#so its like i passed it along.. to the closest random object i had

[ascel-vibes]

EEK EEK !!! DEADNAME JUMPSCARED AAA AA !!! (but funni /lh)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Trapped.

Commission for an anonymous donor.

Paring: Yandere!Oikawa/Reader.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Non-Graphic Violence and Emotional Manipulation.

~  

It was the closest thing you had to a hobby, honestly.

The routine wasn’t complicated, but that was what you liked about it. You’d spend a few months working on your target, getting close and goating them on until they finally gave in and did something violent. Oikawa was your masterpiece. You knew he would be, from you found him, drinking alone after an injury separated him from his oh-so-beloved volleyball for the better half of a season. He was that perfect mixture of resourceful and desperate, sorely in need of an emotional bond you knew better than to give him.

He fell into the lifestyle quickly, too. You were hardly a month in when you first woke up in his guest room, a pair of shackles around your ankles and a thick, metallic chain keeping you bound to the furthest wall. It was a dance. He broke into your apartment, and you threw yourself down the fire-escape to get away. Oikawa cornered you outside your favorite club, and you screamed so loudly, even the bartender came to see if you were alright. He was dissatisfied, but you couldn’t have been more content. Not when an adrenaline rush was always waiting just around the next darkened corner.

He’d outdone himself, this time. There were no ugly, jagged edges or tools left lying around in the shape of luxuries, no, his basement had been stripped down to its essentials. When you woke up, you found little more than empty walls and a bare mattress, the plush surface serving as a consolation prize for the realization that Oikawa could no longer trust you with bedsheets. It didn’t matter, though. You didn’t care if he trusted you, not when your heart was beating faster and your pulse was beginning to race in your ears, that familiar sense of dread beginning to form a gnawing, tightening knot in the pit of your stomach. The kind that made it impossible to think. The kind that made you want to run and hide and submit, if only by reflex.

But, you didn’t. You steeled yourself and took a deep breath, and that was where the power came from. You weren’t powerless. You weren’t helpless. You were just as capable as everyone else, even with the odds stacked against you.

Without thinking, you felt along your side, probing the fabric of your shirt for something more solid than cloth. Near the hem, you went to work tearing through the flimsy material for the prize hidden beneath  - a rectangular razor blade, the type you’d stitched into a concealed pocket on every article of clothing you owned. It was easy enough to free the object, using the sharpened edge to cut the blade free before properly investigating Oikawa’s newest toy. He’d done away with his usual chains and cuffs, and instead, a braided cord linked the thick, steel collar around your neck to a nearby outlet, rope fading seamlessly into cement.

It took less than three minutes to carve through a random section of the tether, a task you carried out with a meticulous, measured silence, content to let your absentee abductor believe you hadn’t yet awoken. It was a precaution you maintained as you started towards the only available exit - the basement door, a pallet of wood as thick as your forearm, and unfortunately, twice as solid. You climbed the ancient staircase as you considered how to bypass it, if Oikawa had felt thought to secure it properly. There’d been a padlock, last time, one you’d pried open with a hairpin and more frustration than you’d like to admit, and an alarm the time before that. You doubted he’d come up with anything more clever. Oikawa was persistent, but he wasn’t--

You didn’t get to finish that thought. Underneath you, a single step gave out, splitting down the middle as if someone had the forethought to nearly, nearly break it, before leaving it in place for you to find and stumble onto. It snapped under your weight, and reflexively, you stepped back, directly onto a platform that didn’t exist, much less stop you from stumbling back down to the concrete floor you were really beginning to dislike. 

There was no time to brace yourself, no time to prepare, your back taking the brunt of the fall and screeching in retaliation, a steady, pounding soreness spreading down the length of your spine. You tried to take a deep breath, to check for fractures and injuries and the string of bruises you knew would appear in an hour or two, but there wasn’t time.

Not when the basement door was already opening.

You acted on instinct. You moved to push yourself up, but before you could think, Oikawa was on top of you, forcing you back down and knocking the air from your lungs. There was a flash of white across your vision, the sound of something loose and metallic rattling in a careless hand, and it was all you could do to find your voice as a new, fresh wave of pure panic washed over you, ruthless in its arrival. “Fuck,” You spat, more for yourself than your aggressor. “You’re trying something new?”

“Oh, you noticed?” He had you on your chest, now, your hands pressed against the small of you back as he straddled your waist, his resolve seemingly undeterred by your constant writhing. “There’s only so many times I can tolerate your games before I get fed up,” He explained, taking you by the throat with his free hand and shoving you downward, only stopping when your cheek was pressed against the floor. “You’re not going anywhere, and you’re not getting away. I’m done chasing you. I’m not giving up the prize I’ve earned again.”

You didn’t indulge him with a response. Instead, you took hold of the hand currently restraining yours, burrowing your nails in his wrist and rolling to the side, throwing Oikawa off balance. There was a wordless, surprised noise, a sharp intake of air, and he faltered just long enough for you to throw your weight back and push yourself to your feet. You didn’t try to keep him down, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight him with brute strength alone. Instead, you focused on sprinting towards that elusive, unreachable door, Oikawa’s footsteps following shortly after. You didn’t care. Once you were outside, you’d be safe. All you needed to do was make it that far.

You could practically taste fresh air. There was no deadbolt in sight, no lock or latch, nothing beyond the most minimalist of barriers. Your fist closed around the knob, and hastily, you pulled, eager to wallow in Oikawa’s despair, to see that scowl you doubted would ever really fade, the glare that never failed to burn holes into every patch of skin he deemed burnable. You couldn’t wait to hear him curse your name and…

And the door wasn’t opening.

It wasn’t opening.

Wirey arms wrapped around your midriff as you pulled, and pushed, and did everything you could think to do that might make the obstacle in front of you budge. Oikawa laughed, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder just as your eyes found the meager, unremarkable rotary, listing four digits in no particular order just above the door’s handle. It was simple, just a combination lock built into something you’d gotten passed hundreds of times already, and yet, you quickly found yourself frozen, unable to move.

Trapped.

Absolutely, unmistakably trapped.

“I thought it’d be a nice touch,” Oikawa teased, his voice muffled, barely audible. You wished he hadn’t said anything at all. “Something you can’t hit until it gives in, not that I don’t expect you to try.”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure you could. That’d never fazed Oikawa, though.

“I’m not letting you get away, this time.”

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon. Sorry about the previous ask I get nervous easy and feel like I need to check im not annoying anyone at times. If I am ever annoying you though or you want me to do anything though please tell me!

Watson is close to everyone from the group, because he's seen as the dad figure and an easy person to talk too. Besides from that Jackie and Grievous are close and often train or play games together, and Jackie and Ran are close, they don't do much expect just hang out and since their both the youngest that helps them feel a bit closer. Ran and Grievous aren't really close, though Grievous wants to make attempts to become closer to Ran, potentially by inviting him to training sessions or game nights.

The other fighters from the Pit are still around! They mostly aren't around the Pit as they have jobs and other stuff to take care off, but they try to vist often. Like Genevieve and Levi come over on a regular basis to train with them all and just hang out. And sometimes Genevieve and Levi participate in the Pit's fights just for fun.

He was kept in a room in Mizu. The room was reminiscent of a jail cell, with no glass in it, and a door that required a key to be opened, he wasn't completely chained down but they did put cuffs on his wrists to prevent him from moving around to much. Benjamin honestly just kind of felt like something was off, because most people don't commit mass murder without a reason and he couldn't find a reason for Ranbob doing it. And he has reported multiple times (along with the others) feeling a strange weightless feeling near dreams room, almost like their getting sucked into a void, while also hearing a distant voice in their head calling them to come closer. When everyone said they heard the voice, with Ranbob even saying from where he was that he heard the voice but much clearer, and sometimes he feels like he doesn't control what he's doing. Benjamin and Isaac decided to block off the room and nearby rooms and made it a rule that if anyone heard the voice or felt like that to report it to them and where they felt it so ot could be blocked off.

Because Ranbob said he heard the voice too Benjamin started thinking that maybe Ranbob wasn't in control and there's something deeper going on. They specifically figure out its the mask when Charles finds it and brings it up to the group, where reports of the voices and feeling come back ten-fold, and even Ranbob who was starting to show progress and become a bit more willing to talk harshly backtracked to where he almost tried to attack anyone who came into the room. So Charles quickly puts it back as far from the group as possible, with Cletus following him to make sure he actually puts it back. Later they talk about destroying it but the question of what will happen to the possession on it stops them, as what if when they break it, the possession type thing (its not actually a possession I just forget the word oop), moves onto another object? Maybe even connect to them or Ranbob?

Ranbob does learn how to sew! Charles helps him learn actually and it helps the two get close! Cletus and Isaac are forbin as of now to return to Mizu, there are talks about going back later in time but for now everyone agreed it'd be best to hang back and avoid Mizu no matter what.

Life in the house is very hard to adjust to at first for Ranbob especially, its mostly awkward and learning boundaries. But after a few weeks to months living with the fishermen Ranbob becomes much more comfortable to open up a lot. Closest to Ranbob is definitely both Benjamin and Charles, as Benjamin is the one who recognized what was happening to Ranbob and Charles is the one who he spends most time with (mostly teaching Ranbob random skills).

Even after the fight ends Ran is still incredibly mad, and when Ranbob is so much as mentioned he growls and gets more aggravated. The fishermen are mostly surprised, Ranbob did mention there was a survivor that he remembers almost killing before they escaped, but because it seemed like a sensitive topic they never pressed him to tell them more. They never would've expected the survivor was his brother though. And the gladiators are completely surprised, expect Watson, Ran told Watson his past about Mizu and his brother (because I like to think Ran has night terrors due to Mizu and Watson is often the one to comfort him). Its only once Ranbob gets taken off to the medical bay and Ran goes to blow off steam in the training area the two sides talk. Where what they've been told is shared and connections and understandings are made. And they all manage to agree to try to get the brothers at least on talking terms, so they can talk about what happened and at least attempt to fix their relationship.

They are not! Other enderman hybrids do exist but their very rare due to complexity with passing the enderman genes. Though Ran and Ranbob did have a family of 6 they where apart of (the 2 other siblings where younger than them) but not every member had enderman genes.

They do notice how Jackie looks similar to Tubbo but they mostly just brush it off, as if Cletus takes off his head gear he looks like Quackity and of course Ranbob looks like Ranboo with the mix of black and white skin.

Hey, don’t worry about it, seriously. I do the same thing with people, so I kinda get it. I really do enjoy reading these, so really, I should be thanking you for sending them!

The bonds between everyone sound interesting. So Watson’s just generally the dad friend? How does he feel about that? Has he just unironically adopted all these dorks? Is it something of an inside joke? Jackie and Grievous sound like quite the combination. Honestly I can imagine these two either being very chill, or very chaotic, depending on the day. Ran and Jackie just hanging out sounds neat, what do they do together? Do they play games like Jackie does with Grievous, or do they just nap and cloud-watch, or something similar? And Grievous trying to bond with Ran sounds nice, how does that work out for him? Do they find some sort of activity that brings them closer?

I saw you mentioned Ran and Jackie were the youngest, which brings up two things. One, does the height difference remain? I’ve seen a lot of art depicting it as such, and honestly, the thought of some new fighters being tossed into a fight with these two, and A, seeing this short kid next to this ridiculously tall guy, and B, their expressions when being told Ran’s not an adult is very amusing to me. 

And two, what exactly is the age limit for going into the Pit? It’s probably not incredibly young, but how old are Jackie and Ran to be stated as the youngest? In their early teens? Late? Older? What kind of rules are there in the fights, no deaths aside?

The other fighters still being around is pretty cool, how do they get along with the gladiators? I imagine fairly well, since you’ve said they hang out, but are they close with anyone is particular? And what exactly is the Pit, besides a tournament? Do people fight for money in there? Do they just fight to fight? Is it open to a lot of people?

So the fisherman hung around Mizu and talked to Ranbob? It must have been strange, seeing the change in their would-be murderer. It does bring up the question of how in control Ranbob was when he first met them. Was he relatively himself at the start, and only begin to fall more under Dream’s thrall later, or was he under it from the start? And how do the fishermen feel about this? 

Actually, how young even is Ranbob? I believe you mentioned him to be Ran’s older(?) brother, but as previously said, Ran’s among the youngest of the gladiators, so how much older is Ranbob?  How old was he when he was led to kill the residents of Mizu?

I believe the word you’re looking for is possibly spirit? I’m assuming? And yeah, pretty smart of them to get away from it. Do they ever end up dealing with that in the future, or is it a ‘let’s just agree to never go near that thing again.’ kinda deal?

Charles and Ranbob bonding! Very nice! What other skills does Charles have, and where’d he learn them? Actually, what’s the general backstory for the fishermen? Is it anything that could tie in later, or no?

But that adjustment period can’t be easy. As we saw, the fishermens’ house was pretty small, and for Ranbob, to go from literally being the only person there in a huge city, to such an arrangement, well. It can’t have been easy. How did it affect him, and how did the fishermen deal with it?

In relation, how did Ran deal with going from Mizu to outside it? I imagine the lifestyle was a bit different from what he was used to.

So the relationship isn’t so easily fixed, hm? Y’know, all things considered, that’s pretty fair. How do the two groups get along, once they’ve decided to get the two brothers back together? And what kind of plan do they come up with? Perhaps deciding to travel together? Or maybe stick around and fight more? How does that work out for them? 

How does Ran feel about the brother that almost killed him being around his new family? And how does Ranbob feel about finding him again? Did he even think he was still kicking, or believe him to be dead?

So Endermen hybrids aren’t that common huh? Does that happen to be why Porkius was so interested in them? And are any of the fishermen or gladiators hybrids as well? Philza’s often shown with wings, and honestly, I’m curious to know if your AU’s Watson is a similar hybrid, or otherwise. 

Also, how do the gladiators fight? Are there double battles and team ups? Is there anyone they fight better with? What’s their general strategy? 

And how does Porkius feel about these new developments? Does he know? Help out, or let them sort it themselves? What’s going on with our resident king?

[keyofjetwolf]

Bonus Question Answers! (non-anime heat 1)

I asked a silly question! You gave me incredible answers. SO VERY MANY INCREDIBLE ANSWERS. Now, I present my favourites!

Another that was so so so hard to narrow down. I did have to make special mention, though, at the sheer volume of you who (correctly) pointed out Haruka and Michiru either spending their quarantine fucking, or frustrated at being unable to fuck. Thank you, heroes.

If your answer is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

—

Q:  The Senshi are all quarantining together! Describe what a wonderful/terrible/wonderrible idea this is. (YOU CANNOT BE TOO DETAILED)

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*  First things first: if the Senshi are all quarantining *together*, then they must be old enough to be not living with their parents (or lack thereof). Furthermore, they must be living in a place big enough to accommodate all of them. Now, the Outers already have a huge fuck-off house, so if we're cheating and saying ALL the Senshi, not just the Inners, then we can say that Usagi and the girls moved in with Haruka and the girls after high school. Usagi and Makoto and Minako have almost certainly snubbed college; Ami and Rei not only attending, but Ami is aiming to get her Master's, so both of them have to take online courses. Setsuna is teaching them. Haruka and Michiru graduated from college *ages* ago. Hotaru also has to take online courses, but for high school since she'd be about that age at this point. Chibs is not here because she's smarter than to travel back in time to when there was a GLOBAL PANDEMIC. Now then! Usagi is moping because she can't see Mamoru or Chibi-Usa, so she reads manga and watches TV to distract herself. As per her usual she mostly shoves her nose into what everyone else is doing, then gets distracted by a passing butterfly and chases it until she finds something new to stick her nose into. She's honestly taking the quarantine the hardest, even though she's living in a house with all her closest friends. The delivery guy knows her by name and by her super-cute hand-sewn (by Makoto) pink-and-white bunny mask. Makoto has sewn everyone custom masks, actually, which brings us to... Makoto naturally is doing the cooking and cleaning and laundry, and while she does love doing these things, she's now doing them for NINE PEOPLE, and Usagi has never learned to fold a sock in her life, and Ami folds socks but is crazy busy with her coursework, and Minako/Rei/Michiru/Haruka can't be bothered for one reason or another, and Makoto is about to explode because everybody assumes she'll do everything and do it smiling and normally they wouldn't be WRONG but COME THE FUCK ON YOU GUYS. She is in a constant state of being two steps away from an explosion. The only saving grace is Setsuna, who does actually help out in between teaching online courses, and who patiently listens to Makoto vent, because she understands that if Makoto melts down, so will the rest of the household. Makoto has a pink-and-green rose mask; Setsuna has a wine red mask with black stitching. Ami has vanished into her room. STUDY, STUDY, STUDY, STUDY. She is literally taking four courses at once because with a global pandemic, a) what else is there to do with one's life b) the rest of the household is utter chaos c) MUST DEVELOP VACCINE. She has actually be helping researchers online with this under an anonymous name. She *wants* to go out and volunteer, but understands that the best thing she can do is quarantine properly. She is constantly lecturing everyone about Best Quarantine Practices, to the point that the others mostly tune her out now. This is only piling onto her constant stress. Hotaru visits her occasionally with tea and textbooks so they can study and destress together. It's good for both of them, especially since Hotaru, with her health issues, is the most at risk of all of them. Hotaru's also used to isolation, so she's a surprisingly stabilizing presence for everybody. Ami and Hotaru both have standard hospital red-lined white masks along with their custom masks (Ami's is light blue with dolphin clasps on the side; Hotaru's is designed based on that optical illusion that's either a lamp or two people facing each other), because you need one for when the other is in the wash. Minako has become a Twitch game streamer and beauty YouTuber and is updating both CONSTANTLY, with YT guest star appearances by Michiru (who is always effortlessly and flawlessly beautiful) and Rei (who is using Minako to promote her own YouTube channel). Minako tried to get Usagi to be the camerawoman for her YT show but Usagi wanted to be the star too much, so now Minako as strong-armed Haruka into doing it. Haruka is bored out of her mind because she can't go out on drives, so she helps Minako out without complaint. Sometimes she even guest-stars on Minako's Twitch streams, depending on the game. Getting to film beautiful girls making themselves even hotter? Sure, she's into that. Minako's mask is glittery gold with red ribbons for cords; Rei's mask is black with flame decals on the sides; Haruka's is a solid black, tight and sporty; Michiru's is seemingly plain white, "coincidentally" complementing Haruka's, but is made of fine linen and silk. Rei meanwhile doesn't actually know what her channel is about and didn't give two shits about YouTube until Minako started doing it, but Minako is actually raking in a stupid amount of cash from doing this, so Rei figured, how hard could it be?? Right now she's somewhere in between doing her own beauty channel, doing paranormal investigations, cooking channel (she proudly presents instant meals as time- and money-saving masterpieces without an ounce of self-awareness. Haruka has had to hold Makoto back from suplexing her more than once), and a video review column where she tries things out and gives her opinions on them. She's *absolutely furious* that her channel is not as popular as Minako's. She's also strongarmed Haruka into being her camerawoman. Michiru allows this because watching Minako and Rei fight over their respective channels is the most amusement she's had all year. Ami asks Rei when she finds the time to study. Rei ignores her.  -- @ayu-ohseki  [I said spare no detail, AND YOU DID NOT. Thoughtful, considered, and a fun read start to finish, amazing.]

~~~

*  It is the best. Minako has a captive audience, Makoto has everyone to cook for, Rei has taken charge of how to Do Everything, Ami can hole up with her books and tutor Usagi, Usagi has all the time to play games and read comics. It is the worst. Minako has a captive audience and they want new stories faster than she can make them. Makoto has everyone to cook for and they eat so much all the time. Rei has taken charge of how to Do Everything but no one will listen. Ami can hole up with her books but that doesn't mean its quiet enough to read, and she can tutor Usagi but that doesn't mean Usagi is even making a small attempt at listening like in the group study sessions. Usagi has all the time to play video games and read comics, but no one will let her, especially Rei. -- @cakeandpi  [Loved the Dickensian Best of Times/Worst of Times structure, precisely the level of epic this clusterfuck needs.]

