#one gust of wind and ashes he goes

[invalidname19]

Ik minato took them pantuflas when he bodied òbito

[ghcstao3]

Something something Soap being a phoenix.

Ghost is holding holding his body as they go back to base, trying to keep him together. Only to scramble back when he catches fire.

It soon dies down and Soap, alive and well but a few years younger, shakes them off.

Time slows when the gun goes off.

Ghost's perception narrows to a singular point, and for those brief, eternal few seconds, nothing matters except for the fact of Soap's body hitting the ground.

If asked to recount anything of the moments between the shot and the bomb's defusal, Ghost would only be capable of providing scant details. He'd gone numb to world, too occupied with cradling Soap's lifeless body to his—an ill-advised decision, perhaps, but blind panic and grief had seized him like a vice in a way he'd never before experienced.

But then, the tunnel cleared of everyone but the 141, Ghost is suddenly thrust back into reality by a searing heat emanating from Soap's corpse, just before Soap bursts into flames.

Despite the tug in his heart, Ghost scrambles backward, away from Soap, in favour of not catching fire himself. He, Price, and Gaz all watch on in horror of the spontaneous combustion, unsure of what to make of it—but the fire burns brighter and hotter, too quick to process. Too quick to take action. Just until it finally dies down to embers, Soap's body reduced to ash.

Everything is still. The team is struck temporarily frozen by shock.

Then a gust of wind, a swirl of ashes, and in a blink, Soap standing in the middle of it all, naked as the day he was born.

Or, re-born, apparently.

After a lot of stunned staring, Soap clears his throat, his face—which looks slightly less weathered than Ghost remembers, slightly younger—stained pink with the realization of his indecency in rather... not preferable circumstances.

"Maybe something to cover up before questions are asked, yeah?"

Ghost is the first to break free from his stupor, shedding his gear to tear off his hoodie, waiting only long enough for Soap to pull it over his head before engulfing the sergeant in a hug, uncaring of where they are, who they're with.

"Better explain fast," Ghost murmurs in Soap's ear, "else we'll see if that trick works a second time."

Soap shakes with quiet laughter. He smells like smoke. "Anything you want to know," he says. "Because I'd rather not do that all again."

And, admittedly, neither does Ghost. But the threat still stands, for Soap having caused him one hell of a heartbreak and heart attack in such quick succession.

[azsazz]

Soul on Fire

Eris x Reader

Summary: You've been called to the throne room to speak with the High Lord...and you can't say you're mad when you find out he doesn't want to talk at all.

Warnings: Smut, face-fucking, choking, brief mention of voyeurism.

Word Count: 3,172

Notes: The Eris era is really Erising. 💅🏼

_________________________________________

The tall doors of the throne room loom before you. 

Thick wood so dark it looks like it’s been scorched by the powers of many Autumn rulers before, black creeping up from the floorboards where the staff hadn’t been able to sand it away. The brass knobs are as clean as ever, polished frequently, the metal so pristine you can see the nervous sweat beading at your hairline, the flush to your cheeks, and the anxious look in your eyes.

You’ve been called to the throne to stand before the High Lord of the Autumn Court. For what, you only had an inkling of an idea, but your heart races a timorous beat as you flee from your rooms as soon as you heard word of the royal requesting your presence.

A steady breath in, and out, before you push your way into the room.

A gust of Autumn wind lifts your hair off of your shoulders. It’s chillier than you thought it would be, with the usually hot tempered High Lord this room was nearly always filled with the fiery heat of his commands. The new ruler of the Court is having a bit of trouble keeping his father’s men under his thumb. You wonder how long any of those single-minded old males will last before the breeze blows their ashes away from the palace.

The large room is silent and empty, except for the High Lord lounging upon his throne. Your breath stutters in your chest as you catch sight of him, looking every bit of the Lord he had always been destined to become.

“You called, your highness?” you ask when you reach the bottom of the dais. The intricate rug drapes down the many stairs leading to the large throne the High Lord is sat upon, sharp branches and leaves twining like that of the Autumn Court seal. The throne itself is luxurious and new, as Eris hadn’t wanted to sit on something that his father once had. He wanted the traditional umbers of the court that signified the burnt destruction Beron had caused throughout his reigning years removed. In its place sits a sleek throne draped in mossy greens – a new beginning – your High Lord sitting leisurely in his rightful spot.

He looks as effortless as ever, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. Eris is slumped back, one leg hooked over the arm of the throne while he stares you down with a lazy grin. His burnished crown shines against the ruddy copper of his hair, a strand hanging in front of his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered to brush back. 

Eris takes his time responding, instead he takes in the sight of you, a long lick of his eyes from your face to where your crimson skirts pool against the stone floors and back up again. He smirks when he sees the brightness to your cheeks, matching the color of the fabrics you don.

“Yes.” He sounds like smoked cinnamon and it seeps through your skin to settle in your bones. Your mind strays to the night before, when he’d whispered many pleasant words into your every limb. “Take off that dress.”

“Really?” you scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you called upon me for something serious.”

The caramel of Eris’ eyes burns, deepening to dark sugar. It licks up your spine, a sharp, hot, sear and your thighs clench at the sudden ache between them at his response. “Oh, fawn, I am deathly serious.”

You tsk, “Now isn’t the time to be playing, Er–”

“King,” he corrects, suddenly shifting in his seat. Your mouth goes dry as he swings his leg from where it was resting over the arm of the throne, planting his boot down to the floor with purpose as he leans forward to stare down at you, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Your Highness, King, mate…” you drawl. His nostrils flare at the last term, pupils swallowing the molten sugar of his iris’ like a void. Eris loves this little game, a King playing with his loyal subject. Even though you are his queen–his equal–you love it when he pulls rank and takes charge.

“The dress, fawn,” he reminds you, nodding to your fine clothing. He'd had the gown made for you as a surprise, and it’s the first time you’ve worn it. Maybe Eris had had ulterior motives to speak with you before you’d waltzed into the room and took his breath away.

Swallowing harshly, you hold his heated gaze for a long moment. The burning flames flicker, and you know the longer you wait to follow his orders, the rougher he’ll be.

You want to wait until he cracks. Until he stalks down from his throne and drags you back up there with him. Until he slips your skirts over your head and stuffs them into your mouth and rips your panties from your dripping cunt. Until your ass and pussy are throbbing and raw from the lashes from his thick rings and open palm.

But you know Eris has more patience than anyone you’ve ever met. He had to, to be able to deal with his father being on the throne for centuries, and even now, with Beron dead, his people still hold powerful positions until Eris kills them in a hot-tempered conversation or finds replacements for them.

He smirks at you when your hands slip behind you, finding the tie of your corset and tugging it loose. He leans back in his chair more comfortably as you let the fabric fall from your body in a dreamy wave. The thick fabric brushes against your pert nipples and you have to stifle the moan that threatens to escape at the sensual feeling.

Just as you love it when Eris is demanding, he loves it when you are obedient. He thrives when you listen to his commands, always so eager and ready for him whenever he might need it. You know exactly how to edge him, toying with your long-term lover in ways that make his wild side come out to play, and you can see that scrappy, fiery fox writhing inside of him at your blatant display of refusing to obey.

You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the corduroy of his emerald trousers when he shifts. The sight of his long, hard cock sweeps up memories of only last night, when he’d taken you in the gazebo in the gardens twice over.

Eris had made it a plan to fuck you in every single room in the Woodland house. It had started even before he was High Lord, the both of you sneaking around the palace, fucking in closets, libraries, even in his father’s beloved war room.

Your cunt clenches as his eyes linger and you know that he can smell your arousal from all the way up there because he smirks wildly and it sets your heart racing.

He nods towards the ground. “Now get on your knees and crawl to me.” 

You swallow roughly but this time there’s no hesitation, kicking your dress away and lowering yourself to your knees before your king.

The floor is cool beneath your hands and the plethora of necklaces grace the room with a rich sound as you move. The carpet of the dais burns into your skin, you know the roughness of it will leave your kneecaps tender and raw.

Eris watches you prowl your way up to him like a predator. The sway of your hips as you climb, the way your nails curl into the harsh rug. He imagines the same way your nails will rake across his pale skin and a full body shudder works its way through him.

You pause when you reach the top, sitting back on your heels like the good High Lady you are. You know better than to touch him, not while he’s still drinking you in, but the sight of his cock being smothered in those tight trousers makes you yearn to help him out of them.

A drip of your slick slips from your heat when he nods, allowing you to finally do what you’ve been aching for.

You waste no time helping him out of his pants. Eris helps you only by lifting his hips so that you can rid him of the offensive things, tossing them haphazardly over your shoulder as your gaze zeroes in on the way his cock springs from confinement. You hear the dull sound of his belt hitting the carpeted stairs behind you, but you’re much too eager to wrap your hand around him and feel him in your mouth.

He halts you, catching your throat in his hand as you duck down to taste the smooth skin of his cock with your tongue. You nearly whimper, but it’s cut off when his fingers tighten, pressing into the pulse points of your neck. You’re almost unable to look away from the bead of precum pearling at the tip of him, but he titles your head, wrenching your eyes to meet his own.

“Hungry for my cock, fawn?” He croons and you go dizzy with it. His tone sounds like a cruel tease and the fingers pressed to your throat only aid in the feeling, but it only makes you keen.

“Yes, my King,” you struggle to get out. You’re the perfect picture of begging, wide eyes and dripping for him. 

Eris’ fingers unwind from your neck, instead sliding around to gather your hair in a tight fist. He guides you closer to his cock and your lips part, eager to taste him. When you lean in faster than his hold allows he jerks you back slightly by your knotted hiar and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation. Your fingers clench around his cock in response and he can’t help the grunt that slips.

“Not too fast now,” he growls, “I’m in charge.”

You nod but don’t back down. You slide your hand down his shaft as you battle with the melting steel in his eyes. You bite your lip at the sound of his breath catching in his throat, the shifting of his chest.

He allows you even closer to his cock and you pause before him, letting your warm breath fan over the head. You can see the way the muscles of his thighs are straining, how badly he wants to shove you down and slip himself down your throat.

Eris’ next words arrive on a shaky exhale. “Now be a good fucking girl and take it.”

His taut hold on you goes slack and like a moth to a flame you take him into your mouth. His precum tastes like everything you’ve ever needed, heady and smoky like the autumn fires he’s bred from. He gives you a choked moan before his hold becomes more firm, bucking his hips while pressing your face further onto his cock.

“Relax your throat,” Eris soothes, stroking a thumb across your neck where his cock is making it stretch. He groans, satisfied as you follow his directions and he shoves his way deeper. “There you are, fawn.”

You moan around him, lathing up the smooth sides of his cock, pulling back to swirl your tongue around the head. You know him like you know yourself, exactly what he likes and how close he’s getting to orgasming, and you’re so cumhungry that you use your best efforts to urge him closer.

He hisses through his teeth, figuring out quickly what you’re doing. The loosened grip in your hair tightens again and now he’s in control once more, pressing you so far down onto his cock it makes your throat burn and tears spring to your eyes, but Mother, is it everything.

“You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you, fawn?” he growls, bucking deeper down your throat. You gag, choking on his girth but Eris doesn’t let up and he doesn’t allow you breathe until you’re raking your nails down his thighs, leaving fiery red marks on his pale skin. 

He rips you off of his cock after a final rough thrust. You splutter, spit dripping from your open mouth as you gulp down lungfuls of the heated air surrounding the both of you. He doesn’t let you swallow it, holding your mouth open with a thumb pressed to the tissue beneath your tongue. 

“Come up here,” his tone goes a shade softer, like he’s begging for you now, but he’s still very clearly in control. “Come sit on my cock, fawn. Ride me on my throne.”

You scramble to your feet, wiping your chin as you go. Eris leans back in his chair, cock standing at attention. It’s glistening with your spit, shiny in the setting sun drifting through the large windows that overlook the orchard. The tip is an angry pink and looking more than inviting.

You straddle his waist and the softness of his throne stings against the rug-burned skin of your knees. 

They’re going to absolutely kill tomorrow.

You waste no time in aligning his cock to your cunt. The wetness coating your thighs only adds to both of your arousal, and you press your mouth to Eris’ in a desperate manner as he moans loudly when you slide your slick cunt against his cock, coating it further.

His warm hands slide up the outside of your thighs, drifting higher until he can grab palmful of your ass. His blunt nails sink into your skin and you nip at his lip in response.

He opens his mouth when you pull away, to give another demand no doubt, but you’re quick to press down onto his cock, shuddering and keening like a kit as you take him in. 

“Fuck, fawn,” he grunts. The veins in his neck pop as he strains to hold himself back from fucking into you. He can barely help himself, your wet heat is deliciously tight and swallowing him so deeply he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You hum in agreement because it’s the only sound that you can make. His cock has shoved all of the air from your lungs and your fingers twine into his copper hair, twisting and pulling as you throw your head back in pleasure. Your necklaces chime as Eris mouths over them, enjoying the metallic taste mixed with your skin as he sucks bright red marks. 

You bounce a little, testing how you feel from the stretch of him inside of you. You don’t think you’ll ever be used to feeling this full, dripping like a whore onto his lap as you sit up on his throne with him and he clings to you like a lifeline.

Your eyes flutter shut as you begin moving and your mind drifts for a fleeting moment, filling your head with the thought of Eris fucking you like this as the entirety of your court stands behind you, watching their High Lord own you. 

His hands travel across your skin, pausing at your breasts to tease and twist at your nipples. You clench around him and he groans in response, the sound pulling from the depths of his chest like a wave, and he tips your chin down to see you. The sight of him makes you tingle and the fiery feelings of love he sends down the bond spur you further, swirling your hips before grinding down on his cock, sharing a moan and a breath together.

His freckles stick out harshly in the warm sunset, like embers had graced his skin as a child. The burnt umber of his eyes can hardly be seen with how large his pupils are, as if they’ve grown to be able to take in as much of you as possible.

“That’s it, fawn,” he praises, voice strained as you shift again to take him deeper. Your thighs are burning with effort, and it feels like being consumed by his powers, hot against your skin, burrowing its way beneath your delicate flesh. “Just like that.”

“Eris,” you hiss, unable to help yourself. A whimper leaves your mouth on a panting exhale as he twists your pebbled nipple in punishment. A reminder that you know what to call him right now, and his name isn’t it. 

The motion only heightens your arousal, and you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, clawing at his clothing, tearing through the buttons, desperate to feel his chest beneath your own. 

Eris notices the slight faltering of your movement, how your bounces go from fluid enjoyment to distracted desperation as you chase that euphoria.

“King,” you whimper, and it sounds like you’re in pain. Eris’ fingers immediately find your clit and you melt into him, body shaking and muscles seizing as he works the sensitive bud with flame licked fingers. It drives the tingling through your body, the burning in your gut, but without your movements, it’s not enough.

His free hand clamps around your waist, the bulging muscles of his arm tense where your hand is wrapped around his bicep. He plants his feet, and holding you tightly, with his fingers still torturing your clit, he jackknives up into you.

He’s strong. Fuelled by the pleasure-filled adrenaline he takes you from his spot under you, pistoning his hips to meet yours in a frenzy while he circles your clit with equal amounts of fervor. You release a shuddering breath that pitches into a series of pleading moans as you cum, riding out the waves of your orgasm as he jerks inside of you.

“‘M going to cum, fawn.” Eris’ breath is hot against your skin, voice gravelly and strained. The chains around your neck are no longer cold metal cooling your heated skin, but are now as molten as you feel against him, your cunt clenching around him as if to keep him there forever. You slide your hand up his chest and hook them around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss because you so desperately want to taste your name as he cums.

You feel it all the way in your bones, you mating bond shoving to the surface to twine with his own. It feels like you’re metals melting together, burning bright on his throne, Eris’ power rumbling throughout the room. It makes the necklaces you’re wearing rattle but you cling to him tighter, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that you can hardly breathe. He is your everything, and you his.

A knock on the door startles you from your post-orgasm haze. You share a look with your mate but he doesn’t let you up, enjoying the feeling of his cock and all of his seed stuffed into you more than he should. 

“You’re not going anywhere yet, fawn,” he murmurs, and the wicked smirk that curves his lips has you tightening around him again. “You may enter!”

[blossom-works]

"Only You and I Exist"

Inspired by the song "Exist" by Eric Nam. I went to his concert (House on a Hill tour) and I fell in love with this song.

For as long as Leon has known, he has always been alone. His family got themselves killed because they dabbled in crime, and everyone he got close with dies or goes their separate ways. Stability is foreign to him. Leon never voices this because he does not want to sound like a wimp. People have gone through the same shit he has, so who is he to complain?

Getting calls from the DSO and going somewhere in the world for an unknown amount of time is Leon's life. It has been since he saved Ashely in the remote, Spanish village. After completing a mission, Leon would either drown himself in alcohol or silence. Sometimes both. To himself, Leon is a speck of dust flying through the wind. No direction in life. Just lost in the neverending gust of wind.

Leon longed for stability. He longed for someone to pull him out of the life of uncertainty and pain. He wanted someone who could understand him. Leon wanted someone to ground him when the wind blew too hard...Then you came along.

You became Leon's anchor when the missions and responsibilities were about to push Leon over the edge. You two met on a DSO mission as partners. You know those scenes in movies or books where two people are at their lowest and they share their stores, and next thing you know they leave closer than before? Yeah, that happened to you and Leon. He wishes that you two met in better circumstances, but you told him that all that matters is what is in front of you.

You knew about the baggage Leon carries and he knows about yours. It was hard for the two of you to get over your trauma, still is. Leon was scared at how easy it was to love you. He knew what love was but something like this? So consuming? Is that what love is? If it is then Leon wants it to stay that way. He wants you to hold him when the wind blows too hard, and it is scary.

What if, like everyone else, you leave Leon alone? That the two of you were never meant to be so the world will eventually take you from him. A blip. Whenever Leon feels like this, you hold him in your hands and tell him, "We're in this together." Pulling him from his dark thoughts. You let him know that loving each other is worth the risk. When you two are together, you should forget about the unforgiving world outside and bask in each other's love.

So, here he is. At a concert that you wanted to go to because Leon did not want you to go alone. He knows that you can handle yourself, you have proven that more than once but it is Leon's job to protect you. In exchange for the love you give him, Leon will protect you with his life. When the artist starts to sing one specific song, it reminds Leon of you and your relationship.

You managed to get two floor tickets and you got to the venue a little late so you are standing on the outside of the crowd. Leon pulls you towards him, a few steps away from everyone, and holds you against him.

"Hold, hold me in your hands I'm just a speck of sand Lost in the wind 'Til I catch your drift Spinning me in circles, oh It's easy to dismiss As if we're just a blip Put it on the line Just for tonight Only you and I exist"

Dancing to lyrics, you and Leon are in your own world. No one else is in that venue but the two of you. So close Leon holds you and you can feel his heartbeat. Your bodies sway in small circles to the rhythm of the melody.

"Why do we fear what we could have When it gets good we always run away? Scared that wе might repeat the past Fallin' in lovе should never feel this way"

Leon refuses to go back to his way of life. The dark and unknowing life he lived. A mentally and physically draining life he lived. He was a fool to be scared to open himself to you, to let you hold his heart in your hands because you take so good care of it. You cradle his heart like a precious jewel. Leon knows that there will be times when either one of you will bury yourselves in the darkness again, but it is okay. You have each other. Love is scary but it is so worth it, Leon learned. The stability and intimate connection Leon has longed for is finally found, and he will never let you go. Not to anyone or the world itself.

"Only you and I exist"

[solalunar-eclipse]

Ball & Chain of My Own Making

Written as part of the Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang 2024, hosted by @sthbigbang!

Summary: Set in the Sonic the Comic (Fleetway Publications) universe. Now that Robotnik's grasp on the planet has finally been removed, the world is beginning to recover. During this process, Sonic goes to meet up with his old friend, Porker Lewis, on the Floating Island. Unfortunately, they're long overdue for a conversation…and it's going to happen whether he wants it to or not.

Wonderful art (may contain spoilers!) by:

@eosomit (GORGEOUS ART BY EOSOMIT HERE) @pikafleetsyolo (FANTASTIC ART BY PIKAFLEETS HERE)

AO3 Link

Wooden scaffolding arched towards the bright blue sky, free of smog for the first time in years. The foundations of future homes spread out across the land of the Emerald Hill Zone, built atop the rubble and ashes of the original village, proving that soon, the people who once lived here would be back and better than ever before.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the scaffolds, making them shake but not crumble under its force—because after all, this was no ordinary wind. This was the controlled tailwind created by the high-octane racing of one Sonic the Hedgehog, Hero of Mobius, reaching speeds even faster than his namesake.

