#she was the last thread tying me to a time before i understood how bad things were

[tortellinigirl]

i think the adult relationship to the childhood dog is something that is so tender and heart-wrenching and important. you are the last vestige of my childhood. you are the sacred keeper of the memories i hold dearest, but you can barely see or hear me anymore. who do i become once you’re gone? where do i turn to remember myself? you’re the last one sitting next to me at the door of a childhood home that no longer exists, waiting patiently for the return of a family that no longer exists. where can i live when you, too, no longer exist? i can’t let go. please don’t make me let go. i know you’ll leave soon. i wish you didn’t have to. but she’s just a dog. her life is short and i will witness her death and i’ve known this from the beginning. i didn’t think it would come so fast. am i ready? have i become someone yet? have i become unrecognizable to her yet? does she still see the child i was? i’m still the child i was. please, don’t forget the child i was. please don’t take her away from me.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Stories

Summery: Everyone has a life a past before they become someone else. Some people flaunt it and others keep their past to themselves. The boys discover something about their mom, and now all they want is to hear about what she was like before she married Bruce Wayne.

Warning: mistakes probably. Like one swear word.

A/N: This is more of an introduction more then anything. I want each story of Batmom with different people as there own chapter and not cramped into one big fic. This is also my first Batman fic so feedback with welcome! And let me know who you'd want to see!

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The second she walked into the manor, she took off her shoes with a sigh of relief. With the intent of a shower and some sleep, she eagerly made her way up the stairs. But luck wasn’t on her side when she heard Alfred call her name.

Sighing, she turned around and looked down as the butler walked into the hallway. “Yes Alfred?”

“I’m afraid the boys are in need of your assistance tonight,” he said, giving her a worried look. There were days where she wished she wasn’t a doctor. And long nights like tonight was one of them. But she wouldn’t change it even if she wanted to.

“Which one was hurt tonight?” she asked, as she walked down the stairs.

“Jason,” he answered, taking her coat. She gave him a smile as thanks. “But the others might need looking at as well.”

Heaving a sigh, she walked around Alfred and made her way to the Batcave. As she walked down the stairs, she heard her kids bickering over something. She didn’t have enough energy to care at the moment, so she tuned them out.

“Alright, who’s first?” she asked as she came closer to the med-bay area.

“Jason,” Bruce answered without looking up from the bat-computer. But he did take her hand and kissed the back of it when she walked past him.

“Thanks for putting me first Bruce,” Jason snarked.

“You’re the one that got shot.”

“In the shoulder!” he exclaimed. She gave a pointed look at Jason; he’s shoulders sagged and went to sit down. Nodding, she got to work as the boys continued to talk about their night of patrol.

“So, who’s the unfortunate soul tonight?” she asked, as she set up her supplies she needed.

“Joker and Harley,” Tim answered, sitting down in one of the other cots. His brothers soon followed, sighing in relief of finally sitting down.

Her hands stilled on Jason’s arm at the answer. No one seemed to notice though, all too preoccupied with their conversation. Taking a deep breath, she began to work on cleaning Jason’s wound.

“I can’t believe she got a shot in,” Jason grumbled, hissing at the sting on his arm. “I didn’t see her coming until it was too late. I should have seen it, but I don’t know what happened.”

“You underestimated her is what happened,” Bruce pointed out.

“I did not! I don’t know how I could have!” he exclaimed, pulling a face as she began stitching up the bullet wound. “She’s Joker's girl, it should have been easy.”

“But you’ve fought her before, Todd. You know what she’s capable of,” Damian mused.

“But still…”

“She’s more than just Joker’s girl,” she broke in, “and if that’s all you think about her, then you don’t know her.”

“And you do, Ma?” Jason asked, not seeing the warning look Bruce was giving him. He took his mother’s silence as an answer and continued, “that’s what she is to everyone in Gotham.”

“Well, then Gotham doesn’t know shit,” she huffed out, ignoring everyone's surprised looks. “And Gotham and everyone else seem to forget that Harley and the ‘villains of Gotham,’” she said that in a mocking tone. Jason winced as she tugged on the thread a little too harshly, but she didn’t pay much attention to it. “That they were people before becoming who they are.”

“Mom?” Tim called, realizing how sore the subject was for her. But she paid him no mind as she continued to stitch up Jason’s wound, and continued talking.

“And that some of them were victims. Sure, there are some who went down the bad path, I’ll give you that. But if it wasn’t for Joker,” she spat the name like it was a poison for her. And in some ways, it was. “Gotham wouldn’t be what it is today.”

“You can’t blame Joker for that, Mom. Gotham’s been always like this,” Dick pointed out.

“No, but I can.”

“But blaming the Joker for bringing out the villains is like blaming Batman.” Tim’s statement made her freeze as she just realized what she was talking about. She narrowed her eyes and finished off tying the stitches and stood.

“Ask Alfred if you need stitches or whatever, I’m going to bed.” With that, she ignored everyone’s, especially Bruce’s, worried gaze and left the cave.

“I’ve never seen Ummi so upset before,” Damian voiced.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jason asked, turning back to Bruce who was rubbing his face. “Bruce?”

“She knew Quinn before she became Harley,” Bruce answered, standing and making his way to the dressing rooms.

“Has to be more than that,” Dick mused, “she became heated about it.”

“That’s because she almost married Harley.”

“What?” came from all four boys, but Bruce was already gone.

A little while later, Bruce found her in an old room that used to be hers. Walking into the room, he sighed as he looked at the mess around the room. It must have been bad judging by the mess.

“Was I not worth it?” she asked, bringing Bruce’s attention to her. He found her curled up on the bed, and he could imagine she started crying after she destroyed her room. “Did I do something wrong for someone to leave me like that?”

“No, honey,” Bruce answered as he walked over to her. He bent down, maneuvered his hands underneath her knees and neck, and lifted her up. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why does it feel like it?” she sniffed, nestling her head in his neck as he walked out of the room and towards theirs.

“I wish I could tell you,” Bruce whispered. They’ve had this conversation occasionally. And he never knew what to say to make her feel better. But the day after, she was herself again and everything was okay.

Bruce understood the heartbreak of leaving someone behind, he understood how she felt loving someone only for them to leave. And if Bruce was honest, he was a little jealous that she still loved Harley after everything.

But he always squashed it, knowing she loved him just as much, if not more.

“I miss her,” she whispered, into his neck.

“I know.”

When he walked into their room, he set her down on the bed and moved towards the bathroom, getting the bath ready. As the tub was filling with water, Bruce moved back to the bedroom and rummaged around until he found your favourite pajama's.

After her bath, she curled into Bruce, lightly tracing shapes on his chest. Bruce ran his fingers through her hair and she leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I wasn’t blaming you for what happened with Harley.”

“I know. But if I recall correctly, there was a time you did,” he said, and she winced burying her face into his shirt.

“I was angry and I took it out on the wrong person. I’m sorry,” she said as her mind went back to that day they had the fight.

“I know, and I’ve forgiven you for it.” Silence fell between the two of them, but it didn’t last long when the door was thrown open. She lifted your head to see Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian standing there.

“You were going to marry Harley Quinn?” Dick all but shouted in disbelief. She hummed, dropping her head back down. The boys rushed into the room and jumped on the bed, crowded the two of them. “But you loved Bruce!”

“That is a story for a different day,” she mumbled out.

“How’d you meet?” Tim asked instead of pushing for the story. “Are there anyone else you knew before they became villains?”

“Med school and yes.”

“Who?” Damien asked.

She squinted her eyes as she thought. “…most of them maybe?”

They gawked at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When it became apparent that she wasn’t, the four of them bombarded her with questions, all talking over her.

“Okay that’s enough,” Bruce voiced out, and they became quiet. She patted his chest, and moved around so she was looking at her sons.

“I used to work for Penguin in his club back in school, I needed help with an assignment, so I found Nygma. Ivy was a patient of mine when I started residency. Dent was a friend and so was Selina. I also went to school with Crane. I was friends with Nora Fries, that’s how I knew Mr. Freeze.”

“What about the Joker?” Jason asked.

“No,” she stated, voice firm. Everyone shared a look, confirming that their mother was not the biggest fan of the Joker. She softened a little and offered her a smile before saying, “it’s been a long night. How about, when I feel up for it, I’ll tell you all about my friendships?”

They lit up, each giving her a kiss and rushed out the door. Talking to one another as they tried to figure out which story they wanted to hear first.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Bruce asked, as she snuggled into him again. She let out a yawn and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she answered. “I just wonder who they’re going to ask for first.”

[lightthornn]

We all know how Kit and Ty ended in QOAAD. With Kit confessing, Ty ignoring him, and Kit leaving without even a goodbye. It came as a shock, because none of us would ever think that Kit would leave Ty, of all people. Ever since they met, Kit seemed to have a certain fondness towards Ty. 

When they first met, even though Ty had a knife to his throat, Kit still thought “how beautiful”. When Kit moved to the Institute, at first, he didn’t really click with anyone, but we could still see that him and Ty had a certain connection that was unique to those that they had with any other character. When Julian offered to give Kit a healing rune, he denied it. But when Ty offered, he accepted. After that, Kit, Ty, and Livvy were pretty much inseparable. 

It became clear pretty soon that Kit had feelings for Ty, but he didn’t acknowledge them. There were several hints that Ty replicated them, too. 

Kit was always talking about how beautiful Ty was. “The word beautiful blinked on and off in Kit’s head like a flickering neon sign. He ignored it. Elegant. Ty looked elegant. People with dark hair probably just looked better in white.” “His face shone like a star.” “In moonlight, he shone like a star.” It shows that he has a clear attraction to Ty, but he still obviously has feelings that go deeper than that. 

One of the more clear scenes that the two of them had together that hints at something more than friendship was after Livvy got hurt by demons, and Kit followed Ty onto the roof of the London Institute. Ty was freaking out because Livvy got hurt, and he felt as though it was his fault. Kit reassuring him that it wasn’t didn’t help. 

“Tell me.” Even though Kit didn’t say the later part: “Tell me what you need.” Ty understood him, which is something you wouldn’t expect from Ty, but he knew exactly what Kit was talking about when he said, “Put your arms around me. Hold on to me.” We know that Ty doesn’t like being touched much by others. There are times when he’s even hesitant with Julian. The only person who he seems truly comfortable with touching him is Livvy. But here, Ty is asking. “But then, Ty didn’t do things for no reason, even if people whose brains were differently wired couldn’t see his reasons immediately. Kit remembered the way Livvy rubbed Ty’s hands tightly when he was stressed and thought: The pressure is a sensation; the sensation must be grounding. Calming. That made sense. So Kit found himself holding Ty harder, until Ty relaxed under the tight grip of his hands; held him more tightly than he’d ever held anyone, held him as if they’d been lost in the sea of the sky, and only holding onto each other could keep them afloat above the wreckage of London.” 

Even Livvy notices how different Ty is when it comes to Kit. “He uses the headphones less when you’re around. It isn’t good or bad. It’s just something I noticed. It’s not magic or anything. I think he just doesn’t want to miss anything you say.” Livvy is Ty’s twin sister, she knows him better than anyone. There’s a good chance that she knew about something being between the two of them. But, she doesn’t know about what was said on the lake. 

Ty doesn’t mind being touched by Kit, or touching him. It happens a few other times in the series.”Kit, who was sitting beside him, tentatively put his hand over Ty’s where it lay on the table; Ty didn’t react though he didn’t pull away from Kit either.” “Ty reached out and brushed Kit’s hair away from his face, an absent sort of gesture that sent a shot of something through Kit, a feeling like he’d touched a live electrical fence.” And then, there’s the hug that the two of them shared, initiated by Ty. “Ty smiled. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that a smile broke across his face, like the sun rising. Kit stood breathless, the water receding around him, as Ty came up and put his arms around Kit’s neck. He remembered holding Ty on the roof of the Institute in London, but that had been because Ty was panicking. It had been like holding a wild animal. This was Ty hugging him because he wanted to. The soft cotton of Ty’ shirt, the feeling of Ty’s hair brushing against his cheek as he hid his expression from Ty by burrowing his face against the other boy’s shoulder. He could hear Ty breathing. He threaded his arms around Ty, crossing his cold hands over Ty’s back. When Ty leaned into him with a sigh, he felt like he’d won a race he didn’t know he was running.” 

There is never a moment where Kit goes “I’m in love with Ty.” He never realizes his feelings for Ty, unless he did, but ignored it. It’s clear that he did love Ty, even before they brought Livvy back. “There was something about Ty Blackthorn that reached into him and untied all the careful knots of protection holding him together. He wondered if that was what people meant when they said they felt undone.” This is one of the bigger moments when a reader looks at it and knows Kit is in love. He was willing to help Ty to bring Livvy back, even though he didn’t really want to do it. Ty needed him, and that was enough for Kit. 

Kit doesn’t fully understand what he feels about Ty, even asking Dru once “I’ve spent my whole life lying and tricking people. So why is it so hard for me to lie to this one person? To Ty?”

Just before they do, they both say “To never being parted.” A beautiful quote on its own; but tragic when you know how their story ends (for now). 

They are at the lake, and Ty is starting the process to bringing Livvy back. He tries to convince Ty at the last moment not to do it. Ty says “But I have to. I can’t live without Livvy.” 

“Yes, you can. You can. You think this will make your family stronger, but it will destroy them if you bring her back. You think you can’t survive without Livvy, but you can. We will go through it together. I love you Ty, I love you.” KIt cried while he said this, and Ty looked surprised, but didn’t say anything. He continues with the necromancy. Kit tries to tackle him, doing anything to stop it. But it doesn’t work. The necromancy doesn’t work either. Livvy is only back as a ghost. The scene ends with Kit thinking I love you. I love you. I love you. 

They are tied to a tree by Magnus so that they can’t go to the battle. Ty doesn’t hold back. “I thought you cared, but you lied to me. Just like everyone else.” Kit calls Ty selfish, and then ends it with “I wish I’d never known you.” We all know that he doesn’t mean that, but Ty doesn’t. Ty thinks it’s the full truth, and we know he does when he starts to cry. 

Kit and Ty are separated in the final battle, and at some point, he thinks that he’s dying. His last thought before passing out is “Tell Ty-”. All we can do is guess what he wanted someone to tell Ty. It could be, be happy. I love him. I’ll miss him. He’ll be okay. We don’t know, and maybe we will one day, but we don’t right now. 

Kit makes the decision to move in with Jem and Tessa. He doesn’t say goodbye to Ty or any of the Blackthorns. 

When Dru sees Ty talking to Magnus, it’s clear that Ty is shattered by him leaving. “Where is Kit, really? I know. I know, but- can I say goodbye to him? If I could just talk to him once-” Ty says he doesn’t understand. 

Kit does go to Magnus and Alec’s wedding. But he doesn’t talk to anyone. He wanted to see Ty one more time, and he watched from a distance as Ty was by the water, smiling at Livvy. “Remember him like this, happy and smiling.” He thinks, before going with Jem and Tessa to his new life.

Now, it’s easy to point fingers in this situation. Put the blame on one of the other, but we have to think about Kit, when he made the choice to leave. Kit has never felt loved by anyone in his life- even his own father. He never knew his own mother, so he never got to know just how much she loved him. Ty rejecting him was really the last thing he needed to understand that he would never be loved. 

And Ty thought what he was doing was right. There are few of us who can really understand what was going through his brain. He was broken with the grief of losing his sister. He did the only thing he could think to do- he brought her back. 

They are both confirmed as the two main characters in The Wicked Powers, so all we can do is wait and see what their reunion will bring, and if they acknowledge the feelings that they felt three years ago, when they saw each other for the last time.

[lisinfleur]

WYWTTS - Chapter 2: Ram

Author’s Notes | Electrical energy down. Back pain (for more than 2 weeks in a row!). All sort of obstacles. But here it is! Uff! I suffered to produce this one ha-ha I hope you guys like it! 

Words | 3281

⁑ Warnings: Some cursing.

"Moðir, did you see the ram faðir brought to mate with the sheep?"

Sometimes Torhild would forget the truth about that beautiful woman coming to speak to her. It was easy to forget she wasn't the simple farmer girl she always looked like, with those beautiful hair strands spreading all over her head like Sif's golden hair remembering the noble blood into her daughter's veins: Siggy had grown into a gentle and simple woman, never asking too much from her parents, always smiling to anything, always solicitous to any ask, realizing her everyday tasks without complaints. Her hands would speak of her noble origins by the talent she had with anything that was given for her to learn but definitely not for the softness: Siggy's fingers were marked by the work with the needles and sometimes with the rake, or the ropes she would use to guide the animals through the field. She would never shied away from her work - and Torhild would thank the gods for the blessing of her arrival every day.

Now there she was - the hair poorly twisted in a bun behind her back, some golden strands falling through her sweaty face - searching for the new ram Dag had brought to mate the sheep: the animal was stronger than the usual rams and she couldn't really control the rope so Dag had tied it to a pole near the sheep yard intending to get him used to the local smells and noises. Exactly where Torhild sent her daughter in first place, but the girl frowned, cleaning the sweat from her hands on the apron and sighing.

"Yeah... Father told me it was there, but I found the rope and nothing more. I think the smart little thing fled after breaking the sheep's fence. I was able to bring all the sheep back to the yard but the ram is gone. Tell faðir I'll take a look near the river to see if I can find him and take the chance for a bath, but I'll be back before dinner. I won't go after him if the track goes towards the woods!" she signalized.

Torhild smiled: the girl was smart. She had learned pretty well from her father to deal with the sheep and knew pretty well when to give one of the pieces of the flock as a lost case: if the track was going into the woods it would be a dead end for any sheep and even the stronger ram would be nothing but pieces left by a hungry pack of wolves before they could find it. Better leave it behind than becoming the next prey for the pack or worse: leave a trail of smell to guide the pack towards their yard.

"Don't go too far," Torhild warned "I told your father that ram wasn't a good idea. He's too wild. If you can't tame it, don't try to bring it back, ok?"

Siggy smiled before kissing Torhild's cheek and leaving towards the door. Torhild smiled. That golden hair was surely Sif's gift to Björn's daughter. And her gentle voice was certainly a gift from Freyja. Her talented hands maybe blessed by Balðr himself. She never really understood why did he leave such a gift behind. He had never come for the girl or news from her. Maybe he didn't know what was done of his daughter. Maybe he just didn't care as lady Aslaug has said once.

Torhild just thanked the gods for blessing her family one more time and stopped wondering over the subject. It was better not to question the Norns - she didn't want any knots on the threads of their fate.

Siggy walked towards the yard once again, taking the rope from the pole and looking around. To fix the fence wasn't that hard: it was surely a failed jump trying to find a way out that resulted in that ram breaking the fence and releasing the sheep. It would be good if it had mated one of them at least before leaving like a storm, releasing the flock all over the field after it. With all those marks everywhere, it would be impossible to determine which one was the track of the ram.

Siggy sighed. Her father would be mad in the end of the day.

No... Not mad. Sad. Dag was never able to be mad.

But he also wasn't her father and she knew that.

Torhild and Dag never really hid from her who she was and where did she come from. And it had never really matter, to be honest. They didn't change her name but she never really introduced herself as Björnsðóttir even knowing it could bring her advantage in several situations where Dag's name never helped her. She was no princess. She never really craved to be one.

Everything Siggy could have she had found in Torhild's love for her as a mother and Dag's gentleness as the father she never had. They were her family. And she dedicated herself to be a good daughter and make them proud as a way to thank them for receiving her into their house as they did.

However, this time Dag would have to forgive her.

"I won't follow this animal into the woods, faðir... Oh, no way!" she sighed, walking towards the river while rolling the rope to tie it to her waist just for precaution: in case the animal was to pop out of some bush around the river she would be able to tie and drag it back home, but it definitely wouldn't be her main focus for the moment.

It was a tiring day and all everything Siggy wanted was a cold bath to take the sweat out of her body before coming home for a good dinner and maybe going to bed earlier to ensure she would be up before the sun next morning. It was close to the time to take the sheep to the field and if she could make it earlier it would leave more time for her to sew the new dress she wanted to have for the festivals at the town.

Thinking of the beautiful cloth Dag had bought for her to sew that dress, Siggy didn't notice the footprints on the mud near the river - someone had passed there before her and due to the direction of those footprints, the person was still around.

Ignoring the possibility of a presence around, Siggy started untying her apron. The mind flying on the details for the dress - maybe some crochet or embroidery for the sleeves, definitely something colored! Or a pattern! Or a...

The loud sound of a bleat called her attention towards a small cliff near the deeper waters and she saw the gods' damn ram, bleating and facing her as if it knew she had come to drag him back.

"Oh, seriously?" she cursed. "Couldn't you be devoured by the wolves in peace? I bet you headed one of them, probably the alpha! And then the whole pack fled from you, you little fence-destroyer goblin!"

Re-tying the apron, Siggy walked towards the cliff, trying to climb the small hill carefully. From where she was before, it wasn't possible to see the stones upon the hill but now she was starting to regret the decision to follow that ram there: the stones weren't firm, kinda mossy. Maybe it was safer to find a way to push the ram into the lake and then drag him out - she thought. But it could drown before she was able to drag it out... Were rams able to swim?

"Gods! Didn't you have a better place to climb, little thing? Uh?" she complained, trying another step further, being able to stand upon the higher stone beside the ram.

Siggy's eyes fixed down for a moment and she saw the darkened water below them. Her heart racing with fear for a moment. She knew how to swim! She was a good swimmer! But those were quite some deep waters down there.

"Come on... Let us go down, please?" she asked the ram as if it could understand her. "Listen... I won't tie you ok? Just let us go down and we can talk about your little fleeing journey later uh? Come down... Please!" she insisted, trying to wave her hands to shove the ram down the small bunch of stones.

"The stones aren't firm, lady, you shouldn't be standing over them!" A male voice warned and Siggy rose up her face a single second to answer to the blonde man standing at the margin of the lake, almost at the bottom of the small cliff.

But the ram beside her moved and his back paws slid through the mossy surface. Trying to jump for balance, the animal moved the stone under the two of them. It was able to jump down the small mound, falling clumsily near the margin.

But Siggy lost her balance and suddenly the deep and dark waters became closer like a mouth ready to engulf her into the depths of death's stomach.

The fall wasn't so big. The problem were the stones that fell from the mound right over her, one of them hitting Siggy's forehead, opening her eyebrow, and blanking everything out for her in a second.

"Fuck!" she heard that male voice cursing and the sound of someone diving into the waters.

The sounds became mixed, she couldn't really move properly nor see what was going on. She felt when someone embraced her body, and then everything became dark.

The last thing Sigurd was expecting was to find someone near that part of the river. Some few moments earlier and that woman would have found him fully naked into the water - not that it would be something so bad, she was pretty after all, but he could bet she would be shy and it would certainly turn into some kind of embarrassing moment. He wasn't Hvitserk after all - that lucky bastard!

However, that moment turned out to be something completely different even from the stranger things his mind could imagine. He who had folded his clothes so carefully to avoid getting them wet... It was the same man jumping into the river fully dressed without a single problem in leaving his oud behind near a ram that could destroy it completely in a matter of seconds.

That woman would drown. He saw the blood in the water.

One of those stones had hit her and she would certainly drown.

There wasn't time for him to ponder.

