#flat spin chapter 9... this week?

[tea-stained-notes]

Colin x Penelope - Divide | Chapter 9

Colin has made it: He’s a famous pop star, touring the world, adored to extremes. If only he wasn’t drowning his loneliness and anxiety in too many drinks, missing home and yet incapable of going back. But when Violet falls ill and he reluctantly returns he has to face the mess he has made - not only with his family but also the woman who might have always been the one.

Warnings: illness (cancer), death, anxiety, drug use, alcohol abuse, eventual smut

Chapter word count: ~2650

MASTERLIST

I remember less and less and mostly things that I regret In my phone are several texts from girls I've never met And in the pocket of my jeans are only coins and broken dreams My heart is breaking at the seams and I'm coming apart now - Bibia Be Ye Ye

Colin wakes up in the sitting room. His head is pounding and his stomach lurches when he blindly fumbles for his phone. Ten past eleven. He doesn’t know how long he stayed up. There’s only fractured memories, spinning lazily around his head. Confusion. Pain. A bottle of gin. Then clearly: Penelope. The kiss, the panic, the disappointment. The moment she walked away from him, his fragile heart in her hands. Self-loathing rises in his throat, along with last night’s alcohol. He hates himself for relapsing, for falling into old patterns he’s been trying so hard to break. And he hates himself for hurting Penelope. But it all happened so fast and— Shit. He frantically unlocks his phone, searches the news for his alias, then checks his socials to see if he has been tagged in any photos from last night. Nothing so far. Only the usual mass of message requests from adoring fans or mindless bots — it’s hard to tell the difference. Maybe he is lucky for once, maybe the women will not publish the pictures or be too hungover to remember. He slowly rises to his feet, makes his way to the window and rips it open to take in some fresh air. Just as he thinks he might be able to keep the contents of his stomach where they are, the door opens. “Hey, sleepyhead.” Eloise walks in, a strange expression on her features. “You look like shit, dear brother.” He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Did something happen after we left last night?” “Sweet El, never one to beat around the bush.” “Pen's gone, Colin.” “What?” His splitting headache briefly lets up as he stares at her in shock. “There was a note, saying she needed to ‘check up on her flat’. So what the hell happened?” Colin tries to form words but nothing comes out. His brain is once again flooded with the questions that tormented him into the early hours of the morning. Does she regret the kiss? Can they be friends again after this? Would she want to? Would he? Could they ever truly work in the light of day? God, did kissing him make her realise she wants to give Alfred another chance? He should be due back in London any day. Colin imagines them together right now, Penelope laughing in relief as she tells her boyfriend that these past few weeks have been nothing but a silly little nod to days gone by, to something that cannot and should not be revived. That she has been caught up in a fantasy. Colin feels the familiar signs of an oncoming panic attack and just like he has done so many times before, he tries to push the emotions down, to close himself off from his own heart, from his racing mind. He has grown too comfortable with Penelope’s steady presence, too reliant on her wisdom, humour and solace. And he should have never let her get so close in their little corner of the world last night. They had fought off temptation so many times, he should have stopped her before she could imprint herself on his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible. In ways that no amount of repression and gin could reverse. “Colin?” He finally focuses back on Eloise. “You need to breathe. Hey, look at me. Just try to breathe, okay?” She steps towards him, then carefully places her hands on his arms. He follows her slow, deep inhales and exhales. And after a long moment the anxiety begins to subside. “El,” he whispers. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Eloise tries to calm his as best as she can, tells him that Penelope just needs some time to figure things out. That he is partially to blame, sure, but that she was the one who initiated the kiss. That they will work through this somehow. “I can’t lose her,” he says, his voice trembling. “What’s going on?” Hyacinth stands in the doorway, paling at the sight of her devastated brother. “It’s about Mum,” Eloise quickly replies. “And he has a terrible hangover. Will you fetch some water, coffee and eggs on toast from the kitchen?” “But—“ “Please, Hy.” She leaves reluctantly and Eloise turns back to him. “It’ll be fine, Col.” “I mean it. After everything that’s happened these past couple of weeks… Losing Mum will be hell. But losing any of you again, losing her… I couldn’t bear that, I just—“ “You will not lose her. Pen will always be a part of the family. No matter what, she would never abandon any of us. Haven’t the last five years shown you that?” He thinks of the texts they exchanged after his escape. Strained, sparse. But consistent. Birthday wishes, Christmas greetings, updates on her life and his family, congratulations on his career highlights. Her name on his screen a beacon in the darkness that often threatened to close in on him. “She is confused. Like I said, when it comes to you, something in her brain just gets mushy,” Eloise says with the hint of a smile. “You coming in here like a wrecking ball is clearly making her question everything. But even if she decides not to take a chance on you and your insane life, she will always be there. Pen loves you. I don’t know if she’s still in love with you, she probably doesn’t know herself. But you matter to her.” Colin nods slowly, the nausea once more catching up to him. He instinctively rubs circles on his stomach. “Are you?” Eloise suddenly asks. “Hmm?” “In love with her.” It’s strange to hear the words so bluntly. The question has been rolling around in his head ever since he set eyes on her at the airport. Had his feelings for her ever truly disappeared? Or had he been fooling himself, just like he had about so many other things? Ever since his return he’s been so caught up in this complex web of emotions and circumstances, of hopes and fears and doubts that he cannot separate whatever he’s feeling for her from the rest. His heart is being pulled in a million different directions and all he can do is try to keep it whole. “I’m not sure.” “Really? ‘Cause from what I’ve seen lately you worship the ground she walks on.” “Jesus, El.” He chuckles nervously. “Oh, don’t pretend I’m the dramatic one here.” Eloise smirks, then pulls down his face to press a kiss to his forehead. “Give her some space. She’ll be back.”

Colin is desperate for a walk, to regain even a wisp of clarity, but after what happened last night he doesn’t dare leave the premises any time soon. So he retreats to the gym instead, in a familiar, yet probably vain attempt to sweat out the regret along with the alcohol. He has been training for an hour when Benedict walks in. “Reckoned I’d find you here.” “Why?” “Believe it or not, you’re like Anthony — well, in this regard. I once saw him do 200 sit-ups after he had to let one of our most-trusted employees go for fraud. I thought it was punishment but he said it cleared his head, gave him endorphins or something.” Colin shrugs. “On good days.” Then he frowns. “Has Eloise told you—“ “She didn’t have to. I saw you sleeping on the sofa this morning with a half-empty bottle on the floor. And since El said you all had great fun, I assume something happened with Penelope to have your night take a turn for the worse.” “Ah.” Benedict raises his brows, waiting for a proper reply. But Colin just resumes his bench presses. After a minute of silence his brother grabs a mat from the shelf and rolls it out on the floor. “You’ve heard Ant’s story — and mine,” he says while folding himself into a cross-legged seat. “We Bridgerton men don’t do easy romance, it seems. But it’s all been worth it.” “Ben, I love you, but I really don’t want to talk about this right now. I need to figure it out by myself.” “And here I was thinking you had learned something.” Benedict tilts his head at him. “You have us back, Col. You don’t have to figure anything out by yourself.” Colin lets the barbell crash onto the rack, tears pricking his eyes. He inhales deeply as he sits up. “We’re in the same fucked up situation we were in five years ago. Except this time everything’s worse and now she’s run away and…” He runs his hands across his face. “God, I just don’t know.” “Are you afraid she doesn’t return your feelings? Because I’ve seen a couple of boyfriends come and go and she’s never looked at any of them the way she’s always looked at you.” “Maybe. But I’ve only just got her back as a friend. She’s technically still in a relationship. And this life I’m leading… I can’t force that onto her.” Benedict’s features soften. “No, that’s her decision. But talk to her, Colin. About all of that. Not talking to her was what messed things up last time, wasn’t it?” “Does anyone in this family not know the ins and outs of my history with Penelope?” “It’s pretty much the only entertainment we get these days.” Colin groans. “You’re insufferable.” “You said you love me — no take-backs.” “Uh huh.” He glowers at Benedict, then gestures at his mat. “You still doing yoga?” “And pilates. Otherwise that desk job will have me crippled by thirty-five.” Colin watches for a while as his brother does some neck and shoulder stretches. “Have you ever thought about pursuing art full-time?” “Not sure that would be better for my back.” Benedict grins and Colin rolls his eyes. “Be serious for once.” “Believe it or not, I actually like the job. I have Anthony and Sophie around, Daphne and Eloise often consult. And we’ve been making great progress in pivoting the company from a cash machine to something that actually helps people.” He gives Colin a crooked smirk. “Life’s not all black and white. I don’t have to give up my work to be an artist.” “You’re saying that was just me overreacting?” “No. I think you did have to get away for a while. Just not in such an extreme manner.” They fall silent for a moment. “How did you know about my exhibitions?” Benedict suddenly asks. “What?” “You brought them up the other day. How did you know? I thought you’d blocked us everywhere. Did Pen tell you?” Colin’s hands fidget in his lap. “I made anonymous accounts to follow you. And I have Google alerts for all your names.” “Huh.” “You guys should really be better about privacy.” They smile crookedly at each other. “Maybe we just wanted to leave a back door open for you.”

After a long shower and dinner Colin settles into the sitting room with Hyacinth and Gregory for a while, humouring them with stories of celebrities he’s met over the years. It’s a decent distraction. Still, he checks his phone for any word from Penelope. Nothing. Only two missed calls from Mei. He sighs, deciding to get back to her in the morning. Then he sets the device to Do Not Disturb for the night and leaves it on the side table. Without it near, he might actually get a wink of sleep.

Two hours later he gives up staring at his bedroom ceiling. He clearly doesn’t need his phone to keep overthinking. Colin pulls on some joggers and sits down at his desk. Maybe some of these old lyrics stuffed into the drawers are still salvageable. Then he hears it. Careful steps on the stairs. And he wishes he didn’t know her well enough to recognise the familiar pattern. His breathing grows unsteady as he listens to Penelope’s feet making their way to his door. An eternity passes. A soft sigh, then she retreats and a few seconds later slips into her bedroom, leaving Colin with sweaty palms and a racing heart. Minutes go by, with several voices shouting over each other in his mind until he jumps up and strides out of his room. He doesn’t allow himself to hesitate before knocking softly. There is not a hint of surprise on her face when she opens up. Colin, however, can barely disguise his when he is faced with the copper cascades flowing over her shoulders. They’re even more beautiful than he remembers. “So you’re braver than me,” she whispers, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “Come in.” He nearly trips over the threshold and she clicks the door shut behind him. “Your…” He gestures at her hair and she blushes under his perplexed gaze. “Yeah. You were right. I’m not afraid of being seen anymore. And I didn’t want to keep pretending.” “Well, you look—“ “I broke up with Alfred.” He gapes at her, slack-jawed. “The things you said to me last night… It’s true, I don’t deserve a partner who never prioritises me. Who will never be nearly as invested in me as he is in his work. I’m not sure there was ever a real spark between us anyway. And I felt so guilty after last night, even though he and I were technically on a break, I just… How could I act like there was still a chance for us after kissing someone else?” Someone. “Right, that sounds… reasonable.” “Speaking of, I need to apologise. I was tipsy and I get too brave when I’m tipsy but coming at you like that was not okay and I’m sorry.” She rakes her fingers through her hair and Colin momentarily loses himself in the sight. “I don’t do things like that. These past few weeks have just been very… strange. Some days I barely recognise myself.” He breathes deeply, trying to calm his hammering pulse. “I’ve never meant to rattle you, Pen. You shouldn’t be caught up in my mess. If you want me to keep my distance for a while, I will.” “No. Please don’t.” She steps closer and his heart rate skyrockets again. “I’m sorry I pushed you away last night. I was just… so ashamed and confused and then those women—” “Again, I’m so sorry that—“ “Colin, it’s okay. You got pulled back into your pop star life for a second, I understand. I mean, not really, but you know.” She smiles and he hesitantly returns it. “And you came running after me.” “Of course.” “Why?” He hesitates. “Because I needed you to be safe.” A long pause. “Right. Well, I was fine but thank—“ “And because I didn’t want them, I want you.” The words pour from his mouth before he can contain them and in an instant his stomach is flooded with anxiety. But he can’t backtrack. Because now that he’s said the words he knows them to be true with perfect clarity. Penelope just stares, wide-eyed and flushed. When she finally recovers her voice is thin. “Do you mean that?” His eyes flit between hers, unable to decipher what is going on behind them. He swallows hard. “If you’d rather forget about that kiss, I understand. But I never will.” A wave of lavender and honey overwhelms him when she stumbles into his space, one hand landing on his chest, the other reaching up to his jaw. He trembles beneath her touch. “Please,” he whispers, ignoring the screams in his head that this might be another mistake. “Please, Pen.” She gazes at him in pure wonder. And then she finally presses her lips to his.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 10

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[teriwrites]

Behind Closed Doors: 'The Noble Boyd Manor'

My Live Reactions to Reading Through My 2014 Novel

I was so glad to see that I had chapter divisions again going into this story, then realized that I split >70,000 words into 9 CHAPTERS

So anyways let's get started

We open on Delroy, staring up at the looming manor of Governor Cedric Boyd, wondering how in the hell he convinced himself to agree to becoming the man's new butler

NOOO, we're on paragraph 2 and I accidentally used a word which I knew from reading a lot of classics to have one meaning, and has taken on a Very Different meaning since those classics were written... oof

'He didn't belong here.' oooo this has been written out twice, love the ominous energy we got going on

Genuinely love how Cedric is being very polite, open, proud of his house, but then we see the guy acting as his current butler rushing to fulfill his requests and slouching 'as though the man was constantly prepared to flinch.'

'Despite the fact that the Isolates had never trusted him, and his friends had actually died because of him, Cedric did not appear to be a terrible man.' we're back at it again with appearances. delroy, my man, PLEASE boost your wisdom stat at your next opportunity, you're working with like a -2 to insight rn

"You, no offense intended, appear to be a man of the commonwealth. You can understand things of the common peasant that I never could. And know that I need to understand them. I want to sympathize with them. But I have not been living on the same level as them for nearly half a century." oh okay i HATE this guy

"What exactly are you asking of me?" Delroy finally asked, breaking the thick silence. Cedric continued to look at him silently for another minute. Finally, just before Delroy was about to repeat his question, Cedric let a breath escape, and opened his mouth to speak. "All I would need of you is that you tell me how the commonwealth live. I want them to see me as one of themselves. I want to be their advocate." (lowkey?? it's giving Mr. J from Below. I loved writing powerful antagonists who wish to appeal to the masses. Interesting.)

So many mentions of nausea in these first few pages, Delroy truly has those hot girl stomach problems

Lowkey kinda fun how Delroy, a man who has only ever lived and been around single-story buildings and lived in a relatively flat woodland (at the orphanage) and a plateau (with the Isolates), is a little awkward and unsure of his footing on a staircase. I don't think I even intended that, but he's currently using them pretty delicately

I can tell here that I really was trying to write this POC secondary character with a little more care and attention than I'd previously done, but it's still coming across stilted and awkward

'He was alone, which was something he'd been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. It had quickly become clear that being alone drew out the poisoned thoughts from the depths of Delroy's mind. They had engulfed him, spinning his view of the world until he'd desperately reached out for something to stabilize him. And that something he'd managed to cling to was Cedric Boyd.' can you tell i had a much more conscious experience with mental illness at this point lmaoo this girl has been Depressed

'Footsteps were approaching from somewhere down the hall, shoes scuffling against the hard wooden floor. Delroy kept his eyes closed and made sure to breathe steadily. He didn't want anyone to see him in this state.' i was wondering whether he'd change a lot between books 1 and 2, love that some of that vanity still clings to him

"Don't mind Eleri," a voice from behind Delroy sounded. He turned, surprised, to see the chef, a smirk lighting up his face. "She ne'er wastes an opportunity to complain. She's been workin' here for a good five years and wants to get out, but Cedric won't let her leave until she earns enough to pay him off." "Pay him off of what?" Delroy wondered aloud. "Cedric makes common folk like us think he's doin' us a favor by hiring us as his staff. But really, he claims we owe him big, and won't let us leave 'til we pay off that debt. Of course, we couldn't pay off the debt if we worked twice as many hours for half our lives, so he keeps us chained here," he explained.' (okay, a lot of telling and not showing, but love that we're bringing a little more awareness to the actual systemic reasons for keeping people rooted in their own poverty, intentionally done by nobility, as opposed to the BS I was spouting off in the last book. love Delroy interacting more casually with a member of the 'commonwealth')

Whoops! And now Delroy's down for the count (he passed tf out)

Classic case of 'character drifts in and out of consciousness due to illness'

HAH confirmation that Delroy's got the whitest, most sensitive tastebuds, Eleri (the maid) just gave him some soup and he nearly spat it out

'The woman carried herself as someone rich, though she was nothing but a simple maid.' pot, meet kettle! you're a butler with literacy and some fancy clothes, del

So much of this chapter was literally Delroy randomly getting sick and idr if this was a case of body breaking down from stress, entirely just for the vibes, or if somebody (Adriana) is cursing him from afar

"Of course, sir, I am willing to begin whenever," Delroy assured his new master, and the man gave him a, what appeared to be sly, grin.' truly zero attempts to pretend this man was any less awful than he actually is lol

Ending Thoughts:

Here we go! More progression in my skill! Definitely seeing improvement in the flow of this writing compared to 2013's, which was still pretty stilted and jammed with redundancies. I'm reading this significantly more smoothly than anything I've looked at so far, which is really promising!! While the areas of looking at poverty and the like definitely haven't quite reached a comfortable level, having other characters actually interacting with Delroy specifically regarding issues of class and seeing the divisions more up close really helps clear up which parts of the narrative are Delroy's takes and which are the 16-year-old writer's, which is a bit of a relief. Each chapter of this particular draft is vastly different in size, but most of them fall within the range of 6-7K, so I'll be trying to keep things from getting too expansive, but bear with me through this one lol after this, we won't find anything that competes in length until 2019 so we'll have some time

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Amor Fati: Chapter 14--Lymph

Paul and Maelyn have been trying to keep their relationship under wraps, but it all comes out. Caveat: Neither is their imprint. How long can smooth sailing go on?

Paul Lahote x Black!Fem!OC.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

When the phone rings, the sound shakes the house just a little. Not literally, but the still and quiet air erupts with the sharp shrill sound. It nearly scares Paul. The phone hardly rings anymore. Now that Maelyn’s gone, and Emily promised to pass along information when she had it, and with Paul in classes most of the day, it’s a rare occurrence for the phone to ring. And an even rarer occurrence for it to ring without previously planning. Paul watches the phone on the wall for a second. It rings again. He pushes up from the table and by the fourth ring, he slips the receiver against his ear, pressing in snug to his face with his shoulder. “Lahote residence,” he answers. 

“Hi, Paul.”

Paul looks up from the pad in front of him. He’d grabbed the pen, ready to take a message if need be. But it’s her voice. Soft as it floats in through the receiver. “Hey, Rachel.” He spins as he speaks, leaning into the kitchen counter behind him now. “How are you?” Paul checks the time and realizes that though it’s just 7 here, it’s probably 8 her time. And that means it’s 9 for Maelyn. 

“Good, things are finally settling here,” she laughs. 

Paul hums, happy at the news. The phone calls are sparse, usually in random intervals--a month between calls, sometimes two, maybe two to three weeks. They’re mostly check-in’s, updates on their lives: Paul’s start to his classes, how the job’s going for Rachel, her woes in furnishing her apartment. The calls are never long and they’re never planned, happening at random. 

“How are things with you? The classes?” Rachel asks. 

“They’re going,” he laughs in return. Because they are going. Sometimes, Paul worries they’re going faster than he can keep up with. But he knows he’s a hands on learner, the kind of student that has to be doing it to get it fully. So for, he maintains his B average, though it is teetering on the edge of an A minus. “I like it a lot. More than I expected.”

“Good. You’re close to finishing, right?”

“Sort of, in one way I am. I’m going into my second year, so I’m almost done with classes. But I’m talking with people about the timing of my apprenticeship, since by the time that starts I’ll be looking to move a year later. That’s another five years or so.”

“Oh, I thought the process was shorter than that. Where is time going?”

“Past us,” Paul laughs, “however unfortunate that is.” Time passing was rather more fortunate for him, in the short term. In the long term though, the years keep passing faster than he can keep up with it. The years hold promise. Paul’s just hopeful that time is kind. 

“So, explain it to me again. How does that work? If you’re only in year two and won’t be done before moving to Texas? Unless you don’t plan on doing that?”

There’s a lilt. Her voice raises up on the question and it scratches against Paul’s eardrum. It makes him stand up taller now. He’s not sure if it’s hope or if it’s fear that he hears in her tone. “I still plan to move. There’s a way to transfer during the apprenticeship, a tad complicated but there’s a way around it. I double checked. Essentially, I have to finish the basics, class stuff first and then I’ll move on to hands-on stuff with the apprenticeship.”

“Oh.” The word falls flat, like all her air comes with it, but then Rachel continues on. “That’s good that you double checked that.”

Paul hears it--that there’s something else dancing beneath her words. The rest of her sentence sounds fine, normal even. But there’s something else that might’ve brought on this phone call. Paul knows now it was a worry that he felt initially from Rachel. “Is everything okay?”

Her exhale crackles through the receiver. “It’s stupid, really.”

“You say that like it matters to me if it is or is not stupid. Not that I think it is, but you know what I mean.” Because it doesn’t matter to Paul, if it seems stupid or not. They’re friends and if something is wrong, Paul does want to do what he can to help. If he could help at all. 

“No, it’s really stupid,” she laughs. It has a humorous edge, like she is amused at the whole thing. Paul’s just not sure what she shares that amusement on or about. 

“You’re avoiding the question,” Paul hums. He knows this tactic pretty well. 

“I, indeed, am.”

“So, am I going to have to pry it out of you or are you going to just say it?” He won’t fight it, but there’s a curiosity now. Paul does worry that he’s maybe said something wrong. The question sits for a beat, then two. The silence grows into an answer, so Paul clears his throat, ready to fill the space with another question. 

Rachel beat him to it.“Have you ever been jealous but know you shouldn’t be?” 

The second she finishes the sentence, Paul’s face lifts with understanding. “I thought--from the last time we spoke about that, you seemed pretty intent on being done with cosmic interventions.”

“I was. And I am. Currently, life is great without the supernatural perils. But I am human here. So part of me does want that, someone choosing me. Maybe it’s grief, some part of me still hurt about my ex. And I keep going back and forth, you know? It doesn’t feel like much of a choice for you with me. So that doesn’t seem fair. I think I’m scared it’ll happen again though.”

Rachel doesn’t need to say what it is. Paul understands though, how much she trusted her ex and how much that ex boyfriend broke that trust. If fate were going to be cruel, to actually twist in the knife, it would have Rachel ask Paul for more. Paul waits, sure that’s the direction the conversation is going to go. But Rachel carries on before Paul can exhale again. “But that’s a me thing, you know? Something I’m going to have to work on. You want Maelyn. And I wouldn’t really be a choice and I want things to be fair.”

What do friends say in situations like this? Paul’s next trip to the library would have to be the copy of Friendships for Dummies: When You’re Friends with Your Imprint. But he is sure that edition hasn’t been written yet. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t realize--”

“No,” she laughs. “No, don’t apologize. When you told me that you wanted to move to Texas after her, and after I got this job in Colorado, I knew things were dead in the water. But I’ll admit, there are times I fantasized about what might’ve happened. And it’s just all so messy, isn’t it?”

Messy isn’t even the beginning of it. “I want to say the right thing,” Paul starts. “But I don’t know what that is.” 

“Some random guy told me once that he didn’t need tact. I’m really quite shocked he cares enough to give it though.”

Paul snorts at the tease. “Yeah, yeah, he sounds like a bore.”

“Tell it to me messily.” Rachel’s plea comes softly from the otherside of the phone. 

“I want to be your friend, if you still want that. And I want you to find a great guy you can trust again. And I know if things were different, this conversation might not be happening. And I know all this might mean as much as two pennies rubbing together. But you deserve to trust someone again. You deserve someone who can choose you back, the way you want.”

“That wasn’t very messy of you, Paul.”

“I’m not a slob.”

“Thank you. For saying that. I appreciate it. Next time Pam offers to go to a club, I’ll have to take her up on the offer. See if boys from Colorado are just as good as you hope they are.”

“You assume he’ll be home grown. He could’ve moved there, a lost soul looking for love too.”

“Fair, fair,” she laughs. 

The front door creaks open and Paul looks around the corner to see his father pushing in through the door. His eyes are shot, unfocused in a way that Paul’s more than used to seeing. A sight that Paul’s sick of seeing, so he turns facing to the counter again. “How’s the job going?” Paul asks, desperate now to keep any semblance of the conversation going so he won’t have to deal with his father. 

“Good, the training wheels are off now for me. I’m deep in the underbelly of the systems now, but it’s a good challenge.”

“That’s good,” Paul hums, listening to the rough and loud clomping of his father further into the house. 

“What the fuck is all this?” his father slurs. 

Pages are rustling and Paul turns to see his dad flipping at pages in his textbook. “It’s stuff for class, Dad. I’ll give it off the table in just a second.”

His father flips the paperback book close and falls into the wooden seat Paul abandoned after the phone rang. “You should’ve been done by now.”

“Dad,” Paul huffs. “That’s important.”

“Do I need to let you go?” Rachel questions. 

Focused on his father, Paul almost forgets the phone in his hand. “Yeah, sorry, Rachel.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk again next week, or whenever you’re free. Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Tell me about the Colorado boys you meet.” Paul does care, does want Rachel to be happy. It just won’t be with him, not like that. 

“Is this your way of basically forcing me to say yes to Pam?”