He skidded to a stop in the midst of the construction, admiring the view around him. It was good to finally see the world rebuilding now that Robotnik had fallen…this had been just a dream for far too long, so to have it become tangible reality, something he could reach out and touch, was downright awesome.

After a few moments, he spotted one of his closest friends, Miles “Tails” Prower—to him just Tails—helping to push a high-up beam into a slightly better position with the assistance of his namesake tails, which spun like the blades of a helicopter.

“Hey, pal, you got anything ya need taking care of ‘round here?” Sonic yelled up to him. “Because you know if you do, it’ll be done before you’re finished saying so!” he finished, winking up at the fox.

Tails flew down from his place atop the framework, landing neatly in front of Sonic. “I’m afraid that was actually the last piece of work I had on my list for now! I think I’m going to go help out Johnny with his staff—he says it’s been on the blink lately, and I thought it surely couldn’t be much harder than that time I helped you repair your plane!” He beckoned happily for Sonic to walk alongside him as the two headed back to their current base of operations, and the hedgehog did so without protest.

“Hmh.” Sonic replied eloquently, folding his arms and frowning slightly. “Amy and Tekno are still out too, yeah?”

“They are…” Tails looked up at his friend for a moment, before his eyes widened with an idea. “Hey, there has to be a couple of malfunctioning badniks left to take out somewhere, right?”

Sonic sighed. “Not for a hundred miles—and believe me, I’ve looked.”

The fox’s twin tails flicked nervously. “I mean, the only work we have going on right now is this whole relocation project…the thing is, I don’t think any other baddies are quite ready to crawl out of the shadows so soon after Robotnik vanished.” he explained.

Sonic abruptly snapped his fingers. “Hey, there’s an idea! I’m gonna take the Tornado up to the Floating Island, see how that end of the relocation’s shaking out up there! Seeya, gotta scram!”

And with that, he was gone, Tails’s call of “bye!” (accompanied by an understanding smile he didn’t see) just barely reaching him.

Within moments, Sonic was already in the cockpit of his trusty biplane, flipping switches with the muscle memory of someone who had piloted it a hundred times before. His eyes roamed over the controls, then shifted to the shining red paint that adorned it—

…oh no…what have I done?

The Hero of Mobius abruptly froze, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly as he remembered an earlier version of this very plane, crumbling and burning before his eyes—the fire had burned all around him, smoke choking the air, but this time not from one of Robotnik’s factories, instead it—

Sonic shook his head, gritting his teeth and forcing his quills to relax. “Everything worked out just fine,” he muttered. “He’s gone now. Amy and Tekno said so.”

With a few sharp movements, the plane’s engine was running smoothly, and Sonic taxied it down the runway and took off with ease. He only needed a moment to remember the controls, and then his memory of flying between islands on his adventures took over at last. 

As he climbed in altitude, he banked the plane around so it was pointing straight towards the Floating Island. While Tails had added a map to the Tornado, making it easier than ever to navigate, Sonic didn’t need any of that. He might not have…one particular effect from the Chaos Emeralds any longer, but that didn’t mean their energy would ever stop being intertwined with his being in a way he neither could nor cared to explain. 

He glanced briefly over the side of the biplane, enjoying the sight of Emerald Hill’s in-progress town below, now resembling a child’s plaything more than the towering structures he’d seen Tails working on earlier. 

As Sonic flew further, he passed over rivers that were running cleaner than before (though their banks still bore remnants of sludge) and the half-destroyed ruins of several of Robotnik’s factories. He smirked with a grim sort of satisfaction as he spotted a particularly torn-up building, stamped with that grinning logo all mangled and broken, unable to churn out even one more ounce of material to support the now-toppled Empire.

Thankfully for his notoriously short patience, it didn’t take Sonic long at all to reach the Floating Island. Avoiding the populated Mushroom Hill Zone for the time being, he instead circled the plane around over a large grassy clearing just outside the Hidden Palace, coming in for an (in his opinion) impressively smooth landing.

Sonic hopped out of the biplane after cutting its motor, grinning broadly. Any second now…

“SONIC!” a voice bellowed from within, accompanied by the sound of heavy footfalls. “What on Mobius are you doing here?”

Knuckles the Echidna stepped out of the shadows of the Hidden Palace, his arms folded over his chest and his ever-present glower meeting Sonic’s expectations perfectly. “You’d better not have shown up just to cause trouble. The Emerald Hill folk are in the middle of packing up their entire lives, and I am already at my limit with all the chaos around here.”

Sonic swiped under his nose, his smirk growing wider. “You’ve gotta be having some real trouble guarding all those Chaos Emeralds then, huh? I can always take care of them if you’re not up to it!”

Knuckles’s jaw tightened. “Sonic, I swear—“

“Relax, knucklehead!” he interrupted, cutting Knuckles off before he could get truly enraged. (Unfortunately, the continued presence of his smug smile may not have particularly helped, but he was more than fine with that.) “You should know I’m not here to mess anything up! Just popped up here to check out how things are going on your end. I don’t expect them to be moving quite as fast as my folks, obviously, but I figured if anyone could help speed the process up a little, it’d be yours truly.”

The echidna appeared momentarily torn between the promise of getting complete peace and quiet on his island sooner, or getting marginally more peace and quiet right now by hurling Sonic bodily off the island. Eventually, he just fixed the hero with his most stern glare, before pointing wordlessly to the door of the Hidden Palace.

Sonic snickered, strolling casually into the building and enjoying the irate grumbling behind him. Knuckles was just too easy to rile up, and his reactions were always fantastic.

“Oh, Knuckles, did you find out who it wa—Sonic!”

The hedgehog in question nearly jumped in surprise, but managed to conceal it beneath a smooth pivot to face the speaker…only to smile broadly once he registered just who it was. 

Sitting at one of the consoles around the massive room was none other than Porker Lewis, his old friend and former fellow Freedom Fighter. Porker practically leapt out of his chair, dashing over to greet Sonic more properly. “It’s just wonderful to see you! How’s everything going?”

Sonic flashed his trademark grin, not-so-subtly preening in response to Porker’s unfiltered enthusiasm. “You know me, always chillin’. Howzabout yourself, Lewis? Enjoying that island life?” he added, winking.

Porker smiled wryly, shaking his head. “I’m liking it a lot more now that Robotnik’s gone. Getting to help repair the technology Knuckles’s ancestors left behind is important work, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not nearly as intense as trying to topple a dictatorship.”

The hero’s face didn’t move a millimeter, but somehow, his smile felt so much more strained. “Yeah. It’s…good that’cha can just work on that now instead of having to put up with badniks all day, every day.”

Porker’s own expression faltered briefly, before he brightened up again, albeit more mellow than before. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t just come here to stand around and talk! I’m supposed to be repairing some of the zoom tubes in the Hydrocity Zone today, but I can leave that for later if you want to have a look around Mushroom Hill together.”

“Psh, no way! It’s been ages since I got to give Hydrocity the old run-around, I’ve gotta see if I can beat my fastest time down there! You wouldn’t deprive your old buddy Sonic a chance to do that, wouldja?” The blue hedgehog bounced into a more dynamic stance, one fist held in front of himself and his other hand thrown back as though he were about to spindash right this very second.

“If you tear up this chamber, I will throw you into the ocean.” Knuckles huffed, making Sonic scoff and straighten back up to face the serious guardian. At that very moment, Sonic’s eyes caught on exactly what Knuckles was leaning against—specifically, one of the switchboards in front of the Emeralds’ storage column. 

“Forget it, Porker…you’ve already done more than your share.”

“Don’t mention her, buddy. Lately she’s been driving me up the wall!”

“Whaaaa—!”

(The rock Sonic had been leaning against crumbled beneath him without warning, and he was sent pitching backwards into the column of pure Chaos energy. It surged through him, bright and powerful…and…violent…)

“Whoa, hey, Sonic? Sonic? You with me?”

“Agh!” He jumped backwards, immediately dropping into a fighting stance…before seeing that it was just Knuckles in front of him, one gloved hand raised as though he’d just been waving it in Sonic’s field of view. “Geez, Knucklehead, warn a guy next time you decide to stick your hand in his face, huh?”

“…you didn’t even react after I said I was gonna…chuck you off the island and all that. I didn’t actually mean it, you know. You might be annoying, but I’m not just going to let you drown.” the echidna muttered, still watching Sonic warily, as though he were about to space out again at any minute.

And Sonic wasn’t having any of that.

“Tch, I was just daydreaming about new ways to spindash that smug look ‘a yours right off your face.” he retorted, folding his arms defiantly. “I don’t hafta dignify every smart-aleck thing you say with a comeback, do I?”

Knuckles rubbed his brow, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Whatever. Porker, can you please take him anywhere that isn’t here? Mushroom Hill, Hydrocity, either way, just…ugh.”

Porker laughed sympathetically, walking up to stand next to Sonic, now with some papers in his arms and some tools on a belt. “I certainly can. So, Hydrocity, is it, then?” he asked the blue hero lightly.

“You know it!” Sonic gave him a thumbs up, before following his old friend to one of the doorways leading out of the Emerald Chamber. 

The two friends traveled down a short hallway, which led to a shaft so deep Sonic couldn’t even begin to see the bottom. Stairs spiraled around its outside, while a pole speared down the center, attached to the ceiling at one end and presumably the floor at the other.

Porker looked over at Sonic. “How about a race? You on the stairs, and me on the pole?” he asked. 

Sonic’s expression split into what had to be the biggest grin he’d worn yet. “You do realize you’re gonna lose embarrassingly, right?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least try, does it?” Porker insisted, his hands in his pockets and the set of his shoulders easy. Internally, Sonic appreciated the sight of his friend relaxed and happy. It had been far too long since he’d last seen Porker like this, after all.

The Hero of Mobius dashed over to the top of the stairs, settling into a sprinter’s starting position. “You sure you’re ready for this, Sonic?” the engineer sked, smiling cheekily as he grabbed onto the pole with both gloved hands.

“Ha! I’ve been ready, Lewis, you oughta know that by now!”

“Alright then!” Porker announced, to the otherwise empty room. “Three! Two! One! Go!”

Immediately, the former Freedom Fighter pushed off the platform and began to slide down the pole—but that could never compare to the power of pure Sonic speed. The instant the sound “go” hit his ears, Sonic tore off down the stairs so fast that anyone watching wouldn’t have been able to make out his features, only seeing the blue blur that had earned him yet another of his many monikers.

Sonic couldn’t help but beam as the wind whistled through his quills and his sneakers pounded on the staircase, loving the thrill of adrenaline that came from riding the line between landing each step as quickly as possible and tumbling into an uncontrolled fall. His agility had to be perfect to pull this off…and of course, it was. He was Sonic the Hedgehog, after all.

Once he hit the bottom, he looked up, waiting for Porker to appear. Thankfully, he’d only just started tapping his foot by the time the engineer came into view.

“Took you long enough!” Sonic smirked up at him, his arms folded and one eyebrow raised.

Porker smiled back. “Well, pardon me for not wanting to free-fall out of control! Not all of us are invincible Heroes of Mobius—that’s your job, after all!”

Sonic hesitated briefly, something about the title resonating oddly in his chest. “Say, speaking of which…it was…a little heroic, kinda, to be the one to clap Robotnik in cuffs like that. How’d you manage it?”

“Oh! Well, it wasn’t much, really. I was just trying to help some of the Emerald Hill folk evacuate out of the Mushroom Hill Zone, when I saw Robotnik trying to escape that massive fight you and Knuckles had with Dr. Zachary! I managed to rally a few of the braver people, and together we got the drop on him and cuffed him before he knew what happened,” Porker explained, beginning to walk into the zone as he spoke. “We were only able to get him because he was so thrown off guard by actually losing his grip on power for once—it was an opportunity we wouldn’t have gotten again! I may have left the Freedom Fighters, but I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night if I’d let him get away, you know?”

Sonic could feel his confusion showing on his face, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to stop it. “You…I guess, but…”

“Is everything alright?” Porker was frowning in concern, and that was enough to convince Sonic that this conversation wasn’t worth pursuing any longer. 

He laced his hands behind his head casually. “Yeah, sure! You know me, since when am I not?”

“…” When Sonic snuck a peek at his friend out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Porker still looked uneasy. 

Luckily for him, a Bugernaut suddenly swooped down at Porker, forcing him to duck out of the way. Within seconds, Sonic had curled into a ball, smashing the badnik and landing with ease. He quickly scanned the area for any more, spotting a few patrolling in a line farther ahead. While Robotnik was gone, his influence clearly still lingered, even up here on the Floating Island.

Briefly, he glanced back at his friend, who shot him a quick smile and a thumbs-up—which was all he needed to tear off in pursuit. It was a matter of a single jump to reach the nearest platform, and then only one more leap to bounce from badnik to badnik in a line, freeing the various little critters inside.

Sonic landed on an even higher platform, crouching by the edge to scan the ground below for Porker. He could jump down easily…but that would mean more awkward conversation. And when his alternative was scouting ahead and taking out any leftover badniks so Porker wouldn’t have to deal with them? It was hardly a choice at all.

He waved to get Porker’s attention, before jerking a thumb over his shoulder and holding up his fists like he was about to get into a cartoonish fight. The former Freedom Fighter gave him a friendly salute back, before turning back to his path towards the busted zoom tube. Sonic let out a breath that, had anyone else heard, he would have denied having been a sigh. Then, in a blink, he wasn’t there at all, only a blue streak of light marking the path he’d taken. 

Thankfully, he did turn out to have a genuine excuse to rush on ahead, as he found several more clusters of badniks after that initial line of Bugernauts. While Porker followed the lower paths, Sonic took every shortcut he could find in an effort to cover as much ground as possible. However, being thorough did mean he had to make some…unfortunate choices, as well. Hanging from a slow rope pulley above water wasn’t exactly his idea of fun, and neither was the promise of dropping into the water to clear out some aquatic badniks, but let nobody ever say that the Hero of Mobius and leader of the Freedom Fighters wasn’t committed to what he did.

With a gulp of air, Sonic opened his hands and let himself drop, curling into a ball and crashing directly into the water. Thankfully, this particular area seemed to have a fast current to it, meaning that he merely had to keep himself curled up and let the water turn him into a badnik-busting buzzsaw. 

Not really loving the lack of air down here, Sonic thought to himself impatiently, finally uncurling in search of an air bubble once he was reasonably sure the room was clear. Now where would…

There!

A small imperfection in the floor of the area had allowed a tiny crack to form in the material. At that exact point, the liquid could freely drip out—but more importantly, air could flow in. Happily, it didn’t take long at all for an air bubble to appear that was big enough for Sonic to use, and he inhaled the oxygen inside eagerly.

His energy restored, the hedgehog made his way over to a slightly narrower section of pipe, letting the current sweep him along once more. Annoyingly, the water turbines were still active, but it was a small price to pay for his otherwise quick progress, and he could easily avoid them with the help of the support struts used to help the pipe hold its shape. Besides, before long, he was spindashing up a ramp and out of the water, soaring high into the air before landing with perfect ease. 

After a bit of casual platform-hopping, Sonic spied Porker a little ways away, kneeling by a strange mechanism and seemingly inspecting it. This must’ve been the fix-it job he had to do, Sonic mused, before leaping down to join his friend alongside the ancient travel system. 

“So, how’s it going?” he asked, making poor Porker yelp and drop his screwdriver with a clatter, startled.

“Sonic!” he scolded, but his smile severely diminished any attempt at properly convincing the hedgehog to regret his actions. “You startled me!”

“I have eyes, I noticed,” Sonic quipped, shifting to lean casually against the wall. “You didn’t answer my question though, you really gonna leave a guy hanging like that? And here I thought we were friends.” he complained, wearing a faux-devastated expression.

Porker stared at him blankly for a moment, before recognition lit up his eyes. “Oh, yes, of course! It really is on you for making me forget, though.” Sonic scoffed lightly, but otherwise didn’t speak, leaving room for Porker to continue.

“It’s frankly quite a simple fix,” the engineer began. “While the tubes themselves are largely made of stone, the mechanical parts that create the vacuum necessary to enable this kind of rapid travel are much more delicate and therefore prone to failure. That’s why the tubes here aren’t working anymore—there must have been a malfunction in this area. Now all I need to do is open it up—” and just as he said this, he heaved a panel off the side of the structure in front of him, revealing an incomprehensible mess of pistons, cogs, and other unidentifiable bits and bobs. “—and figure out what's going on in here.”

“Huh. Why’d the echidnas decide to stick this thing all the way down here instead of up with everything else in the Emerald chamber? Somehow I don’t get the sense they were particularly in it for the sightseeing opportunity.” Sonic remarked, moving to lean against a different piece of the machine’s casing.

Porker’s laugh rang out from the metal walls of the structure, having already slid mostly inside to take a closer look. “Beats me! Knuckles and I are still having quite a time working on translating the ancient language used on most of the schematics for this place. We just got the blueprints for this all sorted out yesterday—it only became a major priority when the tubes stopped functioning. I haven’t even had a chance to dig through more of what we think are records, since most of our focus has been on the way the Floating Island works anyhow.”

Sonic smirked at the sound of Porker’s evident good mood. “Ol’ Knucklehead better have those blueprints all translated correctly, or else he’s gonna wind up going backwards instead of forwards next time he hops in one a’ these!”

“Oh goodness, I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that!” Porker still sounded amused, but also a little concerned. Not ideal. “At least they’d be working again, I suppose!”

“Well, pal, tell ya what. ‘Cause I’m such a kind and generous soul, I’ll give the tubes a spin once you’ve got them all set up! Just make sure to double-check your screws first—I’m not about to have Knuckles laughing at me if I get closely acquainted with the nearest rock, alright?”

“I’ll certainly do my best!” the engineer replied brightly. “Wait—oh, Sonic, I think I’ve found the problem!” he added, shifting around some more inside the machine.

“Forreal? Huh, I guess all that studying must’ve been worth it if you can find the problem that fast!” Sonic remarked, pushing off from the metal plating and strolling around to where Porker was.

“It’s a relatively simple issue too, thank goodness,” his friend continued, “there’s a hole in the main conduit for the pressurized air. In the long term, this pipe should really be replaced, but for now, I think a simple patch job will suffice.”

“What, and you just happen to have ‘pipe patcher’ on ya at all times?” Sonic asked, snickering slightly. “You go to dinner at someone’s house and think ‘oh no, better not leave my pipe patches at home’?”

Porker’s sigh echoed in the machine’s chamber. “It’s really not all that special, all I’m using is duct tape. So long as it makes a proper seal—which I’m being careful to do now—it should hold well enough for us to go back and get a proper replacement. And duct tape is an essential part of any engineer’s toolkit, especially when they’re going to do some engineering work. Which is exactly what we came down here to do.”

“We?” the hedgehog asked. “S’far as I can see, you’re the one doing all the fix-it jobs around here, I’m just tagging along to clear out badniks and have a good time. Wouldn’t wanna be inside that thingamajig anyway, you can barely even move in there!”

Porker made a movement that seemed to suggest a shrug. “It’s really not that bad,” he said, beginning to extricate himself from the mess of machinery. “I honestly find it quite comfortable—though I must admit there have been a couple of times when the sentries didn’t think to warn me politely before tapping me…I earned myself quite a few bruises before they learned not to do that.” Now fully outside, he shook his head with a slightly tired smile. “At least they apologized afterwards, I suppose.”

“Aw, man, I wish I’d been there! I would’ve paid good money to see that!” Sonic clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, grinning good-naturedly. “So, we gotta head back and grab that piece, yeah?”

Porker nodded in agreement. “Yes, we do, but first—”

But by the time the word “yes” had left his mouth, Sonic was already in the tube.

“Aw yeah!” he whooped to himself, rocketing upwards at a breathtaking speed. “This is the good stuff!”

Suddenly, however, he noticed that his speed was…beginning to slow down. He frowned. The zoom tubes normally didn’t do that at all, instead letting him blast out at full speed. This wasn’t a new problem Porker would have to fix, was it?

