#i did not cough nearly this much the same time a few years ago

[dredshirtroberts]

the saddest thing about my life to this point is that because of it, if I talk just slightly "too much", or I want to sing for longer than like a couple notes of a song (especially at an audible volume), or I start laughing in earnest, or I've eaten something delicious, i start coughing. This is because my body is so unfamiliar with the sensation of having a good time that it freaks out and over-produces phlegm any time i'm utilizing my throat because it has no idea how much we're supposed to need for this shit.

I spent most of my life not talking, or laughing with my whole being. (i did sing a lot but normally as part of a group and i was afraid of being heard and judged to be as bad as my sister told me i was at singing, so if i'm audible it's more likely to make my throat freak out). The eating thing may not be connected, but like. any time i've enjoyed a food, my throat's like "mmm we need more lube in here" and then BLAM phlegm city while i choke on it.

And then of course if my throat is raw from coughing because of the aforementioned things, you know what it likes to do? make more phlegm to lube that shit back up. Which makes me cough.

You'd think staying hydrated would fix this problem but no! in fact it does not! it can sometimes make it worse! my body is a horror show and existence is a nightmare! :D

[r1pp4r]

Hello There! I hope you're ok, I was wondering if u can help me, It's my first time asking :( ...

Anyway, imagine being captured during a mission, the enemy results being someone from your past an ex boyfriend or something like that, and he's trying to break your spirit which is not an easy task, so finally he ask why are u keep high hopes and confidence, and you answer him with a smile and a "he's going to find me and that will be the end for you"

Would be so cool with König 🤞🏻 but u can decide that 🥺

i hope i did your idea justice!! <33 i tried my best :)) im sorry its a bit long, and not much of tha boys🧍‍♂️i kinda liked the idea of keeping it mysterious n not much of them

anyway!! here ya go <333 i’ll make a ghost version if y’all like this one :)) anyway this’ll be sfw!!

warnings: mentions of gore and violence :))

——————————————————————————————

you could feel the hair nearly ripping from your scalp as you were being drug a across the floor in a large, open warehouse room. you kicked and scratched, thrashing your arms like you knew how.

but you were like a caged animal, with no escape. thrashing and trying to run. but to no avail. you were on a recon mission with KorTac, and a few of you had gotten separated. including you. but that was their plan all along.

you grunted loudly as you felt you back thrown against a chair, your hands being bound to the back of the metal chair. you struggled once more but finally realized it was futile. so you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before whatever cloth was over your eyes was removed.

it took you a minute to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights, blinking out all the dust which gathered into your eyes. but as you opened them, you could hear people around you. talking. it was loud, and you couldn’t think.

“oh, you’re awake huh.”

that voice was familiar. too familiar. you began to struggle almost worse, your eyes widening as you realized who it was. but the hand on your shoulder made your blood run cold. the weight was the same. the exact place he touched was the same. you knew it all too well.

“it’s been a long time, yeah? when was the last time we saw each other? was it- no no no. it was france. three years ago.”

the voice made you sick. it was disgustingly sweet, and the way his hand trailed over your skin made it crawl. your hands flexed against the zip ties and tape that were binding you down. you could barely breathe as he had taken all the air from your lungs.

the man came around to the front, squatting down in front of you. of fucking course. but how the hell did he get in to europe? especially here? those are questions you’d get later, but for now you kept eye contact. your gaze was cold as you had a mask which covered your nose down.

“let’s take off that little fuckin’ mask shall we?”

you threw your head back as the man reached out, a sinister grin on his lips. but as you threw your head back he grabbed your jaw and throat, nearly crushing it as he ripped your mask off.

the mask was more than just something to hide your face. it had become your identity and once the man ripped it off, you felt violated.

“there’s that pretty little face i missed.”

without thinking, you spat in his face, your chest heaving as you stared at the man with a deadly stare. your eyes were narrowed and you were clearly holding your ground. the man chuckled, shaking his head as he pinched his nose between fingers and wiped the spit off.

you didn’t care. you knew this man wouldn’t do anything to you or at least you thought.

and as you heard a deep breath, you suddenly felt pressure against your jaw and it was hard. it nearly knocked the chair over and of course he’d punched you. you coughed, spitting out blood as you sat back in your chair, staring at him.

“know your place, bitch!”

the man flung his hand slightly and it was obvious he’d barely thrown a punch before.

“you’re here to give me some information and then we’ll be on our little way. got it?”

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t even move a single muscle. you were trained for moments like these and you wouldn’t let a man like him break you. but you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. so you just didn’t say anything.

you didn’t have any of your gear on you. they’d obviously stripped you of everything but you could see it on the table. you didn’t know how long it had been since you’d gone missing and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he found you.

so you just knew you needed to hold your ground and keep composure. you were ready for this. you were made for this. you absolutely knew he was coming for you, and you’d be dammed if you were dead. you wouldn’t leave him like that.

but as the man tsked, it broke you out of your thoughts. you watched as he began walking over to you as he placed a hand on your jaw, gently tilting your head to look up at him.

“aw sweetpea. you’re not gonna talk? i’m sure you will soon.”

the man spoke. you didn’t move once again. but you looked over to the side where the door was. you were waiting. he gripped your jaw once again, causing you to look at him. you still didn’t say a word as you turned your head back, getting his hand in your mouth and you bit down as hard as you could. you could feel his bones flexing under the sheer power of your bite and you definitely drew blood.

but you didn’t care.

the man stumbled back, holding onto his hand as he screamed. you just sat there in the chair, blood running down your chin as you kept your hard and heavy gaze pinned upon him.

“you fucking cunt! fuck! you- oh you shouldn’t have fuckin done that!”

the man yelled at you. he held onto his hand, hissing at the pain but you just sat there with a dumb little smirk on your face. he obviously didn’t know what was coming and you wouldn’t give any evidence to what was.

but you knew he was coming. he had to. the tracker in your suit, walkie, and almost all of your gear proved that. and as if he’d ever let you out of his sight for that long.

you truthfully thought that would be it, but once the man had gotten his hand wrapped, he walked back over, placing a chair in front of you and he sat. the grin on his face truthfully sent a shiver down your spine. he was going to hurt you and he’d make it painful.

but you wouldn’t budge.

———

you were bloodied, bruised to a pulp. even though you were sobbing from the pain, you hadn’t given anything up. and you wouldn’t. you hadn’t said a word besides a few nasty remarks and retorts, which obviously just landed you more blows. you could tell the man was getting frustrated as him and his colleagues began arguing. you coughed, looking back at the door once more.

you could feel it. you could feel him. his presence was absolutely menacing and you knew he was coming for you. but did they? absolutely not. otherwise they never would’ve put their hands on you.

the man walked back over to you, and gripped your jaw once more, shifting your focus. you had a dead set look on your face and your eyes were numb. at this point you would’ve let them kill you, because the rage of him wouldn’t disappoint.

the man groaned loudly, narrowing his eyes.

“you were never this strong when i knew you. what happened to the little bitch i knew, huh? the little girl that tucked her tail between her legs at the sight of a man, huh!?”

he yelled, slapping you across the face once more.

you finally turned to look at him with a smile as you heard the sounds of men talking outside the building. you knew exactly who it was.

“you’ll be dead soon enough.”

was the only thing you said and the man scoffed, guessing you were referring to the obvious reinforcements that were coming to save you and of course the man didn’t think anything of it.

“we have this place surrounded little girl. no one’s getting in or out.”

he pfft’d. the other guards were laughing slightly. even with the radio chatter outside, they didn’t seem scared. but they should’ve been.

the man finally sighed and walked over to the table which had various weapons that had been used against you. but this time it was a gun. your eyes widened a bit, and you thought this was it.

but he was coming for you.

“those boys out there are the least of your worries.”

you finally spoke out.

you chuckled, leaning your head back against the chair as the man then pointed it at your chest. the man laughed with you, and of course it wasn’t for the same reasons. you’d let him have his fun and his moment. but this wasn’t ending well for one of you, and it wasn’t you.

“oh really? what could i possibly have to worry about besides them?”

and the smile which graced your face with was something beautiful. it was a real genuine smile as you began to hear the yelling. you knew exactly what was coming.

“just him.”

your tone was flat as the man raised an eyebrow. and as if on cue, the door was busted down. and there he was.

of course könig had come for you. he was a bit farther away but you could see the rage in his eyes. you saw as he looked to you, his eyes widened with concern as he saw the way you were bloodied and bound to a chair. but seeing a man with a gun to your chest?

how dare he.

and as könig began sprinting towards the man who had just tortured you for god knows how long, you took comfort in knowing that this man would be dying at the hands of your lover. and god would he die.

könig wasn’t kind, nor merciful. but hell was terrified of him after what he did to the man who put his hands on you. you couldn’t keep your eyes on him, because you’d never seen him move this fast. könig would usually take his time, but for what they did to you? a fast death was merciful. and as silence rang loud in the building once again, your thoughts were broken by heavy footsteps.

“oh.. my libeling..”

könig’s tone was soft, but the rage in his eyes was still burning bright. with his stature, he had to get on his knees in front of you, untying the ropes in which bound your hands to the back of the chair.

“don’t.. don’t worry, i’ve got you. you’re safe i’ve got you now.”

and as you fell forward, könig wrapped you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. you knew he would come for you.

[wlntrsldler]

I know, this is gonna hurt our hearts.

But PLEASEEEEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

could you write something that includes

A scene of Y/n and Annabeth after Luke’s betrayal and Annie ask’s Y/n to change her Hair style since Luke isn’t there to do it.

Luke and Y/n were inlove and obviously Annabeth and Y/n are close but Annie made Y/n earn her love just like Thalia did with Annabeth 😭

i wish i hated you | luke castellan

i. hoping life brings you no new pain. i rearrange my memories. i try to rewrite our life.

when annabeth found you in the ares cabin, tears streaming down her face, she looked at you in a way that she hadn't in years. there was anger in her eyes, betrayal and hurt evident on her features. the last time she looked at you like this was when you returned from your quest from your father, nearing death.

you'd woken up with annabeth sitting on the corner of your bed, nearly dozing off as she sat up. luke had been released from the infirmary days prior and was immediately sent off to tend to his counselor duties, much to his dismay. he made annabeth promise him that she'd be by your side when he couldn't be. he didn't want you to wake up alone.

when she saw you groggily wake, she jolted from her seat, face morphing in concern then anger when you had the audacity to smile at her. she burst into tears, repeating the words, "i hate you!"

alarmed, you immediately wrapped your arms around the nine-year-old's body, trying to get her to calm down. she balled her hands into fists, trying not to hit you as you were healing from your wounds.

"annie, what's wrong?" you asked, confused at what could've made the girl so angry. "what's happening?"

"y-you promised!" she sobbed, clutching onto your blood-soaked shirt. "you promised me you'd be careful! you promised that nothing bad would happen to you. you promised."

two days ago, you were thrown around by a minotaur, breaking nearly every bone in your body and were coughing up blood, but somehow, hearing the brokenness in annabeth's voice hurt more than all of your injuries. you thought about the promise you and luke made to her before you went off on your quest; a promise that she would not lose another family-figure in her life, like she'd lost thalia, a promise that you'd return in a few days, triumphant and ready to teach her how to improve her aim in archery, a promise that you'd come back with stories from the city and your first real date with her brother outside of camp.

"they said you died," she cried, rubbing her eyes with her hands, "they said that your heart stopped working."

"annie, i'm okay," you tried to tell her, hoping that your words would bring her some sort of comfort. "see? i'm okay."

"but you weren't," annabeth replied. her big brown eyes looked up at you, bottom lip quivering. she was shaking. "l-luke hasn't slept in days."

your heart dropped at the mention of luke's name. he refused to let you go on the quest without him, even going so far as to bribe the person you chose to let him switch places with them. you refused at first, but quickly learned that your efforts were wasted. once luke castellan made his mind up about something, there was no room for argument.

that's how it was with you. the minute luke realized how he felt about you, there was no pulling back for him. he loved you, truly, deeply, completely. it was something that everyone at camp knew, annie especially. she'd seen the way her brother looked at you, how he cared for you. you were it for him.

so when you and luke returned to camp, unconscious, all annabeth could think about were her first days at camp half blood, watching her brother fight for his life while mourning the loss of thalia. it was a type of pain that was too much to carry for a seven-year-old, and it didn't get any easier two years later.

a year after your quest, when luke returned from his failed one, annabeth said the same words to him when he found her at breakfast. i hate you. but it was the furthest thing from what she actually meant. luke sulked on your bed for days, partly because the whispers and judgment from the campers was beginning to be too much for him, and partly because he felt like he was losing his family again.

now, as a twelve-year-old annabeth marched into the ares cabin, ignoring the complaints of your siblings, those words left her lips again.

"did you know?"

you sat up in your bed, confused, "know what?"

"about luke."

"what about luke?"

she furrowed her eyebrows, head tilting to analyze your face. you looked calm, worn out from the day's festivities, and ready for bed. you wore the bracelet that luke made you for your anniversary on your right wrist, where it permanently stayed on your body since you received it. annabeth bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry. she was exhausted.

"he did it," she whispered, knowing with just one look at you that you had no part in luke's plan. "he stole the bolt."

you froze for a second, then you let out a strained laugh, shaking your head, "good one, annie."

you fluffed your pillows behind you, trying to keep yourself busy because your thoughts were rushing at a million miles an hour. you began thinking of luke's distance, his coldness towards you, his secrets that you knew he kept. you tried to tell yourself it was just because he was tired of being at camp half blood, being 19 and shackled to this life, but you should've known it was more than that. you just didn't want to believe it.

"y/n," annabeth gulped, placing a hand on yours. you stopped your actions, looking at the broken girl in front of you. her tears left streaks down her face.

your eyes pooled with tears, engulfing her in a hug. she buried her head into the crook of your neck, letting go of her tough facade and sobbed into your arms. you wanted to do the same, but you couldn't. not right now. she needed you to be strong.

annabeth slept on your bed while you stayed up, unable to close your eyes to rest. you were afraid of the dreams you would have tonight. your dreams always starred luke castellan, whether they be replays of the memories the two of you made, jumping into the cold water of the lake to escape the summer heat, or training with each other but getting too distracted in the love of it all that your 5-minute breaks turned into hours of pointless conversations, pretending that the both of you lived a normal life.

you weren't ready to have those dreams tainted. not yet.

ii. our shadows dance in a parallel plane. just two different endings, you learn to repair and i learn to keep me in one place.

"annie, what's got you so worked up today?" you asked, nudging the girl. she'd been giving everyone attitude all day, including you, and you didn't know why.

"nothing," she replied, shaking her head. she piled her food on her tray and walked away from you.

you dropped the serving spoon and followed her, "annabeth chase."

annabeth flinched knowing that you only used her full name when she crossed a line. she sighed and turned around to face you. you placed your tray on the table, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for her to explain.

"it's just--" she sighed, her voice suddenly quiet, "some girls were saying stuff about my hair and i know it's not looking its best right now so i've been really on edge about it."

"who was it?" your tone was cold and it made annabeth's eyes widen.

when annabeth first met you, she was guarded. she was mourning the loss of thalia and she was mad at luke for being so open with you so quickly, as if you could somehow take thalia's place. she pushed you away, partly because she was too scared to care for another person the way she did and lose them, lose you. she learned that in the life of a half-blood loss is normal. it's expected. but it didn't make it hurt any less.

you, more stubborn than anyone she'd ever met, kept trying to break into her world and it wasn't long before annabeth felt her resolve crumbling. how could she not when you cared for her more than she deserved with how she treated you? how could she not when you were the first person to bring a real smile to her brother's face? how could she not when she watched luke fall in love with you with every giggle, every stolen look, every squeeze on his hand?

and you loved annabeth like she was your own flesh and blood. you knew that she and luke were a package deal, a family, and you welcomed her with open arms. you grew protective of annabeth. you became the voice of reason in luke's head when he took his older brother duties too seriously, like the time she developed her first crush, or when she was named head counselor despite her young age. annabeth knew she could count on you.

"y/n, it's fine," she gulped, voice dripping with resignation, "it's not just that, i guess--uh, luke used to do my hair, remember? and since he's been gone, i haven't found anyone to do it for me."

"yeah, i remember," you muttered, looking down at your feet for a moment. you'd walked into the hermes cabin and found luke braiding annabeth's hair a few times. annabeth would be sitting crisis cross on luke's bed, talking his ear off as he nodded along from behind her, only half paying attention to what she was saying because he was too focused on getting the young girl's hair perfect.

you'd lean against the doorframe and admire them until they noticed your arrival. if you drowned out the bunks along the walls of the cabin and muffled the sounds of campers running around outside, they were the perfect picture of a brother and sister living a normal life, close as can be.

annabeth would be the first to notice you and she'd tilt her head up in greeting that had luke grumbling because "she needed to sit still," but then his eyes would follow annabeth's line of vision and a smile would appear on his face. you'd sneak a kiss to his lips that had the girl grimacing despite not seeing it happen, and you and luke would laugh, before you would take your place on the stool in front of annabeth. she'd have the conversation with you then and luke could focus on his task.

