#call this a prompt. a nudge. a wisp of an idea if you will

[elvisqueso]

Zutara would make for a really good Tristan & Iseult AU, just sayin'. Just letting you know.

[scribbling-dragon]

I dunno, if you're still accepting prompts/ideas...

But... maybe little tango/jimmy beauty and thebeast? Mr. Canary going to his demon coalminer while his village is actively hunting demons because of past conflicts-

this was actually so so much fun to write, so i hope you enjoy it!

the canary and his flame

summary:

“And I keep telling you, Lizzie, there’s nothing to worry about, really.” He smiles at his friend, ignoring the frown she gives him, crossing her arms. “I mean it.”

“Uh-huh, and the stories about the monster in the woods aren't true? You and I both know that it killed-” she cuts herself off with a sigh. “I get that you like going out there, that you two did that a lot, but you don't have to keep doing that. All you're doing is putting yourself in danger, that’s no benefit to anyone.”

(ao3 link)

(3,123 words)

He pats his bag once more, resting firmly against his hip, checking that all of the contents within are safely secured. The latch of the bag holds firm, buckle glinting in the light as he steps through his front doorway, out into the midday sun. He squints a little as he emerges, shielding his eyes to peer up at the sky, checking the weather.

The skies are clear and blue, not a single cloud in sight, only a few wisps of white interrupting the great blue expanse currently hanging above them. He eyes it once more, just to be sure, aware of how quickly the weather can turn when he becomes involved in, well…anything.

“Jimmy!” He turns as someone calls his name, hand dropping to the bag at his side, holding it closer. He releases his grip on it a moment later, but the two sudden movements draw attention to the bag slung over his shoulders, and the newcomer narrows her eyes at it, before glancing back up at him. “Jim, c’mon, we've spoken about this before.”

“And I keep telling you, Lizzie, there’s nothing to worry about, really.” He smiles at his friend, ignoring the frown she gives him, crossing her arms. “I mean it.”

“Uh-huh, and the stories about the monster in the woods aren't true? You and I both know that it killed-” she cuts herself off with a sigh. “I get that you like going out there, that you two did that a lot, but you don't have to keep doing that. All you're doing is putting yourself in danger, that’s no benefit to anyone.”

Lizzie’s eyebrows press together, crinkling her brow. All it does is make her look decades older than she actually is, shoulders sagging with a weight she cannot bring herself to name. He’s almost tempted to tell her the truth behind his visits, to promise her that there is truly no harm that can come to him.

“You say that as though I'm not constantly in danger,” he scoffs. “I'm more likely to die to a falling tree branch than any monster in the woods.” His wings flutter behind him, as though to emphasise his words a little further. Lizzie frowns a little deeper at the reminder, eyes flicking to the bright yellow feathers, as though she’d forgotten they existed. “See,” he reaches out a hand to nudge at her shoulder, “I can already see the gears turning in your head, whatever you're thinking, knock it off.”

Lizzie cracks a grin at that, ducking her head and looking away. He notices the small bucket resting in the crook of her arm just then, watches as some water sloshes around inside of it, a quick flash of pink brushing past the surface, before disappearing again. He smiles a little, both at his obvious victory within their small argument (he wouldn't even call it an argument really, but it’s not a discussion either- he’s not sure what it would be, really) and also at the fact that Lizzie is still taking her axolotls on walks. Despite the fact that they, themselves, do not do any of the walking.

One of them, another pink one, pokes its head over the side of the bucket, peering at him, before twisting to look up at Lizzie, staring at her until she notices it too. “Oh,” the bucket jostles as she moves, and the axolotl slips out of sight once more, a small splash of water spilling over the side of the bucket and darkening the ground between them. “I'm so sorry, I forgot you were even there.” She glances back up at him, eyes narrowing once more in a threat that is more light-hearted than anything. “I better see you tomorrow morning as well, mister. I swear to the gods, if I have to come looking for you, I’ll kill you.”

“Surely that would be counterproductive?” He asks, calling after her.

“Not the point!” She calls back.

He smiles at her retreating back, watching her go for a moment longer. Watching her means he’s able to see the moment when she leans in, towards the bucket, lips moving as she speaks to the axolotls within. He begins walking in the other direction a few moments later, bag swinging back and forth, bumping against his hip as he walks.

The streets are still rather empty, despite the late hour, but he supposes that many of the residents prefer to finish their business in the morning before retiring for the afternoon, retreating to their homes for lunch. He certainly doesn't mind the emptiness of the streets, as it means he comes across only one other person on his trip out of the gates, and they're rather quick to hurry on past him, clutching something to their chest as they all but run down the street.

Jimmy pays it little mind, stepping out beyond the wall and into the lush greenery surrounding their small village.

There’s just something incredibly relaxing about walking through the trees, even though the tree trunks slowly inch closer and closer together, the canopy above him growing so thick that only a little light filters through to where he walks, and even that light is tinted green and dim, leaving him squinting into the darkness and he walks down the well-trodden path.

It’s not actually all that well-trodden, in actuality. In fact, the only indicator that he walks this path regularly is the occasional scraped off bark on a few of the trees along the path. It had been the best way he had thought of that wouldn't reveal the path to someone looking for it.

The birds continue to sing as Jimmy walks, high and chirping. It’s occasionally accompanied by the sound of beating wings, and one sparrow even shoots past his face, swerving around a tree trunk before it shoots back above the canopy again, disappearing from sight. There’s the slight rustling of small creatures skittering along tree branches and rummaging around in the foliage collecting around his feet, too.

He gives a squirrel a wider than necessary berth as he walks past it, wary of disturbing it and causing it to forget where it buried its acorns. It hardly even notices him, ear twitching only once before it resumes its scraping amongst the leaves, pushing an acorn into one of the small holes it makes. He almost trips over a tree root from staring at the squirrel for too long, stumbling and struggling to regain his balance as his foot throbs from the sudden impact.

The tree above him shudders as well, and he ducks backwards, out of the way of any stray falling branches that might choose to crash down on his head. Just on time, a branch, one which had previously been securely attached to the trunk of the tree, wiggles loose and crashes down to the ground.

It stirs up the browning leaves as it lands, sending them fluttering about before they settle again. He steps over it carefully, murmuring an apology to the numerous woodland critters he sent scattering with the loud crash of the branch to the forest floor.

His walk is altogether uneventful after that, only a few branches creaking above him in a breeze, as though warning him of how easily they could come crashing down on him if they so wished. None of them make the sound of a branch that is actually going to break, though, just a gentle creaking rather than the sound of splitting wood and bark that comes moments before it actually falls.

Something cracks, and he hops back, staring up at the canopy above, waiting from a branch to come plummeting from the darkness lurking there, shooting towards the ground, landing perfectly where he was just standing, mere moments before.

He waits, the sound of his own breathing heavy in his ears, head craned back to stare up at the darkness swathing the upper branches of the trees. No branch falls. There’s not even another creaking sound, nothing to indicate that the falling branch is caught amongst several other branches, twisted into a tangled snarl of leaves and wood, waiting to fall on him the next time he passes beneath it.

Something else cracks, to his left this time. He whirls to face in that direction, wings flaring out behind him. It’s an instinctual act, something done to make him appear bigger than he truly is. The undergrown wings that are for little more than show do very little to make him appear larger and more intimidating, but he can't help the reaction.

There’s a slow, sliding sound in the direction he’s looking. It sounds like something heavy being dragged over the ground, rustling amongst the leaves, only slightly disturbing them. Moving slowly, then. He watches, the sound of his breaths even louder in his ears, the blood in his ears thrums in time with his heart. He can feel it pumping in his chest, can feel the blood rushing through his veins as he attempts to see between the tightly clustered trees.

There’s another sound behind him, but he’s too slow this time. He’s halfway to turning around when something heavy presses into his shoulders, sending him crashing to the floor, scrambling to grab onto his bag and protect the contents of it. He hits the ground with a thud and a small oof, feeling the air rush out of him in one large exhale.

A growl rumbles through the air around him, and he relaxes, if just slightly, into the ground beneath his back. His wings are still awkwardly twisted beneath him, feathers caught and no doubt collecting all sorts of debris.

A grinning face looms over him, lips pulled back to show off teeth that are easily as large as his fingers. He doesn't hesitate to shove said grinning face away from his own, smacking at one of the hands holding him down until it releases him, allowing him to sit up.

“You need to stop doing that,” he chastises, opening the bag and peering inside, making sure none of the items within have been squished too much. He frowns, spotting a mushed up banana that’s going to make his bag stink for weeks. “Seriously.” He frowns a little more when his assailant doesn't stop laughing, a low, rasping sound.

“Aw, don't be so sour, love.” A furred hand pulls his own hand away from where it clutches at the bag still, claws carefully kept away from the skin. “You know I can't help it.”

“Yes, you can.” Jimmy says. “There’s no reason for you to do this every time, as much as it must be fun for you to watch me try and find you. It just leaves me in a mess, look at what you've done to my wings!”

“I’ll help you clean them up later,” those furred hands, far larger than his own, pull him to his feet easily. “Besides, surely you've missed me?”

He huffs a sigh, turning his head away to hide his smile. “You know I always miss you, Tango. It’s hard not to, the village is so boring without you there. No one even speaks to me anymore,” he frowns. “Only Lizzie and Joel speak to me, and Grian only pops into check on us every few months- and he brings his annoying boyfriend with him every time. Seriously, if I never saw the Scar again, it would be too soon.”

“I like Scar.”

“Of course you do.” He can feel a tail curling around his back as he walks, the pressure and weight of it just barely there. He doubts Tango even realises he’s doing it, though he’s not about to begin pointing it out, in the fear that Tango might stop doing it. He can see the tip of it flicking back and forth, the flaming fur at the edge dancing as they make their way down the last stretch of the path together. “You only like him because he comes to visit you.”

“I like seeing your brother as well,” Tango frowns, eyes flicking over to see him. “And seeing you is the highlight of my weeks, nothing could be better than that. But Scar brings fun things.”

“And the things I bring you aren't fun? This bag isn't light, you know.”

“You bring the essential things,” the small clearing they've  entered is quickly cut off by a rock face, the sheer wall stretching far above both of their heads. “Those are useful, certainly, and seeing you is always a delight. But Scar brought me these wonderful quills last time he visited, the ink has glitter in it, isn't that amazing?”

“The ink is quite nice.” He agrees. His feet carry him on this path easily now, years of practice making him familiar with the route they take. He ducks beneath Tango’s arm as he pushes the curtain of moss backwards, revealing the cave entrance behind it. “It looks like he’s somehow managed to catch the stars and shove them into the ink.”

“I know right!”

Jimmy cannot help it, even after the years of visiting Tango here, years of stepping foot into this very cave, of following Tango down the short path, he still can't help it; he hesitates. The yawning cave mouth in front of him makes something deep and primal within him recoil at the very thought of willingly stepping foot into it. The thought of stepping into that darkness and not emerging from it claws at the edges of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him entirely.

Tango waits just beyond the threshold. He doesn't do anything, simply standing there and waiting. Sometimes, he doesn't even have to pause for a minute, simply stepping into the cave in time with Tango’s step, following Tango through the darkness, watching the flame on his tail dance back and forth, not stuttering for lack of oxygen. On other days, he might stand here for upwards of an hour, unable to overcome the fear that grips him as he stares into the cave’s maw.

Today, it takes him just short of ten minutes to make that first step into the cave, a rock shifting beneath his foot and threatening to trip him and make him roll his ankle not even a step into the darkness. Tango grabs his arm as he begins to slip, pulling him back upright and preventing the waiting disaster.

He breathes out slowly, taking a moment to regain his balance, before taking another step forward. He easily falls into the rhythm after that, ignoring the lingering anxiety that threatens to seize his lungs again. Instead, he focuses on the warm presence of Tango at his side, listening as he tells Jimmy of the story he’s been trying to write recently.

He doesn't direct Jimmy over to his desk, like he sometimes does, asking for a second pair of eyes on his work. Instead, he nudges them both over to the pile of blankets and pillows tucked away in the corner, functioning as both a seating area and Tango’s bed. He follows along with Tango willingly, wings already beginning to itch from the twigs wedged beneath his feathers, and the feathers that have been twisted out of place from their small tumble in the forest.

“Tell me,” Tango says, breaking the silence as Jimmy pulls his boots off. “How’s Lizzie? You said she’s still talking to you.”

“She’s doing fine,” he tosses the second boot aside, taloned feet clicking against the floor as he shuffles over to Tango, flopping down into the blankets beside him. “Saw her walking her axolotls this morning, told me not to go into the woods, etcetera, etcetera, you know the rest.”

Tango hums, a clawed hand running over his wing, pausing to fix a misaligned feather, correcting its position. “She still think I'm dead?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, though it’s muffled slightly as he presses his face into the pillow he’s resting on. “She still can't bring herself to say your name…but. I don't know. I can't really tell her, can I? That’s for you to do, and she won't exactly see you unless she stumbles across you and Joel having your moonlit meetings.”

“Joel doesn't exactly remember those meetings either.” Tango reminds him, teasing a small twig from his wing, pulling it free carefully. The simple action is enough to make him sink into the pillows a little more, going boneless beneath Tango’s hands as he continues cleaning his wings. “Though he’s certainly fun to run around with.”

“I doubt Lizzie would be pleased to know that all of her friends are supernatural beings and none of them have told her.”

“She’s seen your wings.”

“And she thinks I was cursed,” he sighs, “not…whatever this is. I don't know. Can't tell her, because she’d probably kill me, and then she’d be sad, because I'm dead.” He frowns. “Anyway, she has Scar. Her and Scar are buddies.”

“Scar’s not human.”

“Huh?” He twists to look at Tango, wrenching his wings out of reach as he turns to look at him. Tango blinks back at him, red eyes almost comically wide, ears perked forward.

“You…didn’t know? Isn't your whole, like, shtick being able to sense all of that around us?” Tango wiggles his fingers as though that at all helps to demonstrate his whole shtick (it does, rather effectively too, but Jimmy isn't about to tell him that). “That guy is super not human, the charisma he lays on is imbued with far too much power for that, at least.”

“Him and Grian are rarely apart, how am I meant to tell whether there’s some other, mysterious source of power if Grian’s there?”

“I’ll give you that one,” Tango concedes, pushing at his shoulder until he lies back down again. “Grian’s freakishly powerful, everyone should just be grateful he hasn't gone on a murder rampage yet.”

“I have just as much power as him.”

“I know, dear,” he can feel Tango nodding, even though he can't see him. “But you're too nice to go on a murder rampage.”

“You're lucky that I am,” he grumbles, listening as Tango’s following laugh reverberates through the room.

“Certainly.” Tango presses a kiss to the back of his head- while he’s unable to even reciprocate it, the cheat! “Now, did you want to hear about the story I'm drafting at the moment?”

“Always.”

“Alright, so, the main plot of it is a main character and their partner, both of them leaving their home to travel the world beyond their small city, seeing the sights and setting up several businesses at a time. I even began considering the thought of there being a corrupt monarchy in there at some point…”

[blackjacktheboss]

“that wasn’t supposed to happen” And “it’s not funny” for percabeth pretty please 🥺😘💋🌹

[not taking more prompts, just filling ones I got like a month ago lol]

I just like the idea of percy always wanting to impress annabeth 

The sky is a gorgeous shade of blue with splattered wisps of white clouds that move across it, pushed by a gentle breeze.

“Take me with you,” Percy whispers to himself as he watches a cloud escape his view.

A shadow falls over him and he props himself up onto his elbows to look at his best friend who watches him with her arms crossed.

“Stop pouting.”

Percy’s pout deepens as he lays himself back down. “I’m not pouting.”

Annabeth laughs as she lays down next to him, and Percy stops breathing for a moment as her shoulder settles against his.

“It’s not funny,” he complains. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Annabeth nudges him playfully. “It’s not a big deal, Perce. Aren’t you always saying that every skater knows they’re gonna fall a bunch when they’re working on a new move?”

Yeah, he thinks. Just not in front of you.

“I guess,” he says dejectedly.

“Will you try again?” she asks, and he can feel her eyes on him. “For me?”

Percy bites his bottom lip as he feels his cheeks turn pink. He nods to avoid the risk of his voice cracking, glancing to the side to see Annabeth’s soft smile.

She rolls onto her side, resting a hand over his heart which is beating like a jackhammer, and places a gentle kiss to his cheek. “My hero.”

Percy can’t erase the smile from his lips as Annabeth helps him back up and hands him his board. It’s still on his face as he finally lands the trick after a few more tries, and his cheeks begin to hurt when Annabeth claps for him, and tells him how impressed she is.

The smile stays with him as he walks her home from the park and she kisses his cheek again, and it doesn’t wane when his mom teases him about his so-called date with his best friend.

Even as he brushes his teeth, puts his pajamas on, and tucks himself into bed, he can’t ignore the lingering joy of a day spent with the girl who has his heart.

He rolls onto his side and snuggles into his pillow, talking to himself as he takes a deep, relaxing breath. “I gotta learn a new trick.”

[littleladymab]

For your kiss prompt, either 53 with JonGerry or 63 with JonGerryMartin?

(63 - Routine Kisses with JonGerryMartin)

This is 53 - "against a wall kiss”. Have some college-age punk Jon and Gerry. 

++++

Jon laughs around the butt of the cigarette dangling precariously between his lips. “Stop being such a shit.” 

“King Shit, trying to call me out,” Gerry grumbles, easily stealing the cigarette to take a drag from it. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re concussed.”

Gerry rolls his eyes. “If you don’t come out of one of those shows with at least two head injuries, you’re doing something wrong.” 

Jon matches the eye roll. “Well sorry.” He has his arms crossed over his chest, one leg propped up against the brick wall of the venue. He makes a very pretty picture, fake frown in place, makeup smudged, and hair coming loose in wisps. 

Gerry offers him back the cigarette, but Jon simply tilts his head — lips parted and hint of a grin lurking just beneath the surface. So Gerry keeps it and nudges one of Jon’s boots with the toe of his own. “Shut up.” 

Jon just laughs again and reaches for Gerry’s belt loop. “Don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” He lets himself get pulled in, because Jon is an easy gravitation to fall into. 

“We can go back in. Even if you do have a concussion.” 

Gerry huffs and pouts and pretends to not be incredibly convinced that he has already found a much better way to spend the rest of the evening. “No. They weren’t that good anyway.” 

Jon opens his mouth, and Gerry knows that it’s going to be an apology — because this was his idea for a date, because he was the one that got the tickets even though Gerry was the one that mentioned being interested in the show off-hand. 

So Gerry decides to be the little shit he’s already been accused of being. He lets out the lungful of smoke into Jon’s face, not even bothering to go through the effort of shotgunning it. “‘S fine.” 

The punch to his gut is barely even felt. “Piss off.” 

This time, Gerry slips the cigarette in between Jon’s lips, though his fingers linger there to hold it in place. “We can beat the bar rush if you don’t wanna go home yet.” 

One of Jon’s arms folds comfortably around Gerry’s waist, effectively hemming him in. His head is tilted just so to half-rest in Gerry’s palm, careful of the burning end of the cigarette. His other hand lifts to take the cigarette between his own slender fingers. “Home sounds good,” he says, the smoke curling between his teeth and his lips. 

Gerry kisses him. 

It’s not their first kiss, but Gerry feels a sharp little curl in his gut each time. It always feels new — like each kiss, he’s learning a different piece of Jon, pulling apart the arrangement he knew to find something else. 

Jon drops the remains of the cigarette to rake his fingers back through Gerry’s already tousled and sweaty hair. He pulls Gerry in closer, allowing himself to be pushed back into the wall. There’s a faint scuff as his foot hits the ground to steady himself, legs tangling with Gerry’s, eliminating the minimal space left between them. 

When Gerry finally pulls back, his head is swimming — senses overwhelmed with the taste of smoke and Jon and the trace of whatever drinks they had before the show — and maybe he does have a concussion, but Jon’s lips are on his jaw, his neck, fingers curled possessively around the open flaps of his jacket. And maybe it’s not a concussion, it’s just Jon. 

“Home sounds good,” Gerry echoes, and he can feel Jon’s laugh against his throat

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

5 for Nuts and Dolts, because the hug in the trailer is still on continuous loop in my head and the only thing better than an angsty hug is an angsty hug AND KISS 8 for Data Farm, because I'm weak for the idea of Oscar being unexpectedly prince-like and making Penny feel like a princess (or the other way around) I can't remember the number, but the interrupted kiss for rosegarden No pressure to do all of these, I just couldn't decide on one ship because I love all of them

(as a brief refresher: Data Farms Fic Link, Rosegarden Fic Link)

...and here’s to finally being able to answer this ask and revealing the ridiculous (sort of) secret plan I’ve carried out over a month (or two maybe idk) and what’s now a six-chapter fic!

(no, I’m not joking, this (Rose Puppetry) was literally A Thing bc I’m Like That)

So, to explain, way back when I was doing requests for this kissing meme, it was around the same time that you introduced me to the Mechanisms music, and then the Magnus Archives after that.

Subsequently, I thought it would be really cool to make one of these three requests Steampunk-themed.  I decided on the Nuts and Dolts one bc, when I first listened to Once Upon A Time (In Space), I associated Ruby and Penny heavily with Rose and Cinders (I think it was bc the album was brought up in reference to Souls or something like that?  Also Rose Puppetry was my alternative solution to just derailing Souls completely into Being A Steampunk Fic).

Anyways, I started out with the intent to do a short oneshot where Penny breaks into a facility to save Ruby, which would be reminiscent of the final attack on Old King Cole that led to Cinders being reunited with Rose.

Except then I got carried away by world-building (bc it was so freaking fun) and Rose Puppetry became an entire multi-chapter fic all of its own.

For the record, I think I originally @ you when I posted the first chapter bc I was going to say that the fic was a response to this prompt and then quite literally forgot to actually say that anywhere.  I then realized that, if I kept quiet about it, I could turn it into a surprise, which seemed like a fun thing to do, so I went for it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of Rose Puppetry!

.

5. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

...

Rose Puppetry Ch6: The Tale of Little Briar and the Huntress in the Cottage

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world.  Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did.  Then she fell in love.  And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1.  Ch2.  Ch3.  Ch4.  Ch5.

Every child in Patch knows of the Huntress who lives in the cottage on the outskirts of town.  Their great protector, who keeps the dangers of the woods at bay so they can go about their lives safely.  No one knows, not really, where she came from.  The youngest kids among them generally want to ask, but their parents usually shush them before they can try.  It’s considered improper, prying into what should be left well enough alone.

Briar knows more about the Huntress than any of her peers, but you’d never catch her boasting about it in the school yard.  No sir.  She can keep a secret extremely well, she can.  Well that, and she doesn’t want the Huntress to be upset with her and ask her father to not allow her to make the weekly deliveries anymore.  Briar loves visiting the Huntress’s cottage, with its duck pond and its thick bramble of roses.  But, most importantly, she loves being let inside and allowed to watch the Huntress work for just a little while.

For, in addition to being their protector against the scary monsters that lurk in the woods, the Huntress is Patch’s one and only mechanic.  There used to be more, of course, but that was back before Briar was born and they all got called off to fight in the Great War against Atlas.

Briar once asked if the Huntress fought in the Great War, too.  She remembers how the Huntress fell silent, the gloomy expression that had seamlessly eclipsed the Huntress’s entire being, and quietly swore never to ask again.  It’s not important for her to know, Briar decided.  Not like learning how gears, cogs, and screws all fit into machinery and make things like the big clock in the tower in the center of town work.

It’s a sunny day.  A few wisps of clouds linger in the sky, but not many.  Briar skips home from school, humming a happy tune of her own creation as she goes.  She briefly pauses to scratch the noses of the cows who’ve wandered to the fence of their pasture bordering the road.  The cows moo at her and sniff Briar’s fingertips for treats.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything for you today.”  Briar giggles as their chin whiskers tickle her.  “If I have time after I visit Ms. Rose, I’ll try and bring you all back something, but I make no promises.”

She continues on her way, only stopping in the Mech Field to pick a collection of bright, cheerful wildflowers.  Briar pauses to consider the ruins of the old war machines, but Ms. Rose once warned her very sternly not to get too close to the fallen mechs without her supervision, so Briar doesn’t.  Instead, she takes a spare hair ribbon out of her school bag, ties it snugly around the stems of her wildflowers to keep them properly bunched together, and heads home.

Her mother has the weekly grocery basket for Ms. Rose waiting when Briar arrives.  She helps Briar securely fasten it to the deliveries bicycle and situate the flower bouquet on top so the bumpy ride won’t jostle them too much.

“Keep an eye on the time,” Briar’s mother gives her the usual warning.  “And, if it starts growing dark, have Ms. Rose walk you home.”

Briar rolls her eyes.  She’s big enough to come home all on her own, even after sunset, she thinks.  Still, she promises, “I will!” before taking off on the bicycle.

Smoke lazily drifts into the sky from Ms. Rose’s cottage’s chimney as Briar makes her approach.  The huntress’s dog, a great, big creature with a lumbering gait and a lolling tongue, appropriately named ‘Wolf’, runs to greet Briar as she approaches.  She slows her bicycle to a stop and dismounts.