Sonic felt his quills begin to raise as he continued to decelerate, scraping uselessly against the near-frictionless surfaces of the inside of the tubes. The air grew weaker and weaker, struggling to push him up a vertical passage, and the Hero of Mobius felt a cold chill settle in his stomach. 

He curled up just a little tighter, trying to use the movement to regain even a fraction of forward momentum, and that was enough to get him through the bend onto a horizontal plane, but then—

—he stopped moving.

Entirely.

Sonic the Hedgehog, the fastest thing on Mobius, could no longer move.

~~~

Porker Lewis, on the other hand, was running as quickly as he possibly could.

He’d wanted to warn Sonic that he needed to check the air pressure first, make sure everything was at least moderately in working order before he let his friend give the zoom tubes a test run, but while Sonic’s thoughts moved much faster than his own, that didn’t necessarily mean he had a greater amount of caution. Now, Porker had no idea where Sonic was, nor whether he’d even made it out of the tubes at all.

Still, the engineer pushed himself to follow the path upwards, in spite of the increasing difficulty he met with as he climbed. More precarious platforms, more obstacles, and wider gaps had to be dealt with, slowing Porker down as he struggled to navigate, but he refused to let the tube out of his sight. He had to be coming to a bend or junction soon at this rate…

And then, he saw it. The tube made a right angle, running along the ceiling of the Hydrocity Zone, and within it, just visible through the glass paneling, was a ball of blue.

Quickly, Porker scanned the area. The panel was held in place by a frame, which could be easily removed with his screwdriver, but getting to the tube in the first place would be rather more difficult. Further examination revealed that there were small crevices and ledges on the wall adjacent to it that he could use to climb up, but staying in position without falling and injuring himself would be complicated, especially since he would essentially need to turn around while on the wall to properly remove the paneling. 

Still, it was the best he could do, given the situation. Removing the screwdriver from his tool belt and holding it in his mouth, Porker began to clamber up the side of the rock wall, moving as quickly as he could without putting himself in danger. He would be no use at all to Sonic with a broken leg, of course.

Speaking of him—“Sonic! I’m going to unscrew the paneling! You’ll be out shortly!” Porker shouted, forcing his voice as loud as it could possibly go.

If his friend replied, the engineer couldn't hear it. Nerves gripped his heart as he forced himself to climb faster, reaching the top soon after. Now came the difficult part; he braced himself with a hand against the pipe, before carefully shuffling his feet in a manner that would allow him to turn around and press his back against the rock wall.

The only thing keeping him from falling now was the strength of his arm as he pushed against the tube.

Carefully, Porker began to unscrew the frame bit by bit, wiggling the screws out of their housing one by one and letting them drop to the floor. After the third screw, his supporting arm began to tremble, but he refused to let it falter. Not when Sonic was counting on him.

The fourth screw dropped. At first, the frame refused to move, but a good whack with the screwdriver fixed that—followed by a sudden flinch from Porker as the glass panel dropped and shattered on the ground below.

“Good heavens, that’ll be quite the repair job…” he muttered to himself, before recalling exactly what the situation was at the moment.

“Sonic? Sonic, can you hear me?” he called, craning his neck in an effort to get a better look at the insides of the tube. He could see the ball of blue spines pretty well, actually, but something wasn’t quite right.

“…oh.” Porker murmured quietly.

Sonic was shaking.

He would have to get the hedgehog out all by himself, but how? He certainly couldn’t reach into the tube, not from this angle, and Sonic was clearly unable to move. The only thing he did seem capable of, as a matter of fact, was bristling his spines.

Wait. If Sonic had his spines raised, then that meant they could catch on something, yes? Porker began to hurriedly shrug off his jacket, only pausing to swap hands on the pipe once his screwdriver was back in his belt. Frowning in an effort to better gauge the distance, he swung the jacket back and forth once, twice, and then up into the tube—and thank goodness, at least one thing had gone right in this whole mess, when the cloth caught securely on Sonic’s spines.

Porker pulled as hard as he could, and for once the near-frictionless surface of the zoom tubes proved useful when his friend moved along with little resistance. Uncomfortably slowly, given the awkward angle, Sonic’s curled-up form slid further and further forward until finally, he slipped out of the opening.

What Porker had forgotten, however, was that Sonic had weight, and weight affected both balance and gravity.

What this meant, in practice, was that Porker very nearly wrenched his arm out of its socket fighting to keep them both from falling.

Even then, he didn’t succeed for very long, pitching forward and off the face of the wall soon afterwards. At the very least, his fall was more controlled, so that when he landed, he merely sprained his ankle instead of breaking it. (Happily, he was also able to avoid the shattered glass on the ground. Things would have gotten much more complicated if he hadn’t, and he was already about at his limit for complications.)

He ought to be thankful for small mercies, he supposed, because that at least meant the pain wasn’t so excruciating that he couldn’t check on his friend. 

“Sonic? Sonic, are you al—are you hurt?” he asked quickly, pulling himself along the ground towards the hero, who had uncurled and was now on his hands and knees, with his head hanging between his arms.

For a moment, Sonic didn’t respond at all, and Porker felt a pang shoot through him. Just a second later, though, the hedgehog sat up, raising an eyebrow at him cockily. “Am I hurt? You’re the one who can’t curl up into a ball here, I’m not the one you should be checking on.” 

“I wasn’t just talking about the fall. I meant before that, too.” Porker insisted, unwilling to let it go quite so easily.

“Tch, what, me getting stuck in the tube? Just don’t tell Knucklehead, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Porker felt his stomach turn uncomfortably. He really, really didn’t want to push this, but the thought of Sonic pretending that nothing had happened sat even worse with him. Shakily, he inhaled once, then sighed, and felt his shoulders tense up as he prepared to speak again.

“Sonic.” Porker insisted. “I saw you shaking with my own two eyes. I can’t just let that go.”

“What, me? Shaking?” Sonic scoffed. “You of all people should know that the Hero of Mobius doesn’t shake, pal.”

The engineer frowned…and then abruptly his expression softened, as something that Sonic had just said caught his attention. “No, I get it. The Hero of Mobius doesn’t shake, you’re right. But, well, my old friend Sonic, from way back in Green Hill…he’s allowed to get scared in front of me, I think. Whether or not he thinks he should.”

“Uh, you sure you didn’t hit your head in that fall, Lewis?” Sonic asked, now the one to squint over at his friend in confusion. “In case you forgot, this speedy blue hedgehog—y’know, the one called Sonic—is the Hero of Mobius.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest for emphasis.

Porker took another deep breath subtly, trying his best to keep from getting exasperated. “That’s true. But being the Hero of Mobius is a job, and being Sonic just…is. You’re Sonic all the time, but you’re only the Hero of Mobius when you want to be. And you don’t have to be in front of me.”

“You sure about that one? ‘Cause last I checked, only one of us was up to being a hero.” Sonic shot back.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze, his eyes widening slightly and his teeth snapping together so hard they clicked in the suddenly heavy silence.

“Porker—we can—just forget that happened, ‘kay? Apparently my mouth moves as fast as the rest of me sometimes, heh.” 

Porker gave Sonic a surprisingly flat look, making the hedgehog’s poor attempt at humor fizzle out into nothingness. His grin twisted into a grimace, and his hands balled into fists on the floor as he avoided Porker’s eyes.

Well, at least now he’s hiding his emotions less, the former Freedom Fighter thought to himself, internally sighing.

“Sonic.” he said softly, and while his friend didn’t flinch, his fingers did tighten noticeably.

“I’m not upset. Or—well—I am, but not at you. I just don’t like that you feel you have to be a hero around me all the time. I know we were fighting Robotnik for so long, it’s kind of hard to be anything else…but before that, we were just friends, stumbling our way through life together.”

Porker sighed, allowing himself a bittersweet smile. “I’d like to go back to being that way, at least to some extent, now that the war is over.” He hesitated briefly, before continuing, “If you don’t want to though, for whatever reason, I’ll understand.”

Sonic laughed, but his eyes were too wide for it to seem genuine. “Hey, what? Of course we’re friends, there’s no way I’d wanna change that! Why on Mobius would you ever think I would?”

“It’s…difficult to explain.” Porker began, picking up a chunk of debris and worrying circles into it with his thumb. “Sometimes it feels like when you look at me, you’re seeing just another civilian to protect, instead of, well, me.”

“Well, that’s not it at all!” Sonic straightened up boldly. “It’s totally different—I’m just making sure you don’t have to deal with the difficult stuff anymore after we—after you, y’know, got stuck on, uh, Little Planet.”

“Sonic, just because I was too stressed out to continue fighting in a war doesn’t mean I’m too distraught to live my life, or to help my friends when they could use a hand!” the engineer explained. “Besides, living here on the Floating Island has done wonders for me, I’d say.”

Sonic had sported a strangely skeptical expression for the first part, but when he finally spoke up, it wasn’t in response to that at all. “Was it really good enough for you that you were able to handle Robotnik?” he asked, frowning genuinely.

Porker stared blankly at his friend for a few moments as several things suddenly slotted into place. “Is that what you meant when you asked me how I was able to cuff him earlier?”

Sonic’s sudden eagerness to look away and shift positions, combined with a short “Eh, it’s whatever. Never mind.” told him all he needed to know.

He bit back his first instinct, which was to get upset that Sonic essentially seemed to view him as an invalid, no longer capable of functioning in the face of difficult situations. Getting upset wouldn’t help here—he’d known Sonic long enough to be certain that if he got angry, Sonic’s temper would flare up to match. Instead, he struggled to work out how best to explain his current situation to his friend. 

Porker knew that Sonic had gone through a difficult process when he’d decided to leave the Freedom Fighters, and had taken some time to come around to the fact that not everybody had his level of fortitude and resilience when it came to coping with difficult situations. However, it seemed like Sonic had understood Porker’s choice to leave as a permanent “off” switch on his abilities, instead of the truth, which was that the scales of “desire for freedom” and “fear of lasting damage” had simply tipped in the other direction, without any weight being removed from the former.

Suddenly, he was jolted from his musings by the voice of the hedgehog in question. “Listen, how about we head back to Hidden Palace and grab whatever parts you need? That way you can show me around some more, yeah?”

Slowly but surely, Porker got to his feet, sighing tiredly and trying not to wince at a twinge from his ankle. “Hang on, I just wanted to explain one thing first. You mind if I talk your ear off for just a moment?” He shot Sonic a half-smile, and that seemed to do the trick.

“Sure thing, pal. Hit me.” he replied carefully, moving to lean against the wall.

“I may have assumed this was more obvious than it actually was, but…I was always scared. Even when you first asked me to join the Freedom Fighters, I was frightened as anything.” Porker began, cringing internally as Sonic tensed up once again. “But the thing was,” he hurried to add, “I believed in the better future you talked about more than I felt afraid. So I pushed myself to join because I wanted to help make a world where people like me didn’t have to be so scared all the time, and that was enough to keep me going.

“But then…when I was held on Little Planet for so long…” Porker trailed off, memories of wire biting into his arms and endless examinations flashing before his eyes briefly. He blinked rapidly and squeezed the rock in his hand tighter in an effort to dispel the images—only to look up into an expression on Sonic that was emptier than any he’d ever seen before.

The engineer sighed and shook his head, smiling ruefully. “After that, I was so worried about it happening again that I couldn’t contribute to the team like I wanted, and, well, you know the rest.” He paused for a moment, composing his next sentence in his head. “I think there was one thing I should’ve said to you back then, but didn’t, because I thought it was obvious.”

“Yeah?” Sonic’s voice was perfectly measured, perfectly even.

“I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t even see how I could—I knew the risks, I knew Mobius had to be kept safe, and I made my choice. I mean, in the end, it all worked out too. If that was really what had to happen to start the chain of events that led to the Empire of Metallix being defeated, then I can’t even say I regret it.”

“Porker.” Sonic marched over, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Now I know for a fact you hit your head in that fall. Either that or I need to get my ears checked, because I know I didn’t just hear you say you’re okay with the fact that we all left you there.”

“What else am I supposed to say?” he asked, genuinely. “We were in a difficult situation, not to mention a dangerous profession. Awkward choices and bad experiences were bound to happen eventually. All things considered, I escaped without any serious physical damage and got the space I needed to work on healing mentally. Things could have gone a whole lot worse—”

“But they also could’ve gone better!” Sonic barked. “We left you there! We all could’ve gone back with you, fought off the Metallix together!”

“And left the planet defenseless against Robotnik? That would’ve been terribly dangerous.” Porker forced himself to keep his posture open, hoping that having something else to focus on would help him feel less stunned that his friend was on the verge of yelling at him. “Besides, it’s equally possible that the Metallix would have overpowered us all, seeing as we’d be stuck there for a month, and then who would have saved us from them?”

“What, so are you telling me you’re fine with the way things turned out?” the hedgehog snapped.

“Yes and no,” Porker replied, hating how stiff his voice had become, but unable to search for any better words, “I certainly would have preferred to not be trapped on Little Planet for a month, but since I was, and we were able to destroy the empire that I was stuck with, I don’t really have anything left to be angry about. I may be upset that it happened to me, but I’ve decided that I don’t resent anyone for the way it happened.”

“Yeah? Well, good for you, but not all of us feel that way, y’know.” Sonic spat.

Porker hesitated for a moment. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what his friend meant, but he wanted to check something first.

“Are you upset with me for going back?”

“Wh—f—why would I be mad at you?” Sonic looked like he was about to explode, face twisted into a snarl. “It’s the Metallix’s fault, for being scummy enough to treat you like they did! It’s Robotnik’s fault, for making those machines in the first place, and for making a Mobius where there needed to be Freedom Fighters at all! And—and it’s on me for asking you to join the Freedom Fighters, because then this’d never have happened!”

The walls of Hydrocity Zone rang with the echo of Sonic’s outburst.

“…we’re done here.” the hedgehog muttered, turning away.

“N-n-no, we’re not.” Porker insisted, still gripping the rock, now so tightly that his hands shook. Sonic whipped around, his eyes hard, but Porker pushed onwards as quickly as he could. “S-Sonic, you couldn’t have possibly known this would happen. You may be a hero, but you’re not the Omni-Viewer—you can’t kn-know or do everything. And that’s fine!” he added, quickly, seeing Sonic’s quills begin to rise. “I don’t, I don’t expect you to, and anyone who does is being absurd, frankly. All you knew when you asked me to join was that Robotnik needed to be s-stopped, and that I was smart enough to help. And all you could—could do when I went back to Little Planet was make an impossible choice, and if you’re sorry that I got hurt, then I’m sorry I put you in a position to choose between me and everyone else.

“I don’t know if you really do r-regret asking me to join the Freedom Fighters—and if you do, I can try to understand why, but I have to inform you that I disagree whole-heartedly. You would n-not have survived fighting Robotnik on your own, you needed others by your side, and you were a big enough person to a-admit that in spite of the fact that I’m sure you would have preferred otherwise. If you regret asking me, then do you regret asking Johnny, or Tails? Do you regret bringing all of us into this? Because let me tell you, if I have to choose between a future where I am traumatized but alive, or a future where I never met the Metallix and you are gone, I would choose the former every time!”

Porker’s legs wobbled beneath him, and he lowered himself to the ground quickly, breathing hard and fast. “S-sorry, sorry for my harsh tone at the end there.” he apologized. “I didn’t m-mean to get so worked up.”

“…Porker.” Sonic said, no longer facing him, his voice strangely quiet in a way the engineer had never heard before. “You’re—right. About all of it. I’m glad you said yes when I asked you to join. Without you, we’d never have saved Kintobor, or gotten all the gadgets we needed to fight. It just, you know. Like you said. We were friends, but I was also the leader. That made your safety my responsibility. And you know me, I don’t like to, well. Lose. Heh.” He laughed humorlessly, even as his hands twitched and shifted with surprising intensity. “When you’re the Hero of Mobius, and you don’t save someone. Anyone. But especially a friend. It makes a guy wonder if he still gets to call himself a hero. If he still…has that friend. After he couldn’t keep him from getting permanently hurt. You know.”

“I think I do know.” Porker replied, almost instantly, needing to make sure Sonic knew that this opening up, no matter how stilted, was the right thing to do. “And I know that his friend has been with him for a while. His friend has seen him save people so many times, over and over again, even without a reward. So, quite frankly, if there was ever a time when he didn’t save someone, that friend would not doubt for a second that he didn’t wish things had gone differently. But,” he added, “this friend would also care about him a lot. And his friend would feel terrible if it seemed, for even a second, that a choice that the friend made was something he was using to make himself feel worse, whether he thought he deserved it or not. Because his friend is, well, his friend, right? So of course that friend wouldn’t want him to torture himself using the thought of what happened. 

“After all, he may be a hero—an incredible hero, even—but he can’t do everything, and like I said earlier, that's okay. That’s why the rest of us were there, to help him be able to do everything with our help. And sometimes that meant we were in danger, just like him. But that was okay, because there was no place we’d rather be than by his side, helping to make the world a better place.”

A single drop of water wet the stone by Sonic’s feet.

“There’s—” he croaked, before cutting himself off and abruptly clearing his throat. “There’s nobody I would rather have had with me.”

“I’m glad.” Porker smiled gently, and hoped it carried through in his voice.

“Ugh, first Super, now this—what is it with me and coming to visit you that makes bad things happen?” Sonic groaned, finally turning around once again (and the engineer elected not to notice how he was still working to compose himself).

“Well, in the very, very long run, that was a good thing too, considering that Super’s EMP blast was what enabled us to defeat Robotnik.” Porker said.

“Oh, so you’re not upset about that either?” Sonic asked, voice caught halfway between sarcastic and hesitant.

“Sonic!” the engineer huffed. “Super’s transformation process is completely involuntary! It may be frightening in the moment, but I would never, ever blame you for his actions!”

“…good to know.” Sonic said simply. “Speakin’ of which, I saw you two put up some better walls around the Emerald chamber, good to see we won’t have any more falling accidents.” He finally turned around, his arms folded and smirk back in place. “Don’t wanna find out what Super Porker is like or anything.”

“I hope seeing the Emerald chamber again wasn’t what bothered you earlier.” Porker’s brow furrowed in concern. “I didn’t even consider how it might be an unpleasant place to be…”

Sonic’s smirk lessened just a fraction. 

“You know, you’re always free to talk about it if you’d like.” Porker said, but when Sonic scoffed, he already knew it was a lost cause.

“Listen, I’ve had more than enough ‘talking about it’ for one visit.” Sonic rolled his eyes and did exaggerated air quotes, but…

…‘for one visit’ wasn’t ’for a lifetime’. Maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

Porker decided to take pity on his friend at last. “Would you like to head back to Hidden Palace now? You can bother Knuckles some more while I find the part I need to repair the zoom tubes.” 

“Finally!” Sonic exclaimed. “As much as I appreciate a good cave adventure every now and then, I’d rather be somewhere I can actually see the sun. Come on, let’s get moving.” He began to walk back towards the entrance, making Porker hesitate and frown over at him.

“…you’re not going to scout on ahead again?”

Sonic looked over at him, surprise registering for the briefest of seconds before he relaxed, his usual smirk returning—albeit somewhat crookedly. “Nah. If any badniks haven’t learned their lesson by now, we can handle ‘em.”

Porker could feel himself smiling wider than he had all day, enough so that Sonic seemed to notice. “Shut your trap, pixel-brain.” he grumbled, folding his arms. “Haven’t we had enough sappy nonsense already?”

“Fair enough,” Porker admitted. “So, how’s the rebuilding process going back in Emerald Hill?”

“The new town’s looking better every day!” Sonic’s grin returned in full force. “It’s gonna be much more defensible, but it’s also just way better quality and more sturdy than before.”

“That’s fantastic.” Porker said, suddenly feeling as though a weight he hadn’t even noticed had been lifted off his chest. “As much as the hillfolk have appreciated Knuckles’s hospitality, they seem eager to get home.”

“It’ll be good to have them back.” Sonic sighed. “Seeing the world start to live a post-Robotnik life sure is something, huh?”

“It really is. Sometimes I wondered if we’d be fighting for the rest of our lives,” Porker smiled ruefully. “But I’m so happy that isn’t the case.”

They walked together in silence for about half a minute, giving them both time to admire the water flowing through the caverns and the massive pillars helping to keep it all stable. The fact that the colors on the pillars hadn’t faded after all this time was fascinating to Porker, and he was beginning to think back on the papers Knuckles had gotten from that pirate fellow—

