#call that an inability to finish things and focus on more than one activity at a time

[tenrose]

Yes I spent most of my weekend playing DAI but I also found time to go out a bit Saturday without any reason to do so, clean one more little thing in my apartment, found a pet sitter for my holidays. So I say it's an improvement from the "lying in bed all day doom scrolling" usual weekend 🤷

[doomednarrative]

So this is a thought that I’ve been mulling over as I keep watching Donbrothers, and after finishing episode 44 it’s one that finally fully formed in my mind, and I think I have the words to articulate it in writing now.

It’s a thought about Taro Momoi. As the Red Sentai Ranger he’s obviously going to impact the story a lot, it’s in his nature to from the moment the series starts. But there’s one specific aspect of his character that keeps catching my focus, and it’s his inherent inability to lie about anything and everything.

The thought that I keep coming back to is that if you chose to watch Donbrothers with a queer reading in mind, that specific characteristic has such a farther reaching impact on both Taro and the narrative as a Whole.

(And before I go any further, I’ll put my little disclaimer here that this is not me saying you Should watch Donbrothers with this reading or anything to that effect. It is after all at its base level a sentai show meant to sell cool toys. You don’t have to give it this depth, it’s fine without it. I however am a queer person and I find it fun to do these kinds of readings as a thought experiment and I like writing about it for others to read.)

But anyhow.

Putting the rest of my thoughts under a read more because it got very long ~

The thing that gets me about Taro and his inability to lie and the fact that he has such an obvious tell for when he Is lying - that being that it literally kills him - is that it Forces Taro to go through his life living as his 100% authentic self. There is no way for him to hide from the rest of the world, no shield of little white lies or even a false persona that he can put on to keep himself from getting hurt. And he’s more than aware that A. His inability to lie Does hurt other people, which in turn hurts him as well, and B. It often puts him at odds with others due to how it can make him come off as ruder or more careless than he might mean to be. But it’s not something that he can change about himself. He’s tried, multiple times, and it’s just not something he’s capable of doing no matter what effort he puts into it.

And this has been a persistent issue for him since early childhood. It’s this very fact about Taro that makes an entire village move away when he’s still a young boy because in his attempts to help people by being honest and upfront with them, he drove them to hate him for his perfectionist streak instead. He couldn’t soften his words or tell them that they were doing just fine but that he wanted to help them, instead everything comes off blunt and matter of fact and over time it drove people away from him, until only he and Jin were left in their little neighborhood.

Taro’s inability to lie is something that the rest of the Donbrothers challenge him on throughout the entire series. It’s something that they actively either try to work to get him to break on, or they bemoan the fact that it’s not something he can fix about himself. Sometimes this is played for laughs, but more than a handful of times it’s also the cause of actual annoyance or even a level of anger from Taro’s teammates directed at him for this thing that he cannot change about himself. Over time Taro has learned a good bit how to at least supplement his blunt honesty with some careful phrasing so that he’s not as rude to people about things, but this still doesn’t change the fact that he cannot lie, and therefore cannot change a core part of himself or use lying as a way to shield himself from things like the others can.

That’s exactly why its such a huge deal to him when Sonoi is the first person to show up in his life, very early in the series, and tell Taro upfront that not only is his honesty a fine trait that he has, but that it’s also something he likes about Taro. Sonoi, before their shock at finding out each others true identities, literally calls Taro his hope and reaffirms when Taro comes to him about this issue more than once that he thinks Taro is fine as he is. This is something that I think ends up being a huge part of why the two of them end up still being close even after all of the fighting and literally killing and reviving each other that goes on through the series. Even after the many shocks and betrayals, the fact that their relationship (whatever you chose to view it as/whatever the narrative might imply it is) started with such openness and honesty makes for a very good foundation for the two of them. There’s already so much out in the open at that point that neither of them can pull back for long. Sonoi’s efforts to do so barely last more than a few episodes, and Taro never stops being anything less than genuine with him in all of their interactions from the first time they meet.

And speaking of Sonoi and his fellow Noto companions...

Sonoi may not have a problem with lying in the literal sense like Taro does, it certainly doesn’t kill him at least and he can lie with his words all he wants with no repercussion physically. But as the series goes on, you start to see that he’s lying to both himself and his teammates about a lot of things, and it slowly stops working and starts becoming something that is an actual roadblock for not just himself but for Sononi and Sonoza as well. And Sononi and Sonoza are also lying to themselves and each other as well, and it’s not working for Any of them! Sonoi has to be called back to the purpose of their work multiple times in the beginning of the series because it becomes clear to the others that whatever fascination he has with Taro is beginning to impede their goal of wiping out the Hitotsuki, and then post the first time he kills Taro, he visibly Wilts and states that he does not like himself for what he’s done. He becomes unable to lie to both himself and to Sononi and Sonoza that he’s happy with this outcome even though he should be. He’s a Noto who just took down Don Momotaro! In any regular circumstance, this would be something that he’d be proud of, no matter the method he used to do so. But because he did so by exploiting Taro’s inability to lie to him, something that he told Taro multiple times he liked about him, his victory rings hollow, and instead becomes something he’s actively upset that he did, even when the others think he did just fine. It’s why he helps to bring Taro back, it’s why they both agree to a fair duel that they won’t regret, it’s a catalyst for so many things later on down the line.

Sonoi’s inability to lie to himself and keep going with his duties as a Noto general without interference is what eventually leads to his realization in episode 44 that he and Sonoza and Sononi are all alike in the fact that they’ve grown attached to or become fond with humanity, and this fact puts a target on all of their heads and makes them enemies to their own people. Sononi got so caught up in the love affairs of Tsubasa and his search to bring the real Natsumi back that she fell for him in the process and took multiple hits to protect him, and it almost kills her! And Sonoza, who only ever wanted to understand human emotions and how they work, ended up as the manga editor to a teenage girl who he genuinely wants to see flourish in her work that brought him such joy and who’s respect he’s earned in the process. All three of them start off the series as very serious in their duties to take out the Hitotsuki (and later the Beastials) and slowly over time it gets so put to the back burner due to the connections they’ve made that even their superiors had to intervene to remind them of who they are and what their purpose is. And in the end even that doesn’t work. Not only can they not lie to themselves after a point, but they can’t lie to Sonoshi either. And he makes it very clear what kind of mark that puts on them and their fates before eventually leaving them to their own devices again.

Sonoi, Sononi, Sonoza and Taro are all alike in the fact that they end up being unable to lie/hide things about themselves to themselves or others for one reason or another about core parts of who they are. And it’s this fact alone that either puts them in direct danger, or makes their attempts at navigating the world around them a lot harder than it might otherwise be if they could just lie and shove things under the rug.

I don’t personally read Sononi or Sonoza as queer themselves, but in the case of Taro and Sonoi specificallty, especially with how the overall narrative hints at things and all of the imagery and implication and even outright textual statements, I think it becomes very easy to see how this can all be viewed in a queer light. It at least rings true for me as someone who went through the struggle of being unable to hide myself and having to pay the price for it by running from my home and the dangers that staying there held for me.

Seeing as I haven’t finished the series yet I have no clue if this is something that the Noto trio will end up doing for themselves, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they had to do so, and that in itself would lend even more weight to the comparison I’m trying to make here. Either way, it’s been an emotional journey to watch all of these characters come to the place that they are now in the narrative and how they’ve grown and are trying to make their way in the world as they are, and it’s certainly not something I’ll be forgetting anytime soon.

[bonkie-barnes]

Spoons

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: chronic illness, mention of medicine, self deprecating thoughts

A/N: this is me 1000% projecting about my guilt that comes with my chronic illnesses. they're kicking my ass rn. this is a vent fic, but if you resonate with this at all, i hope you enjoy :)

- - -

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table has been going off for a full minute already. You merely roll over and cover your head with Natasha’s pillow. It smells like her.

You have absolutely no energy to get up, let alone reach across the bed to turn the alarm off. Your head feels heavy and your body aches something terrible.

The list of chores you have to do around the house today sits uncomfortably in the back of your mind. The list of friends who have texted you about making plans to hang out sits there too. The idea of staying in bed all day sounds more and more appealing by the second. You know this because the alarm is still blaring into the otherwise peaceful morning air.

Just as you’re gathering the strength to sit up and turn the alarm off, Natasha walks in. She looks at her watch and her brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing, sleepyhead?” she asks you with a little smirk. There is concern in her eyes, though she masks it well.

You’re both fully aware the alarm has been going off for seven minutes straight now.

“Just tired, love. You know how much work it takes to reach over,” you say in a joking manner, hopeful that you can get past this without worrying her too much.

Natasha eyes you suspiciously for a second before giving in.

“How was your workout?” you ask her sincerely.

As she starts rambling about her morning activities, you feel a sense of shame. You’ve barely managed to wake up in the time it’s taken her to complete a full workout routine. Hell, you couldn’t even find it in you to turn the alarm off.

You finally focus on her rant as it comes to an end. Natasha is looking at you expectantly. Shit. She’s asked you a question.

“Huh?” you grunt.

She chuckles before answering, “I asked if you were ever going to get up and get in the shower, stinky.”

You put on a fake smile but fail to meet her eyes, the shame eating you up. It has been a few days since your last shower, but it’s just so hard to find the strength and energy to get up and stand in one place for more than a minute or two.

If Natasha notices the far away look in your eyes and the grimace on your mouth, she doesn’t say anything.

After one of the quickest and most unproductive showers you’ve ever taken, you find Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. She’s taken it upon herself to make breakfast for you both.

You kiss her cheek and thank her as you sit down at the table. The warm cup of coffee she sets down in front of you is a godsend. The warmth emitting from the cup helps to diminish the pain in your knuckles, if only slightly. You send up a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that the caffeine will help with the fatigue today instead of making you sick.

Natasha sits down in the chair next to you with her own plate. She runs her eyes over you in a scrutinizing manner. She wants to think you don’t notice, but you do.

Clearing your throat in hopes to take her focus off you, you ask about her plans for the day.

“Oh, you know, mostly just busy work. I have a ton of paperwork to get through,” she tells you through an exaggerated sigh. “What about you?”

The list of chores screams at you again. “Mostly just some things around the house. Grocery shopping, laundry, boring shit like that.”

Natasha hums around a sip of her coffee. It surprised you just how much cream and sugar she takes in hers. It’s just one of the many unpredictable things about her that made you fall in love.

“Super exciting. I hate to miss out,” she teases you.

You crack a smile to appease her. Inside, though, you realize just how little she understands. These errands seem so simple to her, when to you, they are the most daunting of tasks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Natasha standing up to take her plate to the sink. She comes back to kiss your cheek and let you know she’s going to go get ready, before walking out of the room.

You suspect the amount of housework you’ll get done today will be minimal, so you decide to at least make Natasha some lunch. Maybe it will lessen the disappointment she feels when she comes home to see everything exactly as it was when she left, you think.

Your plan is halted as you’re making her sandwich. The stupid cover on the peanut butter jar is stuck. You can’t open it for the life of you. The guilt comes in like a tidal wave. You can’t even do something as simple as make lunch for her, your brain supplies for you.

Natasha returns from getting ready to see you standing in the kitchen with a glare on your tired face.

“What’d the peanut butter do to you this time,” she jokes.

“I can’t.” Tears well up in your eyes.

She comes up to wrap you in a hug from behind. She softly asks, “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t open the jar,” you mutter softly, feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“It’s okay, love. Let me help,” she tells you delicately before kissing the spot under your ear. She can tell this is affecting you more than usual and wishes for nothing more than to be able to take away your distress.

You mutter a thank you before continuing to make her sandwich. You pack everything into a bag and write a small note to finish it off. You know Natasha loves the little messages you leave her periodically, and nothing will stop you from trying to make her as happy as you can.

Goodbyes are said as you both wander closer to the door. Natasha makes sure to hold you longer and tighter than usual. You don’t comment on that.

The silence that encompasses the room as soon as the love of your life leaves is suffocating. You can feel the exhaustion from purely getting up and getting ready creeping up on you. Logically, you know that you shouldn’t overexert yourself, but the shame is eating you up. Already on a roll, might as well keep on going, you think to yourself.

You go back to your mental to-do list and debate what to start with. The grocery store doesn’t sound terrible. Some sun would do you some good. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen the world that exists outside of your house.

Wandering back to the bedroom to get your phone and shoes, you try to push the fatigue from your mind. In your attempt to block out the tiredness, you fail to recognize the ever-present pain in your joints increasing. It’s only when you sit down and bend over to put your shoes on that you register the feeling. Your hips ache severely; so much so, that you can’t hold your position long enough to get your shoe on your foot.

This seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, seeing as you immediately burst into tears. The pain mixed with your inability to do basic, everyday activities completely overwhelms you as you break down.

There’s absolutely no chance that you’re going to complete this task, let alone all the other ones on your list. You let out a sigh as you stand up and shuffle to your room, phone and shoes forgotten in the living room.

You let the weight of your emotions crush you as you climb into bed and under the covers, your wife’s pillow clutched closely to your chest.

Your tears cease to stop, even as you succumb to the sleep you so desperately wished to hold onto this morning.

- - -

Natasha comes home to an eerily silent house. On any typical day, she would come home to the noise of your favorite show or music softly playing, whether it be from a speaker or from your guitar. Your shared house consistently was filled with life and sound. It was one of her favorite parts of her day; coming home to you in your own element, laughing or singing. You are her home.

This newfound silence has her exceptionally worried. Even on your bad days, there was at least a laugh track coming from the TV or the smell of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen. Now, there’s absolutely nothing. For a split second, Natasha thinks that you may never have come back from the grocery. Her heart rate spikes. The sight of your phone on the coffee table and your shoes strewn haphazardly on the floor puts those worries to rest.

“Darling?” she calls from the entryway. There is no response. She carefully removes her boots and coat before moving through every room in the house, calling out for you softly in each.

She makes her way to the bedroom, lightly knocking on the door as she lets herself in. She sees the rise and fall of your chest and is filled with a sense of relief she didn't know she needed.

"Love? Are you awake?"

You grumble out an answer that could be understood as a 'yes'.

Natasha carefully sits down on the side of the bed that you are facing.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she requests softly, in fear of upsetting the quiet environment of the bedroom and making things worse.

The tears that started up again when you wife called out the first time get even heavier somehow.

"Oh love, come here."

She carefully gathers you in her arms and rests your head on her chest.

"Does this have anything to do with the peanut butter jar this morning?"

You nod. One of your favorite things about your wife is her ability to observe and understand what you're going through.

"I just can't do anything today. Everything hurts and I'm so, so tired," you whisper, followed by a heartbreaking sob.

"It's okay love. Please don't cry," Natasha whispers back.

"But it's not! It's not okay!" You sit up from her chest to let out your rant. "You've done so much today and I could barely wake up. You work so hard and I should be able to do stuff around the house so you can come home and not have to worry about anything," you finish with a sigh.

Your wife puts her hand under your chin, forcing you to look in her direction. "Love, look at me. Believe me when I say that I don't care about the state of the laundry or if the pantry has been stocked. All I care about is you. All I want is for you to be okay. It's killing me that you feel like this and I can't do anything to take it away from you. What I can do, though, is tell you just how proud I am of you. You are the strongest person I know, and I work with the Avengers."

You giggled at that. Natasha smiles at your small second of happiness.

"Are you sure? Because I was going to get so much done today and I was trying to-"

Natasha cuts you off with a soft kiss.

"My love. Listen to me. All I care about is your health and happiness. If staying in bed and catching up on sleep is what you needed today, then that's all I expect from you. I never want you to hurt yourself trying to do more than you can. We all have limits. It’s okay to need a break some days. I love you and I am so very, very proud of you."

With a long look into her eyes, all you find is love and adoration directed towards you. There's no disgust or disappointment as you had anticipated.

"I love you too," you utter quietly.

Natasha smiles and leaves a long kiss on your forehead. "What if we got some pain killers and some food in you? We can even put on your favorite movie. Does that sound good?"

You nod. Natasha gets up to get you some medicine and to order some food, while you get your favorite movie loaded on the TV.

Later that night, when both your stomachs are full and your wife is obnoxiously singing along to the songs in the movie just to make you laugh, you realize just how loved you are.

You don't know how tomorrow will treat you, or the day after that. What you do know, however, is that Natasha will always be there to support and love you. Your pain level and ability to function is always an uncertainty, but your wife's love will never be.

- - -

A/N: as always, i try to keep it gender neutral. if you find a mistake, please let me know! feedback is appreciated! to all my chronic illness buddies out there: i love you, you've got this :)

taglist: @007giu

[fanfic-me-up]

Hiiiiiii can I request Bakugou x fem!reader?? (*≧∀≦*) Maybe he has a crush on you who has a healing quirk and helps recovery girl when it comes to helping the injured, like when class 1-A finishes up training and recovery girl normally sends her to deal with it all the time? She can heal people but it drains her energy so when she finished with it she takes naps on the recovery beds? Idk but thanks!much love❤️❤️❤️

This is a really cute idea! Thank you for requesting 💖 

“Shut up and Heal me”

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: Language (what do you expect, it’s Bakugou lol)

Synopsis: You’re a student at U.A. and Recovery Girl’s apprentice healer. When you push pass your limit to heal Bakugou Katsuki, who knew he cared enough to make sure you heal too.

“Wake up, dumbass.”

Your shoulder is shaken, abruptly waking you from your nap. A muscular silhouette takes shape as you pry your eyes open.

“Bakugou? Is that you?” Your voice laced with sleep. 

“Nah, it’s Batman.” 

You squint your eyes, still half asleep. Is this a dream? Bakugou rolls his eyes at your inability to detect blatant sarcasm.

“‘Course it’s me, dipshit. Get up.”

You check your phone and groan when you find you only got five minutes worth of valuable shut eye.

“You’re here early.” 

“Aizawa-sensei let us out early!” Midoriya pipes up. He’s chipper for someone who looks one step away from passing out. Any trace of sleep vanishes when you assess his injuries, asking him a series of questions to confirm where he needs medical attention and if it’s life-threatening. You usher him to Recovery Girl’s office so he can get treated immediately. Typical Midoriya - always going plus ultra even for training exercises. 

Bakugou’s no better as you take in the numerous scrapes and bruises raking his body. Despite his beaten-up state, the only open wound is on the right side of his stomach - a small pool of blood seeping through his muscle shirt. He’s been pushing himself much harder in training these past couple weeks and you know it’s the life of a hero, but you’re concerned for him as a healer and as a friend. 

“You gonna stare all day or heal me?”

“Sorry, right, uh.. Take off your shirt and get on the bed.” 

The words escape before you realize the implication. Bakugou raises an eyebrow before snorting.

“Tch. Weirdo.”

You flush as he takes off his shirt, laying down on the bed. The wound running down his abdomen is not deep, but it is long. It’ll be difficult to heal, but you’re always up for a challenge. You wash your hands before activating your quirk. A glowing aura surrounds your hands, transparent in color, but before you can focus on changing the color to heal Bakugou - a spaced out Kaminari stands before you with his signature thumbs up. Snot is running down his nose and his eyes have this blank look like no one’s home. 

“hewwoo?” 

“Oi! Dunceface! To your right!” 

“wa-whee-whaa?” 

That’s Kaminari gibberish for “Where?” Being Recovery Girl’s intern and constantly healing Class 1-A along with other students in the hero course has made you quite familiar with the unusual side effects of overusing one’s quirk. You created a book with translations for Kaminari’s most used gibberish phrases so you can treat him more efficiently. Today, you tried placing his juice box and cookies on the table to the right to see if he can find it himself. But he’s having problems finding what direction is right.

“Your other right, dumbass.” Bakugou growls as Kaminari bends down to look for his juice box under a chair. You giggle as you help him locate his snack before ushering him to one of the recovery beds to take a nap. He knocks out in no time, snoring softly. Bakugou grunts, his hand pressing against the wound on his side. 

“Don’t touch, it could get infected.” 

“Tch. I know, but look.” He releases his hold to show you the blood dripping down his abdomen. You curse for not healing him sooner when he was clearly a higher priority than Kaminari. How could you forget the number one rule as a healer? There’s no time to beat yourself up for it so you grab a cleaning cloth to wipe away the blood before activating your quirk once again. You close your eyes, focusing your energy into what you’re about to do which is close up a wound. Red swirls behind your eyelids and you focus the color down your body to your hands. You open your eyes to find them glowing a bright, luminescent red - a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the room. Bakugou hisses at the touch; your hands trailing along his abdomen. You look up to apologize when you notice Bakugou’s flushed cheeks, as red as your glowing hands.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit flushed.” You deactivate your quirk in your left hand to touch his forehead. It’s cause for concern if he has a fever due to an open wound, but you’re taken aback when Bakugou swats your hand away.

“I’m fine! Shut up and heal me.” He looks away, but you catch the persistent redness now making its way down his neck. You return to healing the wound. It’s almost closed, but you can feel your energy draining quicker than usual since you didn’t have enough time to recover earlier. 

“Hey, you good?” 

“Mhm. Al-most… done…” You bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to concentrate the last of your energy into closing the rest of the wound.

“Don’t push it, dumbass.”  Bakugou grunts and despite the harsh tone, there’s a tinge of concern underneath. 

“Heh.. could say… the same… for..” 

You trail off and your hands glow brighter by the second that you can see red behind your eyelids. You feel the wound seal shut and when you open your eyes you see there’s not a scar in sight. This is the first time you were able to completely heal a wound on your own. You smile at your accomplishment. 

“You can take your hands off.” 

You flush before ripping your hands away. The quick movement gives you a head rush, the room spinning in circles.

“Whoa.” Bakugou grabs you by the shoulders and reverses your position so you’re laying down now. 

“My head hurts…”

“No shit,” Bakugou snorts, “What’d I say about pushing?”

“Go beyond... plus… ultra…”

The last thing you hear is Bakugou laughing, a soft smile curling his lips, before your vision goes black.

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

You wake up to the smell of roasted coffee and cinnabons. Faint voices go back and forth, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. The light streaming in is gone; the room now darker than before. Jeez how long were you out?

“Took you long enough.”

You whip your head to see Bakugou sitting on a chair and nursing a cup of coffee. The bed next to yours is empty. Kaminari must’ve recovered meaning you’ve slept for more than an hour.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah, and? Wanted to make sure you didn’t die ‘cause of me.” 

City lights shine bright, and the hustle and bustle outside suggests the city isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. Live music roars from nightclubs and people laughing on the street would entice anyone to join the party. It’s pretty hard to believe Bakugou would stay behind on a Friday night when it’s common knowledge that you need to sleep after overusing your quirk. But here he is, that same strip of red running along his cheeks and nose like he just got a cute little sunburn. 

“You like laser tag?” Bakugou asks.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shrugging when you answer.

“Never played.”

Bakugou balks, shock written all over his face.

“You never - what kind of person - nevermind. If we hurry, we can make the last round.”

Maybe this time you really were dreaming. You subtly pinch yourself to make sure and nope, this is real life and Bakugou is inviting you to hang out.

“Sounds... fun? But I… um…I’m not really part of your squad…”

You didn’t want to overstep. It seemed like they were a pretty tight-knit group and you’ve never hung out with them outside of school. The fear of ruining their night because you didn’t vibe with them twisted your gut. 

“Gimme your phone,” Bakugou says.

Still in a daze, you give him your phone without question. He takes his phone out and not a second later you hear a “ping” from yours, He presses a couple buttons before handing it back to you. 

“Congrats, you’re part of the squad.”

You see that you’ve been added to a group chat called “keeping up with the crackheads”. You don’t have time to contemplate exactly what you got thrusted into as Bakugou is grabbing both of your jackets hanging on the coat rack, handing yours and pushing you towards the door. 

“I- um.. Thanks… I guess...? Bakugou, what’s going on?”

You’re already halfway down the hallway, everything happening too fast without a clear explanation. Bakugou groans, clearly frustrated that you’re not a mind reader and he has to actually communicate what he’s thinking. He grabs your shoulders, gently shoving your back against the lockers, and planting his hands on either side of you. Being this close to Bakugou makes you feel a familiar flurry of butterflies as you’re caged in and forced to look into those crimson eyes. 

“I. Like. You.” He smirks, getting a kick at your flustered state, before leaning away with his hands in his pockets, “And I know you like me too.”

You don’t know what to freak out over first. The fact that Bakugou knows about your crush or that he likes you back. Also, how does he know you like him? You haven’t told anyone about your crush, preferring to keep your cards close to your chest.

“Don’t talk in your sleep if you don’t want me to know how much you wanna run your hands down my ‘chiseled abs’.”

You squeak and cover your face with your hands, too embarrassed at what else you might’ve said in your sleep.

“Chill, dumbass, it’s cute.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading you to a night full of riveting laser tag, making new friends, and first kisses. 💖

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N This is the finale to this miniseries. Thanks so much for indulging me in this crackship of mine. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did imagining it💗

@jooous​ ​ ​ @krsnlove​ ​ @nomadics-stuff​ ​   @twinkleallnight​ ​ @motorcitymademadame​ ​

Masterlist

Part 6

December 30th, Cordonia's Royal Palace...

Tomorrow night’s event might be the first ball in the history of Drake's years in Cordonia to actually cause a certain excitement. He usually put up with the pomp and traditions to simply be with those he cared about. For years it was to support Liam, then going meant he could hang out with Riley, Hana, and Maxwell.

And then there were his activities down in secret for a year with Olivia.

He knew she would be arriving soon. Her absence from Cordonia had been one he felt more acutely than any other. His failure in telling her how he felt about her, his inability to have a civil conversation, even his voicemail had kept him fixated on this date.

He intended for this new year to involve a new relationship with Olivia. He simply needed to find a moment alone with her.

Which as he entered the drawing room Riley and Liam used frequently for their closest friends, he realized that was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. All their friends had come home for the ball.

"I can't believe they gave us that ridiculous moniker." Thomas shook his head.

"The press isn't always known for their intelligence." Liam said, fighting a smile.

"Thomanda." Amanda laughed just saying it. "It sounds like some weird foot fungus cream."

"The press have had five years to come up with anything better than that." Thomas wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "They should have combined our last names. Brunt is more tolerable than Thomanda."

Maxwell rolled off the couch laughing. "We now have to come up with crazy couple names for all of us."

"We were given Riam." Riley replied. "Personally I prefer Liley, but Riam stuck."

"Naxwell or Madia." Amanda said between giggles while pointing at Maxwell and Nadia. "That's your couple name."

"Naxwell sounds like a snack cake or cookie." Riley added with a chuckle.

"We are sweet." Maxwell responded, cuddling Nadia close.

Hana sighed at seeing them all so happy together. "What would mine and Rashad's be?"

"Rashana?" Riley offered.

"Oh I like that so much better than what I thought." Amanda laughed. "I at first thought Hahad."

The group burst into laughter while more couple names were bandied about.

"So what do we dub Olivia and Ethan?" Liam asked.

"Ethalivia?" Hana offered.

"Olithan?" Maxwell added.

"Oooh! Olithan!" Riley exclaimed. "Sounds like a sea monster. Olivia will love it!"

Drake tried to ignore what was being said as he joined them.

Maxwell noticed his frown and immediately changed the subject.

"Hey," he said over the lingering chuckles. "What's everyone's resolutions going to be?"

"Get married." Rashad grinned at Hana.