“Absolutely it is,” Paul laughs. 

“Fine! I’ll tell her yes tomorrow. Be prepared on Sunday for an update.”

“Perfect.”

They hang up, soft exchanges of talk to you later’s passing, and then Paul spins back to his father. His father sits now, slumped over, head resting on forearms. Paul’s textbooks and notebooks pushed over to the side and stacked, nicely enough for how drunk the old man appears to be. “Are you hungry?” Paul asks. He doesn’t want to ask. But Paul does know there’s plenty of food for the two of them and if the man has any hope of getting up tomorrow, food would be necessary. 

The response is a grunt, one that Paul’s not really sure if it’s a yes or no, but he takes it as a yes. The rattle of his father’s breathing follows behind Paul, all the way to his room so Paul can put up his books. The rattle follows Paul back into the open dining area, in the sea between kitchen and living room. The rattle hisses above the hot sizzle of the pan. The burger patties sit on the square griddle pan, pink, but browning just a hair on the edges and Paul listens for the rattle, the heavy wheeze of his father’s labored breathing. 

Paul’s more worried about when he doesn’t hear it. Though he’d tried to get his dad to leave it all behind, to leave the drinking alone, the efforts appeared to be futile. Nothing seemed to get through to the man. Paul is sure his father wouldn’t stop drinking until his father wanted to stop or until he drank himself to death. And right now, as Paul flips over the burger patties, Paul worries it’s the latter that will be faster. 

“One of these days, Dad, I won’t be around anymore,” Paul murmurs as he squeezes mustard and ketchup onto the fully cooked burgers. The bottom of it is already dressed with a bun, lettuce, and an onion slice.

“Good. You should get away.” 

You should get away. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul places the plate in front of his father. But Paul’s attention is focused on the slow raise of his father’s head. How slow the man pulls himself up, as if his liquid core might be solidifying enough that he can use his muscles again. 

“It means I’m no good.” 

“You could be some good if you stopped drinking,” Paul returns. 

The words hang, like a worm on a line. They squirm. Paul shuffles his weight from his right foot back to his left. His father scoots further to the left, away from Paul in the seat. It’s the first time Paul’s said it out loud. It’s clear to everyone what’s going on. Everyone knows and Paul’s never called it what it is until right now. 

“I’m fine,” his father grits. But the man won’t look up. His father won’t meet Paul’s eye. 

“If this is what you call fine, where your son keeps everything together. Worried if you’ll fucking wind up dead in a ditch somewhere. Scared anytime the phone fucking rings. If this, where I have to keep you fed, is fine, then you’re pathetic and helpless.” 

It’s not anger. Paul is just so scared and so tired of the constant worry. It’s exhausting. Paul is fucking exhausted. He shouldn’t be shouldering this himself. He’s the kid in this situation. He’s still the kid who kept beyblades in his pants pocket. He’s still the kid that wishes his mother never left even if it is selfish. 

The plate sits on the table. The oven is off. They’re hanging in the middle. His father only stares at the plate and Paul stares at his father. “But you’re not,” his father finally counters, still staring ahead, into the living room, but not up to Paul. 

“Is this what you do? Push people who care about you away? For what?”

“So you don’t get stuck.”

The sentence--five little words--sucks the air out of Paul’s lungs. He wants to ask what his dad means but can’t get the breath behind the word. 

His dad looks up and now even in the slightly unfocused gaze are tears. “You should get away from here. You can get away from here and I’m not good at how else to say it. But you are.” It’s all his dad says before reaching for the plate, the lettuce crunching around his bite. 

Paul doesn’t eat that night--a surprising fact, considering Paul had been hungry even after his three sandwiches he packed for his lunch earlier. Instead, he lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. You should get away from here. You can get away from here. The sentences swirl around and around in Paul’s brain. It hadn’t been angry. His father in tears keeps haunting the redness of Paul’s closed eyelids. Was his dad trying to tell Paul to get out, to do better?

And if so, why? What is it that his father seems so concerned about that he wouldn’t tell Paul? They don’t do feelings much. The most Paul and his dad do are heated exchanges but most often, it’s relatively quiet between them. A silent stewing of resentment and frustration. It’s here that Paul would’ve called Maelyn, would’ve dialed her number and tried to find space to figure out what happened. She would’ve comforted him. And he could still call. His father settled into his bedroom, maybe an hour and a half ago, after the kitchen sink ran. But it’s much too late to call her now, looking at how it’s nearly 9 or maybe it’s even later than that. Paul’s lost track of time here, on the floor, looking at the speckles of paint on his ceiling. So he knows it’s much too late for her. 

But Paul can’t make sense of his father’s words. Sure, Paul understood how his father was telling him he wasn’t pathetic or helpless. Sure, Paul would eventually get away. But did his mother feel stuck? Did his father feel stuck and worried that Paul would feel the same? 

The number is easy to dial. Pressed in again, against the kitchen counter, Paul listens to the ring--once, twice, three times. “Hello?” 

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Paul asks, listening to the gruffiness in the answer. 

“No, not interrupting,” Embry returns. “Everything okay?”

Embry’s the next best person Paul can think to call. Sam would be there, more than happy to help. But it feels like going to the teacher, if Paul does call Sam. The two aren’t necessarily the closest, but maybe it would help. Paul won’t burden Maelyn with this. She needs her space. She’d asked for space and Paul could give her that. He can respect that, even if right now, all he really wants is her voice on the other end. 

Yet, Paul doesn’t even know what he can ask of Embry, if he should even talk about what’s going on, or what to say to the question. Really what Paul wants is just somewhere else to go, some other place to be not here, not home.

“You still there, Paul?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“No, it’s cool. Not like I had any plans. So, any particular reason for the call?”

Escapism. Being desperate. So many reasons really. But Paul can’t get himself to work it out on his tongue or press together his lips to get the words out, to explain how underwater Paul feels. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I-yeah, sorry.”

“Whoa, before you hang up,” Embry calls out, his voice just loud enough that Paul catches it even halfway through hanging up.

Paul pulls the phone back to his ear, and speaks, “I’m listening.”

“What are you doing tomorrow after class?”

Paul didn’t have much planned, most likely after tonight, he’d either hide away in the garage or at Sam’s the second he could get back to the rez. “Not much.”

“There’s a new movie out, action, shit exploding. Wanna catch it with me?’

Paul’s probably not Embry’s first choice either but nevertheless, the invitation still lingers in the air. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“There’s a 5:30 showing. When are your classes done again?”

“Tomorrow I’m done at 4:50.”

“Sweet, I’m tagging along with Sam to Port Angeles tomorrow afternoon. I’ll hang around afterwards though and score us some tickets.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I can-I can cover food or snacks or whatever.”

“Good deal. See you tomorrow and maybe then you’ll tell me what you called for too.”

Paul laughs at the dig, catching the humor painting Embry’s words. “Home stuff. It’s, well, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“I’m an expert on home stuff,” Embry replies. “Talk to you later.”

Paul’s returned closure is softer, an utterance of “See ya” so soft that Paul doesn’t think he’s even heard it. But he hopes, as Paul lays down now on his bed, that tomorrow comes faster than he hopes for.  

The thing Paul should’ve hoped for, he thinks, is less rain. He woke to the sound, watched it hit against his windshield the entire drive to Port Angeles. He listened to it the entire time of his courses, the sound of the droplets tinny as it hits the roof of the building. The whole day is washed in rain, the sidewalks and asphalt dark with the splatter of it. But perhaps, that kind of wish would’ve been wasted. The weather would never think to listen to the pleas of such desperation.

Embry laughs as he approaches, running out from the nearby ice cream parlor and he’s nearly drenched in it. Paul knows he is too. The awning for the tickets provides just enough coverage as Embry purchases the two tickets. Paul’s glad for it as he hadn’t bothered to get the name of the movie. 

“Classes go okay today?” Embry asks as they duck inside of the theater. 

“They go like they always do. Thanks for waiting.”

“Yeah, man, of course.” 

There’s still about fifteen minutes before the showing starts and there’s no line at the concessions. But Paul can feel Embry’s gaze even as they look over the menu brightly backlit over their heads. “You might as well ask.” The two of them aren’t quite in line, only hovering where the line would start should they take the three steps over. 

“You said it was home stuff?”

“It’s not like it’s a secret my dad’s a drunk,” Paul laughs. The words burn as he says it for the second time outloud. Paul’s sure they won’t get easier to say. Time will only make so Paul won’t weigh each word, test if he’s going to actually say it. 

“So, has it gotten bad?”

“I don’t know if he’s worried I’ll stay to keep him alive or if he just wants to die, so you know. There’s that.”

“Let’s hope it’s not the second one. But we can watch shit blow up in the meantime.”

Paul nods over the concessions. “After a large popcorn, yeah?”

“I want a Dr. Pepper too. Since you’re treating and all.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“And Skittles,” Embry tacks on. 

“Damn, you’ve got a grocery list. What’s next? A slushy?” 

“I can be tempted,” Embry returns with a laugh.

The girl at the counter’s laughing too as Paul approaches, clearly having heard at least the latter part of their conversation. The tiny black screen reflects back the shaky green total. “Anything for you on that list?” she asks around her laughter. 

“Just a Pepsi too.”

She nods, pressing at the keys. “Anything else?”

“That’s it.”

“You sure? We’ve got some great choices. Milk duds, Mike & Ike’s, my phone number.”

The words nearly make Paul choke. It’s a bold move and he’s not going to lie that the sly smile doesn’t make his cheek warm. There’s too long of a silence, he knows it. Even after the short burst of awkward laughter from him fades away, he still hasn’t said anything. Maelyn asked him to live, to go out there and experience life. And he would, and was trying. But even when part of him wonders if he should just take the number, the larger part of him won’t let the words cross his lips. 

“I’m flattered,” Paul returns, finally finding his footing, “but spoken for,” he concludes. And he’s not really, but still it’s all the same to him in the end. 

“One lucky lady,” she returns with not so much of a flash of disappointment on her face. Instead, the girl looks rather pleased by the news, like maybe she already calculated all the risks that could exist and figured the worst was still worth it. “11.53,” she rattles off. “And if anything changes about you being spoken for, I’ll be here.”

“Uh, thanks,” Paul returns, taking the change. He’s not really sure how to respond but it seems though that the exchange is nearly long forgotten on her part as Paul collects the bucket of popcorn. Embry slides over to grab his drink and Skittles as well.

 As the pair head further towards the doors of their theater, Embry’s voice floats up around the slurp of his straw. “You should’ve seen your face, dude. Total blank stare for like half a second. Thought I was going to have to switch the batteries in you or something.”

“I mean, I didn’t think I’d get hit on at the counter.”

“Clearly,” he snorts before they slip into the last row of the theater. “So, you’re spoken for?”

“As if my love life isn’t already complicated enough,” Paul laughs. 

“Well, there’s still what? A year and some change left, right? I don’t think you shouldn’t take up the offer.”

A year and nine months to be exact, but there’s no need to be exact here. “Not worth it,” Paul returns, dropping a handful of the buttery snack into his mouth. Because he could. But it wouldn’t be the same and the life he needs to live isn’t about finding someone to make a temporary bandage. The life Paul needs to live is maybe getting out more, making new friends, keeping those that are important to him close. Paul needs to learn he can do it, can leave, can get away. But it doesn’t feel fair to know that anything that could start would have an expiration date when that’s not what his focus is. 

“Skittle?” Embry offers through the hazy glow of the previews. 

“I’m good.”

“Shoot yourself. I hope your dad gets it together though. Sooner rather than later.”

“Thanks. Are things better now with your mom?”

Embry shrugs at the question, reaching for the bucket between his fistfull of Skittles. “She likes that I’m home more often, at reasonable times. But I don’t think she’s coughing up answers anytime soon.”

Paul goes to say more though it’s swallowed up by the start of the film, a striking flash of streetlights and the revving of an engine. He settles for pushing the bucket of popcorn closer to Embry though, in the hopes that it echoes what Paul wants to say: I hope you get answers too. Sooner rather than later. 

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

“You don’t think that’s too much?” Alasie asks. 

Maelyn looks at the back of the sketch again. It’ll be a lot of work, that much she knows, but it will look cool in the end. That’s the rewarding part. That’s the thing that keeps Maelyn from nearly wishing she hadn’t brought her mother’s sewing machine with her. 

“Define too much,” Maelyn prompts, looking back into the heaping pile of scrap fabric and Alasie’s jeans. Alasie wore a hole into the middle of the thighs in the light wash denim, which was tedious to fix, especially because she did ask for the patch to be cut into a heart shape so it could be visible leaving Maelyn to be careful with the seams and how neat they are.

“It’s too much,” Alasie laughs.

A whole pair of jeans decorated in heart shaped patches is a lot. But Maelyn’s not sure she’d define it as too much if she’s honest. But they don’t have a lot of scrap fabrics and Maelyn doesn’t have a lot of margin for error with both pant legs are meant to be decorated. “What if we scaled down the volume and made bigger hearts and smaller hearts? Still gets the same desired effect but it’s not too large of a project.”

Alasie presses a kiss to the top of Maelyn’s head. “You’re a genius. And I’ll make it up to you by taking over your bathroom cleaning week.”

“If you also take the kitchen floors.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Alasie laughs. “I’ll go through the condiments in the fridge and wipe the shelves down.”

“Deal.” 

The two shake on the exchange before they settle back into their respective spots in the living room. Alasie stretched out across the couch with her books in her lap and Maelyn resting against the couch, sitting cross legged on the floor. Maelyn kept the pattern she made of the first heart, but she thinks now it’s too small. She’d have to increase it by at least two inches all the way around. 

Maelyn’s book rests on the coffee table. She should be focused on Calculus I, hell even her Chemistry courses had work that she was cutting much too close to the deadline on, but she doesn’t move to pick up either book. Her English essay was most done anyway and she was less worried about passing English given it’s the same instructor again this semester. Maelyn’s learned the in’s and out’s of how this professor grades. And with only a few weeks left in the semester, May’s dawn growing closer and closer with each step, her grades are still in great shape. 

Instead Maelyn craves the distraction. He’d snuck into her dreams last night--only in flashes, the stroke of his hand over her bicep, the sound of his chuckle echoing too far beyond her for Maelyn to place a direction to it. But it was him. It was Paul. As annoying as it seemed at first, the fact that Maelyn was supposed to be in Austin, living the life she so desperately craved, there’s pieces of her heart that are still left behind, there’s still pieces of her that feel like could only be soothed by his presence. 

Maelyn’s not asked about Paul lately on purpose. She lets her conversations with her dad and Emily wander around and around, talking about her contemplating the internal transfer to the Biomedical Engineering program, the weather, the newest editions to both packs, life at the factory, her job at the deli. Boring and mindless things really at the end of it. Things that aren’t Paul, even if she can hear his voice at times when she’s struggling with equations or tired at the end of her long day, how he might soothe her worries. 

His voice follows even when she ventures downtown. When Maelyn kissed the one girl and thought about how soft the girl felt against her, she wondered what Paul might think, if he’d have some jokingly crass comment about it. And she hoped for it, hoped that he would. The kiss was only a kiss, like a kiss should be. Like she likes them to be, rather than the tense moment where Maelyn finds herself almost waiting with panic breaths that something just on the other side of it is going to shatter. 

But Maelyn doesn’t shatter. The kisses stay kisses and the world’s not turned upside down again. They way it should be. But right now, her dream version of Paul who kissed at her forehead and ran his hand over her outer bicep, laughing so distantly creeps back up into her mind and she exhales, breaking out the yardstick to get a visual measure how much two inches would look added onto the original heart. 

A distraction--that’s what she needs. 

Maelyn digs out the marker and makes small dishes in the outline of the heart, two inches bigger than the initial pattern. She dashes around and around and around until the phone rings. The receiver is slender, a cordless on that Alasie insisted on having, and Maelyn’s presses the green button with practiced ease. “Maelyn speaking.”

“Hey, Pumpkin.”

“Hi, Dad. How are you?” A distraction that she welcomes because the second the question is done she knows her father will launch into his latest soap opera of the week. 

“I’m good. How are you?”  

Not the dump she was expecting but not quite alarming. “Calc I thinks it’s winning, but I’m still alive,” Maelyn teases, cutting the heart out now from the scrap paper. 

“You got this. Did you get the courses for next semester that you needed?”

“Yeah, I’m in Physics like I need before I can apply for the transfer. If I get it, I might take a couple summer courses next year to catch up on some of the math or finish up my gen eds. Really just depends on how I feel at the end of the year.”

“I’m sure the gen eds are a nice palette cleanser after all those heavier courses. Maybe you can get caught up on Chemistry or Biology during the summer. Didn’t you say you were a little behind on those?”

“Hmm, I guess. The tricky thing is that I want to make sure that I’m taking the right Biology courses and sometimes those aren’t offered over the summer. Or least that’s what my advisor says, but sometimes I’m worried the man can’t see his hand from the computer screen at times.”

Her father laughs at the tease, already recalling the way Maelyn described the older man’s thick glasses. “Be nice.”

“Nice isn’t my middle name. But enough about me. Anything new on your end?”

She expects him to dive into the answer immediately, to launch himself into some tangent about safety protocols not being followed like they should be or someone new coming onto the line who’s slowing them all down. Instead, her father sighs. Like he maybe he was hoping she wouldn’t ask. 

“Dad,” Maelyn states, pausing her work on measuring another heart, this time an inch and a half smaller than the original. That is not a good sound. A sound that she’s sure will haunt her depending on how the rest of this conversation goes. “What is going on?”

“I talked to Sue about this. And I’ve been to the doctor, so you don’t need to worry.”

But the worry does creep in. Because that’s her dad, her only surviving parent. “What happened?” Maelyn asks. The words are hard to push out through her lips, but she manages. 

“It’s nothing major. But you’re going take it there.”

“You do realize you trying to pad the news makes me only think the worst right?”

“It’s just high blood pressure. I let it get a little too out of hand. I’m on meds right now. Things are getting better.”

He tries to bury the sentence, sandwich it between the diagnosis and the prognosis. But Maelyn hears it. She catches onto the sentence. “What happened?”

“Some chest pains, here and there. I thought it was maybe normal, but then a headache popped up. Sue urged me to go see a doctor about it after taking my blood pressure a few times. We started out with lifestyle stuff--taking some walks, cutting out so much sodium. It didn’t help like the doctor wanted, so now we’re trying a low dose and more lifestyle changes.” 

She should’ve promised her dad that she wouldn’t have to buy any caskets either. Not until she was at least 40. “How long have you been on the meds?”

“Two months. They seem to be helping.”

‘Seem’ is doing a lot of work in that sentence. It’s the kind of word that might be used to try and assuage her fears. Like maybe he’s not sure if the meds are actually working but he doesn’t want to let Maelyn onto his own uncertainty. “Are they?” she questions wanting to ensure that it’s not just a ploy, that her father is actually doing okay. 

“They are, Pumpkin. They’re helping.  I go back to the doctor in another couple weeks. He’s happy with the progress so far.”

Maelyn exhales at the news, grateful for the sincerity that drips from his words. “Good. I need to be 40 before I get you a casket.”

“I’ll make sure you hit 55.”

“I’m holding you to that, just so you know.”

“I know you will, Mae. I know you will.”

They talk for a few minutes more before her father lets her go, under the guise of her needing to get back to work. But Maelyn doesn’t touch either her Calculus textbook or her Chemistry. She doesn’t even reach for the piles of fabric around her. Instead, she dials the numbers burned into her memory by time. She’s swift over the keys, pressing in the area code first before the other seven digits. High blood pressure is treatable. Her father could get himself back into a healthy range. But she’s not there to keep the pressure anymore. He’d have to want it for himself, but Maelyn will be damned if she can’t keep him alive and taken care of from damn near the other side of the country. Her heart thunders in her chest as she listens to the phone ringing of the line. Maelyn’s not really sure where Jacob is at anymore. He’d last written from an address in Alaska, settling in to some degree with a coven up there. She’s not sure for how long but her last postcard hadn’t been returned so it’s possible that things have just slipped past Jake without him necessarily intending to forget them.

The line rings again in her ear. Maelyn hopes that this phone call isn’t wasted. She just needs him to pick up the phone. 

“Hello?” He sounds chipper, like maybe he might’ve been in the middle of another conversation, laughing at something happening. 

“Hi, Sam,” Maelyn returns. 

“Oh goodness, Maelyn! How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. How are you doing out there?”

“Good, we’re good. Emily’s just in the bathroom if you need her. I can let her know you called and she can call you back in like two minutes.”

“No, well, not right now. I need to talk to you first.”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“It’s about my dad. How is he, really?”

“Oh, it was a little worrisome for a second there. But Sue got through to him. He’s taking his meds now, last I heard.”

“Can-and I know I probably shouldn’t be asking-but can you keep an eye on him? For me? Please?” The words are there dancing on her tongue. She’ll have to say them, but they’re heavy and awkward. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam agrees softly. “Of course. We’ll all make sure he’s taking care of himself, okay? Don’t worry about that. Focus on those big Texas things you’re doing. We’ve got him.”

“I appreciate it.” It means more than she can fully put into words, but she hopes thank you is enough. 

“Anytime, Maelyn.” “Is that Mae?” Emily’s voice calls out from the other side of the phone, far enough away that Maelyn can tell that she’s just returned to the scene. Maelyn blinks back the tears from her lower lashline. The emotions tighten at her chest, make her feel like she could implode, but he’d promised her 55. Sam would look out for him. 

“Yeah, it is,” Sam answers. “Hey, Mae. Emily’s back. Did you want to talk to her?”

“Uh, yeah,” Maelyn whispers back, voice squeezing out through the narrowing of her lungs as the tears slip down her cheeks. 

The phone is shuffled, a click and then a clack, the static of something coming to the phone. In the background, a bit softer than the noise of the shuffling phone, Maelyn catches his voice--not a voice in her dreams anymore. 

“Is she okay?” Paul asks. 

No, she’s not as okay as she could be, but Maelyn doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even get a chance to catch Sam’s response as Emily’s bright voice cuts through. “Mae! Shocked to hear you called. You usually sound so busy by the letters and cards. You okay?”

“Emily, I-” Maelyn hiccups. 

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s all going to be okay. Whatever it is that’s got you worked up, I know we’re going to find a way through it. Just take a breath for me.”

Inhale, two, three. 

Exhale, two, three, four, five. The sound crackles through the phone Maelyn knows as she exhales. 

Inhale, two, three. 

Exhale, two, three. The meds are helping and he promised no caskets for her to purchase until she’s 55. The thing is that she’s so far away. Though as much as she wanted to tell herself that she wouldn’t go back to that rez, Maelyn knows for her father she would return. Even if would kill her, she’d go back for him. She’d make sure that her father stays alive too for however long he’s meant to stay alive for. 

“You still there, Mae?”

With another inhale, Maelyn cracks open her lips to speak. “Yeah, I’m still here, Emily.”

“Good. Just stay with me. That’s all you have to do.”

Maelyn crawls into her sheets of the twin sized mattress in her room, a downgrade from her full, but necessary for how small the room is, and tries not to recall how soft Paul’s voice had been around his question, how he seemed so worried. But in the spiral, when she thinks maybe she could call Sue to reassure her a third time that her father was doing better, it’s the sincerity in his tone that pulls her back from the ledge. 

Sam told her that the entire pack would keep an eye on him, that they’d all have her back to have her father’s back. It would all work out. It is the only hope she has to cling after her eyes have been unfocused over all the words on molecular geometry for the last two hours. Hope is the only saving grace when she winds herself up in the sheets missing home in the kind of way she hadn’t experienced since she was a child. The kind of longing that she knows is only served and fed by the nostalgia for once was. The kind of ache that only bubbles when the threat of loss comes. 

With a sick sort of relief, Maelyn knows that if something were to happen to her father she’d at least have the heads up this time. She wouldn’t have to experience blindsided grief for a third time in her life. This is the kind of grief she’d see coming. She could brace for its impact though it would still hurt no matter what. 

When the phone rings two weeks later, Alasie’s the closest to it. But Maelyn braces, looks up from the dining room table towards the small living room and watches every minute movement. Every flex and fine motor press, Maelyn is watching and waiting. Watching and waiting for the first hitch of a breath, the crack in the smooth stare on Alasie’s face. “Hi, Mr. Thompson. She’s right here.”

The phone goes arching from the toss and Maelyn catches it with ease, mindful of the buttons and attempting not to end the call. “Dad?” Maelyn returns, pressing the phone close to her ear. 

“Hi, Pumpkin. Numbers are down again from last time. 147.”

“Good, progress is still progress.”

“That it is. Don’t you worry about me though. Stay focused on your studies. Your old man’s going to make it.”

“We both have promises to keep.” Maelyn prays they both can see them all the way through. 

“That we do, Maelyn. That we do.” 

“Love you,” she returns. 

“Love you more, pumpkin.”

The call ends with the soft beep before she’s arching the phone back to Alasie. It tumbles over itself, once, then twice and Alasie catches it with hardly a blink--just the straight shot of her hand reaching up and out to cradle the device before she speaks, “If you need to leave for the summer, I can find someone to cover your portion of the rent until you get back.” 

It’s an offering, the kind of thing Maelyn’s sure is to help alleviate worries. But Maelyn’s not sure she can take it. As if somehow if she does go back to the rez, she’s telling her father she doesn’t trust him. Or maybe it’s just fear, her own worry about who she might run into. The news wouldn’t travel slow at all. “He made a promise. I just hope he keeps it.”

“I hope so too,” Alasie agrees, looking up from her notebooks. There’s the look that Maelyn’s only learned to read as Alasie’s brain pondering all her options, as if cataloguing and calculating. But just as quickly as the pensive look furrows her brows, it fades.  “I’m feeling like a study break that can only be completed by hot fries from the nearby gas station.”