“Hey, Wolfie.”  Briar scratches behind the dog’s ears, and gets licked enthusiastically for it.  She laughs.  Wolf dances excited circles around Briar as she walks over and leans her bicycle against the cottage.  “Stop that!”  Briar commands Wolf, only half serious.  “I have to get the groceries inside!”  She nudges the door open and walks into the cottage.

“Ms. Rose?  Are you here?”  Briar calls out.

“In the workshop, Briar!”  Ms. Rose yells back from somewhere deep inside.  Briar grins.  With some care, she shoves the groceries in the refrigerator.  Ms. Rose will organize them however she pleases later, after a few more hours of work, at least.

Briar goes to hurry through the kitchen, but remembers herself, and pauses at the sink to fill a pitcher with water for her wildflower bouquet.  She carefully lowers the flowers in and unties her hair ribbon from around their stems.  Then, after tidying the bouquet a little, Briar walks further into the cottage.  She doesn’t go immediately to the workshop, but to a room Ms. Rose only recently granted her permission to enter.

Briar pauses and takes a breath in the doorway of the bedroom.  It’s always a bit weird to do this.  She’s never actually met Ms. Penny.  Not back before, when she was awake.  Ms. Penny doesn’t know who she is.  Never had the chance to, really.

Regardless, flowers always make Briar feel better when she isn’t feeling well.  With Wolf padding loyally at her side, Briar approaches the bed where Ms. Penny serenely sleeps and situates the bouquet on the table beside it.

“Good day, Ms. Penny,” Briar speaks politely, for she’s never spoken to a mechanical person, or one who’s never woken up, before Penny.  Briar still feels kind of odd about that, but, since she first stumbled across Penny’s room, she’s been determined to try and make her feel better (if that’s at all possible).

“Spring’s here.  The first of Mr. Oobleck’s lambs were born the other day.”  Briar starts her usual, short, babbling update about life in Patch.  “They’re extremely cute.  I’ll draw you a picture, so, when you wake up, you won’t have missed seeing them.”

“She’d like that, I think.”

Briar jumps, and spins around.  Ms. Rose stands in the doorway, leaning against its frame.  She smiles softly at Briar, and joins her by Penny’s bedside.  “Penny never…I think she always lived in cities before we met.”  Ms. Rose takes a deep breath.  “I’m not sure she’s ever gotten the chance to see a newborn lamb.”

“Then this will be her first time,” Briar says confidently.

“Yes.”  Ms. Rose smiles sadly down at Briar.  “Run along to the workshop now.  I left today’s assignment out on the table for you.  Try to see if you can get started on your own.  I’ll be along in a moment.”

Briar does as she’s told, but not before stopping just outside the bedroom and sneakily poking her head back in to watch Ms. Rose gently smooth Penny’s long, soft copper curls and place a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t wait too much longer to wake up, my love, alright?”  Ms. Rose whispers.

Briar slips away, feeling a little guilty about spying on such a private moment.  She doesn’t know why Ms. Penny sleeps, what caused her to fall into her lasting slumber in the first place, but Briar does know that Ms. Rose came to Patch to have a quiet, safe place to repair her.

The assignment Ms. Rose set out for Briar that day is a small music box.  One that had, in all likeliness, played a lovely melody at some point, but has long since worn out.  Repairing it shouldn’t be the hardest of tasks.  Not now that Briar is a handful of months out of transitioning from ‘kid who gets to watch the Huntress work’ to ‘unofficial mechanic’s apprentice’.

Ever so carefully, Briar removes a tiny, rusty gear from the music box with her tweezers and sets it aside.  She looks to Ms. Rose, who smiles reassuringly back at her.  Briar finds the replacement gear, plucks it up with the tweezers, and goes to insert it right where it needs to—

“Hello?!  Huntress are you here?”  A voice shouts into the cottage.  Wolf scrambles up from lying under where Briar’s feet dangle off her stool and barks loudly.  Briar jumps.  Her tweezers fall out of her hand.  The replacement gear goes flying.

“Just a moment!”  Ms. Rose calls back.  She helps Briar retrieve the gear from where it’s fallen to the floor.  “Think you can work on your own for a bit?”  Ms. Rose asks.  When Briar nods, the huntress wipes grease and oil smudges off her fingertips onto her leather apron and goes to see who has come asking after her aid.

Briar half listens to the ensuing conversation about a broken down car on the road as it drifts through the cottage to her.  Ms. Rose briefly returns to the workshop for her portable tool kit, and then leaves to go repair the automobile in question.  She promises she’ll check Briar’s handiwork upon her return.  Wolf ambles back over to Briar.  The dog circles a couple times to settle, and then returns to napping.

For the next couple of hours while Briar works, things are quiet and peaceful.  She finishes repairing the music box.  With bated breath, Briar winds it up and sets it down on the worktable.  A soft tune fills the air.  Briar can’t help but smile.

Too excited to wait until Ms. Rose gets back to show off her success, Briar carefully scoops the music box up in her hands and carries it to Penny’s room.  She puts it down by the wildflowers she brought earlier, and lets it play its song a second time.

So caught up on listening to the music box’s melody is Briar, she doesn’t catch when it’s joined by the sounds of other mechanisms whirling and clicking.  Ones that have long remained at rest, but, at the sound of a comforting song, rouse again.

Movement catches Briar’s attention.  Before she realizes what’s happened, a pair of bright, dazzling green eyes meet her own.  They almost seem to glow, as if they’re lightbulbs that have spent a long, long time charging up and want to celebrate the chance to finally illuminate.

“H-hello?”  The voice is hoarse, creaky with disuse.  It’s nothing like Briar imagined it would be.  “Briar?”

Briar blinks rapidly.  “You know me?” slips from her lips before she can stop the question.

“Of course.”  Tentatively, Penny moves to push herself up in a sitting position.  One of her hands slips before she can put weight down on it.  Briar rushes forward to help support her.  “Thank you.”  Penny smiles gratefully at Briar.  “To answer your question, I heard you.  The days you came and talked to me and brought me flowers.”  She pauses.  “I’d very much like to see Mr. Oobleck’s lambs.”

“Oh.”  Briar takes a minute to process this.  “I didn’t think…” she’s not sure what to say.  She’s imagined this moment hundreds of times, but, now that it’s happening, Briar’s mind is frustratingly blank.

“It’s alright.”  Penny gives her a small, soft smile.  “It’s not everyday someone you’ve only known as a ‘sleeping lady’ wakes up.”

“I-err-yeah…” Briar pauses.  “If you don’t mind me asking, how could you hear me all those times?  Since you were asleep?”

Penny inhales deeply and exhales, the clockwork of her body moving with the motion.  “It’s a bit complicated.  A short explanation would be that, even without enough power to function normally, I could still record audio.” Penny shoots a knowing smirk in Briar’s direction.  “I would love to give you the fully detailed explanation.  Later.  If you don’t mind, there’s someone who’s long overdue for a hug, I think.”

Briar’s eyes widen.  “Oh!  Ms. Rose!  Of course!”  She scrambles up to fetch Penny a walking stick to lean upon as she gets up.  “She went out to repair someone’s car.  I think it’s just down the road!”  Briar hovers, ready to support Penny if she needs help with walking.  When Penny makes it to the doorway on her own, Briar relaxes a little.

Together, with Wolf keeping pace with them (and Briar would swear the dog is keeping as much a careful eye on Penny as she herself is), they make their way outside.

Penny pauses, and looks up at the blue, blue sky.  She blinks.  If she were capable of crying, she probably would have.  “I never dreamed I’d see it again.”  Penny whispers.  She turns to look ahead, down the road she and Briar intend to walk, and sees someone coming toward them on it.  Penny gasps.

There is one sight that Penny dreamed of, longed for, during her oh so very long slumber.  One sight, her vague, ethereal thoughts could never quite capture, but tried to constantly.  The person she sees on the road doesn’t quite fit the picture Penny remembers.  The person is no longer a youthful maiden, but a full grown woman.  Her black-red hair is longer, kept in an untidy braid over one shoulder.  She’s wearing the garb of a mechanic, and not combat dress.  Branching scars, leftover from a (Grimm) time Penny would very much like to leave in the past, dance across her skin.

“Ruby.”

Penny breathes the name out at the same time Ruby sees her, stops, and stares.

A moment passes where no one moves, where the world is held frozen in shock.  Anxiety ripples over Ruby’s face.  Worry that needs no verbal words to describe it.  That Penny won’t love this older version of her.  That this person she had to grow into while she patiently waited for Penny to wake up isn’t someone Penny will be able to bring herself to love.

Penny takes a step forward, and then another.  Her walking stick is cast aside as she recalls how to push her legs into motion as fast as she can.  She runs, reaching Ruby in the blink of an eye.  Eager to vanquish all the anxieties she sees in her beloved, Penny takes Ruby up in her arms and spins her around and around.  She laughs, causing Ruby to laugh with relief too.

They’re together.  Nothing, no war or conflict or spiders who want to control them, can get in the way of that any longer.  They may have once been puppets in a grand scheme, but they’re free now.  Free to do whatever they wish, as long as they wish.

Penny stops spinning Ruby around.  She holds her close, drinking in the sight of Ruby’s sparkling, silver eyes.  Without thinking about it, they press their foreheads together and simply gaze at each other.

Later, they’ll let Briar commit a condensed version of their story down on paper.  A fairytale, it will be.  One only a handful will actually believe there’s truth to, but that’s just as well to them.  Right now, this moment?  This moment is just for them.

Ruby wraps her arms around Penny.  Penny leans in.  Their lips find each other.  Tentative, unsure, aware they have a lot to adjust to again with each other (but eager to get started).  The kiss is soft and sweet.  A promise of many, many more to come.

They don’t live happily ever after.  For Penny and Ruby’s story doesn’t end here.  It goes on, with many days full of love, and equally as many filled with struggle as they learn each other’s embrace again.  There are moments when the scars of the past threaten to consume them, and moments filled with nothing but laughter and joy.

Overall, though?

Penny and Ruby live together for a very, very long time, and that time together is largely marked by their shared happiness.

[demauryss]

For the "I love you" drabble prompt - 15 or 16? Whichever you prefer :) And in Elu?

hello kaleb :)) first of all let’s ignore the fact that i didn’t ghost you for so long on this ask. second, i hope you like this literal word vomit. it’s quite different from the prompt but let’s just roll with it, yeah?

no 16. from ‘the way you said i love you’ drabble challenge

“your sun looks like a giant ball of goo, lucas.”

eliott giggles like a middle-schooler whose crush has just told he likes him; gleeful and somewhat incredulous all the same. there’s a leaf stuck in his hair, green like the shine in his eyes. lucas huffs out an offended breath, turning his paintbrush dripping with green colour in a threatening stance against his annoying boyfriend.

“shut up, eliott. art is freedom of expression, you just said so yourself.”

eliott chuckles, lazily drawing out a shooting star on the canvas in front of him. next to his, lucas’s painting looks like one a toddler would make on the walls of his home after discovering his siblings’ stash of colours and what not.

“didn’t know we have a da vinci on our hands,” eliott muses, the slender wisps of grass behind him slanting with the air that’s moving, before uprighting once again. “i’m proud you’re learning fast.”

“hmm?” lucas asks, missing whatever eliott has said before because he was busy comparing the green of the sun drawn in the middle of his painting to the grass behind eliott. “what am i learning?”

eliott inhales deeply, dipping a paintbrush into water before dragging it across his canvas. lucas watches the effortless swish and slick of eliott’s wrist against the painting, enthralled. when lucas does it, it’s like he’s carrying something weighing a tonne. it’s never this easy and the paint ends up looking plain ugly. but then again, it’s eliott he’s talking about.

“not everyone is going to like what you make,” eliott says, eyes focused onto lucas like he’s speaking of something beyond painting, “and it’s important to know that. as long as you yourself are okay with it, what others think shouldn’t matter.”

and lucas doesn’t like the sudden serious turn their conversation has taken. he isn’t good with emotions. or words. or drawing a fucking sun. the point is, lucas isn’t good at anything deep.

“so as long as i’m okay with my sun looking like a pile of goo, what you say doesn’t matter?”

eliott laughs loudly. his eyes are squeezed shut. lucas grins at his effort. if he’s good at something, it’s deflecting situations which make him uncomfortable; which include just about everything.

“i swear to god, lucas,” eliott sighs, eyes glinting, “but yeah, that’s about it. and hey, what do you know, maybe in some parallel universe there’s a sun which is exactly like the one you painted; green and - and not pretty?”

what! eliott didn’t - he didn’t just call lucas’s sun ugly! lucas gasps, offended, “i guess so. but in that universe you must have yellow eyes then.”

there’s a beat of silence too long for lucas to hold in his laugh at eliott’s expression. his eyes quickly flit to the large green blob in the centre of lucas’s painting, the circle of goo-looking mass giving rise to an incredulous look on eliott’s face.

“luca- what the hell?” there’s a frown eliott supports on which lucas can bet everything he owns that it’s utterly fake. eliott’s bottom lip juts out like a toddler (yes, the same one who’d paint on the walls). damn it. lucas won’t be influenced by a fake pout.

“stop it, eliott,” lucas whines, “i don’t know whatever has given you the idea that you’re real cute, but that pout won’t work on me.”

lucas pushes at eliott’s arm lightly when the pout still won’t drop. there’s a smile pulling up at eliott’s face, eyes curving into little lines with crinkles denting the skin underneath, “whatever has given me the idea? do you want a list or what?”

lucas narrows his eyes sharply, not liking the taste the words produce in his mouth, “there’s a list?”

“yes,” eliott says, crawling closer to lucas over the grass, “you. you’re the list.”

“oh my god, eliott!” lucas groans loudly, effectively hiding the heat of his cheeks and his burning ears by dropping his face into the curve of his elbow, “you’re so fucking cheesy!”

eliott scoffs. there’s a finger touching the shell of his ear visible behind his arm, “says the guy who painted the sun after my eyes.”

lucas can’t help his smile. he looks up, cheeks burning and all, stomach leaping with joy, “but you still love me.”

“that,” eliott sighs, finger tracing a curve on lucas’s cheek, tickling like the grass under the bare skin of his legs, “is fortunately true. i love you.”

lucas grins when eliott leans forward, pressing the warmth of his lips against the skin of lucas’s skin. “i love you.” lucas sighs when eliott moves over him, eyes a much different shade than what lucas coloured the sun with. but that’s totally on him,though. lucas is shit at painting.

“i love you.” eliott says, dipping his head down to meet lucas’s lips, nose nudging together when lucas turns his neck a bit, deepening the kiss. “ilove you,” he repeats. i love you. i love you. i love you.

the wind carries the words away to a distant place lucas would revisit in a minute or two. raising his hands, lucas steadies them on eliott’s chest, forgetting for a moment they’re in an open place. eliott responds by moving his hands closer, one touching lucas’s face. the other, in the wake of supporting his body, landing harshly on the blob of green on the page next to lucas’s head.

“fuck,” eliott quickly sits up, wrist covered in remnants of lucas’s masterpiece.

“eliott, my sun!” lucas whines, scoffing when eliott’s expression quickly transforms from mildly apologetic to smug once again. his smile, as it comes, is blinding, “now that’s what you call cheesy.”

“shut up,” lucas barks out a laugh, unexpected and light, like the sun above him - not eliott, the real thing, blob, whatever. eliott smiles, crawling forward and pressing his lips against lucas’s once again.

i love you. eliott must say at some point, the words engrained senselessly in lucas’s mind, but there all the same.

[hotdogsandpopcorn]

Inner Child

It’s a bit confusing, Taehyung thinks dazedly. Not the bad kind, though. It feels a certain kind of aesthetic and ambient in itself if only he knows what ‘it’ is supposed to be. There’s a sense of déjà vu lingering somewhere within him, as he digs deep into his mind and tries to bring out whatever memory makes him feel this way. 

He doesn’t know what happened, not really.

The air feels crisp—and again, a tiny bit reminiscent of something—, the smell of summer and a light rain strong enough for him to just close his eyes and not feel an impending sense of doom at how utterly lost he is. Taehyung breathes in; almost there, almost there. He puts his hands in his pockets, clinging onto the fabric of his pants tightly, and walks a step forward. And it hits him, slowly, gently, and then, all at once.

He has no idea why he’s here; he doesn’t care.

“Oh,” Taehyung says out loud, letting out a small, delirious laugh at the memory that skates through his mind’s eye.

He’s here.

Then he’s walking even faster, with purpose now, looking up at the half-glittering, half-hidden stars and the greyness they shed their pinpricks of light on. Nothing else makes sense.

He’s back here.

Time is an incredibly fickle thing. Taehyung has no idea why it saw fit to bring him here. But he doesn’t have to understand. And isn’t that the beauty in everything? Of not understanding, but feeling it—feeling it now—, all the same.

His feet bring him to where he needs to be, and Taehyung pauses with a hand poised to knock over the door. 

I’m here, he says to himself. I’m here for me.

He raps on the door with two fingers, quickly and quietly. He knows this day, knows who is behind the door, knows that he’s alone and young and dreaming of a world of eternal rainbows and black nights full of stars. He knows him. Taehyung’s got this.

Wind rushes past with a small whoosh as the door swings open, and Taehyung remembers the fact that he has to look down.

“Hello!”

Oh God, he can do this, he can do this, he can do this.

Taehyung closes his eyes and drops to the floor, breathing in deeply. The little one in front of him doesn’t even seem surprised that random strangers are kneeling on his doorstep. The thought brings a pang to his chest. It’s almost as though Taehyung doesn’t even see him as him. As though, he isn’t him anymore.

“Hello,” he says quietly, head bowed and eyes unwilling to look—at himself.

A small, tentative hand reaches out, unable to help itself, and Taehyung sees the smaller version of familiar fingers running over the lapels of his Gucci blazer. Ah, yes, I loved suits a lot. Still do.

 He feels the hurt lessen. A smile grows. Feeling encouraged, the boy puts another hand on him and begins feeling up the smooth salmon cloth with more enthusiasm.

Almost with no conscious thought, Taehyung brings up his own hands, watching with increasingly blurry eyes. Thin, veined hands enclose over young ones. Hands which haven’t seen hurt yet. Hands which still hope bright, love free and yearn with no guilt of being too much or too less for the world. Hands that are—were— his.

A tiny gasp tears out of his throat and tears begin to flow. 

Taehyung doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know.

“Oh,” he hears the little boy—him—say. “Your hands are beautiful.” He takes away one of his hands, reaching up to Taehyung’s face and catching a stray tear that clings to his eyelash. “Your eyes too.” Of course, I love contact lenses at all phases of my life.

He looks up, finally, his heart trembling and daring to hope. 

And he sees himself, a small reflection, a memory of so long ago, a picture of who he used to be, some part that remains buried and shows itself when worries melt away. He sees him.

“You’re beautiful too,” he says quietly.

 The boy—Little Taehyung—grins mirthfully as if it is an inside joke, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Taehyung thinks briefly that it is probably not recommended for a child, home alone, to open the door for strangers—and weeping strangers, no less. How does his younger self not find him even a bit creepy?

Maybe he knows too.

Taehyung drops to the floor right there, the wind swirling behind his back and then coming to a stop. Little Taehyung sits beside him, now taking to the belt slung loosely around his waist with curiosity. He picks at a thread, pulling and twirling it around his finger.

Taehyung hesitates for a second before placing a hand over the other’s cheek—still round and rosy, just as his grandmother likes it. The thought doesn’t hurt as it usually does; his heart fills to the brim with fond memories and sad happiness, even as it twists with a twinge of pain.

A paradox, Namjoon Hyung would say if he was here.

He leans down, innocent eyes lifting to meet his.

“I’m here for you,” Taehyung says softly, the meaning much heavier and harder than he thinks his little self can comprehend. 

I’m here for me.

“You are, aren’t you?” the little boy says wondrously, taking advantage of Taehyung’s lowered height to run a hand through his hair. He looks at the blue locks in awe, fingers exploring and discovering, as he touches the edges of his own un-dyed black hair.

He’s comparing, Taehyung realises. He knows. I know.

They stay like that, quiet and content to learn new and old things about themselves.

Taehyung feels it in himself—the deep, raw realisation that the two of them sitting here share a single soul. He finds that it is surprisingly an easy concept to discern.

Maybe, time is slowing down. Maybe, time has paused altogether. He hasn’t a clue what’s happening. But that’s okay.

“You’re sad?” Little Taehyung inquires, sidling closer.

“I’m happy,” Taehyung corrects gently, putting an arm around the child. “We’re happy.”

“Happy always?” he asks, looking up with huge, hopeful eyes that Taehyung knows will see many a suffering and many a pain from then on—all part of growing up, everybody says. Bullshit, he would love to say to all of them. But these eyes are also going to see many a beautiful soul and many a wonder.

Taehyung sighs, neither one of grief nor one of annoyance. Just a little huff of breath as tries to get himself to tell the truth. 

“Happy now,” he clarifies. “When it’s always… I’m—we’re—happy and sad.” He then points to little him and himself. “Like we’re young and old.”

The boy giggles, nodding. “You aren’t old,” he says. “Just older.”

“Older you.” Taehyung had to remind.

The carefree joy quickly morphs to a lost expression that looks highly out of place on the boy’s face. “What—what changed? I can’t see—me… you’re not—”

“Not you?” 

Little Taehyung makes a small, distressed sound, and for the first time, he looks confused; he looks afraid of being confused. “You’re more you than me. I’m me. You’re—not. You’re more.” He gesticulates wildly, desperate to make him understand.

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say. I know seems wrong. I’m not more sounds wrong too.

The boy blinks up at him, smiling despite himself, as he waits for an answer. Taehyung holds out an open hand. “We’re going to change to more.” He takes in a long, staggering breath of cool air. “We always do.”

“We change?”

Taehyung feels the dread his younger self has at having to give up something for something else. But he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t.

“It’s okay,” he finds himself saying. “We’re okay.” 

We can have everything—and it’s okay.

Little Taehyung’s eyes shine and he quickly ducks his head. His small hand finds its way to Taehyung’s.

‘Can you feel it?’ it asks, afraid to dream. ‘Can I?’

Taehyung squeezes gently, bringing their fingers—the then and the now, the dream and the story—together, and lacing them. He nudges the other’s forehead with his own, prompting him to look up and offering a smile.

‘I feel it.’ And it’s okay.

“Look,” he says, turning to lean against the side of the doorway. He brings his free hand to point up. Stars—which definitely weren’t showing themselves before—wink back at them, clustered and many, a reflection of the myriad of countless highs and lows that their lives are intertwined with.

There’s a disbelieving gasp behind him. Still holding their hands together, Little Taehyung shuffles forward and settles comfortably into his lap.

“Galaxies,” Taehyung breathes, holding his young soul close to him.

“I’ve never seen so many before,” the boy confesses. His eyes are pools of pure happiness, glowing and twinkling with the light that burns millions of miles away. “I’d given up hope of ever seeing them.”

Taehyung presses a kiss to the soft black hair under his chin; it doesn’t feel weird at all, as he’d feared. “They’re always there, you know?” he says quietly. “Even when you and I change, they’re always there for us.”

Little Taehyung turns his head to the side, hesitating. “Always?”

Taehyung thinks it a little odd that the fact he is protective of his soul feels entirely natural and not selfish at all.

He hums his affirmation into the hair. “Always and forever.”

Little Taehyung turns further, squinting at him. “I can see,” he says. “I—I can see you. There’re stars in your eyes.”

“Oh.”

“You have stars, don’t you? You have so many stars.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. Numerous loved memories settle like a drizzling raincloud into his chest—memories that the boy before him doesn’t have or doesn’t know the weight of yet. “We have stars.”

The boy turns back, content, and resumes watching the sky above. “We do.”

“You see the moon?” Taehyung points a finger upwards. A nod. “There’s a bunny there.”

“I know. That’s my bunny.”

Taehyung grins in satisfaction.

Time calls to him again, bringing with it a breeze that ruffles over the top of their heads. Wisps of clouds begin to float lazily across the sky.

Little Taehyung realises it too. He curls a little into himself, holding onto their intertwined hands tightly.

“Don’t leave,” he says, voice breaking at the end. “I—you can’t. I don’t want to forget. I’m—”

“I’m here,” Taehyung murmurs, pressing his hand reassuringly against the boy’s. “You’re my boy. I’m always here.”

“You said that you change. You said that I change.”

“And the world changes with you.” The wind blows more strongly now, more real. “But look up, they don’t ever change, do they?”

“I—”

“You’re okay.”

There is a silence that stretches between them, taut and heavy, until with a heaving breath and a determined, shaky voice, it’s broken: “I’m okay.”

Taehyung holds out his pinkie, getting up on one knee and kneeling with the other. He smiles.

Little Taehyung looks up at him, apprehensive and scared and shining. He links the pinkie with his own.

“We’re gonna change.”

“We’re gonna change,” the boy repeats, beginning to hope for it all when the words feel just like any other. He’s gonna change; he’s okay. He’ll be okay.

The wind carries everything away, bringing the now and the before apart and together.

