#i felt like a snail making its way across the ground except the ground was covered in maple syrup

[xariarte]

finally finished the final draft of my Khris/Giannis fic...

[aaluminiumas]

Die for Me

あなたこそが “ 海賊王 ” に なる男

Lukewarm blood gushed out from the deep wounds. Ripping apart huge chunks of flesh and feeling the solidity of a bone inside, Monet genuinely relished her superiority savoring every note of the harrowing, blood-curdling shriek the woman in her deadly embrace emitted.

That Marine girl was no good at all; her tactics may not be exactly lame or useless, nor did she lack fervor or courage, but she turned out to be too modest and polite to attack – and also feeble. While the Marines claimed to have implemented a variety of brand-new top-notch techniques that would improve fighting skills of nearly any novice, they tended to send weaklings barely able to resist a simple scuffle, let alone serious combat with high ranks such as her or Caesar. This one wasn’t an exception to the rule: though promoted, Tashigi proved her disability to be on the offensive, thus confirming Monet’s expectations and dispelling the illusion of power Smoker had successfully created earlier.

“I adore it when you yell so desperately,” the Harpy muttered nonchalantly in the unctuous voice, her lips smeared with blood. “So I might break your scapula just for fun. My fangs can go through bone like butter. What a lovely day we are having, aren’t we?.. Care to brighten it further?”

Monet’s viselike grip tightened, and a bone cracked; Tashigi’s scream of utter anguish pierced the chaos and turmoil. In a moment, the woman limped in the Harpy’s wings. This last shrill seemed to have deserted her internally, leaving little to no stamina to stand up for herself and resist the throes shooting through her fragile body. The Harpy, though, felt no remorse or contrition. Quite on the contrary, she yielded into the perverse pleasure of being in charge – her well-nurtured sadistic inclinations and proclivities could finally splurge and flourish. Normally, it was Doflamingo whose hatred of the Marines came unwrapped. He was always in command; he was always aware of the potential threat and danger that could strike at any given moment, and now she could defend him from this invasion without an innuendo on his part. He had protected her in the past, bestowed a shelter, and took care of her younger sister—

“Enough.”

A low voice, hardly louder than Tashigi’s shallow breath muffled all the sounds, including explosions and the clash in the distant rooms. A swordsman with cold resolution in the single eye stood there, unmoving, his face serious, yet completely unreadable.

Monet’s fine features contorted in a lopsided smirk, her head withdrawing from Tashigi’s injured shoulder. Spoiled by pride, the swordsman didn’t seem to see a worthy opponent in her. Good for him, she thought. The Marine’s death would be on his hands – after all, he couldn’t compare to one of the best soldiers among the Donquixotes.

“I said enough,” he growled quietly, advancing and raising his katana, the silver eye narrowing. “Didn’t you hear?”

“She shouted too loudly. Should I shut her up?” Monet’s voice remained vaguely flirtatious, her antics jaunty, but the swordsman betrayed no emotion whatsoever. Instead, without a single warning, he pivoted forward, sword at the ready. Prancing at superhuman speed, the man neatly cut her in half – her logia powers weren’t a mere obstacle to him or his blade.

“I’m a Logia, you fool,” Monet spat with a haughty grin, “You think I’m scared?”

That fact alone contributed to her arrogance and hoity-toity attitude. While the majority of the Donquixote Family had to satisfy themselves with commonplace and hackneyed Paramecias, she got lucky – Doflamingo brought in a Logia fruit, the rarest type, and presented it to her. He might have intended to give it to Vergo, who hadn’t joined the number of the fruit-eaters and preferred to use his innate physical force. At any rate, such thoughts barely intruded on her mind: Doflamingo, the Young Master she worshipped, literally made her a gift desired by many. And what a scenery it was: he called in a meeting, ordered his favorite delicacies, thus forcing the whole city to cook for him, and sprawled across his improvised throne. Trebol, giggling under his breath, Diamante with his ever-lasting smirk, the imperturbable Pica, Vergo with the rigorous mien… Well, she was never part of the elite – nor did she plan to climb higher. The seat beside Doflamingo’s feet seemed comfortable enough to occupy – this position turned her into a valuable asset, who caught all the messages and orders intoned in a low, seductive voice. Despite that, the Young Master did not banish her – he remained seated, asking her to tell them all about her first murder – committed with a taste.

Logia powers made the bearer almost invincible, and Monet, a proficient user, trained by the best, especially by Vergo, knew what she was worth.

“I’m a Logia,” the Harpy repeated, the blizzard howling louder. “It doesn’t hurt me.”

“We’ll see,” came the answer.

Not even looking at her, the man grabbed the wounded woman and hurried to the exit, while Monet, absolutely dumbfounded, discovered that she could not get together. What appeared to be a single cut turned out to be a series of swift swishes in the air that slashed her snow-made body in a split second with the power that significantly surpassed her own. The result unfolded in slow motion: the more time went, the more it hurt; paralyzed, she listlessly perused the gashes opening in her skin – the man had inflicted much more damage than she had initially anticipated.

Furious, lacerated by what seemed to be a hundred blades, Monet yelled – and realized that it caused another wound to splay. The flesh got torn apart somewhere in her stomach and sent an impetus to the lungs prompting another incision to dehisce. The blood spurted up and flushed out from her mouth, staining the green shirt. Coughing, gagging, and covering her lips with a defective wing that had also been slit and now painted vermillion, the Harpy leaned over a gigantic machine with a red button on its panel. Half-conscious, she stared at it – it certainly was a way out. If she pushes it, the whole island will go up in flames. Nobody survived, case closed. Nobody discovers the dirty scheme Vergo had initiated in the Marine to abduct kids; nobody learns about the dubious experiments of the ambiguous nature performed by Caesar. Nobody connects Young Master – her Young Master – to the helter-skelter in the lab, nobody–

Her consciousness drifted away; small lacerations proved to be even worse than the deeper ones – blood didn’t stop from dripping, and she couldn’t control the amount she had lost. Falling to the ground, quivering, Monet twitched her wings in a fruitless attempt to maintain balance. It was overkill, anyway, at least she deemed so. Her wounds were fatal; she very well understood that she was a goner – but it was still in her power to prevent future events from happening.

Suddenly, Monet heard the quiet mumbling of a snail. Caesar, concerned about Joker’s supervision and unremitting control (the notion he strongly believed but which wasn’t true to the fact: Doflamingo, after Monet’s infiltration, called every once in a while, just to give the man heebie-jeebies, in case he felt lazy), installed snails everywhere, each equipped with a unique number. Only Joker could have access to them – no one else would be able to call here, the sanctum sanctorum of the lab.

The injured wing reached for the receiver, then twitched and fell. Trembling, the Harpy moaned in agony, choked on the blood, and made a feeble attempt to get up. Didn’t work; her face contorted in pure anguish. Invincible, trained, fortified by a number of experiments conducted under Doflamingo’s supervision, she never expected a failure. Especially a failure like this.

The snail kept grumbling, Monet whimpered; struggling to stand up, the Harpy felt a million needles skewering into her body, avulsing the thinnest and the tiniest blood vessels. She had to be slow not to disturb the veins that still remained intact. Making a superhuman effort, Monet propped herself up, her chest heaving, her wings jittered ever so slightly.  Panting, leaning over the tremendous apparatus towering over her, the Harpy managed to answer the call.

“Monet?” called a low, mellifluous voice coming from a snail. “Monet, do you read?”

“Yes, Young Master,” she mustered her shattered self to respond.

“I do not have the slightest idea what is happening right now,” he drawled pensively, “But it is certainly far from the plan I have drawn up.”

“They– they snatched Caesar.”

Doflamingo paused, pondering over her words. That loudmouth fool, calling himself a genius, failed to kick the teenager’s ass and let himself get captured by a bunch of mere kids playing real pirates. It had been funny to hear that that Strawhat Luffy defeated Sir Crocodile, one of the most feared and infamous warlords; after all, Doflamingo shook hands with the man and knew exactly what his weaknesses were, but Caesar Clown was another thing. First off, he claimed himself to be a brilliant scientist, and, in fact, he had managed to synthesize a drug that made children comparable to giants in force and probably in size. Furthermore, he used his earlier formulae and calculations, retrieved the readouts of the past experiments to create artificial Devil Fruits. So, he clearly was not a complete idiot. However, he employed none of his ingenious tricks to kill the annoying brat on sight when he had the opportunity.  Too bad the factory couldn’t work without his involvement – otherwise, Doflamingo himself would’ve got disposed of Caesar as well.

“Monet,” he finally spoke, his voice dropping down a notch. “You were loyal to me.”

“Till the end, Young Master,” she muttered, her voice not louder than a susurrus of wind.

“Die for me.” He commanded coolly, his eyes staring into space unwinkingly. “Monet, die for me and send this place to hell. Take them all along with you.”

“Yes, Young Master. I will do as you please.”

Her lips, covered with blood and gore, stretched in a gentle smile addressed to no one in particular. He cared about her. He wanted her to perform this last task for him, in the name of his future achievements and accomplishments, and she would not let him down.

She raised her wing, slightly quavering, preparing to hit the red button. Exuding a quiet hum, the Harpy lowered it – and gasped, immediately falling onto the ground with a loud, heavy thump.

“Monet?.. Monet, what’s happened? Monet, can you hear me?..”

She uttered a wheezing sound, and her visage froze in a rictus of death.

[shedreamsofstars]

the leaves are falling, and my love so are we

Amy has invited Sonic, Silver and Blaze on a mountain hike. Even though not everyone knows or even remembers that it's technically a double date, nothing stops the four of them from enjoying a day in each other's company, and even falling a little more in love with each other. Written for Sonamy / Silvaze Week 2020

... xxx ...

"Amy, I thought this hike was supposed to be a group thing," Sonic said sullenly, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned against the fence. His breath frosted ahead of him in a misty cloud of white, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared.

Autumn was in full swing, and that meant that the chill in the air was here to stay. The blue hedgehog had forgone a coat and hat in favour of a simple black scarf he'd found balled up in the back of his wardrobe, but as burst of wind whistled by, Sonic was starting to regret his decision a little.

"It is," Amy insisted. She'd clearly gotten the right idea, standing beside him bundled up in pastel shades of wool. She looked perfectly cosy and warm – not that he had any plans to find out if she actually was.

Sonic bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet, his eyes flashing to the only other people in the area, Silver and Blaze. They were also dressed for the weather, and for a brief moment Sonic wondered if anyone would notice if he ran home quickly before deciding against it.

He was fast, but not that fast.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a frown, attempting to tighten his scarf to keep the chill out. "Because, this kinda seems like some sorta two timing date thing. Shouldn't there be more people here of something?"

"It's called a double date, and yes I am sure. Besides, do you really think I can trick you into a date so easily."

"Yes, absolutely. I do think so," Sonic deadpanned, grinning as the girl pouted at him. "Okay, fine. I'll believe you … even if it is kinda suspicious."

Amy gave him a smug smile and he was tempted to roll his eyes at her. Instead, he pushed off the fence and zipped over to the other two members of their party. "Have you guys been up this way before?"

"No," Blaze replied, rubbing her gloved hands together. "At least … I haven't." She turned expectantly to Silver who also shook his head.

"Me neither. Not in this world at least."

"Alright. Looks like we got two newbies on our hands, Ames," he said, glancing over his shoulder to see Amy slowly making her way over.

"This trail is really very pretty this time of year so you're both going to love it!" she said, barely containing her excitement as she joined them. "Shall we set off?"

Sonic gave her a curt nod, the others agreeing in tandem.

"Great! This is going to be so much fun."

Even without looking at her, the blue hedgehog knew that she was smiling as she spoke, her boots softly thudding against the ground as she began to lead them up the mountainous area.

Blaze was up ahead with the pink hedgehog with Silver following a little behind them, stopping occasionally to pick up fallen autumn memorabilia. Sonic followed at the rear of the pack, and even he found it amusing that despite his need for speed, he was quite content and curious enough to slow down every once in a while.

"You've probably been here hundreds of times, right?" Silver said, and Sonic looked up to see that the boy had slowed down enough to match pace with him. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a tenseness in the other hedgehog's posture that he hadn't noticed earlier.

"I think I lost count somewhere after three-hundred and ninety-four," Sonic joked, smiling as his friend's shoulders relaxed a little bit. "You nervous or something buddy?" he asked, wondering if Amy had been as vague about the nature of today's hike with everyone and not just him.

"Oh," he said, looking a little alarmed at being found out. "It's nothing, really," he said quietly, refusing to meet Sonic's questioning gaze. The blue hedgehog was suspicious to say the least, but he let the comment slide for now.

He didn't want to push the hedgehog into something he wasn't ready to talk about, besides, the walk was long enough for everyone to relax enough that he might just share on his own accord.

"Aright, bud," he replied before clapping him on the back. "We're starting to lose the girls, you wanna race?"

Silver grinned in response.

...xxx...

"We don't have very many of this type in Sol," Blaze said, pointing towards a tree growing just off the path with leaves that jutted out in six directions - two at the top and two on either side. "I think I remember there being some in the Northern regions, but I don't remember what they're called."

"We have plenty of these around here," Amy said, although a light frown settled over her usually perky features as she drew to a halt and placed a single hand on the rough bark of the tree. "I don't remember what they're called though…" she mused, throwing a look over Blaze's shoulder to where the boys were ambling towards them.

"Hey Sonic, do you know the name of this tree?"

Blaze turned just in time to see the blue hedgehog shaking his head and Silver rushing up behind him. If she didn't know any better, then she would have assumed the two of them were attempting some sort of a race. Except she did know better, and Silver wasn't dumb enough to challenge the fastest thing alive.

Either way, it didn't escape her notice that the lighter hedgehog was flushed as they joined them.

"Not a clue. You got any ideas?" he said to the boy beside him.

Her gaze fell to Silver once more as he stooped to pick up one of the fallen leaves, holding it up to the light. "It's a tulip tree," he announced proudly. "I read about these just recently actually. I remember it because the illustration of the leaves reminded me of you Blaze," he said, glancing up to meet her gaze.

Blaze felt heat rush to her cheeks as he moved the hand with the leaf in front of him, his amber eyes flicking from the mottled leaf to her face as he tested his own theory. Amy popped up beside him and narrowed her eyes.

"He's kind of right you know. If I squint like this," she said, doing just that. "It really does look like your silhouette."

"You're both being ridiculous," Blaze said breathily, turning away from them deliberately. "People don't look like leaves," she murmured, unable to shake the way Silver had studied her just a few moments earlier.

She glanced up the path, noticing that it was getting narrower and steeper. It had seemed earlier that they would be taking a route the meandered around the base of the mountain, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Where did you say this route led again?" she asked, surprised to see the Sonic was now beside her and leading the way ahead.

"Can't tell you that," he said smoothly. "That'd ruin the whole surprise."

"I can still appreciate something, even if I know to expect it," she explained.

"Sure you can, but – watch your step," he said, hopping effortlessly over a log that Blaze only noticed at the last moment. "Not knowing is its own kind of adventure, don't you think?" he finished.

Blaze followed after him silently, wondering if perhaps he was right. Silver almost never seemed to have anything planned out, at least never in the same excruciating detail she did, and he always seemed to be having a good time no matter what he did.

"I suppose you're right," she admitted after a few long minutes of silence.

"I always am," Sonic said cockily, stopping only long enough to call out to the two stragglers behind them. "Hurry it up slow coaches. I just saw a snail shoot past us."

...xxx...

The walk up the mountain was tiring to say the least, but Amy was enjoying herself immensely. Not only was she getting the chance to spend time with two friends she didn't get to see often, but she also got the entire day with Sonic the Hedgehog, her most favourite person in the world.

In fact she was enjoying herself so much that she actually felt a wave of disappointment when she realised they'd reached the clearing that marked the half-way point. It meant that their day together was started to reach its peak, and that put a time limit on her remaining hours with the people around her.

She put on a bright smile and tried to put the thought out of her head as she approached Silver. The group had taken a five-minute break to hydrate and catch their breaths, and the white hedgehog was currently sat on a large tree stump.

Several pinecones and acorns that he'd collected on the way up floated around in front of him in a teal haze, and he dropped them into his hands as he saw Amy approaching. He shuffled over to make room for her with a smile that almost seemed as forced as her own.

"So," she said as she dropped down beside him. "How's your date with Blaze going?"

"Oh, I think Blaze is having a grea- wait, what do you mean date?" he said looking slightly alarmed.

"Silver …" Amy said, levelling him an incredulous questioning look. "You can't be serious right? I told you today was a date."

Silver swallowed nervously before nodding as if he had just remembered that particular piece of information. His gaze flitted across the clearing to where Blaze was kneeling on the ground, rifling gingerly through a pile of leaves with a look of pure concentration.

"That explains that," he mused softly, looking much more at ease than he had just moments before. "Wait, does … does she know it's a date?" he asked, seeming almost scared of the response he might get.

"Of course she does silly. You're clearly the only oblivious one here," Amy joked, nudging the boy beside her.

"Hmm," he mulled softly, dragging his gaze to the floor with a frown before lifting it up again. "I should go and see what she's doing," he mumbled more to himself as he stood and headed towards the purple cat as Amy ushered him along.

"So … this is a date then," a voice purred from behind her and the pink hedgehog froze in alarm.

Shoot. Of course she hadn't heard him approach.

Amy blew out a frustrated puff of air before slowly turning her head to see Sonic standing behind her, watching her through a narrowed gaze that did nothing to hide the wildness in his green eyes.

"Because I'm pretty sure I remember a certain someone telling me it definitely wasn't a double date."

Amy flashed a glance towards Silver, waiting until he was a little further away before tugging Sonic down beside her. He landed clumsily, clearly not expecting her to man handle him like that, but he caught himself before he fell right off the edge of the stump.

"It's not … at least, not really," she said, realising as soon as she said it that it wasn't much of an explanation at all.

"What does that even mean?" he said, looking thoroughly confused.

"Well, you know that Blaze and Silver are dating, right."

"No, I didn't actually," he said, his brows shooting upwards as he glanced towards them. Silver had kneeled down besides the girl and Sonic couldn't help but feel a pulse of pride that the two of them had been brave enough to follow their hearts.

"They have been for a while," she said with a shake of her head. "Of course you'd be dense enough to miss it." There was no venom to her words, only a warm acknowledgement, and Sonic gave her a lopsided grin in response.

"You love that about me," he scoffed, and Amy refused to acknowledge the remark or how it threatened to make her head spin in delight.

"They've been together forever, but they've never been on an official date so I thought it would be nice if they had it here with us. Things are always easier when there's more of you."

"Amy, you know that's not true for everyone right," he said. "Some people prefer their dates to be a little more private."

"I know that, but you've seen them," Amy said exasperatedly. "At least with a double date, we can help push them together."

"That sounds suspiciously like meddling to me."

"It's not!" she said defensively. "Besides, Blaze only agreed to go if it was a double date so, technically it's not even my doing."

Sonic's gaze flicked back to the couple by the leaves and understanding seemed to cross his feature.

"I think I get it now," he said slowly. "It's like a safety blanket thing, right. I guess it's kinda hard to be nervous when your best friend is beside you bouncing on her heels with excitement the whole time."

"Hey," Amy said in mock hurt and Sonic only chuckled in response.

...xxx...

Silver's mind was racing with thoughts as he made his way across the soft ground towards Blaze. When he'd gotten the text from Amy, it had definitely mentioned that today was supposed to be a date, but he supposed he'd been pretty oblivious to the meaning behind that.

He'd just automatically assumed it would be a friend thing, but he'd been nervous from the moment they'd arrived, feeling like he'd forgotten something important.

Amy had cleared that up pretty quickly, but the worry had vanished only to be replaced by a new sort. Did Blaze know today was a date, or was she going about today almost as oblivious as he had been until it had been spelled out for him in black and white.

This was a date.

She didn't notice him at first, at least not until he'd crouched down across from her. And even then she barely registered his presence as she sifted through the pile of leaves in front of her.

"You're looking through that leaf pile pretty intensely," he said, knowing the exact moment his voice filtered through her focus. She startled and looked up, her eyes wide and bright as she caught sight of him.

"I'm sorry Silver. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"I know," he said kindly. "You were pretty lost in concentration, but … what are you doing?"

"Oh, this," she said, a small smile finding its way onto her lips as Silver ruffled the dry leaves between them. It widened as he threw a handful into the air between them.

As mesmerising as the view of the gold and auburn leaves floating to the ground was, the sight of Blaze watching them with that transfixed gaze of hers was infinitely better he decided.

"I was trying to find one that wasn't too damaged or wind-eaten," she admitted once the final leaf had fallen back to the ground.

"Want me to help?"

She nodded and the two got to work shuffling through the various types that had been heaped together. "So, what do you want it for?" he asked as he searched.

"A … memento of sorts, I suppose," she replied, her eyes glued to her fingers as she discarded a few leaves she didn't like the look of. Silver was quiet, knowing that she'd recognise his silence as a cue to explain further. "I'd like something to remember our first proper date by, and a leaf seems just as good as anything."

"So you did know it was date," he murmured in relief, although his words were so soft she didn't catch them.

"What was that?" she asked, her golden gaze flitting up to catch his for a single glance before dropping back down to where her hands sifted the crackling leaves.

"I was just saying that it's a nice idea," he said, his fingers brushing against a large golden leaf bleeding through with shots of green and red. "This one's pretty interesting looking," he said, holding it up for his girlfriend to see.

Blaze cocked her head to the side, reaching out a single finger to trace the single vein of green before nodding. "I like this one," she said softly. "I like it even better that you found it, actually," she admitted, and Silver felt his stomach flutter at her words.

Blaze was pretty straightforward about a lot of things, but it was rare for her to be straightforward about the way she felt. So the fact that she hadn't even hesitated to tell him that had a warm heat rushing to his face.

"You two done over there," Sonic called from behind him somewhere.

"We're done," Blaze replied, taking the leaf from Silver and standing to brush the dirt off her legs. Silver did the same before giving Blaze a slight dip of the head to let her know he was ready.

He couldn't help but notice that the purple cat clutched her new leaf tightly as they joined the others to continue their trek up the mountain.

...xxx...

Sonic was the first to catch the sound of running water in the distance, and it took a severe amount of self-restraint to keep from rushing on ahead. He was supposed to stick with the others, and so he forced his feet to slow and one by one, the others overtook him.

Or at least, all but one.

Whilst Silver and Blaze shuffled on ahead, Amy hovered beside him with a concerned frown. "Are you okay Sonic? You're never usually this …" She paused as she mulled over the correct term. "… slow."

Sonic cracked a smile. "I know, but if I speed up then I won't be slowing down any time soon. And I'm pretty sure you need me to stick around for this whole thing, right?"

Amy nodded, her face softening. "Thank you Sonic."

"Ah, it's nothing," he mumbled, forcing his gaze ahead of them as Silver and Blaze rounded the bend. "And, three … two … one." Sonic snapped his fingers right at the moment Silver let out a cry of delight from the front and he turned to give Amy a knowing smirk.

"There's a waterfall all the way up here!"

It only took a second before Sonic and Amy joined the other two who had paused in their tracks. The trail ahead rounded out at a dead end, but beyond the fence that marked the trail was where the true reason for their hike lay.

A serene waterfall cascaded down from high in the mountains, the water falling steadily only to crash into a frothing pool at its base. It wasn't long before all four of them were pressed up against the fence and gazing at the precarious waters below.

The waterfall fed into a river that flowed down the opposite side of the mountain, and no matter how many treks he'd made, Sonic was still a little disappointed that he'd never managed to find the source.

"So ... what kind of surprise would you call this one, Blaze?" Sonic said, stepping back a little when water sprayed against his muzzle. As much as he liked the view, he still didn't like the idea of being too close to water.

"I would say this is definitely a good kind," she responded, and Sonic couldn't help but notice the intimate look she flashed at Silver, or the way the other hedgehog's hands were protectively wrapped around her waist as if to keep her from leaning in too close.

He turned to ask Amy what she thought of the view, but when he turned to his side he found that she had disappeared. For a split second, Sonic's heart was in his mouth as his mind considered the possibility that she'd fallen over into the water below.

But a crunch of a twig somewhere behind him brought him back to his senses and he spotted her a few steps behind, gazing wistfully up at the lip of the water above.

"What're you thinking about Ames?" he said as he joined her.

"Oh nothing," she said, dropping her gaze to meet his. "I was just trying to memorise the moment I guess. It's not often I get to come up here, and with you in tow too," she added with a smile.

Sonic shrugged in agreement. He really didn't get to spend much time with her, especially now that they were older. Maybe he needed to rectify that in the future.

"There's an easier way to remember things, you know?" he said, reaching into his pocket. "Hey Silver, catch!" he called, tossing his phone across to the other hedgehog.

Anyone else would have missed and let the phone tumble over the edge, but Silver's powers shot into effect immediately and he guided the phone into his outstretched fingers with ease.

He flashed Sonic a confused look.

"Can you snap a picture of us here?" Sonic asked, grabbing Amy's arm and guiding her closer to the waterfall. Her eyes went wide as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side with a wide smile.

"Sure," Silver replied before pausing a beat. "Um … Amy, are you gonna look at the camera?"

"Oh … sorry," Amy mumbled from beside him, and Sonic chuckled to himself as he realised she'd been staring at him that whole time.

The phone camera flashed three times consecutively, and at one point Sonic snuck a glance to his side under the guise of fixing his scarf, before Silver lowered the phone with a frown.

"Is it done?" the white hedgehog asked, voice laced with confusion and an expression to match.