"That's your plans for next week." Maxwell winked at them. "What are you going to resolve to do this new year?"

"Spend time with my husband." Hana replied with a slight blush.

"I think more time with our significant others is what we will all resolve to do." Liam added.

Drake bit back a bitter retort. At least they knew they would have their significant others. He was praying for a chance to talk to his.

********************

Olivia stood in front of the mirror one last time to check her reflection. It was strange to see the same old features once more in the all too familiar guest room when she felt so changed. Stepping off the plane and seeing Cordonia's capital didn't affect her like it once did. Somewhere, somehow, she had moved on past the pride of her title and country.

She still loved her home, but she now knew she was capable of so much more than merely being the Duchess of Lythikos. She wondered if the changes would be visible to anyone else. If no one noticed it, she at least had proved it to herself.

Her gaze left her reflection to focus on Ethan finishing dressing. Her lips curved at the red shirt he had pulled on with his black slacks.

She wondered if he knew he had chosen to wear her house colors.

He glanced up and noticed her staring.

"Is this the wrong thing to wear to dinner tonight?" He asked.

"No." She walked over to him.

Ethan paused in buttoning his shirt when she looped her arms around his neck.

"What made you choose this shirt?" She asked, threading her fingers in his hair.

His lips curved as they brushed her cheek. "Thomas told me about ways we men can show our support for our noble ladies." He tugged her closer. "I thought I should start out as I intend to for my fiancée."

Olivia cupped his cheek with her left hand, her eyes darting toward the sparkling proof that she was marrying the man that held her. Their lips met in a tender kiss that made her want to forget about joining anyone else and simply stay here alone with him.

"Shouldn't we hurry?" Ethan asked when she began to toy with the buttons of his shirt.

His hands moved along her back, searching for her zipper.

"We should." She pressed another kiss to his lips before easing back.

Her smile was warm as she admired him. "Red is a good color on you."

"As long as you approve." He finished buttoning his shirt.

Olivia handed him his tie he had set out earlier.

He looped it around her waist and used it to pull her close.

"Doctor?" She chided. "You have a king and queen waiting to welcome you."

"I think you know who I think deserves my attention." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Are we telling everyone tonight?"

"About our engagement?" Olivia asked.

Ethan nodded. "I want you to have all the excitement and whatever they do here to celebrate when a duchess gets engaged."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need a ball, Ethan."

Her heart softened once more when he whispered he wanted to give her everything she deserved.

"We can tell them," her breath hitched when she felt his mouth against that special spot under her ear, "if you want to."

"I want to." He muttered against her skin. "I want everyone to know we are together." He lifted his head and smiled at her. "I want them to see how proud I am that you chose me to marry."

"Ethan." Her frown firmed. "Don't you dare make me emotional right now when I'm about to see everyone."

He chuckled as he let her go. "Very well, duchess. I'll behave."

She hmphed while returning to the mirror to retouch her lipstick.

Once they were both deemed presentable, they left their chambers and gathered Naveen to take downstairs.

****************

While the buzz of conversations filled the room, Drake escaped to the wet bar.

"Would you mind pouring me a glass of the Pinot Noir?" Regina asked, joining him.

"Yes mam."

She cleared her throat. "Sir Drake, I--"

"Just Drake, mam." He reminded her.

She smiled at his insistence she not use any honorific. "Drake, is something wrong?"

He handed her a wine glass. "No mam." He poured the wine for her. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem a touch distracted."

"I do?"

She chuckled. "Yes. Usually by this time you would have called a halt to all the talk of weddings and romantic, as you call it, nonsense."

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "I guess I've been tuning them out tonight."

"I see." She patted his arm. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then."

He straightened up when Olivia stepped into the room, flanked by Ethan and the other doctor Drake had yet to meet.

The older of the two men had a friendly smile on his face that disappeared when he saw Regina.

"Gin?" Delight flooded his surprised facial expression. "Is it really you?"

Everyone looked back and forth between the Queen Mother and Naveen.

"Did he just call Regina, Gin?" Riley whispered.

"I've never heard anyone call her that." Liam whispered back.

Regina had her hand pressed to her heart. "Naveen! You're the Dr. Banerji Lady Olivia talked about?!"

Naveen met her in the middle of the room, his hands taking hers.

"What is going on?" Olivia whispered.

"I haven't got a clue." Ethan whispered back. "Naveen did a fellowship here when he was fresh out of medical school. Maybe, the two met during that time."

"It seems they did more than meet." Olivia pointed out.

"After all these years," Naveen said, "You are still just as beautiful as when we met."

Regina's blush and almost girlish laughter made everyone eager to hear more.

"We both know that is not true." Regina replied with an elegant wave of dismissal.

Naveen's smile grew when he felt her squeeze his hand.

Remembering their audience, the two let go of one another.

"You two know each other?" Riley asked, loving their flustered states.

"We met when I first came to Cordonia." Naveen explained. His gaze softened on the Queen Mother. "I didn't know my way around and had gotten horribly lost when a lovely young woman pulled up in a convertible and took pity on me."

"In a convertible, huh?" Maxwell was already imagining a young Regina with her blonde hair blowing in the breeze as she pulled over to help a young, handsome doctor. "Then what happened?"

Regina's blush grew. "I offered to drive him back to the house he had rented and one thing led to another and we--"

"I begged her to be my tour guide during my stay." Naveen explained to keep her from having to reveal too much. "It ended up being the best summer of my life."

She shook her head while smiling. "It was the last time I was ever able to be free to do and act as I wanted."

"What happened, mam, that changed all that?" Hana asked. "

"My first official social season began that fall. Adelaide was being courted by Godfrey and my parents insisted I do all I could to put our family in the best light possible so that an arrangement could be made between the two." A brief sadness passed over her. "Once that started, I was sent from one house party to the next then began a tour through Europe on diplomatic endeavors. Before I knew it, two years had gone by and Naveen had left Cordonia by the time I returned."

The older doctor grimaced. "I had been accepted to Edenbrook and was unable to find Gin to tell her."

Ethan quietly studied Naveen, wondering if this was why his mentor had never married.

"Well, now you two can catch up," Nadia encouraged. "Without worry of having to part."

Regina didn't bother to hide her happiness at that thought. "I would love that."

"So would I." Naveen added.

******************

Once all the introductions were made, the group fell into smaller ones to talk.

Keeping mostly to himself on the other side of the room, Drake couldn't take his eyes off Olivia. She seemed so different than the last time she had been in Cordonia. Not just in appearance, but there was something else there he couldn't quite identify.

She had left her hair down in loose curls. He couldn't recall when he had seen her do that here. He had once heard her say that her hair down could be used against her if an enemy were to attack.

She must have lost that worry.

Olivia almost appeared more approachable. Her smirk didn't hold the same bite it used to. She listened without too much sarcasm to the conversations going on around her.

She looks soft.

Drake took another gulp of his drink. Where had that thought come from? Olivia Nevarkis was many things, but soft? Impossible.

He noticed that Ethan remained close to her. The little touches going on between them irritated Drake. Ethan would occasionally touch her back when turning to say something to her. Olivia would respond in kind. He would brush a lock of hair over her shoulder. She would place her hand on his arm when pointing out something.

All innocent, yet all given with hidden meanings.

The smiles they shared. The heated glances. The--

A sparkle on Olivia's hand caught his attention.

No, it can't be--

"I have an announcement." Olivia raised her voice. "I wanted you all to be the first ones to know."

Drake felt his insides go numb as if his body knew the pain that was about to happen and wanted to try and spare him.

"Ethan asked me to marry him." Olivia looked up at her doctor. Her smile, so unlike any in Cordonia had seen, was tender and full of affection. "And I said, yes."

Everyone spoke at once their delight and rushed to hug and congratulate the couple.

All that is except Drake.

His empty glass slipped through his fingers and thudded softly on the floor.

Did she listen to my message? Did she decide to not give me a chance to apologize in person? Why would she choose him without first seeing what we could have?

Maxwell slipped away from the laughter and teasing of Team Olithan. Swiping up his friend's glass, he placed an arm along Drake's shoulders and led him back to the bar.

"She didn't give me a chance." He muttered to Maxwell. "I told her I wanted to try and she instead picks that doctor. She didn't bother to even say she didn't want me."

Maxwell poured him a strong one and handed it off. "I know." He sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Drake."

Drake downed the contents, poured another, then after it was gone he drank one more that was filled to the brim. "Don't be." He slammed the empty glass down. "If you have to feel sorry for anyone, feel it for Ramsey." He jerked his chin toward the couple. "He's the one stuck with her."

"Drake, I think you should still try to talk--"

"No thanks." Drake snapped. "What’s left to say?" He shrugged. "I dodged a bullet."

Maxwell gave up arguing. He didn't know what to do as Drake became angrier.

"Better go give my congratulations." He grumbled while making his way across the room.

"We'll announce your engagement at the ball." Liam told the couple. He pressed a kiss to Olivia's cheek and shook Ethan's hand. "May you both find the same happiness I found with Riley."

"I need details!" Riley exclaimed "When and where did this happen? How did you propose?"

Olivia chuckled. "Ethan asked me at his father's home when we went to spend Christmas there."

"How sweet!" Hana exclaimed. "We can start planning your wedding while we are all together."

Olivia's friends began to talk over one another to give possible opinions of wedding venues and dates for the ceremony.

Only Ethan noticed the tension forming in Olivia's body. He soon saw the reason for it approaching.

"Congratulations." Drake said.

"Thank you." Ethan answered when Olivia instinctively stepped closer to his side. "I'm still surprised she said yes." He smiled down at her.

"You shouldn't be." Olivia told him.

"Liv's right, Ramsey. You shouldn't be surprised. Give yourself another day or two and you'll see why." Drake drawled. "The only thing nobles aspire to around here is marriage."

"Drake." Liam admonished.

"What? Isn't that all that was thumped into your heads as children? Even Hana admitted to being trained from a little girl on up on how to catch a husband." He continued.

Hana's cheeks burned as she averted her eyes from everyone.

"Of course, Olivia wasn't so fortunate when it came to knowing how to catch a husband, was she?" Drake smirked at her. "Her mother died before she could begin the training. Guess it was a good thing she went ahead and married you off to a terrorist, huh?"

"That's enough." Ethan warned. "You're intoxicated and should go to your room and sleep it off."

"Is that your medical opinion, Doc?" Drake narrowed his eyes at him. "Or is it you're worried I'll say something to embarrass you and your --"

"Excuse us." Olivia wrapped her fingers around Drake's arm, making sure to dig her nails into the tender flesh under his arm. "Walker and I need to clear something up."

She yanked him towards a door that led out into a small courtyard.

He wrenched his arm from her once they reached a nearby fountain.

"What in the hell was that?" She snapped.

"What?" He taunted when she merely glared at him. "Couldn't take the truth, Libby? Or are you worried that your doc can't?"

"In there," she hissed, "is the man who actually defended you to me after our last fight."

"Did he?" Drake folded his arms. "How endearing."

"Ethan is the man I want." She stated. "Whether you can accept that or not is your problem. It is not going to be mine!" Her narrowed eyes held his own. "I personally don't know if you and I can be friends after everything that has happened. I was going to try and at least be pleasant around you, but your little act in there has made it impossible."

"Who cares?" He muttered. "You didn't care about how I would feel after I ripped my heart out and laid it at your feet just so that you could waltz back home with your new love."

"You already knew my choice!" She shouted. "You saw how much he meant to me in Boston. I told you there was nothing between me and you and yet you stand here and show the world once again what a jackass you are." Her breathing was accelerated as she tried to calm down. "This is why you and I never had a chance. There's too much resentment from years of the two of us fighting."

"There wouldn't be if you had given me a chance." He told her. "Some time to try and be what you wanted. Instead you accept the first marriage proposal you ever got."

"I ACCEPTED BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE WITH ETHAN!" She raised a trembling hand to her head, completely frustrated with his refusal to give up. "He makes me feel a way I never thought possible."

"I don't want to hear about your sex life." Drake snapped.

"I'm not talking about that!" She shoved Drake away from her. "I'm talking about how he makes me feel as if I am the most important person in the world. He actually respects me. Cares about my opinions--"

"Clearly a glutton for punishment." Drake drily remarked.

Olivia gave up trying to explain. Using moves she hadn't had to in her months away, she swept Drake's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling backwards into the water fountain.

His head shot up, coughing and sputtering water out of his mouth and nose. "What the hell was that?!"

"That is the end of this discussion." She stated in a monotone voice. "I'm marrying Ethan. I'm going to have my own happily ever after. I expect you to keep your distance from now on. We might share the same group of friends, but you and I are nothing." Her green eyes flashed a warning. "We aren't friends, acquaintances, or even enemies." She stepped away from him. "Because I respect my enemies, but you, I can't even find the energy to be disgusted with you right now."

"Olivia, wait--" he tried to get out of the fountain and chase after her. "I--"

She walked back inside and quietly shut the door, as if he hadn't been speaking at all.

*****************

The next few months flew by. Hana and Rashad's wedding was deemed the perfect way to start a new year. Cordonia's research hospital had it's ribbon cutting ceremony a week later with both the press and nobles exclaiming over the state of the art facility. Under Naveen, Ethan, and Olivia's management, patients were being treated by some of the best physicians from around the world.

Word soon spread and numerous medical journals did pieces on the findings and styles of treatments given there. In every interview, Ethan gave Olivia the credit for everything that they were accomplishing, reminding the world that it had been her idea in the first place to create such a hospital.

She didn't think she could love him more than she already did until he did that, once more helping heal her Nevarkis reputation. It had been a long time since she had wished for a knight in shining armor to come along and fight for her, and here he was, fighting along the battlefields of the press that she had always felt at a loss over.

While Olivia balanced her duchess duties and those at the hospital, she planned her wedding. Ethan, no matter how exhausted he was, would stay up late giving his opinion on the party size and location. The two became even closer to one another as they discussed their life together, the possibility of children, and the roles they were playing in both the medical society and the nobility.

They decided on an intimate ceremony in one of Lythikos's oldest chapels. Liam was to conduct it, with Olivia requesting Amanda as her matron of honor and a very pregnant Riley and Hana as bridesmaids. The two mothers' to be cried together over the sweetness of it all from the moment they were asked until Ethan kissed his bride.

Ethan asked Naveen to be his best man and Thomas as a groomsman. He and the director had only grown closer in friendship as the ladies they were committed to spent so much time together. Thomas was helping him learn how to balance his future duties of Duke of Lythikos along with his chosen career. He reassured him that he could indeed have it all and be content.

Needing one more groomsman, Ethan left that choice to Olivia. Maxwell volunteered, to help take the pressure off of her, and was soon fitted for a new tux.

Drake never received an invitation.

He had tried to apologize. He even cornered her before she left the palace for Lythikos and managed to sound sincere, but it was no use. She was done with having him in her life. There was no anger. No sadness. Nothing. Just like she had told him.

He knew it was his own fault. All of it was. Somehow he had ruined what could have ended up being the best thing in his life. Seeing how Olivia was in love and knowing it could have been him on the receiving end, it hurt worse than any insult she could ever give.

He should be happy he wasn't invited to the ceremony. It was a mercy, whether she meant it as such or not. Seeing her dressed as a bride and saying her vows to another man would have been beyond his ability to calmly accept.

So he did what anyone would do the day of their love's wedding to another.

He left Cordonia for America.

Drake decided he would stay away for an indefinite period of time. Liam had Riley by his side so he wouldn't feel guilty over abandoning him. All of their friends were happily settled with their significant others. He was finally free to see what his life could be without nobles and putting Liam first.

A few years went by. During this time, babies were born. Drake had sent handmade rocking horses to Hana and Riley when he received the news of their sons' births. He next was picking wedding gifts for Maxwell and Nadia and then, to his great shock, one to Regina and Naveen. More babies were born, including word of Olivia and Ethan having a daughter.

That text from Maxwell had left him feeling a loss be hadn't thought of.

Drake decided to test the waters and start dating again. He thought this would be a chance to see what he really wanted from a potential spouse. Nothing too serious ever came from these attempts, but they did help slowly ease his heartache.

He would get the occasional visit from those he had left back in Cordonia. Phone calls and texts were a normal, everyday occurrence. Then one day, Savannah found out she was pregnant again and asked him to come for a nice long visit to Ramsford.

The moment he stepped off the plane and caught the hint of apple blossoms in the air, he knew this would always be home. He closed his eyes and simply let the feeling wash over him that this was where he was meant to be, where he was always meant to be.

He decided to stop and see Liam and Riley on his way to Ramsford. The couple were with their children at Valtoria along with some of their other friends.

Including Olivia and Ethan.

When Drake stepped out of the car, he could hear the laughter and squeals of young children playing out back. He went down a gravel path lined with lilies, only stopping at the sight before him.

Children, five years old and under, were chasing each other all over an area that would put most playgrounds to shame. Slides, climbing walls, bridges, jungle gyms, everything a child could want covered two acres of land.

He was able to identify most of the children without much thought. He had received tons of pictures through Christmas cards and texts, but he didn't need them to know who belonged to whom.

Liam's two sons with their golden hair shining in the sunlight were easily picked out. The little princes were soon joined by a boy that could only belong to Hana.

He then noticed two little girls that looked exactly like their mothers once had so many years ago. The dark haired one was clearly Thomas and Amanda's. And just like her mother had done at her age, the little girl was playing with another who had the richest set of red hair Drake had ever seen.

The three year old looked like she had been fashioned in Olivia's very image. Even her green eyes could narrow in an all too familiar irritation when the boys' rough housing got too close to where she was playing.

And just like her mother, her smile blossomed when she saw her father walking over.

Ethan leaned down to pick her up. His own smile was bright as he spoke to his daughter.

Whatever was said had the little girl eagerly nodding her agreement.

"Drake?"

He turned to see Olivia staring at him in surprise.

"Hey, Liv." He greeted.

"What are you doing here?"

"Savannah asked me to come for a visit." He explained.

"Ah." She placed her hand on her baby bump when another kick happened. "How have you been?"

"Good." He motioned toward her belly. "Boy or girl?"

"We don't know." She smiled down at her stomach. "Just like with Erin, Ethan and I decided we want to be surprised."

"Congratulations." He said sincerely. "I know you always wanted a family." He looked back toward where her little girl was. "Looks like you and Ethan know what you're doing."

"I think we do." She finally smiled at him.

"I'm happy for you." He managed to say and realized that it was true. If he couldn't be the one she ended up with, at least she had gotten what she wanted most out of life.

"Thank you." She stepped around him and continued toward the play area.

Ethan had been watching for her and began to make his way over to help her down the slope safely. She paused, knowing he would only worry if she tried to go down it on her own.

"Drake?"

"Yes, Olivia?"

"It's good to see you again." She smiled once more at him then went on and took her husband's arm.

Drake watched as Ethan tenderly brushed a kiss to her temple. The two laughed at their daughter having had enough of the boys' antics and chasing after them to give them a piece of of her mind.

As he stood there alone, he realized that though there was a faint echo of what could have been, he was finally able to watch them without it hurting.

[brokenjardaantech]

absorbance of the deep (chapter 6: new duties)

kinda rambling for this because it's more of a filler chapter than anything.

also on ao3

To Simon, the decision to include him in the meeting was, quite frankly, absurd. They had never listened to him before and including him in anything was considered a waste of time - even when it was his own fault that his mind just refuses to focus on matters that didn’t interest him - so why now? It wasn’t like he could suddenly force himself to listen to their boring babbling after all these years but the fact was that he was dragged to school on a day that was supposed to be a holiday, so good luck to them to make him focus.

Unfortunately, his brain seemed to have other ideas.

‘After this incident, we have determined that Simon Parrell is no longer suitable for the school,’ the voice that said this was semi-familiar. The headmaster, maybe? His homeroom teacher? His subject teacher? Hell if he knew. It didn’t matter. ‘The students involved have been expelled, logically, but it will be up to you to decide if you would like your son to be transferred to schools that are… more to his speed.’

Simon scoffed under his breath, but it came out more like a usual exhale. ‘Meaning?’ he heard his mother ask.

‘A school for the differently talented,’ another voice, another new term. ‘It will be quite far away from here, though my understanding is that you’re planning to move to the city anyway?’

City? Simon’s mind snapped into a state of alertness. City meant being away from the sea, away from their home, away from Markus, and what would he do? Where would he be? What would become of him? He found himself shaking his head frantically; that, at least, was a gesture that both he and others understood. He didn’t want to go to the city; he wanted to stay here. This was where he belonged.

‘There will be no need,’ his father replied. ‘We already have plans for him.’

‘Oh?’ the first voice. ‘May I ask what it is? We can help you with the withdrawal, but you’ll have to give a valid reason.’

‘Someone will have to maintain the lighthouse when we’re gone. Simon can do it, can’t you?’

It took him a long time to realise that the question was directed at him instead of the school’s… whoever they were. What did his father say again? Right. Staying here. Not going to school. Being a lighthouse keeper. And although he wasn’t sure if he would be up to the task - his interest was in the ocean, in Markus - he would do everything to stay. So he nodded.

‘I’m glad,’ the second school voice said. ‘Good. The matter’s settled then. I trust you can handle the position transfer on your own?’

‘Yes, we will.’

His father stood so Simon did as well. He wanted to get out of here.

‘Good luck, Mister Parrell.’

He skipped all the way home, every brush of sea breeze against his cheek a caress, every crash of the shore an encouragement, a celebration of a monetary victory. His father, thankfully, left him be. They returned to a house that was half-emptied already. Simon’s things were left alone, naturally, just as the furniture and bigger household items, but the cushions on the sofa, the cups and dishes in the cupboard, even some of the soap and perishables - all the things Simon didn’t bother to notice before, their disappearance were felt acutely now. His father quickly vanished to find his wife, and when Daniel came downstairs with a bag full of things, instead of greeting Simon directly like he used to, his gaze darted away as if he was the one ashamed for once. ‘Do whatever you like,’ he said dismissively. ‘Just stay out of our way. Dad will brief you on what your work will be like when we’re done with packing.’

So he picked a spot he imagined he would spend a lot of time at: the top of the lighthouse. The giant lamp was turned off for the day, the ships having no need for extra light to guide their way while there is daylight. The door to the small office was unlocked because there was never a need to - no one would do such a boring-sounding job for such a small salary now, according to Josh - and he sat in the hardwood chair and brushed the pads of his fingers on the surface of the desk made out of the same material. Both of them were worn out but study and cool and smooth to the touch, and with only a two-buttoned keyer and a radio on the desk, Simon envisioned a spacious working environment. He fit his pointer and middle finger into the two keys and imagined them moulding into the shape of his fingers as time passed. His arms weren’t as long as his fathers so he would have to drag the keyer forward to make himself comfortable, but with the muted sound of the ocean as company always… he could get used to it.

He didn’t know how long he sat there idly tapping nonsense with the keyer along the beats of the sea until the door creaked open, breaking his solitude and dissipating the fog that he had shrouded himself in. ‘Care to use some company?’ North asked as she set a dictionary - a full-sized one this time, not the one he usually brought with him for convenience. Simon nodded and looked around for an extra chair, but North had already perched herself at the corner of the desk. ‘You know they’re abandoning you, right?’

Abandon? Simon frowned in confusion. He flipped to the page explaining the world and checked if it suddenly had a new definition - dictionaries get updated every year, after all - but no, it still meant the same thing. [they - are - just - leave - for - the - city - with - brother,] he manages to construct. [they - are - not - abandon - me]

‘But they are!’ North exclaimed, and Simon’s hands flew up to cover his ears from the loud noise. ‘Don’t you understand? They’re taking everything they can away! They’re moving for good, Simon! They aren’t coming back!’

Simon thought of all the empty spaces he would fill with his own things instead of being told no because there weren't any more places they could put new stuff into. He thought of a quiet house where there was no one whispering about him as if he wasn’t there at all. He thought of falling asleep at dawn to the music of the waves and then waking up at dusk to activate the lighthouse with Markus at his side one way or another. No more school, no more sudden outbursts from either his father or twin brother, no more being ignored by his mother. He would be free. [I - do - not - see - any - problem - with - it]

‘Your entire family is leaving you behind in this shithole and you don’t even care?’

Simon was offended. [this - is - not - a - shit - hole,] he argued. [I - have - mark - us - and - you - and - J - O - S -H]

North was quiet for a while, and somehow, that worried him more than her shouting. ‘You know both of us are going to leave sooner or later, don’t you?’

It gave Simon a pause, but it didn’t take long for him to realise that it made sense. [you - are - from - the - city - J - O - S -H - is - smart - so - he - also - goes - to - the - city - because - there - is - not - enough - here]

‘You will have no one.’

[I - will - have - mark - us]

‘What if you two break up?’

As if on cue, a sudden gust whipped past them as the air suddenly cooled down. Then Markus was scooping Simon up and sitting in the chair with the human on his lap. ‘Simon is my intended,’ he declared. ‘Nothing will separate us. Not distance, not time, and certainly not ourselves. Have I not proven myself to you, surfacer?’

North recovered quickly from the sea’s sudden appearance. ‘Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real,’ she muttered, and she was gone before Simon could explain himself.

Markus held him silently for a while. Are you alright? he asked, his voice quiet and soothing in Simon’s mind. I do not hold the highest regard for your family, but this -

I’m okay, Simon interrupted before the ocean could finish. I will be as long as you are with me.

The sea kissed him. Alright.

They were on solid ground, but somehow, for some reason Simon was suddenly too tired to wonder about, he felt as if he was adrift at sea on an enclosed raft, the endless gentle bobs and lulls that terrified most people the softest lullabies to his body. Markus held his hand in his, and despite his circumstances, Simon found himself falling asleep.

When Daniel finally called him downstairs for dinner, the ocean had retreated, leaving a long, slumbering human behind.

His father didn’t say a word about lighthouse keeping that night, but Josh did break the news to him when Simon’s parents dropped him off at his house for the last of their packing - whatever that meant.

‘I’ll be leaving for university after this school year ends,’ he said, straightforward both because there was no way to get around it and also due to Simon’s inability to understand anything more. ‘I have been accepted into one. Full scholarship.’

[how - to - spell]

Josh flipped to the page directly.

[good - for - you - congratulations]

‘Thank you, Simon.’

They read together in his room for a few short hours, during which Simon learnt quite a few new things about the ocean that he had to ask Markus to show him, and he happily asked Josh if he could borrow the book for tonight when it was time to go home.

‘Actually,’ Josh cleared his throat, ‘you can keep it. Forever.’

[why]

‘It isn’t like I am bringing all these -’ he gestured at the books overflowing from the ceiling-high bookshelves which lined three of the four walls - ‘with me. I’ll bring some, of course, but the rest are yours.’

Simon paused in his tracks and let himself take in everything. So Josh was leaving a lot behind, but why? Why didn’t he take everything with him like his family if he was leaving like them? And he asked as such.

‘I’ll come back and visit if I need the books, though I don’t think I will - the book part, of course. I’ll try to visit at least once per year.’

[for - how - long]

Josh shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Simon. It all depends on how busy I will be and how much it’ll cost to come back.’

For the first time since they met, Simon hated the answer his friend gave him. [just - tell - me - when - and - i - will - prepare]

‘You don’t have to -’

He hopes that his firmness goes through by his loud flipping, though the softened paper of the dictionary dampened the impact. [i - will]

‘Okay. Of course.’