“We just started this like an hour ago,” Maelyn laughs. 

“And now we need a brain break. Plus, it’s way too scary to go out there alone.”

“There hasn’t been a vampire in months.” Maelyn’s first venture to Sixth Street wasn’t her last time running into the red eyes. Right at the start of the new year, during another late night outing, the two of them spotted a pair of vampires. Immediately upon the two groups spotting each other, the vampires quickly left without so much as a fuss and it’s been quiet since. Jasper’s warning was still covering them and Maelyn’s glad for it. But she’d yet to give up the practice of phasing entirely, though she’s not sure she ever would. Not right now, at the very least.

“Don’t make me beg,” Alasie pouts. 

The soft tuft of laughter is involuntary but Maelyn slips her pencil into the spine of her open Chemistry textbook. “Fine, I’ll go. But only because when you beg it breaks my heart. Also, I promise I’ll have your pants done after we’re done dying with finals.”

“We live together. I do know where you sleep. Besides, with how insane things have been, I almost forgot about them.” 

The cool late April air is welcomed as they start out towards the gas station, about a three block walk for them, though at times it can feel longer. Finals loom in front of them like the ever elusive goal post of freedom and like a ton of bricks. For Alasie it means graduation, though she’d been clear to Maelyn that she would stay in town for at least the next two years. For Maelyn it means more change. She’ll either be switched over to Biomed Engineering track or she’ll stay on the Biology track with the hopes to turn that into a nursing degree later. 

“How does it feel to be almost done?” Maelyn asks, slipping her keys back into her pocket after locking up the front door. 

“Doesn’t feel real. Like have I really spent four years here studying? I don’t know. Time’s just moving so fast.”

“But soon, you’ll be in a classroom of your own. And your kids will love you.”

Alasie’s smile is soft, a soft tutting exhalation of laughter. “Something like that. Mom wants me to come back home though.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like you want to go back home though.”

“I don’t.” The words come firm, unlike Alasie’s normal sarcastic demeanor. The words are sincere and immediate. Maelyn’s never really gotten a straight answer from Alasie, on why she chose Texas of all places to go. Their shared steps are quiet. Neither one of them kicks at rocks or trips as they stare at the sidewalk in front of them. 

“Then don’t.” Maelyn’s not going to pry. “Because I’m pretty sure someone here said I was stuck with you and I’d hate for that person to turn out to be a liar.”

“Oh, she definitely can be a liar,” Alasise snorts. “I just like Texas more. It feels like home now is all. I like having you as a roommate. I like it here.”

“So, you’re not escaping some sort of tragic past?” Maelyn teases. 

“No, only one roommate needs a tragic backstory and last time I checked that part is more than filled. A lover that haunts you, your mom, your dad now. I think you have tragedy filled. I’m simply an only child who felt too big for their hometown, the little village, and decided to get the exact opposite of what they had.”

“I was really hoping you’d be cooler than that.”

Alasie’s laughter is short and loud, a burst of sound that cracks against the low hum of traffic and electricity buzzing from the street lights. “I am cool. What are you talking about?”

“You just don’t talk about home much, that’s all.”

“That’s boring. There’s nothing to talk about. I call my mom and dad every day on the drive back from work. I’m normal. Or as normal as we can get. I’m just in Texas to see what else the world could offer me.”

“I mean I am too,” Maelyn defends, but she knows Alasie is right.

“You’ve slept with nobody since being here. It’s been two years, Mae. You’re not fooling me.”

Maelyn doesn’t want to sleep with anyone else. The flirting, the kissing, that’s all fine. But it’s not the same. Maybe she doomed herself, asking Paul to follow. Or maybe it’s what’s meant to be. Maelyn doesn’t know and can’t know right now. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“Do you believe him? When he says he’s always going to choose you?”

If she didn’t believe him, she doesn’t think she should’ve told him he could follow her all these years later. But if she’s honest, she doesn’t think she has much choice either. Even if Paul didn’t want her, she’d always want him. That’s what hurts the most. She’d choose him time and time again and he could not choose her back. That’s what hurt so much when Paul imprinted, when it seemed like inevitable, the person she wanted to grow old with would want someone else. 

“I have to,” Maelyn answers, staring into the glass front of the gas station. They’ve only got to cross the street one more time until they can cross up through the pumps and into the front of the store. 

Maelyn has to believe Paul because if not, life would seem a little less worth living for. But Maelyn wouldn’t stop living. If Paul never shows up, she wouldn’t give up. She’d go on in spite of. She’d want to have stories to carry her through life so that when people ask what the lowest low of her life was and how she came back, she could point to the heartbreak and all the life she lived after it as an answer. 

She would not give up. Maelyn just hopes Paul shows up. 

The bell chimes above them and Alasie makes a side step to the chip display right near the front of the store, grabbing the yellow and red bag off the wire shelf, and then she grabs a second back, extending the first to Maelyn. “Because we don’t do this life alone,” Alasie states. “I for damn sure won’t.”

“You won’t,” Maelyn agrees though it feels more like a promise. Her fingers wrap around the plastic bag’s pressed top edge and she carries on towards the fridges in the back. Alasie follows. 

“Also, I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think it would drive me crazy to be apart from the person I know I love for so long. So I do think you have at least two screws that are a little loose.”

Maelyn shakes her head side to side. “No, I don’t hear anything.”

“But I can.”

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

Emily’s careful. Her fingers drag lightly over his head, tugging at sections. The snip is rather sharp, a swift one-two and then the hair falls back down again. She moves on and Paul sits, towel held together around his shoulders. His hair’s just breaching the point of being long enough to be tied back, but it is in desperate need of being get all roughly to the same length--a task that Emily seemed eager to take on and one that didn’t worry Paul too much about if it all went to shit. Because in the end, there’s nothing a buzzcut can’t fix. It would annoy him to have to start this process all over again, but it should be less tedious if he needed to get to that level. 

Snip, snip. 

More hair falls off his head and towards the floor. The summer’s dawned thick. Though it’s not ideal, the fans that Sam and Emily normally keep going are off to keep his hair from blowing into the living room or into crevices that will never be discovered. The microwave beeps, the smell of the stuffed pasta shells Emily made yesterday filling up the house again as Sam opens the door. This is normal, now, to some degree, where Paul sits for a trim and Emily slides around him with her shears and comb. 

“All you need now is to grow some facial hair,” Sam teases, his plate stacked with food that Paul’s hoping is actually warm all the way through. “A mustache and goatee situation.”

Paul snorts at Sam’s gesture, stroking the non-existence beard or facial hair. “Yeah, right.”

“No, facial hair could look good on you,” Emily tacks on. “If the 5 o'clock shadow grows in a bit more, I can see it working.”

“God, it’ll make me look thirty. Em, I just hit 21 as it is.”

“And you’re not 21 just yet either,” Sam returns. Paul’s birthday is another two days out, on Tuesday, but at this point, it might as well be the same thing. Yet, Sam still refuses to let the days round up. 

“No one’s gunning for your spot, old man.” Paul grins as he teases, cutting just his eyes over to Sam to keep steady as Emily continues to work on his hair.

“Hey, hey, hey, I know you were raised to talk to your elders with respect. If you’re going to call me old, damn it, call me old with respect at least.”

The chorus of laughter rumbles around them. Though Paul never thinks he’d take being called old, he knows when not to cross the line. So he leaves it there and listens for more of the quick work of Emily’s scissors. Another two minutes tick by before she guides his chin up with the tips of her fingers. “Maybe I’m a hairstylist in another life,” Emily grins. “It’s all even now, I think. A long time coming.”

Paul started this journey over a year ago. Right after the old microwave died, he’d asked Emily to take the top down so that as the sides and back grew out, it wouldn’t look so noticeable. And now, the hairs are dancing at his chin and jaw. He doesn’t think he’d want it to go past his shoulders, but the good thing is that he has time to decide. 

“Take a look,” Emily suggests, pulling the towel from around his shoulders and Paul stands before shuffling towards the first floor bathroom. 

Just as he imagined, the strands are caressing his jawline. But the back looks less shaggy and now rests like it should in a gradual sweep. It’s still a bit of a shock for Paul. Each time he sees himself in the mirror, he’s not even sure that’s him in his reflection. Though, it’s probably a testament to Paul’s conscious efforts not to stare into mirrors more than necessary. He looks just long enough. But that’s him, reflecting back in the mirror. A man hopefully blooming from the rough cracks. 

But Paul doesn’t have time to stare. His hair is even and he needs to pick up Daryl in the next ten minutes to make it to the pharmacy and to get a replacement battery, given that Daryl’s truck battery gave up the ghost yesterday evening--an annoying time on a Saturday after most mechanic shops are closed. Paul was sure that when he approached Daryl back in February when Paul learned about the high blood pressure to say that he’d be happy to help if it was ever needed, Daryl would’ve called someone else. And yet last night, Paul’s house phone rang to Daryl cashing in on the offer. 

So Paul shakes out his shirt in the middle of the pile of hair in the front of the house and gathers his hair back, before pulling at the black elastic band decorating his wrist. He unearthed the hair elastic during a deep clean of his bedroom from underneath his bed--a task Paul usually does once a year, but hadn’t done in a long while considering the last person to even have hair elastic in his room could’ve been Maelyn. Paul doesn’t want to think about the day the elastic band gives out on it, when he pulls it too far that it won’t snap back. Until then, he uses it, securing the tiniest of ponytails behind his head. The pieces in the front aren’t quite long enough to stay secure if he ties it too loosely, so throughout the day the hair slips out, as if Paul’s wearing an hourglass on his head. 

“Thanks, Em. Looks great. Do you two need anything while I’m out?” Paul asks, continuing on towards the door. 

“No, we’re good. Tell Daryl hi for us,” Emily calls out, gathering the broom and dustpan. 

“Of course.”

The radio crackles to life after a twist of the knob. Paul worried less about the whole situation when it was just a theory, when he was just going to help his neighbor. But now that Daryl’s inside of the truck, it’s much more real. The seconds are awkward as they sit with just the radio on until the silence is finally broken with a single word. “Thanks,” Daryl offers softly over the thump of some bass lick that Paul’s never heard before. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Paul answers. “Anytime.” Because it is true. Paul would help anytime he could. “Sam and Emily say hi, by the way.”

Daryl hums, an acknowledgement of the greeting but doesn’t say anything for a few beats. Nice, thick, awkward moments. “I’m shocked you showed up.”

“Shocked?” Paul questions. “I don’t follow.”

“I guess I’m shocked you offered to help. Shocked that you then showed up afterwards too. I guess I figured you’d be long gone by now.”

Paul hears it, the way gone lingers in the air before the rest of the sentence comes after it. Like somehow gone is trying to point to something else. And he wonders if what Daryl means is that Paul would’ve been chasing after Rachel. “I love Maelyn.” Helping Daryl is the next best thing to helping her directly. Though Paul hadn’t called, he heard enough from others to know she was worried about her father’s health. Helping is the easiest thing to do, the only logical step to take. 

“I can see that.”

“So why the shock?”

“Would you let her go? If she asked for it, I mean. Not that I think she would.”

Paul assumed he wasn’t a topic of conversation between the two of them. And maybe he isn’t. But the question still worries him, making him tighten his grip around the steering wheel. Emily hasn’t mentioned anything. Nothing seemingly had changed. Right? They hadn’t. Things hadn’t changed. Because if they had, he would’ve known a lot sooner, a lot more gracefully too. Paul focuses instead on the question rather than the fear biting at his chest; Paul tells himself that if Maelyn had wanted him to stay, to not go to Texas, she would’ve told him. He would’ve had more signs than a single question from her father. She’d respect him more than that. 

“If she didn’t want anything to do with me, yeah. I’d let her go. It’d hurt like a bitch though.”

“We have promises. She promised me I wouldn’t have to buy anymore caskets and I promised her she wouldn’t have to buy her first until she was 55 at the very least. My baby girl is in Texas, my only child, and if you go, if you follow behind her because she lets you follow, you need to help Maelyn keep that promise to me.”

He knows he shouldn’t. Paul knows what Daryl is asking and what’s being said: that somehow, someway, Paul’s a ticket to his daughter in a way that Daryl could never be, a buoy after someone’s been cast out to sea. “She seems at times pretty intent on sacrificing herself for the things she believes in though.”

Daryly’s snorted tuft of laughter is short. “I might’ve taught her that a little too well.”

But the gaze still bores into the side of Paul’s face. Daryl is still waiting on an answer, a confirmation to the damning sentence. But Paul’s already damned and he doesn’t mind that because he knows he is going to Texas. He is going to hand deliver that gem, even if it’s the last thing he does for Maelyn, even if she rejects him. Given the way Daryl speaks, the possibility still remains open though. There is still hope. 

“I’ll do as much as she allows,” Paul concedes. 

“That works for me.”

The silence is less tense, the thump of the bass is less of an aggressive foreground noise and becomes a harmonious backdrop to the drive. Paul eases into a gentle stop in front of the auto shop. “It should be quick.”

“No worries either way,” Paul returns. 

The breeze is stiff and the moment the door opens to the store, the smell of motor oil wafts out. It’s a rather non offensive smell, one Paul is used to given all the work he’s had to do on cars and all the work he’s helped do on them too. It’s a smell that reminds Paul of when he was a bit younger, after his mother left, and he stood next to his dad, usually on something to see into the hood of the car learning about where oil goes, windshield wiper fluids, where the battery posts are, how to change headlights. It’s the kind of thing Paul knows should he be able to pass down, he’d do it too, tasking some kid--his own or otherwise-- to hold the flashlight and to pass wrenches. There’d be less yelling involved of course, but still a rite of passage all the same. 

“Paul!”

He turns to the shout of his name, stretching out through the open car window when he realizes it’s an old classmate from the community college, waving him down. “Tyler, what’s up?”

Tyler approaches in a half jog, across the street and to the driver side door. “Not much. Just shocked to see you is all. You’re like a ghost. If I didn’t spend two years with you in class, I’d never think you were real.”

A reality that Paul can see becoming true. Though he got out occasionally, it was most often with Embry and never terribly far and never too terribly exciting--mostly movies together. Paul’s ventures to the public library are solo adventures. It still worries him that if he gets too close to someone outside of the pack that things that shouldn’t get out will. Paul manages not to phase out of too many raw emotions, but he knows he’s not perfect. 

“I’m real,” he laughs back. “Where’d you get placed?” Though they now all belong to the same union, the program did intentionally set out to spread them far and wide for their hands-on training. 

“Construction, for now. Homes and stuff. You?”

“Private contractor--right now it’s a lot of work in businesses.” 

“You like it?”

“There’s not much to hate.” He got paid well, didn’t work most weekends though he did put in the occasional Saturdays. It’s not terrible work and Paul has a feeling it’s mostly set up this way so when he goes to transfer, there’s less of a headache. 

“Feel that. As long as we’re getting paid. So, uh, random, I have a friend who’s DJ’ing a set next Friday night up in Seattle. I know it’s commitment to drive, but it’s supposed to be a good time. Sound like something you’d be interested in?”

It’s not the thing Paul would go for initially, but it would get him out. It could be a story to tell. “Could I bring a friend? He’s a bit more into the music scene than I am but it does sound cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Just, it’s a small venue so we do gotta be careful about capacity. The fire marshall could shut it down if we’re not being mindful about it.”

“Just him, no worries,” Paul agrees.

“Sweet. The set starts at 8:30. Doors open at 7:30.” Tyler rattles off the name of the venue, a club by the sound of it. 

But Paul nods, repeating it back to make sure he can remember it later. The drive would be long but not impossible to do. “We’ll be there. Thanks.”

“Yeah of course. See you Friday.” Tyler gives a passing wave before stepping off back towards where he came and Paul settles back into the seat, watching through the glass as Daryl starts back towards the door, car battery in hand. 

Embry’s agreement to join Paul comes easy Monday evening. After Paul swung by the pharmacy and helped Daryl swap out the battery, he’d laid low that Sunday knowing his Monday morning would start bright and early. But now as Paul sorts through the mail he has enough time to properly engage with the enthused and even a hair jealous ramblings of Embry on the other end of the line. 

“You literally do not care about this at all, but this is huge,” Embry prattles on, attempting to recount Paul how insane it is that Paul has such a casual connection to a budding DJ. The moment Paul mentioned the set happening in Seattle Embry came alive in a way that Paul has only seen in short spurts--as if the knowledge of the city and club were electrical sockets Embry got his fingers into. This DJ is an act Embry had been catching on the radio but only on a specific frequency. Paul’s not really sure about the specifics. He got lost in the monotonous excitement somewhere between Embry’s first Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this and the tangential Seriously you somehow have the best and worst luck lecture. 

“I can invite someone else--” Paul starts, shuffling through the bills and stacking them to one side. The coupons go in another pile. 

“No! I’m going. And we’re going to hike the four hours there and four hours back but do not even joke about inviting someone else. Or I’ll literally never forgive you.”

“No need to worry. I don’t think anyone else cares about this set.” 

“So you’re getting off at 3 Friday, right?”

“Yeah, got it approved. So we’ll make it probably just right before or a little after the set starts. Depending on what we have, there might be some more wiggle room. I can’t guarantee anything though.”

“Got it. It’s still so insane to me…”

The words fade back behind the thumping of Paul’s chest. A tiny card slips down from the stack of coupons, hidden or maybe trapped given the way the stack was bunched up into the mailbox. But his name is written in the middle, a purple ink that Paul swears will haunt him in his dreams later tonight. 

The front of the card is a navy blue--Happy Birthday printed on it in fancy white script. Sophisticated in a way that Paul has to imagine is on purpose. As if Maelyn went out of her way to find a card that could only be appropriate for a 21st, with some sort of faux arrogant air to it. But inside is all the messy underbelly. Inside is all that purple ink and heavy pressed handwriting that Paul can spot miles and miles away. 

Two bills fall out of the card and onto the table--a twenty and a one.

Paul, 

Beer tastes like ass. Enjoy your first legal fruity cocktail on me. You can start with a Blue Hurricane. Legends states it’s supposed to give you a wild ride. 

Happy 21st Birthday. 

Maelyn 

The card’s a day early. But that’s okay. He reads the note again, laughs just a little as his mind replays the way Maelyn might say the first sentence, how she’d emphasize the word ass--a displeasure on her part at him even suggesting the drink in the first place. He wonders if Maelyn’s tried the Blue Hurricane, attempting to understand if what others say about the drink is true but the drink somehow falls short on the promise. 

“Paul? Paul! He’s fucking dead. Oh my god.”

“I’m here,” Paul answers, tuning back in to Embry’s voice again. 

“Good. I thought I was going to have to come over and give you mouth to mouth or something.”

“Do not dare resuscitate me with your absolutely disgusting breath. I’d rather die.”

“Shit, you really are back and listening. What happened? I lost you for like a good few minutes.”

“Sorry, got a birthday card. What were you saying?”

“That’s what distracts you? A birthday card? What in the actual fuck?”

“From Maelyn.”

The two words suck the air out of Embry’s remarks. “Oh. Yeah, well, that would do it.” But Embry’s silence isn’t a long stretch. He starts up again with little other prompting, his annoyance from earlier returning. Paul hums in all the appropriate places, thumb dragging over the letters pressed into the card. 

Paul would like to say, when asked on how he spent the cash, that he did buy a Blue Hurricane. But now that Paul’s here, bodies pressing in and against him, he’s not sure if alcohol’s a good choice. Embry’s shouting just a hair to be heard by the bartender over the bass dropping from the opening act. They made it with only minutes to spare and a parking space so high up in the structure that it almost seemed like they’d never get out of the garage. The full parking structure was the first alert that it would be rather crowded in the small bar, and now inside, it’s only proving how right they are. The dance floor has no delineation from the bar and the lights flash blue, then purple, then green around them only making it even harder to know who’s passing them by and who’s attempting to dance and bounce to the opening act. 

“You getting anything?”

And Paul’s not sure about drinking. Because it’s not the driving that concerns him. It’s not the sea of bodies rocking behind him. It’s Paul seeing his father’s face pressed into the dining room table, the wheezy rattle of his father’s own breathing that echoes back into Paul’s ear as he looks at all the bottles on the shelf.

“Just water,” he shouts back. 

The bartender looks shocked at first, but nods. “Sure, yeah.”

The lights around them change in time to the beat, a blasting of almost lazer like sound effects mixed with the kind of bass that makes Paul’s teeth rattle. But Embry looks excited, head bobbing along and Paul’s not afraid to admit that this isn’t his scene, but it does seem fun. From a distance, he can see why the crowd is lively, a collective stomp as they bounce and dance to the song. 

“Here you guys go.”

Paul turns back, bills pressed into his palm but the bartender is already sliding on to someone else. “How much?” Paul calls out. 

“It’s a soda and water. They can kiss my ass if asked,” the guy returns with a laugh. 

The lights dim down, the last note ringing out and there’s a collective hush that falls, the kind of anticipation right before something happens, even if no one knows what. Embry starts forward, even in the dark there’s bursts of light to help them on their journey off the bar and into the crowd. They only make it a step or two before there’s a beeping, several white dots of lights blinking at the front of the platform. The crowd erupts, Embry along with them, at what’s clearly the start of the set. 

The two of them are absorbed. Even if Paul only sips at the cup of water and bobs to the beat, he’s no match for the sway. He moves because if he doesn’t the crowd will swallow him. The music’s good, even if a little too loud for Paul’s ears and the beat changes a bit too frequently for him to get into the groove of any one song. It’s warm in the room, the way only bodies can be warm, a hum that radiates. 

And Paul lets himself go, worries less about how out of place he might feel, how he and Embry have shuffled themselves to the side to not be in the way of others who want to see as much as possible, and focus instead of the bounce, the thumping of the music shaking from his toes up to the crown of his head. He lets himself laugh, watching Embry headbang to damn near every song. 

“Just wait for it. The best part’s coming,” Embry warns--like he does with every other song right before the bass drops, or the beat switches just a little and Paul waits all the same, for every drop and change, eyes widening each time it hits. Though he knows to hold no expectations, Paul finds himself trying to guess where the song might go.

The two hour long set doesn’t even feel that long; by the time the DJ thanks them for coming, Paul’s sure it’s only just gotten started. There’s a roar, the kind of cheering that does let Paul know things are coming to an end and he cheers on too, letting out a few whistles along the way, and a cheer or two that sound suspiciously close to howls. 

In the rushed timing of Paul and Embry’s arrival, Paul didn’t get the chance to look for Tyler, but now, with a more than empty cup, Paul meaders back to the bar and spies Tyler, leaning into the wood. “Hey!” Paul calls out, garnering the attention of the man. 

“Hey, Paul! I was looking for you earlier. When did you get in?”

“We got in right before the set started. Thanks again for the invite.” Paul introduces Embry, a quick exchange and the boys fall into an easy rhythm while they wait for their last round of drinks--another water for Paul, a soda for Embry, and another beer for Tyler. Paul slips the bills from Maelyn across the bar to pay for Tyler’s drink. 

Tyler raises the bottle. “They say it’s bad luck to cheers with water, but I’m not superstitious.” The bottles and cans and cups click together, a thick plastic sound. “How long have you known each other?”

“Few years,” Embry returns. “A little bit after high school for Paul, I think. Mutual friends.”

“Oh, sick. If I had known about the two of you not drinking, I definitely would’ve said something, made sure the environment was okay.”

“Don’t sweat it. Just a long drive that’s all,” Paul returns. It’s an easy enough cover because it is a long drive. 

“You two are doing that tonight?” Tyler asks. 

“That was the plan,” Paul answers. 

“Fuck that,” Tyler laughs. “We’ve got two rooms. There’s four of us. And we can make it six. Y’all are positively not making that drive back tonight.”

“You sure? We can make it back,” Embry counters. 

“I’m sure. We’re here until they kick us out. Then grab some food and crash. Don’t sweat it. We’ll head out in the morning. Safer that way. Plenty of sleep and whatever the fuck.”

The night rolls on. They form a semicircle, cups and bottles in their hands as they chat. A couple more rounds are ordered from the group and though only one person, Vinny, the DJ, tries to pressure Embry and Paul into a shot, it’s immediately shut down by Tyler. “Drop it, dude. They don’t drink and I’m looking forward to a reason to kick your ass again.”

“This boy is all bark and note bite,” Vinny hollers, his laughter sharp even over the remaining house music. “But got it, no alcohol. Sorry.”

The interaction is buried just as quickly as it surfaced by the rumblings of where to go for food. Last call is going to be coming soon, according to the more experienced guys, and they don’t want to overstay their welcome or make life hell for the staff all the while their chat is interspersed with the rumblings and comments about the upcoming football season. 

“I don’t care as long as they have burgers,” Vinny interjects when the group turns back towards the original topic at hand.

Right behind them though Paul catches a scoff. “Watch it, creep.”

Paul turns to see Louie, a friend of Tyler’s from middle school, who’s a little too drunk pressing into the space of a blond girl. She slides away from Louie, nose scrunched up at his rather slurred and nearly incomprehensible speech. Paul wraps an arm around Louie’s shoulder, tugging Louie back into his chest. “Man, let her enjoy her night. Your dumbass just had to have that extra shot, huh?” Paul laughs, wanting to defuse this as painlessly as possible.

Louie laughs just a little, a wet sound that escapes his chest as he falls back into Paul a bit more. “They were good, man. So good.”

“I’m sure. C’mon, I think we decided on a place to eat at and sober you up.”

Paul catches the quirk of her lips that’s just shy of a smile and Paul looks up. Her gaze is assessing, her eyes dancing as they fall down from Paul’s face down to his chest and torso and then back up to his face again. That doesn’t stop Paul though as he physically places Louie back into their semi circle away from her and her friend. 