~~~

*  In the best of situations, it is difficult to find housing for nine people on short notice, and these are not the best of situations. Given that she had, from at least the age of four, been bound to the moon by a curse of blood, it should not have come as any grand opportunity to Michiru that the opportunity to recuse herself from larger society life would be immediately and aggressively offset by Haruka's invitation for the Senshi to come quarantine at the Kaioh beach cottage. 

One might assume that perhaps Usagi's parents, or Ami's mother, or Rei's grandfather, might have objected to their children being out of their sight in such a time, but that is to discount the general narrative inconvenience that seemed to pursue Michiru to the last. "Babe, there's like 6 bedrooms in the place," Haruka has said, quite missing the point entirely that Michiru had made it her goal to make use of everyone one of them. And so, here she was, where one might be sipping a glass of champagne on the veranda overlooking the sea, lover at her side, instead she was listening to the endless sniping between Rei and Usagi as they pattered about the house, there was no lover next to her, but only Ami with her endless piles of conspicuously books that Michiru felt quite certain had been selected for the view their covers provided others, Mako sending away the cook for what were noted to be COVID concerns but Michiru felt were more the concern of her longing for the spacious kitchen. Her mind preserved her enough not to speak of Minako, nor of the fact that the one she would have beside her was currently playing Mario Kart with such. Hotaru and Pluto were there, also. Michiru took another deep drink of the wine. With the volume she was consuming, she would have to switch to boxed wine. At this rate, she may qualify as hand santizer herself, which nearly stayed her hand. Usagi wailed loudly at Rei. Michiru took another drink. No Matter, she thought, for I will not die before my appointed time. The Moon will certainly see to that.  -- @docholligay  [You absolutely catered this to me and you know it, you whore. Hilarious AND beautifully written, I detest you.]

~~~

*  Usagi is thrilled to have all of her favorite people in one place. Mako will cook! Ami will read to them! Mina will write and Rei will direct plays for them all to perform! Haruka will make sure they stay fit! Michiru will teach them etiquette! Hotaru and Setsuna will also be there! Her favorite cats will be there to purr and offer guidance without actual knowledge and nagging! Yay! After a week, Usagi is still relentlessly happy. To be otherwise would be to admit that her friends are not perfect, perfectly suited for each other, and perfectly happy. She hasn't seen Haruka and Michiru at all in days; they commandeered the back bedroom with it's own bathroom and the others only know they're still in there by the noises *ahem*, by the food delivery people who keep coming to the door, and the empty food containers that appear in the hallway. Mina and Rei are not speaking to each other after the Hair Clip Incident. Ami is still diligently serving as a go-between, but Mako refused and will not give either of them any of her cooking, so Rei keeps making Hello Curry and leaving the kitchen a disaster, while Mina somehow keeps convincing Haruka and Michiru's uber eats drivers to give her stuff. There is only one litter box for the two cats, and that is not enough. And Artemis keeps leaving the seat up on the toilet. No one knows how, or why, but he does. Hotaru and Setsuna are also there. Worst (best?) of all, Usagi doesn't miss Mamoru at all, and hasn't actually noticed his absence. He's been missing for three days. -- @incorrecttact  [I ADORE the little touch of Usagi having to aggressively fake it because even she is struggling THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED. You made me bark laugh at the end. Glorious.]

~~~

*  Rei's Journal: It's day 8 under lockdown and I have somehow managed to retain my sanity. It has not been easy. By day 4 Minako and Makoto were at each other's throats because Minako tried to clip her toenails in the kitchen, due to Ami holing herself up in the bathroom. Makoto threatened to make Minako eat a toenail burrito, and by God I think Minako actually would eat it just to show Mako up. It has been a struggle to keep Usagi from eating all the food, and I fear she is contemplating the idea of eating Luna and/or Artemis. Ami is retreating further and further into her shell. She has solved every math problem in every math book she had at her disposal, and is now showing withdrawal symptoms. The walls of her room are covered in math equations. I am doing as best I can; my rations of "Here!" Quarantine snacks have been balanced to last me for at least the next week, but after that point I am not sure what happens. As a shrine maiden, I'm used to long periods of silence in my meditation. It's been difficult keeping my focus with Usagi and the others slowly losing their minds, but I am a survivor if nothing else. If I could survive D-Point, I can survive this... Wait I didn't survive D-Point FUCK.  -- @judedeluca  [Rei’s journal, yes, thank you for catering to me directly, I appreciate your service and killer ending.]

~~~

*  Everyone's locked into separate rooms by day 2, or make-shift rooms with blankets taped to the ceiling. By day 3, there's lines on the floor. Ami makes a timetable for when everyone can go to shared spaces like the kitchen or bathroom. Usagi is distressed that all of her friends can't get along, even as she has an existential crisis about not wanting to be around them herself. Rei is suddenly the mom friend, when Mako realizes that trying to help everyone leads to her stress-baking leads to her taking too much time in the kitchen leads to everyone more pissed off. Minako is alternately drunk off her ass and egging everyone on, or making notes for pressure cooker situations to add to training. Haruka gets more sullen than anyone's seen her, Michiru loses some of her polish as her nerves finally fray by the end of the week, and is cussing people out by day 9. Setsuna immediately regrets her decision not to hunker down at the time gate. Hotaru's glad to be included but so anxious she starts collecting the house's lamps in her area. Ami has to make a timetable for using those as well, so Hotaru doesn't call death to them all. Somehow, they survive. When things let up, they all promise not to speak of it again, at least not directly, and then immediately all take at least 3 days to be by themselves in their own spaces. -- @katrani  [Usagi’s existential crisis, yessss. Hotaru stress-hoarding lamps though, everything I never knew I wanted.]

~~~

*  Ordered in Michru's least loss to greatest, or conversely, Usagi's greatest loss to least: 1) they stay at Michiru's mansion. It's huge. It's spacious. Michiru disappears within minutes and isn't seen again until 14 days later. Pluto finds her easily enough for tea, Rei does so out of dogged determination, and Haruka doesn't have to try. Usagi does, but she gets lost easily and there are so many snacks everywhere, she gets distracted. what's that? A room filled with tvs? another with comics? Mako worries about her getting cavities and uses the greatest kitchen ever to cook things up. She almost never leaves there. Ami poisons the pool every time she leaves as part of the great Hatemace. Chibs and Hotaru get a chance to be kids and actually play. If the starlights are there, Seiya and Haruka have a dramatic face off. Mina makes sure to leave graffiti everywhere. Despite her best efforts, she can't find Michiru's weakness. Artemis and Luna take a vacation. 2) They stay at Usagi's, Minako's, or Ami's. They do not stay at Rei's because Grandpa is old and Rei has put the fear of god in anyone who dares come to the temple. The houses/apartments are small and cramped with just the five inners. With everyone else? Chaos. Artemis and Luna are glad they aren't affected and escape. Chibs conveniently stays in the covid-free future/"look, I already have teh vaccine! I don't have to stay here with you". Hotaru contemplates reincarnating again. Mako enjoys time with Usagi's mom, cooking together (no, she isn't crying, you're crying). Minako takes extremely long showers to piss Michiru off. Michiru is not sure how she got forced into this, she feels the hand of god in play and curses the writer internally. Pluto unravels the mystery of super!spy!Usagi's Dad but no one will ever know the answer to that. Ami escapes online and plays sims where they all have their own rooms, with Jet's help. Rei turns on the stove and pretends its the great fire to meditate. Haruka likes this long sleepover! She's never got to do one before! Usagi agrees and they plan horror movies and games and fast food. If the starlights are there, Seiya plans an even greater slumber party. Usagi helps both because more parties are always better. 3) They stay at Mako's two-room apartment. Chibs doesn't even step into the past, she's heard the horror stories from her aunts. Hotaru begins the sequence for the end of the world. Word of god or no word of god, Michiru refuses to go. When the narrative railroads her into it, she claims the balcony for herself, furnishes it, and locks the door so no one else can come. Pluto stays in the void, unreachable by all. Mako has never seen her apartment so filled and noisy and she's both elated and afraid for her plants. Her plants are terrified and tremble the entire time. Rei lives in the oven. Minako claims the bathroom--a toll is required for anyone else to enter. Ami puts all her brainpower to finding a cure to escape this hellhole. The bedroom is a nonstop competitive slumber party, and  Minako, Haruka, and Seiya have a song off. A toll is still required to enter the bathroom. Usagi breaks onto the balcony once to hug Michiru.  -- @kumeko  [I love the different branches, ALL THE SHENANIGANS]

~~~

*  (Putting Inners in college so Ami isn’t on call as a doctor) The good news is that the Outers’ ridiculously spacious mansion is, in fact, ridiculously spacious enough to accomodate eleven people (I’m certain Mamoru was not in your intentions, but it was agreed that Mamoru is a good quarantine podmate who will follow all necessary rules, and also Usagi would be insufferable if he’s not there and Mako points out that he lives alone and the social isolation would be killer) and three cats. Haruka’s happy to have Minako around all the time, and Pluto and Hotaru are thrilled to have Chibs. (Rei asked why Pluto and Chibiusa can’t just go back to their own times. Pluto gives a lengthy explanation about past and future virology that may or may not be total bullshit. No one really knows with her.) Ami is continuing her studies, as she does, and has a consistent schedule involving Study Hours and Socializing Hours. She does, however, make sure to swim in the Outers Mansion Pool every day at the same time Michiru customarily does. Neither of them says anything about this. Their rivalry continues. Michiru knows every nook, cranny, and secret passage there, and can easily avoid anyone who’s gotten stir-crazy should she so choose. Mako has taken command of the kitchen, and cannot be talked out of doing all the cooking. The food is delicious, nutritious, and is basically Quarantine Baking Times Twelve. Her skills are appreciated by all. Mamoru is likewise well-behaved, and mostly spends his time being quietly useful, spending time with Usagi, and listening to classical music with Michiru without otherwise interacting with her, making him the one man whose presence she will tolerate. The cats are well-behaved. They are the ones who are quarantining well. Minako, of course, is dying of boredom by the month and a half mark, and proceeds to take up a wide variety of hobbies, only to move on when they turn out way less fun than the video suggested. She annoys the others to show her how to bake tarts, or paint, or whatever it is Pluto does all day. Eventually she does find something she enjoys enough to stick with - wirework. While her preference is for jewelry, she does work with larger scale stuff just enough to present Mamoru with her masterpiece - Chicken Sculpture 2.0. (He seethes.) Rei, meanwhile, has also taken up new and exciting hobbies, but she will determinedly stick with each one until she has reached an arbitrary goal of Accomplishment. Even when she hates them, as is the case with birdwatching, Zumba, Mako’s attempts to refine her sense of taste, and trying to follow professional wrestling. She does take to cross-stitching once she discovers it’s basically stabbing something until it’s art. Felting, too. Between that and cleaning she’s a delight when she and Minako are not grating against each other. Which is frequently, with them both taking up all these new hobbies. (When assigning rooms, Michiru thought ahead. Rei’s and Usagi’s are next to each other, at the end of the hall. They bicker as much as ever but everyone else can get distance when really needed.) Usagi is happy to be somewhere with all her dearest friends, all the time! She is VERY BAD at waiting patiently until everyone else’s Productive Hours are over, be they online classes and homework or painting or quietly stealing Mamoru’s abstract mosquito coil shirt and throwing it through the Gate of Time and into a void where it will never again darken their sight. (Pluto isn’t a monster, and replaces it with a similar but less incomprehensible white T-shirt with a pattern. Mamoru assumes this was Minako’s doing.) Artemis assigns himself as resident Blonde Disaster Watcher, while Chibiusa - currently visiting as a roughly 14-year-old, matching Hotaru - smugly points out that she’s handling quarantine just fine. This prompts a round of furious research by the rest of the house as to whether or not cats can drink alcohol. Haruka’s practically run down a path around the Sprawling Kaioh Estate on which the mansion sits. How can she angst gaily without a mission? Sure obviously staying home and keeping safe is the most important thing and she will do her part, but that’s not nearly dramatic enough to hate herself for if she decides she’s quarantining inadequately! Michiru decides the best thing for this is to take her, Usagi, and Minako and sit them all down with empty scrapbooks. Usagi and Haruka emerge after the pandemic with eighteen volumes of Important Friendship Scrapbooks. There’s an adorable doodle of them high-fiving on the title page of each one. They designed it themselves. Despite this all, quarantine does actually pass without any of them killing each other, though Haruka and Michiru do strongly consider sending the others to Hikawa Shrine instead. Grandpa Hino can manage all this energy. No one except Chibiusa thinks to ask how Hotaru’s doing. They forgot to check her room.  -- Regalli  [I know legit sadness in my Senshi Heart that I cannot see Haruka and Usagi’s scrapbooks with my own eyeballs. Loved this whole thing, but fucking Hotaru at the end hahahah]

~~~

*  It's all a matter of perspective. Mako and Ami will keep themselves consistently busy with cooking/baking, plant caregiving, reading, eating sandwiches, etc. Mako will eventually cave, after like, day 6 and there are 3 dozen scones, they lost count of cookies, and they've got frozen meals for weeks. Rei keeps telling her to stop cooking because she stumbled into Mako's apartment with armfuls of Here! Curry! and convenience store meals. Usagi is sooooo boooooored all the time and that's a dangerous combo with Minako being soooooo booooooored all the time. The Rube-Goldberg machines, the destruction, the pranks. More about Rei sadly as I know you don't particularly care for her at all whatsoever: she is a rollercoaster. Every day is too different but it's also always the same. Usagi is eating too much of her food but nobody else is eating enough. It won't go bad this way, but Usagi STOP I GOT THAT KIND OF CHIPS FOR ME. She finds some peace with Michiru who herself trying to keep a grasp on her ~*ara*~ ness but won't admit that by day four has been wanting out. "The girls are sweet" she convinces herself as she listens to another screaming match between Usagi and Rei while Minako snapchats everything. Haruka lost it by the second day, she can't stand not doing anything and not being in motion. At first this was channeled into doing small workouts that Mako sometimes participated in from a distance, but those have stopped. How long have you been laying on her floor today, Haruka? You gonna get up and have something to eat today Haruka? Hotaru and Chibs keep themselves busy with games and movies (Chibs and Usagi fight over the TV), Setsuna plays sometimes but is just happy to watch and enjoy these moments of peace. Chib's pride is on the line because she is getting bored by day 5 but she will not be sooooooo booooooored like Usagi. Mamoru begins to bring them all takeout by day 10 and slips Michiru a bottle of wine when she comes down, she is grateful, the label brings a tear to her eye, he knows good wine. Luna and Artemis are there. They sure are cats, and they can come and go if they want. They are envied. At some point they are all laying in the living room together. They don't know how long, someone's playlist is playing in the background. They don't care. It's the longest anyone has gone without talking. It's the one of the few times they've truly felt connected with one another as a team. Minako then asks, "If I ate myself, would I become twice as big or cease to exist?" It was nice while it lasted.  -- @thatonemoonie  [Every detail is divine, but oh my god Minako’s question at the end, THANK YOU.]

~~~

*  Michiru does not have enough wine and the Moon will pay for what she has endured. -- the Lord of the Sea  [Summing it up in the perfect single sentence, brilliant.]

~~~

*  It's Usagi's idea, really. Quarantine procedures are announced and she can't help but imagine what it will be like for all her friends. Minako, stuck with family she doesn't get along with. Ami's mom under even more stress as an essential worker, probably avoiding her daughter to keep her safe from the virus. Makoto, completely alone! Rei, probably regressing from not seeing other people! This cannot stand. Usagi has visions of Mako making gigantic family style meals and keeping things scrupulously clean. Ami contentedly petting Luna and Artemis and keeping them all up to date on how things are progressing. Minako livening the mood by driving Rei insane. And all is right in Usagi's world. It IS like that... sometimes. Being stuck together 24/7 has its ups and downs, and there has never been a situation as prolonged as this one. There are tense moments, and fights over silly things like toilet paper and Usagi running up the phone bill by calling Mamoru so often. It's cramped. Ami tries to keep them up on their distance learning, and checks temperatures daily. They try some disastrous DIYS and recipes when supplies get low. Usagi and Rei have an emotional moment when one night, she tries to secretly use Moon Healing Escalation on the city. In the end, they come through stronger than ever, like always. Just with a lot more appreciation for distance and personal space.  -- @yunyin  [All incredible, but you absolutely fucking GOT ME with Rei catching Usagi trying to heal the city, DELICIOUS ANGST]

---

I’ll be drawing for the bonus liveblog around the start of THE GIFTENING 2020 (currently looking to be Monday, 11 January 2021). Each bonus question is another chance to earn an entry! I CAN ABSOLUTELY AND SHAMELESSLY BE BOUGHT.

[atomicblasphemy]

Chamomile {Part I}

Eda and Amity share a cup of tea.

If she could just bring herself to it, she would have been able touch her. The human’s hand laid with its palm up, fingers slightly apart, had Amity Blight been a more reckless, a more selfish person she would have read an invitation there. But the fact was that she wasn’t brazen, or at least not when it came to her paramour. The very opposite was more likely to be the case. And she wasn’t as invasive or disrespectful as to spoil Luz’s peace. She knew well enough how this could feel, and she wouldn’t dream of making her experience that. The human’s peaceful sleeping face, a small smile on her lips, the slow rhythmic sound of her breath, the fact she had fallen asleep facing her, those were signs of trust. An undeserved gift Amity Blight wasn’t willing to abuse. Those were the thoughts repeating in her mind: the sanctity of Luz’s peace and her own unwillingness, due to her own principles, to corrupt that. Principles whose origins she didn’t know for certain.

Truth be told, it wasn’t her undeniable attraction for Luz keeping sleep away from her, however. It was this vulnerability, this unwarranted confidence the girl deposited in Amity Blight, that she could allow herself to be in such position around her despite the long list of evidences to the contrary the witchling could think of. That’s what was bothering her. She wanted to see herself worthy of such trust, but scour her mind as she might, nothing could explain to her Luz’s abandonment. It wasn’t as though they kept with the antagonism of their early interactions, things had changed, for the better. Or so Amity Blight wanted to believe, hoping Luz would agree. Nevertheless, it was far too soon for her to be deserving of any of this from the human.

She shifted her position, laying flat on her back now. The wooden ceiling sure could provide some welcomed distraction. She counted the boards, she lost track of time as she mapped the large veins on each of them, as she often liked to when she was given the chance. Her parents’ taste for pristine white marble made sure this rarely was the case however. Her home was so different from this place, like comparing a cottage to a hermetically clean hospital, sterile. The flawlessness of her homestead’s ever so pristine couth, which had been passed down from so many generations, was all she had known thus far. The owl house was well kept, to the limited extent of what Edalyn Clawthorne, King and now Luz could manage. Still, the choice words for her parents to describe the place would would surely be along the lines of revolting or filthy. This would always be more than enough for them to form an unshakable opinion on the denizens. She owed Skara one, if not for her, today would not have been possible, circumstances would not have allowed it to be possible. She now knew what the word cozy meant, it had always sounded so abstract to her.

