the ships can dock without issues.  I thanked my good fortune and sit back and enjoy the live music coming up from the lower section of the Alehouse while I wait for my meal.

Dinner was pan fired Haddock with potato leek soup.  And dessert, which I didn’t really have room for but decide to just go for it anyways was this awesome Guinness Gingerbread cake.  If all desserts tasted that good, I would always save room.

Since the sun is setting so late, it is still pretty bright out when I leave the restaurant at 8:44 PM.  I walk back to the board walk and get some really good pictures of the docks and harbor with my phone using the landscape and sphere setting.  Sadly they don’t upload well here and only look good on a phone.

And it is back to the hotel for some sleep.

It is now July 4th; the train back to Montreal doesn’t leave until 12:30 PM.  I take one final walk along the board walk, and then head up to the public garden again.  As I mentioned before I visited the History museum today.

I get a taxi to the train station and board the train and get a window sit on the single seat side of the train.  Here are some pictures I got while traveling from Halifax.

Halifax – 2018 From Quebec City to Halifax was a very long and uncomfortable train ride.  The train car seemed warm to me, and I was on an aisle seat instead of a window.