"do you..?" you trailed off, clearing your throat. "do you want me to try to do your hair?"

"would you?" she asked, hopeful. it was more than just her hair that she was asking about. those moments when luke and her would sit in the hermes cabin together were some of her favorite memories. she missed talking to him about anything and everything. mostly about his relationship with you. she'd give him ideas for dates, things that you'd like, and he'd enthusiastically thank her, even if he already had those things in mind.

annabeth just needed a sibling. she had plenty in the athena cabin, sure, but she wanted a sibling that wasn't obligated to call her a sister, but rather chose to because they wanted her. you'd never once made her feel unwanted.

"i can try," you said, sending her a shy smile. "i can't promise i'll be great at it, but we can go to the ares cabin after we eat?"

"that sounds good," annabeth replied. there was sorrow swimming in her eyes, a longing that you'd seen when you first met her at camp half blood. "thank you, y/n."

the hunch to her posture made your throat close up. it was a heavy burden for her to carry and if it was up to you, you'd shoulder it on your own to free her from it. "don't mention it, annie."

iii. no matter how guilty i still feel saying it, i wish i hated you.

"y/n?"

you rolled over in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes. in the moonlight, you saw annabeth's silhouette at the edge of your bed. she was wearing her pajamas and hoodie. the braids you did on her two weeks ago cascaded down her back.

you sat up in bed, "what's up, annie? it's late. you should be in your own cabin."

"i know, but i couldn't sleep," she rocked back and forth on her feet. you wondered if you ever looked this young. annabeth was always larger than life when she was with the other campers, a warrior, head counselor, the wisest daughter of athena, but there were moments like this one where it was evident that she was just a child. alone and terrified. "do you think we can take a walk?"

you were slipping your feet into your shoes before you could answer, you nodded and tiptoed out of the cabin, careful not to wake your siblings. you let annabeth lead the way as you softly shut the door to the cabin. there was a bite in the air, a soft breeze that swayed the leaves on the trees. you tugged on the sleeves of the sweater you always slept in, running your fingers over the loose threads from being worn out.

the sweater was luke's. he left it in his drawers when he left camp that night and nobody dared to touch the former counselor's things. his side of the hermes cabin stayed frozen in time; an unmade bed with wrinkles in his sheets, his left shoe poking out from underneath his bed frame, pictures of you and him messily taped to the walls.

"do you think he thinks about us? about camp?" she asked. her voice was so soft you almost didn't hear it. the hooting of the owls was louder than the voice of the girl beside you. "do you think he regrets what he did?"

your mouth felt dry. you blinked a few times, pulling down the sleeve of your sweater to touch the bracelet that you still couldn't bring yourself to get rid off. you licked your chapped lips, wincing at the pain from the cracks, "i-i don't know, annie. it's hard to say."

"well what does your heart tell you?" she tilted her head to look at you. "you know him better than anyone else. what do you think?"

"i like to think that he does," you settled for that. you didn't know if luke regretted his decision. you haven't seen him since that day, not since he placed a longing kiss to your lips, which felt like an omen now that you look back at it, before disappearing to talk to percy.

it was hard to think about what luke was feeling now, but you like to think that he did miss you, miss annabeth, even percy. you know you would if you were in his position. but maybe luke had changed. maybe he wasn't the person you'd grown to love anymore. the thought of it made you ill. would you recognize him if he appeared in front of you right now?

you always believed that in every life you'd know luke. the threads of your life, your being, your existence, would always cross somehow, some way. you believed that you'd recognize him by the sound of his steps, confident and strong, but gentle enough to not incite panic or danger. you'd recognize him by the sound of his breaths, even and calm, except when he would be near you, then it would falter for a second like you'd knocked the air out of his lungs. you'd recognize him by the smell of the air, easy and light, like how it felt to love him.

but you didn't know anymore.

"do you hate him?"

the foliage under your feet crunched under the weight of you as you trudged through the cabin grounds. the sounds of camp seemed to subside as if the whole world was waiting for your answer. your voice wavered when you finally found the courage to speak, "i wish i did."

there was an understanding that settled between you and annabeth as she followed your steps. the world resumed, as it always did. the two of you here in camp half blood and luke somewhere else out there in a place that neither of you could reach. she looked out into the mountains, "me too."

[rayan12sworld]

💙🧡Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down

By:KizuKatana

Summary:

Wei Wuxian would like to think that - if he had known that Lan Wangji would walk out of his life immediately after they hooked up- he wouldn’t have given into his ridiculous attraction for the man. He wished he were better at lying to himself.

Guest-starring Lan Wangji’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters

Chapter:10/10

Words:63,215

Status:completed

“I don’t work with major sects. Especially not the Lan.”

~~

He had to see Wei Ying, to make sure he was okay. He hadn’t been allowed to see Wei Ying six years ago, and the man had nearly died. Would have died if Wen Qing hadn't randomly happened to be interviewing at Gusu hospital that same day. It was unacceptable that a sheer coincidence was the only reason Wei Ying was still alive. The company Lan Wangji’s family owned had put Wei Ying at risk, then abandoned him. Someone in his family’s company had made the decision to fire Wei Ying without notice, which violated company policy. Someone in his family’s company had further made the decision to pull medical support over a policy that was clearly not meant to be used in this way. Lan Wangji was going to find this ‘ someone .’ And when he did… Lan Wangji cut himself off at the shocking violent images that flickered through his normally peaceful mind. There was precedent for such punishments. Though much of his ancestor’s history had been burned, enough survived to make it clear that Lan discipline had always been harsh. In the modern context, he knew such measures would be viewed as archaic… even barbaric. But cultivators were given leeway by the authorities and society at large to handle their own business. Lan Wangji felt a primal sort of anger and thirst for vengeance that - for the first time in his life - made him fiercely glad that there would be no boundaries to stay his hand if he found the one responsible for Wei Ying’s treatment.

~~

“You never told me that you and Hanguang-Jun had been romantically involved.” Wei Wuxian choked on his in-drawn breath, which sent him into a coughing fit that lasted almost a minute. “What?!” He wheezed, when he could finally form words again. “Why would you think… it was only… we weren’t romantically involved. Fuck, who says shit like that?” Wen Qing eyed him skeptically. “If you’re trying to play this off cool, you are failing spectacularly. Though that’s nothing new.”

~~

Lan Xichen shot him a sideways glance, and continued to scroll. “Wangji…,” Lan Xichen said after several more pages of scrolling. “Did you have time to do anything other than follow Wei Wuxian around and document his actions?” Lan Wangji felt his ears heat as report after report with his signature flashed across the screen. He had, perhaps, not realized that there were so many reports he had written about Wei Ying. “I was the Compliance officer,” Lan Wangji replied tersely. “Mn,” Lan Xichen said, an unforgivable smirk appearing on his face. “You wrote him up for wearing too few layers on a night hunt after being covered in Yao viscera and changing into civilian attire?” Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. Wei Ying had been wearing only shorts and a tee-shirt. It had been a professional trip. It had been… distracting. “You know that most people don’t flirt by giving citations of minor rule violations to the person they are interested in, right?” Lan Xichen persisted, openly laughing at him, even if it was only with his eyes. “ Ge ,” Lan Wangji said repressively, which only served to amuse Lan Xichen more.

~~

He also really wanted to run his sword through Su She, metaphorically. And also literally. His hand flexed around the cool, smooth hilt of Bichen. He trusted his brother, but Lan Xichen was kind. Su She did not deserve kindness. “Please trust me, Wangji,” Lan Xichen pleaded, as if reading his brother’s thoughts. “Su She must face discipline. According to the sect rules, not civilian laws,” Lan Wangji stated. He would not bend on this.

[mlmxreader]

Nothing Will Be the Same Again | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

anonymous asked: hello, how are you?, could you make an imagine with simon and reader with the phrase """Stop looking at me like that." "Like what?" "Like I mean everything to you.""

summary: you're not ready for this moment, sitting with Ghost in a hospital room and sobbing your eyes out - you're not ready.

tws: death, blood

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Nervously, you chewed and pulled the flesh from your bottom lip as you did your best not to become distracted by everything around you; by the lifeless and dull room you were packed into, throat dry and the stench of hand sanitiser clogging your already blocked nose.

You couldn't believe that it was all happening, a stinging and pounding headache at the very front, body aching as the last few sobs were ripped from the back of your throat; snot so thick on your sleeve that you could feel its cool lick against your skin, nose burning and itching from being rubbed against the coarse material of your jacket far too many times.

You could hardly see anything, it was all blurry and white when the LED lights caught your eyes. You kept begging, kept pleading, asking the guy upstairs if he could just do you one favour and not take your beloved away from you.

"Not my baby, please," you would whisper, voice raw and hoarse as you shook your head, chest aching. "Please, anyone but my baby. Please, that's all I'm asking, just not him."

You knew there would be no answer, you weren't sure if you really wanted one anyway, but that still didn't stop you from begging and pleading; you needed to put the blame on someone, needed someone to scream at so at least you could make some sense of the cruel and unjust fate you were being subjected to.

The senseless and needless heartache that made your body tremble, bottom lip quivering every second, breaths ragged; you wondered if the doctors and nurses would barge in and demand to know who you were screaming at, but that thought soon faded when you wiped your eyes and saw the condition he was in.

Strapped up to dozens of monitors, drips feeding into his arms, tubes in his nose; his eyes weren't the same, cloudy and almost entirely a greyish blue, even the whites. He wasn't telling you army jokes that made you roll your eyes, refused to eat and drink.

You knew it wouldn't be long, but you didn't want him to leave.

His breathing was ragged and quick, panting more than anything, gasping and wheezing with every single breath that he took; he was in pain, wincing and seething even though he still tried to hide it. You could hardly bear to see him like that, collapsing into the navy blue chair beside him, holding on tightly to his hand as you sniffled and wiped your nose on the knee of your jeans instead.

"Don't go," you begged softly, bottom lip quivering yet again. "Please, Simon, don't go anywhere. I can't follow you if you do."

He was weak, and he was fading fast, you could see it in his clouded eyes, in the panicked and racing breaths, in the painful way that he coughed and spluttered; when he had the strength, he could talk but it took far too much out of him to say even just one word. You didn't wonder where the team were.

Gaz, Soap, Price. They had left hours ago, when the final cracks of sunlight were still streaming through the straight and unmoving curtains; they told you that you were there if you needed anything, but none of them wanted to hang around. They knew how much you and Ghost needed to be alone, they understood.

You whimpered, grasping his hand and holding on tightly as you sniffled and swallowed thickly; your throat was sticky, and it was nearly painful to so much as try and force the words out from the back of your throat. You had known Ghost for years, his only friend from childhood, his only partner in life. You were meant to be getting married soon, everything had already been planned.

Now, he was getting ready to leave you all alone; a life without Ghost. Home wouldn't exist anymore, just a sore and weeping wound; a gash where the bed was. A stab wound where the kitchen used to be and where you used to dance together; the same kitchen where he asked you to marry him.

Flowers wouldn't be as bright without him in your life. Love songs would only make you feel resentment and anger. You wouldn't be able to drink coffee without him making him every morning. You wouldn't be able to steal his hoodies and grin when he said that you looked so much better in them than he did. The smell of his aftershave and cologne wouldn't stick to the bedsheets.

"Simon, please," you growled, hot tears streaming down your face, snot dribbling from the tip of your nose as you gently shook his hand. "Simon. Don't... don't leave me all alone."

Ghost slowly shook his head, spluttering as he coughed and struggled to sit upright. "Stop it."

"What?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I mean everything to you," his voice was so hoarse, every syllable was barbed wire against the roof of his mouth and the soft flesh of his throat. The taste of blood heavily on his tongue as he let out a long and hard wheeze. "Let me go, sweetheart."

You shook your head, able to feel your stomach drop and all energy fade from your body as you whimpered; he sank down against the scratchy bed and pillows, and let out a few more splutters. He was so tired. "I can't let you go... what am I gonna do without you?"

You knew what he would say if he could; that you were smart, a lot smarter than he was, and you would figure it out with time. You knew he would try and ease your pain with words of reassurance, but as you watched the last breath leave his lips, the monitor going flat and starting to drone, you knew.

You knew, more than anything, that there would be no reassurance.

[romione-trope-fest]

Home Remedy

Fic Title: Home Remedy

Author Name: honouraryweasley12

Selected Trope: Cockblocker Harry

Brief Summary: The aftermath of Malfoy Manor is a time for healing and honesty for Hermione and Ron.

Word Count: 2550

Rating: PG

Any Trigger Warnings: Mentions of torture, descriptions of pain, hurt/comfort

~*~

Hermione tried her best to be silent as she haltingly snuck her way down the stairs of the cozy cottage. It wasn’t as if she could move faster anyway; her entire being was sore from the ordeal she’d experienced.

It was hard to believe they had narrowly escaped a few short hours ago. She should be fast asleep, letting her body rest and recuperate, especially given the amount of pain potion both Fleur and Ron had insisted she drink.

One small issue was bothering her though, distracting her from being able to truly slumber. Ever since she was little, she’d had trouble sleeping when she had a scratchy throat. She hated that ticklish feeling and needed to put a stop to it to have any chance at real rest.

She realized she’d need some light as she entered the darkened room. The wand of her torturer felt foreign in her hand, and she loathed it. That simple stick of dark wood had almost been her end. It certainly had been for others over the years. She nearly gagged in disgust at the thought of it. The lives that had been ruined, Neville’s parents in particular. She’d somehow been spared a similar fate.

Hermione found an empty jar and reluctantly conjured a bluebell flame to illuminate the tidy kitchen, surprised that the wand was capable of anything other than hurt—though the light didn’t burn as brightly as it should.

She shuffled around the unfamiliar space, soundlessly opening and peering into the organized cabinets, not wanting to wake the boys sleeping in the living room. Her thoughts veered, as they often did, to one of those boys in particular.

Ron had saved her tonight. Words had never been his strong suit—he’d often shown his feelings through his actions, all the way back to when he knocked out that troll to save her. At Malfoy Manor it had been both. His actions had brought her to safety, but it was his words that reverberated in her mind.

He tried to take her place with his words, and he’d shown her how he felt—how much she meant to him—with his screams for her in the midst of the worst moments of her life. An anchor she’d held onto. She’d almost lost the opportunity to share her own feelings with him… forever.

Hermione stumbled, suddenly weakened and dizzy. She had truly been seconds away from her death, the realization slamming into her. Her grief caused her to sway, unsteady, and her body spasmed with a wave of burning pain. She gasped for air, overwhelmed, her breathing shallow and her chest pounding.

She managed to get to the table and hold onto the top of a chair for a few moments, half bent over and white-knuckled. Her breaths slowed as she regained her senses and she stood up straight again, the pain finally fading.

Hermione knew she needed to get back into bed, but the episode irritated her throat further, causing her to let out a loud cough, unable to react quickly enough to silence it with the cloth of Fleur’s robe.

A creak of old flooring alerted her and she spun to her side, wand in hand to find the same lanky redhead who was dominating her thoughts standing in the doorway, hands up defensively.

She quickly lowered her arm, leaning her body heavily against the chair as her hand flew to her chest. “Sorry, you startled me.”

Ron’s look of concern did not go unnoticed. “Are you all right, Hermione? You should be resting.”

She nodded, not wanting to worry him with the news of her dizzy spell. He’d done enough for her already. “I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Really? You had enough potion to knock out a hippogriff.”

She nodded. “I know, but my throat was bothering me.”

Ron was immediately at her side. He reached up and his fingers ghosted against the new scar on her neck, causing her to shiver from the brief contact. “Is it this?”

She shook her head, her voice low. “No, Fleur healed that. I think it was from the screams earlier, it’s just feeling a bit irritated. What are you doing up?”

Ron blushed and looked down at her sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just going to check on you, but then I heard something in the kitchen.”

Her eyes softened. “That’s sweet of you.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t sleeping well either, not with… everything that happened.” He cleared his throat and let out a quiet cough of his own.

Silence lingered between them for a moment, before Hermione blurted out, “I couldn’t find any Pepperup Potion, so I was going to make an old home remedy. My mum used to make it whenever I had a cold. Would you like some? I wasn’t… I wasn’t the only one screaming earlier.”

Ron blushed again, and nodded, his voice a touch gravelly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He watched for a moment as she moved around the kitchen, getting out two ceramic cups and filling a kettle, her outline lit by the flickering blue flames. “Can I help?”

“Yes, do you know where they keep the honey?”