Sonic abruptly dragged his hands down his face and groaned. “Now you’ve gone and done it! Why’d you have to bring up Super in the first place, now I can’t stop thinking about him!”

“Technically, you brought him up.” Porker corrected him, before smiling sheepishly when Sonic shot him a glower (without any heat behind it, of course).

“Listen, it’s just—something about falling into the Emerald chamber made him way worse than usual. I don’t know all of it, but lemme tell ya…” He trailed off, staring into the middle distance.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Porker said softly, wishing he could give his friend a hand on his shoulder or a hug, but that wouldn’t help someone like Sonic. Instead, he jammed his hands in his pockets, kept walking, and waited.

“Ugh…waking up in the wreckage of our plane with the others nowhere in sight…fire everywhere…feeling myself laughing without knowing why…it’s good he’s gone, ‘cause I’m never about to see something like that again.” Sonic spat, forcing the tremor from his voice.

Porker felt his stomach turn. “Nobody told me about that! I can’t imagine how that must have felt, being amongst all that devastation without knowing what had happened!”

“They didn’t even tell me they were alive for days.” Sonic muttered, his shoulders hunched. “Super was still an issue, I know why they didn’t, but they left me thinkin’ I’d—! For days!” Suddenly, he kicked a rock with such speed and violence it shattered on impact.

Sonic clenched his fists, stopping in his tracks in an attempt to catch his breath. Porker shifted a little closer to him, worrying the fabric of his gloves with his fingers. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m guessing you haven’t mentioned this to any of them?”

“Why would I?” Sonic scoffed. “It worked, didn’t it? They fixed the problem.”

Porker opened his mouth—then hesitated—then sighed gently. “Well. I can see why they might have done that, but I don’t necessarily think it was the perfect solution. And if you ever want to talk about it more…I’m here. As your friend.”

“…you meant what you said earlier, right?”

“Hmm?” Porker blinked. “I said a lot of things earlier, I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me.”

“About…not blamin’ me for the stuff he does.” Sonic muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“Of course I did!” he insisted. “And I’ll say it as many times as you need! I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you. I don’t—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Sonic snickered, shoving Porker lightly. “Save your breath for all these stairs, we gotta climb them to get back up to that knucklehead.”

“Oh, good heavens.” Porker sighed, eyeing up the spiral staircase warily.

Sonic rolled his eyes, his trademark smirk softening just a fraction. “Forget it, Porker, just grab on tight.”

Seconds later, they were back in the main room of the Hidden Palace.

The engineer pulled his wrist from Sonic’s grip, stumbling over to the nearest control panel and slumping into a seat. “I will never be used to that,” he wheezed, chuckling lightly.

“Sonic, you’d better not have broken my best engineer!” Knuckles barked, stomping over to the two of them.

“Isn’t he also your only engineer?” Sonic shot back.

“All the more reason not to drag him along when you decide to have a run around!” the echidna insisted.

“Knuckles?” Porker called, interrupting the two’s bickering. He had removed one of his shoes—but not his sock, obviously—and was bandaging up his sore ankle. Both of the others seemed concerned, but when he smiled reassuringly, they both trusted him enough to back off. “Oh yeah, just turned my ankle, nothing major. Anyhow, do you know where the replacement air conduits are? We found the break, but my temporary fix wasn’t much of a fix at all.”

“Drawer 14B.” he replied, already heading off in that direction. “I’ll get it for you if you keep this prickly tank of hot air out of my face some more. Take him to Mushroom Hill or something, have him play with the toddlers a bit to burn off that energy.”

Sonic huffed, tapping his foot rapidly. “Hot air?! You come back here and say that to my face! C’mon, Porker, let’s leave the guardian to his sulking.”

The engineer laughed under his breath as he joined his friend once again. “You two could have a whole comedy show with that kind of banter.” he said warmly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Sonic rolled his eyes. “Now who needs help packing up?”

Porker did indeed proceed to show Sonic all around the Mushroom Hill Zone, and the two helped out where their skills were needed as the citizens of Emerald Hill prepared to return to their long-evacuated home. (As a matter of fact, Sonic sped up the process by at least half a day, which went greatly appreciated amongst everyone present.)

Once they had finished with that, Sonic admitted that he should probably head back soon, to make sure that the rebuilding process was still going well and that his other friends didn’t need him for anything urgent. Porker walked him back to the plane, the two chatting about memories new and old along the way. And just before Sonic hopped into the cockpit, he placed a hand on Porker’s shoulder—the only differences from last time being that Sonic was the one to leave via plane instead…and that Porker put his hand over Sonic’s for just the briefest of moments.

As the Hero of Mobius took off, he looked back for a second to see his old friend waving him off with a smile on his face, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased to know that he was welcome back whenever he felt like it. To his surprise, however, there was one other thing he noticed—or rather, the absence of something.

This time, when he had settled into his plane and prepared for takeoff, the memories of Super hadn’t been there. Even now that he noticed it, even though he could still remember the fire, now, there was also…

“I don’t blame you.”

And wasn’t that just something else?

[ekwallace]

Here we gooooooo. Part 1!

Title: All My Forevers Fandom: Mononoke Pairing: Kusuriuri/Kayo, eventually Warnings for this part: Canon-typical violence and horror imagery. AU as far as movie lore goes (much of it was written before there was movie lore!). Also, it’s super self-indulgent. :) Epigraph from "A Mouthful of Forevers" by Clementine von Radics.

I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.

Kayo knew seeing Kusuriuri again would mean dealing with another mononoke—when two, she was quite sure, was more than enough for any human lifetime—but she still hoped it would happen. Not that she went looking for trouble. Trouble just had a way of finding her. And when she heard people in the marketplace talking about a terrifying figure haunting the newly abandoned Watanabe Manor--no one seemed to be able to talk about anything else--she knew what it had to be.

It's none of my business, she reminded herself, bowing to the vegetable merchant and accepting the basket of taro.

If he does come, he’ll handle it just fine on his own, she told herself as she haggled over the price of hamachi--the fish was good, but the price the man was asking was absurd!

It’s not like you even care that much, she lied to herself, securing all her packages for the walk to her new home.

She made it all the way back there before she admitted to herself that she was going to the manor to have a look.

***

Kayo tucked some salt into the sagemono at her obi before she set out. Not that she was going to charge into anything. It was just in case.

The stories weren’t exaggerations: the manor already looked like a ruin, even though Kayo knew people had lived here only a few days ago. The yard was full of dead, dried vines and other plants, as if they’d suddenly overtaken everything and just as suddenly died. Torn paper rattled in the screens, stirred by a wind she couldn’t feel. She hesitated to step into the courtyard; it had the feeling of a threshold she wouldn’t be able to un-cross.

“Kayo-san.”

She was expecting to hear Kusuriuri’s voice any moment, but he was so close to her so suddenly that she still jumped.

“I knew you’d be here,” she said, trying to match his calm, which was as unruffled as usual.

“Yet you were surprised.”

Of course he hadn’t missed the jump. He didn’t seem remotely surprised to see her, but then, she hadn’t expected him to.

“That’s because you snuck up on me!”

He coolly ignored that, and stepped easily across the line where she had hesitated. “What do you know about the family that lived here?”

She stood up straighter and followed him. The air was noticeably chillier in the courtyard, and now Kayo could feel the icy wind’s bite on her skin. Dead leaves skittered across the ground, though autumn was still weeks away, and all the trees were gnarled and dead, too. Even as they passed by one of them, it crumbled and fell as ashes behind them. Kayo scurried to get closer to Kusuriuri, the sleeves of their kimonos almost touching.

“I know the lord’s eldest son got married, not long ago. I heard his bride was called a great beauty in her village, but I’ve never seen her. No one here has.”

“Hm.”

The great double doors of the main entrance stood ajar, and Kusuriuri used the hilt of his sword to push one open. Wind gusted out, even colder than the air outside, almost knocking Kayo off her feet. Kusuriuri steadied her with a hand on her arm. Kayo didn’t see him fling the ofuda this time, but she heard the papery rustle as they hit the wall behind them, and she glanced back. None of them turned red.

“A great beauty no one had caught a glimpse of,” Kusuriuri mused, lifting the sword to look into its gruesome little face. He gave another considering hum when it failed to react.

“Oh! That wasn’t all. Akiko-san next door told me the lord’s son already wanted a divorce.”

Kusuriuri turned a sharp glance on her. “Divorce? On what grounds?”

“That she was greedy, can you believe it? But they did say in the marketplace that not too long they married, the servants here started having to buy almost twice as much rice as before!”

“Ah.” The metallic clink sounded that meant a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. “The form is kuwazu nyobo,” Kusuriuri murmured.

“We have to deal with a lady with two mouths?” Kayo squeaked. She knew this ghost story.

“You need not.”

That didn’t deserve an answer; she just gave him a look.

“So she seemed like the picture of a perfect wife,” she said, thinking aloud to figure out the mononoke’s story. “The Watanabes are very traditional and serious. No fun at all! Even when the sons were kids, they never played or laughed. That poor girl must’ve been miserable.”

I might have ended up miserable like that.

Might have?

She wasn’t sure when, but she’d stopped taking it for granted that she’d marry someone someday.

Kusuriuri paused and looked back at her. Shafts of light from holes in the roof pierced the dimness, one falling on him so that his pale skin seemed almost to glow and the markings on his face stood out even more vividly than usual.

Well, maybe she had some idea when she’d stopped thinking that.

She could’ve tried to pretend she wanted a normal life with a husband and children and all the rest, but that was a lie she told herself, or maybe a lie she’d been told that she’d never thought to question. But she’d been questioning it ever since the umi bozu showed her what her true fear was.

This: puzzling out the mystery of a mononoke with Kusuriuri, working together, talking together, and yes, sharing more than that. This was what she wanted to do.

“Mononoke can seldom resist suffering of that kind.” He flicked another flurry of seals onto the walls ahead, and these flared bright red.

“The kitchen,” Kayo said.

The room was in ruins, shattered pots and dishes everywhere. Every container had been opened and emptied. Kayo didn’t see a single scrap of food, not even a stray grain of rice. She edged into the room to take a closer look, curious to see if everything really was gone.

“What was it?” Kusuriuri asked the ruins. “What, in the end, could you not endure?”

Kayo spotted a single piece of bright paper among the broken shards of pottery. “Kusuriuri-san.”

He swept across the wreckage and plucked it up. “Chocolate. I see now.”

“What?”

“They denied her even an indulgence as small as this.” He lifted the sword as if to let it see the mess on the floor, and maybe it really could.

“And that was too much for her to take."

“Yes. Trapped behind a mask of perfection, with no one to understand her and no respite or whimsy.”

“Whimsy?” Kayo asked, surprised.

He gave her an unreadable look; she thought he might have been silently chiding her for having imagined him so dour that he wouldn’t know that. “No one can live without small joys. The Watanabes tried to force her to, and when she could not find it in herself to rebel, the mononoke stepped in. That is its truth.”

Kayo didn’t hear the sword’s confirming clack over the huge crash that echoed the moment the words were spoken.

Faster than thought, Kusuriuri seized her hand and pulled her out the kitchen door. She stumbled into him and caught at his sleeve.

The ceiling in the kitchen had fallen, crushed by another desiccated, dead tree.

“Now the regret.”

“How are you always so calm?”

He gave her a look much like the one she’d given him at the suggestion she might turn back.

Impossible man!

The wind picked up again, as if the mononoke knew its end was approaching and was trying any trick it could to throw them off. It whipped a whirlwind of skeletal leaves about them and drove Kayo’s hair into her face, blinding her.

“There’s nothing alive out here, either!” She could feel Kusuriuri right beside her, but she didn’t know if she’d heard her cry over the roaring wind. He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her in tight against his side.

A sickening crunch sounded from the roof of the kitchen.

The kuwazu nyobo was wrapped around the roof, monstrously huge and two-headed. It gripped the ōmune in great yellow talons like a falcon’s, the wood splintering further even as Kayo watched in frozen, horrified fascination. One of its necks snaked out toward them, wearing a face that was nothing but bloody fangs.

The creature shrieked, a razor-sharp cry between a woman’s wail and a bird of prey, and the second head swung around to stare at them. The face had once been beautiful, but now it was distorted, the skin blackened, the eyes red, the teeth so elongated that the mouth couldn’t close. The fangs cut into the creature’s lips when she screamed again, sending black blood pouring down her chin that smoked where it hit the roof and the stones of the courtyard.

Kusuriuri pulled Kayo even closer and held up his sword. “Once you had devoured the family who had mistreated you, you turned to the growing things left alive here for sustenance. Even after you became a mononoke, you could not conceive of escape. For you, the world was a place where you would never be allowed to ask for what you wanted.”

Does he feel sorry for her? Kayo wondered suddenly. It wasn’t a new thought, but it was one she didn’t have time for, because the sword rang for the final time.

“The regret is revealed.”

Everything spun away into blankness, swirling and surreal.

The mononoke slammed its faceless head down onto the ground, and Kayo was driven to her knees. She was dimly aware of Kusuriuri’s otherself advancing on the kuwazu nyobo, the fiery sword at the ready. He spun and struck with deadly grace, but the mononoke attacked with its second head, and he had to dodge, what surely would’ve been a killing blow going wide.

Kayo looked desperately for something she could use to help, but they were in an in-between world, the shapes of the manor and landscape as sketchy as brushstrokes.

The golden one brought the sword around in a huge arc, grunting with the effort, and lopped off the kuwazu nyobo’s faceless head. He reached without looking, and the mirror Kusuriuri wore appeared in his hand, just in time for him to use it to deflect the spray of blood that fountained from the monster’s neck.

The mononoke’s scream of pain shook the whole world. It writhed and struck out with its claws, catching the mirror and sending it tumbling to the ground.

“No!” Kayo launched herself toward the battle.

She was too far away.

The kuwazu nyobo caught up the mirror, raised it to her bloody mouth, and bit down. The glass shivered between the great teeth, one crack snaking across it, then two, then too many to count.

Kayo met the golden one’s eyes and saw the fear in them, which frightened her almost more than anything else that had yet happened, but he visibly steeled himself and, with a wordless battle cry, brought the sword down on the mononoke’s remaining head.

Kayo knew the blow had come too late.

The very air shivered and fractured, as if the whole world were breaking. In a falling shard of it, Kayo saw two arms, one pale, one dark and gold, reaching toward each other, straining. Not meeting.

Everything exploded.

***

Some time later, she came to, aching all over. She pushed herself up to a sitting position with shaky arms. The air was thick with choking dust, and it reeked of blood and ashes. “Kusuriuri!”

She got no answer.

Gritting her teeth against the pain--it felt as if something huge had kicked her in the chest--she struggled to her feet and called him again.

“Who is there?”

His voice. She made her way toward the sound, carefully. The air began to clear. “It’s only me. Are you--”

The question died on her lips. He was looking up at her blankly from where the blast had flung him. The markings on his face were gone, but Kayo had glimpsed him without them before, and there was something else not right about the way he looked, something she couldn’t put her finger on--

His ears weren’t pointed anymore.

“What happened to you?” she blurted out.

He got to his feet, clearly in as much pain as she was, which was unsettling enough, but it got worse. He bowed neatly. “I am sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” He thought for a moment and frowned. “And I’m not sure who I am, either.”

Kayo could only stare in dismay. She felt her mouth trying to form words and failing. “It’s going to be all right,” she said finally, even though he could probably still tell she was lying. If he doesn’t know what to do, how on earth am I supposed to figure it out? “My name’s Kayo.”

“I-- What did you call me?”

“Kusuriuri-san.”

“That is no name.”

“I don’t know yours. I’m sorry.”

The play of emotions across his face was perfectly easy to read--disturbingly so, when she was so used to his cool poise that gave nothing away. Confusion was the strongest, but there was sadness in his eyes, too. She could tell when he made a conscious decision to put both aside for later. “I certainly don’t know it now,” he said. “I don’t mind ‘Kusuriuri’.”

“You don’t remember where you’re from, do you?”

He shook his head.

She couldn’t leave him alone, that much was certain. If another mononoke were drawn to him like this, he was in no shape to fight it.

That sparked a sudden thought, and a fear, and Kayo looked around on the ground for the sword. To her vast relief, she found it. It looked just the same as ever, to all appearances as tightly sheathed as usual. “Here. You hold onto this.”

“It’s mine?”

She nodded.

“Strange.” But he tucked it into his obi.

The swirls on his kimono were gone, too.

Finding the medicine box took longer--some rubble had landed on it, but it was, somehow, undamaged. Kayo hoped there was something inside that would help them. She hefted it onto her own shoulders. “I’ll explain what’s going on... as much as I can, anyway. But it’s not safe to stay here.”

“Mm, I guessed as much from our injuries.”

He followed her back to the street, clearly wary but just as clearly having decided to trust her. He was subtle about it, but she could tell he was feeling out the extent of his own hurts just as she had tested hers when she first stood up.

It hadn’t gotten any less alarming that he was hurt enough to have to do that.

The town beyond the collapsed manor house looked completely normal. No one was even stopping to gawk. It was hard to believe no one had seen or, more to the point, heard anything, but then Kayo remembered leaving the Sakai estate to discover that outside, it had still been the same day she’d all unknowingly let a stranger selling medicine into the kitchen.

I’d do it again. Even now.

Taking him to her employer’s house was out of the question, but this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have out in the open, either. “Would it be too weird to get a room at an inn?”

“Would it?” he countered with a straight face, and Kayo felt her own face heat up.

“Maybe. But it’ll be safe. And private.”

OK. What would Kusuriuri-san do?

Kayo pretended that wasn’t a crazy thing to wonder when he was right next to her, only... not. All too conscious of how she would stare if she weren’t careful not to, she snuck glances at him as they walked.

She’d never been able to get used to his beauty--it had always struck her anew nearly every time she looked at him. He still took her breath away. Maybe even more now, with the inhuman grace and strangeness stripped away.

“How old are you, anyway?” She hadn’t meant to ask so rudely, but he seemed very young, despite nothing actually being different except the missing markings.

He had to think for a moment. “I’m not sure of that, either, but ‘twenty-two’ is the answer that comes to mind.”

“Twenty-two?” It came out in a mortifying squeak. “That’s younger than I am!” Somehow that felt like the most unfair and wrong part of any of this.

“It cannot be much younger.”

“I’m twenty-five,” she said, grinning in spite of herself.

If Kusuriuri were really here, he’d think of something really smart and fix this!

Well, I can’t do that, so I’ll just have to do the best I can.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 29- Part 12

ANOTHER CRIT ALREADY!? But how did it kill!? I could understand it the first time, Gust was almost at half health, but this time- she barely took any damage from the first attack! And Gallade's Attack isn't boosted! 

No no no, I'm not losing a fourth time, there's gotta be a way around this- do I actually have to get a damage calculator out!? I think I do! Because the only Pokémon I've got now who can feasibly finish it is Bloom, and he's at about half!

I'm gonna have to look up the stats for Victoria's Gallade to do this, but- it's been four attempts, I know what her team is about by now, it's fine! I'm not spoiling myself for anything I haven't already seen!

Let's see…yes! Bloom can outspeed and kill with Giga Drain! Wow, this Gallade is slower than I thought, Gust can outspeed it by default, I didn't even need Prankster priority. But anyways! Giga Drain to finish the job!

OH SO NOW YOU'RE CHOOSING TO USE THE HEALING ITEM!?!?

WHY NOW!? WHAT IS THIS AI!? WHAT IS HAPPENING!?

Well now he can't kill, he's gonna die to the Psycho Cut next turn! I need…shoot, do I need to Revive Gust a second time? Or maybe…can I Toxic stall this thing? I might need to Toxic stall.

Lemme see something on the calculator here…

Okay, okay- turns out, Gust can survive a Psycho Cut crit…but only if she's at 100% HP. I can do that, I just need to Revive and heal her. And to do that, I need to sacrifice…Kirin. Oh boy…

Well…here goes.

The Shell Bell will heal whenever Psycho Cut hits, but the Toxic damage will build up over that same amount of time, so in like…two or three turns, Gallade should die. I just need to keep Gust topped until then.

So far so good, just a little more, hasn't gotten a crit yet…

(Future edit: You know...in hindsight, since I established that Gust just outspeeds, I could have just killed it here with Fairy Wind. Eh, I dunno- I guess I was just so scared of this Gallade and Gust being my final Pokémon, me not wanting to do a fourth reset…the stress probably just made me play this like performing surgery on a bomb, one wrong click and it all blows up.)

OH SHOOT THERE IT IS! But it's fine, because the Toxic is about to-