They walked to Simon’s house together. Josh initially offered to help carry a few of the books so that they didn’t have to bring them all later at the same time and potentially needing to bother North to borrow her car, but Simon decided against it because he didn’t want to add to the mess that was already stressing him out; either that or it was in fact that so many things were changing suddenly was the actual reason. Either way, he made himself scarce for the next week while strangers entered the house and more and more things disappeared, and in no time, he no longer recognised his home, which felt both liberating and terrifying.

He slept in his cave in Markus’ arms that night and didn’t return until the evening when his family was scheduled to leave. They at least told him that much. He hadn’t known they had a large car, he hadn’t known his father knew how to drive, but these were just two more things on his to-forget list because it wouldn’t matter in the future.

‘Take care,’ his mother said, the first sentence she uttered to him directly in years.

‘Here,’ his father said, handing him a folder no thicker than Simon’s thumb and Simon’s thumb was thin. ‘This is all you need to know on lighthouse keeping.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel said, and Simon didn’t know what he was apologising for. He didn’t ask his twin to clarify because he knew Daniel couldn’t stay.

Then they were gone, the car disappearing behind the slope that led to the lighthouse. Simon didn’t even notice that Markus had appeared until his legs finally buckled and he fell back against a warm chest. Let’s get inside, he heard the sea clearly in his mind. Tell me what they took away and what you need.

He turned on the lamp before starting to catalogue the things in the house under Markus’ guidance, discovering that he really didn’t know a lot about practical living, and at some point North and Josh arrived to help as well. There was a look in North’s eyes that Simon couldn’t decipher, but from the way Markus kept glaring at her while they, once more, substituted dinner with canned soup, it wasn’t anything good. Josh took the chance to stock up some of the books he was going to leave to Simon’s care, and North brought a few furniture catalogues and picked a combination that would bring colour to the house and made the place Simon’s properly; Simon let her choose for him because he got overwhelmed by the colours and examples on the small, thick booklets. With things settling down and their decisions made, they arranged two trips, one for groceries, one for new decor, and North and Josh left close to midnight with the promise that they would guide Simon through everything. Simon didn’t manage to process everything until the moment before he fell asleep in the cave, and he made up his mind to thank his friends properly before their eventual departure from the village.

The grocery trip wasn’t that overwhelming given the limited choice in the village’s grocery store and Markus’ and his friends’ calming presence by his side - despite the arguments between Josh and North that he mostly toned out of - but the furniture shopping was - how should he describe it?

Don’t do that again, he told Markus as they wheeled a cart full of new cushions and bedsheets out of the furniture store with too-bright lights and noisy customers. I hate this place.

Markus laughed visibly, though Simon wasn’t sure if it was silent in reality or not because it seemed to echo in his mind instead of being heard from his ear. I’ll find you something better next time.

‘Are you two gonna stand there all day while we do everything for you?’ North’s voice cut through the small bubble that somehow always appeared when Markus was close. Simon had half the heart to tell her that yes, everything was hers and Josh’s idea and therefore they should do the brunt of the work, but since the sea offered to help, he followed him and loaded their new purchases into the car just to return to his house and unload everything again and placing them in the correct spot. They took their time to admire their handiwork, and North proposed, ‘We should paint the walls.’

It took Josh a few seconds to formulate his answer. ‘Agreed. The colour combination will be nicer.’

[no,] Simon grabbed his dictionary and said. [do - not - like - paint - smell]

‘There’s paint that doesn’t smell.’

Simon thought of how many extra things they had to do that time his father repainted all the walls within and outside the house. He didn’t think he had the energy to do it then, but in the future… [maybe - later]

‘Sure,’ North accepted the suggestion quickly. ‘Just hit us up whenever. Not sure how much school work we’ll have in the future, but we’ll always make time for you, won’t we, Josh?’

‘It’ll be fun,’ Josh nodded.

That was the last mention of the renovation project between the three of them. With Simon’s inverted daily schedule and North and Josh’s increasing responsibility in their studies, it was difficult for all four of them - Markus included - to coordinate time to spend together. Sometimes he went to Josh’s for breakfast after spending the entire night on the lighthouse, sometimes North came to his house to do the same, and once per week Simon would stay up to have brunch with them on the beach with an assortment of snacks and food they could prepare with a camping stove. They would hang out together until Simon passed out with his head resting on one of Markus’ body parts - one way or another. He assumed that they always packed up and left afterwards, Markus carrying him back home so that he could have a good rest until the sun started to set. This happened every single week until after Josh and North had their final exam, which marked one step towards Josh’s departure.

Simon threw a party for his friend the day before the big date, or as much of a party as it could be with four people inside a house that was more patchwork than everything else. Instead of moving all the books to Simon’s, Josh merely gave him the key to his house and told him to let himself in whenever. ‘It’s easier this way,’ he said. ‘Besides, it isn’t like you’ve got a lot of room here. I trust you not to wreck my house.’

[cannot - do - it - even - if - i - want - to,] was Simon’s reply. [do - i - look - like - i - can]

‘Not on your own,’ North took a sip of her beer. He had no idea how she got alcohol in the first place given that none of them was of drinking age, but if someone could withstand alcohol, it would be her. ‘But with Markus? Yes.’

‘I promise I won’t destroy your house,’ Markus said solemnly. ‘Not unless you give me a reason to.’

‘I won’t,’ was Josh’s reply. He took a sip of beer from North’s can and was promptly sent into a coughing fit for the next five minutes.

Simon had been awake for more than 16 hours at this point so everything was hazy and blurry, but it didn’t stop him from dragging his friends for a marathon on his favourite documentary. Josh had to leave midway to prepare for his departure, but North stayed until she fell asleep on the sofa. She woke up when Simon tried to tuck her in, and she left and drove back home. Markus made them some tea so that they didn’t fall asleep, they watched over the lighthouse together and waited for ships that never came, and when the sun peeked through the horizon and turned the edge of the sky white, he leant on Markus while they walked to Josh’s house to send him off. He was too tired to feel and do anything apart from waving goodbye and watching the van drive off away from the village by then, but he woke up that night feeling empty, the events and the passage of time sinking in. Markus stayed with him until midnight, after which he returned to the ocean for his own business.

He was all alone in the world now.

It was as if Josh’s absence severed one of the lines holding their group together. There were no more canned dinners on the beach, no more trips to the library, no more squabbling over whose home they should stay at next; Simon was bad at reaching out, his body reacting before his mind did whenever he tried to get close to the school, North’s house was too far away to reach on foot, and North herself no longer seemed interested in ‘hanging out.’

‘Not everyone can be a genius like Josh,’ she snapped one day when Simon finally flagged her down out of what seemed to be pure chance. ‘Not all of us can have a job where you can fuck around all day and get a paycheque delivered straight to your bank account. Someone actually needs to work hard on their grades to get out of this place, so stop bothering me, okay? There’ll be time after this whole exam shit is over.’

But there would not be. Before the exams were apparently university applications, then came the exams themselves, then more university application things which Simon didn’t understand, and the next thing he knew was that North was leaving for the city. Back to where she came from, though he supposed whether she actually went to the city or just another village like theirs wasn’t important; the village was… the village, of course, while everything else was simply ‘out there.’ ‘I’m sorry, Simon,’ she said after he walked all the way to her house to find her, ‘but I really need to leave. You know how long I’ve been looking forward to this.’

The door slammed shut then, and it didn’t take a lot for Simon to realise that it was a cue to leave North alone. When he returned the next day to check, no one answered the door.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye this time.

Josh visited a few weeks later, having decided to actually use his summer break instead of studying this time, and he told Simon that North contacted him and told him to tell Simon that she wouldn’t come back. ‘It isn’t about you, don’t worry,’ he added as Simon continued to stare at his glass of juice. By that point, Markus hadn’t shown up in two months. ‘Village life just isn’t for her.’

[but - no - contact - at - all]

Josh did not have an answer for that, but he did say, ‘I guess this is growing up.’

Simon turned to face him. Questioning.

‘People drifting apart to do what they want now that they can. Deciding that the old life isn’t worth their effort. Moving on. Stuff like that.’

[maybe]

The space between him and Josh suddenly seemed so far now.

[tiiescut]

headcanon + grades.

GENERAL. Mateo is often labeled as the ‘dumb jock’ because he hangs out with other dumb jocks. Two of his guy friends have terrible grades and are on various sports teams in high school, so people assume Mateo is the same way. While Mateo isn’t the best at academics, he certainly doesn’t struggle to get decent grades, generally! 

STUDYING. Mateo is an exceptionally average student. He does his homework, and the quality of it varies depending on what he’s feeling. Mateo is an incredibly active guy, so sitting and studying for hours isn’t something he likes or wants to do. So, he usually doesn’t. As a result, both his studying and his homework is often rushed and not done thoroughly. Sometimes he gets answers wrong simply because he didn’t take the time to fully read the question, or because he didn’t bother with the effort of it.

CLASSES. Mateo LOVES science. He works better with things that are a bit more practical, because that’s the way his parents taught him and how they live. Mateo loves doing experiments (minus dissections –– he’s had to be sent to the nurse during these days from getting sick), working with data, and really enjoys the hands-on approach to science. He is also good at Math, and really enjoys his language classes such as Spanish and English. Naturally, his all time favourite class is Gym class, and he’s always gotten really good grades in gym class –– even the nutrition, and theoretical parts of it.

HIGH SCHOOL MARKS. Mateo averages B’s and B+’s, with the occasional A- or A thrown in there. He takes tests fairly well, and doesn’t get stressed about his grades. He’s often very good at listening to information and remembering it, so when it comes to testing some times he remembers things he didn’t even study, but remembers from the actual lecture. In High school, he doesn’t really have to try to get these grades. His parents don’t think that grades are everything, so as long as he’s getting average grades they don’t fuss too much about it. They just want to make sure he’s going to be okay when it comes to graduating. 

ACCIDENT. After the accident Ella suffered at the hands of his asshole friends, Mateo’s grades decline like fucking mad. Because his anxiety and guilt eats him alive, he struggles to stay in school during the day. He’s often missing classes or unable to focus in classes. Mateo’s grades go from B’s to D’s and F’s because of his absence and inability to actually turn in homework. After seeing his therapist and going on medication by the summer, he’s finished his 11th year with the worst grades he’s ever had. His parents were more concerned about his mental health than they were his grades. They never gave him a hard time about his grades, especially during this time. Mateo’s desire to get decent grades is mostly an internal worry for him at this point, with very little outside pressure other than from his teachers. During his 12th year, his medication helps keep him in school more, and so his grades slowly climb back up. He ends up graduating high school with straight B’s, but no A’s like he would have in the years before.

UNIVERSITY MARKS. Mateo’s first year of university was a fucking wake up call. He’s off his meds and he’s excited for university and feeling good about life, but he completely under estimates how fucking HARD university is –– specifically his psychology classes. He fails one of his classes that year and has to re-take it the following semester. It fucks him up a bit because he’s never really worked for his grades. After first year, first semester’s grades being so bad, he puts more effort into his studies and is able to bring his marks up to the 75% range. As he goes on in University, his grades consistently get better and better. He ends up graduating from his program with a very impressive GPA and very high marks. His passion helped push him into the higher percentiles, and it’s this reason that he decides to continue to pursue a career in psychology.

[sunflowerhazzavol6]

Cherry

A/N- Heres little quarantine blurb! Since it seems we’re all stuck in this shitty social distancing situation, might as well pretend you’re getting high with Harry ;) marijuana usage (ofc) with a little angst and a whole lot of fluff!

“Make me a sandwich?” Harry asks, not even glancing up from his very important activity of picking at his fingernails.

Y/n laughs a bit from the kitchen, watching as the water from the tap fills up her glass. “If I wasn’t so damn bored I would call you out on how sexist that sounds. Do you actually want one or are you just joking?”

“Only kidding.” He sighs, staring at his socked feet on the coffee table in front of him. He wiggles them just to be sure that they’re real, that he’s in fact still alive and not a sack of bones and skin on the sofa. He lets out an exasperated yell as he throws his head back, looking from the top of his eyes at his girlfriend across the room. She snorts a laugh, moving to stand behind him and play with his hair. “I’m going to lose it if I don’t get out of here, I swear, y/n.”

“Mhm. So remind me again, what position was it that you took last week when I told you that you were a bit hyperactive?”

“That I wasn’t?”

“Funny how that played out.”

Harry rolls his eyes and reaches back to pinch her side in annoyance before sitting up and turning around to face her. He liked the way she looked now. Y/n was usually very invested in fashion and her appearance- she was like him in that way. They both liked to express themselves through what they wore and how they carried themselves. But she was absolutely stunning as she was right now- his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt brushing against the swell of her thigh, black leggings traveling down to her ankles. He especially loved when she kept her hair like this, unstyled and wavy, unruly due to the constant laying around the house. He sighs a bit in appreciation, tugging on a small curl by her shoulder.

“I hate to say it, but i’m also tired of having sex even.”

Y/n seems to sigh in relief, and he laughs. “I know. Isn’t that awful? It’s not that the sex is bad-”

“...by any means…”

“It’s just that you can only do the same activity so many times in a day, you know?”

“I know.” He smiles, wrapping his arms around her middle. “At least we won’t get the Quarantine 15.” This draws a laugh from her belly, and he can’t help but to feel a sense of pride in that he caused it with little effort. They really were delirious from the isolation.

“And I feel so guilty.” Her arms slide around his shoulders as she hooks her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck. “Because we’re at your place and it's a literal mansion, and loads of other people are in far worse conditions than we are.” He turns his head to kiss her forearm while she rants, listening intently. “I’m in a literal HGTV dream home and I’m complaining, how awful is that?”

“Not awful. It doesn’t matter where you are, being cut off from your routine and normal human interaction sucks.” He shrugs. “Even when you’re with your sex god boyfriend.” Harry grins before pulling her over the edge of the couch and into his lap, causing her to spill her water all over his shirt.

“Harry!” She scolds, giggling and standing up to examine the damage on her own outfit. He smiles at her reaction, lifting her soaked shirt to gently kiss her stomach, just above her belly button. She pulls the wet fabric over his head, making him laugh and kiss again before blowing cold air against skin to make her squeal like he knew she would. He pulls himself out from under her clothing and grins at her boyishly, squeezing his hands on her waist.

“Bloody hell, I’m so in love with you. Want to share a joint?”

His girlfriend snorts at his inability to focus on one thing at a time, pushing his hair from his forehead and kissing the skin it exposes. She was secretly grateful for this social distancing, because it meant there was no way Harry could cut his hair. It was quite close to the length that made him look like a prince out of a fairy tale, and there was no way she could pass an opportunity like that up. “I’d love to. I love you. You roll?”

He giggles giddily as he bounces up from his spot on the couch, his soaked shirt at the far back of his mind by now. “I love it when you talk weed to me!” He calls over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall. She follows him, peeling off her own shirt and pinching his ass as they walk into his bedroom.

“You know, I quite like that shirt on you. Almost makes me wish I wouldn’t have gotten you all wet.” He winks before going to his bedside table and pulling out a small box. Y/n rolls her eyes, grabbing his ‘women are smarter’ shirt and putting it on. “Ah, but that's the money shot right there.” He shapes his thumbs and forefingers into a square, squeezing one eye shut and peering through it.

She rolls her eyes before walking up to him, ignoring his smirk when she peels his own shirt from his skin and over his head. “I am wet all of the time.” She mumbles in imitation of him, making him chuckle.

“What can I say?” He shrugs, sitting on the bed and pulling out his stash. As he starts preparing their joint she sits behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle and watching his hands over his shoulder. She always had an appreciation for his hands no matter what they happened to be busy with. Turning the pages of a book? She’d imagine them on her arms, rubbing up and down to warm her up. The strings of a guitar? She’d think about it all day until they were buried in her in the evening. For now, though, she just appreciated that they were attached to him, her Harry. His cross tattoo stretched across his skin as he pulled the paper over, sealing the plant inside, and prompting her to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Want to go outside? It’s sunny, and I think we both need a bit of vitamin D.” He leans into her hand when she combs his hair back, just for it to fall right back into place.

“Well in that case I’m rolling two, because you’ll start whining about wanting another and I won’t have nearly enough energy to come back inside.” There's no malice in his voice, just pure observation, and it makes her laugh.

“You’re probably right.” She lightly kisses his neck just below his ear. One side of his mouth turns up into a crooked smile as he grabs more herb, creating a long mound on the paper. They sit in comfortable silence while he works, but y/n, being impatient as she is, can’t sit still for long until she gently bites his earlobe. “Haz.”

“For fuck’s sake, love, can’t an ounce of attention go elsewhere than you?” He says, his accent forming an o when he curses. She laughs and her breath tickles his ear, making him smile and turn his head to look at her. “I’m nearly finished anyways, good lord.” He wrinkles his nose before pecking her lips, making her groan in impatience as she stands up.

“If you weren’t such a perfectionist we’d be high by now.”

“Would we be? With a canoeing joint?” He holds it up to inspect his work, the sides smooth until they peak with a twist at the top. She plucks it out of his hands before sprinting down the hall, her boyfriend calling an indignant “Oi!” behind her. She giggles as she runs out into the living room, perching the joint between two fingers as she sits on the floor to shuffle through his collection of vinyls. Harry follows her with a smile, bending to rest his hands on her shoulders and rubbing his thumbs into their blades.

“What’re you thinking, little thief?” He murmurs in her ear, brushing his lips along the cartilage. “Classic rock? Psychedelic? Something smooth, slow?” She feels goosebumps on her arm, and knows he can see them when she feels his smile against her skin.

“For someone who’s supposedly tired of sex, you sure do like to be suggestive.” She says, pulling out Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey. She wipes the small collection of dust off the front with her palm, admiring the ethereal beauty of one of her favorite artists.

He merely hums in response, reaching over her head to turn on the record player. When they had first started dating, Harry had pestered her with question after question about music. What she liked, what she hated, what made her smile, what made her cry. At first she had been compliant but confused by his questions, until she observed him in the same situations he was asking her about. Harry didn’t just listen to it, he felt it. She could tell in the way his body fluidly responded to his favorite songs, as if they had entered his bloodstream and were traveling through each of his limbs. She felt it in the way he held her close and swayed back and forth in the kitchen with her while Helplessly Hoping by Crosby, Stills & Nash played softly in the background. Or saw it in his eyes when Elton John’s I’m Still Standing came on in the car and he would pump a fist into the air. His constant questions were him getting to know her in the only way he understood- through music.

The first soft beats of the opening song crackle through the speakers, and y/n can feel the pop in her knees when she stands up. “Outside, my love?”

Harry nods in response, tucking her hair behind her ear with a soft smile. “Better than sex, yeah?”

She laughs and pushes his shoulder as she brushes past him to slide open the glass door. Harry leaves it open behind him to let the croon of Lana’s voice follow them outdoors, his fingers reaching out to tug on the fabric of her shirt. “C’mere, baby.” He says, fishing a lighter out of his pocket and holding it up to her. She perches the joint between her lips, watching him as he flicks his thumb and cups his hand around the end. She inhales slowly with her eyes closed, feeling the burn of the green hit drift down her throat and the burn of his green eyes on her face. She exhales after a second, handing it over to her boyfriend. Harry does the same, brushing the curls out of his face and keeping his eyes on her. “How the fuck did I get so lucky?” He says on his exhale.

“What do you mean?” She takes it from his outstretched hand, sitting on the ground with her back against the wall of the house. Harry sits beside her only to pull her into his lap so she's facing him.

“How the fuck did I get so lucky to live this life? I get to make music, smoke a joint with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life. I get to see you, like this. No makeup, wearing my clothes…” He pinches her chin in between his fingers, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“You’re always so sappy when you smoke.” She smiles, kissing his forehead while he takes another hit.

“Maybe so, but I mean it.” He coughs slightly, adjusting her in his lap so he can bend his knees to support her back. She rubs his arm, tilting her head to watch him. “I’ve been in some dark places before. Mentally, ya know? But now that I’m here, and you’re here, and we’re together, I can see how fucking pointless it all was.” He waves his arm to the side to emphasize his point, physically pushing away the metaphorical memories in the air. “Er, not pointless I guess. I can see how I needed it. To be everything I can be for you.” Her eyes soften, and she can see the water pooling beneath the green in his. She holds her hand to his cheek, and he leans into it, closing his eyes. “I was stuck in that place for so long, trying to decide who I was when I was on my own and who I didn’t want to be. And now I’m at a point where...” He huffs, his curls blowing away from his forehead. “Now I’m at a point where... I don’t know. I just want to be everything for you, y/n.”

“You are everything for me.” She wraps her arms around his middle, resting her head on his collarbone and squeezing him tight. “Really. I admire you so much Harry. How hard you work and how far you’ve come. You are oozing with passion, not just in our relationship but in everything you do. I see that. I wish you would see that.” She holds his face in her hands now, rubbing his cheekbones with her thumbs. “You’re allowed to step back and be proud of the progress you’ve made.”

He takes a drag and then kisses her palm as he considers what she had said. When all the smoke has escaped his lips he looks at her with a small but pleased smile, his eyes still shiny. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She kisses his eyelids, causing his dimples to make an appearance in his cheeks.

“Okay. I’ll try. I mean I will. I love you.” He wraps his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her neck. She can feel his groan start in his chest before he releases it, the type of exclamation that only comes with relief of getting something off your chest. She laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. He pulls away only to kiss her, his eyes still closed when their lips separate. 

“I’ll always be here too, Harry. You don’t need to put up a front just because it’s what you think others expect. You can be whoever the fuck you want to be, and I’ll stay right here beside you until you figure out who that is. I know I’m still figuring myself out. For god’s sake, we’re in our twenties. The entire plot of Sex and the City is figuring yourself out, and they’re in their thirties. I think we’re doing well.”

Harry chuckles at her rant, kissing her again. “Thank you, y/n. I appreciate the analogy. Now that the heart-to-heart is through, can we get high as balls?”

She snorts a laugh, taking the joint from his hands and taking a hit in response, raising her eyebrows. He grins up at her, squeezing her waist in his hands and attacking her neck with kisses, whispering and teasing her. The smoke from their lips intermingles in the air with the soft sounds from the record player, Lana’s Cherry drifting to and around them.

‘Cause I love you so much, I fall to pieces

My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme

And all of my peaches

[projectrevivalserver]

Project Revival Revival Project Devblog #1

Hey guys, blog post number 1 here. This is my first blog post, so let’s just get right into it. As you can guess, these entries are semi-formal.

So, what’s been going on with the server since we released the conscript guide? Well, less than I had hoped. Let’s take a look. We did an event, we made CWU guide progress, we added fully implemented UU Brand items, and we argued about which apples are the best. Let’s start with the CWU guide. I’ve been the only person writing it, not that I’m complaining. I’ve put down an outline covering the different branches of the CWU (think CMU, Commerce, Infestation Control, etc.), the management structure of the CWU, descriptions of each branch and how they work, and a section on rules and things about the CWU as well as the glossary. At the time of writing this, I’ve finished the basic branch overview sections, the descriptions of the different CWU ranks, Director, Manager, Supervisor, all that. I finished the sections on the Commerce Branch and the Decontamination Corps. Those are finalized, save one little exception, I need to add more examples of what a high work job would be for decontamination corps workers. Work for it has stagnated recently, just because while I can do technical writing, that doesn’t mean I love doing it. Unfortunately, my inability to focus and my skill at procrastinating has been a bit of a barrier. Still, I’m hoping I can get it done quickly. I’ve got 6 more guides to write and time isn’t moving any slower. Just to let you all know, the guides are, in this order, the OTA guide, the vortigaunt guide, the CAC guide, the OSA guide, and then the city bureaucracy guide. As I said before, I implemented UU brand items. Some of them weren’t working as consumable food for hunger anymore, but now they all do. We also added a few new items that hadn’t existed before such as popcorn, peanuts, bananas, pickles, and a handful of others. In the process of doing this, I argued with LightROOM about which types of apples are the best. The correct answer is Honeycrisp.

So, what’s coming up? Things that may be on the backburner, or are planned next, that type of thing. Well, the very next plan after the CWU guide, if not during, is to make all of the weapons we’ll use in RP into Helix items. This really only goes for one SWEP, but I still need to double check and make sure I’m not missing something. After that, as you can imagine, we’ve got guides to write. The OTA guide is up next, and shouldn’t be too difficult to write. Half of the content, if not more, should overlap with the CCA guide. The biggest challenge is making a good rank system that isn’t super confusing. Even then, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Also, keep in mind, snipers will not be called RANGER. That’s a common practice that I don’t really care about, but I heard the name SCALPEL somewhere else so I’m completely in love with it. Anyways, other than guides, what’s coming up next? I’ve got several items and weapons to make or find. Flashbangs, smoke grenades, tear gas, riot shields, deployable manhacks, and armor repair kits. As a staff team, we have to write a detailed rules and policies document for the server. I’m not trying to rewrite the Constitution, I just want to make our rules and how things are punished more clear and universal. Same goes for our handling of permakills, NLR, lines at which unionwashing can be broken, what items go out for what loot rolls, and various other important things staff need to know. Something else I’m very excited about, don’t expect this to come out super soon, but I have to do an OSA overhaul which I’m very excited for. I get to add hunters that don’t function exclusively with a pill, I’m transferring over stalkers to be combat units like in the beta, I have to write a SWEP for the Combine Super Soldier, a SWEP for the elite synth soldiers, all this fun stuff that I’m very excited to do. We’ll get there, don’t worry. Next up, what are some less defined, more hopeful future things to look forward to? I’ve been thinking about adding a staff schedule for over the summer. That way, we can be guaranteed to have staff on the server at all possible active hours, and the server won’t be dead 95% of the time like it has been for the last while. That’s not confirmed, but it’s very likely I’ll do something along those lines. I’d like to get some more events in. Given that it’s July, a lot of people are on summer break, so hopefully I can do some mid-day events. The next campaign is also somewhere in the future. I’ve been teasing it for the last couple events, but I want to plan it and get official campaign events going. I’ve also got ideas for special events to happen during the summer. I can’t be too specific because I don’t want to build hype for something not even confirmed yet, but I can say that I’m hopeful they do get to happen and I’m excited to make them full priority after I can get the Project Revival Revival Project done. Other things I’d just in general like to do, a more expanded crafting system, possibly something to simulate survivalism, industry and work cycle expansion, replacement of CID cards with identibands, a health charger revamp, scanner to combot transition, and a few other things. I could talk for hours about all the things I eventually want to do. That blog post would be a few pages long at the very least.

So, all that said, how am I feeling about the server? Over the past week, a bit worried, hopeful, and not too much of anything else. I’ve been busy assembling my cosplays for a convention coming up next weekend, so the server has unfortunately been on the backburner this week. I’m a bit disappointed that the player count tanked again, but I shouldn’t get too down about it, because it’s absolutely my fault. I’m trying to justify with myself that it’s okay because the rerelease will make everything better, but I can’t be sure of that. So I’m worried that I’m just contributing to the slow and painful re-death of the server. I get bursts of inspiration a lot, but the work ahead of me is discouraging. Writing the guides is a big slog for me. Hopefully I can get through it soon. I really want to keep this all going.