And they change.

~~~~~~~|•••|~~~~~~~

I know I’m late. I’m so sorry.

Happy Birthday to wonderful winter bear who loves whole and smiles warm for us all. You give me hope everyday. I purple you with my entire heart, Kim Taehyung. Take care and stay gold.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜🌈

[queen-scribbles]

On the Bright Side

Started as a “leaping hug” prompt fill for @storyknitter, got way way WAY out of hand. Oops. Set during Dantooine Incursion, with Tel as Outlander

--

A blaster bolt zipped by her head, and Silver yelped instinctively as she ducked back behind cover. “Kriffin’ pirates,” she growled, both hands white-knuckle tight around the grip of her blaster.

“Look on the bright side, Sil,” Corso said, hunching both of them down further as the next shot gouged out flakes of the boulder protecting them.

“What bright side?!” Silver huffed loose wisps of hair out of her eyes and released one hand’s death grip on Sparkles to free a thermal grenade from its belt clip.

“We left the girls with your parents, so there’s no way Brynna’ll see the mess these nerf-brains made of Aves’ place.”

If there was a bright side to be found in being caught flat-footed by a Nova Blades incursion, their daughters being half a galaxy away was probably it. She did have to give him that. “Hope Aves got all the kids out.”

“‘M sure he did.” Corso started to peek around the boulder and jerked back as another blaster bolt skimmed past. “He’s resourceful an’ determined, which you’ve proved a dozen times over is more’n enough.”

“Hopefully it’ll be enough to handle this moof-milker,” she muttered as she thumbed the grenade active. “Split around the rock and hit him from both sides.”

He nodded. ”Got it.”

Silver tossed the grenade in the general direction of the Nova Blade currently proving a hassle and curved around the boulder, Sparkles already tracking for her target.

The pirate was caught off-guard and didn’t stand a chance against the firepower aimed his direction. He crumpled like wet flimsiplast.

Silver slid Sparkles back in the holster and gave a grimly vindictive nod toward the sprawled corpse. “That took long enough. You alright?”

Corso nodded, rubbing his forearm. “Just a graze. Barely even stings.”

She shot him a skeptical look. Even from here she could tell it had burned through both bracer and armor to leave a red welt against his skin. “Lemme see anyway.”

He held out his arm and Silver curled one hand under it for support while the other tugged out a bacta patch. He’d been right; it was just a graze, but with the state Dantooine was in she’d rather keep everything patched up. Not just the big stuff.

“Hey, Sil,” Corso began, eyes sweeping the chaos that had overtaken the planet they considered a second home. “I get the feelin’ we’re doin’ a stalk in the haystack’s worth of difference out here by ourselves...”

“And?” She slapped the bacta patch on perhaps a tad more forcefully than she’d meant to. “Angel’s engines, Corso, I’m not gonna just let them-”

“I’m not suggestin’ we ‘just let them’,” he cut her off, letting his patched up arm drop back to his side and flashing a grateful smile. “Ain’t far to the Republic garrison, we might do more damage seein’ if they have anything we can help with.”

“Oh. Good idea.” Silver tucked the bacta patch wrapper back in the pouch.

Corso grinned and tweaked the end of her ponytail. “I do have ‘em every once in a while.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing up on the balls of her feet to kiss his cheek.  “More frequently than that. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“If you say so, Captain,” he said playfully. “We headin’ for the garrison, then?”

She heaved a sigh. “Guess we might as well.”

“A ringin’ endorsement,” he snorted.

Silver punched his shoulder. “We should prob’ly be sneaky about it, so we ain’t all worn out b’fore we even get there.”

Corso tugged her in to kiss her forehead. “Good idea.”

Stealth generators on, the slipped around pirate encampments, bands of pillaging Imperials, and all the war-torn damage that had been inflicted on the formerly serene planet. Dodging threats and finding new routes made what should have been a ten minute journey take nearly four times as long, but they made it. Silver had to assuage the entrance guards as their blasters tracked to these new arrivals before they were allowed in.

“Who’s in charge?” she asked the guard captain.

“That would be Major Vindo, but she’s too busy for visitors,” the grey-skinned twi��lek said in a weary monotone that hinted he’d given this speech enough times to be sick of it. “The Republic is doing its best to recover the planet as intact as possible-”

“We’re not here to complain,” she cut him off, crossing her arms and nodding toward Corso. “We wanna help. We got experience,” she hastened on as the twi’lek’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to (likely) decline civilian help. “I worked as a privateer for a while, teamed up with a Jedi Master’n everything. Took down the Voidwolf?”

At that last hint, the guard’s darkening expression reversed course in a heartbeat. “You’re the Voidhound?”

Silver nodded. She didn’t like throwing around her accomplishments--especially not one that started with being played for a sucker--but it did come in handy sometimes. “Don’t much care for the title, but yeah.”

“As I said, sir-ma’am, Major Vindo is busy, but I’m sure one of the other officers will have something you could do to assist,” he suggested, grip shifting on his rifle.

Not wanting to distract him any longer, Silver took the hint in turn. She tugged Corso’s arm to pull him after her further onto the base proper. It was buzzing with more activity than a kicked wasps’ nest, and while there were plenty of soldiers to be seen, all of them looked overwhelmed and occupied. Finally, though, she spotted a Mirialan with lieutenants stripes who looked less busy than the rest.

“’Scuse me,” she called, heading in his direction, Corso still trailing a step or two behind her. “Privateers Silver and Corso Riggs reportin’, Lieutenant...”

“Jorin,” he supplied brusquely, glancing up from his datapad. “And, no offense, but exactly what good do you see privateers being in a ground battle?”

“We’re damn good shots and resourceful as hell.” Silver shot back. “Also, willin’ to do whatever y’need.”

“Well, we are putting together a team to take back or destroy a stolen walker....” Jorin mused. “So you’re good in a fight, huh?”

She shrugged. “Comes with the line of work. Shootout, close-quarters, we can do either.”

“I’m sure we can find something for you to do, in that case.” He actually cracked a smile. “If you want to help, the team going after the walker is meeting in the barracks just over there.”

Silver looked in the direction he pointed and gave a nod. “Got it. C’mon, Corso.”

The two of them dodged rushing soldiers and frantic civilians both as they made their way to the indicated building. There was an air of... desperation to it all, scrambling to catch up in a fight that had opened with a sucker punch. It made her chest ache, to see a planet that held so many good memories for her family turned to this by thieving opportunistic pirate scum-guzzlers. Corso must’ve sensed her turmoil, because he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Silver flashed him a grateful smile as they reached the building and stepped inside.

--

The walker recovery team, which proved to be all military personnel except for them, was almost finished their briefing when the team leader’s comlink warbled. She gestured for them to pipe down as she slipped it from her belt and thumbed it on. “Jaiza.”

She’d stepped far enough away by now Silver couldn’t eavesdrop without being obvious, but the general tone was not one of good news. Caraya’s moons, how can this get any worse?

Captain Jaiza looked grim as she returned to the holotable. “It appears the pirates are massing to attack the base itself. It’s now even more imperative we get that walker out of their hands one way or another, and fast.”

“They’re actually going to attack the base, sir?” one of the other soldiers piped up incredulously. “Are they crazy?”

“Perhaps,” Jaiza returned levelly, but Silver could see the concern lurking in her eyes. “Perhaps they’re testing us, or just trying to inflict as much damage as possible.”

“Great, that’s just what the medcenter needs,” the zabrak sitting near the door groused. “They’re already barely keeping up, let’s give them more people to take care of...”

Corso nudged Silver’s shoulder as Jaiza pressed on with the mission details and she grimaced as she nudged back. She knew what he was thinking. Part of her even agreed with him. But that was a conversation for after this meeting.

Sure enough, soon as Jaiza finished running through the completed plan--in which Silver and Corso were largely just extra bodies--Corso dragged Silver out the door and around the corner so they could have a semi-private conversation.

“Corso, I know what you’re gonna say,” Silver began, crossing her arms.

He said it anyway. “You should stay to help.”

“And, what, you still go?” Her fingers dug into her arms at the thought of them splitting up. She didn’t trust other people with watching his back.

“Even if i’m just extra muscle, I can still help, Sil,” Corso pointed out.

“Well, then be extra muscle here.” Silver ran one hand down her ponytail and tugged on the end agitatedly. “I’m sure they’ll need it, too, an’ that way we can have each other’s backs.”

“Yeah, uh, I was thinkin’ about that...” the words trailed off as he fidgeted with his blaster grip, picking at dents Torchy had picked up over the course of today.

She narrowed her eyes. “why do I get the feelin’ I’m not gonna like these thoughts?”

“‘Cause they’re driftin’ in the direction of feelin’ one of us should stay here so there’s better odds the girls get at least one of us back.”

The tangle of emotions hit her with all the force of a runaway airspeeder, and Silver instinctively reached for his hands. “Corso-”

“Not sayin’ I think it’s a suicide run or nothin’,” Corso cut her off. “Just dangerous, like here will be if they attack. We’re good with dangerous, but we gotta think about Talia and Brynna, too.”

“Well, then, you stay here as muscle an’ I’ll go,” she countered. “If it’s that dangerous, they’re gonna need a medic.”

“They got one.” He nodded toward the dark-furred cathar just exiting the barracks. “An’ I think the base’ll need your help more.”

To her dismay, Silver couldn’t think of any other arguments. Oh, she was sure there were more, there had to be. But with her heart beating fast and unease settling in her gut, they eluded her. So she swallowed hard and reluctantly nodded. “You win.”

Corso leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, calloused fingers gently rubbing her hands. “I’m sure we’ll both be fine, Sil, but you know the sayin’.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she muttered, leaning into the contact with him. “Never been fond of playin’ it safe.”

“Part of why I love ya.” He let go of her hands to rub her arms comfortingly instead. “But we got kids now, darlin’. Sometimes we gotta play it safe for them.”

“I know,” Silver groaned. She curved her hands against either side of his jaw and pulled him in for a kiss. He reciprocated, humming softly, which made her grin.  “That means you gotta play it safe, too, farm boy.” Her thumb rubbed over his cheek, memorizing afresh scars and other details she already knew by heart.  “And don’t die.”

“Aw, Captain,” Corso winked playfully and kissed her forehead. “I’m too pretty to die.”

She laughed at that, smiled as they disengaged and he left with the recovery team, but couldn’t completely bury the nagging thought, no matter how hard she tried.

Famous last words...

--

The medcenter proved easy to find, and just as desperately busy as had been insinuated. Silver had a moment where she genuinely thought the chief doctor was going to hug her or burst into tears of gratitude (maybe both) when she informed her she was here to help.

After a few rapid fire questions to determine if she had any particular strong suits when it came to healing(no), was squeamish about anything(also no), and if she could keep her cool under pressure(yes), the doctor assigned Silver to help with emergency intake. That proved to be mostly wounded soldiers, with the occasional civilian who hadn’t cleared out of their own property fast enough for the Nova Blades. Between the two, she was soon so busy she didn’t have time to think, let alone worry. After all, there were other teams and groups of soldiers out of there fighting the Blades; it wasn’t as if the entire pirate army was gonna come down like a grav-hammer on one five-person team after a stolen walker. Right?

The soldier on the bed in front of her moaned as the kolto injection she’d administered kicked in and Silver hastily yet gently wrapped medseal around his badly burned arm. It wasn’t pretty, but it would protect the injury until a doctor could treat it properly. Her job wasn’t to be pretty or thorough; it was to get bleeding stopped, wounds bandaged, infection stymied.

And the wounded never stopped coming. She could see why the idea of a direct attack was an unpleasant one. There was enough to keep the medcenter full and busy for weeks as things stood. They’d wind up swamped if there was an actual attack.

There was, and they did. It made Silver feel extra guilty raising her hand when a frazzled cathar with sergeant’s rank marks stepped in and asked if anyone had combat medic experience. At least she was the only one; most of the doctors here were civilians, owing to Dantooine’s formerly peaceful status. She grabbed a field medic kit and followed the sergeant out, flashing an apologetic smile to the head doctor as they passed.

“Am I rovin’ or stayin’ put?” Silver asked. There were multiple entrances to the base, and she couldn’t see the pirates focusing entirely on just one.

“The main gate’s covered,” the cathar replied. “You’ll be at the north entrance, where there’s the second heaviest enemy concentration, but we may pull you if needed elsewhere.”

“Got it,” Silver nodded, distracted by the sunset hues to tinge the sky. Had it really been that long?

The sergeant escorted her past the gate guards, the cacophony of battle rising as they stepped out of the garrison, and gestured to the forward defensive position, fanned out maybe a dozen meters outside the gate. “Stabilize, signal, move on to the next one,” she said, pressing a comlink into Silver’s hand. “The red button on the side marks coordinates, all you have to do is press it.”

“Simple enough.” Silver flinched as a laser bolt sizzle by, a tad too close given the distance.

“Good.” The sergeant clapped her on the shoulder--”Be safe”--and headed back into the fort.

Safe is relative, Silver thought snarkily as she flipped her stealth field generator on and beelined for the nearest wounded soldier. Even cloaked, the enemy fire came uncomfortably close.

On the bright side, at least the adrenaline and challenge would keep her from worrying about Corso.

--

The Nova Blades’ first assault was driven off in under an hour, as the orangey-purple of a sunset sky faded into the inky indigo of night. And Corso still wasn’t back yet. His team wasn’t the only one; nearly half the Republic’s squads out in the field had yet to return. 

At least the respite from open conflict had allowed the medical staff to more or less catch up. Even that, while great for the beleaguered garrison, meant Silver didn’t have anything to distract her from worrying about Corso. And by this point, it was worry. She had every faith in his skill, and the soldiers’ skill, but this felt like too long for a straight-forward search and recover, even moreso if they’d opted to destroy the walker to get it out of pirates’ hand. There’d been no reports of the Nova Blades using the walker during their assault, which was a good sign, but she still didn’t like that no one had so much as checked in since they left. Radio silence was one of the most nerve-wracking things in the galaxy under the right(wrong) conditions, and she felt like she was sitting in the sweet spot for exactly that.

So she paced as the hours stretched on, bit her nails down to the quick, and played with her ring, ragged thumbnail dragging back and forth over the inset purple stone. A few of the field teams trickled back in, using the night to sneak past roving pirates. But Jaiza’s team wasn’t one of them. A couple returning soldiers bore reports of units killed to a man. Jaiza’s team wasn’t one of those, either.

Blast it, Corso, where are you?! she worried as they crept through the back half of the fifth hour since he’d left.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she whirled, tensed with anticipation-

-It wasn’t him. She hadn’t truly expected it to be, but it was still a let down to find Lieutenant Jorin instead.

“Easy, Captain,” Jorin chuckled, holding out one hand in a placating gesture. ”Battle’s done, at least for the night.”

Silver’s shoulders slumped briefly before she crossed her arms. “Maybe so, but my husband’s still out there. How the hell does it take this long to blow up a damn walker?!”

“I’m sure you’re aware from experience that pirates are an unpredictable lot,” Jorin said dryly. “The walker might’ve been moved, they might’ve needed to find an alternate route there or back. Especially if they recovered the walker instead of destroying it. Maybe they needed to hit additional targets because we were under-garrisoned for something like this to begin with, and got hit pretty blasted hard today.”

“Why dontcha ask for help?” she pointed out, leaning against the wall of the command center so she could keep an eye on the main base entrance.

“We did. The Republic’s sending more men and supplies, but with the renewed war, it probably isn’t much.”

“What about the Alliance?” Silver suggested. “Their commander’s a pretty staunch patriot.”

Jorin arched a brow. “You sound like you know him.”

“My brother,” she said with a nod.

He snorted. “Well, we haven’t exactly been hiding how things stand here, Captain. It’s all over the HoloNet, we’ve sent out open calls for aid. Your brother would have to be under a rock in the back corner of the galaxy to not hear something. If the Alliance was going to help, they’d be here by now.”

“Well-” Silver’s defensive protest(no way Tel wouldn’t help the Republic) died in her throat heard the entrance guards challenge an approaching group. Hope rose, then faded when it proved to be a group of farmers who’d waited for the cover of night to sneak around the pirates. A risky move, but she could see the appeal, and it had paid off. Still meant she had to wait and worry longer, and by the time things had quieted it would’ve felt awkward to press the conversation with Jorin, so the waiting happened without anything to really distract her. The lieutenant worked on his datapad, leaving her to stand with arms crossed tight across her chest and fingers anxiously picking at her sleeve as she waited. This is why I frangin’ hate splittin’ up-

“Hey, pretty lady, you look like you’re waitin’ on someone,” a familiar voice drawled behind her.

Already grinning, Silver wheeled--”Corso!”--and lunged toward him. She crashed into him with enough force he stumbled back a step before catching his balance, her arms wrapping around his neck almost tight enough to strangle. He was laughing as he hugged her back, arms warm and solid around her waist.

Silver loosened her grip ever so slightly and buried her face against the side of his neck. “Anybody else’d get clocked for that line, Riggs,” she mumbled.

Corso chuckled and rubbed her back. “Lucky me, bein’ the exception.”

She half-heartedly smacked the back of his head. “That’s for worryin’ me, though.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, darlin’,”

“One would think you two had been apart for six years instead of six hours,” Lieutenant Jorin commented dryly. “Did you recover the walker?”

“Yessir,” Corso answered over Silver’s shoulder, his arms still firmly and unapologetically around her waist. “Jaiza’s overseein’ the recovery check. Figured I’d wanna find my wife.” He tweaked Silver’s ponytail. “She wasn’t wrong.”

“Is that why it took so damn long for you to get back?” Silver demanded as Jorin hurried off toward walker maintenance, finally loosening her grip.

“Yeah, walkers only move so fast.” He leaned in to kiss her temple. “An’ we hit a few extra targets on the way back, once we had the firepower. Started runnin’ twitchy so Myri didn’t push it on the way back. That’s how come the maintenance check.”

“Alright, an’ howdja sneak up on me?”

“There’s more’n one entrance, walker bay’s by the south gate, an’ I didn’t feel like circlin’ a quarter of the base to come in the front door.” He smirked. “Ain’t my fault you were distracted.”

“I was worryin’ about you.” Silver reminded him. “So it sorta was.”

“I stand corrected,” Corso laughed. “And real tired. Whaddya say we go get some shut-eye ‘fore we gotta deal with whatever tomorrow throws at us?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed, tugging him in for a kiss before they set off to find a place to sleep, Corso’s arm settled around her shoulder and Silver’s hand in his back pocket.

Corso was right; they could deal with tomorrow’s problems tomorrow. Right now, worries assuaged and the day’s adrenaline quickly fading, Silver felt as tired as he looked. Sleep definitely sounded good--sounded like heaven--right about now.

They wound up crowded in a corner, sharing a cot clearly meant for one person. On the bright side, it was a durasteel-clad excuse to snuggle close with her husband all night long. It was an extremely acceptable trade-off in Silver’s reckoning.

And from the smile on Corso’s face as he drifted off with her tucked close, he reckoned the same.

[on-the-virge-of-crumbling]

A Masquerade

Written for @sanderssidesspook  ‘s Halloween (Spooky Month) prompt list. Immediately I wanted to write and project onto Virgil but I want to write all of these so that they fit the character that best fits the prompt and my interpretation. I also want to involve everyone, so with that, we start with Princey.  

Summary: Halloween is quickly approaching and with it’s nearing start the festivities. Roman Prince is invited to a Masquerade by his cousin and he readily accepts. Roman is an extravagant and proud young man and he feels the need to go out and make something of himself, make himself known, and to go to a merry Halloween party at the beginning of October? Why, that seems like a marvelous chance even if it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Pairing(s)/Relationship(s): Possible Pre-LAMP, Pre-Prinxiety, Pre-Logicality / None 

Warning(s): insecurities (,Unedited dumpster fire, a lot of filler, just all and all actual trash)

Word Count: 6,102 (Six-thousand one-hundred and two)

Prompt: Costume Party (Day 1)

Human AU

<<-------------------->>

A clearing in a dense forest, the tips of the trees painted with fading golden light as the sun set and the trunks illuminated by the flickering glow of fireflies and luminescent mushrooms as they simultaneously sprung to life. The foliage was viridian and lush, the wide clearing’s lime grass soft and short. Creatures shuffled out of the treeline, white doe and jackrabbits stumbling into sight with their large innocent eyes blown wide and curious. The sky was quickly darkening, the clouds like a watercolor of yellow and pink as the blue of the sky deepened and riddled itself with twinkling stars. A lake was situated at the center of the clearing, it’s pure waters rippling and the grass around its edges colored a pristine white. It twinkled with the stars, it’s gentle tides lapping at the white grass and dancing in its own pools. The creatures were as mesmerized as he, a jackrabbit hopping towards the lake’s enticing waters and encouraging his fellow wildlife to do the same. Soon enough the clearing was covered in small, white-furred fauna. A white doe trotted over to the lake and began to lap up the water with its navy blue tongue, the jackrabbits chasing each other playfully as the moon made itself known in the sky. Wolves came from the woods, they too white-furred, but they did not make a move to hurt all the easy prey prancing about, rather, they began to play amongst themselves; howling yipping and joyously jumping. The lake seemed to glow in the lunar light, the white grass swaying in an invisible breeze and reaching for the stars. He wished to reach those stars, too, to live amongst them and become his own brilliant constellation one would excitedly look for in the night sky. He could be admired, loved, and sought out. 

The Moon’s rays made the lake sparkle, lake’s waters rippling and swirling gracefully as- 

Roman’s eyes fluttered open, the last wisps of his dream dissipating in his mind as he took in his familiar ceiling. His white ceiling stood out in comparison to his royal red walls, his furniture all in white with golden accents just so it all looked put together and planned; not a thing out of place. On the wall, right above his cushion headboard, a big, brilliant golden crown was boldly painted. Roman took in a deep breath and held it, letting his eyes shut for but a moment as he listened to his phone blare on his nightstand. He had, evidently, forgotten to put it on silent earlier that night and now he was, probably, being woken up at an ungodly hour such as this. The sun had yet to rise so it must’ve still been late, his ruby curtains not at all glowing with the light of the sun as they did every morning. 

The call had to have been important if it was coming in at... Roman opened his eyes and exhaled slowly as he turned to look at his basic, red digital clock situated on his pristine white nightstand. 3:41 a.m. Who in the world was calling him at 3:41 in the morning. He needed his beauty rest and this, this, was treason. With an exaggerated groan Roman rolled himself over and dramatically flung his arm out so he could grab his phone settled right in front of his clock. He dragged the phone off the table, his face buried in his pillow, and slid his thumb across the screen without even a glance before shoving the device to his ear. “This had better be important,” He grumbled sourly, voice low, muffled, and slightly gravelly from the few hours of sleep he’d managed to catch so far.

“Oh honey, come on, it’s early,” The familiar energy of his cousin’s voice filtered into the otherwise silent room, “Besides, this is something I think you’ll be interested in.” Roman rolled over once again, his gaze flicking over the tiny, memorized details of his pristine ceiling. Remy knew how to play him, keeping the information just out of reach and arousing intrigue. The sound of loud sipping blared from his phone, Roman instinctually flinching away from the obnoxious noise that just shattered his eardrum with a scowl. 

“Remus,” Roman huffed, draping his arm over his eyes and resisting the urge to groan as loud as he could manage. The call of sleep was a tempting one but his attention had been snatched up by Remy and if he didn’t find out what in the world Remy was talking about he was certain it’d keep him up all night. The satisfaction that bloomed in his mind, however, when Remy groaned at the use of his full name was almost worth the exhaustion. “Get on with it, will you? I love you dearly but I would like to get back to sleep sometime this century.” Roman removed his arm from his face and tangled his hand in his hair. He wondered what the stars looked like right now. If they sparkled nearly as bright as the ones in his dream had. A glance out his window would prove nothing, light pollution draining the natural light from the sky, but he wished to see the galaxies. The large, romantic part of him imagined looking up at constellations and hoping his true love was out there somewhere looking at the same sky, admiring the same stars. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely. I’m putting together a fantabulous party to kick off October. Of course, I’m inviting you, Ro,” Remy replied with another outrageously loud sip. Roman was well aware Remy was doing it on purpose but didn’t care to call out his cousin, he just wanted to get back to sleep. 

“The offer is very much appreciated-” 

“Girl, I’m not done, it’s a masquerade costume party and some of my friends from college will be coming. You and me are gonna go costume shopping tomorrow and it will be marvelous. No ‘nos’ or ‘buts’. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” Remy insisted, sounding way too pleased with himself. “Now go to sleep you party-pooper.” The phone beeped before Roman could even get another word in, but that was the last thing on his mind. The idea of the party actually excited him, despite how negatively he’d acted over the phone. He was certain Remy was aware he’d want to attend as well. A costume masquerade, what a wondrous idea. 

But what would he go as? Something fanciful and remarkable, certainly. His mind was still fogged with sleep and his eyelids were already drooping as he numbly placed his phone back on his side table. He fought for a moment to keep his eyes open, he needed to come up with an idea. Remy hadn’t told him when this party was but he said they were going costume shopping tomorrow meaning Roman had to have a plan if he was going to be as marvelous and extravagant as he wanted. Thinking of something in his current state, however, would prove disastrous so without further fight Roman fell right back to sleep. 

<<-------------------->>

Roman woke to the default screeching blare of his alarm clock, his eyes sliding open as he pushed himself upright and blindly shut off his alarm with ease. The light was now seeping in through his window, patterned by the blinds, the curtains pulled back and the sun’s ray filtering through the red fabric. It was a serene sight, happy and calm; a perfect morning.