She let out a yelp as she felt his presence behind her. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest as he trapped her against the counter, not quite touching her, but his body heat evident through her thin pajamas and robe. He grabbed the jar of sweetener from a high shelf, and placed it down in front of her, but didn’t move away.

Ever so slowly, she took a step back and leaned against his solid form, both of them letting out a sharp breath from the contact. The comfort of being so close was desired after the forced separation earlier.

“Is this all right?” she whispered.

“More than all right. Hermione, I—”

She grimaced as another spasm of pain suddenly wracked her body, the moment lost. She let out an anguished groan.

Ron’s tone changed immediately. “Shit, what is it?”

“Hold… me.” It was all she could manage through her gritted teeth.

Ron embraced her, enveloping her in his arms and his warmth, his whispered words unclear in her ears. She turned and sunk into him with closed eyes, riding out the agony as she gripped him tightly, all pretenses falling away.

She gulped for air before looking up to see his fringe of copper hair, almost covering his wide searching eyes. “Thank you, it’s passed.”

His hands ran up and down her arms, calming her. He gently walked her over to the chair and helped her sit down, before crouching down in front of her and grabbing her hands. “What was that?”

“Residual effects of the curse. Fleur said it’ll go away in a few days.”

Concern was painted all over his expressive face. “Merlin, Hermione. That was bloody scary. You need to rest; I need you to get better,” he pleaded with her. “You have to get better.”

She freed a trembling hand and placed it on his blazing cheek. “I will, I promise. After the drink, please? Otherwise I’ll be tossing and turning all night.”

Ron relented and nodded, before standing up and pushing up his sleeves. “Look, you sit there and tell me what to do. Don’t strain yourself, Hermione. Let me help.”

She slumped in the chair, exhaustion weighing heavily, allowing herself to be taken care of briefly. “Boil the water and then cool it down a bit. You’ll need to get a lemon and cut it in half, and see if they have any turmeric.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a spice, it should be a yellow powder.”

She watched as Ron pointed Pettigrew’s wand at the kettle, before searching through the cabinets. After a couple of minutes, he turned with a small glass bottle in hand for her to examine. “This it?”

She nodded. “Now that the water has boiled, put a very weak cooling charm on it, and then add a teaspoon of turmeric.”

He nodded and saluted, causing her to roll her eyes. It almost felt normal, for the first time since his return. They felt like Ron and Hermione again. She stared at him admiringly until he waved his hand in her face, breaking her out of her musings, a smirk on his face.

“Now what? Finally a chance to boss me around and you’re lost in thought.”

She couldn’t help but grin at the familiar banter. “I was thinking about how nice you were being, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

He pointed the spoon at her. “So cheeky.”

She shook her head. “Squeeze half a lemon into each cup, and then put in a couple of spoons of honey. Stir a bit and then it’ll be ready.”

She smiled again as she watched him concentrate on the task, muttering to himself under his breath, like he would in Potions class. He seemed to have success as he quickly cleaned up, before coming to the table holding the two mugs. He placed one in front of her, before taking the seat beside her.

She cupped her hands around the warm ceramic and took in a deep breath, the smell reminding her of her mum. Hermione didn’t want to dwell on that thought, so she took a sip, letting the healing liquid soothe her raw throat.

“Mmm, perfect.”

Ron took his own sip. “This is really good.”

“It is, isn’t it? My throat feels better already.”

“Why didn’t you just use magic to heal it?”

She took another sip from her cup. “This is better—magic just can’t replicate that comforting feeling. Besides…” Hermione paused, biting on her lip as she fought the tears threatening to form in her eyes.

Ron clasped her hand on the table, their fingers weaving together in an attempt to comfort. “What is it?”

Hermione nodded at the sinister rod of wood on the table. “I wasn’t ready to use this wand on myself again.”

Ron pulled his chair closer to hers, and put his other arm around her shoulders. “Hermione… you were incredible tonight.”

She shuddered. “I feel so weak, so helpless.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “You are anything but that. You’re so bloody strong.”

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and took another sip, before she snuggled into him, her defenses lowered. “I almost gave up, but hearing your voice, it helped me keep fighting.”

“Hearing you…” Ron stopped and shook his head, his face a picture of anguish. He took a few breaths to regain his composure. “Seeing what you’re going through now, I wish I could just take away the pain somehow.”

“This is helping.”

They sat in silence for a moment, until Hermione looked up at him tenderly. “Ron, tell me something good.”

He watched her for a moment, as if he was making up his mind about something. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She gasped, her eyes widening when she realized what he’d said out loud. She let out a nervous giggle and tried to joke, “I thought you’d say something about the Cannons or your mum’s cooking.”

She’d never seen him so serious when he leaned down, his blue eyes locked to hers. “It’s the truth, Hermione. What happened tonight just reminded me…”

She craned her neck to get closer. “Reminded you of what?”

His voice was hoarse, despite the drink. “That you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve been laying in bed thinking about how differently this night could have gone.” He shuddered and closed his eyes. “I just kept picturing my life without you and I couldn’t stand it.”

“Oh, Ron.” She lifted a hand to his cheek for the second time that night. “I’m here. You haven’t lost me.”

His face came down and he placed his forehead against hers. The room suddenly felt charged, like something momentous, life-changing was about to happen. Their eyes were locked and their breath mingled. She moistened her lips and nodded imperceptibly, as if giving him permission.

He leaned forward and they both knew what was about to happen. He closed the distance and whispered, “Hermione.”

“Ron.” Her eyelids fluttered to a close in anticipation of finally kissing him.

The floor creaked loudly and their eyes shot open in a panic, causing them to fly apart. Ron’s elbow knocked into his mug, upending his drink in the commotion.

Harry stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes half-open in the dim light as he squinted at them with admonishment. “What are you doing up? You both should be asleep.”

As they scrambled to clean up the mess and come to terms with what could have been, Harry strode to the sink and filled a glass, chugging down his water before dropping into the seat across from them. He was blissfully unaware of what he’d interrupted, though his eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion and grief.

“We were just having some tea,” Hermione stated, her eyes shooting to Ron.

Despite the disappointment evident on his face, he gave her a half-smile as if reassuring her that things would be fine. She met his look and silently gestured to Harry, willing Ron to understand that they’d have to put things on hold for the sake of the mission. He nodded in agreement, though the intensity and love in his eyes didn’t waver, promising her more.

Harry spoke up, his voice low and pained. “We all need to rest. Are you just about done?”

Hermione gulped down the rest of the drink, before standing up and collecting hers and Ron’s cups, placing them in the sink.

“I’m heading to bed.”

Both boys stood up from the table.

Ron offered his hand. “Do you need help?”

Hermione took it, but shook her head. “I can manage.”

“You shouldn’t need to just manage,” Ron protested. “Let me help.”

“You already did. I can do this. I need to do this.”

“I know you can.”

She let go and reluctantly headed toward the stairs, before turning back to them.

“Good night, Harry.” She smiled widely at Ron and reached for him, hugging him briefly. It was better than any home remedy. “Good night, Ron, and thank you.”

Ron nodded, as Harry glanced between them with narrowed eyes, trying to puzzle something out. The two wizards watched as the brave witch made her way up.

“That was… interesting.”

Ron dropped his head into his hands, before looking up. “You have the absolute worst timing, Harry.”

“It’s kept me alive this long,” he answered flatly. “What happened?”

Ron gaped at him and waved his hands. “Did you not see when you came into the kitchen? I was just about to kiss her, finally.”

“You were? Sorry mate, bad luck.”

“Yeah, bad luck.” Ron ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “I’m going to kiss her one day. I don’t care if you know.”

Harry snorted. “If she doesn’t snog you first.”

That quip caused Ron to grin, in awe of the witch that meant so much to him. He stared toward the second floor with longing. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“As long as I don’t have to witness it.”

Ron shot him a dirty look. “You’d better bloody not.”

[andreal831]

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but what do you think about Elijah’s reaction to learning that Katherine killed Jeremy? I know a lot people thought that it was odd because Jeremy had just played a part in killing Kol a few episodes before, but I feel like he was more so disappointed in the fact that Katherine hadn’t actually changed.

His reaction had nothing to do with who she killed and more to do with who she had become.

We don't really get to see how Katherine and Elijah ended up together, but we can see that Elijah is clinging onto the Katerina he lost all of those years ago. I also headcanon he was really hanging onto the memory of Tatia. He was trying to save Katherine and then Elena, the way he failed to save Tatia.

Elijah failed to save Katherine from Klaus and it destroyed her, turning her into a selfish, manipulative person that he didn't know. I assume when they got together, he saw hints of the "Katerina" he remembered which is why he was willing to give her a chance.

Elena: "She's a monster now, Elijah. The sweet peasant girl you fell in love with way back when is dead. And she's not coming back." Elijah: "I'm not a fool, Elena. Of course this possibility occurred to me, but what kind of man would I be if I didn't try to find my Katerina beneath this Katherine façade?"

But as Elijah said, he's not a fool. You know what they say, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." At this point, Elijah was willing to believe Katherine, deep down, had a good heart. But watching her do to Elena what Klaus had done to her showed him that the girl he once knew was truly gone. He wasn't willing to give her another chance to make a fool of him.

He felt betrayed because she had lied to him. It wasn't just that she had killed, he can justify that, but the fact that she was lying about it. She was playing him the same way she had played everyone. It would have been completely different if she had told him her plan ahead of time or even right when she came back. But she didn't trust him with her plan and it just reinforced that he didn't really trust her.

Elijah is also able to put logic over emotions. Yes, he was likely angry about Kol's death (although the show didn't spend anytime showing the Mikaelsons actually have reactions to it) he knew starting a war in Mystic Falls wasn't going to solve anything. This is where plot armor comes in because no way would any of these baby vamps and humans have actually walked away after killing Kol and Finn. They all would have been dead before they had the chance to blink, but then TVD would be over. So, instead the plot demands the Mikaelsons to move past it.

It also wouldn't be the first time Elijah has moved on after someone killed one of his loved ones *cough* Klaus *cough*

TVD Elijah was also a lot more practical. He killed very strategically. Similar to TO Season 3, when Hayley is killing Strix members to avenge Jackson, he is not mad at her for killing but shocked that she is doing it so messily, nearly starting a war. He then goes and dispatches them all with a plan. Katherine here didn't let him in on the plan, and we know how much he hates when Klaus does that. I think he saw a lot of Klaus in Katherine in that moment, and lord knows he doesn't need another one.

If Katherine had come back and told him she killed Jeremy because of what Jeremy did to Kol, he would have been fine with it. He would have felt bad for Elena, but at the end of the day, it's not anything different than what Elijah's done for family. Or what the MF gang has done. Again, his issue wasn't about the murder or about Jeremy. It was about the lying that stemmed from a lack of trust. He knew she was still killing people. He wasn't that naïve. He just had hoped she had some line she wouldn't cross. Hoping she had compassion for her ancestor. Hoping that she trusted him enough to protect her.

It's similar to when Celeste comes back in TO Season 1. There's a brief moment of time while he's following her on a tour of New Orleans and he knows it's her, he's willing to give her a chance to explain. He kisses her back and looks so desperate. But then she betrays him (yes, well deserved) and that was the only chance he gave her. Even at the end, when she pleaded with him, he was not going to give her another chance.

Katherine had one chance to show she wasn't the person everyone said she was and without hesitating she did exactly what was expected from her. She wanted the cure to trade for her freedom and there was nothing she wouldn't have done for it. She didn't trust that Elijah would protect her from Klaus (probably wisely) and she didn't trust Elijah with her plans. Without trust, they didn't have much left to fight for in a relationship.

I talk about their relationship more here.

Thanks for the ask!

[walkawaytall]

wip whateverday

So, I started writing this story tentatively titled Word of the Day quite awhile ago, and I’ve been having issues coming up with an ending. I’m actually considering turning it into a Five Times fic. But in the meantime…I kind of wanted to post some of what I have here just ‘cause. This is a sizable excerpt — it is admittedly most of what I have written so far — but…yeah, I dunno, I like the idea in general and like what I have written so far and just felt like sharing today.

Excerpt below the cut!

Jan Dodonna was monologuing again, and even Leia was a little over it. What had started as a simple review of safety protocols had morphed into a full-on lecture. Usually, when Jan got carried away, Carlist eventually interrupted and ended the meeting, but Carlist was stuck in an entirely different meeting and Leia wasn’t sure how Jan would respond to her taking over; when they made decisions for the base or in High Command meetings, her opinion held as much weight as anyone else’s, but he did still technically outrank her, and overriding him in front of the rank and file likely wouldn’t go over well.

“…it is imperative that these incidences are reported to clean-up personnel…”

Someone to her left needed water apparently. They kept coughing and clearing their throat. After the third bout of throat clearing, Leia glanced in the direction of the sound and nearly groaned out loud. Han Solo looked directly at her from several seats away.

He held up four fingers on one hand and lifted his mug of caf to his lips, subtly mouthing the word four before taking a sip.

Leia intended to ignore whatever ridiculousness Han was attempting to rope her into, but he wore such an amused expression — a look she knew from a year of being around the man meant I’m letting you in on a joke — that she felt the need to keep an eye on him, or at least glance his way every minute or so.

“…top priority to keep each and every one of you alive. It is imperative that any instances of daisy-chaining…”

What is Jan going on about? Leia wondered. She could have sworn the agenda for this meeting had been centered entirely on avoiding heat stroke while they were stuck in a rainforest for the foreseeable future, but he had apparently moved on to electrical safety.

Han cleared his throat again and Leia leveled her gaze at him. He surreptitiously held up all five fingers on the same hand as before, mouthed five, and took a sip of caf.

Leia rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on General Dodonna, forcing herself to pay attention.

“…the local wildlife. We know from the research performed by our naturalists that it is imperative to consider…”

Without realizing what she was doing or why she was doing it, Leia glanced at Han expectantly. He had stopped holding up fingers and merely mouthed six before taking sipping from his mug. He noticed Leia looking at him again and winked.

Han raised his hand and Jan barely stopped himself from grimacing. “Yes, Captain Solo? Do you have a question?”

“Yeah, would you say all this is important?”

General Dodonna sputtered in disbelief. “Yes, Captain Solo. Have you be listening at all? It is imperative that crash webbing…”

Leia turned to look at Han right as he mouthed seven and she finally recognized the pattern. He was counting every time Jan said the word imperative. Why he was doing this, Leia assumed, was something only he knew.

Han lingered after the meeting, waiting for Leia to step away from General Dodonna and a few members of the Gold Squadron before approaching her, an easy grin on his face. “You get it?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “What? The fact that you need a lozenge?” Han frowned slightly and Leia decided to put him out of his misery. She leaned toward him slightly and lowered her voice. “Or the fact that General Dodonna said imperative eleven times?”

“It’s the word of the day,” Han said solemnly.

“Clearly.”

“I mean literally.” He glanced over Leia’s head, presumably at Jan to make sure he was occupied, and slipped her a small, folded piece of paper.

Leia unfolded the fragile sheet, wondering why Han was carrying paper around at all when flimsi was so much more durable and readily available on base. The printed side of the slip of paper looked familiar, though Leia couldn’t place her finger on where she had seen it before. It contained the day of the week, the date, and the word imperative along with its definition.

It was a page from one of those cheap daily calendars, the kind with a vocabulary word assigned to each day. They had been all over the Senate offices in a variety of languages — she had been gifted one for Shyriiwook as a tasteless joke once from someone who considered the language of an enslaved species beneath humans. She had been sure to mention to anyone who would listen while in the gifter’s presence that they had inspired her to actually learn the basics of the language in a brazen attempt to make everyone involved feel uncomfortable.

The page Han had handed to her was from a Basic version of the calendar, and Leia realized where she had seen it before. She looked at Han in alarm. “Did you steal this from General Dodonna’s desk?” she hissed.

Han appeared affronted by the question. “‘m a lot of things, Your Worship, but I ain’t a thief.” He paused. “Not in awhile, anyway.”

She was tempted to derail the conversation entirely in order to delve into what length of time the smuggler considered awhile, but Han’s possession of the calendar page seemed more pressing. “How exactly do you have it, then?”

“Dodonna made a special request for his. Figure there had to be somethin’ interesting about it if he was comin’ to me for a favor, so I bought two: one for him, one for me. Turns out the calendars are just as boring as they sound.”

“How disappointing,” Leia said drolly.

Han shrugged. “Nah. Now I get to see how many times I can make him say it. Makes these meetings go by faster at least.”

She grimaced. “You’re supposed to be paying attention during meetings.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “If you can name half of the topics that were talked about in the past hour, I’ll take that job to Fondor you’ve been harassin’ me about.”

Leia raised her eyebrows. “The one you said was a suicide mission?”

“Uh-huh.” He smirked.

They really needed Han to make the run to the Fondor shipyards, and Leia was not beneath winning a bet to secure something so crucial for the Alliance. The only problem was…Well, Jan really had monologued excessively

“Exactly,” Han preened triumphantly after Leia was quiet for an extended period of time.