That’s about it for this first blog entry. It was a bit lengthy, but I want to be transparent with you guys. I want you all to know we haven’t forgotten about you all, and writing these posts holds us accountable for the goals we set and the work we do. To those of you who are patiently waiting, I see you and I appreciate you. You guys are great and the time you spend on the server warms my heart.

Gabe

[ryik-the-writer]

For @celticheartedfangirl​, Happy Christmas in July

This prompt was a treat, even if I”m extremely behind

Plot: Belle and Rumplestiltskin go on a trip to retrieve an object from a vengeful ice queen, only to end up in a snowstorm.

A03

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Since Belle had made her deal to go with him forever, Rumplestiltskin’s life had gotten much more…chaotic.

He had never intended to bring Belle along on his many quests and adventures…hell he hadn’t known what to do with her after making that deal!

But after the Robin Hood incident, he had an anchoring to keep her near.

Not because he liked her! No, of course not…

Their latest adventure involved bringing Belle to a town frozen in time where a very angry snow queen had cursed them all.

Of course, he hadn’t let on right away what they were doing, thus she had no way of knowing that the ice sculptures she was ogling at were indeed human.

“They’re beautiful,” Belle cooed, pushing the heavy bag she had packed behind her so she could view each one. “How cute, a dog!”

Rumplestiltskin withheld a mischievous grin. Poor girl would faint if she knew the truth!

Then, she had found the remains of an icy lake, solid and tempting.

Her smile had been bright enough to melt the whole town.

“I haven’t been ice-skating since I was a little girl,” she grinned as she changed her shoes.

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “I don’t believe we have—”

Belle shot off before he could finish, causing Rumple’s heart to jump when she stumbled across the ice, struggling for stable ground.

In a flash, Rumplestiltskin magicked to her side, steadying her.

“It’s…it’s been a while,” Belle chuckled as her lets finally stopped shaking.

“Obviously,” he said, trying to hide his concern.

She didn’t let go of his hand, instead pulling him along with her as she set off again.

He used magic to keep him from sliding ungracefully, but he couldn’t quite contain his surprise at her eagerness to be with him.

She looked back at him, grinning ear to ear, admitting her gratefulness that he let her come along without a single word.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t contain a smile back. She really was a lovely girl. Such a shame he could never tell her…

After a moment she led him back to the bank of the pond, skidding them both to a stop.

After catching her breath, she brushed a strand from her face and skipped his way, hands crossed behind her back.

“You didn’t bring me here just for the brilliant ice sculpting,” she teased. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled with mischief. “Visiting an old friend.”

Belle gave him a look. “By friend, you mean sworn enemy, right?”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “We…have history.”

Belle hummed, rubbing her hands together and shivering. “Don’t suppose we could visit a pub for a hot cider before we visit your sworn enemy?”

Rumplestiltskin helped her to her feet. “Plenty of time for that later, now come! We should reach her palace by nightfall! We’ll need to be back at the castle by the morning for our appointment with the Hatter.”

Belle sighed as he began to walk on without her. Back to arm’s length, it would seem.

She adjusted her bag on her shoulders, striving to catch up to him as she paused in front of another ice sculpture.

This one seemed to be a mother holding their child to them closely, as if she were shielding them both from some unknown terror.

Belle gulped, looking at the others she had noticed earlier. They were all facing the same direction, fleeing from something.

“Belle?”

Belle hesitantly followed her employer, glancing around uneasily but thankful she couldn’t see the expressions on the sculptures faces.

It would seem the artist of these pieces had a twisted sense of humor, and something told her the Dark One knew more than he was letting on.

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle nearly went blind at the site of the ice palace, the structure made from the whitest ice she’d ever seen.

She let Rumplestiltskin lead them in and she almost didn’t see the woman at the far end of the room stand to greet them.

“Rumplestiltskin,” the woman greeted evenly, and after blinking a few times Belle could make out the piecing blue of her eyes.

The Dark One stopped, causing Belle to nearly collide into him. She frowned as he bowed mockingly to the woman.

“You majesty,” he giggled. “You are the queen now, yes?”

“Watch it!” the woman seethed, stepping down from her pyramid of ice blocks to stand a few feet from him. “What do you want?”

“I want what you took from me,” Rumplestiltksin growled. “I want it back.”

“She is mine!” The Ice Queen seethed.

“The urn is my property, which makes the woman in it mine as well!”

Belle gasped. They were after a woman? A trapped woman?

The queen glared at him, the look making Belle shake from something much more deadly than the cold.

Suddenly, her eyes shot to Belle, and a sharp, queer smile spread across her face.

“And who is this?”

Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of Belle, shielding her from the hate-filled eyes.

“None of your concern,” he spat. “Now give me what I want.”

The Ice Queen’s smile seemed frozen in place, as if she could had turned into one of the ice sculptures in the village…

Wait…

Belle glanced around and noticed that there were dozens more. Some dressed like servants, carrying trays and flowers, like they had been active in their daily tasks…

And some of them looked like they were fleeing.

Belle’s heart stopped.

They had been.

“They’re alive…they were alive…” she gasped. “They’re people…”

Rumplestiltskin glanced back at her, swallowing a bit.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Belle seethed, but Rumplestiltskin shot around quickly.

“He’s one for surprises dear,” the Ice Queen said. “And treachery—“

“Enough,” Rumplestiltskin spat. “Give me what I came here for.”

“Very well, Dark One,” the Ice Queen agreed coolly. She waved her hand and a golden urn appeared in her hand.

“I’ll give you back your property,” she said, staring at the object with an odd sort of fondness.

And then to Belle with pure malice.

“But in exchange, I’m taking your little friend to add to my collection.”

In a flash, a white burst of magic shot from her hand, threating to collide with Belle.

Rumplestiltskin reacted before she could and shot around grabbed her, pulling her into his chest.

The magic hit him square in his back, causing a weak cry to leave his lungs as he fell to his knees.

Belle struggled to hold him up as she screamed, a patch of ice spreading quickly across his back.

“No, what…what’s going on?” She cried as she fell to her knees with him.

He convulsed violently, the darkness in him fighting off whatever spell she had thrown at him, but he could feel is slipping quickly into his darkened heart.

He squeezed Belle’s arm, the warmth of her skin the one thing that kept him from falling completely victim to the curse.

The Ice Queen cackled behind him and Rumplestiltskin gnashed his teeth in defiance.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” she cooed.

Belle glared at her, but before she could shout at the vile woman Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around her waist and magicked them out of the Ice Queen’s lair.

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 They broke apart as soon as they soon as Rumplestiltskin magicked them to the mountain’s side. They were free of the wretched queen, but her icy environment was waiting for them, swallowing them in a heated coldness no one could imagine.

It fell’s like she land on hot needles, piercing every nerve in her body without ever breaking the skin.

She finally thought, her body adjusting to the pain as her brain tried to focus on her surroundings.

“R-r-rumple!” she called out, the angry winds blocking out her voice.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and drudged through the knee-deep snow, searching immediately for shelter of some sort.

If one thing from her childhood winters at Avonlea taught her it was that when caught in a storm, finding a heat source was the difference between freezing to death and living.

There was a cluster of rocks several yards from her, just visible thought the whirling ice. Her body was going numb already, but her sheer anger at Rumplestiltskin was keeping her going.

She knew he was dark, she’d accepted that, but she had also seen his more human side. She’d seen him show mercy and kindness to foes, so why couldn’t he extend such graces to the general public?

And then he just hid what was going on to her, after all they’d been through?

He was going to get it—

She gasped as she tripped over something hard. She gasped as she got a face full of hard snow and winced as she felt a bruise forming.

She growled and twisted around to see what had caused her fall and immediately recognized Rumpelstiltskin’s hard leather coat, his unflinching hand peeking out of the sleeve.

She struggled to crawl to his side and flip him onto his back.

“Rumple?” she yelled as she shook him. His eyes barely opened, staring hazily at her. She could feel him trembling even through the thick leather. Whatever the Snow Queen had done to him had made him very weak.

“Hey,” she said shaking him a bit. “What happened? What did she do?”

“Sp…spell…” he groaned so weakly Belle barely heard it.

She squinted around, estimating their distance from the rocks. She took a deep breath and began lift Rumplestiltskin up, slinging one of her shoulder as he groaned.

“We have to move,” she said. “Can you walk?”

She felt him faintly nod but got little effort out of him. She straightened her back and began pulling him in the direction of the rocks, praying a cave was clustered somewhere in the mess.

Rumplestiltskin was grumbling, his body going back and forth from heavy to light, signifying his inability to stay conscious.

Belle just pulled him tighter to her, dragging him with all her strength. She was losing steam fast but pure determination kept her going. That and keeping him alive so she could kick his arse later.

Thankfully there was an opening in the cave, and deep enough that it would shield them from the elements.

He began to come to again, his limbs twitching as he subconsciously tried to help her along.

Belle shushed him gently as she leaned him against the wall as she began to take off her overcoat and wrapped it around him.

“Hang on, okay?” she encouraged through chattering lips.

She felt along the walls of the cave, gliding one hand along the floor in search for wood or some kind of debris that could be burnt, but all she could find were a few sticks.

They needed warmth now or it wouldn’t be long until the both were goners.

She gathered what she could find a few feet in front of Rumple, frowning miserably.

She grabbed her bag and dumped its contents out, gulping when noted the only thing that could be used for a fire was her beloved copy of “Her Handsome Hero.”

The only thing she had from her dear, sweet mama.

Why did she think she’d have time to read on a mission?!

Rumplestiltskin made a quiet moan, easing in and out of an uncomfortable unconsciousness.

Neither one of them were going to last much longer at this rate. She was already getting so tired, hypothermia biting at her lips.

She looked at Rumple, her lips shaking, and not from the cold.

She lovingly placed her books on the ground, clashing to rocks together to get a spark going.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a spark caught onto one of the pages, so old from years of being passed down that the flames picked up instantly.

The warmth barely helped her feel accomplished, but the flames grew enough that they would have a moment of warmth before the chill set in once more.

She glanced at the Dark One in his fitful state, feeling a strange coldness fill her chest that she hadn’t felt since she first arrived at his castle.

“You did all this,” she whispered. “You brought us out here to face off with that awful woman, and now…” her lips began to shake as her grief began to overflow.

“And you kept it from me,” she sobbed. “You lied to me…even after everything we’ve been though.

Rumplestiltskin coughed, his eyes fluttering.

“…Belle?”

Belle moved around the small fire, easing to his side. She stared at him, trying to stay calm. He was injured after all, and she’d be on death’s door herself if he couldn’t magic them out.

“What’s happening to you?”

He struggled to sit up, a flickering blue light spreading over his chest.

“A spell,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “It freezes the target from the inside out…”

Belle tensed. “Are you—”

“No,” he chuckled weakly. “Such magic can’t kill the Dark One…” he gasped as another wave of cold threatened him. “No really. I’ll be fine…then I’ll get us out of here.”

Belle nodded, satisfied that he would be find.

But she was still angry.

“Did you know what she was doing to those people, what they were?”

“Belle…”

“Why didn’t you stop her!” Belle yelled. “You could have helped those people!”

“I’m not a hero Belle—”

“You don’t have to be a hero to do the right thing!”

Rumplestiltskin fell back, annoyance building through the pain.

“I don’t’ need to explain myself to you.”

Belle scoffed. “No I guess you don’t.” she moved away from him and began picking at the fire, trying to keep it lively with a few sticks.

He tried to remain calm, tried to focus all his energy and magic into fighting the damned curse that awful woman had cast on him.

But he was so cold. The spell wouldn’t kill him, but there was no doubt it would take days for it to wear off. The snow storm outside seemed to grow stronger, no doubt the Snow Queen’s doing to smite him out once and for all.

He glanced at Belle, frowning at her slouched shoulders. He didn’t like it when she was angry at him, but it was better to keep her at arm’s length.

He was a monster, she needed to realize that. It’d save her.

The heat from the small fire she had built had faded fast and the cave was freezing once more.

Belle rubbed her arms, her energy nearly depleted. She felt so tired, the frantic voice in the back of her mind screaming at her not to fall asleep.

Her mother’s book as a pile of smoky ash now and there was nothing left to burn.

She laid on her side, facing Rumple.

“I’m so tired,” she muttered, feeling her eyes grow heavy. Her body was so cold now she couldn’t even feel anything.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, turning his head, his heart racing when he saw she wasn’t moving.

“No, Belle!” he moaned, turning painfully on his side and crawling to her. “No, please don’t fall asleep!”

Belle moaned. “It’s okay…”

“No, Belle, look at me,” he reached out, taking hold of her chin. “Please stay awake. Yell at me, hit, just don’t fall asleep!”

She didn’t answer, and Rumple willed his magic to his limbs to give him more strength. He managed to sit up and pull Belle closer to him, her pulse a bare flutter under his fingers.

He snatched the coats she had laid on him off himself to cover her.

“Belle wake up…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything. For lying to you, to bringing you into this.” He mused her hair from her beautiful face, so peaceful.

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He leaned up to see the fire she attempted to build, recognizing the burnt paper flakes.

“Oh Belle, I��m so sorry,” he said as he rubbed at her arms over the jacket.

He recalled briefly — in another life —doing the same thing to keep his son warm.

In the very early mornings when the fire he’d set the night before had long gone out, his wee son would crawl into bed with him and they’d hold each other close until they warmed up.

The memory filled him with comfort and guilt, but also a very embarrassing idea.

With his magic doing its part, his skin had started to retain some of its warmth. If he and Belle were skin to skin…

He cringed at the thought. She’d be disgusted with him, but she wouldn’t be much of anything if she froze to death.

“Belle,” he whispered as his stiff fingers carefully began to open her shirt. “I’m going to try something I hope will save us both.” He averted his eyes from her pale skin as he undid his undershirt.

He reached out to tie their coats together, creating a sort of blanket for them.

As his heart pounded, he pulled Belle to his chest, his back against the storm, and entangled their legs, the heat between them slowly building.

“You’re going to be alright Belle,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close as he drifted into his own slumber.

                                                       -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle opened her eyes slowly, the cold that had soaked into her bones now gone. Her hand grazed upon something hard and textured, but not unpleasant to the touch.

It took her a moment to realize she was lying on someone, their legs tangled in a heated embrace.

It was quiet now, the storm now seized, and Belle could clearly make out the sound of the heartbeat pressed against her ear.

She eased back some, lifting her head to look at the sleeping face of her employer.

Her face further heated when she looked down to see their unclothed chests touching.

She croaked, sitting up to cover herself as their tied coats slid down to their waists.

Rumple stirred, opening his reptilian eyes. He tensed when he saw Belle staring at him, not necessarily in disgust but just in confusion.

“I…I um…” he stuttered, his body warmer than it’d been in over a day.

“You’re doing better,” she pointed out, not meeting his eyes. “The spell must have worn off.”

“Mostly, yes.” He concluded. “And it would seem as if we’re safe from the Snow Queen.”

“Good,” she nodded, looking around the calm cave until her eyes landed on their tied jackets.

“You saved us?”

The Dark One bristled, “I think you’re dehydrated.”

Belle smirked through her exhaustion. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a hero in you after all.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Very dehydrated.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure we can remedy that soon enough. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I’m not sure. I used so much magic fighting off the curse.”

Belle nodded, glancing out the mouth of the cave into the snow. It was so beautiful after the storm, but the cold was still their worst enemy. Belle wasn’t sure if she was willing to strip down further tonight if they were out her another night.

Her heart leapt when she saw something – or someone – moving in the distance.

“Rumple,” Belle gasped. He was at her side in a second, glaring at the figure moving towards them.

“Is it the Snow Queen?”

“I don’t think so. Stay behind me.”

Belle did has he bade for his magic to return.

Whoever it was would be losing a large chunk of their necks if they tried to harm Belle.

The figure stepped in front of the cave, throwing back his hood with a bit too much flair.

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Hatter.”

“Good to see you too!” Jefferson greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

Jefferson smirked. “You missed our appointment, and we got worried,” he pointed at Rumplestiltskin’s partially undone shirt. “But it looks liked it was for a good reason.”

The Dark One hissed and struggled to button his shirt while Belle eased to his side.

“We?”

Jefferson glanced back to reveal the mysterious Dr. Victor Frankenstein making his way up the steep mountain.

Belle gasped when she saw one of the ice sculptures – the dog – tied around his back.

“The next time you want to take a rendezvous, at least leave a note,” the doctor panted as he sat on a rock to rest.

“That’s not what happened!” Rumplestiltskin seethed.

Belle eased past him to greet Jefferson. “We’re both another hour away from hypothermia. Can you get us out of here?”

“Sure,” the hatter winked. “But I’ll have to make a couple of trips.”

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle and Rumplestiltskin huddled closely by the fire, they’re bodies warmed to the appropriate temperature.

They had yet to speak to each other, mainly because the doctor and the hatter would not leave them alone for a single second.

After giving Belle a quick checkup (Rumplestiltskin had forbade him to touch him, much to the doctor’s disappointment) Dr. Frankenstein had to work examining the frozen dog he’d confiscated from Arendelle, trying to chip off some kind of sample but failing miserably.

“That thing better not melt on my table!” Rumplestiltskin shot at the doctor.

“Fear not, Dark One,” the doctor sighed tiredly. “Your baubles are safe.”

Rumplestiltskin growled and turned back to the fire, sparing a glance at Belle.

He wanted to tell her so much, to thank her and apologize and anything he could so she didn’t look so cold when she looked at him.

Jefferson was sitting at a chair at the great table, his attention back and forth between the Dark One and his maid and the doctor.

This was…different. He knew of course that the most powerful sorcerer in the land had a soft spot for the bookish, clumsy heroine, but he hadn’t realized it was this intense.

Since Belle had come to stay with Rumplestiltskin, his visits had become less about business and more about company. He loved the playful bickering they shared, loved that his business acquaintance actually seemed happy.

Jefferson was a helpless romantic, yes, and right now the light of his interest was threatening to fall into shambles.

“Belle…” Rumplestiltskin began quietly to avoid scandal from the two men in the room.

She glanced his way but remained quiet.

“Thank you for what you did for me…”

Belle nodded, sipping her tea wordlessly.

“And…I’m sorry,”

Belle paused, as did the two spectators behind them.

“I didn’t mean to put you in danger or to lie to you,” He said. “And I’m sorry about your book.”

Belle lowered her cup, grief threatening to crush her.

“It was my mother’s, and the first book she ever read to me.” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin smiled lightly but noticed the way her eyes were glassing over.

“The day the ogres attacked my home, I went back to get it,” she said. “By the time I got back to mother, the ogres had come. And then…”

Belle gulped and wiped the tear from her eye. “I thought for so long that if I had just left it behind, we could have gotten out sooner and maybe she’d alive. But then it was all I had left of her, the only reminder I had that there are heroes in this world and maybe I could be one.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “She’d be so proud of you, Belle.”

Belle scoffed.

“No, she would,” he assured. “You saved me, and made a grand sacrifice to do it. If that’s not a hero, I can’t imagine what is.”

Belle smiled, grateful. “And you saved me too. You can be a hero too Rumple, you just have to believe in yourself.”

Rumplestiltskin looked away, the weight of her words weighing into him.

Him, a hero…

The doctor cleared his voice, pulling them from their heart-to-heart.

“I think I might be able to make some progress on our friend here,” he said, placing a hand on the dog ice sculpture. “But I’ll need to take him back to my lab for further examination.”

Belle and Rumple rose to meet the doctor at the table, who handed them his stethoscope.

“Listen,” he instructed, placing the metal part to the dog’s chest.

Belle listened first, her eyes widening as she handed the device to Rumplestiltskin.

“It’s…”

“A heartbeat.” Rumple concluded, meeting Belle’s brilliant smile.

“They’re alive, it would seem,” the doctor theorized. “As to how to revert them to their original state I cannot yet conclude.”

“It’s magic,” the Dark One pointed out. “It’s not exactly something you can solve.”

The doctor glared at him, but Belle stepped in the way to keep a fight from breaking out.

“How about I make us all dinner,” she offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Jefferson chimed in, taking his legs off the table. “I saw some strawberries on the way in. I’ll make tarts!”

“You can cook?” Belle asked.

“…I can put things in a bowl.”

The doctor scoffed in disgust. “Cooking is a science, hatter. I’ll handle any baking.”

Belle and Jefferson exchanged an amused look before the lead the red-faced doctor to the kitchen.

She stopped just outside the entry way, turning to Rumplestiltskin who was watching them whimsically.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He nodded solemnly. “In a moment.”

Belle smiled, heading to the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, gripping the edge of the table as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

He cared for her. He’d known this for some time now, but now things had gotten much more serious.

He was falling for her, and he had no idea what to do.

He glanced over to her bag, now dry from its night soaking in snow. Glancing towards the kitchen, he grabbed the bag and sorted through its contents until he found the small unburnt corner of Her Handsome Hero.

In a flash he was in his tower and placed the piece in a bowl along a special ingredient: a small, magical silkworm he’d been saving to rebuilt series of ancient scrolls.

This was more important.

He placed it with the book and smiled as it immediately set to work. It’d be a few days until Belle’s book was fully restored, and he’d have to find a subtle way to surprise her with it.

But there would be time for all that, there’d be time for everything.

Satisfied, he turned away from the bowl, making his way down the tower stairs to join Belle and the others for dinner.

[katsukikitten]

Hey :) would it be possible to have a fluffy scene with Bakugo taking care of s/o reader who has bad period cramps and suffers panic attacks when they can't take the pain? (The suffering is real lol) Please and thank you 💛

Period Panic

A/N Thank you for being so patient bb. Here is your request and I hope it is fluffy enough and that you like it 😊😊

Your quirk was unique and tricky to get right at first.

You had the ability to make the smallest paper cut feel like a laceration that was bone deep.

Pain amplification is what they called it and for the most part there was no draw back to your quirk.

That was until you got your first period.

Any pain you had amplified was done unto you during those seven days while your uterus shed, angry that you would not be used as a vessel for new life.

Crippling, imobilizing pain that only heightened your anxiety.

Most men and even some women thought you were exaggerating. Brushing off your agony as mere teenage dramatics.

That was until you pushed through the horrific cramping to make it to school only to end up collapsing.

Doubled over, clutching at your gut as if your apendix had burst.

That or your uterus literally burst through your abdomen wall. At least thats what it honestly felt like.

So nothing was new this month, the usual heavy flow and cramping except this particular week your sweet boyfriend demanded he stay home.

It was something you hid from him for years, a mixture of embarrassment and fear of discredit causing you to shy away from his gruff helping hand.

He said he needed to see it all, especially if you were to ever bare his child, how would he know what to do to help you.

But sometimes you didn't even know how to help you. Sleeping most days, getting obscene amounts of overtime and using all of your PTO every month to get out of work since uterus go stabby stabby wasn't a valid enough excuse.

You're curled into his neck, breathing in his sweet caramel musk as he strokes your hair. While his free hand holds his phone watching videos with his wireless head phones.

So far so good. Your period has been mild, Bakugou has been attentive if not borderline smothering although you'll take it considering he is not normally so lovey dovey, and there hasnt been a bad cramp in sight.

Maybe you had grown out of it.

It feels as if a knife is suddenly plunged deep into your gut, before being removed to be swiftly plunged again only a few inches away.

Your bite your lip to keep in a groan, curling into him further. His hand goes from your hair to your back, bringing it up your spine slowly still beautifully ignorant to the intensity.

You needed to keep it this way. Bakugou did not take kindly to weakness and showing how pained you really were was the very definition.

The invisible knife takes a new route, plunging into your back before multiplying, twisting as it finds purchase before stabbing you between the legs.

That one makes you grunt and worry compels the hot head to move.

"Oi." He says voice husky with disuse, "Are you okay?"

You nod in way of answer as your heart rate increases, your skin becoming flush as you feel the rise of panic begin to take hold.

But nothing grips you tighter than the disembodied hands that hold fast onto your uterus, wringing it out as if it were a rag.

You push away from him quickly, between the panic and the pain you're about to empty the contains of your stomach.

You rush to the en suite bathroom in your small apartment sure to lock the door as you grip onto the cool porcielin. Inhaling the all too familiar oddly fresh smell considering the things done to this particular throne.

The scent alone earns a retch that encourages your stomach to heave and heave hard before an even more concerned ash blonde is at the door.

"Y/N." He snarls when he finds it locked.

"Go away Katsu I'll be nnngg." You cannot finish as another column of pain shoots right through you. Your breath hitches and you fight the bile rising up your throat trying hard to even your breathing.

But you lose, you flush as the last of your stomach empties itself into what was once clean porcielin.

"Like hell you were going to say okay. Open the door or I'll open it my God damn self." He growls and this is what you feared most.

Not of his aggression or his inability to take your word for it that you were fine but of him seeing you like this.

Hair damp, clinging to your forehead, cheeks flushed from panic and raise blood pressure. Splattered bile on your shirt and underwear that was now heavily bleed through from the exertion.

He would see you looking every bit repulsive and never want you again.

A loud bang takes place in the bedroom before the door falls off of its hinges landing with a harsh slap on the tile km the bathroom.

His scalding gaze turns tepid with worry when he sees you, going to gather you up but you push away.

"S...stop..." You gasp for breath with sharp inhales, spots begin to form in your peripheral as your body overheats. Useless sweat dripping down your brow.

This was it.

This was the pinnacle moment in time where Bakugou would see you for what you really were.

A fragile glass cup sitting on the edge of a high counter top.

Tears prick your eyes as you think of your uterus falling out of your fucking body with a wet thump.

And Bakugou was going to pack his shit and move out promptly.

The room spins.

He clutches onto your hand with his own strong palm, fingers lacing with yours.

"Copy me baby." He snarls, harshly contrasting his pained look. He holds your gaze as he breathes in through his nose deeply, holding it for a moment and letting the air naturally push out of his lungs through his mouth.

After a few tries you mimic him perfectly slowly regaining your thoughts.

He smooths your hair out of your face before picking you up and setting your on the cool counter.

He steps away to yank up the handle to the bath, steaming hot water pours out, filling the tub. He turns to the linen closet produces a fresh towel and two rags.

He dips one beneath the steaming water before setting the other two items on the vanity top.

"Bakugou..." You fight back tears as he wipes your mouth, folding the rag as he moved along your face. He places the dirty rag in the bowl of the sink before pulling at the hem of your shirt.

"Arms up." He hisses when you resist, you meet his gaze and obey. He pulls the dirty shirt over your head before pulling at your underwear.

"NO!" Embarrassment floods your cheeks and pain bites into your stomach again.

"Fine. I'll turn around but you better get in that bath." He sucks his teeth at the end. He listens as you finish undressing, waiting for the sounds of sloshing water as you adjust yourself.

You see now he has put Epsom salt to help ease your muscles.

Suddenly your chest is tight from a feeling other than panic, as you look at his strong back flexing as he reaches for something at the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.

He produces an orange bottle with white top that you hate. Shaking out two pills for you before wetting a rag in cold water.

"Here." He holds out his hand but you refuse the two white pills with a shake of your head, "Why not?"

"Makes me too numb." You admit and he gives you a look, slamming the pills on the counter before pressing the cold rag to your forehead.

He sits next to you on the floor, scarlet eyes roving over your body for any physical pain that he can see.