Sigurd swam towards her, embracing her waist and pulling her up, out of the water, so he could drag her back to the margin, trying to wake her up, to ensure she was breathing properly.

With her body supported against his chest and some delicate slaps to her face, he was able to wake Siggy up, watching with relief as she bent forward, coughing some water before recovering her breath, touching the bleeding eyebrow with a wince of pain.

"Don't touch it... It's open. Here..." he said, offering her a piece of his wet cloak to cover the wound, twisting it to take off the excess of the water before touching her face, cleaning the blood. "Press the wound. My horse is not far from here. I can take you back to the town."

"I'm not far from home..." she mumbled, looking at him. "You saved me."

Siggy's voice died on her throat when her eyes found the snake painted into his. "Fafnir," she thought.

"You're Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye," she mumbled, recognizing.

But he only smiled, unsuspecting about her identity.

"Yes. But you're bleeding, lady. We should take you to a healer," he insisted.

"Siggy," she mumbled. "Siggy Dagsðóttir." she completed, omitting her true name, not wanting to rise an alarm for him. "I'm fine, it's true. I just need to go home. Mother can help me with it, don't worry."

"Was that your ram?" he asked, pointing at the loosen animal sniffing around his oud, ready to start chewing the cords.

"Yeah... The little fence-destroyer goblin my father brought home today..." she mumbled, cursing as they got up.

Sigurd approaching the animal slowly.

"Can you give me your rope?" he asked, extending one of his hands towards her.

The other moving to attract the animal that was looking at him suspicious.

Siggy untied the rope from her waist giving it to Sigurd who took something from his pocket, offering to the ram what she could identify as some grains the ram started approaching to sniff on. Sigurd allowed the animal to sniff, opening the hand for the ram who licked his palm, taking part of the grains with its tongue, starting to chew on the treat as the prince tied the rope like a collar to guide the animal. Some more grains and the ram was meek beside him, accepting the collar and walking without too much effort closer to a shocked Siggy.

She landed her hand on the waist; the other still holding the cloth on her forehead.

"Oh, you cheap little bastard! You almost drown me, but for him is all gentleness and shaking-tails?" she joked.

To what the ram just snorted, almost answering to her voice, causing Sigurd to giggle.

"It seems I'm talented to something more than music, after all," he smiled. "Come. I'll take you home with this little one. I'm really worried about the wound in your eyebrow."

"It wasn't deep," she said, worried he could sound like a threat for her parents since she knew pretty well, he was one of them...

A Ragnarsson.

His brother.

But she didn't want to be unpleasant towards someone who was being so gentle to her after saving her life from a stupid action that could have costed her dear. Maybe she could explain everything...

"Sigurd!" another male voice kinda scared the ram who bleated annoyed with the sudden arrival of a second prince near the river.

"A busy day," Siggy thought.

She would think twice before bathing on that river once again.

"We were searching for you! Ubbe is like crazy walking through the woods and... Hello, smukke!" he charmed.

Beautiful honey braids, charming smile... Hvitserk, for sure.

Siggy bowed, respectfully, as if she wasn't royalty like all of them there.

"My prince," she saluted.

But her eyes didn't miss the smile vanishing from Sigurd's lips.

"I'm fine. See? Alive and whole." he answered, kinda angrily.

"And wet, from the head to your toes, what happened?" Hvitserk seemed to ignore the anger in his brother's voice.

But it was Siggy who answered to his question, attracting the pair of eyes towards her.

"It's my fault. Prince Sigurd saved me from my foolishness when I fell into the lake. And he managed to tame my wild ram and give me back the animal I was searching for. I'm really grateful, my prince," she said, turning herself towards Sigurd once again. "But you shall forgive me: my father and mother know I was searching for this ram and I might go home to avoid having them worried about me. I promised I wouldn't go too far after the animal and I don't want my mother to feel I could have disrespected her warnings."

Her gentleness seemed to click something on Hvitserk - she was too innocent, and wounded. And wet as well... It wouldn't become something good at least not in that moment so, better let her go.

"Let the girl go home and you come with me. Ubbe is searching for you. He wants to..."

"I know. He wants to speak for hours about how Ivar and I shouldn't be fighting each other and all that speech about brothers I'm tired to hear. I know, Hvitserk. I'm coming with you." he said, sighing and delivering the rope to Siggy gently. "Are you sure you can go home by yourself?" he asked.

And she smiled at the way his tone was terrifically different from his words to his brother to the ones he drove to her.

There was some real charm into his voice as well, but she could see it was something inherent to his self and not something he was impressing to conquer her or anything like that. Siggy smiled: he was a good man after all.

"I'm fine, prince Sigurd. Don't worry. Thank you once again," she said, sweetly. "Please, allow me to repay your gentleness. Your cloak is ragged because of me. Meet me here, five days from now, and I'll bring you a new one."

Sigurd was ready to tell her she didn't have to, but she raised her hand, gently touching his.

"Please, accept it. It's given in good-heart," she said, smiling.

"Take the chance, Sigurd. You can see her again and ensure she'll have the proper care for the wound," Hvitserk stimulated, noticing there was a good chance that the girl was finding an excuse to see his brother again.

Sigurd was blind as hel, he thought. Wouldn't be bad to give his little brother a small push forward.

"Fine. Five days from now, but please, not upon those rocks, ok?" he joked.

Dragging a small giggle from Siggy who couldn't help herself from smiling at the prince.

"Ok, prince Sigurd. Not upon those rocks, for sure," she smiled.

With a small wave of her hand, they broke apart from each other.

Siggy followed her way home thinking about what just happened. The ram was coming with her, meekly, still chewing some of the grains the prince had offered it to eat. And it entered the fence without a fight, meekly walking in the middle of the sheep, as if that whole rampant didn't have almost costed Siggy's life into that lake.

She went home, being received by a worried father and scared mother that took care of her wound hearing the whole story she told taking care to hide Sigurd's name from her words.

"And you promised him a cloak?" her father said, worried.

But she smiled.

"It's fine, faðir. I have enough cloth to make it if I make a simpler dress for me." Siggy answered.

"I'm not worried about this, my dear. This man, he said he'll find you in the lake. Are you sure it's safe? Do you want me to come with you?"

There it was...

The reason why so many times Siggy had thanked the gods Dag had adopted her. She could bet Björn would've never been so worried about her safety as Dag was.

He wasn't worried about her fate, after all...

Siggy smiled, caressing her father's hands.

"I'll be fine, faðir."

"It sounds like the Norns to me," Torhild said.

A sparkle into her eyes.

"What do you mean, mother?" Siggy asked seeing her mother's eyes glow as she smiled.

"Maybe they're tying your fates. He was there when you needed, now you want to see him again. And you said the ram came back meekly... Maybe it was all some kind of providence to cross your thread with this boy's fate."

"Stop trying to find marriages to our daughter in every corner, woman!" Dag joked.

"I'm telling you! It's fate! Our daughter is a beautiful woman, Dag... You'll see..." Torhild continued.

But Siggy lost her mother's words and the conversation, absorbed by the thoughts in her head. Her memory bringing back the image of that beautiful pair of blues, one of them stained, both crystalline...

She knew who he was.

But what if her mother was right?

Siggy decided to let the thread to the spinners.

She had a cloak to produce, after all.

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[queenangst]

for the commentary asks: the final scene with hisashi in flare signal :’^] it Gets Me every time i swear. 100% one of the single best scenes of any fic ive read kdjxhdbdj

Some notes beforehand: I wrote parts of this scene/chapter months and months before this arc was written/posted. In my head I had such a strong vision of what Izuku and Hisashi’s final confrontation would look like, and how I wanted to feel.

Finally Izuku tore into a near-empty room and saw sparks drifting like dying stars in the darkness. A small flicker, on the floor. The fire caught.

"Izuku," Hisashi said. He seemed to emerge from the shadows, the same way Izuku did, the same way Izuku had learned. That he had been cut from the same cloth and the edges burned. His hands shook.

Just... very specific visuals. Just this. 

Throughout this scene I make a lot of comparisons between Izuku and Hisashi, tying back to this running thread of how similar they can be, and Izuku’s fear of being a villain.

"Hisashi," Izuku replied, trying to keep his voice even. Disappointment flashed across Hisashi's face, but Izuku didn't understand why.

It’s that Izuku uses “Hisashi” and not “Dad,” or any other similar term.

"You're still like me," Hisashi said, yearning, and Izuku's stomach turned. "You look so much like I did… it's in you. It's in your blood. I was so afraid you'd been taken from me—"

"Taken from you?" The words were out of his mouth before Izuku had even formed them. "Like you took me?"

Now Izuku starts getting angry! 

Hisashi genuinely, genuinely believes that Izuku is like him. That the two of them are the same. And he believes Izuku’s place is with him. Izuku, of course, disagrees.

"No one saw your potential," Hisashi said. "Your strength. You were needed elsewhere."

Izuku laughed. His ribs hurt, and his side.

"And you never thought about what I needed," he said, "or what I wanted, or how I felt. And you never thought—"

Right, so here’s the thing. 

Hisashi believes he’s doing the right thing, and that makes him compelling. But he isn’t at all. He isn’t a good father, or a loving one. Because he doesn’t think about what Izuku wants or needs. He kidnaps Izuku, forces him to be a villain, threatens and coerces him. 

Hisashi pressed his hand to Izuku's cheek. Warm from the heat, calloused. His eyes glittered like opal. He was touching Izuku, but Izuku had compared it once and found something lacking.

Remember in a scene many, many chapters ago... Izuku is cradled by All Might, and he compares the feeling of their touches. That All Might is better to him and kinder, that he cares... in a way that Hisashi is lacking.

"You're my son," Hisashi whispered.

You're my son, Mom said.

Both of Izuku’s biological parents, directly compared. They both say: You’re my son. But the meaning is completely different. 

Hisashi means “you’re my son” in that he wants Izuku to be his. 

Inko means “you’re my son” because she believes in him, in his heart, and loves him.

Izuku trembled. He shut his eyes and pulled himself away, stepping back in a small motion that left the barest gap between them. He could still feel Hisashi's hand, hovering, the ghost of his touch still on Izuku's skin.

But the distance was there. Izuku had created it.

He blinked. Hisashi looked at his fingers, at Izuku, like he didn't believe what had happened.

Izuku makes the choice to step away from Hisashi... and creates space between them. Physically. Metaphorically.

"I'm not your son," Izuku rasped. "I'm not."

He blinked again and felt himself cry. The heat pressed in as One for All rose to life around him. Soft whispering at the edge of his mind—but not static, just almost-familiar voices.

And here, Izuku refutes Hisashi’s words. He’s not Hisashi’s son in any meaning of the word.

At the same time, One for All and the past users are silently supporting him. Not controlling, like Miss Guidance’s Quirk, but here for him, to protect him.

Hisashi's lip curled. Izuku saw that dragon's glint in his eye, and then it disappeared. He looked at Izuku, fire hissing from his mouth, but this time it was like Hisashi was actually seeing him.

It’s the first time that Izuku really, really, really says, “I’m not your son” to Hisashi’s face. Hisashi’s angry at first... but that’s what makes Hisashi stop, and think.

"No," Izuku said.

The word had power. Izuku sensed it; he'd spoken it into existence. He was not Mirage. He had shed that skin, slipped out of an oversized jacket that had swallowed his shoulders. He was not Akatani Mikumi. He had parsed through his own illusions.

I really believe in the power of saying something, and saying something out loud. Izuku says no. And finally he breaks himself free of all the chains that have been on him... the ones from Chimera, from his father, and from himself. 

I’ve talked on this blog about the symbolism and themes of why Izuku’s Quirk is illusions, so I won’t go into it here. But part of it is that Izuku is concealing himself, and lying to himself. So it’s not just how other people see him, but how he sees himself.

Fire crawled between them, but it wasn't real. Hisashi watched, eyes widening as Izuku made his own fire divide them. Then the fire that had been burning in the corner of the room, the real one, spread, and Izuku stepped back. Sweat clung to his skin as smoke made his vision hazy. Izuku breathed and coughed.

Do you remember Aizawa’s introduction scene? 

This is meant to be a direct parallel to that. This time, Izuku makes fire, his own illusion, between himself and Hisashi. A boundary between enemies.

His father looked at the rift between them and said, "I'm sorry."

Izuku shook his head. "Your apology isn't worth anything. Not to me, not anymore."

This is supposed to make a point that Hisashi’s apology really isn’t worth anything. Izuku doesn’t care about it, and doesn’t want it. And he doesn’t want it anymore, because for a long time some part of him wanted Hisashi to be good, and apologize, and love him. 

This is Izuku accepting that he doesn’t need that, and that Hisashi won’t do that. And that apologies don’t fix what Hisashi did to him.

"You're… good." The words were barely loud enough, but Izuku heard them. Like Hisashi had never known what the word meant.

"I have a choice," Izuku told him, as Hisashi's shoulders slumped and a realization seemed to sweep over him. "I have a choice. I'm going to be— better."

Choices! Hisashi sees the truth, finally. And Izuku actually doesn’t really agree, but he says that he has a choice. 

That maybe he’s not a good person. But he can be one. He can choose to be better. That he wants to be, and will work to be. 

In his mouth he tasted blood. His father's, his mother's. He carried the legacy of a lifetime, of One for All buried deep within him. Yet the anger burned. Hisashi was wrong. Izuku had carved his own path, had clawed his way from the ravine.

This is a continuation of the choice theme. 

The first line of Flare Signal is: “Villainry, as Izuku's father liked to say, ran in the blood.” This is Hisashi’s core belief. 

And this whole scene, the whole last arc, is Izuku proving that he isn’t bound by blood. That Hisashi is wrong. Izuku chooses his own path, chooses to be a hero. He tastes blood... Hisashi’s, Inko’s. He has One for All. There are all of these legacies inside of him, but it doesn’t matter, because Izuku can choose. 

"Leave," Izuku choked out. "If you loved me at all—if you never loved me for a second… I never want to see you again. Leave."

Hisashi's hand lifted. Then it fell. Their eyes met through the haze.

I love this line that Izuku says. If you loved me at all, if you never loved me for a second. This is the only thing that Izuku asks of Hisashi: leave. Whether Hisashi truly loved him: leave. 

Hisashi lifting his hand... this is him wanting to reach out to Izuku one last time, but he doesn’t.

The last thing Izuku saw of his father was this: the turn of his back, something Izuku knew so well. A glance over his shoulder, a glimmer of remorse that meant nothing. The firelight in his hair, the gleam of leather scales. The smoke surrounding him as he finally walked away.

It would be the last time Izuku saw Hisashi for a long time yet. Perhaps he would never see Hisashi again.

And finally the end of this sequence: Hisashi leaving. Oh, man. Such a visual treat. The whole description was a joy to write about. Hisashi turns away finally, he looks back (it means nothing), and he disappears. 

Izuku... Izuku doesn’t see him after that. Maybe not for a long time... or ever. This is final, and closing.

Other commentary: 

Something about Hisashi. I wrote a line in Flare Signal that perfectly describes him: “...he loved in the way that dragons did—possessive, full, taking.”

I got a lot of comments on this chapter about people who began to sympathize with Hisashi, or who understood him, or who talked about Hisashi loving Izuku. And honestly, it’s really interesting, because it isn’t my intention for you to sympathize with him though you may understand him. You shouldn’t really feel bad for him.

Hisashi was meant to be a semi-complex character. His “love” for his son and his genuine belief is what I think gives him depth, rather than just the “villain bad guy.” But he was never right. 

He doesn’t love Izuku. He loves the idea of Izuku. He loves something he wants, and doesn’t have. And he never realizes that. In comparison, all the other people in Izuku’s life who love him or care for him do so unconditionally. They love him because he’s Izuku. For his kindness, his bravery, for the way he acts, the things he gets excited about, all of the parts that make Izuku himself. They love him deeply, and don’t expect anything in return. And that is the difference. 

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[ashleyswrittenwords]

Correlation Doesn’t Imply Causation

Another Zelink Oneshot

Commissioned by @truffeart :)

Post-BOTW fluff with needless angst mixed in

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

It took time for the people of Hateno to warm up to the presence of the Princess with the blood of the goddess. They were folks of the countryside where the strangest occurrences had been the occasional Goron traveller or the time a youngster swore up and down that one of the cattle could speak. Miffed hadn’t covered their wonder when the mysterious young man who had brought the decaying house by the cliffs brought home a wide-eyed blonde who suspiciously met the description of the fabled princess. 

The man had only stayed in the house for short periods of time, typically buying out Pruce’s stock of arrows and visiting the odd scientist at the peak of the village. A wild, insatiable heart for adventure was something to be expected and the older gossip mongers suspected he would bring back a woman from his travels. What they hadn’t expected was his bashful admittance the day after to Ivee and her mother that he was last century’s fallen hero, that Calamity had been vanquished, and that Princess Zelda was resting in his house.

When one person knows something in Hateno, everyone does.

Initially, it was something Zelda worried extensively about. One-hundred years. Would she be out of touch? Even worse, would they see her as a monster? During her excessive ramblings, the latter question made Link do a double take and immediately steer her off the topic. He had been awake for a little over a year and reassured her that the people of Hateno were harmless, but for the first couple weeks he didn’t dispute her flimsy excuses to stay in the home when he went out on short errands.

Actually, he was very supportive of her. Link’s love for cooking had turned into more of a passion and he had easily taken the mantle of the house chef. She could tell he allowed her to do menial tasks like dicing onions so she could feel helpful, and it worked. While out to gather ingredients for meals, he brought back gardening and sewing supplies to supplement her time; even taking her measurements and returning with three colorful Hateno dresses.

And Zelda was thankful, so thankful that after two weeks she let Link introduce her to the people he knew. She had slinked a couple paces behind him, uncomfortable by the stares once they reached the main road. Amira, the wife of the general store owner, had laughed during their brief introduction, “Nack was going around spreading rumors that you glowed in the dark. I don’t suppose that’s true?”

With a wobbly smile, Zelda affirmed that it hadn’t been true. The day got easier after that. People realized they weren’t going to witness anything other than a socially anxious girl and went about their chores as if nothing happened. Of course, she also dissuaded formal titles and told them she wanted to be a normal person for as long as possible before piecing together the kingdom that had already been underway by the Sheikah.

The days went by slow, but the months sped by her. Before she knew it, Link had woken her up to the smell of herbal tea and fruitcake - sweets in the morning had always been her guilty pleasure.

“Happy three months,” Link said with a hum as he set out some plates.

Blearily, she smiled and took a seat at the table to watch him work. “Has it really been that long?”

He barely nodded. “Official this evening.”

She observed him from behind. A soft hum smoothed over their silence and she allowed herself to enjoy this less guarded Link. He talked more often. It seemed to come naturally to him now.

Zelda let herself melt into the wooden chair and thanked herself for making patterned seat cushions. It wasn’t uncommon that she took in her surroundings, comparing what she lost to what she has now. Materially, it was a deficit but never did she feel so complete. There was no real goal other than to just be. 

They ate in a comfortable silence, both still wearing what they slept in.

When noon rolled around, she disappeared upstairs to pull on a deep green dress with sewn in flower patterns and jotted down a list of items to pick up from East Wind. 

“Do you not wish to accompany me?” she asked, tying a rupee pouch to her belt. There wasn't any accusation in her voice, merely simple curiosity due to his affinity to keeping by her side. And, admittedly, she did enjoy his company.

“As much as I do,” he grumbled shortly as he tapped the Sheikah slate repeatedly. “Impa sent a letter last week that travelling merchants were having bokoblin issues in the mountain pass.”

Link wore his riding trousers and a simple Hylian tunic. Without words, they had both understood that she had claimed his Champion tunic to sleep in after days of mending. Her heart sank, it meant the shrines weren’t working today and he would need to ride horseback.

He seemed to read her mind, reaching to thread his fingers passed her ear and through her shortened locks. A commonality after she decided thigh-length hair wasn’t practical anymore.

“I should be back at nightfall. Will… you be okay?”

It was a question born of genuine concern despite the knowledge that she was fully capable of cooking and caring for herself, but he needed that affirmation for himself and she was fully willing to allow him that. When she nodded, he pulled away and she mourned the loss of warmth. Zelda forced the corners of her lips upward. The sight reassured him.

“Be careful,” she chided once he packed a small bag and swung onto his horse. Link looked down at her, grinning as if he knew something she did not. “I mean it. Don’t do anything rash.”

“I know,” he breathily said, “I won’t.”

The manner in the way he spoke sounded like her nagging had caused him great exhaustion, which elicited a playful swat at his leg. 

“Tonight?” she said, sounding more like a statement than a question.

Unwavering cobalt eyes fixated on her. A chaste nod. They didn’t say much more by the time he secured the reins in one hand and urged the horse into a slight trot. Soon he was over the bridge and down the road. By the time she retrieved her basket, he had long disappeared into the Hateno woods.

Autumn made herself known in the tree leaves that were displaced by Zelda’s steps and the chill that bit her cheeks. She fell in love with the season all over again. Ivee’s voice was clear as day once she stepped on the village road. Two people on horseback road passed her towards the inn up ahead. They politely nodded to the woman as she shouted out today’s discounts and carried on their way.

Ivee grimaced at their backs and stiffened at Zelda’s footsteps. Suddenly, with a bright smile, she twisted around to ring out a warm invitation.

Zelda offered a weak wave when the greeter’s face fell. “Sorry.”

The store owner’s daughter waved her apology away with a sigh and continued sweeping away fallen leaves from the doorstep. “Don’t be. Dad’s been on me more about getting newcomers in before the first snow.”

“Is business bad?” she asked, taking a glance about the area. There were more people than usual. 

“Quite the opposite, it’s our busiest season,” Ivee pursed her lips in thought before gesturing towards the door with a scowl. “He’s always like this. Thinkin’ we’re missing out on customers if I don’t lose my voice by sunset.”

Zelda’s shoulders bounced with silent laughter as Ivee leaned back on her heels to wipe sweat from her brow.

“I saw Link leave not too long ago,” the brunette raised her brow. “Seemed to be in a hurry.”

A shrug was Zelda’s answer as she said, “I suppose Kakariko is having a monster problem and, well, you know how he is.”

She grinned wryly, “Can’t ignore a damsel in distress?”

The basket swung with Zelda’s idle swaying and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, no,” she considered, then remembered why she came by. “Have the truffles been restocked?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ivee pouted, “I tried to save some yesterday before they sold out again, but Dad nearly lost his head.”

“I appreciate the thought, Ivee,” Zelda hummed in contemplation. She’d have to do something else for dinner.

The woman looked down, then hazel eyes shot up to hers with an idea.

“Nikki’s daughters go truffle hunting down in the lower forest. Such troublemakers, those girls,” Ivee mumbled the latter notion under her breath. “But now that moblins aren’t as much of an issue, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”

“I’d love to, but Link has still been wary about me straying too far from the village. I’d rather not give him a heart attack.” And Zelda wasn’t too keen on wandering far without him; the Yiga were still active on the roads outside the village. Until now, they were careful to keep a low profile.

Ivee sighed and leaned on her broom. Wistfully, she smiled, “I wish I had a protective husband like you. You would think I could find a respectable man already, but everyone our age in this town has the maturity of a child.”

The basket in Zelda’s hands froze mid-sway. “I beg your pardon?”