“The meeting was supposed to be about heat exhaustion and heat stroke warning signs,” she whispered.

“One outta eight ain’t bad, Princess, but it ain’t exactly half.”

She huffed softly, unable to recall more, but certainly unwilling to admit defeat to Han kriffing Solo.

The smuggler read her anyway, apparently. “Need to make a coupla repairs, but we can probably leave for Fondor in the next few days.” He grinned at her, patted her shoulder, and walked away before she could respond, leaving Leia confused, but fairly certain that he’d planned to take the job no matter who had won his bet.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, reminded for what had to be the thousandth time that she would never understand the mind of Han Solo.

*****

Early morning all-hands meetings were particularly miserable on Hoth. In order to speak to everyone at once, they had to schedule the meetings to overlap shifts, which meant Leia had to be out of her quarters long before the sun even considered rising. She was frigid, she had barely managed half a night’s sleep, and nearly every reason for holding an all-hands involved distributing information that no one wanted to hear.

This morning’s meeting held one agenda item: the unfortunate news that the five outposts that hadn’t yet packed up had to postpone their moves to Hoth for at least a week due to some suspicious Imperial activity in the Anoat system, which meant they would continue running Echo Base with skeleton crews for the time being. In addition, they were also looking at a possible lockdown for the base if the activity didn’t diminish soon. General Dodonna had volunteered to break the news, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of the entire rank becoming irritated en masse. Leia had been relieved; she had enough going on without adding the ire of an entire base to her list of things to deal with.

She settled into a seat in the front row, staring at her datapad as others filed into the mess for the meeting. Carlist and couple of officers who had already been briefed on the news were running things in the Command Center, but every other being in the base crammed into the common area, apparently bound and determined to find somewhere to sit or stand that wasn’t the front row of seats. Leia chose not to take their avoidance personally.

Someone settled into the seat next to her, and Leia glanced to the side, catching sight of a blue parka sleeve — outerwear that, though familiar, was certainly not Alliance-issued. She raised her eyes to look at Han, who shoved a mug from the cabinets of the Millennium Falcon into her hands without uttering a word.

“My hero,” she murmured, staring into the mug for a moment before taking a sip. She honestly wasn’t sure if she was talking to Han or the caf.

“Any chance you’ll just tell me what’s goin’ on so I can get back to my bunk?”

Leia shook her head and took another sip of caf. It was the better blend from the Falcon, and though she was appreciative of the gift, she had no plans to break protocol this time. “I need you here so you can react calmly and reasonably to General Dodonna’s announcement in order to keep the peace.” Han, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was looked up to by the majority of the rank. If he didn’t react poorly to the news, often the majority of personnel would fall in line behind him. Plus, the meeting would simply be less dreadful with him next to her, though Leia had no plans to tell him that.

“Need to know what I’m reactin’ to if you want it to seem legit,” he countered.

Before she could answer, Jan took his spot at the front of the room, raising his voice to attract the attention of the everyone in the mess hall. The crowd quieted, and Jan began the announcement.

“Thank you all for being here this morning. I know these all-hands cause a certain level of vexation…”

Han cleared his throat softly and took a sip of his own caf, a signal the Leia had grown incredibly familiar with over the past couple of years. She hazarded a glance and a smile in his direction, though she wasn’t convinced that his assessment was right, and continued to listen for another possible candidate for General Jan Dodonna’s word of the day.

Determining which word would grace that day’s calendar page had become part of the game. Han still had a copy — he purchased a duplicate every year — but he had sworn that he wouldn’t look at it without Leia present, and from what she could tell, he hadn’t broken that promise so far. It had become a bit of a tradition, looking at that day’s page after dinner. Even on days Leia was so busy that she ate at her desk, she could expect a thin, small piece of paper to be slipped to her at some point during the evening as long as Han was planetside.

Guessing the word of the day correctly was the only real way to win, but counting the number of times Jan used it kept them both entertained. Leia had grown to sort of revel in the fact that no one seemed to notice her silent exchanges with Han during meetings. Their silly little game was their secret, and one she felt was worth keeping.

The word quintessential piqued Leia’s interest; it seemed a more likely candidate than vexation to her. After two more uses of the latter, however, she had to concede defeat, and resigned herself to simply count Jan’s uses of the word for the rest of the meeting, exchanging silent glances with Han as they took sips of caf with each one.

Half an hour and ten uses of the word later, Han raised his hand. “I ain’t bothered by the precautions; seems pretty reasonable, and I’m sure everyone here agrees. But have we heard from the outposts? How’re they feelin’?”

Jan raised his eyebrows slightly, seemingly pleased by the question. He nodded. “Yes, we have, and we are aware of the general consensus of vexation among the officers…

Han looked directly at Leia, took a sip of his caf, and grinned.

After the meeting adjourned, Leia spent the rest of the long day addressing questions and being generally unavailable for anything other than Alliance work well past dinner. She was able to hurry through the food line, taking the most convenient options available so she could get back to her desk quickly. When she made it back mere minutes after leaving, a small square of paper sat face up in the middle of her desk, the word vexation printed in the center in bold letters.

[dungeonegg]

Kust wanted to give you all a quick little update about how things have been going. This is gonna be a bit long so I'll do the cut thing here.

A couple weeks ago, my mom asks me if we can afford car payments to go up because she wants to trade in the leased car for a new car. I tell her if it's really what she wants, we'll figure it out. So the dealership orders in a new car for her. Then three days ago, she shows me the back of her phone because she noticed an issue with it.

Not sure if the photo will post but if not, the glass over her camera on the back if somehow perfectly shattered over one of the lenses and a bit in a few other spots too. Major safety issue. She did end up getting glass feom it in her finger at one point. So on top of a new car, new phone needed. So off to the provider we go the next day to get a new phone. During that process, mom decides we're updating mine as well since neither of us have updated in like five years or so. Because it was late when we got there, they couldn't activate or transfer things same day so we get an appointment to come back the next day to do that.

So yesterday was the appointment. I let my coworkers know that hey, need to leave pretty much right when we close to go to this appointment as it's like a 30 minute drive to get there. Around 230 or so my one coworker comes back from lunch with a thing of canned air to clean his station which is right next to mine. He then decides to experiment with it by holding it upside down and spraying coins. Not a big deal. Next thing j know, he's frozen his pen.

Apparently the combined smell of chemically frozen ink and way too much canned air in a sort of small space was too much for me. So I start coughing. Trying to help someone cash their check and I keep having to stop to cough. But get that done and go to the other room to put away cash. Bear in mind, at this stage I've already told coworker he's never allowed canned air again and he's apologized several times. Can't stop coughing. Go to break room to sit for a moment and get something to drink, help with the cough. One of my other coworkers is there and just kinda staring at me like "dude, wtf" so I tell him what happened. He immediately gets worried and tells me to sit and do I want him to kick first coworker, because he will. Give mom a call to let her know what happened. During the call, start trying to clear my throat. By this point, I'm coughing, hacking, and gagging. Apparently I can give the exorcist a run for their money, according to my coworker and it sounds like I'm possessed by the devil. Nearly throw up. Mom tells me to stop outside so I can get some fresh air, which helped a bit so I go back inside to sort money and sell to vault.

Continue coughing. So I go make some tea and send possibly the most British texts (my mother is 1/2 British, 1/2 Irish) I have ever sent in my life: 'making tea. Coworker is never allowed canned air again'. Normally when I make tea, there's milk and sugar in it but since the only milk there is expired by three months, I threw out the milk and just added a TON of honey with the sugar. Not my favorite taste but not bad and it seriously helped so much. My poor coworker who'd brought the canned air kept apologizing. Later, I was telling my boss what happened only to wind up explaining that you're not supposed to shake canned air, which apparently she has done every time she uses it.

Anyway, get out of work, go to phone appointment, that takes about an hour, then off to dealership so we can get the new car. We were there for a couple hours to get paperwork and everything finished up. Luckily there wasn't too much because mom had been earlier and done a bunch of it but car wasn't ready then which is why we had to go back. Have been sporadically coughing the entire time.

Did manage to get a bit of progress on a little drabble thing for Dungeon Egg that I'm using as a way to get a better grasp of some of the characters. Honestly it deals with a bit of a spoiler for one of them so probably won't be releasing it for a while still but I will release it eventually.

I promise, I'm still working on the demo! Not entirely sure when I'll have it up hut hoping to do so within the next couple weeks or so. No promises other than you guys will know as soon as it's available!

[clovesnz]

Story that turned out longer than intended about my angst regarding early experiences with the kink. Kinda feel a little uncomfy writing about me as a kid cause like this is a sex blog but also I feel like this kinda thing is so universal and sometimes my brain feels like it’s gonna explode just carrying all of it because wtf

Oh my god I had this friend as a kid and we did so much stuff together that was so incredibly related to this kink and it kills me that it was probably only me feeling a type of way about it. Because from my memory it was mutual, like we both came up with these things, but in retrospect I know it’s just unlikely. But we had a game called “the sneezing game” where one of us was shopkeeper of a very dusty shop and the other would be customers, and you would just pretend to be different people with different reactions to the dust. It was…a lot. Like very in line with the tropes within the community in terms of the scenarios we came up with. And we played it a lot. We even had a variation we played in their hot tub where it was a natural hot springs surrounded by dusty dirt that made people sneeze?? And then a few years later in middle school this friend actually developed a dust allergy and like described to me in great detail how they were staying in a friend’s RV and just kept sneezing. I think at that point I had figured things out more and the whole time I was like oh god why would you tell me this.

But then the other thing is that, as a child I had INSANE germaphobia. I would yell at someone if they were sick around me. I didn’t want to be around my friends if even their family members were sick. I would cry, freak out, it was a lot. But this friend (same one), I just really liked them. I don’t know how to describe this friendship but it was different than any other I’d had (I’ve wondered since then if it was non-platonic on my end but I also think maybe I saw them as a protective figure because they were two years older than me). And when they got sick, they would just straight up tease me for being scared of them. In like a “don’t be a pussy just come hang out with me” kinda way. And somehow that made it easier to put away my fear. It almost felt liberating, because they were just so not careful. Coughing uncovered, blowing their nose into their bare hand. Everything I would normally hate. I remember distinctly the first time I caught a cold from them, and I was exited. Not an emotion I’d ever felt about having a cold. But I just wanted to share everything with them. It felt like we were both in on something, and we spent all this time together just being sick and I didn’t have to worry about getting sick or getting them sick cause we both already were. And at the time I got the impression that they felt the same way about it. But it was so long ago that I can’t really remember where I got that impression from.

I probably wouldn’t think about this as much, except that I still actually run into them sometimes because we are still practically neighbors and have mutual friends. I mean there is a lot of other baggage on my end with this person like the part where I was possibly in love with them but the sneeze stuff especially just kinda like…haunts me lol. Like every time I see them. I’m like that is the same person oh god.

I guess if they were a fellow snzfucker they might be on snzblr and could see this, so like…I guess if this sounds like you hmu lmaooo (yes I know the chances of this are nearly impossible but I can dream)

[arotechno]

O. basilicum, part x

Whenever Frida was occupied with other business, it became Basil’s job to keep watch over Ace, one which he took rather seriously, if reluctantly. After all, it was one thing to miss a person. It was quite another to have him drop abruptly back into your life, bleeding and nearly-dead. It wasn’t exactly the ideal circumstances for a reunion.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Ace spent most of his time sleeping. When he wasn’t, he mostly just lay there quietly. He had always been the less outgoing of the two of them, always trailing behind and keeping everyone else in town at arm’s length. But around Basil, once they’d revealed their secret to each other, Ace had always opened up like a flower at the first sign of spring. Now, the silence felt oppressive. If Basil let it drag on long enough, his mind would drift back to all the things that frightened him. So he kept himself talking, even if Ace was barely keeping his eyes open.

“You would like the community garden,” he said. “I’ll show it to you soon. Maybe once you’re— you’re not listening at all, are you?”

“I am,” Ace insisted. He regarded Basil wearily from across the room, green eyes bloodshot and drooping. Basil wondered if he had looked that bad when he’d first arrived in Verdigris. Knowing how bruised and malnourished he’d been—and how small—he must have looked even worse.

What a terrible image.

Ace didn’t seem frightened, though. He never shied away from Frida or Basil. Instead, he only seemed to regard the situation with resignation. On a few occasions, Basil caught him staring straight ahead with a hardened expression, but he always dropped it the moment he noticed Basil enter the room.

Basil sighed.

“You really could have died, you know. It’s a miracle your lungs weren’t punctured.”

“I know.”

“Do you… want to talk about what happened?”

Ace slid his gaze away from Basil.

“No.”

Basil didn’t push him to talk. He briefly considered telling Ace everything, but then thought better of it.

“You’re lucky,” he said instead.

Ace barked out a laugh and then coughed weakly, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m serious. Most people wouldn’t survive a wound like that. We’re both lucky you did.”

“I don’t feel lucky,” Ace muttered.

Basil frowned. He stretched out his leg and the muscles twinged with the motion. Wincing, he rubbed at his knee.

“Well, whatever happened, you’ll be safe here,” he said. “I know Frida already told you that. But it’s nothing like Amistadia out here.”

Ace gave him an odd look. Then he turned away again, expression strangely wistful, laying a hand over his chest.

“You don’t know that,” he said softly.

Basil didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what he should say. He wanted to grab Ace by the shoulders and shout at him, wished he could project eight years directly into his brain like a beam of heavenly light. He wanted to take his pale, clammy face between his palms and cry out, don’t you know we never deserved it? Don’t you know it was never true? Don’t you understand that this is what real acceptance and safety feels like?

But it didn’t seem proper. So, Basil said nothing.

“It’s not so bad,” Ace said. He shut his eyes and settled down into the blankets. “Amistadia.”

“What?” said Basil, but Ace had already drifted off. That tended to be the way their conversations went these last few days—he would stay awake for brief periods at a time, mostly listening to Basil run his mouth, only to fall asleep mid-way through a thought. Basil let out a sigh and rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Sometimes, when he looked at Ace, all Basil could see was the child he’d once been, eyes blown wide with terror as he’d looked on from afar that day so many years ago. The boy that lay before him now was bigger and taller, with lean muscle that had to have come from years of archery practice. But though they were hardened now, those eyes were much the same. When Ace had opened them like a haunted corpse that first day, lying half-dead in a pool of his own blood, they had been unmistakable. Time and tide may have worn away much of their youthful innocence, but Basil would recognize those eyes anywhere.

He was ashamed to admit, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, that it frightened him.

*

Basil’s parents were dead.

This should not have been a surprise to him, and, in fact, it wasn’t. Basil had assumed them dead for years, because it had been easier than facing the alternative: that they had moved on without him.

However, when Ace revealed this fact to him, it reopened a jagged wound that had been left to fester for eight long years. Basil had never expected an answer. The reality of it—that they had been killed by the king’s royal guard, for the simple crime of letting Basil live—stung far more than he’d imagined it would. He’d assumed they were dead, yes, but he had never wanted it to be true.

It wasn’t the only thing Ace had told him. Once lucid, he had become somewhat of an open book, spilling to Basil with alarming desperation the path that had led him back home to Swallow’s Point. The path that had led him all the way to the castle, that distant towering spire that only seemed like a mirage to Basil now. The path that had led him to killing the king, avenging their parents’ deaths but sentencing himself to bleed out alone deep in the woods.

The whole thing made Basil’s head swim, made his blood run white-hot and his hands tremble. He wasn’t even certain what he was angry at, only that he’d tried so hard to run from this thing inside him, this guilt and shame he’d tried to escape from for years and years, with limited success, but could never truly shake. He didn’t even know what he was afraid of. That it was all his fault? That they’d come for him again? That this new life, the one he’d so carefully built, would crumble, leaving him with nothing once more?

After all that, Basil couldn’t find it within himself to tell Ace the truth: that the curse had never existed, and it didn’t matter.

He thought it best that Ace figure it out on his own. He felt guilty for the subterfuge anyway.

(As it turned out, Ace already knew, and had been struggling to keep it from Basil as well. They were, after all, both very well versed in keeping secrets. Just never from each other.)

The day Ace had his stitches removed, they set up a cot on the other side of Basil’s room for him, freeing up precious clinic space, should it be needed. Frida promised him a proper bed eventually, but Ace merely laughed awkwardly and waved the offer off.

Basil felt strangely embarrassed by the whole affair, surrounded by the humble array of possessions he’d amassed over eight years, while Ace occupied a corner of the room with his small cot and only a few hand-me-down shirts from the neighbors and a cloak to his name. He still had a quiver of arrows, but no bow. (Ann had offered to find him a replacement once he could shoot without ripping open a hole in his chest, but Ace had gone a little bit green at the suggestion. That made sense in retrospect, knowing what he’d done.)