"Let me check," Sonic said as he let his arms slip off of Amy. "Thanks bud," he said as he reached Silver and accepted his phone, showing the other boy how to check the gallery for the recent photos.

He didn't dare glance in Amy's direction until he was done, but by that time she was lost in conversation with Blaze and he'd already lost his hold on any words he might have wanted to say to her anyway.

...xxx...

Lunch was a simple meal of sandwiches and granola bars downed with water. No one had been excited at the prospect of carrying too much so they'd all packed pretty light. Amy had been pretty vague on the details, so he and Blaze hadn't even been sure how long they'd be out for.

The walk up the trail had been intriguing enough, that Silver hadn't even noticed he was ravenous until he took the first bite of his sandwich sitting cross legged on the ground beside Blaze.

It was like shattering a glass bottle and releasing his hunger from its prison as suddenly his stomach grumbled loudly in protest of the lack of sustenance, audible even over the noise of the water crashing down behind him.

"Sorry," he said to no one in particular, his mouth still full of food as he took another bite to sate himself. He caught Blaze watching him from his side, her gaze flitting away to her own food when he noticed.

He smiled into his sandwich, wondering when she'd just let herself openly look at him whenever she wanted. It wasn't as if he minded. Not if it was her at least.

He jolted in surprise as something warm touched his free hand, the one resting on the ground beside him. He glanced down to see the purple cat's hand hovering next to his own and realised that she must have knocked him by accident.

Unless …

Still staring straight ahead and, taking a bite of his sandwich for good measure, Silver stretched out his pinkie finger until it collided against the edge of Blaze's hand. He considered pulling it back, but before he could, the cat had shifted her own so that it was suddenly tangled with his.

Silver swallowed nervously, his gaze flitting between the two hedgehogs sat across from him but neither of them seemed to have noticed anything.

It was the slightest of contact, his smallest finger hooked innocuously to Blaze's, but already Silver could feel her head radiating through him. She was always warm, likely due to her flames, whereas more often than not his own hands were ice cold.

When he'd mentioned that those two things meant they were destined to be together, she had rolled her eyes affectionately, but he couldn't help but think it again now as her warmth flooded through him.

They remained that way for the duration of their small lunches, even as Amy handed out jam tarts that she'd made the night before for dessert. Throughout all of it, neither Amy nor Sonic made any comment on their linked hands.

Maybe they just assumed it was normal for them or something, but Silver was thankful regardless. He was a little regretful when it came time to begin the trek back down and Blaze removed her finger to collect her belongings, clutching at her leaf once more.

As the group made their way back down the mountain, Silver found himself missing Blaze even though she was stood right beside him. He knew that he needed to touch her, to remind himself that she was right there, but he was reluctant to admit it to her.

This was a date and they both knew it. Silver held her hand all the time. So why then did the first fact make him so nervous about the second?

His brows dipped as he contemplated his dilemma, and it didn't take her long to notice and call his name softly enough that the other two walking ahead wouldn't notice. "Is everything okay?" she asked, voice hushed but full of concern.

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Actually, do you mind if …" he trailed off, his fingers flexing nervously at his side as he realised he couldn't go through with his original request. "Your leaf, you want me to look after it for you?"

"Oh," Blaze said, looking at little surprised. "Please do," she said, holding out the leaf she had been twirling in her fingers. He took it gently and smiled.

"You should hold it in your other hand," she commented, and Silver did, a little confused as to how it made any difference until he felt Blaze's arm link with his and her body press closer to him as she slid her hand down his arm and into his

Silver caught her eye and she kept her smile steady. How did she always know exactly what he wanted even when he said nothing? It didn't really matter if he was honest, having her around was more than enough.

"Thank you," he whispered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She returned the favour without hesitation.

...xxx...

Amy's heart was so full as she finally reached her garden gate at the end of the day, waving off the others as they headed to their respective homes and times. She'd had an incredible day, and she only hoped the others would say the same thing.

They'd made it down the mountain just before the sun began to set, so by the time she sat down on her doorstep, she could see her garden burn in beautiful deep colours in the glow of the fast disappearing sun.

She didn't want to go inside just yet, and she knew it was stupid, but it almost felt like she could make the memory of the day last longer the more she lingered out here.

Going inside and sheltering from the chilly air she'd spent the days company in felt like finally deciding that it was over and done, and she wanted to make today last as long as possible.

Picking up her phone, she quickly sent everyone messages to thank them for their company and to check that they'd all gotten home safely before placing it face down on the ground beside her.

She watched quietly as the sun dipped down in the horizon, its soft glow replaced by the equally soft glow of the moon that bathed her view in ivory. A moth fluttered nearby, attracted by the light of her phone screen as she checked her messages to see replies from both Silver and Blaze.

She missed them already, but they'd promised to be back soon, so she refused to hold it against them. Especially after she'd caught them clinging to each other more and more as the day went on.

That sight alone had made her romantic heart sing with joy.

She had expected to have to intervene more, despite Sonic's warning on meddling, but as it happened, she hadn't had to do anything at all. The two of them managed just find on their own.

Shivering a little from the cold, she stood, fully ready to head inside when her phone buzzed once more in her hands. She lifted it up to see who had messaged her, and the butterflies in her chest soared at the name of the sender.

Sonic.

She unlocked it quickly, opening the message.

S: just made it home S: today was fun

Amy shook her head at his response, an involuntary smile lifting her lips.

Despite being the speediest of the bunch, of course Sonic was the last one to make it home. She had no doubt he had made several detours along the way, but the thought only made her smile widen.

She was about to put her phone away when it buzzed again and she saw a picture flash up in the chat, one that made her sink back down onto the doorstep in surprise.

Sonic had sent her a photo of the two of them, the very one that Silver had taken that day by the waterfall. Amy's face in the picture was so pink that she looked like she'd smeared berry juice all over her face, but it wasn't herself she was drawn to.

No.

She had been too concerned with the unexpectedness of it all at the time that she hadn't noticed Sonic at all. She had the vague memory of him snickering beside her once Silver had her attention, but she'd had no idea that he'd been looking at her whilst the photo was being taken.

And like … that.

Like she was the only thing worth looking at, even with the wonderous waterfall falling in a sparkling rainbow of light behind them.

Before she could dwell too hard on it, Amy send back two hearts.

His reply was instant.

S: speechless huh. you can't think of a single word?

A: I'm sure I can think of at least one.

Amy replied, unable to back down from a challenge. She bit her bottom lip, wondering if there was actually any word that could truly encompass how wonderful the day had been despite it not being an actual date.

She bit back a giggle as Sonic replied with a series of impatient replies, each one less coherent than the last. Making him wait just as long as it took for her to set the photo of the two of them as her phone background, Amy finally succumbed to his pleads and hit send.

A: Magical.

...xxx...

and scene. did i attempt to mash up almost every single prompt into one fic because i have no time or am i just lazy. yes and also yes.

i hope you all had a great sonamy/silvaze week! i'm slowly catching up on some of the stuff created and i've already seen some amazing work! there's so many talented people in the sonic community, i feel blessed.

this had so many pov jumps that i might have confused myself a little whilst writing lol. if the transitions are terrible, my bad (it's all a learning curve right?) i hope you enjoyed it for what it was meant to be. i know i had a great time writing some of the interactions, especially between the characters who don't meet often.

thanks so much for reading! let me know your thoughts if you have a moment 😊

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

Totem poleing through the woods 101

Stiles didn't know why he ended up with meatball gravy dripping down the side of his face and mashed potatoes globbed in his hair, but he was certain it was Lydia's fault.

But that is no where near the beginning, so let's back up.

***

After Boyd and Erica almost died, after Boyd almost didn't survive Derek's claws things changed.

It started the moment Boyd was gurgling it wasn't Derek's fault, that it was okay, around a mouthful of blood. Derek told him it wasn't and let out a heart wrenching roar that set Stiles in motion. As Derek held Boyd's wounds while sobbing he was sorry, Stiles grabbed his shoulder like he could hold them both together. He called Deaton and Melissa before helping Derek stop his most staunch beta's bleeding. Stiles remembered what Deaton said about being a spark. He needed to be a bridge between the two points to connect the power. He had to envision the path to create the destination. He needed to be the spark in between that let the power flow back and forth, maybe he could do that here. Maybe, but he definitely had to try. He moved to Boyd's other side and started to pry Derek's hands away.

Derek reacted immediately. "Stiles what are you doing, stop!" Derek looked into his eyes questioning with an edge of danger.

"We both know Melissa or Deaton won't get here in time." As if to prove his point Boyd spit up more blood.

"No! He's not dying! He can't I- I can't be the reason he dies. Stop Stiles let me save him. I can save him." Derek pleaded like convincing Stiles was all it would take to make it true.

"It's not your fault, and we both know you can't save him."

Derek looked ready to protest.

"But maybe I can. I don't know for sure but let me try."

Derek's eyes wavered down to Boyd and back to Stiles, but his hands held steady.

"Please. Do you trust me?"

Derek's head turned slightly to the side before hesitantly shaking up and down while moving his hands.

Boyd moaned in pain. That drew both of their attention to his face in time to see his eyelids flutter shut and his head became dead weight in Derek's grip. Derek looked wrecked and Stiles couldn't even begin to think about what he would look like if this didn't work.

Stiles placed one hand over Boyd's wounds and the other on Derek's chest.

He willed that this would work. He willed it with every fiber of his being. The power Derek absorbed from his beta would flow out of Derek, through Stiles, and then back into Boyd. He would take his power back and use it to heal himself. Boyd would be okay. Boyd would be okay. He saw it. He willed it. Boyd will be okay. I am a bridge. Boyd is where I envision the power going. The power will flow through me. Derek will not lose a beta. Boyd will be okay. Boyd wil-

He felt a tingling sensation in the fingers pressed to Derek's chest.

This is working.

I will take the power from Derek, it will flow through me and into Boyd.

It was no longer tingling in favor of wrapping itself around his arm burning it's way to his chest.

It will flow through me.

When it reached his heart he let out a scream as his eyes shot open with a beta gold shine. It felt like he was on fire.

It will flow into Boyd.

He felt it gripping its way down his other arm.

It will flow into Boyd. It was just the faintest feeling on his fingertips now.

Boyd will be okay.

Boyd sat up with a roar and shining eyes.

***

Then they had to get Erica back. Defeating the alpha pack wasn't easy, but they now knew what it felt like to almost lose a pack member so they fought. They willed her back. They got her back, and she was okay.

After that things started changing. Even if it was a snail's pace things were changing. Derek was different. Like almost losing two of his betas reminded him that he could, and that it would hurt. No matter how much he tried to keep them from his heart, they had it. He was their alpha and they were his betas for a long time, but almost losing them was the first time he realized they were a pack. Then he realized it wasn't just them. Scott and Stiles had crawled into his heart no matter how many times he would deny it. Every new threat they grew together more. Soon Lydia was added, then Jackson, and even Allison won her way into his favor. The first big change was when the alpha pack reminded them that they needed to be a pack or at least fight like one, but all the little changes were what started making them a pack. It didn't happen the first time it was suggested or even the second but slowly they all realized it, so pack training started. With it came trust exercises and bonding. They slowly became less and less hostile and more like they were actually trying to learn.

After one too many train yard training jokes from Stiles they moved it to the preserve, and after one too many complaints about getting slivers in his ass from sitting on tree stumps Derek told them to meet by the Hale house next time.

***

Everyone knew this was a bad idea. The wolves could feel the tension in the cool autumn air, they could almost cut it with the claws begging to come out. Stiles was vibrating with anxiety. Nobody said anything because what do you say, 'Oh hey are you sure about meeting by the house where your family got brutally burned alive? Are you totally sure because we could move to left a little bit, you know, right over where you buried your dead sister. Or are you not emotionally over that enough to be here?' Stiles had to talk or he would explode.

"So Derek isn't here yet. Anybody find that strange? He's never late to a pack meeting or training. He's usually the first one. No scratch that, always the first one." Stiles kicked some dirt.

Jackson scoffed. "I bet he's eager to get here Stilinski."

Stiles crossed his arms to match his mocking face and to warm himself, damn super heated wolves weren't even shivering and he was the only human not dressed appropriately. "I know that assbag, I was just pointing out maybe this isn't the best idea." Stiles flung his hands out to gesture to the scorched house.

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Well why do you think we're here? You couldn't shut up about your little tush being sore."

Stiles smirked. "I love that you said tush and not ass. It totally doesn't discredit your whole asshole rich bad boy vibe."

The corners of Jackson's mouth lifted slightly. "Shut it."

The rest of the pack snickered.

"Oh yeah why don't you make me... bad boy." Stiles added the dramatic pause to goad him.

Jackson was full on smiling now. "You're on Stilinski!" He rushed Stiles and took him to the ground in .2 seconds flat.

Stiles yelped. "Scott! Erica! Help me!" He managed to not get trapped into a headlock while they dove to the rescue.

"Isaac! Get Stiles' legs!" He could barely get it out around huffs of laughter.

Isaac went to move Erica out of the way and Boyd came up behind him to pin him. Lydia started yelling strategy to her boyfriend as Allison twisted an arm away from hers. There was a writhing mass of fighting limbs and lungs heaving in breaths and letting out laughter that was visible in the chilled air.

Scott was finally triumphant. "I got you buddy. Go! Save yourself. Remember me." Scott acted like he was drowning deeper into the sea of moving bodies writhing on the dirt and crunchy leaves.

Stiles wriggled free with a dramatic, "I'll always remember you Scottie!" He stood up just in time to see Erica get elbowed in the face.

"Oh it's on Lahey!"

Stiles let out a laugh over his inevitable demise. His laughter was cut short by seeing Derek across the yard. His fists were clenched and his face was tense as if to try and stop the torrential mixture of emotions that were on his face. His eyes were flashing in between colors so fast that any other time Stiles would make a joke about not having clear driving instructions, except this time he could tell green or red they meant stop. It was out before he could stop it.

"Derek."

It was like his voice was a curse freezing the pack and, after a deadly silent pause, banishing Derek to a dead sprint into the woods. He could not tell what it did to himself, his heart seemed to be running with Derek and frozen in place all at once.

There was a silent pause.

Isaac spoke up. "Should someone go after him?"

"I think he needs some time, but I don't think we should stay here." Scott spoke the first part plainly from his experience with spooked animals, and the second disguised from meaning we shouldn't have been here at all yet they knew both.

Slowly everyone left, all but Stiles, Scott, and Allison.

"Hey Scottie can you take Ali home on your bike?"

"I thought we were going to go over 18th centu-" Only she could look so dejected after not being able to talk about daggers for three hours.

Stiles looked apologetic. "Can we do that next weekend? I promise I'm not canceling on you. I want to clean up here a bit so we don't leave anything here." He gestured to the dozen or so empty water bottles and four towels scattered along with the crisp leaves.

"Sure Sti. Just text me." She smiled at him. "We could wait? Or help?"

"Nah I got it. You guys go."

Scott handed her a matte black helmet that matches his except it had a shiny black fleur-de-lis on the side. It had been Stiles' idea for their first year anniversary, but it was still so coupley it made him want to throw up in his mouth a bit. Scott looked at him strangely, then as Allison moved to the bike he gave him a hug. He looked into his eyes and told him, "Maybe he's not ready to talk about it."

Stiles looked at him puzzled until he spoke, "I know Scottie, you said that already."

Scott gave a sigh like something already happened that he warned against. "Okay."

With one final indecipherable look they sped off.

Stiles was humming "All I want for Christmas" while he was cleaning up.

He had gone through a few more songs and he still had a water bottle and two towels to pick up as he started softly singing, "Cold hands." Every time he'd get close to something that needed to be picked up he'd get distracted by a branch that should be cleared, or an abandoned nest that he needed to look at, or a worm he had to help to a more wet puddle. His feet seemingly took longer to take him where he wanted to go. He leaned up slowly with a groan and stretching out like he was too old to pick things off the ground after each item.

As he reached the last water bottle his thoughts drifted from his eclectic music choices to Derek. How he was alone. After being betrayed by his pack. They had played a game on the sacred ground that served to him as a shrine to his family- they fucking wrestled on it. They basically spat at his past. He confronted a place with so many bad memories- no he invited them there. He invited them there because Stiles was uncomfortable, and they didn't even think twice.

And now he was alone, because none of them knew how to comfort him. They didn't know how he would react so they didn't even make sure or ask if it was okay. He was alone, because he lost people close to him and that made them uncomfortable. That made Stiles feel terrible, he remembered what it was like after he lost his mom. How everyone would approach him with pitying eyes and too gentle hands like he wasn't Stiles anymore, like he was only broken.

Stiles hurriedly picked up the towels and threw them in the back of the jeep to be washed later. He stalked out into the woods with purpose.

His purpose was quickly derailed as he found that trees share a striking resemblance to each other and do not go, 'Hey you over there! Yes you! Follow the yellow blinking tree road and you'll find Toto,' but they do have very trippable roots especially if you're a Stiles.

He was lost. Very lost.

And did he have signal? No. Why ever would the universe shine in his favor like not getting stuck in the middle of the woods! To die of hypothermia!

Well the hypothermia was not as likely because it was Cali, and it isn't even night yet, and it was only the beginning of fall. But still! He was alone! And that thought got him back on track, Derek was alone too.

"Derek! Can you hear me? Where are you? Derek!"

He went on trekking and yelling Derek's name. He turned his face upwards to curse the sky and missed a tree branch that blocked his path.

"Whoaaa- Ow!" Stiles moved to sit up.

"Ow! Great! Just great! Sprained ankle. Yay fun." He grabbed a stick to help himself up.

"Stupid self for being inconsiderate. Stupid pack being stupid and making me feel bad so I have to go find Derek. Stupid Derek for running so far into the woods. I bet he's laugh his ass off while listening to me struggle. Uuuugh. Derek! Hurry your sourwolf ass up and find me already!"

He hobbled a few more steps and he felt something in the air. He stopped.

"You're either Derek or something that might as well just eat me now, cuz I'm not running."

"You're hurt." Came a gruff voice he would know even if he couldn't hear a Lydia Martin level deafening scream anymore.

Stiles let out a long suffering sigh. "It's about time. Did you stop to eat a little fluffy bunny on your way to resc-" Stiles started turning around and saw the puffy red marks already healing on his arms, neck, and face. "You're hurt." Stiles said with emphasis.

Derek finally got to his side and grabbed his shoulder and arm to lead him to a near by log. "I asked you first."

"Technically neither of us asked questions."

Derek rolled his eyes as he knelt down in front of Stiles. "Stop being a pain in my ass. How did it happen?"

"I thought I'd be funny to mortally wound myself." Stiles flailed on the log. "What do you think dumbass. I fell. Now you. What happened to you?"

Derek looked up from where he'd been inspecting Stiles' ankle and had started to pull the pain.

He mockingly threw out his unoccupied hand. "What do you think dumbass. I ran through the woods." Derek smirked and Stiles scoffed.

"Yeah but-" Stiles poked his finger into Derek's chest as he said the next word. "You- oh graceful werewolf- do not run into things, like us mere humans."

Derek quickly looked back down at his ankle. "I was running fast."

Stiles let out a disbelieving noise. "Oh whatever. You always run fast, but you don't always get these-" Stiles brushed his fingers under what was a gash when he first saw him, now an almost completely healed minor cut on his face. Derek snapped his gaze up and into Stiles' eyes at the contact. Stiles' throat seemed to forget what words to form next. "Um they-they are um-" Stiles seemed to realize his fingers were still stroking Derek's face. He pulled his hand away.

Derek seemed to be drugged by the contact and unconsciously leaned into it.

He ached to touch Derek's face again, but Stiles' hand was still retreating until he realized it was gone. He brushed his fingers against his cheek again. Derek's eyes fluttered closed. "It's gone."

His eyes opened again and he spoke with a dry throat. "Wh-what is gone?"

Stiles' fingers still danced along his cheek. "The cut. It's gone." Stiles smiled at him. "I must be your magical healing drug."

Just like that whatever fragile moment they were having was shattered. "Stiles why are you here?" There goes Derek being distant again.

"You mean what is my purpose in life or wh-"

"Why are you in the middle of the woods alone." Derek asked annoyed.

"Oh you know looking for unicorns I've heard if you ask really nicely they'll stab bearded green eyed were-men that get on your nerves and here's to hopin." Stiles clasped his hands together and batted his eyes at the sky with a dreamy expression, one that was quickly wiped from his face to be replaced by a no shit Sherlock face. "I was looking for you dumbass."

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles knows that eyebrow raise. That is the eyebrow raise that means I'm about to say something very mean, but it's because we are edging into sensitive feelings area. "Sorry Stiles, I thought even you would know not to follow someone who, very clearly, didn't want to be followed. But forgive me for being a dumbass by not realizing how pathetically dumb you are. I'll make sure to spell it out next time, dumbass." He finished with none of the earlier lighthearted banter and all the edge he could muster. He stood up and turned like he was going to leave.

Stiles grabbed his arm. "I'm sorry. We weren't thinking. We shouldn't have messed around like that. It was disrespectful and crass. We can go back to the reserve. I'll pack lawn chairs. Just please forgive me. Forgive us. We didn-"

Derek turned back with wide puzzled eyes. "You think I'm angry at you?"

Stiles floundered for words. "Um. Well I mean I- Yes." Stiles looked puzzled now and squinted. "Aren't you?"

"Why would I be mad?" Derek asked like he couldn't think of a single reason.

"Um for starters? We wrestled on the ground that used to be the home that got taken away from you. That place holds so many bad memories for you and you found us laughing. We basically laughed at your past trauma. And I'm sorr-"

Derek waved his hands. "Stiles do you know why I don't go back to the Hale house anymore?"

Stiles could tell this was serious. "Uh... because of the trauma, and bad memories, and stuff?"

Derek shook his head unflinching in Stiles' insensitivity. "The silence. It is deafening. Especially to me. I can hear things you never even knew made a sound."

Derek moved to sit beside him on the log and stared down at the ground in front of them, he knew how much that meant. It meant Derek was trusting him enough to speak to him, trusting that Stiles would listen.

"And sure I can hear the leaves rustling outside, and the birds, and everything else, but inside? It's dead noise. There's nothing except me." He looked at Stiles haunted. "I don't go to the house not because of bad memories, but because of the good ones."

Derek looked down at his hands. The only way Stiles could tell he was crying was because he brought his hand up to wipe his face. "I still remember what Cora's little feet sounded like tottering down the hall. I remember hearing my little brother watching cartoons on Sundays. I remember Peter playing Marco Polo with my cousins, but instead of saying Polo he'd say, "Daddy loves you." I remember my dad singing while cooking and my- my mom hugging him from behind so she could sing him the next line. I-" His voice cracks and Stiles doesn't know how much more he can take and he doesn't know if he's thinking of himself or Derek. "I remember when I would wake up from nightmares and I would focus on every single heartbeat in the house till their rhythm soothed me to sleep. I remember focusing on every little sound every one of them made when I was learning to control my shift. Now there-" His voice broke, too filled with emotion. "There is just silence."

There was a pause and after hearing how much he hates the quiet now Stiles ached to fill it for him, but could not find the words.

Stiles finally spoke, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry it wasn't your-"

Stiles waved his hand and bulldozed over him. "No I'm not sorry about the fire. Oh shit no! That's not what I mean! I mean I am sorry for the fire, but not now. Well I mean I'm still sorry for the fire just that wasn't what I meant and-"

"Stiles." Derek said plainly.

"Derek?" Stiles looked uncomfortable.

"What did you mean."

He let out a deep breath before speaking. "I meant I'm sorry we went there, and we caused you pain."

"You still don't understand. I wasn't mad because you were laughing and having fun. Stiles that was my home. There are far more good memories there than bad, even if the bad are the most memorable. That's not why I left, I left because I was overwhelmed with having a pack to fill the silence, but then as soon as you all saw me you stopped. I left because I couldn't be the reason for silence again. Not again." He could tell he was crying steadily now.

Stiles spoke softly, "Derek."

He didn't look up at him. Stiles turned towards him, and cupped his hand around the back of Derek's neck. He looked absolutely wrecked.

"Derek, that wasn't your fault. You know that right? We've been over this. What she did was not your fault, and the reason we were quiet was because we didn't know how you were going to react."

Stiles started wiping his tears.

"They do it every practice. As soon as I start talking, they stop joking."

"Because you are their alpha."

Derek's eyes flashed.

"Exactly. That comes with power and respect. They respect you, and when it's time to get serious, they do. They are not falling silent Derek. They are listening, listening to you. We're always ready to listen to you. Or to fill the silence, which I am particularly good at. You just have to tell us what you need."

Stiles' thumb started stroking his neck at some point, and with how much more relaxed Derek had become, he wasn't about to stop.

There was a pause.

"Thank you. And you're actually surprisingly good at both." He mumbled the last bit, but he said it with honesty.

Derek looked lighter, like he had let something heavy off his chest. Curse werewolf healing, his eyes weren't even red or puffy anymore he was already back to Greek god mode like it never happened.

Stiles' hand left his neck to squeeze Derek's shoulder into him, in a half hug. "Anytime man." Then he slapped his back lightly.

Stiles looked around and noticed that it was getting dark out. "Well I'd love to stay forever, but mosquitoes are getting a little too chompy on the first date so..."

"Forever? You couldn't handle it for more than five minutes, you baby. Besides I have more important things to do than stay here, with you." Normally Stiles would brush it off, but he said it with a note of bitterness and any hit towards their reciprocal, but half unwelcome feelings made him upset.

"Right... okay. Let's go jackass."