She didn’t seem to notice the change in the blonde’s body language and went on to stare off, “Link is so protective of you. Zelda, you’re lucky to have snatched up a man like that early on. I’m starting to think I’m either horribly unlucky or Calamity Ganon made them extinct.”

Surely her ears weren’t mistaken. 

Husband?

Snatched up?

The woven wood splints of the basket handle dug into her palm, but she carefully guarded her expression - a testament to her upbringing. 

“There’s plenty of agreeable men in the village garrison,” she said, trying to shrug off the odd feeling. “I can make Link put in a good word for you.”

Ivee quirked her lips to the side, “I don’t know, Zee… but honestly I have nothing to lose. Will being into soldier types make me as smart as you?”

They laughed it off and Zelda politely excused herself with a slight stiffness. From East Wind, she picked up grains and milk while making sure to leave a good report to Pruce of Ivee’s behalf. On her way out, Pruce chuckled.

“Send my regards to your better half!”

Her brows scraped the highest reaches of her forehead, but Zelda quickly reeled herself in and sent a bright smile behind her. As she walked down the road with the sales shouting of Ivee behind her, she felt the shock of their assumptions settle into a stark warmth against the chill air.

There were several variables that insinuated… a very misconstrued aspect of her relationship with Link. The tips of Zelda’s ears flared. But, no, she was a scientist and understood that correlation did not mean causation. It could simply be an assumption drawn from Amira and Pruce’s household only. 

“Zelda!” 

She jumped at the hiss, spinning towards its direction and coming face to face with Nikki. The woman gripped her wrist and dragged her around the corner of a house. Then, Amira popped up from behind a barrel.

“You’re good!” she loudly whispered. “He didn’t notice.”

“Who didn’t notice?” Zelda said, making Nikki momentarily panic when her voice was too loud for her liking. The antics of the two women were fairly normal, but this situation was entirely new.

Amira, who was glaring around the bend, appeared again with shifty eyes. “There’s a man going around asking nearly every woman on a date.”

Nikki puffed out her chest victoriously. “You’re lucky. He got distracted by the innkeeper’s daughter. He kept going on about boots. His boots this, his boots that. My goodness, he’s fortunate he didn’t pull that on me. My Nacky would have let him have it.”

“O-Oh,” Zelda exchanged glances between the two of them. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely, darling,” Amira proudly declared. “We wouldn’t want Link running around trying to find the man who wanted to steal you from him, now would we? It’d be bad for business.”

Before Zelda knew it, she was nodding vehemently. “Yes, I know what you mean.”

She most certainly did not know what they meant. At all. Quickly, she bid them a good day and began her way up the slopes to the Sheikah lab. Despite Amira and Nikki’s warning, the boot man never appeared to steal her away.

Purah’s squeaky voice was heard above the ticking of gears as Zelda pushed open the doors. Calculating brown eyes met hers, “I was wondering if you’d ever visit me.”

“I was here yesterday.”

She still appeared to be a child, but Zelda noticed she was taller than the prior day. From her stool, she squinted down into the cavernous body of a small guardian. It had long been deactivated by Link before he defeated Calamity Ganon, and Zelda was set to use it for a better purpose than rotting in a junkyard. 

The Sheikah waved her off, “Did your potion make only my mind older because I distinctly remember Symin being the only one here.”

Symin barely looked up from a diagram, “She was here for four hours, Purah.”

All the scientist did was hum a tune. Zelda helped herself to the desk space she had occupied a day before. Scattered across it were miscellaneous notes in Zelda and Purah’s handwriting. Small illustrations were more prevalent in Purah’s more recent studies. At least her physical form was growing older and the blonde was quick to scribble down her observations. 

Beyond that, however, Zelda grew relentlessly distracted. Any progress was dashed when she remembered how they referred to Link. Three desperate attempts to read through the same paragraph were thwarted by the time she slammed the book shut, unable to get the notion of being married out of her head.

Husband. Husband? That would make her his wife, logically. But what wasn’t logical would be the ability to fathom this idea in the first place.

“Symin,” she suddenly said, catching the larger man’s attention. He swiveled a bit in his stool to face her.

“Do you need another reference?” He was referring to the Guardian mandible in his lap.

Zelda shook her head before choosing her words carefully. 

“What are your thoughts on marriage?”

“Um,” Symin wrinkled his nose and gazed up at the ceiling above. “Uh, I have very little on the subject. Why ask me?”

“Don’t hit on my assistant, Zelly,” Purah’s voice echoed from within the Guardian body she was dismantling. “I’ll tell on you to Linky.”

That made Zelda place her hands on the table and partially stand. The metal parts lying on her skirt clattered to the ground. 

 “So, you think we’re married too?” She was louder than she usually was with a tone of finality. 

Symin nearly gawked, “You aren’t?”

“No!”

“You aren’t?” Purah echoed, popping her white head of hair out of the sea of wheels and cogs.

“Purah you should know this!”

“Zelly, you must know old women don’t poke their noses into other people’s business! Consider it an educated guess.”

Zelda groaned, falling back into her seat with her head in her hands.

The researcher’s assistant beside her shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Well,” he started, then stopping and starting again. “It must have been another dramatization when the story began spreading across Hyrule.”

“What’s the story say then?” she said, defeat in her stature and embarrassment on her cheeks. “I might as well know how it was told.”

Purah had fully reemerged now, her clothes stained from oil. She wriggled onto the table. “Something something, before the Princess’s birthday,” she sang, “the goddesses something something and under the watchful eye of Hylia they eloped or whatever.”

“We eloped?”

“I don’t know!” Purah threw up her short arms. “That’s what the bird said!”

“Look,” Symin steered her away from his mentor. “Maybe it’d be best if you got home and explained it to Link before he hears it from someone else.”

She considered it. He was right. Zelda should rip the bandaid off early on, then the awkwardness could pass faster.

Right? 

“I will say, I was hurt that I wasn’t invited,” Purah pouted, handing Zelda her basket. “But remember that when there’s a real wedding.”

She didn’t have the emotional energy to argue at that point.

It had been hours since she had ascended the cliff and now the impending sunset brought dropping temperatures. The clouds over the sea hadn’t lightened her mood either.

By the time Zelda returned home, night had fallen outside and it caused her to assume that Link was wise enough to spend it in Kakariko. He knew she didn’t like the thought of him riding past dusk.

She waited until small bubbles manifested over the sea of oil and melted the butter for her mind to wander. It wasn’t… imposterous to make inferences based on their interactions. After all, they had known one another for over one-hundred years (with all minor happenstances abiding). Perhaps it was only natural that they developed their familiar bond.

Zelda had difficulties with darkness and he, with sleep, so it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence that she made herself a space amongst his makeshift pallets by the hearth, nor him in her bed in the loft. How many times has that happened?

Many times. Most nights.

The heat on her face was quickly blamed on the simmering risotto base. Gradually, she stirred in the rice and spices, copying the movements she’s seen Link do before. 

Besides, sleeping together - no, merely sharing the same proximity - was born of necessity. There were plenty of activities a married couple performed that they didn’t. Nikki and Nack called one another the most egregious nicknames. Zelda nodded to herself, stirring the contents of the pan with fervor. That was something they never did.

They were comfortable roommates. Who slept together on the occasion.

And who shared lingering touches when words didn’t suffice. 

She was wary to confess the feelings she harbored for those small moments when he’d brush the side of her cheek and down the length of her hair; the only times she regretted her dubious haircut. And maybe she did enjoy the opportunities to remind him to shave by cupping his cheek in her hand. Thrill wedged itself in her heart when he leaned further into her touch.

Discomfort sat at the bottom of her stomach. Zelda frowned deeply. The familiar sensation of impending disappointment ebbed at her.

The door at the head of the room clambered open, revealing the sheets of rain falling from the heavens. Boots stomped a couple steps on the hard-wood and the door shut more gently than it opened. 

“I’m sorry,” a chilled, but deeply familiar voice said. “I’m late.”

Zelda sat back on her haunches, taking Link in as he peeled off his sopping cloak. His shoulders shook as the rain had long set into his clothes.

“Link,” she whined. “Hylia above, what have I told  you about riding in the rain? Especially in this weather!”

“I know,” he grinned wryly at her from across the room. “And I nearly rented a room, but then goddesses told me you were cooking tonight.”

She would have chastised him further and ran to grab him an extra change of clothes, but her previous thoughts pounded in the back of her brain and the steady bubbling of risotto kept her in her place.

“You’re too much for me,” she huffed, barely looking at him. “Can you check to see if this is done?”

Suddenly, his breath was right next to her ear. “I’ll move out anytime you want me to.” 

A pause.

“It’s perfect, Zel.”

Her hand stilled in its stirring. There went the nickname criteria.

Zelda caught his eye and his amused expression deflated slightly. She blinked, “This is your house.” 

A small crease formed between is brow. “And?”

“And,” she emphasized, “you’re going to catch a chill in your own home if you don’t change.”

Link didn’t move immediately and she could feel his stare, but eventually he relented to her nagging. She could hardly hear him shuffle about the room once his boots were removed. When Zelda pulled the pan from the fire, he was descending down the loft in a simple cloth shirt and trousers.

“Did I do something?” he said, idling by the foot of the stairs.

That had made her brow furrow and her frown to deepen. 

“No,” she nonchalantly answered, throwing down a potholder on the table with more force than needed.

He eyed her from the cabinet and pulled out a couple plates.

“I am fine,” she copied his stare and could tell the question was on the tip of his tongue. Still, he held her gaze from across the room. Zelda pressed the appropriate silverware onto the placemats.

“Link, stop that. I’m fine.”

When he closed the distance to put the appropriate plates on their mats, he hadn’t yielded to her reassurances and took note on the way she stepped away to give him extra room.

Annoyance wormed into Zelda’s chest and she dimly noticed that this manner of interrogation was used before.

“Have I done anything?” Link asked again, genuinely this time. “Because I’m sorry if I worried you.”

It was a wonder how this was the same man who could take on three lynels at once. She only knew because she’s seen it. The fire was there when he stared down Ganon after a year of waking up from a century of slumber, it hadn’t stifled the flame in his eyes. But now, he was careful with her. The blue of his eyes was soft, gentle and fully willing to apologize when there was nothing he did wrong.

“No,” she said, forcing herself to match his demeanor because it wasn’t fair for her own troubles to affect him. “No, you haven’t.”

His follow up question didn’t need a voice.

“I heard something in town and,” she stopped to let her stiff shoulders sag. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Gods, she sounded like she was a child about to admit to breaking something. As she said the words, she realized that the idea itself hadn’t bothered her. What had bothered her was his potential reaction. 

Zelda could say they were friends, even close friends, but lovers? Spouses? The pull of her heart at the thought scared her.

Disappointment. There would be disappointment in his eyes that would leave her  to hurt.

“They think,” she paused. He tried to take her fidgeting hands in his, but she pulled away and left him dumbfounded. Zelda didn’t like that expression at all on him, only making her more flustered in what to do. 

“Who?” His tone was gentle, like calming a spooked horse.

Zelda breathed in a large breath, “This morning. Ivee and- and Pruce and… Nikki and Nack...”

She trailed off, searching the floor and Link for words.

“The townspeople?” 

Tentatively, she nodded, not quite able to spit out what she needed to say.

Now, he was fully confused. “What do they think? Zelda, I promise you they don’t judge you for what had happened.”

The Calamity. Of course he would be thinking she was worried about that with how aloof her mannerisms suddenly were. Assuming he guessed right, his small frown upticked to sympathy.

“They’d never pin that on you. If anything, they warmed up to you more than they did to me.”

He began to tell her about the odd stares he got when he began reconstruction of the house. All the stories that would typically make her laugh, but all she could do with stare at their feet.

“They think we’re married!”

The words that flew from her were unequivocally hers yet her ears could hardly believe it. Link’s lips fell into a small “o” as he took a step back. Shock barely registered on his features, and it made her regret saying anything at all. She hated the way his eyes left hers.

Unsure of what to do, she watched him pace to the opposite wall and back. Never did he meet her gaze in turn for the rafters above. A hand brushed through his damp hair.

He swallowed the remnants of his tales, more softer with a certain disbelief, “Married, huh?”

Her quiet response affirmed him.

If this had been any other situation, she would have poked fun at the way he was behaving. Nothing about him exuded the certain confidence he so often employed in front of her. Lucky was a word she would have used if she managed to confound him like this.

“Ivee was the first to mention it in passing,” Zelda placated. “I thought it was a simple misunderstanding until Pruce then Nikki then Amira until…”

“Until it wasn’t so simple,” he finished for her. She smoothed a piece of hair behind her ear with a nod.

They fell back into a quietness. Some of Link’s shock gave way for, what she assumed, a reluctant acceptance.

The risotto was growing cold and neither had the stomach to point it out.

Zelda wasn’t ignorant about her feelings. However, she knew she was a coward. Before the Calamity, she had an understanding of why his name suddenly filled up the pages of her diary. Back then, Link had a silent charm to him that let her be herself for a short moment. It enraptured her. But she also had an excuse to never admit it. 

Now, she had nothing to hide behind. No Calamity Ganon was going to drag her away from the man who was obviously embarrassed to be seen as her husband.

“Married?” he asked again, as if she hadn’t confirmed it for the umpteenth time. He was leaning against the table with his hand rubbing his neck.

“Yes, Link,” she was growing frustrated. “They think we’re… you know.”

Then, he looked up. “Is that a bad thing?”

Link’s eyes swept the room at her startled reaction. “Well,” he said with a raised brow and a small shake of his head. “If you’re completely against it then I am too, but-”

Then, to her absolute surprise, he shrugged. “It’s not horrible.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” there was defensiveness in his voice, “that other people assuming I’m married isn’t the worst rumor in the world.”

Now Zelda was thoroughly convinced he had stumbled upon a pub on his way home. “You do realize that it would mean I would be your wife.”

His shrug was more grandiose this time. “And I would be your husband.”

By then, the room was much dimmer. The fire lacked wood and Zelda hadn’t had time to think about lighting candles. She could make out his features, but could hardly read them.

“So, you’re not mad?”

Link wasn’t leaning on the table anymore. The action made her feel closer to him. 

“Why would I be mad at you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not at me. The rumor.”

There was hesitation in his movements, but he crossed the little amount of space between them. “Honestly? It makes sense why more people haven’t outwardly hit on you.”

That comment made her let out a short laugh.

“But no,” he said; she could hear his smile. “I’m not mad… not at all.”

Link’s approach was slower than usual, but she opened up to his enticing pulls that evolved into a gentle embrace.

There were many doubts Zelda harbored. Most old, some new. To her, they were indistinguishable. Yet, all were forgotten, if only for a little while when he held her close in his arms.

When she bunched the cloth of his shirt in her hands, she felt him shiver. 

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Zelda muttered.

All he did was hold her closer. 

[zecretsanta]

Fic: Not Quite Santa

To: @agentshilonglang​ From: @erisofimladris​

Soooo I couldn’t resist the Kurashiki angst and my first-ever Christmas story happened! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I loved writing it, and Merry Christmas!

AO3 link

For the first time since their parents died, Aoi Kurashiki didn’t know how to be Santa.

It had always been easy. Akane would write a letter to Santa, Aoi would swipe it from the mailbox, and there would be something on there that he could afford, even if it wasn’t what she necessarily wanted most - even with her huge imagination and love of the unreal, she also understood that they were poor.

And now they weren’t poor, or at least they wouldn’t be for long now that Akane knew how to get the money necessary to run that game again, which meant there was theoretically more of an opportunity for gifting. But Aoi couldn’t think of anything at all.

Whenever he tried to think of Christmas, all his mind returned to was the story Akane told him he’d say in the future, the one about the two Santas - the white-robed Santa killing the one in black, the black-robed Santa’s blood staining the coat a jolly red.

It gave a whole new meaning to the holiday, and after all, he was celebrating with a new Akane. In the last month, he’d barely recognized the Akane who he grew up with who believed in everything and everyone. Now, she only believed in a thin thread tying them to the future where every little thing they did for the next nine years could make her live or die. Everything from the setup of Building Q in Nevada to getting to Nevada to his acting skills and her hair bound in a pair of hair clips, not quite stars and not quite flowers, with little circles on the ends.

No matter how hard he wished for the old Akane back, for them to both live their lives without ever knowing something called a Nonary Game existed, Aoi didn’t believe in any kind of Santa. It was hard enough to believe that his sister stood in front of him alive (well, mostly) after what happened last month.

She hadn’t left a letter for Santa this year, and it wasn’t like what some of the other kids in school said when their little brothers and sisters figured out Santa wasn’t real. Aoi had no doubt that if not for what happened on the Gigantic last month, there would be a letter waiting for him, asking for a stuffed animal or a dollhouse or a pet.

The dollhouse wouldn’t have been a bad idea before the Gigantic, but now Akane was so attached to the doll Junpei gave her that she hardly let it out of her sight. Not to mention it was a creepy little thing that definitely didn’t belong in a cutesy dollhouse - just like all the babble about morphogenetic fields didn’t belong spewing out of the mouth of his little sister.

Pets were off the table as well, now that they’d need to move around. There was no good way to keep a pet if they might need to move to a different continent in the blink of an eye; they were technically still on the run from Hongou and his goons at Cradle Pharmaceuticals, and the last thing they needed was a snafu at customs or something else to part Akane from another thing she’d get attached to.

Without any further guidance, Aoi was lost. He didn’t know how to do Christmas without letters to Santa and presents under a tree.

And so, he didn’t get a tree. Akane never mentioned it, and neither of them pointed out the spot in the small apartment where they were staying that would be perfect for a well-decorated tree. He wasn’t sure he could even get her help in decorating, and they didn’t need a bare pine tree in the living room to remind them of yet another thing that had been ruined.

After a few days of hearing Christmas carols in the streets and garlands strung over shop windows, however, Aoi felt something missing. They had to do something for Christmas; they couldn’t let this be something else Hongou took away. Even without a tree, even without Santa, there had to be something he could do to commemorate the holiday.

He found himself in an American store one day after school, looking for something Christmas-y that wouldn’t bring up any old memories. A bit of an escape from all that had happened, something to lighten the mood of an apartment that felt more like a funeral home than an actual home some days.

In one of the aisles close to the end, he found something he’d seen, but never bought before - a gingerbread house kit with pre-cut pieces (no need to use the oven, the idea of which scared Akane for good reason), two gingerbread people and icing and candy to decorate. None of his friends ever had gingerbread houses before, and after their parents died and money was tight, it was hard enough to afford a small tree and Akane’s present without buying extras. Now, though, they didn’t have to worry about money. It would be no problem.

The kit sat unopened on their one and only table for a few days. Aoi wondered if Akane would even be interested until he found her sitting at the table on Christmas Eve, legs crossed, brow furrowed, trying to affix the roof to the walls with white frosting.

Aoi didn’t say a word. He just got a little closer, then closer still, until he could reach the walls. He gingerly put his hands on them, startling her into looking up and meeting his eyes. She lost her grip on the left roof tile, which fell in a sticky mess on the table.

“It’s okay,” Aoi said, picking it up and applying a new line of white frosting. “Here, you get this end, and I’ll get that end.” Prepared to hold both on his own, he was surprised when Akane leaned in, holding the slabs of gingerbread together.

They stayed in silence, not meeting each other’s eyes until more than the necessary time had passed and Aoi gingerly removed his hands. The roof stayed, and Akane’s hand pulled the rest of the kit closer in. She picked up one of the two gingerbread people and the white icing they’d used to make the roof stick together and drew some jagged lines (impressively straight, considering her dexterity still wasn’t what it had been before) on the head.

“Is that me?” Aoi asked.

“Yeah,” she said, the first sound he’d heard from her all day. That wasn’t like her, but after their fight the other day about forgetting and remembering and moving on, he’d almost forgotten the sound of her voice not angry.

“Want me to make you, or…?” His words trailed off as she put down the white icing and picked up the black, drawing a vague outline of pants on the cookie’s legs.

“You can start the sides,” she said, gesturing to the white icing and the assortment of colorful candies still on the tray.

Turning his attention away from the people, although he did notice Akane giving him a tank-top of sorts that he’d never wear, he looked down at the picture on the box. He noted the white windows drawn in and the small candy doorknob and the lane of candy running into the door. Without any further guidance, he tried to mimic the picture as best as he could, but the windows came out a little crooked and the door snapped just a tiny bit as he opened it, and he popped the snapped-off bit into his mouth before Akane could notice.

He tried to peek at Akane’s work along the way, but she hid the gingerbread people so well as she hunched over them that he simply worked on the rest of the house until it was time for him to put something together for dinner and try to get her to eat. He looked over at her a few times as he cooked, realizing that as she put the figures down and started to touch up his work on the house itself, the corners of her mouth twitched like she might smile.

Dinner was, as usual, a desolate affair; although there was finally enough food for both of them to eat, most of his time was spent trying to convince Akane to actually put food in her mouth. Whatever he ate didn’t taste good; he could barely even remember what they’d eaten as he did the dishes and Akane returned to her gingerbread project. She leaned over it so closely that he didn’t try to approach again, instead retreating to his room, frustrated.

Part of him wanted to run back in there and try to clarify what he’d meant in their argument the other day, that he knew she needed to remember and speak about every detail to stay alive, but he needed a life where the Nonary Game wasn’t the only thing in the world. The tension of it all ran hot under his skin, but he didn’t need her reminder that something was boiling inside her as well.

Aoi sighed. He was supposed to be the big brother, and he was the one who would have to do everything he could to help Akane. She was still a kid – hell, two months ago, she’d have still sent a letter to Santa even though she was almost a teenager. Now if only Santa would write to her instead, if only he could use that to explain…

Sliding into his chair, Aoi grabbed a piece of paper. Even if it didn’t help, it couldn’t hurt.

“Dear Akane,

I’m sorry,” he began, aware that he’d apologized to her so many times for things he hadn’t done over the last couple of weeks that it was starting to annoy her, “that you’ve had such a hard year. You are very good, no matter what anyone says.”

It felt so trite that he nearly tore the note in half, but it wasn’t like he could think of anything better.

“I didn’t receive a list from you this year, and the things you want cannot come true right now.” They would be real in Building Q in nine years, on the day that silly boy from her class who gave her the doll that got her killed in the first place would save her life. “It is beyond my magic to move the time closer.”

He sighed, pushing the paper away. It was almost too late to do anything at all, and it wasn’t a proper Santa’s letter without a gift. Exasperated, he got up and shuffled into the hallway and then to the living room, where he found the completed gingerbread house sat with the Akane and Aoi gingerbread figures standing outside by the door, with no sign of his sister.

Now that he had the chance to get a good look at the gingerbread Akane, he could see that she had drawn the outfit she described to him that she would wear in Building Q. It seemed overwhelming for her to get out all at once, but she did describe the purple dress with the black pattern (looking more like blobs of icing here, but still), the striped socks and brown boots, the stripes on the sleeves and there was even a little red and blue spot on the wrist that was probably supposed to be the watch (Aoi rubbed his wrist; he could still feel his sometimes). In her hair, there was a little pin that wasn’t quite a star or a flower.

A sudden pang of guilt swept over Aoi. He tried to get Akane to think about things other than what had happened, but he probably took it too far. She did need to get things out, after all, and he was supposed to be there to listen to her. He was supposed to be a lot of things, he thought angrily as he looked down at the cookie that could crumble as easily as his sister’s life.