“Sorry,” Paul calls out to the blond girl.

“No, thank you. For intervening.”

“Yeah, of course.” That part seems obvious, to keep the sloppily drunk Louie from further embarrassment and to keep her feeling relatively safe. But Paul doesn’t voice that, just nods and turns back to the group. 

They settle on a nearby diner that’s open until 3, only a few blocks from them. After which, they’ll loop back to get Paul’s truck and then Paul will drive them to the motel. A plan that comes together rather smoothly even if Paul becomes a babysitter to Louie in the short walk. Though the diner is so close to the club, there’s a table near immediately opened for all six of them. So they all settle in Paul and Embry sliding in last on opposite sides of the table. 

“Get whatever you want,” Vinny offers to Paul and Embry, leaning in across Louie. “Literally whatever. My treat.” It’s not that there wasn’t a cover charge to get in, but it wasn’t too terrible of an inconvenience at the end of the day.

Embry remains quiet, the shy kind of shock and admiration still lighting up his face. Paul laughs at the rapid nod from Embry and verbalizes the gratitude that’s clear on Embry’s face. “Thanks, man. We appreciate it.”

Embry had only been just barely able to get his words together to compliment Vinny’s set and to mention how long he’d been a fan. On stage, under the bright lights, Vinny looked in his element, headphones covering his head and a confident bop as his fingers danced over the knobs and tracks. Off that stage, he looks normal--the white t-shirt and jeans almost make him look like any other person. Though maybe it’s the cigarette he keeps tucked behind his ear or the rolled up short sleeves or the slicked back hair that still make him stand out just a little. It’s just enough that Embry’s still clearly in shock to be this close, interacting on this scale with what’s clearly an idol. 

“So, what do y’all do?” Paul offers, though he knows Tyler’s answer.

“Well, Louie, when it’s not piss drunk, makes big bucks as a line cook,” Vinny laughs. 

“‘S all good though,” Louie tacks on. 

“School right now for me,” Thomas, another friend of Tyler from high school, adds on. He’s quiet, in the same way Embry is--not out of a fear, just out of an innate stillness. “And when Vinny’s not moonlighting as a rockstar, he’s in school too,” Thomas laughs. 

“Just shatter my cool guy persona, why don’t you? Fucking eulogize it next too, please,” Vinny deadpans. 

“We’re gathered here today,” Thomas starts without hesitation and is met with a round of laughter. Vinny joins in with a snort and a shake of his head. It’s clear these guys have been friends for a while, meshing well enough that none of the jabs feel mean spirited. It’s easy, to settle back, laugh--as if somehow Paul’s known this group just as long as he’s been friends with Embry or anyone else. 

It’s nice--to feel so human in this moment, to not worry about what tomorrow’s going to bring, or what yesterday did. There is only the present, and the burgers that the lot of them order of all variations. Cheeseburgers, double stacked, fried eggs all mingling into the mix on their table. The conversation slows just a little around the bites, but it’s still easy. 

“Sorry about that delay,” the waitress says and the entire table looks up. “But I got those extra sides of fries.” 

Two plates of fries are placed in the center and there’s a scramble to divide up the extra appropriately and evenly amongst the entire group, but when the plates are stacked even higher, there’s a swelling in Paul’s chest. The kind of flutter that he wonders if he would’ve ever noticed before, a kind of longing for something that’s still happening. An unnameable feeling right now, but in another three, four, five years when Paul reflects back he’d be able to categorize. A feeling that he hopes he can find again and again, a feeling that Paul wants to keep experiencing. Even after he leaves Washington. 

The kind of feeling that even as Paul stretches across the couch of the motel and stares up into the dark room still swells in his chest. 

[internetgremlin-writes]

hey 😏 (with the intention of asking you with the hashtag “already working on something” means we are getting flat spin chapter 9 soon)

Heyy

My god you people miss NOTHING (i love it)

What if I told you there's already 2.5k words in the Chapter 9 document?

[damienthepious]

ahhhhhhh. a breath of air. yeehaw.

still need your teeth around my organs (Epilogue)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [ch 11] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Enemies to Lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Dueling, Sexual Tension, (because they’re IDIOTS), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, mutual IDIOTS, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings, Polyamory, (eventually lmao), Polyamory Negotiations

Fic Summary: Damien won yesterday, Arum won today, and now all that’s left is to break the tie. The only issue, however, is that neither of them are willing to do so, not until they are both satisfied that they have fought fairly, and honorably, and one of them has truly won.

Chapter Summary: It's a date.

Chapter Notes: SURPRISE! the epilogue chapter i said would "probably happen next week," literally last year. Weekly reminder: do not ffucking trust me, i'm UNRELIABLE. Anyway. I love you. I hope you enjoy this. I hope it's a nice little dessert at the tail of this fic. Thank you for reading.

~

They begin to see the glow through the trees through the moonless night a long while before they arrive properly at the grove.

They do not rush, though Amaryllis nearly glows herself, overflowing with excitement. She bounces on her heels, pointing out the light perhaps five minutes after Arum spies it himself (human eyesight, Arum thinks fondly), and her grip on his hand tightens as they walk together through the darkness, their voices hushed even in their eagerness.

Damien makes a noise when they push through the heavy leaves and into the grove itself, a little oh of an exhale, almost desperate with wonder.

The flowers of the newmoonvine are beautiful, of course. Of course they are beautiful. They glow in all the shades of the moon in her absence, cream yellow and coin grey and pure white, very very rarely a mellow eclipse red, subtle low-flying orange. The illumination is enough to set the whole grove alight, painting swaths of gentle pastel like a particularly ambitious pre-dawn.

But...

Arum has seen beautiful flowers before, though, and more interesting to him by far is...

The way Amaryllis and Damien reflect that beauty. Their faces, their eyes. The way their breathing catches, shallow gasps and stuttering inhales. Amaryllis lifting her hands to cover her mouth, ineffectively hiding the way her smile widens. Damien spinning in a slow, wondering circle, breathing another soft, slow oh as he drinks in the whole of the grove around him.

(The way they both, eventually, catch their eyes on Arum in turn, with further gasps, with a softening of eyes and smiles, as if he looks even half as beautiful to them as they do to him.)

Arum murmurs gentle instruction to the roots, providing a flat enough place for Amaryllis to spread out the thick blanket, and Damien sets down the baskets just beside it. Amaryllis pulls out her father's instrument with a sly smile, and Arum pretends to scowl as Damien tugs him into his arms, and Amaryllis sings gentle and sweet and clear in the night, and Damien teaches him a more... earnest dance, rather than the metaphorical one they used to step to. The movements are easy enough, and Arum rather enjoys the way Damien feels, pressed against him, hands on his scales. He enjoys the feeling of Damien humming to Amaryllis' song, enjoys the flush across the poet's cheeks, enjoys the way his breath hitches in a soft noise when Arum decides to abandon the planned steps, and lifts Damien in a sudden spin.

He kisses Arum's snout as he lowers the poet back to his feet, and Arum enjoys that, as well. He enjoys it very, very much.

And the feeling in his chest-

He has been nurturing that seedling since- since before he acknowledged it, truly. He knows what it is. He is taking his time, or- he was. As Damien tugs him to sit beside a playfully applauding Amaryllis, her mouth curved in a smug little smile, he feels it swelling again. Damien pours some mead for them, and Arum starts arranging the fruit and bread and cheese to pick at while they watch the flowers and Rilla takes her requisite "quick notes" into her recorder. Arum is unsurprised, that she was not being facetious about doing so, even on what she and Damien insisted on calling a "date."

And then they sit. Together. Quiet, and calm. Leaning against each other, touching without active intent.

The feeling in Arum's chest again. Swooping, soaring.

At first, it felt... dangerous. Like trusting these humans was tantamount to tossing himself off the edge of a cliff- the edge of the world, and simply hoping, believing that he would somehow, somehow survive the plunge. When he thinks about putting his life in their hands- sleeping beside them, resting his head on their shoulders-

(putting his blade in Damien's hand)

(sitting at Amaryllis' table)

Trusting them. He could not feel safe in it, for a long while. He still chose to do so, he still... took the leap, as it were. Still threw himself from that edge, hoping. He started falling, he thinks, the first time Damien took his hand to help him to his feet. Not believing that he would survive the fall did not matter, then, even if it does, now. If only for their sakes.

And-

Sitting here, Damien's hair tucked beneath his chin, Amaryllis' fingers netted with his own, her cheek on his shoulder, his body settling warm between them in the cool night air, flowers everywhere around them... he knows that he would fall again. He will decide, over and over, to fall, so long as they are the ones who could catch him.

He even believes... he believes, he does, that they are falling too. Right along with him. Hand in hand.

He swallows, the flowers blurring slightly as his eyes go, for a moment, hot, but he breathes slowly and composes himself, and he squeezes Amaryllis' hand in his own, and he reaches to take Damien's hand on the other side.

He leans back, enough that the humans stir, and look towards him. They blink, moon-tinted flower-light painting their faces, and Arum-

Arum doesn't even think. It slips from him. He has wanted to say it so many times.

"I love you," he says, the words so easy and true that they seem more a part of his breath than any words ever have before.

Damien's eyes fill with tears in an instant, which Arum decides to take as a good sign. Amaryllis, however, blinks as her mouth drops open into a little o, and then she curses under her breath.

"Oh you absolute- I can't believe that you'd-" she snaps her jaw shut, apparently seeing the way that Arum's heart has fallen through to his stomach, and she quickly shakes her head. "No no no wait no not like that I didn't mean- you stop laughing at me!" she says, reaching across Arum's broad chest to smack Damien in the arm as he laughs - still through his tears - before she squeezes Arum's hand in a fierce grip. "I knew this trip was coming up and I had this whole plan I brought the whole thing- blanket for the picnic and a basket of your favorite fruits and plenty of wine and I was going to do this whole thing, because the idea of this whole trip scared you so bad the first time I talked about it that you ran away and- and I wanted to show you how different things are, how different we are, and I just-"

"You should never expect to execute plans without amendment where our particular monster is concerned, my flower," Damien says warmly.

"I don't..." Arum glances between them, still uncertain, his mind still reeling. "I don't underst-"

She cuts him off with a kiss, and when she leans back away again, her arms draped across his shoulders, Arum's heart seems to have decided to nestle there between them, warm against her chest.

"I love you," she says emphatically, leaning into him, letting his arms hold her up, and Arum exhales all the air in his lungs in one breath. "I love you. You brat. Undercutting my whole- plans and- ugh- I love you. Even if you drive me crazy." She pauses. "Especially because you drive me crazy," she mutters against his lips before another small kiss.

Damien leans close on his other side, pressing his lips tenderly to the edge of his frill, and then he whispers, "I think you likely know, my lily, that my heart lives in you precisely as it lives in my Rilla." He smiles, hand on Arum's chin as he feels his throat whir in relieved pleasure. Damien's entire face is soft, glowing, gentle. "I think you know, Arum, how I love you. I have, in fact, for quite some time."

"Brat," Amaryllis mutters again, and Arum barks an unexpected laugh.

It breaks the spell, the seriousness, the way Arum's chest felt tight with tears. Damien laughs as well, and then Amaryllis rolls her eyes and presses her head against his cheek, kissing his jaw and laughing lightly in her own right. They snuggle closer, Damien mouthing kisses along his neck, and Arum realizes-

The swooping feeling, the falling-

It hasn't gone away with his confession, as he expected it to. He still feels- midair, wild and windswept and caressed by clouds.

Arum smiles, nuzzles them back, loves them.

It's alright, falling for them. Falling with them. It's alright. It's... safe. They are safe, with him, as he is with them, even midair, and wild, and windswept.

Arum has been falling, now, for long enough that it has begun to feel like flight.

[fizzyxcustard]

Covert Eyes (11)

Prologue| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control.

Official soundtrack list: here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in. The above image was located on Pinterest, with no link back to the original source. 

I also wanted to stipulate, and I don’t mean to be rude, but if you ask to be on my tag list and never interact (even if just a ‘like’ on the chapters I post) then I will remove you after a few weeks. Please try and show some kind of engagement, or ask to be taken off my list if you’re no longer interested.

At six weeks into the relationship, Amy and Lucas were practically living together at her flat. Her wardrobe now housed a fair few strips of his clothes, and his toiletries were now lined up in the bathroom on her cabinet. He even had his own mug, one that he had chosen from the huge collection of Disney ones. It was a Grumpy the Dwarf mug, of which Amy had laughed at when he initially chose it.

“Come on, though. It’s the furthest thing from you,” Amy chuckled. 

“Well, how come you have it? It’s hardly you either.” 

“He gets such a bad rep, so I brought it because I feel bad for him.” 

Lucas raised his eyebrow and chuckled at her. 

“Stop mocking me,” Amy said, nudging him with her arm. 

“I’m not mocking you.” Lucas caught her with his arm and pulled her to him. He looked down at her, his eyes smouldering in his want of her. 

***

Two weeks had passed now since Jonathan had buzzed Amy at her flat block. And gradually she had begun to return to her normal activity, meaning that Lucas had reluctantly agreed to not meet her from work or escort her in. Amy had been adamant that she would not continue to allow Lucas to ‘baby’ her and cause potentially problems with his own work. 

One Wednesday evening as Amy slipped out of work and made her way down a quiet street, she suddenly felt a presence behind her. Her heart raced and the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention, pushing her to carry on at a slightly faster pace. 

“Hey, bitch.” 

A rod of ice splintered through Amy’s spine as she immediately recognised who the owner of that voice was. “L…leave me a….alone, Jonathan. Please.” She never turned, but instead carried on walking. “I don’t wany any bother. Please leave me alone.” 

“I only want to talk,” Jonathan hissed, and then grabbed her arm, spinning her around. 

Amy gasped, and felt tears begin to well in her eyes. Her whole body remained still, frozen in her heightened fight or flight response. Adrenaline was burning in her veins. 

Jonathan grinned at her perversely. “Oh, come on. I won’t hurt you. I think you’re overreacting a little bit.” 

“Please, just leave me alone.” Amy couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eye; she was too terrified. Her green gaze remained locked on the pavement beneath her feet. 

“Are you okay there?” a voice came from behind. A young man, who looked no older than late twenties could see plainly that Amy was very distressed. He stepped up towards the spectacle that was taking place in the street. 

“Mind your own business, pal,” Jonathan growled. 

“I was asking her, not you,” the stranger replied back angrily. 

Amy looked up at the stranger, a tall man with dark hair and black rimmed glasses, reminding her a little of Clark Kent. Maybe he really was Superman. “Ummm.” The uncertainty in her voice was telling. 

“Back off,” Jonathan growled again, standing to his full height against Clark Kent. 

Amy took a deep breath and swallowed. “Leave me alone, Jon. I don’t want to talk to you. I’ve already called the police once and they’ll be called again.” 

“Bitch,” Jonathan muttered, then he turned and began to walk away, sulking off up the street. 

“Thank you,” Amy told the stranger. Tears fell down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She rubbed the tears away with the back of her hand, feeling embarrassed. “I’m going to call my boyfriend and see if he can come to me.” 

“Do you want me to wait with you? If not, I’d suggest going and waiting in a shop or something where there are plenty of people about, and call the police.” 

It didn’t take any more than twenty minutes for Lucas to get across the city to Amy. He pulled up at the kerbside in a black BMW and jumped out. Lucas raced to Amy and took her in his arms. “I’m taking you home and staying with you.” Then he spotted the stranger waiting next to Amy. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it. Did he touch her?” 

“I saw him grab her arm when I was further back up the street. I could see she was uncomfortable.” 

Lucas took Amy back to her flat, noticing how quiet she was, until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry to pull you out of work again.” 

“Fuck work. Seriously, Amy, what is wrong with this guy?” Lucas hissed. 

“Please go back to work. I’ll be fine on my own inside,” Amy told him. 

“You know I’m not doing that.”

Inside the flat and Amy sat down on the sofa and fell into a bout of weeping. She rocked back and forth, sobbing and asking why he couldn’t leave her alone. 

In a fit of rage, Lucas pulled his phone out of his back pocket and rang the number which he had been waiting to have reason to use. He listened to the dial tone for a few seconds, before a man answered. 

“I know where you live, Jonathan. You stay the fuck away from Amy! If you don’t then I’ll come after you,” Lucas shouted. 

“Who the fuck is this?” Jonathan spat. 

“You don’t need to know who this is. But I very much know who you are. Leave her the fuck alone otherwise you’ll have me coming after you, and it won’t end well.” 

Lucas ended the call, threw his phone on the coffee table and sat down beside Amy, pulling her into his arms. “I’ve got you. I won’t let him hurt you, I swear,” Lucas told her, kissing her head for reassurance. “He fucking dares…” 

Amy held Lucas as tight as she could. “Please make him stop.” 

A short while later and Lucas lay with Amy on her bed, holding her from behind. He kept telling her that it would be okay as he listened to her sob into the pillow. It didn’t seem to matter how much he tried to reassure her, Amy still continued sobbing. And for this, Jonathan would pay. 

Once Amy was asleep, having drifted off in a sea of tears, Lucas kissed her one last time on the head and shifted out of the bed. He pulled on his shoes and jacket, then snuck out of the flat, borrowing Amy’s key which she left on the kitchen table. Lucas let himself out into the mild evening air and got into the car which he still had from work, the vehicle in which his team believed he was currently deployed in. Instead, he had snuck back to Amy’s flat to be with her at her most vulnerable time. 

Lucas pulled up outside another block of flats, similar to Amy’s, but three miles away. The flats looked ordinary, lived in. Jonathan lived on the second floor in a two-bedroom flat with his disabled mother. Lucas looked at his watch, just after eleven. 

Up on the second floor of the block, Lucas knocked on the door which belonged to Jonathan Simmons. 

There was a shuffle from inside and the bark of a dog, which was then followed by a deep voice telling the animal to shut up. The hallway light came on, illuminating through the frosted glass of the door. 

“Can I help you?” Jonathan asked. 

Lucas immediately felt his blood boil upon the sight of the arsehole, and grabbed his throat. “You come anywhere near her again, and I’ll kill you. Do you understand? I have ways of making it look like an accident. Touch her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Jonathan’s eyes were wide and his hands were gripping Lucas’, trying to get him to let go. But it was all futile. Lucas had a strong grip and a strong resolve. 

Lucas kept tightening his grip, feeling the anger rage. No one would ever dare upset Amy. No one. But the realisation of his actions soon flicked on, surging forward through the anger. And he let go of Jonathan. 

The man dropped backwards and coughed, holding his throat. He muttered incoherent words, which were lost as Lucas disappeared into the night. 

Amy heard the familiar rattle of a key in the lock of her front door. She pulled herself up from the bed, a migraine beginning in her temples. It was thumping in time with her heartbeat and was slowly shifting to behind her eyes. As she blinked, growing accustomed to the darkness, flashing lights flickered back and forth across her vision. 

Lucas entered the bedroom, her door creaking as he came inside. 

“Where did you go?” Amy asked, looking up to see the dark form of Lucas enter the room. Instinct told her where he had been, but she wanted to hear him say it, and admit to it. 

“It doesn’t matter where I went.” 

“Yes, it does matter. You went to Jonathan’s, didn’t you?” Amy reached across and flicked on the lamp, immediately grimacing as the light caused pain to shoot through her brow and before her eyes. “Lucas, tell me the truth.” 

“Yes, I went to his flat. And I told him that if he comes near you again then I’ll kill him.” 

“Why did you look him up?” Amy asked. “You must have looked up his details to get his address. Why are you doing all of this?” 

Lucas approached Amy and looked down at her, his face full of frustration. “If you had the resources to find the information out regarding someone who was tormenting the person you love, wouldn’t you look it up? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t, Aim.” 

“Let the police do their job.” 

Lucas scoffed. “They do nothing!” 

“Lucas, please. Just leave it. You could get in trouble for looking stuff up like this. And I don’t want you getting in trouble at work because of me. I’m not worth that.” 

Amy watched as Lucas sat down beside her and took her hand in his, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips. They kissed for a few seconds, and then Amy pulled away, sighing. 

“I’d do anything for you. You know that,” Lucas began, his voice almost a whisper. His ice blue gaze was locked on her with such intensity. “Let me look after you. That’s all I want to do.” 

“How much do you know about him? How deep did you look? Lucas, please just tell me. You knew what he looked like when I went out with him, so you’ve been looking at him for some time. Why? Is he linked to something you’re working on? Or is this all to do with me?” 

Amy watched Lucas’ gaze slip as she asked the last question. And it was then that she knew. 

“It’s me, isn’t it? You were watching Jonathan the night that I went out with him. Have you been checking up on me as well? How did you even know that I was seeing him that night?” 

“Amy, please don’t.” Lucas hung his head. Shit! She was digging now. And it was enough to bury him completely. 

“Why did you feel the need to do all of that?” 

“To make sure you were safe. I started caring for you quite a while before anything ever happened between us. Is it so wrong to want to look out for you?” 

“Spying on me is, yes. Looking at information about me that you didn’t even need to be looking at,” Amy replied. She got up from the bed and turned around to face the window. Could she really turn away from him now? After everything that they had built up to; the vetting, him telling her about his job. Judging by the fact that he hadn’t even denied any of the activities meant that she knew now with almost complete certainty that he had been watching her for some time. 

Lucas stood behind her, his body touching hers. He brushed his hands down her upper arms and sighed. “I love you. I can’t be any more direct and honest than that. Everything I’ve done and the lines I crossed were only to protect you.”

Amy turned and looked at him, her heart overwhelmed in her love for this man. Rationally, she knew that he had crossed a line, and that action was wrong. But her heart would not stop yearning for him. His words only made her want him more. To be loved, desired and treasured in such a way, had always been something she dreamed of. Her eyes were filling with tears and she swallowed hard. “I know in my mind rationally that what you did was wrong, but I can’t find it in my heart to hold it against you.” Her gaze searched for his, and she placed her hand against his cheek. 

“When I first met you, Aim, you were closed off to me. This was my way of opening that door, helping things along.”

“Because look at you, Lucas. A man like you wouldn’t normally want a woman like me, and that was why I shut myself down…” 

“Stop it!” Lucas snapped. “You’re doing it again. I don’t get why you think I’m so special in the looks stake and that you don’t deserve love in your life. Adam fucked you up emotionally and I don’t want to keep being blamed. He lost you, and now that I have you, I want to treat you in the way you should be treated. But you won’t let me.”

“I know I’m fucked up,” Amy sobbed. “I know that. Maybe that was why I didn’t want to get close to you in the first place, so then you’d have to see this.” 

“And I’m not fucked up? The one who keeps waking up in a cold sweat in the dead of night? You still have this idea in your head that I’m somehow out of reach. Aim, I’m right here. I’m standing eye to eye with you.” 

“Even though you’re considerably taller than me?” Amy giggled. 

“Oh well, that aside. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Lucas took Amy into his arms again and held her, the two of them silent. 

I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. Lucas’ mind told him. I’ve never been able to hold on to anything, but I promise that I will with you. 

***

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[highwaytothedangerzone502]

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 16

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2043

Warnings: None

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when her Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: Chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Death By A Thousand Cuts This Feeling

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23

Hangman, although wearing his signature cocky smirk, acted a little subdued. Phoenix, either not noticing or not caring if she did, asked, "What do you want, Bagman?"

"I know you two ladies have a party soon, but I was wondering if I could steal Miss Kazansky away for a few minutes."

Phoenix quirked an eyebrow at Juliette, silently questioning: What's this about?

"I'll be back," Juliette said, shooting her friend an 'I have no clue' look. She didn't. The only thing she could think of was her earlier berating, but Hangman never let anything get under his skin, let alone a girl with no rank or title in the Navy. She was just an admiral's daughter who had her father's way with words, or so Juliette had been told. Even then, she doubted the talent extended to Jake 'Hangman' Seresin.

Hangman led her outside and around the corner of the Hard Deck, away from the crowd. She leaned against the railing once he stopped and asked, "What's going on, Lieutenant?

"I wanted to apologize for earlier today," Hangman said, his usual arrogance gone and replaced with a surprising amount of genuine sincerity. "You asked me not to get under Rooster's skin, and that's exactly what I did. I'm sorry, Juliette."

"Thank you, Jake. Apology accepted," Juliette responded, straightening, "although as much as I appreciate it, I'm not the one who needs it."

Hangman frowned. "What? Maverick can push him, but I can't?"

"That's not your job. You're not Rooster's captain; you're his wingman. Encouraging him to drop down and take the shot that first day was great, even if he didn't listen! But bringing up his dad's death and making it sound like Maverick had something to do with it was absolutely not the way to push him in the way I think you want to."

"What happened with his dad?"

Juliette hesitated, debating whether or not to tell him. Every time she'd told Jake a tidbit about Rooster's life or relationships, he'd used it against the aviator. Still, she couldn't see the harm in telling him the truth about what happened with Goose. Anyone could discover it if they dug into the records long enough. "It was a training exercise gone bad. My dad was there; Maverick was flying as his wingman. They were chasing after Jester, and when my dad wouldn't take the shot, Maverick tried to go around, but Dad cut him off. It caused Maverick to fly through his jet wash and lose both engines. He went into a flat spin that he couldn't recover from. He and Goose managed to eject, but when they did, Goose hit the canopy. It's suspected the impact killed him instantly. Mav became a solo pilot as soon as possible after that. I don't think he wanted the responsibility of another's life in his plane. It's one thing when you have them on your wing, and they can make their own decisions; it's another when they're in the seat behind you with their life in your hands. Maverick is willing to risk his life for the missions, but he's not willing to risk others'."