Stiles moved to get up, away from Derek, and forgot about his hurt leg, so he promptly landed in a heap on the floor.

Or he would've if Derek wouldn't have caught him and sat him back down.

"You have to do that on purpose. Nobody could be that clumsy."

"Believe it or not it's god given."

Derek smirked. "More like baby dropped."

Stiles put a hand over his heart. "I take great offence to that."

"Yeah well, my recompense will be carrying you to your jeep."

Stiles stilled, like he hadn't thought about how he was getting back. "Don't be stupid. I can walk. Like a man." He was still stinging from Derek's dismissal of him.

"Stiles already without a sprain  you don't walk like a man. You flail like a baby horse."

"1. Baby horses are called foals. 2. I most certainly do not! And 3. You are not carrying me, you ass."

"Stiles just get climb on my back." Derek said flatly.

"I am most certainly not getting a piggy back ride from you like a fucking two year old!" It was spoken with conviction, but punctuated with a stamp of the foot. At this point he realized he was being ridiculous.

"Why not, you're acting like one?" Derek looked entirely unimpressed at Stiles' gaping face. "Besides you do it with the pack all the time."

Stiles realized that this was a stupid thing to argue about, what Derek said was already forgiven, even if he didn't want to, because he knew why he said it. It wasn't even that bad, but he had chosen his rock and god damn him if he wasn't going to die upon it! "I would rather starve in these woods than be piggy backed to safety!"

Derek let out a growl of frustration. "So I'm guessing princess carry is out."

"Do not doubt my ability to find wolvesbane in this forest."

Derek scoffed as he scrubbed his hand down his face. "Stiles I doubt your ability to find your own ass in this forest."

"Maybe mistletoe then." Stiles started looking around.

"Mistletoe doesn't grow in this forest." A fond look found its way to Derek's face.

Stiles leveled him with a glare. "I'll plant it myself."

Derek laughed genuinely and Stiles forgot what they were arguing about.

"Fireman?"

Stiles looked over his shoulders. "Where?"

"Tch. No you idiot! Fireman carry."

Stiles thought about Derek fireman carrying him to safety and somehow when they got back to his jeep Derek was in complete gear sans shirt and jacket. He let him down with a 'You're safe now' and who was even dousing him in water!? Why was Isaac in his daydream and who gave him a fire hose!

"Absolutely not."

"Well then what else is there!" Derek threw his hands up. "Stop being ridiculous. You have to be out of stupid shit to say by now! Just get on my back."

Derek should have know Stiles will never be out of stupid shit to say. In fact he should have known it would come across as 'I dare you to say even stupider shitier things' in great big flashing neon letters.

"I could get on your shoulders."

If he wasn't an atheist Stiles had never seen a more impressive Jesus give me strength face worthy of the second coming.

"Let me- You kno- How- What ev-" Derek moved his hands and paused them with every start and stop.

"Do yo-" Stiles began.

"Oh no. Nope. Em em. Ah ah." He gave the zipping motion to Stiles.

A few seconds later Stiles was about to start talking again and he made the motion again. He let out a groan.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to carry you. On my shoulders. Two miles. Through the woods. All the way back to your jeep."

"Yes." Stiles replied like it was obviously the best solution and made no sense why it had taken him so long to catch up.

"Okay. Okay. Stiles?"

"Yes?"

"Explain me this, how is getting a piggy back ride less dignified than TOTEM POLEING THROUGH THE WOODS AT DUSK!" Derek was heaving and his eyes were wild.

This is the part any sane person would have been like, 'You're totally right dude. My bad. Thank you for carrying me. Let me just hop on your back.'

This is the part Stiles said, "We would be piggy backing at dusk too." When Derek gives him the murder eyebrows he continued, "I mean it's a moot point. They both would be at dusk so why even bring it up?"

Derek's face flashed 'how is this my life' briefly before pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath, flinging both of his arms out, then letting them slap against his legs. "You're right Stiles how dare I bring up that it's dusk. It was stupid of me."

Stiles gets a shit eating grin before saying, "Well, at least you admit it was stupid." Stiles planned to take advantage of what was going to be a dark drive home to thank his lucky stars, because of how many times he'd seen Derek smile in one night. Even if this time it is heavily riddled with exasperation and eventually reluctant affection.

"We do need to get you home soon. And although I am in favor of letting your head whap against countless tree branches along the way, I'll have sore shoulders in the morning."

"You won't be sore, you have werewolf strength."

"Stiles. You're heavy." Derek almost added a duh, but didn't.

Stiles' mouth fell into an O shape. "Did you just call me fat!"

Derek growled and stalked closer to growl in Stiles' face. "Pick a position or I'll pick one for you!" He spun and walked to lean against a nearby tree.

Stiles was glad for the falling darkness because of his rosy cheeks. "Piggy, fireman, princess, and totem are all out. What if I just put an arm around you and limp along?"

"That would take forever."

"Hm. True."

"I could always carry you under my arm like a dead piece of wood." Derek offered disinterested while staring at another tree right in front of him.

"Ha ha."

"I'm serious.  I'm two seconds away from knocking you out and doing as I please."

"Okay fine I think I have it. Come here."

Derek pushed off his tree and met the hobbling Stiles next to a wide tree. He stood in front of Stiles.

"Okay now wh-"

Stiles pushed off the ground with his good leg and the stick while jumping up. Stiles' arms grappled around Derek's shoulders, after dropping the stick, and his legs secured as well as he could, but he new he was going down without werewolf reflexes.

Derek's hands roughly grabbed his ass, but the surprise momentum pulled him forward and Stiles' back crashed into the other tree.

"Ow!"

Derek's voice came out muffled from where his face smooshed into Stiles' shoulder, "Well then next time warn me!"

Stiles adjusted himself in Derek's grip and moved his hands to Derek's neck. "Move! My back is getting bark imbedded into it."

Derek stood up straight and took Stiles with him. "I wasn't the one wh-" Derek stopped. It was dark, but not dark enough that he couldn't see that while he was looking at Stiles' eyes, Stiles was looking at his lips. Nor was it dark enough for Stiles to not be able to see how beautiful Derek's lips were when he was sassing him. Stiles looked back up and my God his lips were beautiful, but his eyes were majestic. Stiles loved them even more when they trailed down to look at his lips. He smirked and started to lean in.

Now this would be a terrible time for Derek to drop him.

"Wham! Crack! OW!"

"Holy shit! Fuck! Sorry!" Derek knelt down in a hurry.

Stiles was moaning in pain. "Not only did I hit my ankle you dropped my tailbone right onto a tree branch asswipe!"

Stiles saw black veins crawl up Derek's arm and he slapped it away. Derek looked about as hurt as Stiles felt.

"If you take too much pain, you'll be too weak to carry me dumbutt. And I'd rather not die from freezing to death in these woods, which is becoming increasingly more likely!"

"You're hurt. And did you just call me a dumbutt?"

Stiles was starting to get seriously irritated from the pain of quite literally being dropped on his ass because Derek didn't want to kiss him. Whatever, it was a bad idea anyway. "Yes. We've established that cave wolf. Me hurt. You Derek. Fire hot. Tonight cold."

Derek seemed to be snapped out of his trance. "You're cold?"

Derek was getting on his last nerve. Stiles started moving his hands wildly while getting up with Derek's help. "Oh gee I don't know. Why would I be cold right now? In the middle of the woods! At nightfall. With only a flimsy jacket. Should I say a list of things I am right now and save us some time? Okay first, I'm cold. We've established that. Second, I'm tired. Because even though I should've been catching up on all the sleep I've missed while researching every possible threat under the fucking sun that decided to mess with us just these last few months, I haven't been able to sleep since the last pack meeting, too busy worrying about what to say to you! Third, I'm hungry as shit. No lunch today because I had to help Malia, Issac, and Scott cram study. Fourth, I just want to be home, but I'm stuck out here with you! Which, by the way, I have no idea how that keeps happening! And fifth, I'm hurt. Both of which I'm blaming you for! I don't care if they both happened because of me! They are both your fault, and you are letting me pick what kind of takeout we get for the next three pack meetings!" He finished his rant by sticking a finger right in Derek's face.

Derek nodded his head and seemed to be taking it all in.

He dropped his finger and let out a deep breath.

Derek broke the charged silence. "You forgot upset and frustrated with me."

He narrowed his eyes looking like he was trying to decide whether to take it as it was intended, as a lighthearted olive branch, or to blow up again. He started to open his mouth.

Derek interrupted before he could speak. "I'm sorry Stiles. I didn't mean to upset or hurt you-"

Stiles scoffed.

"Even if it does happen without me meaning it. I am sorry." Derek looked sincere.

Stiles nodded his head as he yawned. "I know I'm just-"

"Just tired? Cold? Hungry? Upset?" Derek smirked and he could never stay mad at that face.

"S-something like that." Stiles' teeth started chattering.

Derek moved close to him and gingerly brushed his cheek with his knuckles in mirror of what Stiles had done earlier. Stiles' eyelashes fluttered and the white clouds momentarily stopped billowing from his mouth.

"You are really cold. We should hurry." Derek said with concern.

He moved back a little and Stiles couldn't tell if he was swaying because his balance was off or because he was at war with himself on whether or not to follow that wonderful warmth. He focused back to reality and saw Derek moving.

"What are you doing?"

Derek gave eyebrow raise number forty -eight, 'Go on. Try reeeally hard you'll figure it out.' before Stiles felt a calming, comfortable warmth settle around his shoulders. He almost moaned out loud at the heat seeping down to his frozen bones.

"This is your jacket."

"How very intuitive of you." He snarked as he held both sides of the collar so it wouldn't fall off as Stiles put his arms in.

"Your favorite jacket." He started to put his arms in slowly.

"What makes you think it's my favorite? I have a lot of leather jackets."

"Because you wear it as often as you can without wearing it too much so you don't ruin it. You always wear this one to important things. It reminds me of one time when I was at Scott's I almost borrowed one of his hoodies, but he nearly clawed me to pieces because it's the one that Allison always wears. You're like that with this jacket. I've seen you openly avoid letting people touch you when you're wearing this, even the pack. Wait I think it wa- Was it your-" Stiles trailed off.

Derek nodded knowing what he meant. "It was my dad's. It survived the fire because a week before Cora had spilled fruit punch on dad and it got on the liner, so it was at the dry cleaners. My mom would steal it sometimes because she said it smelled more like him than he did some days because of how much he wore it. Now it's the only thing I have that smells like both of them without smoke."

Stiles felt his stomach drop out. He hurriedly started to take it off. "Oh my god Derek! Why would you let me wear it then!" Derek stopped him from taking the coat off.

"No it's okay. Whenever my mom said he was going to tire out his jacket from wearing it too much my dad always said 'you can have useful things, but they're only things worth having if you use them fully'. When I first found out that they had his jacket I never wanted to wear it, but then I thought about him. He would've wanted me to wear it. I felt guilty whenever I saw it just hanging in the closet. It made me feel empty looking at the jacket my dad used to fill. Eventually I grew into it and wore it as a comfort, but lately the only reason I still smell them on that jacket is because I picture their scents. Besides you're cold."

Derek looked like it was genuinely okay that he was wearing it, almost like he approved while zipping the zipper.

"I- I don't even know what to say... Thank you Derek."

Derek smiled at him. "You always know what to say."

They shared a pleasant pause before Derek spoke again.

"Now we have to get you home."

"Alright turn around and crouch down."

Derek shot up a questioning, amused brow. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"I haven't a possible idea what you're talking about. Maybe you are referring to, how did you put it, 'I am not getting a piggyback like a fucking two year old' hm?"

They both were trying to conceal rapidly growing grins.

Derek continued with a wide smile. "Maybe you would prefer to totem pole through the woods?... At dusk."

They both lost it. Stiles doubled over in laughter, and Derek's face betrayed nothing besides pure glee and happiness as laughter shook his shoulders.

Stiles was nearly breathless as he attempted to stifle his giggles in a leather sleeve. "You ass."

"You're the one that said it." Derek spoke still with a face splitting smile. "I still can't believe you did."

Stiles shrugged and looked at him. "Now I'm glad I did." His eyes trailed down. "I love it when you smile with your teeth."

Derek looked down then away at the completely fallen night. "We should start heading back."

He turned and crouched. Stiles settled in as a soothing weight and calming warmth on his back. After he wrapped his hands securely around his neck, Derek slowly lifted to his feet while gently grabbing Stiles' thighs, careful not to jostle his hurt ankle. They could never do this again and Derek would still never forget what it felt like to have Stiles this close, even if it had only been for a couple seconds so far.

"Giddy up werewolf."

"I can still leave you here." Derek said even as he started moving.

"You know I don't believe your threats anymore."

"All alone with no one to save you."

"The moon would guide me back."

"Last I checked she's more my ally then yours."

"Exactly. You need me, so she'd bring me back to you." Derek steps seemed to falter for a moment and he gripped harder into Stiles' legs.

Derek seemed uncomfortable. "Oh? She would, would she? And did-did you read that in a book?" Derek asked cautiously.

"What? No. Should I have? Is there a book about the moon guiding people?" Stiles scoffed. "Tales and tails: Lunar sherpa edition?"

"Mythos of the moon mates." Derek said seriously.

Stiles snickered and Derek started to chuckle as well.

They were silent for awhile, and Derek could get used to being this close to him. His normally jackrabbiting heartbeat was calm against his back. His breath was gently fanning across his ear and neck keeping Derek warm. He ached thinking about how similar curling up on the couch with him would be.

"Does it hurt when I'm this close?"

Derek nearly choked. "Ah uhm how di- what?"

"Oh sorry I was just thinking does it hurt when I'm this close and talking? Like are your super ears sore? What would happen if I screamed this close?"

"Oh. Well it's kind of uncomfortable, but the 'super ears', as a literal five year old put it, are easy to deal with once you learn control. I can almost dial it. And what might happen is I might drop you on your ass, but on purpose this time." Derek softened his senses because he knew the shit. He had no doubt Stiles would 'see something' and 'have to' scream.

Stiles took him by surprise. "Is this better?" He whispered right by his ear.

Derek nearly dropped him. "You know I think it's about the same. It must be a directional thing. You can just talk normally. Please talk normally."

Stiles turned his head away and laid it on his shoulder. "Better?"

It was slightly better and slightly worse. "Is that comfortable for you?"

Stiles yawned. "It's so comfortable I could fall asleep." The only thing that bothered Stiles was that before the heat from Derek radiated to half his face now the cold was biting at his face.

"Then go to sleep."

He yawned again. "I shouldn't. I have to get back."

"I'm carrying you. Then, I'll drive you back. Go to sleep Stiles."

"Okay bossy." His words sounded muffled from how his cheek was smushed into his shoulder.

Stiles was slowly drifting off with the rhythm of Derek's steps. He was in the tired delirious stage right before slipping into unconsciousness. He groggily lifted his head up to the sky.

"Oh wait, I forgot to thank the stars."

Even though Stiles couldn't see it Derek's eyebrows rose. He too looked up at the crystal clear sky and bright twinkling stars. "What?"

"I forgot to thank the stars that I got to see you smile and laugh so much tonight. Tonight was a good night." Like he had never spoken Stiles' head thunked back down, but this time he faced the other way. Stiles' frozen nose burrowed into his neck and his breath came out in warm puffs. Normally he didn't get the whole werewolf deal with smell, but with his nose pressed against Derek, his cologne and scent smelling like safety made him think he could.

Derek could feel his neck and face heat despite not having the warmth of a jacket, he had something better, the warmth of a Stiles.

"You sprained your ankle tonight Stiles."

"I don't care. Doesn't-" Stiles yawned, "matter. I made you laugh... I love you when you- when you la-"

Derek could tell Stiles lost his fight against sleep as his heart rate calmed. His own however was beating faster than he had ever heard Stiles'. This wasn't an 'I love it when...' thing, he had said 'I love you when...' and some how that made a big difference.

He always tried denying and fighting this thing they had and both were aware of because he knew he was only good at two things. Hurting people and getting hurt. Derek knew Stiles wasn't going to hurt him, well at least not on purpose, not with how many times he's saved him. Still, he knew he could never really love someone, not if he cared for them. Because that's how he felt, he cared for Stiles, he didn't love him. Because everyone Derek loves ends up hurt or hurting him. They end up dead or making Derek wish he was instead.

He cared for Stiles because he really should've been using a different word, but it scared him and it didn't matter before. Stiles didn't even like him that much, before. Before Stiles was softly snoring in his ear and drooling on his neck. Before Stiles said something stupid. Before he said something that snapped Derek out of his denial, and reminded him just how much he wanted. Derek knew what he would've said if he hadn't fallen asleep, but he couldn't help only hearing what he wanted to.

Stiles loved him.

AN This is part one for Sterek week prompt outdoors. Part two will be published tomorrow for movie night. Thanks for reading!

                                                                                             Carter :)  

[sunevial]

Moving Day

This is once again another case of ‘not exactly a commission, but someone chucking money at me to eventually write about space and magic gays’, except this time, it’s from @hewhowalksbehind. 

Continuation of this.

---

Of all the things Venny missed most about Ylxret at nine thirty in the goddamn morning, it was automated coffee makers. Blearily pouring water down the little spout and pushing entirely too many shiny buttons, she eventually got the machine to start blinking. With a grumble, she slotted a floral patterned mug under the funnel and slumped against the counter. 

Water was boiling, oatmeal was in the new saucepan, spoon was in the sink, bowls were…

She forgot to buy bowls. 

Fuck a duck. 

Groaning, she pressed her hands to her eyes and let out a long sigh. After a shopping trip that must’ve lasted an eternity, she had been running on fumes by the time she had a chance to pass out last night, but apparently even that wasn’t enough to calm her adrenaline addled brain. Her best guess was that she hadn’t fallen asleep until three, and even that was a generous estimate. To add insult to injury, her first night in her new apartment was plagued by restless dreams, fitful tossing and turning, and a blanket that was neither warm or cool enough.

At least the air mattress was comfortable. 

The air mattress was comfortable, and her new plush corgi was cuddly.

A steady drip of liquid gold splashed into the mug, the warm coffee revealing heat activated yellow and white circuitry lines weaving through the painted-on flowers. Not even bothering with milk or sugar, she downed the coffee fast enough to get away with only minor tongue burns and shoveled down instant oatmeal straight from the pot. Throwing both into the sink to wash up later, she scrambled into the shower just long enough to wash off yesterday’s sweat and rub away the smell of what felt like seven layers of deodorant. A fresh change of clothes later, a practical t-shirt and legging combo, and she felt half-way to being a functioning person again.

Which was really convenient considering that things would start arriving in approximately now.

Grabbing both wallet and keys, she quietly slipped out of her room and padded downstairs to the front lobby. Today was Internet access, a ‘do it yourself’ table and chair set, and the cushions for her couch. The couch itself was tomorrow, along with the bedframe and mattress, and the nightstand and dresser wouldn’t be for another week yet. Thankfully, unlike her very much not present bowls, she had remembered to buy a toolkit, so at the very least she would have somewhere else to sit by the end of today.

A quick peek outside confirmed that the Internet people hadn’t arrived yet, so Venny plopped down on one of the lobby couches and quickly scanned for any available wireless hotspots. It would’ve been laughably easy to tap into a password protected connection with a couple waves of her hand, but she knew better than to bum off someone. It was also probably very illegal. 

Eventually, she got ahold of a weak signal from the coffee shop next door, and her com link lit up with a happy beep. Her eyes flashed back and forth as she redirected the electrical signals within the device, ensuring that this much weaker and simpler form of wireless communication would end up being compatible. When she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be running at a snail’s pace, she pulled and weaved the software code until the screen lit up and the holoprojector displayed a rotating band of images. Smiling triumphantly, she tapped on her email, she still had a hard time believing Toven still used email, and sifted through the various messages she had gotten over the past day or so.

Confirmation from her Internet provider, spam, start day and paperwork for work, coupon for shampoo, more spam…updated delivery day for her larger furniture?

“Due to upgrades in processing time, your order will instead be delivered today around ten AM, we hope to see you then,” she muttered under her breath, suppressing a loud groan and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. On the one hand, she’d have an actual bed by the end of the day if everything went right. On the other hand, this was one more group of people to talk with and one more group of things to do, and she was not convinced that all of the coffee in the world would make either of those things easier. Not much she could reasonably do about that, though, because her damn couch was coming whether she was awake enough to realize it or not. 

Whatever happened next didn’t seem to follow the proper passage of time. Sometimes it moved breathtakingly fast, other times painstakingly slow. All Venny could register through her brain-addled eyes was a never ending blur of paper signing, hauling packages, and telling people she had never met to put things down wherever they could find open space. By the time the last person was out of her apartment, and she could actually gauge the passage of time, it was exactly eleven twenty-four in the morning. She collapsed onto one of the new cushions, a nice olive green that she definitely didn’t remember picking out, and got to thinking.

Assets: She had Internet access that wasn’t siphoned off the coffeeshop.

Consequences: Her apartment was no longer able to accommodate carpet angels. 

Priority one: Bed needed to be set up. She’d like an actual bed.

Priority two: Get the couch out of the center of the living room.

Priority three: Actually build the table so she could eat without standing up.

Problem: She had the energy to do maybe half of the bed set up. 

Slowly getting back onto her feet, she shuffled towards the bedroom, though not before noticing her front door still propped wide open from all of the deliveries. She went to close it, getting about halfway there before the door across the hall opened, revealing Sol’s relatively incredulous face. 

“Morning,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and stifling a yawn. “Lot of noise over there for a weekend morning.”

“That makes two of us,” Venny replied, trying to put on as apologetic an expression as she could muster. “I didn’t wake either of you up, did I?”

She shook her head, lavender curls bouncing a little. “Nah, I’ve been up for a bit, and Clarissa could sleep through a hurricane if you let her.”

“Still gonna apologize,” Venny said, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing a touch. “You know, I didn’t think most furniture places delivered on weekends.”

“Learn something new everyday.” Her eyes glanced towards Venny’s now incredibly messy apartment for a moment. “You settling in okay?”

Venny chuckled, tapping the ground absentmindedly with a foot. Well, she could answer truthfully, she could answer in the socially acceptable way, or she could split it down the middle and hope for the best. “I think so, just need to get used to...all of this.”

“It’s not easy moving somewhere new, even harder when you’re all alone,” Sol said with a sympathetic smile, nodding her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “If you need help getting set up, I’m not really doing anything today.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, shaking her head even as every fiber of her being was saying ‘take up the offer’. As much as she’d love another pair of hands helping out, she’d already taken up enough of Sol’s time between the reading interruption and the grocery care package. Best not to take advantage of her kindness this many times in such a short period of time. Or maybe Sol didn’t care, that she just actually wanted to help and didn’t resent her for it, and this was just a combination of sleep deprivation and anxiety talking. Maybe it was both. It was probably both. “I think I’ve got it handled,” she replied, twirling a twist between her fingers. “Thanks for the offer though.”

All she got in return was an incredulously raised eyebrow.

“Or maybe I’m saying that because I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness again and seem really needy in a time of upheaval and stress,” Venny said with a defeated sigh.

“I wouldn’t be offering it if I didn’t wanna help.” Sol smirked just a touch. “I know my boundaries better than that.”

Venny could physically feel the tension in her muscles drain away as she slumped against her own door frame. “I promise I’m not this pathetic all of the time.”

“You said it yourself, a lot of upheaval and stress, and from what it sounds like, absolutely no sleep either,” she replied with a shrug, popping back into her own apartment long enough to grab her keys and phone. “Alright, where are we starting?”

 “Bedroom, cause I need a bed.”

The two of them quickly made their way to the chaotic bedroom, surveying the bed frame in its various parts and the mattress propped up against the window. Cracking open the new tool box, Sol set to work screwing everything into place while Venny sorted through a veritable hoard of metal rods and support beams. While she had no reason to doubt that Sol could wield a hammer and screwdriver, watching her work was, in a word, beautiful. Sol took to the various tools with a clear familiarity, handling them with delicacy and certainty as she aligned the wooden frame. Venny knew nothing about art, but she knew an artist’s touch.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Venny said, holding a level against the wood to see if any holes needed a quick re-drill or if something had been screwed in the wrong place.

“I’d hope so, I make things for a living,” Sol replied, wiping a little sweat off her brow.

“What kind of things?”

Sol returned with a playful smile. “You get three guesses.”

She allowed thirty seconds to come up with her answers, no small feat with how slow her brain was chugging along. “Artisanal woodworking.”

“Nope.”

“Artisanal metalworking.”

“Nope.”

“Designing prototypes for this exact style of bed frame,” Venny said with a shit eating grin that was probably more of a result of her being half way to slap happy. 

Sol rolled her eyes, closing one as she carefully twisted the last screw into place. “Okay, I’ll admit, second one was closer.”

“So what is it?”

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Sol said flatly, tapping the frame twice for good measure.

Venny pouted, planting her elbows on the footboard and resting her chin on her fists. “Come on, it can’t be that out there.”

“I promise I’m not joking.”

“You could say you build rocket ships and I’m so tired I’d believe you.”

Sol paused for almost ten full seconds. “Funny you mention that…”

“Get out, you make spaceships?” Venny’s head poked over the frame with eyes wide and excitement clear as day on her lips. “You’re with the Wisteria Space Program?”

“Technically I’m in the rocketry department, not the spaceship program, but same idea,” Sol said with a shrug, jumping to her feet and whistling. Similar to yesterday, the wind kicked up, swirling around the room almost as if it was having fun. The mattress slowly but surely floated off the ground, providing just enough lift for the two of them to set it on the frame without straining muscles or having to worry about wingspans. 