Roman flung off his blankets quickly, immediately missing the warmth his bed had to offer but knowing that if he stayed in bed he’d end up sleeping the day way. He shuffled across his room with a yawn, stretching his arms high above his head before running both hands through his hair and down his face in attempt to wake himself up. Waking up and getting started was always the hardest part of Roman’s day, the urge to just stay in bed and dream almost too strong for him. He knew that if he didn’t get up those dreams could never become a reality, though, and that was something that motivated him on a day to day basis. So, with purpose, Roman opened the door to his bedroom and strode out into the living room of his apartment. He walked across the room, ignoring his fanciful furniture and entered the attached kitchen. The pantry door was slightly askew and Roman sighed loudly, a soft smile playing at his lips as he gently tugged open the door. Inside, on the hardwood flooring, a slim white cat was flopped on the floor. Its head was stuffed into a cat treats bag and the sound of feline chewing could be heard, if not slightly muffled. 

Roman kneeled and grabbed the cat around the middle, tugging it out of its breakfast of choice and chuckling lowly as the white-furred creature mewled pitifully at the loss of food. “I’ll never understand how you keep such a slim figure Snowball,” He insisted as he snatched up the bag of treats. He sealed the bag as he stood before reaching out and placing the bag on one of the higher shelves, “You spark a jealousy in me.” He joked. 

Snowball stared at him and sat, her head tipping up and showing off her red collar complete with a tiny bell. Her big blue eyes blinked curiously as Roman grabbed a small box of coffee before stepping back and nudging her out of the pantry. He stepped to the side and put the box on the counter before reaching up to open one of his dark, oakwood cabinets. While distracted, Snowball hopped up onto the counter and began curiously sniffing at the box in attempt to figure out if its contents were worthy of her attention. 

Roman got down his favorite mug, a red cup with a crown reminiscent of the one in his room with a curly handle he’d received as a gift the Christmas beforehand as a gift from Remy, and nudged Snowball away from the coffee before extracting a small container of coffee grounds from the box. Snowball sniffed at his hand as he flipped up the handle of his Keurig and popped the coffee into place. He shoved his mug under the spout and flicked the handle down before hitting the 10-ounce button and waiting. He leaned against the counter and reached up to scratch behind Snowball’s ears as the machine whirred to life and began to mix his preferred morning coherency in liquid form. Snowball purred gratefully, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. She appeared almost questioning and Roman often wondered how much Snowball could truly comprehend. Perhaps she always stole his pens because she was unhappy with her very uninspired name. 

“You’ll be home alone for a while today my dear,” Roman said smoothly. It’d become habit for him to casually speak with his feline companion, telling her about his day or his plans like she was a human who would speak back. A few of his friends found it rather weird, his friends with pets, however, understood wholeheartedly. Snowball meowed when he attempted to pull his hand away, lifting a paw and pulling his hand back shamelessly. “Remy has decided to take me shopping for a costume and I have the most stunning idea.” He confessed. 

The Keurig spewed coffee, startling Snowball and giving Roman the opportunity to pull his hand away before he continued on, “You see, I’ve been having extraordinary dreams revolving around this brilliant fantasy land.” Snowball no longer looked very interested now that Roman wasn’t petting her, her tail swaying in something akin to irritation as she seated herself on the dark marble countertop. Roman smiled at her as he gestured grandly to nothing as he spoke with more fervor, “You see, in each one, I am wearing this magnificent princely outfit with golden embellishments and a sash this most enchanting ruby shade, my katana sheathed at my side. I hope to bring it to life for this party, what do you think?” He asked despite knowing he’d receive no answer. 

Snowball simply jumped off the counter as the Keurig sputtered, spraying out the last of Roman’s coffee before shutting down until it’s next use. Roman sighed contentedly to himself as he tugged his coffee off the Keurig plate, setting it on the counter as he retrieved his creamer from his spotless stainless steel fridge settled straight across from his pantry. He unscrewed the lid as he approached his coffee and proceeded to pour a borderline disgusting amount of the sweetened creamer into his drink. The liquid reached just below the lip of the cup when he stopped, putting the lid back on and putting the creamer away before he grabbed a spoon from beside the coffee maker and carefully mixed his drink. The coffee quickly became a very light cream color and he tapped the spoon on the rim and put it back in it’s designated spot. With his drink prepared and cooling he left the kitchen and headed back towards his room, the soft jingling of Snowball’s bell ringing behind him as his cat followed after him. 

Roman walked through his door, left wide open, and watched over to his nightstand. He snatched up his phone and unplugged it with a practiced grace before he unlocked the device and opened his default messaging app (I.E Instagram). He tapped his most recent conversation and skillfully typed out a text. 

7:45 a.m 

PrinceRoman: When do u plan 2 pick me up? 

Roman hit send and shoved his phone into the pocket on his red satin pajama pants, picking up Snowball and holding her to his chest before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. He walked back into the living room, placed Snowball on the couch, before moving to collect his coffee from the kitchen. His routine felt like it usually went along a lot smoother than it was now but he blamed it fully on the fact his rest had been so rudely interrupted during the night. Cup in hand he made his way into the living room before sitting on the dark suede couch next to Snowball and setting his mug on the gunmetal glass coffee table settled between him and his TV set up. He began to once again pet Snowball when his phone dinged. He dug the phone from his pocket and opened the message. 

7:49 a.m

Up_All_Night: Be ready in an hour~!

Roman rolled his eyes but grinned fondly to himself as he sent back a quick heart before tossing his phone next to him and leaning back into the soft cushions. He sucked in a content breath and just let himself relax and pet his cat for a moment. He was living his dreams, singing in musicals and acting in plays. He’d even gotten a main role in a Broadway musical a few years back and it had been one of the best moments of his life. He was lucky, and content for the most part. Sometimes his mind got to him, pushing in on his like a trap telling him he wasn’t good enough and he was never going to make it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to give into those thoughts, fear and insecurity rolling in his stomach and telling him he had to prove himself. In the end he always came out on top, he knew he always would, but in those moments he feels defeated and broken. It amazes him sometimes he ever manages to get himself back up. It’s because of his supportive family and friends, the people who he doubts will even stay but always do more for him then he could ever expect them to. He just so amazed by all of it, it stumps him how he ever came to deserve anything like this. 

Snowball pawed at his wrist, noticing he’d stopped in his soothing pats and demanding more attention. Roman roused from his thoughts and stood, leaving Snowball on the couch so he could go take a quick shower and get dressed. Remy would be on his way soon. 

While walking back to his room to use the adjacent bathroom and get a change of clothes Roman couldn’t help but smile, a happiness unexplainable blooming in his chest.  

<<-------------------->>

Roman bounced his leg where he sat beside Remy in his cousin’s car, excitement buzzing in his veins. He had a brilliant plan for his costume and he knew all the stores to find in order to get exactly what he needed. “When, exactly, does this party take place?” he asked, turning to look at his cousin as they slowed to a stop at a red light. 

“A week from now,” Remy answered uncaringly, taking a loud sip from their drink as they stared down the light like winning a staring contest would make it turn green faster.

<<-------------------->>

A few bags already hung from Roman’s arms, a good few more hanging from Remy’s, when he saw something perfect. He needed it, it would complete everything. “Remy,” He squealed, grabbing his cousin by the forearm and dragging him across the mall’s courtyard so he could reach the small shop right next to a Hot Topic. “Need.” 

“Roman, honey, sweetheart,” Remy sighed, grabbing his sunglasses and pulling them down the bridge of his nose so he could properly stare Roman down over the lenses. With a Starbucks cup in one hand and the other grasping the rims of his glasses, bags swinging from his elbows, Remy looked so stereotypical Roman almost laughed. “It’s a party. You’ll probably never wear the thing again.”

“I can afford it,” Roman shot back. 

“So can I, but that’s not the point.” Remy snarked with a teasing roll of his eyes and twitch of his lips. 

“Great, then we’ll split the bill for it,” Roman grabbed Remy by the arm again and pulled him into the store. Remy shrieked. 

<<-------------------->>

“Is that all,” The clerk asked, raising a questioning eyebrow that Roman barely took note of as he fished a few large bills from his wallet. 

“Oh yes, I have everything I need,” Roman assured, holding out the bills. 

“That’ll be three-hundred fifteen dollars and twenty-five cents.” The clerk instinctively droned as they took Roman’s money. Remy snorted and took another loud sip, eyeing the clerk as they cringed. 

<<-------------------->>

The next week passed in a blur, Roman was working extra hard in attempt to make his costume perfect, going as far to call in his friends Talyn and Joan so they could help him get everything perfect. They were happy to help, taking his bossy instructions with ease and even helping him to even out all of his ideas. 

They worked ridiculously hard, Remy absentmindedly reminding Roman time and time again that it was just a costume party. It was a fruitless effort but it was cute that he tried. 

<<-------------------->>

Roman stood proudly in his room, admiring his costume in his full body mirror situated next to his desk. He wore sleek, black dress shoes with fitting black dress pants. His torso was covered in a white tunic with four lines of gold holding it closed and tails cutting off just below his knees, his shoulders properly colored with matching golden embellishments. A few lines of gold circled the cuffs of his royal garment. A patch, handmade and a brilliant shade of crimson with more gold, sat on his shoulder; a castle and waves and everything ever so princely. At his side his katana was sheathed and across his chest was a matching crimson sash tying the outfit together. On his face was a fitted mask, sparkling ruby, like that of Dorothy’s shoes in the Wizard of Oz. Around the edges of the masks were wisps of handpainted gold, curling around the eyes gracefully and bringing out the flecks of colorful hazel in his chestnut eyes. Dots of the same shimmer rested along the edge of the mask’s top, like stars. 

Roman smiled and looked himself in the eye, atop of his head sat a golden circlet decorated with subtly red gems. It wasn’t authentic by any means by a proper imitation. It was absent in his dreams, the circlet, but he felt like it completed the look he was striving to achieve. He was ready. 

<<---------------------->>

“You look stunning girl,” Remy greeted animatedly, opening the door to let Roman in and admiring Roman’s royal costume. His eyes settled on the circlet and his smile seemed to widen. “Looks great.” Remy’s mask was simply pitch black, matte and solid. His costume was a ragged black and gray patched outfit, special effects bolts sticking from either side of his neck and thick staples across his forehead. Stitches could be seen peeking out from underneath his clothes, white contact in his eyes and standing out against the black of his mask. 

“You look properly spooky Remy,” Roman complimented back, looking out across the crowd of people and admiring all the costumes. They ranged from store-bought to handmade; covering to revealing. They moved in time to loud music, dancing across the mansion-like household that belonged to Roman’s Aunt and Uncle. Remy nodded to him and disappeared into the crowd, talking loudly with the people who greeted him. Roman was very familiar with the house, and he was glad to know that his costume was clearly the most extravagant out of all of the others. He was bold and powerful, standing tall and looking at everything before him. Lights circled around every available surface, casting purple and orange light all across the home, the house lights themselves were dimmed and Roman was almost one hundred positive that festive snacks were piled high in the dining area hidden behind a wall off to his right. It was a well thought out display, like one from a film, like a spookier version of Another Cinderella Story’s grand masquerade party. 

Roman smirked as he trotted down into the fray, hand casually resting on his sword’s hilt. The people weren’t rude, letting him pass with relative ease as he made his way to the kitchen area. He hadn’t eaten that day, spending the entire day fretting over last minute details. His choices were now coming to bite him as his stomach clenched, painfully demanding attention. He was happy to give in, walking with his head held high and a proud grin on his face. He felt remarkable, celestial, like the world could focus in on him at this moment and be proud. It was an amazing feeling and he relished in it, stepping into the kitchen and being met with exactly what he expected. A fogging bowl of what he assumed was alcohol-spiked punch sat on the kitchen island, a gratuitous amount of Halloween candy and snacks surrounding the smokey cauldron. Deciding alcohol wasn’t in his best interest Roman made for the fridge, opening the familiar storage unit and looking for the soda he knew Remy always kept on hand in case he decided to make a surprise visit. 

“Hey,” Roman startled at the angry voice behind him, turning around to glance at the entryway. He quickly met eyes with the man who’d spoken, the guy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He was dressed in a black and purple patchwork hoodie that looked carefully crafted. His pants were black as were his shoes but Roman’s eyes were drawn briefly to the man’s plum-colored bangs hanging over his eyes. His eyes covered with a startling flamboyant mask. It was a deep sparkling violet decorated with silvery lightning bolts, the eyes lined with a shimmering black. “What the hell are you doing?” The guy snarled, pushing off the wall and shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he walked further into the kitchen. 

Roman raised a questioning eyebrow, offended by the stranger’s rude behavior, “I could ask you the same thing, you know you’re supposed to show up to costume parties in costume, right?” He snarked back, turning back to the fridge and grabbing the soda he so craved. He opened the can with a satisfying pop and turned back to the stranger as his drink fizzed in his hand. “I’m unsure of what your problem is but I’d suggest taking it out on someone else J.D-lightful.” 

The guy bristled, shoulders tensing and teeth grinding together. His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare and Roman was almost certain he would pounce when a familiar face bounced into the kitchen. 

“Oh, hi Roman,” Patton greeted with a bright smile showing off fake fangs molded to his teeth. His mask was a dazzling baby blue outlined in gray, sparkling and glimmering and eye-catching. He wore a blue polo and his favorite gray cardigan was tied around his shoulders, jeans covered his legs and sneakers adorned his feet. The interesting part, however, was Patton’s messy hair and fluffy sideburns, a black nose painted on his own sniffer. Roman was surprised when Patton’s gaze flicked to the stranger, putting a name to the face. “Hiya Virgil.” 

“You know him?” Roman and Virgil spoke in unison, turning to scowl at each other. 

Patton nodded, “Come on kiddos, play nice.” He scolded playfully as he walked over, grabbing a handful of pretzels and munching on them as he put his other hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Roman, this is Virgil. Virgil, this is Remy’s cousin Roman.” he introduced around a mouthful of salty snack. Virgil glared at him, looking him up and down skeptically before giving him a curt not and extending a hand. 

Roman stared at it for a moment, unsure if he should trust this man, “It’s called a handshake Princey, you tend to participate when you meet new people.” Virgil teased, smirk pulling at his lips and oh no. Roman much preferred when Virgil smiled, his scowl was dark but even that soft teasing grin was enough to put a light in Virgil’s dark brown irises. 

He took Virgil’s hand and shook it firmly, noting Virgil’s own firm grasp before their hands dropped simultaneously to their sides. They stared each other down for a moment, Virgil’s shorter stature and slumped posture forcing Roman to look down in order to meet the other man’s eyes. Patton, oblivious to the moment, loudly shoved more pretzels into his face. 

“Patton, that is highly ineffective. You are getting the majority of your food on the floor.” Roman couldn’t help but roll his eyes, apparently, everyone he knew was interested in hiding out in the kitchen. And Virgil, of course. He was content to be with his closest friends though. And Virgil. 

Patton whined, pouting at Logan and getting crumbs all over his polo and into his fake sideburns. “To be fur Logan, we all know I’m a messy eater.” Virgil snorted and rolled his eyes while Logan scowled and instinctively moved to adjusted his glasses, forgetting he’d put on contact in favor the party’s theme. Logan was wearing his usual attire, a dark black polo and a navy tie. His shirted tucked into tan pants and his feet covered with pristine dress shoes. His mask was a simple, sparkling navy lined with black in a similar style to Patton’s. Roman noted how they were all covered in different colored glitters. 

“I believe you meant ‘to be fair’.” Logan corrected as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Did I?” Patton shot back, smile widening as Roman chuckled and Logan groaned. The night was beginning to look a lot more entertaining. 

<<-------------------->>

They’d all taken a seat on the floor, sat in a poorly made circle with the bowl of pretzels settled in the center. Initially, Logan had protested, insisting that chairs would be much better but Patton had tugged him down and the logical man had made no move to get up and remove himself. 

Now, they were all smiling over some dumb joke that Patton had told. Virgil’s shoulders silently shook and Logan had looked away in order to cover his amusement. Patton looked so proud that he’d made them all laugh, eyes shining behind his mask as he beamed at all of them. If Patton had a tail it’d be wagging a million miles a minute. Roman had noticed when Virgil had let out a surprised bark of laughter earlier that he was wearing small fangs, when he’d asked Virgil just shrugged and said he was a vampire. Logan was a “teacher.” Neither had really wanted to dress up. 

“What’s a werewolf’s favorite day of the week?” Patton asked, leaning forward as if in anticipation of his own joke. He didn’t wait for anyone to attempt an answer before he bounced back and threw his arms up, “Moonday!” he exclaimed. Virgil snorted again and smiled at Patton almost shyly. 

“Did you study before the party?” Virgil snarked. Patton bounced in place and shook his head, both of their fake fangs were showing. It was quite endearing, actually. 

“I’m just that good kiddo,” Patton sang, giggling. If Roman didn’t know any better he’d say Patton was intoxicated but he knew Patton just got this way when excited sometimes. 

Roman turned to Logan, sending the man a gentle smile that Logan returned without hesitance. The party was turning out to be a lot more fun than he had anticipated but that was likely due to the fact he was spending it with amazing people. He’d have to thank Remy. In fact, this would be one of his favorite moments of the year he was certain, simply sitting down and enjoying the company of people that have come to mean so much to him... and Virgil. 

Roman slowly stood, gaining the others’ attention, he grinned at them and straightened his posture, “I’m off to the restroom. I’ll return shortly.” he assured. Logan gave him a nod, Virgil shrugging as Patton told him to be back soon. He left the kitchen and strode back into the mess of people in the house, the music hitting him full force. Everyone appeared to be having a great time, nothing broken and everything calm enough. Remy really did know how to put a party together, which made sense considering how many he goes to. Roman squeezed his way through the crowd, careful not to jab anyone with the end of his sheath as his maneuvered through the crowd. Luckily he knew where he was going. 

The hall leading to the bathroom was thankfully empty with the exception of two girls settled against the wall nursing drinks, he passed them with a polite nod before knocking on the bathroom door. When no response came he assumed it safe and entered the, thankfully, vacant restroom. He relieved himself in peace, washing his hands and running his still wet digits through his hair to both tame and tussle the soft locks. He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusted his circlet and nodded to himself before leaving the cream-themed room. 

“-showing off, how rude. I mean, who wears a crown to a costume party.” One of the girls was speaking as he exited the room and it was clear they were in the middle of a conversation about him. The other girl scoffed and rolled her eyes while agreeing wholeheartedly and sipping her drink. 

Roman could feel nervous nausea twist in his stomach, his previously wondrous mood soured by the few words he heard spoken about him. He turned on his heels and retreated further into the house, taking familiar turns while his thoughts raced. Did everyone think that? That he was showing off and being over-the-top? That wasn’t his intention, he just wanted to put his all into what he did. Perhaps he should stop trying to make everything perfect. Perhaps Remy had been right, it truly was just a costume party. 

He burst through one last pair of doors, sucking in a deep breath that filled his lungs with cold, night air. The backyard, epic in size, had a gigantic rectangular pool surrounded by clean, light gray concrete. It was all fenced in with a tall hedge covered in a multitude of flowers and the stairs leading from the house to the pool was lined with plants of all kinds. There were fairy lights suspended above the entire yard but they were off, the stars strikingly clear as Remy’s home was in the middle of nowhere and the outside lights were off as well. 

Roman trotted down a few steps before dropping down onto the lip of one of the planting bases. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, tangling his hands into his hair and taking in deep, shaky breaths. He felt ridiculous, letting the opinions of others get to him so much. He was very proud of his costume, Joan and Talyn were as well, but the words of two girls had made him feel so unnecessarily guilty. The last thing he wanted to force people to feel worse about themselves because he went overboard. 

He was always going overboard. 

Roman sat back, letting his hands drop and hang between his knees as he just stared up at the stars. He felt his eyes fruitlessly burning and he was distinctly aware of how the chill of the cold autumn air bit at his skin. How had the night gone from so enjoyable, a fantasy come to life, to so wretched. He felt tainted and dirty; unworthy. Over something just so stupid. 

“You know, I really like the stars.” Roman jolted at the sound of Virgil’s voice. He whipped around to see the man trudging down the stairs with his hands shoved deep into is unique hoodie’s pockets. Roman tracked Virgil with his eyes as the other approached, carefully lowering himself down next to Roman on the plant’s edge. “They’re so dark and beautiful, the night sky losing its significance without the stars and the stars losing themselves entirely without the darkness of the sky.” Roman watched Virgil carefully as his gaze flicked over the sky, the stars reflected in his irises as his mask sparkled in the moon’s silvery light. 

“What are you doing Virgil?” Roman asked softly, drawing Virgil’s eyes to his. For a long moment Virgil just stared at him, it felt like Virgil could see everything. His face was calm and thoughtful and his eyes were borderline unfocused. 

Virgil turned away again and it felt like Roman’s breath came back to him, the upward twitching of Virgil’s lips breaking the impossibly fragile atmosphere the moment seemed to have adapted all on its own. Virgil’s hair shifted, falling further into his eyes and glinting in the same silver light that caused his mask to shine. 

“You are who you are Princey,” Virgil spoke suddenly, “Whatever makes you happy is what you deserve to do. People will always be against you so surround yourself with people who will do nothing but support you, even during your most ridiculous and insane phases. Those girls were just jealous because their basic Spirit Halloween costumes could never compete with your homemade brilliance.” 

“How did you-” 

“Just be yourself Roman,” Through the hours they’d been talking in the kitchen Virgil had yet to call him Roman. It was surprising and special despite the fact they’d just met that day. “The people who stand against you don’t know the kind of person you are or what you deal with on a day to day basis.” Roman’s chest ached thinking about how personal that had sounded. Virgil tilted his head up and looked at the stars again and this time Roman joined him. The stars were so bright, the moon’s light illuminating everything around them. Vaguely, Roman wondered if his true love was out there looking at these same stars. The way the pool rippled in the breeze reminded him of his dream at the beginning of the week, his outfit almost an exact replica of what he’d been wearing in his mind’s fantasy world. The stars were almost as bright, the moon almost as magical. 

“There you guys are!” Patton’s happy voice echoed behind him moments before he and Virgil were tackled in Patton’s warm embrace, the heat of the man’s body chasing away the fall night’s chill. He laughed joyously when Patton yanked a disgruntled Logan into the cuddle pile, Virgil chuckling in his ear as they all ended up staring up at the stars. He truly, deeply needed to thank Remy for this; his dream paled in comparison to this perfect moment. 

[amemixfan]

Hi!!! Can you please do "It's cold, you should take my jacket" for Atlas? Unless the prompt doesn't inspire you or something 💜💜💜