You watch it bother him that he cannot help but in these last few moments you've been more in love with him than you ever had.

"S..sorry I'm so weak." You whisper and the air becomes charged.

"When did I say you were weak? When did you need to apologize for something you cannot help?" Your cheeks burn when you realize he did not once look at you in such a way.

"Now focus we are going to do an exercise." He gets up enough to turn off the rushing water before returning to his sit by the tub.

"What do you do to amplify the pain in someone?" He asks and you think of how to word it, normally you just acted on instinct.

"I...I concentrate on their nervous system. I make their body panic and send distress to the brain."

"Can you see your own nervous system like that?" You blink at his question slowly before answering

"Yes. It's difficult but when I really close my eyes." Another sharp pain sinks into your abdomin causing you to wince.

Sharp eyes cut to your feminine pouch he loves so much, he notes that it is a little swollen and silently vows to look up diets better suited for less painful periods.

In his mind food fixed everything.

"So close your eyes." He says, sliding the cool rag over your eye lids. It some how soothes the second heartbeat there that you did not realize you had.

He begins to breathe deeply, like before and out of habit you follow suit until your nervous system stands before you.

A mess of angry nerve bundles through out your lower back and stomach constantly sending messages to your brain as your uterus contracts.

"I...I see it."

"Now do the opposite of activating the nerves. Slow them down or turn them off."

"Bakugou I can't." You go to move the rag, moments away from breaking what you can see before rough hand settles over your eyes.

Applying just the right amount of pressure as it rests there.

"I didn't ask you if you could or couldn't." He says flatly but you can imagine the harsh look in his eyes.

So you listen, you try as you focus, mentally stroking the nerves, begging them to become less hyperactive, one by one they begin to obey.

And your mind numbing pain begins to dull to a light ache.

For the first time since you were eleven you didn't feel as if you were Kane from that iconic scene in that 1980s movie.

You felt like a normal woman who had normal cramps.

You pull at his hand to make eye contact, gleaming with excitement.

"I did it!"

He just smiles in confirmation, as if he knew you could do it all along that is until your face twists and your uterus is being rung out again.

The pain comes flooding back and with it frustrated tears. A slam of a fist agaisnt tile as you let out an audible sob. Bakugou smooths back your hair before tilting your face towards his.

"I will be with you until you can ease your own pain." He kisses your lips gently before adding, "And if for whatever fucking reason you can't I will *always* be here."

He presses his forehead to yours gazing into your eyes and you had never realized how much you needed this.

Him.

That even his support was enough to ease your suffering. He stands, rewets your rag with cold water, places it gently onto your forehead as he returns to normal rough self.

"Now soak in this bath and don't fucking move while I make dinner." He plays soothing music on your phone before slamming the door to the bedroom shut.

Hastily opening google onto his own phone as he makes his way to the kitchen to prepare you a meal plan that will help strengthen the nervous system and dispel inflammation.

Thinking only of how he will always support you, even if it meant putting everything on hold once a month for the rest of his life.

[sukigirl17]

The Bump SukixSokka Oneshot

Word Count: 3,958

The first thing he saw in the morning was his wife examining herself in the full body mirror in their bedroom. And by the expression on her face, she didn't like what she saw. She was only 8 1/2 months along, but to the both of them, it felt like an eternity.

 He always thought of pregnancy as a bright, happy experience, for there would soon be a little person pitter-pattering across the floor of their home. Everyone in the South Pole rejoiced at the news of one of their members starting a family. They even had a feast in the baby’s honor, but things seemed a lot more realistic now.

 Sokka had never truly seen what exactly the woman of his tribe had to go through during their pregnancy, but now he was humbled to be experiencing it firsthand. It was completely different from what he's imagined it'd be like.  

In the middle of her first trimester, she had noticed during her chi blocking lessons with The Cranefish Police Force, she was having a hard time concentrating. It was getting more and more difficult for her to work or practice with her warriors, and when she asked their local healer, she said it was partially the preoccupation of the baby that caused the forgetfulness and inability to concentrate. So, Suki allowed for Ty Lee to come in and take over her instruction for a few months until she felt better.

 It hurt her pride to have to step down, but she knew it was for the best of her pupils and of the baby if she started acting more well, pregnant. She couldn’t maintain the same level of physical activity forever.

 ..

 The kicks were probably Sokka's favorite part. He would gently place his hands on his wife's belly any chance he got. Sometimes, he would even lay his head down on the top of her stomach and listen to the baby moving inside of her, eventually falling asleep to the sounds and the feeling of her stroking his hair as his eyelids became heavy and eventually closed.

 "I love you," He faintly recalled her whispering, thinking she was talking about him. Sokka would smile softly, half asleep.

 She giggled. "And you," She cooed, placing a kiss on his forehead, letting him know who she was really talking to before.

 Another one of the lighter aspects of the pregnancy is every woman is said to possess that pregnancy glow, but Suki shined. Her skin would light up a room immediately and she looked breathtakingly radiant to him. He never once forgot to tell her how beautiful she looked, even if she didn't believe him. It was moments like those that Sokka wished everything about the pregnancy could be that easy and stress-free.

 But of course, the universe would never let something go that well for him.

 ..

 The next obstacle they faced were her migraines. They pained Suki so much that some days she couldn't even get out of bed. Even the slightest bit of noise would send her into a world of misery. They didn't even bother to call the healer anymore, because they knew what she would say. It was said every visit Suki had with her.

 “A soon-to-be-mother should reduce as much stress as possible,” They were told yet again. “Because growing another person is already stressful enough! Let yourself relax, dear. It’s only going to get rougher from here. You don’t just have yourself to think about anymore when you’re running around with heavy armor and sharp swords.”

 Both Suki and Sokka reluctantly agreed that Suki needed to start taking it easier on her body the further along she got in the pregnancy. So after much deliberation, they came to the agreement that it wasn’t a good idea for her to return to her position as Zuko’s security until after the baby came.

 They also decided to take some time away from the gAang and all the excitement that followed them and went to spend some time on Kyoshi Island until the delivery. The conflict between benders and nonbenders didn’t seem to be simmering down anytime soon, and they thought it would be safer for them to wait out the pregnancy somewhere more stable.

 It was where Suki was going to feel the most relaxed, just as the healer said she should prioritize, and it would only be for a few months, they figured.

 Suki loved spending time with more of her warriors, Sokka fished and relaxed in Suki’s house most of their days. It felt like a mini vacation at first, with no pressures or commitments hanging over their heads. It was the first time in a long time they could just relax.

 Suki tried.

 She really did, but she couldn’t resist spending time in the dojo with her warriors. It just started out as visits and she’d observe their training.

 But their questions resulted in her suggestions.

 Verbal corrections turned into physical adjustments.

 Explanations became demonstrations.

 And before she could even catch herself, Sokka caught her first.

 She spotted her running drills with the other girls one day when he was walking by the dojo, and as Sokka does, he panicked immediately at the sight of his wife doing something he thought to be reckless.

 “What are you doing? Did you not listen to literally anything our old healer said?!” He yelled later that night in their home.

 “Sokka, I’m fine! I was just going through a few exercises with them.” She rolled her eyes as he lost his temper. “I was practically stretching.”

 “Suki, the whole point of why we came here was for you to take it easy! And to just relax! Training for war is not relaxing, it’s training for war!”

 “Stop being so dramatic!”

 “I’m not being dramatic!”

 “Then stop being so overprotective!” Suki glared at him as she started to raise her voice to match his. His hysteria was starting to get on her nerves, and she felt a headache coming on, so she shook her head as a sigh fell from her lips. “Sokka, I’m not going to do anything dangerous. You can relax your way, and this just happens to be mine. Just trust me and let me have this. It’s really important to me.”

 Sokka stared at her for a long moment before letting out a sigh of his own. He made his war across the room and pulled her into his arms for a tight hug. “What’s important to you is important to me,” He mumbled into her hair. “Just be careful.”

 And she was.

 But nothing could’ve prepared either of them for the next joy of pregnancy.

 The tight joints started. The weight of the baby made her feel unbalanced and she would have sudden pains piercing through her body at unexpected times. It was a common occurrence and something the couple hadn't given much thought to until one day during her training, Suki was teaching some of her younger warriors a new, simple routine. The girls were having fun and she decided to keep their momentum going and kicked the intensity up a notch.

 Literally.

 She went to raise her leg in order to perform a kick to finish off the drill. But when she let out a pained cry and hit the ground clutching her stomach, the young girls stood in shock for a moment, watching their beloved leader fall before rushing to her side and calling for help.

 The memory is a bit of blur for Suki. She thinks she remembers muttering how proud she was of her girls and how they were handling this so maturely in between grunts and gasps of pain the escaped her lips. Her vision started blurring because the pain became so intense, she almost blacked out by the time the healer had gotten to the dojo. Somehow the girls had managed to get her into a wheelchair, because the next thing she remembered was being pushed up the path to her house. By then, she had grown slightly more accustomed to the pain and her vision came back into focus.

 The sight of their local healer pushing his wife up to their doorstep was one Sokka was horrified to see from their kitchen window. He then dropped the dishes he was washing in the sink before sprinting out the front door to meet them. He tried to get out as many questions as possible, a series of why's and how's and what's, but the healer hushed his inquiries in favor of getting Suki inside so she could do a proper inspection.

 “I brought some freshly picked lavender from my garden. Would you mind brewing us some tea for our patient here?” She suggested, offering him a knowing smile as a clear signal for him to leave them for the moment.

 Sokka knew it was just a ploy to get him out of the way, and that was something he should've been grateful for in hindsight, because he does not help anyone when he's panicking.

 Just as he was entering their bedroom with a tray of teacups in his hands, he heard the healer make mention of something neither of them could’ve ever expected. “You have a split pelvic bone,” She said gently, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “This could take months to heal with the baby's weight constantly pushing on it, maybe not even until after the birth.”

 Sokka's heart cracked when he saw the look on Suki's face when she was told it was imperative that she didn't train with her warriors again until after the baby came. He could see the tears she tried to blink away, and the heartbreak was evident through her expression.

 He normally would’ve rejoiced and rubbed it in when he was right, but not after seeing her face fall the way it did before she forced herself to replace it with a look of feigned composure.

 Sokka put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Suki put her hand on top his and squeezed back.

 And then she agreed without argument.

 ..

 After that incident, Sokka was sincerely worried about Suki and her behavior. She didn't act like herself anymore, and it terrified him. It was as if he was living with a stranger all the sudden. He felt completely unprepared and helpless as he watched her suffer, something he always feared.

 She didn't have odd cravings, she didn't have drastic mood swings, and she didn't even complain.

 In fact, she hardly talked at all.

 Suki had stayed almost completely silent the last trimester before the baby was born, but when she did speak, it was an even and monotone droning noise that always made Sokka anxious upon hearing it. However, the one thing that scared him more than anything was Suki's lack of reaction to her symptoms, circumstances, or their life in general. She lived in a state of complete apathy.

 Meaning Suki never cried.

 Or complained.

 Or got angry.

 Or smiled.

 Sokka knew she could handle herself, he knew it, and he was also certain it'd make her feel even less in control of her life if he tried to impose his fears on her. So, he tried to stay quiet. He tried to show support in the most basic ways, like taking her down the stairs when she needed help or sitting out on the porch with her for hours as they watched the day go by. He let her do whatever she wanted to do, but the issue was she never wanted to do much.

 Because she couldn't do much, if anything at all.

 But now he was laying in his bed, watching with sad eyes as his wife examined her growing belly with a critical look in the mirror. She inhaled deeply as she turned to the side slowly, wincing in pain to look at her reflection from a side view. He let her stand up and walk by herself whenever she wanted and only helped her when she asked, when the pain of her split pelvic bone overwhelmed her, despite the spike in his anxiety every time she moved without him.

  "It's getting bigger," She said, referencing to her round belly. "Gigantic, actually."

 "Is not," He snorted, trying to distract her. "It's barely bigger. You can't even tell you have a person growing inside you! That's what people call impressive."

 "That's what people call a lie." Suki sighed again and a frown made its way across her face for the billionth time in the past six months. "...But you're sweet."

 Sokka then threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He joined his wife in the mirror and hugged her shoulders, resting his chin on her head. "I love you," He murmured into her hair. "And this little fetus of ours."

 "Do not call my son or daughter a fetus."

 "Opposed to what, an it?" He asked in disgust before letting out a laugh. "I bet it's a girl."

 "Do you want a girl?"

 "Yes and no. I just want one. Don't you?"

 She let out a sigh. “I just want to meet them as soon as possible."

 Sokka chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "I think this is the most I've heard you talk in months." He immediately regretted saying those words when he saw her eyebrows furrow. Sokka felt his heart drop when she pulled away from him and turned her back.

 She stood silently for a moment, fiddling with her betrothal necklace before quietly mumbling, "I know."

 "Do you..." Sokka hesitated for a moment and fixed his gaze on their feet. "...maybe think we should see the healer?"

 She turned to look at him, a confused look on her face. "Why would we do that?"

 "Well...it’s just...been weeks since we've seen her and I think it might be good to get her opinion on a few of your symptoms...That's all."

  Suki cocked an eyebrow at him. "Meaning?"

 Sokka scratched the back of his head, his nerves rising. "Well... You've been...different... lately. You've been so sad and so not you, and I think something might be wrong-"

 "There's nothing wrong with me, Sokka. I'm not sick." She retorted sharply, as if to dismiss him.

 "Maybe not in the way we're used to. But this isn't normal, Suki. This—this depression—shouldn't be normal. It's hurting you, and that matters to me.”

 She stayed silent for a long moment, turning her back to him. "And you didn't think to bring this up to me until now?"

 Sokka let out a sigh and shook his head. "I didn’t know if it would upset you or not."

 "So, what if it did?" She turned to him, her expression stern. "Why would that have mattered? You didn't think I could handle it?"

 His eyes widened in panic. "Okay, I know where this is going, and no, it's not because I didn’t think you could handle it!" He tried to reason with her. "Clearly you can handle anything, because you're carrying a person inside of you." Sokka sighed, sitting on the edge of their bed and slumping his shoulders. "I just think you need a little more help with this one. Maybe there's something else we can take off your plate-"

 "What else can I possibly sacrifice, Sokka?" She asked honestly, sullenly staring down at the ground. He stopped his train of thought immediately, his breath hitching in the back of his throat when he saw her eyes well up with tears for the first time in months. She took a shaky breath in and tried to silence her soft sob by bringing her hand to her mouth.

 "Suki..." He murmured in shock, not knowing what else to do. Finally, after months of being an emotionless shell of the woman he loved, she was letting herself feel again. And for that he was grateful, but it still broke his heart to see her in pain. Sokka stood from his position on their bed and gently took her arms and guided her to sit down next to him.

  "What else could I possibly be doing better?” She cried, shaking her head and her chest rising and falling as she heaved. "I just don't understand...what else I can give..."

 "I...I'm not sure," He put his arms around her shoulders and tried to hold her as she cried in an attempt to calm her down, but he felt his anxiety start to bubble up as he racked his brain for another way to bring her comfort. "I know you're doing the best you can, and I wish I knew what I could do to help you. I'm sorry I've been useless, but I promise I'm going to do the best I can to take care of my-"

 Sokka could've sworn his heart stopped beating when he heard a very clear sploosh and felt drops of something hit his ankles.

 His eyes shot open and they both stayed completely still.

 Not even moving a muscle.

 ".... Sokka?"

 ".... Suki?"

 "I think...my water just...broke."

 He inhaled sharply, neither one of them moving still. "A-Are you sure?" He squeaked.

 "Well, considering there's a huge puddle on our floor and I'm soaking wet, yeah. I'd say I'm pretty sure."

 ...

 "Are you sure you can handle this?"

 Suki smiled nervously as she watched her husband take in panicked deep breaths and push them back out in a rapid speed, and if she wasn't in so much pain right now, she would've laughed at him. He was more nervous than she was, and all he'd done so far was sit in a chair and hold her hand. It's not like she was even squeezing that hard, or anything. "Because the last time you were around a woman giving birth, you didn't exactly have a positive reaction."

  No, he was just squeamish. Or a wimp. Or both, she really couldn't decide.

 "I'm good, great, awesome, fantastic." He whispered in a rushed fashion, and she wondered if he needed a paper bag or something because honestly, was he even breathing right now? "So good."

 Suki rolled her eyes.

 He sure was lucky he was cute.

 "It's time to start pushing, dear." The healer told her, and Suki took a deep breath before her eyes shifted over to her husband.

 "Try and stay awake this time.” She patted his arm lightly.

 ..

 "So, I get passing out's not on the table, but what about throwing up?" He pretended to gag.

 "Sokka!"

 "Okay, okay, kill a guy for trying to make a joke, why don't ya!"

 "Shut up!" He heard his wife growl, but he only smirked in response because HA! She was giving birth right now.

 Which meant she was too busy bringing their child into the world to punch him-

 "Ow!" He gasped before shooting her a quick glare. "Hey!"

 "I'm really going to need you to focus on your breathing, dear," The healer tried to tell them, and it was clear she was getting irritated with their banter. "We're almost there and you need the least amount of distractions as possible-"

 "Yeah, you focus on your breathing!"

 She squeezed his fingers so tight he thought she was going to crush it into dust and blow it out the window. Then he stopped talking, and all that could be heard from his lips were his squeals and whines of pain.

 He wife was strong.

 ..

  "The baby's crowning!" The healer exclaimed with a wide smile.

 "Hooray! Our kid's a king!" Sokka proclaimed, his right fist pumping into the air as his left stayed intertwined with his wife's.

 Suki groaned. He was making dad jokes and he wasn’t even a dad yet. " That’s the stupdist joke you’ve ever told me and I'm so going to kill you after this." But he could've sworn he saw a trace of a smile on her lips as sweat beaded down her forehead.

 He merely shrugged, a sly grin making its way across his cheeks, and teased, "Raise them by yourself then."

 "Anything would be better than our children growing up telling your awful jokes."

 His laugh was loud and hearty enough to echo throughout the entire healing hut, and Sokka thought he saw he watched the healer's eye twitch in annoyance.

 ...

  Sokka always knew he married a warrior, but this was some girl.

 He thought labor was quick.

 But they were in the delivery room for thirteen hours.

  Sokka was absolutely exhausted, he didn't even do anything, and he couldn't even imagine how draining it felt to have the energy sucked out of his wife by the time she gave her last push.

 He grasped her hand tightly as he heard her give out an ultimate sigh of relief and her cries were soon replaced with a smaller, less painful, voice.

 Sokka looked up at the healer with tears welling up in his eyes, his whole world coming to an abrupt halt and he couldn't focus on anything else other than the little bundle she wrapped in a blanket.

 "It's a boy," She whispered hoarsely. Sokka smiled and felt the tears start streaming down his cheeks.

 "It's a boy."

 ...

 "Well I for one think we should name our son Squishy."

 After months of questioning what his place was while his wife endured this pregnancy, he finally realized the best way to support her; making her laugh.

 And boy, was he a natural at that.

 He was great a comic relief.

 Sokka beamed down at his wife, lovingly stroking her hair, still damp with sweat. She looked up at him, exhaustion glazing over her eyes, but smiled warmly and chuckled. "You can call him that." He told him. "But I still want to go with the name we picked out."

 "Dad will be happy," He claimed, tracing his finger along his son’s cheek. "Koda suits you, Squish."  He bent down to kiss his forehead softly, then kissed his wife. "I love you. So much." He felt her smile against his lips.

  "And I love our son."

[miraclesnail]

1000 Ways and I Can Name You One

A thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Travis and Connor centric oneshots featuring characters from PJO/HOO.

Chapter 32: Michael - Food 

Plus the whole 9.7k fic under the read more but with funky formatting 

Michael — Food

Michael (14) — Travis (13) — Connor (13)

Early June 2007

Pre Sea of Monsters

[8:07 AM]

The whole drive to Camp, Lee has been saying the weirdest things. 

‘This camp is special.’

‘This camp is for children of Greek gods and goddesses.’

‘This camp helps the said children harness the godly gifts inherited from said gods and goddesses.’

‘This camp is top secret and no matter what, you cannot tell your mother about Camp Half Blood. Not a word. Not a complaint. Not even a compliment. Michael? Are you listening? Ar—are you laughing?! Michael, I’m not joking around. This is not a joke.’

Did Michael take Lee seriously? Not at all. Not even to humor him. What does Lee take him for? An idiot? Like, he doesn’t really have many friends at school (none actually) but even he knows when someone is trying to pull a prank on him. Lee typically goes for jump scares, but it’s good to see him broaden his horizon and try new things. 

Yeah. 

Michael wholeheartedly believes Lee is 100% kidding around. 

It’s kind of a shock when he walks through the camp and sees flowers being grown in someone’s palms, men with hooves and horns trotting around, a goddamn girl rising from the lake like some kind of b-grade horror movie but minus the sunken eyes and gray skin and tattered white dress. 

It’s a big shock. Kinda earth-shattering actually. Very disorientating. It’s taking all his mental capability to process the fact that the Greek gods are real , that the Greek myths are real , that his atheist beliefs are all wrong and holy fuck?? God is real . 

It’s probably why when that SOB Shermie or Sherlock or whatever his name is picked a fight, he welcomed the easy distraction and picked one right back. 

In hindsight, he should have maybe exhibited more self-control. 

“He shoved me.”

The utter stare of incredulity has Michael quickly rephrasing his initial statement, fiddling with a loose string on his t-shirt. 

“He shoved me first. ”

“And so you decided to turn it into a slugfest?” Lee says, arms crossing as they stand on Cabin 11’s porch. 

“To be fair, to be fair,” Michael says, scrambling for excuses as his eyes dart from cabin to cabin, “to be really fair, that Sherm-guy started it.”

Lee didn’t buy it, not that Michael expected him too. 

“You promised me, Michael,” Lee says, disappointed, and Michael looks away with guilt. 

He did promise Lee. Right before they left the apartment complex, Lee explicitly said, “Promise me, Michael, that you’ll be on your best behavior?” And he said he will. 

“Mike, I don’t want any phone calls from the head honcho again, okay?” his mom said, exasperated. He said there wouldn’t be any.

“Mikey, please tell us all the fights you’ll get into!” his four little siblings — Leo, Raphie, Carly, and Sam — screamed together with cheeky, smug, knowing grins as he got into the car with Lee. He said ‘in your dreams.’ 

Not even one full hour and he failed two out of three. Possibly all three if Travis and Connor decide to hand his ass to the director. 

“I’m really sorry, Lee,” Michael says, head lowering, “I promise for real this time. I won’t get into any more fights. I swear.” 

Like clockwork, the frown and crossed arms drop for a bright smile and a hair ruffling, like he actually believed Michael can do it. Lee’s weird like that. He believes in people and their lies despite what their actions are saying, believes in him even with the 14 years of experience that Michael cannot follow through on that promise. 

It’s that same idealistic, stupid belief that has Lee clinging to the hope his birth mom will one day want to actually be a mom. 

Michael slinks back into the cabin as quietly as he can. Miranda catches his eye and waves him over, patting the empty spot next to her. Michael hesitates (still remembers the way she tosses a boy a whole head taller than her like nothing) but thought better of it. 

The promise, he thinks. Remember your promise. 

He sees Sherman sitting on Miranda’s other side. As he slides down to sit cross-legged, he’s mentally preparing himself for a jeer. But Sherman is just staring at Miranda, wide-eyed and star-struck and totally ignoring him which is perfectly fine with Michael. 

Miranda angles her body towards him, a slight smile on her face as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just want to warn you that you’re in Connor’s bad book right now.”

“Should I be worried?” Michael says, glancing at the brothers talking on one of the upper bunk beds.

To which Miranda smiles sweetly. “You should keep your head down. I heard he gets a bit prank-crazy with people he doesn’t like.”

A sharp whistle brings his attention upfront. 

“Okay, so hey, everybody! Exciting first day, I know. Welcome to Camp Half Blood,” one of the pair says with a big grin, standing on top of the upper bunk bed. The other sits at the edge, feet swinging over. “We’re already late for breakfast so I’ll make this super-duper quick. My name is Travis Stoll. I am one of your head counselors. This is Connor, my little brother.” 

Connor waves, his smile matching Travis’s.

“I’m also your counselor. Any problems you guys have whether it be life problems, camp problems, prank problems, you can come to us. Lucky for you guys, you have two of us. Most cabins just have one,” Connor says. 

“Where’s Luke?” someone in the back yells. 

“Luke is gone now. If you see him, either in person or in a dream, tell us right away. Please come talk to me after this meeting if you want more details,” Connor answers, still cheerful but Michael kinda feels like his words are too curt. There’s definitely bad blood between this Luke person and them.

“Moving on,” Travis follows after, “the beds are all taken. Any more fighting over them will result in the instigator getting a timeout. For everybody else, sleeping bags are available and we will make room. Your stuff can be placed in the closet or tucked in your sleeping bag. I know this cabin’s patron is the god of thievery, but please show respect and decency towards your fellow cabinmates and don’t steal from each other. Steal from other cabins instead. Apollo’s kids are the easiest to steal from. So are Aphrodite’s if you want to practice before moving onto the big leagues. Athena’s and Hephaestus’s cabins are where the real challenge is.”

“What about the claiming rate? Someone said the gods would claim us more now,” a girl asks, standing from her sitting position with a bounce, hope in her eyes. 

“Uh, um...” Travis falters, looking down at Connor for guidance. It’s hard to notice but Connor bites his cheeks and just barely shakes his head.

“Claiming, yeah. I’m not too sure about that. I’ll talk with Chi — Tantalus about that. Tantalus is the activity director now in case you all don’t know,” Travis answers. 

There’s a chorus of groans. 

Someone grumbles, “It’s been years.”

“What happened to Chiron?” another asks.

“Temporarily relieved of duty due to, uh, an investigation of his effectiveness on the job. Which, if you ask me, Chiron has been doing a fantastic job of and we should all write a very strongly worded letter to Zeus to get him back on his job.”

A boy in front of Michael shoots his hand up. 

“I heard Luke went all ‘Anakin Skywalker’ on us and joined Kr—”

Connor blows an air horn and interrupts the boy before he could finish. Travis’s smile is strained as he says, “Okay, first rule on Camp Half Blood for the foreseeable future! No mentioning any of the bad guys by name. Names have power. Instead we will refer to him by initials. The evil titan guy will be called K.T. K for his first letter and T because he controls time.” 

“Can we change it to K.K. Slider?” the same boy says.

Beside him, a girl socks the boy in the arm. “No! How dare you sully K.K.’s name like this?”

But Travis is already jumping down his bed, landing with grace. “K.K. Slider it is. That’s all for the morning announcements. Now everybody gets in a straight line. We’re going to the pavilion for breakfast and it is the best thing ever. You can literally get whatever you want. All you need is the power of imagination. Well, imagination and common sense. Don't imagine something you won’t eat. It’s not a contest to create the grossest food.” 

Connor follows down after his brother with a grin and shrugs. “But if it was, I would win.”

Growing up, Michael is what everybody called a ‘problem child.’ Absolutely zero friends not helped by him picking and starting fights for the ‘smallest’ reasons. No remarkable talent except for his athleticism. Mediocre to poor grades due to inability to focus (and it doesn’t help that he’s dyslexic and that his teachers all hate him and that he has a homing device for all the school’s bullies). 