“Still, that’s so cool,” Venny continued, grabbing the sheets off of her air mattress and throwing them onto the bed. “I don’t even think I know anyone back home who does that. What do you even do there?”

Sol laughed, grabbing the sheet and stretching it over a corner. “I’d tell you, but that’s classified.”

“Is that a joke or is that actually classified?”

“‘I might actually get arrested for treason’ classified,” Sol said in a completely serious deadpan.

“Anything you can tell me?” Venny asked, head tilted as her hands quickly smoothed out her blue and white comforter over the bed.

Sol thought for a full minute, arranging pillows and plushies absentmindedly as she paced around the small room. The wind followed her, catching her shirt and blowing it in every direction imaginable, almost as if it was thinking alongside her. “Physics. Lots of physics.”

“Dang.”

A knock sounded at the door, and for the second day in a row, Venny opened it to find Clarissa standing there with a large smile on her face. She had no gifts in hand this time around, but she was scrolling through her phone. “Sol texted me she was here helping out, you done stealing my roommate? I need her for something of vital importance.”

“I offered,” Sol called as she emerged from the bedroom.

“She still stole you!” Clarissa shouted back, though with a laugh and smile on her face. 

Venny returned with a grin of her own. “We should be done pretty soon. Though if it’s really that important, I can take care of the rest.”

“It’s not important, she’s just trying to get me to set up a dating app,” Sol said with a sigh and an accusatory finger. “Because my roommate is a nosy bitch who insists on setting me up with every girl she happens to meet.”

“It’s not every girl.” Clarissa huffed indignantly.

Sol’s face told a much different story with how frustrated those eyebrows looked. “You’ve specifically set me up with three of your exes, a girl from your class, and the florist down the street.”

“All I’m saying is that she’s got a great personality and an even better ass.”

“Then why don’t you ask her out?!” Sol exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Because I’m already seeing two people!”

It might have just been Venny’s ears, but she swore she heard laughing from somewhere else in the apartment. 

“Alright, alright, you can have your roommate back,” Venny said, holding back a belly laugh as best as she could. Never in her life had she’d been so grateful to hear two women loudly arguing about female love interests. Her family had been concerned with her moving to Toven, knowing that not every place was as accepting of non-heterosexual identities as Ylxret. New Haven had a better track record than most, though, and conditions were certainly getting better as time went on. If nothing else, seeing her two neighbors argue about sapphic love affairs in the hallway was a good indicator that she had nothing to worry about here. “Hope the app set up goes well.” 

“I’m not setting up the app,” Sol declared with a flat tone, going over to the boxed up table and cutting away tape like a woman scorned. “I’ll get a date on my own damn time.”

“I mean, if you’re looking for someone else to add to the list, I’m into women,” Venny joked, smiling at Clarissa. She watched the pink haired woman’s eyes light up, and hastily threw up her hands. “Not that I’m looking for a relationship, I’ve just moved and I think that might’ve been me not having normal social barriers up due to lack of sleep.”

Sol audibly groaned in the background. “Damn it, you’ve given her ideas.”

“Well that’s even better! You’re new in town and need to see the sights, and I know a great little place Sol could take you for lunch,” Clarissa said, pulling out her phone and rapidly texting. “I’m sending you the directions now.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, finally just realizing the full ramifications of what she had just done. At least she knew now never to open her mouth when she was this sleep deprived, or at least, not do so when possible romantic relationships were involved. Feeling the heat rapidly rising to her face, she shot a glance to Sol, desperately trying to find a way out of this increasingly awkward situation. 

With a sigh, Sol pulled out her phone and rubbed her temples. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Don’t be, it’s my fault,” Venny said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m really not in the place to be thinking about that anyways.”

“Then think of it like a friendly social,” Clarissa said with a large, not at all innocent smile, eyes darting first to Venny. “You need to meet people-” Her eyes flashed towards her roommate. “-and you need to get out more. Win-win situation!”

Sol’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “Clarissa-”

“Venny, what do you think?” she asked, smiling wide and oh so sweet. So this was a game for them both, a sort of give and take war between them, and this is the moment where she was supposed to choose a side. Her next move decided the winner of this match between these two equally stubborn individuals. 

She was already on the edge of the diving board, might as well take the jump.

“What’s the food like?” Venny asked, putting on her best innocent smile. 

Sol sighed in defeat, grumbling and pulling out her phone. “Stir fry and dumplings. Let me know when you’re free.”

Clarissa grinned with a smile that could split the sea. “It’s a date!”

[abutterflyscribbles]

Those Chains That Bind You: Kidnapping AU Part 8

Anon prompted me:

[Strange Magic] au where kidnapping is a thing before courting. Marianne kidnaps Bog. Spiraled into an Political Marriage AU with lots of pining and extensive worldbuilding.

Prologue/Chapter One/Chapter Two/Chapter Three/ChapterFour/Five/Seven and Ao3

(Hello, dear readers, thank you for waiting so long and so patiently for this update. You’re lofely. Please reblog and comment. Also I don’t know why I’m missing links to some of the chapters sorry)

It had been hours before Bog worked up the nerve to make the necessary arrangements and a few more to force his feet to take him to Marianne's door.

All these hours were spent trying to get on with reorganizing the day-to-day tasks to accommodate the fairy guests while eluding his mother. There were also three elf guests in addition to Sunny, Bog discovered. They were introduced as representatives of the three largest elf villages, filling positions somewhat like lords, seeing to the maintenance the lands, only without the rank or profit.

“Dawn invited them,” Sunny explained to Bog, “We've—Dawn and me—been trying to get a couple of them onto the council, but I didn't even think of inviting anybody along on this trip. Dawn figured that it would be good to make sure fairies and elves were on friendly terms with the Dark Forest.”

“A canny girl.” Bog had said, considering Dawn in a new light. He hadn't thought she was one with a head for politics. Really, it shouldn't have been surprising. The girl had been raised to it from birth and it would have been a wonder if nothing of her education was retained beneath those yellow curls.

Bog was still unsure if he approved of the system of a throne passed down through bloodline rather than being taken by one who was strong and sharp enough to take it, but the idea of being educated to fit the role from the start made him wistful. When he had started out to be king, once upon a time, he hadn't had the faintest notion of what tedious, worrying work it was to run a kingdom.

Maybe if someone had been there to teach him how a king ought to behave . . . maybe things would have been different. Maybe he wouldn't have been entering Marianne's room with a heavy heart. Maybe he would have at least been able to face this trial sooner rather than hiding like a snail in its shell.

“Hi,” Marianne offered after several minutes of them sitting across from each other in silence. She creased folds into the blanket on her lap. He tried to decide what to do with the armful of flowers that had been forced on him. There didn't seem to be anywhere convenient to dump them. Dropping them on the floor would have been rude. Continuing to hold them felt silly.

“Hi,” Bog felt a cringing smile touch his lips, “How are you feeling?”

“Well enough that they should stop keeping me captive and torturing me with tea.”

She made a little motion to the pixies and they relieved Bog of his flowers. Marianne looked much better. It was nice to see her feeling well enough to be wearing her makeup again. She still wasn't dressed to go out, still in one of those robe things she had been wearing while she recuperated. They were light, floating garments, flimsy compared to her usual wear. Bog thought they looked nice.

Bog tried to clear his throat and ended up caught in a brief fit of coughing. He wasn't feeling altogether well. In any respect. He had made his preparations for this conversation and rehearsed at least seven different speeches at least three times each. And yet right up until he was admitted to Marianne's sitting room Bog expected to be turned away by the guards, the final decision taken out of his hands. Instead, Dawn popped out and grabbed him by the hand, yanking him in so suddenly that he only just managed to avoid slamming into the door frame. Dawn did not let go of his hand, apparently anticipating that he would bolt back into the corridor if given the chance.

“There's something I should--” Bog began.

“We really need to talk about--” Marianne started at the same time. After a breath or two of silence Marianne spoke again, “We really need to talk about . . . us.”

Bog wanted to let her continue. Then he wouldn't have to take the lead in this conversation. But if they were going to have this conversation properly all the facts had to be set out for both of them to see. Which, put like that, sounded straightforward. Except the facts were a tangled ball of dirt and roots that had to be unpicked. It couldn't be done without making a mess.

“There isn't--” Bog grasped for a way to begin, “There shouldn't be an 'us'.”

Marianne's eyebrows were very dark against the pallor of her skin and they drew clear lines of displeasure over her eyes. Bog ducked his head. That had been the wrong way to begin. Of course it had. He didn't think he had ever started anything any other way.

“If you don't want there to be an 'us',” Marianne said in a tight voice, “Please just say it clearly.”

“No, that isn't what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?” Marianne's self-control was crumbling. She had promised herself she would be firm and calm. It would do no good to lose her temper. So of course that was the first thing she did. She lashed out, striking first before she could be struck. “Please, tell me what exactly we're supposed to be to each other so that I can behave accordingly and stop making a fool of myself, husband.”

“What do you think I'm trying to do, wife?”

“Are you here to tell me to go home?”

“No!”

“Are you asking me to stay?”

“No—ah—that is—what would you do if I did?”

“I couldn't say. I haven't been asked. One way or the other.”

“Do you want me to ask?”

Marianne bunched up one of her blankets and hurled it at Bog. Why couldn't he just ask? Why couldn't she just say what she wanted? “You don't get an answer without a question!”

“I asked a question!” Bog struggled with the blanket, its delicate weave catching on his armor.

“You did not!” Marianne's hands were clutching the arms of her chair and her wings starting to rise in anticipation of balancing her when she surged to her feet.

Bog ripped the blanket off, also on the edge of his chair, prepared for a fight. “I did--!” He stopped himself. “I didn't, did I? I'm sorry.” He did stand up, but only to come over and return Marianne's blanket. He started to lay it over her lap but the pixies smacked the back of his hand and took the blanket. It didn't hurt but Bog rubbed the back of his hand and backed away to his chair.

“No, you didn't.” Marianne agreed. Two feverish spots of red glowed on her cheeks. “You just shouted.”

“I'm not the only one! Ah. That is . . .” Bog struggled to push down his instincts to snarl at his difficulties. This wasn't something that would edge nervously out of the room and break into a run once through the door after being growled at. He had to stand his ground and speak of things that hurt him even to think of. It would be like peeling the armor off his chest and laying bare his heart. The princess . . . Marianne . . . his queen . . . she would know. She could hurt him. She could reach into his chest and squeeze his heart until the disease that festered inside spilled over and everyone would see the rotten core of him.

“It doesn't matter what I want. I don't have the right to ask you to stay.” Bog said.

Marianne's heart jumped. Her stomach twisted. She couldn't work out if she should be happy, disappointed, or frustrated. Her fingers twitched, grasping at the arms of the chair in preparation to heave herself up again. She pulled her hands back and folded them on top of the blankets on her lap. Calm. She was going to be calm.

“If you wouldn't mind, Bog, I'd like a more direct answer. Or question.”

“I—it isn't . . .” Bog ran his hand down his face. He needed to start talking. From the beginning to the end, or from the middle outwards. He just needed to push the first few words out and hopefully the rest would follow. But his throat was too tight to let the right words through. All he could get through was, “I don't know.”

Blankets and shawls fluttered to the floor. A blade bit into the back of Bog's chair, right by his left ear. Marianne's fever-flushed face was close enough to his that he could see the blue veins beneath her skin. She had grown so pale, even before she took ill. Now she looked as if a rough touch would split her skin open. Bog wanted to pick up the blankets and wrap them around her again, put her back to bed in a protective nest of blankets and furs.

“I'm trying to be patient,” Marianne informed him through clenched teeth.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'm not the one who should be worried about that.” Marianne wrenched the knife out of the back of the chair. That is, she tried to. Her grip was too weak and her arm was shaking from stabbing the knife into the chair in the first place. She huffed impatiently and seized the hilt with both hands, but found that this produced no better results.

Bog's hand covered both of hers. “You're terrifying.”

“I don't need your help!” She pulled again. The blade came free with a jerk and Marianne began to tip backward. Bog caught her, rising from his chair and wrapping his arm around her. The knife had landed softly on a blanket.

“I'm fine. I'm fine!” Marianne snapped, shoving him away and going back to her seat. At least, Bog thought that was what she had intended. Somehow she ended up falling forward and bumping into Bog's front.

“Please don't kill yourself while you're trying to kill me.” Bog said.

“If I were really trying you'd already be dead.” Marianne snapped.

“Oh. Of course.”

Bog wanted to hug her. Hold her close and whisper in her ear a plea for her to stay because he loved her and never wanted to be without her. The thought was pure foolishness and he stepped away, only retaining her hands to keep her from toppling.

“Fine. Fine.” Marianne grabbed the collar of Bog's carapace and pulled him down to look her in the eye, “I've humiliated myself enough already, I might as well follow it through to the end. Bog--”

“Don't.”

“I'm talking. If you asked me to stay then I would stay. I want to stay. Here. In the Dark Forest. With you. Thats what I want. If that's not what you want I'll go back with Dawn as soon as the weather permits because I'm not going to . . . if you don't feel the same . . .”

Marianne had learned the hard way that love could hurt. Except the lesson didn't seem to stick, because here she was, opening herself up for another devastating blow. It had only taken one sharp rap of reality to make her break away from Roland, so why did she keep coming back to Bog? The moments of understanding between them, was that happiness really worth all this pain? She felt like she had lifted her head high so that a knife might more easily find her throat. She was tired of glancing blows that were killing her by inches. Let it be over with once and for all.

Bog hugged her.

He completely lifted her off the floor, one hand around her waist more than enough to support her. He held her . . . she couldn't describe how he held her. Gentle, but fierce. Pulling her close but not trapping her.

“I'm sorry you feel that way.” He said.

The words hurt. The way Bog said them hurt worse. The regret in his voice. He held her so close while his words were pushing her away.

“I see.” Marianne was cradled against his shoulder, fingers still gripping his collar. “You don't—put me down. Put me down!”

Bog sank to his knees, loosening his grip only enough to let her stand.

“Let me go, Bog. I don't need your pity! You don't love me, I understand! I'll stop making a fool of myself, I'll stop wasting your time, I'll go home, I'll go away--”

A guilty whisper interrupted her, “I love you.”

Marianne choked on her words. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Marianne, but--”

Marianne kissed him. A gentle, cautious kiss, though it felt like she had thrown herself at him with wild abandon. And he kissed her back. It was a wet, salty kiss, because one of them—or both of them—was crying. Fierce, hot joy fought to spill over inside Marianne. She fought back, trying to keep it contained until that unexplained regret and sadness was banished from Bog. She hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. She thought she might have been laughing a little.

Bog pulled himself away from a second kiss, painfully aware and ashamed that he had let the first one happen. “I shouldn't. I shouldn't. I have no right.”

Weakness had let Bog slip into a moment of denial. Pulling himself out of it was terrible. Love. It was impossible, but such an appealing impossibility. He had let his guard down and the words came out and Marianne was in his arms. So close to him. How could she be so close and not see the truth of his rotten heart.

“Why not?” the laughter had not entirely left Marianne's voice in spite of the note of annoyance, “I'm right here telling you that you should!”

What Bog needed to say could only be put into words by brute force. The heavy chains he had bound himself with over the years, they had been loosening. This winter he had struggled against them, then clung to them. They were heavy, they hurt, but they were familiar. They felt to be as much a part of him as his wings or carapace. Now he attacked the links that had weakened in his struggles. He tore at them, edges of broken metal slashing his hands.

“I used the love potion!”

The chain gave way and Bog reeled back, no tether to keep him from falling back into the dark.

A chill bit into Marianne, right to the bone. The warm relief, the fierce, overflowing joy, dried up under the withering chill. Conflicting thoughts bashed against each other in her head, chipping off little shards of ice-like fear. There was no way Bog would use the love potion. He wasn't like that. But, if he did use it, who would he even use it on, except, perhaps . . . Just touching on the idea made her throat tight and her breath short. Her eyes darted wildly to find an exit, an escape, or even just a safe hole to bolt into. The knife, it had fallen, she couldn't see it.

She was afraid.

Bog's hand on her back felt feverishly warm in contrast to the chill that had overtaken her. That touch should have pushed her further into fear. It didn't. The confusion grew worse over this inconsistency. She found herself unable to flee or attack.

“On . . . me?” the question felt wrong in Marianne's mouth.

The shock that widened Bog's eyes took the edge off the chill. He was still kneeling on the floor, completely failing to look fearsome. “No!” He spoke in that fierce, candid way he did when taken off-guard. It was familiar and reassuring. “No. Never. I—I—never!”

Eloquent lies would fall readily from Roland's tongue in the same situation. The sort of person who would use the love potion would be riddled with lies, woven so thick and tight with them that they believed the lies were the truth. Marianne's panic was subsiding but her confusion remained. She was lost, not knowing what was happening.

“It was long ago.” Bog bowed his head. His hands slid from Marianne's waist and down her arms until he took her hands. She was sure that if he didn't think she might fall over he would pull away completely.

She backed away to her chair, letting her fingers pull from Bog's hands, just their fingertips touching, then the contact broken. She sat down. “Tell me.”

“Before . . . the king before me,” Bog remained kneeling on the floor, like a petitioner before a ruler's throne, “Argos. He took things. Anything he wanted. He wanted the throne and its power so he took it, but he did not give anything back. He did not give up his name and he did not give his time and power in service of his subjects. He was fat with it. No matter if the the year had been fat or thin he demanded everything he wanted and paid no heed to how his subjects starved and froze in the winter.”

This was not how Bog had meant to start. The story he wanted to confess seemed to have begun earlier than he thought it had. He hoped that Marianne would be lenient and give patience to his wandering thoughts.

“My father's people were hunted by Argos. He came and killed the last of them, save me. I was angry. He had taken what was mine. Nearly everything I had. He was taking everything from all of us. I gathered those like me . . . we fought . . . I killed Argos and took his throne. I took it . . . and when I was still a very young, angry . . . frightened king . . . I fell in love.”

So young. Still able to delude himself into thinking his actions and intentions were noble. That there was an excuse for what he did and had done. He had thought the worst was behind him and there was something left inside him worth salvaging. But he had known.

“I didn't think she could love me . . . I knew she couldn't.”

Marianne stirred in her seat. Bog hurried on before she could speak.

“I went to Plum for the love potion. To use on the one I fell in love with. Like everything else, I tried to take it. Her love. To take her choice. I would have . . . I nearly . . . everything. I would have taken everything from her if the potion at worked.”

“It didn't . . .?”

Bog shook his head. Pink, the pink of primroses, sparkling like the morning sun off dewdrops. His breath held in anticipation of the world finally coming right and the happiness he would gain.

“She was so afraid. I was the king. She trusted me, believed I was better than Argos. I don't think that there was anything inside me for the love potion to take a hold of. The magic knew what I was and that I was too hideous to be loved.”

A tear dotted the floor. Bog didn't know when the tears and started. He couldn't stop them. He crouched there on the floor, hoping that his head was bent low enough to keep Marianne from seeing them. He thought he had accepted these things and they wouldn’t hurt so much anymore.

“They praised me for killing Argos. They said I had saved them. That what I did was good. But it wasn't. Because I did it so I could take his power. Because I'm just like him. That's why you can't . . . you can't love me. There's nothing in me to love.”

The soft drapery of Marianne's gown whispered across the chair. Her feet came into his line of vision. He curled himself tighter, waiting for the blow, whether it was hot anger or cold disgust.

“Killing Argos to save your people . . .”

Bog flinched. He hadn't expected her to speak so softly. He hadn't expected her to begin to excuse his actions like all the others did. Tell him that he did what had to be done. There was no other choice. It was necessary.

“It must have been so hard.”

Bog gasped. The words attacked him from an undefended side and stabbed into his chest. He tried to speak. He choked on his tears instead.

“You didn't deserve that.” Marianne said.

“They cheered!” Bog burst out through his tears, dragging up every last shred of horror he could find so Marianne could see it, “They saw Argos's body and they all cheered! There were so many dead on both sides of the war . . . that was the only time they celebrated it. I only did it because of what he did to my father's people. For the people dying in the snow. I was just angry. I locked Plum away to keep her from telling everyone about the love potion and what I had tried to do. That was celebrated too. I haven't done a single deed worth praise. What I did I did for myself and no one else.”

The swirl of Marianne's skirt was a white frill on the floor when she knelt down in front of Bog. If she hadn't her knees might have given out and brought her down anyway. Bog was in so much pain from his confession and so convinced that he was as foul as his predecessor to the throne that Marianne thought her heart might break. It was all wrong, his view of himself. The winter stay in his kingdom had only shown Marianne that Bog was a generous and caring king. An exceptional ruler, seeing the forest through such difficult times. That Bog hadn't the slightest inkling of the truth was unfair and wrong.

She leaned toward him and cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head to so he had to look at her. He didn't resist, but his eyes slid away and refused to meet hers. Marianne leaned forward to make it harder for him to avoid her when she asked her question.

“Bog,” she said, “do you think that Argos could make soup?”

Bog was thrown so badly by the question that he met her eye. “I don't . . . no?”

“I don't think so either. I doubt there was a single person in the whole forest he cared enough about to bother himself over if they were sick or hurt. Then you, the evil Bog King, spend an afternoon fussing in the kitchen for the sake of a fairy that's done nothing but annoy you.”

“You don't--”

Marianne refused to let Bog object to anything she was saying. He tried to speak when she stopped to take a breath, but she wouldn't let him get more than a word or two out. She spoke on, as relentlessly as she would have attacked with a sword.

“Do you think Argos cared if what he did was good or bad? Do you think he spent one sleepless night tearing himself up over the wrongs he'd committed? I doubt it.”

“The love potion . . .” Bog whispered.

“You let her go, didn't you?”

“What else . . . could I have done?”

That answer just about melted Marianne's heart. It said so much about Bog that he didn't recognize his own decency. “A lot of things. A lot of terrible things. The terrible thing you did do, you regret with all your heart. I'm not meaning to say that it makes everything right, but it does mean you're not a monster. Who you were then, I didn't know him. I only know you as you are now and this Bog would never use a love potion. I know it.”

“I--”

“Right now, Bog, in this castle—your castle—everyone is safe, cared for, and happy. Because you became king no one is dying in the snow.”

Marianne had meant that to be just the opening strike in a new line of attack but Bog crumpled when her words hit him and his crying became uncontrollable. Abandoning her attack, she threw her arms around his neck and held him tight to steady his shaking. “To be a part of your kingdom—to be your wife—I'm honored.”

It was only because Bog was running out of strength that his tears slowed and his emotions settled. Like bleeding out on the battlefield and beginning to feel peaceful as the end neared. Except that it wasn't ending like Bog had believed it would. Marianne was embracing him. He had shown her the truth and she was embracing him.

“I don't understand.” he said.

Marianne's breath brushed across his shoulder when she answered.“What's there to understand? I'm your wife, I love you, and I'm staying. That is, once you properly ask me to.”

“I can't—”

She shoved him away and pressed a finger to his lips. “Ask me.”

The chains he expected to pull him up short were no longer there. Nothing stopped him from taking Marianne's hand and bending over it. His dark fingers and her winter-paled hands. He didn't understand. He turned her hand over and kissed her marriage scar.

“Please. Stay with me, Marianne.”

“I will.” she said.

[visionsofus]

MIT, Time Travel and oh mY GOD IT’S PETER PARKER!

This is the beginning of the sequel, start with the first story here or read on AO3 here (1) and here (2)

|CHAPTER 1| 

If you would like to be tagged in updates please let me know! 

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Things are definitely looking up for Peter Parker. Months have passed since the Snap and his life is finally beginning to get back on track. He has an amazing job at Stark Industries, he's almost finished his first semester at MIT with Ned, he gets to swing around New York on the weekends and things are looking like they might actually be going somewhere with MJ.

It’s almost like Peter is starting to get part of his normal life back. It's a naive concept. Peter knows what he has committed his life to, what expectations everyone has for the hero they know as Spider-Man.

Things quickly begin to heat up and Peter feels the growing pressure of his secret identity beginning to weigh on his decisions, not to mention the mysterious ‘Project Chronos’ which is weighing on him physically and has catastrophic effects on his mental state.

Peter's survived the impossible - death - but could more deadly things be yet to come?

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Tap, tap… tap

2…1

Peter tried not to grow frustrated as his eyes darted from his worn, silver wristwatch to the front of the lecture hall where the professor was finally beginning to wrap his presentation up. Said professor seemed to have sensed the weariness of his students and was rushing through his final slides.

Tap, tap, tap, tap…. Tap, tap, tap

Peter’s pen tapped distractedly against the black keys of his laptop, which he had been taking notes on until the lecture had taken an unfortunate turn, becoming even more boring than this subject normally was. Unfortunately, that turn had taken place only twenty minutes into the lecture so for the last 30 Peter had been itching to leave the hall.

4…. 3

Peter counted the numbers off in his head as he continued tapping, each tap taking him one second closer to when he could jump up from the cramped seat, slide out from behind the small desk and beeline for the door.

2…4     5…1     4….1

"Excuse me." Someone said quietly from two seats to Peter's right. Peter turned to see a lanky blond boy looking in amusement at Peter’s hand which was still tapping absentmindedly against the keys. "As boring as this subject is, could you please not tap like that?"

"Oh sorry," Peter said his hand stilling before he could begin the sequence of taps again. The boy turned his attention back to the front of the lecture and Peter followed his gaze.