“You’re gonna catch a cold out there!” Atlas’ grumpy voice calls out from the Promise. I ignore him and extend my hand towards the falling snow. I’ve never seen real snow before, Olympus 7 never snowed, and can hardly contain my excitement. I’m all but bouncing on my feet as I watch snowflakes gather on my hand.The cold air is frigid and my jacket does little to warm me, but I still cannot let go of my excitement. “Atlas! Look! Snow!” I gather clumps of it in my hands and marvel at the way it feels. My fingers are numb, my hands are turning red, but the snow is soft to the touch. I trace burning cold trails of it on my palm and watch it melt slowly. Atlas emerges from the ship with a scowl on his face and his jacket zipped up all the way. He shakes some falling snow from his hair and glares mournfully at it. Unlike me, he doesn’t find snowflakes amusing. “Haven’t you ever seen snow before?” Atlas dusts off his jacket with one hand while holding a mug of coffee in the other. In the frosty air, the steam from the cup rises at a faster rate. I shake the snow off my jacket and wrap an arm around myself. My breath comes out in foggy wisps and I shake my head. “Olympus 7 had weather machines that controlled the temperate. I’ve never seen snow before,” I admit. Really, I’m fortunate. Orion had decided to stop at a nearby neutral planet for a quick supply run and the planet had been in the midst of its winter. It started snowing early morning, and I had dashed out of bed to see it. I shiver a little in place and inch closer to Atlas hoping he won’t notice. If he does tell that I’m getting cold, he doesn’t comment on it. His expression is still grouchy, but his green eyes are warm. It seems like he understands why I’m so excited now. “I’ve seen fake snow before,” I explain, “My Mom collected snow globes. I used to watch the snow swirl around the glass all the time wondering if I’d ever see it in person. It’s really beautiful.”I marvel at how the ground around us is being blanketed in white. The grass is disappearing beneath fluffy mountains of snow and I dig my boots into the earth and watch my tracks be covered up. Atlas winces. “You’re going to track snow all over my ship.”I grin and nudge his shoulder playfully. “You don’t like the snow?”“You try being in the military in the middle of a blizzard. We barely had a blanket to push us through,” Atlas frowns. He glances at me still shivering in place and his lips purse. His steaming mug of coffee is extended my way. “Drink up. You’re going to get pneumonia.”“That’s not how you get pneumonia but thanks,” I beam. His coffee is strong and bitter, he takes it black with no sugar, but the warming effects overpower the bad taste. I almost down it in one go feeling energized. Atlas takes the mug from me and stares down at how I’ve almost finished it. He glares at me, silently reproachful, but his face softens a few degrees once I return to collecting snowflakes.I gather some snow in my palm and mold it into a ball. Once it’s been formed enough, I try to find a target. My first though is Atlas but, as if sensing imminent danger, Atlas clenches his jaw and tells me not to even think about it. Sighing, I settle for simply flinging it at a nearby pole. It slams into the wood and falls into clumps on the ground. How anticlimactic. “Your hands are getting red,” Atlas remarks, “and you’re shivering like a leaf. It’s too cold outside to be out here.”I ignore the way my lips are getting numb from the cold. My weight shifts from side to side in an effort to grow warm. He’s right, but I don’t want to go in just yet. “Can we please stay out here longer? Just until Orion comes back with the supplies?” I clasp my hands together for warmth and peer at Atlas with my best puppy-eyes. Although he looks like he wants to argue, Atlas relents with one glance at my eyes. The puppy-dog look works every time. “Until Orion comes back,” Atlas warns, “But then we’re moving to a warmer planet.”I beam and sling an arm around his back in excitement. I reach up on my toes and press a frozen kiss to his cheek. The skin underneath my lips begins to burn and Atlas ignites in a blush. “Aww, you’re red,” I tease. My own face is also getting warm but I hope he won’t notice. Atlas glances away and begins to shrug out of his jacket. “It’s the freezing wind, don’t get any ideas. Here. You should take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”Without waiting for permission, he places the heavy bomber jacket on my shoulders. The leather is warm and it smells like him. I try to discreetly smell the motor oil and cologne. “You never let me have your jacket,” I remark. I put the jacket on properly and it falls over me. It is oversized and I trace the patches on it. Atlas rubs at his arms. He has worn a long sleeved shirt underneath his coat but I can tell he’s still cold. What a gentleman. “Well your jacket won’t protect you. If you get sick, I have to take care of you,” Atlas looks away with another dark blush across his face. I beam silently at him and inch closer so that I’m pressed to his side. “Thank you.”Atlas makes a noncommittal sound. “Are you bored yet? Do you want to go back inside? There’s not much to do with snow,” he stares mournfully at the frosted ground. I shake my head. “I want to make a snowman. Maybe I can make a snowman Atlas that glares at all the other snowmen,” I smirk to myself and begin sketching it out mentally. I can add a flask to its tree branch hand and make a frowning mouth out of pebbles. It would look cute. “If you make a snowman Atlas, I’ll make a snowman Cadey pestering it,” Atlas grumbles. I stick my tongue out at him and accidentally collect a snowflake. “Aww but the snowman Atlas would secretly love the snowman Cadey. They’d be the best snowman couple ever.”To highlight my point, I take Atlas’ hands in my own. Our fingers are numb from the cold, but holding hands brings some warmth. I lean up again and kiss Atlas’ cheek. Atlas makes a sound at the back of his throat, feigned annoyance, but I notice that he tries to inch closer to me. As soon as I draw back from the kiss, I see the way his eyes fill with affection. He may try to hide it beneath a rough exterior but he’s a sweetheart underneath. “You hand is freezing,” Atlas takes my hand and rubs it between his own to warm it, “We should really get back inside.”“You promised we’d stay out here until Orion returned,” I blush as he moves to my other hand. In the process of warming me, Atlas’ face has grown closer. If I really wanted to, I could kiss him right now. And I really, really want to. “Yeah well, I’m freezing,” Atlas fights back. He almost moves away once my hands are warm but I strike. I spring up on my tippy toes and plant a chaste peck against his mouth. Unfortunately, however, I miss and hit the corner of his mouth as he jolts in surprise. A sound leaves the back of his throat and he turns red. He stares at me in surprise as I draw back with a grin. “Fine. We should go back inside,” I try to downplay what I just did but my own face is burning. Atlas recollects himself and tugs me lightly against his frame. “You missed.”I raise an eyebrow as he taps his mouth impatiently. Trying to suppress a giddy laugh, I shake my head and try again. This time, I kiss him properly. The kiss is brief but still takes my breath away. Atlas’ hands go for my hair and mine dig into the fabric of his shirt. It is over far too soon and I move away. His taste is on my mouth and it leaves me lightheaded. I suddenly am no longer cold. My body hums with warmth and my mind is slowly delving into some very mature thoughts. I suddenly really want to go inside and warm up with Atlas. “We should go inside,” I relent. I move away from Atlas and try to push the naughty thoughts away-at least until we’re back in his room. Atlas hums and turns around. He doesn’t need any more permission to go back inside. I wait until his back is fully to me then quickly scoop down some snow and throw it at his back. It hits him with a thwack and he freezes mid-step. He turns around with a frosty glare. I feign innocence and look around as if looking for a culprit. “You just lost your hot cocoa privileges,” Atlas warns. He throws a light snowball back at me in retaliation and spins on his heels. He disappears back into the ship without another word. Worth it. I laugh and dust the snow from his attack from his jacket. My hands slip back into his pockets for warmth-And one of my hands brushes past something hard. I frown and pull out the mysterious object out of the pocket. Although I know it is wrong to snoop, I still open the box I found inside. My breath hitches immediately and surprise strikes me. Inside the little black box is an engagement ring.

[randomactuallywrites-57]

The Great Elysian Bakeoff

Title: The Great Elysian Bakeoff Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 7,293 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day six - Anger/Humour (Thunder) Notes: because of today's prompts, i tried to make this a comedy fic. i hope you guys enjoy it!

Summary: Sorey extends a hand to Mikleo. “Good luck.” Mikleo returns the gesture, bumping their wrists together instead of shaking hands. “May the best chef win.”

Also on: AO3

“Ahhhh!”

Leaning back on his hands, Sorey lets out a satisfied sound, revelling in the feeling of a warm summer’s evening and a full stomach. The grassy fields of Lakehaven Heights sway in the breeze, and an expanse of colour opens above them as the sky slowly turns from blue into a soft pink hue, the beginnings of sunset appearing. The leftover scent of cake batter mingles with the smell of fresh grass. It makes him want another serving.

“That was delicious,” he says.

From the other side of the small campfire they’ve set up, Lailah smiles warmly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I last made chiffon cake, so it’s good to see it came out well.”

“It’s really good,” Mikleo chips in. He prods his own slice of cake with his fork as he speaks. “The texture, the flavour - I don’t think I’ve tasted better chiffon cake before.”

“Seriously,” Rose adds, “we should sell these along with Mikleo’s ice cream! We’d make a fortune.”

Lailah gives a soft laugh as Mikleo narrows his eyes at her. They’ve had this conversation before, back when Mikleo first made fruit parfaits for everyone after Rose and Dezel joined their party. Sorey remembers how long that argument had lasted, with Rose trying and failing to convince Mikleo to market his parfaits, and Mikleo insisting that she shouldn’t try to sell the food he put all of his feelings into making.

Well, as long as Sorey has the chance to eat it, he doesn’t really mind. Mikleo’s ice cream and Lailah’s cakes both are a wonder to behold.

Before they can argue about it again, Sorey decides to speak up. “Putting that aside, don’t you think everyone’s really starting to improve with their cooking?”

Mikleo scoffs. “Speak for yourself. When it came to sweet treats, you could only make piles of black stuff when we first left Elysia.”

Sorey frowns. “You say that like you’ve never messed up when cooking! I don’t know how you make a fake snack, but somehow you’ve managed it a few times, now.”

“That only happened a couple of times! Besides, I hardly make mistakes in cooking, especially compared to you.”

“When it comes to cool sweets, sure, but if we let you near a fire-”

“Just because you can cook meat doesn’t mean you have the delicacy needed for baking-”

“Maybe I do, and you just haven’t seen it-”

“Oh? Then I’d like to see you try-”

Sorey stands up. “Fine! It’s a match, then! Let’s see who can make the best cake.”

Mikleo also stands, meeting him eye to eye with his shoulders squared. “You’re on.”

It’s as they stand in silence, challenging each other, that they remember their companions.

Edna is the first to break the silence, tapping her umbrella against the grass. “So are we hosting a cooking competition now?”

“That’s a great idea,” Rose says. “We should market it and sell tickets!”

“No one would be able to see Mikleo,” Dezel says, finally speaking. “It would be pointless.”

“Then we’ll only invite seraphim!”

This strikes Sorey with an idea, and he turns to the others. “Actually, could we do this in Elysia? That way we’ll have our own kitchens to prepare the food in.”

“You want everyone in the village to see your grand failure?” Mikleo teases. “Fine by me. We’ve not been home in a while, anyway.”

Lailah claps her hands together. “It’s settled, then! Let’s gather the ingredients before we head to Elysia. That way everything will be ready for the final showdown.”

Even though it strikes Sorey as a tad ridiculous that their argument has spawned a full-on cooking competition, he can’t say he’s not looking forward to it. After all, there’s nothing like wiping the smug smile off of Mikleo’s face with an undeniable victory.

Thus, their most recent competition begins.

Needless to say, when Sorey and the others arrive in Elysia with their arms filled with bags of baking ingredients, they get a few stares of curiosity from the seraphim who come to greet them. Once they explain the situation to them, though, the seraphim become far more invested in this competition than Sorey expected them to be.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them make a cake in their lives,” he overhears Myrna saying to Lailah at one point. “It’ll be interesting to see how well they turn out!”

“My money’s on Mikleo,” Ed says, joining in with the conversation. “He’s always been better at cool sweets.”

When they catch Sorey listening, they only give him knowing smiles. He can’t find it in himself to really be annoyed with them, since they’re not wrong.

Despite the apparent low expectations, he is serious about this competition. Baked sweets are the one niche which neither of them have explored much in their cooking, but he’s sure he can make a delicious cake to impress even the stubborn Mikleo. Besides, there’s more of a chance of Mikleo burning it than of Sorey doing so. He already has a head start.

They take a couple of days in preparation to choose their ingredients and find the perfect recipes for their cakes, to save time on the day of their competition. In that time, Sorey and Mikleo barely see each other, less out of choice and more because the seraphim keep them busy, talking about their preparation and giving them tips and tricks. For the likes of Myrna and Medea, it makes sense, but for seraphim like Ed and Shiron, Sorey is sure they’re only getting involved because they have a bet going. He probably has Rose to thank for that.

Neither of them see each other until the night before their match. Sorey, unable to sleep, heads out into the night, making his way towards the cliff edge where he and Mikleo tended to relax at times like this, before they left Elysia. There’s already a head of white hair there, looking out onto the horizon.

Mikleo hears him coming. “You’re up late,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sorey says, sitting down beside him. “Same with you?”

“Yeah.”

A calm breeze brushes through their hair. It’s times like this when Sorey feels most nostalgic, sitting in his pyjamas with Mikleo, without needing to worry about the state of the world below. Even if this will only last a short amount of time, he can’t say he’s not grateful for the distraction.

“Are you worried I’m gonna kick your butt tomorrow?” Sorey teases, nudging Mikleo with his elbow.

Mikleo only smirks, meeting Sorey’s nudge with one of his own.  “No way. We both know I’ll be taking the victory this time.”

They return to their relaxed positions. Though the temptation to start a tickle fight is all too real, Sorey only remembers how scared Mikleo had been that one time when they’d almost rolled off the edge of the cliff. Probably best not to relive that particular experience.

As Sorey reclines, his hand finds the edge of Mikleo's in the grass, and he leaves it there, their fingers barely brushing.

“Maybe I should start thinking of a forfeit for when you lose,” Sorey says.

“Or maybe you should start worrying about your own forfeit,” Mikleo replies. “I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

Sorey grins despite himself. It’s been too long since he and Mikleo have had this competitive banter, since they’ve been so busy purifying the malevolence and earning the spiritual powers. Even if he’s been lucky enough to have Mikleo at his side on this journey, this is something he’s missed, too.

“Don’t be too harsh, alright?” he says.

Mikleo presses his pinky finger against Sorey’s. “Don’t count on being given any mercy.”

They stay there a little longer, silent but enjoying each other’s company and the calm before the storm that is to come.

The next morning marks the day of their match.

They meet at dawn, with the wind blustering around them, wisping hair across their faces and their cloaks into the sky. A few feet apart, they stand at odds, eyes filled with determination. On each side behind them stand groups of seraphim (plus Rose), each having chosen which side to support. This way, everyone can watch whoever they’re supporting, since they’ll be using separate kitchens for the competition.

Sorey extends a hand to Mikleo. “Good luck.”

Mikleo returns the gesture, bumping their wrists together instead of shaking hands. “May the best chef win.”

Lailah, who is hosting the event, steps between them.

“Before we begin, I have an announcement to make,” she says, bringing both of their attentions to her.

“Huh? What is it?” Sorey asks.

Smiling with the air of someone who knows far more than them, she says, “We are implementing a surprise rule in your cooking challenge! As you both know, your task is to bake the perfect cake. However, last night, during dinner, we were talking to some of the residents of Elysia. They told us all about your childhood habits. It was really sweet.”

“Who would have guessed that Meebo had a rebellious streak a few years ago?” Edna’s mischievous smile makes Mikleo flinch in annoyance. “Rebelleo.”

“If this is in relation to when I ran away that one time-” Mikleo starts, but Lailah shushes him.

(Calling it a rebellion is a stretch, anyway. He’d hardly ran very far - only to spend the night in the Mt Mabinogio Ruins, after Gramps separated them into different houses. He’d gone alone, but Sorey found him an hour later, and spent the night with him until Mikleo finally caved, returning to Gramps to apologise for his behaviour. That doesn’t mean he didn’t break the rules a couple of times, but never so much as when they first met Alisha, when everything first began.)

“One of the stories they told us was about how you read a book one day about human customs,” Lailah continues. “It talked about birthdays.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Sorey says, turning to Mikleo. “You seemed down about the fact that I didn’t get to celebrate like other humans, and I felt sad because the seraphim didn’t seem to do it either.”

Mikleo nods. “Yeah. We gave everyone their own birthday, after finding out that they didn’t already have them.”

“And we always shared ours,” Sorey says. “You were so grumpy about that at first, but I thought it made sense.”

Lailah, looking pleased with their reactions, says, “Yes, that is what they told us about. And apparently, a certain seraph’s birthday is coming up.”

For a moment, Sorey and Mikleo freeze, racking their brains for the knowledge of whose birthday was coming up next. It’s difficult now that they’ve been gone for a while, since time passes by so quickly in the process of purification. Once the realisation strikes them, however, their faces move into identical expressions of mixed shock and horror.

“Gramps!”

Gramps’ birthday is always in the middle of summer, during the hottest period of the year. It’s the only time when the clouds beneath Elysia’s mountain seem to grow dark, and Gramps lights up the night sky with fascinating electric storms to clear the muggy heat. In the warmth of summer, they’d get everyone together to prepare a feast, filled with grilled meat and cool sweets and fresh fruit juice. Everyone would laugh and sing and celebrate together, and it was the one time of year where Gramps managed to be less strict towards the boys, ruffling their hair and going along with their antics, if only for a day.

A pang of guilt rushes through Sorey for having forgotten. It’s one thing to forget a friend’s birthday, but to forget the birthday of the one who raised him…

“We thought it would be good for you to try to create the perfect birthday cake for Sir Zenrus,” Lailah says. “Can you do it?”

Sorey exchanges a look with Mikleo, both apprehensive but willing to try. After all, they’d love nothing more than to make Gramps happy. If they can be here to celebrate his birthday, even after having left for the world of humans, they might as well throw in every effort to make it special.

“Of course we can,” Mikleo answers for them both.

Lailah smiles. “Alright. Your challenge is to create the perfect birthday cake for Sir Zenrus. You’ll be judged on flavour, texture, and appearance. And of course, you’ll only have so much time to do it, too.”

“We’ll be holding the birthday feast at sundown,” Kyme says from where he stands in the crowd. “That way most of us can prepare for it, whilst the others watch your competition.”

It’s nerve-wracking, to hear the stakes put so plainly. Sorey gulps.

“Now,” Lailah says, raising a hand. “Let the Great Elysian Bakeoff begin!”

The heat in the kitchen is stifling, and Sorry hasn’t even lit the fire yet.

He doesn’t know what to attribute it to: the summer sun, the pressure of competition, or the sheer amount of bodies lazing around his house, watching his process.

Okay, to be fair, there are only about ten seraphim in the house, but his house was only ever built for half that, at most. He didn’t even know his bed had the capacity to fit five people sitting in various positions. And yet, any time he glances over his shoulder at them, he’s proven wrong.

At least he doesn’t have to wait for the butter to reach room temperature.

He measures out a rough pound of butter on an old set of scales before transferring it to a bowl, along with a pound of sugar and flour. He cracks the eggs in a separate bowl, beating them before pouring some of the liquid into the batter. Then, he gets to mixing the ingredients.

Though Sorey likes baking well enough, he’s never been fond of the technicalities of it. Being bound to a recipe feels a little restrictive, so he’s always liked experimenting with his dishes. That’s probably why he ends up making black stuff all the time, though. In any case, it’s because of this that he ends up throwing in a teaspoon of lemon juice, once he’s mixed the rest of the ingredients together. He also adds some extra sugar, just to balance it out. It’s not so adventurous that it should ruin the cake for Gramps, but it gives him some freedom as well.

As he mixes the ingredients, Edna pops up at his side, watching him sceptically. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am,” Sorey tells her, keeping his eyes on the bowl even as he smiles in response. “Its been a while since Mikleo and I have had a competition like this. I’m enjoying it!”

“Even when it’s something as tedious as cake-making?”

Sorey shrugs. “I suggested it in the first place. Anyway, you talk as if you’re not interested in how it ends up.”

Edna turns away, tapping her umbrella on the floor. “I just need to make sure I didn’t waste my money, that’s all.”

“Wait, did you bet on me to win?!” Both the idea of Edna gambling over something like this, and the nature of who she put her money on, surprises him more than anything.

“I sure did,” she says, looking over to him again. “Meebo will probably burn everything. Faileo.”

Sorey laughs nervously. He supposes when it comes to elemental stereotypes, Mikleo has always been much better with cool sweets. Then again, there have been a couple of instances in their journey that he’s managed to make a perfect cake. He doesn’t point that out to Edna, though.

“I’ll try my best to win, then,” he says instead.

“You’d better,” Edna says, gripping the handle of her umbrella with a little more force.

He tries not to think about how painful the point of that umbrella will be between his ribs if he messes this up.

In his own house, Mikleo moves with the same cool composure with which he faces everything, save perhaps for Edna’s teasing. He sweeps ingredients into the bowl in perfect measures, mixing them with the kind of arm strength which might surprise those watching him if they hadn’t seen the force with which he uses his staff in battle. Everything comes together in a smooth, rich batter, flavoured with a touch of matcha, giving it the green tea flavour he and Gramps have always been so fond of.  Maybe it’s a dirty trick, but that's just the nature of the secret challenge they’ve been issued.

His house is smaller than Sorey's due to having been built later, and for the use of someone who rarely slept there, but it comfortably fits the group of people watching him. Then again, some of them are outside, taking in the sunshine, whilst those in his house have been instructed to stay away from the kitchen area whilst he’s baking. That’s probably why it feels spacious right now.

(He just hopes the others aren’t looking through his belongings. He’s picked up an embarrassing number of new books on this journey, some of which have nothing to do with history, and he doesn’t want to be the butt of any further jokes.)

Carefully, he pours the mixed batter into a rectangular cake pan. The slight green hue will die down during the baking process, so he tries not to worry about how unsatisfying it looks in the pan. Once that’s ready, he pops it into the wood-burning stove and relaxes.

That’s the hard part done with. Now, all he has to do is catch up with his dishes and make the glaze and decorations. It can’t be a birthday cake without looking special, after all.

As he’s washing the dishes, Rose comes over, sniffing the air with a hungry expression.

“Something smells good!” she says.

“Lets hope it tastes good too,” Mikleo replies. He uses an arte to evaporate the water dripping from the bowl in his hand, then returns it to its proper place in the cupboard.

“I’m sure it will, everything you make tastes amazing!” Rose’s expression becomes serious, and she lowers her voice. “Besides, I have a 1,000 gald bet riding on you winning this thing, so it’d better taste like the best cake on the planet.”

Mikleo gives her an exasperated expression. “I appreciate your support, but isn’t 1,000 gald a bit of a high bet?”

Rose shrugs. “That’s what Edna bet on Sorey, so I had to match her. The other seraphim here aren’t high rolling gamblers, you see.”

He doesn’t point out how all of their collective money ends up being spent on equipment fusion and food for all of them, no matter how much he wants to. She probably wouldn’t care that her bet means nothing when her money and Edna’s money are already essentially the same thing.

“Well, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t go broke because of Edna, then.”

As he finishes the dishes and moves onto the glaze, Rose stays with him in the kitchen. For the most part, she keeps trying to convince him to sell his sweets, to which his answer is a consistent “No.” He’s beginning to tell her to leave when he smells something strange and pauses, halfway between a word.

“Do you smell that?” he asks.

Rose sniffs the air, grimacing. “It smells like after Lailah did that crucible of malevolence thingy.”

Turning around, Mikleo blanches.

“Oh no.”

Sorey pulls his cake out of the stove, using a towel to carry it over to the nearest clear surface. From what he can see, the cake looks beautiful. It’s perfectly browned, and already tested with a skewer to make sure it’s cooked through. He can’t wait to taste it.

Of course, he won’t be able to do that until after the competition. For now, he sets it aside to cool, with Edna watching beside him. She hasn’t moved since their earlier conversation, keeping Sorey amused with dry commentary and snarky remarks about Mikleo. It’s been nice, to have her company. It isn’t often that they get to hang out as just the two of them, after all.

“You left your stuff all over the counter,” Edna points out, not moving from her perch on one of the counters to help him.

“Oh, yeah.” Sorey moves over to start clearing away his used ingredients. Since he’s already made the glaze which will go over the cake, he doesn’t have much else to do. He moves to pick up the large bag of sugar, making sure to close it properly so it doesn’t go all over the place.

When he turns to face Edna, however, her face morphs into one of surprise, then quickly to amusement.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Humans sure are unobservant,” she says, a cryptic response to his question. She twirls her umbrella around idly.

Still, since she said it right after he picked up the sugar, Sorey can’t help the bad feeling which crawls up his spine.

He puts the sugar back down on the counter, surveying the bag. It’s only when he turns it around, however, that he notices the word neatly printed across the material: SALT.

Sorey freezes.

“Oh no.”

Out of the stove where Mikleo’s cake bakes comes a puff of black smoke, slowly gathering on his ceiling. He lets out a strangled cry, throwing his hands out to cast a water arte on the stove. It’s only once the fire is out that he realises his mistake.

With a pair of well-worn oven gloves, he pulls his charred, soaking cake out of the stove.

Rose watches on with an expression half pitiful, and half stifling laughter.

A couple of seraphim appear at the door, wearing concerned expressions, but they back away with good humoured smiles when they see Mikleo's agitation.

“This is because you distracted me!” Mikleo snaps when Rose's laughter becomes full blown. “What am I supposed to do now?!”

“You could always decorate it and try to make it look nice,” Rose says, her laugh lingering as she eyes the mess that was once Mikleo’s cake. “Probably won’t mask the taste, though.”

Mikleo puts the cake pan down on a nearby surface, glaring at it as though it’s the cake’s fault for burning to death. In his head, he runs through his options.

The cake is burnt through, not to mention sopping wet. Even if he extracted the water using his artes, it might remove some of the moisture from the cake, making it not only burnt but dry as a rock. It might even fall to pieces like ash as soon as he tries to remove it from the pan. There's no way he’s going to serve this to Gramps.

And yet, he only has enough ingredients left for a cake half the size of this one. He wouldn’t want to ask the other seraphim to borrow their ingredients, either – that would feel like even more of a loss.

But he doesn’t have any other options. If he wants to win this competition, he can’t give up now.

What is he supposed to do?

The front door creaks open, and Lailah pops her head through the gap, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene in front of her. “Oh dear, what happened here?”

“The competition heated up too quickly,” Rose jokes, still grinning.

Mikleo turns his gaze to the ground, listening as Lailah lets out an understanding “oh” and moves into the house, closing the door behind her. She heads over to where he stands and looks at the cake.

“It’s not too bad!” she says, wearing the falsest smile he’s ever seen from her. “It could be a new invention!”

“The cake is ruined, Lailah,” Mikleo points out, looking at her with a deadpan expression. “I don’t have enough to make another one unless it’s half the size.”

(In the background, Rose’s face falls, and she pulls out her coin purse, swearing under her breath.)

Lailah bites her lip, looking down at the ground. After a long moment, she looks up again.

“Why don’t you take a little break?” she asks. “Some fresh air might be good for your head. Maybe you’ll think of a new solution when you’re not stuck in such a hot kitchen.”