But try as she might to distract herself, think idle thoughts about her parents, Skara, and generalities of distinct living conditions, Luz’s sweet, almond like smell made those be futile efforts at best, counterproductive at worst. No witch she knew smelled like that. But then again, most witches in her social circle were avid users of colognes, perfumes, or really anything that can mask the natural scent of their bodies. Amity Blight used to think this was a flattering character of her fellow upper-crust, this earthly scent however, so grounded as to be naive, begged to differ. Luz never showed such frugal concerns, and despite often making those unsettling jokes about quitting basic hygiene, she not once saw the girl dirty. Going the distance of using perfume, however, sounded like it would be a foreign concept to the human. Amity Blight couldn’t really tell whether or not this smell was a human thing or if witches also had such scents. But this was Luz’s smell, that’s all she needed to know.

She tried to lead her thoughts elsewhere, but still they circled back to the unavoidable distraction to her side. She won’t get any sleep if things stay like this, and Luz had plans for the two of them in the morning. She needed some air, the most delicious scent she could think becoming unbearable,  some time outside this room to get her thoughts in order. Sitting up, looking to her side  she can’t help a smile of her own at Luz’s content face. She shoos the thought that she could, perhaps be dreaming of her, that she could be the cause of that contentment. If Luz could unknowingly keep Amity Blight’s brazeness at bay, she could do the same to her learned inclinations for pretension. This wasn’t enough to keep her, mostly unbidden, hand from towards Luz. But she wouldn’t take the risk, she was unsure whether she could afford such mistake, because that’s what this would be.

Ruling against that action, she reaches further, picking up the small notebook and Luz’s favorite pen that laid beside it. It seemed as though the light spell Luz casted earlier - by Amity’s request - worked as a candle, dimming as time went on. She was never a fan of sleeping in the dark, and her own purple light spells only brought back the memories of Ed and Em asking, no, demanding, to know why they weren’t invited to the night club. Luz had been  kind enough as to give her that, she even taught her the exact design one should make in order to cast light in that fashion. Thinking of that brought a thought to Amity. It was auspicious, to say the least, that the girl’s first self taught spell was a light spell. Hadn’t she told her once that in her mother’s language Luz meant light? She smiled, the name  simply made too much sense in every conceivable way. Safe for Bellos, and likely Boscha, that was bound to be an unanimous opinion among all inhabitants of the Boiling Isles that had met the human. Amity Blight gave out a wee smile at the thought, her bias on that opinion too large for her to say whether or not it was true, but she would stubbornly hold on to that belief nonetheless. She didn’t want to question why she had been allowed to be under this light, not now. Point stands, nonetheless, Amity Blight knew what she had done both to Luz herself as well as some of those the human held the closest to her heart. Those displays of kindness, or even endearment, those are what Amity Blight would never understand: both a sign of praiseworthy courage and of a reckless abandonment a Blight couldn’t help but to chastise. And Titan as her witness, had she done enough chastisement of Luz in the past. But the thought of Luz’s desire for being close to her made her certain she wouldn’t see her usual pale complexion should she look into a mirror. Luckily, there was none there to witness her giving in to her feelings.

She drew the glyph and sure enough a small orb of light materialized, consuming the sheet of paper. To her utter surprise, it had the same color as Luz’s. She drew a second one, standing up before casting it. As quietly as she could despite the creak of the floor boards she made her way to the kitchen. The owl house, although fairly large for the four living in it - five if one counts that abhorrent screechy creature with no sense of personal space as a person - had a pretty straight forward layout. It had taken Amity Blight but one quick visit to be able to navigate the place with her eyes closed if she wanted, but the scattered random objects Edalyn Clawthorne, the matriarch, had collected over the years stopped her from such attempt. Despite living there her whole life, she couldn’t claim the same familiarity with her family’s ancestral manor. She wondered how she would feel tomorrow  night, sleeping there again.

The kitchen, as simple as the rest of the house, was deserted. She had insisted on helping Luz clean it up after dinner, her ineptitude at basic chores earning Luz’s laughter and a few basic lessons. She could now almost be considered an expert at doing the dishes, probably the first Blight to ever reach that. She knew were the glasses were, that was all she needed. Fetching a glass she makes her way to the fridge, hoping to find that cold bottle of water she saw earlier.

“Trouble sleeping, Blight?”

A tall figure, still wearing her carmine dress, stood leaning herself on the backdoor’s threshold, an amicable expression, although suggesting there was still a large bridgeless river between them, on her face, her arms crossed.  She had been silent enough to almost give Amity a heart attack, Edalyn only laughed. Dropping the large cloth bag next to the door.

“Ms. Clawthorne. Uhh… Yes, a little. You too?”  

“Well, the fact that I every now and then become one is not the only reason why people call me the Owl Lady. I also have really, really bad insomnia. When its especially bad, like tonight, I just go run a few… errands. But enough about that. Thought you’d sleep like a brick after Luz dragged you all over the whole day. So, my humble abode’s accommodations are not up to standard or...”

“N-No, Ms. Cla-Clawthorne. Everything is perfect. I just have a… I have insomnia too, sometimes. So, yeah… That’s it.”

The older witch furrowed her eyebrows, Amity Blight knew that look. She was being studied. But her inelegant response had been simply unavoidable, a knee jerk reaction beyond her control. It was true however, sleep often evaded the girl, but the heat rising to her cheeks denounced that this night the cause was other than usually. The difference in their postures and clothing was enough to make the Blight want to burrow herself in hole. Edalyn, in a well worn dress red in color – which highly complimented the gray tone of her hair, the white of her skin, and more importantly her heterochromatic eyes, the yellow jewelry matching her left honey colored eye, the original color for both of the, this was her biggest battle scar – looked, in her usual manner, ready for whatever these Isles could have in store for her. Amity Blight, on the other hand, with her hair loose from her usual small ponytail, a few strands falling in front of both her eyes hiding the amber beneath, wearing well tailored, thought loosely fitting and thick pajamas as to afford as much comfort as possible to her sleep in a chilly night as this one, looked as off guard as one possibly could. Her upper class origin could, at times, be rather inconvenient.

“Anyway… Tea? Figure it can help you get at least some shut eye. According to Luz’s incessant rambling this last couple of days it seems you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and you will need at least some rest.”

“Y-yes. Tea would be lovely, m-ma’am.”

She worried the blush would show in the dim light. The name of Luz, in the girl’s mentor’s voice, again making Amity Blight’s emotions take the forefront. She attempted to speak as little as possible. Seeing how Edalyn was still studying her, this option seemed to grow distant by the instant. The suggestion of a smirk in the Owl Lady’s lips.

“Hope you like chamomile then, cause that’s all we have. Is that alright with you?”

“That’s my favorite actually, thanks. Em will always brew it for me and Ed  when there’s a Boiling storm.”

“Em? That’s your sister right? Emerald, wasn’t it?”

The Clawthorne asked, as she filled a kettle with water.

“Emira, actually.”

“Dangit, I owe Lily 5 snails. We had this bet, back at school, you know. When we saw things between Al and Odalia were getting serious. I said Odalia’s first born daughter would be called Emerald, seemed right up her alley. I mean, because of the green and all, but mostly because… No offense, but she always had a bit of a gaudy taste. You should see her looks at grom, she had so much jewelry on her that you could probably buy a house with it, even if you sold it to the lowest bidder, and so much fabric in her dress that you could build a tent big enough to fit all of Bonesburough under it.”

Amity Blight couldn’t contain a small chuckle, much to Edalyn’s surprise. The owl lady raised her eyebrows expecting clarification from the Blight.

“Well, you’re not too far off. I heard that was the second pick.”

“Huh, was it Al who didn’t let the three of you have weird names, or did she get suddenly struck with common sense? Well, in any case, you seem to have more taste than her. Also, will you just have a sit already, Blight? Seriously, you’re lucky you’re not called Diamond or some thing like that, Blight.”

Amity Blight winced at how Edalyn addressed her. From someone as close to Luz as Edalyn, there was only one way Amity Blight wanted to be called.

“That part I don’t really know, it was Em herself who told me she almost was called that. And, please, just call me Amity.”

Edalyn, making her own way to the table, just looked at the girl. Amity felt as though she was still studying her, but so far she wanted to think she had made a good enough impression. She placed the pen and notebook on the table, to which Edalyn promptly picked it up, drawing a light glyph of her own almost as fast as Luz would, Amity couldn’t tell whether or not she had so much as looked at the paper as she drew it. The water on the kettle beginning to heat.

“Sure, as long as you start calling me Eda. No Ms. Clawthorne, no ma’ams, and specially no Owl Ladies. My name is Eda, just Eda. I don’t really do formality or legends well. Just ask Bump.”

She extends her hand towards Amity.

“Deal.”

Amity responded Eda’s gesture in kind. The agreement sealed with a firm handshake.

“Now, I still have to ask you. Why exactly you don’t want to be called Blight? Its a powerful name, all Blights I ever met seemed pretty proud of it, even when we were negotiating some back alley deal. You all seem to always try to do everything you can to remind everyone around you how much of a Blight you are. This is a first for me, I got to say.”

“I… That’s complicated. I don’t really know how to put it into words.”

“You should try it sometime though. But, in any case, we can always come back to this later. For now however, I hear you are pretty good with abominations, how’s that working out for you?”

Amity couldn’t be more grateful for Eda’s obvious option for small talk. For someone who said not to be good with formalities, her capacity of catching up on those queues was impressive. She couldn’t help her surprise to learn that on her Hexside days she attended the potions track instead of oracle. But that first part sounded to her more like a promise than a suggestion.

As the water slowly began to boil, they talked. Eda would every now and then drop a few anecdotes about Amity’s mother. Progressively derogatory ones at that. The girl was starting  to feel skeptic as to the honesty of her ever present “no offense” claims. It was a welcomed thing though,  she was not about to stop Eda’s mockery. However, the woman seemed to grow interested in one particular topic, one Amity was much less excited about.

“So, you have those light brown roots. You plan on dying it anytime soon? Just curious, because honestly as it is, you look like you have some kind of plant in your hair. Like, green leafs atop the the brown bark and all.”

She took some time answering, despite Eda’s friendly demeanor. As a matter of fact, that too was confusing her. Much like with Luz, she couldn’t understand why she of all people wouldn’t be keeping her at an arms length. Either way, she didn’t know where exactly Eda planned on taking this conversation, which Amity had been truly enjoying, just like that curiosity took over.

“Yeah. Mother has been insistent about it for a couple weeks. I kind of like it this way, though. I don’t know, does it really look that bad?”

“No, not at all. I made fun of it, but I don’t really think you need to change it… if you don’t want to, that is. But… Well, I have a feeling we’ll get to it eventually.”

Amity noticed some hesitation in Eda’s voice. She said those words slower than her normal pace, lower than her normal pitch, uncharacteristically tentative. Moreover, Eda’s words made the girl certain this conversation would be much longer than she had anticipated when she first saw Eda standing by the door frame.

“Thanks. But, any day now Mother will come home with that bottle green dye, and then she’ll summon me to her quarters, and then she’ll dye it. And then that will be it.”

“Wait. Odalia dyes your hair herself?” Seeing Amity’s curt nod, Eda completed. “Interesting… It both sounds exactly like the Odalia I knew and nothing like her.” She lingered in the last syllable, as if still processing the information.

Opportunistically, the kettle started screaming announcing the water had boiled. Amity started getting up, to help Eda with it who in turn raised her hand, prompting the girl to stop in her tracks.

“Nope, you’re still the guest here. Looks like you’ll be coming here more often, maybe then I’ll let you help me with this stuff. For now, I’ll be playing the role of the gracious host.”

Amity sat back down, quietly watching as Eda went about picking all the supplies needed. The herbs had already been sitting by the stove, so her first action had been to pour some of it into the water. She thought of Emira’s method, she could swear that should be done midway through the boiling. She saw Eda look towards the cabinet were they kept the tea cups, a small circular motion with her left index finger. And, of course, the frustrated moan was soon followed by the clanking sound of porcelain as Eda picked the teacups with her hands.

“Sugar?”

“Yes, please. A couple of spoons.”

Soon the two were back siting across from each other, waiting for the tea to cool down enough not to give them third degree burns.

“Thank you, Eda.”

“Eh, don’t mention it. I was going to make it for myself anyway.” A playful, even if laced with some poorly hidden malice, grin on her face, Eda continued. “Say, you mentioned earlier that this was your favorite kind of tea, is that right?”

“It sure is. Why?”

“Oh nothing, its just that… Personally, I’m more of an Earl Gray kind of gal. You know, I like with a bit more of a punch, you know? But not too much, especially at an hour like this. Now, Lily and King, I know for a fact those two refuse to drink anything other than coffee. I once caught those two pretty much chugging down a one litter bottle each. At three am. Black coffee, blacker than the night. It was some kind of competition they were having, I think. I’m just glad they didn’t ask Hooty to join in. However... now that I think about it, Luz’s favorite is also chamomile. So you two have that in common.”

“R-R-Really, is th-that so?”

Eda’s grin grew wider. Amity realized this was the first time the girl upstairs had been brought up in a while. Her cheeks rapidly warming up, a small flutter to her ears. The sight making Eda’s grin grow wider still.

“Mhmm. Matter of fact, that’s the main reason why that’s the only kind of tea we have here right now. She kept insisting it could help me with my insomnia, some sort of folksy human wisdom apparently. I decided to give it a shot, stop with the Earl Gray for a while.”

“Ah.”

Was all that Amity could muster. A polite, if anticlimactic, reaction. Otherwise, her reaction were liable to give away her feelings for Luz, a most unwelcomed outcome. She wanted to exercise the utmost caution as to keep her little secret.

“In any case, that’s pretty convenient, isn’t it?”

“Wh-Whatever do you mean, Ms. Clawthorne?”

“Humm... Are we going back to Ms. Clawthorne, Blight?” Despite the addressing, the smug on Eda’s face was comparable to that of even the Blightest of Blights. “What I mean by that is the fact that you now know what to bring for the two of you to drink at that hypothetical date you’ve probably spent the whole day quietly planning.”

“I-i-i-i-i… I haven’t the foggiest...”

“I was a teenager once too, you know? Besides, you’re about as discrete about your little crush on Luz as an end times street preacher, your face alone looks like it will kill the Czar. Not to mention how you kind of flinch and stutter when I mention her name, or how you look almost entranced when she’s talking to you. So… How long?”

Sighing in defeat, her secret out, she could only answer with another question, tucking a strand of green behind her still fluttering ears.

[shadeofazmeinya]

Song As Old As Rhyme

Summary: Gavin is a Prince. Jeremy is his new personal guard. What could go wrong?

In which Gavin is unsure of his new guard but slowly realizes that any man who loves cats as much as him surely can’t be that bad.

A/N: For @rtwritingcommunity SpringFairy Event! Got a request from @alienhaus for some Prince and his Knight style au and I went with some very sweet Jerevin! Hope yall enjoy, Comments and Reblogs are very very much appreciated!!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117829

Gavin counts the breaths, as the man’s chest rises and falls. An even, blessedly stable beat. In. Out. Rising. Falling. Sturdy. Steady. Alive.

Gavin pulls the covers a little tighter over him, fingers dancing across his fingers before grasping it to stop his own from shaking. Sure Gavin has duties he should be attending to. Sure he has councils to meet with, and ceremonies to appear at, and everything else that comes with being a Prince. But Gavin doesn’t move an inch. Couldn’t be moved. As he watches his fair knight breathe despite the blood-stained bandages wrapped tight across his side. Despite the pain, despite the harm. All because of Gavin.

All because Gavin had to fall in love.

--

Gavin had wanted to hate him at first. Had nothing but annoyance and disdain. He told Geoff as much when he announced to him his new personal guard.

“I don’t need a nanny anymore,” Gavin huffed as he sat across from Geoff in the King’s chambers, a favored meeting spot of the King and his son. Filled with the finest of couches and silk, the gold seemed to shine in the light coming through all the windows as the maids cleaned and served them tea.

“This isn’t about having a nanny,” Geoff rolled his eyes so far back Gavin half expected the crown to fall off his head. “This is a political move. This Lord Dooley needs to feel like he has a place with the Crown, so we’re hiring his youngest son, Jeremy. His son has been training as a knight, so if we put him as the Prince’s personal bodyguard, the kingdom sees him everywhere, we get this asshole Lord to stop being a dick,” Geoff ended eloquently. “Trust me, I don’t like it much either but it's what we’re going to do.”

“But what if he’s awful?” Gavin whined, slouching in his chair in a very princely manner. It earned a hard look from Geoff as he silently gestured to all the staff around to see him pouting. “What if he’s as horrible as his dad?”

Geoff snorted. “What his dad is like means nothing about him. As you clearly know since you didn’t seem to inherit a lick of my dignity.”

“That’s because I’m adopted, you prick,” Gavin sticked out his tongue but then chuckled softly. He could never truly be mad at Geoff.

“Hey, I still fucking taught you didn’t I?” Geoff retorted with his own laugh, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Give this guy a chance, ok Gavvers? Maybe he’ll grow on you. Maybe he won’t. You don’t need to talk to him a lot, just don’t be overly mean to him. We need to not piss off this Lord, ok? He keeps a lot of the palace fed.”

“Fine,” Gavin sighed, pushing himself to sit up straight, fixing his hair. “But you owe me like three new cats if he’s awful.”

Geoff laughed, leaning over to kiss his head. “We’ll see. Just give it a shot.”

——

Despite his promise to Geoff, Gavin knew he wasn’t particularly nice to poor Jeremy at the beginning. He didn’t trust him but mostly just didn’t like this uncomfortable situation of having such a stranger now a constant at his side. Gavin didn’t want to talk with him, (sure maybe he was… scared because he’s not very good at first impressions and talking with strangers but that's besides the point) and for a while the knight seemed fine with that. Would do his duties and little more than that. There was a tension there that Gavin made no move to try to break. At least, not at first.

It was early in the morning about two weeks into the arrangement when they had their first proper conversation. Gavin was finishing getting ready, tiredly adjusting his clothing and making sure he looks as proper as he needs to. Every ring on the right finger, every piece in the right place, a tireless amount of adjusting. Jeremy looked just as exhausted, needing to be awake as long as Gavin. Maybe more since the knight was already dressed and armored.

“Sit,” Gavin hummed as he swore he saw the knight starting to sway on his feet. “The chairs won’t bite.”

Jeremy, as silent as he always had been, raised an eyebrow, looking between Gavin and the chair as if to be sure he wasn’t lying about it biting. As if checking If he was actually allowed. But his exhaustion ultimately won over as Gavin heard the scraping of the chair being moved and then the creak of gaining the weight of a sighing body.

Gavin smiled softly, glad the poor bloke wasn’t protesting about what a proper knight was allowed to do or not. So far Jeremy had seemed stiff around him, like something like this was to be taken seriously.

Gavin started prattling off all the places they’ll need to be today. The things he needed to do and unfortunately Jeremy needed to stand around and watch. Gavin earned noncommittal hums, enough to show he heard him though it didn’t seem like he was paying much attention. Which was fine. Gavin couldn’t expect this knight to care about all his random duties as a Prince.

Gavin was finishing righting his crown, a circlet flashing with gold and silver, when he turned to look over to his knight. And he froze at the sight. Jeremy was smiling, the look much softer than Gavin had ever expected capable of the man. The smile crinkled at the corners of his eyes, the brown in them melting like chocolate on a summer’s day. In Jeremy’s lap, Gavin’s cat, the friendly bugger always bothering anyone who would so much as glance at him. Gavin could hear him purring from across the room, nuzzling as Jeremy stroked his gray fur.