KILL!!

And that only leaves…

Mienfoo…I never thought I would feel so stressed staring down an unevolved Pokémon like this…

Okay- I know it's going to open with Fake Out, so I'm safe to just heal with a Super Potion.

Like I said. Now…Cotton Guard, to stave off damage from Drain Punch or whatever…

Heal again to get Gust back to full…

Now Fairy Wind, don't even bother with Charm, we just need to kill it!

It used Meditate? Fine by me, we'll just use Cotton Guard again!

Now…one more time, Fairy Wind! Finish this darn fight for us, Gust!!

Excuse me, I think I need to go reduce myself to a pile of ashes and then reconstruct myself just as fast-

Why was that Gallade…why was any of that…just, why? Why? That was way too overtuned, I mean really, what was that? And the Incineroar? And the AI acting in all sorts of ways, and- and- 

I mean I'm happy for Victoria getting so much stronger, if it was Fern giving me this much trouble I'd be absolutely livid, but- goodness almighty, that was horrifying! That did not need to be that way! And if some random Bob shows up in the comments being all “well you could have avoided this if you'd fought Cal instead, he's the easier fight” (I don't know if he's actually easier than Victoria or not), I'm going to reduce them to ashes and then rapidly reconstruct them!

Good! I've got some!

Yeah, but I feel like it's still not gonna be that simple. But before my suspicions can be confirmed or denied, I need to go to the Pokémon Center!

All better, nothing bad happened! And yes, I did switch Gust back out for Prong, but I'm sure we'll need her Prankster powers again at some point in the future, so I won't forget about her.

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[insane-control-room]

Pen

ink demonth day 8

WARNINGS: one swear at the end

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49229461

length: short (1k)

gift for @ichaisme

Years ago, Joey gifted Henry a pen. It goes missing, but he gets it back. It comes back... different.

Henry clicked his pen repeatedly, not to annoy anyone- Joey’s specially made pen for him, along with custom engravings, has a special dual spring mechanism to make the nib’s protrusion and retraction more silent than a gust of wind. He was, quite frankly, just a bit more stressed than usual, but that minor stress found its way out through the rapid fire clicks of his pen. 

Yet training needed to be done, and so the pen had to be put away, and his stress would have to be exerted through physical exercise and ability. 

He did not notice that it was missing until his stress built back up three days later. 

Then the mild panic kicked in- he knew that there was no way it had gotten off the train, as the corridors in between each car had special anomalous properties keeping it all within the system. Though when he checked the bin any fallen object would have ended up in, he came up with absolutely nothing- which was not assuring in the slightest. He took to asking around, though he was largely disappointed by responses. The only one that remotely put him at ease was Johan, who had told him not to worry about it, that Johan would find it. 

With that guarantee in place, he was not happy, but he was certainly reassured. Whenever Johan made a promise, he fulfilled it, and that was that.

Henry sighed and leaned against Joey.

“Any luck?” his love asked, and he was forced to shake his head and mumble what Johan had told him. Joey nodded, brow furrowed slightly, and snaked his fingers between Henry’s and gave him a little squeeze. “Well, I’m sure Jo will find it then. He is really good at picking up… lost objects, so to speak. So… I guess you’re in the clear for now, then.”

“I don’t understand how I lost it in the first place,” Henry grumbled, rubbing his face. “But… it’s fine. You’re right. I should relax now, but… that pen means a lot to me.”

A beat of silence.

“You mean a lot to me.”

Joey turned to look at Henry, who was intently examining his features. He felt a blush trickling into his face, his face that Henry cupped and gently tugged towards himself. Joey melted before their kiss, and then melted again as they met in the middle, leaning against the larger of the two. Henry’s free hand gently made itself a grounding force on Joey’s side, and they simply breathed each other’s air for a long, tranquil moment. Henry could at last feel himself calming down. 

“It’s not about the pen itself, you know,” Henry murmured as they pulled apart. Joey, smiling softly, with a touch of bewilderment and self wonder in his eye, whispered back, “I know.” 

He kissed him once again. 

Finally at ease, Henry tried to put the pen out of his thoughts, but his mind kept being drawn to the day he had received it from Joey, how prideful yet nervous his partner had been, what it meant to them, to finally have a studio of their own- and then clinging desperately to that pen when it all turned to ash and dust. For that pen was a sign of his and Joey’s success, a binding catalytic element that had been solidly there for him, even when he had to replace mechanisms and ink, the casing remained the same, and it was… assuring. 

Henry opened the door to their bedroom, and saw a bright glint of gold on his bed. 

Of course, Johan would not be content to return the pen just as it was. Henry’s smile crawled onto his face as he beheld the gorgeous restoration that the craftsman had put it through. The wear and tear was not eliminated, no, but it was carefully worked so that points of comfort and use became even more beautiful, etched carefully and with swirls and dotted lines. Henry sighed with contentment, smiling at the pen happily. Yes, it was a fantastic pen. 

It took a few months, but Henry found he no longer had to replace the ink in the pen, nor did the nib ever wear. It was fascinating for him to realize that change, and he could not help but grin with wonder at the change, telling Joey about it to the man’s amazement. It was a fantastic shift. 

It did little to prepare him for the other anomalous property that had been added to his pen. 

Sitting and simmering with rage at a group of touchy individuals who refused to take their hands off of Joey, Henry only wanted to sit and draw to quell his angered thoughts. 

Instead, he was staring now with surprise at the stiletto that had come out of his pen’s head. Trying to process what this newfound tool was, he pressed it to the paper and found it cut through like a hot knife through warm butter- swift and with supernatural ease. He gawked at it, feeling a slight smile twitching onto his lips even through his shock. He clicked the pen again, and hey presto, it was back to being an ordinary writing utensil. 

Johan. Johan, Johan. What on earth did you do?

Henry quickly went to go find the circus manager, knowing that he had to have been behind the pen’s new attributes. After all, no one else had touched it aside from whoever had taken the pen, and he knew that no one in their vicinity besides Johan had such aptitude when it came to switching the ordinary into the extraordinary. 

He found the young man playing guitar again, and waited patiently for him to finish his song before confronting him on the change. 

Johan blushed and smiled nervously, tilting his head.

“Do you like it?” he asked. Henry stared at him before smiling slightly, and replied, “you know, I do.” 

Atabulus, looking at his nails in the corner, remarked; “Told you. Bitches love knives.” 

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: 5/8 LOCATION: The New Axis PARTIES: Emilio & Nora SUMMARY: Nora finally goes home WARNINGS: suicidal ideation tw, parental death tw, child death tw

The four steps leading up to Teddy and Emilio’s front door had seemed like a herculean challenge. Her skin ached and flaked from the sunburns, and various scratches she’d gained while dragging herself along the side of the road. The week without food and minimum water had left her bones feeling like glass. A strong gust of wind would shatter her body and leave her lifeless. Her hands had never let go of the quadruple-wrapped plastic bag of Declan’s ashes, her fingers cramped in the claw grip she used to carry it. But Wynne had hugged her outside these steps. It’d been tight, and it had held all the words they weren’t ready to say to each other. They were going to be okay. They would talk when it was time. It would be okay to go in and talk to Emilio. It had been the push Nora needed to climb those four steps. 

The path to the office was longer than the week-long walk she’d just taken. The hallway had to be enchanted with a new magic to keep murderers away, so the inhabitants would be safe. Only family allowed. With each step forward she had to remind herself of his message. He cared. He was proud. He thought she was strong. She was always welcome back. He loved her. This would never change. The words repeated themselves, over and over until she was pushing open the office door. 

Emilio was there, on the new couch that Teddy had furnished the office with. It was a good couch. It didn’t smell like the one back at Worm’s Row, but it didn’t contain a year's worth of memories. But it could, she told herself. It would, if she stayed. Nora watched a circus of emotions race over Emilio’s face as he registered what he was seeing. Surprise, relief, happiness, concern, suppression as he fought to keep cool to not make a thing out of this. Because he knew she didn’t want this to be a thing. A thing would be too much. Nora had to look away as tears burned behind her eyes. There never used to be tears there, but she was broken now. They had moved into the broken piece of her, creating a never-ending well. It made her feel soggy. 

Nora sat on the couch. Old Nora would have sat on the other side. Old Nora didn’t crave the comfort of another human, didn’t feel the weight of sadness pressing in on her at all moments, and wasn’t good at connecting. Now she sat near him. Too close to respect personal space, but far enough that she wasn’t touching. But she wanted to lean against him. Press her head into his shoulder and feel his breath pushing up and down just as she’d done with Regan in the jail cell. A constant reminder that someone she cared about was still alive. A comfort that there was still warmth in this world. But she didn’t deserve it. 

Next to her she placed Declan’s ashes, clawed hand never letting go of the bag. What did she say? I’m home? Was she allowed to call this home? She didn’t deserve a home. She didn’t deserve anything. She shouldn’t have come back. Why did she let herself come back? She was disrespecting Declan’s memory by not mourning him right. How would he know that she felt his death so deeply if she didn’t live in the constant pain of remembrance? The tears behind her eyes choked her. She kept looking away. She wasn’t going to start this by crying. She didn’t deserve to be comforted for killing someone. It would be disgusting of her to have disregarded everything Emilio had warned her of, killed Declan, and then come running back to him while crying. She would not cry. 

“Hi.”

—

Emilio’s mind was a bundle of worst-case scenarios. He was sure it wasn’t something that had always been true, though he had a hard time remembering when it wasn’t. Before the massacre, maybe, even if it was difficult for him to gauge what his feelings at that point in his life had been. But even back then, hadn’t it been his pessimism that made him yearn to take his daughter and run? Hadn’t there been some part of him that always assumed, even before there was any proof to back it up, that he’d outlive her? Maybe it had started with Victor’s death, with the twelve year old kid who’d waited and waited and waited for his brother to come home, who’d had parts of himself he hadn’t even known existed yet shattered when his uncle returned alone instead.

In a lot of ways, that moment had started the pattern. He’d lost people before Victor — uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents and neighbors — but Victor was the first one that had felt unexpected. Victor was the first one that had felt invincible. When you were twelve, you felt like your older brother hung the moon in the sky. You felt like nothing could touch him. Emilio’s memories of Victor were hazy now, tainted by the grief that was older than he’d been when he died, but he remembered that feeling. He remembered thinking that Victor was a god, remembered watching the way he moved in training and wondering if he’d ever be able to match it. He didn’t remember what his brother’s voice had sounded like, but he remembered hanging on every word. 

So when Lucio and Victor left together and Lucio returned alone, something shifted. The world seemed crueler after that, things made less sense. He imagined his mother growing colder, even if she was the same as she’d always been. He remembered the world feeling darker, even if he’d known the world didn’t give two shits about an eighteen year old slayer who did what every slayer did, in the end. It must have been after Victor. Yeah. That must have been when things had shifted. That must have been what started him on the journey to be… whatever he was now.

Things happened, and he jumped to the worst-case. Rhett walked away, and Emilio knew, with all the certainty his arms could carry, that he’d never see him again. Ophelia told him about a bedroom and a corpse and a note, and Emilio was so sure that his brother was dead that he dug a grave in the pit of his stomach and buried everything he felt inside of it. Wynne went to Ireland to save someone they both loved, and Emilio understood the moment they stepped onto that plane that they weren’t coming back. He swallowed nails to build a coffin, he coughed up ashes to spread on the wind. 

Nora disappeared over and over and over again and, every time, Emilio’s heart beat a eulogy. Regan left on a trip and Nora went with her, and history repeated itself. He was twelve years old again, he was waiting for Lucio and Victor to return together and trying to make sense of what it meant when Lucio returned alone instead. Wynne stepped into the airport, and Nora wasn’t with them. He felt sick.

He’d felt sick nonstop, really, for the last week. His mind made a noose from those worst-case scenarios, showed him worlds where Nora was in a factory with her leg chopped off or in a basement bleeding from the throat or on the floor of a familiar living room with her neck snapped or her blood drained. There was a rope around his neck, and it tightened with every breath he took. Every beat of his heart reminded him that he didn’t know if hers was beating, too, and didn’t that always end badly? Had he ever lost someone and found them again in one piece? 

He spent a week in limbo. He flinched at every sound, and he tried not to. He lay awake in bed, afraid to close his eyes. He swallowed coffee that tasted like ash and whiskey that tasted like blood and tried to eat what was put in front of him as if his stomach wasn’t in knots. He pretended to be human, because Wynne still needed him to be. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, he twisted his wedding ring until his fingers ached, he reminded his lungs how to breathe. He must have done some work during the week, but he didn’t quite remember it. It was a haze; most things seemed to be, lately.

But when the door to the office opened, he stiffened all the same. His head tilted, ears straining in a way they probably wouldn’t have had to before that banshee screamed in his face. The footfalls were muted, but familiar. He’d know them in his sleep. His shoulders slumped a little and, for what felt like the first time in over a month, Emilio took a breath. 

He didn’t move from the couch, even if sitting still went against every instinct. He wanted to get up with a speed that would have left him aching, wanted to cross the room so fast that his knee gave out at the end of it, wanted to put both hands on her shoulders just to remind himself that she was real. He wanted to do a lot of things, but this was Nora. And Nora didn’t like things like that, didn’t want them. So Emilio stayed still, pushed his tongue against the bottom of his teeth to let the dull pain of it ground him. He waited for her to come to him, and she did. She approached the couch, she sat down closer than she probably would have before. She had a bag of ashes. He didn’t need to ask what it was.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and she spoke. She spoke, and he was here. Not sitting outside at twelve and trying to decipher what his uncle’s lone presence must mean, not standing in a bloodied living room and staring at corpses on the floor, not in a barn basement or a factory or a shed. He was here, and Nora was alive. He needed that to be enough, even if it ached. He took a deep breath, chest tight. “Hi,” he replied.

His fingers itched. He wanted to reach out, wanted to touch her, but he didn’t want to invade her space. How many people, in that awful goddamn place, had touched her without asking? How many of them had put hands on her without making sure it was okay? He wouldn’t be one of them, wouldn’t take anything else away from her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her in tight, but he didn’t want his touch to be another thing that burned. So he hovered instead, not touching but close to it, the question a silent one: Is this okay?

—

This couch was comfortable. The cushions weren’t eroded to the point where she could feel a spring stabbing into her left ass cheek. The fabric wasn’t slightly itchy. Like the kind of itchy that wasn’t itchy enough to be uncomfortable, but itchy enough that when you noticed it was all you could think about until something distracted you and you forgot. Only to repeat the cycle a day or two later as you sit on the couch and wonder, why am I not itchy right now? Then realize you are, and so on. The couch didn’t squeak with the slightest breath, and it didn’t contain the memory of standing on it while claiming to be taller than Emilio, or hours of going over case files, and playtime with Perro. The couch was a distraction. 

Nora tried to speak. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. She tried to untangle her claw from the bag, but the moment it left the plastic she felt a wave of panic. Like it was some metaphor where she came home and was finally ready to let go of Declan. She wasn’t ready to let him go. She moved the bag to her lap, cradling it between both her hands, apologizing internally for letting dead Declan believe for a moment that she was letting go. Under the couch the shadow purred, pleased. 

Eternity passed. By now, Nora had learned eternity was always passing. This wasn’t special. 

There had always been silence between them. Before, it had been comfortable. Companionable. They were not those people who needed to fill every time’s nook and cranny’s with words. They didn’t fill the social criteria that conversation should be held or a slight would be perceived. There had been days in the office when no words had been shared at all, and it had never been an anxiety-inducing experience of being unsure. Their shared silence had been an indicator that everything was fine. 

This silence was nails on a chalkboard. It bristled between them. It held a megaphone and screamed at Nora that she had, like everything else, ruined this. This silence was hostile because the shadow told her it was. It was too hostile for Nora to hear the unspoken question. Is this okay? Or maybe the question had made the silence hostile. Okay? Okay? Okay? How could anything ever be okay again? Nothing was okay? The world had shattered into tiny pieces and everyone was fine and Nora was drowning and everyone was okay and Nora couldn’t fight the current to get her head above water and everyone was okay except Declan because he was dead and Nora couldn’t breathe.

Nora closed in on herself. Her knees pushed up to her chin, her arms cradled Declan safely in the cocoon of her body. Her bones rattled. A shiver that reminded her how badly her mind, body, and soul hurt. Her sunburn and road-rash screamed at the new posture, but she deserved the pain. Hunger gnawed at her for food and fear, and neither sounded appealing. Her stomach grumbled and her bear growled. She knew that would happen if she didn’t eat people food. She hoped the hunger would eat its way out of her body and leave her lifeless. She knew that would happen if she didn’t eat people food. She didn’t know what would happen if she didn’t eat fear. 

For a second, a moment, after holding herself as a fortress, she thought she could do it. She could say something. She opened her mouth again. Ash coated the inside of her throat. She shut her mouth. She gave up. That was all she was good for now. Giving up. 

Her lungs filled with water from the well behind her eyes. Her shoulders slumped from the weight of existence. The responsibility to live to mourn strangled her with the shadow’s hands. It started whispering in her ear again. The same phrase over and over. It spoke in Declan’s voice. The shadow was unrelenting. It should have been you. It should have been you. It should have been you. The shadow’s favorite phrase. It had said it outside. It had said it in Ireland. It would say it until the day it was finally her. 

Nora took a deep breath. She tried to steady herself against the shadow’s attack. She tried to regain control. Don’t make Emilio pity you, she told herself. If she looked at his face and saw anything other than disappointment or disdain, then she was lying to him. That would mean she was making him believe she was worthy of something else. Worthy of compassion and care. Didn’t he understand? She killed Declan. Declan was dead and she did that. She promised to protect him. She was there and she didn’t stop it. Her breath quickened as she got stuck in the circular thinking that had controlled her internal monologue for weeks now. My fault. My fault. My fault. 

Her heart beat the war drum. The charge was against her. Bile scorched the back of her throat. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be here. Returning was a mistake. She should have stayed a rock at the side of the road. She should have been better at her rock cosplay, so Jade didn’t realize she wasn’t a rock. She should have refused the trip back home. She should have crawled away. She shouldn’t have thought that for a moment, for a second, she was allowed to come home and feel okay about it. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. She was wrong. She was a mistake. She was a failure. She was a monster. “It should have been me.” The words slipped out of her mouth. They shocked her. She never meant to say them. Each time they came forward, launching from the tip of her tongue and throwing themselves into the universe. They demanded to be heard, they demanded that everyone knew the truth. She had to face it, and so did those who would pity her. 

The shadow smiled. 

—

Nora was quiet, and so Emilio was quiet with her. He didn’t know if it was the right call or the wrong one. He tried to find the corners of his mind that reminded him of other people, tried to work out the puzzle of what one of them might do in this situation. Teddy would cook something, he thought, would make some grand meal that might warm Nora’s stomach and make her heart a little lighter in the process, but Emilio couldn’t manage much more than a sandwich without messing something up and there was no food in the office, anyway. Xóchitl would know all the right things to say, would offer kind words and wise advice, but Emilio’s lungs were heavy and he’d never been much good at kindness, anyway. Zane would probably hug her, but Emilio was all sharp edges and uneven surfaces and what if she cut herself on the blade that was him? How would he forgive himself for it? How would she? 

So Nora was quiet, and so was Emilio. And it didn’t feel right, but he didn’t know what would.