Hangman's mouth thinned as Juliette's words sank in. "That doesn't explain why Bradshaw lost it when I made the insinuation Maverick got his old man killed. He acts like he hates Mav, but then he defends him."

"It's not my place to tell you what happened between them, but I can tell you before their falling out, Maverick was a dad to Bradley in all but blood. He helped Carole raise him whenever he wasn't halfway across the world for the Navy, sent money to help support them, and put in money for Bradley's college fund, just to name a few. Rooster wanted to be just like Maverick, and then their falling out happened, and this is the first time they've seen each other in fifteen years."

Hangman whistled. "That's a long time for an anger to be festering."

"Yeah…"

"And you're here too."

"I'm less of a problem. I can avoid him if need be. Maverick can't."

"You're his prettiest problem, I'm sure," Hangman said, apparently unable to resist the opportunity to make a flirtatious comment. Juliette smiled but didn't respond, and Jake sighed. "I really wish you hadn't given a valid reason for me needing to apologize to Bradshaw, but… I get it now. If I find a good time, I'll do it, although it probably won't be tonight. I feel if he was left alone with me right now, he'd deck me."

"Probably a good idea to give him at least a day to cool off," Juliette agreed, clasping her hands in front of her. "Thank you, Jake."

"You're welcome," he replied, stepping closer to her. Juliette craned her neck to look up at Hangman. "I can't have my best girl mad at me."

Juliette tilted her head, her mind slowly processing his words. Finally, she started to open her mouth to say something, although exactly what, she had no idea. However, Hangman had other ideas and captured Juliette's lips with his. Jake certainly put the 'sin' in Seresin because the kiss was deliciously passionate, and if Juliette hadn't been so infuriatingly in love with Rooster, she would've let Hangman show her all he was capable of.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Even though they weren't together, there was still something between them, and until Juliette figured out what it was, she felt like she was leading Hangman on toward something that may never happen. Jules pulled away. "Jake, I-I can't."

"Bradshaw?" He guessed correctly. She nodded. "He's a God damn lucky man."

"I'm not sure what's going on between us, just that there's something still there, and I don't want to lead you on when I'm still figuring what's happening between us. It's not fair to you."

Hangman's hands dropped from her face. "If he makes the mistake of letting you go a second time, just give me a call."

"I will, but don't wait for me. Trust me-" Juliette couldn't help but look him up and down, admiring his physique and unnatural good looks- "you will make a girl very happy someday."

"I know," Jake said, smiling cheekily. Juliette rolled her eyes, but her laugh took out the sarcasm. "I won't keep you from your party any longer. Allow me to escort you back in."

Hangman offered his arm for her, and she looped hers through it. "Allowed."

The two of them strolled back inside the Hard Deck. There, they discovered the rest of the bachelorette party had arrived, including the bride-to-be. She zeroed in on Juliette and, with a shocking amount of speed in the now-packed bar, made her way over. Firefly enveloped her friend in a bear hug, demanding, "What the hell were you doing-" her gaze shifted to Hangman momentarily. "Correction, who have you been do-"

"You want a drink?" Juliette interrupted before Firefly could finish her sentence. "First one's on me."

"More like the third one's on you. Phoenix and Maria already beat you to the first two," Firefly remarked, resting her arm on Juliette's shoulder. "Seresin, whatever your intentions are with Juliette-"

"Let me guess, I break her heart, you break my face?" Hangman countered, staring down at the feisty pilot with amusement.

"Along with all the other bones in your body."

"I'm sure Bradshaw would love to help you with that if I-"

"Bradley's here?" Firefly perked up at the name, her eyes locking with Juliette, her silent question evident: are you okay?

"Yes, he and Jake are both here for a special assignment. So is Phoenix. I don't think Rooster's here yet, but I'll let you know if I see him. Listen, I'm going to go get us drinks. I'll meet you over at the table?"

"Sure." Firefly leaned in and whispered, "You better spill what's going on with this love triangle of yours."

"There's not one," Juliette corrected, although with how fast her friend turned to leave, she wasn't sure if the girl heard her. Turning to Jake, Jules said, "I'll see you later?"

"I'm counting on it," Hangman said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Winking at her, he headed towards the pool table. 

Smiling to herself, Juliette went straight to the bar, somehow managing to capture Penny's attention at the busy counter. The bartender beamed at the sight of her coworker, nodding in approval at her outfit. "You're going to break hearts in that outfit."

"I think I might've already broken one just now," Juliette joked, thinking back to her conversation with Hangman. "Can I get four shots of the best tequila you have?"

"That bad of a day, huh?"

Jules laughed. "Bad day, yes, but not that bad. Not yet, at least. It's for me and my friends."

Penny nodded, lining up the shot glasses and pouring the tequila in them. "There you go. Want to start a tab?"

"Yes, please. I have a feeling these won't be the only ones we order tonight. Thanks, Penny!" Juliette grabbed the shots and turned around, running smack dab into- "Bradley!"

"Jules," Rooster said, his eyes roaming over her with an unidentifiable emotion. "You, uh, you look good."

"Thanks." An awkward silence fell over the former couple, neither of them sure what to say with the tension of the day's training and the memory of last night still fresh in their minds. Thankfully, Juliette's liquid courage from her earlier drinks kicked in, if not only to help her escape the situation by saying, "Well, I should get going before Firefly hunts me down for these drinks. I'll see you later!"

Juliette slid past Rooster before he could respond and swiftly made her way to the table where her friends awaited. She placed the shot glasses on the table and lifted hers. "Here's to Firefly, the bride-to-be, and the friends who will make this bachelorette party one to remember! Semper Fortis!"

"Semper Fortis!" her friends echoed, clinking their glasses together and knocking them back. Maria shook her head and shuddered at the strong taste before deciding she was going to go get a beer to wash the taste down. Phoenix offered to go with her. Firefly and Juliette ordered two drinks for themselves. 

Once the two girls were gone, Firefly jumped at the opportunity to ask, "Girl, you have got so much to tell me!"

"You're not letting me enjoy tonight until I tell you, are you?" Juliette remarked grimly, knowing what the answer would be.

"Absolutely fucking not."

Jules sighed. "Fine, but you're getting the short version because if I gave you the long version, we'd be at this table all night."

"Hit me with it."

Juliette nodded, then quickly dove into the story before Phoenix and Maria got back, starting from the day Rooster strutted into the bar looking like a God, to the kiss and the fight, and to the most recent awkward encounter at the bar. Firefly listened intently, leaning forward on crossed arms as she hung onto every word. When Jules finally finished her story, Firefly asked, "Are you still in love with him? Because he's sure as hell still in love with you."

"Yes, and I hate myself for not moving on after all this time. I feel pathetic. I don't know what to do because I want Bradley to ask me out, but I also know that if we try things again, I'm just going to constantly worry that he'll walk out on me."

"He walked out on you last time for keeping a secret, and apparently, he wanted to come straight back. Find out why he didn't because I have a feeling it's more than his pride and ego being wounded."

"Don't forget the betrayal he felt."

"He's obviously gotten over that, at least with you." Firefly stood up, collecting her shot glasses as Phoenix and Maria approached. "I'm going to go drop these off. I'll be back."

Juliette nodded, plastering on a smile when the other two girls approached. She made a promise to herself to have a drama-free night. As long as Rooster or Hangman didn't talk to her, that could potentially happen. Then again, things never seemed to go the way Juliette planned...

***

Tags: @lgg5989@shanimallina87@polikszena@summ3rlotus@souslesyeuxde@gleasonmalfoy@icemansgirl1999@supernaturaldawning@thedarkinmansfield@lyannaforpresident@lapilark@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth@simpofthecentury @blueeyes-blueskye @gleasonmalfoy @armyx78

[catwatcha]

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst/fluff/smut

Word count: 2153

Warnings: 18+ smut & cursing & fainting

Authors note: shit goes down in this chapter so eeeeeekkkk

You’re too hard to forget.

It’s been one week without any dreams. I have moments where my eyes are closed and I see flashes of images that look like various hospital rooms. But none of them have Chan. I told Jasey what had happened, I think. Honestly my body felt numb and my head was ringing so I don’t know what exactly I said, but I said enough that she would leave me alone, because I don’t want to think about it.

Unfortunately, it’s all I can think about.

It’s Monday morning again. I walk into school and plaster a smile on my face, knowing that I can take off in just six hours. I can do that, right? Yes, I think. I walk over to Jasey as usual, but stop when I see a familiar face. It’s the boy who I saw outside the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. He seems to recognize me too, because he stares at me with wide eyes. “Uhhh,” I say when I look at him, and thankfully Jasey doesn’t seem to notice and interrupts me. “Y/n! You’re here! This is Minho,” she says, and I can see the blush spread across her cheeks. This is her secret. And apparently, mine too. “I’m Y/n,” I say to him, though I’m looking at my shoes. He hesitates, but introduces himself in a similar way. I silently thank him for not saying anything like, ‘I know you’, or, ‘wait you’re the weirdo who’s friends with my girlfriend?’ We shake hands. He smiles. I smile. And then I turn on my heels, because suddenly I feel dizzy and I’m having flashbacks and if I don’t run, my feet might stay grounded forever, in a state of confusion and shock. “Y/n!” Jasey yells after me, but I keep walking, because I don’t know what else to say. I hear a few whispers behind me, and then I feel a hand gently pulling my arm, stopping my escape plan. I don’t want to turn around in fear of explaining myself to Jasey, but this is worse. The person with a grip on my arm is Minho. I see Jasey on the other side of the courtyard, and she knows something because she’s staying put. Does she know what I told him? Does he even know the depth of what I told him? Right now I don’t care. Because no matter what I told them or told myself, the dreams are gone.

Minho lets go of my arm, but I know he wants to know what’s going on. I speak first. “Sorry, I’m running late and I have English and I’m happy for you and Jasey so anyways I’m gonna get going…” I said. “Y/n, yeah?” he says. I nod, and turn away but he reaches for my arm again. “Wait, I want to talk to you for a minute!” he nods over to a bench, inviting me to sit down. But before I can think, my head is spinning and Minho is there and Jasey is rushing over and there I am. I’m shaking, for reasons I don’t know, and there are so many voices yelling at me from reality as well as from my very own mind. My head hits the concrete, and I pass out.

“I’m okay love.” Chan is in a hospital bed. His hair lies flat, and his skin pale. But he still looks like Chan. My Chan. His eyes shine looking up at me, and his lips form into a smile. I hug him. “Why haven’t I been able to see you?” I ask. It’s been days of waiting, hoping, and wondering if he was okay. They wouldn’t let me in, but I knew I could’ve if he wanted me to. “Why didn’t you let me see you?” I asked as my eyes filled with familiar tears. “Because even though I was hurt, I knew that if you saw me it would hurt you too. And seeing you hurt causes me more pain than anything physical ever could.” I thought about his words, but only for a moment. Because the next thing I know, I’m consumed in a kiss that made my heart stop. I missed him. But he’s okay. It’s us against the world, and I knew nothing would change that. We were back. Chan was going to be okay, and so was I.

I woke up in the nurse’s office. I’ve only been here a few times, usually when I faked a cough to get out of class or when I get migraines. This time though it felt like I was in the middle of some depressing party, held just for me. To my right, Jasey and Minho are standing over me, talking in worried tones. About what, I don’t know. To my left, I see my mom, and that’s when I think this is serious. Then again, She was probably just obligated to be called because of the school phone call I’m sure she received. As if I had pushed some sort of button, the all look at me at the exact same time. Well, I think. This is awkward. Mrs. Amy, our school nurse, is the first to speak. “Y/n, can you hear me? You hit your head pretty hard. Do you want some water?” I shake my head. I don’t want water. I want to go back to bed. Because even though my head is actually pounding, and I’m still a bit nauseous, none of it matters right now. Chan is back. Why now? I look at Minho. He looks at me. When I shook his hand, something felt so familiar. Like he was connected somehow, but no matter. “Thank you.” I say, and I’m smiling like an idiot. He looks at me confused, but I get up and I walk out of the crowded office. And I’m running, because I have so much to do but I have only one place to go right now. I’m going to the coffee shop, and I’m not going to be scared to go in this time. It could be the beginning of the rest of my life if I would just take the extra three steps.

Minho’s P.O.V.

“Minho, I’m so confused right now,” Jasey says to me. “We literally just watched Y/n pass out hard, and then run away like she got a shot of adrenaline.” It was about 9 a.m.now, so I was very late to school. I decided to just skip today in general. This was far more interesting than world history. “I don’t know, Jae. I don’t even know her,” I say. Y/n and I hadn’t even really met that day at the coffee shop. Is this about what she said to me then? I barely remember. I just remember trying to comfort someone who looked a bit shaken up. I never thought she might be broken completely. Maybe this has something to do with that Chan kid? Maybe a breakup, who knows. I love Jasey, but do I have to deal with her friend now? It’s bad enough that Chris is already going through some breakup with a girl he won’t tell me about, and he’s slept at my house every night this week. We play music and he reads and I like that he makes me pizza (that boy can fucking cook, even if it’s just simple things), but I don’t know Y/n. I can’t handle this too. “You should talk to her,” I say to Jasey. “She’s just going through something right now,” she says back, and looks down at her shoes. I think. And then I have a stupid brilliant idea, that could help both me and Jae. We were both so caught up with our friends that we never got much time together. “You know,” I say. “If she’s going through a breakup, I may have an idea. Or even not a breakup, but just rough shit. I know it’s hard and stuff, but I think she should talk to one of my friends. Actually, I think they’d get along really well. They could keep each other company.” I mean, Chris and Y/n. I think they’d be cute. “Calum, that’s never going to happen. I’m sorry baby, but Y/n is taken. I mean, sorta.” She’s laughing, like what I said, it was the dumbest idea in the world. Ouch. “She’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her later,” she says. Oh well. Was worth a shot, if not for Y/n, for Chris at least. I apply her last words to him as well. He’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.

Y/n’s P.O.V.

I’m scared again. Five minutes ago, I told myself to take a deep breath and just walk in. That was after the twenty minutes of standing there, pretending to be on my phone and thinking. I did this so nobody would ask me what’s wrong, like Minho did. Big mistake. But now I’m here and I’m scared. Thinking about Chan always made me feel dizzy because I didn't know what was real and what was a dream. It felt like it had all just become one big blur, dragging myself to and from school, skipping my way to meet Chan and trudging my way to meet Jasey at her place. She knew about the shop, and she knew that I’d never gone in, even though I was there so often. After running out of school this afternoon, she deserved a call from me, at the least. So I called her and went over to her place, and here we are back at the same downtown corner with the smell of coffee and muffins drifting through the air. I was smiling like an idiot, and had told Jasey why I was so adamant about getting out of school. I left out the part about Minho. To me he was just another human on this earth who happened to be dating my best friend, but he had a weird effect on me. I definitely didn’t tell Jasey. She didn’t ask. “Are you ready? Let’s just grab something to go, I’m really thirsty anyways.” I knew I couldn’t stand there like an idiot for any longer. I almost lost Chan once, the worst had already happened. I knew I was ready for anything. I took one last deep breath before bracing myself, and I took my first steps into the nostalgic feeling cafe.

I took in this new feeling, both the physical and mental aspects of it. It was exactly the kind of place that I dreamed of spending hours in, reading books and writing poetry. It had dim lights and a few couches, and wooden tables were scattered around the room. It’s exactly what I knew it would be, aside from a few changes here and there, but I couldn’t help but take it all in with wide eyes. Jasey had left to go order a drink for her and myself, and I went to the table that faces the window, like I had known myself to do many times before, yet never before while conscious. This was a feeling that I was starting to like very fast. At first I couldn’t remember why I was even here, but that was only for a moment. I looked around me, but I saw no sign of a dark haired boy with the eyes that I drowned in every night. There was barely anyone here, actually. I still saw my best friends backside at the counter, waiting for our drinks and striking up a conversation with the barista. A few seats over was a boy who caught my eye.

He had bright blonde hair that was down across his forehead. His shirt was tattered, but in a fashionable way, which he wore with black skinny jeans and dirty black converse. His eyes were piercing right into mine, a dark brown that I wish didn’t scare me as much as they did. I looked down at my hands to see them shaking the smallest bit. There was something about his presence that made me uncomfortable, but at the same time like I belonged even more. He looked out of place, but acted like it didn’t matter. Just like me. I looked up again, surprised to see that he was still staring at me with an unknown emotion in his eyes. He looked confused, almost. He stood up, and I unconsciously held my breath, not knowing why he was walking over to my table. The door was behind me, but he wasn’t looking at the door. He was looking right at me, almost as if he was looking through me. He stood 2 feet from me now at a dead stop. I studied his face, while I’m sure mine had “shock” written all over it.

“Allie?”

[maybe-a-fangurl]

The Moon and the Sun (Zuko x Reader) part 9

I’m back!! I am so sorry that it has taken so long to update this story, school started and I just got completely wrapped up in that and then had the worst writers block but I am starting to get back into things. I have also recently become OBSESSED with Harry Potter and have a few one shot ideas (and will gladly take requests) but my priority right now is this story and I will be trying to post at least once a week again. But here is the new chapter, and I hope you all enjoy and that it was worth the wait!! 

Part 1 Part 8

Masterlist

It was a simple plan, follow Jet to where they were keeping Appa. That was all you had to do but you shouldn’t have been surprised that things didn’t go as planned, for you at least. You were walking at the back of the group, and as they went around the corner you were spotted by a Dai Lee agent. You of course told everyone to go as you ran in the opposite direction, causing the Dai Lee agent to follow you and not notice the others, who you know weren’t happy about you getting split up from the look on Sokka’s face as you ran away, but you knew it was for the best. It didn’t take long for you to lose the Dai Lee agent, but you quickly realized that you had no idea where you were or which way to go to get back to the group.

Even though you were lost, you had to admit that the silence was something you found almost endearing. Silence was one of the things you missed about traveling with Zuko, you could always go out on the deck of the ship and just look out at the endless blue of water and sky. You loved your new friends, but they overwhelmed you at times and there was hardly ever a moment to just catch your breath since you were constantly on the move.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the footsteps walking towards you, and as you rounded the corner you ran into someone and were sent to the ground. You didn’t look to see who it was before you took all of the water from the floor of the tunnels and used it to hit the person right in the chest, sending them to the ground in front of where you were but before you could get up you felt something connect with your hands and you looked to see it was rocks. You quickly looked up to see that three Dai lee agents were standing in front of you, and one on the ground from where you hit him with water.  

“You’re with the Avatar.” One of the Dai Lee agents said as they looked at you, and you felt your heart drop as you realized they would use you against Aang just like they were doing with Appa if they captured you. You were quick to use your feet to bring the water at the group, sending them all to the ground as you scrambled to your feet, and by the time you had broken the rocks around your hands, all of the men were back on their feet.  

“I couldn’t just stay with the others.” You mumbled to yourself as you froze the floor under them before turning and running in the other direction, hearing the soldiers yell as they tried to get across the ice. You kept running, ignoring the yelling behind you as you turned a corner that led to a hallway with a dead end. You turned around, planning to go in the other direction but as you turned you were hit in the chest by one of the rock fists. The sudden impact knocked the breath out of you, you were sent backwards and when you hit the ground everything went black.

--

“You and I would have made such an amazing team, not as good as you and Zuzu but we would have been powerful together. If only the two of you wouldn’t have ruined it.” You heard a cold voice say as you slowly started to become aware of the pain in the back of your head. You slowly opened your eyes before letting out a groan and putting your hands over your face, the light causing a sharp pain to go through your head. “Ah you’re awake, I knew that my voice would bring you back.”

You slowly pulled your hands away from your eyes and as you looked up you seen Azula standing with a smirk on her face. You looked at her with your eyebrows knitted before looking around, trying to figure out where you were but you realized that you were still in what looked like the Dai Lee’s headquarters.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you realized that if you were still at the Dai Lee headquarters that meant that Azula was in Ba Sing Se. You quickly got up from the ground, trying to ignore the pounding in your head as the room started to spin.

“Not happy to see me?” Azula asked as she looked at your attempt of a defensive stance. You just narrowed your eyes as you finally were able to look at her, and when you did you noticed that she was in a Kyoshi warrior armor.

“Where did you get that?” You asked through gritted teeth, her smirk only growing at your reaction.

“Mai, Ty Lee, and I ran into some of your friends. Don’t worry they’re all okay, just in prison. But their little dresses were able to get us into Ba Sing Se and then I met with the Dai Lee and we’ve all been great friends since.” She said in a pride filled voice, one that made your skin crawl.

You knew that right now you wouldn’t be able to beat her in a fight, but you also knew that since you were injured she wouldn’t expect anything. So, while she was focused on her story you took your chance and lunged at her, causing her to let out a small scream as the two of you went to the ground. You were quick to pin her arms down with your knees and use the rest of your weight to hold down her torso. The shock on her face was quickly replaced with anger as she struggled against you but eventually let out a sigh and glared at you.

“What are you going to do? Hold me down until your friends come? Well I hate to tell you, but they aren’t going to make it.” She said, and your heart dropped at her words, and you pressed down harder against her arms as you narrowed your eyes.  

“Why are you here Azula?” You asked in a cold tone, one that shocked her, but she didn’t let it show as she let out another cold laugh.

“I’m here to take the Earth Kingdom, claim it in the name of the Fire Nation.” She said in a calm voice, the pride and arrogance practically dripping from her lips as she looked up at you with that same smirk that she had been wearing since you were kids.

“You’re not going to.” You said, trying to sound sure of it but even you didn’t believe it. You knew that if she had all of the Dai Lee agents with her along with Mai and Ty Lee, and possibly other fire nation soldiers along with the element of surprise that the Earth Kingdom didn’t stand a chance.

“I already have.” She stated and before you had the chance to say anything back you heard the door open and looked to see Mai and Ty Lee walk in, both of them letting out a gasp as they seen you pinning Azula down.

“I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Mai said in a flat tone, and you knew that deep down she enjoyed seeing Azula being bested.

“You could join us you know.” Ty Lee pleaded, and as you moved your eyes away from Mai to her you could see the desperation in her eyes. “You could help us.”

“She wouldn’t even betray her new friends for Zuzu, don’t think that she would for us.” Azula said and you watched Ty Lee’s face drop, realization setting in. They knew that they weren’t going to change your mind, that things would never be the same as they were when you were kids, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. And you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you as well, because deep down you longed to be on the same side as your friends.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled as you looked away from Ty Lee and over to Mai, and right as you made eye contact her gaze hardened.

“Me too.” Mai said as she started to throw knifes your way, you were able to dodge the first one but the second one caught your arm and you were forced to move off of Azula to dodge the third one.

As you stood back up the room spun a little bit from your head still being tender, and the spinning was enough to make you miss the fourth knife coming your way until it was right in front of you. You tried to dodge it but you stumbled and it slid across the side of your face, causing Ty Lee to let out a gasp. Before you had any time to react Azula swept your feet out from under you, causing you to land on your back as you let out a groan.  “Truly you should have thought all of that through just a little more.” Azula said as she stood up and rubbed her arms where your knees were just moments ago. You tried to get up but before you could you felt something pin your wrist to the ground and as you looked up you seen Dai Lee agents entering the room. You tried to pull your hands out of the rock fists, but it was no use, and as you looked over at Azula you seen a pity filled look before she put her stoic expression back on. “You know where to take her.”

“Yes princess.” The man said as you were pulled up from the ground, and they started dragging you towards a door.

“I’m really sorry it has to be this way, but I assure you that you won’t be alone for very long.” She said, and you watched as the smirk returned to her face. “You and Zuzu can have some quality time, if he doesn’t put up too much of a fight.” “No.” You said as you realized she knew that him and Iroh were here. You started to move around, trying to get loose from the agents grip on your arms but it was no use. “Azula, you better not hurt him!” “Well I can’t make any promises, he is traitor to the Fire Nation after all.” She said as her smirk grew, and you tried to fight harder against the guards.

“Azula!” You yelled as they continued to drag you away, you yelled as many threats as you could at her, but you knew they were all pointless. She was going to do whatever she wanted to do and there was nothing that you could do about it.

You felt numb as you were left alone in a chamber full of crystals, and it took everything in you to sit up and lean against one of the crystals. You were able to use the rest of the water in your pouch to heal the cut on your arm and face the best you could but with the small amount of water you knew that there would still be a scar.

“I should have just stayed with them.” You mumbled to yourself as you laid your head back against the crystals and closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.

“Zuko what happened to your eye?” You asked as you rushed over to him, putting your hand on the side of his face as you looked at him. His eye was badly bruised, and as you looked closer at him you realized that he had a cut across his nose as well. “Who did this?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbled as he pushed you away, walking past you and down the hallway. “Well I want you to.” You said as you walked behind him, trying to catch up with him. “I want to know who did this to you.” “It isn’t any of your business!” Zuko yelled as he turned around and looked at you, his hand going up and pointing at you, causing you to flinch. His eyes got wide as he seen you flinch and he immediately brought his hands to his side as he looked at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to talk about it.” “Okay.” You said and before you could say anything else he turned and walked away from you. You let out a sigh before walking towards the turtle duck pond, it was one of the only places in the castle that you truly felt like you belonged. Everywhere else felt so hot and dry but by the pond you could felt at home, you could feel the water moving around the pond and feel the water within the plants.  

You sat down and looked down at the turtle ducks as they swam around, bringing a small smile to your face before the thought of Zuko raising his hand and yelling at you made it disappear.