Gavin didn’t realize he was staring until Jeremy lifted his head at the silence. He paused, hands moving off the cat as if he had been stung. “I-I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he stammered, mouth opening and closing. “He came up to me and I just figured he wanted a pet, I don’t mean to offend-“

“It’s fine,” Gavin raised a hand to stop him. “I know how little Fool forces pets from whoever he wants. He seems to like you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, carefully setting his hand back down to scratch Smee’s chin, watching Gavin as if he would object. “I, uh, grew up around cats. Guess this one could tell.”

Gavin felt a smile pulling at his lips, a small chuckle in his chest. “Well, now he’ll never leave you alone. That’s the price to pay.”

Jeremy chuckled softly, it escaping as though he didn’t seem to mean to. “I think I’m ok with that.”

Gavin nodded, staring a little longer as Jeremy petted the cat. Maybe this knight wasn’t as stiff as he thought. As Jeremy chuckled at his goofy cat, petting his belly as he stretched onto his back, Gavin figured maybe they could get along after all.

——

“How are you holding up?” a soft voice interrupts Gavin’s misery as he looks up. The light of day was lower, but still a few hours before light. Leaving less son coating the room, but still its warmth. The voice entering is a gentle face, Jack, one of his father’s closest advisors. And good friend to Gavin as well.

Gavin sighs, glancing back down to Jeremy to count one more breath. “I’m fine. It’s him we should be worried about.”

“The healer says he will be fine,” Jack assures as he moves over, placing a comforting hand to his shoulder. “The wound has been bandaged and wasn’t deep enough to be fatal. He’s just sleeping off the medication they gave when they were patching him up. Plus, from what I’ve seen, he’s a pretty sturdy guy. I know he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

Gavin nods as he listens. He’s been told as much already. But until he sees those warm eyes again, he just can’t fully believe it. Can’t calm hs buzzing body.

Jack sighs at his silence, pulling Gavin into a hug. Holding him tight like he used to when he was a child. “It’s not your fault,” Jack says, always able to see right into Gavin’s heart. “He did what he was supposed to, what he trained for. He protected you.”

Gavin shakes his head. “He shouldn’t have needed to. I shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

“Oh, Gav,” Jack says softly, brushing through his hair. “Listen. He will recover. And we have the man who did this in our dungeons. We’ve learned and we’ll adapt. Jeremy will be back at your side before you know it.”

“He better,” Gavin mumbles, not realizing the tears on his face until Jack is offering a tissue to wipe them off. He holds tighter to Jack, voice starting to shake. “I have so much I need to tell him.”

“And he will hear. Just give it a little more time.”

——

It was a cautious friendship that grew. Mostly centered on Gavin’s cat, as Jeremy would ask questions and Gavin would readily answer him. Gavin found he enjoyed Jeremy’s laugh and voice and Fool loved the attention and it naturally grew from there.

Over time Gavin learned Jeremy had grown up on the coast, been training to be a knight the second he was able. He wasn’t born early enough to benefit from too much inheritance from his father, so he wanted to make his own path in life. Jeremy slowly learned Gavin was an orphan young, his parents a pair of nobles in the court that passed away due to illness. With no other family there had been questions about what to do with him until Geoff took him in. Gavin told him how much of a bleeding heart Geoff is, but how good of a King he is as well.

Gavin also learned Jeremy was hilarious, always having a perfectly timed joke to whisper to him in boring meetings. He learned Jeremy had thought pretty poorly of him at first and Gavin supposed he couldn’t blame him for that.

But they catch on like wildfire once they started really talking. Once Jeremy realized Gavin wasn’t going to expect him to be an emotionless and stern knight all the time. Once Gavin realized Jeremy was forgiving and open. And of course, they both loved Gavin’s lovely cats.

“I’m surprised you don’t take them out more often,” Jeremy hummed as he stroked the fur of Gavin’s new kitten, an orange tabby that was found alone and too cute to stop them from taking in. The tabby paid little mind to the petting, looking around the plants of the garden they sat in, sniffing everything.

“The gardener doesn’t like them,” Gavin chuckled. “Said they trampled her flowers. Though they are much too small to do that bloody bad of damage.”

Jeremy laughed too, shaking his head. “Even little Zipper?” Jeremy held the orange cat in question, the one who convinced Gavin on it’s name.

“I don’t understand it either,” Gavin smiled, reaching to pet Zipper’s head. The cat meowed in protest, ducking to see its new invader and knocking Gavin’s hand into Jeremy’s. They brush for the briefest second and yet Gavin felt his cheeks flush inexplicably.

“We’ll just have to keep sneaking them put when she’s not looking,” Jeremy grinned, oblivious to Gavin’s pause.

“Yeah,” Gavin said, shaking it off and focusing back on the cats, picking Fool up as he jumped over to Gavin’s side. “It’s nice being in the gardens while we can.”

Jeremy focused back on the cat and Gavin felt his cheeks, feeling the warmth that was there. He had no idea why his heart beat just a little bit faster but he found he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his knight.

——

It wasn’t that Geoff had no enemies. He had very little in fact, the people of the kingdom loved him. But there were some. It was his child that had seemed to have brought them up. Though that had only been when Gavin was younger, newly adopted and adding question to who is heir to the throne. It hadn’t sat well with some but Gavin hadn’t heard more whispers since he had been fully grown. It was easy to think those thoughts and oppositions gone. Easy to ignore and forget when there was so much more taking his attention.

——

“You know,” Jeremy interrupted the soft silence around them, the candle light flickering, the fireplace lit to take away the bite of the cold night. Jeremy stroked through a cat’s fur that was sleeping on his lap, a tiny pure black one that honestly was more Jeremy’s cat than Gavin’s. “Being Prince certainly wasn’t what I thought it was.”

Gavin chuckled, glancing to him from where he had been bent over his desk, working through a stack of papers all awaiting his ‘official’ response. “Much more boring than you thought?”

“I suppose,” Jeremy hummed. “But also… Much more skillful, I guess. You work hard. And seem to be good at what you do.”

Gavin’s glad for the low light as he felt his cheeks flush as he turned back around so he didn’t have to face Jeremy. “Why thank you,” he chuckled softly. “Expected a pampered brat when you joined?”

“Something like that,” Jeremy shrugged, honest. “Wasn’t sure what to think of you. And now I know I have no idea what to make of you.”

Gavin burst into bright laughter, shaking his head. He set his quill down, glancing back to him. “I hope I’m not that bad of a mess to you.”

“No! No, you’re not a mess,” Jeremy said and there’s… something in his expression. Something Gavin couldn’t place but then Jeremy tore his gaze away, looking back to the cat purring softly in his lap. “Just… different than I thought you’d be. And still full of surprises.”

Gavin watched him, seeing his form surrounded by the fire, tired and quieter but also softer than normal. The rough edges of his form dampened. “Don’t count yourself out, love. You’ve been surprising me from the start too.”

“I have?” Jeremy said, raising his head back up.

“Of course,” Gavin smiled. “A lot funnier than most stuffy old guards I’ve had. And bloody mental in the best ways.”

“Just because I am willing to eat whatever weird shit you find, doesn’t mean I’m that mental,” Jeremy retorted but was laughing softly himself.

“You’re a good man,” Gavin corrected. “And a good friend, even if you didn’t need to be.”

Jeremy blinked and for a moment Gavin could’ve sworn he saw his cheeks darken but then he had turned his head away again. “Thank you,” he coughed. “You’re a good friend too. Even if you didn’t need to be.”

——

“Gavin, you can’t stay here forever,” Geoff’s soft but firm voice comes through, startling Gavin who was starting to doze in his seat.

“I’m staying just until Jeremy wakes up,” Gavin huffs, running a hand down his face, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He has no idea what time it is, but given how low the lit candles have gone, and the moonlight trickling in from outside, he can tell he’s been here for a bit.

“That could still be a while,” Geoff sighs, moving over and placing a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “You need to sleep as well.”

Gavin shakes his head, earning another long suffering sigh but Geoff seems to understand enough to not press. “The man who did this is caught,” he assures instead. “And will be dealt with accordingly. And we’ll increase your protection, have more guards around-“

“What about Jeremy?” Gavin says, looking up to him, panic in those tired eyes. “Is he still going to be my guard?”

“Once he’s fully back on his feet. And if he still wants the position. Though something tells me he will,” Geoff smirks, something knowing in it and Gavin’s cheeks flush a bit under his look.

“You can’t say that for sure,” Gavin huffs, turning his gaze back to Jeremy’s chest. Rising. Falling. Steady.

“I can,” Geoff says, leaning over to kiss Gavin’s head. “Get some sleep, ok? We’ll wake you up the second he does.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” Gavin admits, leaning into Geoff’s comforting form.

“Well, just get the rest you can then,” Geoff assures, holding his son tight. Tighter than he has in a long time. “I’m so glad you’re ok,” he breathes against him. “And I’m so sorry this happened. To you. And to someone you care about. I want to protect you. I will protect you. Both of you.”

Gavin wraps his arms around him, burying against his chest. Held so tight and so close, Gavin feels tears in his eyes and before he can stop himself, starts crying into Geoff. Crying from fear, from worry, from sorrow of what was almost lost, from guilt of what he had almost caused. But also of relief, for a promise of a second chance. And mostly crying just from the exhaustion from the weight of all if it.

——

“Cmon, we might be able to make it back!” Jeremy said with a flushed face and bright eyes as he grabbed Gavin’s hand and pulled him along.

“Before what? It’s already raining!” Gavin laughed in turn, holding his other hand above his head though it was useless against the water that fell and soaked through his clothes. They had been in the garden again, too see the new blooms. But the sky opened up suddenly, drenching them though neither really cared.

“Before it gets worse!” Jeremy laughed in turn, not stopping as they ran. Feet splashed through puddles, the wind cut across their faces but the laughter never stopped and Gavin’s never felt more free in the world.

They finally stopped as they reached the threshold of the building, breathless but sharing big grins. Jeremy’s eyes shone as he looked to him and it made Gavin’s heart skip a beat as he stared back. Looked at that carefree, gorgeous smile. A smile like the sun rising, breaking through the chill of morning as it warms your face. Like the first bloom of flowers telling spring is here to fight off the winter. Like a loyal knight cracking jokes under his breath in boring meetings to make his Prince laugh. Like a friend, sitting and playing with his cats, taking care of them, with a loving look on his face.

Gavin blinks and stares as his heart freezes in sudden understanding.

It’s funny in a way, isn’t it? Realizing what you already knew. Understanding what you’ve known. As Gavin watched his knight, his guard, his friend laugh, he finally understood.

Gavin is in love.

Oh no, he’s in love.

——

Though he was in love, he couldn’t admit it. Refused to admit it aloud. Couldn’t let anything happen from it and so he pulled away. Pulled back so hard because he just couldn’t hurt Jeremy in that way. They couldn’t, shouldn’t be together because that just wasn’t fair to Jeremy. (It was fear too, what if Jeremy didn’t love him back, what if he didn’t want to be friends anymore) And so Gavin wouldn’t talk as much, laugh as much with Jeremy even though it pained his very soul to be away.

It had been nasty, in the end. Jeremy was so desperate, pleading to know what was going on that had Gavin being so distant, so short with him. And Gavin. Gavin just couldn’t bring the words to his lips.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gavin had snapped. “You are just my guard. Guarding me should be all that concerns you.”

“I’m also your friend!” Jeremy snapped, reaching out to him but Gavin forced himself to move away. “Why won’t you talk to me about what’s going on? Did I do something wrong? Just tell me!”

“No! No, you didn’t do anything, I just-“ the words caught in his throat and he shook his head. “I need to be alone. Just leave. Let me be alone.”

Jeremy, the sweet, kind, amazing, person he is just looked more worried than broken but unfortunately listened to Gavin. Stepped out and away, leaving Gavin fully alone as he held back tears and shaking hands. Stupidly fucking alone and that’s why this is all his fault.

After that, it was so sudden, a blur.

He had been alone in the castle, wandering blindly to work through his thoughts. Work through the far too many emotions aching in his bones. Then a flash, metal flashing in the rare drops of candlelight and moonlight flickering in the halls. Gavin, so lost in his head, did not notice the person approaching until it was too late.

Gavin remembers seeing the sword, remembers ducking and falling to the floor. He must’ve yelled, his throat hurt and ached, but he hadn’t realized it. He fought and thrashed as his assailant fell over him, the blade leaving long cuts into the wood of the floor besides his head as the person swung over and over.

Gavin grabbed at his arms, holding them back as the blade aimed towards his neck. Gavin’s arms shook and his body burned as fear gripped him. The person wasn’t relenting, grunting in their effort to kill him, pierce his skin.

Then, suddenly, the attacker was off of him, thrown to the side. And Jeremy, the angel, the beautiful, magnificent creature that he is, was standing there. His own sword drawn, he stood over Gavin’s form, commanding for him to leave, get out.

Relief led to horror as Jeremy swung his sword to fight only for his blood to end up dripping onto the floor, grunts of pain echoing.

And then the earth shattering terror as Jeremy fell to the ground, collapsing. The attacker, wounded themself, had ran. Gavin should’ve ran as Jeremy said but his feet wouldn’t allow him to leave. Rushing forward, he picked up Jeremy’s form, cradling him in his arms as he tried to stop the blood, the life, slipping out of him.

Gavin remembers screaming then. He never wanted to stop.

——

Gavin didn’t notice when he fell asleep, the exhaustion carrying him over as he slumped across Jeremy’s bed. He feels poking, something touching his shoulder and his first instinct is to groan and shake it off. Then he hears a snicker, familiar, and it makes his heart turn so he blinks and opens his eyes.

And staring back are Jeremy’s own. Open, soft, alive. “Morning, sleepyhead,” comes his teasing voice and Gavin has never been so happy in his life.

“Jeremy,” he breathes, jumping up and holding his hands so tight, tears pricking his eyes as he feels Jeremy hold tight too.

“Hey, Gav. Are you ok? The fucker didn’t hurt you, did he? Fuck, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I know I was supposed to always be at your side-“

Gavin cuts him off, instinct, love, desire, pure, pure relief driving him forward as he seals his lips over Jeremy’s. Jeremy’s lips are so much softer than he imagined, warm and firm and it steals Gavin’s breath all over again.

As Gavin comes back to himself, realizing he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t have done this, Jeremy pushes against him, a blessed sigh escaping as he kisses Gavin back. A desperation in it, leaving them out of breath when they finally part.

“Jeremy, I- I’m so sorry,” Gavin stammers now. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt, I shouldn’t have-“

“It’s fine,” Jeremy sighs. “I mean, fuck, we have a lot to talk about. But not yet. Soon, but fuck my side hurts and I think I need like a week to recover from that kiss, holy shit.”

Gavin can’t help but chuckle, lifting Jeremy’s hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You’re a pretty good kisser yourself.”

Jeremy smiles, eyes so warm and gorgeous and alive. And finally Gavin’s heart stills in his chest, reassurance firm and steady. He knows now that they’re going to be ok. And that they’ll be ok together.

[weathergirl8]

Pranks and Tempers (2/3)

Thanks SO much for the kind feedback! I took a different approach to writing this story and honestly I didn’t expect it to turn into the story it is. It was a random plot bunny…..

Part 1 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a day like today, everything seemed to set him off. Scott was having one of those days where nothing was right and happy in his world. Who could blame a guy when you had to dodge an annoying younger brother who saw it fit to act like a seven-year-old?

Sometimes he disliked having younger siblings. He occasionally – in a fleeting moment of weakness – wondered how different his life would’ve been if he had been an only child. Taking in another deep breath, Scott took in that thought but quickly let it disperse realizing how wrong it was and how much he disagreed with it. Scott paused, his heart nearly skipping a beat as he heard a distant shout.

“SCOTT!! HELP!”

He knew that cry all too well. After years of looking after his younger siblings, Scott Tracy knew something was wrong. All anger left his body as he ran back toward his baby brother’s cry for help.

Skidding to a halt, Scott shuddered as he saw his baby brother knelt over Gordon.

“C’mon Gordy, open those eyes for me!” Alan’s worried voice called the redhead tapping Gordon’s face.

Kneeling next to his brothers, Scott looked over Gordon. “What happened?”

If Scott would’ve seen Alan’s head snap up at him, he would’ve had whiplash. “What the hell do you mean - what happened?!? You’re the one that shoved us, remember?!” Alan shouted.

Scott paused all movement as he met his baby brother’s angry blue eyes. He was the one responsible for his little brother’s current condition? No, it’s not possible. He was angry, but never would he intentionally cause harm to one of his brothers.

Before either brother could comment further, a small groan escaped the redhead below them.

“Gordon, can you hear me?” Alan’s voice called.

Gordon’s eyes scrunched shut as pain immediately entered his brain. He could hear someone calling his name. Slowly, he fluttered his eyes open but immediately regretted the action as the light increased his pain ten-fold.

“C’mon, Gordy. Open your eyes,” Alan tried again, concerned over his brother’s obvious pain. Looking up at Scott, he frowned as his brother seemed almost frozen. Scott didn’t say a word, nor did he make any movement to help rouse their fallen sibling.

Hearing footsteps quickly approaching them, Alan looked for the owner. “Virgil!” he exclaimed, relieved to see the medic. “Help me with Gordon. We need to get him down to the infirmary.”

Confusion mixed with worry crossed Virgil’s features. “What happened?” he asked as he knelt over Gordon.

“Ask him,” were the few curt words Alan gave, nodding his head toward Scott.

To his left, Virgil noticed the broken vase on the floor, its pieces scattered across the hallway. Virgil looked from Alan to Scott, trying to understand the situation. What was going on? He didn’t get a chance to ask as his attention was pulled back to Gordon.

“Ahh,” Gordon moaned as he forced his eyelids open. Pain radiated from the left side of his head.

“Easy, Gordon,” Virgil coaxed. He noticed the cut along his brother’s left temple.

Slowly peeling his eyes open, Gordon tried to clear his blurry vision. “What happened?” he asked, confused.

Alan frowned further, worry building up inside him. “You mean you don’t remember?”

Virgil creased his brow. Once again, watching the interaction before him. What disconcerted him, even more, was the stillness of Scott. Helping Gordon sit up, he eyed the redhead carefully. “What do you remember?”

Raising his hand to his left temple, Gordon tried to clear his head. “I don’t know…” he breathed out, nausea suddenly hitting him. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

Upon hearing Gordon’s admission, Alan quickly rushed into his room and grabbed his wastebasket. Kneeling in front of his brother once more, the blonde handed the object to the redhead just in time as the contents of Gordon’s stomach emptied. The action only causing further pain to his aching head.

Waiting for the vomiting spell to pass, Virgil rubbed his little brother’s back. “If you think you’re up to it, I want to get you down to the infirmary.”

Gordon slightly nodded but immediately winced at the action. Allowing Virgil and Alan to help him stand, Gordon swayed as his feet touched the ground. The pain seemed to tighten its grip as he stood.

“Whoa, easy Gordo,” Alan said as he and Virgil fought to keep the second youngest on his feet.

Virgil eyed his brother carefully. Gordon’s face creased with pain, and he was extremely pale. “Gordon?”

The redhead tried to push the menacing pain out of his mind, but it was just too much. The world began to spin, and his stomach was ready to betray him once more. Before he could answer the worried faces of his two closest brothers, darkness claimed his vision.

“Gordon!” Alan yelled as he and Virgil eased him to the ground.

That yell was all it took to snap Scott out of his funk. His brother needed help. Walking forward, he moved to grab Gordon from Alan. “We need to get him down to the infirmary. Alan, go get Dad.”

Alan saw red once more. “NO! We have him. YOU inform Dad about what happened! This isn’t my fault, it’s yours.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is right now! Your arguing isn’t helping Gordon! I can already see his head beginning to swell. Alan and I have him, Scott. Go get Dad and meet us,” Virgil shouted, meeting his older brother’s gaze.