Though he very much doubts this feels too hot to Lailah - she didn’t even break a sweat during the fire trial, after all, and that was in a volcano - he has to agree. As a water seraph, his heat resistance has always been weak. Maybe the air will help.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll take a break. But only for five minutes.”

“Of course,” Lailah says, holding the door open for him. “Let’s go, then!”

They head out of Mikleo's house. Once the mountain breeze hits his skin, he understands what Lailah meant; he takes a deep breath, and a wave of relief washes over him.

It might not be enough to really make him forget the situation, but it calms him nonetheless.

“It’s surprisingly lively, today,” Lailah says, her gaze falling on the seraphim setting up the decorations around the village. A couple of rocks make for tables which already hold the beginnings of a feast, plates of foods covered by cloths and a space especially for the main attraction – the cake.

Mikleo hopes Sorey's cake has gone better than his own.

A moment later, he scolds himself for thinking such things – he needs to stay determined, or else he’ll never have a chance of winning this competition.

Perhaps Lailah notices his frown, because she does not wait for him to respond before speaking again.

“Have your celebrations always been like this?”

Keeping his gaze on the blue skies, he hums. “At first, they were smaller, I think. We didn’t have as much experience in throwing parties. Over time, of course, this has become normal. I think everyone is putting in more effort because you guys are here, this time.”

He remembers the first birthday celebration they threw for Gramps. Incidentally, it had been the first birthday party they’d ever thrown for anyone, after their own shared birthday which had been organised as a surprise for them. All they’d had was a cake baked by Lawrence and a couple of flowers to give him as gifts. Gramps seemed to enjoy it regardless. He even let them off lightly on having picked the flowers from Cynthia’s garden without permission.

“It’s a lovely thing, to be able to celebrate the lives of those you care about.” Lailah says. “They must all truly enjoy this.”

“I think they do,” Mikleo agrees.

Walking once more, they take a quick stroll along the edge of the cliff, past the gate and back up the village summit. This way, they find themselves on track to Sorey’s house. Mikleo can only imagine the lively atmosphere inside of there.

“Would you like to visit him?” Lailah asks when she follows his gaze. “We can see how he’s doing.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating? I’d be spying on my competitor,” Mikleo points out.

“Nonsense,” Lailah says. “It’s not spying if you’re just visiting.”

Though Mikleo isn’t sure how credible her excuse is, he goes along with her anyway.

When they open the door, a wave of heat smacks Mikleo in the face. For a moment, he wonders if Sorey forgot about his cake completely.

Only it seems that’s just the natural heat of a kitchen in the summer. Sorey’s cake sits on the counter on a plate, undecorated with a slice already cut off, though it lies unfinished beside the cake, like a broken limb. For a brief second he sees Sorey with his head in his hands, though he looks up upon hearing the door close.

“Mikleo, Lailah!” he says in greeting. He moves to stand in front of where his cake lies, blocking it from view. “What are you guys doing here?”

The wavering tone of his voice and the nervous, maybe even guilty smile on his lips are enough to tell Mikleo that something must have happened.

“Mikleo had some time to spare, so we thought we’d come to see how you’re doing!” Lailah says.

“Oh, right.” Sorey looks both taken aback and worried about her words. Almost like he doesn’t think he’ll have enough time to finish if Mikleo is already done.

Walking over to Sorey, Mikleo peers around him at the cake. Or at least, he tries to - Sorey shifts at the last second, frowning at him.

“Hey, no cheating,” Sorey says.

“I’m not cheating,” Mikleo replies. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

Sorey’s face pales. “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong-”

“Show me the cake.”

At first, Sorey stands his ground. Still, there’s nothing more corrosive than one of Mikleo’s glares, and he shifts, letting Mikleo past to look at the cake.

In all aspects, it looks innocent enough. In fact, Mikleo thinks this might be the best-looking cake he’s seen Sorey make. The outside is perfectly browned, and the cake itself looks light and fluffy. The only indication that something might be wrong, other than Sorey’s behaviour, is the lack of decoration and the broken off piece.

He turns his eyes to the counter, scanning for any evidence of something having gone wrong. All he sees is Edna on one of the other counters, twirling her umbrella and watching on with a smirk. Beside her sits a large bag of-

Oh.

Mikleo turns his gaze back to Sorey. “You used salt instead of sugar, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Sorey says, keeping his gaze away with a pout. A moment later he crumbles, letting his head fall. “Okay, yeah, I did. It’s an easy mistake to make though - the containers look exactly the same!”

“Yeah, except one says ‘salt’ in huge lettering.”

Lailah takes this moment to chip into the discussion. “Perhaps now wouldn’t be the best time to throw salt into a fresh wound, Mikleo.”

“It’d hurt just as much if you mistook it for sugar,” Edna adds from her perch.

Even though part of him feels victorious since he’s not the only one who messed up his cake, the rest of him feels bad for Sorey. They’d both been looking forward to this competition since it was proposed, and now everything has gone up in flames.

“Guys,” Sorey says mournfully. “I think I’ve lost this one. I don’t have enough ingredients for another cake this size - well, except for the sugar.”

“Neither do I,” Mikleo says. When Sorey gives him a questioning glance, he explains. “I accidentally left my cake in the stove too long, and when it caught fire, I doused it with my water artes.”

Sorey grimaces. “Charred and soaking cake? That sucks.”

“Oh, good,” Edna says. “I thought I’d lost my bet, but it looks like Meebo really did come through. Burntleo.”

“Knock it off,” Mikleo complains.

“This sucks,” Sorey says. “Now Gramps won’t have a birthday cake at all.”

For some reason, this hadn’t occurred to Mikleo before. Hearing it now gives him pause, and he feels his heart sink. “You’re right. What are we going to do? We don’t have enough time to get more ingredients; it would take a day just to get to the nearest human settlement, and they might not even have what we need.”

“We could make two smaller cakes, but that just seems…” Sorey trails off. His eyes light up a moment later. “Oh! I have an idea!”

“What is it?”

Sorey grins at Mikleo. “The competition is a bust - we’ve pretty much figured out how good we are at making cakes. You’re good at creativity and making the mixture, but you forget about the timing.”

“And you’re good with timing but you’re careless with the ingredients,” Mikleo adds. “But how will this solve anything?”

“Why don’t we just make a cake together?”

When the words come out of Sorey’s mouth, the answer seems obvious. They’ve both got half the ingredients they need. It would be easy enough to combine their resources and work together. And with Sorey being a Shepherd now, they even have a way of doing it so they won’t get in each other’s way.

Mikleo hates to say it, but it’s the perfect plan.

“Alright,” Mikleo says. “Let’s do it.”

“Does this mean the betting’s off?” Edna says to Lailah, her expression less annoyed than it should be for having just lost 1,000 gald. “Lame.”

“But everything has turned out in such an interesting way,” Lailah says, watching the boys with a smile. “Won’t it be fun to see where this goes?”

Edna shrugs. “I suppose.”

Bumping their wrists together, Sorey and Mikleo grin at each other before speaking in unison.

“Luzrov Rulay!”

They move around the kitchen like a river, flowing naturally between work stations. They measure out each ingredient in perfect quantities (with Mikleo making sure they definitely use sugar instead of salt, this time) and add them all into a large mixing bowl. Using their combined strength, they mix the ingredients, slowing moulding it into the perfect batter.

From the bedroom, their companions and a few of the Elysian seraphim watch on, amazed by this new method of making cake together.

“I don’t think this is what the armatus was created for,” Dezel grumps. He’s been in this kind of mood since Rose dragged him over to watch, making him stop being a loner and standing out on the cliff edge, as he’d been doing earlier.

“Maybe not, but somehow they’re actually doing it,” Rose says. “Besides, what do you expect from those two? They’re not exactly conventional folks.”

“They've always been like this,” Myrna says from where she sits nearby. “Even if they’re competing or bickering, if it means someone else will be made unhappy, they always resolve their differences and find a solution quickly. Even if their methods can be unconventional.”

Kyme laughs. “That’s right. They once argued over who should do which chores, and when I told them Gramps would be upset if they kept arguing and got nothing done, they started doing every chore together. They only ended up doing half of what needed to be done, but it stopped them from arguing.”

“In the end, their arguments made them unhappy more than anyone.”

Though the discussion is a serious one, and those watching Sorey and Mikleo can see the importance of this information pertaining to their friendship, it’s difficult to take them seriously when they’re wearing a pale blue apron over their armatus form clothing. At least it matches, in terms of colour, anyway.

With the batter mixed, the boys pour it into their baking tin. They share a sense of satisfaction when they put the cake into the stove, hopeful that this time, everything will turn out better than ever.

Despite expectations, they do not release the armatization just yet. They move on to do the dishes, using their shared artes to wash them, then evaporating the water just as easily afterward. By the time they put them away, the scent of a beautifully baked cake fills the kitchen. Putting on Sorey's oven gloves, they pull it out of the oven.

“It looks perfect,” Sorey says. “Let's test it with a skewer, though.”

The skewer comes out clean. Now, they put the cake aside to cool before getting to work on their topping. This time, the cake is a simple vanilla flavour, since they both ran out of their previous flavourings of choice. For the decoration, they whip up a vanilla buttercream icing to decorate it with, along with some summer berries they brought with them from Ladylake, where they bought their supplies.

(Actually, the strawberries came from a little farm on the way to Elysia. They’d all been surprised to see that some farmers had managed to keep their produce alive even in this Age of Chaos, and were wary that the farmer might be reluctant to part with any. On the contrary, he'd been glad to be of service to the Shepherd. Sorey made sure to pay him for the fruits, despite his insisting that he could have them for free.)

Primarily, Mikleo takes charge of the decorating. His stylistic sense has always been more composed than Sorey's, something which they used to argue over, though Sorey will now readily admit. Even if Mikleo makes cakes look beautiful, Sorey is faster at decorating them, or creating any artistic endeavour.

In the end, it’s no surprise that the cake looks amazing. They pick up the plate they transferred it onto before decorating it, then turn to their guests.

“It's done,” they say in unison.

Their small audience come closer, crowding around them to get a better look at the cake.

“It smells amazing,” Myrna says.

“The arrangement is beautiful,” Kyme says.

“You’ve done a marvellous job,” Lailah says. She looks just as proud as the Elysian seraphim, despite only having known the boys for a short time in comparison.

Edna pokes their side with her umbrella, though far more gently than she usually would. “Don’t just stand there, dummies. Take it outside.”

The front door of Sorey’s house opens, seemingly of its own accord, and they turn to see Dezel looking away, his frown softer than usual. They don’t thank him aloud, knowing that he’ll just say it wasn’t him, but they both felt the gentle breeze which passed them on the way to the door. There are no other wind seraphim in the house at the moment, besides. Instead, they shoot him a grateful expression before heading out the front door, their small entourage following them all the way.

It’s a short walk to where the feast has already been laid out, each dish covered to preserve its taste. In the centre of the table stands a cake stand, ready to hold Sorey and Mikleo’s prized creation. Very carefully, they place the cake onto the stand, the centrepiece to what looks to be a promising celebration.

“I’ll go get Gramps,” Kyme says before heading in the direction of the eldest seraph’s home.

In the meantime, Sorey and Mikleo finally release the armatization, now two separate entities once more. Sorey is the first to raise his arm for a wrist bump which Mikleo instinctively returns.

“Nice job, Mikleo,” Sorey says, grinning. “We actually made it.”

“I have to say, you did a good job on the cake itself,” Mikleo says. “The timing was perfect.”

“You’re the one who made it look amazing, though! If we’d still been competing, this would have to be your win.”

Mikleo frowns. “No, it would be yours. I still burned my own cake. Even if it looked good in the end, it wouldn’t taste good. Isn’t the point of food the quality of taste, not appearance?”

Sorey’s eyebrows furrow. “Maybe, but I’ve seen you make cake before, and they’ve turned out well enough. Even if my cakes taste good, they’re boring compared to yours.”

“I’m trying to give you your victory,” Mikleo says, his voice heating up a little in agitation. “Stop being humble!”

“I’m not going to accept a victory like that,” Sorey replies, also getting into the argument. “If we’re still having this argument, we’ll need to have another competition, with fairer conditions.”

“The conditions here were fair enough!”

“Maybe if we had less distractions-”

“We’re not having another competition over this, Sorey-”

“But how are we supposed to pick a winner if-”

A loud crack of thunder interrupts their argument.

Faces suddenly pale, they slowly turn to see Gramps a few feet away, with Kyme not far behind. His expression is unreadable, even to the boys who have learnt to search for the expression behind those thick eyebrows over their time of knowing them. They’re both inclined to think he must be angry, though.

The silence, perhaps, is the worst part. When Gramps doesn’t say anything for a long moment, they both brace themselves for the oncoming lecture they’re bound to receive. For what reason they’d be getting a lecture, neither could truly say, but they’ve probably done quite a few things that would make Gramps annoyed since they left Elysia.

Still, it’s not like this is their first time back since leaving. Gramps already knows that Sorey is the Shepherd now, and Mikleo a Sub Lord. They’ve already had the lecture for that, too.

Oh no. Did Gramps not want cake this year after all?!

“H-hi Gramps,” Sorey says, trying to smile through his teeth. “We’re back.”

When Gramps speak, his voice seems louder than the thunder he’d summoned.

“Arguing when in the presence of guests? Those aren’t the manners I raised you to have, are they?”

Sorey and Mikleo flinch. So it had been about their argument, after all. Quietly, they chorus an apology, hanging their heads.

“And what’s this I hear about misusing the Shepherd’s power for trivial matters?” Gramps says.

At this, Sorey raises his head. “It’s not trivial, Gramps!”

Mikleo also speaks up. “We just wanted to make the perfect cake, and this seemed like the easiest way of doing it.”

“Just because an idea is simple doesn’t mean it’s good,” Gramps points out. After a pause, he wears a small smile. “Besides, there’s no need to go to all that trouble for my sake.”

The boys hesitate only for a moment before rushing over to where he stands. They group together in a three-way hug, one which was far easier to manage when they were all the same height, close to ten years ago. Now Sorey and Mikleo have to almost kneel down to hug Gramps properly.

Still, it’s worth it. Gramps pats their heads in a caring nature, too used to their behaviour to truly be upset.

“Happy birthday, Gramps,” Sorey says into his shoulder, more emotional than he expected to be at this moment.

Mikleo repeats those words into his other shoulder, just as emotional.

Try as he might to be stern, Gramps still smiles as he responds. “Thank you, Sorey, Mikleo. Now, I hear you’ve made the perfect cake?”

They separate, smiles brightening even in the darkening evening, and their celebration begins.

“So who won the bet?”

Rose grimaces at Sorey’s words. “Did you have to bring that up?”

They’re all in Sorey’s house, late after the celebration has ended. Sorey and Mikleo sit on the floor near the fireplace, graciously allowing the girls to share the bed whilst Dezel lingers in a corner. It’s a cozy setting, one made warmer by their full stomachs and fond memories of the evening.

“Well, they both failed,” Edna says from where she lounges on the bed. “Shouldn’t we get our money back?”

“Actually, the bet’s still on,” a quiet voice says from the corner.

Everyone’s eyes shoot to Dezel, surprised at his contribution and even more surprised by the tiny smile on his face.

“Wait, you made a bet, Dezel?” Lailah asks. “Who did you bet on?”

“I bet that they’d both lose,” Dezel says, holding out a hand. “1,000 gald. Pay up.”

Sorey and Mikleo watch in shock and a little bit of offence as Rose and Edna give him the money they owe, both grumbling under their breaths as they do so.

Well, not every competition ends up as expected, but it’s the having fun that matters most. And Sorey can’t say he didn’t have a lot of fun, today.

He grins over at Mikleo. “Let’s make food like this together again, alright?”

Mikleo smiles with fond amusement. “Just so long as we don’t make a competition out of it again.”

They sit back together, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the day - and their cooking competition - comes to a close.

[imaginefeawakening]

Thank you @tcongdraws so so so so much for drawing such a lovely cover art!!! It inspired me to give some love for the Hoshidan Princes and for our endearing Prince Chrom! Please check this post throughout Halloween for additions~ You may request prompts here or at @imaginefefates

Takumi: He spent hours being too self-conscious to even put his costume on. With a lot of puffing him up, she’d got him to shed his shyness and try it on. “Hey,” he turned around as he examined himself in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“See?” she puffed out her cheek and hugged him from behind. “You gave me a headache for no reason.”

“I’m a prince. I can’t go out looking like a fool.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” she grumbled under her breath. 

He pouted. “I heard that.” Thankfully, he was easily placated with a few kisses. “Well...shall we get going?”

“Yeah...hey, you didn’t tell me what you think of my outfit.” This time, Corrin was the one to pout. Takumi grinned and rest his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not so  bad yourself.”

“That’s all? Come on Takumi, we’ve been married this long, stop getting shy.”

“Fine,” his ears pinked. “You look really, really….hot.” She was expecting pretty, or cute. This was indeed out of left field.

“Takumi…” her ears were redder than his.

“What? We’ve been married this long, stop getting shy.” He had a shit-eating grin that tempted her to mess with his face. They continued ribbing and teasing each other until they’d arrived at the ‘haunted’ manor. It loomed tall and menacing, and it looked entirely too pointy, in his opinion. There was also a suspicious amount of fog around it for what was otherwise a clear night. Was he the only one that felt the intense sense of dread? Takumi gulped and looked at Corrin with unease. “Hey….I don’t think they’ve got candy here…”

“It’s Old Hallows Eve, Takumi. Don’t you want a little excitement? A spooky atmosphere would be perfect.”

“Haven't you had enough excitement for a lifetime? What with jumping down cliffs and all that…” He grumbled for a little while longer, until they’d reached the manor. “You know, I doubt it’s even open—“ His voice trailed off as she carelessly opened the door and pushed forward. The door groaned ominously, and Takumi swallowed.

“You can hold my hand if you’re scared…” Corrin grinned at him and patted his cheek.

His lips pushed into a pout, but he took her offer in the guise of holding it so she wouldn’t get scared. With that settled, they wandered further inside, to Takumi’s dismay. They strolled through the parlor and examined the dusty tomes. “Ooh these are interesting…” Corrin picked one up to show Takumi, who proceeded to begin sneezing.

“Ahh...ahh—choo!” He sneezed, and just then the fireplace came alight with life, albeit for a moment. “Wah!” He leapt and hugged Corrin with all his might. “Wh—what was that?!”

She cocked her head to the side. “What was what, Takumi?”

“The fireplace! It’s lit—huh?”

Just like that, it was dark and dusty, not even a single wisp of smoke remained. Takumi dared not look at her expression. “I swear…”

“You might be a little too spooked...let’s go somewhere else.”

He took “somewhere else” to mean somewhere outside and as freedom. He did not expect it to be even deeper into the mansion. Corrin sat down at a piano and began playing the piece on the left behind sheet music. “Ah this is a duet...can you play, Takumi?”

“‘Fraid not,” he mumbled as he looked around the room. He was poking around the room to keep his mind off how creepy it all was. Just act like it was an old part of the palace...yeah...he chuckled nervously and looked down at the ground. “Huh…” it looked different than from all the other tiles. He curiously nudged the center with his foot and was about to greatly regret doing so.

Corrin bit her lip as the piano harmonized with her. “How are the other notes playing...I think we should get out of here, Takumi.” She stood up and looked around for her husband. “Takumi? Takumi! Where are you?” She hurried around the room until she came upon a giant hole in the ground. “T—Takumi…?” He couldn’t possibly have….

“Don’t you want a little excitement?” He called out mockingly, though his voice was so wracked with terror that his sarcasm came out as weak whimper. “A spooky atmosphere would be perfect! Aha...ha…..ha…..sniffle…”

Oh dear. He’s lost it. “I’ll save you Takumi, hold on!”

“I’ll be here...in the dark...and cold…” He continued to whine as she ran around looking for some very, very long rope. She ran from one end to the manor to the other, with no such luck. Perhaps it would be better just to find where he was imprisoned and free him there. As the thought occurred to her, a white puppy with droopy ears nipped at her feet.

“Oh hello!” she knelt down to scratch behind its ear. “Do you know where I could find my husband?”

It barked in what she hoped was affirmation. With a wag of its tail, it lead her down into the basement to catacombs she didn’t think even existed. It was frightening but she had decided to trust the young canine. It was her biggest lead to finding Takumi after all.

They’d finally arrived at a row of jail cells, and sure enough, Takumi was gripping at the bars and shaking like a child. Corrin groped around in the dark for the keys, and freed him immediately. “Corrin!” he just about bawled and flung his arms around her neck. “I thought I was going to die in there.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen..my poor dear, are you hurt?”

“My ass is completely sore…”

“You seem to be fine,” she sighed in relief. “Let’s go home now..” A faint grumbling from him signaled his assent and they went back upstairs. When they reached the landing Corrin had stopped to thank the pup, but it had vanished. She thought it better to not question it, and they made their way outside to the refreshing, crisp air.  

“Worst. Idea. Ever,” he complained as he cling to her arm.

“I’m sorry...what would you like to do instead.”

“Well...were all dressed up...you can, ahem, spoil me once we get home.” He nudged her shoulder with his, his crooked smile slowly returning.

“...Takumi…”

“Hey!” he huffed. “I nearly died back there!”

She smiled and kissed his cheeks, slightly darkened by soot.

“I know. I just wondered how you’ve got such a one-track-mind, dear.”

“I told you, you look hot in that,” he insisted, and grinned as she blushed once more. He recovered back to his usual sassy self by the time they went home, and wasted no time asking for kisses and special treatment once they made it to the safety of their bedroom.

Chrom: “Oh,” he looked down at himself with great amusement. “This is less...freeing as usual.”

“Bear with having both sleeves intact for a night,” Robin said with mirth. She’s careful to not poke at his fashion sense so much, but Chrom pouts anyway.

“Be nice. What am i, again?” he rubbed at the pointy teeth you’ve saddled him with, she swatted at his hand.

“Hey, it took a while to get those on. You’re a vampire, Chrom.”

“‘’Tis a strange beast indeed. Doesn’t look frightful other than how, erm, exposing it is.” The way he covered his arms was reminiscent of a maiden guarding her chastity, and she giggled at the resemblance. His collarbone was displayed handsomely, in your opinion, and she told him just that.

“Ah. What else could I have expected from you, Robin.” He laughed, and then examined her outfit. “Whoa there.” She smiled innocently, just as he finally took in what she was wearing. He swallowed hard, and his eyes widened comically. “W-well I see you’re showing a fair amount of skin yourself….” His eyes lingered at her cleavage until a flick on his forehead brought him back to his senses.

“Chrom. Relax.”

“But…”

“I’m yours, despite how deep my neckline plunges.”

“I...ahem, I see. And what exactly are you?”

“A devil.”

He mumbles something under his breath that probably earned a smack or two on the head. But she let it pass. “Now, shall we go, my vampire?”

“Yes, my little devil,” he said, his eyes back to her chest.

“Perhaps you’re the devil here,” she rolled her eyes, but allowed him to keep an arm around her waist.

“Maybe I’ll show you later.”

-

After a few hours of trick-or-treating with little Lucina (who was a little ladybug, courtesy of Frederick’s tailoring skills), her parents had dropped her back home to sleep so they could have a little more fun of their own.

“So...I’ve always been curious about these. But Frederick would never let me do this...he’d pull back me and Lissa by the ear and lecture us about the consequences of kidnapping.”

“I expect that his purse wouldn’t be able to afford your ransom. A test of courage, huh? I don’t recall ever doing one. This’ll be a first for the two of us.”

“Brave enough?”

“For the both of us,” said Robin airily as they went hand in hand to the spooky woods on the outskirts of Ylisse. It was eerie, and a very small shrine sat at the entrance. Chrom pointed to it with a hopeful look. It was then, that Robin realized, that he actually looked nervous.

“A shrine...that’s a good sign, yes?” He smiled confidently, but there was no hiding the sweat drops that dripped down his neck.

“Chrom, I doubt there’s any ghosts actually here.” She pulled him into the forest with no fear, his clammy hand wrapped tightly in hers. The first ‘test’ was a hollow pumpkin wrapped in white scraps of fabric and paper that swung around in circles by propulsion of the wind. Robin had to admit that she was startled, but Chrom, ever reliable, jumped in front of her and swung out his sword,  slicing the pumpkin in two. “I think that was one of the decorations…” Robin coughed, her hand on her heart still.

Chrom turned to look at her slowly, as he sheathed his sword. The now skewered pumpkin rolled around pathetically at their feet. They shared a nod and scuried forward before someone discovered that their hard work is now mush on the ground. Bits of pumpkin guts squelched beneath Chrom’s boots, and his nose wrinkled with distaste. Just as he opened his mouth to complain, something hit the back of his head. “What the?!” He turned on his heel to look for his assailant, but all he saw was darkness, and now a thing fog, for miles ahead. He looked up at the trees, and spotted no one either. Nonetheless, he tightened his hold on Robin, his jaw set and his feet rooted in a defensive stance.

“What is it Chrom?” Robin tilted her head to the side.

“Something just hit my head…” He picked up a pumpkin slice and showed it to her.

“Someone’s really mad at us huh...Maybe we should go ba--” Before she could finish her sentence, a large gust of wind blew over them, The crickets stopped chirping and a wolf howled in the distance.

“M-maybe just some elwind magic..?” Chrom offered hopefully.

“This is no work of a tome,” said an ominous voice from above.

“Ch-Chrom...was that you…” Robin clung to his side and looked upwards. She needn’t look at him to see the frightful shake of his head.

“There’s...no such thing. This is a prank. There’s no such thing, there’s no such--”

“What do you want, a new pumpkin? We’ll wrap it nicely for you if you leave us alone.” Another gust passed and they screamed. Chrom and Robin clung to each other for dear life, though he had taken out his sword again.