The teachers blamed his mother for his attitude and academic abilities. But they don’t know shit. His mother helps him with his homework after coming back from work. His mother searches for ways to help him manage his ADHD and dyslexia. His mother is raising five kids all by herself with zero help from his deadbeat dad. Going to their extracurricular activities, funding their education, making time to have game and movie nights. His mother is literally Superman for finding time to do all that across five children. No. Make that six. Mom always attends Lee’s band performances and includes him with all their activities and outings and supports him the way Lee’s own mom should be doing. 

Michael’s pretty sure his mom isn't the problem.

Besides his four younger siblings are literal angels. Clearly, the problem is him. Not his mother. 

That’s why going into high school he had every intention of becoming a better son, a better brother, and a better student. Set a better reputation for his family, you know?

Unfortunately, this whole mess with him being half-god kinda put a pause on his plans. 

And put every weird thing Lee ever did into perspective. 

That one time Lee slapped his brand new Nokia cellphone out of his hands and ended his cell’s short life by stomping the hell out of it? Those dozens of times Lee lectured him about not using technology with his stupid excuse of ‘it rots your brain, Michael. Don’t touch it,’ despite Lee himself using a phone and a laptop on a daily basis?? Those hundreds of times Lee excused himself from dinner, movies, and the middle of game nights to ‘use the bathroom’ and coming back with a thin layer of gold dust??? Those weird dreams he gets of standing on top of a broken, tethering bridge and falling thousands of meters to his death in a ravine and Lee saying, ‘it’s just a dream. Don’t worry about it’ with a high-pitched, forced laugh that says he should be worrying????

Now he sees what it was all about. Obviously a metaphor for the earth-shattering revelation of his heritage. 

He’s half- god . A demigod. Some part of him came from an immortal being.

It makes him see his dad in a whole new light. 

Like, Michael always knows his dad is an asshole, leaving his mom and whatnot. 

But now? Knowing his dad is a literal god in the Greek myths he read back in 6th grade? Those freaky assholes with their crazy sex adventures and ego-driven tantrums?

At least the fantasy asshole dad he had in mind didn’t commit mass genocide or is an egotistical, narcissistic jerk or had sex with their siblings, parents, animals, and who knows what else freaky shit the gods like to stick their dick in to. 

And the most bizarre thing is that he’s expected to honor them by throwing the best parts of his meal into the fire. 

Well, he’s not gonna.

“Throw your food into the fire, Mike,” one of his counselors says beside him as he tosses a bag of M&M into the flames. 

“Why should I?”

“So the gods don’t get angry,” says the other counselor, throwing half of his strawberries — Michael stares at the plate. It’s just strawberries. Nothing else. That’s not healthy — into the fire before turning to help the others. 

“They’re gonna threaten us if we don’t worship them? Sounds like a pretty unhealthy parent-child relationship,” Michael says. 

The one that tossed the M&Ms shrugs. “Just toss something in. It can be anything. Even something you ha— don’t care about. That’s what I do. I don’t think Hermes minds.” 

But what Michael hears is that this Hermes fella doesn’t give a shit. 

A small boy with round glasses wedges in between them, frowning, and tosses in a sausage link. “Don’t listen to Connor. You’re never going to be claimed if you listen to him.” 

Connor shrugs again. “Hermes hasn’t disowned me yet.”

“That’s because Hermes is busy with other things. The other gods don’t have a child plotting to usurp—” the kid starts to say but at Connor’s harsh nudging and loud cough and not so subtle nod towards the others in the pavilion and (kind of scary) glare, he shuts up. A second passes before the boy says to him, “Everybody likes to feel appreciated, Michael. Even gods. It’s good to remind them we’re here for them. Now more than ever.”

Michael frowns at the exchange. Child? Usurp? Usurp who? The gods? Yeah. Like that is even possible. 

“What were you trying to say—”

“So I see you got over your embarrassing loss,” Connor interrupts with this infuriating smug grin. “Man, I would have hidden my face for like a year after the way I kicked your ass.” 

And just like that, Michael forgets everything but that day back in March when he met the brothers. It’s an obvious bait and Michael just lunges for it like the dumb fish he is. 

“No, I kicked your ass. Kicked it all the way down the stairs,” Michael huffs at Connor’s heel as they walk to the table. Connor slides into the first open spot he sees and Michael sits down across from him, elbow to elbow to his cabinmates. They need a bigger picnic table. 

“Ass?” Besides Connor, Miranda’s head swivels to face them, her smile innocent but Michael knows better now. Behind that sweet smile is a demon. “Who kicked whose ass? ” 

“We met Michael back in March when we hopped in Lee’s car and we’re not using that language, Mikey,” Travis says, sitting down beside Connor slurping a mouthful of cereal. 

“So? Who won?” Miranda asks, leaning over to slide scrambled eggs onto Travis’s plate and picking off 75% of Travis’s many, many strawberries from his plate. 

Travis stares at the egg with disdain. “Connor won, of course. And I don’t want that. Take it back.” 

“Will said you need something more than just strawberries in the morning. Doctor’s orders. Disobey and you’ll feel his wrath,” Miranda says. 

For half-a-second, Michael thinks Travis is going to fight but he turns back in his seat and just grabs his fork. 

“There’s nothing wrong with just strawberries for breakfast,” Travis grumbles, stabbing his fork into the scrambled eggs. “Right? Nothing wrong with strawberries.”

“I think that depends on the quantity but don’t worry, Travis. I totally got you,” Connor says, pulling out a basket of strawberries and ducking from Miranda’s sudden lunge for it. With ease, Connor holds Miranda back while Travis indulges in his unhealthy obsession with a satisfied, blissed smile. 

Michael thinks of the half Travis threw into the fire and before he knows it, he’s saying, “You really love strawberries, don’t you?” 

Travis nods, mouth full. “Favorite food in the world.”

“Then you must like your—” 

But Travis’s eyes shoot to a girl entering the pavilion, heading straight towards the table with the plant-speaking kid, and Michael knows his words are falling on deaf ears. Travis nudges Connor and whispers into his ear, a shit-eating grin sprouting on Connor’s face as he looks over his shoulder. 

Miranda catches their grins and stands, yelling, “Katie, wait!”

But Katie sits down and Michael hears what is probably the world’s loudest, strongest whoopee cushion rip through the pavilion. Travis and Connor laugh as Katie stands back up, cushion in hand and face flushed tomato red.

“Welcome back, Miss Tattletale!” Travis yells. 

“That was months ago, you pieces of — of — fertilizers! Give me a break!” Katie roars. The ground rumbles as a tree sprouts beside the table, hooking Travis and Connor up by the back of their shirts. They’re way too calm as they’re dangling several feet in the air. In unison, both brothers pull out squirt guns and aim them at Katie. 

And it is definitely not water judging by the smell. 

[9 AM, Sword Fighting]

Lee said he was a demigod. That monsters are real. And that they sometimes must fight off the monsters that come to eat them. 

Michael never really thought about what it entailed. What they’re supposed to fight the monsters with. 

Dimly, he’s aware of his counselors talking. Something about introduction to swordsmanship and the bare basics plus safety today, then tomorrow they will be training with Ares? Apollo? ‘Some god with the letter A’ cabin and learning a few techniques. He isn’t really paying attention to them as he stares at the blade in his hands. 

It’s real. It’s a real, metal blade. And by the looks of it, everyone has one. Even the little 9-year-old. What the fuck? That’s how old the twins, Sam and Carly, are and holy shit. The thought of them with a real sword? The thought of them having to use it to battle some mythical monster? It's enough to make him vomit. 

“Michael? Michael, hey.” Someone is snapping their fingers in front of his eyes and he knocks the hand away, glaring at … at … well, it’s either Travis or Connor, staring at him blankly, but he can’t tell who’s who yet. They should have worn nametags. 

“What?”

“Have you ever used a sword before?”

Michael kinda felt it should have been obvious, but he shakes his head. 

“Okay, well imagine you’re holding a kitchen knife and you’re cutting some veggies for a veggie soup but instead of a broccoli, it’s a monster and instead of small dainty cuts, you’re making big, wide, full power slashes. So nothing like what I told you to imagine. Forget I said that. You want to grip it like this with both hands—” Connor (or Travis?) demonstrates and Michael mimics the action, “—for the most control. You can try one-handed but the strikes tend to be flimsy at best unless you’re gifted like Clarisse or Percy. You want to kill the monsters as fast and in one go as you can while still being safe. Here’s—” he is walked over to a hand-made, hand-stuffed dummy with straws sticking out its seams. A happy face on a yellow sticky note stuck to where it’s head is. “—a practice dummy for you. Give it a few swings and get a feel for the weapon. I’ll be right back with more pointers after helping everyone. You good to be by yourself a bit?”

Then Travis (Connor?) is leaving after Michael hesitates to say ‘no, I’m not good’, taking off with a thumbs up and a crooked grin.

Michael almost called him back, but they’re a big cabin.  Only a quarter of them have been gotten too, the other three-fourths goofing around while waiting their turn. Michael has never been to a summer camp before, nevermind one as strange as this, but he guesses they’re on a tight schedule. 

So he looks down, readjusts his grip, and swings, missing spectacularly, losing his balance, and nearly taking his eye out. 

[10:00 AM, Archery]

Michael didn’t need much help here.

The bow feels right in his hands. His body knows what to do, his arms pull back the bow like it has done this a million times and his first shot lands dead center in the bullseye. 

The next five shots are the same.

“Woah,” his counselor mutters, face scrunched in thought before it lightens up, blue eyes shining with a gleam. “You’re a natural. Hey, you wanna be the archery tutor? I’ve never seen anyone aim so well and had such perfect form. Not even Annabeth.”

Michael lowers the bow and tries to figure out how he did what he just did despite never once using a bow before in his life. 

[11:00 AM, Greek Mythology]

Michael knew Lee was a decent teacher, tutoring him in both English and Math, so it’s no surprise he’s decent at teaching Greek mythology too. All the campers are in the amphitheater with hand made wooden desks courtesy of the girl from breakfast. Lee is in the center with an overhead projector just having the time of his life explaining what each of the 12 Olympians plus Hades represents with a mind map. 

He tries to pay attention. He really did. He gets through listening to Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and part of Demeter’s history before his attention is pulled away by Travis and Connor. They’re far away from the group, beside the cabins,  hunched over a … birdbath? It looks like they’re arguing to the birdbath, but Michael squints and with his perfect vision sees that there is a person. On the surface of the birdbath. A girl with blonde hair. There’s a girl in the water of the birdbath. 

There’s a girl. In the water. Of a birdbath. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. Food pops into existence with a thought. A girl can grow fullass trees without blinking an eye. Miranda can toss a boy almost twice her weight over her shoulder.

So what if the camp has a Moaning Myrtle?

Before he knows it, Lee is done, Michael misses the other 8 Olympian’s tales, and everybody is packing up their notes to head back to their respective cabins.

They’re ending early to have enough time for a tour of the camp. Which is kind of telling where their priorities are when they hold training first over the tour. 

It’s kind of even more telling what the camp’s view of safety is when there’s a climbing wall that spews lava and when asked about why there’s lava, Travis and Connor say cheerfully in unison,  ‘it’s more exciting that way.’

“Hey, Travis,” a kid starts, tugging on one of the brother’s sleeves. 

“I’m Connor, but yeah?” Connor corrects, turning to face the camper.

“Um, I heard from someone in the Ares Cabin that because of us, we’re in war with Kro—K.K. Is that true?”

Connor smiles and shakes his head. “No. We didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t refute the war part though. 

And as if Connor hears his thoughts, he addresses the cabin, “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. But monsters are still a thing so you still have to go to the morning training. No way out of those. Sorry.”

[12:30, Lunch]

Michael is starting to think Travis is some kind of strawberry fanatic and that’s putting it lightly. 

There’s another concerning amount of strawberries on his plate coupled with a grilled cheese sandwich and a salad, yes, but that’s way too many strawberries for one day.

“No such thing,” Travis says, scraping half of his ungodly amount into the fire. 

“I think there is a limit though.” Connor shrugs, tossing a bag of M&M right after.

Michael follows them to the table, even more cramped now. Five new campers, unclaimed, arrived late because of road traffic. He tucks himself into the first opening he sees, shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow. Many inches too close in his opinion. 

“Travis,” Michael starts, thinking back to breakfast, “You’re claimed, right? You know who your godly parent is?”

“Yup, Hermes. God of Pranksters,” Travis says, stabbing his fork into a lettuce and turning to wave it at Lee’s table which is much more roomier. Lee catches the action and nudges a boy beside him with an elbow, snickering. The boy turns and rolls his eyes at Travis. 

“You like your dad, right?” Michael asks. 

A quarter of the cabin immediately stops talking and not really subtly turns to them. He’s pretty sure he’s breaking some sort of taboo. Not that it bothers Michael all that much. 

“Yeah, of course I do. He’s pretty cool,” Travis responds, rolling a cherry tomato around with a fork and not looking him in the eye. 

“Why?” It feels like everyone in the cabin is staring at them now, but even then Michael can’t stop.

“‘Why?’” Travis repeats, twirling the fork. Michael can’t help but notice Connor gripping his fork tighter and he has a vivid image of the boy stabbing it into him. Connor seems like the type. “He’s my dad. I think I’m supposed to like him.”

“But he never talked with you though, right? He has never been there for you. How could you possibly like him?”

Travis shrugs. “He’s a god. He’s probably busy.”

Michael frowns. His mom is busy too. Granted, busy with normal things like a job but she still finds the time to tuck his siblings to bed. Still finds the time to cook breakfast and dinner for them. Still finds the time to make movie nights. Still tell them every day, without fail, that she loves them. Is still there for him and his siblings. 

“So it doesn’t bother you? The way your relationship is with him right now?” Michael pushes. 

Travis fidgets with his strawberries, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like French. 

“What was—” Michael starts to say, but Connor glares, hard. Michael thinks he can see the promise of pain and suffering Connor will inflict upon him. Guess he’d just written his name in Connor’s bad book in Sharpie. 

“Look, Michael, it’s the social norm around here to not talk about our godly parents. Especially in ways that demean them.”

Social norm? Like he cares about something as trivial as that. 

“I just want—”

“Drop it, Michael. Travis’s relationship with our dad is none of your business,” Connor snaps. 

Travis is quiet, a hand resting on a cheek as he stabs into a strawberry, red juices spattering over lettuce and grilled cheese. 

“I want his approval. He’s my dad. What kid doesn’t want their parent’s approval?” 

Lee pulls him aside as lunch wraps up, leading them a bit away from the others.

“Michael, can you chill with the public grilling for a bit?”

“I just don’t get the worship around here for them though,” he argues. 

Lee falters, thinking about his words. “Michael, for some of us, our godly parent is the only one that cares.”

“Wait, are you saying your dad talks to you here?” Michael says. He doesn’t really know what the whole deal is going on with Lee and his mom, but he knows enough to know that Ms. Fletcher deserves the worst mom of the century award. 

Lee frowns a bit and shakes his head. “We talked once when I was claimed but other than that, no. Not really. And none of my half-siblings said anything to me about him either. But he’s already doing so much more than the other gods.”

“Really? Like what?” 

And Lee answers without hesitating, “He claims us as his.”

Michael recalls the talk before breakfast and the questions. About claiming. About waiting. About giving up. The bitterness in their voices. The longing. The yearning. And a sinking feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. 

“How long did it take for you to be claimed?” he asks. 

“I was claimed the second I stepped onto Camp. Apollo tends to be rather fast when it comes to claiming his children. The longest he ever went without claiming is one week. Demeter claims fast during the fall and winter months when Persephone is away. Hephaestus takes on average a month or so to claim.”

“And the slowest god at claiming?” 

Lee’s eyes narrow in thought. “Let’s see… Ares, Athena, Aphrodite, and Hermes seem to be the slowest.”

“How slow?”

“Slow as in… months, years.”

“Why?”

Lee looks away in discomfort. “Who knows? We shouldn’t speculate though. That’s just asking for a curse.”

He catches up to his cabin gathering for the next event and when he asks around about the claiming rate, he gets a mixture of answers. 

“Because we’re not their favorites,” Miranda says cheerfully, while arm-wrestling (and clearly winning) with a flushed Sherman. 

“Because we have to prove ourselves first,” the kid with the glasses states, eyes fixed on his shoes.

“Because they forgot we existed,” others say. 

“Because they want something from us.”

“Because they don’t want the responsibilities of a parent.”

“Because they don’t care.”

“Because they don’t think we’re worth it.”

“It’s because they suck ass,” one of the older campers says with dead serious eyes as Travis chokes on his strawberry, tossing the rest of the fruits into the fire, plate and all. 

“Shh! Celise, you’re gonna get cursed! Everybody, no bad-mouthing the gods or you’ll be turned into a snail and as cute as snails are, I like you all as humans.” 

The camper shrugs and whispers, it’s true . 

Trust me, they whisper next as they’re pulled aside by Travis’s frantic tugging.

They don’t care.

All of this is truly making him appreciate the gods more. 

Connor whistles for everybody’s attention, standing on top of a rock with a piece of paper. 

“It’s free choice from now until 3:30. Each counselor is hosting a different event. Travis and I are doing canoeing. Silena will be hosting horseback — that needs to be changed to pegasi — riding. Malcolm, you will take over for Annabeth since she isn’t here yet for the intro to Origami. Katie will be watching over the wall climbing. Lee, intro to guitar and lyres. Beckendorf, intro to welding. Pollux will be taking over Clarisse’s place at the arena for additional sword and archery lessons. And Castor will be teaching DIY soda. Here’s a map for each of you where everything is. Any questions? Yes, you, in the back. Hao, right?”

Michael takes the map, finds Lee’s name, finds the corresponding location, and then crumples the flimsy paper in his hands. 

But before he can walk away, Miranda is there in front of him and tugging him by the arm with a beaming smile. 

“Follow me for a sec? I want to show you something. It will be quick, I promise.” 

 [1:30 PM, Free Choice]

“Everybody gets a celestial weapon,” Miranda explains as they walk to the armory, “It KOs the monster and turns them into gold dust if it nicks them in the flesh just enough.”

Gold dust… like the gold dust Lee comes back sometimes covered in? 

She leads him to an unassuming building beside one of the cabins, opening the door and revealing shelves stocked full of weapons. Miranda strides to the back without a double-take. Like it’s normal for a summer camp with children to have a stockpile meant for war. 

“Do you have a preference?”

“I… uh…”

“Want some help? Based on what I saw in training, I think you’re better suited with something long-range. You looked uncomfortable with a sword. Aha! What about this?“

Then Miranda pulls out a rifle from one of the boxes. 

Michael stares at it for a full second, wondering if he’s imagining it, wondering if Miranda is kidding, wondering if this whole day is just one big funny dream. But, no, Miranda remains standing there with a big ol’ grin and rifle in hand and waiting for them to say something.

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“First of all, it’s a gun. Second of all, I share a room with two of my siblings who get into my shit all the time. Third, my mom would literally kill me if she sees me holding a rifle. And fourth, it’s a fucking gun .”

”It’s okay. This is a magic rifle. If you engage the safety and remove the magazine clip, it turns into a telescope.” Miranda demonstrates it for him and would you look at that. It actually became a telescope. “See? No problem. Mom won’t find out and plus! It actually works as a telescope! You can go stargazing with this thing and also kick any monster-butt.”

“What happens if it goes off and a bullet hits someone?”

“That’s okay too. The bullets are made of celestial metal. It can’t harm mortals.”

“But it’s a gun. And I don’t have a license.”

Miranda shrugs. “You can’t kill a mortal though. I don’t think you need a license if you seriously can’t hurt anyone. But if you don’t want a gun, then we can get you a bow. Apollo’s cabin is full of them. Come on.”

And as Michael follows Miranda out, he mutters under his breath, “Why are you all like this?”

Miranda laughs, spinning around her heels to face him. 

“And you’re like a completely normal kid. If you didn’t pass the barrier, I would have thought Lee brought someone fully human.” 

[2:20 PM, Free Choice]

“What is that?”

Lee does only a cursory glance at where Michael is pointing before going back to tuning his guitar engraved with his name and last initial on the Big House’s porch. “It’s Thalia’s Pine. Someone poisoned it unfortunately. A couple years ago a girl sacrificed herself to save her friends. Her father turned her dying body into a magic tree that protects all of camp. We’re trying to fix it, but it’s kinda slow-going right now.”

“That’s cool. That’s cool, but I’m talking about that .” 

And Lee really looks at where Michael is pointing at. A … well, he doesn’t want to say robotic because there’s no way a robot can move that fluidly, but fine. A metallic bull the size of an elephant is charging towards them, running full speed but going nowhere. It’s like an invisible wall is holding it back. Just a bit aways are five people in a line in full bronze armor and a variety of weapons with two more people running towards them. A girl with a gruff voice is ordering to get into position. 

“Is this some sort of play?” Michael asks, waiting for Lee’s answers but when there’s none, he turns to face him. “Lee?” 

Lee is pale. His guitar falls out of his hands as he stands. 

Michael tenses, alarmed. “Lee?” 

“Shit,” Lee curses for the first time ever. “Fuck.”

Now Michael is really worried. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

Lee whirs to face him and Michael doesn’t like the fear, the panic he sees in Lee’s usually calm eyes. 

“Michael, Beckendorf is in the forge. Get him first. Tell him there is a Colchis Bull at Half Blood Hill. Then go get Travis and Connor next — Hey? Michael, are you there?”

A second bull crashes into the invisible wall and they break through. They’re breathing fire. People are being set on fire. People are having their armor melted off. People are being burned. People are being trampled on. People are— 

“Michael!” Lee shakes him hard by the shoulder. “Don’t look at it. Just go run and get Beckendorf.”

Then he’s forcibly turned around and pushed away to the sound of terrified screams and dying cries.  

[3:00 PM, Free Choice]

So that’s a monster. 

And he’s expected to fight one of them? 

The guy who took out the first bull —Percy he thinks is the name — Percy did it with a little help with a flame-resistant man and Percy is about the same age as him. And Clarisse took out the second bull all by herself. So it’s definitely possible. With training and maybe a bow instead of a sword, Michael can do it. 

He can do it. 

…

Just because it’s possible, doesn’t mean it’s right. Doesn‘t mean it’s normal and fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

How can anyone not see how messed up this whole thing is? Monsters exist and they eat twerps like him? They’ll hunt him for as long as he lives? He’s always going to have to watch his back? He’s always going to have a weapon on him? This is what his day will be like every day? This is normal?  This is what being a demigod means? 

From the porch of the Big House, Michael watches Travis and Connor, amongst a few others with just as many beads on their necklaces, triaging the injured. Passing around nectar bottles and ambrosia brownies, helping them stand, checking their wounds all with an air of professionalism.

They were trained for this. They prepared for this. 

Michael doesn’t like that little fact. 

And speaking of little facts he doesn’t like, one just sits down next to him. When he’s not standing around like a dumbass, he goes to get more nectar bottles from the infirmary where a team of two people is running around tending to the patients. One is Lee. The other, and the clear leader, is the boy in blue scrubs and yellow flip flops. The kid barked orders left and right, telling people where to go, where to place the patients, how to treat the minor wounds until he can get there, basically keeping everything orderly and efficient, all with this air of confidence and calmness. It would have been very reassuring if the kid himself wasn’t this little, baby-faced 11-year-old.

And said 11-year-old is now sitting down beside him, downing a bottle of water then downing half a bottle of red Gatorade. 

Michael is starting to see why Lee doesn’t want his mom to know where Camp Half Blood is. If she ever visited and saw how the camp is being run primarily by pre-teens and teens… well… she’ll probably lose it. 

“Hey,” the kid says.

“Hey,” Michael replies, cautiously. 

Then, silence.

The most awkward silence he has ever experienced as they just sit side by side. 

The kid takes another sip from the Gatorade. 

“You’re Michael, right? You’re Lee’s upstairs friend?”

Michael bristles at the words. “How did you—“

“When the cabins burned down, we stayed at Lee’s apartment for a couple days,” the kid explains, staring at Travis and Connor milling about the battlegrounds. He fidgets with a bandaid on the back of his hand. “This is going to sound really weird, but I thought I heard his voice and your last names match so it might not be my imagination. But do you have a younger brother named Raphael?”

“Yeah, I do. How do you know that?” Michael says, trying and failing to tone back the defensiveness in his voice. God please don’t let Raphie be a demigod like him. 

The kid breaks into a big smile and it really makes him look like the child he is. “We used to be in a class together with Mrs. Rem. How is he by the way? Is he still watching Ninja Turtles? What did he think of the newest episode?”

Distantly, from a dinner chat a long time ago, Raphael mentioned a ‘Will’ who left class because of a stomach ache and was never seen again. He remembered Raphael being really worried. He remembered Raphael even saying that ‘Will doesn’t ever get sick’ and he remembered dismissively saying, “Don’t worry. The kid’s probably fine.” 

There’s no way the kid next to him is that Will. It has to be a coincidence. It got to be. Forget how this kid knows Raphael is a fan of Ninja Turtles. It’s a popular show right now. Somewhere, in this 6.6 billion populated planet, there’s got to be a Will and a Raphael who both go to the same school with a 5th-grade teacher named Mrs. Rem and both watch Ninja Turtles and both love Raphael the sai-welding turtle.

“You went to Hodgkins Elementary School?”

“Yeah.” 

There’s still a chance this is all a coincidence. 

“Your favorite turtle is Raph?”

“Well, it’s Leo now but I used to like Raph.”

Still a coincidence.

“And your name’s Will?”

“It is.”

Just one big coincidence. 

“And you left the classroom—” Michael wracks his brain — when, when did Raphael talked about the kid? — “Because of a stomach ache back in October?” 

For a minute, Will is silent. A minute filled with nothing but the whistle of the wind and commanding yells of campers. Will chuckles, low, as the plastic bottle crinkles in his hands. But when Will speaks, his voice is carefully blank, devoid of emotion. “Not exactly, no. I saw something strange at school that nobody could see and I called my mom, er, my aunt. But she raised me so I considered her my mom. She said to get out, even if I have to lie. So I did. A stomach ache was the easiest to fake. She picked me up from school. I think she was going to take me to camp. But on the drive here… a cyclops showed up and totaled the car. We ran. She told me to go ahead and get help. And I did. Without looking back. I found Lee and he took care of the cyclops but mom… ” 

The kid’s voice is still blank. Emotionless. 

“She died because of me.”

A bitter smile. 

“Because I was too weak. Because I was too scared.”

The bottle bursts in his hand, the red dripping off his hand and staining his scrubs. 

“No one is ever going to die because of me. Not again. Not ever.”

The kid leaves, running back inside when someone screams bloody murder and another voice yells, “Solace!” 

(“Will’s last name was on our vocab lists,” Raphael had said a long time ago. “Solace. It means comfort. That’s so cool. No way can I forget that.”)

Michael continues to sit there, watching the battlefield empty out one camper at a time until everyone injured has been attended to. 

(“She died. Because of me. Weak. Scared.”)

Weak. He understands. Too scared. He understands that too. He experienced all that today with the bulls. 

If it had been at home with his family, at school with his classmates, even at the park with random strangers, what would have happened? He would have fought, right? Adrenaline would have kicked in and he would do something. Or would he have frozen? Just like he did today? Just stood there, watching his family be stomped and kicked and lit on fire until someone kicked him into gear? (“Run, Michael. Don’t look back.”)