Scott looked to argue but sighed in defeat. Turning, he made his way toward Jeff’s office.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Alan sullenly urged, as he moved to take Gordon’s legs.

Holding Gordon’s torso, Virgil lifted his brother. Looking at Alan as they carried their redheaded brother toward the sickroom, he tried to figure out what had happened. Whatever it was, Virgil knew something serious had happened. Something that never should’ve happened.

-TB-  

The two brothers gently placed Gordon on the closest bed. “Gordon, can you hear me?” Alan kept asking, as Virgil gathered the supplies he needed. The redhead had yet to regain consciousness.

“Anything?” Virgil asked his baby brother as he put pressure on the wound that resided along Gordon’s left temple.

Alan shook his head, worry etched across his features. “Nothing. Is he going to be okay?”

“The wound itself doesn’t look too bad. I’m more concerned with it’s proximity to the temple,” Virgil stated truthfully, placing a bandage over the cut. “I want a scan of his head to be sure. The swelling isn’t increasing as quickly as I initially thought, but his lack of consciousness has me worried.”

Alan helped his brother wheel the bed over toward the body scanner. “This never should’ve happened,” he muttered in frustration as he watched Virgil start the machine.

The middle Tracy turned to thoroughly look at his baby brother as Alan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Allie, you’re bleeding,” he said, taking his hands.

Alan looked down to see small cuts marred his hands, a few deep. He winced slightly as his older brother pulled a small piece of glass out of one of the cuts. “Must’ve been from the vase. I didn’t even feel it.”

“Come sit over here, and I’ll take a look,” Virgil urged, nudging him.

Alan sighed. “Virg, it’s nothing. I’m fine. You should be taking care of Gordon.”

“Sit,” the medic demanded, guiding his stubborn baby brother to the empty bed. Alan begrudgingly took a seat, allowing his legs to dangle from the bed as he watched the scan go over Gordon.

“So,” Virgil said with a drawn out-breath as he laid down the needed materials. “Care to fill me in on what exactly happened?”

Alan groaned. “Scott lost his mind. That’s what happened.”

“I need you to be a bit more specific, kiddo. It’ll also help with Gordon,” Virgil urged, as he pulled out a few more small pieces of glass from Alan’s cuts.

“If the banana glow Scott was sporting wasn’t an indicator, I’m sure the missing paint you’ll notice later will be. Gordon pulled a prank, and it didn’t go well.”

“I see,” Virgil smirked for a moment. “Go on.”

“Scott literally lost it, Virgil. Screaming, name-calling, and then shoved us as he was heading for Dad’s office to report his grievances. He even accused me of being a part of it. All I wanted was to see what was going on outside my door,” Alan retorted. “I didn’t have anything to do with the prank for the record.”

“Easy, Al. I have a feeling anger just got the best of Scott,” the middle Tracy said, putting a hand on his baby brother’s shoulder trying to get him to relax.

“Doesn’t make it okay,” Alan grumbled, as he let Virgil clean his cuts and wrap his hands.

“I know, and I’m sure he’s feeling pretty guilty about it. Dad’s probably giving him a few thoughts on it too as they head this way–“

“–that’s if he tells him the truth!” Alan admonished.

“Alan, he will,” Virgil tried to ease. “It’s not something Scott will be proud to admit, but he can’t exactly lie his way out of this one.” Alan only nodded his head, glancing toward Gordon once more. The medic eyed his youngest brother carefully but decided to continue checking him over. Glancing at Alan’s legs, he noticed similar scrapes. “Geez Sprout, you even got your knees.”

“I wasn’t exactly worried about where I was moving. I was worried about Gordon.”

“I know,” Virgil replied, looking over at the progress of the scan of Gordon’s head.

“Go take care of him,” Alan urged. “I’m fine.”

“I want to make sure you don’t have any more glass. Stay put,” Virgil ordered, putting the tweezers down. Walking to the machine, it beeped, signifying its completion.

“I think he might’ve hit his head on the corner of the armoire when he went down if that helps,” Alan commented thoughtfully.

“It does Al, thanks,” Virgil replied, looking at the images as they came up on his datapad. The swoosh of the infirmary doors momentarily taking his attention away as Jeff and Scott entered.

“How is he?” Jeff inquired, marching up to the bed.

Virgil put down the datapad and faced his family. “Scans just came in, and I don’t see any internal bleeding. It looks like we’re just dealing with a mild concussion. I’ll know for sure once he regains consciousness.”

“He hasn’t yet?” Scott blanched, watching his father and brother wheel Gordon’s bed back in place next to where Alan uncharacteristically sat quietly.

“Alan, were you hurt?” Jeff worried as he noticed the bandages on his youngest’s hands.

“It’s nothing, Dad,” Alan insisted, readjusting his spot on the bed as a spot on his lower back ached faintly. “Just a few cuts. I’m fine.”

Virgil moved back toward the twenty-two-year-old, watching him suspiciously. “Let’s look at those knees to make sure we got all that glass. Then I’ll take a look at your back.”

Alan looked up at his brother, dubiously. “How do you do that?”

Virgil grinned in satisfaction. “Did you land weird when you fell?”

“I think I caught the corner edge of the table on my lower back,” Alan admitted. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Scott slowly approached the group. “Alan, I’m so sorry.”

Alan refused to meet his brother’s gaze. He wanted to believe his apology was sincere, and deep down, he knew it was, but he couldn’t help but feel angry and betrayed.

Virgil placed a few small bandages along Alan’s knees. Finished, he looked at his kid brother as Alan remained silent. “Allie?”

“How’s Gordon?” Alan responded, glancing over at his redheaded brother.

As if on cue, a groan filled the infirmary. Alan shoved Virgil out of the way as he hopped down from the bed and rushed to his brother’s side. “Gordon? Can you hear me?”

Pain immediately assaulted his senses as he came to. Pulling a hand to his aching head, Gordon moaned. He could hear several voices calling his name. Opening his eyes marginally, he was greeted with his baby brother’s anxious gaze. “Allie?”

Alan smiled in relief. “Hey, Gordo. How do you feel?”

Gordon furrowed his brow in confusion. “What happened?” He looked around to see his father and brothers surrounding the bed.

“What do you remember?” Virgil asked, placing a comforting hand on the redhead’s arm.

“Umm…” Gordon searched his foggy mind, struggling to remember. He looked up as he noticed Scott edging closer to them, worry crossing the elder’s features. As Gordon’s blurry vision leveled out, he took in Scott’s appearance. Suddenly like a flood, his memory returned to him. “Oh,” the redhead mumbled.

“Son?” Jeff called troubled at Gordon’s pale appearance.

“I remember,” Gordon said, looking from Alan to Scott. Alan refused to look toward their older brother, his younger brother’s sole focus on him.

“That’s good,” Virgil remarked. “How are you feeling?”

“My head smarts pretty good and feeling nauseous,” Gordon replied honestly.

Virgil rubbed the ginger’s arm softly. “I’ll give you something for both. It looks like you’ve got a mild concussion. You’ll be on light duty for a few days. I want you to spend the next six hours here just to be safe.”

“C’mon Virgil. Do I have to?” Gordon frowned, not looking forward to being confined to the sterile room.

“Sorry, kid. I want to be sure,” Virgil said. “Besides, Allie will keep you company for a bit.”

“Why?” Gordon asked, concerned.

Alan rolled his eyes. “Smother-hen is making a fuss over nothing. I’m fine, Gordon.”

“You’re not running off until I check that ache in your back, Sprout,” Virgil said, eyeing his baby brother before glancing toward Scott. The eldest was unusually quiet, and it unnerved him. Virgil pushed his concern aside for a moment and moved to fetch the needed meds for Gordon.

“How’d you hurt your back, Alan?” Gordon asked.

Alan resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “Hit it when we fell. Like I said before, I’m fine,” the blonde responded, giving Virgil a look.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Scott said, rubbing the back of his neck. He scowled as his hand came back covered in a muck of yellow that still remained in his hair. “This never should’ve happened.”

“Damn right, it shouldn’t have,” Alan angrily mumbled, as Scott was ready to come back at him.

“Alan,” Jeff warned, watching the exchange. “Why don’t we all just take a minute? Scott, get cleaned up. You can use my shower. Alan, have a seat so your brother can finish checking you over. Gordon, you rest.”

Virgil watched as Scott gave one last look at Alan and Gordon, before leaving the infirmary. The middle Tracy met his father’s gaze, but Jeff shook his head, dismissing the need to go after him. Scott needed time to work his feelings out.

“Okay,” Virgil said as he approached Gordon’s bed. “This will make you feel better.” The medic handed his brother the two tablets and a glass of water. He smirked at the swimmer’s annoyed look. “Pouting won’t change my mind, Gordy.”

Gordon sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

“Alright, Sprout,” Virgil said, pulling the younger blonde back onto the bed beside Gordon. “Where does it hurt?”

Jeff came to stand next to them as he watched Virgil raise Alan’s t-shirt. Alan remained quiet for a moment as he met Gordon’s worried eyes, each studying one another. “Alan?” Jeff asked.

Alan looked up at his father. “It’s my lower back. As I said, I think I caught the corner of the table as I tried to catch my balance,” he replied, shifting his gaze down at his hands. “It all happened really fast, so I can’t be sure.”

Virgil frowned as he noticed a small welt along the small of his baby brother’s back. “Is it here?” he asked, gently poking it.

Alan jumped slightly at the touch. “Yea.”

Virgil nodded behind his brother’s back. “Nothing serious. It’ll bruise over and smart for a few days, but you’ll be fine.”

“Told you,” Alan retorted.

“Better safe than sorry,” Jeff said, rubbing Alan’s back along his shoulders.

“Dad,” Gordon said, causing the occupants of the room to look at him. “This is all my fault.”

Alan immediately shook his head. “Gordon, don’t.”

Jeff stretched his arms between the two beds so he could touch both of his youngest children. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I want the two of you to get some rest.”

“But, Dad!” both argued.

“Boys,” Jeff barked. “Not now. Alan, go rest in your room. God forbid we get a call in, I need you ready. No more arguments.”

Alan took in a deep breath, knowing arguing with his father was one battle he never won. “You’ll be okay, Gordon?”

“I’ll be fine, Allie. Go,” Gordon urged, winking at his kid brother.

Alan nodded and slowly pushed himself off the bed, being mindful of the bandages on his hands. Reluctantly, he began to head toward the exit.

“Allie?” Virgil called after his brother. “If you end up needing something for your back, let me know.”

“I’ll probably just take some ibuprofen, but thanks,” the blonde said and exited the room.

“So,” Jeff exhaled. “I’m going to update John on our situation,” he said as he patted Gordon’s leg.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Gordon groaned, knowing he was leaving the team shorthanded.

“Just get some rest, son. We’ll figure the rest out as we go, and we’ll talk about all this when you’re feeling up to it,” Jeff reassured. “Virgil, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, watching his father’s retreating form.

Gordon groaned aloud and put his hands up to his aching head as soon as Jeff exited the room. “Ugh!”

Virgil smirked, gently running a hand through the ginger’s hair. “Easy, kiddo. Don’t want to make that headache worse.”

“Not like this could get any worse,” the redhead said in frustration.

“Look, Gordon,” Virgil said, pulling a stool up beside the bed. “Clearly, this could’ve gone better, but blaming yourself isn’t going to fix it.”

“I never expected Scott to react this way,” Gordon admitted, resting his head against the pillow.

“I can’t explain that one,” Virgil said, leaning against the bed. “Only he can explain himself. He’s feeling pretty guilty about it, though.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?” Gordon asked, looking at Virgil.

“No, not directly. There hasn’t been time,” Virgil said. “I can just tell.”

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes or so,” Virgil told him.

Gordon only shook his head in acknowledgment but winced at the action. For once, the second youngest Tracy was at a loss for words.

Virgil watched his brother with sympathy. Reaching up, he turned off the light that resided just above the bed. “Get some rest, Gordon. By the time you wake up, this will have all have blown over.”

“Not likely with Alan and Scott involved,” Gordon mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Virgil chuckled at the comment. “Well, then at least we can talk about that yellow paint you stole of mine.”

Gordon pretended to be asleep, ignoring the poke he received from his older brother. “You can’t ignore me forever, Fish-face,” he heard Virgil say before the medic headed toward the infirmary doors. “I’ll come check on you in a little while.”

Gordon opened his eyes once Virgil had exited, noticing the chestnut-haired Tracy had dimmed the lights. Looking to the ceiling, he took in a deep breath. “What a mess!” The redhead could only hope the situation he had found himself in would work itself out. Knowing the tempers of both his oldest and youngest siblings, Gordon knew better.

The redhead groaned in frustration once more as he realized he might’ve just started World War III in his own home.

[saladejin]

Solace (M) | 04

4-part Jimin x Reader | fantasy au, school au, magic user!Jimin | Fluff, angst (basically unresolved), smut with some plot

Summary: Why not spice up your high school life with a teleporting boy of your very own? You find yourself not having a choice in the matter. While he figures out how to fix his mistakes, strap yourself in for an adventure to remember…

Warnings: Angst, blowjobs, masturbation, Jimin gets a little desperate and rough lol

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5.8k 

A/N: Just another reminder that this is some super early writing from me, so I’ve steadily been trying to improve from the time I originally posted this. I just wanted something on my blog to remind me of when I started out, because I hope to still be around and writing for many years to come :)

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  “Can you hear them this time?”

You worried at your lip with your teeth watching Jimin struggle in front of you. You were still at school, but after another hour passed things had gone a little pear shaped in the magical department. You tried to see how he was going while the teacher rambled on in the background.

“It was so faint, the voices. Now there’s nothing,” Jimin whispered, throat tightening as he tried to contain his frustration.  

Someone cleared their throat and you looked up to see the teacher throwing a suspicious glance in your direction. You couldn’t risk getting any more heat so you zipped your lips for the remainder of the lesson, only exchanging gazes with the boy next to you occasionally. 

The ride home on the bus lasted forever. Jimin had tried so hard to activate the codes in the book since he had told you about it, and even now he couldn’t pay attention to the conversations of his friends around him because of it. You watched in silence while he bore holes into the stained pages in front of him.

When you both reached the house you said nothing and made a beeline for your bedroom. Nothing mattered more than the book and its contents at this point. Schoolbags were thrown into the corner of the room and Jimin’s tie even got discarded along with them due to his amounting stress.

“There’s something not quite right, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” He growled, not only running his hands through his hair but ripping them through instead.

“Jimin,” You warned, not liking the settling panic taking control of his voice and actions.

“I heard him, I did!”

“Jimin! Jimin stop,” You demanded. His voice died away and you felt your resolve tremble as a tiny whimper fell from his lips in response. He was on the verge, and you had no idea on how to help him in a way that would be useful. The book lay splayed open on your bed as you pulled the frazzled boy into your arms.

“Freaking out won’t do anything, come on, you just need to think a little. Nothing is going anywhere so you don’t have to rush this much, okay?” You soothed. You reached upwards and tugged his hands away from his head.

“I know you’re right,” He grunted lowly, “I just need you to understand how crucial this is, (Y/n).”

It would have stung a little that he didn’t believe in your level of understanding, but his harsh tone was overruled when he brought his hands up to hold your face carefully. He inhaled deeply and rested his forehead on your own, forcing you to meet his pointed gaze undeterred.

“I do know how important this is. This is your ticket home Jimin,” You protested, bringing your own hands up to envelop his warmer ones over your cheeks. He scanned the feelings flitting across your expression closely, as if you were the book of codes instead. You thought about your words again. It was his ticket home, his only one at this point, but that also meant something else. It meant he would be leaving you.

Fuck, I think I’m in love with you Jimin. No, I know I am.

You didn’t dare voice the thoughts aloud. Hearing the words out in the open would surely kill you, and it would make everything that much harder to deal with. No, you thought. Keeping it in would make it seem less real and terrifying. If you kept it to yourself you wouldn’t have to believe it, and in turn he wouldn’t have to live his life knowing he’d broken your heart.

“(Y/n)-”

“Jimin! The book is glowing!” You gasped, ripping your eyes away from his coffee irises and forcefully pushing his body towards the bed.

There, the pages of the book were illuminated in a soft tangible glow. It seemed like energy was pulsating from its flaky surface, a visible energy source you had never seen in your entire life.

It’s the power, must be the same power Jimin uses.

You knew your revelation was confirmed to be true when Jimin’s eyes lit up with recognition. He scrambled for the object like a starved wolf. He needed to know his fate before it was too late to fix it all.

“There’s a timer, I think I need to somehow complete the connection before it runs out,” Jimin murmured, trailing a dainty finger over the surface of the page in interest.

“How long?” You questioned while fiddling with your fingers, half of you wanting him to say something like a minute while the other half wanted weeks more with him. You couldn’t let yourself be selfish at a time like this. Your heart was at the bottom of the picking line, whereas priorities mattered more than it could ever hope to achieve and win against.

“A day, 24 hours. I’ll need to put all my energy and time into keeping the connection alive right now.”

He looked up at you through his dark lashes, but you couldn’t figure out what the look meant. Why was he looking sorry all of a sudden? A moment ago he had been leaping for joy over finding his escape, or panicking over not being able to go through with it at times.

“Well, go on,” You urged, taking a seat across from him with widened eyes. He was so close. Everything was about to fall into place.

“Okay, I’m not sure how I’ll go,” He inhaled sharply and gritted his teeth, jerking his head back to sweep his hair out of the way before laser focusing his eyes onto the pages below. You watched the man before you in awe as his mind worked its magic. The way his irises swirled with golden colours you had never noticed before. The way his skin gleamed in the shitty lighting of your room, in some areas slightly clammy from the exertion.

You almost had to avert your gaze when he flickered his eyes in your direction. For some reason, it looked like pity was drawn across his features. Maybe he was legitimately feeling sorry for you and your incapability to focus on anything else but him.

God, I mean if he’s about to vanish from my life then let me fucking look.

You couldn’t help but sigh. Were you ever going to meet someone like him again? You were pretty much prepared to live the rest of your life pining for the random man who had appeared in your classroom one distasteful morning. Maybe you would find someone else, but that thought sat heavy in your mind. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Jimin and you always would.

Stop thinking about it before you cry in front of him, idiot.

You flicked the off switch to your mind before things could get too chaotic. You would deal with the thoughts and feelings later, now there were bigger things to worry about.

“I’m-I think I’m almost there,” A sudden gasp for air brought you slamming back down to Earth. Jimin’s eyes were screwed shut in effort while his brow gleamed with the evident sweat. You didn’t know what else to do but encourage him with your presence. You were too scared to speak or touch him in fear of interfering with the process. He panted quietly for a few more minutes, but you only waited in stunned silence.

“Shit, I don’t have the energy or power to bridge it,” He sighed in defeat, shoulders suddenly slumping as he came hurtling out of the trance. You held your breath and waited for his next move.

“What now? Do you try again later?” You prompted eventually. You were worried at how exhausted he looked, as if concentrating for those few minutes had completely drained him of what little power he had left for the day.

“I can, it will be a lot to build back up from though. That was the closest I’ve ever been, so that’s a good thing.”

Your brows knitted together in concern. The longer he waited the more his connection ebbed away from him. He needed to make it now or he would have to work that much harder for it later on. You had to get him to agree to what you were about to propose.

“Jimin…”

His eyes blinked owlishly as you moved to straddle him out of the blue. He barely had enough strength to bring his hand to rest on your hip, but somehow he managed and even gave the exposed skin of your thigh a slight pinch on his way up.

You gently pressed your lips to his softer ones after a couple of tension filled seconds. He was shocked at first, but responded to your head tilting to deepen the kiss further. He was trying to go along with you but the broken whimper that greeted your ears showed that he was too fatigued to get everything worked up.