“You will do no harm to my wife! We’ve defeated a dragon, and we can take you on. That said--” He scooped up Robin rather dashingly, and ran at an inhumanely fast speed. “We’ll be taking our leave--”

“Just run, Chrom, run!”

They tried to run back to where they started, but a few more swinging pumpkins blocked their path and they had to backtrack. They returned to following the arrows to go out the other way but after a while of running they had realized they had passed the same moss covered rock about six times.

“It’s hopeless, Chrom. We should sit down and think of a plan…” She hopped down from his arms and kissed him gently to thank him for carrying her around the whole time.  

“Y-you want to stay here longer?!” His eyes darted nervously as though they were to be attacked at any moment.

“Well...we haven’t made much progress just running aimlessly….Let’s go find that stone again...perhaps we’ll find a way north out of here.” She took Chrom’s hand and they wandered aimlessly until they found their goal. Common sense was on their side finally, and they began seeing the light outside the forest.

“Finally, a way out of this hellish pls—AAARGH—“ Chrom scooped up Robin once more and least backwards, though he brandished with Falchion with a determined finesse. “H-Halt!” he said to a silhouette that was marching towards them.

Robin took out a pocket tome of thunder, and aimed it towards the spooky figure. “We’re not afraid to use this!” She spoke with a shaky bravado, and they heard an all too familiar sigh.

“Milady. Milord. It would do good not to dismember your knight.” It was a very, very weary Frederick who held Gaius and Henry by the ear. “I believe these two scoundrels have been harassing you?”

“You!!” Robin glared daggers at Gaius. “You’re the reason I lost years of my life? And what say you, Henry?”

“All the kiddies went home, so I couldn’t scare ‘me anymore.”

“And they stopped giving out candy...I got chased out with a rolling pin. So we got bored. And knew you were coming here.”

Frederick was the next to offer his explanation. “I pried it out of Lissa. Milord. I told you, you might get spirited away here. And did you listen? And you’ve endangered your wife too. You should be good examples for Lucina.”

“Never mind that...yet,” Chrom added hurriedly under the intensity of Frederick’s stare. “How did you find them..while we were running for our lives.”

“No one messes with Frederick,” Gaius said, still looking like a dog who’d gotten caught marking his territory on the furniture.

Robin glared at him again, with a look that said that he would regret messing with her. “Let’s...let’s just go home.”

“Agreed.” Chrom mumbled, holding his wife close to him. As the others nodded along, a strong gust of wind passed over them. The pair glanced at Henry who looked as perplexed as he did. “Cut it out with the elwin’s…”

“Nya ha! Elwind? I’m just the pumpkin decorating guy.”

Gaius claimed innocence as well.

“Wait then...the voice in the forest…”

A horrifying realization came to them, and it was then that they only had one option.

“RUUUUUUUUUUUN!”

Ryoma: After a long night out and about, the royal couple had just returned to their quarters. Ryoma, dressed as a Tengu, had begun to change out of his robes and discard his wings. But Corrin stopped him just as he’s exposed his torso.

“Wait...I like you like this.” She smiled and hugged his waist, and rest her cheek against his sculpted chest. “Stay dressed up a little longer?”

“Ah my cute witch...how can I deny such a request.” With warm eyes, he gazed at her. He slowly bent down to meet her height, and just as he cupped her chin for a kiss…

Bang! Went a noise outside their door.

“E—eek!” Corrin hid inside his robes. “Wh—what was that?”

“Let’s find out...ah, you’ll need to…” He gently pried her face away so he could tie his robes back. “Will you wait here?” She shook her head and held his hand. “Then we go together.” He squeezed it reassuringly as they slid open their bedroom door and ventured outside, each taking a weapon in hand on their way out.

On the floor was a grimly red splotch of red. “Blood…” Corrin whispered, her eyes wide.

“Mm...perhaps we’ve an assailant in our midst? Stay close to me, love.” He switched from holding her hand to keeping a protective arm around her, as they crept through the hallway.

“Do you think anyone’s…” She glanced back at the stain with worried eyes. Ryoma gave a quick squeeze of her shoulder to reassure her.

“It’s too light to have been anything too serious. don’t worry, everyone here is far too capable to be cut down.” He gently pecked her head and smiled st her, though she didn’t miss the slight strain in his eyes.

Another band came from just a little down the hallway, and the two broke into a sprint. Following that was some yelling and thumping noises that sank their stomachs.

There was another bang, and they discovered that these noises were resounding from Kana and Shiro’s room. They wasted no time and charged in, their swords ready to decapitate anyone who dared harm their children.

Instead they found Kana and Shiro shrieking and hugging each other, both staring into the ends of their parents swords. “Uncle, uncle!” Shiro shouts, pushing Kana behind him.

Ryoma and Corrin immediately lowered their swords and exhaled in relief, before proceeding to regard their children with stern stares. “Just what are the two of you up to? Do you know how scared we were? And why are you unprepared, should a real assassin have come you would be skewered in a matter of moments, is that any way to—“

“Easy,” Corrin put a hand on Ryoma’s chest to stop his tirade. “Children...do you have an explanation? What are those red stains, are you hurt?”

Kana bashfully showed a tray half full of raspberry tarts, some broken into crumbly pieces. “Sorry Mama...the firecrackers kept going off on our way here.”

“And we dropped our goods a few times,” Shiro pointed at their candy stashes.

“Well...all’s well that ends well...oh unfurrow that crease, Ryoma, it’s halloween.” Corrin stood on her tiptoe to smooth out the wrinkles on his brow. “And weren’t we going to have some fun, too?”

“Like what, mama?” piped up Kana and Shiro covered his ears, as the dutiful older brother he is.

“Never you mind. Now...good night then,” Shiro coughed awkwardly and kept holding on to Kana’s ears, Kana who wriggled around to free himself.

Ryoma and Corrin sighed in relief once more and returned to their room. They’d barely set foot in the room before Corrin returned to where they’d left off. “You should dress up like this more often, it suits you.”

“Would you prefer a tengu or a prince as your husband?”

“Why can’t I have both?” she smiled at him sweetly and slowly covered his jaw and neck with kisses. “This is my treat, for tonight.”

Fred: Frederick was adorably disgruntled. His brows furrowed together like usual, but this time with confusion rather than irritation. “Is this not a mere class change? Although you’ve...emphasized the sinister aspects.”

“Don’t you look dashing?” She messed with his pointy hood so it shadowed his face even more, and drew some whiskers on his face as a personal touch.

“I look like an evil sorcerer about to kidnap your first born and toss him into a cauldron. Boil, boil, toil and trouble,” he added in a deadpan.

“Then I’ll be sure to keep Morgan away from you, my scary husband.” Morgan was currently attending a small halloween party hosted by Lissa, who was in charge for taking care of everyone’s sprouts for the night.

“Do you think he’ll be fine? Should we go check on him?” Frederick’s worried ramblings began again, and she quickly hushed him with a soft kiss.

“Let him have his fun. He grew up well in one timeline already, no?” She smiled at him assuredly and kissed him once more. “Now then, shall we have a nice night in?”

They left out a bowl of candy to let the children help themselves to (little did they know that Gaius made off with the bowl when he stopped by their house). The lights were dark, and the only lighting that emanated windows were some well done jack-o-lanterns, carved courtesy of Frederick.

Robin and Frederick spend the evening huddled together under blankets, exchanging spooky tales. Some she’d heard from others, some Frederick had picked up over the years, and some that they spent a while crafting together. But the spookiest were most certainly Frederick’s. Before Chrom had seen any battles, Frederick quietly dealt with the horrors that had gone on in people’s lives. Scary occurrences with no explanation, ruthless monsters that murdered and tortured for fun. Just as Frederick finished his most frightening tale yet, it was time to go collect their little pumpkin from his patch. He stood up abruptly, as if on clockwork, and a high pitched yelp escaped Robin.

“S-sorry...I suppose I’m a bit jumpy…” She held a hand out so Frederick could help her on to her feet, though she still clung to his arm for balance.

“Good heavens,” he cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You look ghastly. I’m sorry...I didn’t think I would frighten you so much.” He stroked her hair gently, and carded through it until some color returned to her cheeks. Not wanting to appear childish, she smiled like her usual self, though it still wobbled a little bit when she remembered the more terrifying bits from his stories. “Perhaps I should get Morgan mysel--”

“No!” she yelled hard enough to make him flinch. “I--I mean, he’s expecting both of us, right? She clung to his arm and smiled nervously. “Can’t let him down.” Though it was apparent that she was frightened to be on her own, Frederick mercifully did not tease her one bit, and they strolled together in the dark. The children had mostly gone home, and there was a certain eeriness in the air, when surrounded by wooden goblins  and trolls. She was fidgety, despite how much Frederick rubbed her arm in reassuring circles. Mentally, he made the resolution to never scare her again, no matter how much she asked.

“Robin...are you…” Frederick had tried asking, when they heard a rustle.

She let out the loudest shriek when a cloaked figure moved in the bushes beside them. Frederick not missing a beat to protect his wife, clobbered the poor bastard who had chosen that unfortunate location to eat his goods. “H-hey ow! What the hell do you think you’re--?” Of course it was none other than Gaius, Gaius who still had the gall to hold the very bowl of candy he had snatched from their residence.

“Gaius! Why are you there?! And is that ours?”

“Candy break. And, nuh uh,” he said, quickly thrusting the bowl under his cloak.

“I carved our names into it. Hand it over.” He snatched back the wooden bowl that had become sticky from Gaius’s gorging. “Now go home, or I’ll have your wife hear about your mischief.” He gulped in response to that and quickly took his leave. Frederick’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, and rest his hand on Robin’s head. “Nothing scary. Just this idiot thief. Better now?”

She nodded and leant up for a kiss, and fisted her hand into Frederick’s pointy and ‘sinister’ collar. “Thank you, my brave wizard, for protecting me, What would I do without you?”

“Be an utter mess. But, my dear, I would be too. Let’s keep each other safe and collect the little one?”

“I’m at your side...happy halloween, Frederick.”

“And a Happy Halloween to you too...let’s ease up on the scary tales next year,” he suggested and cleared his throat. “As adorable as you were, clinging to my arm all night.” Though bashful and embarrassed, Robin agreed.

[blueskyheadleft010]

The Heart Stone [Chp 1]

[Ao3] [P] [You Are Here] [2]

“But how can he do that?” Toby asked looking confused, “Aren’t trolls, even those from the Darklands, weak to sunlight?”

“Especially those from the Darklands.” Blinky added, as everyone looked befuddled.

He was in the pit again, fighting that thing…

It swung at him with its sword, revealing a set of fangs grinning back at him as Jim parried at the last moment while they leaped. Jim was ready this time, calling out his dual blades as he flung them at the being, narrowly missing by an inch as they landed and rolled. A low growl emanates from it as it stands up, drawing out its own pair of dual blades and flinging them at Jim.

Jim summoned his shield, the blades bouncing off as they returned to the sender.

“Is that all you got?!” Jim panted, his breath sounding ragged and harsh as a layer of sweat ran down his brow.

The creature roared as it lunged forwards and Jim put the shield between them. They fell, faces inches apart from each other as the being snarled and flicked spit on him as Jim reflexively winced.

Whatever this thing was, he could barely see it. He could tell it had an outline similar in height to his own, but his sword only illuminated so much.

Again, more growling, but this time Jim could tell something in its demeanor had changed. It yanked the shield from his grip suddenly, sending it skittering away as it vanished in a wisp of blue light and Jim crossed his arms to block another blow.

The hits hurt, and he swore he felt a bone fracture somewhere, but this admittedly wasn’t as painful as when Draal actually hit him.

Claws lashed out too close to his throat as Jim reflexively flipped backward, pulling off an impressive handstand, as he landed a little rough on the ground.

“Not one for conversations much, huh?” Jim huffed, his legs trembling a bit in his exhaustion but he refused to give in. He could make a jawline out, highlighted by the red glow of a familiar looking object on its chest mirroring his own. He didn’t need to see the eyes or really anything else to know who he was facing.

Smirking with a slight underbite on the right, the shadow version of himself summoned his blade and swung. Jim returned it with his own blade.

The time for banter was over. Clearly only one would escape this conflict alive, and Jim swore he’d be the one.

Of course, fate had other ideas.

Sliding the red sword down closer towards Jim's hilt, his shadow tapped the handle roughly and jerked it out of Jim’s grip as he stared in surprise, dumbfounded before he stuck. They were close to each other again. One holy warrior of the day and one damned knight of the night locked in combat as the black pawn moved forwards.

By the time Jim had figured out that the shadow intended to lunge right for the throat, he’d already moved, inches away from becoming the winner as Jim’s vision narrowed in on the enemy and-

Jim screamed, flailing in bed as his heart raced and his left hand smacked into something.

“Ah! Ow, ow, that was my nose.” Barbra groaned, as she backed up and pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off the pain.

“Mom…” Jim blinked awake as the nightmare quickly vanished from his thoughts, replaced with concern over his parent.

“If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have knocked.” Barbra sighed, as she continued to hold her nose as Jim grimaced.

“Sorry, I had a… A nightmare.” Jim explained as he looked at her confused, “Uh, did you need something?” He asked, his hand gripping something smooth under his sheets as he hastily slid the amulet under his pillow.

“It’s almost time for school and you weren’t up. I was worried.” Barbra frowned, in a rare non-disappointed/frustrated way. “You were mumbling in your sleep.” She lowered her voice as she said this.

“Really? I don’t remember much about what I was dreaming.” Jim said innocently as his eyes darted back to his pillow before he looked back at his mom.

“If you ever want to talk about it…" Barbra paused, "I’m here if you need me." She said, as the pain on her face ebbed and she smiled at Jim. “You keep that kind of thing up and you’ll become Arcadia’s next top boxer.” She playfully nudged Jim’s shoulder as he chuckled.

“Guess I’d better sign up then,” He teased, prompting another small chuckle from his mom, “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting.” He grinned as Barbra finally got up off the bed and moved back over to the door.

“I’m sure they can wait. School’s in an hour by the way and I made pancakes.” She said as Jim inwardly groaned at the thought of having to endure another Barbra Lake specialty.

“Thanks, mom. I’ll be down a bit.” Jim said, as his mom closed the door after saying she loved him. Jim carefully slid the amulet out from under his pillow. “Why did you appear?” He whispered quietly as he thumbed the edge of it, feeling the places where the metal gave way to gaps and vice versa.

Jim had a vague idea it had to do with him dreaming about fighting himself in the pit, the stress probably causing him to summon the amulet subconsciously, but the fact it had happened at all was the problem. All it would take would be one time that Barbra walks in on him having a nightmare and the secret would be out. Not that he had a problem telling his mother, he’d done it once already with the help of Strickler, but seeing the pain she had to go through just because she got involved in Trollhunter business wasn’t worth having her go through it again. There might not be a second time I can save her. He grimaced, sliding the amulet into his pack as he got up and changed clothing for the day.

The shrill sound of the end of day bell grated on Claire’s nerves as she bit back a hiss as her head pounded in agony.

“Finally, I’m ready for some action.” Toby sighed relieved as Claire wished she could share his enthusiasm. She’d been asleep since one that morning and it was seeping through her day life. Not that she had anything against her job, she just wished it had better hours. (Vendel would’ve laughed at her behavior, and Not-Enrique would’ve told her to stop being such whiny baby.)

Speaking of the changeling, she had to head home and pick him up. Even though she’d gotten her real brother back, Not-Enrique had been staying in her room frequently, transforming her once organized walk-in closet into a literal troll habitat, complete with soggy socks. She was grateful she was in charge of laundry. The thought of her parents discovering such a mess… It sent shivers down her spine.

Jim and Toby had agreed to meet her back at Arcadia forest later, Claire utilizing her shadow staff to cut the time it would take to walk, as she gathered anything she might need. She assumed the boys were doing something similar.

“Evenin’ sis, ready to go kick some hiney?” Not Enrique asked as she knocked on the closet door and the little changeling opened it.

“We’re not kicking anyone’s hiney, were just going to help Trollmarket find a better place to live,” Claire explained as the changeling hopped on her back as she summoned a portal.

“Awwww, not even a little tension?” He asked, “It be getting rather boring around here. I’m starving for somethin’ to happen.” Claire shook her head and chuckled, “Maybe next time.” She said encouragingly as they hopped through the portal and landed with ease near the edge of the forest.

“Hey.” Jim waved as he and Toby ran up to greet her.

“Hey.” Claire waved back as Not-Enrique hopped off her shoulder and joined them.

“So this is the place, huh?” Not-Enrique asked as they turned towards the entrance of a massive cave.

Claire studied it intently, “I didn’t know Arcadia even had a cave this big.” She said surprised.

“That’s because it doesn’t,” Blinky said from ahead of them as he stepped out of the cave into the light carrying a large yellow umbrella they’d had given him yesterday. The trio looked at the troll confused. “This is the work of illusion magic Bagdwella put together to shield any prying eye away from our temporary base.” Blinky quickly explained as the troll in question exited the entrance also carrying an umbrella. She smiled upon seeing the humans.

“It’s just a little something I had on me.” She said supercilious, “Some Snake Oil, aluminum powder, and a touch of wasp venom and we got a three-day illusion powerful enough to fool even the sharpest of eyes.” She explained as she failed to hide the grin on her face.

“The real entrance is just a little further ahead; mind your step on the way down,” Blinky explained as he helped the humans maneuver through the illusion and into the actual cave.

Blinky was right about being careful, Claire thought. The low ceiling staircase left them half the time hunched over, and the trolls weren’t faring much better. Poor Blinks had to get on his hands and knees at one point to even squeeze through.

“I’d say we’d take the time to chisel out a better entrance, but since this isn’t a permanent residence it’s rather moot to do so,” Blinky spoke between the discussions and grunting of navigating the cave.

“I like it. Makes me feel special.” Not-Enrique grinned as he clearly was enjoying everyone crouching down at his level. Everyone sent death glares his way before he quickly ran on ahead of them.

Eventually, the cave opened up, revealing the remaining survivors of Trollmarket moving around attending to things or snoozing on the ground. Clair spotted Arrgh on the right, his back to them as he appeared to be having a discussion with a few other trolls at a rock table. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could see more than a few troubled faces huddled over that way.

“Wingman!” Toby called as he ran towards the troll in question with his arms stretched out. Arrgh turned around quizzically at the sound of his name being called before he spotted the boy and a large smile revealed itself.

“Wing, man.” Arrgh repeated, as he quickly excused himself from the table and tromped over to hug Toby. They stayed like this for a bit before Arrgh eventually set Toby back on the ground and stood up to eye the others. Claire gave a friendly hello to Arrgh before turning to face the rest of her group.

“Blinky says you guys had some sort of idea about what Gunmar’s doing?” Jim asked Arrgh once everyone settled down and a few trolls helped put together a sort of ‘strategy table’ for the team to sit at. Not-Enrique hopped back up on Claire’s shoulder, much to her annoyance as he cracked a knowing grin at her as he made himself comfortable.

“Indeed, Master Jim. Gunmar has likely gone after the hearthstone situated in the center of Trollmarket by now, and according to a few trolls who were closest to Usurna when she announced Gunmar’s entrance, this is just the tip of the geode.” Blinky said as he emphasized his wording by pointing a claw down at the table.

“Gunmar, wants, blood, shed.” Arrgh replied, as Blinky’s ears lowered and he grimaced at Arrgh.

“More accurately, we believe he is attempting to ‘recruit’ as many trolls into his army before he lays waste to the surface,” Blinky explained in a less blunt manner.

“But how can he do that?” Toby asked looking confused, “Aren’t trolls, even those from the Darklands, weak to sunlight?”

“Especially those from the Darklands,” Blinky added, as everyone looked befuddled. “It is likely Gunmar has a plan to counter this, though I’m not aware of any spell, potion, or magical artifact that can grant full immunity to sunlight. Darkland trolls, or really any troll, that has been exposed to no lighting in over a decade become more susceptible to direct exposure of sunrays.” Blinky added, “Meaning they’d likely wait to attack at nighttime.” He explained.

“So, he could attack Arcadia at dawn,” Jim said as his eyes shifted back and forth across the table, the pieces coming together inside his mind.

“Possible. Though if Dictatious is still Gunamar’s right-hand man, then it may not be any time in the immediate future.” Blinky reassured.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Claire asked intrigued as Blinky looked away from her gaze uncertain.

“Likely, Gunmar will want to strike when it is most in his favor. My brother is known for surveying all he can about a problem before he decides upon a solution. Gunmar will hear him out before he decides what to do. For now, we must remain alert and on guard, until we can gather more clues about what they are doing.” He said as Arrgh nodded in agreement.

“Having said that,” Blinky’s frown shifted into a slight smirk as he eyed Jim and the other humans, “I spoke with a few others of Trollmarket, and we agreed it would be best to move a little west from here where the hills are much higher and a proper cave can be constructed.” He said as he tapped his large decorative shepherd's rod on the stone floor.

“That’s great you guys! What do we need to do to help?” Jim offered excitedly.

“Mmmmnn, move, cargo.” Arrgh grunted in thought as the humans sighed crestfallen.

“An excellent suggestion!” Blink clapped two of his hands together, “While we’re creating the entrance, we’ll need someone to make sure what little cargo we’ve collected is transported safely.” Blinky said as his eyes glazed over and he began muttering to himself.

“So, what kind of cargo are we talkin’ about?” Toby chuckled nervously. Arrgh gave him a wide grin.

Dwärkstones?!? You want us to haul a massive number of rock grenades up a mountain?!?” Toby huffed tiredly as he pushed another box onto a makeshift sled.

“Normally I’d say no, but considering the delicate nature of the equipment, coupled with the fact that it requires precision movement out here in direct sunlight, I’m entrusting you to deliver some of the most crucial cargo we have left,” Blinky said looking both relieved and trusting.

“Not that I’m complaining Blinky,” Claire piped in, “But couldn’t we just… I don’t know, move it when it’s nightfall?” She asked.

“Well sure, if you want splinters littering the entire forest!” Not-Enrique chirped as he poked his head overtop a crate. Blinky frowned at the changeling and picked him up by the scruff and set him aside.

“We may be able to move about in the dark, but that doesn’t mean we can always see what’s in front of us,” Blinky explained. “Moving it now, while most of Trollmarket is migrating to our new site, is the safest option. Don’t worry, we’ll be right behind you should anything go wrong!” Blinky said cheerfully as Toby just groaned.

Twenty minutes of loading rock grenades onto a sled later, and they were off. Blinky tagging behind them as Arrgh pulled the rope secured to the sled and Not-Enrique hitched a ride on it.

Claire was in charge of helping Toby keep the sled stable while they walked, and Jim was providing Arrgh insight in the directions he was moving to ensure they didn’t go over uneasy terrain.

They eventually made it to where the entrance of the new cave site was and Claire had to stop for a moment to admire the handiwork.

The entrance was small and unassuming, with a round wooden door carved to fit over the frame and troll lettering decorating the rim. Suffice to say it could still easily fit someone Arrgh’s size or a bit bigger through it, but definitely not someone like Gunmar.

Entering the cave there was another large metal door, looking freshly crafted judging the lack of scratches on it, that opened to Trollmarket properly as they all stepped inside.

“We’ve learned since the last time,” Blinky spoke as Claire looked at all the lanterns spiraling down from the ceiling, “This is our emergency exit in case of another invasion, so we don’t have to rely on horngazels solely. It is likely we’ll conceal the entrance proper given a few days’ time.” He said as they dropped off the cargo and Blinky lead them around a corner.

They entered a small sectioned off area of the cave via a shower curtain, into what Claire assumed was Blinky’s headquarters. “I’ve been doing some more research into the text about the triumbric stones from my little ‘notepad’ app on this cellular device, and noticed something odd.” Blinky frowned as he scrolled through the images on his phone.

“Three words are specifically scored with a small dot beside the letters, spelling out, in chronological order, Daylight Forces Prevail.” Blinky showed everyone as he sighed and scratched his head. “I have no idea why these three words would be singled out, but I have the distinct feeling it will lead us to something Bodus wanted his readers to find out.” He said as he closed out the app.

“Daylight forces prevail,” Jim muttered as he stroked his chin.

“Sounds like a message of hope.” Claire chimed in as Blinky nodded.

“Indeed. I’m going to spend some time scoping out what I have stored of my texts here on my device and see if anything comes up.” Blinky said as he began hefting some stray objects and boxes about. “Keep an ear to the ground and an eye open just in case.” And with that, they were dismissed.

Arrgh bent over to sniff Jim as they left, making the boy awkwardly squawk in surprise as Toby asked what Arrgh was doing.

“Smells, weird.” Arrgh said, like that would explain things and Jim and Toby shared a look together.

“It’s probably just the sweat from working outside in the sun. I’ll go home and take a shower since I reek bad enough for Arrgh’s sense to pick up on to.” Jim laughed as he pulled out a horngazel and walked through the entrance.

The sun had already set by now, and the last slivers of color were all that remained.

Claire checked her clock and saw it was eight thirty.

“Shoot. My parents are gonna be home by nine, I’d better go.” Claire excused herself as everyone waved goodbye. She didn’t bother waiting for Not-Enrique to appear, figuring the little green troll could find his way back just fine.

“I’d better head home too.” Jim sighed, “Mom’s probably back home from work by now and I don’t need another lecture about staying out past curfew.” He grumbled. Toby looked at Jim worried.

“Or you could, I don’t know, just tell her the truth?” Toby offered as Jim scowled at him.

“I don’t think so.” Jim spoke, “You saws what happened with Strickler. The less she knows, the safer she is.” He explained.

“But Strickler’s not around anymore right? I mean, now’s the perfect chance to tell her! We could even go with you and show her Trollmarket 2.0!” Toby offered as Jim’s left eye twitched.