Suddenly, an idea came into his head. A way to show Akane that he was listening to her, that he’d seen and understood that in nine years he was going to wear a silly-looking tank-top and black pants and she was going to wear the dress with a shirt under it for some reason even though she hated being too warm and couldn’t get cold nowadays, and the whole rest of the outfit that made no sense.

Aoi hurried out into the cold, hoping the nearest convenience store wasn’t closed. They were in this thing together, no matter what. And while there was no letter from Santa telling Aoi what Akane wanted, he knew exactly what she needed.

When he got back, present in tow, he rummaged through his papers until he found the note, then added a final line: “In the meantime, I hope this helps. - Santa” He set it under the gingerbread house, slipped the present through the hole in the door, and went to sleep.

Unlike in previous years, he wasn’t awakened at the crack of dawn by a squealing sister. The sun was in the sky already and he could smell the gingerbread house as he rolled out of bed. Belatedly, he realized there was no tradition for finding presents by the gingerbread house. Would she even know it was there?

He made his way into the kitchen, slippers sliding along the floor. There were no squeals of happiness, no clatter of excited footsteps. Akane sat at the table facing the gingerbread house, the little door open, her hand inside before she pulled his present out into the light.

In her hand lay a pair of hair clips, not quite stars and not quite flowers, with little circles on the ends.

She turned around, meeting Aoi’s eyes as he stood in the hallway. He was frozen silent, unsure of what to say. Had he done the right thing? The wrong thing? The kind of thing that would make her live in her own world again until he could pry her out?

A small smile spread across her face as she looked at the hair clips. “Merry Christmas, Santa,” she said, and for the first time in a month, she sounded like herself.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, finally stepping into the room, warmed by the thought that he might be able to pull off the good Santa from her story, after all.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Late to the Jabberwocky Chapter Ten

Late to the Jabberwocky Chapter Ten: Fashion Emergency

“How do I look?” Adrien asked nervously, turning around to face his kwamis.

“Like you’ve been lying around in bed for a week, not eating and crying your eyes out,” Plagg reported helpfully.

Adrien’s face fell.

“He doesn’t look that bad, Plagg,” Nooroo tsked, coming to land on Adrien’s left shoulder.

“Hey!” Plagg snapped. “That spot’s reserved! Go find your own perch, Fluttershy.”

“Plagg, you do not own my shoulder,” Adrien sighed as Nooroo skittered away, tentatively circling back around to land on Adrien’s right shoulder.

Nooroo gazed cautiously at Plagg, as if he were afraid of being chased off once more. When Plagg didn’t object to Nooroo’s presence on Adrien’s right shoulder, Nooroo turned to Adrien to ask, “Who is ‘Fluttershy’? What does that mean? Is that a modern slur? I haven’t been out much in the past two hundred years.”

“It’s a character from a show Adrien watches,” Plagg supplied.

Adrien’s face went magenta. “So that I can talk about it with my niece!”

“Uh-huh.” Plagg rolled his eyes. “She’s a horse creature with monstrously big eyes and butterflies tattooed on her rump. You’ll see. He watches it almost religiously.”

“I do not!” Adrien whined.

“Uh-huh.” Plagg ignored Adrien. “I’m sure you’ll like it too, Nooroo. It seems like your kind of thing.”

“This is very exciting!” Nooroo trilled, doing a little wiggle dance. “My former master did not allow me to watch the television. Maîtresse Mayura was more lenient, but she prefers to read, so I haven’t been able to experience much modern entertainment.”

Adrien stared at the little butterfly for a moment before turning to Plagg. “Hey, teach him how to use the remote and the rules regarding TV use, and then actually take turns with him.”

“Leave it to me, Kid. I’m not that cruel as to deprive a butterfly of all the crazy cable channels we get,” Plagg snorted.

“Yippee!” Nooroo sang, fluttering his wings in joy.

“Okay.” Adrien sighed. “Back to my fashion emergency. Do I really look that bad, Plagg?” He turned back to study his face in the mirror. “I mean…it’s been hours since I cried, and before last night it had been…like a day or two? And I have been eating…I mean, some. I’ve been eating some, and I’ve gotten up to shower at least every day, so…”

“Maybe you could splash some water on your face and put on some makeup?” Nooroo suggested. “Please explain what we’re doing again. You’re going to attempt to attract a potential mate?”

“No!” Adrien groaned.

“Pretty much,” Plagg sighed.

“He’s just a friend!” Adrien insisted.

Plagg burst out laughing.

Nooroo looked back and forth between the kwami and the boy with a quiet, politely perplexed expression.

“He’s the kid’s ex-boyfriend,” Plagg took pity on Nooroo and explained.

“It wasn’t like that!” Adrien wailed, face going beet red once more.

“Gabe broke them up about two years ago, but they met up again and hit it off at a graduation party last Saturday,” Plagg summarized. “The only problem is now Snake-Boy is dating the girl that the kid is in love with. With me so far?”

Nooroo nodded. “Ah. Sass’s chosen? I’ve seen him briefly here and there. Snakes and Cats historically get on well together. But now the snake boy is in a relationship with Ladybug?”

Plagg nodded. “He doesn’t know that she’s Ladybug. Her name is Marinette.”

Nooroo continued to nod. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My master was very interested in her. He believed that if he could successfully akumatized her, she would be the one to finally defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Well, it looks like he was right,” Plagg snorted.

“So why are we going to attempt to seduce Ladybug’s mate, Adrien-bocchama?” Nooroo blinked innocently at Adrien.

“We’re not going to seduce Luka,” Adrien hissed in overwhelming embarrassment. “We’re going to…I don’t know. See if he still wants to be friends. He was an incredibly important friend to me, and, if at all possible, I want to have him back in my life. We’re just going to see if he wants that too.”

“And then seduce him with the gift of opera tickets!” Nooroo cheered, thinking that he understood the plan.

Adrien covered his face with a hand. “Nooroo…no. There will be no seduction. I’m just… Friendship is all I’m interested in right now. He’s very attractive, and I wouldn’t mind making out with him, but he’s Marinette’s boyfriend, and I’m still a wreck over Marinette, and…honestly? I’m in no shape to try to be in a relationship right now. I’m trying to work on me. On building strong friendships. I want to be friends with Luka again.”

Nooroo frowned. “Then…I don’t understand. Why have you changed your outfit six times? Why are you so concerned about your physical appearance if you have no romantic designs on the young man we’re about to visit?”

“Well…” Adrien looked away from the kwami, studying his reflection in the mirror as he fidgeted. “I mean…I want to make a good impression. I want him to think I’m cool. I just want…I mean, it’s to my advantage to look attractive. People do what you want when you’re attractive. It gives you more leverage, more influence.”

Nooroo nodded slowly, mentally tying the threads together. “So…we are trying to seduce him, but not for your sexual gratification. You’re trying to seduce him in order to manipulate him into being your friend?”

Adrien pursed his lips. “That sounds bad…but, yeah. That’s the general idea. If he’s busy thinking, ‘Wow. Adrien has really filled out in all the right places since I last saw him’ and ‘I wouldn’t mind spending time with someone who looks like that’ and ‘It could be fun sitting in a box seat in the dark with him at the opera for three hours’, maybe he’ll be able to forget about all the weirdness between me and his girlfriend.”

Nooroo gave Adrien’s cheek a supportive little pat.

Not to be outdone, Plagg flew up to headbutt Adrien’s other cheek and purr as he rubbed himself along Adrien’s jaw.

Adrien laughed. “You jealous of the new kwami in my life, Plagg?”

Plagg openly scoffed. “Never. You’re a kitten, not a caterpillar, and Nooroo knows it. There’s nothing for me to be jealous over, and it’s not like he’s staying long-term or anything.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Plagg,” Adrien chuckled, giving the little cat deity a fond scratch behind the ear.

“So…Forgive me,” Nooroo took flight, fluttering around Adrien’s head, examining Adrien’s appearance. “I understand the goal of our mission, but I do not understand the purpose. Why are we trying to make friends with a hostile party currently romantically involved with the girl that we want as our mate? This does not seem like a logical course of action. I understand that he was once your friend, but…” Nooroo trailed off, frowning sympathetically.

Adrien averted his gaze. “Like I said, he was really important to me. My father tore us apart, but now that Dad’s…for a lack of a better word, better…less controlling and tyrannical…maybe he’ll let me be friends with Luka again. Maybe I can have Luka back. He was really good to me, good for me…. I miss him…. If I can have him back, I want him back. That’s all. I think I could really use a friend like Luka right now, so…we’re going to see if Luka still wants to be friends with me too.”

Nooroo opened his mouth again, but Plagg grabbed him by the arm and yanked him over to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

“…God, I have nothing to wear,” Adrien sighed, heading back into his closet to select a different outfit.

Plagg leaned in and lowered his voice to a humanly imperceptible whisper, “I don’t think the kid fully realizes it himself, but he was in love with Snake-Boy. He was a wreck when Gabe broke them up. Seriously. I was scared witless for six months thinking Gabe was going to akumatize him or that the kid was going to hurt himself or something. Luka’s kind of on your wavelength. He’s kind of like a giant mood stabilizer. He made Adrien happy. He made Adrien feel like he was worth something, like Adrien was loved. Maybe you’ve noticed from how Gabe treated you, but this is not a loving household. This is not the place to come if you want hugs and affirmations that you matter.”

Nooroo made a tiny, sad hum of assent.

“Gabe and Nathalie have done a stupendous job of turning things around in the last month or two, but before? Adrien felt worthless and not good enough and alone,” Plagg continued. “He felt like he was a bother, like no one wanted him. Then he met Luka, and all of the sudden it was okay to cry and have feelings. You didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love. Luka gave hugs and head rubs freely, and Luka always had time for Adrien. There was no ‘make an appointment and I’ll deal with you in a month’. Luka was everything Adrien ever wanted.”

“I can see how the young master would want someone like that back in his life,” Nooroo replied softly. “I am not terribly familiar with the situation, but it’s obvious that the young master is suffering greatly at this time. I can sense his despair and his yearning for love and acceptance. I can see how someone like this Luka you describe would be very appealing to Adrien-bocchama right now especially.”

“Yeah,” Plagg grumbled. “Part of me is kind of afraid that this is all going to blow up and make things worse, but another part of me is desperate and willing to try anything. This kid is giving me grey whiskers.”

“What do you guys think of this outfit?” Adrien paraded back out of the closet wearing a tight pair of dark wash jeans and a pink polo. He inspected himself in the mirror and frowned.

“It’s very last season,” Nooroo hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, isn’t that from the spring line two years ago? I remember this one. A terribly boring design.”

Adrien blinked at his brand new kwami. “Did Papillon follow fashion or something? How do you know which collection my shirt is from?”

Nooroo’s skin went a translucent lavender colour, and his eyes widened to the size of buttons.

“Yes,” Plagg interjected. “It turns out Papillon is a huge fan of your father’s work. Crazy small world, isn’t it? Now, you heard the butterfly; your shirt is boring. Go change again.”

Adrien frowned but easily let it go, turning with a shrug to head back into the closet.

“But keep those jeans!” Plagg called after him. “Your butt looks amazing in those jeans!”

As soon as Adrien had vanished into the racks of clothes, Plagg rounded on Nooroo. “If you somehow let it slip to my kid that his dad was a psychotic domestic terrorist, so help me, I will pull your wings and antennae off slowly. Do you know how long and how hard I’ve worked to keep him from finding out?”

“S-Sorry,” Nooroo cowered, looking genuinely afraid. “P-Please forgive me. I won’t make a mistake again.”

Plagg stared at his fellow kwami. “Hey. I’m not actually going to hurt you, Nooroo. I’m just going to be really mad. There’s no need to freak out like that. Are you okay?”

Nooroo gave a little shiver. “Sorry. I’m not…I’m not accustomed to being jokingly threatened. Usually when someone says they’re going to do something to me, they fully intend to carry through.”

Plagg blinked, realizing for the first time how lucky he had been to end up with a sweet kid as a user. “I think I need to burn more holes in Gabe’s cravats and move his objects when he’s not paying attention more often.”

“Please don’t. It wasn’t really that bad,” Nooroo pleaded.

“We are going to talk about this later,” Plagg hissed.

“Talk about what?” Adrien sighed, coming back into the bathroom. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Plagg assured. “We’re just talking about grownup stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow in suspicion. “Grownup stuff?”

“Kid, you are about a thousand years too young to appreciate our conversation. Go back to worrying about what Luka’s going to think of your outfit,” Plagg instructed, making a shooing gesture.

Adrien shook his head and turned to study his butt in the mirror. “You really think my butt looks good in these?”

“Fabulous! Definitely wear those jeans,” Plagg encouraged. “Maybe not that shirt, though. It’s a little…”

“Plain,” Nooroo completed. “Too understated. That’s not to say that it doesn’t look good on you, Adrien-bocchama, but I don’t think it stands out enough. If you really want to catch this boy’s eye, you’ll need something that makes your eyes pop. Maybe something in lavender or coral or plum or burgundy. Though, it’s summer, so maybe not the fall colours. Maybe go for a nice light blue.”

Plagg and Adrien stared at Nooroo.

“Papillon was really into fashion, wasn’t he?” Adrien observed.

Nooroo attempted a smile, but it came out looking brittle at best.

Adrien shook off the thought with a frown, going back to his reflection. “There are too many options. I’m not used to having to dress myself. Usually someone picks out the outfit for me, and all I have to do is wear it.” With a sigh, he took out his phone and opened up the string of texts Luka had sent the day before that had made Adrien think that a reconciliation was possible in the first place.

“What are you looking at?” Nooroo inquired tentatively, flying up to land on Adrien’s right shoulder.

Adrien tipped his phone so that Nooroo could see. “Texts from Luka,” he explained with a smile. “He was worried about me. Maybe he doesn’t hate me after all.”

Nooroo stared curiously down at the phone, reading the messages.

“hey how r u doing”

“this is luka by the way”

“i hope this is still your number”

“i was worried about u”

“im sorry i didnt know about what was going on”

“i hope youre ok”

“sorry im so stupid of course youre not ok”

“im sorry i hurt u”

“im really really sorry”

“for a lot of things”

“sorry if u dont want to hear from me”

“i couldnt stop thinking about u”

“sorry for texting u in the first place”

“i miss u angel”

“god i wish it were possible to unsend things”

“just ignore me”

“please please ignore me”

“im so sorry for bothering u”

“please take care of yourself”

Below the barrage of texts was Adrien’s answer: “Hi, Orpheus. <3”, “Can’t talk right now. I have company over.”, and “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Oooooh.” Nooroo nodded, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “I see. He loved you too, didn’t he? He still cares about you a great deal and yearns for you too.”

Adrien nearly dropped the phone as he craned his neck to gawk at his new kwami. “W-W-What?!”

Nooroo waved his stubby arms. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m a romantic. I see fluffy, fairytale stuff everywhere. Carry on as you were please, Adrien-bocchama.”

Adrien turned to look sharply at Plagg. “What have you been telling him?”

Plagg shrugged. “Don’t look at me. Don’t you have an outfit to pick out?”

Adrien stuck out his tongue with a snort before turning on his heel and marching back into his closet.

Nooroo flew back over to join Plagg on the lip of the bathtub. “What is the significance of the young master’s posterior? You seem to place special meaning on the fact that it looks attractive in those pants that he’s wearing.”

Plagg smirked. “Luka’s totally a butt guy.”

Nooroo frowned, visibly disturbed. “A…‘butt guy’?”

Plagg nodded. “I read something online about how supposedly guys find one particular attribute of their partners’ bodies to be most attractive. Some guys are most attracted to a woman’s chest or her legs. Luka is a butt guy. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught him ogling Adrien’s behind. And I’m sure you’ll see it eventually, but whenever Marinette is excited, she does this little butt wiggle, and Luka’s brain turns to mush. If the kid wants to catch Snake-Boy’s eye, he’s going to need to draw attention to more than just the green of his eyes.”

Nooroo hummed thoughtfully, storing this information away for later.

“I have nothing to wear!” Adrien howled in despair, coming out of the closet topless.

“Overstatement of the year,” Plagg announced. “You have enough clothes to dress an army of models. Your problem is that you don’t know how to utilize the resources you have at your disposal.”

Adrien blinked. “Resources?” He blinked again, and a bright light came into his eyes. “You’re a genius, Plagg!” Adrien darted out of his bathroom, into his room proper.

Plagg frowned. “Well, yes, but I’d like to know what kind of bad idea my genius has inspired this time.”

Adrien dashed out of his room and down the steps, calling, “Nathalie?!”

The response was almost instantaneous. Both Gabriel and Nathalie dropped what they were doing to run out into the lobby to make sure Adrien was okay.

“What happened?” Gabriel demanded, inspecting his son for damage.

“Adrien, what’s wrong? What do you need?” Nathalie was hot on her fiancé’s heels.

Gabriel frowned, confusion replacing concern. “And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Adrien smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry. False alarm. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just having a fashion emergency.”

Gabriel and Nathalie both blinked and pushed their glasses up on the bridges of their noses in tandem.

“A…fashion emergency?” Gabriel repeated, puzzled by the concept paired with his son. “You?”

Adrien’s smile dropped off into a grimace. “Yeah. It turns out that I have no fashion sense, so…I need to borrow someone else’s so I can assemble an outfit fit to leave the house in.”

Deep trenches formed in Gabriel’s brow. “You’re leaving the house? With a friend?”

Adrien pointedly avoided Gabriel’s eyes as he shrugged lackadaisically. “To meet a friend.”

“You need fashion advice, but you were calling for me?” Nathalie verified, thrown off by the entire situation.

Adrien put on a cherubic smile and nodded. “I kind of also need a mom, so…”

“Well, that rules me out,” Gabriel snorted good-naturedly. “Was there anything else you needed, Adrien?”

Adrien shook his head. “No. Thanks, Dad. I should be good.” He glanced at Nathalie. “Mom?”

Nathalie nodded, following Adrien back to his room where he explained his goal and purpose.

“Nooroo is correct,” Nathalie remarked, adjusting her glasses as she flipped through item by item on Adrien’s clothes racks. “You do want a pop of colour to accentuate your eyes…. How about this?” She held out a rose-coloured dress shirt with an embroidered design in gold thread along the left side.

Adrien frowned. “Sorry. I’m just not feeling it.”

Nathalie nodded and returned it to the rack. “That’s okay. There are plenty of options.”

“About that.” Adrien cleared his throat.

Nathalie paused mid-motion and looked up.

“I kind of hate all my clothes.” Adrien dropped his gaze to the floor as he toed at the carpeting. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. Could you convince Dad to let me go shopping for a new wardrobe? All my clothes are…”

He looked up and around at the racks, fishing for the right word. “…so high school. I kind of want to put that behind me, put some distance between high school Adrien and me.”

Nathalie studied her foster-son’s face for a good long moment before finally nodding. “I think that’s a sentiment that your father could understand. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about you going shopping for other brands when you’re the face of ours, but…I will talk to him and see if we can somehow get you some new clothes that are more you…. Out of curiosity, what do you propose we do with the old clothes?”

Adrien’s face brightened. “Well, I’d get everything approved by Dad first in case there was anything in here that he wanted to keep as the designer, but…after that, I’d let Wayem come pick out a dozen outfits. Then I’d hold a charity auction for the rest to benefit various mental health programs and organizations in France. I mean, I have hundreds of thousands of fans. I figure at least some of them would be interested in buying my old clothes, so… How does that sound?”

Nathalie blinked in surprise. “That’s…a very wonderful idea, Adrien. It would be good publicity and benefit a good cause… I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

“You’re the best, Mom,” he cheered, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“You can thank me after I actually make it happen,” she chuckled. “For now, how about we figure out your wardrobe situation for today?”

Adrien gave an enthusiastic nod.

In the end, they settled on a white overshirt much like he usually wore, but underneath they went with a lilac t-shirt and paired it with a black tie slung jauntily around his neck.

[whumpqhs]

Whumptober #11. Stitches

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

"Get up."

Sonora groaned and sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. She'd been let loose from the restraints on the medical bed when the prisoner she’d been set to save had recovered, and while she was still kept in the same interrogation room much of the time, the "interviews" had gotten fewer, and further between. 

In their place were long sleepless nights, pressed into service as everything from a short-order lab tech to an emergency trauma surgeon to a burn specialist. Newly and critically wounded from the war, these prisoners were too high value to be allowed to die, and with new battles every day, the infirmary was struggling to keep up. She followed that familiar punchable face into the clean room, past all modesty by this point, and started changing into fresh scrubs and washing her hands. Next came the PPE, already laid out for her on a tray. No extras; nothing for her to sneak out. He trained the blaster on her as she pulled on her shoe covers and tied the apron around her legs.

It wasn't her first time scrubbing in at gunpoint, even before her capture, and it was very unlikely to be the last. But it wasn’t all bad: her bruises were healing, she was getting actual food… 

"Here, let me get that for you."

...and Keeper had become substantially less of an ass. She turned, giving him her back, and tucked her head down so he could tie the gown at the nape of her neck. 

"Thanks. Where are we?"

"OR 2." He followed behind her. His blaster was still aimed at the middle of her back, and it gave her the nerves, but she was getting used to it, in a way. Sometimes she could even forget about it, for a few seconds, or sometimes longer if he set it down, like he did now, passing it off to a guard standing at the doorway as he fixed her with a stern and serious glare. 

"Remember, Cipher--if he dies…"

"I go too. Yes. Can I do the timeout now?" She'd long since accepted that condition of the arrangement… and had moved on to making sure he understood that it no longer bothered her.

"Can y--? No. It's my turn to do the timeout." He shook his head. "You did it last time." 

Success, in the form of a petulant look from the elite SIS agent. 

"No, you did it. Remember? The exploratory lap?"

Greater success: for a moment, he scrunched his eyebrows together and frowned. "...oh yeah. I guess I did. Go on then."

Her smirk about being right--and making him admit it--was invisible behind her mask, fortunately. As she settled into the familiar rhythm of something she'd done so many times before, she could feel the tension and panic of being a prisoner melting away as, for a moment, she wasn’t a prisoner at all. She was herself again: a Cipher, a caregiver… 

"Alright, time out! Hands off the patient. This is prisoner F2975, thirty year old, Force blind, Zabrak male. We're doing a resection of damaged GI tissue with multiple sites, debridement of any necrotic tissue. Going in from the lower left quadrant, site is marked…" she checked the lines of body marker on his skin, "Patient is positioned supine, draped appropriately, intubated and anesthetized… do we all agree so far?"

Around her, the rest of the team nodded. She continued. "Skin prep looks like it's already been done. Ten blade, please."

The fact that Keeper willingly handed her a knife, scrubbed in and standing at her right, should have been a clue about how sure they were that she’d never make it out of here. But if she started thinking about that, she might make a mistake. Instead, she thought only of making the perfect incision, cutting at just the right angle, to just the right depth. Blood spilled out from behind the inflamed skin. She didn’t even need to call for suction; he was already working on it, moving it behind her blade and staying out of her way.

“You’re good at this.” 

“Thanks. I wanted to be a surgeon.” He offered her the retractor she’d been about to ask for. How did he know? “They make us get out after a certain amount of medical training, so I only got my RN. Not like the Empire.”

“How would you know about the Empire’s policies, hm?”