“(Y/n) I think I know what you’re doing but I can’t-”

“You need power, yes?” You cut him off calmly.

“Definitely, but I need to rest a bit to actually restore it. I don’t think I could hold myself up,” He groaned, biting his lip to try and stop himself from following your mouth when you drew away. His lidded eyes were striking you with waves of arousal.

“Then you won’t have to,” You smirked and kissed him deeply again. This time you parted your lips a little more so you could let your tongue meet with his. He groaned slightly again and his grip on your body tightened in uncontrolled thirst. You held his cheeks to keep his head in place while you gave your all into the way your tongue explored his heated mouth. If you couldn’t tell him you loved him then you would have to resort to showing it through this.

When you broke away for air again the room was only filled with the sounds of both of you gasping for air. Jimin shifted underneath you, and you were pleased to feel his hardness growing even despite his weariness.

“(Y/n) you’re killing me, what do you mean?” He whined, but at this point you were finding every sound he made sexy as all hell.

“I mean, does oral sex count?”

His breath hitched and you heard his audible swallow as he considered your words. The arousal swirling in his eyes was undeniable when you licked your bottom lip suggestively.

“Oh yes, yes it definitely does,” He grunted excitedly, picking up on your wavelength and throwing his head back when you moved your languid kisses from his neck down to his abdomen. You were now lowered onto your knees on the bedroom floor while he scooted towards the edge of the bed almost immediately. He helped you by ripping the shirt from his body and shucking his school pants in a heartbeat. You unbuttoned your own dress so he could have full viewing access of your bra-clad breasts the entire time.

“Are you sure? I don’t think you’ve given me a blowjob yet.” Jimin lolled his head to the side and stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek. You found the look very attractive, and it wasn’t helping your underwear considering the sorry state they were already in.

“I’m dead serious, and I need you to take as much energy as you need to finish that connection,” You ordered, bringing one gentle hand towards his clothed crotch so you could palm him over his boxers. A sigh left his lips at the much needed pressure, and you found yourself wanting to pull as many beautiful noises as you could from him.

“Plus, if I had blown you…you would remember.”

At your sultry statement, Jimin huffed deeply and you felt another wave of heat lick your insides at the low rumble coming from deep within his chest. He was getting harder by the second, and you even felt his cock twitch underneath your hand.

You moaned lightly, feeling the need drive you onward when his member twitched again.“Fuck, I really want you inside me but I can’t wait that long.”

“Don’t be a tease,” He warned deeply, voice raspy with arousal once more. “Taking too much power could kill you, I won’t do it,” He spoke in a clearer voice, as if coming to his senses suddenly. You clicked your tongue in disagreement and tugged his boxers down to let his hardened cock spring free. It was so swollen and angry, begging to be touched in any way possible.

“You will, I’m asking you to,” You met his equally stubborn gaze with your own fiery glare.

“Think about how you’re going to get home. You won’t be able to without my help.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed in consideration, but you saw his resolve crumbling the longer he glanced between his erection and your moistened lips.

“Fine, oh God fine. Just touch me, please.”

You smiled at his desperation. He was too exhausted to move properly, but he still had the common sense to beg if he needed to. You wondered why you had never turned him into putty like this before, because it was proving to be one of your favourite expressions of his.

You locked eyes with him and started to slowly pump him with one hand. You made sure to flick your wrist at just the right time, causing the friction where he needed it the most. More heat gathered at your core when a strangled groan tore from the boy in front of you. His eyes were closed once again and his jaw had slackened slightly. The building sweat continued to stick some strands of his hair to his forehead in his exertion.

To his surprise, you lowered your head and let your tongue stroke the underside of his member from the base to the tip. You could feel how warm he was and became incredibly eager to continue. The hum of pleasure coming from him also urged you onward. You were shocked to find that you were enjoying this as much as you were, because from what you’ve heard it wasn’t always the greatest experience for the giver.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Jimin grunted when you swirled your tongue deftly around the head of his cock. You smiled slightly when his hips jerked further into the heat of your mouth, because seeing him coming undone was absolutely breathtaking.

You felt your hair being gathered behind your head as he wound his fingers deeply into your (h/c) tresses, and even though you thought you should’ve been bothered by it, the idea of him being rough with you caused you to moan loudly. The vibrations from the sound travelled up his length, and you felt him jerk his hips again involuntarily.

“Come on babe, please go faster for me,” He breathed shakily. You let his cock leave your lips with a small pop before pumping him again with your hand. You were stroking quicker this time, hoping to get him a little more worked up before you went all out.

“Please, by all means be rough with me. I almost came when you pulled my hair,” You hummed shyly, more shocked than him at the words coming from your lips. He barely suppressed another groan before smirking slightly and gathering more of your hair into his fist. The way he was biting down on his lip to contain himself forced your hand to move on its own and slip underneath your dress.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jimin rasped, darkened eyes focused on your disappearing hand until you enveloped his cock with your awaiting mouth once more. Since you had been quicker with your hand, you made sure to put more effort into wetly sliding up and down his length. Every time you went further and further, until eventually you almost had his entire cock stuffed inside. What you couldn’t fit you held with your free hand so none of him was left unattended.

“Jesus-”

His choked cry of pleasure sparked your movements again. Oxygen was such an annoyance when all you wanted was to do was please him, but your hands still sufficed in those occasional air breaks. You were living for his breathy moans and grunts of strain. You couldn’t even contain your own noises of pleasure since your fingertips had been working your clit expertly at the same time.

“It’s so warm and wet, oh shit I’m about to fuck your mouth,” He groaned, muscular thighs quivering beside your head as you swallowed him down towards the back of your throat. Your tongue worked its own magic by dipping into the slit of his head every once in a while, curling around his shaft and running softly over the rigid veins found there. To put it simply, you knew what you were doing and now Jimin knew too.

“I’m gonna cum soon, oh my God,” He panted, hips now thrusting lightly into you to prove just how close he was.

You felt your own climax drawing near and your fingers sped up their movements almost subconsciously. As you dipped one finger into the wetness of your pussy you felt yourself fall apart, shaking and moaning but still making sure to slide down Jimin’s entire length before stopping yourself. There was no more room for your free hand, because now all of him was settled into your warmth of your mouth.

When you stopped moving due to your staggering orgasm, Jimin took it upon himself to continue grinding his hips backwards and forwards to keep the friction. Your wobbly moans and constant gagging and swallowing caused a sensually wanton whine to explode from the boy. His mouth fell open as he watched his entire cock disappear in between your lips repeatedly.

“Shit, (Y/n) I’m cumming,” He moaned brokenly and soon you felt his hands trying to push you off his throbbing member.

No way, I’m gonna swallow every last drop.

“(Y/n)!” He cried out, unable to stop himself as he came with a guttural groan. You focused your eyes and met his scorching gaze, opening your mouth wide for him to see his salty white cum paint your tongue. Your knees gave out and you smiled lazily, swallowing and giving his softening cock one more kiss for good measure.

There were a few moments of silence as you both caught your breaths, with Jimin tucking himself away as soon as he physically could. You felt like you were about to collapse onto the carpet from the sudden lack of energy, but like always, a pair of sturdy arms were there to catch your fall. You smiled again as you were pulled into Jimin’s secure embrace, but you didn’t want to let yourself fall asleep because that would mean missing the most important moment of the night.

You heard some inaudible whispers, but then your stomach flipped when you heard something like a sob reach your ears. The wetness of a few tears slid down and dampened the light fabric of your dress.

“J-Jimin, you’re crying?” You croaked before clearing your throat self-conciously.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Came the simple reply followed by a sharp sniff. You felt him shift one arm to wipe the tears from his flushed cheeks. You were so comfortable nestled into his lap on your bed, but now that something so unexpected had happened you felt only alarm gripping at your heart.

“Why, baby?”

Jimin sighed a rickety sigh and hugged you closer to his naked chest. You could hear his heart pounding away from this position.

“I’m just so grateful, so…”

He thought deeply for another few seconds. You could basically hear his mind churning away.

“I don’t know how to explain it. You made me feel so good that I think I just got overwhelmed in the end.”

“Oh, thanks. But also sorry, I guess?” You snorted, licking at your lips to see if there were any hidden traces of him lingering in the corners. You felt his fingers combing your hair away from your face, just as he had done that very first time. He even took the time to button up your dress for you, since your hands were laying limply in your lap.

“No, I’m sorry. I was way too rough with you since it was the first time you’d done that, but I’m glad I didn’t take too much power.”

You would roll your eyes if you could be bothered too, but then you remembered something vital and you felt an adrenaline spike of energy surge through your being and awaken your bones.

“Jimin,” you grunted, “Quick, make the connection before you lose it all!”

The black-haired boy didn’t even think to throw on a shirt. He just nodded and returned his attention to the book beside him with the same burning determination you always loved. The pages were still glowing to your relief, but you were still fearful that you hadn’t been quick enough.

“It’s still there, (Y/n). I can really do it,” He exhaled in amazement.

You felt relief course through your veins, but drowsiness was still tugging at your consciousness. How were you going to see this through to the end? It was as if you were seeing everything through a drunken state of mind.

Everything happened quickly then.

One moment there was nothing but the sound of your laboured breathing. Then, the book shone even brighter and suddenly both you and Jimin were faced with the holographic projection of a large circle floating above the pages. When you tried to focus your eyes on the image in the circle, you saw what seemed to be a rich looking library.

“The study! Hyung, are you there?” Jimin called. You tilted your head upwards to catch his hopeful and excited expression. His hold on you hadn’t loosened at all, if anything it had become fiercer in grip. You didn’t know what was happening, but at least you knew he still cared about you enough to hold you close.

“Jimin-ah?”

There was a muffled voice filtering from the circle. It was crackling, almost like the kind of tone you would hear from a distant phone call. Jimin’s form stiffened underneath your body as he recognised the voice.

It must be his ‘hyung’.

“Jimin-ah, where the fuck are you? Also, this is not my first time seeing you shirtless but this time it’s a little questionable,”

A head appeared from the side of the circle. It was a man with silvery grey hair parted slightly in the middle, with skin seemingly just as perfectly clear as Jimin’s. It was hard to make out from your perspective, but you could tell this man had a sense of authority surrounding him.

“Hyung I’m so, so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me, I really didn’t mean to mess with the teleportation that badly,” Jimin rambled, voice tightening again as he pleaded for understanding. You didn’t have to see the boy’s face to know he was on the precipice of a breakdown. He reached for his shirt hurriedly to seem presentable.

“I don’t care about that! We don’t care about that. We just need to know where you are so Jin-hyung and I can find the right spell to use,” The man grumbled, obviously irritated beyond belief at the whole situation but still appearing to be worried.

“You don’t want to punish me? Oh, God thank you,” Jimin sighed, the pure relief causing his whole body to relax and slouch.

“Come on, do you think we’re sadists or something? We just want you home,” The man furrowed his dark brows, looking closer at the ‘circle’ to see into the bedroom where his younger friend was currently broadcasting from.

“So…where are you, and who is that girl?”

Jimin swallowed thickly and you felt his body shift as he glanced down at your drowsy expression. You felt so rude for not introducing yourself sooner, but it wasn’t as if you had to energy to do so anyway.

“I’m in (Y/c) Yoongi-hyung, and this is (Y/n).”

Something about the way Jimin spoke your name had your heart missing a beat or two. He sounded so awed and endeared, you really had to wonder if you had heard correctly. You blinked and turned your head so you looked from the circle to Jimin. His warm chocolate gaze met yours when it got there, and you were unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips at the beautiful sight.

“Let me get the others,” Yoongi grunted, shaking his head slightly for some reason before leaving the frame. You could see the library a bit clearer now, but your vision was still swimming pretty badly.

“So, he seems…nice,” You giggled quietly, hoping Jimin could still hear you despite your weakened vocal ability.

“Hyung can be prickly at times, but we love him regardless. God, you would not believe how much I’ve missed his witty remarks. When you get to know him he’s the sweetest,” Jimin chuckled, trailing his fingers over your arm absent-mindedly. You adored how much he loved his friends, and the way he spoke about them in such a light was captivating.

“Jimin-ah!”

“Jimin you absolute dumbass.”

“Jiminie, where are you?”

Your eyes flew open as a bombardment of voices attacked your ears suddenly. Jimin’s hands clenched into exhilarated fists against your skin as five other people bustled together in the circular shape hovering above the dusty book. You were astonished at how many different hair colours there were in the smallish group of people.

“Oh guys, I’ve missed you so much!” Jimin cried. His smile was so big his eyes were nothing more than tiny crescent shaped moons. You wondered if you had ever seen him this elated before.

“Hyung, how did you contact us?” A young looking boy asked breathlessly. Your eyes moved to spot Yoongi entering through the doorway to the library with another taller and blonder man in tow. They both seemed to be locked in a heavy discussion, and they made no move to join the group questioning Jimin.

“Who’s that?” A smiley boy with chestnut brown locks asked suddenly.

“That’s (Y/n), I’m guessing she helped Jimin regain power. Look at her, she’s clearly depleted,” Yoongi spoke from further back in the room. Now the serious discussion seemed to be over, and the other man also came forward to join the group. He had bleached buttery blonde hair that seemed really messed up from most likely his own hands. Now that you thought about it, both he and Yoongi seemed to be overly exhausted and irritated.

They were probably trying to find Jimin for so long.

“Hey, that’s not all she is to me,” Jimin complained with his tone gaining an angry twinge to it. You felt so appreciative and warmed that he had stuck up for you so quickly.

“Yeah, Jimin and I are more than just fuckbuddies,” You slurred while raising one hand to emphasise your point. The group of males on the other end burst into surprised laughter at your unforeseen addition.

“She’s…recovering,” Jimin pursed his lips, trying to stifle the amusement. “If it wasn’t for her then I wouldn’t have been able to do anything at all.”

Everyone nodded in understanding, but you felt slightly ashamed that they now basically thought of you as some ‘power supplier’. Well, you had joked about it and all, but you didn’t actually want to be known as something like that.

“Jimin-ah how much does she know?” The blonde man asked gravely. You scanned his face through the circle and found nothing but a stern and unyielding persona. The full gravity of the situation seemed to dawn on everyone at the same time.

“I won’t lie Jin-hyung, she knows more than she probably needs to. But you must understand that I have full trust in (Y/n), as she has done nothing but help me since day one,” Jimin explained. He was growing fretful after seeing everyone exchange knowing looks on the other end.

“You know what needs to be done.”

Jin’s words sunk in painfully. You didn’t understand fully but you still felt your heart snapping into two nonetheless. Jimin’s shoulders fell in a sudden drop of enthusiasm.

“I do know, but is there any possibility-”

“Jimin stop,” You groaned, shaking away the pounding headache to sit yourself upright and move away from the comforting body behind you. Jimin reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours against the bed sheets, just to keep some form of contact in case you passed out on him.

“I don’t know absolutely everything, but you guys probably know just how shit of a liar Jimin is,” You sighed.

“You got that right,” A summery redhead giggled along with the others as they wholeheartedly agreed with you. The edge of the situation was taken off slightly at the humour, but you knew you had to bring it back for the elders to be satisfied.

“I know,” You began solemnly, “That you’re probably going to have to get rid of me or something. Even if I swore to you I wouldn’t breathe a word, you don’t seem like the type to take that risk.”

You locked eyes with Jin as you spoke, trying to talk to him directly although it was difficult to pinpoint which one of him was the actual one.

“Hyung no,” Jimin protested loudly from beside you, obviously deeply upset at the very thought of you disappearing.

“Not get rid of you, but we have to get rid of something,” Yoongi butted in from the back, voice not betraying any emotion regarding the matter.

“And that is?” Jimin asked in synchronisation with some of the other group members. The air permeated with tension again as Yoongi fixed you with his inquisitive eyes.

“Her memories. Of everything she knows about our kind, and everything about you Jimin.”

Your world came crashing down as you registered the words over and over again. You felt like kicking yourself, because of course this was going to happen. You knew it would, but for some reason you had pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind because you had chosen to forget the things that would bring you pain. This was something predestined, and you both should have seen it coming from miles away.

“The reason you’re both lost for words is because you know it’s true, and you know it must be done,” Jin now raised his voice again, but this time you were surprised to hear pity and empathy mixed into the delivery.

“Jimin,” You whimpered, feeling your eyes cloud over with watery tears as you whipped your head to the side.

Then you broke down because his cheeks were already streaming with salty droplets.

The group watching through the circle fell silent as you threw yourself into Jimin’s arms, the desperation was clawing at you painfully as you clutched onto his shaking frame. His muffled sobs were hidden into your neck, but you still felt every noise as if it were a knife twisting inside your stomach.

I can never tell him that I love him, not now, not ever.

You squeezed your eyes shut and willed the tears away.

“I already know!”

You jerked your head backwards and looked into his tearful eyes in confusion. He cleared his throat meaningfully and somehow managed to stop diverting his gaze.

“I know you love me. Your mind has been screaming it since we got home and that’s the real reason why I cried after…”

Your breathing caught on the lump in your throat. He had known, and it hadn’t even been his choice to know. You wanted to scream until your throat was bloody and raw from the pure shame flushing at your cheeks and heart. There was no way you could run or pretend this wasn’t happening.

“I didn’t want to say anything because it’s already hard enough,” Jimin wailed quietly, lip trembling from the contained sobs threatening to break through his careful defences.

“Well, I have nothing left to hide,” You laughed dryly, feeling absolutely wrecked from the inside out. “It’s better this way. Then we don’t have to remember the pain of this moment,” You sighed and held his clenched hands within your own.

“You won’t, but I will,” He responded, hands unfurling and grasping at yours tightly.

“Why?” You sniffed in puzzled sadness, feeling another tear roll down your wet cheek. He smiled crookedly and wiped the tear away with one finger.

“Because I don’t ever want to forget you, (Y/n).”

Your face screwed up as another cry readied itself by your lips.

“Don’t do this to me Jimin, just let me forget easily,” You huffed in a high pitch, trying to chase away the torturous emotions before they actually broke you into tiny pieces.

“You’ll be fine, we’ll meet again someday,” Jimin smiled, a first for the whole conversation so far. You lifted your gaze from your joined hands to his face, incapable of not returning his infectious smile even though it pained you to see it in all its glory.

“Perhaps.”

Jimin looked at the floating circle. You were grateful that the whole group of men had decided to stay silent and mind their own business during your painful conversation. You were even shocked to see the smiley one from before shedding a few tears of his own as he dabbed at them gently with a tissue. Maybe they were just really saddened at the sight of the close friend breaking down in front of them.

“Jin-hyung, we’re ready,” Jimin rasped, as if the very sentence was like sticking pins into his own eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but yeah,” You chuckled, feeling happy at the feeling of his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

“Let’s not be sad, let’s just promise that we’ll meet again even if we don’t fully remember each other,” Jimin proposed, holding out his pinky finger for you to follow suit.

“Talk about taking a shot in the dark, but okay Jimin, I’ll hold you to that.”

The promise was made with smiles on your faces. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you felt fulfilled despite the looming separation awaiting you.

“Okay, Yoongi has finished the ritual that will bring you home Jimin. You have already begun to materialise, say your last goodbyes now you two,” Jin instructed sadly. You thought you would feel the pressure, but oddly you felt a bittersweet sense of calm surrounding the two of you.

“(Y/n), my solace.”

You felt his plush lips brush against your own briefly before they moved to your forehead. You didn’t think you would ever forget their soft texture as they lingered on your skin. The final thing you saw before feeling your consciousness slip away was his warm eyes staring back at you.

“I love you too.”