The tension between them had eased substantially ever since they cleared the air regarding all that had transpired, but at times like this Basil still felt like Ace was the ghost he’d once assumed, passing through like a whisper until he was gone. If Basil so much as blinked, Ace would disappear again, fallen to some other sword, some other cruel twist of fate.

Basil was, by necessity, a stubborn optimist. But it didn’t stop the fear from strangling him from time to time, even still.

“Basil,” Ace said. “Basil. Hey.”

With a gasp, Basil jolted awake, hands wound tight around his quilt. The room was pitch black, the howling wind outside heralding the season’s first snowstorm. Basil blinked, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His leg ached something fierce, and he curled in around himself with a stifled groan.

“Basil. Are you okay?”

Something touched Basil’s arm, and he flinched. The hand quickly withdrew.

“Sorry,” Ace said.

“Careful,” Basil coughed out. “I’ve been known to hit.”

(It was true—he had lashed out and smacked Frida once while coming out of a nightmare—but since he was twelve at the time and not particularly strong, he hadn’t left a mark.)

“Right, sorry,” Ace said again in a whisper. Basil couldn’t see him in the dark, but he could sense him there, just beside the bed. “Nightmare?”

“Hush,” Basil said. “Frida doesn’t know I still have them.”

“Why not?”

“She worries.” Basil shook out his hands. “You know how she gets.”

“Right.” Ace paused. “I have them too, you know. Always have, off and on.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Bertrand—the potion master I live with, you remember—I woke him more than once absolutely screaming.”

Basil took note of the use of present tense—live, he’d said—and breathed through a wave of nausea that passed over him.

“What— Can I ask— What are they about?”

“Well… You, mostly,” Ace confessed, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I never stopped wondering where you were, if you’d lived. What I could’ve done. Should’ve done.”

“You were ten years old, Ace.”

“So were you. You wanted me to run, I could tell. I shouldn’t have listened.”

“You couldn’t have done anything. I just didn’t want them to hurt you.”

Ace huffed. “You’re a better person than me, Basil. Always were.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Basil choked out, wrapping himself around his knees while the storm raged on outside.

“Why not? Basil, I killed a man.”

“He deserved it,” Basil shot back, briefly startled by the vitriol in his own voice.

“I don’t care,” Ace said, unfazed. “What good is petty revenge? I’ll bet you they’ve already crowned another. So what’s it matter?”

“I’m not what you think I am,” Basil said, blinking away tears. “I did this to us, Ace. None of this would have happened if I’d been a little more careful like I was told.”

“Scoot over.” The mattress dipped when Ace sat down, still unseen in the dark. “It’s not your fault. They were stupid kids just like us, cruel because they didn’t understand. That’s what you told me, remember? It was just a cruel lie. You didn’t deserve it. Neither of us did.”

“I know,” Basil whispered. A sob bubbled up out of his throat before he could squash it.

“Hey, you’re alright. It’s okay.”

“It’s just— Sometimes I get so angry, and it terrifies me. I don’t even know why I’m so mad. It’s like…”

“Like being strangled from the inside? By something you can’t control?”

“Yeah,” Basil said, sniffling. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“C’mere,” Ace said softly, and before he could move, Basil launched forward in the direction of Ace’s voice. His arms found purchase around Ace’s back, and he clung tight, weeping, while Ace wrapped him in a hug in turn. He chose not to comment on the way Ace was trembling, just slightly, and if Ace noticed the same, he said nothing.

They stayed like that, in the dark while the wind rattled the windowpane, squeezing one another tight until all the pain was gone.

[tinyluminaryzombie]

This Hope is Treacherous Chapter 3

Just finished Chapter 3!! Read the newest chapter of my @jilymicro-oops, This Hope is Treacherous here

(Chapter 1: read on ao3 or read on tumblr)

(Chapter 2: read on ao3 or read on tumblr)

Indeed. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Sirius. No. Of course not,” Lily coughs out. Of course, the first person to call her out on her gigantic crush on James was his best friend. This day is going perfectly.

“Sure, Evans.” Sirius pauses for a moment before continuing, “You know I won’t tell him, right? Like don’t get me wrong, this is the news of the century—Evans don’t look at me like that—but I feel pushing you won’t get us anywhere. And besides, everyone deserves some level of privacy and secrecy.”

Damn, Lily thinks. He’s making it so difficult to be mad. It’s quite unfortunate, really.

“I’ll take someone of those culinary confections now.”

With re-heated French Toast and fresh coffee, they plopped down on the couch. Between bites, Lily glances at Sirius, who looked like he was waiting to say something.

“I texted James. He’ll be here soon.”

“You texted James.”

“Yes.”

“About me being here?”

“Yep.”

She huffed, wanting more information than just a one-word answer.

“You came here looking for James. While you’re obviously not about to confess your undying love, there’s clearly something going on. And I know we’re chill but this seems like it might need James’s trademark comfort, rather than pithy jokes.”

Huh. Damn. She’d been friends with Remus way before she and James were even friendly. And then, this past year, James became one of her best friends. But she never knew how Sirius felt about her. Like, Lily knew Sirius didn’t hate her, but wasn’t sure if it went more than ambivalence. And now, Sirius just summoned his best friend for her.

“It’s my sister. She told me not to come home for break. Three months ago, she got married and I only found out on accident when my mom let it slip.”

This was good. Telling someone, even if it wasn’t James.

“Ahhh. Yeah, siblings, family. Hate them, love them, it’s all a mess...I haven’t seen my brother, my biological brother, in two years. The last time we talked, he called to inform me our father died.”

“Damn Black, aren’t we just a bed of roses?” Lily chews on her food, trying to figure out what to say next.

At the same time, James bursts through the door, several takeout boxes in hand.

“Mom insisted we ordered extra for leftovers, but that also meant walking up four flights of stairs like this!” James sits the boxes on the counter, turning towards the couch with a gentle smile. “Hey Lils, you okay?”

“Wait, sorry? Did you leave breakfast with your mom because Sirius texted you?” She said, nearly saying because I needed you instead.

James sighs, quickly fixing himself a cup of tea. “We were wrapping up anyway. But yeah, of course I did, Lily.”

At that, her eyes flicker up, meeting James’s. She knows she needs to move or say something. But she just can’t. This small moment feels big. He’s about six feet away and it shouldn’t be this clear of a picture but Lily’s brain seemingly adds all the little details she knows are there. The group of freckles on the bridge of his nose. The tight curl of hair by his ear. The small birthmark under his jaw.

Sirius clears his throat, startling both of them. “Well, I’m just gonna go, so...yeah,” he mumbles, and walks towards his bedroom.

Lily and James both chuckle nervously. He grabs his mug of tea and sits down on the couch (significantly closer to her than Sirius was).

“Lily, what’s going on?” He whispers.

It’s all too much. The email. The wedding. Sirius baiting her and finding out. James being this soft and kind and beautiful.

“Petunia texted me this morning,” Lily whispers back. She’s not sure what happened. A few minutes before, she was able to talk about it without getting emotional. But that was with Sirius. And  with James, everything is softer and rawer. He knows more, about her history and how she reacts. Lily can’t hide with him and she would never try.

James wraps an arm around her and Lily feels her shoulders drop a little. “They don’t want me to come back. They don’t want me,” she says with staggered breaths. In turn, James just holds her tighter. Her head falls in between his shoulder and neck. They stay for a while, a combination of sustained silences and emotional rants filling the room.

After, James pulls out ice cream from the freezer. They don’t mention how he just held her. But he warms up chocolate sauce and invites her to his parent’s for winter break.

[twostarsnortheast]

Silence in the Pines -- Chapter 1

A fun little Alastor x OC fanfic. DLDR !

** For a full set of tags please go see post on AO3 under the same handle and title!! **

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

Hello friend, I’m sure you’re curious to know where you’ve found yourself. I must tell you, it’s not a nice place nor is this a particularly nice story. But! It is a very human story. A story of the human struggle for control against things much larger than himself. A story of love in unusual forms and in unusual places. This is also a story of heartbreak and loss and death and pain. So much pain, dear one. I can’t over-emphasize that. Nonetheless, I think it is still quite an interesting tale. One I always take joy in telling. So, shall we start? Oh, I do so hope you’ll be coming with me…

— ★ — ★ — ★ —

Silas leaned back in the seat, releasing a shuddering breath. Maybe this was a bad idea, going further south, further away from the mountains, from Home. The voices had faded at first, when he had left the Appalachian foothills but they’d been growing steadily louder the longer he was away. Slamming against the edges of his thoughts, demanding that he pay attention to them. They’d been quiet for a few days each time he fed the earth as they demanded but even that wasn’t working as well as it had in the beginning. 

Many months on the road, nearly half a year since he’d helped bury his father. The old bastard had finally kicked the bucket, another victim in the list of thousands to the black lung. The miner’s disease. If the dangers of the job didn’t take you it was only a matter of time before she did. Yet, each day, hundreds of men and boys entered the mines to earn their pay. So, it came as no surprise when the hacking cough turned into a wheeze and eventually silence. No air could pass into the dying man’s lungs and he suffocated in his bed. Momma had found in the morning, cold as snow. Her wail had called him in from the yard. After that, they’d gone through the motions. Setting the house to order and calling the reverend. Papa had been prepared for burial and Silas had put together the plain pine box that had waited patiently in the barn for months. 

In the Sunday morning calm, they lowered him into the earth. Silas, blood still caught beneath his nails, had taken his turn placing shovel-full after shovel-full of dark earth into the hole. And as quickly as it had started, it was over. Chores still needed to be done and while Papa’s [severance] would certainly help it wouldn’t be enough to cover everything. 

So, two months to the day after they’d found Papa dead in his bed, Silas had left Acme in search of work. That’s at least what he’d told Mamma when she’d begged to know why he was leaving. He did intend to send back what money he could scrounge up but he really couldn’t stay in that town anymore. The pull of the Dark was becoming too strong, all he wanted to do was wander down into one of the unused shafts and let his body be reclaimed by the Thing that owned his soul. But that wasn’t something he could do. Not now, not ever. He was close to winning it back and he wasn’t going to let IT tempt him into giving up. 

Silas shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Green fields of cotton passed by on the outside of the train and beyond that, dark woods slowly being illuminated by the sun just beginning to peak above the horizon. The car remained quiet, it was early in the morning and those who could sleep were doing so. Quiet breathing could barely be heard above the rumble of the rails. 

How much longer until the next station? He wasn’t sure he could stand being around so many people for much longer. It was the feel of their minds and presence pressing in around him that was slowly driving him mad. He’d long ago learned to out the sound of his own mind’s ramblings but to be around those who had no idea how loud their very existence was was exhausting and overwhelming. 

A sign passed by the window in a blur. Slaughter, Louisiana.

Well, it was as good a spot as any to get off. It would give him the space to breathe at least. 

— ☆ — ☆ — ☆ —

Silas leaned against the weather-smooth wood of the small train station’s main building, newspaper in hand. Yet another murder in the region around New Orleans. Curious. It must be quite something if it was getting an entire front page. It had been a local businessman this time. From the tone of the article, he couldn’t have been liked very much. While the author was certainly concerned over the pattern of deaths, he wasn’t all that broken up over this man’s death in particular. 

Humming softly, he tucked the paper under his arm. Maybe going down to New Orleans wasn’t the best idea after all. If there really was another killer there, Silas didn’t want to step on any toes. It was never good to encroach upon the hunting grounds of another. All too frequently, it led to bruised egos and was altogether more trouble than it was worth. Still, he needed somewhere where he could busk… it wasn’t currently the only way he was making any significant money. People rarely carried much on them any more, what a shame. 

He still had plenty for himself to live off of but it’d been nearly three weeks since he’d sent anything to his mother. While her letter had been generally positive and she said that they weren’t lacking for anything, he didn’t like the idea that he hadn’t been fulfilling his obligations to her. 

Silas turned the corner and nearly ran into a man stumbling in the other direction. With a grunt, the other man staggered away without even acknowledging that he’d collided with Silas. 

“It’s a bit early to be drinking, my friend,” it was true he reeked of liquor and a smirk tugged at Silas’ lips. “Maybe you should find your way home.”

The drunkard continued on his way down the road, oblivious to the dark thoughts of the man whose path he’d crossed. The voices cooed and begged to be let loose. 

“Soon, my darlings. Soon…”

— ☆ — ☆ — ☆ —

The following afternoon, Silas boarded a train headed to Baton Rouge. He was tired but satisfied. The man had more in his pockets than you’d expect of a man that drunk on a Tuesday morning. Momma would be excited to receive such a winning, maybe she would hire someone to finally fix the roof of the barn. It had been needing mending even before he’d left. 

The voices had quieted too; purring softly in the back of his skull. Full and content. 

He’d be in a new city by morning and, from there, on to New Orleans by the end of the week. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that he’d be connected to the man lying, quiet, in the ground a handful of yards off the main road. No one ever remembered his face when people came asking if they’d seen anything out of the ordinary. It was a true blessing, it made his work possible. 

Silas closed his eyes and leaned back. He’d earned this moment of rest. 

— ★ — ★ — ★ —

Why, hello again! Done already? I do hope you enjoyed it. That’s just a taste of our dear friend Silas. He will be back with us very soon. But first, we will be meeting someone you may already know…. That, for now, is a story for another night and it’s time for me to bid you bon nuit and à plus tard. If the stars permit, our paths will cross again soon.

[ikaroux]

"What a lovely couple you make" Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya.

f!reader

Background: He's been in love with you for a while now but has never admitted it to you. But when a slightly too talkative stranger passes you in the street together, stares at you for a few moments and finally says "what a lovely couple you make", their heart is just about to burst out of their chest.

Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya

Xiao, Venti, Albedo

Note : I test the headcanons, strangely I find the exercise more complicated than a fanfic :,D

Masterlist

Diluc

You met as teenagers, a beautiful friendship developing between the two of you.

Diluc has always felt a strong attraction to you without being able to put a name to his feelings.

When you were around, his eyes were constantly on you, until someone, usually Kaeya, pointed it out to him. In denial, Diluc would quickly avert his eyes from you, his cheeks tinged a beautiful red.

When Diluc returned after several years without news, you were never put off by his change in behavior, quite the contrary. You were closer, more complicit. You were the only one he trusted, and the others could see that...

One day, while he had invited you to eat at "Au Bon Chasseur", you had met a friend that you had not seen for some time. She was accompanied by a young man who was staring at you and Diluc.

You were both sitting at the table, eating your breakfast and telling Diluc about your morning. He always listened intently, often with a faint smile on his face. He loved being able to look at you and listen to you without anyone making any comments. He took great advantage of his moments to be able to touch you, sometimes just to remove a bread crumb that had fallen on your shirt or to move a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"(y/n)! How happy I am to see you, it's been so long!"

Diluc moved away from you as the stranger approached. She was accompanied by a boy, obviously the same age as you and Diluc. You introduced him to your friend, whom you had met four years ago when Diluc had suddenly disappeared after his father's death. He greeted them with a brief nod, returning his attention to his dish while you chatted with the newcomers. Diluc couldn't help but glance over at you, thinking he could keep a low profile. It was when he felt the intense gaze of the young man accompanying your friend that Diluc quickly turned away, almost as red as his hair. The boy smiled innocently before saying:

"What a lovely couple you make."

Diluc spat the food out of his mouth, nearly choking. His lungs burned as much as his cheeks as he coughed. He didn't know what to say, did he even want to? He checked your reaction, surprised to see that you were as red as he was, which made his heart beat harder, faster. He couldn't take it anymore, so he put some moras on the table, grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him. As Diluc pulled you away from your two comrades, you tried to clarify the situation with your friend:

"We are not a... cou-couple!"

They replied with a laugh:

"Well it doesn't look like it!"

Zhongli

Zhongli had already noticed the feelings in him for a while.

He did not hesitate to spend more time with you, inviting you at times to walk in the streets of Liyue or sometimes to have a cup of tea in his favorite restaurant.

He always laughed when you told him that you took extra moras "just in case". He was angry that you were paying the bill when he was the one who invited you.

He was courting you, or at least trying to. The ways of pleasing a woman or a man had changed so much in the last few centuries that he sometimes felt a little lost.

Although Zhongli was not a man to publicly show physical affection, his look and tone of voice left no room for doubt for an outsider to see.

As for you... well, you couldn't deny the great attraction you had for this polite and cultured man. You didn't know how to pick up on the signals he was sending you, your lack of self-confidence clouding them. How could such a man ever be romantically interested in you? You couldn't, you were so dull around him.

So when he asked you out for a walk in the city, your heart couldn't help but leap with joy. He had come straight to your house, waiting impatiently at your doorstep.

"Excuse me for waiting Zhongli!"

"It's nothing my dear, it's me apologizing for coming unexpectedly."