“Why so sad y/n? Is Zuzu mad about being bested and not talking to you?” She asked in a cocky tone as she walked up behind you, and you turned to see her signature smirk on her face, but as she seen the look on your face is softened a little bit. “Don’t tell me he took his anger out on you.” “It was my fault I shouldn’t have pushed him.” You said before raising your eyebrows at her comment. “What do you mean bested?” “We spared today, and I beat him.” She said in a proud tone, but her smirk fell as you looked at her, causing her to let out a scoff. “Don’t be mad that I’m better than your boyfriend.” “He isn’t my boyfriend.” You said to her before looking back at the water. “I just don’t understand why you have to take things so far, you didn’t have to hurt him.” “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She said as she sat down beside you, and you just shook your head as you kept your eyes on the water.

“He’s your brother, you shouldn’t want to hurt him.” You said as you let out a sigh and looked over at her. “Your mother always wanted the two of you to get along, and I do too because it’s insufferable when the two of you are fighting, especially when you try to use me against one another.” “Well my mother isn’t here so it doesn’t really matter what she wants, does it?” She asked in a cold tone as she turned away from you, looking at the turtle ducks. “And I don’t bother using you against Zuko, it’s no use because you always chose him over me.” “That isn’t true Azula, and you know it.” You said to her, but she just let out a scoff.

“It’s okay, I know the truth.” She said in the same cold tone as before, but her words were less bitter and more sorrowful than before. “You and Zuzu will always be the perfect team, me never having your true loyalty.”

Part 10

@tpwkatsumu @caswinchester2000 @frickin-bats @winchestergirl907 @eridanuswave @the-firebender-girl @myarthetics @royahllty @izzieserra @akariblue  @coldlilheart @thirstyforsometea @cirtruss @lammello @bigbuckyenergy @aangsupremacy @lozzybowe @duh-dobrik @emogril @justab-eautifulmess @whalerus @im-me-and-noone-else @nataliahaslosthershit @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @slytherky @shemakesfanvids @sokkas-honour

[hopeassassin]

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive. 

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out!  Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D 

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there! 

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D 

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious  individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D 

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you... 

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 9 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

I just want to thank you all for the kind comments and messages. I was afraid of disappointing you with the next chapters. So please let me know what you all think! It lets me know if I’m on the right track!

WORDS: 3272 WARNINGS: UHMMMM YOU FIGHT WITH JASON AND THEN THERE’S A WHOLE MIX OF ANGSTY FLUFF AND FLUFFY ANGST 

Masterlist

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

“So what do they call you? Peashooter?”

This kid was a fucking menace. And the red and yellow on his suit just made him even more irritating to look at. The bullets just bounced off of him. Either that, or she’ll have to face her uncle for missing so many shots at once. She gripped onto the two pistols with her life.

Aim for the head.

She saw his cape rolling into a pile of boxes and fired.

“Silver Sniper! The Mini Gunner! Come on, I can think of loads of names right now!”

The boxes had become an exploded mess by then. Robin wasn’t there. She backed off, panting. Y/N had to get out of this. She focused on the sounds, or any movement from the ground’s vibrations, but there was nothing. Which meant-

“Fuck!” Robin jumped from the ledge above and tackled her to the ground. Y/N kneed his groin, then landed a punch on his face. She pushed him off of her and ducked just as he pounced for her head.

He blocked her kicks with his arms, then grabbed her right fist, then her left, just as she threw them, but she high kicked his hold and pushed him back. She kept throwing her punches, and he easily blocked them without blinking.

Y/N growled, but Robin just smirked at her. He threw a punch at her stomach, but didn’t see her foot aiming just at his chest.

He threw back, and it was enough time for her to pick up her pistols and aim at his head.

But just as she pulled the trigger, two batarangs landed right at the muzzels. The firearms exploded in her hands and her body was thrown to the floor. Robin laughed. “You were looking an awful lot like Lara Croft there, kid.”

“You think this is intimidating me, bird boy?”

“Without your precious guns, maybe it is.”

Xxxx

Jason ran right up to her, withstanding all the bullets she could fire with his armor thick enough to go against missiles, and pushed her to the ground, picking up her guns and throwing them over the roof. The Commander kicked him in the stomach and rolled off.

“No guns.”

His voice filter just sounded annoying at this point. Y/N picked herself up and ran to him, throwing a punch aiming for his neck. He saw her alternating strikes and dodged every one of them, blocking her knee with his own wrist. She landed a kick, but he grabbed her ankle and flung her off to the ledge, her back hitting the cement.

“Stop throwing me around, asshole!” she coughed.

This man was one she wanted dead at some point and was so tempted to help kill him, she was almost at the front gates of Arkham just to do so. At the last minute, she decided against it.

She might be a killer, but she was no monster.

Then she ended up sleeping with that same man, several times, even going so far as sharing a kiss at a time and place that a kiss meant the most.

And here he was again, Jason, finishing a war that started years ago.

Jason skidded to her front, his shoes making her lose balance. They rolled around the floor, with either on top and throwing their fists only to meet the ground. Y/N was first to roll off and regain her stance, but Jason managed to duck before she hit his head.

She had to tire him out. His hits were strong. Too strong in fact. More of those and his arms would eventually weaken. It was her turn to block his fists, her torso turning around while also keeping an eye on his lower body.

Her punches were swift, fast, and almost as light as air. They weren’t enough on their own, but if she gained her momentum it would be enough to throw her opponent off. She knew Jason had that in mind, especially since he was the exact opposite. He was slower, but each hit was strong enough to land her on the ground.

It had always been hard to best him. In fact, she never could say she’d beaten him in a fight. But this will be the first.

As a fight long awaited, it was too bad no one else saw them. They were dancing. A violent, bone-crushing dance.

And it was epic.

Her legs were flying in the air as Y/N twisted his arm and placed her whole weight right on his shoulder. She pulled at his wrist, gaining a cry from him.

“Get off me!”

“You asked for this, you son of a-“

And a massive blow of his strength pushed her off. She was panting, and she let her guard down for a split second and he had her against the wall, grabbing her by the collar.

“This making you hard, Knight?” she whispered.

Jason should’ve seen her knee between his legs. He let go of her, and she tackled him to the ground. She tried hitting his visor, but her already bruised fist gave out and Jason flipped them over.

He held her down with his muscled arm hard against her neck. Y/N struggled and she could only look up to his visor. The glass had broken and his grunts were no longer filtered. She could see his face, teeth gritting, and his eyes looking straight back at her. She used the last of her strength to push him off.

It had to be hours. The Commander was panting, and all her limbs felt like falling to the ground. “Stop!” Jason said, struggling to pull himself up the floor. He had to catch his breath as well, opening his visor to let the cold air in. She leaned her arm against the cement.

The sky had lightened. And the stars had disappeared. She was breathing so hard the air just seemed too thin. Jason laid flat on the ground, staring blankly above. Y/N pressed her back against the ledge and her body melted to the ground.

The worthiest opponent. And still, no one bested the other. She waited until the air wasn’t such a blur and the floor no longer spinning, and he on the ground. They sat there for as long as they’d fought until the sun had fully risen.

He hadn’t said a word, but she could see his chest rising and falling, eventually into a steadier pace. When she thought she could, she stood up, slowly walking up to Jason.

She caught his eye, and extended her hand. He looked at her up and down, but for once, he actually took it. She pulled him up.

“This conversation never happened.”

Jason pulled his hand away. “Just the conversation or everything that happened after it?”

“Need I remind you the militia leaves for Gotham in three days. This was stupid. We don’t have time for this.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

She brushed off her suit, lasting a glare at him before turning for the hatch on the floor. She pulled it open.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said.

She didn’t even look back at him. “Fuck off.”

Xxxxx

Her head was burning. She needed ice, right at the center of her cheek. She tried not to look at Jason or else she’d attack him from across the table again. He had a new visor on, as if he kept spare ones in his drawers. If she had broken bones somewhere they’ll have to be ignored.

“I told Stagg the Cloudburst arrives in Gotham today. He’s responsible for hiding it in his bunkers until I give the signal.”

Deathstroke filled in. “How do we filter out the effects from our men?”

“Their masks give them immunity,” said the Knight.

“And does everyone have this mask? I told you we had new recruits.”

“Everyone is accounted for,” Crane said. “Our men will be fine.”

“Have you even tested the toxin recently?”

Scarecrow stood from his chair. “The Cloudburst will do much more than just release the toxin. I’ve asked Stagg to amplify its poison gas into the density of rainclouds. The city will be a barren wasteland. And if the Dark Knight fails, all of Gotham will fall.”

Jason seemed satisfied. “I’ll make sure to alert our men before I release the toxin.”

“I thought the Commander drives the Cloudburst,” said Slade.

“If it has anything to do with facing Batman head on, I’ll do it. The Commander’s tasked mainly at HQ.”

“Actually,” Crane said. “Commander Y/N has the expertise to control the tank, don’t you Commander?”

The Commander sat back against the chair. “I do.”

“She’s the best man for the job, Knight.”

“I said, I’ll do it. We had a deal. I get to kill Batman!”

Scarecrow wasn’t bothered. “And is it with the Cloudburst that you end his life with? The Cloudburst isn’t used as our primary weapon, Knight. It is used for the toxin.”

“It’s the best weapon we’ve got.”

“Then perhaps that means our drones are far from enough.”

Slade stammered, “Those drones are mine and they work perfectly.”

“I don’t care if I have a knife or a tank,” Jason said. “He looks into my eyes while he dies.”

“Your delay in Gotham tells me your history with the Dark Knight will work to your disadvantage.”

Fuck.

“We had to hack into GCPD,” The Commander finally said. She’d join in on the argument, but her jaw hurt too much. Then she took out the hacking device from her jacket and slid it across the table to Slade.

“The Commander has her own work. I will not just sit in a chair and watch everything happen from a camera.”

“We all know you won’t be doing that, kid,” Deathstroke interrupted. “I say we send the Commander.”

“Her best position is to watch and control all comms and drones at HQ. She will lead the whole army. I gave her that job weeks ago, Wilson.”

“Enough,” the Commander said. “I’ll take the Cloudburst. The Knight can take a serpent drone and attack the Alpha Target once the tank destroys his car. He kills him right then.”

Slade slams his palms against the table. “How bout that?”

“A serpent drone?”

“I fire at his car, you make sure your visor filters out the gas and you take him out from above.”

Jason seemed skeptical, but Deathstroke had already stood up from his chair. “Have at it, Commander.”

Jason wasn’t having it. He went after Slade after he’d left the room. The commander winced at the pain in her lower body, struggling to even stand up. She started for the door, and Crane blocked her out.

“Commander,” he whispered. Y/N pretended not to look at him.

“What?”

“I know what went on with you and the Knight.”

The Commander kept looking at the ground. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I have eyes in Gotham. You cannot talk your way out of this.”

“Whatever it is you think, that isn’t the case. Nothing happened between us.”

Crane neared his face dangerously close to Y/N. And suddenly, she had a whiff of his toxin. It was in his breath. In a daze, she looked straight into his eyes and saw demons crawl out of them. Her breath was shortened and she stiffed.

“I don’t care about either of you,” he said. “But if this affects the deployment of my toxin in any way, I’ll make sure he suffers your own consequences.”

“Get out of my face, Crane.”

“I know your fear. I know everybody’s fear. The Knight is deadly, but the man’s as fragile as broken glass. And as stubborn as a mangy dog. You would know that.”

He was making her see it. And hear things she wasn’t supposed to hear. There were screams. Not hers, but of Jason’s. And she could see his face crying out in agony. But she couldn’t look away from the blackness that was Crane’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes, in fact, you do,” Crane breathed and backed away.

There were still remnants of the toxin when he headed out the door.

“You have two days, Commander. Make it count.”

Xxxx

It was death.

That was what stared at her in the face.

It wasn’t just Jason, or Crane. It was death.

It was cold, and the streets were barren and full of shit. They were far away from the city, but the countryside had a small town just a mile away. She didn’t have to take her bike. Y/N walked even when the sidewalks were small enough for her to be run over at just a slight turn of a wheel.

But she didn’t care, not even when she felt it rain so slightly, the droplets disappeared as it made contact with her clothes. Y/N pulled up her hood and continued down the road.

There weren’t much people, even at this hour. She wasn’t even afraid anyone would pull her to the alleys and leave her defenseless. Her focus was on the ground, moving downward until she met the curb.

The light glowed red, even with no cars passing by. She stood there, waiting. And in front of her was a small diner.

It was the classic retro feel. There was a jukebox at the corner, red seats backed up against the window while a waitress in blue took the orders of the two people inside. A mother and her son. He seemed happy with the single slice of pie on his plate.

She looked away before she’s thought about it even more.

But even then, it was too late. It hurt before it even dawned to her.

In another world, where she wasn’t taken in by her uncle, she’d have gone into a diner just like the one in front of her, ordered a burger and a chocolate milkshake knowing the rain would fall in and it would take her too long to get home for dinner. Then she’ll take a seat at the counter.

In that world, she’d have met a boy looking at her from a few seats away, smiling. And she’d smile back when her order appears and they realized they got the exact same mix of the smoothie they wanted. The boy would take the seat beside her, ask for her name. And he’d tell her his. That boy would have the brightest blue eyes and she could already tell he had the habit of scratching his nose.

And they’ll talk all night even after everyone else in the diner had left, when the cook had to drive them out. He would offer to take her home, and she’d decline at first, but eventually give in. She wanted to give in. And by the end of the day, he’d have her number and they’ll see each other that weekend again. In that same diner.

In that world, she wasn’t a world-renowned assassin, and Jason wasn’t a vigilante with a broken past.

But-

But-

Fuck. She was so in love with him, it was terrifying.

But they had no business being kids, being cute, being so harmlessly in love and go on walks and even dates.

They had no business lying on the floor, eating burgers at three in the afternoon.

They had no business being so uncomplicated, when everything comes so easily and nothing would be at stake.

They had no business having a relationship. No matter how much she’d have wanted that. Not after their history. Not after what they’ve both been through. Not after what Floyd had raised her into and partially stripped her of anything normal.

Jason. Tortured. Being mauled on the floor while a madman beats him like a lifeless sack of hay.

Then someone stood beside her. She didn’t have to look at him.

“Stop following me.”

Jason didn’t answer. He looked on at the diner and he had the same look on his eyes as she had.

“You look at the diner, too.”

“Go. Away.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, they stood at the side of the street, not moving even when the light in front of them turned green.

She didn’t say anything more. Didn’t even look at him.

“I wish… I did something,” she swallowed. “I wish I wanted to save you.”

“Stop. I didn’t mean what I said. Forget about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said stop.”

The woman in the diner held up a spoonful of pie and her son opened his mouth wide. It looked delicious even from the distance. The traffic light turned red and just one car drove off in front of them.

“Jason-“

“I saw the look on your face. Back at the cave. I knew you’d have figured everything out by then, about what happened to me at Arkham.”

She was stone cold and stiff.

“But none of that mattered. I didn’t care if you wanted me dead at one point. The whole day I was with you in Gotham, it was the first day I hadn’t thought about Joker… or Batman. Anything.

“I walked out of the cave hoping you wouldn’t run away after knowing who I was. So I kissed you. And you kissed me back. Then I let you hold me and I told you my name. Then… Jesus…”

Y/N still hadn’t turned away. She wasn’t crying. She couldn’t. It was the droplets from the rain that ran down her cheeks. Nothing else.

And by that time the traffic light had turned back to being green, the diner was dark and empty. She didn’t want to look to her side. Somehow, she knew Jason would just walk away, without so much as another word. He’d do something like that, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

But he stayed.

For a long while, he did. So she asked, without much to expect.

“Can you walk me home?”

Just that. She could at least have that. Something so miniscule from the world she longed to be.

“Okay.”

He stayed right beside her. All the way back to the barracks. And the dark rain prevailed.

And it was the same when they reached the empty training grounds, deep into the back where the living quarters were. The walk to their rooms was silent, and their clothes drenched the floors all the way up to hers. Jason walked straight into his, without so much as another word.

She went into her room and locked the door, but her hand didn’t leave the doorknob. She stood there, silent and alone. Y/N never felt so lost.

But it had to have been long minutes, because she heard four knocks on her door before she’s even walked away. She opened it and Jason was standing there, his hair a wet mess, and he held up a coffee mug.

“Hot water,” he said. “Drink it before bed.”

Y/N didn’t have much energy left to decline. She took it from him. “Thank you.”

Jason stepped back, and she closed the door again.

Her whole body leaned against the hard wood of the door and she could feel a part of herself drip to the floor at each second she’d have to look into his hurt eyes. She’d fallen in so deep, and she hated herself for it.

She opened the door, determined to go after him.

But he was still there, at the door, just about to go into her room himself.

Y/N’s never felt so at the edge of breaking down when she met his eyes, panting. And with the pain, came the rush of cold air, the rush of cold relief. Jason went into her room, pushed her against the door to close it. He could feel her breath, wanting him.

He held the back of her drenched head and pulled her to his lips. She dug in to his hair, gripping it hard when his lips escaped hers and found their way back to her neck. Her other hand traveled down his clothed arms. She gasped, and Jason slowly guided them both to move to the bed. He’ll never pull away. Soon there were no more boundaries between them, no distance. They lasted all night, no longer with any trace of regret.

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

SMUT FANS. YA’LL KNOW IT’S ABOUT TO GET DOWN IN THE NEXT CHAPTER

  Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo

[inventors-fair]

Missed Opportunities Commentary

Thank you all, once more, for a fantastic week. I wish my schedule allowed me to do this more often, since it really is so much fun. Now, then, let’s get into it! All 14 remaining submissions are under the cut, card and commentary included.

We’re going to be going in reverse alphabetical order this time, so let’s start it off with @shadowtag‘s submission, Traumatic Reunion

This is an absolutely beautiful callback to Cathartic Reunion in both function and flavor, but this is not a black effect. The only color allowed to return any card type from their graveyard to their hand is green, and spells that return multiple cards at once all exile themselves (or otherwise remove themselves from your graveyard like Seasons Past.) Very good job on the flavor, but unfortunately the mechanics don't quite pull through.

@misterstingyjack​ Tocasia’s Ingenuity

A deep pull to be sure, but not an unwelcome one. Although, given that Primal Plasma is blue, and blue is the central overlapping color between Urza and Mishra, I don't see why this wasn't a blue card. The fact that it makes a token with all the abilities of the card is strange to me too, as with Soul Separator from Shadows Over Innistrad there is precedent of making token copies of things in graveyard with different characteristics. That aside, an artifact focus was 100% the right direction to take here, even with the Elementalist spin, and the card is well balanced, all things considered. Unrelated to the judging, you mentioned Darksteel Colossus in the notes, but unfortunately that wouldn't work. Darksteel Colossus shuffles itself into your library if it would be put into a graveyard, so it's impossible to interact with it in the graveyard (Blightsteel Colossus does this as well.)

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ The First Battle

I always love to see the Demon Leviathan given the attention it deserves. The lore on this is absolutely wonderful, but it's also way too much text to put on a Saga. If it did fit, I'd suggest swapping the first two chapters so that you can better set up the killing blow, but as it is I think it should just be an instant or sorcery that makes the planeswalkers fight and adds the counters immediately.

@ozthearistocrat​ Mistmeadow Jack

I also had to look this one up, and flavorfully I'm liking what I'm seeing! Unfortunately, this is not a white card. Stealing things, even temporarily, is not a white effect. If this card were blue to cast with a white activation (or keeping the hybrid activation) it would have been perfect.

@snugz​ Khanfall

Choices were a big part of Fate Reforged, and Khans block in general, so it makes sense that a splashy mythic set in that time would have a choice attached as well. However, given that the card is named Khanfall, and there's only one way that can go down, it seems strange to me that there's a choice at all. The mechanical aspects of this card are wonderful, but I think it should have done only one of these things rather than try for both.

@starch255 Hyperi, Titan of Sky’s Tyranny

I'm definitely a fan of the concept, and I'm glad you caught on and made the Helixing optional, but my feelings on Hyperi are mixed. The two Titans we have fit into a playstyle of "Good spells on turn 2/3, good value engines later in the game," but Hyperi doesn't. It's an absolutely backbreaking card late game, especially since grave hate powers up future versions, but on curve it most likely does nothing at all. You would have been better served making it either flat damage + lifegain or tied to a number other than cards in exile.

@gollumni​ Hurrik, Savior of Gods

There's a lot to say here, so let me start by assuring you that I really wish this card worked. If you activate this and target any creature that then dies to damage or 0 toughness, it creates an infinite loop of replacement effects that ends the game in a draw, because it doesn't remove marked damage or debuffs, so the creature will die again to state based actions so the replacement effect, which lasts until the end of the turn, will grab it ad infinitum. If it said "the next time" and removed damage, or it exiled and brought it back under your control, then it would work perfectly. It also saves your own creatures without the downside, which I don't think was intentional based on the wording.

@hypexion​ Hack the Guildpact

Maybe I have a skewed experience with this sort of thing, but this looks very easy to win with. If you have even three unique color pairs and a proliferate card, you'll win in three turns. But worse than that, the card doesn't do anything aside from winning the game. If it gets to 9 counters and then gets blown up, it didn't do anything. Cards which say "win the game" on them usually have either some sort of protection, like Helix Pinnacle and Darksteel Reactor, or some other effect to help win or survive, like Approach of the Second Sun and Simic Ascendancy. Maybe it could have a ramping scry/surveil based on the number of counters, and then win at 10.

@teaxch​ Gvar, Krumar Commander

It's simple and clean, although it doesn't quite carry the same flavor as what the Krumar really are. The mechanics of this card imply that they defeat the children and then take them, and although the flavor text describes it properly, it's still at odds with the functionality. A better way to do this might be to follow the example of Offspring's Revenge, and have Gvar make 1/1 token copies of opponent's creatures that die, with appropriate stat balancing.

@bread-into-toast​ Glimpse of Perfection

I get what you were going for, and I like it, but it's messy. It's a counterspell and a stealy card, but the fact that it namedrops the Shadowspear specifically means it's very niche, and the fact that you're paying more than usual for the counterspell, and then 4 life (or UU) for a 1 mana artifact that you don't always keep forever makes the card underwhelming even when it does work. I think a better way to accomplish this flavor would have been to make both the counterspell and search effect on etb, and make the steal effect search for any artifact with mana value 1 or less.

@morbidlyqueerious​ Glimpse Beyond

Mechanically, this card is perfect. Blue and green are the perfect combination of colors for this effect, weaving together cards like Commune With the Gods and Investigate the Mystery seamlessly. My only gripe is that, looking at this without the flavor text, I would not know what it's representing. It's a great effect, and I do love me some Rashmi, it's just a little too nonspecific.

@shakeszx Dack’s Fate

Very on the nose. Normally, most things about this card would be working against it, but in the specific context of War of the Spark, it fits very well. Legendary sorceries would have been great in a set with 36 planeswalkers, as well as planeswalker specific removal. I'm not sure why this is white, though. Nicol Bolas has never been associated with white, least of all the Eternals, and everything this card does can be done in mono black.

@wolkemesser​ Clockworking

Mechanically, this card is fine. I think it should have been a delayed trigger to choose one ("when you win" instead of if), and the "use" should be changed to "activate" but the card works as written. Apart from that, the effects are of wildly different power levels (compare Raise Dead to Disallow). Flavorfully, I'm very confused why you re-used a Lorwyn mechanic for the Scars of Mirrodin story, let alone one as divisive as Clash.

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion​ ______, Planeswalker

This is a wonderful example of a card that is only silver bordered due to flavor. It functions exactly as intended in black border, without any changes to the rules or mechanics of the game, but is still a card that would never be printed outside of an Unset. That being said, the card itself does need a bit of a templating update. It needs to specify that you can look at cards exiled with it, otherwise you won't be able to play any of them, and I assume you meant for the last ability to be less than or equal to the number of land counters on the Planeswalker. Mechanically, there's a few changes that would need to be made to get it to the right spot in terms of balance. The cost, for one, is a mess. Twobrid mana isn't used anymore for good reason, and while I understand the intent behind its use here, it drags the design down. The fact that all of the abilities subtract loyalty means that even though it starts with 20 counters, you're likely not going to be able to play anything off of it. It playing the land in the second ability is more restrictive than you might assume, since the opportunity cost there is both drawing a card into the planeswalker and your own land drop for the turn.

~

And that will do it for us today! It was a genuine pleasure to host this for you all, and I look forward to the next time our paths cross in such a manner.

-Mod @illharg-the-rave-boar​

[sweetestlamb]

Stronger Part 4 (A New Day Has Come)

Summary: Mun-yeong spends some time with someone important and a gets a surprise.

Author's Note: Got an annoying comment on this story yesterday and it motivated me to write lol so thanks! Hope you guys like and comments, that motivate me even more 😉🥰 nothing like love to drive out hate! The story is coming to an end unfortunately, I'm thinking 2 more chapters maybe three. If I had time I would drag it out for 9 😂😂 but schools start Monday so there goes my life. Happy reading y'all.

Solitude gripes at her insanity, tearing her apart until she succumbs to the thoughts that plague her mind of her inadequacies and how insignificant she is to those around her.

Being around Sang-tae oppa fills a portion of the void in your chest but his presence only reminds her further of another that she's dreadfully missing, his messages overflow her phone now. Taking a swift turn from condescending to something sweeter and more pleading. It takes every ounce of restraint in her body not to open them, relying on the bits she can see in the previews. Fully turning a blind eye to him is beyond difficult for her, every atom of her being is calling out for him.

She has dragged herself from the car too many times, desperate to run to him and soothe his pain, eager to see what he wants to talk about, maybe just maybe he's ready to apologize and unclench the clamp he placed on her heart that day on the beach.

But.

What if he isn't? What if he wants to share more of his past with her in the hopes that she'll overlook all that came before. In the past that might have been the case, she had been ever forgiving, something that only he was privy to. But his words ring in her ears- one time event, get lost- invading her dreams and taking the place of her mother's floating figure terrorizing her nightly.