She’d had Cipher training, unlike the rest of the room, so even in her peripheral vision, she could see what they hopefully couldn’t: the flicker of surprise as he looked up at her and then quickly recovered--he was a spy too, after all--and smoothly replied, “I read your file when we captured you. Imperial Medical Board has you down with a stack of certificates and extra degrees as tall as I am. They should really stop using the same personnel numbers as Imperial Intelligence… that’s pretty much asking for trouble. Worked out pretty well for us, though.” He grinned at her and went back to working the suction as she slowly opened up the incision to see what they were dealing with.

“Ah. Well… I was a bit of a special case.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m not just a medical operative. They usually don’t get that much training… since they do a lot of field work. Theirs tends more toward strategy, tactics, search and rescue, that stuff.”

“Not you?” He passed in a hemostat when she put out her hand. 

“Not me. Ciphers are… different. I did most of my work in a hospital setting, like this one. Targets too highly classified to be given to regular medics. Important figures who were under threat and needed a trusted team… or who could make it worthwhile for Intelligence. We were the best in the Empire; and that meant we were constantly in demand.” Even now, she couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. Being promoted had been the best day of her life.

“Huh. We don’t have that type of thing; at least not that I know of. Just Agents, Special Agents, like me…”

“If it’s one up from the typical agent rank, then it’s the same as Cipher--so… you and I would be the same, then.”

“Hey, watch it, Ron.” One of the nurses cut in. “No need to go giving her info.”

“Your name is Ron?” She stopped, with both hands in the patient, and just looked at him.

“...Rongeur. It’s my designation. You are still my prisoner, and you will still call me Keeper.” She could see the color rising into his cheeks.

“It’s a nice designation. Useful instrument.”

He shook his head. She could hear the rest of the team snickering… clearly they were already well aware of how he didn’t like it. She sighed and went back to clamping, and cutting away, the tissue, then stitching the remaining healthy bowel back together.

“Oh, come on. No one likes their first callsign. I was so excited to change mine when I got promoted. It’s okay.”

“If it’s so “okay”, then why don’t you tell me yours?”

“Nice try.” She finished the last stitch on the intestine. “Rinse please, sterile saline and kolto.”

Once the cavity had been irrigated out, she nodded. “I think we’re about ready to close up, what about you? I need a second pair of eyes.”

He leaned in to check her work, nodding. “Looks good to me.” With the main procedure done, personnel began to leave, prepping for the eventual move to the infirmary’s PACU. When it was just them and the anaesthesia droid, she looked over at him. 

“Epi.”

“What? No. He’s not coding.”

“No, that was… that was me. My designation.” She placed the last stitch to anchor everything down within the cavity. “I was part of the rapid response team. Specialized in running codes. They used to say I was like a dose of it--little, which always made me mad, and… the best thing to have on hand if your heart stopped. Which made me really happy. So when I got to change my designation, that’s what I picked.”

Keeper--she’d already decided she wasn’t going to use that other name, it fit him even less somehow--looked back at her and quietly repeated, “Epi.”

“Mhmm.”

He picked up a needle holder, sighing. “I guess if they ever let me change mine--although I don’t think SIS does that--I’ll pick something cool like that.”

Why was it suddenly warmer than usual behind her mask?...

“I, y’know, it’s not that cool. I just… you’re right about yours, it really doesn’t suit you…”

“Thanks. Everyone else knows I hate it, they get a real kick out of it. S’why I jumped on making you call me something else.” He gestured to the needles that were lined up on the tray, already threaded. “You want the silk, or the Dakryl?”

“...You mean the dainethylene, right?”

“Huh?”

“You just did it again.”

“Did what?”

“When you get some time, look at that package. I’ve had to use Republic supplies in the field, you know? Emergency surgery… nowhere on there does it say Dakryl. It says the generic name. Dainethylene.” She paused, then added, “I want the silk, though.”

“It… so what?” He handed it over. She could tell from his tone that she’d hit a nerve. “I must have picked it up from a prisoner, like you. You’re not the first Sith-licking Imperial to come through here, don’t flatter yourself.”

Sonora started placing the stitches carefully. She knew she shouldn’t push. But… “You usually talk about surgical supplies with the prisoners here?”

“My specialty as a medical operative is interrogating. With medical torture. It comes up.” But he sounded defensive.

“I guess. I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just… strange. I’ve captured my fair share of SIS too, you know?...”

“I’m well aware.”

“They didn’t talk like you do.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. And as soon as he’s closed up, you’re going back to your cell.”

She blinked at him, tying off another stitch. “Was it something I said?”

“You keep acting like you have something on me, Cipher, well let me make this clear--you don’t.” His speech was fast and pressured, and he sounded genuinely angry. “I am a loyal Republic citizen. I always have been, and always will be. And you are still alive only because you are useful, and not very much trouble, so if I were you I’d be very careful about irritating the person who has to fight for you not to be taken downstairs and shot.”

That brought her up short. Mid-stitch, in fact. “...you… you’re the reason they’re keeping me?”

He turned away, prepping another needle. “You pull your weight. Don’t make errors. You work without complaint, the shit no one else wants to do, you do it.”

“I don’t have much choice.”

“So you do it, and you don’t spend an hour in the charge nurse’s office whining about having to.” He passed it over to her. “I’m trying to convince them that you’ll defect if we give you time to see that the Republic’s not all bad. We’ve lost a few of our agents to Imperial Intelligence. Might as well even the score.”

“So what would that be like? Just… turning around for the other guys, just like that?”

“They wipe your memory. Parts of it. So I hear, anyway.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t be much use as a medic, then.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe they leave those parts alone, so you can still practice.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. It seemed like they were both making the connection at roughly the same time. Parts like the names of suture thread?

Keeper was the one to jump in and try to fill the silence. “--Either way, you don’t have to stay in a prison cell once you defect, you know. You should do it. Come fight for the good guys.”

“Would that be the good guys who, unlike Imperial Intelligence, let their medical agents specialize in medically torturing people for information?”

“The very same.”

“...yeah, not yet.” She placed the last stitch. 

“Think about it.”

“I will, if you’ll think about something for me.”

“What’s that?”

She pointed to her stitches. “What was it you called this? Far-far, near-near, symmetrical bites...”

“It’s a Tirian loop. Did they not teach you that?”

“Yeah, they taught me that. At the Academy on Dromund Kaas. Tirian comes from Lord Tiria, the Dark Council seat for Biotic Sciences. He perfected it a couple hundred years back and promptly insisted on it being renamed after him...” As she began to tape down the drain coming out of the incision, she continued, “I had hold of one of your medics once. And I used this stitch on him. He called it a Beltic stitch, after Beltos Shala, the one who invented it.” Sterile gauze padded the stitches and wicked away any extra fluid. “...So while I know where I learned it… I’m pretty curious about where you did. Mister Loyal Republic Citizen.”

“It is not your job to be curious.” His voice had dropped back to the cold, cutting tone from when she’d first seen him, standing over her as her muscles locked up. She winced. “You’re a prisoner, it’s your job to do what you’re kriffing told. Are you finished with the procedure?”

“...yes.”

“Good.” He ripped the PPE off of himself and tapped on his wrist comm. “I’ll have them come get him and move him to PACU. You’re going back to your cell. Now.”

“What?! I can’t leave a patient!”

He picked up the blaster and leveled it at her chest. “You’re. Going. Back. To your CELL, now MOVE.”

--

[littleandroidwrites]

♟ (a desperate kiss) for Thenry and Delaware

Happy (late) birthday @galacticbois! This is for all the times I tell you you’re not valid and also, objectively, Bad. I never really mean it. I bicker with you the way I bicker with my sister because to me, you’re family. It’s been so long and I am so lucky. 

Little metal and wire bots zipped and zapped around the place, about the same height of her shins and about the same manic energy as her mind. Delaware didn’t take any notice of them, though, ferrying parts to buyers across the universe. She was preoccupied with the blue hologram in front of her, flickering pitilessly because the projector it originated from was almost a century out of date. 

“Little girl,” The alien behind the counter said, his antenna moving slowly back and forth, like a scanner searching for any ounce of patience, “There ain’t nothing here you can afford.” 

Bastard. But of course the old scrapper was. He dealt with people wasting his time all day long. Again, Delaware looked at her little projector. If she had any sense she’d trade it in, but she’d never claimed to have any sense. All heart, no head. And the dusty old knick knack was the first thing she’d ever repaired herself. She was keeping it. 

“What I can’t afford is to have a broken down ship.” Delaware finally looked up at the alien through the grimy yellow air of the pit-slash-market. It was something like thirty feet underground, the atmosphere of this planet too toxic for half of the species that lived here. Days like this, she hated being human. She wished she was something more hardy. Maybe a spliced cockroach of some kind. 

At the end of the universe, there would be cockroaches and Delaware.

“Malyshka, if you don’t got anything to give me, I don’t got any way to help you.” 

“It says right here on this stupid form --” She jammed her finger toward the flickering hologram in front of her. “-- that you accept credit. So why would you say that if you don’t mean it?” 

His inky black eyes blinked at her, left and right like sliding doors. His little purple mouth was screwed up like the bottom of a balloon. Delaware was pretty sure he wasn’t just about to let out air. 

“Fine. Fine.” She snatched her rectangular projector, cutting her finger on the jagged edges and pretending she hadn’t out of grim pride. “I’ll get stranded here and die.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Do you have a family?” The scrapper was already turning to the next customer. “I’m sure they’d be really proud.” 

“Dosvedanya.”

Delaware kicked dirt and trash all the way out of the market, back to the field of abandoned spacecrafts she called a home. In amongst them was her crashed Receptaculum Purgamentorum, red and rusty and magnificent and proud and a little sad right now but perfect and hers and redeemable. 

The big suicide door opened for her with a soft woosh after she pressed her hand up to it’s scanner. It sounded like welcome home. She tossed her projector to the side, not resentful that it had hurt her, but treating it to a little timeout while she recovered. She went about kicking a stool into place so she could rifle through the cabinets above her head, blowing strands of hair out of her face. She pushed and prodded at junk and found a pile of bandaids, three of which she applied haphazardly to her hand in a starburst formation. Once that was done, she slammed the doors shut. Stepped off her stool. Looked out the little pigeonhole window to the junkyard.

“You and me, Machine. And the rest of this useless planet.” 

“Well.” A deep rumble. Delaware froze, hand on the back of her neck, half way to tying back her filthy hair back from her filthy face. “I wouldn’t say useless. I got you this, didn’t I?” 

Something cool and solid touched her back. Finally, she turned. Looked up, up. A smile that made her chest feel like collapsing. 

“You don’t even wanna look at it?” Thenry offered her the contraption again, this time stopping just before her chest. Delaware grabbed his wrist to hold him in place.

“Have you just been hanging around my ship?” Shit. Her tone was way off. Breathy like she was hopeful. Like he’d sucked all the air out of the shuttle and he was the only source of oxygen. “Creepy bastard.” 

Thenry only grinned at her, hearing her words but knowing her too well not to find the truth beneath them. 

Delaware looked down at the device in the palm of his hand. His quiet laugh said he knew it was because she couldn’t look him in the face anymore. 

“What is it?” 

“You don’t know?” He teased, and she wanted to punch him, directly between his pretty eyes, because she would have if she could concentrate. She squeezed his wrist hard, nails almost digging in. He laughed a little. “Ow.” 

“It’s...” Delaware’s brow lowered. She arched forward, inspecting. “Is this a compression chamber?” 

“Could be.” 

“Right model?” 

“Might work.” 

He was being coy. Now she didn’t want to punch him at all, so she did. Right in his chest. Thenry took a half step back, absorbing the force easily because she hadn’t hit hard; she was too busy grinning up at him, feeling pleased to the point of near nausea. 

“Where did you get this? How did you get this? Damn!” She laughed, disbelieving as she looked down at the big shining metal, twice the size of her fist. It was rare to come across parts that fit her old craft; they’d gone out of manufacture more than a decade ago. “I was down in the pit all day and didn’t even come close!” 

Thenry shrugged. She followed the motion back up to his pretty face. Her heart was beating absurdly fast, trying to escape her chest to smash into his smile. Disgusting. He made her abjectly disgusting. 

This threw her forward at least a month, maybe two in her ship repairs. A couple more parts -- easy parts, too, ones that could be welded down to fit her needs or adapted together -- and there’d be take off. Her little craft, all ready for flying again. God, Delaware had missed it. Her heart ached. She looked around the shuttle, the wires that hung loose from the ceiling and the torn up upholstery and she was so absurdly fond. Her bright eyes found Thenry’s face again. 

It was a two person job, their mouths meeting. He bent down and she listed up on her toes, securing her arms around his neck. She kissed him for a second with her hands in his hair and then broke away to watch him carefully, carefully find a counter to place the compression chamber onto and then went back in, dizzy with wanting. Wanting for so many things. Her breath mingled with his own and she was suddenly choked up. Thenry let her stay not two inches from his face because he understood what this was, too. 

Less than a month it’d take her to fix up her craft. Less than a month before she could set off on her way back to her own dimension. The one where Thenry didn’t breathe at all. 

Delaware felt a gentle tug on her hair, and opened her eyes to see Thenry was smiling at her. Not like before. Smaller. A lie of a smile, because it was sad. “You’re gonna go home.”

I am home, she didn’t say. Because her home just looked like this. Because her home just had these eyes and this smile and that infuriating knack for saying just the things that made her angry but was not this. Because her home was gone. Dead. Because this Thenry wasn’t hers, and they both knew it. 

Delaware kissed him again. Softly, now. Breathing him in. He kissed her back, his fingers threading near the base of her scalp. To think, this would be one of the last times she felt this. This Thenry, not her Thenry, and the only Thenry she would ever have again. 

He pulled away, running a thumb over her cheek because he’d noticed her tears before she did. The pads of his fingers came away darker, the dust of the day on his thumbprint.

“It’s a dirty world out there.” He murmured, and Delaware had forgotten it existed at all. 

[bucky-is-a-hero-fightme]

In Your Heartbeat (5/16)

IN YOUR HEARTBEAT MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky/Reader, Natasha/Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2200 approx.

Summary: It has been over a year from being on the run, but for the first time, you are not running away. Trying to find clues on your past, your name and what it means to Hydra and their Ghost, you will stumble upon darker truths than you expected.   

A/N: This is the start of the “Second Half” If you will, hence the change in header. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!

You cannot believe how little you knew about the system dictating yours and everyone else's lives until you forced yourself to dig into every bit of information, search on every crevice and contact every person that could know something.

You read on a long-forgotten experimentation facility on southern Italy about how stopping a person's heart and restarting it within a certain time period will allow the heartbeat to restart, forcing a nameless brand on the resurrected person's heart. You found out about the project to do so in the sixties, you found out about Hydra's plan to try it on the Black Widows.

You remember how your sister tried it on you.

You had to battle yourself for months, fighting against the desire to cling to your anger, your resentment towards her for what she did; but then, when you had spent too many months alone and running and tired, your search for the Winter Soldier's files.

And you understood why Natalia wanted to protect you. You understood why when she was presented with the choice between a possibility of you being happy and the certainty of you being safe, she chose your protection, your safety.

The notes on the surviving subjects of the new project to take soulmates away from people say that memories, even on people that have spent a lifetime alongside their other half, are quickly forgotten once the heart is restarted.

No intel on whether or not those memories come back, but be it because of your powers or the horrible, hilarious twist of fate the universe has set on you; they are.

You remember Natalia teaching you to read your heartbeat, sneaking around with a bunch of dots written on a piece of paper and coming back with a name written on it. A name that sounded too English for two girls raised knowing nothing more than the constricting borders of the USSR. A name that sparked something in your chest, a bit of hope and a bit of the good kind of fear everytime you thought of it, traced the letters, the beats, in your head.

You remember realizing the myths about how when one person on the side of the bond is under incredible pain or joy, the other one will be forced to watch, for bad or for worse in your case. You remember realizing that it was not a myth when they started trying the sensory deprivation chamber on the Ghost, and when a seventeen-year-old had to stand by and watch a man descend into insanity, only to be brought back from the edge, again and again and again.

You remember the way when one of those episodes happened, when the thin red knot tying you together tightened and you could feel that impotence, that helplessness and that pain for that part of you that you didn't recognize yet; there was only one word spoken on either side of the bond. Your name, the real one.

The one thing, your treacherous heart that is still too much the heart of a girl folding paper cranes reminds you, that they couldn't take away. The one thing, that name, that stuck for seventy years on the mind of a man that forgot his own.

But now you know it's only that: a name.

Just like his.

Just like the name that took everything from you. The name that forced months upon months of you trying to figure out who you really are, what being you means. Months of peeling mask upon mask off your face, never knowing if you would ever reach Y/N or if she had truly died decades ago, as Elena told the soldier.

The name that has meant nothing but pain, even after this long. The name you never wanted. The name that cursed you from the start.

__

You are scouting through a Croatian market when you hear the distinct sound that years of training and of watching over your shoulder had thought you to recognize: a gun's safety going off.

Trying to keep your calm, you pay for the small golden trinket you got to add to your collection of souvenirs, and take the first route into the center of the market.

But the woman that readied her gun follows you, and not too discreetly.

You close your eyes and follow the threads around your energy. It has gotten a lot easier in the last months, controlling your powers, focusing on yourself, than it was in over forty years of training. You like to believe you are becoming more of yourself and less of a mask, which makes finding yourself and your connection to time easier.

The strongest thread suggests there's more approaching, and they are going to flank you and drive you away from people if you try to veer towards your apartment in the city.

So, you decide to go for the thickest part of the street market, bustling with people at this time right before the sun starts to set.

Like you had predicted, two more men join the woman of the gun when you walk past the thickest part of the street market, but when you dive into the midst of people, reaching up to take off the brunette and blue wig, leaving behind the unnatural platinum blonde you dyed before parting ways with your sister, with the growing roots of your natural color, or what is left of it after years of changes and products.

With the security that they will hesitate, were they to find you, you take a nearly deserted street that leads to the apartment, checking once again over your shoulder to see if they are close by before you break into a run.

You hear the barked orders, the closely following footsteps as you reach the apartment, breaking in and throwing your things into a bag and taking the predicted escape route towards the train station.

You close your eyes, focusing on your powers as much as you can while still running through the labyrinthic streets of Pazin.

Footsteps on the perpendicular street, about to meet at the corner. Try to avoid them, a body falls from a nearby height, crushing you to the ground. The needle in your arm is the last thing you feel.

You shake your head, taking out your gun and readying it to shoot at the incoming man from the corner, all the while keeping close attention to the woman running across the low roofs of the buildings in the coastal part of the city.

The man appears, electric baton ready in hand, but two quick shots in his leg make him drop down, the woman falling to the ground from the roof, but your powers helping you avoid her.

She points the gun at you, dead eyes set on yours, and you do the same thing.

"You want me alive," You state, praying she doesn't hear the tremor in your voice. "I won't let you take me."

"I can make you," She smirks, pretending to advance, and managing to set you even more on edge as you try to keep an eye on both her and the man on the floor, to keep your mind on the situation at hand and the threads referring to each possible future.

You take a step back, "You can't. What do you want me for?"

"You are needed, girl. The miracles failed, is time to go back to good ol' weapons." She sing-songs, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. The soft way she rolls some consonants in her tongue should tell you of her lack of practice with English but, then again, you have seen Barton pretend to only speak ASL when captured so...you cannot trust your human distinctions, not in a world like yours.

You feel one of the threads grow stronger, brighter.

A man approaches from behind. Hand around your neck. Too easily, he beats you.

You have to force your fingers to release the white-knuckled grip they have on your backpack. Where you keep the files, the letters.

Where you keep the picture.

You drop it to the ground between your legs, and taking out the other handgun from the holster by your hip, you point it behind you blindly.

Staring directly at the leader, you snarl,

"Tell your dog to back off."

She merely laughs, in a raspy, mocking laugh that sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. She lowers her gun, but you don't.

"You have gotten good, girl." She teases, and in what seems like a puff of smoke, she is standing right in front of you.

You shoot. One, two times.

But the bullets go through her like she is made of mist.

"What...?"

She smirks your way, taking out a picture from your backpack and pretending to study it. You can only stare at her with wide eyes.

"Nice picture, dolly," She lifts her eyes to yours, and only then you notice the way some sort of dark mist is swimming inside of them, like the red you saw in the new girl in the Avengers group. She presses her palm to your chest, over your heart, and leaves the picture pressed against your jacket. "Better give it back to its owner, pretty thing. It's never too late, is it?"

In another swirl of almost black mist, she is back where she was, a few feet away from you. Smirk still in place, you keep your back straight and your eyes on her as she holsters the weapon and signals for her men to retire. They do, the one at your back helping the wounded one up.

She turns around, leaving you dumbfounded, but only after taking a few steps away from you, she turns around and looks at you.

"Consider this a warning, little Romanova. Next time we call, you better answer."

You have been running for what feels like hours, the voice inside your head you haven't heard in years telling you to keep going, to never stop because they will find you again.

Your legs give out under you, too weak to hold you up any longer. You had lived without being hunted since Natasha joined Shield and Hydra had quietened. It had been years since you felt the threat not of death, but of capture.

One thing is to be in the other end of an enemy's gun barrel, and know for certain your end is to come. It is terrifying, of course, but it also comes with a certain sense of peace.

To be taken...you have been haunted since you were too young to remember what it was like not to be. Strangers took your sister, forced you to run away, but then they got you too, killing the small family that made the mistake of wanting you. They injected their concoctions into your body and hoped for the best, and you couldn't do anything but scream in pain because you were at their mercy.

Because they had beaten you. Because they had captured you.

And since you escaped with the serum running through your veins, you have known you will die before risking being taken again.

It’s when you are on the train, safely directed towards...you don’t even remember where, your belongings inside your bag and your heart rate returning to normal; that you take out the picture.

This is one thing you cannot afford to lose. It’s a reminder. A reminder of why you are risking your life for Intel, a reminder of the danger of a name, a reminder of why the Ghost will remain to be an enemy to you, no matter the circumstances, no matter the name he chooses for himself.

You run gentle fingers over the photograph. It’s old, maybe as old as the serum in your veins, although the smile on the girl’s picture is dimmer than those of the girls in Natalia’s pictures, so it is probably taken much after the night your sister stopped your heart, and took your memories.

But the smile, it is still yours. Your hair is not exactly the color your roots are taking now, judging by the shade in the sepia picture, but you recognize the shape of your nose, the shine in your eye.

But you turn the picture around, the picture found in a dark room on a forgotten facility, and you are reminded why you thread with care, why you are fighting to make your name your own again, and if not that, at least know who the person behind that name truly is.

Deep and uneven traces of the pen, as if the words had been pulled from a dying man’s throat, taint the back of the photograph.

Y/N. Y/N. Don’t forget that. Count the beats, don’t forget that. Y/N.

Taglist: @learisa , @lixbean ,  @quiessilva-meriff

Tell me if you wanna be added, and please leave a comment, or message/ask me to tell me your thoughts! Ly!

[lostinreality014]

Part IV - Bad Dreams & Bedtime Stories

Author’s Notes: Hello beautiful people! Here’s Part IV of the series. I do hope you’re enjoying it. Do you have any favorite moments so far? As always, thank you for all you feedback. The likes, reblogs, and the comments I see in the tags of reblogs warm my heart and mean so much. 