“No Tobes. Not right now.” He snapped, making Toby look slightly frightened as he took a few steps back closer towards Arrgh. Jim saw this and felt guilty.

“Look, Gunmar’s still after us and mom could end up being the next target if he finds out.” He huffed, “I can’t do that to her. Not after everything we’ve been through.” A stray tear flowed down his cheek.

Toby didn’t press the issue any further, “Okay man. We’ll just put that plan on the ol’ backburner yeah?” He chuckled sheepishly as Jim seemed to be recomposing himself. “You go get some rest. Tomorrow’s Saturday bro! Let’s go treat ourselves to some celebration milkshakes at Riley’s!” He grinned as Jim mimicked his enthusiasm.

“Yeah, okay. Sure, milkshakes at Riley’s tomorrow sounds like a plan.” He grinned back as Toby waved goodbye and both he and Arrgh headed back home.

Jim lingered a few minutes longer, pulling himself together as he steadied his breathing. “I promise once this is over, I’ll tell mom everything.” He swore to himself as he looked up at the night sky briefly before he started to walk back home.

[elizaxspears]

@empressreborn I have finished your prompt which was: Will and Ron are out at a pub (or nightclub) getting drinks after a rough day at work...when someone slips a date-rape drug into Ronald's drink. Hopefully you like it!

Also, there is no actual rape taking place. I’m saying that now. The drug was used, but there is no rape. This is a warning in case that’s a subject some people want to avoid.

The music was loud, the place was crowded and Ronald was beaming. Somehow, he was able to convince William to join him after a hard day's work at one of his favourite clubs. Perhaps it was because he was so tired that he needed a good distraction or he was willing to put his faith in Ronald; a guaranteed good time, the blonde promised. Whatever the reason he decided this was a good idea, here he sat, at the bar, with Ronald at his side. The crowds bothered him somewhat, but at least the drinks were good.

Ronald sat next to him, his mouth running about all the troubles he had about the day; point by point. William simply sat and listened, rather intrigued by some of the stories the blonde had to tell. It was far more interesting this his daily paperwork which seemed to be overwhelming lately. The music wasn’t half bad either. It certainly wasn’t something he’d listen to on a daily basis, but perhaps something from his normal was good every now and then. “So, havin’ fun?” Ronald asked him once he’d finished his stories.

William hummed, took a sip of a drink, then replied, “It’s not unpleasant.”

Ronald smirked, clutching his hand on William’s shoulder. “C’mon Will! Give me more then that.”

“The drinks are fine.”

Ronald groaned, dropping his head to the same shoulder his hand rested on. “Hey, I was just thinkin’ it’d do y’ good, y’know? Get you away from the stress of work.”

“Thus you thought of bringing me to a place that’s more crowded and louder then work?” He sighed, shrugging Ronald off his shoulder. “It wasn’t a horrible idea.” he conceded eventually. “Though my idea of getting away would be at home with a book in a bath,” another drink, “this does have a rather…welcoming atmosphere.”

“See!” Ronald perked up. “This is just what y’ need!” he tossed his thumb over his shoulder. “And if you’re up for it after loosenin’ up a bit, we can try out the dance floor.”

William swivelled on his stool, eyeing the ‘dance’ floor. Perhaps it was because he still preferred living in the era he was born in then accepting the modern present, but that looked far more like clothed sex then it did actual dancing. “I’d rather not.”

Ronald rolled his eyes. “It’s the song. When a better one comes on, please, dance with me?”

“We’ll see.” was all he said, rotating back to the bar. He drained the rest of his glass then ordered another; his third.

“Fine. I’ll take it.” he watched William order another drink before eyeing his boss up and down. While he’d forgone his suit jacket, vest and tie, the first few buttons of his dress shirt open with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, William was still properly dressed in his work attire, all the way up to his too tight of looking tie and brushed aside hair. “Hey sir?”

“Mm?”

“Can I…do somethin’?”

“And that would be?”

“Fix y’ up a bit.”

William gave him a side glance. “Pardon?”

“Fix y’ a bit. Y’ look too stuffy for this place, no offence.”

William looked down at himself, rather unconcerned how he appeared to the other patrons. However, this was meant for him to relax a bit and remaining dressed like this wasn’t exactly helping that cause. “I suppose. So long as it’s still appropriate.”

“Yeah, of course. I won’t do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.” he turned William’s stool to face him, eyeing his date up and down. First, he loosened and removed the tie and opened the buttons of William’s shirt to the top of his vest; flipped down the collar and got him to ease out of his suit jacket. Unlike himself, he rolled up William’s dress shirt sleeves rather then unceremoniously shove them up then dared to run his fingers through William’s perfectly combed hair so the onyx locks slipped out of place; falling in wisps over his forehead. “There.” he announced. “That good?”

William sighed, pushing up his glasses and letting his fingers rest on the bridge of his nose. “I suppose.”

“Y’ look good.” he dropped the items he held, the articles of clothing dispersing to rest back at William’s flat in their realm. “The ‘relaxed’ look, looks good on y’.” he playfully nudged his shoulder. “Y’ might even walk home with someone hangin’ off your arm.”

“Mm, I suspect they will be blonde and sitting right next to me.”

Ronald grinned, winking at him. “Maybe they will be.”

William gave him a subtle smirk before returning to his drink. “Anyhow, do you have any more stories you wish to share from today?”

“Nah. Burned out on that topic. Besides, the less I talk about that shit, the better. What about y’?”

“Unless you want to hear about how much paperwork I’ve had, no.”

Ronald frowned. “That much, huh?”

“Unfortunately. I seem to have gotten more then lately this last week. My only assumption as to why is because of the students set to graduate a month from now.”

“Oh yeah, jeez. I get my first junior, right?”

“If you believe you can handle it.”

“Hey, I had Grell and turned out alright.”

“True.”

The song ended quickly followed by another with the same sort of tempo. Instantly, Ronald was bouncing a little in his seat, catching another one of William’s side glances. “Why don’t you go dance?”

“’s no fun dancin’ on your own.”

William was about to encourage him more when another man walked up to them. Right away, he was set on edge, back going straight and eyes narrowing at the other. “Um, excuse me for interruptin’.” the man said with a sheepish smile, “but I was wonderin’ if maybe this lad over here would want to dance with me?” he said to Ronald.

William narrowed his eyes more, distrust in the look. Ronald on the other hand didn’t look all that bothered, perhaps just a little surprised at the man's sudden appearance. “Ah, if y’ don’t mind, Will.”

Part of him wanted Ronald to stay right where he sat but another part of him didn’t want to ruin Ronald’s night, thus, reluctantly, he waved his hand. “Have fun.”

“Y’ sure?”

“I’m sure. Go Ronald. I’ll be here when you return.”

“M’kay.”

William watched Ronald go off the other man, his eyes never leaving them. He trusted Ronald, of course; he wasn’t about to police everything the blonde did, but something about him didn’t sit right with William. At least Ronald looked like he was having fun; smiling, laughing, enjoying himself when he wasn’t trying to entertain him and it seemed Ronald kept a respectable distance between him and the other man. That warmed William’s heart a little.

He sighed, letting his fingers tighten around his glass when the man took a step closer. Ronald took a step back, but he could see what the bastard was trying to do. “You alright sir? Another drink perhaps?” the bartender asked, perhaps seeing how tense he suddenly got.

“Please.” he said and she returned in no time flat with another whiskey. “Thank you.” he downed it quickly.

Perhaps it was because of that extra drink and his inhibitions were lowered a little more or any other varied excuse for the bubbling jealousy, but when the man dared to put his hand on Ronald’s arm, even if just a friendly gesture, William removed himself from his seat to intervene. “I think it’s about time I took my place at his side.” he nearly sneered, shoving himself between the man and Ronald. By all rights, he knew Ronald was more the capable of taking care of himself, but it must have been the alcohol. That was his excuse anyway. “Hey, we were just dancin’.” the man said, too innocently.

“And I’m sure you’ve showed Ronald a good time, but I believe it is my turn now.”

Ronald grabbed William’s arm. “And since he refused dancin’ with me once tonight, I’m not gonna pass this up. So, nice gettin’ t’ know ya, but, bye.”

William set the man with a proper glare, one that was returned full force. It seemed he had other plans for Ronald that night. Thankfully, he left without another word and William faced Ronald. “Well, I hadn’t planned to be out here tonight.”

“Well, now that y’ are,” he took William’s hands, swaying this hips, “wanna dance?”

Now he had no excuse, thus he let Ronald lead in this dance. Again, it was more grinding than it was dancing, but William managed, somehow.

After the second song Ronald convinced him to dance to ended, they returned to their seats, William ordering another while Ronald finished off the rest of his drink. “So? Wasn’t that fun?” the blonde nudged him.

“It was…alright.” he replied. “It’s still not a form of ‘dancing’ I’m fond of.”

“It was fun.” he concluded to William’s reply.

As the night continued, William began to take notice of Ronald’s increasingly strange behaviour. It started small with mispronouncing a few words or just unable to get out his sentence properly; then he continuously wiped at his glasses as if there was some smudge he couldn’t get and finally, he was swaying until William secured his hand to the blonde’s back. “Knox, are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah. ‘m fine. Jus’ a little bi’ dizzy.”

He was about to suggest they leave for the night, so Ronald may sleep off, what he assumed, was the alcohol, but his phone went off with his tell-tale work tone he’d set. “Drat. Knox, I’ll need to take this. Why don’t you come with me outside so I may keep my eye on you?”

“Nah, ‘m fine. Y’ go ta’e tha’ an’ ‘m gonna be ‘ere.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him sir.” the bartender said. “He’s not the first one I’ve needed to babysit while the other runs off for a moment.” William was tempted to drag Ronald with him, but from experience he knew a drunk Ronald was very stubborn, so he agreed to let the bartender watch him while he exited to take the call. It turned out, it wasn’t all that important, just a little mix up regarding his paperwork that was easily fixed.

Once he returned inside the club, he expected to see Knox right where he left him, only, he was gone. Keeping a cool head, he asked the bartender where the blonde had went, mostly hoping he’d gone to the restroom, only to be told someone, a friend came by for him to pick Ronald up. The moment she told him they went out the back way, William was gone. Sure enough, the very same bastard form before was helping escort Ronald through the alley. Ronald himself was swaying, gripping tightly to the unknown man for fear of completely collapsing; hell, he looked like he was on the verge of dropping unconscious any second.

It was just plain furry. He didn’t try to blame anything else. He was furious. His scythe was summoned and the man was quickly pinned by the back of his neck to the brick wall, Ronald collapsing nearly to the ground if William hadn’t caught him. “What the fuck?!” the man cried out, struggling against the clippers.

William eased Ronald to sit on the ground before turning his full anger on the man. He removed his scythe, only to take hold of the back of the mans collar and slam him against the wall again. Part of him reminded himself he was mortal and very easy to kill, the other part of him didn’t care. “You are one of the most foul beings I’ve ever encountered. Some demons even have more respect for their meals then you do for your fellows.” he growled, trying very hard not the strangle him. “I know what you did. You drugged him, didn’t you? You used whatever type of drug you had to spike his drink. Of course, I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner, but I am so very pleased I came back before you dared even lay a finger on him.” the threw the man to the ground, taking up his scythe again. As part of management, he could kill this creature and not have anyone know if it; make sure he would never lay his hands on anyone again. He knelt taking the man's arm and twisting it enough to break it. “You will not lay your hands on anyone again, do you understand me?” The man nodded, whimpering as William didn’t let up. “Good.” with one swift hit, he knocked the man out then promptly removed his mobile to call for the authorities to pick him up.

He then turned to Ronald, bashing his scythe as he did. He frowned, regretting not seeing any of those signs earlier. At least he had gotten here before anything properly bad could happen. He also thanked whoever that reapers were not killable by mortal drugs. Yes, they still fell under their effects, but it also never lasted as long as their mortal counterparts. Now, it was time to get him home.

“My head is killin’ me.” Ronald whined the next morning.

William passed him his tea, sitting down on the mattress next to Ronald’s hips. “I would suspect so.”

Ronald sighed, holding his teacup in his lap. “So…that happened, huh? Y’ weren’t kiddin’?”

“Goodness, I never would about that Knox.” he soothed his hand through Ronald’s hair. “I am very pleased I was able to get to you in time.”

“Yeah, me to.”

William leaned down at kissed him. One thing he knew for certain, he planned to join Ronald a lot more on his night club excursions.

[seigephoenix]

For @vorchagirl who wanted Shega.  I chose the hiking prompt.  Click on my AO3 link if you want ot read it there and see the pictures I posted from my own hike.

Jane took a deep breath as they made it to half way point in the hike. Her legs screamed in loud and painful protest from the half mile she’d already hiked.  The cool tropical breeze teased her face, barely enough to move the wisps of hair around her face and bring her little hints of the island. The smell of the sea being a major one, the briny salt that was never far from her nose on this tropical isle.  The smell of smoke, someone was having a BBQ down in the little subdivision at the base of the hill.  Though calling it a hill was ridiculous in Jane’s opinion, it was three quarters of a mile to get to the top.  She was almost to the top, but she’d also just gotten out of the hospital only two months prior to their trip.  Hiking a steep trail was pushing it, but she’d never been one to let restrictions stop her from doing what she wanted.  

“Come on Lola.”  The deep voice broke her from her thoughts as she looked up.  She blew out an irritated breath, he appeared so unaffected by the exercise and heat.  She knew James liked to stay in shape, but so did she! “Don’t tell me you’re giving up?” The cheeky grin and teasing tone revived her energy, and now she just had to prove she could do it.  

“Be ready to eat those words Vega.”  She growled as she began to climb again.  The steps were steeper the higher they climbed, but the view from the top was supposed to be spectacular.  According to the concierge at the front desk of their resort anyway. Shepard grumbled to herself that it had better live up to that promise. She should’ve picked Diamond Head instead, but the concierge promised that this trail had fewer people.  So far that had been the truth, there weren’t that many people trudging along this steep as hell path.  Sweat poured down her back as she felt her lungs burn from the incline.  Her bright red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail which was threatening to come loose with every pull of the wind.  James grinned as he waited for her to get to where he was and kept pace by her side.

“Finally.  We made it.” Jane collapsed on the ground at the top of the hill.  The ruins of what had been a supply depot back in the World War II era were still there, almost completely overgrown with vegetation. James stared down at her, suppressing a laugh, as she took a drink from the bottle brought along.  The breeze was stronger at the top, her hair had given up the fight and whipped around her shoulders.  She’d get up to look around when she got her breath back.  Though her green eyes looked out and the view was blue. All her eyes took in was gorgeous blue water, stretched out for miles on any side she looked.  A sapphire blue that glittered brilliantly in the sun, and stole her breath from the majesty of it all.  James sat down next to her with a grin as he pulled out his own water bottle.

“Hey Lola.  Not too bad for just out of the hospital.” James nudged her shoulder gently as she bit back a grin.  Her body would no doubt remind her of the folly of this decision to hike up over one thousand steps to the top of this old army supply railway.  A giant tub filled with hot water would relieve those tensions, as well as the man sitting beside her.  He didn’t know it, yet, but his wisecracks on the trail just signed him up for massaging the cramps from her feet.  

“Haha.  You just come up with that one James?”  Shepard laughed and noted the other hikers had started back down the hill.  They were the only two at the top for the moment, the others would be along soon.  They’d passed a few on their trek up.  She closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her.  Traffic was a distant hum, the waves crashing on the shoreline over one thousand feet below was a pleasant echo to her.  “Come on.  Help me up. I want to see what this whole hike was for.”  Jane reached out her hand as James shot to his feet.  Her legs howled in objection but she ignored it as the picture before her registered.  Her lips parted on a sigh at the breathtaking landscape before her.

The bay they’d tried to get into earlier hooked into the island, a cozy cove to spend a lazy morning in.  The azure water contrasted sharply with the hill covered in tropical green plants. The strip of yellow sand the only thing separating lush forest and rolling surf.  Beyond that was the Pacific Ocean, a deep gorgeous blue as far as she could see.  Thick white clouds cast shadows over the rolling green hills behind them, and she gave a small squeal of surprise.  “Look! A rainbow.”  James followed where she was pointing and grinned as he saw it too. He kept his hand in Jane’s as they watched the light dance along the horizon.  Her eyes sparkled in glee as she saw the rainbow fade back into the sky. She turned her face towards his, the brilliant smile still on her face, and he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.  The quick intake of surprise was the only sound between them before she softened. It was only a moment before the chatter of a tourist group broke them apart.  Her finger tapped against her lips in thought as James looked up at the new tourist group.  She’d love to go visit Hanauma Bay later, but at the same time…  A smile promising wicked things curled her lips as she thought of that big tub in their hotel room.

“Come on big guy.  Let’s head back to the bottom.” Jane grinned as she patted his chest.  He looked at her in surprise.  “My legs are killing me and since this was your idea.  You get to help me relax afterwards.”  Her words registered and his quick grin was her answer.  Before he could grab her in for a quick kiss, she dodged him.  Her laughter rolled over him as she trotted to the beginning of the trail.  Going down was a lot easier than climbing up, and Jane made sure to keep just out of reach. She’d make it worth his while when they got back to the hotel room, but for now she’d enjoy the game of making him work for it.

For those who want the AO3 link.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10999278/chapters/25361391

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Blue July London

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): YouTube - Dan Howell/danisnotonfire feat. Phil Lester/AmazingPhil

Rating: G

Original Idea: A writing prompt on Pinterest that said, “Take your favorite color, month, and city, and make a story out of the three words.”

Notes: (Masterlist)(About Me) I NEED some summer weather right now.

^^^^^

Six-thirty in the evening. The sky—miraculously—was cloudless and a pale cobalt. A white half-moon was soaring over the city. I inhaled the air. Polluted, hot, tired—hardly “fresh.” But it was familiar.

Not home. Oh, heavens, no. London wasn’t home. London was too big—too loud—to ever be called home. For me. Millions of people were willing to call the big city their home. But I grew up on a quiet street in a peaceful neighborhood in America where the only noises were me and my friends running around—shouting across yards to be heard as we played make-believe. That was all the noise I could really tolerate. The perpetual grumbling of car engines, wailing of sirens, and chattering of pedestrians—because everyone walked in London—was just too much for me.

Honestly, I was a bit disappointed that it hadn’t rained yet. I’d heard all the jokes about the rain in England, and growing up in a desert state I always got excited when it rained. Maybe it was just because it was mid-July—and hot out. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I was eagerly looking forward to some rain. Rain was not “bad” weather.

“And what is on your mind?” Dan asked as I stared up at the blank canvas of evening sky broken only by the idly drifting moon.

“Rain,” I answered simply, distracted.

“Oh let’s pray we don’t get any of that while you’re here!” he exclaimed.

I whacked him in the chest. “Oi!” I protested. “I like the rain! It will really complete the London spirit!” Dan laughed and grabbed my wrist to pull me out of the way of some passing business people in suits and trench coats.

“You’re hilarious,” he remarked sarcastically. “‘The London spirit’—honestly!”

“Oh, you know you love me,” I teased nudging him in the arm by leaning over as we walked.

“You’re lucky that I do,” he retorted. His hand rested just above my elbow. “Come on. In here. This is me and Phil’s place.” We entered the apartment building and climbed up several flights of stairs until we got to their apartment door. Dan unlocked it and let us both in. I slid in after him and closed and locked the door as he went up more stairs. I bolted up them two at a time until I was standing right next to him. He stared at me blankly. “Where do you get that energy?” he demanded.

I shrugged. “I’m younger than you,” I replied.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, then, child, let’s get Phil and then go get some dinner.”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips before nodding. “Alright.”

Not needing to be agreed with twice, Dan tilted his head up a bit, and shouted at the top of his lungs, “PHIL! SHE’S HERE!” making me jump.

The door to the lounge flew open after a moment and Phil appeared, a ray-of-sunshine smile on his face. Not even greeting me he quickly jogged down the hall and threw his arms around my neck. He was just about a foot taller than me so leaning on my neck was about to make me fall over as I put my arms around his waist. “Hello there,” I greeted, voice a bit strangled.

“It’s so good to see you! We’ve missed you!” Phil howled enthusiastically. I smirked.

“I’ve missed you both too!”

“How was your flight?” Phil asked. He reminded me of an excited little puppy that was ready to party.

I laughed and pulled out of the hug and adjusted my purse strap. “It was lovely! A bit long, perhaps, but I had a couple books and a notebook and a sketch pad, so I wasn’t too bored,” I replied, feeling Dan tug on my bag strap. “But we can talk about that over dinner. Come on! Let’s get going before all the places are too crowded!” Dan and I both gestured down the stairs towards the door but Phil glanced down at his Cookie Monster pajamas and Papyrus-from-Undertale T-shirt.

“Give me… two minutes!” He rushed down the hallway into his bedroom and closed the door.

Dan and I sat on the stairs to wait for him. Dan was idly playing with the silver and blue ring I wore on my right hand. “How long do we have to keep us a secret?” he murmured. I looked up at his dark eyes—which were desperately searching mine.

“From Phil? We can tell him at dinner—if he hasn’t already figured it out by now. But from the rest of the internet… we may want to wait for a while. Neither of us want to get any more roasted than what we’ve already done to ourselves,” I replied quietly. “I know you want to tell everyone right now… but I just feel like we should wait.”

“I know that you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be able to hold your hand in public whenever I want or kiss you even when there might be hundreds of subscribers watching.”

I sighed. “I know. Trust me, that’s all I want too. But we both know that the Phan shippers would… destroy us.”

“And by ‘us’ you mean you,” he commented casually.

“Well… yeah. But you can’t tell me you wouldn’t get hate and crap from people,” I admitted, still talking quietly. Dan’s eyes searched my face desperately for a moment, like he wouldn’t be able to look at me ever again, and heaved a cleansing breath.

“That’s true,” he mumbled reluctantly. “But I just want to hold your hand and kiss you.”

“And you think I don’t?” I hissed. “It’s torture to see you all day at conventions and not be able to give you more than a platonic hug because there are subscribers and vlogger cameras watching us.” My right hand rested on his left knee as he continued to fiddle with my ring. “And after I haven’t seen you face-to-face in months too, it’s even worse.” I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes as I sighed.

Phil’s bedroom door opened. Dan and I sprang apart and jumped up before Phil had even had a chance to see us. “Well, let’s get going!” he said brightly.

Dan gestured for me to go first. I trotted down the stairs and slipped out of the door. The boys followed me and then locked the door behind them. As Phil started going down the rest of the stairs to get to the ground floor, Dan gave me a lingering look before letting me rush after Phil with Dan trailing behind. I gave him a small grin over my shoulder.

Then we were out under the pale cobalt sky again, the half-moon shining brighter than it had a few minutes ago when we went inside. I barely even remember the walk through London. There were cars and pedestrians and sirens and then we reached a restaurant.

We were seated at a booth, Dan and Phil on one side and me on the other—though with the way Dan stared at me whenever Phil would look at the menu, it looked like he wasn’t the most pleased by the arrangement. I gave him a reassuring glance and shook my head subtly as Phil prattled about the choices. Apparently he was debating between a hamburger and a pasta. Dan and I offered our opinions before turning our attentions to our own menus, occasionally sneaking a quick peek at each other over the tops of our menus.

“Isn’t great that we live in an age where there aren’t any forbidden romances?” Phil asked after we ordered.

“Come again?” I inquired, glancing up from where I’d been idly fiddling with the paper wrapper that I’d taken off my straw—squishing it down the straw and then adding a drop of water to the compressed thing so it sprang apart like a white, wet worm.

“Isn’t it great that we live in an age where there aren’t really forbidden romances,” Phil repeated. “Just secret ones.”

“What are you getting at?” Dan wondered.

Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m older than both of you. Don’t think for a moment that I haven’t noticed that something’s been going on between you two,” he retorted sharply. I gave Dan a shocked but relenting glance.

“Great. Well then, we don’t have much to tell you,” I remarked.

“No you don’t. So, Dan, sit next to your freaking girlfriend!”

Not needing to be told twice, Dan got up, edged out of their side of the booth as I scooted over, and then plopped down next to me, holding my right hand under the table, one of his fingers wiggling my ring back and forth. “Now that we know that you know, I have to ask, when did you figure it out?” I asked. Phil smirked.

“Well, those lingering, longing glances at each other at every convention—plus the sneaking off—made it kind of easy. I’d say… last VidCon?”

Dan and I glanced at each other and sniggered. I leaned into his side and looked up at him. I gave him a small little lip pucker. He smiled, bent down, and kissed me quickly. I kissed him back quickly and smiled brightly. It felt so good to be open about it—at least just with Phil.

By the time we were done with dinner, it was sunset outside. The moon was shining even brighter, having drifted across the sky quite a bit, and the few wisps of cloud that had appeared in the sky were turning a pale coral. There was a band of dusty gold on the horizon where the sun had gone down. The three of us walked slowly through the city, Dan and I hand-in-hand, despite the fact that we could run into subscribers at any given moment. We didn’t particularly care. Not yet.

After a pleasant walk through London, we got back to Dan and Phil’s apartment. Dan and I cuddled on the sofa as we watched a movie with Phil. We were very comfortable.

It was so comfortable that I fell asleep.