2,1  4,3  2,4  5,1  4,1

When tapped out in Binary Tap Code it spelled b.o.r.e.d, MJ had taught it to him over the Summer and like Morse code and other tap codes Peter had taken a liking to it, as he so often did with such things. He shouldn't have been surprised that someone else in the lecture hall would pick up on such a common code. There were any number of geniuses in this very room, and any number of them might be familiar with the tap code. That was just something he would have to get used to, now that he was at Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

"Alright, I’m beginning to see a few too many glazed eyes out there and I know how excited all of you are to have a few days off this week, so I'll wrap it up here." Said the middle-aged man at the front, shutting his presentation down. Peter shifted in the cramped chair, closing his laptop and reaching slowly for the satchel by his feet.

"Happy Thanksgiving." The lecturer said excusing the students who all made a grab for their things in a hurry to leave. Peter practically launched himself out of his seat, wincing as knocked his knee painfully on the top of the desk. Despite that, he was still one of the first to duck out of the lecture hall, eager to begin the four-day weekend that students had been given for Thanksgiving break.

Peter walked swiftly down the hall and out of the building. In his hurry to get away he was still carrying his computer science and coding textbook and busied himself with trying to shove it into his satchel. He found it slightly ironic that MIT still used physical textbooks where they could, but nevertheless enjoyed the bulky presence of it. If anything, it made him feel like he was actually doing something in the course instead of throwing money at a unit he technically should have been able to bypass.

Peter felt confident in what he had chosen to study, particularly considering the hours of deliberation that had gone into making that choice. He knew that he wanted to study computing and knew that such knowledge would be incredibly useful if he wished to progress in the temporary position at Stark Industries that he had taken up in June. Electrical engineering and computer science had been a sensible choice considering what Peter wanted to do and what he was interested in. Chemical engineering and civil and environmental engineering had also caught his eye and Peter hoped he might get to take on a few subjects from those areas if he got the chance. For now, he was more than happy with the subjects he had selected…all except one.

Peter really enjoyed coding, but the Introduction to Computer Science subject, the lecture of which he had just hastily departed, was a foundation subject for beginnersand used Python programming which Peter had been using for years.

Back when he had been taken on as a sort of technical intern/ superhero intern at Stark Industries under the guidance of Tony Stark, Peter had been introduced to Python and a multitude of other programming languages. He still had a lot to learn for sure, but this class was designed for novices and so Peter found himself growing more and more frustrated with the compulsory subject. It didn't help that the course was structured to move at snail’s pace despite the fact that there were likely numerous students in the class, like Peter, who had previous coding experience.

For now, Peter just had to grit his teeth and get on with things. He still did all the work but couldn’t help cutting corners here and there where he already knew what to do. It was just immensely frustrating having to sit through the lectures and classes when there were a million and one other things that he had to take care of.

(This is quite a long chapter, if you would prefer to read on AO3 click here )

 Peter pushed open the door and exited the lecture hall's building, walking as quickly as he could without running, in the direction of his dorm. He darted in and out of crowds of students heading to or from lectures and within minutes he had reached his building. He swiped his key card and ducked inside, eager to get out of the chill that had set in across campus, winter was definitely approaching.

Peter paused at the small mail room on the ground floor of his building to check and see if anything had arrived for him. Sure enough, a package was sitting in the P section of the pigeon holes, it was small, and he knew the part inside of it was even smaller. Peter snatched it and quickly checked its address to ensure that it was the one intended for him.

His name was printed on the top in the neat writing of none other than Happy Hogan. The package was wrapped in a ring of red confidential tape just in case whoever was delivering it hadn't garnered that information from the confidential sticker on one of the box's corners. Being head of security at SI, Happy always got a little paranoid about sending Peter such expensive and (potentially) dangerous parts. Peter assured Happy that the postal system was reliable and promised to only ask for parts when he was desperate and needed them sooner than whenever his next trip to New York might be. Peter was honestly surprised that Happy didn't deliver the package himself, or at least send an SI drone to do so for him.  

Peter left the mail room and, walking past the elevator, took the stairs two at a time until he had reached the fourth floor.

Scanning his student key card again Peter walked into the 6-bedroom west wing of floor 4, outfitted with a small kitchen, two bathrooms and a reasonably sized common space. It was quiet inside the flat and Peter suspected it was empty, he couldn't hear anything beyond the closed doors he walked past and assumed that everyone who wasn't in class had already gone home for Thanksgiving weekend.

Peter's room itself was small, split down the middle with a bed, desk and wardrobe on either side. He shared it with a guy from Boston called Nic Spencer. He was short with a mop of dark hair and a walk that made most people avoid him, but in the short two months they had been living together Peter had discovered that Nic was actually a huge softie and loved rom coms and Ed Sheeran. He was an easy enough guy to get along with and had the perfect boy next door personality, even if his appearance didn't quite match up with it. Thankfully, Nic was good at knowing when to respect Peter's space. Living together definitely made you more intuitive to the other persons needs and Peter knew when to stay out of Nic's way when he was in a funk, whether that be over college work or a malfunction in the small but fully operational hydroponic system that he had set up on their windowsill.

At present, their room was empty and quiet, save for the goldfish sat on Nic's desk and the quiet whir of the pump for the hydroponic. Peter's side of the room was unusually organised as he had done a quick clean that morning, not wanting to leave it in a state that he'd have to deal with once he came back next Tuesday. Normally, his side tended to get a little bit messy, particularly when his Stark Industries work or his Avengers work or even just plain college work started getting a little too much. The last few weeks had Peter stretched thin, trying to balance endless responsibilities while ensuring that each of his assignments was handed in on time, naturally his room had gotten pretty bad pretty quickly as he started getting home from the library later and later, pausing only to change and leave his clothes on the ground before getting to bed. For the most part, Nic didn’t seem to mind and often times his side of the room was no better.

Peter dropped his satchel onto his desk chair and rolled his shoulder. May had insisted on buying it for him before he left New York, saying that a backpack made him look even more like a high schooler. Not exactly what Peter had needed to hear before moving states to a completely new life, with new friends and new experiences.

It wasn't completely new though. Peter received his scholarship at MIT pretty late (he suspected that taking up his position at Stark Industries had some part to play) but his best friend Ned Leeds had known about his place for weeks before Peter had even been accepted, let alone awarded the scholarship. They'd both been incredibly excited to move together and had applied to the same preference of residential halls only to find they were placed in completely different dorms, likely due to the College's stressing of making ‘new connections’. Nevertheless, Peter was grateful to have Ned there and even if they didn't live in the same halls of residence, they still saw each other every day and texted when they didn't.

Swapping out his satchel for his trusty backpack Peter added his phone, wallet and newly acquired package to the bag and zipped it up tightly. Happy would literally kill Peter if that part got lost.

Doing a quick scan to ensure that he hadn't left anything behind, as Peter was always careful to do following an unfortunate incident at the beginning of the semester when he had left out his Stark Industries tablet on his bed before going to class. Nic's eyes had been full of questions when Peter had returned to their room later that day. Peter could have sworn that the tablet was in a slightly different position to where it had been when he left and though he was certain that Karen would have alerted him if anyone besides him was using the tablet, it still made Peter antsy. After that he was even more sure that he had made the right decision in choosing not to keep anyof his Spidey tech, including the suit, in his room. It was too much of a risk. So was not having his suit with him 24/7, a thought which had kept Peter awake endlessly for the first few weeks until he had finally decided on keeping a pair of web shooters with him at all times.

Deciding that everything was in its right place, Peter shut the door firmly behind him and headed straight back down the corridor he had been in moments earlier. Now there was the faint trilling of music coming from Sam and Lily's room. Peter considered knocking on the slightly ajar door to say goodbye before the short Thanksgiving break but decided he was too awkward and ducked out the front door of their flat.

Even before moving, Peter knew that he was going to need a place to work outside of his room.   After receiving his work contract from Stark Industries' CEO in May and after many discussions with his aunt and a few amendments to the conditions, he had started working in June. Peter had loved that summer break spent at Stark Industries and for the first time since the Snap he had found himself feeling like he had before disappearing along with half of the population five years earlier. The job had given him the instant gratification of putting his brain to work after so many weeks of hardcore studying for finals. In the few months he spent working part time at SI before moving away from New York Peter felt like his brain shifted and it had been strange to begin studying again, regardless of how useful the knowledge he was gaining was to his part time work.

Before moving at the very end of August Peter had done a quick property search for the cheapest places nearby to rent some sort of workspace. Pepper had offered to help him with the money given that Peter would be doing work for SI there, but peter had insisted on covering it himself.

Peter had reached the ground floor of his building again and burst out the doors, darting around the corner and unlocking his bike from where it was chained with a dozen or so others. Swinging a leg haphazardly over the seat Peter kicked off and started peddling hard past the other residential halls and out into the suburban streets.

He had happened upon the warehouse by surprise and at first it had seemed ludicrous to rent such a large space. All Peter really needed was a secure place to keep his suits and tech while he was working on them. Most of his equipment was remaining at his private SI lab, or the 'Spidey Cave' as May so often called it.

Once Peter had seen the photos of the space’s open plan, the exposed brick wall that bordered one side and the towering windows of the second floor of the old factory warehouse he felt like the decision had been made automatically. It was priced decently, and the deposit wasn’t too crippling, plus the electrical advantages of it being located so close to a power grid was undeniable. Within the day Peter had placed an offer and within a few days the paperwork was signed, and the deposit money gone from his account. Thankfully he had been working at SI otherwise there was no way he could have even dreamed of having a space like the warehouse.

The one disadvantage was that it was a twenty-minute bike ride away from where he lived. Compared to the exertion Peter was used to, it wasn’t much of a hassle and if anything, it was actually a good opportunity to get some exercise now that Peter wasn’t swinging around the city every night. He tried to go out as often as he could but being seen as Spider-Man near MIT and not in New York made him uncomfortable, surely the people he knew could put two and two together if they heard about it? Not to mention the press, who were getting more and more antsy about his identity, he had already been photographed twice while out at night in Massachusetts, resulting in the Avengers releasing a statement that claimed the blurry photos were of copycats and the real Spider-Man was still residing in New York. Luckily, Peter went back home every other weekend which made the tale as believable as it needed to be.  

Peter rounded the last corner and pulled up to the warehouse, breaking as he arrived at the front door and pulling out his keys. He slotted the small key, one of the few physical keys he actually owned given that so many things were key card operated at the college and Stark Industries and turned it. The door opened stiffly outwards and Peter walked down the entry way past the windows that looked into the space of one of the other tenants. Peter had never seen or heard from whoever occupied the ground floor space, but the pealing sign stuck to one of the frosted glass windows read Simple Phone Plans Call Centre which was pretty self-explanatory. Peter walked his bike past the glass and to the stairs leading to the second floor. He took them slowly as he navigated the awkward frame of his bike up and round the flight of dank stairs.

The whole bottom half of the warehouse and the entrance made it a rather unappealing place. Whatever paint was left on the walls was peeling and stained and the air in the stairwell had the uncomfortably pungent tang of urine and sulphur.

The warehouse's grimy interior (and indeed, exterior) had deterred Peter initially and he had worried that his work at Stark Industries and the first-class facilities he was used to had made him snobby. That still didn't make up for the state that the warehouse was in… but it was cheap and relatively close, and his floor was actually quite pleasant compared to the rest of the building… plus who would expect such a place to house information worth thousands of dollars?

Peter reached the top of the stairwell and set his bike on the two hooks he had installed on the wall, suspending it next to the door. Once they felt the weight the mechanised black hooks locked the bike frame in place. The door was another one of Peter's alteration. Even if no one would think to rob the warehouse, Peter wasn't about to leave expensive equipment unguarded. As a result, he had ordered one of the special scanners that was used throughout SI and programmed it to accept his clearance card that he used at his lab back in New York.

Peter pulled out a little black box from his backpack, something he had made right after he'd had the distinct suspicion that Nic had looked through some of his things. Holding the thin device up to his face Peter stopped blinking and allowed the machine to take a scan of his eye.

"Retina scan complete." A small voice said, and the black box emitted a soft click as it released its bottom panel. Peter slid it open further and retrieved his SI clearance card, embossed on both sides with the Spider-Man and Avengers logos.

At first, he had wondered whether it was a better idea to just keep his Avengers/Spider-Man clearance card back in New York but after the first week of waking up at 4 in the morning and getting nervous about it being stolen, he had decided to bring it to college with him. The black box had been a natural addition to security and if anyone except Peter's eye was scanned it was programmed to self-destruct, card and all. What Peter might do if that ever happened and how he would get into his lab was a sort of ‘cross that bridge when we come to’ it kinda thing.

Removing the SI card fully Peter pressed it up to the scanner on the door and heard several clicks as the door recognised him and unlocked, disabling the numerous alarms Peter had set on the doors and windows and roof…. And pretty much any other entrance into the top floor of the warehouse.

Peter sometimes wondered if he was paranoid.

As the door swung open Peter took a relieved look out at his work space. The floors creaked as he stepped forward, swinging the door firmly closed behind him. Back when Peter had first leased the top floor he had been concerned about the structure of the building and the parts of the floor that felt far too weak for comfort. A quick trip down to Simple Phone Plans and a few swings around the rafters reinforcing their ceiling with translucent webs had set his mind to rest.

Peter dumped his backpack on the workbench, taking out the small package and tore the side off to get at the bubble wrapped part beneath. He unwrapped it fully and set it on top of his holo-table, one of the few pieces of equipment that he had brought with him from SI.

"Karen, Happy sent me that part, can you make sure everything is in order?"

"Sure thing, Peter." Karen said back to him from the cheap speakers Peter had placed in each corner of the room.

Peter was sure that everything was in order with the part but there wasn't really much he could do until next week. The part had been scheduled to arrive on Monday after he’d asked Happy to send it out on Sunday for next day delivery. Peter had been working feverishly all weekend on his current project and had been desperate for the part to accelerate his experimentation and get one step closer to-- Well regardless, it hadn’t arrived in time so there wasn’t much point doing anything about it now.

Peter walked over to his mini fridge in the corner of the room and retrieved a soda, popping the cap off and ditching it into the bin in the opposite side of the lab, listening to the satisfying sound of it hitting tin.

The lab was open plan, just as Peter liked it, allowing for plenty of space for him to move around (and swing from the rafters when testing out his webs - or just for fun). A long mismatched combination of tables of different heights and shapes made up a long work top, scattered with tech and tools that Peter had left out the night before. Peter thought it was endearing in its unevenness even if most of it was from second hand shops or dumpsters. In fact, he had grown so proud of the finished product and the fact that most of the tables were pretty sturdy that he had sent a photo to Happy. Naturally, Happy had shown Pepper the photo who was apparently mildly horrified and had asked Peter if she could share the lease or at least buy him a proper workspace. Peter had declined, he liked the responsibility. Pepper had let it go… but not before she had an incredibly comfortable couch delivered to the lab. He had almost returned it, but it proved so useful for nights when Peter didn't feel like going back to his halls of residence and could just collapse on the couch instead that he had agreed to keep it.

The couch was currently pressed up against the exposed brick wall that bordered one side of the workspace. Down from the couch was a lone glass case with his Spidey suit standing upright and ready for Peter to wear, not that he really had the chance these days. Between his college work, Stark Industries and his own personal projects Peter was flat out… and that wasn't taking into consideration the obligations he had back in New York as Spider-Man and to the Avengers.

"Peter, just a reminder than Happy will be picking you up in an hour." A voice crackled over Peter's makeshift speakers.

"Thanks George." Peter said sipping at his soda as he walked back over to his worktop. George was his new AI. Peter had always wanted to develop his own artificial intelligence and as such had spent most of his spare time over the Summer developing George. He was a simple piece of organising software that was programmed to basically run Peter's life and take care of the smaller things that Peter felt a little bad giving to such a high line computer like Karen. Though he used George as a sort of daily planner and time manager at the moment, his abilities could be developed to manage organisations as big as Stark Industries. George's framework had been buried deep in one of the files that Tony had left on the hard drive for Peter. Back then the AI had been incomplete with only a basic scaffold and it had taken Peter weeks to get the hang of the programming and design.

"If you get the 12:14 bus you should arrive just in time to meet him." George replied.

"Sure thing!" Peter said setting his can down on the bench and walking over to the window to look outside.

Despite the convenience of the lab’s proximity to a power grid and his college, and its run-down appearance that made it a wolf in sheep's clothing, what had really won Peter over had been the windows.

Just like the Lab back at SI, one side of the warehouse was made up of floor to ceiling windows - an odd feature Peter thought, though he didn't really know what the space was used for before it was put out to let. The windows meant that during the day Peter didn't even bother turning the lights on, allowing him to redirect the remaining power to his other tech and significantly decreasing the risk of migraines and sensory overload. It was incredibly freeing to have such an open space compared with his shared room and the cramped lecture halls at MIT. Naturally, since moving away from home the new lab had become a sort of escape for Peter.

"The new addition to project Chronos has cleared all my checks but will take a while to assemble with the current model." Karen said. "Shall we store it securely until you get back from your trip?"

"Yeah we might as well." Peter said in dismay turning away from the window and sighing. It had become frustrating with all of the equipment he needed back at his SI lab and only the bare minimum here at his Massachusetts lab. He tried to work on his SI projects as much as he could, but a lot of the physical things had to be done in person, hence part of his reasons for returning to New York every other week. He had tried putting robots to work to assemble some of his projects but always relished the satisfaction of putting the prototypes together himself when he had the time.

"Your bus will arrive in approximately eight minutes sir; shall I purchase a pass for you?" George asked as Peter started locking the place up.

"That'd be great thank you George." Peter replied, walking past the windows and checking the scanner at the base of each which was constantly on, ready to detect any intruder and alert Peter and Karen immediately.

"Also, sir, a reminder that you have three unread messages from MJ, an Instagram message from Ned and as requested, I have compiled today’s news according to anything you may find interesting as well as any articles mentioning Spider-Man."

"That’s awesome!" Peter said beaming, he'd only managed to get George to run expansive media searches recently and even then, he usually malfunctioned because something in Peter's coding wasn't correct. "Great job George!"

"I try my best, sir."

"I've told you before, you don't need to call me sir, at least not until I'm like 25 or something." Peter said smiling still as he strode over to the Spidey suit stored securely in its case. Spider-Man hadn't been in New York for two weeks and the press would start getting suspicious if he didn't show up soon.

"Of course, sir." George said before hastily correcting himself "I mean, of course."

Peter hummed tunelessly as the lock on the suit scanned his eye and recognised him. The glass hissed slightly as it slowly slid back to reveal his suit in all its glory.

To tell the truth, Peter felt kind of deprived of it when he wasn't using it. Compared to months ago when he couldn't get in the suit without crippling panic attacks, he now relished his time wearing it, as rare as it was becoming these days.

Peter picked the suit up by the shoulders and felt it being released by the stand that held it upright within the case. Peter held it before him to admire it. He had created a third suit since working at Stark Industries, one that was personal to him and had his own design and embellishments, it was an excellent suit. That didn't stop Peter from coming back to his original suit every time. It may not have been strong or intuitive as the Iron Spider suit or have as many capabilities as his new Spider-Man suit, but it was still important to him. Tony Stark had given Peter many things, a place of work where he could actually do something with his brain, incredible tech to experiment with, a hard drive containing terabytes of knowledge that most of the world would kill for, among other things. But the most important thing that Tony had given Peter was the ability to be a real Super Hero, he had taken Peter under his wing and brought him into the world of the Avengers where Peter felt he could really make a difference. So, Peter held onto the Mark 1.

Heading over to the grey blue couch that Pepper had bought him, Peter carefully folded the suit up and put it in the duffle bag he was taking back to New York for Thanksgiving.

College had been crazy recently and it would be nice to get away from all his school work, even if that just meant turning to his work at Stark Industries or Spider-Man or the number of other commitments he had to the Avengers. Peter's brain seemed to strain and throb just thinking about the number of things he had to get done. He took a deep breath in through his nose and held for a moment, focusing on his heartbeat and then expanding his senses to the space around him, the fly buzzing up near the top of one of the windows, the soft thrumming of the electricity that powered his security system from the surprisingly unassuming box fixed to the far wall, to the feeling of his fingers brushing against the fibres of his duffle bag. He breathed out slowly.

"Your bus is due in four minutes, Peter." George said over the speakers and Peter darted his head up to glance at the clock sitting on one end of his workbench.

"Right." Peter said nodding and zipping up the duffle bag and slinging it over a shoulder. "Karen?"

"All systems locked down for your departure, Peter." Karen said as Peter grabbed his keys, phone and the black notebook with most of his Stark Industries research notes.

"Alright then." Peter turned, hefting his duffle bag and giving his lab a once over, walking backwards a few paces before deciding that everything was as it should be and heading for the door. "You're in charge while we are away George, anything happens you let me know."

"Yes sir." George crackled over the speakers as Peter shut the door behind him and waited patiently as it locked behind him. Unlike Karen, George's system was still so new and at times unstable, that Peter didn't really want to mobilise the AI quite yet, as useful as that might be. Peter had to admit that leaving a set of eyes… or rather a computer brain capable of keeping an 'eye' on things, made him feel a good deal more comfortable about leaving his equipment in the warehouse lab. Karen on the other hand, accompanied Peter everywhere these days, whether it was in his SI tablet, his SI earpieces, the Spidey suit or occasionally his phone

Peter dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time and jumping from the fourth stair to the ground floor once he reached the end. A quick glance at his watch told him that four minutes had become two and that if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't make it to the bus.  

After a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, Peter jumped up onto the rooftop of the small block of apartments next to the warehouse and began hopping his way from building to building. Peter reached the bus stop with thirty seconds to spare, his research notebook clasped tightly to his chest and his head full of thoughts of home. This weekend was hopefully going to be an escape from his work and responsibilities, hopefully he'd get to spend some time with MJ and his family and come back to college rested and rejuvenated. It was a naïve thought, Peter knew it, but despite that he still had hope that this weekend would serve more than four days of more work. Little did he know, fate had other plans.

[alteredphoenix]

First Impressions Chapter 50: The Stables Incident (WIP)(Heroes of the Storm)

A/N: So, some context in a nutshell: First Impressions is an out-of-order anthology series that has Sylvanas as the MC in a more Looney Tunes-style Nexus, a central hub where all universes converge and diverge at a singular point due to the Powers That Be that may or may not have summoned them here for purposes that are unknown to them. Except anyone that is brought to the Nexus is infected with a condition called the transition, aka the in-universe term for Out of Character; even the native-born Nexians are not exempt from this, and those that are pulled from their timeline never age, and if they should die they are very shortly brought back aka respawn.

I haven’t touched First Impressions in a long while, mainly because of work, doing WoW fics, and a lot of family drama IRL from 2018 onwards that nearly made me quit writing altogether. But I have felt the itch to get back at it again, even though Heroes of the Storm got its e-sports sector gutted and is running in a slow, lumbering maintenance mode. I’m not really sure if HotS still maintans some semblance of popularity as it did in the past year; I’ve been out of the loop for a while, although I’m sure the minor leagues and community-driven events are still ongoing.

Regardless, I’m posting this preview for archival purposes. I’m also posting it because this marks the start of the legendary Stables Incident, an event in which Sylvanas is accused of slaughtering innocent farm animals (at a place where people store their mounts for matches) out of nowhere. This chapter, however, shows what really happened (spoiler alert: Sylvanas didn’t do it, it was actually an accident, Hammer pressed the button on her tank by mistake during a squabble and, as a result, caused an intergalactic news circus over it).

I’m also posting this because: I love writing smartass-give-no-fucks!Sylvanas, and there must be more of it in the fandom.

-

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

The music kicked up in a roar so loud it threw Sylvanas off the bench onto the ground as though an invisible hand scooped up her from underneath and bowled her over. She awoke with a painful groan, twisting round onto her stomach to sit up on her elbows. Her ears twitched and swiveled, searching for the source of the music.

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

They flattened down against the sides of her head, shaking more from the vibrations that were causing the ground to quake, the bench to jump, and the squirrels and birds on their respective tree branches to bounce off in chattering, chirping squeaks and squawks than the force driving a jackhammer into her brain. Sylvanas looked behind her, in the direction of the auto body shop with its garage doors opened all the way.

A large, single-barreled cannon was poking its head out, connected to a red plated chassis on massive treads.

Sylvanas snarled, pushed to her feet, and stormed toward the garage.

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

“HAMMER!” Sylvanas yelled, but she could only hear the word in her head; it was like walking into a nightclub on full blast while the mother of all earthquakes, the Even Bigger One (bigger than San Andreas!), was bringing about The End Of The World As They Knew It. The tools on the walls racks and on the benches were rattling. The overhead fluorescent lights and spotlights were flickering and swinging back and forth. Darkness, even the fuel tanks way in the back were shaking in their cages! And Hammer…

Hammer was standing up out of the manhole, swaying and bumping and grinding like a turkey on antihistamines.

“HAMMER!” Sylvanas yelled again, feeling her throat work to outdo the noise. But Hammer still kept on dancing, oblivious to the world. The Banshee Queen glanced around the area. She saw a boombox from the Twenty-First Renaissance Era (which looked like a pyramidal A-track player) on a workbench...but no, nothing was coming out of it. She’d seen and heard it play before; whatever was running at the time would sound like it was being phoned in from a tin can in another municipal district from across an ocean. Then her eyes flicked behind the tank where, some distance away, were the ‘administrative’ offices that were reserved for quiet paperwork, faxing, phone calls, Internet, and maybe a few Jet Briggs’ beer and Easy Green joints were drunk and rolled in private enlightenment (that definition seemed to wax and wane over the years, apparently, but it usually ranged from a blissful stoner’s high to confusion and then to an agoraphobic fear of unseen, probably imaginative eldritch horrors that ranged between pink elephants, hyperrealistic eyes on the walls, and crab people with the heads of famous celebrities dead, alive, and not yet born crawling all over the place). Her eyes went to the ceiling where the speakers were located...but they shook as well, and offered no indication to her addled ears that the music was coming from them.