Thank you @imagine-that-one-thing​ and @stylishmuser​ for being betas to this series and for your suggestions and words of encouragement.

All rights reserved. I do not give permission for this piece to be reposted on any platform.

[Catch Up Here]

Part IV

“So it wasn’t really scary when you meets Nana and Papa and Auntie Gem?” Mia asked.

“No, it wasn’t. Not as scary as I thought it was going to be. And I was a bit silly to be scared to meet them.”

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

“You know how we talk to daddy on the computer when he’s gone and is one stage every night?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I’d already talked to Nana, Papa, and Auntie Gem on the computer. So I had already met them kind of.”

“But you was still scared?”

“I was.”

“But why?” I couldn’t help but smile at her trying wrap her almost four year old brain around being scared to meet her grandparents and Aunt.

“Like mumma said a few minutes ago, it’s a bit much for you to understand. But there was I boy I dated before daddy. It wasn’t for very long. But when I met his mumma and daddy, they weren’t very nice to me. They said some mean things to me. So I was worried that Nana, Papa, and Auntie Gem wouldn’t like me even though we talked on the computer.”

“But everybody likes you.” Mia said indignantly.

“In your almost four year old eyes, yes. But you don’t have to worry about any of that. It was a long time ago.”

“Is da other boy your friend still?”

“He is. His name is Daniel. And he’s very nice.”

“Dats good.” she smiled. “Why were his mumma and daddy mean to you?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. I knew the basis of their contempt toward me, but that didn’t mean I understood why they treated people the way they did. “I think they were just very protective of him and…”

“What’s that?” she interrupted.

“Protective?”

“Yeah.”

“It means that I would do anything to make sure other people don’t hurt you. If someone said something mean to you, I wouldn’t be happy. Just like you aren’t happy that other people were mean to me.”

“I gots it. I fink,” she lisped before knuckling at her eyes, a clear indication that she was finally getting sleepy.

“Someone’s getting sleepy.” I teased. She sat up and shook her head emphatically.

“I not sleepy! See?!” she widened her eyes dramatically and I muttered an ‘alright’ under my breath. Though I knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she fell asleep. Her green eyes were already glazed over with tiredness.

“Can I play in your closet?” she asked suddenly, sitting up right. I repressed the urge to sigh irritably, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation, and then resigned myself to the fact that I would have to get really firm with her in the next few minutes even if she got upset with me.

“Just for a few minutes.” I said as I got off the bed and helped her down. I walked over to our closet door and opened it for her. “Be careful please,” I scolded gently when she pushed past me.

“Go waits out there.” She told me, pointing towards my bed. I raised an eyebrow at her and she gave me an innocent grin. “Pease, mumma.” I playfully swatted her bum before backing up until he backs of my legs it our bed. Mia waited until I’d sat down before stepping into our closet and closing the door halfway. She knew better than to close it all the way.

As I flopped back down on to our mattress, our king sized bed felt much too large. And it felt even emptier when it was just me. I was very much ready to have Harry back in bed with me. His tours weren’t as long as they used to be now that we had Mia. He’d go out on a leg for four to six or eight weeks at a time rather than four or five months. But it still felt far too long sometimes.

When I’d talked to him on Skype last night, he was at the airport in Sydney waiting to catch their jet back to London. He looked absolutely exhausted, but he had a hard time sitting still. As happy and thrilled as he was that this leg had gone so well, he was also very much ready to be back home. And while I knew he couldn’t wait to get home to see his baby girl, I also knew he was looking forward to Gemma taking her for the weekend so he could have a couple days of quiet to adjust to the time change.

“Mumma, look! I daddy!” I groaned internally before pushing myself up to sitting, only to fall back in laughter. Mia was standing in front of me wearing everything that belonged to her father. She’d pulled on a pair of his ripped black skinnies, the legs trailing far behind her, and one of his vintage band tees, which she’d thrown on over her nightgown. It swallowed her up completely. One of his old beanies was situated on top of her head, her curls sticking out in all directions just like her father’s used to when his hair was longer. And to complete the look, she was wearing a pair of his old Ray Bans.

“Oh, my goodness! You look adorable, Munchkin!” I exclaimed softly, still giggling. It was uncanny how much she looked like Harry in this moment.

“I gonna be just like you and daddy and sing on stage!” She exclaimed, tying to dance around while not tripping over the legs of the skinnies that she was holding up with both hands.

“Can I take a picture of you to send to daddy?” She nodded enthusiastically with an ear to ear smile plastered on her face.

“Can you play daddy?” Mia asked as I crawled up the bed to grab my phone off my bedside table.

“Sure, baby. What song do you want to hear?”

“Beautiful!” she exclaimed. “One we hears when Auntie Lou called.” I scrolled through the playlist on my phone to find the live recording of What Makes You Beautiful Harry had sent me and hit the play button. Mia’s excited squeal filled the room when she heard Harry’s voice and she started dancing around as best she could.

I opened up the video camera on my phone and started recording so I could send a video to Harry along with a couple of photos. Knowing how hard it was for him to be away from Mia for more than a week or two at a time, I knew he’d keep the video on his phone to watch when he was having a particularly hard day being a way from home.

“Okay, munchkin. Stand still for me, please,” I said after I’d stopped recording and switched over to camera mode. After a couple of seconds she stopped dancing and turned around to face me, striking a pose. I tried my best not to giggle while she changed poses and I snapped pictures. She was just too darn cute.

“Dat good, mumma?” She asked as she stopped posing for a moment.

“That’s perfect, munchkin,” I smiled. “Now it’s time to go put daddy’s clothes back where you found them.”

“Okay, mumma.” Once I knew she’d made it back into the closet safely, I pulled up my message thread between myself and Harry, sending him the video clip and a few photos. When the file attachments had gone through, I typed out a message that read,

Look what happens when Munchkin wakes up from a bad dream and doesn’t go back to sleep right away. And if you see Horan before I do, tell him I’m going to smack him the next time I see him. He’s taught our daughter bits of Irish to guilt trip me.

By the time I’d finished typing my message and sending it, Mia had emerged from the closet with a box in her hands.

“What do you have there?” I asked her as she made her way over to me. I studied the box for a moment after she handed it to me, trying to think of what would be in it as she climbed up on the bed before settling down in front of me between my legs.

“Dunno. But it pretty.” I snorted out a laugh as I set the box down in front of us and lifting the lid off of it. Once the lid was gone, I immediately remembered what was stored in the box.

“What’s these?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at me.

“They’re all pictures of me, daddy, and your silly uncles,” I answered with a fond smile, picking up a small handful of photos. The one on top made me smile. It had been at the contestant house the week before the live shows began on xFactor. I flipped through a couple more and barked out a laugh when I came across a photo from one of shows at the O2 arena during the time they’d been filming the This Is Us documentary. We continued flipping through the pictures and stopped when I found a picture of Gemma holding Mia the day after she was born.

“That’s Auntie Gem!”

“Yes it is. Who is she holding?”

“Me!”

“That’s right. You’re just a day old in this picture. That was the very first time Auntie Gem met you.”

“Really?”

“It’s true.”

“I likes sleeping at Auntie Gem’s. She always makes lotsa cookies. Can we makes cookies tomorrow?” she asked, turning her head back to look up at me.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Auntie Gem when she comes to pick you up.”

“We could makes cookies for all of us.”

“Yes you could,” I smiled. “You could make some as a welcome home present for daddy.”

“Yeah!”

“But you’ll have to ask Auntie Gem nicely if you can make cookies,” I reminded her as I flipped through a couple more pictures before pausing. Mia’s attention immediately turned to the photo I’d paused on. It was a picture from my final show in Phantom of the Opera. I’m not sure how he’d done it, but Harry had managed to make it back to London from Japan in time to be there for my closing night. I’d had no idea he was going to be there so it was a complete shock when I walked into my dressing room to find him sitting in my chair at my make up table. And not only was it a special night because he’d managed surprise me, it was a special night because that was the night we’d said ‘I love you’ for the first time.

“When was this?” Mia asked, looking back up at me. “And who are all those people wif  you and daddy?”

“That was the night of my last show in Phantom of the Opera. And those are some of my cast mates from the show. That was also the night I told daddy I loved him.”

“It was?” She asked, pushing the box of photos out of the way before crawling out of my lap. I followed her up to the head of the bed and laid down beside her as she rolled about for a few seconds to get comfy.

“It’s true.”

“Can I hear that story?” she asked as she finally settled down, her head resting on my lap.”

“Sure, baby,” I said as I tucked our fleece throw around her.

***Flashback*** We had returned back to my flat around half one, Harry refusing to let me cut out of the cast party early because it was my closing night of my first West End show. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to celebrate with my cast mates and a couple of others who also finished their run alongside me, because I did. It was just that I wanted to spend my time with Harry as well because I knew it would be limited before he had to head off for a short promo tour before the holidays.

Harry fixed us a late night snack and pot of tea while I showered again and changed into my pajamas. And after we’d finished eating, I cleaned up while he took a shower and changed into something comfy. Now we were cuddling on the sofa in my living room so we wouldn’t disturb Aubrey with our late night conversations since our bedroom walls backed up to one another. I was stretched out on top of him, my head resting on his chest. I could feel and hear his heartbeat underneath my ear and it was such a comforting feeling.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said softly, still not quite convinced that I wasn’t dreaming.

“Did you really think I’d miss your closing night of your first West End show?” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head and trailing his hands up and down my back soothingly.

“I knew you didn’t want to miss it. But I didn’t think it would be possible since you were coming back from Japan.”

“I wasn’t gonna miss this for the world since I couldn’t be there on your opening night.” I snuggled into him a bit more, pulling the blanket covering us a little tighter to me, my eyes burning with tears. There were so many emotions flowing through me at the moment and it was overwhelming to say the least.

“I’m so glad you made it,” I sniffled. He wrapped his arms around me before shifting us around so that we were laying on our sides facing each other.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, his fingers brushing my hair back from my face.

“Nothing really. Just trying to process all the emotions.”

“Talk to me.” When I opened my mouth to tell him we could talk in the morning, he cut me off. “And don’t tell me we can talk after we sleep. We both know that’s not going to happen right now.” I rolled my eyes and shoved him as best I could in our current position.

“I just… I’m sad my time in Phantom is over. It was my first West End show and it’s one of my favorite musicals. I’m gonna miss it. And my cast mates.”

“You currently live with one of your cast mates.” he smirked.

“Not the point.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But you share a bond with them and that will never go away. I know it’s not always easy to keep up with everyone and visit because of scheduling, but it doesn’t mean you won’t ever see them again.”

“Yeah, I know. And I know it’s only been a few hours, but I didn’t think my post show blues would be this intense.”

“I think it’s to be expected after you close out your first West End show. It’ll forever hold a special place in your heart and in your memory. And it’s a show you’ve always loved so it holds even more meaning to you. And you became part of a family. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now cause it’s still so fresh, but the post show blues will ease up over the next few days.”

“I hope so. Cause now I just feel sad and a little bit lost.”

“That’s how I felt after we finished our first tour.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, brushing a couple of tears from under my eye. “We were on stage every other night for seven or eight months and then we didn’t go back out on the road again for about six months. Sure we were busy recording and doing promo stuff, but it’s a completely different schedule. And it was our first world tour that we headlined. That in and of itself was special. Adjusting between performing tours and promo tours was hard. Going from eight shows a week to no shows a week is a big change.”

“How do you do it? How do you deal with such a big adjustment?”

“Find ways to keep myself busy. Not too busy tough. I do need a chance to unwind and rest. But it helps to do little things. Writing down ideas for songs. Reading. Watching a film or a TV show. When I’m home, spend time with my family and friends. And you.”

“Dork.” I muttered with a smile. He scoffed playfully before leaning in and kissing my nose. We fell silent, the need to say something not very strong. It was comforting just being here with each other, knowing that we were both going through something similar at the moment even though it was actually quite different.

“I have an audition on Wednesday,” I said softly after a few minutes.

“You do?” I nodded against his shoulder. “For what show?”

“Wicked.”

“That’s amazing, B. Are you auditioning for a specific role?”

“Not really. It’s an open call for ensemble as well as the roles of Elphaba, Glinda, and Nessarose, three of the female leads. Well, Nessarose is more of a supporting lead role. But a lead role none the less.”

“Any one you really want?”

“Elphaba.” my tone made it sound as if I was scared to say it aloud, but I wasn’t. It was a role that resonated with me in many ways, and a role I’ve wanted to play for a few years now.

“That’s the character that becomes the Wicked Witch?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not why you want the part though.” it was a statement, not a question.

“No.” I confirmed.

“What is it that draws you to that role?”

“I relate to Elphaba in a lot of ways. I was bullied when I was younger. Picked on because I was smaller than the other kids and quirkier too. And when my dad left, we moved to the village where mum met my step-dad. We became talk of the town so I was an outsider in every sense of the word. Elphaba is very much the same. She’s born with a different color skin. People bullied her and ostracized her constantly. They never got to know her and give her a chance to prove she was just as kind and ‘normal’ as everyone else. Even after she was forced into becoming wicked, she still had a good heart. She found love and in a weird, twisted way, she got a happy ending.”

“I’m sorry you were bullied when you were younger. You didn’t deserve that,” he said softly, reaching up to brush more tears from my cheeks. “And if anyone ever told you you’d never make it, and I suspect they did,” I nodded in confirmation, “you’ve just proved them all wrong. You’re the one that came out on top. And even before you booked Phantom, you were on the xFactor. Making the live shows alone proved every single one of them wrong.”

“I’d be happy if I got any role in Wicked. But I really want Elphaba.”

“If I know my girl, she’s going to land that role,” he smiled.

“You think so?”

“Oh I know. And the performance I saw a few hours ago proves that. You were brilliant tonight,” He whispered, his lips brushing my forehead before he kissed me softly.

“Thank you,” I sniffled.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, pulling back just enough so we could see each other again.

“Yeah.”

“I know this won’t come across the right way, but as much as I wish you’d been on the show longer, I’m glad you weren’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you wouldn’t have booked Phantom if you’d stayed on longer. Seeing you on stage tonight, it was so clear that that’s where you belong. You were meant for a West End or Broadway stage. Not on a stage in a different city every other night singing songs someone wrote for you to sing.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes, I do. You have a one of a kind voice where you can sing in so many different styles, and you connect so well with your audience because of your background in dance and acting. And because of that, I know you’d have a really successful career as a recording artist and touring the world. But I don’t think you’d love it as much as you love what you’re doing right now. I’m really happy you auditioned and made it as far as you did cause we would’t have met otherwise.” More tears slipped down my cheeks as I smiled at him. I thought bout speaking up, but I could tell there was more he wanted to say. He just needed a second to gather his thoughts.

“Seeing you in your element tonight, I’m convinced more than ever that you leaving the show when you did happened at the right time as much as it sucked not to see you. Making it to the live shows was just a little side path you had to take to get where you really wanted to be.” I closed the distance and kissed him softly and in a way I haven’t kissed anyone before.

“I love you.” I whispered before I could stop myself. It’s not exactly how I’d pictured it in my head; telling him I loved him. But the moment felt right. I’d know for a few weeks now that I was in love with him. In fact, I’m pretty I was in love with him on our first date, I just didn’t know it right away.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, brushing the tears from my face for the third time since we’d collapsed onto the sofa in a heap. “And I’m so incredibly proud of you. You’re going smash your audition and get the role you were meant to have. Whether it’s a lead role or an ensemble role. Any show that you’re cast in will be lucky to have you no matter that role you get.”

“Thank you,” I hiccuped. “Thank you for believing in me. And being there for me even when you’re half a world away.”

“Always going to be here for you. Never gonna let you stop chasing your dreams.”

[fangirlinganditswonders]

Cherry pie (Cheryl Blossom imagine)

(Excuse me but I HAD to use this gif)

► Request:   # 6, 16 And 32 with Cheryl Blossom pls

6. You’re so annoying

16. I just want you

32. It doesn’t matter as long as I am with you

► Pair: Cheryl Blossom x reader

► Warnings: Language kids.

► Author’s notes: So,this is my first EVER imagine with two females and I have to say I was living while writing it, Cheryl is so funny to write and if you make the reader a shameless flirty it’s even better. Anyways! Hope you like it! English is not my first language so excuse any spelling or grammar mistake. 

► Permanent and multifandom taglist: @ssweet-empowerment @averyamyers @maggie-starz @coffeestainedtales

Feel free to contact me HERE or send me a message with anything you need!

You can find more of my stories on my MASTERLIST

If you want to make a request here’s the Prompt list!

Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Gym class had finished ten minutes ago and every girl on the locker room got a quick shower in order to get into the next class in time, but not you. You always took your time because classes and grades were not something you really worried about. Most of people on high school knew you as “The Southside intruder”. Not that you lived in Southside, you didn’t moved from there to the Northside either, it’s just that everyone agreed on that you seemed to be from there. Your clothes were not elegant and fine or high-quality; black, leather and denim fabric were your best friends. You behavior also was not Northside typical, you were not a cheesy girl like most of the ones at your school. At first it did bother you to receive that nickname but then you realize it just made more obvious the difference between you and most of people on your school, people you didn’t bear, you started to accept it, even like it. You were the official bad girl and with the time you could see that it was actually funny to be so. While you were tying your shoestrings you heard a locker being closed and frowned confused. Usually you were always the last one leaving that room.

“Blossom, what a nice surprise” Her head snapped towards you and an annoyed expression quickly formed in her face. “What are you doing here?” “None of your business intruder” At the nickname you just rolled your eyes and smile shamelessly looking at her almost bare chest, just covered by her cherry bra. “Stop looking at me like that!” It was funny to get into her nerves, funny and easy. “What do you want?” She said putting her hands on her hips. “I just want you Blossom” It was her turn to roll her eyes at your mocking tone. “You’re so annoying” She snapped back. “See you around cherry pie!” Walking towards the exit you waved your hand to her who obviously didn’t answered.

~

It was a quiet afternoon at Riverdale. The dark sky was threatening the town with rain so you thought that a blanket, your couch and some television would be the perfect plan. Putting the books you were supposed to be using to do your homework away to place a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table you started a little marathon of your favorite TV show ready to enjoy some home alone time. Your parents wouldn’t be home till night due to their work and your elder brother had basketball training so no one would bother you, or that’s what you thought. After two episodes the doorbell rang but you decided to not pay attention and not leaving the couch but when it got persistent you threw the blanket away from you and walked to the door as annoyed as you could be and ready to make whoever the hell was at the door go away without hesitating.

“What the hell do you want?” Asking before opening the door left you with your mouth shout when you saw nothing but Cheryl Blossom standing on your porch. “Blossom, what do I due this pleasure to?” You asked crossing your arms on your chest and leaning against the door frame. “I need something from you” She said shrugging as if her being at your house and talking to you was the most common thing. “Usually I would be glad to do you a favor” Bringing your flirting attitude from the lockers room back you looked at her in the eyes raising your left brow a few times. “But not today cherry pie, I’m sorry” The door was about to close when she put her foot covered in the black leader of her boots in between the door and its frame to stop you from doing so. “Look here intruder I’m asking nicely. Trust me, the idea of sharing any among of time with you is unpleasant for me as well but you’re the only one who can help me without asking questions I don’t want and I don’t have time to answer.” “And what would that favor be?” “I need a ride” “A ride?” Your eyebrows raised and a mocking smile appeared on your lips. “I’m the only one who can give you a ride in this entire town?” “Yes you are, because you’re the only one who knows the place I want to go.”

~

As much as you put effort on it you couldn’t stop glancing at Cheryl on the passenger’s seat of your car every so often and chuckle at how she was staring at everything there.

“You know? You can relax, this car is not giving you any STD” She looked at you with bored eyes and scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that” “Let me tell you something here Blossom, not that I care about what people say about me but you should stop with this criticizing people without knowing them bullshit. What if someone is insecure and you start throwing your evil arrows at them? You could really plunge them.” “I told you I needed a ride, not a morality class” Seeing you had nothing to do about it you just sighed and rolled your eyes. “And what made you think that I know this area of Riverdale?” You asked looking at the road. She had asked you to give her a ride to the outskirts of town, near to the point where the South and the North side were closest. “I know your father used to work in one of the factories around here” You frowned at her words. “How do you know that cherry pie?” Drawing a sly smile on your lips you turned to her “Don’t you tell me you’ve been stalking me or something like that because you’re interested.” “You wish, Intruder”

Ten minutes later you parked in front of the address she had told you. You didn’t know the place but you didn’t care much either.

“Do you need me to go with you?” She was already opening the door when she turned towards you. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe before smiling slightly in her usual way. “It won’t be necessary, I don’t think it’ll take much time.” “Here I’ll be then”

As she walked towards the entrance and entered the building you followed her with your eyes. What were the chances for you to be alone with Cheryl Blossom on this area of Riverdale? It definitely surprised you but it was not something you were about to complain for. Cheryl had always attracted you but you never tried anything with her, you two were way too different, well, you felt very different from the girls on your school but she was the epitome of them, hell, it was her who gave you the nickname everyone knows you by. Your chances with her were none. After a while you looked at your watch while your fingers were tapping the wheel. Fifteen minutes. Inside your head the question what is Cheryl doing here? Was growing bigger with every minute passing but obviously she didn’t want to get asked about her chores there and you respected and understood that. After five more minutes you heard the door being opened and Cheryl entered the car with a grin on her face.

“Done, we can go now” “Sure” You simply answered turning on the engine and starting driving towards the center of the town. “I was starting to get worried Blossom” “Oh don’t, you’ll still have me to stalk me on the lockers room” At her answer you just chuckled. “Oh no…” You mumbled when the car started to make that weird noise. “Crap!” It only took a few seconds until a thread of smoke started to come from under the hood, then the car stopped completely. “I can’t believe this!” Without answering Cheryl when she started to make questions you left the car and lifted the hood to check everything. The motor and alternator had been giving you problems for a while and they had decided to fail again. “Are you kidding? I checked them last week!” Throwing your hands on the air you sighed exasperated. “Please don’t tell me the car’s not working” “I won’t say it if you don’t want to hear it” Being too busy on your phone, looking for the mechanic’s number, you couldn’t see Cheryl rolling her eyes at you and looking around in case some car could be spotted and she could get home in less than half an hour.

Once the call was made you leant against the hood, almost sitting there and Cheryl soon joined you.

“Sorry about this. I’m sure you didn’t want to spent God knows how much time waiting for a lazy ass mechanic in a road in the middle of nowhere.” You were massaging your temples, pissed at your car and also the mechanic because if it was failing again he hadn’t done a good work. “It doesn’t matter as long as I’m with you” When her words went through your ears you looked at her with your eyebrows raised and a small and sided smile on your face. “I mean, it’s scary out here and I wouldn’t like to be alone. That’s what I meant, don’t get your hopes up Intruder.” “Sure Blossom”

It’s not sure how exactly started but you found yourself having a small conversation with the red haired girl, and it didn’t include any type of nickname or pejorative comments or glares. You stopped in the middle of a sentence when you felt a drop colliding with your nose. You looked at Cheryl who had felt a drop on her face as well. You didn’t have time to get inside the car dry before the rain started to fall furiously. When you found yourselves on your seats, almost completely wet, with some wet locks of hair sticking on your faces you looked at each other and started to laugh out of nowhere.