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[cryo-lily]

Scars (Part 1)

Well it took me over a year to finally start to post this, so no excuses just a meager hope that this is the start of more stories of Sole Survivor: Lily Cromwell.

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“Where did I put it…? Shit. I thought I-Ah! There you are!” Piper mumbled under her breath trying to find her key to Home plate that was somewhere in her coat pockets.

Lily had given her a spare key to Home plate a while ago but to Piper it was still a new feeling for her. Lily was always super protective of her, as she put it, “Scavver’s Paradise”. So it surprised Piper when Lily gave her the only spare key to her new house in Diamond city; Lily was there for about a week or two before she initially gave the key to Piper in case of an “emergency” and also because they were friends. But as time went by and when their relationship grew closer the excuse of emergency turned more into the truth, which was: Piper was one of the few people that Lily could trust with anything.

Piper finally fished out the key when her fingers felt the familiar metal of the key chain, even in the dim evening lights of Diamond City’s market the old key chain sparkled slightly. It couldn’t help but make her smile slightly every time she saw the half rusted witch key chain Lily found on one of their scavenging trips to her hometown of Salem. Lily wouldn’t out right admit it but Piper knew finding something so little from her past meant the world to Lily. That’s why it surprised Piper a bit when Lily gave it to her with the spare key; Piper tried to give it back knowing how much finding it meant to her. But Lily wouldn’t hear of it, she wanted her to have it.

Piper rubbed the old key chain between her fingers as she began to get lost in thought of recent memories, but shook her head quickly to snap her out of it. She was here for a reason. Nat was out at a friend’s house for the weekend to work on a project for school and Piper didn’t need a second invitation to use the opportunity to spend the weekend at Home plate with her girlfriend. So she decided to try and surprise Lily by quietly opening the far door of Home plate, easy enough assuming the coast was clear on that side of the house. Piper quickly and as quietly as she could unlocked the door with her half rusted key and let herself in. But not before quick poking her head to see if the coast was clear. No sign of Lily yet.

Upon closing the door Piper’s eyes adjusted to the even dimmer lights of the warehouse side of Home plate. Lily always was a Night owl and never really preferred too bright of lights on unless she needed to do something important, which Piper didn’t mind all too much. As Piper began to enter she noticed everything was mostly normal except all of the crafting stations and tools were noticeably used and strewn about a bit carelessly. Curiously besides most of the tools were some pieces of scrapped wood and some old half filled paint buckets with big black letters on them spelling “CHROME”. She wondered what new project Lily was up to this time as she passed by the small junk pile. This wouldn’t be the first time Lily found something along her travels that she wanted to fix up or tinker with, and it certainly wasn’t the last. With Lily though Piper knew it could be just about anything with her range of interests, and how easily she could be side tracked by the smallest things.

When walking out of the warehouse side of Home plate and toward the living area Piper dropped her backpack next to her desk Lily had given her in case she ever needed a quiet place to work on the paper away from Nat or whoever else. It was just as she left it, typewriter pushed to the back, various pencils, pens and paper strewn about everywhere, some of which were rough drafts for possible articles in the paper. Near the edge of then desk there was a half filled ash tray next to an opened pack of smokes lying on its side with one too many cigarettes to be considered empty and one lighter that desperately needed to be refilled.

“I really need to clean you one of these days...” Piper thought to herself as she sighed seeing her messy desk with some of her bad habits on full display.

Some of the more frustrating stories to write she worked on here where Piper had a bit more privacy than at home. She loved Nat with all her heart but Nat was still her little sister, and a nosy little sister at that; one that tended to take Piper’s personal journal far more than she’d ever like her to while she’s busy working. Which eventually led to Piper spent more and more time working there to focus on the paper when Nat was being a little too much for her to handle.

Carefully Piper crept up to the edge of the wooden floor where the living area began; she did not want to alert Lily just yet so it could be a little bit of a surprise. But before she rounded the corner Piper noticed Lily’s black jacket haphazardly thrown on the couch on top of a backpack with a Mintuemen patch that has seen better days. The entire house was unusually quiet and dim even by Lily’s standards, and something felt off Piper knew that much. Things around here were usually not this quiet, there was some music always playing weather it was from Diamond city radio or one of the many music holotapes that Lily had salvaged over time. But before Piper could round the corner to investigate further, a soft voice could be heard mumbling from the bedroom upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               “Jesus H... Look at her. Looks like she lost a fight with a Deathclaw-“ A distant voice faintly echoed in the back of Lily’s mind. “Or several Mirelurks…” Another voice joked in response.

Echoes of conversations Lily overheard that didn’t bother her at the time but ones that she wishes she could forget. But that didn’t stop her mind from dwelling on things she has overheard others have said about her over the course of her journeys up to this point. This was nothing new in her life, pretending not to overhear such comments made about her one way or another. Though Lily has learned to deal with it in her own ways, albeit in some unhealthy ways, but in the moments of quiet where her mind can wander freely was far from peaceful in recent times.

               Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes as she tried to relax her mind. The last thing Lily needed right now was her inner critic using other’s words to fuel her own self doubt, she had enough problems with herself without more fuel added to that dumpster fire. Slowly her mind was quiet once more and she was left alone with her own thoughts once again. When she opened her eyes again she caught the gaze of her reflection again, the strange woman that she didn’t recognize looking back at her emotionlessly. The heavily scarred face staring back at her made Lily’s heart sank. Slowly her eyes began to wander down toward the floor away from the mirror the heavier Lily’s heart grew.

               “Maybe fixing you up wasn’t the best choice…” Lily lamented to herself quietly as her eyes drifted towards the floor halfheartedly before looking over the mirror she recently salvaged again.

On a recent solo scavenging trip she had run into an old Victorian-style standing mirror in desperate need of repairs, normally with things like this most decent scavengers would ignore it for something that they could turn a profit on. Almost no one would waste their time with some half ruined piece of prewar furniture. And normally Lily wouldn’t bother either, there were better things to fix up that were more worthwhile. At the time though, the then broken mirror she found seemed to tug at some deep within her, as if it was from a distant memory. So she took the parts of the mirror she could manage to save with her back to Home Plate to be repaired.

As Lily was repairing the mirror earlier her mind couldn’t help but wander back to simpler times of childhood; times when Lily and her childhood best friend would play hours of dress up when they were younger in front of similar mirrors. Her Grandmother, Agatha, always had antique Victorian furniture like this mirror around the family estate, as if an old Victorian manor in the woods wasn’t enough for the creepiness factor in Salem, but that was Grandma Agatha’s type of humor though doubling down on things to get a rise or a reaction out of people. Sometimes Lily missed Grandma Aggie’s sense of humor a lot nowadays more than ever. While lost in her memories it didn’t take Lily long to repair the old mirror she had found, and though it didn’t look brand new it still looked like the best damn mirror she’s seen since her prewar days.

But there was no denying how haunted by the past she secretly was, as much as she tried to hide it. This led to a number of times where Lily became enamored with some seemingly random prewar relic. Ask any of her closest companions and even they couldn’t tell you the answer why. Lily never explained why to them because she thinks most of them wouldn’t understand, as much as she loves her closest friends. Perhaps Nick would understand in a way, but Lily tended to suffer in silence about how the echoes of her own past haunted her. Though only a small few of her friends got her to even admit she’s haunted by flashbacks of her prewar life which was one of the reasons why she became randomly attached to some prewar objects or relics, this mirror was no different.

Looking over the mirror again Lily began to wonder if restoring the thing to as it was even a good idea at this point. It was only amplifying her self-doubts that have been festering quietly under the surface for a long time now. Closing her eyes again, Lily took another deep breath to try and keep her more negative thoughts about herself at bay. The silence in Home plate was almost comforting until a voice coming from seemingly nowhere broke through the somber atmosphere. Lily’s eyes shot open at the sound of the voice that only breaks her heart hearing it again. The surroundings of Home plate seemed to fade away into the dark around her as the mirror itself began to look like it almost brand new or antique even, and the reflections of memories past now staring back at her in the mirror, almost taunting her with how real they felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily stepped closer to the mirror checking to make sure she had her outfit in order, fixing her hair, making sure she didn’t have too much make-up on just yet. Lest her parents begin to wonder where she could possibly be going dressed up in such a way even on ‘All Hallows Eve’. Her parents were always too strict for their own good, wanting their ‘delinquent’ daughter not to ruin the family name in the town; despite the irony in their words. A voice began to call out from her bed across the room behind her.

“You can’t fuss in front of the mirror all day; it’s not like your parents will care either way if they catch us sneaking out again” the familiar voice echoed.

“Yea but if I keep up appearances they’ll be less likely to catch us, if you can keep your hands to yourself for more than five minutes-.” Lily smirked back at the brunette girl now leaning over Lily’s shoulder watching her fix her school uniform. The brunette smiled playfully in response as she began to slowly undo Lily’s shirt buttons from behind, which couldn’t help but make Lily laugh as she tried to playfully slap her girlfriend’s hands away. “Beatrice! Would you stop?! My parents could walk in and see us!”

“Then hurry up! We need pick up the others so we can get ready for our Halloween concert. Besides we both know we’ll need to change again away.” Beatrice responded a bit impatiently. “I already have the stuff we need packed and hidden in your car. We could make our grand escape right now! Your parents won’t even notice us leave… they’re too busy getting ready for the mayor’s Halloween fundraiser remember? You don’t need to over think this, we’ll be fine. We always are!”

Lily smiled even more as her girlfriend’s embrace turned from playful to more gentle and soft. Her impatience to break Lily away from her prison of a home life as often as she could was almost infectious. The two girls started to laugh once again after their eyes meet again in the mirror several times without either of them saying a word for what seemed like an eternity to them, before Lily gained the courage to break the silence between them after the laughter had died down.

“What would I do without you?” Lily leaned her head against the brunette’s, her smile melting away relaxed and contented.

“Lose sight of what’s important?” Beatrice coyly replied in return, playfully nudging her head against Lily’s.

“How can I when you’re stand right here?”Lily smiled back again warmly meeting her love’s gaze again before giving her a small peck on the cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh hey! You fixed up that mirror you found, it looks like you did a good job!” Piper suddenly chimed in as she wrapped her arms around Lily’s waist from behind.

Lily’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she was startled out of her flashback and her surroundings of Home Plate quickly faded back into view. The reflections of her past fading quickly away into the darkness again as her own reflection started to change slowly back to her present day self. Piper looked over her lover’s shoulder and noticed the solemn look on her Blue’s face as Lily tried to hide quickly wiping away some tears.

“What’s wrong?” Piper tried asking her in a comforting tone. Lily didn’t quite meet Piper’s eyes in the mirror. “You know you can tell me anything Blue.”

“It’s nothing…” Lily tried to evade the question, trying to avoid meeting the reporter’s eyes in the mirror. But she made the mistake of meeting Piper’s soft gaze for less than a second after she opened her mouth, which then turned the reporter’s soft gaze into more of a glare.

“What’s wrong?” Piper asked again firmly, letting go of her lover’s waist as she began to glare at Lily in the mirror. Piper hated it when Blue kept her emotions bottled up from her. She knew too well the toll that it takes on Lily’s mental wellbeing. Lily sighed heavily in response; the reporter always seemed to see right through her in times like these.

“It just-“ Lily began before seeing her reflection again and her heart grew heavy once more. Slowly she turned around and walked away from the mirror to lean against the nearby dresser, keeping her gaze locked on the floor. She didn’t have the heart to meet Piper’s eyes at the moment. “It’s just… The reflection has changed since I last remember.”

Hearing those words come from her Blue made the reporter’s heart ache. Surely there was more of an explanation behind this, and Piper intended to find out. Before walking over to Lily’s side Piper made sure to flip the mirror around so no more reflections could be seen. It seemed like the last thing Lily needed right now. Piper has helped Lily through some tough times before but she’s never seen her like this. Carefully the reporter walked in front of her lover to be face to face again.

“It seemed fine to me.” she causally said trying to lighten the mood, but received no response from the woman. Silence began to fill the air again the longer Lily didn’t reply. Looking over the woman who refused to meet her gaze Piper began to put the clues together. “Is this because of your scars?”

Lily closed her eyes tight trying to hold back more tears and avoid meeting Piper’s now concerned looking face. Her chest began to tighten the longer the silence went on and the harder it was becoming to stay silent around the reporter. Part of Lily still believing that she could handle this on her own while the other part also knowing she couldn’t handle this alone for long before it really started to effect herself, as if it hadn’t already. After what seemed like an eternity Lily finally gained the courage to meet her lover’s gaze.

Piper could now see Lily’s watery eyes trying to fight back tears as she finally looked up from the floor to meet her gaze. It almost broke her heart seeing Lily silently trying to deal with her emotional pain alone again. She wanted to say something, but before the reporter could do so her body instinctively embraced her Blue in a tight comforting hug. In the back of her mind Piper knew Lily would never outright ask for a hug, but at this point in their relationship she knew when Blue desperately needed one even if she didn’t say anything. Lily could feel the warmth from the reporter’s comforting embrace the longer it went on, and it wasn’t long before her heart finally gave in and meekly returned Piper’s hug.

Lily didn’t need to say anything in response; Piper knew the answer to her own question from Blue’s body language alone. This wasn’t the first time Lily had self-doubts grow from her ever changing appearance since entering the wasteland of the Commonwealth. But this was the first time Piper had seen it affect Blue so badly. Lily has always had a few scars since the day they met, Piper had on some level correctly assumed that said scars were something Blue had gotten in her prewar days, but the reporter didn’t press her lover on the subject. She knew Lily would tell her when the time was right. After what seemed like a long while, Piper was finally the first to break their embrace to say something.

“Did you want to talk about it?” The reporter pulled away from her to try and fill the silence between them; Lily not quite meeting her eyes again but nodded softly in response. “Okay, well how about you find a place to sit and I’ll get us something to drink. How’s that sound?”

“Okay…” Lily quietly replied as she moved away from the dresser to sit down on her nearby bed. “Maybe get some of the good rum from the fridge?”

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” Piper couldn’t help but smile at Blue’s sheepish request. Leaning over she gently placed both hands on either side of the woman’s face and gave her a long passionate kiss before breaking away to get their refreshments for the evening. The reporter smiled even more when she saw the slightest positive change in Lily’s glum expression.

Lily couldn’t help but smile a little herself after the kiss as Piper disappeared downstairs to procure their liquor for the evening. She wouldn’t lie, a nice cold bottle of rum sounded really good right about now after the depressing evening of doubting herself so far. As she waited Lily brought her legs up onto the bed so she could sit with her legs crossed, hands neatly folded while absent mindedly looking down at the hard wooden floor that made up part of Home plate’s upper level not really knowing what to do with her depressed self as she waited for Piper to return. But it wasn’t long before Piper came back upstairs with two large bottles of rum in one hand and a small plate of some Quantum Crunch doughnuts Lily had made not too long ago in the other hand.

“What no Fancy lads?” Lily couldn’t help but joke as the reporter handed her a bottle of rum.

“No, but I figured that these were more fitting for a relaxing night. Unless you don’t want them I can just throw them away.” Piper teased starting to slowly walk back down the stairs.

“What? No! I was just- Mmhm-“ Suddenly Lily was cut off by a doughnut being shoved partly in her mouth. Lily coughed slightly as she took a bite so she could respond again as the reporter laughed setting down the plate of doughnuts on the dresser before taking off her jacket to join Lily on the bed.

“At least you’re feeling a little better right?” Piper eyed Blue as she sat down to uncork her bottle of rum to take a sip.

“I’m getting there…” Lily followed suit opening her own bottle but taking a much larger chug from her bottle than the reporter. “You being here helps a bit… Helps keep my mind off of more depressing thoughts.”

“So, why is the mirror making you upset?” Damned if Piper wasn’t very perceptive of Blue’s emotions by now and very quick to the point when talking about them. “If this about your scars I don’t-“

“Why does it matter? I’m just a relic of the past… Relics get damaged all the time. It happens.” Lily said very dismissively, trying to avoid the reporter’s inquisitive gaze but to no avail. So she took another long nervous sip from her bottle of rum. But Piper saw right through her, she was avoiding the topic again.

“You do know it doesn’t matter to me, who cares what others might say? I like your scars. They tell so many stories. And I know every one of them.” Piper took another swig of rum herself without breaking eye contact with the woman sitting across the bed from her.

“Really… You know every one of the stories these fucking scars tell?” Lily looked at the reporter suspiciously not quite believing her. “There’s no way you know every single one of them. There- are too many…”

“It’s the truth; there are some things you don’t forget. And I know every single story your scars tell, even the ones not worth putting in the paper.” Piper very clearly meant every word she had just said.

“Even my prewar scars?” Lily asked raised an eyebrow half skeptically thinking she had finally stumped the reporter.

“Alright maybe I don’t know the story behind them yet but my point still stands.” Piper reached across Lily to grab a doughnut of her own, knowing exactly what she was doing. Out of the corner of her eye, Piper could see Lily blushing slightly while trying very hard, and failing, not to stare at the reporter’s cleavage showing from her tank top that she wore today; which couldn’t help but make Piper smirk as she sat back down after retrieving her sweet treat. “But I know how clearly painful it is for you to dwell on it so I have faith you’ll tell me that story in time when you’re ready.”

Piper was so patient with her, for all that Lily still kept hidden from her and she never pushed her to tell anything she wasn’t ready to. But as their relationship grew more intimate Piper knew she had to push a bit more sometimes just to get Blue to open up at all about her thoughts and feelings that she tended to keep bottled up far too often that was even healthy. And Lily didn’t mind all too much because she knew Piper meant well trying to help her cope with all the negative thoughts and feelings that have been building up for the longest time now. Stuff that she’d still refuse to acknowledge was a problem without Piper around. Lily was great at helping others manage their emotions, but horrible at handling her own; she’s been called cold-hearted and emotionless on more than one occasion because of it. Even then this was a very bad habit of Lily’s that on some level they were trying to overcome together.  

“Okay then prove it Ms.Wright, what are some of the stories behind these fucking things?” Lily gestured to herself, still not quite believing her lover.

“You still don’t believe me do you? Fine. How about this, do even you remember how you got this one?” Piper responded by half lifting Lily’s t-shirt to reveal her toned abs, and numerous other scars. But Piper gestured to one scar in particular near Lily’s left hip, along with a few other nasty deep scars that was ever so slightly darker in color compared to Lily’s pale skin.

Lily couldn’t help but blush slightly as Piper just nonchalantly lifted up her shirt to start poking various scars she was referring to on her lower abdomen. At this point in their relationship Piper and Lily were well past knowing every inch of each others’ bodies. But Lily was still caught off guard by Piper’s sudden gesture to prove her point. And it took a good portion of the reporter’s will not to stare at Lily’s abs more than necessary, she had a point to make to this woman and she was going to fucking prove it. Lily had become too self conscious about herself in recent months and Piper wanted to change that.

“I…” Lily couldn’t find the words to respond to Piper as she almost seemed to stare straight through Lily waiting for a response. “It’s from… that one time we were the only ones to respond to a settlement’s call for help.”

“So you do remember. And here I thought you had gotten so reckless at the time that you perhaps forgot when you even got it.” Piper let go of Lily’s shirt as she smiled at the woman.

“That… Doesn’t happen all the time...” Lily blushed a bit more as she tried to fix her shirt as the reporter smiled at her with an almost shit-eating grin.

“Then please, do tell what you remember. And I’ll tell you if you even remember it properly” Piper laughed slightly before taking a long smug sip from her bottle of rum.

“Well for starters it was back during my vault suit days-“ Lily started to reminisce ignoring the reporter’s sly smirk at the mere mention of that damned vault suit.