No. 

No. Fuck no. Three months. He has three months of this summer camp / orphanage / ‘let’s-all-become-child-soldiers-together!’ hellhole.  He has three months to kick this stupid deer in the headlights reaction. 

(“She died because of me.”)

He’s not going to let anyone die.

[5:00 PM, Free Time]

He finds them in the cabin, one slumped on the bed with an arm over his eyes and the other sitting at the foot with a sketch of the cabin in one hand and a pencil in the other. 

They’re talking about something secret because as soon as Michael slams the cabin door open, their conversation stops. He catches the last sentence though. Are the nightmares getting worse? And god, if these two are okay with everything that just happened today, just handled it all with a face that says this is nothing, then Michael doesn’t want to know what kind of nightmares are troubling them. 

“What’s up?” Connor or Travis, the one on his back, asks, trying and failing to get upright. The arm moves and tired eyes peek at him from underneath. 

“Is it Lee? Does he need us again?” the other asks, tossing the drawing under the bed. 

“You said, whatever problems we have, we can come to you two,” Michael starts. 

They nod together in sync. 

“Then I want you guys to train me until I drop dead. Now until the end of summer.”

[6:00 PM, Dinner]

He barely has his food on the plate when a bright light shines over his head. Flashy. Illuminating. Almost eye-blinding. Michael looks up, squints, and sees the sun with 21 arrows surrounding it, representing the sun’s rays. 

Distantly, he’s aware of a bored voice proclaiming him as a child of Apollo. But all he’s really focused on is his cabin’s, ex-cabin now he guesses, reactions. He can see all their faces down the line. Most are happy. They smile and cheer for him, patting on him on the back and congratulating him. But he can see it, beneath their grins, beneath the genuine elation, is frustration, jealousy, longing. 

(“It's been years.”)

Travis, with his pile of strawberries, bumps him in the shoulder with his own. “Hey, congratulations. Apollo cabin is a lot roomier than ours so you get to actually sleep on a bed.”

Connor nods, tossing an M&M bag into the flames. “Too bad you’re gonna miss the experience of being crammed like sardines on the floor. It’s actually pretty cozy.”

Michael frowns as he conjures up a PB and J sandwich exactly how Mom would make it, cuts it into halves, and toss it in . “Are you guys still going—”

“We’ll still help you,” Travis interrupts, but his smile is impish, borderline devilish.  “But—”

“It comes with a price now.” Connor follows with a just as sordid grin. “Two conditions. One, you have to help us with archery. We’re not bad but we’re not good either and could use a bit more work. Annabeth and I have this sparring contest every week to see who is more proficient in what weapon. She beats me every single time when it comes to archery, but that’s ending this year. And two, you have to be our inside man.”

“Inside man?” Michael asks, already kind of knowing what that means.

“Let us into your cabin. Help us set up pranks in your cabin. Tell us everything we want to know about your cabin. You know. That sort of thing,” Travis says flippantly. 

And before Michael can reject, accept, do literally anything, Travis turns around and walks to the table with this unbearably cheerful hum. “Will is going to regret ever messing with my diet.”

Connor falls in step with a fond smile. “But seriously, Will has a point. You need to balance your meals a bit more.”

For such nice people , Michael thinks as he’s corralled towards the Apollo table by an ecstatic Lee , they can be such dicks. 

[7:00 PM, Volleyball]

“Hey, Lee, when did the monsters start coming for me?” Michael asks as he twirls the volleyball in his hands once, twice and tosses it to Lee. In the background, Michael can hear the yells and cheers of the far more serious, far more competitive match going on. Apparently, there’s a tournament between the cabins and the winner gets bragging rights and no cabin inspection next month. 

Lee isn’t participating. “Our cabin is always clean and orderly,” he had said with pride, though that didn’t stop his half-siblings ( my half-siblings) from making a team and participating. 

“Eh? The monsters? Uh, l-last year,” Lee says, fumbling the ball just like he’s fumbling the lie. 

So it’s been more than a year. 

Michael bites his cheeks as he bends his knees and extends his arms to bounce the ball back.

“And you’ve been taking care of them all this time?” 

“Well, not all of them,” Lee admits, catching the ball with both hands. “A lot of them went away on their own.”

Liar , sings his guts. He’s lying . 

Because Lee is way too nice. Way too selfless. Way too noble to tell the truth that would most definitely hurt. 

“Why? Why didn’t you take me to camp earlier? When the monster started coming? Why now?” he bites out, just barely holding back the snarl. You could have saved yourself years of pain, years of trouble. 

“Because…” Lee looks over to the courts, to where Travis and Connor are arguing with Annabeth (the moaning myrtle girl, Michael realizes). Something about which team Percy should be on. 

(“Your dad is the god of Athletes. Your cabin already have an advantage.”)

(“Okay, but consider this, only Travis and I are claimed. Everyone else on the team could be anyone’s child. And your team is completely made up of god-tier and gifted strategists.”)

(“Your #4 is literally speaking ten languages. He’s got to be a son of Hermes.”)

(“That is a stereotype. Abraham could just be remarkably smart.”)

Lee’s eyes go back to him. “Because I wanted you to have a normal life, to know that there’s more to life than just this. Besides, I’ve been watching you for years. You learn how to do something like it’s nothing after a few minutes. It’s kind of ridiculous and I am lowkey jealous. But if you feel like you’re not ready, I can always—”

“Shut up, idiot. You’re not dropping out of school for me,” Michael grumbles, Lee’s stupid chuckle not at all comforting. 

“I heard you guys are in a war,” Michael says, “Are you fighting in it?”

Lee serves the ball over, high and easy to hit. “Yeah. It feels wrong not to.”

And Michael spikes it back as hard as he can. “But you’re going to college in a few months.”

Lee shrugs, easily leaning forward and kicking it back high into the air for another easy hit. “Julliard is close enough to camp.” 

Michael catches it, tucking it under an arm. “That’s not what I meant. What’s the point of going to college if you might lose an arm or leg fighting in this stupid war? You should just focus on school.”

Lee laughs of all things. “That’s nothing. Will fixed worse.”

Michael bristles at Lee's casualness. “Well, if you’re gonna fight, then I am going too.”

Lee laughs again, tenser this time. “You think your mom is gonna let you?”

“She lets you!”

“Because she doesn’t know what I’m doing. And I’m not the one living with her. Besides, do you even know what we are fighting for?”

“Of course, I do! The enemy is K—” Crap. He never got the full name or title of the bad guy. And somehow he feels like saying Cabin 11’s made up name isn’t going to make Lee take him any more seriously. “I’ll learn more about it. Besides, you’re a great guy. I’m sure you’re fighting for the good guys.”

“Michael, your faith in me is nice but getting involved without knowing the full story is dumb. You’re not fighting.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I —”

Lee’s face hardened the way it does when he’s mad or worried or dead serious. Like that one time Leo microwaved a spoon. Like when Raphael tried to jump down a flight of stairs for a dare. Like when Carly and Sam ran onto the streets without looking. And crap. Michael is 14, practically an adult. He shouldn’t be cowing under Lee’s hard stare anymore. But he is and he’s (slightly, only just slightly) scared. 

“No, you’re not,” Lee says, “Because I don’t want you to fight when you have so little experience. Because your mom will literally kill me if something, anything happens to you. Because something bad will happen to you if you do join this fight. So no. You’re not going to fight. You’re not going to participate. You’re only here to train and enjoy camp life.”

“Fine. Fine. I won’t,” Michael grumbles, ducking his head. “Sheesh, you make it sound like if I join, the camp is done for.”

The hard stare melts back into that familiar, soft, (almost) carefree aura with a shrug and small smile. “I just have a feeling. It’s good to trust your instincts.”

And my instincts are telling me right now that you need to quit. But Michael is pretty sure Lee won’t appreciate it and moves the conversation to the climbing wall and why it’s on fire. 

[9:00 PM, Campfire Song]

“Mom,” Michael says, the phone pressed against his ears. He looks out the window, watching the vibrant flame of the bonfire climb high into the starry skies and the circles of cheerful campers surrounding it. 

“Michael, I was wondering when you would call. How’s camp? Do you like it?” 

“Camp is…Camp is great. Lots of activity. Really unique. I—” I like it dies on his tongue. He doesn’t like it. He might have if there was a bit less training. Luckily his mother didn’t catch that pause.  

“That’s great! Made any new — Carly Yew, are those markers I see in your hands? You better not draw on the walls. Get some paper, baby, okay? Made any new friends?”

“A few.”

“You should invite them over! We can have a nice little movie night together.” 

Michael frowns as he recalls someone, somewhere, saying not to gather in more than threes outside the barrier. It attracts the monsters apparently and Michael isn’t about to test that. “They can't. They’re busy. They’re like—um—they’re head counselors, you see, and have a lot of duties.” Like practically running the camp but he doesn’t think Mom would appreciate knowing that. 

“Well, it’s nice to see you make friends even if they’re a bit older.”

Are Travis and Connor older than him? Possibly. They exude confidence that no normal teen has. Or maybe they have just been here for a long time. And that is all kinds of sad. 

His mom asks him about his day, what he did, if he has something he really likes, and for the next hour, Michael goes into a heavily censored, G-rated, parent-safe tale of his first day at Camp Half Blood. It could have been worse. On his way to the Big House to use the phone, he overheard an older boy telling a couple newbies how a kid fought a Minotaur on his first day here and a girl having to sacrifice herself for her friends. 

Wow, it would suck to be them. 

[11:00 PM]

He meets dad in his dreams. 

Michael doesn’t know why, but he thought Apollo to be a refined god. A serious god. A graceful god. 

Instead he sees a teenager sporting pilot shades and leaning on a flaming red sports car in the dingy parking lot of Camp Half Blood with the early morning sun just breaking the horizon. 

“Dad?” Michael says, (who else could it be?) but still not really sure. “Uh, Apollo?”

And the teen waves, flashing a smile that nearly blinds him. “Michael! It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Before Michael could react, the teen — Apollo — dad — pulls him into a crushing hug that knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Apollo is strangely… warm. But not overbearingly warm. Warm like first snuggling into bed under the covers. Plus he smells like laurel leaves, sweet and bright. And Michael has a vivid flashback of his mom — younger, much much younger —  in the hospital bed smiling at a man in his mid-twenties with a bundle of sheets in his arm.

Michael blinks as Apollo pulls away, holding him at arm's length and looking him up and down with a musing stare. 

“You resemble your mom more than me,” Apollo says with a nod, “Most of my children tend to take after my looks, but you’re different, Mike. I have to say, I like it! I can’t stay long. Godly matters I have to attend to, you know? Here, I got you a gift for making it so far in life. Tell Audrey I miss her and think sweetly about the time we spent together.” 

Apollo is pressing a guitar into his hands with his name engraved in the body and stepping back to get into his car. It’s exactly the same as the guitar Lee has except for the engraving. So not unique by any means. But it is a gift. And mom would kill him for rejecting a gift. It’s rude she says, but Michael doesn’t care about Apollo enough yet to give a fuck. Besides if Lee’s experience is anything to go by, this is probably the last time he’ll ever talk to his dad. He needs to make this moment count for something. 

“Wait.”

Apollo pauses just as the engine roars to life, purring sweetly and the window rolled down. 

“I want to ask for something else.”

Apollo blinks and Michael can see the inkling of annoyance in the young face, but Apollo nods and says without a lick of irritation in his voice, “Sure, shoot.” 

“I want you to spend more time with Lee.” Then Michael has a realization. “You know who Lee is, right? The oldest one in the cabin? About to go to Julliard? Want to become a teacher?”

Now Apollo is definitely irked, a telltale wrinkle in his brow. Michael can now add ‘gods’ to the list of people he can make pissed off. “Of course I know Lee, my little music enthusiast child. How could I not? But I’m a God, Michael. There’s only so much free time I have.”

“Then just a few minutes a week, or even a month. So he knows you care.”

Again a slight scowl, but it lingers for a few seconds more. 

“I do care but okay. Okay, I will.” Apollo shifts the car into drive still a little annoyed. Michael thought that was it. Any minute now he’s going to wake up and start the day, but Apollo sighs, leans back in the leather seat, and hangs an elbow out the window. “Michael, you’re so much like your mother. Caring. Gutsy. Compassionate. It’s crazy how much you resemble her. You’re going to do great things. You’re—” The annoyance drops and for a brief second, Apollo looks grief-stricken. And once again, Michael dreams of falling, of a bridge, of a boat wafting through a chasm of fire. But Apollo smiles that blinding smile, fond, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry so much about your family. They’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

Michael wakes up just as the car drives off, his gut itching. 

Apollo is lying to you.

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part VI

Pairing: Tech x Togruta!Reader, Wrecker/OC

Characters: Echo, Ik'aad, Tech

Warnings: None

Summary: Sometimes awkward is cute and sometimes it's just not

Previous Parts and Extended Universe can be found here

------

Y/N glances over at the ARC Trooper perched carefully at the edge of the examination table. He sits stock still, skin as pale as Durosian marble. It is only the near silent whir of the drives in his right arm that let her know he’s more than a statue. Even then, the Techno Union’s wizardry with his prosthetic is so good that she doubts a human ear would pick it up. 

She wants to spit every time someone mentions Wat Tambor’s name.  The socket arm and it’s connections are a marvel of Techno Union know how but it rips at her heart. They’d created such a device, a prosthetic that could offer quality of life to those in need,  only to use it to further progress the Separatist agenda. 

“You’re quiet today” she notes leaning her hip against the counter behind her as she takes him in. Echo is pale still, unnaturally so, but his cheeks aren’t nearly as sallow or as sunken as when he’d first arrived on base. His eyes are brighter, if not guarded. He’s stopped twitching when she touches him.  

Being away from Skako Minor was doing well for him but he needed time and that wasn’t something the GAR was likely to allow. She’d heard whispers of him joining a mission with Clone Force 99 very soon.

 On Coruscant she’d not been immune to talk of clone rights and she was quick to agree with those who spoke out for them. It made her uncomfortable that all her work was only to prepare a newly liberated prisoner of war to be forced right back into the field. Wrecker had tried to explain that this was the life they were, quite literally,  made for. The life they trained for from creation. It didn’t sit right still.

“They refer to you as Ik’aad.”

She cocks her head at the question.  It’s the first thing Echo has said since arriving in her part of the bay for his daily once over.  They’ve been doing this song and dance for nearly a week now. Like any good clone, the healing process was progressing remarkably quick and his injuries were already fading.  Granted those were ones Y/N could see. 

He was sober, quiet, speaking little most days and then without end on others, as if the words had built up during his time in stasis and they had to spill out or risk causing him to implode with the weight of them. 

While he hadn’t offered her many smiles he also didn’t seem to dislike her company. She could work with that. 

His observation though is curious. Of course, she knew who they were. For better or worse she’d earned more than a few looks as information about the Bad Batch had trickled through the base's ranks, and with it her name attached to the unit.

She spent more than enough time with Wrecker for a very specific set of rumors to begin circulating. The thought of the whispers she’d heard the other day in the mess made her cheeks burn. It hadn’t done much for her socially. Her new roommate seemed immune to them though and that was a comfort she was glad to take. The ARC trooper didn’t seem to mind much either, though he had his own bits of gossip that followed him. 

“I suppose they do”

Y/N glances at the bleak reminders of his time under corporate control. The cold, alloy of Techno Union metal sticking out starkly against Echo’s skin.

The neural access ports, unfortunately, had been woven so tightly into the neural pathways of the Arc Troopers brain that there was no way to seperate the two. The ones that had connected his lungs and diaphragm while in stasis were no better. They were to be permanent fixtures. While Echo had joked just the day before that some of his vode would be jealous of the look she had a feeling he was not fond of the modifications.

Rex had been a frequent visitor during his first few days in the medbay, almost constant in his devotion to his vod. Surprisingly, so had some of her other charges. Hunter had stopped by a handful of times and both Wrecker and Crosshair had frequently sat with him to distract while she worked. Today was actually the first day he’d shown up for his treatment and not had an escort. The ARC Trooper had left an impression amongst the Bad Batch and only time would tell if that was a good thing or not. 

Y/N moves slowly to start his vitals. 2-1B, the medical droid was kept on standby when Echo was under her care. She’d discovered early on that too much time under the droids watchful eye and its inability to take things at the troopers pace had a tendency to exacerbate the former POWs anxiety. Y/N was ok working without Too-bee’s assistance and taking a more languid pace if it made her patient comfortable.

“Do you know what it means?”

Y/N glances up at the trooper. “I’ve never thought about it really” she says, turning to gather supplies to clean and redress the few deeper lacerations the ARC trooper still had, places where there had not been enough skin to pull together to suture. 

She makes a small gesture with her fingers and Echo begins peeling his shirt off. It gets hung on the edge of his prosthetic and he struggles for a moment, frustration evident before he takes a deep breath and slowly uncouples it from the alloy. He folds the black shirt neatly and places it atop his armor as Y/N finishes laying out supplies on her work table and rolls it next to his perch. Slipping on gloves, she begins peeling spent bacta patches off, holding the skin taught as she does to ease the tug on his skin. “So, are you going to leave me in suspense or are you going to tell me?”

Echo likes the way she smiles at him. It makes what she does easier. He tries not to flinch as she removes the last patch. 

The engineers, the doctors, Tambor those who’d performed his modifications had looked at him like anything other than a science experiment, a tool, a profit margin. Y/N sees him as a person. She accommodates him. She’s learned quickly his ins and outs and she doesn’t push. She treats him like an individual. And she smiles. She smiles so bright and full that she lights the room, like star shine on a dark night. Her presence soothed him. She made him feel like he had choices and the power to make them.

“Baby. They call you Baby” the first time he’d heard the words slip from Wrecker’s mouth he’d done a double take.  Then he’d heard it from Hunter, and finally, Crosshair. It was a term of endearment he hadn’t heard from a clone before. The way they treated her was soft, even Crosshair who was rough and callous to the other troopers, the Regs, seemed to thaw, if only slightly,  for the little Togruta.

Y/N shrugs, “Hmm?” She hums plopping onto a stool and spinning around a few times before she rolls in front of him and offers him a shining smile, pearly incisiors peeking out. “That’s cute. You gonna call me baby too?” She teases.

Echo feels his cheeks heating. “Could I? Would that be... strange?”

Y/N shrugs again, “I don’t think so” she says motioning toward his bare chest. She takes a piece of bacta soaked gauze and waits for his nod before she begins cleansing the minor lacs and scrapes. Her touch is light as she moves. Echo’s eyes drift shut. Touch was still… touch was something novel and when he was given a bit of softness he was going to soak up every bit he could.

“Ik’aad” he tests the name out. He’s spoken so little Mando’a since his capture that it feels foreign on his tongue, not unpleasant, more like a long forgotten friend he needed to become reacquainted with.

When his eyes open back he’s greeted by an impish grin. “See that’s not so bad.”

He’s not sure if she is talking about the wound care or the nickname. He nods anyway as she pats the areas dry and applies fresh bacta patches, fewer than the day before.

“You know what I’ve got to do now?” She questions softly. 

This he did know and he feels his shoulders tense at the thought. The metal ports implanted along his skull and back had been placed prior to going into stasis. They allowed the Techno Union access to his memory’s as well as a means to keep his respiratory system functional. The skin surrounding the ports had healed but had never had a chance to callous or grow accustomed to the push and pull that movement caused. His freedom and sudden increase in activity had caused sores to develop around the ports themselves, the skin raw and chaffing. The doctors had all been in agreement that with time the skin would toughen and the sores would heal but in the interim it left him uncomfortable and required daily tending.

Y/N- Ik’aad, he corrects mentally, rolls her stool slowly around the exam table, letting her feet flop in front of her and pull herself around. He’s tense but he can’t help the weak tug at the corner of his mouth at her antics, she looks up and catches his eye with a knowing grin.

She stands, forgetting the stool in lieu of a more upright position. “Why do you think they call me Ik’aad?” She asks conversationally, trying out the word for herself,  as one hand falls to his shoulder Her movements allow him to telegraph where here next touch would land.  She did it the same way each time. Top to bottom. Left to right. It bred a sense of familiarity and, on the worst days, gave him points of reference for how long it would take. In the beginning she’d talked him through each step of the process until he’d asked her to stop. Since then she’d tried to distract him. They both knew what she was doing but neither found fault in it so she continued her chit chat and he continued to listen. 

Y/N begins moving a fresh piece of bacta moistened gauze around one port, cleaning the crust and debris that clung to the wound away. Echo tries to focus on her question and not the sting of the antiseptic as the gauze washes away the dried flakes of drainage.

“You’re small” he starts “like, you-could-fit-in-my-pocket-and-go-on-missions tiny”

Y/N giggles as she continues to work, “is that so?”

Echo shrugs, “you’re  kind of adorable too-“

“Not you too! You sound like Wrecker.” she growls playfully, “If you start telling me you want to pinch my cheeks I swear, Echo...” she threatens without any real threat.

“Nothing like that. You’re like- like- “ he looks for a word. He knows there’s one that fits but it eludes him. “I think you just have a way about you that makes them feel...” he shrugs.

“Well if you don’t know what they’re thinking what do you think? How do I make you feel?” It’s an honest question, born of genuine curiosity. Like the clones in the Bad Batch, he kept coming back to see her when any medic, clone or civvie, could do what she was doing.

“You make me feel warm.” He says without hesitation. “For so long everything was so cold, distant and you’re-“ he snaps his fingers and Y/N startles fingers pressing into the flesh where she was beginning to work at the next row of ports. “Vod’ika” he says firmly flinching at the press.

“Translation Echo?”

“Uhh, little sibling. Sister or brother. It’s interchangeable.” He explains. A smile splits his face knowing he’s finally placed the feeling she drew out of him and what he assumed the other as well-

“Y/N?” The question is followed by a sharp knock to the wall nearest the thick curtain that separates the room from the rest of the med bay. 

Echo and Y/N turn toward the familiar voice. Y/N gives him a questioning look and he nods.

“Come on in Tech? Is everything ok?” Y/N places a hand to Echo’s bare shoulder as she tosses the used gauze in a nearby bin. The clone watches curiously as Tech’s helmet, visor flipped up,  flicks ever so slightly from Y/N to where her hand rested than back again.

“I- I didn’t know you were busy. Everything’s fine.” He clarifies quickly. Even modulated, his voice is just a touch higher than Echo is used to. “I just wanted to see- I just thought I’d swing by”

“We were just finishing up” she turns back to Echo and motions to his shirt. “You good to gear back up”. He pulls the blacks on silently as he watches the two.

Tech doesn’t call the medic Ik’aad. It’s the first time Echo’s noticed. He also realizes Tech is rarely around when she is. Echo watches the engineer take a step into the room and again his narrowed eyes flick back to where Echo is seated.

“What can I do for you?” She questions peeling away gloves and turning toward the sink to wash her hands.   Echo notices for the first time something different in the tone of her voice, almost shy.

“Wrecker said” he hesitates “you were getting ready for your FAS cert test?  I came across a study guide that might help, if you want to use it that is?” He asks holding a pocket drive between gloved fingers.

Though he’s the one supposed to be here, Echo suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something. It’s like watching one of the shinies back in the day at 79’s approach a woman for the first time. It’s a dance with no music and Tech has two left feet. 

Y/N reaches up and toys with the end of a lek as she turns around. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Y/N is more quiet, far less verbose than Echo has become accustomed to.

“It really would be helpful. Maybe-“ she pauses. Glancing down, she seems to steal herself before her eyes travel back back up to the other clone “maybe you could help me study?”

The ARC trooper finds himself silently rooting for the other clone. She’d baited the hook and thrown it out there.  The way Tech’s eyes widen behind his goggles and the near panic that flares up is not lost on Echo.

“I’m- I’m really busy actually” Tech spits out quickly. 

Echo cringes as they both seem to deflate. He wonders how neither sees it in the other.

“Oh, ok. That’s- that’s really thoughtful of you.” Color flares in the togrutas cheeks “Again. I already said that didn’t I?” Her hip bumps against her tray table as she moves and she makes a small disgruntled noise as bacta splashes across her tac pants. “Kriff” she curses silently as she looks down and wipes uselessly at the spreading patch of wetness.

There’s towels on a rack along the wall and Echo watches Tech look at them but when he doesn’t move Echo does.

“Here, Ik’aad.” He grabs two and hands her one. Her face is flushed when she looks up. Embarrassed. She gives him a weak smile.

She presses the towel against the wetness soaking into her pants. “Have I told you you’re my favorite patient?”

“No. But I’m glad to hear it” 

Behind him he can hear Tech shift from foot to foot. Echo had given him a chance to come to her aide and he’d dropped the ball. When he glances back he catches Tech’s narrowed eyes. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be-. 

Echo can see the look in the other clones eyes and it isn’t particularly generous. He arches a brow back as Tech drops his visor.

“I’m going to leave this here for you, Y/N” Tech announces looking past Echo and setting the pocket drive down. 

Y/N waves him off. Avoiding eye contact as she balls the towel up and throws it in the hamper.

“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll come in handy.” She says puffing out a frustrated breath through pursed lips. Her attention goes back to Echo. 

“So now that my uniform is soaked, do you have plans for lunch?”

The ARC trooper shrugs, “I hadn’t planned anything. I’ve got to get some range time scheduled in later but I’m free for a bit.”

“Good. I’ve just gotta run by my room and change and then you can take me to the mess. You can keep telling me about how amazing I am.” She teases weakly. Her eyes widen as she looks past him and notices Tech still standing in the doorway.

“You can come too if you want but I understand if you’re busy”

He hesitates for half a second and Echo is sure he’s going to take her up on the offer. He can see it in the way he leans forward, the way his left hand clenches and unclenches that he wants to. 

“Maybe another time?”

Y/N barely manages a halfhearted “yeah, sounds good” before the engineer is turning on his heels and making his escape.

“I don’t think he likes me much,” she notes quietly after he’s gone.

Taglist: @skdubbs @pastelbunny1501 @my-own-oracle @underworldqueen13​ @obiorbenkenobi​ @adritozier @dafodddil @daniellajocelyn

[its-pronounced-quoassoint]

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 7

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter Features: Patton centric storyline, YouTuber!Patton, discussions of a fake fanfiction about Reddie

This Chapter Warnings: swearing, falling from a building, fighting, allusions to anxiety, a transphobic comment, fainting/passing out, use of the word slut(1 time), sympathetic Deceit and Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post)

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

This chapter is long, I didn’t expect it to be so long and to take so long, but this quarentine is not going so good for me. I’m gonna try and get another chapter out soon, but we’ll see. Sorry it’s so long, but I don’t want to split it in half. Anyway, please all of you stay safe and virus free!

First Previous Next

Chapter 7-Blank

"Okay, this is our last shot to figure something out about Virgilius before we can't predict when he's gonna show up again!" Thomas yelled.

"Correct. We have to make this count!" Logan agreed.

Patton and the others nodded and continued running to the sight of the breach. It was a nice Wednesday afternoon and Virgilius had apparently decided to let them finish the school day before attacking. As October drawled on the nights became just a little chillier with the ocean breeze swirling through town. Patton was naturally a faster runner than the others so Logan had assigned him to racing ahead, getting to a high vantage point, and helping him assess the situation.