Every time Zhongli called you "my dear" so sweetly, you couldn't help your cheeks from heating up, which didn't escape the gaze of an elderly neighbor.

"hohoho, what a lovely couple you make."

You had dropped the keys to your apartment which hit the floor of your landing with a loud crash. You watched the old lady slowly walk away from the two of you with an embarrassed expression, the red quickly rising to your ears.

"Zhon-Zhongli I'm sorry! She's old she doesn't know what she's saying, haha~"

You fell silent as Zhongli's soft, smiling expression turned from the old lady to you.

Zhongli's heart was beating at high speed from the emotion.

"Well my dear and if we go from now on.

He affectionately placed his hand on the small of your back to direct you to the place of your walk, a soft euphoria lighting up his day

Kaeya

Kaeya, like Zhongli, quickly realized his feelings for you.

He would not hesitate to offer you gifts or to invite you to a restaurant one night.

Kaeya is clearly hitting on you. He doesn't even understand how you can miss it.

He didn't tell you clearly how he felt about you, a part of him being afraid of rejection.

This man already has a long history, if he were to lose you because he was too impatient, he would not forgive himself.

Everyone knew that this man was a liar and a calculator, which had earned him his position as captain. But you, only with you, he wanted to be himself.

He offered to take you to Windrise one night to watch the anemo crystalline butterflies, the romantic glow of the starry night.

Your evening had gone well, he offered you a ride home.

You and Kaeya had arrived at the gates of Mondstadt. He was amused to see you so amazed by the crystal core he had grabbed for you. He took it from your hands, laughing softly at your attempts to take it back.

"Kaeya! Give it back to me please!"

"In a moment princess."

You had trusted him, which made him melt every time. He hooked the core in your hair, admiring the azure reflections it projected on you.

"You're even more beautiful this way."

You had blushed at his remark, your eyes never leaving his.

"What a lovely couple you make captain."

You gasped at the sounds. You had completely forgotten the presence of the two guards posted in front of the city gates.

"Ah! nah you're wrong, we're not... Kaeya says their!"

He laughs before wrapping his arm around your hip, pulling you closer to him and glaring at the guards.

"Isn't that right?"

ARG?! If embarrassment could kill, you certainly would be now. Kaeya laughed at your shocked expression, he kissed your forehead before pushing you out the doors. He apologized half-heartedly to you, the other being far too happy to regret it...

[taexual]

a breath away | san

title: a breath away

pairing: choi san x oc

genre: (modern) royalty au, guard!san x princess!reader, angst, fluff

warnings: pining!!!, sort of a cliffhanger at the end 👀

summary: the rule forbidding relationships with commoners wasn’t written in any of the books that you’d read in the palace; it was common knowledge. and the palace will make sure to pass this knowledge on to you.

words count: 8k

requested by anonymous.

The royal receptions didn’t actually last as long as you thought they did – your advisors always told you it’d take three to four hours tops – and yet you felt as if you’d been standing here with a plastic smile plastered across your face, for, at least, a fortnight.

“How many more?” you asked inconspicuously, your teeth clenched tight in an impeccable smile. You didn’t want to appear rude or disrespectful to the guests.

“Fourteen, Your Royal Highness,” your advisor whispered into your ear hastily, before the next guest approached you and bowed.

You gave the advisor a quick nod and returned your full attention to the guest of honor in front of you, exchanging the traditional pleasantries and a quick chat before you got another ten minutes to wait as the guest moved on to your other family members as per protocol.

The waiting was the worst part of these receptions. Welcoming a person took about a minute for each member of your family, which meant that after it was your turn, you had to stand around and smile like a plastic doll on display until another guest would be allowed to approach you.

Your feet were killing you in these heels and you hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, so you weren’t feeling nearly as good as you looked, standing on the podium next to your parents. You seemed to be greeting people who genuinely looked like they would have much rather been somewhere else, too. At least, they weren’t hiding it.

“You okay?” you heard another whisper in your ear and turned to see San by your side. Normally, he didn’t stand so close to you during receptions, but he was usually only a few feet away from you anyway, so no one found your close proximity suspicious.

“It’s unacceptable for someone as privileged as me to say this,” you spoke, spilling the words in one breath, “but I am honestly starving.”

San chuckled – covering it up with a cough so as not to make it seem as if the Princess spent the royal reception joking around with her guard – and nodded his head at something behind him.

Confused, you allowed yourself to frown – for less than a second, anyway – and glanced in that direction. You had to bite your lip when you realised he was signaling at the open pack of gummy bears that he clutched tightly behind his back.

“Always prepared for any sort of disaster, hm?” you joked, taking a step backwards – subtly, you’d hoped; but your advisor gave you a warning look from your other side – and leaning your shoulder against San’s so you could sneak a hand into the bag and grab a few gummy bears.

“It’s all in my training,” San replied and, to prove it, he extended a handkerchief – very openly, for everyone to see – but you just stared at it for a second, confused. “I believe you wanted to touch up your lipstick. No?”

He had stopped addressing you formally a few years ago – the two of you spent far too much time together to bother with something as irrelevant as that – so you weren’t confused about that. But you needed a moment to realise that the handkerchief was all part of his master-plan to save you from passing out from low blood sugar.

You took the handkerchief from him with the same hand you held the three gummy bears, and turned your face away from the audience in the room – always minding your manners – so you could pretend to wipe the corners of your lips while you popped the candy into your mouth.

It wasn’t much, but the sweetness on your tongue made this all feel much more bearable. For the first time in a few hours now, the smile on your face was genuine.

“Saved my life again,” you whispered to San after you shook hands with a yet another guest, and then went back to waiting again. “How many times is that now?”

“Ninety-seven,” he replied, forgetting himself for a moment and smirking. “When we hit one-hundred, you’ll really have to find a way to pay me back.”

Happy that your current task involved having a wide smile on your face – so no one knew the real reason why you were smiling – you bit back, “come up with something grand for the one-hundredth time, will you? Maybe save me from one of these—”

Your mother cleared her throat – never once losing her smile or her posture – and you straightened, realising she must have heard you speak.

“Don’t worry,” San whispered back since he wasn’t the one who was reprimanded. “I have some great things planned.”

And he proved that just a few hours later—but he nearly gave you a heart attack first.

When the night ended, you went to bed, feeling conflicted: glad, on the one hand, because the day had finally ended, but also discouraged, because your father had informed you that he wanted to have a meeting with you first thing in the morning tomorrow, completely ruining your plans to spend the whole day lounging and joking around in the gardens with San.

But all of those emotions faded when you heard a gentle knock on your window – on the fourth floor of the palace –  and you thought you wouldn’t live to see another day at all. Reasonably, you knew that intruders didn’t normally knock, but the situation was so bizarre, you didn’t know what to think as you sat up in bed and leaned over the nightstand to turn on the light.

“Psst,” was heard outside – or perhaps only in your head? You’d already begun to doze off, so it was hard to tell – and you got out of bed to investigate. That was not particularly wise, knowing that San wasn’t here with you, but you considered yourself capable of enough self-defense. Or, in the worst case scenario, you could also run very fast.

Carefully, you approached the glass door of the balcony just as another knock was heard. The light in the room made it difficult to see outside, so you turned it off, and audibly gasped when you saw a human silhouette on your balcony.

“What—” you began to say, already gripping the lamp in an attempt to weaponize it, when you squinted and stopped. “San? Are you actually—”

He began to tap against the window more rapidly – seemingly indicating that he couldn’t hear you very well – and you finally threw the French doors open, allowing him – and the midnight wind – inside of your room.

Finally, you asked, “are you actually standing on my balcony right now, or am I having a fever dream?”

“I actually am,” he confirmed, tracing the contours of your body with his eyes – he couldn’t see very well since you’d turn off the light – and noticing that you’d crossed your arms on your chest; presumably from the cold. He closed the balcony doors behind him and turned to look at you again. “But do tell—do you dream of me often?”

Turning away because it was suddenly very warm in the room, despite the late night chill, you informed him, “I actually planned on smacking you with a lamp, don’t make me reconsider it. What are you doing here?”

“I’m lucky you recognized me, then,” San replied, resisting a laugh at the image of you with the tiny, frail table lamp; the poor thing would have suffered far more damage than it could ever cause him. “I’m here to take you out.”

It was hardly possible, and yet the room seemed to grow even warmer. If someone walked in right then, they would initially be hit with an overwhelming wave of heat, and then they would realise that you were all by yourself with your guard, feverishly whispering about something in complete darkness.

“What… do you mean by that?” you asked, pulling the collar of your pajama top away from your neck so you could breathe more easily. “And why is the door no longer good enough for you to enter my room?”

“That’s because I’m not here to escort you anywhere,” he explained and you noticed—with growing concern—that he had a rope tied to his belt. You followed the rope with your gaze until you saw the other end of it tied to one of the marble pillars of your balcony railing. He’d literally climbed the four stories up to your balcony. “This is more of a kidnapping. A voluntary one. I hope.”

“I—you—we’re not really going out,” you said, needing a minute to grasp how ridiculous this was – San, standing in your room after he’d used a rope to reach it, dressed in an outfit that resembled something from a low-budget spy film. He looked positively determined, however, and you hesitated, “a-are we?”

“We absolutely are,” he replied. “I-I heard about your meeting tomorrow morning, so this might be your last chance to have fun before your dad rips you a new one.”

He looked away as he spoke – because that wasn’t the whole truth why he’d come to your room the hard way, instead of through the door; or why he’d decided to do this tonight at all – but it was too dark for you to see the traces of regret in his eyes. He’d never lied to you, never told you any half-truths. This was new. And he was glad you didn’t catch on.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, he shouldn’t yell at me too much—” you paused, catching yourself in a lie. You had a tendency to do something that your dad disapproved of, regardless if you consciously tried to or not. “Alright, that’s true. I’m wearing pajamas, though. Give me a minute.”

He’d seen you in pajamas before – he’d escorted you to bomb shelters during midnight drills in them – and he thought they were fine. He thought everything you wore was fine because he couldn’t really focus on your clothes when he looked at you.

“A minute,” San promised and—cruelly—looked down at his watch, “and not a second more.”

“That was really just an idiom, you know—”

“Fifty seconds.”

Your protest died in your throat and you gave him a—hurried—frustrated look, and then rushed to your wardrobe. You were comfortable enough in your pajamas in front of San, but that wouldn’t be an appropriate outfit if you went out, – but then, what would be an appropriate outfit?

“Is there a proper dress code when you go out in the middle of the night?” you asked, scanning the shelves in front of you.

San laughed and then, catching your raised eyebrows when you gave him a look over your shoulder, he realised that you weren’t kidding.

“You have thirty seconds left,” he said, “and you’re worried about the dress code? Wear whatever you want! Whatever’s comfortable.”

You bit your lip, pushing aside all the pantsuits until you located the sweatpants shelf – even though calling it a shelf was generous, there were only two pairs of pants on it. “I don’t want to look like a disaster in case someone sees us.”

“If someone does see us, what we look like will be the least of our problems,” San pointed out.

“I know,” you sighed, more upset about how few occasions you’ve had in your life to wear a sweatsuit than you were about the prospect of getting caught. “But still.”

“You can go out as you are,” he said. “You look perfect.”

You scoffed, convinced he was just saying that to get you to pick an outfit faster. He wasn’t.

“I’ve had these pajamas since I was fifteen,” you said, your head still inside the wardrobe as you looked for a hoodie. You definitely had to have at least one. “This is the furthest thing from perfect.”

“Well, you look good in anything, so clothes aren’t really a problem,” he spoke, pacing around your room in small, calculated steps. Once he heard what he’d said, he stopped and attempted to distract you from a yet another compliment that he’d dropped without thinking, “uh, definitely make sure to grab a hat, though; preferably a snapback. To cover up your face.”

You weren’t paying much attention to the exact meaning behind his words, far too occupied with your search of clothes that would make you look more like a human person than a barely-human Princess.

“Got it,” you said, finally locating something that would have to be good enough, and heading for your bathroom. “Let me go change. I’ll just be a second.”

You’d already gone far past the limit of one minute he’d initially given you, but San never expected you to fit into it anyway. He caught you off-guard by showing up here and you were used to always planning out your outfits in advance – weeks in advance, if possible. It was understandable that you’d need a little more than a minute to pick what to wear tonight.

“Don’t you dare try to fix your hair!” San called out as you closed yourself in your bathroom. He was willing to give you enough time to change, but you were still running on stolen time here.

You called back, “are you saying it needs fixing?”

“It never does! But you always do it anyway. And we really don’t have much time right now.”

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled and, half a minute later, emerged from your bathroom in gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, feeling like you’d be kicked out of the family if any one of your relatives saw you dressed like this. If there was anything the royal family took especially seriously, it was the dress code.

San thought you’d never looked more beautiful than when you were breaking the strict—unreasonable—rules of your family. He watched you move around your room as if this was going to be the last time he would ever see you. Funny.

“How’s this?” you asked, grabbing a snapback from the top of your closet – you had to jump up to reach it and San would have helped you if he didn’t need to take a minute to remember how to breathe – and putting it on. “Pretty sure this is my cousin’s, so if we’re spotted, we can later say it was her instead of me.”

“Oh,” San swallowed, walking back out onto the balcony. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah. She stole my dance partner when we were eleven, and I was forced to spend the whole evening being thrown around by my great uncle,” you spoke, following after him into the night and shivering once you were out on the balcony, wedging a stone in-between the panes of the door to keep them open while you were away. “The man does not know the definition of a ‘twirl’, by the way; he kept tossing me around like I’m a broken spinning top. I still have bruises on my elbows.”

San chuckled at this, admitting that it was fair for you to want to get your revenge, and then he extended a hand to help you climb on the railing. You stopped, glancing at it with uncertainty.

“I’d forgotten you would want us to leave the same way you came in,” you mumbled, not sounding hesitant – you were doing this, there were no questions about that – but making it clear that you would have preferred a flying carpet to a rope.

“Yeah,” San said, patting the rope he’d attached to his belt after he’d climbed up. “It’ll be fine. Should I go first, so I can wait for you at the bottom?”

You looked over the railing and bit your lip. Four stories weren’t very high up, the tallest tower of the palace was nine stories high; but you knew you could die or suffer very painful injuries—and repercussions, in San’s case—if something went wrong.

“To be honest, I don’t want to go this way at all,” you said. “I prefer stairs.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he said, promptly letting you know that you did not have as many options as you thought. “Which will it be?”

You kept nibbling on your lower lip nervously. “I—”

“Really, if you held onto me tightly enough, we could both go down at the same time,” San suggested, looking vaguely amused. You suspected he was joking, but he looked almost ready to try anything, so it was hard to tell.

“No, I’d rather not risk both of us dying or getting caught,” you said and then, with a deep breath, you decided, “let me go first. In case this is all pointless and I get caught as soon as I land. Or before.”

“You won’t get caught,” he promised. “This is safe, I’ve checked and double-checked. Besides, there’s a blind-spot on the first floor, right underneath your balcony.”

Before you could inquire how many times he’d climbed the rope up and down your balcony before, you lifted your eyebrows, surprised to learn this new bit of information.

“Really?” you asked, very happy about this convenient coincidence. “Has it always been there?”

San shook his head, genuinely loving the way you were so quick to believe that you would find a way out of the palace if you really put your mind to it and decided to run away one night. Your eyes glimmered with excitement—with hope—and he hated to be the bearer of bad news, but the palace was more like a prison than anyone from the royal family would have liked to admit.

“Of course not. You’re the Princess,” he said. “If anything, every floor under your bedroom is the most guarded spot in the palace.”

This confused you. “Then, how—”

“I have friends in high places,” San explained simply.

He made it a point not to overshare with anyone – aiding and abetting the kidnapping of the Princess was high treason – but he’d worked at the palace long enough to make trustworthy connections. And he never did anything on a whim, he planned everything out meticulously – even if tonight happened out of the blue for you.

“Fair enough,” you decided, clapping your hands on your thighs. “Right, then. How do I do this?”

“Here,” he offered, taking the rope off his belt, “let me help.”

He tossed the rope over the railing, until the bottom of it reached the ground. Then, he triple-checked the sturdiness of the pillar around which he’d tied the other end of the rope several hours before. Once he was certain that the rope was fine, he turned to give you instructions – and then repeated them two more times because you still looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I’ll see you on the ground,” he said then, helping you over the railing and making sure you put on his gloves before you went down. He held onto you while you balanced your body halfway off the railing, gripping the rope tightly in your hands. “Or in jail if you get caught now, and then come visit me later.”

You gave him a look, “that’s not helpful. I’m already worried I’ll knock off a flowerpot on my way down and wake everyone up.”

“I’ve cleared the path on my way up here,” he said. “You’re good to go, I promise. Come on.”