Somewhere along the way she realized that she puts him first, his emotions and comfort have taken precedent over her own and when she'd searched what exactly that meant the answer made her head spin.

A four letter word that most humans will experience except Ko Mun-yeong.

She's much too selfish and destructive to be ever love or be loved by another, she knows that know. When he'd finally opened up to her, there'd been a plethora of emotions that clawed to the surface and vengeance had been one of them, it wasn't enough that he was sharing his darkest secrets because of everything she'd been through to get there. It was as if he'd stabbed her in the chest, left her bleeding only to return and patch up her wounds, too much had occurred and the scarring remained.

So she left in the middle of the night, abandoned that godforsaken place, stuffing expensive fabrics in a vintage Louis Vuitton luggage set, eager to escape the dead silence that rang out in the castle without the Moon brothers pumping life back into it.

In the end she didn't go far, finding a guest house that reminded her of that brief getaway with him, she paid for the week and turned off her phone fielding persistent check in calls from Sang-in. Gang-tae hadn't tried to call merely texting that they should talk and it was almost laughable that despite his seeming desperation he still seemed reluctant to go the full mile. Only her deep rooted sadness stopped her from chuckling at her circumstances, what a tragic mess.

She didn't let his current persistence fool her, fool me once shame on you fool me twice, well everyone knew the rest. It was time she stopped looking like a fool. Regardless of what she felt for him she knew that that this couldn't be, he'd been right all along.

I hope I never see you again.

So much heart ache could have been prevented if she'd heeded his warning. So she was doing it now, her anger had fizzled off tempering into bitter acceptance.

He would give up soon enough, that was his style.

The woman in charge of the guest house steers clear of her and the first day she lays carelessly on the bed roll, not even bothering to comb her hair. Simply, being. It's intoxicating and new, her phone remains turned off tossed to the side as she thinks about nothing- ignoring the way that nothing something has deep sad eyes and a bowl hair cut. She's trying to think about nothing and that's what counts.

She has food delivered and it's strange to eat something that isn't a Subway sandwich after all the food Sang-in as been bringing her and temporarily guilt forms in the pit of her belly, he's probably going crazy trying to locate her but she's just not ready. She's still tired. Bone chilling fatigue.

The next day she walks down a dirt road, her long white dress dragging on the ground, dirtied but the thin material allows a passing breeze to wash across her body and she's content, staring at the sky and thinking of nothing. She spots a lone bird sitting in a tree and wonders if all the other birds have left it behind, whether it has nowhere to go and no one to see. Then she berates herself for worrying about a bird, all this time alone is pushing the limits of her sanity.

The days bleed into each other, dawn folding into dusk with watercolor skies and earthy morning dew.

She tries to write but it's hard to get any words down that aren't depressing and she can't think of any morals or lessons besides don't let anyone in.

Then she tries her hand at drawing, a portrait of her twisting a deer's neck.

The guest house keeper asks her if she hates bears the next day and that's the end of that endeavor.

The week is coming to an end and she's no where closer to knowing what to do, maybe it's time to go back to Seoul, leave this all behind like a bad dream.

When she finally deems herself mentally prepared she turns on her phone, pinging and vibrating from all the forlorn messages, sputtering in her hand as she watches in shock. As expected Sang-in has called and messaged and threatened, she smirks at his empty threats, heart slightly warmed.

Ju-ri, Seung-jae, Sang-tae, and him. All their names flash on her screen. Surprising her, as she'd never expect them to notice her disappearance. Much less reach out to her. Strange. But she writes it off, maybe Sang-in had roped them all into it. With trepidation she opens her messenger and responds to one, keeping a promise, with a few presses and a selfie she sends the message and closes the phone with a sigh.

Done.

The next day the clouds are smoggy ash grey in the sky, darkening the skies into something fierce and she pulls on a sweater and forgoes an umbrella welcoming the storm. Electricity swelters in the thick air causing a sheen of sticky perspiration to cling to her skin. She dons a simple sleeveless mini dress and sandals, trekking to the familiar dirt road.

She walks for hours, aimlessly without a care or worry in her head. Thoughts of him still push their way in at times but she's come to accept that as her baseline, once she returns to Seoul he will be nothing but a faint memory of the time she dreamed too big.

The first drop of rain on her skin makes goose pimples explode across her flesh, fat and chilled as they cascade from the atmosphere. Turning her head up towards the heavens she grins bitterly at nothing, her whole life has been nothing but rain, the moment is oddly fitting.

Mud splatters to her feet coating her toes in sloshy brown that slides between her toes, drenched from the downpour she slowly walks back no haste in her movement, steady footsteps despite the speed of the rain as it pelts against her.

The guest house comes back into sight as she meanders to the gate, vaguely remembering that she'd pulled it shut yet the doors now swing open. Blaming that on the rain she steps through, pulling it shut behind her continuing to stride to the steps.

As she hears the sliding door she eyes catch a figure blurry through the watery sheet in front of her eyes, the voice calling her name stops her in her tracks, no longer able to pretend that it's a mirage.

Her eyes aren't deceiving her, there he is. Once again finding her in the rain, except this time she doesn't need to be saved, she'll be the one doing the saving. For them both.

She takes him in, the rain soaking his hair flat onto his face, clothes plastered to his body as he stands eerily still, dark pools intensely taking her in as well.

After the slight hiccup, she continues walking taking off her sullied sandals and tossing them to the side and then she places her hand on the door, prepared to enter and forget what she saw. Ignorance is bliss.

"Mun-yeong."

All he has to say to get her heart pounding like a drum, she screams in her mind. That time spent apart should have made this easier, why didn't this feel easy? All the fatigue that she'd been running from hits her like a freight train crashing through her passive wall.

"Get lost."

He moves to block her way and her rage simmers below the surface.

"I've been worried about you. We all were so worried. You can't just leave like that, why did you go without saying anything?" His voice is wavering between anger and something softer, more human that makes his voice crack on the last syllable.

"Move."

She's not ready to assess what his being here means, what his voice and his concern mean. None of it makes sense and she's going to file it all under: unexplained phenomenon.

"Can't we talk first, please?"

"I don't want to talk." She sidesteps him, reaching once more for the door.

"Mun-yeong let me explain, let me make this right. I'm sor--"

"Shut up. I said I didn't want to talk. Go back you saw me, I'm alive you don't need to say anything more."

She's not sure she'll be able to contain herself if he says anything else, she's already dangling off the cliff. She can't allow herself to fall and burst apart.

"No! Why are you pushing me away? I need you! I told you I needed you I meant that, you can't just run away damn it."!

She stares blankly before her throat croaks and laughter tumbles from her lips. Deep belly chuckles that shake her body viciously.

Then quick as a switch the laughter stops.

Diamond hard gaze locked on his bewildered face before she speaks, "You think you're the only one who wanted? Do you? I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to fight for me, to let me in. I wanted you to see that I was hurt and apologize and mean it. You think a kiss is enough, you think telling me everything is enough after you break my heart? It's not!" Her voice pierces through the cacophonous drone of the rain beating the world, crying its heart out.

He jolts at her pained cries, fingers reaching for her but she immediately moves out of reach feeling naked and raw under his stare.

You broke my heart.

She's shown too much of her cards already, it's too late to bluff.

So she'll take a page from his book.

Throwing the door open and slamming it shut, holding it tight.

He doesn't try to open it. She sighs in relief leaning back against the hard wood, feeling all the fight evacuate her body.

He's probably gone. You pushed him too hard. Who are you to reject him? No one else will ever tolerate you.

Her thoughts don't scare her, just like Gang-tae had chosen his brother and the life he knew she was doing the same, choosing herself and the loneliness she'd grown accustomed to. Why give him another chance to throw her away he was clearly capable of it, it was only a matter of time she wouldn't change. Couldn't change. Immovable object.

The rain falls and falls, washing everything away and making the world anew. She lays on her back wondering how far he's gotten in this downpour. How had he even found her? All questions she'll never get the answers to.

Sleep tugs her eyelids shut as her thoughts swirl until they too fade to black.

Hands held high over her head, she pulls her tired bones feeling the tension melt with each stretch. Gathering clothes to take a much needed bath she carelessly tugs the door open only to jump back when he almost tumbles into her room.

What.

"What? What are you doing here?" She shrieks, avoiding collision by the barest inch.

"Waiting for you."

She blinks at him, taking in his drenched clothes-noting his shivers- and the dark circles that sink into the skin beneath his eyes, resembling a raccoon.

Had he slept outside all night? And if he had was he insane, why didn't he go back home?

"Why didn't you go back? Are you crazy? You can't sleep outside in the rain!"

She blushes at her outburst, slapping a hand over her traitorous mouth. He merely looks at her, she overlooks the tender glint in his eyes.

Stepping forward he grabs her hand, she fights to pull her appendage away but he tightens his grip which contrasts immensely with the softness in his eyes.

Voice like warm honey he answers, "Because you're here and I.....need you. I'm not going anywhere."

The sun shines brightly outside as a new day rises somewhere in the distance a lone bird's call is answered by another.

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 8

You’re going to be offended when I tell you I’m still not done. How did this happen? How did this end chapter get so long that I have to break it in half and I still have not finished it? 

Oh right, I wrote myself into a corner and had to get myself out of it in the most outlandish way possible. Yeah that checks out.

For now please enjoy chapter 8 of what is now a 9-chapter story. Because I have no self control.

Day 8: Free Day for @taiqrowweek

Rating:  T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 6.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: Hang...

~

Qrow was thirty-two when it finally happened.

He was working out of Mantle on the cusp of winter. The bustling, compact metropolis had become a bit of a mainstay for him over the years, thanks to his connections with the Omega Alliance. The political party had formed half a decade ago, heralded by none other than Robyn Hill. The movement was quickly becoming a worldwide spectacle, with more factions forming in every major city of the four kingdoms almost every week. With the main branch strategically close to Atlas though, it had become a media-struggle to both stay in the spotlight and to silence the oppressed.

It was just the kind of thing that might turn the tides for omega rights once and for all.

However, for Qrow, the Alliance had become a bit of a safe haven. The group had welcomed him in with open arms and encouraged him to continue his work, with the stipulation the Alliance would be endorsing the rebranding efforts in their press conferences and rallies. In turn, he was given a ‘secret nesting spot’ no matter where he seemed to travel to and a donation fund that kept him so well off, Tai stopped trying to measure his waistline with his eyes whenever he came to visit. All the while, his anonymity was kept intact and his clientele full.

It seemed like an eternity since he’d been able to live so comfortably.

Which led him to where he was that fateful day. The Greenleaf Inn was a well-sized, three-star hotel that always conveniently had its mini-suite open whenever he was around. The bed alone was worth its weight in lien, but the mini-bar fridge and spa tub made him feel like he was a king. The extra space also allowed for more pleasant accommodations for his clients.

That day, he was working with a young journalist by the name of Forest. He was a chatterer and a bit of a political enthusiast, his support for the Alliance borderline fanatic. Most of their time was spent discussing current events.

“Vacuo’s press conference is all in an uproar. Pride leader Kali can’t even get a word in edgewise; no one’s listening to her. It’s all looking pretty bad – then her Alpha gets to his feet. He’s like a monster of a man – wider than a truck and tall as a house. Everyone shuts up when he clears his throat and says his mate has something to say. Then he just sits down and lets her talk. Sienna reported that Kali turned into a real lioness and took charge!” Forest mimicked the swiping of claws. “It was spectacular! But of course, the headlines are all about what Ghira did and Kali’s performance is just a side note. It’s always about the alphas – uh, no offense.”

Well maybe discussing was too strong a term. “None taken.” Qrow replied offhandedly from the floor, more concerned with getting the arch of the fox’s face just right where it curled over the shin bone. He wasn’t even sure Forest heard him anyways.

“Suppose the end result is what matters though. Vacuo was the last agenda we needed to be on. Now we’re ensured the UFK really starts discussing omega affairs this winter. And I think-”

He never did find out what Forest thought – because a rapping on the door cut him off. Qrow turned off his pen, wary as he got to his feet. It wasn’t typical he got visitors out of the blue.

Then a voice shouted from the other side. “Harbinger, hurry up!”

“May?” Forest sat upright.

Qrow was already across the room in two strides, throwing open the door. The blue-haired omega was in a state, her scent bleeding panic as she cut right to the chase, “You need to get out of here! The police are in the lobby, looking for you!”

“What?!” He barked, heart rate skyrocketing. “But how?”

May pushed him back, hurrying inside. “Don’t know. Joanna’s trying to stall, but we only got a few minutes at most before this place is crawling. What do you need? Forest, you too, get up!”

The reporter seemed to snap out of his daze, jumping to his feet. “Why don’t we just hide in another room?”

“That might work for you, but not him. They’re gonna raze this place from the ground up.”

“Then hide him. I’m going down the stairwell.” Qrow insisted, having already thrown his kit back together and snapping the case closed. He got to his feet, pulling his scroll from his pocket. “Here. Destroy it.”

She looked from the device to him, uncertain. “But I can help-”

“No.” He barely withheld the growl. “You’re a lead member of Atlas’ branch. They see you helping me and the kingdom’s gonna run with the bad press. You don’t need that, especially not with the UFK assembly so close.”

For one long terrible moment, he was certain she was going to keep arguing. But any bluster was blown out with a heavy sigh and a helpless, “Good luck.”

He was going to need it.

~

“Shit.” Qrow cursed as he caught a gander of the lobby floor from the little window in the stairwell door. The place was crawling. He could already see a pair of officers at the elevator doors. There was almost definitely one at every exit point as well.

He backed up, trying to think. There was no way he was getting out undetected and the moment they started questioning him or asking for identification, he was going to be in trouble. He thought about reconsidering Forest’s idea – but even if they played a game of Scooby Doo chase with the cops, it wasn’t going to be long before they caught sight of him. He couldn’t just go up to his room and wait for the inevitable either.

He was trapped. His only hope was if he spontaneously learned how to fly.

Unless… He tilted his head up, looking at the flights of stairs. Which went all the way up to the roof.

The buildings weren’t that far apart.

It was crazy. But, it might be his only chance.

Qrow shoved his tattoo kit underneath the last stairwell, pushing it in the corner until the black case was hidden in the shadows. It would be too heavy to take with him. He’d just have to hope no one would be able to find it in the meantime. Appeased, he rushed up the stairs, trying to take several at a time. He was about halfway up the third when he heard the first-floor door open. He froze.

“You really think he’ll come down this way?” A voice, high and reedy, floated up from below.

The other voice was gruff and masculine. “You heard the chief, Viola. She wants all exits covered.”

“Just seems excessive Taylor. All of us for a guy not even hurting anyone.”

“Rookie, I’ll give you some advice: the judgment calls are for the courts. We just need to do our jobs. And yours right now is to get to that top floor in case our perp makes a break for the roof, capeesh?”

She sighed. “Got it.”

The first footfall hit the steps.

Qrow thought about it for half a second – and then he bolted.

Surprise was on his side, because it took the officers a precious few seconds to understand before their shouts rang up and they started chasing after him. He could hear Taylor fumbling with a radio, calling for backup. By that point, Qrow was bypassing the second floor and heading toward the third.

“Stop! Police!” Viola’s voice cracked on the yell.

He felt kind of bad, scaring the newbie. Had he had any breath left, he might have shouted back an apology. As it were, all his focus went onto the stairs in front of him, trying his best not to fall as he climbed five… six… seven… eight-

Bam!

The roof access door swung open and hit the brick. He paused long enough to scope his options –apartment complex to the left, half a story lower, flat rooftop; warehouse to the right, higher, guardrail fencing on the perimeter – before he made a decision and skirted left. The ground underneath him was slippery from rainfall that had frosted over with late autumn’s crisper temperatures, so he struggled for traction, preparing to jump.

“Don’t do it!” Viola yelled just as he did it.

For a moment, as he leapt over ten feet through the air, nothing below but a sharp drop to the alleyway, he felt weightless and free.  He really was flying.

And then realty was rushing up to meet him as his feet hit the opposite roof, slipped on the ice, and slipped again when his hands weren’t enough to catch him. The impact, mostly taken on his right side, was jarring and left him a little breathless and aching. Still, he was able to stand a few moments after, turning back to look at the officers staring down at him across the gap.

“Ha! Better luck next time turkeys!” Qrow saluted them before he strut towards the roof hatch. Now all he had to do was-

Wait.

Why was everything spinning?

The distant sound of cars was fading, and as he lifted his hand to his face, he watched it double before his eyes.

Shit. He was gonna-

The ground rushed up to meet him a second time, having just enough consciousness left to land on his back.

He watched the sky above him until the last star blinked out.

~

She’d been staring at him for the past five minutes.

He could just barely see her above the pages of the newspaper he was pretending to read. He figured she would eventually go and pester her dad, just one room over and making quite a racket in the kitchen as Tai no doubt overdid it in trying to be the perfect host (and would only try harder if Qrow told him it was no big deal). But the longer he tried to wait her out, the more it became obvious his niece had a mission and he was part of it.

Eventually he folded – both the newspaper and his resolve – and turned to her, trying not to be appear as intimated by a mere child as he actually kind of was, “Something wrong?”

Yang lifted her chin up high, stomped her way over from the staircase to his little corner of the couch, and slammed a box of markers down on the coffee table. “Make me pretty.”

“Huh?”

“Like daddy.” She said with great exasperation. She climbed up beside him and with the lack of shame only children could have pulled off the shirt of her PJs and turned so her back could face him. “I want to be pretty too.”

Understanding slowly dawned on him. “Shouldn’t we ask your dad first?”

“I did, he said it was fine.” She hadn’t but Tai thought it was too adorable to be mad about it.

“Alright then.” Qrow turned, pulling a blue marker from the box. But when he turned back to face her, the pen was now black and Yang was two years older. “What do you want this time firecracker?”

“A motorcycle!” She shouted, bouncing excitedly.

He laughed, draping her long hair over her shoulder. “A motorcycle? Now what would a girl like you want that for?”

“I’ma get one when I’m older. Daddy said! I can get a real motorcycle when I turn eighteen.” She told him.

He uncapped the marker. “And that’s what you want, huh?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “He said I could get a real tattoo too, as long as I think really hard about it since this one won’t come off in the bath.”

Qrow started to outline the wheels. “That’s right. You want to make sure it’s something you want forever.”

“Once I decide, you’ll do it for me, right?”

The words halted him momentarily, overcome by the sudden fondness filling his heart. “’Course I will.”  

“You swear?” Yang turned her head, trying to look serious but only managing to look adorably pouty. “Even if they pop out your eyes?”

The snort of surprise burst out of him. “It’s scratch out your eyes – and yes, even then.” And just so she could know that he meant it, he crossed an X over his heart.

“Good.”

He pressed the marker back to her skin, moving onto the bike’s frame, when Tai called out to him, “Qrow, look!”

He rose his head, looking out across the yard to see the omega holding a square, plywood board between his hands. As he gave the nod, Yang didn’t hesitate to bust her fist right through it.

“Looking good!” Qrow called back, before turning back to Ruby. Draped over his lap so she could reach her toys, she was making little action noises with her mouth as she crushed Bastinda underneath Zwei’s massive paws. He was just adding the color to the fur of the corgi version on her back.

A sharp movement had Bastinda flying down the porch steps and a stripe of white going all over her back. Luckily, six-year-olds weren’t picky.

“Bye, bye mean witch.” Ruby waved before she started taking her wolf on a walk along his side. “Uncle Qrow, who’s your favorite?”

He wrinkled his nose, trying not to think of the shoddy reboot that was slowly destroying the integrity of the original. Still, he answered honestly, “Rosette.”

“Why?”

“’Cause she was the big hero.” He explained. “I wanted to be just like her growing up.”

Her eyes lit up. “And now you are her, right?”

He quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Daddy told me that’s why you’re gone so long, ‘cause you’re out making the world a better place.” Another stripe went down her back. She blinked curiously. “Why’d your face go all red?”

“Ah, nevermind that! Hey, you know what this needs?” He looked away, grabbing at the pink marker.

It was the same color his cheeks had been by the time he was turning back around, no longer outside but sitting up in Ruby’s room, consoling the sniffling ten-year-old the only way he knew how.

As he added to the growing chain of roses growing along her shoulder blades, he said, “Don’t let them get to you kid.”

“But it’s not fair! I’m way faster at running bases than Cardin, but they made me sit on the bench the whole time! I didn’t even get to play.” She swiped angrily at her eyes.

If Qrow listened real hard, he could hear Tai’s voice rising from downstairs. The phone call didn’t seem to be going well. “You’re right, it’s not fair at all. Do you know why your teacher did that?”

“Because,” Ruby buried her face in her pillow, the rest coming out muffled, “I’m going to be an omega and omegas don’t do great things.”

He was glad she couldn’t see his scowl. “Who told you that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t.” He capped the marker, setting it aside before shifting on his knees, brushing back her hair with his fingers. “Because I’ve met omegas from all over the world, and so many of them are doing great things every single day. Dangerous things even, all so that they can make things more fair for everyone. They’re some of the bravest people I know.”

She rose her head. “Really?”

“Really. But you know what the big secret is?” He lent back, tapping his scent gland. “It doesn’t matter what’s here.” He tapped his head. “It matters what’s in here. As long as you put your mind to it and work hard at it, then there’s nothing you can’t do.”

Ruby considered this, asking, “You’re not just saying that?”

“Hey now, take it from the alpha who can draw. I know my stuff kiddo.”

It earned him one of the few things she seemed to share with her dad – a bright, beautiful smile. But as she went to a respond, a knocking on the door drew his attention.

Qrow blinked blearily at the cell doors where the guard was banging his nightstick against the metal. “Branwen, up! You got a visitor.”

Gingerly, he pulled himself up, his healing ribs screaming in protest at the movement. It took several moments longer before he could actually stand and shuffle his way out the door, following the guard down the hall. He kept his head down, not wanting to meet eyes with any of the other prisoners.

Since he was injured, he was being kept in the protective custody side of the prison. It had its bonuses – he didn’t have to share a cell or run through the motions the general population side did. He also didn’t have to cuff up when they let him out of his cell, mostly because they couldn’t get them on around the sling. The downside was the PC side of the jail was also where the most violent criminals were kept. There was one inmate in particular who-

“Oh little bird, you’ve come fluttering my way yet again.” Tyrian jeered.

-particularly got on his nerves. Qrow didn’t look up, but that didn’t stop the fierce growl from leaving his throat. The serial killer only cackled at his display.

If this was what it was like in here, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d survive once he was reassigned into GP. A whole room full of alphas, all of them constantly competing for dominance, was a disaster waiting to happen. Not for the first time since he’d arrived, did he start wishing he’d presented differently. He’d have better chances in an omega-beta prison.

So preoccupied he was by his anxious thoughts, he’d forgotten entirely why he was out of bed in the first place until he was walking into the visitor’s area. The section was marked by a row of doors, each one leading into a small room that had nothing more than a few chairs and a wooden counter separated in half by bulletproof plexiglass. There was a metal, slated ring in it to allow the two parties to talk.

The guard unlocked the rightmost room, saying, “You’ve got one hour,” before swinging open the door.

Seeing a familiar face, even if it was only Clover Ebi’s, filled him with so much joy he could have cried.

The soldier was all smiles for him, though the cursory look over he gave him left a twist of worry at the corner of his eyes. “Hey Qrow. I’m so relieved to see you. You look… rough.”

“What gave that implication? The fractured wrist or the three broken ribs?” He replied tightly, delicately sitting down. “Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know my name either.”

“’Fraid everyone does at this point. You’re all over the news.”

He grimaced. “Internationally?”

“If I said no, would it make you feel better?”

“Not if I know you’re lying.” Gods, Tai was probably having a heart attack right now. And the girls… he wondered if they even fully understood what was going on. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Clover’s expression was one of sympathy. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Now that I’ve found you, we can get you a good lawyer, rather than the pro bono one they appointed you to. Robyn’s already running rallies in the streets of every kingdom and donation rings to hire the best in the business. And Fiona’s calling about a dozen firms a day. She’s already got-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Qrow cut him off, disoriented. “Slow down trigger. I get I’m not in a great position, but isn’t that a bit excessive for a small end criminal court case? And anyways, it’s not like I’m going to trial tomorrow.”

His flippancy only seemed to make the omega more agitated as he lent back, running a hand over his face. “Oh shit. They didn’t assign you a counsel, did they?”

“I’m not that depressed.”

“A legal counsel Qrow!” He scoffed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, now he was so off-track he wasn’t even sure he boarded the train. “Am I… missing something?”

With a deep breath, Clover schooled his features, resting his arms along the tabletop to lean forward. “Qrow, your crime is being considered as a global offense. They’re expediating your case through the process so you can be tried at the UFK.”

Realty cracked and shattered around him.

“W-What?!” He squawked, panic setting in immediately. “Are you fucking serious?!” When the other could only offer him a solemn nod, Qrow withdrew, dropping his head onto the table and curling his one good arm around his face, as if it would be enough to shield him from the future. “Oh Gods. Oh fuck.”

He was screwed. Utterly and royally.

The UFK, or United Four Kingdoms, assembly was a yearly session of the kingdom’s four heads of state and their councils. Mostly it was a peace gathering, a way to discuss the improvements or needs of each kingdom and provide support or discuss any eco-social changes that may need addressing. It was why the Alliance had been so prominent in recent months; so that the four heads might talk about potential alternations to omega rights. A discussion that had not been gaining enough, if any, traction in the past few years. That was why Robyn had organized the ‘Prides’ – a central team in each kingdom whose sole job was to attend the national press conferences and make a loud enough roar that the council would have to take notice. Each one had done a fantastic job, and the news channels had been bustling with stories about how this year’s session would absolutely have to focus on the matter of omega equality.