That left only one other place. “HAMMER, TURN THAT DOWN!”

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!” were the words Sylvanas could read from Hammer’s lips. “WHAT! WHAT! Doo doo-doo doo doo! Nuh-nuh-nuh! Doo doo-doo doo doo, doo-doo-doo--”

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

Sylvanas clenched her fists, her body shaking in time with the music. She mimicked taking a breath, reared back, and, calling upon the dark magic inside her, focused the font of power to nestle in her lungs and up her throat. Then she leaned forward and screamed. “HAAAAAMEEEERRRRR! TURN THAT THING OFF!”

The last syllable finally knocked Hammer out of her dance-induced stupor, blowing her back (and, Sylvanas thought morosely, not ass over tea kettle off the tank) from the amplified force. She caught herself, looked around, and saw the Banshee Queen glaring death and mayhem below her. “AW SNAP! SORRY, SORRY! EH, UH, G-GIVE ME ONE SEC! HOLD ON! WHERE’S THAT DAMN...AHA!” She doubled over, rooting around for the stereo, and when she found it turned it off.

Sylvanas had never found complete, total silence to be such an aether-given blessing until today. Like nirvana for mind, body, and soul. The quintessential out-of-body experience where one became attuned to nature and all that is not industrial.

Until I leave and she starts up again, she concluded. “You’re welcome,” Sylvanas drawled sardonically.

“Girl, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even know you were down there!” said Hammer. “Y-You weren’t waitin’ long, were ya?”

“I was waiting for an hour.”

Hammer clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Holy shit! Damn, girl, I’m really sorry--”

“Yeah, you should be. I actually just got here.”

“Eh? What? Really?”

“Yes, really!” Sylvanas said. “I was having a nice, simple rest on the bench outside and your stupid music woke me up! I swear to Darkness, woman, are you trying to move the Anchors out of position? Do you want to get us all killed?”

“N-Nah, girl, not at all! It’s just”--and Hammer flailed--”It’s such a nice day out, ya know? And it’s Sunday, which means all the auto shops are closed. An’ that also means I can work to mah heart’s content! No disruptions! No phone calls! No Kaijo suddenly tearing through the fabric of the space-time continuum! I can actually get stuff on time now, and at my own pace!”

“So I guess if I brought a motorcycle in, I’ll be expecting it by next spring as a belated Winter Veil present.”

“What? No! Girl, I ain’t that slow!”

“A tortoise, a snail, and a sloth could compete against you and they’d still win the race.”

“Hell no they wouldn’t! I have a tank, they don’t. I would just run ‘em over!”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “You are such a humanitarian it makes my heart bleed.”

“Well that’s what they’d get for messin’ with a siege tank!”

“You do realize there’s a noise ordnance of seventy-five feet, right?”

Hammer grinned wolfishly. “Ain’t no such thing as a noise ordnance if there’s no one around to complain about it.”

“Except for me,” said Sylvanas.

“Are ya really gonna tell on me?”

“No, but I’ll have ten reasons to tell you where to go if you do that again.”

“Ten reasons?” Hammer quirked a brow.. “What are they?”

“I punch you in the face with my left fist and then punch you with my right fist. If I add onto that, I’ll have ninety-nine reasons and a headbutt to make you quiet. Let’s also not forget I can just kick when you’re down, and by that point I’ll have lost count.”

“That’s a helluva lot of reasons to have...and money! Lots of money to pay for medical bills!”

“I can think of ways to accrue the cash and avoid jail time. You think this lackadaisical government can stop me?”

“Well,” Hammer said, digging a pinkie finger into her ear, “they are a little slow on the uptake. They ain’t exactly unnatural like we are. They’re more...what’s the word...normal.”

“You’re far from normal,” Sylvanas muttered.

“Eh? What?” Hammer asked.

“I said, what the hell are you working on that’s made you put the music on full blast?” Sylvanas lied smoothly. “What about it is so important you haven’t had the cops called on you yet?”

Hammer laughed uproariously. “This? This! My good friend! Is the latest in Jeetilopolis technological warfare!”

Sylvanas appraised it with a slow, long sweep of her eyes. “A single shot cannon?”

“Not just any single shot cannon! It’s a single shot cannon bought straight from the auction block all the way in Jeetilopolis! I spent just about my entire checking account on getting this thing, and spent almost the entirety of my savings on shipping and handling!”

“You can’t be that stupid.”

“What people think is stupid is actually smart! Besides, how’s a woman gonna get by in life if she can’t dip a little?”

“Hammer, spending every copper, silver, and gold on a cannon that is more than likely going to be faulty is not dipping a little. That’s jumping headfirst out of a plane without a parachute and hoping you time your angle just right so you can land in a lake that’ll be deep enough to sustain your impact and not kill you on the spot.”

“And when I hit rock bottom, will it be filled with gold?”

“Whatever it is, I won’t be joining you to find out.”

Hammer made an annoyed sound by blowing her lips. “Aw, c’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“Maybe for you, but I have no intentions of going into bankruptcy.”

“That ain’t gonna happen! You know why?”

“No,” Sylvanas drawled dryly. “Tell me why.”

“Because there was one other thing I got while I was in Jeetilopolis. One little thing that’ll give this baby here one helluva big wallop that’ll scare the bejeesus out o’ people! You wanna know what that is?”

“Not really.”

“Guess!”

Sylvanas sighed. “Do I have to--”

“Yeah! Come on! Take a guess!”

“Fine. Let me think.” Sylvanas feigned contemplation, making a show of looking away and tapping her chin. Then she snapped her fingers. “I got it. A brain.”

“Nuh-uh! Already have one,” said Hammer, and rapped her fists on her helmet for emphasis.

“Two brains.”

“No!”

“Three.”

“Now what am I supposed ta do with that many brains, eh? Play tsukkome and bokke with one while the other plays the straight man...brain...thing? Actually, on second thought,” Hammer added, thoughtfully, “I could probably palaver with them and get some pretty neat ideas for the tank. Yeah.” She nodded approval. “Yeah, that ain’t such a bad idea! But, uh, that ain’t what’s in this thing! It’s somethin’ better than a brain!”

“And that would be…?”

“Aether,” Hammer breathed. “I got me some gods be damned aether in a bottle for fifteen thousand gold! That’s cheap!”

Sylvanas gave her a blank stare, then nodded complete and total understanding. “Okay. So you get blitzed off the life-energy of the universe. It all makes sense now.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“No.” Sylvanas shook her head slowly, and drawled dryly, “No. Why would I ever say that?”

“’Cause this ain’t just the life energy of the universe!” Hammer slapped a hand down hard on the base of the manhole. “This is the answer to all my problems! This baby right here can store so much oomph in here...why, I think I might have just become a god!”

“Aether-based weaponry is banned from the League.”

Hammer grinned wickedly. “Not if they don’t find out! All’s I have to do is get the energy output tuned to its usual optimized settings and those old bats and goats in the Houses will be none the wiser! Ahahahahahaha! I’m a genius, Sylvanas!” she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. “A bonafide, grade-A genius!”

“Joy to the world, God is good,” Sylvanas grumbled, shaking her head.

“Hey, I’m thinkin’ of taking the tank out for a test firin’ out in the Shadowskirts in a bit; don’t want the authorities to catch wind of this! You wanna check ‘er out before I go?” 

Sylvanas shrugged. “Why not. Not like I have anything better to do.”

[soda-rebel-writes]

The Adventurer

For @nordicsawesome because....snails. 

Summary: Toni has a quest, a noble quest. If only he was faster. 

Warnings: none

Pairing: Spamano 

A radiant wash of orange illuminated the sky as Antonio gently glided across the dirt. The stalks were always lovely at this time when the brightly burning light would be low enough for snails like him to creep along. It was just the right amount of light to see yet dark enough to avoid being burnt to a crisp. The perfect time for him to begin his chivalrous rescue mission. It began several dimmings ago, back when he and Romano had discovered mounds of red food.

Just sitting there, and no one was eating it! Naturally, they slithered over and feasted until the light was at a dangerous point. Luckily, thick stalks with branches shaded them. It was really quite lovely. That is until five monstrous flattened pillars burst through the stalks. They plucked up Romano as Antonio gaped in horror. He yelled out that he would find Romano, no matter what the cost. Antonio wasn’t sure if he was loud enough, not that it mattered. Romano disappeared, and he was all alone. Antonio had been too upset to eat at that point, keeping himself busy with the thought of saving Romano from whatever fate befell him. What would the pink pillars do to Romano? Surely they wouldn’t….smash him? That perked Antonio up from his perch. With the might of ten snails, he slithered as quickly as he could to the misshapen cave where the pillars lived. Or at least, he slithered in its direction. Snails weren’t exactly made for the speed he needed to be at. But he was making great pace! The great glowing stone in the sky was only at its half-point. Which meant he could make it past the feast stalks to the seeded trees. With a little luck, he would even miss the great furred beast! As he hoped, Antonio made it to the shade of the seeded trees before the giant glow made it back to its rightful place. For now, the sky was a lovely soft lavender. Soft enough to be laid in for a nap. He wished Romano was here. If he hurried, maybe that could happen. Motivated once again, he crept to the end of the stalk pathway. This is where the cave began. All he needed was a bit more time, and---Suddenly a monstrous roar stopped Antonio in his tracks. Without even turning, he knew what it was. But if he stood still, maybe it would leave him alone.

Closer and closer it stomped, sending the ground up in flecks. Its hideous bushy tail and curved claws would forever haunt him in his nightmares. Luckily, it spotted a seed and shoved it into its cavernous mouth. With a flick of its tail and an insidious glare at Antonio, it leapt away. He sighed in relief. To think...if he was interrupted this soon into his journey! On he crept, working up a good amount of slime to cling onto the cave. Now all he needed was to find an opening! But that proved difficult. One part of the cave was slick, and he remembered it being open before. Maybe he was just hallucinating? Or the pillars must have repaired it when he wasn’t looking…Regardless, he had to find a hole soon! The light was starting to creep around the shade cast by the seed trees. A wrong turn and soon Antonio would be burning! Frantically, he slithered this way and that, sliding up and down the cave wall. But alas, he just couldn’t find a single opening. Antonio was giving up hope. He had made it so far, yet, was caught up in the simplest aspect of his rescue mission. Trapped by the light on both sides and lacking the speed to move faster, Antonio was ready to accept his fate. He felt the rolling sizzle at his tail and expected it to continue. Then, all of a sudden, he was lifted by the accursed pillars! Except this time, it was less accursed and more blessed. Thank the great stone in the sky, he was saved. It had a face too apparently. It was saying things, but it all sounded incomprehensible. If Antonio had the knowledge of humanspeak, he would have heard the little boy tell his mother that he found another snail on the wall. “This time, it was by the sunflowers!” Gilbert said. With Antonio in hand, the little boy ran inside to add it to his terrarium. He was going to have the best show and tell tomorrow, he was sure of it. Meanwhile, Antonio burst into tears and excited ramblings when he saw Romano, happily munching one of the red foods. “I came to rescue you!” Antonio said, suddenly remembering his original purpose.

“Why?” Romano asked mid-munch. “I wasn’t in trouble.” “But don’t you want to go back?” Antonio asked.

Romano rolled his eye stalks. “Come over here and look,” he said. Antonio slithered, head low, to where Romano was. From their little box of solid air, they could see everything from their old home. The tree seeds right outside, the furry monster up in its goliath tree, the black sea of death. Right behind it all was the light, slow on its way to dimming. The sky was a faded pink that darkened into a red similar to the food in their box. “It’s...it’s beautiful here,” Antonio said.“And you wanted to leave,” Romano laughed. “Look, there’s tons of food and nothing ever tries to kill us. Please stay.” Antonio smiled. “The second I knew you were here, I was all set to stay.” Romano nudged him playfully while Antonio moved his shell closer so they could better enjoy the moment together.“It’s cute that you tried to save me,” Romano said. “Even though I don’t need it.”“Anything for you, Roma,” Antonio said. So they sat, quest no longer needed, in the terrarium while the sunset. And they would happily stay in that terrarium for many days and nights until they felt another new adventure was needed. 

And yes, Gilbert did have the best show and tell project. 

[smashbuddies]

Do it for Them: Pt. 8

“Are you sure you should be here? It might be dangerous-”

“I’ll be fine, My... Snail. Black’s troops aren’t set to arrive for another few hours. I’ll go back home here soon, I promise.”

His Diamond frowned, but didn’t push it, thankfully. They knew if they told him to go home, he would have no choice but to obey. But he just wanted to enjoy their company. Especially before this particular battle. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen. It was even worse than usual.

But His Diamond’s words echoed in the back of his head. I’ll always come back to you, My Pearl. That promise kept him from relaying his fears. They wouldn’t break that promise. They were too strong.

A glint from the sword in their hand caught his eye and his train of thought. It had been crafted for them not too long after they started fighting. The blade was almost as big as Daniel himself- just a bit shorter, though definitely a little wider than his willowy frame. Purple, with little vines of green swirling around the hilt and guard. And thin vine-like engravings on the blade, a representation of what they fought for, what gave them the strength to lead and fight. Life itself. And the planet they called home.

It was a work of art. Just like His Diamond.

“Like what you see?”

His face grew hot and his eyes snapped up to meet theirs. What was that grin for? “Excuse me?”

Their face softened, but the little crinkles by their eyes never went away. They ran a hand through his hair and said casually, “I dunno, you were just staring at me pretty hard.”

“I wasn’t staring at you,” he vehemently denied and tried his best to hide his embarrassment behind a cool facade. With his arms crossed and his nose raised up, to really drive it home. “I was looking at your sword, My Diamond.”

“Really?” That grin only grew wider as they hefted their sword up over their shoulder and winked. “I didn’t know it was on my face.”

He blanched. “Well…!”

“Sorry, I just wanted to tease you a little,” they said, crouching down to meet his eyes. “It’s nice to see you come out of your shell.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with his nose crinkled up and eyebrows furrowed together in distaste.

“Like that.” A single finger touched against his nose and he had to gently bat it away to keep the humiliation from eating him alive. “It’s the little things you do. You’re getting sassier. And it comes out more when you’re embarrassed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, voice playfully low to keep the energy up, but mind reeling at what they said. Him, sassy? Pearls were supposed to be meek, was he a bad Pearl? Was this a warning?

They laughed, and like always it made something inside him flutter and grow pleasantly warm. “See, that’s exactly what I mean! You just get cuter everyday!”

Cuter?

Daniel could only stare, every racing thought in his head crashing together into a cacophony of white noise and static. But oh, that smile. Everything else in the world faded but their face. If only they could look at him like this all the time. No war, no fighting, no worries. Just the two of them at home, enjoying each other’s company, intertwined, dancing, laughing, loving each other. Like he knew it was meant to be.

The desire bubbled up into words he so desperately needed to say. Gingerly, he cupped his hands against their face and smiled. “Snail… I lo-”

In a flurry of motion, he was pulled behind them. The sound of their sword clashing against something rang in his ears and his gem thrummed wildly against his back, like an alarm.

Everything slowed down as he turned his head. Just on the other end of their blade, snarling and growling and spitting, was the most horrific thing he’d ever seen. A mass of black, clawed limbs all over swiping at the earth, stark white teeth surrounding their sword, horns jutting out from the top, the reddest eyes he’d ever seen. And swimming in the mass were shards. So many minuscule slivers of color appearing for the briefest moment before sinking back down into darkness. The only one that stayed in place was a red gem, mostly intact except for the small white patch melted into the center.

“Go!” His Diamond ordered, teeth clenched as they moved their other hand to their sword and braced themself.

He couldn’t move. Inch by inch, the beast seemed to get closer, forcing His Diamond back. He had to do something. Anything.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he had his hands held out, and willed a star to form in the open maw of the creature. Bigger, it had to be bigger. The shape grew and grew into it was forced to release its hold on their sword with a terrible, almost gem-shattering screech.

His Diamond took a large swing at the creature, effectively slicing it in half. But the two pieces only came back together, stitching into place like nothing even happened.

Daniel expected the creature to go after His Diamond. That would only make sense- they were an active threat. But no. It side-stepped around them, even dodging the second swing taken at it, the black mass bubbling and rolling almost like a cloud, and came right for him with open jaws. He barely managed to summon up a star to protect himself, and even then he’d been pushed to the ground, the Earth being the only thing protecting his gem from the claws trying to reach around his shield.

He was going to die. The Shard Eater would make him his next victim, he knew it. And he never got to have his happy ending. The star he summoned shrank. Why put off the inevitable…?

No. Not here, not now. A surge of power welled up in him, the most confidence he’d felt in all his existence. It was like a familiar voice whispering in his ear. You can do this, My Pearl. You’re so strong, so perfect, you won’t die here, this war is ours.

A slice swept cleanly through the creature, and His Diamond’s sword clashed against his shield. Then they leapt through the split and grabbed him, tucking him close to their chest while they rolled and landed in a crouched position. Their arm was tight around his waist, and they raised their sword to fend off another attack from the Shard Eater. Their reflection in their blade was determined, ferocious even, eyes narrowed, teeth bared.

“I told you to go,” they hissed as they pushed the beast back and leapt out of the way of a massive hand swinging down. “Now’s not the time to be stubborn!”

“Let me fight with you!” he demanded, squirming in their hold. Their tightened their arm. “I can’t let you face the Shard Eater alone!”

They opened their mouth to argue, but only let out a grunt as they held back a claw from swiping at them. Two more shot out and tried to get around their sword, but Daniel summoned up stars to keep them at bay, even though it took more out of him then he had to spare. His arms trembled as he willed the stars to stay in place. But as those claws tightened their grip, it only grew harder.

Don’t shatter, don’t shatter, keep His Diamond safe!

“I’m not going to lose you!” His Diamond finally growled out, and their sword glowed with energy. It shot through the Shard Eater, dissipating most of its form, and they took the chance to throw him as far as they could.

Daniel hit the ground with a hard thud. Shaken, he just barely managed to prop himself up on his arm, and tried to figure out which of His Diamond was the real one and which was a dizzy illusion.

“Get out of here!” they yelled, pinning him with the most firm glare he’d ever had the displeasure of receiving. From behind them, the mass of black grew and towered overhead. “That’s an order, Pearl! Don’t even think about disobeying Your Diamond again!”

Something in him sunk. And their face fell for a quick moment, before they turned their attention back to the Shard Eater. 

Well, he couldn’t disobey His Diamond. So he summoned up a star underneath his trembling form, and willed it up above the battlefield, far out of harm’s reach. His Diamond looked so small from here. 

And so did every other gem fighting.

From up here, he could see it all. Poofings. Shatterings. A storm of color clashing against a wave of black. But the last thing he saw before shooting the star back home was His Diamond holding their own against the Shard Eater. They would win. He knew they would. If anyone could defeat it, they could.

But the two of them would have to have a serious talk when they got back.

Like usual, he waited for them in the middle of the snail garden. The generations of snails that he and His Diamond raised were good company in these trying times. They had such short lives, but His Diamond loved each and every one with all their heart.

And he did too.

His finger lightly traced across the spiral on Lily’s shell. His Diamond had taken to naming the snails after the different kinds of life found on Earth. The names the humans had given the plants and animals. Except the first of each generation was always named after him. Whenever he asked why, they would just shrug. But he knew they were keeping the answer a secret. Still, he was going to find out eventually.

The doors behind him slid open, and he jumped up to his feet, eager to greet His Diamond. But he froze in place and his face fell when he saw that it wasn’t them. Two mournful looking gems approached him, each supporting one end of His Diamond’s sword. They stopped in front of him, and knelt down on one knee.

“My Pearl,” the one on the left announced, eyes off to the side. “Purple Diamond has been lost.”

No.

“What do you mean lost?” he asked as he held back the knot forming in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “Were they… Were they shattered?”

“We don’t know,” the gem on the right answered, about just as eager to make eye contact with him. “But they were poofed by the Shard Eater, so… We can only assume…”

Daniel felt cold. Stiffly, he took the sword from the gems and held it close to himself. It was awkward and almost too big for him, but he didn’t care. This was the only thing he had left of His Diamond. He couldn’t let it go.

“Please ready the communicator for me,” he asked softly, voice quivering despite himself. “Tune it in to every channel. Even to Red, Gray, and Black Diamond’s. They need to hear my message too.”

“Yes, My Pearl!”

As the two gems raced out of the garden, he let out a broken sob. Not yet. He couldn’t crack yet. So he took a deep breath and willed his form to change. Bigger, he had to be bigger. Not a small Pearl in this moment, but a grand Diamond. Someone that could follow Purple’s legacy. Someone that could be the greatest threat the other Diamonds had ever faced.

The sword was easier to carry now. So he strolled out the the throne room and took a seat, eyes trained firmly on the communicator while the sword rested in his lap. On his cue, the two gems powered it on.

“This is a message to every gem,” he started, voice firm as he held his chin high. “Both Earth and Homeworld. Purple Diamond has been lost.”

It hurt even more to say.

“But the war hasn’t,” he bit out. “We aren’t without a leader. I know Purple Diamond hasn’t been shattered. They’re out there somewhere. And I swear to you, as their Pearl, I will stop at nothing to find them and get them back. I know I can’t be the leader they were, but I will try my best.”

All the anger building up inside him had to be swallowed back for a moment. Encouragement first. That’s a priority. “To all the gems fighting for Earth, to everyone disheartened by this: don’t give up. We will win. All we have to do is remember what we’re fighting for. Life, the home we all share, and our beloved Purple Diamond.”

He took a deep breath and traced his fingers along the engravings in His Diamond’s sword.

“And to the Great Diamond Authority,” he muttered, voice low and head hung. “You will regret this war. One day, you will be on the end of Purple Diamond’s sword, and you will beg for the measly, pathetic, insignificant little Pearl to spare you. Because I know you can be poofed.”

He slowly lifted his head up, lips pulled back into a snarl as his hands pressed flat against the blade on his lap and stared right into the communicator.

“But I’d love to find out if you can be shattered.”

With a nod, he signaled the transmission to be cut off, then hastily got up and scrambled back into the sanctuary of the snail garden. He fell to his knees and shrank back down to his normal size, every ounce of the will he had shattering into unsalvageable pieces as the realization that His Diamond was gone hit him once more.

Heavy tears rolled down his face and another sob escaped him. But this time, he let it. This feeling was worse than anything he’d ever experienced. So, so much worse. He didn’t feel like he would shatter, but he wished with all his being that he would.

“You lied,” he whispered down to the sword as it collected his sorrow. But with each word, his voice grew louder, more broken, more powerful than it had ever been before. “You lied to me. You said you’d be safe! What happened to ‘I’ll always come back, My Pearl’!? What do you expect me to do without you!?”

His gem ached terribly. He brought his hands up to his eyes to try and still the tears pouring down, but it didn’t work. Soft whimpers and hiccups filled the air, and he curled in on himself and the sword.

“I can’t do this… I can’t lead without you, Snail… I’m nothing without you...”

But the memory of a whisper lingered in his mind. His Diamond’s voice, so gentle, so confidant. A lifeline he needed terribly, the one thing he could hold onto.

I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.

He’d get through this. He’d be a leader. He’d be the gem that they saw him as. Strong. Confidant. A leader. A fighter. And one day he’d find His Diamond and proudly declare that the war had been won. One day he’d be safe in their arms again.

No matter how long it took, he would make it happen.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 16- Brno/Salzburg: In Which I Have A Bewildering Experience In A Lidl

My train to Salzburg was at a nice, relaxed 11:30am, thus I thought I would treat myself to the vagrant equivalent to a lie-in. I thought I would, but I didn't. This was due, entirely, to the Chinese girl, who not only had failed to turn her phone down during the night but had also thought it entirely acceptable behaviour to to get up at quarter to nine in the morning and carry out a phone conversation at full volume in a crowded room full of sleeping people, despite our dorm having a separate, unoccupied common room, just outside. Okay, whatever. It's fine. I'd just re-swap my earplugs for headphones and work on my blog. It's fine. It was fine.

I did just that for a while and  ended up leaving in surprising and uncharacteristically good time to catch my train. But like, super good time. Like I was was the station for an hour and a half before it arrived. Still, at least I wasn't in a room with those people any more, so I couldn't really complain.

I bibbled around on the platform, filling my time feeding pigeons and taking photos

sometimes taking photos OF pigeons.

and soon my train pulled in. I hopped on board and took a seat. This vagranting thing is easy.

This particular train would take me to Vienna, where I would need to change services in order to head to Salzburg, my final destination of the day. I had spotted on my ticket, not long after buying it that the window to make this connection was three minutes long. The train I was currently on had arrived five minutes late to Brno. I was not confident that I would make this connection. Fortunately, I happened to know that trains from Vienna to Salzburg run every hour, so, at absolute worst, I figured I would just have to kill some time in Wien; the worst place in europe.

When I arrived there, though, my vagrant sense went crazy. I stepped off the first train and had all but resigned myself to chilling for an hour when something beeped, loudly in my brain.

“That's your train on the platform across from you, that is.”

Tiny brain vagrant, that's really unlikely; the chances of just stumbling onto the right train, which just so happens to be directly across from the one I was just on, on the same platform a full minute after it was supposed to depart is really, really unlikely.