He let go of you, and, with another deep breath, you pushed yourself off the railing and gasped in surprise as your body effortlessly slid down the rope – you barely felt the burn on your hands as you went down, thanks to the gloves, but your sweatpants did not protect you from the burning of your thighs, unfortunately.

And yet, you were far too exhilarated about the journey – four stories down on a rope! – to worry about any pain, and when your feet touched the ground, you could not stop giggling.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” San asked when he landed next to you a minute later – it had taken him far less time to prepare for this, but he looked just as excited as you were: his eyes glossy from the wind, but his smile wide and bright.

“It was incredible!” you exclaimed, not realising the volume of your words as you wrapped your arms around him in an unexpected hug that nearly threw him off balance.

Laughing, San hugged you back – worried, for a second, that you would feel how quickly his heart was beating in his chest – and then pulled you towards the garden gates. He may have made sure that the first floor wasn’t guarded in this particular spot, but if the two of you were loud enough, guards positioned in the other parts of the palace could hear.

“Let’s go,” he spoke, not pushing you off of him – he couldn’t – but, rather, maneuvering both of your bodies in tandem. “We have to get some food.”

“It’s midnight,” you said, pulling away from him—much to his disappointment—and then, asking, “is there anything that’s still working?”

Your knowledge about how the world outside of the palace walls functioned could really astound him sometimes. You were forced to learn and memorize the name of every single street in the capital city – and know how many households there were on each – but you didn’t know about fast-food chains that provided 24/7 services.

“I’m sure we’ll find something,” San said gently and then stopped. “Wait here for a bit, okay? I’ll turn off the electricity.”

“The—the what?” you frowned, watching him cautiously approach the garden fence and get something resembling a remote out of his pocket.

You waited for several minutes and then, when he looked at you, nodded and extended a hand, you jogged to catch up. You took his hand mindlessly – not awarding this action with nearly as much weight as it deserved, considering how many fireworks seemed to explode in your stomach when he clutched your hand in his – and walked past the gates of the palace with him.

“I wasn’t aware we had an electric fence,” you commented, looking back at the palace and feeling reflexive distaste. You were so relieved to be on the other side of the gates. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not for you,” San said. “But definitely for everyone who tries to enter without permission.”

You contemplated this for a minute. “Not sure how I feel about electrocuting intruders to death.”

“Doesn’t have to be to death,” he replied, “if the guards are fast enough to realize that someone’s been stung, they’ll cut off the power.”

That still didn’t make this sound any better or even more humane – the ‘if’ here seemed massive, knowing how big the palace was and how busy most of the guards usually were, even if they were simply loitering – but you knew better than to argue about this with San. He wasn’t the one who was in a position to change something here.

“And you can do that just by yourself?” you asked instead. “Turn off the power, I mean.”

San shrugged, not considering the remote in his pocket to be a symbol or a privilege of any kind. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Your dad trusts me.”

That got you to smile as you teased, “he didn’t know you’d be using your privileges to sneak me out of the palace.”

“And he never will know if you want me alive.”

San stopped after he said this and gave you a serious look. He knew how much he put on the line by coming to get you tonight and you knew it, too. However, if you got caught, the repercussions would have obviously been far less severe on you, than on him.

“Are you kidding?” you said, thinking this conversation was completely unnecessary – he didn’t need to swear you to secrecy. “Of course, I want you alive. You’re the only reason why I haven’t run away from the palace yet. I’m not telling anyone.”

He could hear his pulse and, gripping your hand tighter – he didn’t have to keep holding it, but he didn’t, technically, have to let go, either – he hoped it was only this loud for him.

“Please,” he said. “The palace isn’t all so bad.”

He’d meant it more like a suggestion – prompting you to come up with any instance where you felt happy to be living there, however small and trivial it was – but you heard an objection.

“It’s not,” you said immediately. “Of course, it’s not. It’s not fair for me to complain when there are people who—”

San cut you off, “don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t diminish your own feelings because someone has it worse,” he said. “Chances are, there will always be someone who has it worse than you, but that doesn’t make your feelings any less legitimate. You’re allowed to feel upset.”

In all the years at the palace, no one had said that to you. Your teachers made sure you were aware of how privileged you were, being born into royalty, and they made sure you never flaunted your title or used it for your gain. They taught you to be humble, kind, and respectful – but to others. Not to yourself.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly.

San shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for saying that, it’s just—”

“No, I’m thanking you for tonight,” you said, stopping and pulling him to a stop too because your hands were still intertwined. “No one else cares if I suffocate in there.”

The sudden impact of your words felt like a punch in his gut. He wished you hadn’t said that—he wished it wasn’t true—as he looked away.

“Well, you know you can count on me,” he said, each of his words strained and shaky. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but he squeezed your hand and inhaled, giving you a smile and a nod of his head to assure you that you had nothing to worry about. “Come on. Let’s get burgers.”

You’d never gotten fast food directly from the restaurant before – San almost passed out when the cashier did a double-take when she saw you, thinking this would be the end of your midnight adventure – and it was the most mundane, yet the most amazing, experience.

And it only seemed to get better when he took you to a nearby park, dragging you across the green pastures until you complained about your feet hurting – you’d already had to stand around so much today – but only stopping when you reached the riverside.

Lit up by the streetlights on the promenade, the river looked like a Monet painting.

“I used to come here after my training,” San admitted, watching the awe in your eyes as you admired the sight in front of you. “There’s no people here at night, so I get to enjoy this view all by myself.”

“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled and he couldn’t have agreed more as he struggled to tear his eyes away from you.

“Let’s sit here,” he suggested, gently tugging at your hand as he helped you sit down on a bench nearby, overlooking the peaceful river as it rippled softly in the night wind.

“You’ve kept this from me for a while,” you said after a minute, allowing San to unpack the contents of your take-out paper bags. “You’ve never told me you had a special spot or anything like that.”

“It’s not really a special spot,” he said, handing you a cheeseburger. “And it’s not even mine, really. You should see it during the day – there’s so many people, it’s a wonder no one got trampled yet.”

“It can be yours at night,” you said wistfully, “even if you have to share it with others during the day.”

San watched you for a minute after you’d said that, wondering – pointlessly and very stupidly – if there was a hidden meaning in your words. If the river—this spot—was, perhaps, a metaphor for—

“My God, this is good,” you said suddenly, breaking him out of his trance and completely ruining the blissful moment as you chewed your burger, ketchup dripping down the side of your mouth. Realizing, you covered your face with the burger and turned away to wipe it off.

San was somewhat disheartened to see how difficult it was for you to let go of the etiquette lessons you were forced to take – because you didn’t have to hide from him, he wanted to see you with or without the ketchup on your face – but he was still more happy than sad.

He was here with you. He’d wanted this for so long – so long, in fact, that this felt dangerously like a dream and he had to discreetly pinch himself to make sure you really were next to him right now – and yet, he couldn’t help the miserable thoughts. Such as, how heartbreaking the fact that this would be the first and only time he got to enjoy the peaceful quiet of the middle of the night with you was.

“You have to tell me because I obviously can’t be an objective judge here,” you said again while San evidently struggled to get himself together and actually respond to you. “Is this the best burger in the city?”

He chuckled and took a bite of his own cheeseburger – it tasted bland and the lack of sauce was criminal, but San knew that you likely wouldn’t have another opportunity to do this, so he smiled and gave you a very satisfied nod.

“It might be,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just the thrill of it for you. You’ve definitely tasted food that’s better—”

“No, you know what, I would gladly give up all the caviar, the oysters, the truffles, and whatever other nonsense—I say that respectfully—our chefs serve at our dinners,” you spoke and his chest warmed whenever you said “our” even though the chefs and the dinners were all yours, and not at all his. “I’d rather we just had burgers every night. And fries. God, especially the fries.”

He laughed as he watched you eat and then teased, “if I knew that the best part of tonight for you would be the food, I wouldn’t have forced you to escape the palace. I could have just brought this for you.”

You considered it – half-heartedly because it obviously wouldn’t have been the same if he hadn’t brought you here – and then shook your head.

“No, the food is good,” you said, “but the best part is being here. I don’t think I’ve ever had a chance to see the city with my own eyes, and not through the bulletproof windows of a military vehicle.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re enjoying this,” San said, “because I’d prefer to lose my head for making you happy, not for putting your life at risk for no reason.”

He was joking – because he couldn’t not joke; he’d have to tell you the truth if he stopped messing around – but you gave him an alarmed look, which quickly turned into relief when you saw the smirk on his lips.

“It’s bold of you to assume I wouldn’t grant you a royal pardon,” you replied. “You’re my best friend. What would I do without you?”

“I appreciate that, of course,” he said—because, God, did he—and then added, “but would you be in a position to grant any royal favors to anyone, after tonight? You ran away with a guard. What a scandal!”

“Eh,” you waved a hand dismissively, finishing up your burger and crumpling up the wrapper. “You’re worth getting kicked out of the royal family for.”

His brain short-circuited, so he just stared at the wooden tiles of the promenade for a good minute—possibly even two or three—with a bittersweet grin on his lips. He wanted to reach out to you, to touch you, to hold you, to do something with you that would surely land him in prison with a sentence longer than the average human life-span.

But he didn’t care about how long he’d have to serve – or how many limbs he’d have to lose beforehand for kidnapping you first – he only worried about the fact that this was your last night together, and he could not find it in himself to start something he could never finish. You deserved better than that.

“What would you want to do,” he settled for asking, the question already bold enough, “if we could run away right now?”

“Just the two of us?” you clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Everything.”

Snickering, he lifted his eyes to yours. “You can already do everything. Is there something you’d want to do that you can’t right now?”

It was you who looked away this time because there were several things you wanted to do. Each of those things was not very different from the things he was dreaming about across the bench from you – although, unfortunately, neither of you could read the other’s mind.

“I’d want you to introduce your family to me,” you admitted slowly. “You always talk so much about them, I want to see if they look like I imagine them to look.”

He couldn’t control the way his smile spread at this as he scooted closer to you and nodded. His family would have loved you. They already did—even though they didn’t know that the girl he kept telling them about was the Princess of the country.

“I’d want to go stargazing,” you continued. “You told me about your camping trips when you were a kid and I always loved the night sky from your memories.”

“You can see the stars here, too,” San said, looking up. “Well, if you squint.”

You followed his gaze and lifted your eyes to the sky, but the city lights made it difficult to make out anything in the immense darkness overhead.

“I’d also want to live somewhere, where I wouldn’t have to squint when I looked up at the sky,” you said. “But it would have to have a fast food place, of course.”

Smiling, he informed you, “you know, you can actually make burgers just like that at home, you don’t have to buy them.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’d want you to teach me how to cook.”

He laughed and, watching the happiness on his face, you allowed yourself to add, “but, most of all, I would want to tell you the truth about me.”

His wide grin slowly turned into an expression of concern as he lifted his eyebrows. “W-what do you mean?”

You could tell him. It didn’t have to be hard, those were just words – he already knew what you were feeling anyway; it was impossible not to know – you just had to voice them.

“I mean, how I—what I really—” you tried and tried again, until you eventually gave up. “I-I can’t. I don’t even know where to begin.”

You didn’t know enough words – or enough ways to pierce them together – to tell him that you wanted to spend the rest of your life here with him, sitting on this bench on the river promenade, shivering from the chilly night, and yet not feeling one bit cold because your faces were less than a breath’s away from each other.

But this was the one conversation that didn’t need any words, and he heard you.

“But you’d tell me if we ran away?” he asked, painfully aware of how little he’d have to move in order to cross the forbidden line and touch your lips with his.

“I would,” you admitted, your eyes locked on his. “I’d never stop saying it.”

“Good,” he swallowed. “I’d tell you, too.”

“You would?” you asked breathlessly.

“Every day,” he said, “for as long as I’d live.”

The two of you were frozen in place as if the entire world had paused for you. And then one of you moved, just slightly – or perhaps it was the wind – and you felt your lips brush against his. It was far too light, far too quick to be a kiss, but for a second there—for just one, most significant second of your life—you two shared the same breath.

Remembering suddenly that he couldn’t do this – not because he’d be arrested for it, he couldn’t have cared less about spending the rest of his life in prison; but because he couldn’t kiss you and then survive without seeing you again – San exhaled shakily and pulled away, his eyes on the ground.

“It’s cold, you might get sick,” he said. “Should we head back? We can take the long way home.”

Not even the longest way home could have been long enough to convince you that you were going home, rather than further away from it.

“Yeah,” you ended up saying because it would be morning soon and the start of a new day signified a new load of responsibilities; all of which you’d abandoned tonight. “We probably should.”

Your walk home was silent, but it was far from being uncomfortable. After San caught you tripping on a tree root, he refused to let go of your hand – for your own protection, of course – the entire journey back, and the grip he had on you spoke volumes. The looks you exchanged, the beating of your hearts in your chests, and all of your hopes and dreams were much louder than any words you could have said to each other.

You were happy. You didn’t need to speak.

Once you returned to the palace, however, you realised that your happiness was largely short-lived. Not only would you have to find a way to return to your bedroom unseen, but you would also have to go back to your duties as a Princess as soon as you returned.

“I’m never climbing a rope again,” you declared once you were finally back in your room after a long and torturous trip up the four-story building. Every single part of your body was aching and burning. And yet, you still added in a joking tone—even if you weren’t joking at all, “next time we do this, we need a better plan.”

San chuckled and replied carelessly, “I promise I’ll come up with something better next time.”

Happiness wasn’t lost just yet, as your smile widened again. “Yeah? So, this won’t be the last time you’re risking your life for me?”

“Well,” he swallowed painfully. “It’s my job, isn’t it?”

His mind was screaming at him: tell her, tell her, tell her. But your smile was so wide, he could barely see the pupils of your eyes. You were shining, glimmering, glowing—like you were the reason why it was so hard to spot the stars in the night sky.

And that may not have been exactly true for most people, but you were the source of all light in the city—in the country, in all of the land, in the whole unexplored universe—for him.

“Thank you,” you spoke then. “You don’t—no, actually, you do. You’re the only person who knows how much this means to me.”

San shrugged, not needing your gratitude.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, the statement as simple as the explanation why he could never stop smiling when he was around you. As simple as the realisation that he would never smile again – not like this – after tonight.

When you hugged him goodbye and watched him return to the balcony – he insisted on leaving the same way he came in; although that was hardly necessary, it’s not like he was an intruder in the palace, he worked here – you had an absurdly ridiculous smile on your face. Your chest was paradoxically full and light, and anticipating.

You couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow.

The exact same ridiculous smile was still on your face when you woke up that morning and – largely thanks to San – you realised you weren’t going to have to try so hard to look happy today. It’d come naturally.  Not even the fact that you’d only slept for two hours tonight and certainly not the argument you were—inevitably—going to have with your father could sour your mood too much. You nearly skipped to his chambers for your meeting.

You hadn’t seen San yet – which was normal, he didn’t usually accompany you to inter-family meetings – but the excitement of getting to see him eventually kept you afloat.

And perhaps it was due to your good mood or maybe today was a rare exception, but your meeting wasn’t half bad. Your father didn’t start it by scolding you – which was, honestly, a first – and he seemed genuinely interested to hear your opinion about some of the questions he’d asked. Before, he’d only asked you as a courtesy and proceeded to argue with you if your opinion differed from his in the slightest way.

Then, however, the meeting took a very peculiar turn.

“Here,” your father said, handing you a manila folder with a gesture of grandiose importance. “I want you to take a look at this.”

You were afraid to think of what you’d find inside; perhaps a list of all the wrong-doings you’ve committed since you were born, starting with being born – a daughter, instead of a son?

But you frowned and took the folder from him, skimming the contents quickly. It looked like a list of people.

“What’s this?” you asked, confused when you realised that each of the names on the list also had achievements listed next to it – black belts in various martial arts, most often.

“It’s a list of the most well-trained security guards in the country,” your father explained. “You need to pick one.”

Even more confused, you lifted your eyes from one of the listees – black belt in Taekwondo, Judo, Karate, and Jiu-Jitsu; this person was a walking action film – and questioned, “why do I need another guard? San is perfectly capable—”

“I’ve let him go.”

The silence that followed your father’s words was so thick, it was almost palpable. It spread over the room, forced your head to spin, and made you think you’d gone deaf.

“What?” you asked – calmly, all things considered.

“Yes,” your father said as a way of answering. He wasn’t one to repeat himself. “I’ve informed him after the reception yesterday. He didn’t tell you?”

“He—”

The realisation was crushing and your father watched you wince as the pieces of the puzzle connected in your head, forming a dreadful, painful image.

San hadn’t taken you out to show you around as a “last chance” to have fun before your meeting with your father. He’d taken you out as a last chance.

“Why?” you asked, your throat dry. Despite the norms of etiquette, you coughed and continued,  “he’s great at his job.”