And in one fell swoop, Qrow had ruined that.

Trials weren’t unheard of at the UFK, but they were extremely rare. In the eighty years the assembly had been convening, there’d only been three prior cases that had gone to court there and each one had had a huge impact on universal laws. If he was tried and convicted, there was no telling what impact his case would have.

A tapping on the glass made him look up tentatively.

Clover’s jaw was set with determination. “It’s okay, Qrow. We’re here to help you.”

“No!” He sat up, gritting his teeth around the pain it caused him. “None of you should get involved! I can’t drag you down with me.”

“Qrow, think for a minute – do you really believe your arrest was just a coincidence?”

That drew him up short. “I…”

“Face it, you’re not exactly impossible to locate. Someone’s probably known where you were for a while and they were just waiting for the perfect moment to bring you in.” He indicated the air around them. “And this is it. The absence of counsel, the lack of prep time, keeping your whereabouts classified. It all adds up. They’re trying to turn you into a scapegoat.”

It was hard logic to beat. Qrow wasn’t exactly uninformed on just how messed up the legal system could be – and the more involved he’d gotten with his work, the deeper the rabbit hole just seemed to go. But to have it be twisted onto him in such a way, like he was merely everyone else’s plaything, made him feel violated.

He wondered how his mother would have felt, seeing him like this.

“So now what?” Qrow finally asked.

“Now, we fight back.” Clover replied assuredly. “Your case could be a gamechanger for omegas everywhere. We aren’t just going to lie down and watch it happen.”

He snorted. “So you’re turning the scapegoat into a martyr.”

“No.” The soldier declined, then added with a quirk of his lips, “We’re turning you into our harbinger.”

It took Qrow a moment to get it. Then he laughed.

A harbinger of change. There might just be some hope left after all.

~

Three days later, he met his defense attorneys.

Pietro was a kindly, wheelchair-bound beta with thirty years of experience. The minute the man started talking, it was obvious he knew his stuff as he lined out what to expect for the court process and what laws that may entangle them from certain kingdoms they might have to prepare for. Things Qrow hadn’t even considered, like operating a business out of a building with only a residential grade fire system – a law the more wildfire prone Mistral took very seriously.

His understudy was named Rhodes. Also a beta, as all lawyers were, the man had only a few years on Qrow himself, but he had a sharp wit and passionate aspiration for justice. He spent most of the time keeping a detailed note log on the things being said, explaining it would help them decide on the best strategy to use when they were in front of the UFK.

“The most difficult thing we have to contend with is time.” Rhodes affirmed. “Unlike most high-profile cases handled in the courts, the kingdoms aren’t going to allow the hearing to go beyond a single day so it doesn’t interfere with the other agendas they have to get too. That means limited evidence presentation and witness testimonies. We’ve got about eight hours to prove you’re an innocent man, which means every second in that room is going to count.”

Qrow swallowed hard. “What about the jury? They on a time limit too?”

“No. The jury are the councils.” Pietro explained. “The members of each kingdom’s council board will give their verdict, and it’s the majority vote of each council that decides their verdict. As long as you get a unanimous majority, you’ll be given your verdict. So, our focus will need to be on swaying each kingdom individually.”

Yeah. No pressure.

Rhodes tapped the end of his pen on the desk between them. “As you can see, it’s a bit of a balancing act. Ideally, our witness testimonies need to come from all over. If you can get us even just a moderate list of people from each kingdom you believe would be willing to speak for you then we can scope out the best choice from each one.”

“Perhaps.” The elder beta intoned, rubbing his chin. “Though Vale may not need any pushing. Our focus should truly lie in targeting the kingdom’s core values.”

“We also need to make sure to address the issues with improper due process.”

“A fine point.”

“I hope you both know I’m barely keeping up with this.” Qrow admitted.

Pietro smiled forgivingly. “Don’t worry your head about it, my boy. Just focus on giving us everything we can possibly work with to keep you out of jail. Do you have any family or friends who might speak on your credibility of character?”

There was only one person that came to mind – and there was no way he would even dare suggest Tai to spill his whole story for millions to hear.

“No.” He replied shortly.

“Not even-”

“Really. No. My old man’s a deadbeat. I haven’t seen my sister in over a decade. And unless these things come with a séance, my mom ain’t gonna have much to say either.” He lent back, shrugging his good shoulder. “As for friends, I haven’t exactly been living stably to form many close relationships. ‘Fraid I won’t be much use on that list either – never kept a detailed record to keep my clients safe. But, I know someone who just might be able to rally up a few.”

Pietro nodded. “Then let’s start there.”

Thankfully, that was the last time they asked him about family.

~

One day short of a week later, he was visited by someone other than his attorneys.

This time, the sight of a familiar face did actually make him cry, even if Tai immediately laid into him.

“You jumped off a roof?! What in the Gods’ Realms were you thinking? You could have died!” Tai smacked his hand on the table for emphasis. He wasn’t even sitting, too agitated to. Had the glass not been separating them, he was pretty sure he would have been in for the ear pinching of his life. “Are you okay, or did the fall knock out what little brain cells you have left?!”

Yet, the omega’s worry was so strong, Qrow could scent it through the little holes in the metal ringlet. It was familiar and more comforting then even a single second locked up in this awful place could even marginally hope to feel like. So, he broke down harder.

Tai sighed and gave up, dropping his forehead against the glass. Qrow struggled to reign himself in, but the days had been too long, too awful and too terrifying to stop the broken dam. The most he managed to get out was a wobbly, “m’sorry.” As he curled himself over the desk.

They hovered there, in silence.

Then, for the second time in his life, Tai purred at him, “I‘m here. You’re okay.”

It was like being draped in an extra soft blanket or pulled into an exceptionally warm hug, something he felt from the inside out. The shakes started to fade and the tears slowed to a drizzle, and then even that went away.

When he lifted his head, Qrow could almost pretend the outburst hadn’t happened at all. “Sorry, meds I’m on just make me emotional.”

“Sure they do.” Tai let him lie, finally taking his seat with the heavy gracelessness of someone who just got off an overnight flight.

While there were at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask, the most prominent came forward first: “Where are the girls?”

“In the waiting room. Ruby got scared. Somehow she got it in her head you’d be crippled.” He gave him a disdainful look, “Can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

He hid his grimace behind a smile, “Shoulda just told her birds my age can fly.”

It was the wrong thing to say as Tai scowled. “Don’t joke! Seriously, I can’t believe how idiotic that was. You’re lucky that little stunt only resulted in a few injuries.”

“Well, I ain’t feeling very lucky.” He snapped back. “Seriously what did you want me to do?”

The omega threw up his hands. “Not try to kill yourself! Do you know how terrified I was?! And then I couldn’t find you no matter how many jails and hospitals I called and I thought-!” His shoulder dropped. “I don’t know what I thought.”

But Qrow knew. He knew exactly what kind of worst-case scenarios must have played through his head when suddenly Qrow was all over the headlines after he tried to escape police arrest and was transported to a nearby care facility for his injuries, only to then disappear completely, the system deliberately hiding him to secure him for the big case. It wasn’t until he’d started meeting with Pietro and Rhodes that he’d learnt just how many infringements of his rights there’d already been. He wasn’t even supposed to be in a prison without being tried first. They were trying to work it into his case.

“If it weren’t for Robyn I never would of even of found you.”

Qrow’s confusion spiked. “Wait, how do you know her?”

“I don’t. She called me off your scroll.” So much for destroying it. “Once she got me in the loop, I took the first flight over I could.”

He didn’t know whether to feel thankful, or violated.

Wait.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Robyn was the one he’d directed his attorney team too. “She didn’t tell you anything else, did she? About the trial?”

“She just told me you were going in for it soon and that you could use some support.” Tai replied. “They aren’t really letting anyone in to see you if they can’t show that they’re family. I had to bring Yang’s birth certificate just to get in here.”

(Qrow might have cited Clover – if he wasn’t fairly certain the man could get himself into anywhere on badges and charisma alone.)

Still, relief swept through him. By whatever graces of the Gods there were, it sounded like Robyn had played him straight on this one. She must have figured out why he’d chosen not to disclose that information himself – and of that he could be grateful. He’d rather spend a hundred years in jail then let any of his family take the stand.

Now he just had to make sure Tai didn’t screw the pooch instead.

“Just be careful with that little tidbit. If the press gets a whiff of it, they’ll be all over you.” He warned.

If anything, Tai seemed insulted. “I’m not afraid of some headliners. I can handle it.”

“Can the girls?” The statement drew the omega up short. Qrow felt bad, playing that card, but it wasn’t like reporters had a moral compass. “Just being realistic. This case isn’t exactly coasting quietly under the table, and the last thing I want is my family being dragged into it all ‘cause of my mistakes.”

“They’re not mistakes.”

“Renegade behavior then.”

“You-!” Tai sighed, running a hand down his face frustratedly. “Stop that. You’re not a joke, you know?”

It was Qrow’s turn to draw up short, heart catching in his throat.

Tai barreled on, unconcerned with his organ transplant. “I’m proud of what you do. More than that, I believe in what you do. You make a difference, every day, even if it seems small. You wouldn’t have risked so much, if you didn’t think that yourself. So will you please try to trust in that, so you can tell those judges where to shove it?”

Still stuck in limbo, his heart pressed insistently against his voice box, willing him to say those accursed three words that desperately wanted to burst out. Instead, all he managed was a wheeze of laughter, and a quiet, “I will.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Tai got to his feet. “I’m going to go get the girls, okay?”

“Okay.” He watched him head for the door, calling just as he opened it. “And Tai?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.”

For supporting me.

For being here with me.

For always knowing just what I need to hear.

He couldn’t decide on what was most important to say, so it all got stuck just like before.

Tai smiled like he’d heard them all regardless. “Anytime.”

~

“Are you ready, my boy?”

Qrow looked away from the airship window, where the Amity Tower was looming, to Pietro’s kind smile. It did little to calm the storm in his stomach. “Pretty sure no one’s ever ‘ready’ for this. My whole life’s about to be decided by a bunch of rich assholes who’ve probably never used the word ‘struggle’ in their lives.”

“Then I suppose it’s up to you to define it for them.”

He scoffed, falling back against the glass. “Hate to tell you this wheels, but English was my worst class.”

That at least earned him a hearty laugh. “You know there’s a saying among us lawyers: You don’t cry until it’s all over. So for now, keep your chin up and fight hard.”

Would be an easier fight if it didn’t feel like he was armed with only a pocketknife going against a trove of machine guns. Still, he couldn’t deny the weight of that sentiment. Especially knowing there was so much more to this fight than just what would happen to him.

Momentarily, as he shut his eyes, he could see Ruby. Coming home with tears streaming down her face after being told she wasn’t good enough to play baseball like the other kids. What if her fears were realized and she did present omega? What if she didn’t and, beyond all expectation, Yang did instead? What if one day, someone decided to throw either one of them into a reformatory and he wasn’t there to overwrite the wrongs?

The idea made him sick inside.

He rose up, facing Pietro once more. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Qrow tried to hold onto that feeling of confidence as long as he could as he continued to watch Amity Tower draw near. Like a beacon welcoming travelers to its side, the building stood alone on the seaside of the most northern part of Sanus. It wasn’t really a tower – it was more akin to a concert hall in size and shape. But it got its name from the spire that shot up in the middle of the roof. The decorative piece was meant to mimic the communication towers that each kingdom built to allow for scroll communication across the nations. A display that proclaimed this place would always be a venue in which the kingdoms could speak freely to one another.

As they began their descent towards the airstrip, he finally noticed the crowd. Circling Amity like a school of sharks were dozens upon dozens of people. They were spilling out along the grand front steps and thickly congested across the massive lawn area to the point barely a patch of green could be seen.

“What in all realms is going on?” Qrow breathed. He’d expected a few news reporters, sure. But nothing like this.

Before he could answer, Pietro’s scroll began to ring. He was quick to answer it. “Ah Rhodes, got here safely then? How are the witnesses doing?”

“Everyone is settled and prepared.” He replied assuredly. “Heard you guys were touching down, so I figured I’d warn you about the protest group.”

“Group?” Qrow echoed. “That’s an army. What are they even protesting?”

“Your arrest.”

His head snapped around; eyes wide.

Rhodes continued, unaware, “They’re all omegas or omega supporters from every nation in Remnant. They’ve been gathering here for days.”

“Incredible.” Pietro declared, adjusting his spectacles. “In all my years, I’ve never seen something quite like this.”

The rest of the conversation faded to background noise as he turned back towards the window, something unexplainable but good lifting him. Somewhere inside of him, he knew they weren’t really here for him, but what he represented. He was a loose cog in the machine, a shift from the system, a shield against the onslaught of endless ammo. Or, as Clover had jokingly coined, their harbinger of change.

Yet it didn’t stop him from feeling overwhelmed with support as the doors to the airship opened and the roar of cheers started up. It was a massive, thunderous noise that shook him to his very core then solidified there like an unbreakable diamond, giving him strength he hadn’t had just minutes ago.

Even as he was led out in cuffs, barred between two officers, he found himself walking tall. Like land making way for a river, the crowd parted for them. Some were carrying signs that said things like ‘Justice for Qrow’ and ‘Branwen can win’. There was even a really ridiculous one that said ‘Uncage our bird!’, complete with an illustration of a crow in a birdcage.

They made him smile, as did the few encouragements that he managed to pick out from rumble of hollers trying to reach him.

“You got this!”

“We’re here with you!”

“Your story’s not over yet!”

He carried it all the way up the stairs and through the entrance. Yet, as the large ornate double doors swung closed behind him, it muffled most of the noise.

Silenced once more.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

*

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

*

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Nihilism and the Death of Art (II)

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 2425 chapter warnings: swearing, arguments, drinking, existential crisis  chapter summary: even the greatest artists suffer from the fall

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< previous chapter

—

Imagine for a moment, anything at all. 

One picks the tools—the instrument, the pen, the paintbrush, the tip of an index finger—and finds places where they fit…

If those places even exist at all. 

If there’s anything at all. If there’s anything, anything–

When there’s no initial meaning  or ultimate meaning  or something,  anything,

is there anything anything anything anyt–

Logan cursed as he slammed his pen into the counter, bringing himself up with it until he was standing, doubled over the table with his palms flat on the surface. His chair knocked against the shelves behind him.

Logan ripped the piece of paper out of the spiral binding of his notebook and hurled it towards the garbage can to his left. He heard the soft sound of it hitting the rim and sighed, flicking his wrist and–

The paper ball fell to the floor. Logan blinked, looking at his outstretched hand.

Nothing.

He slowly lowered his hand and flopped back in his chair with a sigh. His eyes drifted over to his copy of Nihilism and the Death of Art , which still laid open on the counter.

Only a week had passed since he had tumbled out of Virgil’s book nook—seemingly without his magic—yet it felt like the time between then and now moved sluggishly. He barely saw Patton, for many assumed reasons; either Patton was too afraid to step back into Logan's life, or he knew it was best not to. Roman, of course, was nowhere to be found, and to make matters worse—if they could even be worse—the deadline for his speech was in two days and he had nothing. 

Nothing nothing nothing not–

The shop door opened, soft bells chiming throughout the room. Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

“Welcome to Fray and Far Fables, how can I–” 

“Logan?” 

Logan’s eyes darted up. Shit. 

“Patton!” He straightened himself up his chair, adjusting his tie and running a hand through his frazzled hair. “I’m– you’re... hi. ” 

“Hi,” Patton said, stretching the word out with hesitancy. He leaned over the front counter. “I haven’t seen you in a bit, and I was just, um, wondering if you’re…” 

Logan forced his mouth into a flat smile. 

“I’m...yeah. I’m okay, I’m...just okay.” 

Patton frowned. Logan watched his gaze shift to the crumpled piece of paper on the floor, as well as the scattered papers surrounding him, filled to each end in red ink. Logan cursed under his breath. Good. This was all just...good.

“If you say so.” Patton shrugged. “Anyway, I’m here to pick up a book if you have any recommendations!” He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe we can look for some together?” 

Logan forced his stare down at the notebook in front of him. 

“They’re all fine books, Patton. You’d like anything.” 

The words fall a bit more icily than he had intended. Logan snuck a glance up and saw each one hit Patton’s chest with a deafening thump! only he could hear. He winced. 

“Right.” Patton gritted his teeth into a smile. “I’ll, um, take a look.” 

Logan sighed, defeated, and nodded wordlessly. The two of them sat in a heavy silence before Patton cleared his throat. 

“Oh! I almost forgot! On the way here, I ran into your friend from the museum– Janus! Yes, Janus. They say hi, first of all. And they also said that whenever you’d like to, they would love to show you around for that tour! If we start heading there after I find a book, we can make it there soon — they told me that now’s a pretty good time to beat the crowds—”

“I’m not going.” 

Patton’s smile, in a more unnerving turn of events, only brightened.

“It could be fun to, um...maybe leave the shop? Even just for a bit?”

“Patton…”

“I’m sure Roman wouldn’t mind, I know Janus would love for you to go– I would love to go with you–”

“I said no , Patton.”

“It– it could be your art-venture, Lo–”

“There are no more art-ventures,” Logan snapped, slamming his fists onto the desk. Patton’s breath hitched at the noise. “There’s– there’s no more art-ventures, there’s no more inspiration– there’s no more need for inspiration because I’m not writing the fucking speech–” 

“Logan, let’s just–” 

“–and there’s nothing!” Logan yelled, hating each word that came out of his mouth and meaning them at the same time. “There’s nothing , Patton! Don’t you get it?!”

“Get...get what?” 

“Everything I write feels like it’s– it’s missing something. Every answer I thought I had doesn’t matter– even Virgil’s book is– is bullshit! There could be a million purposes for art, there could be a million reasons to do anything, but there will always be more nothing , Patton. There’s nothing.”

“L-Love, please, can we–” 

“We can’t do anything, Patton! There’s– there’s no point to anything, not even you and I! ” 

A beat of silence. It suddenly felt like all the lights in the shop flickered out and it was just Logan and Patton, Patton and Logan, the two of them together — until it wasn’t.

Logan wilted as he watched Patton’s heart break through his irises. Patton stumbled back; back until there were miles between the two of them, until each string that tied them together grew warped and stretched and snapped apart. 

Patton stumbled back until he pressed against the door with a deafening thud; until he was out of the door; until he was so far back that Logan was alone and Patton was gone.

—

Roman has only lived twice before. 

The first time was a bit all over the place. There were days when the sun was high in the sky and he could just stroll out of his house and sing to everyone and anyone. He would greet each stranger as if on a cloud, and not only became the town’s mascot, but seemingly became the whole damn parade. It was a busy time, but it was a time he cherished, being so open and known.

Of course, there were the stormier days too; there were days when the rain lasted all day and everyone was rushing against cobblestone to be inside in barely-lit homes. There were days where it’d even be too loud for Roman to focus on anything, and all he could do was sit on his chair and stare outside, waiting and waiting and waiting.

Then, there were the quiet nights. They would come few and far between, but lo and behold, they existed, even for just a little bit. Most of his life was spent in the hustle and bustle of city life, but most of his life was lived in a forest clearing basked in moonlight.

But that first life—the ups, the downs; the sun, the storm, the moon—never seemed to be the story Roman left behind. 

No, that story was pressed into the pages of a book he did his best to write yet one that no one could open; for all he knew at the time, it wasn’t allowed to even exist. 

And then, in his second life, it didn’t exist at all. 

–– 

The moonlight bled into Fray and Far Fables and illuminated a scene of scattered papers and wine glasses. An eerie silence crept across the floors like a fog.

And at the centre of it all was Logan.

He sat on the armchair next to the window, staring wistfully at the streetlamps and purposefully away from the mess behind him. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying not to notice the scent of his own breath, or of the umpteenth wine glass he held in his hand. 

After Patton left, the store somehow felt emptier, even more than it did before. Logan tried to outrun the walls closing in on him by doing anything, but the place became so unbearingly hollow to the point where Logan caved and cracked open a bottle of wine. 

And now, here he was. The world was spinning off its axis and Logan couldn’t give a shit.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard the soft sound of light and twinkling– at first, he swore it was some wine-induced hallucination– but eventually it filled the shop like air into a parachute. Logan stiffened at the noise and in his delirium, stumbled to his feet. He shot his hand out in front of him. 

“Who goes-it–” 

A flickering red glow flooded his vision. He blinked until it cleared, and met the eyes of a cross-armed Roman, floating in the air in front of the staircase.

A heavy pause sat between them. Logan watched as Roman eyed him up and down. 

“Well. I’ll admit, I’ve never quite seen... this before.” 

“Oh shut up.” The words slip in a way not even Logan expected. Roman’s face twisted, but if he was upset, he didn’t seem to show it.

“Sure. Gonna ignore that suggestion, but sure.” 

Roman looked around at the shop; crumpled-up papers and an array of wine glasses, with a near-empty wine bottle on the counter. He frowned. 

“Why are there so many?” He floated over to sit on top of a wine glass laying on his side. “Did you go and sample the whole town’s selection?”

“I kept–” Logan hiccuped– “forgetting that I had gotten one, one thin’ led to another–” 

“Right, right.” Roman shook his head, flying over to hover over Logan’s shoulder. “So that seems like a ready sign to go to bed, wouldn’t you think?” 

“No no no,” Logan mumbled, attempting to flick Roman off his shoulder before realizing he was just flicking air. He swivelled his head to his other shoulder and Roman waved at him dryly. 

“Yeah, Specs. Not gonna argue about this. We can argue in the morning, like we always do.” 

Roman closed his eyes and pressed his small hands on Logan’s shoulder. Logan could feel the familiar heat of Roman’s magic burn into his skin—fading but trying—and suddenly felt light and airy. 

“I– no!” He stood up before Roman could attempt to lift him up. Roman’s spell dissipated. The force sent him tumbling off Logan’s shoulders with a hard jolt. Roman caught himself in the air and flew back up to meet Logan’s gaze. 

Logan looked at him, steely-eyed. 

“Where...where’d you get that?” 

Roman blinked. “Get...what? This shirt? It’s actually new! I sewed it mysel–”

“No! Not– s’nice shirt, actually, I like the lace– but no! Not the shirt, not the shirt.” Logan loosely waved his hands in front of Roman. “Where did you get that? ” 

“...I sewed these pants as well–”

“The magic!” Logan snapped. “The magic, where’d you get it?” 

A beat of silence. Roman’s aura dimmed. 

“I...you know where I got my magic, Lo. I got it from your grandfather. He was born of magic, and I was born of his.” 

“And he– he born’d a son and– and I was born’d from him! So by that– that logic, is my magic from him too?” 

“Logan, you know I can’t tell you. The origin of magic must be stumbled upon not–” 

“JUST TELL ME!” Logan screamed, slamming his glass on the floor. The lights in the shop flickered dark blue for a millisecond, before going back to a dim fluorescent. Roman staggered back in the air. 

Logan panted for air before looking down. A red cut danced across his palm from the shards of glass, and a drop of blood fell onto the wine-soaked floor. He then locked eyes with Roman, eyes wide and rimmed with an empty emotion Logan couldn’t quite grasp.

“I– I just don’t get why it’s gone,” Logan finally said. He held his bloodied hand to his chest. “I don’t understand why it’s gone– I don’t understand why everything is just gone– ” 

“I can’t help but say I told you so, Logan.” Roman gritted his teeth. “Going so far changes things.”

“So far into what?!” Logan ran a hand through his disheveled hair, burning with frustration. He pointed his finger accusingly at Roman. 

“How– how did you know what would happen in Virgil’s book?"

“I–” 

“Why didn’t you tell me it’d lead to a dead end?!” 

“It wasn’t a dead end, it was just–” 

“ NOTHING!” Logan felt warm tears run down his face. “Why was it nothing?! ” 

“Look, you got your fucking answers, okay?!” Roman snapped. “You can’t blame me for what they are.” 

“But I can blame him!” Logan pointed at the counter, where Virgil’s book laid, haunted and open. “I can blame him, can’t I?!”

“Logan–”

“ You– you send me back into the nothing.” Logan stormed over to the counter and grabbed Virgil’s book with his bloodied hand. He waved it at Roman. “You send me back and lemme at ‘im!” 

“That’s not how it works– ” 

“Then send me in anyway! Let me get lost in the– the nothing! I don’t care! I’m going to end up exactly like the fucking guy– might as well get a head start!” 

“You’re nothing like him,” Roman hissed. “You are nothing like him, Logan, that’s– that’s not him, Logan–”

“How would you fucking know?! You don’t even like him, let alone know him – ”

“I DO!” 

Logan’s breath hitched. Virgil’s book fell to the floor. 

“You...you what?”

Roman’s red glow fizzled out with a sharp buzz and with a gasp, he dropped to the floor. Logan’s eyes widened as he scrambled to catch him. Roman quickly rolled out of his grasp and Logan went tumbling onto the floor boards. 

“Roman! Roman, stop–” 

Roman scampered across the floor as Logan crawled frantically to grab him. Logan slammed his good hand on the floor where Roman stood to catch his breath, but Roman jumped onto the grooved surface of the front counter and heaved himself up. Logan pulled his hand back.

“Roman!” Logan cried out again, forcing himself onto his feet. 

And the last thing he saw was Roman jumping onto the shelves behind the counter. He turned around to face Logan. 

Time seemed to freeze as they locked eyes, and Logan realized with horror that Roman was crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks and slowly pooled around him. 

“R-Roman, I’m–” 

But before Logan could say anything else, Roman tore his gaze from him and started to pull back books to make his way to the back of the shelves. He disappeared behind one of the books, not turning back.

A dim, red glow flickered in Logan’s vision, seemingly buried behind the book spines. 

And then, it was gone.

—

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