“Can something else happen?” She asked when the laughter died but you kept the smiles on your faces. “Don’t call for bad luck Cheryl, it could happen” “What about Blossom?” Already looking at her direction you frowned. “What about it?” “I think it’s the first time you call me by my name” She shrugged with her right shoulder wiping the tip of her nose when a drop was about to fall. “Is there a problem with that?” You asked leaning a little bit towards her. She didn’t answered, just shook her head and you swore you could see her eyes eyeing down to catch a stare of your lips. No hesitation, your hand found the back of her head and you pulled her into a kiss. Her body froze and yours as well when you realized what you just had done. “Oh my God” You smiled biting your lower lip, your cheeks almost as red as her lipstick. “I’m so sorry Cheryl, I didn’t think what I was doing.” Her eyes were wide but no word came out of her mouth. Great you thought to yourself now I’ve screwed it up real good. “Let’s pretend this has never happened, okay?” “No” Before you could response with what you had in mind she grabbed your arm and shoved you into her, pressing your lips together again. Now it was you the one who was shocked and your body froze again. With your eyes opened you saw how she closed hers and after two seconds you mimicked her, giving into the kiss. To say that you were not surprised that her lips even tasted like cherry was a statement. You were kissing Cheryl Blossom and you could almost not believe it. It was soft but it also had a small point of roughness where you could feel how bad she wanted to feel loved and needed and you were willing to provide that to her. Your lips pulled apart when the horn of the mechanic’s tow truck sounded behind your car, startling both of you and sharing a chuckle after.

The way back was silent. The mechanic, whose name was Jay, apologized to you at least twenty times before you got into the truck. After the moment shared with Cheryl all your anger faded away so you told him not to worry. Cheryl’s place was the first one you went to. She looked at you putting her hand on handle, she didn’t need to say a work, you understood.

“Don’t worry Blossom, we’ll talk tomorrow” You winked at her and she smiled in a way that made you feel looking forward to meet her on the locker room again.

[moonwatcher-sunseeker]

The Omens

[A Vivina piece. Takes place after she gets a concussion and starts experiencing strange things due to a previous study object, and thus opts to go home for a time.]

The Sivinyara, the Seeing. There's no scientific basis for it that I can tell except for perhaps an anomaly in our bloodline. A sickness? A curse?

The Omens come to me, unbidden, and I am lost in their meaning.

Do you hear me, even now?

Would you have understood?

~~~~

When she steps out of the well-worn forest passage of her youth -- for an unaffiliated carriage was not allowed to come this close to the entrance of the Moon Hold -- she catches sight of the old runes around the cave entrance glinting silver in the sunlight, and stops in her tracks. It’s been too long. Not long enough. For a moment she considers remaining in the dappled shadow of the Twelveswood, hidden in the verdant underbrush and the smell of distant rain on the wind.

She jolts when she is greeted, suddenly, by a man’s fierce clap on her back. She whirls to meet deep violet eyes and a smile she is as familiar with as her own face in the mirror.

“Gotcha.”

“Ilseux!” Her voice is both scolding and pleased.

Her younger brother grins and bows with a dramatic gesture. “You cut your hair.”

She stiffens a little. “I did.”

“Well, I like it. It looks more like you.” Implying, naturally, that Mother will hate it. She smiles and turns away, a signal to drop the subject.

“You didn’t write,” he says, undeterred.

“It wasn’t really planned.”

“Well, as you know…”

“It doesn’t matter to Mother,” she says, finishing his sentence. The two of them match -- souls that had likely long been brother and sister, Mother would say. But while he nods, the action is unusually contained, and the smile doesn’t last long on his dark face. Her eyes dart to the cave front, and yet there is nothing there.

“The Wailers treating you well?” she asks. They begin walking toward home.

“Well, you know. It’s not bad.” He kicks at the ground a bit as they walk, a forced casualness to his movements. “The Detente’s about as good as it could be. They let us guard our miniscule borders and I can get some work at Fallgourd when things aren’t too exciting.” He shuffles through his pack and reveals an intricately wrought golden bracelet. “I’m getting pretty good, I think.”

He is, in fact. The thin gold is woven together as delicate threads, tying small stars and crescent moons to sunbeams, moving toward eternity. She takes it and waves it in the light of the setting sun, letting it twinkle, gold and gold together.

“What's eating you, then?” she asks, closing one eye to examine the bracelet further.

Ilseux stops walking. “Take a look,” he says quietly.

Mother stands at the entrance to the cave. With the sun bearing down on her.

Vivina feels a moment of bald horror, the kind it seems only children can feel about nonsensical things, and she stumbles forward as if to warn her mother of what the woman can obviously see for herself. Of the sun, which casts no curses.

“You’re late,” the woman says, hands clasped demurely before her. She makes no move to shout, and yet her voice carries through the clearing, taking ownership. Her night-black skin blurs against the entrance to the cave, but her white hair and star-speckled face near glow in the green-golden air.

Mother waits until Vivina stands before her. Vivina scrunches her shoulders together, as if she is a teenager again.

Mother just puts her hands on Vivina’s shoulders and smiles.

~~~~

“A lot has happened,” Vivina tries to explain. Uselessly. Again. They sit under the skylight within her mother’s chambers and drink tea companionably, but the true Detente continues. Vivina versus Vitella, except Vivina already feels 3 moves behind.

“Clearly,” Vitella says. She takes a sip from her white ceramic cup, the one Ilseux made for her, and Vivina swears she will never use that tone of voice on her subordinates ever again. “I can't believe you cut your hair. You must love that company of yours very much.”

Vivina stares into her own tea. This is the third time Mother has brought it up -- the hair and the company.

“It was so lovely and long,” Vitella says.

“It grows back,” Vivina mutters.

Mother just watches her, lavender eyes over a white cup, a living embodiment of twilight. The only sign of her mortality were the wrinkles that had set in around her mouth. The thinning of her hair. The crow’s feet…the aether signal she is hiding from her daughter...

Vivina feels tears prick a moment, strangely. She can blame the concussion, but she keeps missing things.

“It does,” Vitella says softly. She smirks. “...at least yours will.”

She reaches out and grabs Vivina's hand, and Vivina breathes, shakily, through her nose. But her eyes burn.

“I am worried I have The Seeing,” she blurts out.

Mother stares, eyes unreadable. “You don’t have The Seeing,” she says, all too fast for Vivina’s liking.

“And how do you know?”

Mother leans back, waving a hand dismissively. “Your many colleges cannot reveal to me mine own daughter, who’s aether I have known since before she was right born.” Vivina feels a white hot hole in her chest. “...and yet, there is something strange there.”

It’s like she’s in a dream, falling…

“We need you here,” Vitella says, and Vivina was expecting this, but not so soon and not like this, with her voice distant and sad. “It may be the sign.”

“No.”

“It’s an omen of something,” Mother insists without insisting much. Her statements are truth and little else. Vivina looked to the skylight, where the moon peeked down, a white eye into the universe. Vivina thinks of her Mother, standing before the sun, face unreadable as if enduring a storm.

“A lot has happened,” Mother says, voice dry. “You might have figured that out.”

~~~~

Her brother acts as if no time has passed, following her everywhere she goes, inserting his opinion, chattering all the livelong day about the local gossip. Mother Ysetrene’s daughters have gotten jobs at weavers at Fallgourd. Ejeonne has gotten quite beautiful hasn’t she? Don’t give me that look. I’m practicing for Mother’s sake. This is always how he’s been -- reaching outside himself to cope, never sitting still, never thinking too long about what burrows inside his skull.

“How is Sinex?” she asks, recalling the name that appeared, over and over, in his letter to her. Sinex did this, we did that, his garden is looking very nice.

He flushes, further darkening his face. “He’s out this week, you hag.”

She smirks. But he’s hiding something from her, and all her excavating of his gossip has yet to reveal it.

The youngest sister, Aureone, is no help. She hovers around Vivina like Vivina is the moon herself -- distant, unknowable, captivating and bright. She’d seen Aureone born and cared for her as a young babe but missed everything else. The old guilt prods her, a throbbing bruise deep in her heart. Letters were never enough.

“Aurie?” she finally asks at breakfast the next day. “You have barely touched your bread.”

“Sorry,” the young woman says, almost automatically. She pushes her long, silvery hair behind her ear and gazes with violet abandon at the table but makes no move to eat. Vivina puts down her honey-glazed bun.

“...I can leave,” Vivina offers, half-heartedly. Aureone nearly leaps to her feet at this, but doesn’t. She squints and bites her lip, and her eyes go out of focus a moment. Nausea -- Vivina recognized the signs all too well.

“No, please don’t!” Aureone said, worried. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you so much, Vina.” Her chin wobbles, and it strikes Vivina that she’s genuine, which makes her feel worse. The girl -- though she is a right adult now at 27 -- rests her hands on her abdomen protectively. “I feel like I’m ruining it.”

“How could you be -- ”

Vivina nearly slams the table as all the pieces come together (but luckily, she does not). The emotionality, the nausea, the way she keeps looking at her midsection...

“You’re pregnant!” Vivina exclaims. Joy leaps into her throat. It tastes strangely like bile.

Aureone offers a happy, if distracted, smile.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me!” she says, a laugh entering her voice, despite the fact that she feels pulled from her own body, malms apart from the person laughing and carousing there. “Mothers above, how long have you and Orent been married now?”

The soul and body don’t reconnect until she is outside the caves, staring into the evening sun, feeling time pass her by like rain down glass.

~~~~

She goes to her father’s grave first. The pale granite man, Shiadax Glieraux of the Lunevoix. A man of few words, taken too soon by the Calamity. The loss of his fierce steadiness shook the entire Hold, she and her mother worst of all -- and yet his death was but one aspect of the reconciliation between Vivina and Vitella. It forced them back together again. She can still hear the booming shake of his laugh, and how he would have laughed at that final twist of fate. The two halves of my heart should not fight, even if it is in their blood to do so.

She takes after him the most in appearance, unlike her other siblings, and prays every day for his strength. But she finds it hard to think of him, even now. He’s a shadow against the sun.

He is buried next to Naifeane -- the true daughter of Vitella. They even looked the same. Naifi had all her mother’s darkness, all her constellation beauty. The same wicked smile. The same flower soft eyes. Oh, how Vina and Naifi had fought in their youth. How they had hated one another, the way only sisters could, until Vivina left and she realized how terribly she missed the other. Naifi was the first to dare to send her a letter during her banishment, knowing it broke the rules.

She was killed while serving as a healer during the worst of the Calamity. Father had tried to go and find her…

Vivina shakes her head at the thought. She hadn’t even been here. She’d been at sea, for the Maelstrom. She leaves white lilies at their graves and moves to the next two graves, her stomach lurching.

Beside Naifi is Atrax, buried in a place of honor usually only granted the husbands of high priestesses, an honor Vivina would forever owe her mother for. And beside him is a smaller grave. A young one she could not bear to name.

She kneels before their graves. They died so young. She was so much older than they’d ever be.

Hello, my beloveds.

Their graves are all freshly cleaned and clearly well-kept. She places her hand on the top stone marking Atrax’s burial place. It was cool to the touch and smooth -- so unlike him, the rough fire burning bright. People say they love one another with their whole being, but she had been consumed by it. She would have done anything for Atrax, and what she had done, unthinkingly, had led to her banishment. Her eyes dance over the honoring words placed there.

Atrax Vonavieu. Beloved son, husband and father. Unmarred in death.

The dates, of birth, and death --

Her blood turns to ice.

Today.

He had died today, 26 years ago. The day that had spun her life off its axis, capsized her ship, sunk all her forces. It is today, and she had somehow almost not remembered. She always remembers.

What had become of her that she had almost forgotten? That she would have let it pass, unremarked?

But you didn’t forget. You get to be here with him.