“He was. I’ve let him go with a great recommendation,” your father explained, watching you warily. “He has a great future ahead of him. However, it is standard to replace the guards of the royal family every four or so years.”

“I’ve never heard of this standard,” you said, your jaw clenched, the folder in your hands crumpling under the force of your fingers.

Your father waved his hand around. “Yes, well, it’s rather new.”

“How new, exactly?”

“Couple of months, give or take,” he replied in a dismissive tone and, guessing the conclusions that you were beginning to draw in your head, he proceeded to beat around the bush, “the Council had decided that it wouldn’t be right for the Princess to have the same guard for most of her adult life. It could lead to some misunderstandings in the public eye. Especially, knowing how close you and—”

“So, you’ve implemented this new rule because of San and me?” you asked, surprised that your father would go through all these lengths to bend the rules for you – the man hated bureaucracy. “Because we’re friends?”

But even you didn’t believe the word ‘friends’ when you’ve said it. It was too feeble of a word to describe the sort of relationship that you and San had.

You swallowed heavily under your father’s scrutinizing gaze. He did not say anything for a while and when he finally spoke, he was no longer looking at you.

“We’ve implemented this rule for damage control,” he stated.

“Damage control?” you scoffed, breaking another rule that would have had your etiquette teachers fainting in horror. “What does that mean?”

“It will be easier for you this way,” your father said, speaking not as the person who had voluntarily changed your diapers after you were born, but as the leader of a nation. As a King, not as a dad. “You will have to get married soon.”

You knew that. You’d protested against it after every birthday – each time they brought out the cake, your father would give you a questioning look, “maybe this year?” but you would always refuse – but it was starting to seem as though you were running out of choices.

“What does San have to do with anything?” you asked, desperate.

“He mustn’t get in the way,” your father said.

Closing your eyes, you frowned. “How would he—what are you talking about?”

You hated it when he did that – danced on the edge of a topic like the diplomat that he was, never mentioning what he truly meant outright. It was obvious enough in this case, but you needed him to say it. He’d let San go. He couldn’t just decide that, and then not dedicate enough time to justify this decision to you.

“You deserve a chance to have a happy marriage, my love,” your father said, his eyes kind even though the meaning behind his words was ruthless. “And you won’t find that if your heart is elsewhere.”

He knew.

The King was usually the last person who was informed of the palace affairs – the advisors needed to make sure their information was correct before they bothered the leader with it – no matter how important they were.

And in this case, everyone knew.

“Right,” you said, dropping the folder with the names on your father’s desk and jumping from your seat before you could throw up. “May I please be excused?”

“I still have several things—”

“May I please,” you repeated, more insistent, “be excused?”

Your father looked almost disappointed, but he sighed and caved, looking down at his notes. “Fine. You may go. But I would like to—”

When he raised his head, you were already out of the chambers. The door of the room closed, but not before he heard you run down the hall, each one of your steps echoing around the palace with heartbroken frustration.

You wanted to cry, but couldn’t. The anger, the misery, the pain – it all mixed inside of you and you were lost. You didn’t know where to go, how to react, to scream? To cry? To curse? No one had ever bothered to teach you how to deal with heartache effectively. Princesses never despaired, they never got their hearts broken.

You’d laughed in secret at these stereotypes of what a Princess was supposed to be – what you were supposed to be – but they were no longer funny when you didn’t have anyone to laugh at them with.

San was gone. Everyone had known that you were in love with each other and they’ve done what they can to make sure you never admitted that – not to yourselves, and definitely not to one another.

You’d often thought you might suffocate and turn into a shell of a human behind the palace walls, and, as you finally felt the tears sting your eyes, you really thought that this time, you would – because whatever there was inside of you that was human, not royal, was now pouring down your cheeks in unsolicited streams of pain.

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[thewildwaffle]

Humans are Weird: Antibiotics

A story prompt from a user on a03. Apparently, this is my 50th short story, or at least the 50th installment of m humans are weird short stories. Hurray!

****

Ni Andu watched a dried sickle leaf roll across the empty courtyard from her window. A deep sigh made her breath fog up the glass. The courtyard wasn't supposed to be empty. Especially not this time of year. The Gauru Ni Moon Festival usually brought visitors from around the world and across multiple star systems right about now. But the disease meant no bright banners were hung. No music echoed cheerily through around the corners and down the streets. There were no wafting scents of fresh fruits and fried breads.

It was amazing and terrifying that something so small that it couldn’t be seen had done all this. The Ni were a proud race, rich in culture, and until now, seemingly sturdy in constitution. Diseases had come and gone in the past, but in such small and freak cases that they were hardly given much attention. It was assumed that Ni immune systems were the best in the galaxy and many other races had even requested to study how they were so effective.

Those prideful memories felt hollow now as Ni Andu sighed and pulled herself away from the dreary sight outside. As a new and reluctant head of the house, she had more pressing things to deal with than moping in the past. Several members of her own family were still sick, two of her hatch mates had been very touch-and-go as of late. She slowly made her way to the cushions where they were sleeping to check on them. To her relief, she saw the soft blankets they were wrapped in rose and fell slowly. She stood there, watching them for a bit in the gathering darkness of their shared humble abode. Matki’s breathing sounded like gravel stuck in a child’s rolling skiffer.

“What are we going to do?” Andu’s wide nose scrunched up as she begged the silent house. “What am I supposed to do next?”

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there trying to think of everything and nothing all at once. It was a good while though and was only interrupted when a small light turned on in the meal room. Andu looked up at the light streaming out of the door’s archway. With a sigh, she gathered her strength to move again to see who was up. As she approached, she heard small claws scrabbling on the stonework floor and storage pods opening and closing.

Sure enough, when she peeked in, Andu could see little Piri shuffling through food storage pods that looked even less stocked than she thought they’d been. There were a few bottled foods, a few containers of ingredient-prepped soup containers, but certainly nothing immediately ready for consumption. Most easy and ready-to-eat foods had been eaten long ago or destroyed when they began to decay and grow dangerous molds. And to a small three-year-old Ni, that basically meant there was no food at all.

“Hey Piri, are you hungry?” Even though Andu had kept her voice quiet, little Piri still jumped and tucked his small thin tail like he was ashamed he’d been caught. Andu smiled comfortingly and stepped into the room to pick up one of the soup packs.

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” she patted him on the head softly, “I think it’s time for a meal too. I’m sure everyone else would agree once they wake up and smell the food.”

“There’s not much left,” Piri’s small voice was so sad and only made the words themselves feel sharper to Andu’s hearts. She tried to think of something she could say to make their situation seem less dire, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she scooped up Piri’s small form and waited until his thin arms latched securely around her scruff before she walked over to get a pot to cook in. She was going to have to add quite a bit of water to this if it was going to make enough to sustain everyone for a meal.

Cooking, even making something simple, helped ease Andu’s mind. There was a sense of normalcy in standing in front of a firebox and stirring a bubbling pot of soup. She tried to ignore how thin it was. Still, the smell made her feel warm and it must have wafted across the house as she could soon hear the tell-tale signs of her hatch mates waking up. She gathered bowls and filled each one. Lowering Piri back down, she handed the young Ni a bowl and carried the rest to the cushions where the rest of the family was slowly waking up.

They ate together slowly, trying to make the contents of their bowl last and talking quietly about anything they could to distract themselves from their situation. Matki was recalling a story from four lunar years ago when Andu had entered a fried bread pastry into a competition. Between Matki’s coughing and Andu interjecting to defend herself, the story kept getting interrupted! She’d worked on the recipe for her pastry for so long and was so proud of it, but the night before, something went wrong when she was making her entry. Whether it was nerves, exhaustion, oversight, or Jentala above forbid, sabotage, it went very wrong. From the way Matki described the judges’ reaction, one might have thought Andu had purposefully tried poisoning them! As everyone chuckled, Matki claimed he still had the video recording from the competition and pulled it out, much to Andu’s chagrin.

Andu pretended to be exasperated by the teasing, but really she was just glad everyone felt good enough to laugh again.

It took a while before she and the others noticed that Matki hadn’t pulled up the video. Instead, his eyes locked on the comm tablet screen.

“Matki?”

“Hey, did you find it?”

“Matki are you okay?”

Matki finally looked up, eyes still wide from whatever he’d been looking at. “They’re coming to help.”

Everyone shared a worried look. What?

“Who are you talking about? Who’s coming?” Andu broke the confused silence.

Matki tapped something on-screen with the pad of a finger and a holographic projection display rose up.

Everyone watched enraptured by the newscast. It was about humans. From halfway across the galaxy, they’d heard about the Ni’s plight and had come claiming they had a cure. They were offering aid and resources to run tests to make sure their medicine was safe and effective for Ni use and make alterations if needed. They were even claiming they’d help distribute the finalized cure the moment it was given the go-ahead. In the meantime, they were also sending ships of food and supplies.

Andu could feel the back of her throat tighten. Was this real? Did she dare hope? There’d been so many reports before about help being promised, well, not help to this extent, but help nonetheless. They’d ended up being just for show and were proven empty once those who offered realized how impossible the situation really was.

But humans? She’d heard they were tough. And stubborn. Maybe they were stubborn enough to see their promises through?

The embarrassing video of Andu’s failed pastry was long forgotten, the conversation instead jumped between wild rumors her family had overheard about humans and speculation about how long it would take for the humans to actually lend aid if they were really coming at all. Andu could see a shimmer in the eyes of her hatch mates as they spoke that she hadn’t seen in a while. Although she wished she could feel the same optimism, she could also see how quickly they were all tiring out. Although they’d slept most of the day, the disease was still taking its toll on them all.

Once the meager meal was finished, she stood to gather the now empty bowls. She noticed Piri quickly scrape a finger along the side of his bowl to snag any last morsel before she came along to collect it. ‘Jentala above,’ she prayed mentally, ‘if help truly is coming, send it along soon.”

With bellies no longer completely empty, everyone settled in, and soon the room was full of sleeping or near sleeping Ni.

Andu slept fitfully. She dreamed, but it was fractured and confusing. Even before the disease came, she had a hard time remembering her dreams once she woke up. It was near impossible now. She did remember a loud humming noise though. As she blinked her eyes and lifted her head, she realized the humming was still there. She rose and searched for the source. It almost sounded like… engines? But that, that had to be impossible - the quarantine…

She looked out the window. Dried sickle leaves were flying around wildly as a large shuttle slowly came in for a landing in the courtyard. Andu opened her mouth to call out to the rest of her family, but nothing would come. How were they still asleep with this racket? Apparently, it managed to wake up Piri, who nearly made Andu jump when he bumped into her side while trying to climb up for a better view out the window.

“What’s going on? Who’s outside?” Piri waited to ask until Andu had resettled herself after being startled.

“I’m not sure yet,” she answered as they both watched the shuttle’s doors slowly work through the unsealing process. Across the courtyard, she could see other Ni’s faces peeking out their windows. As far as she could tell, expressions seemed to range anywhere from fear to curiosity to… was that hope? Wait, had they seen the newscast last night? Did they think this was… there’s no way the humans could be here already, right?

They both watched intently as the doors finally opened and a ramp extended. Soon a line of creatures she’d only seen on screens filed down wearing yellow vests and hauling huge boxes in their arms or on carts they pulled behind them.

“It is the humans!” Piri yelled and jumped down from his perch. He ran to where everyone was stirring on the cushions, “Wake up! Wake up! The humans are here!”

Andu wasn’t sure if she should reprimand Piri for disturbing them, or if she should join in. Instead, she watched as the humans in the courtyard started setting up stations and continued hauling load after load filled with what must have been hexaheebs of food, clean water, and various supplies.

She turned to look back at her family who were trying to rise as fast as their weakened bodies would allow. Matki began coughing violently and had to rest against the wall. Andu went to help support him when a knock at the front door startled everyone. They all stared at the old chirrowood door, then around at each other. It had been so long since quarantine had started, they’d almost forgotten what a knock on the door sounded like.

After a pause, the knock came again, this time followed by a worried and drawn-out, “Hello?”

Once she was sure Matki was standing stable, Andu, being the least sick among everyone, walked to and slowly opened the door.

A human from the shuttle stood in the doorway. They were wearing a mask over their mouth and nose, but it was definitely a human! Their eyes closed slightly and creased in the corners as they nodded a greeting. “Hi, my name is Ali, I’m part of the relief team that’s been assigned to this district. We’ve got food and essentials to distribute and I just need to know how many are in this household and if anyone here is in critical condition.”

Andu blinked at the human for a moment as she took in what they’d said.

“We, uh, we have four adults and one child. There, there were more, but…” she couldn’t finish that sentence. From the look the human gave her, she didn’t need to finish it. Her sinuses stung as she fought to not cry. The first visitor in how long and here she was almost crying in the doorway?

“I'm so sorry for your loss,” the human���s head bowed and their shoulders dropped. “I wish we’d known and could have helped earlier. Is anyone here in need of immediate emergency care?”

At that point, Matki started coughing again. Andu and Ali looked back to see him sit back down until his coughing died down.

Andu sighed and turned back to the human. “None of us are great right now. Matki’s probably the worst out of all of us. He sounds bad, but he actually has started to stabilize in the past few days.”

Human Ali gave a short nod and started writing something on a tablet in his hands.

“Do you,” Andu’s voice trembled, “we heard a report last night about you. That you were coming. That you… do you…” she swallowed and fought back desperate tears, “do you really have a cure?”

The human’s eyes creased again. “We do.”

Andu didn’t need to turn around to know the effect this had on her family. She heard it. She felt it. This time, she didn’t fight back the tears.

“Right now,” Human Ali continued, “it’s in the final stages of approval for Ni use, we’re just waiting for the ‘go-ahead’ and we’ll help distribute it as soon as it arrives. Until then, I’ve got some food and supplies for you. I can help unload and unpack if you need?”

“That… that would be... thank you,” she wiped at her tears. “Thank you so much.”

Over the next few days, more shuttles came and went, bringing more supplies, food, tools, and just in general, a brighter outlook and mood to the entire neighborhood. The humans really were here to help, and they seemed happy to do so. Not only were they good with their promises of aid, but they also delivered on the cure they said they had. Ni were instructed on the drug’s use and administration directions thoroughly for both the tablet and liquid forms of the cure. The effects were quick, and from the reports on the newscast, overwhelmingly positive. The Ni were cured! The plague that had once threatened to wipe out their entire population was gone! Celebrations larger than even the Gauru Ni Moon Festival were planned, songs were written, stories shared and spread. It was wholly agreed by all that this was a historic time in Ni history that they all survived through, and all thanked Jentala above for sending the humans to help.

It went without saying that everyone wanted to know more about the cure itself. And that meant everyone, not just the Ni, but the rest of the galactic community who before, had written the Ni off as a lost cause because of the horrific disease. What was this miracle cure? What other things could it do? Where, by all that is bright and shining, did the humans get it, and could it be easily replicated?

The humans, for their part, were again as open and gracious with their information as they had been with their aid. It was an old medicine they’d discovered long ago on their planet. Considered to be the first “antibiotic,” it was widely used on Earth and had saved millions of lives since its discovery. It worked by interfering with bacteria cell walls and destroyed them by causing them to burst.

It was called

Penicillin.

“Amazing!” “Spectacular!” “So simple, yet so ingenious!” many in the galactic community praised. “How ever did you discover this amazing drug?”

The initial answer wasn’t too surprising, for humans at least: it was an accident.

Andu almost snorted as she read the report to the rest of her family. Granted, the end of the plague was the first time any of them had come in direct contact with humans, but they all had heard many of the stories about human escapades. Wild experiments that on paper seemed more like a drunken brainstorm party that ended up advancing rocket fuel technology by at least 8 lunar years. Crash-landings on category 3 death worlds and they ended up liking them so much they decided to set up colonies. Half of what they did seemed to be mistakes that just went right for them. Apparently, the miracle drug penicillin was included in those stories.

She looked up its history and manufacturing.

Andu felt claws dance down her back as she read more. It came… from mold? Mold?! She looked up from the tablet to the faces of her equally horrified hatch mates. It took them a moment to remember how to close their mouths.

"You mean like mold on old bread?" Piri broke the shocked silence.

Andu blinked and looked back at the report. Old bread? How many times had they not eaten bread fast enough in the warm humid seasons only to pick up a bul of bread and find mold growing on it. It was dangerous, it had to be carefully disposed of, it was… able to save lives?

She returned to the report. The more she read, the more comforted she became in the safety of the miracle antibiotic. That, and she couldn't argue with the results. Her family was around her, now loudly being altogether boisterous together as they "discussed" the humans and all the ways they played with death in order to save life.

Matki snatched the tablet from her claws, wanting to read the report for himself. As Andu was jostled by her now healthy, energetic family, she was just happy and eternally thankful that the humans were crazy enough to play with something as dangerous as fungus, and then kind enough to share what they discovered.