He couldn’t claim he’d been exactly where Nora was now, even if he’d been close. Their situations were different in more than just the obvious ways, separated by things more mundane than banshees or vampires. Nora had fallen in love, and she was going to bring him with her. She was going to drag him across the world, to a town where nothing made sense, and she was going to love him here. She’d planned a life with him, and he’d died anyway. It wasn’t like that with Emilio. He’d loved Juliana, yes. She’d loved him back, even in the moments when she’d hated him. But in his grand plan to run, she wasn’t with him. In his great escape, the woman he loved was left behind because he couldn’t imagine a world where she would have said yes to leaving with him. And that hadn’t made it easier to find her body cooling on the floor. That hadn’t made her blood wash out from under his nails any faster. But it was different, he thought, for Nora. It was different to have your whole life planned out just to have it snatched away at the last moment.

She shifted the ashes into her lap, and his eyes caught on them for a moment. They were gray and lumpy and there was more to them than he thought there’d be. He’d always thought cremated remains must look something like the ash left behind by vampires when his stake found the dead organ in their chest, but the consistency was different. There was something morbidly humorous about the fact that, with all the death he’d seen, this was his first time seeing cremated remains. There was something morbidly humorous, too, about the fact that this was the only way he would ever see Declan. He had no idea what he’d looked like in life, no clue what color his hair had been or how his nose had been shaped. To Emilio, Declan was a bag of ashes. To Nora, Juliana was a name on a screen. Wasn’t there something terrible about it? Wasn’t it a little fucked up that he loved Juliana as much as he did, that they’d had a child and a life together, and no one he loved from this moment on would ever even know what she’d looked like? 

What had Declan’s voice sounded like? When he’d looked at Nora, what color had his eyes been? He’d loved her. He’d given her something in that little Irish hellhole, even if Emilio had desperately wanted her to have something else instead. Wasn’t it fucked that Emilio would never know him as anything more than this? 

Nora curled in on herself, and Emilio didn’t want to touch her without her confirming that he was allowed to, but it was hard to stop himself now. His hand ghosted over her shoulder, his arm wrapping around her in the shape of a question mark. He pulled her against his side, and his heart beat in his chest with a constant repetition of the same question: Is this okay? Is this okay? Is this okay? 

But, God, was anything?

He couldn’t offer her reassurances without feeling like a liar, couldn’t tell her you’ll feel better someday when someday hadn’t come for him even with years resting between himself and those corpses in the living room. People said I’m sorry, sometimes, but the words were meaningless. After a while, sorry felt like acid burning through you, like a river whose current wanted nothing more than to pull you under. He wouldn’t push Nora’s head beneath the water, even if he had no life raft to throw her.

(Something moved in the corner of his vision. A shadow, dark and looming. He didn’t turn to look at it. It would be the same as it always was, the same not-there things that always haunted him in moments like this one. He didn’t need to turn his head to see his dead daughter’s corpse curled in the corner when the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids, anyway.)

For a while, that silence hung over them. The question beating in his chest remained unanswered, and maybe it was better. Maybe there was no answer worth speaking. But when Nora finally did open her mouth, when her voice finally fought its way to the surface, her words were familiar ones. She said it should have been me, and all Emilio could think was thank God it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. He knew that. He knew, because it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, either. He’d never known what he wanted when those words caught in his own throat, never met anyone who knew how to pull them out with careful fingers and tuck them under the dirt. Even Teddy, who always knew what to say, couldn’t chase that feeling away. Emilio knew he had no hope of it. There were moments no words could soothe, and this was one of them. Still, he ached. Still, he wanted to try.

“It should have been me, too,” he admitted, tightening his grip around her just a little. “In Mexico, before I left. It should have been me. It was supposed to be, you know? But it wasn’t. It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t you, either. Nothing either of us can do about that now.” It was for the best, he thought, in Nora’s case, though he didn’t say it aloud. The world was better with Nora in it. This town was better with Nora in it. Nora brought something to the world around her in a way Emilio never had. And he hadn’t known Declan, would never know Declan as anything more than a bag full of ashes, but he couldn’t imagine that he’d want a world without Nora in it any more than Nora wanted a world without him. 

—

In Ireland, under the eyes of Dubhe her guardian bear, serenaded by their waterfall, Nora had achieved enlightenment. Perched between the best day of her life, when everything was golden and she was unaware that morning would bring the worst day in existence, Nora could see the life she wanted. The crickets played an orchestra, the wind sang, Declan's steady breathing a drumbeat. The life they played the melody to was simple. Instead of shoving everyone away, living behind a wall, keeping a distance, and expecting the worst from them, she had to embrace it all. The rejection, the mockery, the insults, they stung for a moment but they didn't matter. Because when you give people a chance, you'll find the ones that matter. It shouldn't take killing someone together to make a group of friends. It didn't have to be a kind man refusing to leave a sad stranger alone in a graveyard. She didn't need to scare every person she met and feel the bitter disappointment when they were afraid instead of accepting. She could greet them with a smile, a joke, a story. She could live a life full of love and sharing. She could let herself drop the cool girl persona she hid behind, and give people a chance. There wasn't shame in that. There was only opportunity. 

Declan had turned into her, his face pressed into her neck. His breath had been warm, and his heart had beat under her hand. He smiled when he slept. He'd smiled the moment he saw her, when he knew he'd die for her, he chose to let her in any way.  She painted his image in her mind. She would have painted that image every day if she’d been given a chance.

That moment had been murdered. Slit at the throat along with Declan's. Forgotten by grief. Broken by banshees. Drowned in blood. That version of Nora that had lived in Declan's arms, shared her love for people online, and smiled freely would never exist again, because Nora would never let her walls down again. She would never allow herself to feel so deeply for someone, that their death ripped her existence to shreds. There was no more love in the universe. There was no more joy that could be shared. Her existence was a dirge. She would live to mourn. She would embrace the solemn duty with the same claws that gripped the plastic bag of Declan's ashes. That other Nora, the one who smiled, the one who slept tonight in Declan's arms, if she was alive it was in an alternate universe this Nora longed for. 

An arm pulled her in. Disjointedly Nora realized it was Emilio's. For a moment she'd thought it was the shadow, Declan's ghost, finally here. But this wasn't a condemning noose around her neck. This was a soft embrace. A safe place to land. She wished it was his knives stabbing into her as she let her cheek press against his side. She was grateful, ashamed, comforted. She was not made for this many emotions. They exhausted her. Her mind had been transformed into a cinematic from the movie Inside Out and each emotion was brawling for control. She hated them because they were her and she hated herself. She made sure to hold herself still in his arm aware that she was made of glass, and if she shattered her sharp pieces would stab him. She tried to keep from crying. The well swelled behind her eyes. 

Emilio spoke and the words reverberated inside him. A comforting echo of words. This was something they had never spoken about before. Nora had always known something happened in Mexico. It was in the way he spoke of his love for Mexico, but his resolve to never go back. It was in the sadness behind his eyes. It was his own shadow lurking behind him. She'd known for a while that they shared a past of picking up, leaving and never looking back. But Emilio and her, they weren't made from words. They were made from action and silence. They'd formed a relationship out of showing up, not by talking it out. And that had been enough. But now he was confessing a pain so deep and so personal. It should have been me too. She’d never known. She wouldn’t have been able to understand before. Now she knew the self-hatred she’d seen in him reflected in herself so intimately that she could cry for him too.

“Juliana,” Nora repeated the name she’d read on the screen from a conversation that had taken place a lifetime ago. Juliana. His wife. He had left Mexico after he died, and it should have been him. “How did you…” The words were heavy in her mouth. They were ships fighting a tsunami on a stormy ocean. Wasn’t it selfish to ask? Wasn’t it selfish to even dare compare what she’d felt for Declan with what he’d had with Juliana? They were married. She was his wife. Nora had known Declan for twenty-three days. Emilio had presumably crafted a home, a life, and a future with his wife to have it ripped from his grasp, and there was no way that pain could compare to her brief glimpse at what happiness looked like. How did he lose so much and keep going when the world was crumbling around them? 

“After,” The word caught in her mouth, but she was selfish. She knew that about herself now. Her selfishness was the cause of all this, and her selfishness was dragging Emilio down with her as she continued to ask questions. “How did you?” There were supposed to be words to string the two ideas together, there were supposed to be words that wrapped the sentence up, and there were supposed to be words to express what she wanted to know. How did he go on after Juliana died? How did he live in a world without her? How did he get here, to this place? How did he not feel the weight of guilt when it should have been them, but it wasn’t and now he had a new life? He had Teddy. He had Wynne. He had her. A replacement family for the one he’d lost when his wife died. How did he live with that?” 

“I don’t want to,” I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to find peace. I don’t want to live in this world. There were many shapes this sentence could have taken. None of them made it past the storm in her mouth. Her conversation with Jade had sparked a new realization in her. It’d left her with a jealousy that made her feel grotesque. Regan went home to Jade. Wynne went home to Ariadne. Elias probably went home to some nerd. Nora had lost everything. All four of them had stood the trial of Ireland, but only she was there by hubris and the universe had punished her for it. And that loss mixed with jealousy made her feel selfish and wrong and gross and dirty. But it sat in the back of her mind. She should be happy for them. She wanted. To be happy for them. She didn’t wish this pain on anyone. She just wished it had worked out for her too, but it was hard to feel anything other than this pressing grief. Hard to be happy. Hard not to hate her friends. Hard not to hate herself for her jealousy. Hard not to wrap up her pity party. Hard to move on and forgive herself when she knew, at the end of the day, it had been her who killed Declan. 

Delcan. “He spoke in pastels.” Nora shifted the bag of ashes in her lap. She didn’t want to talk about him, but she wanted Emilio to know him. She wanted Emilio to understand that she didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t move past this. He needed to know about the spark of mischief when Declan told a joke. His hand outstretched for hers. The lilt of his accent caressing each word he said. His ability to quote the entirety of Grease from memory. The way he always smelled like the river, even when they hadn’t gone swimming that day. How easily his smile was given. That he had been lonely too. That he was born for something he was better than. That he was life and light. That he deserved a safe place to come back to, and he had never gotten the chance to find one. That he was the world made human. But all of that was wrapped up tightly in a fae promise to never speak about her banshee training. Because all they had shared was banshee training. Set up to break her. “He was pastel.” 

—

Even now, with years between her body on the floor and his on the couch, Juliana’s name was a knife twisting in his gut. Its syllables were sharp, coming at him with the speed of flying bullets. How many times had he heard it spoken aloud since her death? In how many voices? He could probably count them on one hand. Rhett learned quickly not to bring her up, learned that letting those syllables rest on his tongue would earn him ire and and venom. Emilio picked a lot of fights with his brother in those first few months after Rhett found him in the woods, every day looking for a way to make Rhett leave, because it was easier to lose everything all at once than it was to lose it in pieces. If Rhett left when the wounds of the massacre were still fresh, everything could heal at once. His body could become scar tissue instead of an open wound, and it would be better. 

At least… that was what he’d thought. But scar tissue wasn’t all it was made out to be. It wasn’t stronger than the skin it had replaced, though some people claimed it was. The sharpness of Juliana’s name cut just as surely from Nora’s mouth now as it had from Rhett’s years ago, reminding Emilio why he so rarely said it himself. He said my wife, sometimes, or my kid’s mom to people who knew of both. But her name was a weapon, and it wasn’t one he knew how to wield. He swallowed it from the air now, let it slice him from the inside out. 

(He wondered if his name had cut her, too, in the end. He wondered if whoever had ripped her throat out had said it, had reminded her of why it was happening. He wondered if he was the weapon that had been used to slice her into pieces. He wondered if letting her name be that for him now was enough of an apology to matter.)

Nora’s words were disjointed, questions unfinished, but Emilio knew what she was asking all the same. Since the beginning, he’d felt that he and Nora had a level of understanding that he lacked with most people. They lived in the same silences, laughed at the same bad jokes. She understood him when he didn’t quite understand himself, and he understood her when she didn’t make much sense. He understood what she was asking, but he wasn’t sure he had an answer for her. There were some questions for which no answers existed at all, and he thought this might have been one of them.

He was quiet for a moment, arm still wrapped around her in a way that might have felt unnatural if she were anyone else. Emilio wasn’t a particularly tactile person. For the longest time, touch had been a corrective thing. His mother used it as a harsh training tool, a way to steer him in the direction he needed — in the direction she wanted him to go. It was neither gentle nor optional. He’d practiced something kinder with Flora, but only when no one was looking. He’d never had enough practice to get good at it. It was clumsy, even now, like a deer with too-long legs trying to take its first steps on an icy surface. How much was the attempt worth if everything he’d ever attempted came up short?

“I didn’t,” he admitted quietly, “for a while. I was… For a long time, I think, it felt like I was just breathing out of habit. Like my heart was only beating because it didn’t know what else to do. Didn’t sleep until I passed out. Didn’t eat until someone made me.” Neither of those things were much different now. “I went through, and it was like… I don’t know. Like waiting to die. Waiting for it to be my turn.” Chasing it, too, though he didn’t say that. Part of him was terrified of giving Nora ideas, of convincing her that she ought to be more like him. It was the last thing he’d ever wanted for her.

He took a deep breath, worrying his lip between his teeth. “Some days are like that, still. Some days, I still feel like… A ghost. No, that’s not…” He trailed off, looking for the right word. “A graveyard.” That was it. “Like I’m the dirt they’re buried in, like nothing else can grow there. Yeah. Like it’s my job to just… keep them covered up. Keep their names at the surface, even if nobody reads them.” How many times over the last month had he pictured Nora’s name carved alongside them? Or Wynne’s? He wondered, absently, if this was what it meant to love someone — to write their name in granite over and over and over again, to trace the letters into the stone in your chest. 

“But…” He continued, because he needed there to be a but. For Nora, for Wynne, for himself. He needed there to be an after, even if he might not ever fully reach it himself. “But some days, it’s not the only thing you can think about. Some days, yeah, it rains. And it washes the dirt down, and it makes everything heavy and dark and it hurts too much to get out of bed. It was a lot of rainy days for me, for a long time. But then… Sometimes, the sun comes out. Sometimes it’s for a whole day, sometimes just a minute. But it’s there, and it’s… warm. Somebody smiles at you, and it’s not the hardest thing in the world to smile back. Somebody tells you a story, and you don’t hate them for laughing through it. You’re still heavy. The graves are still there. But you can breathe around them.” 

He paused, looking down at the floor, the couch, the table. “People help,” he added. “You helped. When I was… You know, when I first came here, I was… It wasn’t fresh. It was a couple years out, but I was… I was stuck there. Still in that place, still in that room. I never really tried to leave it. I came here, but I was there, still. And then you came around.” He nudged her gently, though he still didn’t look at her. “You brought the sun out a little more often. You know? You, Wynne, Teddy. Other people, too. I think that’s how you’re supposed to do it. With other people.”

She talked about Declan, and he listened. Pastel, she said, and he tried to match the description to the ashes he couldn’t look at in her lap. There was something contradictory in the way he both did and didn’t understand her phrasing. She was an artist, and she spoke like one. Emilio was a weapon, and he guessed he spoke like what he was, too. He tried to think of how he might describe Juliana. Silver came to mind, like the daggers she used to twirl between her long fingers. Or sharp, like the corners of her lips when they twisted up into the wicked smile she got just before saying something that left him struggling to hold in laughter in front of a mother who didn’t quite approve of it or of him. He’d never forget the woman with the silver blade and the sharp tongue. Nora would never forget the boy who spoke in pastels. And neither of them would ever forgive themselves for not being the one to die. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “that you know what it feels like. I’m so sorry it’s raining.”

[silverlining317]

Scarlet

For @hinnyfest, prompt #7 - Getting caught in the act.

Rated T.

GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY... The red envelope unfolded at the edge of the Gryffindor table. But before the tongue of the envelope could transform the letters into a second scream from her mother's lips, Ginny drew her wand from the sleeve of her robe.

-'' Incendio''- Ginny pointed to the letter and like an avalanche, the fire spread from the center to both ends of the table in an uncontrollable reaction of explosion and ashes. The smoke cover the screams of the first-year students but as thick as it was it could not cover the silhouette of the headmistress coming right to her.

-'' Aguamenti''- McGonagall twists her wrist in an effortless move 

Facing Ginny, Hermione shook her head. In her eyes, the fixed expression of: " I told you not to do it''. Only that at that point Ginny didn't know to what of all of what she had done in the last 24 hours she was referring to.

-'' Mrs. Weasley, would you be so kind as to follow me to my office''-  McGonagall said- 

-'' But I have potions in ten minutes''- Ginny protest

-'' Don't worry Mrs.Weasley''- said McGonagall with tight lips- ''I'm sure the class would survive without ten minutes of this neverending circus you keep feeding''

Ginny smoothed down her skirt, and try to lower the edge of the fabric a little more before having to undergo her fourth or fifth walk of shame of the morning.

Sometimes she wondered how Harry coped with being constantly under public scrutiny. Meaning that although he was pretty rubbish at the job, he still manage to appear dignified while being pursued by the wizarding society. Having fight-and-flight dragons maybe have done the trick. But without any of those feats at her side, the only pose she could embroider was the one of a silly and pathetic girl caught in the act. 

A gust of wind blew through her hair and Ginny looked up to see Pig flapping his wings with another red envelope in his beak. Ginny tightened her fingers around her wand, but as if reading her mind, the headmistress turned around with a scathing look. Behind them, Ron's shouts plunged the great hall into another wave of silence, the whole school petrified in their places waiting to learn more details of that sordid encounter that had taken place at the gates of the castle.

-...AND TO DRAG MY BEST MATE INTO....-

Were the last words Ginny could hear before disappearing into de hall. 

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

-'' Take a seat''- Mcgonagall said pursing her lips- ''To say that I'm disappointed would be an understatement. As captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and a seventh-year student, I can say I did not expect less than exemplary behavior on your part. It goes without saying that after the events of last year, Mrs. Weasley, you should know,  better than anybody, the power an image can have. The whole school sees you as a role model and you have to rise above and act like the part you were given in this story''

"I'm sorry"- Ginny said with a broken voice- "I promise it won't happen again."

"I can not allow my students to set the great hall on fire just because they cannot face the consequences of their actions''- said McGonagall- "Nor I can allow them to hex those who bother them.''

-'' She called me a scarlet woman!'''- Ginny said

-'' Which reminds me. I won't tolerate my students to escape through the night to see their boyfriends or girlfriends'' - McGonagall added- ''Regardless of the esteem that I may or may not have to say boyfriend''

-'' I think I've had enough punishment for that''- Ginny bit her nail- ''It's on pages 1 to 20 of Witch Weekly. I'm sure you already saw it, everyone saw it.''

-'' In this regard, I would like you to know that Flitch has been ordered to seize and destroy any copies found within the bricks of this castle. Ginny...''-McGonagall lowered her voice- ''Take the rest of the day off.''

-''Seriously?''- Ginny said

-'' It will do you well''- McGonagall put on her glasses and stretched her shoulders back- ''Also, there is a limited number of bats that Poppy and I can deal with per day.''

Ginny went downstairs cautiously. Pay attention to the voices that could come from the corridor. She had promised the headmistress not to take her anger out on anyone else. Since when were they all so holy? They all did the same thing, only Ginny was the one with fifty reporters behind.