“...That's your train, that is” the voice repeated, but more passive aggressively

Jesus, okay, calm down, mate... I'll check. The voice in my head made a contented gurgle, which I'll be honest struck even me as quite odd.

I hopped over to the opposing platform and checked the destination of the tr- oh, it is the right train... I darted on board literally as the doors were closing and took a seat while tiny brain vagrant sung a little song about how right he was. No one likes a smart-ass, TBV.

I pulled into Salzburg some hours afterwards and marched manfully towards my accommodation, the amusingly named, and even more amusingly pronounced in an Austrian accent, Yoho hostel.

The Yoho hostel was one of these big, faceless, trendy places that tend to pop up a lot more frequently the further west into europe you go. The sort of places I really hate staying in, though unfortunately I had no choice in this instance, given that it was literally the only hostel with any free rooms in the entire city. I approached the front desk, it was manned by a chap that I would charitably call a preening tosser.  He bumbled through the typical hostel schpiel, stopping no less than twice to take phone calls in the middle of our brief conversation and handed me a check-in card to fill out. I was a little confused- isn't filling in these things like...one of your two jobs as a hostel receptionist? Okay, fine, whatever, I'll do it...

I filled the card in, including entering my own passport number, which I am one hundred percent certain is not something I am meant to do and handed it back to him. In return, he handed me the keycard to my room, while slicking his hair back. Cool.

I dumped my stuff on my bed (the lower bunk for once!) and headed straight back out to get some food, given that I had eaten one small sandwich throughout my day thus far. I decided to not faff around with getting anything fancy and to once again check out the Christmas markets, which, I had been told, were pretty effing delightful in Salzburg.

I strolled around finding many, many little mini markets dotted throughout the city, though each of them more concerned with selling small wooden trinkets in the shapes of angels and Gluhwine than they were with selling food. After a quick google, I discovered that the main-event of christmas markets took place in the cathedral square in old town and so, walked there immediately.

I think I must have still been in Czechia mode when I decided that eating at the market would be cost effective, because it just wasn't. Much more used to seeing prices along the lines of £2/3 for more food than my body could handle, it came as a shock to see prices increase to nearly £10 for rather paltry plates of knackerbrod or boxes of calamari (truly the most Christmassy of all foods.)

“I could have a full, sit-down meal for these prices...” I mused in horrified awe.

I decided to do just that and turned to leave. As I did, a magazine was thrust into my hands. I glanced down at it, it had some weird photoshopped picture of a plane dropping bombs or something on its cover along with some German, which I didn't understand, though seemed political in nature. I looked up at the person that had given me it. A rather dishevelled, middle eastern looking man.

“uhh?” I babbled.

He spoke to me in German and held out a little pot, which he presumably wanted me to put money in.

“No, sorry” I said, legitimately having no change, not wanting his awful magazine which I couldn't even read and fully resenting the obvious scam of putting the thing in my hands and refusing to take it back when I offered it to him, so I'd feel awkward and just pay him for it anyway.

He repeated the same thing, except more pleading. Rule of thumb for any tramps reading; if you want my money, be nice and don't try and scam me, because I'm sharp, I'm paranoid and I'm one hundred percent willing to throw your shitty magazine or plastic flower on the ground and walk away, if I feel like you're trying to trick me.

I tried to hand the magazine back to the man. He would not take it, obviously. He held his little cup up to me and repeated the German phrase one more time

“I do not want this.” I said to him, my eyes fixed on his.

He tried one more time and I told him no, again. All the warmth vanished from his face, he called me something which I'm sure I would find very offensive if I understood the language and snatched the magazine out of my hands. Because I'm a dick, I held on to it when he did, for just a split second. Just long enough to make it awkward. Any guilt I had felt for not giving this man money had immediately dissipated and I left the Christmas market in a bad mood.

I bought myself a burrito, which was...fairly bland, though not unpleasant and soon cheered up, though. Afterwards, I wasn't quite ready to return to my hostel and fancied getting myself something a little sweet. I made the decision then, to walk to Lidl.

Lidl was some distance away, though I was confident it would have them good Lidl doughnuts so I decided to go anyway. At the very least, walking through the city for forty five minutes would give me a nice overview of the place. Or at least it would have, if google had planned my route to go through the old town or along the river or something and not, as it did, through Salzburgian suburbia and along yet more not-quite-ringroads (resolution still in tact).

As it turned out, Lidl didn't actually even have that great a selection of doughnuts, making me wonder if it was worth the lengthy trek, there. Regardless I got myself a thing that translated into English as a “nut snail” and stood in line to pay. While in this line (which was for a long time, owing to the fact that there was only one man on the tills and most of his attention was taken up by an irate customer), there was an incredibly loud, almost deafening bang and immediately after it, three people in the queue behind me, without speaking, calmly abandoned their shopping and just walked out...I had no idea what was going on, but damned if I was walking all this way to leave without a nut snail, so I stuck it out, paid for my crap and left speedily, to face the thirty minute walk back to my hostel. I still have no idea what happened in that shop.

By the time I had arrived back, my feet had begin to blister quite badly. I'm not sure why they had decided to do this now; perhaps my sock was wet or bunched up or something, but it was really getting pretty bad. At the point of writing this I have still yet to put any significant pressure on my food and so can't tell how well it has healed overnight (at the time of posting this, I since have, and it was fine. Spoilers), though I worry I may be in for an uncomfortable day... (I wasn't.)

I limped back into my dorm and flumped onto my bed. Soon, I was joined by an Asian man, of which, there are just an incredible amount in this neck of the woods. He came in, said hello to me and asked if I had any water he could have. Not overjoyed at the prospect of sharing my precious water- this hostel not really having anything approaching a kitchen in which I could refill the bottle- but unable to tell him no as it was sitting in plain view, right next to me, I allowed him to decant some of it into his bottle. He thanked me and handed my bottle back.

“So, where you from?” he asked

“Oh, uh, Scotland.” I replied, not really expecting any more conversation.

“Ah, Scotlan...” he mused. “I heard about that.”

...He...heard about that? I wondered if he meant something specific that he had heard had happened, concerning Scotland, or that he had just heard about the country in general. Either answer seemed a bit weird.

“oh, right. Cool!” I offered as a stock reply.

“Ye, it like...England, right?”

“...it's next to England, sure”

“yeah, like...” he mimed a map of the British isles with his hands and pointed to the Scottish bit “England-lite, yes?”

...No the fuck you didn't. I scanned his face to see if he was teasing. It didn't appear so. Disappointing.

“Uh...” I laughed “Not...REALLY, no.”

He laughed too, though I sensed more because I was laughing and less because he thought he had made a joke.

“How about you?” I asked in return

“I'm from South Korea.”

“Ah, I've heard about that, too” I replied, perhaps slightly cheekily, though he didn't notice.

“Oh, you heard about it?”

“yeah....” I drifted off as I attempted to control the screaming desire that every fibre in my body felt to refer to it as North-Korea-Lite. Apparently I was doing this for longer than I thought and by the time I had swallowed these urges down and returned my mind to actual conversation mode, he had already clambered into his bunk and gone to sleep.

I fucked around for a few more hours, lackadaisically switching between procrastinating and Christmas shopping before finally, following suite and also turning in for the evening.

[starl1ght-child]

Aphotic

Dredgen Yor X F!Warlock OC

Chapter 3 : Truth

masterlist

Three weeks.

Three weeks using the Touch of Malice.

It took three weeks for her to realize that he was right.

At first, the whispers she heard from Oryx had stopped.  The moment they killed him, the whispers on the edge of her consciousness stopped.  The fingers on her mind went away.  The chill that was left in her bones from being Taken was gone.  And now, after three weeks back in the field, using the Touch of Malice, they were back.  The cold voice telling her to hurt, to maim, to kill.  When she started to notice, she fled her home with no warning.  She had her Ghost shut off all her feeds and she just… disappeared.  The Touch of Malice in hand.  She didn’t want to hurt anyone close to her.  Maybe she could just die out in the wilds, or fight until she couldn’t fight anymore.

She fought for twenty-three days straight.  No rest, no food, no water.  She started on the Dreadnaught where her pain was coming from, where the whispers were the loudest, then turned to the Moon.  She finally came back to Earth, hunting in the now frozen and SIVA infested Cosmodrome.  She finally collapsed deep within the wall, hiding in the dark.  She was tired.  Very, very tired.  She pulled off her helmet and leaned her head back against the cold metal.  She took a deep breath and watched her breath cloud in front of her.  She couldn’t see it, but her physical appearance was starting to change.  Her hair was losing its silver shine and darkening, her skin was turning paler, and her eyes… her eyes were no longer their pure, cobalt blue.  Her eyes were flecked with the same emerald green she had seen in Dredgen Yor’s.  

He found her there.  He found her passed out in dangerous territory, helmet on the ground beside her, gun laid across her lap, her finger still on the trigger.  He almost… felt sorry for her, knowing that she left everything behind so she wouldn’t hurt her family, that the Weapon of Sorrow was corrupting her.  And yet at the same time, he felt his chest swell with pride and some emotion he hadn’t felt in so long that he almost didn’t recognize it.  

Enamored.

She woke quickly and lifted the gun, aimed directly at him.  She didn’t pull the trigger right away.  Her eyes, oh her eyes!  He was so taken aback by them that he was almost at a loss for words.

“What do you want, Dredgen?” She spat.

“Come, now, sweet thing,” he purred as he crouched down in front of her.  Her gun trailed him the entire way.  “Is that how you greet the first person you’ve seen in months?”

She lowered the weapon slowly and settled it back in her lap.  Oh, she looked so tired.  “I wasn’t made for this,” she murmured.  “I wasn’t made for senseless killing and death.”

“But you do it so well!”  Dredgen Yor exclaimed.  The way that she looked at him made him grin, but he knew he was being selfish.  “You have been mindlessly killing enemies of the Light, and for what?  Just to sit here and wallow?”  He tilted her chin up with Thorn.  “Look at me, pretty thing, do you really think that I chose this?  No, I didn’t.  But I embraced it anyway.  You won’t feel any better until you embrace the Darkness.”

“Why should I?”  She asked with a tired and bitter laugh.  “This all seems pointless.  I’ve got nothing—no one—to live for.”

“Come now, sweet girl… do you think I’ve kept following you after all this time to kill you?”

“You’d be doing me one hell of a service if you did.”

Now he laughed.  There was silence between them for a moment until she broke it.

“You were right,” she murmured softly.   “I thought I had broken away from it… but it never went away.  It was always there.”  There was a small smile on her lips as she looked at him but there was deep sadness in her eyes.  “Except now… I can feel it changing me.”

Dredgen Yor smiled as he brushed some hair out of her eyes.  Before she would have flinched.  This time, she didn’t even move.  “I can help you,” he said quietly.  

“Like you can help me,” she scoffed.

“What If I told you that I can make it go away.”  This caught her attention.  She looked up at him, blue-green eyes wide.  “I can teach you, show you how to handle it.”

“How?”  She whispered.  “I’m barely holding on to the Light I have left.”

“That’s exactly how!”  He exclaimed with a grin.  “You just have to let go.  The moment you let go, that Hive God in your head?  His voice won’t hurt anymore.  You need to just… use it like a guide.  Not a burden.”

She watched him carefully.  His hand gently brushed over her jaw, once again moving her hair out of her face, and tucked it behind her ear.  What surprised him was that she closed her eyes and leaned against his hand.

“Only if you promise me one thing,” she added, the tone of her voice was so soft and delicate he knew that she was ready to let go.  He looked at her carefully before giving her a small nod.  “Not to hurt me.”

A grin spread across his lips.  “Only if you promise me one thing,” he mimicked, earning a small laugh out of the warlock as she nodded.  “Not to bore me.”

He helped her to her feet and they walked, side by side, back out of the wall and into the shadows, Weapons of Sorrow in hand.

She bid her Ghost farewell in the snow with an apology, but she never looked back.

Tag List : @mail-me-a-snail @nocs-derps

[spiritboundofficial-blog]

Spiritbound - Chapter 2

Me and Chara made our way through the puzzles. She teaches me about them on our way, saying that some could be deadly, so I should watch out. I nod and enter the next room. Dark, cracked purple tiles covers the floor. ''Be careful with this one. You can only take one path. If you step on the wrong tile, it will break and you will fall. We don't want that, do we?'' She says, sitting on my shoulder. I nod and step on one of those. It didn't break. I continue tentatively, until I step on the wrong one and fall. I screech in horror and land with a 'oof'. Gray, sparkling dust is in every corner. Isn't there anyone to clean the place?

I sigh, get up and take the stairs to go back up. I try again to take the good path and fail one or two times. When I finally reached the other end, I smile to myself, happy I finally did it. I continue on my way, as Chara sleeps on my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck lightly.

---

Chara woke up when I reached a old looking house. A dead tree was in front of it and some of the familiar red leaves were scattered on the ground. I saw another gold star and saved my file. You see, I still don't know what these little things do. Were they only there for the fun of it? So like the people that live here can do like in a video game? If so, it'd be really fucking weird if you ask me. I mean, I can't judge though, I do search weird ass things on my free time. Did you know your body could survive without a good part of its organs? I mean, you obviously would not be healthy, but you'd survive.

I walk to the door of the house, seeing it's barricaded with old wood planks. They seemed to be slightly rotten though. The bricks that forms the house are covered in bryophyta and dirt. It looked like it wasn't taken of in ages! But since no one was living here, why not take a peek inside? I tug on the dead wood planks, hoping they'll break, since they look so rotten. I continue tugging, without any success. Dang, they are stronger than they look. It makes me think of what I did as a kid, a couple of years ago. A wood was behind our house, so me being smart me, I decided that running in it at night without anyone knowing was a good idea.

I was extremely scared and cold. Pretty sure my lips were slightly blue and my hands' skin was cracking from the cold. Then, I heard the crack of leaves. My eyes widened and I broke into a sprint. I saw a old... cabin? I guess? I tugged on the door a couple of times, hoping it'd let me in. When the door finally broke, I ran in and ducked under a table, hugging my knees close to my chest the adrenaline still pumping into my veins. A weird looking person entered the house and looked around. Like it was looking for something, or rather someone. The person stopped in front of where I was hiding and the adrenaline seemed to be pumping faster and faster. My hands started glowing a faint red and some sort of... vine? Started growing from the ground and wrapped itself around the stranger. When I saw this, I bolted out of the house. When I was back at my home, I threw the door open and ran up to my room. I slammed the door shut and hugged myself, tears running down my young self cheeks. A little winged person was sitting on on my bed. She had a coquelicot-like dress, black wings, tan skin, red eyes and hazelnut hair. She lifted her head and saw me, a wide smile spreading across her face, her cheeks dusting pink. It was the night I met Chara.

---

I must have zoned out for a while, because a little hand was waving in front of my face. I shook my head and smiled softly ''I zoned out again, didn't I?'' I say. Chara shakes her head ''Yea you did, you dumbass. While you zoned out, like you always do, I found a unlocked window.'' she says, sighing. She 'drags' me to the window and hop in. The house was surprisingly well kept... did someone lived there? I hope I didn't enter their home while they were away...

I explore the house. I enter a living room, with a worn out... couch? It was big enough to be a couch honestly. Or maybe I was just really little. Which I am. A little library was next to a fireplace, covered in black ash. A old rug covered the floor. It felt like a family home. A gigantic table with chairs that made was almost slightly bigger than me was also there. I make my way in the kitchen and see a cold pie on the counter. It looked extremely good. Maybe just one bite... No! It's someone else's! That'd be stealing! I sigh and make my way back.

I go down the little corridor I saw and make my way in the first room. A little bed covered with a red quilt and plushed was on the right corner. A closet was next to it and a little library too. It was definitely a kid room. I open the closet and see it's empty. Except maybe for a single pair of shoes and a PJs. They don't have much things...

I make my way to the next room and open the door. This time, a bigger bed quilt was there. A closet, a library and a desk too. A cactus was there. I always liked cactus. The most tsundere plants to exist. A diary of some sort was on the desk. Curiosity won over my logic and I made my way to the desk. I climb on the chair and start from the beginning of the book. Mostly bad skeleton puns. I admit I laughed at some of those. Then... it started getting more... dark.

''A new child have fallen. I took them with me and introduced them to Asriel. They seemed to get along. But as time passed, they seemed to ge crazier and crazier. They left the home saying they'd go look for snails and would come back before supper, some dust in their hair. I thought that maybe it was only normal dust, not the one that--'' The ink was slightly smudged at this part. Like a tear falled there. I shrugs and continue the next paragraph

''Their eyes was now darker. They laughed hysterically at night, when they thought everyone was asleep. The next morning, they did like nothing happened. I smiled at them, doing like everything was normal. The next morning, they were gone.'' This page ended there. I stopped reading, not wanting to invade the person's private life more.

I left the room, and made my way to the stairs I saw earlier. I got down the stairs and looked at Chara, who was following me. She was oddly quiet. I shrugged, thinking that maybe she just didn't have something to say. I continued down the corridor and when I made my way to a giant purple door, I stopped. I looked to the right and saw two people, the bigger person holding someone close to them. Their white fur was covered in mud and their eyes were filled with fear.

[we-dream-instead-of-drown]

Rider Challenge # 1: Your Capall Uisce

Part 2

Chapter 1

In the Sea

I sat, motionless on the rock, worn boots braced on the side, ready to launch myself into the sea.. The tide was sliding closer and closer to where my huddled figure perched. I was invisible here, another black rock on a dark beach, bleeding into the black sky and water.

As the adrenaline seeped through my veins, I felt strangely more awake here. More awake than this island had ever allowed before. Every wave reared its head, imitating the Capall Uisce that would be my ride off this island.

A wave crested and my heart leapt. This is me waking up. I thought. My hands fluttered at my coat, patting pockets, wishing I had a pen and paper in one of them. It had been a thought I wanted to consider more. The multitude of pockets in this coat did however, have everything except a pen and paper.

It had been a men’s coat, belonging once to a grandfather or uncle. Now it was my coat. I had found it among the pile of coats at the back of my grandparents closet, and chosen it because every women’s coat I had ever found was distinctly lacking in pockets.

I dragged my dangerously wandering thoughts back to the ocean before me. A wave crested, close to me this time. Beneath the rushing sound there was a huff of breath.

I stared harder. The pale foam crowning the wave rose it’s head.

I flung myself into the November sea.

The moment I touched the surface of the water, I was erased. I was not bone and breath and thought. I was salt and cold and breathless. And a fool. Because only a fool would wear a wool coat two sizes too large and jump into deep water. I sank. The ocean did not care.

Neither did I. My boots struck the bottom and I leapt upward. Catching a Capall Uisce was something I only knew how to do in theory, having heard stories and watched frantic riders try.

There was a startling moment of flesh meeting flesh as my hand connected to its shoulder. On land there is the air and dust and hair between the two. Salt water is the only divide between my skin and the Capalls body, and saltwater courses through my veins, and this capall’s veins, and we and the ocean are one creature. I creeped my hand higher until I caught hold of a handful of its mane.

I felt the water shift and the flesh shiver, but I was already reaching into one of my pockets. The capalls cheek collided with my arm before it’s teeth could find something to sink into, and I pressed the polished disk of ash wood to the spot it’s jaw met it’s neck. The waterhorse leaned away, but I followed, keeping the ash against the wet skin.

The waves washed both of us closer to the beach, and as my ears dipped below the surface I heard hooves connect to the small pebbles on the bottom. I had seconds left to gain control of this horse.

Again I reached into a pocket- a different one this time. I had spent the last summer making this rope. Hours of tying knots in clusters of three into sturdy cord, twisting it together in strands of nine and soaking it in a vat of saltwater and yarrow until it had taken on a pale green shade.

In the split second the capall was distracted by finding its footing, I threw the rope across the bridge of its nose, fumbling for the the end as it swung under the jaw. I jammed the wooden disk between my teeth to free my other hand to knot the rope.

The capall was no longer distracted. The toes of my boots scuffed against the the shore as I looped the rope behind the horse's ears to make a harness of sorts.

It whipped around, nipping at the lead but shying away at the last second, sidestepping away from me, and further up the beach. I followed, boots full of water and a coat full of charms.

Every water horse responds to different things. Most will shiver at iron, some can be contained by lines in the sand. The trick is finding the right thing to calm the horse before it takes a piece of you.

An ordinary horse would rear and pull its lead. Capaill Uisce attack. I wished I had brought more iron. I spat the chunk of wood back into my palm as the horse charged towards me. As it reared it’s head back and drew its lips away from its teeth, I ducked and clapped my hand to it’s neck, allowing me enough time to wrap the rope several more times around its nose, keeping it from opening it’s mouth.

It felt cruel, as it’s nostrils flared and it pawed the ground uncomfortably.

“It’s not personal” I whispered as she- I could tell it was a she now- ducked her head and pulled at the rope. I studied her as I sorted through my pockets, relying on some mysterious instinct to tell me what to try next.

As a child I collected trinkets, most having no value. Another reason I was called blue jay, sharing their interest in odd little things. In a shoebox in the back of my closet I stored little shards of broken mirrors, smooth stones of all colors, hag stones, feathers, beads, and dozens of other useless items.

Now, I stored most of them in my coat because they were lucky.

The mare lifted her knees, trying to scrape off the cruel ropes. My fingers were transfixed on a smooth, irregular shape. I pulled it out, and though it was too dark to see it, I knew it was a piece of white sea glass.

I held it gently between my thumb and finger at arms length. She stilled. Her eyes fixed on my hand. Slowly I approached her, and she still remained calm, allowing me to place the sea glass on her forehead. Her eyes briefly closed. I held my breath, waiting for her to lunge at me. I had to reach my arm up straight to reach her forehead, which left me almost leaning against her chest.

Cautiously I held the makeshift muzzle and gently pulled. She took a step. I Traced the glass behind her eye, down her neck, and back to her shoulder.

I now had to find a way to guide her all the way off the beach without getting stepped on, or putting away the glass.

“Jay?”

Chapter 2

A Pale Horse

The mare’s ear flicked. Though the voice was barely over a whisper, it took several moments of my heart ricocheting around my chest for me to breathe normally again. I slowly turned to the source of the voice.

I squinted into the darkness. “Isak? God you scared me to death.” I whispered back. Isak and I had gone to the same school every other kid in Thisby went to, so I knew him by his soft blonde curls and his quiet nature only.

“Well, you obviously have a death wish. What are you doing?” His voice was a strained whisper, so it felt like shouting to me but didn’t concern the horse too much.

I turned back to face the horse.

“I need help. I need you to take the lead and help me get her home.” Behind me I heard his soft, slow intake of breath. I could feel his subdued fear along my spine.

Regardless, Isak came to my side and took the rope at its very end. As soon as he touched it the mare bobbed her head up. Isak froze and slid the seaglass forward again, until I could feel her pulse below it. Her head dipped low again. I nodded to Isak and he slowly led the mare off the sand and onto the grass.

The mile or so to the stable felt like eternity- like the feeling of knowing that the earth will always spin It felt like I knew that everything was always going to be: me, weighed down with a wool coat full of luck, Isak, turning to look back every dozen steps, and this mare, somehow soothed by a cast off piece of glass, still unfamiliar in this dark.

My mother’s sister lived next door to us, and had once had horses. I had secretly worked on it when my hands grew tired of twisting rope.

It could hold ordinary horses well enough, but a capall uisce was another matter. I had re enforced each of the stone walls three times over with any scrap wood I could get my hands on, then once more with runes scratched into the wood. I had hung around the Malvern’s yard and watched and listened for what kept the horses.

I wedged sticks of mountain ash in the cracks and lined up snail shells against the walls. Strings of red ribbons and keys and hag stones draped across the ceiling. Bells hung from the doors and bundles of dried herbs and flowers were pinned to the walls.

Once the mare was led into the stall, Isak hung back, studying the chaos of the stable. I tied off the lead and reluctantly set the seaglass aside. The mare shook her head and pawed the ground.

With cold and shaking hands I began to try to simultaneously put on a regular bridal and remove the abusive rope.  I softly hummed to distract myself from the knowledge that it wasn’t the cold making my hands shake.

When the last loop of my rope was unwound from her muzzle, and instead tied from her bridal to the wall, I finally backed out of the stall, pausing for a moment to slide a bucket of pig entrails in before sliding the heavy door shut. My uncle’s in laws had butchered the pig and I had taken from the gut pile they had left for the ravens. It had been a distasteful process.

Only then did I pull a supposedly waterproof flashlight from yet another pocket and cupped it in my hand as I turned it on and shone it in the stall. It was the first time I had truly gotten a good look at her. It was no wonder I had mistaken her for a cresting wave.

She was lighter than many horses that washed up onto Thisby’s shores. Gray, and dappled like the reflections of light on the seafloor. She pulled and tested the rope tethering her a few times, then turned her attention to the contents of the bucket.

I had almost forgotten that Isak was standing silently in the doorway of the stable. I slid the flashlight back into my pocket and pressed the backs of my hands to my eyes.

“Thank you Isak.” I said as he followed me out of the stable. “Thank you.” I sighed as I leaned back against the wall and slid down until I sat with my knees against my chest, shrunken into the coat. Isak sat beside me.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked.

“I need a horse to race on.” I answered wearily.

“Okay,” he said patiently. “But why are you racing? And why not just buy one from Malvern? And why try to catch a capall uisce by yourself? Are you crazy?”

Isak waited for my answers. I sorted through the questions in my mind. Beth would have gone down to that beach with me, and she wouldn’t have left my side. I’m definitely going to have to face her anger tomorrow for not asking for her help. But it’s my turn. I needed to do it alone, and I couldn’t ask Beth to face one of those horses again.