She sits before the silent dead and her throat burns. Coincidences didn’t exist.

~~~~

Mother is taking the Omens, and Vivina knows this because of the quiet that has befallen the Hold. Clan members quietly mill about the main cavern’s crystalline stalactites that shimmer gold and silver and rose in the dancing firelight. The sound of water is constant, and it echoes now, splattering against distant cave walls like oil cooking in a pan.

She barges into the chambers of the Holy Skylight, caring not for decorum. She takes a breath and holds it, bracing herself for Mother’s fury. How dare you come in here as if you know not what I am doing, Vivina! Do you wish the Mothers to curse you?

But she turns to Vivina as if struck. The clove she is smoking dangles lazily out of one hand.

“You’re sick,” Vivina says. “That’s what they’re hiding from me. I know it. I know it.” No power except Vitella could have kept them silent. Even Aureone’s early pregnancy was easily sniffed out by the power of the elder sister. “I’m not about to -- ”

Mother raises a hand to stop her, and for some reason that stills Vivina into silence.

“The Mothers speak,” Vitella says softly, “by sending you before me.”

Vivina just lifts her palms up at that. Vitella is winning this round, again, and it has barely even started. “You’re sick,” she repeats, voice small.

“I am not sick.”

“You are,” Vivina insists, and suddenly she feels 19 again, in this room, begging her mother to stop the Council of the Hold from ordering Atrax dishonored in death. Those same tears, desperate and choking, spring forth. “Why didn’t anyone think to tell me? Of anything that’s happened in the past few months, no less?”

“You don’t live here.”

Vitella’s voice is a hiss, a shot across the bow, and the air leaves Vivina’s body as if she’d been punched. “Mother.”

Vitella puts a hand to her forehead. “Say your piece.”

“I don’t belong here, Mother, you know that. You know that better than I. You are the one who suggested banishment.”

“Instead of your death!” Vitella snaps. “I did not send you to Limsa Lominsa, or to your Lantern!”

Vivina’s breath hitches.

“Say your piece,” Vitella repeats.

“What are you expecting me to say? That I prefer the company of my dear outsiders to the Hold?” It wouldn’t wholly be a lie. Her voice is bitter. “You know all this already.”

Vitella says nothing. She walks around the large table, the one on which the ancient, yellowed omen book lays open, and moves to stand before her daughter, who feels speared in place by her mother’s gaze. Vitella places her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. The clove blows smoke into Vivina’s face, making her eyes water.

“It is not you who has The Seeing. It is me.”

Silence drops like a shroud for a moment.

Vivina takes a step backward. Her mother’s hands slide off her shoulders easy as willow leaves. “What?” she asks, stupidly.

Vitella takes a hit from the clove and blows the smoke into the starlight. “The Omens come to me like gifts,” she says, looking away.

“It’s not a gift. You’ll lose yourself in it.” Vivina’s heart thunders. “You’ll die from it.”

Vitella’s eyes swiveled back toward her daughter. “It brought you back before me, did it not?”

Vivina purses her mouth shut.

“Yes, I know. That’s not how it works.” Vitella walks back toward the table, and Vivina feels compelled to follow. “But how is it not? There are no coincidences, my beloved.”

No coincidences, indeed.

“You can’t have The Seeing,” Vivina insists.

“Why not?” Her thin white eyebrow raises. “It is not a sickness. It is my gift, before I pass on to be with the Mothers, to more fully see their will.”

“On what basis?” Vivina feels panic seize her ribcage. “It is a sickness, mother, nothing more.”

Vitella just shakes her head, but her expression -- eyes downcast, mouth tilted downward -- makes Vivina feel like the villain after all.

“I have quite a few years before my mind fully goes,” Vitrella says, and once again Vivina marvels at how she walks the fine line between faith and other truths in a way that frustrates everyone around her. “But my Heart...you have to begin your final training. To replace me.”

Vivina looks upward, at the cave ceiling, encrusted with cracked stalactites and old tarnished runes that mean nothing now. “Choose Aurie instead.”

“Aurie?” Vitella near laughs at the suggestion, which brings Vivina’s eyes back down to earth.

“She can take another name, with the sign of the Vi. It’s been done.”

Vitrella just stares a moment. “Do you think Aurie could lead our people?”

“She could learn.”

“Do you think she has the will?”

Vivina swallows thickly.

“Do you think your young sister would have survived what you have been through?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“The Twelveswood is changing. I cannot believe I have to be the one to say that in this conversation.”

Vivina throws her hands up. The frustration threatens to eat her alive. “And so it has! That's never impacted your decisions before.”

Vitella’s eyes narrow. “I know my daughters. What would have broken her has done nothing but cast you into steel.”

Vivina’s teeth clench, and suddenly, she is shouting. “I was broken, Mother! That was the whole point!”

Her words echo across the chamber, striking the air like a match. Like an Omen.

Vitella sets down her clove. She looks upon the omen book for a long moment before she sweeps close to Vivina, placing her hands on her daughter’s cheeks, looking right into her eyes, searching.

“You are my sign,” Vitrella says softly. “Your birth itself, an omen to me. That my heart would live outside my body, and I would have to learn to live with that.” She softly brushes hair from Vivina’s forehead, sticky with sweat. “You were to be my troubled girl. The Mothers told me so. I let you struggle. I let you go so far away from us. But you did not break.”

Vivina shakes and shakes, so much that she wonders if her jaw may shatter.

“It should have been Naifi,” she croaks out as a tear rolls down her face.

One of Vitrella’s hands slides off Vivina’s cheek, and into her hand. She says nothing for a long time. She squeezes Vivina’s palm.

“Maybe that is what we think,” she says, and Vivina feels slapped despite being the one who suggested it. “But we don’t see the whole path.”

She closes her eyes and thinks of home -- and instead of the Hold, she thinks of Shirogane and its vivid colors, the window in her quiet office that reminds her of this place, the dust motes dancing in the basement library. Many of them in the company, so young, asking her for guidance. Fighting each other to find their way. Her, asking them for help. Telling them things she never meant to share.

How long ago did she think she’d never find such a place? What would come next for them?

“What if my path just leads to all things ending?” Vivina asks.

Despite everything, her mother smiles -- sad and true. Her thumb rubs Vivina’s tears away. “All paths must lead that way, my love.”

They stand like that for a while under the eye of twilight. Silent and waiting, both sides, for the other to move.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Month of Drabbles Day 27: Forgiveness (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Summary: Azula thinks about all the people in her life that owed her an apology.

Words: 2645

Warnings: Mentions of violence, suicide

Ever since she was imprisoned, Azula expected people to come and apologize to her. After all, she was the prized golden child of Fire Lord Ozai. She was about to become the next Fire Lord. Why would she end up restrained in a dingy little prison (mental institute, they called it) if not for the faults of the people around her?

Mai had to apologize for jeopardizing their entire mission at the Boiling Rock to save Zuko. How dare she claim that she loved Zuko more than she feared Azula? Azula knew for a fact that love was just another extension of fear. Who would ever fear a weakling like her brother?

Ty Lee needed to apologize for taking Mai’s side when Azula subsequently decided to punish her for her betrayal. Ty Lee was supposed to be loyal to Azula first and foremost. Azula had the most power. She was the more deserving of Ty Lee’s love than Mai. Why couldn’t the dumb acrobat see that?

Azula didn’t know if she could forgive Zuko if he came to her begging on his knees and crying. What would she even forgive him for? Going with the Avatar? Taking the throne that was rightfully hers? Being born in the first place? Maybe he should apologize for being so weak. If he were as strong a firebender as she was, Azula wouldn’t have gotten her hopes up for the throne and Zu-Zu wouldn’t have had to forcibly rip it from her like he did.

The former Fire Lady Ursa didn’t deserve Azula’s forgiveness. What kind of woman gives up all her power as the wife of a Fire Lord? What kind of woman gives up the child she pitied and the child she feared to have another child with a commoner? What kind of woman immediately apologizes meekly for her misdeeds when confronted without even a fight? Ursa had tried to apologize before. If she tried again Azula decided she was going to spit in her face.

The former Fire Lord Ozai was the only person that Azula could think of that didn’t need to apologize at all. He was the perfect father and the perfect ruler-accomplishing both positions with an iron fist that shaped Azula into the person she was today. Zuko was an ungrateful little brat, but Azula understood their father. She was ambitious and cunning just like him. It’s too bad that no one else bothered to understand their sentiments.

~

Azula was waiting for her daily appointment with one of the expensive doctors that Zuko insisted on hiring. He said he wanted to “improve her mental well-being,” but Azula thought he probably just wanted to annoy her until she breaks.

Standing beside was a Kyoshi warrior. Azula knew her name was Suki because she was one of the Avatar’s friends who helped him take down her father. They had stopped sending in Ty Lee to guard her last month when Azula grabbed the warrior’s sharp-tipped fan and attempted to slit her own throat with it. Azula wasn’t sure if Ty Lee was the one that refused to come anymore or if it was Zuko that stopped her from coming. She wasn’t sure why that mattered to her.

“Why do you care what my brother tells you to do, anyway?” Azula suddenly asked. Suki’s eyes snapped to her in surprise. Azula almost never talked to the Kyoshi warrior guards unless Ty Lee was there. But today, Azula was bored, and so she decided that she wanted to get back into an old hobby of hers-toying with people’s emotions.

Suki, however, didn’t seem as hesitant as Azula had hoped. That was okay. There was probably plenty of time for Azula to make her upset before the doctor came. “He wants to help you,” the warrior said in that condescending tone that all of Azula’s guards liked to use, “I trust him to know what’s best.”

“Trust him?” Azula snorted, “You clearly don’t know my brother as well as I do. He’s a wimp. Why would you trust anything he wants to do?”

“”He’s proven that he can make responsible choices,” Suki replied, “And he cares about how you’re doing, too. I thought I might as well help him, at least as a favor from a friend.”

“Friend?” Azula scoffed, “As if you care about him.”

“I do.”

“Why? He’s so weak. You’re a powerful warrior from some obscure island in the Earth Kingdom. Why would someone like Zuko intimidate you?”

Suki waved her hand. “He doesn’t intimidate me,” she said, “Like I said, I’m helping him because he’s my friend.”

Azula groaned. “That doesn’t make sense!” Why was she getting so agitated about this? “He doesn’t scare you and you still care about him? You can’t love someone if you’re not scared of them!”

Suki stared at her. “What are you talking about?” she finally said.

“I meant what I said!” Azula snapped, “Friendship is just a kind of love, isn’t it? You can’t love someone without fear.”

“Azula,” Suki said gently, “do you really think so?”

“I know so.”

“Okay,” Suki said in her gentle voice. Azula hated her gentle voice. It sounded like Mai or Ty Lee whenever they were trying to pay her a compliment as kids. “Ty Lee’s told me a lot about you,” she said, “Did you used to be afraid of her? or Mai?”

Azula barked out a laugh. “Of course not!” She admired Mai’s skills with her knives and Ty Lee’s chi blocking, but she never feared it. She never even considered the possibility that she might end up on the wrong side of those skills until it already happened.

“Did you love them then?” Suki asked, “Would you say they were your friends?”

Azula felt her face turning red. “Of course they weren’t!” she screamed. Suki flinched in surprise but stayed where she was. “They weren’t my friends at all,” Azula declared, “Friends don’t betray me. Friends obey my orders. Mai and Ty Lee meant nothing to me. I wish they’d rotted in prison.”

Suki sigheed in exasperation and Azula was almost tempted to shoot her with lightning. It probably wouldn’t work-they were in too small of a room for her to make a clear shot. Besides, Azula’s hands were tied behind her back-they made sure to tie her hands at all times after she tried to burn herself to death a few months ago. She wanted to say something-anything to win this pointless argument-but the doctor came in.

~

Azula sat in her cell and contemplated. She said she didn’t care about Mai or Ty Lee when talking to Suki, but she knew that she was lying. The fact was, Azula knew there was a part of her that ached to be with those two again.

As children, they were supposed to be her playmates-girls her age to keep her company while the adults ran things. As teens, they were meant to be her tools-weapons of mass destruction she used to conquer Ba Sing Se. No one meant for her to spill her heart out to Mai and Ty Lee and have them spill their hearts out to her in return, and yet they did. No one meant for Azula to trust these two with her life, and yet she did.

No one meant for Mai and Ty Lee’s betrayals to hurt this much-to hurt so much that Azula wanted to die to stop feeling the pain-and yet it did.

So perhaps she did love Mai and Ty Lee, even if she didn’t fear them like one should while loving someone. Azula thought about all the people in her life that she ought to love.

Children ought to love their mothers, but Azula had decided long ago that her mother was weak and unreasonable. Why else would she be so unhappy with her power and a man she feared and therefore loved so much? Azula thought that she hated her mother, so why did she feel her heart break when her father told her that she was dead? Why did she feel it break a little more when she realized that her mother’s replaced her with another daughter?

A niece should love her uncle. Azula thought that Iroh could be considered a political thread, once upon a time, but it was always hard to fear a man who used to nag her about tea and pai sho every chance he got. So maybe  she did love Iroh, if only for his gentle attitude and tea that burned tongues.

A student should love her mentor, and Azula decided that she did hold some fondness for Lo and Li, if that fondness could be called love. Yet Lo and Li were not firebenders. They held no opposition to Azula, and she had no reason to fear them.

Sisters loved their brothers, didn’t they? At least, normal sisters did, when their brother didn’t have to fight them for the throne. She remembered when they were little, when they used to play together and say that they loved each other. Her father had since taught her that Zuko was doomed to be her sworn enemy and competitor to the throne ever since she was born.

But then, she thought, why did she try to comfort him on their vacation to Ember Island a lifetime ago? Why did her heart rate jump when he leapt in front of that lightning bolt during their Agni Kai? Maybe Azula did still care for her brother, even if it wasn’t quite love anymore. But that didn’t make sense. She didn’t fear him at all. Why did she still care about him?

In the middle of the night, Azula hit an epiphany. Maybe to love wasn’t to fear, after all. To love wasn’t to look up to someone more powerful than her in awe, and to treat them well in hopes that they never hurt her. Love was irrational. Azula loved so many people that she had no reason to love-people who held no threat to her-and yet she loved them anyway.

Did that mean…that to fear didn’t necessarily mean to love, either? Azula thought back to when she learned that her father had been defeated. She had been scared-she was robbed of all her power as Fire Lord, and with her father captured, there was no way to get it back.

And yet, she didn’t feel any remorse at the fact that her father was doomed to live out the rest of his days in a cell. She actually felt relieved that he wasn’t going to see her again. That he wasn’t going to watch her handle affairs or practice firebending, and tell her with his piercing eyes that Zuko’s fate would fall on her if she made a mistake.

She didn’t love her dad, then. Azula had always thought that her father was the only person she loved-he was the only person she truly feared. But if she loved all the people she didn’t fear and feared the person she didn’t love, then had she been looking at everything all wrong?

Of course Ursa left her husband and daughter-she feared them so much that there was no more room for love. Of course Mai and Ty Lee would care about each other more than they did Azula-they feared her too much to love. Of course Zuko, even after Azula pose no more threat to his power, would continue to make her see the doctors that he thought would help-somehow, after all she’s put him through as children, he still loved his sister.

Azula stretched in her bed and stared at the stone ceiling of her cell. All the things that people did made so much more sense now. Mai, Ty Lee, Zuko, Ursa-everyone did what they did out of love. It was just as Mai said-they loved each other more than they feared Azula.

And it was Azula’s own fault for making people fear her. She was the one that shot sharp glares or lightning or poisoned words when denied even the smallest thing. She was the one that glared down at everyone when she rose to the top-and made sure everyone gazed up at her, too. She was the cause of her own misery. No one owned her an apology-she owed them.

Well, maybe someone did owe her an apology. Azula decided that she would like to her father apologize for looming over her her whole life, striking so much fear into her heart that she confused it for love. He should apologize for everyone in Azula’s life that he hurt-her mother, her brother, her uncle, and herself.

~

Mai and Ty Lee awkwardly shuffled into Azula’s cell, flanked by two Kyoshi warriors. When Azula requested to speak with them again, she was afraid that they might deny her. After all, all of their previous visits have ended with one or all three of them hurling insults at each other, courtesy of Azula. But it seemed that today they’ve decided to give her one more chance. Good. One chance was all she needed.

Neither of her former friends wanted to start the conversation, so Azula decided to speak first, like she used to always do. “Do you know why I asked you two to come?” she asked. Mai and Ty Lee eyed her nervously. Neither of them spoke.

“I want to apologize,” Azula had to force the last word out of her mouth. The other two girls still didn’t speak, but the wariness in their eyes was replaced by a look of shock.

And Azula did apologize. She apologized for throwing them in prison when she was betrayed. She apologized for making them fear her so much to betray her in the first place. She apologized for toying with them in their childhood. Azula used to see them as her tools, she admitted. They were supposed to be objects she could use to further her own power-hungry purpose. But they weren’t tools-they never were. They were their own people with their own thoughts and personalities that Azula had grown to love. She apologized for not seeing that until it was too late.

When she finished, Mai spoke for the first time during their meeting. “You’ve changed,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ty Lee agreed, “I think you’ve become nicer, Azula…somehow.”

Azula wondered why she changed. She remembered how, in her childhood, she was always striving to be better-no, better wasn’t the right word-she was striving to be more powerful. She would burn cities, topple mountains, just to impress her father, who was the source of that power. Now Azula knew that there wasn’t any power to strive for no matter what or who she destroyed, so there really was no point.

“I want us to be friends again,” she said, biting her lip, “I don’t want you two to be my subordinates like before, though.” That was an unsteady power structured that toppled at the slightest instability. Besides, Mai was going to become the Fire Lady someday and Ty Lee was a valued member of the Kyoshi warriors. Why would they want to serve under her again?

“Sure!” Ty Lee gave her a relieved smile. “Let’s start over. We can be together as equals this time.”

Mai nodded in agreement. “Sure,” she said, “It’s less stressful than having to see you struggle, that’s for sure.”

Azula remembered the party at Ember Island years ago, when Ty Lee tried to teach her how to make a friendly smile. She tried again, but judging by the way Ty Lee burst into giggles and the way Mai smirked, she just ended up making a weird face.

That’s okay, though. Her friends were back. It might take a while for her friends to truly forgive Azula, but she was determined to make it right this time, no matter what.

[multi-fandom-daddies]

Imagine...

being rescued from space pirates by the USS Enterprise. You have to deal with a lot of the trauma you faced and a hectic ship while hiding that you’ve got magic from the two people who’ve helped you most.

AN: Sorry for the long wait but I made up for it in words. Nearly 4000 underneath the cut. 

Blasters went off around you. There was screams. Explosions. Pain. Oh god, there was so much pain! You could feel the blaster beams burn across your skin. It was hell. That was all you could describe it as. As you were running, one of your captors stumbled across you, recognising you as a prisoner. They lined up the shot and your eyes slid shut, waiting for the inevitable. From behind your eyelids, you saw the flash as it went off and knew this was the end.

“Whoa! Y/N, wake up! It’s a dream!” came the soothing voice of one of your rescuers.

Opening your eyes, you looked towards him and saw him sitting in a chair by your bed. You were confused, last thing you remembered you were getting ready to be killed. You distinctly remembered the heat that rushed towards you, so why were you lying in a hospital bed?

Unless… unless this wasn’t a hospital. Maybe you were dead and this is what the afterlife was like. You didn’t think you minded, not when the man opposite you was as handsome as he was.

“I’d take it easy if I was you, Bones will have my head if one of your wounds open up again” the man smiled, threading his fingers together and looking you over. Bones? Who was Bones? What did he do in the afterlife?

“I’m Captain James Kirk, but you can call me Jim. Do you remember anything of what happened?” Jim asked softly, seeing how your eyes wondered to everything around you.

You shook your head, still not quite believing that this was real. You understood there was a lot of things that had gone unexplored in the universe, death being one of them. But you never thought the afterlife would be so… clean.

“Well, we were on a diplomatic mission when those pirates attacked us. We went after them and found you being hurt in the middle of their ship. So we tried to get you out but we were discovered, they didn’t take kindly to us crashing their party. You got hurt in the crossfire, so we brought you onto my ship, the USS Enterprise. You’ve been asleep for days, Bones was starting to worry about you” Jim explained, boyish grin disappearing in an instant as he told you what had happened.

So you weren’t dead. And you were on another ship. At least they knew about you this time. The ship you were on before knew nothing about you until the pirates boarded it and found you hiding amongst the supplies.

It was starting to come to you now. How the Captain of that ship had given you over to the pirates, just as long as he wasn’t killed himself. You remembered how you had been dragged on the ship, shackled to a table, how they had hurt you. Especially when they found out what you could do. Then they found it fun to do experiments on you.

You were rare, exceedingly so. Magic ran in your veins, passed down through generations of your family until it arrived at you. Your mother didn’t have it, but when she found out you did, she abandoned you and never looked back. That was why you had been looking after yourself for years, living on the streets, being a stowaway on different ships to make sure you never stayed in the same place for too long. 

“We found the record logs on the ship, I'm sorry they did that to you. I promise, you're safe-” Jim said softly, reaching for your hand.

Instinctively, you pulled your hand away, wide eyes darting up to look at him fearfully. You didn't know who this was, what he could do. Why on earth would he try and hold your hand? Thankfully the door slid open, interrupting the tense moment as a handsome man walked in. 

“Ah, sleeping beauty finally awakes, does she?” he greeted, quickly going over to the screen which displayed your vitals. “Hmm, heart rate is a little high. Understandable. I'm Dr McCoy, I've been looking after you while you've been asleep. How are you feeling?” he asked, taking out a tricorder.

You weren't sure how to respond, feeling like death warmed up. The memories of what they did to you weren't helping. Especially now you knew that you were in a medical bed, it was awfully similar to the one you were tied down to and tortured. Humming, you shrugged slightly in the hope that would be an answer.

“Can you tell us how you got on there darlin'?” he frowned, noticing the way your breathing was picking up and your eyes were darting around the room. He had seen these symptoms more than he cared to admit. 

“Or who you are? The records didn't really give much detail about you” Jim smiled, trying to provide you with a comforting presence. 

You shook your head, not willing to let them know anything about you. They were strangers. Strangers that had helped you sure, but all help came with a price. You knew that very well by now. What did they want from you? Why were they asking pointless questions instead of just getting to the bottom of it? 

“Excuse us. Jim!” McCoy hissed, nodding briefly at you before hurrying round the side of the bed and tugging Jim out of the chair by his arm.

“Ow Bones! Learn better bed side manners!” Jim complained as they stepped away from you.

You listened in, needing to know what they were planning on doing to you. If they wanted to hurt you, then you would fight them. It wouldn't be too hard to get out of here unnoticed and steal a ship from the evacuation bays. Simple. Easy. Except you were tired of running.

“Bones, what is it?” Jim grumbled, pulling his arm away from his friend, brow furrowed at his behaviour.

“She's mute Jim! She's so traumatised, she's mute!” McCoy whispered, volume level dropping in a bid to keep quiet.

Promptly, the screen display went blank. Well shit, they found out!

Over the coming weeks that turned into months, you developed a close relationship with both Jim and Bones. They had tried to get you to come out of your shell, introduced you to the rest of the ship's crew and had helped you start living a somewhat normal life. Although that proved very difficult on a ship like the USS Enterprise. 

As Bones were always keen to remind you, the ship was hectic at best and chaotic at worst. If Jim hadn't caused an accident (“I do not!”) then it was the everyday running of the ship. Everyone was rushing around, doing this and that and speaking a mile a minute. It made your head pound and pain burst behind your eyes. It didn't help that your magic responded to this.

On the days when it felt like you were barely keeping yourself above water, your magic would brush against things, disrupting frequencies that systems ran on and even causing a power cut. Scotty had been fuming at one particular incident which left him trying to fix the coolants for hours.

It happened the worst when you panicked and remembered what had happened to you. On those days you didn't even trust yourself to be around people, let alone Bones or Jim. You lost control of your magic, it acting out in ways that either tried to cheer you up or defended you. 

Like that one time you had been panicking, rushing down to the medbay to find Bones when your magic had tripped up an Ensign who was walking past you in the corridor. He had his feet knocked out from underneath him and the freshly prepared coffee in his hand went flying in the air. You had ran even quicker to Bones after seeing that.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet in the mess hall” Jim smiled, meeting you as you lingered outside of his room, hoping to run into him. However, he only had to see the look on your face and he knew that you had suffered a nightmare. “Come in” he sighed, tying in his passcode and letting you into his room.

You sat down hesitantly on his bed, watching as he kicked off his shoes and went to go get two glasses of whiskey to settle your nerves. Sitting on Jim's bed, watching him wonder around his room was oddly comforting, making you feel safe compared to when you were facing the rest of his crew. With the exception of Bones of course. 

“So, I'm going with a nightmare” Jim stared, sitting opposite you and passing you a glass of amber liquid. 

Nodding, you looked away, ashamed that you had disturbed him and ruined your plans for tonight. Ever since you had arrived on the ship, your nightmares had gotten worse. Your captors' faces featured heavily in all of them, along with their instruments of torture you had to endure every night.

Jim placed his glass on his bedside table, shuffling closer so that your knees knocked together. He threaded his hand through your hair, making you look up at him and meeting his soft gaze. “Have you told Bones? He might be able to give you something sweetheart?” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. 

Shaking your head, you wished you could tell your other lover about how much these nightmares were effecting you. But the thought of him giving you some hypospray immediately made you bulk at the idea. 

“Maybe you should. I know he's been worrying about you. You haven't been eating or sleeping right. And believe you me sweetheart, he notices unfortunately” Jim rolled his eyes affectionately, making you feel slightly better. Your shared lover always fretted over the both of you, even though he would be the first to deny it.

“Just let him check you over, give you something to sleep. I promise it won't hurt as much as you think” Jim soothed, pulling you into his lap. 

You stilled, your captor's laugh ringing in your ears as he promised you the same thing. It won't hurt as much as you think. 

Suddenly Jim's glass crashed onto the floor from his bedside table, making your eyes widen. Your magic was normally settled around Jim and Bones. 

“Shit, I must have left it on the edge” he cursed, kissing your temple before going to clean up the mess of whiskey and broken glass.

“Morning darlin', Jim said you had a bad night. Sorry I weren't there, damn shifts don't seem to end” Bones grumbled as you walked into the medbay with lunch. 

You shrugged, smiling softly as you came round to sit on the edge of his desk. He did look tired, as though he had been up all night. Tapping the box in your hand, you placed it down firmly in front of him with a pointed look.

“Don't give me that look darlin, we both know you're just as likely as me to forget. Come sit down with me” Bones rolled his eyes, opening the lid to take a look at the sandwiches in front of him. 

Unable to deny him, you sat in his lap, both of you sharing the sandwiches that you had made for him. It felt nice to give back to him after everything he had done for you. Even though both Jim and Bones refused to believe you owed them anything. So you tried to do as much as you could for them to repay back their kindness and love.

The atmosphere was warm, light chuckles coming from the both of you as Bones explained about the nightmare shift he was on. It distracted you enough that you missed the way he ran his eyes over you, taking you all in. On hindsight, you wished you had paid more attention to what he was doing, rather than just listening to him chat.

“You know, Hawkins came in the other day. He was due his check-up” Bones stated, making me hum as I leaned into his chest. A warm arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer towards him if that was possible. “I remembered that it was time for yours” Bones remarked, arm tightening a little as I stilled.

No! No check up! It was a miracle you weren't discovered when you were first brought in. But to tempt fate a second time was not something you wanted to do. You were fine. A little scarred, a little broken but who wouldn't be after everything you faced? You did not want a check up nor did you need one. Shaking your head vehemently, you pushed against his chest, trying to escape. The lights flickered above you, making you realise you were losing control again in your panic. 

“Sshh, Darlin' look at me. Darlin' look at me please. It's going to be alright, I promise. I’ll be the one to do it and we'll take it nice and slow okay? We'll do this together” Bones soothed, cupping your face as you struggled against him. 

Tears pricked at your eyes and fell down your cheeks as you stared into his beautiful eyes. They held such love for you that you could barely bring yourself to deny him. You knew he would look after you, would never judge you but you were scared. You hated being anywhere near medical instruments, only doing so if you had to hurry past them. But apart from that, you had a great fear of tools and instruments. Clenching his shirt in your hands, you rested your forehead against his, trying to calm yourself. 

“I just want to make sure you're okay. We'll do this at your pace and if you want to stop, you just let me know Darlin' and we'll stop” he whispered, pushing your hair away from your face. When he saw your small nod, he wiped away your tears and kissed you softly. “Let's get started then” Bones murmured, helping you off his lap and tugging you towards a private bay. The lights kept flickering and Bones shook his head. “Remind me to get Scotty to fix those” he grumbled.

“I'm just going to scan you okay? It'll detect your heart rate, blood pressure, any anomalies in you that kind of thing” Bones explained, grabbing the tricorder and running it up and down you.

You were grateful for his explanations as you tried to concentrate on his strong, relaxing voice.

“A little elevated but you're in fine shape” Bones smirked, making you giggle slightly. He raised his hands to your neck, leaving them hovering there before he told you what was going to happen. “I'm just going to run my hands over your neck, check your glands to see if anything is swollen” he assured, seeing you nervously look up at him.

The touch was soothing, his warm hands gliding across your neck, rubbing small circles into the muscles. It felt just like the massages that Jim gave you after a bad day. Smiling you lent into him, nuzzling your face into his hands.

“Careful Darlin', I don't want it getting out my bedside manner has improved” he teased, mood a lot lighter than it normally was with patients. 

He moved away, going over to the tray of hyposprays that was laid out neatly to the side. You felt your breath quicken at the sight of them. “Don't worry Darlin', I just want-” Bones started before the door slid open and Jim walked through. “Oh, just in time. You can hold her hand through this bit” Bones grinned, preparing the hypospray.

But I ignored him, staring at the look on Jim's face. Multiple emotions flickered over his face, leaving my stomach to curl tightly in warning. Something was wrong. Jim never looked like this at the pair of you, especially you. Anger, hurt, disappointment, betrayal, all raced across his face as he wouldn't look away from you.

“When were you going to tell us?” Jim demanded, eyes hard and looking at you firmly. 

You felt your blood run cold at that. He had found out. Somehow he had discovered your magic and wanted to kill you. Or worse, maybe he wanted to experiment on you. He could hand you over to the Federation and let them experiment on you instead. 

“Oh no, you are not doing this here! Not when I've only just got her to do a medical” Bones grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked between you. He could see more tears welling in your eyes as your fists clenched on the bedsheet beneath you.

“She has magic Bones! Everything that's been happening on the ship, the power shortages, the breakdowns and the random accidents? They've all been her” Jim snapped, never taking his gaze off you. 

Your heart felt like it had jumped into your throat, your stomach twisting as fear pricked up your spine. You needed to escape from here before something happened to you. Before Jim could decide on what to do with you.

“What are you talking about? Magic isn't real!” Bones scoffed, brow furrowing as he came over to step next to you. His hand reached out to squeeze your knee, trying to offer you some support as he looked at Jim like he had finally lost it.

“I didn't notice at first but Spock was kind enough to clear it up for me. He has been following you, watching what happens when the incidents occur and the only constant in all of them... is you” Jim growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“My god man! You're basing all this on what Spock has told you. I thought Vulcans were meant to be logical but instead he tells you that magic is responsible. Maybe the green bloodied goblin is in need of a medical instead” Bones sneered, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of this situation. 

“I wouldn't believe it if it hasn't been happening around us. All the little stuff, the lights flickering, the glasses breaking. They all happened when she lost control of her emotions. She's got magic and that's why they were testing on her, weren't they?” Jim demanded, stepping closer.

Your breath hitched in your throat, staring up at him fearfully. Would he hurt you as well? Would he hit you for lying to them both for so long now? Jim's eyes widened and tears welled in his own eyes at your reaction. 

“Stop! Please!” you rasped, eyes squeezed shut as the words escaped from you. It felt strange to finally hear your voice in person after so long. It was raspy and nearly unintelligible after so long without use but it had the desired affect of stilling them both. 

They stared at you, unable to believe that you had finally spoke to them after the months and months of knowing you. Even they had almost given up hope of hearing your voice, used to the fact that they wouldn't be able to hold verbal conversations with you. 

“I... have magic...  from... when I was a child” you told them, grimacing at the dryness of your throat. You were working muscles that you hadn't worked for a while. 

“Here” Bones murmured, pouring you some water and handing it over to you. He stared at you wide eyed, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing and hearing. Everything he knew about the world had changed in the space of a few short minutes. You didn't blame him for looking a little bit shocked. 

Jim on the other hand was listening to what you had to say. He didn't say anything, just giving you your chance to explain this whole disaster to him. 

“I was scared. I couldn't tell you. When my mother found out, she left me. I was abandoned on some planet and had to fend for myself. When my captors found out, they tortured me until I thought I would finally meet my death. Until you two came along and rescued me. How could I tell you? Everyone that has ever known has either abandoned me or hurt me” you explained, shaking your head and looking away from them. 

Jim softened, coming over to stand in between your legs. He linked his fingers with yours, squeezing them softly to get you to look up at him. “You should have told us still. If only for the sake of the crew” Jim sighed, shaking his head before bringing your hands up to kiss your knuckles. 

“How could I? I didn't want you to send me away or experiment on me” you murmured, hoping that he wouldn't do that to you. After everything that you shared over the months that you had known him and gotten into a relationship with him and Bones, you prayed he wouldn't betray you like that. “If you want me to go, just say the word. I’ll go now and no one else will be any the wiser.”

“Of course we don't want you to go! We love you, you idiot. Even if you did keep secrets from us, I understand why. In all of our discoveries, mankind still hasn't learnt to be accepting of the differences among us. But we would never hurt you” Bones swore, hurt colouring his tone at the idea that you would leave them. He sat on your other side, reaching to push your hair back as he wrapped an arm round you.

“I'm sorry, but my past experience have told me differently” you shrugged, relaxing into the touches of the two men in front of you. You loved them dearly and you were glad they were more accepting of it than you thought they would be. 

“We know, but we're different and we're going to show you. Your secret is safe with us but... you're going to have to learn to control it. I think Scotty is getting sick of mechanical failures just happening over the ship” Jim grinned, leaning forward to press his lips to yours as you giggled. 

“And I’m definitely going to take a blood sample now. I want to know everything in case something happens. How do you react to certain medications? Are you allergic to something?” Bones listed, going over to grab the prepared hypospray he had forgotten about.

“Bones, you know how I feel about hyposprays” Jim moaned, moving away as he gave Bones a wide berth when he stepped over towards you. 

“Don't worry you infant, Y/N will hold your hand, won't you darlin'?” Bones mocked, rolling his eyes as you giggled at Jim's cry of protest.