The redhead descended another step all her senses focus on what she heard or did not hear, until her hip hit hard against the gargoyle. Ginny looked up, only the Gargoyle was a few feet away and there was no one else around her.

"Harry?" Ginny said as soon as those words left her mouth a silky and familiar cloak enveloped her.

They walked in silence, their bodies impossibly close, until they found the corridor behind the armor. One of the few secret corridors to survive the war.

-''You shouldn't be here''- Ginny said once they both entered- ''We have enough problems already.''

-''I didn't want to leave you alone''- said Harry- ''Listen, I know you are mad at me...''

- ''Im not mad''- Ginny interrumpted- ''Not at you anyways''

-'' Well, its my fault they were following us''- Harry ruffled his hair- ''How I'm supposed to be an Auror if I cannot see when a camera is shooting at me? You should probably leave me''

-''Because you are a horrible Auror?' - Ginny said- 

''Because'' - Harry said- '' You deserve so much more than having your image plastered all over England''

-'' Harry I'm not going to let you break up with me the day after those photos were published. What are you thinking? This is so much more stupid and less noble than the last time. What do you want? To have everybody whisper behind my back: ''Oh he left her after he got what he wanted?''

-'' This is gonna get a lot worse" Harry said resting his body against the wall- "What if they send you threat letters?''

-'' Just trust me''- Ginny said- ''Harry we talked about this, i cand handle this''

-'' But...''

-'' Fine, if you want to break up with me, good luck. Keep trying. But I'm not going to make it easy. I'm going to tell everyone that I left you because you were a horrible lover''

-'' Really?''- Harry said trying to fight his amusement

-'' And that you couldn't fulfill me in the ways a woman needs to''- Ginny 

-'' I don't think anyone will believe you after seeing the photo on page fifteen''- Harry said

I don't remember photo fifteen anymore- Ginny said - But it must have been bad

"I'm sure you enjoyed it," Harry said, approaching her.

"Weren't you breaking up with me?" Ginny said.

"Nah," Harry said, taking her by the waist, "you are right. I can't risk you deciding to go out and talk about me like that. I will never recover. "

[whgmasterofceremonies]

WHG 20 - Day 8

One week in and the traps are as aggressive as ever, the weather shifting from beating sun to hail-inducing rains, gusting winds and thick smog. But nonetheless, our tributes forge ahead, undaunted!

*Little Misfortune voice* Birds, you say? Really!

So, there goes Angie, who was, fun fact, almost the only living tribute with a successful kill. According to this screen and my very attentive scorekeeping, Steele is the only other tribute who has killed anyone. They haven’t made a habit of it yet, and their distract mate Cian are the only ones with a full district left other than Chess and Triel of District 11.

Fascinating statistics are now over with. Back to the drama!

Maura refuses to join the killer list, which also leaves our corpse list stagnant. Graeme experiences a delayed fear response, Lyra cozies up to a killer, and Yuen, who cannot hear but is armed enough to wipe out everyone in a mile radius, continues to treat this like a weekend excursion.

Speaking of which, may you all enjoy your weekends as we await the thrilling continuation of the Writeblr Hunger Games!

District 1

Asher Sang (he/him) @maple-writes​

Ares Machina (she/her) @concealeddarkness13​

District 2

Yuen (he/him) @grailfish​

Razzle (they/them) @grailfish​

District 3

Cian (they/them) @ink-and-spite​

Steele (he/they) @grailfish​

District 4

Hugo Atwater (he/him) @ratracechronicler​

Vera (she/her) @bloodlessheirbyjacques​

District 5

Della (she/her) @ink-and-spite​

Maura (she/her) @bloodlessheirbyjacques​

District 6

Ash (she/her) @knmartinshouldbewriting​

Hadrian (he/him) @bloodlessheirbyjacques​

District 7

Silver (they/them) @pen-of-roses​

Layla (she/her) @pied-piper-of-hamlet​

District 8

Lyra (she/they) @forthesanityofstorytellers​

Najdinel Blytridj (she/her) @pen-of-roses​

District 9

Maya (she/her) @pied-piper-of-hamlet​

Graeme (he/him) @onmywaytobe​

District 10

Jubilee (xe/xem) @ink-and-spite​

Angie (she/her) @pied-piper-of-hamlet​

District 11

Triel Reeves (she/her) @concealeddarkness13​

Chess (she/her) @concealeddarkness13​

District 12

Beau (he/him) @drabbleitout​

Jaime Garnet-Batista “Garnet” (he/him) @drabbleitout​

[captainmaplesblog]

Life of Lea Volume 1 Chapter 11: Air Region

“I wonder why Aunt Nancy and B.J. came along with them to this dimension,” Lea thought to herself. 

“We would also like to join your journey for a bit,” Aunt Nancy asked Sergean.

“Uh…I suppose so” Sergean replied softly.

“Alright then,” Aunt Nancy says softly.

“Great…more people in the group,” Lea thought to herself.

“You ok, Lea?” Vanessa whispers to her.

“Just peachy I suppose” Lea whispers back to herself.

“Hm…ok” Vanessa mutters to herself.

“Well perhaps we can split up into two groups for a while,” Vanessa suggests to the group.

“Oh? Why is that?” Mama asked her.

“Well, two groups means we can cover more ground, dude,” Vanessa explains.

“Hm…makes sense I suppose,” Ash said in agreement.

Lea nods in agreement as she lowers her music to hear everyone talk.

“But how will we split up?” Mom asked.

“Rock, paper, and scissors?” Lea suggested.

“Sure, sounds good,” Vanessa replied.

Lea nods in agreement, “Thank god Vanessa said that… I don’t like being in a super big group… plus we can get more work done like this anyway,” Lea thought to herself. The group then breaks into pairs of eight. After everyone had their turn, one group included Lea, Cloud, B.J., Vanessa, Nick, and Sugar. Group two included Dad, Mom, Alyssa, Nancy, Rocky, Snowball, Elizabeth, Mama, and Ash.

“Ok group two goes to the Nature region and group one continues to the air region,” Mimi explains.

They all nod and start to part ways. 

Lea looks at Sergean with a smirk, “Looks like magic cheats can help you to lose too," she wanted to mess with him.

“Uh no…I didn’t cheat,” Sergean said confused.

“Your hand was glowing,” Lea replied continuing to smirk.

“I use lotion, I don’t like dry skin, I didn't get to apply it before my turn,” Sergean said awkwardly.

“Sure, you do, what scented lotion do you use?” Lea said sarcastically.

"Not important..."Sergean replies embarrassed.

"It's peaches" Elizabeth implies with a wide teasing smile. 

"Oh? ~" Lea says interested as Sergean gave his sister the stank eyes.

He glares at them both as they made their way to the Air region. As they got to the entrance of the Air region, a gust of wind blew past them. 

“Yay wind…” Lea thought to herself unamused as her hair got in her mouth as well as hitting her face.

“You ok dude?” Vanessa asked as she looked at her facial expression.

“Just peachy…” Lea said with a sigh as she moves her hair out of her mouth and off her face.

“Ok, then dude,” Vanessa said as she walks beside her. 

Lea nods, “I guess we’ll go to whoever is in charge.”

“That’s right” Cloud replied as he looked around wide-eyed and curious. 

“I’ll lead the way to the Air region’s castle,” Mimi said.

“Ok go ahead, Mimi,” Lea mutters.

Mimi nods and leads the way to the Air region’s castle.

“Now that's a cool castle,” Lea exclaims as she looks at the limestone castle.

“Dude, no air puns,” Vanessa said as she tries not to laugh.

“Haha, at least it’s not the brown Air region, right?” Lea said with a smirk.

“Haha, dude no that would be gross,” Vanessa replied as she starts to laugh.

“Haha definitely silent but not deadly type,” Lea laughs.

“Real mature princess,” Sergean said as he shakes his head.

“Mhm… well even if puns are a low-class comedy act, they are still funny and classic,” Lea replied as she smiles proudly.

“Whatever,” Sergean said sarcastically.

They then walk up to the entrance of the castle. Lea knocks on the door gently.

“Hi, this is Glendora; how may I help you?” a voice said from a window.

“We are here about the spotting of Lex and Miia,” Sergean exclaims.

"Very well,” Glendora says as she opens the door for them.

“Hi, Glendora,” Mimi said with an awkward smile.

“Hello, big sister” Glendora replied with an unamused voice.

“Big sister?” Lea said confused.

“Oh, um right…I’m the big sister of Max and Glendora sorry for not telling you guys,” Mimi explains.

“I’m the middle sibling by the way,” Glendora points out.

“Which makes Max the baby sibling, how cute,” Lea said as she giggles. 

“Indeed, he is still cute even as a young adult,” Mimi replied with a smile.

Glendora nods in agreement with her sister’s statement. They then go inside the Air region castle.

“So how much white lava and steam have you collected?” Mimi asked.

“Not as much as Lady Bianca,” Glendora replied with a sigh.

“Well, at least the job is getting done,” Mimi explains.

“You have a point there,” Glendora said in a soft voice.

“So, we heard from Lady Georgia that Lex and Miia were coming here for more seeds,” Nick explains.

“Odd…I haven’t seen them arrive just yet neither I have gotten a call from them getting closer” Glendora replied as she got more worried.

“Hm…that’s weird’ Lea says with a gentle tone.

“Indeed, it is … they didn’t finish one of their tasks or call to update…that usually never happens,” Mimi said as she got more worried as well.

“And we didn’t see them on the way here either,” Nick said as he was also concerned for their wellbeing.

“This is troublesome, indeed,” Mimi said with a troubled expression.

“Well did you see any of the missing beings here?” Lea asked her.

“Hm… I believe saw Lady Genevieve hanging with a mysterious figure at my favorite volcano,” Glendora explains.

“Hm…what was she doing with this mysterious figure?’ Nick asked.

“She was asking them if they saw any of the missing and odd enough, also Lady Gwendolyn was her as well but was lagging with her shoes' broken heels, so when she noticed Lady Genevieve with the suspicious figure, she trailed them when Lady Genevieve was lead in the direction of the Amazon forest in the nature region” Glendora explains.

“Hm…alright I’ll give my mom a call and let her know since our second group is in the Nature region,” Lea explains.

“Ok then in the meantime I’ll get you guys something to eat,” Glendora said as she flies over to the kitchen.

“Alright,” Lea said as she flies over to the kitchen.

“Awkward…” Vanessa said as she looks for a place to sit down.

Glendora came back with the sandwiches and drinks.

“Here you go,” Glendora says with a soft voice.

“Thanks, Glendora,” Lea said politely.

“Your Welcome” Glendora replied before going to the others with the sandwiches and drinks.

“So, will you be going to the Nature region to meet up with the other group?” Glendora asked them.

“Maybe tomorrow so we can resupply for our journey,” Sergean explains to her.

“Fair enough,” Glendora said as she goes back to the kitchen to make something for them on the road.

Lea glances at Mimi noticing that she was quiet for a while.

 “Are you ok, Mimi? You're being quiet,” Lea asked her.

“Yea…just worried about Max and Lady Bianca is all…” Mimi replied with a nervous smile.

“Hm…that’s a first” Glendora mutters.

Mimi doesn’t respond to her remark.

“Glendora don’t be rude… she has the same rights as you to be worried about her brother and aunt,” Nick says as he glares at her a bit.

Glendora just shakes her head.

���What is with the tension?” Lea thought to herself.

Glendora showed them to their rooms for the night. Lea stretches her body a bit. Mimi knocks on the door, “Can I come in?”

“Sure, come inside” Lea replied as she was chilling in her guest room with her sketchbook as she wanted to draw something.

Mimi comes inside the room, “I’m sorry about my sister earlier.”

“It’s ok Mimi, being the oldest sibling isn't easy" Lea reassured her as she fiddled with the pencil in her hand.

“Are you sure? It felt awkward on my part,” Mimi asked a bit nervous.

“Yea it’s fine, I mean Alyssa and I don’t exactly get along either,” Lea exclaims.

“I understand, Lea…thank you for understanding where I am coming from as an older sibling,” Mimi said slightly relieved.

Lea nods slightly in agreement.

“I’ll go now… thank you for listening to what I had to say, ” Mimi then flies out of the room.

“Kay” Lea replied as she wasn't paying attention completely as she stared at the blank page in her sketchbook.

After five minutes, Glendora came into Lea’s room next.

“She didn’t tell you anything, right?” Glendora asks suspiciously.

“Huh? No why?” Lea asked confused as she starts drawing the anatomy for a halfway profile.

“…No reason,” Glendora said as she left the room.

“Ok then?” Lea said even more confused.

“I wonder what that was about,” Lea thought to herself.

Nick knocks on the door ten minutes later, “Can I come in?” He asks first before coming into the room.

“I guess,” Lea said a bit annoyed with the third guest interrupting her brainstorming.

He then flew into the room and sat next to her.

“So, what do you want to talk about now?” Lea asked a bit bluntly.

 “Don’t need to be snooty, “Nick says as he corrected her.

“Yea ok then, sorry,” Lea replies as she looks at him.

“No need to be sarcastic either,” Nick implies as he lectured her a little bit.

Lea rolls her eyes, “Yea ok" she says as she just wanted to get back to her drawing in peace  

“Anyways you’re probably wondering why Glendora is so cold toward Mimi right?” Nick asks her.

“Maybe yes, I am, why are they like that?” Lea said as she looks at him.

“Well, it’s a long story having to do with their parents” Nick exclaims.

“Hm…alright then,” Lea said as she started to get interested.

Cloud knocks on the door, “Dinner is ready.”

“Kay,” Lea said as she got up from the bed with her sketchbook in hand.

“Alright we will be right there,” Nick said as he got up and flew over to the kitchen.

As Lea walks over to the kitchen, she thought to herself wondering why Mimi and Glendora had a cold relationship due to their parents. Like what could they have done to cause such a thing to happen to them? She then took a seat next to Cloud and Sergean. 

“Tonight, we are eating salad, clam chowder soup with sourdough bread,” Glendora exclaims,

Lea looks at the sourdough bread bowl in amazement as it carried the clam chowder in it.

“Impressed with the creativity, princess?” Sergean said as he looked at her.

“Very impressed in fact” Lea replied as she looks at the soup and bread bowl as if she was going to devour it whole by shoving it all in her mouth at once.

“Well it is a delicious combo, try ripping a piece of the bread and dipping it in the soup, it'll get better,” Sergean said with a smile.

"Thanks for the tip, Sergean" Lea replies as she gives it a try.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

The rains did not let up. They rode through woods and fields, fording swollen streams where the rushing water came up to the bellies of their horses. Arya pulled up the hood of her cloak and hunched down, sodden and shivering but determined not to falter. Merrit and Mudge were soon coughing as bad as Watty, and poor Ned seemed to grow more miserable with every mile. "When I wear my helm, the rain beats against the steel and gives me headaches," he complained. "But when I take it off, my hair gets soaked and sticks to my face and in my mouth."

"You have a knife," Gendry suggested. "If your hair annoys you so much, shave your bloody head."

He doesn't like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey. (Arya VIII ASOS)

So I just realized that the scene above has an earlier paralleling scene:

The rains came and went, but there was more grey sky than blue, and all the streams were running high. On the morning of the third day, Arya noticed that the moss was growing mostly on the wrong side of the trees. "We're going the wrong way," she said to Gendry, as they rode past an especially mossy elm. "We're going south. See how the moss is growing on the trunk?"

He pushed thick black hair from eyes and said, "We're following the road, that's all. The road goes south here."

We've been going south all day, she wanted to tell him. And yesterday too, when we were riding along that streambed. But she hadn't been paying close attention yesterday, so she couldn't be certain. "I think we're lost," she said in a low voice. "We shouldn't have left the river. All we had to do was follow it."

"The river bends and loops," said Gendry. "This is just a shorter way, I bet. Some secret outlaw way. Lem and Tom and them have been living here for years."

That was true. Arya bit her lip. "But the moss . . ."

"The way it's raining, we'll have moss growing from our ears before long," Gendry complained.

"Only from our south ear," Arya declared stubbornly. There was no use trying to convince the Bull of anything. Still, he was the only true friend she had, now that Hot Pie had left them. (Arya III ASOS)

I just find this really amusing.  In the top quote it’s raining and everyone is wet, Edric Dayne is getting ill, and he complains, and Gendry scoffs and is rude.  However, in an earlier scene Gendry is also complaining about the rain!  But what makes this even better is this parallel:

The next day they rode to a place called High Heart, a hill so lofty that from atop it Arya felt as though she could see half the world. Around its brow stood a ring of huge pale stumps, all that remained of a circle of once-mighty weirwoods. Arya and Gendry walked around the hill to count them. There were thirty-one, some so wide that she could have used them for a bed. (Arya IV ASOS)

By sunset they were at the top, making camp where no harm could come to them. Arya walked around the circle of weirwood stumps with Lord Beric's squire Ned, and they stood on top of one watching the last light fade in the west. From up here she could see a storm raging to the north, but High Heart stood above the rain. It wasn't above the wind, though; the gusts were blowing so strongly that it felt like someone was behind her, yanking on her cloak. Only when she turned, no one was there. (Arya VIII ASOS)

I just find it funny how obviously jealous Gendry is.  And in my opinion this whole Gendry/Arya/Edric triangle is meant to be a tamer mirror to the Robert/Lyanna/Rhaegar triangle.  Arya even looks and acts like Lyanna.  And Gendry looks like a young Robert.  And Edric has the same coloring as Rhaegar with the ash blonde (a dull sort of silver color) and they roughly have the same color of eyes.  Rhaegar’s eyes are a deep purple, almost indigo, while Edric’s eyes are a dark blue that look almost purple.  Of course, I feel this is just an innocent mirror and Gendry wouldn’t hurt Edric, and I also believe that Edric is just one Rhaegar parallel out of a couple of others in the story, but I do find this fascinating, and funny.  Poor Gendry is so jealous! LOL

[herrscherrofyatta]

Deja Vu - Chapter 4

Pairing: Albedo x F!reader

Around 1k words

A/n: posting three chapters since I didn't upload a chapter daily the last couple of days.

song recommended with reading this chapter: Snow-Buried Tales ( HOYO-Mix )

Albedo's PoV

It's so freaking cold as hell.

The ash-blonde couldn't help but think as he follows [ Y/n ] who is ahead although she was keeping her pace slow for him.

So, he was in the middle of the Dragonspine event and her story quest at the same time....he thought as he looks around the area.

"So, are not from Mondstadt?" She asks, surprising him a bit. In-game, it was clear that [ Y/n ] didn't like conversation unless it was something she was interested in, was she into him?

And as if his mouth moved on his own, he replies, "I live with my mother and little sister in the city."

"Oh, I see. It's nice to have a family, I guess." She says, he was surprised that he even said that.

"We'll be observing the traveler from afar so we don't get in his way." She explains as they approach Aether who is observing the festering desire sword before taking notice of them.

"[ Y/n ]! You're finally here! Oh, he's still here?" Paimon asks as she notices Albedo and he gives her a small wave.

She huffs and looks away, "anyways, what will we be doing this time?"

The woman smiles at this before looking back at Albedo.

"The traveler will be fighting something I created. I think you'll find it quite challenging, after all, it's an exact copy of yourself."

Aether takes a step as she breaks a small void that contained dust or something.

"Arise. Lifeless dust of the universe and that within, thou art reborn."

A large gust of wind pushes them away but the woman as she smiles, "let's go, record everything that goes on." She and Albedo go back and the blonde watches there were two Aether's standing there.

Except for the one that was created held minimum detail.

"Now, let the fighting begin."

Albedo blinks at this before remembering that something like this happened in the future....when [ Y/n ] lost control. She used this information to her advantage to come up with ways to the traveler's attack pattern.

—

"So, does that mean you're working for [ Y/n ] now?" Paimon couldn't help but ask, Aether was too busy waving back at the said woman who smiles at him. She had told Albedo to walk them back since they were leaving and we'll, being the simp he was, he agreed.

"I think so, she will have to decide for herself." Paimon hums at this before looking at Aether who is quiet like usual.

"Well, if you end up working with her. Paimon doesn't want you hitting on [ Y/n ]!"

Albedo averts his eyes at this and whistles as Paimon gawks at this, "hey!?"

Albedo laughs before he suddenly remembers something, "on second thought, could you guys go on ahead? I forgot to tell [ Y/n ] something." He lies.

Paimon and Aether nod, "okay. See you later!"

Albedo waves before rushing back, he curses himself for slacking off and almost missed the important thing [ Y/n ] says to herself.

He hides just outside the cave and he freezes up upon hearing the voice of [ Y/n ].

"—destroy everything, can I rely on you to stop me?"

Her voice goes quiet at the end and he couldn't help but feel saddened at the fact that he knows what happens later down the line.

He doesn't know how long he's been standing there since he comes back to reality, the (h/c) woman is standing before him.

"Albedo? What are you doing back here?" Her voice, although her face held no exact emotions, held a hint of worry as she looks at him.

He stays quiet, his eyes staring into hers before nodding. "Oh, I forgot my bag..."

Just as she brings out a hand out to reach for something on his face, a loud cheery child's voice is heard from a distance.

"Big brother Albedo! Big sis!"

[ Y/n ] immediately removes her hand and kneels down, hugging a blonde child all in red.

"Dear, what are you doing here, Klee?" The woman says as she fists off some snow off Klee's hair as she lets out a giggle.

"I came looking for you and I found big brother with you too!" She smiles but Albedo couldn't help but feel a bit out of place, shouldn't Klee and [ Y/n ] be adopted sisters, along with Alice being a mother figure?

"Big brother?" Klee calls out as she tugs on his pants, making him look down and smile at her.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I wanted to know when you'll be coming home? That way I won't have to spend another night with Jean."

Klee says and he picks her up, making her let out a squeal.

"I see, so this is your big brother you spoke so much about?" The woman says, Klee nods smiling.

"Yup! The best big brother ever!"

The woman smiles at this, "you don't haven't to worry about spending another day at the knights since your brother will be working with me. That way, you come to visit me, you'll visit him as well."

Klee smiles ever so brightly at this, "yay! We all go fish blasting-"

"Klee, didn't Jean lecture you about fish blasting? Well, I guess her words don't matter if she doesn't have any knowledge of it while you are with us."

—

[ Y/n ] lets out a sigh, her face emotionless as she stares at the device in her hands. The screen lit at the sudden touch, startling her slightly as the light hurt her eyes a bit.

The small, black rectangular device in her hands is being held up in the air as she studies it.