Patton rounded a street corner and arrived at the little crossroads in the city where many restaurants had outdoor seating and a lot of public activity. Now, the usually quiant area, had a giant rip in space and time the was pouring out monsters like an open wound. Patton summoned his bow, spotted a perfect building roof just next to him, and shot and arrow. As the arrow flew to the roof, a pink lasso type of string extended from it, and once the arrow landed, Patton was pulled into the air.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, when the heck did you get grappling hook arrows?!" Remus shouted.

"Training on Sunday. I found out I could summon them!" Patton replied.

"If you had been there you would have seen it." Roman remarked.

Patton reached the roof and climbed over the ledge, running across so he faced the square. Monsters were piling out of the breach and pedestrians were all around, cowering and screaming. Patton knocked an arrow back and began firing at the breach.

"Yeah well," Remus paused. "I was busy."

"What could you have possibly been doing?!" Logan asked.

"More like who could you have been doing." Roman mumbled.

"Heard that." Patton chastized.

"Are you slut shaming me right now?" Remus asked incredulously.

"I dunno are you being a s-"

"Shut it you two!" Dee barked.

"What do you see?" Logan asked.

"Pedestrians are everywhere, it doesn't seem like the minions are engaging with them, but if we don't hurry I think they might." Patton explained, firing another arrow.

"What's the call?" Roman asked.

The rest of the Rangers entered the square and looked to Logan expectantly.

"Are they looking to leave the square or are they staying here?" Logan asked.

"Staying here."

"Alright. Here's the plan. Green and Yellow, you two handle the minions around the outside, any of the ones that look like they're ready to attack civilians or ones that might leave the square. Black and Red, you two cover the breach. I'm going to try and direct civilians out of the square and behind the Twisters. Pink, I want you to cover my flank so the others don't have to worry." Logan explained. "Got it?"

Everyone gave an affirmative response.

"Okay." Logan nodded back.

The Rangers broke off. Remus and Dee ran in opposite directions, handling any straggling monsters that strayed from the rest. Roman and Thomas ran forward, slashing through the monsters that hoarded around the breach. Logan raced to the restaurant side of the sqaure, and began helping pedestrians up and getting them running to the alley that let out behind Twisters.

Megan's working today. Patton remembered, his stomach dropping a little. She's in that Twisters. Patton didn't want to think about her possibly getting hurt and continued to try and focus on helping Logan safely transport the pedestrians, but he found it more difficult than usual.

"Hey, so, did you ever come up with a new name for these things?" Remus asked.

"What?" Logan scoffed.

"I hate the word minions, you know that. Those yellow demons plague my nightmares. So, can we please think of something else!" He whined.

"I think just referring to them as monsters is fine." Logan replied.

"That's because you have no imagniation!" Roman, ever the one for dramatics, accompanied him saying this with a slash of his sword and triumphant stance.

"I have-" Logan stooped down to help a small child and their mother out of their hiding place and directed them to the twisters. "an adequate amount of imagination."

"Thinkin' about Patton without a shirt on, is not imagination." Remus sighed.

"Green!!" Thomas, Roman, and Dee scolded.

Patton tried his best to stay focused on helping protect the pedestrians, but he found it more and more difficult, however he didn't think the others' conversation had to do with it.

"Anyway, back to what I was saying earlier, I hate the word minion I say we call them something like, Witchlings!"

"Witchlings?" Thomas asked. "Explain."

"Well ya know, Dragon Witch, Witchlings. It sorta works." Remus shrugged.

"Can't we just stick with monsters?" Logan sighed.

"No!" Remus practically howled.

"Patton how does the breach look now?" Roman asked.

"Um," Patton turned. "Monsters are coming out much slower, and you've lessened the amount quite a bit, but I wouldn't take any chances."

"That was the last of the pedestrians." Logan informed. "Green and Yellow, join me and close in around the breach. Pink, I want you to take over for those two."

"On it!" Patton replied, lowering his bow and searching the sqaure.

He assumed the others were following Logan's orders and tried not to worry. Patton found a monster and pulled an arrow back, firing directly between its shoulder blades. The monster turned to ash. Patton looked around again and found another straggler heading for one of the restaurants.

"This looks like the last of them!" Thomas called.

"Okay, stay on your guard everyone, we all know what happens next." Roman said.

"Do your best to recall anything that happens, all of this interaction could be important." Logan reminded.

Patton affirmed the directions and turned his attention back to lookng for any monsters that left the pack. Then a chill went down his spine. Patton stiffined, the hair on his neck stood up and a bad feeling washed over him. Something is wrong.

"Heya Pink. We don't really get to talk much do we?" A dark voice said behind him.

Patton whipped his body around and came face-to-face with Virgilius. His crown even more daunting up close. The bad feeling only got worse. It was unnatural. Wrong. Patton wanted to get away as fast as he could. To his legs that apparently meant stepping back far too much, tripping on the side of the building, and falling.

He screamed. The wind rushed by him and he felt weightless as he fell. He wasn't thinking. All that ran through his mind was that feeling of uneasy wrong that hit him in the chest. It spread and overwhelmed his senses. His unfocused manner and inability to grasp the situation only made him more worried.

Then the wind stopped. He was in someone's arms so quickly he felt whiplash in his neck. His eyes were still unfocused but he could see and register Remus's green armor. Patton pulled in closer to Remus and grasped what he could.

"Pat are you okay?" Remus asked.

"I-" Patton paused. "yeah, I-I think I am."

Patton released Remus from his hug and allowed him to set him down. The feeling was lessened, but not completely gone. It was almost like phantom pains, not his feelings, but the affect someone else's feelings had on him.

"Aww Pink, why'd ya leave so soon. I was just getting started." Virgilius practically cackled from the roof.

Patton turned back up to him. His eyes caught the gaze of the six purple ones and he tried to read any emotion behind them. Nothing. Unable to see any of Virgilius's other features, Patton tried to focus on his posture. Relaxed, almost lazy.

Patton's attention was torn away. He felt a content and calming feeling push into him. It was frantic though, as if someone was trying desperately to make him feel good again. To take away the fear that Patton worried could consume him. When he registered the arms wrapped around him Patton turned to face Logan who was holding him tightly. Logan buried his head into Patton's shoulder. He wasn't used to Logan hugging him. Typically in times of distress one of the two would place a comforting hand on the other's forearm. This hug though, it was new and certainly welcomed. Patton realized he should proabably hug back, and did so with great enthusiasm. However, almost right away Logan let go.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice level, but on edge. "I-I suppose I was scared. I'm not entirely sure why though, even if Remus didn't catch you, with your armor being so protective you would have suffered a broken bone or two at the very worst. It's illogical for me to feel so worrisome over such a fall."

"Aww." Patton reached out to hold Logan's forearm like he had done so many times before. "Guess I'm just turning you into a big ol' hugger huh?"

"I wouldn't have phrased it like that, but I guess more physical affection is something I have been growing more accomadated to. Especially with you." Logan's voice had grown more shaky as he said this, but it only made Patton's heart melt.

"That's friendship my dear Blue." Patton chuckled.

It was quiet for a little bit too long.

"I'm sorry am I too far away, or did Kirby here just friendzone this poor guy?" Virgilius yelled from his vantage point.

"What?" Patton squeaked a little more than he would have preffered. He looked over to see the other Rangers in various states of frustration.

"We don't have time for this." Logan scowled. "Red!"

"Right!" Roman let his hand fall from where he had it on his forehead. He looked up to Virglius. "Prince Virgilius! Your reign of terror ends here! You've done nothing but wreak havok. The terrorizing of these people stops today!"

"Uh-huh, okay, and what makes you think that? Hm? You haven't stopped me in the past, and nothing about today makes your odds any better. What could possibly make you think today is the day?" Virgilus yelled back.

"Well-"

"What did you think about Richie and Eddie leaving?!?" Remus called up to him.

"What are you doing?" Roman turned on his brother.

"Trust me." Remus said.

"What?! No, why would I trust-"

"Roman, trust him." Dee cut in. "We talked about this we know what we're doing."

"I'm sorry what?" Virgilius asked.

"The last chapter was posted yesterday. I'm sure you read it." Dee stated, Patton didn't like how calm he was.

"Richie and Eddie left Derry, together. With the others." Remus began explaining. "It came out of nowhere. What did you think of it though? Be real."

"I-I-" Virgilius pulled his hands to his chest and stepped back. "I don't know what you're-"

"Yes you do." Dee stopped his rebuttal. "Downright ended and we know you read it. Just tell us what you thought."

It was quiet.

"Guys, this isn't-" Roman started.

"I liked it." Virgilius said, albiet hesitantly. "I know a lot of people in the comments weren't too pleased because it seemed like leaving Derry diminished the whole point of their recovery together. If they were just going to leave anyway, why spend so long trying to regain the love for the things that they had before."

It was silent again.

"But I thought it made sense." Virgilius continued. "Richie and Eddie spent a lot of time trying to reconnect with their town, but it only really made them want to go back to the past. When things were easier. Not go forward with the new lives they wanted to start together. Being together made it different. It made them realize how moving on and away from Derry wasn't running from their past, they had already accepted the past for what it was. Instead, leaving Derry together was a way of starting a new. Not burying the past, but no longer letting it affect them."

The air was still. Patton had no idea what to do other than think, I need to read this fanfiction apparently.

"So you figured me out!" Virgilius stirred them from their dazes. "What was the point of that? You got me, good for you, what are you doing just rubbing it in?!"

"No!" Dee stopped him. "I swear we're not. We-uh-we were curious. I mean, I never read fanfiction, but the ending to that one stuck with me and I've been trying to figure out why. It just seemed like a pointless build up to some kind of half-assed epiphany. Like the writer had tossed the last six chapters out the window. I was so confused about why she went that way."

"And I thought about the same thing as you!" Remus cut in. "It made sense to me when they left, it just felt more like they were leaving becuase they didn't know how to be together in a town where they didn't feel loved. Derry didn't love them and they loved each other too much to let the town get in the way. Leaving was their best chance at being with each other, being where they wanted to be."

"They just wanted to be happy together." Virgilius seemed to agree. "It didn't make sense to stay somewhere that was training them to stay apart. Being together was what made them happy. All they really wanted was each other and the rest of the Losers' Club."

Another beat of silence.

"Virgilius!" Dee got his attention. "I know we're supposed to be fighting, but I don't want to. Whatever you've been told about us, about how we're liars and cheats, it isn't true. Uh. . . to an extent. We're not perfect, but I'm sure whatever is going on up there, we can help you with."

"He's right!" Patton decided to step in. "We aren't always the best, but we try to be. I don't know what's going on with you, but I can tell that something isn't right. He means it when he says we can help. We help each other, and we help ourselves. We'll be here to help you too."

It was still again. Patton thought he could feel the exhaustion coming off of Virgilius. The weariness grew as they talked to him. It was ridiculous though to think that, how could he sense the prince's emotions from that far away. Patton couldn't see his face, so why did he feel so tired of the fighting. It wasn't his tire though, it wasn't like Logan's exhaustion, or Roman's, or any of the other Rangers'. It was foreign, and strong.

Virgilius screamed.

It was close to hellish. All of the Rangers went to cover their ears and block it out. Patton kept his eyes trained on the prince. He tried desperately to see what was happening, only to find a thick, black, inky aura beginning to surround him. It pulsed and expanded, circling Virgilius's body. Virgilius began to rise into the air, his arms and legs limp, his face still shrouded in the shadows of his crown. His eyes were no longer a glowing purple. Virgilius's body began floating to the ground, slowly and steadily, moving with the aura.

His feet his the ground and the aura exploded. It covered the entire square, encompassing everything in a shroud of blackness. Patton could still see, but it strained his eyes as he tried to find Logan's arm to hold. The screaming stopped suddenly.

"You insufferable brats!!!"

Patton looked to the source of the voice and realized he was no longer standing. None of the Rangers were. The only one standing now was Virgilius.

"Do you know how long it has taken to perfect this thing?!! Perfect my army?!!" It was a woman's voice Patton realized. The voice was domineering and overbearing with a lower undertone that followed, like it was being echoed by a demon.

Finally Patton got the strength to look up at Virgilius. He sucked in a breath of shock as he saw the hood had falled, the crown now being the only thing on his head. He could see Virgilius's face! Patton began attempting to burn it into his memory. His jaw was round, not very defined, his cheeks were a little puffy, but not as much as his own. His cheekbones were very defined however, almost unnaturally so. The first pair of eyes were small, they sat about eye brow level, then the main set of larger eyes, and finally the smallest set right below the middle ones. The outline of his eyes was like his cheekbones, unnaturally sharp. His hair fell to the left of his crown, down to the center of his middle set of eyes.

Virgilius's eyes aren't glowing purple, Patton remembered. He stared up into Virgilius's eyes. His irises were a bright angellic white and his pupils a darker than night black. It was just as unnerving as before.

"Oh I thought I had seen the last of you but you're just so persistant aren't you! It's stupidity is what it is!! It's not human nature, it's not being good people, it's not trying to help those who can't help themselves!! It's stupidity!!!" The voice screamed. "You're all so stubborn and stupid!!!"

"Ngh-" Patton heard Thomas from just a few feet away. he was shuffling around, likely trying to get to his knees. "You're going to lose! And this boy that you're using as a little pawn isn't going to be yours much longer. He's not weak and you're not in control."

"Oh . . . you're not new." The voice replied, almost bored. "How dissappointing. You won't last very long you know. And these kids you've got as the new Rangers, they aren't going to last either. You may be stubborn enough to stay alive, but you're stupid enough to keep fighting."

"And you're weak." Dee said with a strength Patton wished he could muster for himself. He begged and pleaded for his body to do more than look on.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me you sick bitch!" He yelled. "You're using him! Forcing him to fight us because you can't do it on your own. He's going to leave the twisted hold you have on him one of these days and there's nothing you can do about it. You won't even get down here yourself to fight us!!!"

"Dee-" Patton heard Remus struggle to speak.

"Boy, do you know how many worlds I've conquered? How many civilizations I've made my own?! Believe it or not, I don't care all too much about handling this planet on my own. There are other, more important places for me to be." The voice cackled, it sounded so much like Virgilius, Patton wanted to shrink away. "I don't care about Earth enough to fight for it in person. I can leave that to my little Works-In-Progress. Like this one. This place is perfect training for things like him."

"You can't keep doing this very long." Roman grunted. "We will stop you!"

"Oh please kid. I've fought much worse than you. You're nothing! At least the last Red Ranger was something worth fighting. She was certainly an opponent for my experiments. You though, you don't even come close." She snarled in return.

"Then why are we still alive?! Why are we still here, fighting you!" Logan huffed, clearly straining.

"Now Blue, your Ranger has always been something. Never the same really. I have to say, having a level headed one is a change of pace, but being the smartest in a room means nothing if you can't command respect! You hold yourself like even you can't stand the way you are. You act like you're on a higher level of thinking than others, but really you're just as much of an indiscisive mess as everyone else on this pathetic planet! You don't understand your feelings, you pretend you care only to know deep down you would do anything to be known as the smartest in the room, and to top it all off you're not even a real boy!!"

"Shut up!!!" Patton let out the words, not even realizing they were his own, but it was how he felt.

"Now here's our fighter. Pink. Unexpected sure, but then again, the hell you put yourself through in our own mind is much worse than I could ever really do. I'll give you props for that." Her voice was drowning Patton's ears. He was so angry, he just wanted her to shut up. "In fact, I'll give all of you a little credit. I've certainly thought about going the tear-them-apart-from-the-inside route, but you all are so self-destructive, you do it on your own!"

She was going on, but her words were muddled in Patton's head. He didn't know what she was saying and didn't want to. Then an idea came to mind. Patton tried his hardest, pulling all of his strength and will, he just needed to shut her up. He needed to do something other than sit there. He felt the determination bubbling inside of him, he felt the fear but he channeled, tried to force that fear to make him fight, not run. Patton summoned his bow. It felt so heavy in his hand. Everything was heavy, pulling him down, prying to keep him down. He lifted his torso, fighting the aching it gave him. Patton pulled his arms up, summoning an arrow, and knocking it back.

"Sorry Virgilius, but you gotta go for now." He said, it felt like he was yelling but only a whisper came out.

Then he fired, straight for the crown. In the blink of Patton's eyes the crown had been knocked to the ground. The black aura was gone, Virgilius collapsed to the cement, his eyes purple once again. Patton watched as the world tilted to the side, dimming. His head hit something hard, but he barely registered it.

It was black.

Virgilius scrambling, grabbing for the crown.

Black.

Virgilius again, until the boy disappeared.

Then fuzzy black again. Not like the ink. This blackness was welcoming, not overwhelming.

Patton felt a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes again and saw Logan, his mouth was moving but there was no sound other than the ringing. When did the ringing start? Patton asked himself. Logan looked so terrified. Patton didn't like that expression. Suddenly Thomas came into view, he was also speaking, but it was nothing Patton could hear.

Then finally, the fuzzy black. Patton realized he didn't like calling it black. His world wasn't black. That black, inky terror wasn't in his vision. It was more blank. That's the word, blank. Blankness. A blank world.

Patton let a smile fall on his face. He was okay with everything being blank. Just for a bit.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors @maddarc @pheonix-inside-reblogs @thisismysanderssidesblog @almost-all-my-ships-are-gay @mostpeopleannoyme @the-smol-est @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @nadja-chamack16 @too-bi-too-function @rainbowbowtie @mistypelt1234 @tricksterangel25 @authorized-trash @echocw @stripestar128128 @coffee-mugz @slitherynchicken

[chibimyumi]

Dear @lunitamoon​​,

First of all, I am sorry it took so long to get to you, but thank you very much for your sweet compliments! The day you sent the ask was great, and so is today. I hope your life is good to you too.

But now without further ado, your question.

Uchikawa Reo

I think Reo is a very good actor. My first opinion of him when I saw him in Noah’s Ark Circus 2016 was that he has a lot of talent. Some of these talents were not polished yet, (his singing being one example, but given his young age I couldn’t possibly blame him), while other talents were already polished to a sparkling gem. When people talk about Reo, it is usually “cuteee, so tiny!!!” or compliments of the like. His looks make people shove his remarkableness as an actor under these irrelevant external qualities. That is a shame, so please allow me to highlight a few things that are remarkable about this boy.

Character interpretation and understanding

I think Reo understood the character of O!Ciel very well and he was able to deliver many of the nuances even his first time in the role. When hastily interpreted, O!Ciel’s character runs the risk of being taken for nothing but cranky, sulky and haughty. Reo however, even at the age of 12 managed to see that these three obvious traits have a much deeper root: ‘doneness’. O!Ciel is done with his butler’s sauciness, done with people around him imposing their opinions on him, done with the world. Uchikawa Reo managed to capture this fatigue quite well.

In the scene where Soma is altogether a bit too clingy, I think many would think O!Ciel would push the prince away or slap him away. Reo however, did not. He was trying to pull away Soma’s hands, but he never showed antagonism. Just doneness. Regardless of whether O!Ciel does or doesn’t see Soma as his ‘big brother figure’ and ‘friend’, he does care about him. Even when Reo-bocchan said: “I’m exhausted because of you,” there was no callousness in his voice; just irritation.

Reo managed to find a beautiful middle ground between ‘warm’ and ‘cold’ for O!Ciel, and that is exactly what I believe our Trash Baby Lord is. That is a lot more nuance in character study than I could possibly expect from most actors, let alone a 12 year old one.

Another example of Reo’s great understanding of his role is in the scene where he questions his butler whether he would be able to bring them to Baron Kelvin’s manor within an hour. Here he raised an eyebrow as he spoke. This raised eyebrow is very significant.

In the post ‘That Butler, Punchable‘, I discussed in detail how Sebastyun is constantly being very snarky at his master, presumably so because he did not consider the boy worthy of his full respect. In the scene of this example however, O!Ciel has earned the demon’s full respect, and he knows it.

Raising an eyebrow, O!Ciel shows that he has reestablished dominance as master, and that intellectually he is on the same playing field as the demon. He knows what he is doing, and unsurprisingly, the question asked was thusly phrased as a rhetorical one. Hence I did not translate this line as: “can you?” but instead as “you can, right?” Through this nuance, Reo-bocchan shows a great level of confidence and his grasp over the case.

Something else remarkable about 12-year-old Reo is his body-language. In the showdown between him and Baron Kelvin, Reo knew very well how to deliver his actions and the tension of the scene to even the people in the furthest back of the theatre. He takes his time to carry out every movement with meaningful decisiveness. One powerful kick. Re-assume stance. Walk behind his victim. Trap him under his foot. Point the gun at him. Had Reo just kicked Kelvin and stood on him in one consecutive movement, then the impact would have been broken.

I am not sure whether this was intentional, but before Reo pointed the gun at Kelvin, the hand that held the weapon was relaxed, which meant it would not attract attention away from his footwork. Only when the footwork was finished did Reo reveal his gun again from underneath his cape, effectively re-shifting attention back to the weapon when that should be the central focus again.  In theatre where audiences don’t view the production through edited and selected footage, it is vital that actors know where they should draw attention to, and reversely, where not to. Reo did well.

Reo’s natural flair for comedy is also noteworthy. O!Ciel’s character’s funniness is mostly his insane cuteness and inability to can at times; not because he has funny remarks to make. Trying too hard to be funny is a big theatre/movie sin, but Reo is luckily no sinner

As demonstrated above, Reo has an excellent understanding of his role and is careful in maintaining it even when the musical calls for comedy. Reo employed a very advanced technique of achieving comedy; namely discrepant solemness. He does not loosen up or start monkeying around; instead he maintains his usual up-tightness while tricking Aberline into saying his own name wrong. The brilliancy in this scene was not just Reo’s ability to employ this advanced comedy technique, but also that the nature of this skit was perfectly in character for this insidious, manipulative brat.

In Tango on the Campania Reo filled most of the ‘space for growth’ he still had in the previous musical. Even though Reo’s body language on stage was already great in Noah’s Ark Circus, he did have the tendency to stand idle when the scene’s focus was not on him. In the latest musical however, Reo would not forget to also act when he was in the background.

His singing also largely improved, and was able to prolong his notes as well as transitioning between the notes. He still had trouble hitting the highest of notes, but his voice would no longer die off mid-way in its ascending.

Fukuzaki Nayuta

I think Nayuta is a great actor too, and personally a seemingly very underrated gem. In the first run of the Lycoris that Blazes the Earth (2014) Nayuta was admittedly not the best actor ever seen in theatre history. However, he did up the game for Ciel actors even at the time. Acting style is more preference-bound, but undeniably Nayuta’s singing was more solid than any past Ciel performer before him. Despite him having outclassed past Ciels’ singing, Nayuta received a lot of hate from fans, most amounting to: “I can’t watch this, he is too ugly.” (Yes, very constructive, very legit. Ughum. The Kurofandom never fails to remind me how so many are here just for the pretttiiiiiiessss >_>)

In 2015, Nayuta’s voice was actively dropping, sending him in a constant swing between up-and-down. I don’t have experience with a dropping voice, but I heard from everyone who did that it is incredibly hard to control your voice in speaking, let alone singing. And yet, though his voice was rough at all times, Nayuta did manage to hit all the tones. I find that very impressive. I think technique-wise, Nayuta is the strongest singer among all Ciel stage-actors so far. I haven’t heard his singing after his voice-change was complete, but I can imagine him having become a very good singer now. His capacity for control over his voice is superb, after all.

Nayuta’s acting is very subtle but convincing. When Nayuta-bocchan was in his cage, he even added some little movements of the hand that would not be in people’s usual expectations given the situation. To me, this little quirk seemed to convey how despite already having hit rock bottom, the last straw had only fallen just now. This boy is not just scared and desperate, he is murderously angry and resolute.

Nayuta’s subtle and yet convincing body-language can be seen throughout the musical. To demonstrate what I mean by ‘convincing’, I wish to point at Tango on the Campania. Compare Nayuta’s shaking to the headbanging of the stand-in for O!Ciel... Nope. (This actress is not a child, so I can be harsher.)

Again, Nayuta’s acting is subtle, but it does mean it is easily missed, especially in a live theatre. (’Overacting’ is obviously a thing (see demonstration 1 above ⇈), but to the people who initially criticised Furukawa for “moving around too much”, that’s the theatre medium for you. Theatre was not made to be recorded and viewed in close proximity. Moving any less will basically be invisible in a theatre (see my analysis of Tamaki’s performance as Snake).)

Enough side-tracked, back to Nayuta. In the scene where Nayuta-bocchan just woke up, he performed the panic dying down slowly expertly. We can tell that the shaking and heavy breathing really got the better of him, but that the boy was actively trying not to show his butler.  This was probably not visible live, but we have footage of it, so let us savour the panic-dying-down for what it is.

Though I might go as far as to say Nayuta might be better suited as a film-actor than theatre-actor, what was not missed on live audiences was this iconic scene below ⇊ when it finally dawned in O!Ciel that he had been chasing the wrong tail all along.

The atmosphere he created was incredibly tense, and we could practically hear the gears grinding and suddenly coming to a shocking halt. Bravo. It is ultimately for this scene that I think Nayuta would make a phenomenal stage-actor with just a BIT more stage-oriented instructions from the director.

Another scene that also conveyed the tension excellently was when O!Ciel was putting up with the Viscount. Nayuta knew better than put on an insulting high-pitched voice in parody of “a girl’s voice”, instead he minded the intonation of speaking and subtler mannerisms girls are socialised to perform.

When the Viscount really got way too close, Sasaki’s acting was incredibly flamboyant and loud, and yet it never threatened to overshadow Nayuta’s performance. Nayuta knows very well how to keep people’s attention on him even when he doesn’t have lines to say. When the Viscount turned Nayuta-bocchan around, the boy’s facial expression spoke voluuuumes.

Sakamoto, Nishii and Tanaka

I don’t have footage of them, and I am not going to get them legally or illegally, so I will include no visual examples of them in this post.

I don’t want to be harsh on children, they all did their best I believe, but do allow me to say that I am not very enthusiastic about their performances.

Sakamoto’s performance of Ciel was not very memorable, but I think it mostly has something to do with his part in the script just not being memorable at all. To sum up; Ciel in ‘Friendship’ received some guests from Japan, played chess, and stared wide shifty-eyed until the case solved itself. Sakamoto’s singing was decent, though. I wish they capitalised more on that.

Nishii... I think many people were initially especially enthusiastic about him because he did not “look like Vincent Phantomhive”. He did his best, I could tell he had fun in the performance, but whatever acting-talent he might have, the musical never gave him any chance to shine. That musical gave his character ZERO nuance. Nishii’s singing was very unpolished, and in the mere 3 weeks of audition time, there was also no time to get it polished. But then again, the same goes for the singing of most of that cast.

Tanaka... I could tell he did his best, but perhaps he was doing his best not to f*ck up a bit too hard. The songs in this musical were rather challenging, and Tanaka always seemed very tense as he was trying to chase the notes. It was like he was desperately clinging to his spot within a safety-zone, which ultimately meant he didn’t explore any potentials outside the range of monotony. When it comes to acting, it also seemed like cranky outbursts were the only emotion he dared touch upon.

So that was that! Thanks for reading!