I had barely managed to scrape enough money together for the entry fee. There was no way I could ever earn enough to buy a capall uisce, especially not one of Malverns.

I turned all the answers over in my head while Isak studied me, waiting for me to respond. But when I opened my mouth, a question of my own came out.

“Why were you on the beach tonight?”

This startled him into turning away. “I was going for a walk.”

I sat silently for a moment, perplexedly considering this. I could feel Isak glance over at me, looking for my reaction.

I gave a sort of half humorless laugh, half scoff and said, “Anyone walking along the beach, in the middle of the night, in November is begging for death.”

Isak exhaled in a pseudo laugh and said nothing to defend himself from what I said.

When he finally spoke he said, “What about you? Chasing after water horses with nothing but a chunk of glass to protect you?”

“It actually makes sense. If the sea can take something sharp and dangerous and soften it into something smooth and safe, why wouldn’t smooth and calm the horse?”

“But it’s just a piece of glass.”

“Well, yes. But in there is just ribbons and bells and stones with holes in them.

“Exactly! What good is any of that going to do? How can you believe that any of that could protect you from a flesh-and-blood capall uisce?”

“Her name is Kaf. And how can you not believe after living on this island your whole life?”

We spend another few moments in silence, thinking. I twist my fingers in the long grass by my sodden boots.

“I don’t believe in anything.” Isak breathed.

This brought my thoughts back to him not defending himself when I halfheartedly accused him of wanting to die. I couldn’t think of anything to say for the longest time. Eventually we both stood up, stretching stiff joints, unanimously deciding to call it a night.

Just as Isak was turning away, without thinking I grabbed his arm.

“I’ll believe for the both of us.” I said, slipping a hag stone into his hand. His hair fell forward into his eyes as he ducked his head. Despite the darkness, I could have sworn I saw him smile.

I hung my coat just inside the door of the stable to keep watch while I slept, then went inside.

The bright light and smooth porcelain of the small bathroom felt like a different life from the one just across the yard. I stared into the mirror, taking in my features as I would a strangers. My lips were faintly blue.

I scrubbed my hand across them trying to force the pink back into them. Giving up, I peeled the wet clothes from my skin and pulled on pajama pants and an oversized sweater before crawling under the covers.

[rustleandeddy]

Chapter 13

Rustle buzzed about in the wobbling bubble of air he’d dragged down with him. For a last ditch effort to solve the issue of not being able to breathe water, the bubble was proving to be quite a workable solution. It took concentration to keep it in place around him, but beyond that, if he was focused on his work, he could almost forget he was even underwater.

He’d found his way back to the jagged ground where he’d lost Eddy and was scanning through the wavy surface of his bubble for the lost merman’s bag. He grinned as he spotted it, not a dozen yards from where he expected it to be.

“At least I’m still good at navigating by the wind,” he murmured to himself, flitting to touch down on the shattered black stone and silt of the cavern floor.

He tugged open the flap.

“The spell book…” he said, almost reverently.

In his journey back to this place, he’d been wracking his brain for what he could or should do to find and rescue his lost friend. An idea had come to him, but before he could even attempt it, he would have to liberate the spellbook from the bag. The task was more easily said than done. The book was many times his size, and though fairies were stronger than they looked, he was by no means the strongest fairy he knew. He wriggled into the bag. His improvised air supply caused it to bulge and billow. No matter how he heaved, pushed, buzzed, or shoved, he couldn’t get the tome to shift.

“All of the magic I could ever want to learn, and I can’t get to it!” he cried in frustration.

He took a moment to rest and think about a solution. All of this traveling, and all of the magic he had been using, had him utterly exhausted. His tiny body burned with fatigue. Now that he’d taken a moment of respite, he discovered just how much of a fight it was to keep his eyes open. He laid back and gazed up at the bag above him. Inflated as it was with the air he’d dragged down with him, he could almost imagine it as a little home. It was cramped enough to make him uncomfortable—small spaces were not a fairy’s favorite—but the open end was enough to mitigate those feelings. He fluttered his wings a bit to get them to lay flat beneath him, then put his aching mind to work solving his problem.

Rustle’s imagination offered up meager, ill-conceived solutions. He could try wedging the spellbook open while it was still inside the bag. … No, there wasn’t room. He could cut the bag open. … No, it was rubbery and tough. Being tossed about as much as it was hadn’t so much as torn or punctured it. Even with the digging claw, he didn’t imagine he would be able to get through it.

Bit by bit, his imagination shifted to other, more enjoyable tasks. He found himself reminiscing about his home. So bright during the day. Nice and cool a night. Predators never came very near. The flowers were heavy with nectar. Oh… Nectar. The sweets Eddy provided were passable, but nothing compared to a sweet, sticky draught of honeysuckle. He could feel it trickling down his throat and spilling over his chin. He could hear the language of his people, complex and musical, not filtered through a spell. It was such a wonderful place, he wondered why he’d ever gotten it in his head that he needed to leave its borders to explore. The image of it dancing in his head was enticing enough to push even the magnificent and compassionate Merantia from his thoughts.

The reverie shattered when he felt himself tipping upward.

“What?” he snorted in a daze.

The book he was laying atop flipped up on end, dumping him out into the warm water. He flailed about and tried to get his bearings as the former contents of the bag plunked down around him and the bag streaked toward the surface. He swam after it and splashed into the air to take a breath, then gazed down. The bag was floating on the surface.

It took him a second or two to realize what had happened. He must have dozed off. Without his mind focused upon it, the bubble he’d dragged down with him bobbed back to the surface, ripping the bag along with it and tipping its contents out. He may not have had the strength to lift it by himself, but his inborn affinity for manipulating air meant the bubble he’d formed was more than a match for it.

“Wow…”  he said. “I wish I’d done that on purpose.”

He prodded at the bulging bag until it upended. The trapped air spilled out and it drifted back toward the floor of the cavern. The half-second of sleep and the rude awakening had done little to restore his strength, but now that the book was free the promise of its contents was enough to spur him downward, once more with a fresh bubble of air in tow. He lifted the cover of the book. Words formed in his mind as he swept his eyes across the shapes. It was different this time. The words didn’t have a precise meaning. They were incantations, not meant to be understood. They were meant to sculpt mystic forces. It wasn’t as simple as knowing how the words sounded, he needed to be able to recite them properly. Failure to do so correctly could produce a malfunctioning spell like the one that Eddy had muddled through to enable them to communicate. Doing so with a less innocuous spell could have far more troubling results.

“I can’t try water for air. For all I know if I botch it I could end up unable to breath either. But there must be something that can help me, and that won’t hurt me if I cast it wrong…”

He leafed through the pages. Slowly, as though the thoughts themselves had become jealous for being ignored, he felt his adoration and devotion to the exquisite and infallible Merantia weave back into his mind.

“I should learn something impressive…” he mused. “Just think how proud my dear Merantia will be when she discovers I’ve learned the magic of her people…”

#

Bult, Sitz, and Cul swam along the rift, gazing at the sea floor lit by their combined glow.

“You ever seen a farm, Sitz?” Bult asked.

“Nope,” Sitz said.

“How are we supposed to find one if we don’t know what it looks like?”

“We know what the rift looks like, right?”

“Sure.”

“So we swim until we see a part of it that looks like someone’s been digging around in it. Simple.”

Bult nodded. “That’s good thinking.”

“No. That’s just ordinary thinking. How long have we been swimming and you didn’t speak up to ask that question until now? What were you doing if not watching for something out of the ordinary?”

“I don’t know. I was just sort of following. I figured one of you knew.”

“Lucky we did,” Sitz said.

He turned to Cul.

“Or at least,  lucky I did. Because Cul here’s clammed up again.”

“Hmm?” Cul said, looking up at the sound of his name.

“You heard me. You were sure chatty with that shore-lover. And now that you’re back among your own you’re quiet as a jellyfish,” Sitz said. “I never knew you had a taste for the shore.”

“It’s interesting, that’s all.”

“Plenty more to see down here than there is up there,” Bult said. “The three of us have seen more of the world than any shore-lover or surface-dweller ever will.”

“I know that. But the thing is, I’ve seen what I’ve seen. And I haven’t seen what she’s seen. New is new, even if there’s not much of it.”

“So it’s just novelty then,” Sitz said doubtfully.

“I don’t like your tone, Sitz,” Cul said.

“You were making eyes at her. Which is fine. Nothing wrong with having maid here and there, so long as they don’t meet. But those weren’t the eyes you were making. Nomads and shore-lovers don’t work together in the long haul.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sitz.”

“He thinks you’re falling in love with her,” Bult said.

“I know what he’s talking about,” Cul snapped. “I’m saying he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I just met her today! How fast do you think a merman and fall in love?”

“Not that fast, but you’ve had plenty of time to think you’re falling in love. Plenty of time to get dragged by the current far enough along to find yourself in a bad place when it finally lets you go.”

“What do you care about it anyway? Since when do you have an opinion about who I talk to?”

“Since I’m the one who’ll have to drag your mopey tail around behind me when we head on our way and you’re left pining for her.”

“Has that ever happened?”

“Not to you maybe, but to plenty of others. Remember Hadge? Tried to take a shore-lover with him. The shore-lover couldn’t keep up, ended up costing us four whole tides and a rendevous before they finally cut it off.”

Bult nodded. “And then we had to deal with him and his heartache.”

“That was after we did business with that same mermaid for over a year,” Cul said. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there, Sitz.”

“Care for a wager?”

“On what?”

“If it turns out you’re falling for this… What’s her name?”

“Mira.”

“If it turns out you’re falling for Mira, I get the gem she paid you. If we leave her behind and you don’t drag the floor like a bottom feeder, I’ll give you mine.”

“Deal. Easiest gem I ever made. And look. There’s the farm. Let’s go.”

The three came upon the orderly, well-maintained rows of fronds and swam down among them.

“Say… Whoever this missing brother is, he does good work,” Bult said.

“So now we found the place, what are we looking for?” Sitz said.

“You know what the sea floor looks like after a bad trembler. Anything that looks like it happened recently and might have hurt someone. Simple,” Cul said.

They drifted down and began their investigation. Bult, in particular, was intrigued by the bed of bivalves that made up the pearl farm.

“Pearls… They’re precious and all, but it never made sense to me that of all the things you find down here, it’s the pearls that surface folk like most.”

“I blame it on the shore-lovers,” Sitz said. “It’s the same as when you sold those blue snail shells to that couple in Deep Swell and then when we swung around for the next trip everyone wanted one. Nothing special about blue snail shells, except that you can’t get them around Deep Swell. But the right person comes along and offers the right thing for sale, and suddenly everyone wants it. Good riddance. It’s hard enough getting the good stuff for ourselves. Those crystals from the bottom of the Trensgate? Can you imagine if the surface folk started trying to buy them too? And then they’d just hang them from the prow of their boats or whatever it is they do with precious things…”

Bult knocked on the shell of one of the larger clams. “How often do you think he checks these? …”

“Bult, we’re here to find Mira’s brother, not to steal things,” Cul snapped.

“If her brother’s dead, by the time someone comes to see to this, it’ll have grown back, right?”

Sitz slapped Bult on the back of the head. “You idiot. They’d still know, because it would have been bigger if it wasn’t taken. … Now these fronds. No one will miss a few of these.”

He tugged a few of the seaweed fronds from the ground and coiled them up.

“Sitz!” Cul growled.

“What’s done is done. Not like I can put them back,” he said, grinning greasily as he slipped the purloined goods into one of his many pockets.

“What difference does it make? We already don’t do business with Barnacle,” Bult said. “So what if they think we steal? Shore-lovers barely move around anyway.”

“If someone robbed me when they’d been hired to help me, even if I was a shore-lover, I’d make certain I spread the word. Now let’s split up. And no one steal anything else,” Cul said. “We’ll meet back here once we’ve checked enough of the rift to be certain nothing might have happened near enough to the farm for someone working here to be hurt.”

Cul swam forward, taking the center of the rift. Sitz and Bult looked to each other knowingly before taking the north and south walls respectively.

#

Mab hammered at an axle and stepped back. It had only been a few minutes since she’d started working on it, less than half the time Eddy had spent, but that was evidently plenty. She’d completely transformed a rickety assembly of cobbled-together gears and struts into something that Eddy would have believed had been forged specifically for this purpose. A two-wheeled cart of sorts, with its seat slung between the wheels and low to the ground.

“Let’s see how that works for you,” she said, stowing her tools and slipping her gauntlets back on.

Eddy slid himself up to it and dragged himself into the sling. It was a tricky bit of maneuvering. The cart was eager to roll away from him as he tried to mount it. After a painful flop forward, he managed to slap his tail in place on the sling. He dug his claws into the ground and pulled forward. Sure enough, hand over hand, he was able to “walk” along in much the same position he normally swam, and all without scraping his already somewhat-raw tail along the stone.

“It works! A land roller! I can go on land as easy as you, and without magic!” He paused. “I need magic for the breathing, and for now the talking. Also, it would hurt me very much to go on land high up without magic. But now it would take less magic!”

“Enough tinkering,” Mab said. “I want to see one of these diggers finally working after wasting so much time trying to fix them.”

“Yes! We go! Take with you that pile of gears, please. Those are the parts that I think are missing.”

Mab gathered the indicated parts and they went on their way. While it was certainly faster and easier to wheel along with the cart, it was also a great deal louder, but Eddy didn’t seem to mind. He pulled himself forward with a broad, toothy grin.

“How did you get here, Mab?” he said.

“Long story.”

“I like long stories. We are living in a long story right now! Your story can be part of the story when I tell it to the people back home.”

“So you think you’re getting back home, do you?”

“Why would fate send us on a fun adventure to learn all new things, and then not let us get back to tell about the adventure. Every adventure ends with someone going home again.”

“That’s not how my ‘adventure’ ended…”

“That’s because your adventure isn’t over yet. But tell me the first part, please!”

She sighed. “I thought I missed having someone to talk to… Fine. But listen close. This isn’t the sort of story I’m liable to tell twice.”

She cleared her throat.

“What do you know about mining?”

“Very much! I have a mine. I got here from my mine.”

“Good. I had a mine too. My family did. It ran dry long before I was born.” She tipped her head. “Poor choice of words. It was never dry. We were close to the sea, and water was always finding its way in.”

“I can see that would be a problem for a bad swimmer.”

“What I meant when I said it ran dry was that we’d mined out everything we could make use of, in the tunnels and caverns that wouldn’t flood. The copper was gone in my grandfather’s time. We found some good flint, not worth much but always worth something. That was gone by my father’s time. Now even the strongest and most beautiful stone was mostly gone. When you’re a dwarf, if you can’t find what you need, as often as not, the solution is to go deeper. So we dug and dug, and dug and dug and dug. Finally I found this vast cavern. No telling where it connected to the surface, but the air was fresh, so I climbed down. It went on forever, or so it seemed. Down and out. I didn’t know the surface as well as my brother, who had been working another branch of the mine, so I didn’t realize that all that digging and exploring had taken me out below the sea.”

She shut her eyes.

“Old adage. A dwarf has no place above the trees or below the waves. Put your pick through a wall and flood out a perfectly good shaft and you’ll soon understand just how much we hate water. But I didn’t know how far I’d gone. And I was too busy dreaming about just what we could do with a cavern so large. If I could prove I was the first to find it, it would belong to the Masonmill family. This place was large enough to found a city. So I did what any good dwarf would do. I started sampling the stone. Stupid. Should have waited.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a terrible sense of smell.”

Eddy looked up, puzzled. “Why is smell a thing for mining?”

Mab scratched her neck. “Sometimes we strike firedamp without knowing. I suppose it wouldn’t be a problem for you. You’d just see the bubbles rising.”

“Firedamp?”

“It’s like bad air that explodes if it touches flame.”

“Flame!” Eddy said brightly. “I have just seen flame for the first time. It is hot. Very much of it, and very fast, would be very bad.”

“I know…” She said. “It’s got a very distinctive smell, but I can’t smell it. At some point while I was digging I must have found some of it. If the cavern wasn’t so big, I probably would have died. You can’t breathe the stuff, you see. Instead, it found one of my lanterns back near the entrance before it found me. Big explosion. Big cave-in. Water started rushing in from everywhere. By the time it had settled enough that I could think, the way back was blocked. I could only follow every fresh path I found to try to stay ahead of the water. My food ran out, my water ran out. Eventually I found this strange, spongy substance growing through the stone. I tried to take a sample and the whole wall gave out. I tumbled down into this place.”

She shook her head.

“I really ought to learn not to take samples anymore. Anyway, I’d ended up here. That stuff grew over the hole, and any new holes I dig either get grown over as well or spew water. So I’ve been living off these fronds and those skitter-clamps for longer than I care to think about. How did you get here?”

“My friend felt air in my mine, and when we went there, I cast a spell I shouldn’t have cast and ended up in a place with lots of tunnels. One had Borgle. Then the earth shook and I got buried, but I woke Borgle up and he dug me to here.”

Mab shut her eyes.

“The quakes… They’ve been getting worse, haven’t they? Lately they’ve been bad enough to shake more diggers loose. That’s what I thought sent this one down here,” Mab said, pointing to Borgle, now just a short distance away. “If that stuff wasn’t growing on the ceiling, holding it all together, I think this cavern would have collapsed ages ago.”

Eddy excitedly rattled up to the top of the hill.

“Borgle! Look, I found a friend who can help make you not broken!” he said.

Borgle released an enthusiastic chime. The points of light in its functional eyes shifted to follow Mab as she walked a slow circle around Borgle. She looked like she was appraising the digger for sale.

“Borgle is a very good digger. Maybe we cannot dig out of here, but if we can dig out of here, I’m sure Borgle can dig us out of here. As long as we can figure out how to ask nicely enough,” Eddy said.

“You are talking to it,” Mab said flatly.

“Yes! How else would he know what it is I am trying to say?”

“This is a mechanism. You wouldn’t talk to your pick.”

“Sometimes I talk to my pick,” Eddy defended. “Mining is long and lonely and talking makes the time pass. When my pick does not cut the rock very much and I need it to cut the rock very much, I yell at the pick.”

Mab paused. “Granted. It can do a bit of good to shout at a recalcitrant bit of apparatus. But you don’t very well expect it to listen.”

“Borgle, make some noises!”

The digger produced three deliberate grinding whirs. Mab’s expression dropped.

“So it thinks then.”

“Yes! It is very good. Very much a wonderful, new thing.”

“New isn’t always good, Eddy.” Mab said. “If a thing can think, it can disagree. Fine for a friend. Lousy for a hammer.”

“Good that Borgle is a friend, then,” Eddy said.

Mab looked doubtfully between them.

“It doesn’t much matter. There’s no two ways about this. If we want a way out, this is the thing to do it. Let me see what sort of damage you’ve done to it.”

Mab peered into the open hatch and pawed at the loosened parts and unpopulated slots and holes. Eddy rattled forward to give Borgle a reassuring pat on the “nose.”

“Mab is very good with hammering and things, Borgle. You see? She made me this thing for rolling! We’ll have you fixed soon, and then, you can dig us to a better place!”

[silverhands-etcetera]

Come Rain or Come Shine.

I was at the wheel, hauling out of Saarbrucken. Out on the open highway, Saturday morning. Aimee cued up some Billie Holiday on the stereo and things were rolling along. I’m not sure how everybody else feels about my driving. I’ve always been pretty comfortable at the wheel, and this van drives like a car. Its a 4-cylinder diesel with a 6-speed manual transmission. We’re figuring out all the specifics of the stereo system & air circulation, finding our happy medium for a temperature that is comfortable for all four of us -which is sometimes more difficult than agreeing on music.

We came to the end of a highway, ending like the offramp from highway 61 back in the day, right before Welton, before they put the 4-lane highway between Dubuque & Davenport. I turned left & discovered our route to be closed & torn up for construction. I turned the van around a couple times, narrowly avoiding catastrophe at several points, and headed back down the road that brought us there. Our path was rerouted through the countryside, along two-lane roads passing through quaint little German villages. I was getting hungry & just as I mentioned this, a roadside restaurant appeared on the outskirt of a tiny little burg I never got the name of.

The place was empty except for a waitress, -a young woman with St. Pauli braids & excellent English. She helped Michael & I order a currywurst & frites. Sherri & Aimee just chilled out with drinks. This currywurst changed my day.

When we paid the tab, I heard the waitress counting out change to herself in Spanish- your default language for counting will always give you away no matter how fluent you are in another language- She’s from Uruguay, living in Germany for two years. I’m sure there’s another good story there, but it was time to hit the road.

—

Aimee was driving when we got to Rees. I had napped a bit on the way in, and suddenly our surroundings were all the familiar flat lands of the Dutch/German/Belgian corner, and the houses were all of the conservative brown brick and red tile roof type. We crossed over the Rhine one more time & looked off to the East to the little town we’d be playing tonight. The venue had a parking lot, which is not a common thing. As we were piling out of the van, a smiling bearded man came bounding out of the front door offering a handshake & welcoming us in. His name is John, & he has a rich Irish twang to his speech. He’s glad we’re here.

John showed us the little corner where we’d be playing, and brought us beers. We’re in a wraparound booth, -a circle about six feet across. We talked out options & moved things around about ten times before finally settling on a stage plot with the drums & the bass player in the circle, and all of the amps on the bench, facing back inward in a somewhat unorthodox formation where Michael’s amp is next to me, facing back towards him, while Sherri’s amp is across the way, facing back at her. All of us standing in our regular positions, only the guitar amplifiers are transposed.

All the while as we were setting up, John would bring us plates of frites, bowls of nuts, other random unidentifiable food items, whiskey, and whatever else was needed. We felt very cared for. Good hospitality is an incredible thing for returning one’s mind to a creative space. A place like this takes days of fatigue off of a traveling soul, and brings us closer to the work we’re here to do.

The restaurant is right on the river, with a terrace on the water side. John explained to us that the structure we were in was built directly on top of the old city walls of Rees. I’m not sure the vintage of the building, but there’s already plenty of history in the new walls. The corner we were playing in was decorated with pencil caricature drawings of the members of a local drinking club, -some of the pictures dating back to pre-unification times. Apparently the members of this club pay their weekly dues & then are required to drink the amount of their dues in beer before leaving. I’m not sure if the members sat for their portraits before, during, or after the drinking.

Our lodging for the night was three flights up from the restaurant, in a little attic space with windows overlooking the Rhine. John showed us up and made sure we had fresh towels and enough bedding to go around. He has a collection of space & sci-fi toys, lots of transformers & such. The space is tight, but long -the breadth of half the building, and there are bunks, a bed, & a couch. We had just enough time for a quick freshen up and soon it was showtime.

—

Back down at the restaurant, that thing had happened where suddenly both rooms were completely filled. People were still coming in & John was bringing in more chairs & being very creative with placement, getting maximum use out of every inch of the floor. This distinctly European phenomenon always takes me by surprise. A little restaurant in a town of twenty thousand people, who can manage to promote and staff an event that fills the floor of the place, and then some. We were squeezing past people by the bar, making progress at a snail’s pace just to get ourselves to the stage.

The shows had been ramping up louder every night as we went along. In Saarbrucken we reached a punk-rock basement-club level of dirty, noisy rock. Tonight we were in a dining room, with a much older crowd, and we were tucked in a little round brick corner, with all of the amps circled around Aimee’s head. We would be a quite different thing tonight.

Del Vox is the most versatile band I play in. Primarily because of the depth & quality of the material Sherri writes, but also because of the dynamics that Michael & Aimee are capable of. The songs themselves are strong enough that they don’t need the crutch of extreme volume & aggression for them to hold up on their own. I enjoyed being right next to Michael’s amp, and hearing up close all of the rises & drops, the swells and precise phrases that lay behind us like a pedal steel, or sometimes like a tiny orchestra. My left foot was resting on the kick drum spur most of the night, the physical connection to the music was carried over from the night before, but I was getting a different slice of the pie tonight.

We can say what we’re saying at any volume, and I think we’re really good at playing to a room, but we’re always open to suggestions. At the break, John asked us to turn up a bit, so we went ahead & made the white cloth tablecloths shake a little bit, and the people loved it. When we got done, the folks were stomping & clapping, and John was flashing the lights. It was probably close to 11pm when we finished our 8-10pm set. Rock & roll goes over in Rees. I think John sold a lot of beer, and we sold a bunch of records. The room didn’t thin out until it was close to midnight. John made us more fried potatoes, and a couple bowls of kraut salad, and some fried tofu. It was a great night & we knew we’d found another good friend out in the world.

—

I heard the massive church bells going off at 6am, and I laid in bed till about 8, took a shower & got out of the attic, tried to catch up on some exercise, and soon the rest of the band was stirring. We met John on the stairs and he helped us load out our gear -carrying the ultra-heavy drum hardware bag. When he dropped it off he noticed the case of grocery store beer in the back of the van & mentioned that he’d seen one of the empty bottles in the bar. I thought back to the scolding I got in Koln when I brought a beer into the bar, but John simply asked “are you aware of the bottle exchange policy over here? You want me to fetch that bottle for you so you can get your deposit back?”… I love this guy.

We packed up the van & John took us for a walk into Rees for a cup of coffee & some breakfast. It was raining on & off, but the air was still jacket-comfortable. We got a short tour of where the city stood in former times. It’s always interesting to consider the number of centuries that people have been passing through these same spaces, going about their lives.

Over coffee we talked future plans, bringing all of our bands & our friends’ bands back for gigs in Rees. The people we meet are the best part of playing music in the world. The ground-level ambassadors that make some random city one of your favorite stops. I’m already looking forward to coming back.