"What is this, I wonder?"

"Also....is that a drawing of me on it?"

Series Masterlist

Tag list:

@crowbird

[fangirl-everythang]

Smoke Break C. T. H.

Summary: At Calums' party he leaves for a smoke, y/n joining him later on. Some rando pukes on y/n leaving the two to get away. He maybe receives a gift.

Warnings: Swearing, Sex, Oral sex, smoking, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3475

Calum's POV

Who the hell are these people? It's a party for me and I know no one here. Fucking great, Oh yeah mate, trust me it's gonna be HUGE. You'll love it. This is the last time I listen to Ashton. Do I look like I'm fucking having a great time?

We need to get him a girlfriend. They all tell me I need to settle but I'm known as the lone wolf it never works with the lifestyle we have. Well somehow Luke and Michael make it work but to me it's exhausting.

"Aye mate, having fun?" I turn to see dyed hair and I know it's Michael.

"It's fine." I huff as someone shouts happy birthday once more. I see Roy across the way with some chick and he shrugs at me. I would've just preferred to go see Mali but she's always busy now. I just look at Michael while taking a sip of the beer in my cup I've been on this one since this shit of a party started.

"It could be worse you know? You could-" He's interrupted by Crystal who leans up and whispers in his ear he nods and begins to grab her hand. "We're gonna head out she's not feeling well." He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Happy birthday." is all he says when they begin to leave the room. Welp, there goes another friend.

I haven't seen Ashton since the party started and Luke definitely is getting it in with Sierra right now. Literally, all over each other, it's truly disgusting if you asked me. Deciding to move away from this wall I head to the kitchen to throw this drink away, taste watered down because of the ice. Pushing through the moving bodies and the lights everywhere, I dump that shit in the sink. Ashton comes my way trailing a girl behind him, "There you are! Y/n showed up?" I see the hair of a girl just talking to someone who's just come behind her.

Y/n has been around us for a while. I don't know when but our friendship started after we met at a party. She was waiting for Arzylea to join her when we started talking. Next thing you know she was a part of our inner circle. Not gonna lie, She's my favorite person in the group. Everyone thought that when Arz and Luke broke up, she would leave too but she's still here. And she keeps that group chat very entertaining shall I say. We've hung out a few times, with her it's different though. I don't feel the need to be THE Calum Hood bass player for 5SOS, she knew of me but cared more for the person I was. She asked questions even though she knew the answers. I just felt relaxed with her. As more people entered the kitchen, I go to the back porch where I don't see anyone. There are too many people and I don't even want to think about how to clean this up. Pulling a cigarette from the pack I just let the smoke fill my lungs and slowly exhale while leaning against the siding of the house.

"You know that's an awfully bad habit you have Hood." The familiar voice speaks, forcing me to open my eyes.

I chuckle, "Why aren't you enjoying the party?" I ask her.

"Come on you know that's not my scene." I nod silently agreeing. She looks stunning, the way her dress hugs her body, she's so effortlessly flawless. Most girls have to go through a tribal ritual to look as amazing as her. "Stop that." she laughs.

I shake my head slightly to remember what I just did. "Sorry I-I didn't mean to um yeah fuck." I stumble for words she just nods. "It's okay.'' she looks down and fumbles with her hands. It's cute how she does that, almost like she doesn't know she's the most beautiful person in the room. A harsh gust of wind pushes past and she shivers. I look at her and open my arms with my jacket she rolls her eyes but gets closer. Holding the cigarette with my mouth to free my hands I just pull her closer until I feel the warmth of our bodies touch.

"Thanks" She mumbles against my chest. She looks up at me before pulling the cigarette between my lips, just as I'm about to protest she takes a puff. Watching her smoke is by far the hottest thing I've seen, and I've seen Luke naked.

"Oh look who's punkrock now?" I smirk at her as she brings the burning toxin to my lips. Her laugh. Sounds like fucking angels I can feel her chest moving through my shirt. "Can I be in the band now?" She raises an eyebrow.

Dropping the small bud I just laugh along with her. "hEYYY I'm serious" she wines.

"Sure you are." I smile at her.

"No offense Cal but your party blows." She looks at the lights jumping on the hardwood of the deck.

"It's more of Ashton's," I admit. One hell of a birthday. She wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. "Happy birthday Cal," she whispers.

"Thank you y/n." I can feel my pulse in my throat. Being with her makes me so comfortable but yet I feel like I'm on fire. She gets me like no one else could imagine. I place my chin on the top of her head and just hold her. I don't want this to end. "Did Ashton invite you?" curious to how she showed up. In the group chat she said she had plans this weekend. I was really disappointed because if it wasn't clear enough I like her a lot.

"Something like that." She reaches for her phone and scrolls through her text. "From Ashton at 6:58 am," she begins to read slightly pulling away to look at the screen between us. "Hey Y/n! know you're busy this weekend but that doesn't matter because Calum likes you and won't admit it but it would be cool as lemons if you could show up." I'm going to fucking kill him. I hope he likes his ashes being burnt with that fucking lemon tree. She smiles at me and I feel like I could evaporate right the fuck here. Oh Ashton. I will kill you. The door next to us opens and some random guy comes out drunk as hell. "Oh h-hey you three," His burp interrupts him, "It's a great party in thheere"

As he stumbles Y/n goes to keep him upright, but his body has other plans. The foul smell that comes from the vomit projecting on Y/n is awful. He apologizes but quickly goes back inside wiping his mouth on his shirt. "Are you okay?" I ask her equally as shocked. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, I grab her hand without waiting for a response and drag her inside. After her many protest and looks from random people that can smell the bile on her, we make it to the stairs. There are too many fucking people here. Constantly pushing past bodies I know none of these bathrooms are cleared. I walk her down the hallway to my bedroom door when someone interrupts me. "Dude, I've been trying to get in there all night. It's locked. Complete dipshit of an owner right." He smirks reaching for a high five. I roll my eyes at his gesture and grab the key to open my door. His smirk fades into one of realization. He tries to apologize but I shut the door in his face after Y/n follows me inside.

I take off my shoes and she looks at me questioningly. "I have a bathroom in here you can use Y/n." as I relock my door. The last thing I need is for some stranger to come messing with my personal stuff.

"You shouldn't have-"

"Shut up. Some stranger just threw up on you. I would prefer to be in here with you than out there where I don't know anyone. Now go shower." She starts to argue but I just help shove her in the bathroom while closing the door. She knocks from the inside of the door, "Yes Y/n?" I smile at her playful banter.

"I need help. I can't reach the zipper" she says through the wooden door. I release the handle and nod. right she can't see me. Opening the door I walk in, "So your plan was to lock me in here?" She smiles looking through the mirror at me while moving her hair to one side of her shoulder.

"Not exactly, I was gonna kidnap you later." I grab the small zipper and begin to undo it. No wonder who the hell can hold this tiny thing. Once I get it down she thanks me. "Just throw it away okay?"

"But-" I stare at her and she agrees. Closing the door to let her shower. Clothes, she needs clothes. I walk into my closet and grab a t-shirt and her emergency bag. She came up with the idea since no one knows how to bring clothes anywhere we all have one outfit at everyone's place. Thanks to Michael she had to wear the outfit here, but her undergarments are still there.

I knock on the door and she's still in the shower so I leave the shirt and the bag on the counter in the steamy room. Walking out I take off the skinny jeans I'm wearing and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

So many options. Who ever came up with Netflix is a fucking genius. My phone buzzes next to me and I see Ashtons Name. A text, great!

From: Daddy 1:17 am

Bryana's here. Gonna go Catch up.

I just send him an 'Ok' because we all know they're still stuck on each other and there's no way in hell I'm going down there. About 20 minutes into big mouth Y/n walks out of the bathroom wearing the clothes I left for her. No one's ever looked that good in my shirt, shit I don't even look good in my shirt. "Thank you Calum" she quietly commented. "No problem." I pat the spot next to me and she climbs in the bed. I hit play on the tv remote as the show continues to play. I can't even focus on the hormone monster on the screen, this feels so fucking right. I feel her playing with my hand as she watches the screen intently. Her brow furrowing when she doesn't get the concept of Jay being a magician or the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs. I could literally just watch her all day. I mean I know she doesn't like me but I can't help but imagine what a relationship with her would be like. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship but this, this feels more important. It's just not fair I mean there's tour and I wouldn't want to be away from her that long if she were mine. I don't understand how she's single I mean look at her. And you don't find many girls with a personality like hers, she's so kind-hearted and the most humble person I know. When we were in Bali, everyone went to this pool resort and we thought she went missing for the day. But she returned home after visiting orphanages and helping at the village day clinic. I don't want to be selfish but I'll be damned if I let her go. I'm so thankful for that girlfriend of Luke's to bring her completely unbothered, outgoing, and amazing friend with her to that club in New York.

"Did you hear me?" The soft voice brings me from my thoughts. I look down at her "No what?" She starts laughing. I see a black screen on the wall and look at her quizzically. She raises her hands in defense "It's been off for the past 15 minutes." she shrugs. "You looked deep in thought." I just stay silent and look up at the ceiling. ''You can talk to me you know?" she whispers.

"Have you ever wanted something you can't have?" I ask. She chews on her bottom lip before responding.

"I suppose, I mean in regards to what?" but I cut her off, "Why'd you come tonight?"

"It's your birthday." she states clearly confused. "Ashton's text doesn't bother you?"

"I didn't think it would have to bother me?-"

"You had plans."

"You mean much more Cal." I let her words sink in. Did she like me the way I like her?or maybe she doesn't and I'm really hoping for something? No. This could never work. I don't do relationships.

"Do you wanna keep watching? " I ask her hoping she'll say yes.

"That was the last episode" she says as she turns to me a glimpse if hope in her eyes. "We can just talk Cal."

"I'm actually pretty tired." She nods, a small frown on her face as she goes and turns the light off. "Night Cal"

"Goodnight Y/n." I whisper before pulling her closer to me. I feel her muscles relax and soft snores escape her lips.

* * *

The sun in the room feels warm against my skin. Opening one eye I see the contract of the bright light against the walls. As I go to move the curtains I feel a warm presence next to me turn. Well, fuck me. Her shirt came up just the slightest to exposed her black lace panties to me and damn is it a sight. Look away. Look away. Look away.

Physically getting up from the bed she pouts and rubs her eyes. "Cal? " her slightly rasped voice speaks. "Yeah just closing the blinds. "

"Can you leave it just a tad. " she ask pulling the covers over her. "The soft light is nice. " I mean I can't say no. "Come here. " she demands and I get back in bed with her. "I should probably start cleaning soon. " I say as a line ass excited to leave the room. All I can picture is how good she looked in these panties and I need to take care of this soon.

"No you won't, since when have you cleaned? Plus I told you I'd help. " my dick is straining against these fucking briefs.

She softly traces random patterns into my skin as we just lay there admiring the room. "Cal" she mumbles.

"You've got an uh-problem. " the blood rushes to my cheeks as she notices my boner. "Sorry i-" I begin to excuse myself from the room hoping a black hole could appear. That would be great.

Surprisingly enough she pushes me to keep me in place. "It just occurred to me that I never got you a gift."

She runs her fingers over my manhood, "Can I make it up to you?"

"Y/n I don't think-" Oh fuck. My dick twitched at the sight of her removing my shirt leaving me speechless. The black lace that clung to her, which landed us in this situation, looked even better than before. "Um you -uh" I start mumbling trying not to look at her body for too long. I mean I could but I'd cum no question.

"It's either a yes or no?" as I was about to answer she started running her hand along the thin black lines. My eyes never leaving her hand as she teasingly rubbed her clit through the fabric. "You see Cal, I want you as much as you want me."

Fuck friendship. I replace her hand with my own to feel her. Fuck how long I've waited to do this. She pushes my hand away from her core while leaving open mouth kisses down my jaw. Licking my earlobe, she whispers, "You're the birthday boy."

She scoots further down the bed until her face is near my groin. This is a sight I could get used to. She slips her fingers in the band and starts pulling my briefs down. Her eyes light up once she sees my throbbing shaft. "You have such a pretty dick." Her thumb runs over my tip causing me to shudder and if possible made me harder. "Y/n you don't have to." My voice cracking a bit, why the fuck was I so nervous.

She rolls her eyes as she kisses my tip her tongue licking along the vein. She slowly begins taking me in her mouth, "Oh fuck y/n" I moan as she swallows around me, her hand pumping what she can't fit all the way. Her mouth is so warm and she's so fucking perfect. My head hits the headboard as my other hand laces itself in her curls as she bobbed her head along my length, letting every sound fall from my lips. Accidentally I pulled her hair which I was going to apologize for until she moaned. The vibrations that sexy ass sound I thrusted up. Fuck no I want to be in her.

"Y/n stop." She let her teeth graze my dick as she moved her mouth off of me. My stiffened member glowing with her saliva.

"I'm sorry this was a bad-" She started mumbling getting off the bed and fixing her hair.

"No!" I yelled surprised at my own tone. "I mean um you're great I just- I want to be in you." The redness on my cheeks very visible. She hesitates before sliding her panties off, "We don't have to I'm sorry I just thought that's where this was going and I-" She kisses me softly and I shut the hell up.

"Calm down, I was just thinking." She says straddling my lap removing her bra. "And before you ask what about well," she lines me with her entrance "It was whether I wanted a condom or not." Our moans are in unison as she slowly slides onto me. Feeling her tight walls stretch around me, her dripping arousal glistening in the soft lights of the sun. The whimper that came from her mouth as she takes all of me. "I'm on the pill and it's your birthday meaning you get the full experience." She says after a moment of her adjusting, sending a playful wink my way. She begins to move and I swear no one has ever felt this good. My hands find their way to her hips slowly rocking her back and forth.

"Fuck Cal" She whimpers as she begins to ride me. I move one of my guiding hands to find her sensitive nub, tracing small circles with the pad of my finger. She jerks back from the touch causing me to smirk, someone's sensitive. I place my thumb over her sensitive nub yet again rubbing back and forth eliciting a moan from her. “Cal I can’t-“ Grabbing her hair pulling her face closer to me, “ You can and you will, got it?” She whimpers nodding in agreement, “I’m not cumming till that pretty pussy of yours is pulsing.” Slowly grinding my hips up, grazing her g-spot with my tip. “Cal-fuck, this was supposed to be your gift.” Grabbing the back of her thigh slowly bringing her body closer to mine, I turn us so she’s underneath me.

“Go out with me and we’ll call it even yeah?” I ask her before continuing to thrust into her. Our moans fall in unison as I pick up the pace. Thrusting into her faster than the time before, the only sounds heard throughout are those of our moans and skin clapping together. My mouth finds its way to her neck, assaulting the soft skin in the area- leaving a reminder for this evening. I can feel her tightening around me, edging me close to my own release. “Cal I’m close.” She manages to mutter as I find my way back to her clit, rubbing fast purposeful circles. Watching the way her pants and moans fall through her lips to the glistening of her chest as it rises and falls with each breath. The sight being enough to drive me to the brink of insanity, “Cum for me y/n.” Almost instantly her eyes roll back as she arches her back, her pussy tightening without mercy forcing my own orgasm to appear. My hips jut forward as I release into her , slowly edging us both along. Our panting is the only thing to be heard as a gently collapse on top of her. “Did you mean it?” She ask, moving the hair from my forehead.

“If you mean me asking you out, yes.” She smiles and pulls my face closer to hers. “took you long enough.” She whispers before attaching her lips to mine.

A/N: (Also posted to Wattpad) I hope you enjoyed it. I'm actually really happy, I've been doing quite a bit of writing so yay! We have another calum smut blurb on the way.I also need help deciding who's the endgame for my Loki/Bucky love triangle but all with time. Anyways I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend!

XOXO Janelle

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #14: Attrition

Characters: Idristan

“Stay here. Just in case.”

The black chocobo lets out a trilling kweh at the man’s soft words, it’s sharp taloned feet kicking at the dirt beneath them--but it does not move from it’s spot amongst the trees. This fact brings a soft smile to the man’s sharp features and he reaches out to run a hand through the bird’s downy head-feathers before stepping away.

As he moves from the shelter of the thick trees the gusts of the wind hit harder, causing his long, black coat to flap behind him, and he has to reach up one hand to keep the hood he has drawn over his head where it should be. All around him the ragged cliffs of mountains tower, forming a basin that no one without the gift of flight or a particularly enterprising steed could ever hope to reach.

It would have been a good place to hide something, if one were so inclined.

Or perhaps ‘was’ would be slightly more accurate, for there was rubble scattered about the large clearing. Bits of heavy stone, burned black with fire and thrown about like children’s toys, litter the ground. The man’s boots crunch over the dirt and leaves as he steps deeper into the clearing. Hints of green dotted the landscape, here and there, hardy plants taking hold in ash, moss and lichen creeping up the sheltered sides of rock. Idristan lets his fingers trail along the surface of one such rock, feeling the softness of the greenery against his skin. Ordinarily the sight of such new growth might have warmed his heart; yet in this case, he found himself struck by melancholy.

“There has to be something left...”

He blinks as the words leave his lips; he perhaps hadn’t meant to say the thought aloud. He starts to shake his head a little, perhaps in response to his own foolishness for going on a wild chocobo chase--but the sound of a roar and the flap of wings causes him to freeze, his eyes widening as his heart skips a beat. His head snaps up, his hand dropping down to his blade as he desperately scans the horizon. And sure enough, there is the flap of leathery wings, a gout of flame as a great wyrm takes off into the sky above him. His hand trembles as he starts to draw his moonsilver weapon--only to pause as the dragon does not approach him, but instead heads off deeper into the distant peaks. The Ishgardian stares after the scaly beast for a few moments, then he exhales a shaky laugh and brings up his hand to run over his face.

“Blessed Fury.”

Shaking his head, he squares his shoulders, and steps deeper into the ruins. Every now and then he scuffs his boot through the dust and dirt, shifts over a stone. He was all too aware that this was likely a fools’ endeavor, and yet... here he was. Searching through the ruins of one of the most decisive ends to a war of attrition he had ever had the misfortune to witness. The one consolation was that at least it had been over quickly enough he hadn’t been forced to live with the screams.

Not that it helps all that much when he starts to find charred bone.

The first time it happens he grimaces, but he doesn’t turn away; instead he reaches down, one gloved hand brushing along until he finds the ulna and follows it to the hand. His studies it for a few moments, then a huff of disappointment leaves his lips at the sight of molten metal coating it. That wouldn’t do. He starts to rise, only to pause and eye the bones he was holding once more. “Sorry,” he murmurs as he sets them gently down.

The scene is eerily similar everywhere he goes. The shape and size of the bodies changes; large, small, man, woman, adult, child. Some are whole, others have been scavenged by animals or damaged further by the passage of time and weather. All, save the children, bear that same mark of molten metal where rings melted upon their fingers.

His steps take him ever onward, towards the edge of the clearing and the side of the mountain. And with each step, his doubts start to grow. This had clearly been a waste of time, everything was gone, the whole thing was pointless... But then he spots it. Tucked away back against the rock, there was a cut in the ground. A pit. A staircase, half destroyed, descending into the earth. His brows knit in a thoughtful frown as he heads over towards it. That he hadn’t noticed before.

A thought and a bit of a magic causes a silver orb to appear hovering in front of him, lighting his path as he descends into the darkness. The stone here was just as black and covered in soot, but at least it was, to a point, standing. There was no escape from the devastation and death, though at least the bodies here seemed in slightly better shape as he goes through stone rooms that he could no longer tell what the purpose of had once been.

It is there, beneath the earth, that he finally finds one. A ring, somewhat intact, with it’s dark jewel still housed in it’s casing. Idristan’s breath catches in his throat as he very carefully peels it from it’s owner’s bones, being so very careful as he does so to not touch it with his bare skin. Wrapping it in a handkerchief, he slides the bundle into his pocket, then he rises to his feet. He had what he needed, he could leave here, for good this time... and yet he hesitates, his eyes lingering upon the dead. Then he exhales a heavy sigh.

“...I’ll be back,” he says quietly, as if he were reluctant to break the silence that hung over this place. “Despite everything, you all deserve that much.” Then he goes to find his bird, and with it his return to the land of living.