[mst3kproject]

602: Invasion USA

 This is not the 1985 movie with Chuck Norris.  I suppose I should watch that one someday as an Episode that Never Was, but for now we have this.  Its basic purpose is the same as that of Rocket Attack USA, to scare the audience into patriotic loyalty, and it shockingly manages to be even worse at it.

A bunch of people are sitting around in a bar talking about the universal draft when an unnamed country suddenly declares war on the United States, and… well, that’s it, really.  Stock footage of anti-aircraft guns fires on stock footage of planes. Stock footage of atom bombs is dropped on stock footage of cities.  Stock footage of warships crosses stock footage of oceans.  All while the so-called characters watch it happening on television and remark on how they can’t believe this is real… no wonder, since none of it is happening in the same dimension they’re in.

I refuse to call Invasion USA a movie.  It doesn’t qualify.  It’s more like four newsreels in a trench coat and a fake beard, trying to pretend they’re a narrative.  Take, for example, the part where Boulder Dam is destroyed.  We see stock footage of the planes.  We see stock footage of the dam.  We see stock footage of a mushroom cloud.  And then stock footage of a flood.  The closest this comes to interacting with the characters fleeing from it is that we see the flood footage back-projected behind their car, and then the camera rolls over and we cut to some of their possessions which have been tossed into a river.  It’s all so obviously a juxtaposition rather than a series of events.  You can’t help but roll your eyes.

The nearest this comes to being interesting or exciting is some of the stuff we see in the military stock footage.  The audience doesn’t exactly feel involved in this – it’s just film of random Things Happening so it doesn’t tell a story, except in retrospect when the TV news anchor tells us what’s supposed to be going on, but there are some spectacular plane crashes and so forth.  Of course, then you remember that none of this is special effects.  You’re watching real human beings die gruesome deaths.  That sucks the fun out of it pretty fast.

It’s not until the last twelve minutes that we get anything that might be called a special effect.  The bad guys nuke New York, and while what we see looks nothing like the aftermath of an atomic bombing, there is an actual miniature building that falls apart, dumping Styrofoam boulders on our heroes.  This is followed by a mediocre matte paining, but one that still does the job its meant to do.  It’s actually kind of a shock, since up until now the war has seemed to go on all around this room but never to enter it.

That’s one halfway-effective moment out of an entire seventy-three minutes of film, however, and the rest is all garbage. Not only is there the endless stock footage, there’s also the bad guys.  They’re never identified as Soviets, though they speak with Russian accents, because the film-makers didn’t want Invasion USA to be a self-fulfilling prophecy (thus making them more sensible than the people who made The Interview).  Much is made of the fact that they’re wearing American uniforms, but the one time they try to make a plot point out of it, a guard sees through the ruse immediately. The real reason is once again to avoid mentioning a country, and so they can use the stock footage of American soldiers to represent both sides.

The baddies espouse ideals of equality, freedom, and peace, but the only ones we actually meet are a couple of bullying, alcoholic rapists. This serves its purpose but the writers apparently see no contradiction between portraying ‘bad’ characters as drunks and having the ‘good’ characters sitting around drinking for half the run time.  I guess whether alcohol is good or bad depends on how nicely you’re dressed and what shape of glass you’re drinking it from. Not to mention that the psychic who can be seen as a bully and a rapist based on what he does to the other characters’ minds, but I’ll get back to that.

How long the whole war takes to happen I have no idea.  A few days must have passed, since a guy drives from San Francisco to somewhere in Arizona, and somebody makes a reference to ‘months’, but the way we keep cutting back to the same people in the same bar gives the impression that the invasion of America happens in about twenty minutes.  Maybe this is intentional, since the story, of course, ends with the revelation that it was alllll a dreeeeeeam.  Or maybe everybody was just too incompetent to show us time passing.

The ending attempts to work on multiple levels and is shit on all of them.  First, there’s the ending to the narrative we’ve been watching.  This isn’t really a story, since there’s no plot as such, merely things happening that the characters cannot possibly do anything about. They’re powerless in the face of these overwhelming events, and once the factory owner is shot after refusing to build tanks for the invaders, it doesn’t take the audience long to realize that this fate will be pretty universal.  Sure enough! The rancher is drowned when the flood from the broken dam sweeps him away, along with his wife and kids to make it extra-tragic.  The politician is killed in the attack on Washington.  The reporter is shot for picking a fight with a bad guy, and his girlfriend leaps out the window to her death.

Then of course they wake up back in the bar, and learn that it was all a dream, or rather a vision, instilled in their minds by a psychic who hypnotized them with swirling whiskey!  I’m inclined to be slightly more forgiving of this than I normally would be, since it was sort of set up and at this point there’s really nowhere else to go.  It’s still an obnoxious way to end a story and there’s a reason your high school English teacher told you not to do it.  Some dialogue establishes they all had the same vision, and then the psychic informs them that this is what the future will be if they don’t take steps to avoid it.

Uh, excuse me, what?  Nothing we’ve just seen suggests that any of these five people were in a particular position to save the world.  They can do small things – the woman goes to get a job at the blood bank, the factory owner decides to make tank parts instead of tractors, and so on (are tractors not important?  Call me a commie but I’d rather my tax money be spent on feeding people than on blowing them up).  But none of this will prevent the invasion we saw and could only make the slightest of differences in its outcome.  Are the five of them somehow crucial in a way the narrative didn’t bother to make clear?

Of course, that’s not actually the point here.  The real moral of the story is that we all need to do what we can to grease the wheels of the war machine, or we’re gonna end up calling each other Comrade.  So… what was the psychic’s goal, here?  Did he just decide to scare the pants off these people because he was annoyed by their opinions about the draft?  Or is he going from bar to bar, instilling this vision of the future in every person he meets one at a time?  And of course we have only his word for it that it is the future. The bartender does call him a con man, and for all we know he made the whole thing up.

What about the woman and the reporter, who saw themselves falling in love and then being tragically separated?  They didn’t consent to that.  The illusion of the relationship, with all its emotional, psychological, and sexual consequences, was forced upon them by an outside influence.  They decide to use this second chance to pursue it in a situation where it might not end in tragedy, but who’s to say it’ll work without that background?  They would have every right to object to this violation of their minds… as would the others, who saw their families die and their homes destroyed.

The final shot gives us a quote from George Washington: to prepare for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.  I don’t know if Washington ever said that but if he did he stole it.  Si vis pacem, para bellum is a Latin adage, first attested in Vegetius, although versions also appear in Plato and Sima Qian.  It’s as old as humanity, and attributing it to Washington is just one more attempt to tug on the patriotic heartstrings.  Of course, if you consider the Romans, the Athenians, and the ancient Chinese… yep, this is something said by empire builders.

You know what movies like this have taught me?  That propaganda film-making is really hard.  If you want to deliver a message without annoying the audience then it has to emerge naturally from the story being told, rather than being imposed upon it like, say, the save-the-oceans message in Gamera vs Zigra. Then the story also has to make sense outside of that message, it has to feel like it would be worth telling even if the moral weren’t attached – Pacific Rim has a moral about working together, but it’s also just enjoyable to watch.  Invasion USA is not like that.  It exists only to shove its message down our throats and it isn’t even any good at it.  Fuck this stock footage montage pretending to be a movie.

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Chapter 1

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumors of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

A/N: It’s finally here! And I even got it up before the end of the year like I said I would. Enjoy!

I’m trying out a slightly different writing style this time around, so please let me know what you think!

Read on AO3

-----

Preview:

"It is said that all the Greats are connected. Some even believe they are one soul inhabiting nine bodies that is reincarnated every generation. I, however, in studying the history of the most closely connected Greats, those that control Aether and Time, believe that they are not one soul. Rather, they are inimitable individuals who are highly bonded to one another through the magics that unite us all. However, there is evidence to suggest that the Greats possess the ability to communicate with the Greats of the past."  Excerpt from A History of the Horae Greats, Introduction by Petra Abell

Last night I dreamt I was a king again. At least, I assume I was a king. I suppose I could have been an emperor or a lord or something, but I'm going to go with king for now.

As always, the dream starts like any other dream, a bunch of nonsensical scenes that somehow make sense while you're asleep, but when you wake up, you realize how crazy it all was. This time, I only got to enjoy a few bites of delicious marshmallow pizza with Babe Ruth before I was pulled away into the throne room.

The room looks the same as it always does. I sit up high on a marble throne painted green. There are nine other thrones spread out on either side of me all painted different colours. On the floor beneath me, an intricately carved flower is engraved into the tile.

I have no idea what kind of flower it's supposed to be. A lotus, maybe? I don't pay enough attention in biology class to know all my plants. And it's not like knowing that kind of stuff is going to help me out in life anyway. Sam would disagree and argue that everything we learn in school is important, why else would they teach it to us?

I am not alone in the throne room, and unfortunately, it's not Babe Ruth with the rest of our pizza. Instead, I gaze forward and see a long line of people each holding a random object. One man is holding a golden trophy. A woman farther down the line is leaning on a grandfather clock. The first person in line is holding an hourglass, the sand slowing slipping into the bottom. That's the only thing that changes with these dreams. The hourglass seems fuller and fuller every night. For a time traveller, that might be a bad omen. For the future Warp Wizard, it's definitely a bad omen.

One by one, the people in line vanish into nothing starting at the back of the line. They all fade until it's just me and the hourglass holder. I open my mouth to ask them all of my questions, but no sound comes out.

Sometimes, we stare at each other for what feels like hours. Other times, only a few minutes. But the dream always ends the same way.

The room darkens, shrinking down on us. The darkness creeps closer and closer until it's suffocating me, and I wake with a scream.

---

My body lurches up, my hand flying to my chest to make sure my heart is still inside. I take several steadying breaths as I glance around my room. Everything is exactly the way I left it the night before. Clothes in a messy pile by the door, backpack flung under my desk, and The Book sits on my nightstand, unopened.

Sighing in relief, I fall back onto my pillow. How many people wake up each day and are glad to stop dreaming?

I blindly fumble around for my phone and eventually find it on the floor. Before I even turn the screen on, I know exactly what time it is: eight thirty-six. If I really concentrate I can feel the seconds tick by. My phone screen blares to life and confirms what I already know.

After a whole year of being "magically awakened", all I have to show for it is always knowing the time and having disturbingly bright green eyes that practically glow in the dark.

My eyes wander back to The Book, landing on two small slips of paper sticking out of the top. Without thinking about it, I pull them out and read the words that I've seen a hundred times before.

Dear Joe,

Sorry to leave in mid-warp. I had some urgent business to attend to.

~ Uncle Joe

P.S. Congratulations on graduating to the next level! You are now a time page.

The edges of the letter are worn thin and torn. The pocket watch that came with my promotion rests next to The Book. Uncle Joe's been missing for over a year, and despite my best efforts, I can't find any clues as to where he is. It's becoming harder to believe he's okay and still alive.

I grind my teeth together. I know he's alive. My uncle is too clever and good at magic to be dead. He's just busy on some magic mission or something. Maybe even fighting off my other uncle, Mad Jack, who's also been MIA the past year.

I unfold the other piece of paper I keep stored in The Book. The gold script on the invitation is just as dazzling as it was when I first opened it last summer. I don't look at this one as often, other than a few random attempts to warp back to Horae Manor, it pretty much stays in my book.

Dear Mr. Joseph Arthur,

We would like to formally invite you and your closest friends to Horae Manor. A place for the magically inclined and gifted. Where people like you can learn to hone your craft.

We request that you join us at your earliest convenience. Time is of the essence.

Sincerely, 

WW

Now that normal school is officially done for the year, I'm going back to Horae Manor soon. Soon as in today, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to get there. Hopefully, the letter will do its thing again, and Fred, Sam, and I will just be warped there. But something told me that wasn't going to work this time. Rowena and Cassius probably expected me to warp myself there, maybe like some kind of test? To see if I'd been practising my time magic while I was away or reading any of the books Cassius lent me.

Had I been practising my magic? Yes, not that I'd had any real progress. Had I read any of the books Cas told me to? Yes. Well… not exactly. To be fair, I did skim through them, but there was a lot to read and take in. My normal school teachers wouldn't really understand if I skipped out on their assigned homework to do magic homework instead. Not that I could ask them to find out. I really hope my summer at Horae doesn't start with a pop quiz.

Maybe I could do a little last-minute cramming before it was time to go. I have a lot to learn if I want to catch up with Tessa.

The thought of my Aether partner makes me frown. She had gotten to Horae first because my letter had been sent to the wrong person. She also seemed to be just naturally gifted with magic. She could already tear herself pretty much anywhere she wanted and could manipulate space to create mazes to confuse and trap people. People like me.

I think back on everything that had happened last summer. Had I overreacted with Tessa? Maybe a little, but she had proven herself to be untrustworthy and selfish. We went from friends to enemies pretty quickly after that. Part of me wishes I could change out partners. I really don't want to be stuck with Tessa for the rest of my life. 

I collapse back on my bed with a heavy sigh. This summer hasn't even started yet, and I'm already done with it.

---

Time passes by quicker than I want it to. Maybe Cas can show me how to change that. Before I know it, it's after four in the afternoon and Fred and Sam are knocking on my door. Like always, Fred saunters into the room without waiting for a reply.

I shut the book that I've been staring at all day, the words still swimming before my eyes. I'd barely made a dent in it. Cas had given me five thick books packed with magical knowledge. There was a whole other world out there filled with magic users, literally. It was called Mancika. And there are more kinds of magic than just space and time. There are ten in total. Or was it nine? All the details were blurred together in my mind. I somehow had even more questions than I did before I started learning about magic and reading about its history.

I slipped the book into my backpack along with all the others I didn't read. My Warp Wizard mentor will not be happy with me.

I turn around to greet my friends, but Fred beats me to it. "Hey, dude. How excited are you right now? I am so ready to get back to Horae Manor. Man, I bet Cassius and Rowena have some amazing magic kung-fu skills they're going to show us this year. I mean, you guys saw how well Arwen fought off that drake last summer. I can't wait to kick some magic monster butt."

I shake my head at him. "You just can't stand that a Red Sox fan is stronger and cooler than you."

His cheeks flush. "She is not!"

"Sure."

Fred crashes on to my bed, mumbling something to himself that I can't fully hear. But I'm sure it's something about how much the Red Sox suck, and why anyone would be a fan of them over the Yankees is insane.

I nod to Sam, who smiles at me in greeting. "I'm actually pretty excited to head back too. Did you know Horae Manor has a library? I can't wait to learn about all the science of magic and history of it all."

"The science of magic?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "I don't think there is any science. It's magic. Kinda the opposite."

"Of course there's science. Nothing can break the rules of physics. Not even magic."

I roll my eyes, deciding not to argue. With Sam, you can't really convince him that he's wrong.

I grab the letter off my desk, hoping for something to happen. Of course, nothing does. Time to face the other problem I've been avoiding: how to get back to Horae Manor.

"You don't know how to get us there, do you?" Sam asks, guessing my thoughts.

I blush. "I totally do. I just need a second to, uh, figure out how to do it."

"We're never going to get back there, are we?" Fred turns to Sam, who nods in response.

"Hey! I can do this. I am the future Warp Wizard after all. Just give me a moment."

"And what I great Warp Wizard you'll be," Sam sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, I think with a little training Joe could be a great Warp Wiz. Of course, with me by his side, we'd be a swell pair," a new voice says.

We all jump. I slam my knee against the bottom of my desk, hissing in pain, and gingerly try to massage it away. My eyes narrow at the intruder. A mix of emotions fight it out in my chest. Anger ultimately wins out.

Tessa giggles from where she's perched on my window. "Missed you too, bunny."

"How did you get here?" Fred asks.

"The same way I get around everywhere. Magic. Duh." She flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and slides into my room. Her eyes roam around, inspecting everything, and land on my Houdini poster. "Cute," is all she says. Whatever, it's not like I care what she thinks. 

"Thanks," I say dryly. "Why are you here?"

She spreads her arms out wide, ever the showwoman. Her signature red leather jacket is like a cape on her. "Isn't it obvious? I'm your ride to Horae Manor. Seeing as you and Cas haven't started any real training yet, you can't exactly warp yourself there."

I press my lips together and decide to keep quiet. This summer, I'm going to start my magic training, and by the end of it, I'll be just as good as her. No, better than her. I had so many questions for Cas, and I'll finally be practising magic. Real magic. Tricks that I can use to find Uncle Joe.

"So, are you ready to go? Cas is kind of a bluenose when it comes to being on time. As if he can't just make more of it." Tessa rolls her eyes.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and stand up. "Yeah, I guess." truthfully, I'm just as excited as Fred and Sam are to return, but I'm not planning on letting my guard down around Tessa. I square my shoulders and stare at my Aether partner. We're supposed to be partners for life, but neither of us signed up for this. We can be civil with each other, but until I know I can trust her, I have no desire to be her friend.

She stares back, frowning. I almost feel bad for her. Almost. "Are you going to be like this all summer?" she asks, guessing my thoughts. "You know we're stuck with this for the rest of our lives, right?" She gestures between the two of us, referring to our Great Wizard commitment. "And I did apologize."

Fred wraps his arm around my shoulders, pushing me over with his sudden weight. "Joe will be fine. He's just a little butt-hurt over everything that happened last time. He'll get over it."

I shove his arm off of me. "We should get going. It's already four thirty-six."

"What? No exact second this time?" Sam teases me, drawing attention to my weird ability.

I look down at the ground and can feel my face heat up. So far, none of my new abilities had proven useful for anything other than being teased by my supposed friends.

Tessa tilts her head, her purple eyes never leaving my green ones. "Would you like to know our exact latitude and longitude coordinates right now? Or how about our exact position within the infinite space-time continuum?" She shrugs. "Knowing what time it is seems better than that. At least you'll never be late to anything."

"And yet, he was still tardy to math class almost every day this semester."

I shoot a glare at Sam, mainly to distract myself from Tessa. Coming to my defence now means nothing. "Can we just go already?"

Tessa pulls out her sabre, the Focus she uses whenever she tears. "Fine by me. I'm starving, and they'll be serving dinner soon enough."

I can practically see Fred's mouth watering. He remembers the feast from last summer just as well as I do. To be fair, I don't think I've ever had more delicious food in my life.

Encouraged by the growls in our stomachs, Sam, Fred, and I stand next to Tessa, ready to be pulled into our next adventure.

[jadeender]

The Battle for Freedom Part 3

Welcome to the final merged. I hope you enjoy our final ride together. 

Wild watched Legend and Acidic drop apart and stood up to deal with the other problem. He had recovered quickly and ran over to Four whose arms were hugged around him tightly, blood from his wound seeping out.

"Four let me look at it." Wild said pulling at the others arms, as Wild locked eyes with Four he saw real fear in Fours eyes. Gently pushing on Fours arms away Wild got a look at the wound.

It seemed whatever control Legend had had kept him from going through many vital organs but still this wound could be lethal. Somewhere in the distance a cry of rage sounded.

"Mipha I need your help." Wild whispered as he prepared to use Miphas grace. He'd never used it on someone else but it was worth a shot.

"No, let me do this." Hyrule said from behind him. "I can heal him, save your power, we may need it."

Wild didn't fight the other hero. Hyrules face was dead set and Wild knew there was no convincing him.

Hyrule sat down in front of Four and started to mutter something. Wild turned his attention back to the room, now only Time remained merged.

Twilight was already trying to talk to his mentor when Wild arrived.

"Time you need to fight him!" Twilight urged. This was a fight they couldn't help Time win and Wild knew that hurt the older hero. 

"I won't let you steal this victory from me!" Eternal screaming lashing out with his powers. Random whips of water flew around them.

"Eternal that body doesn't belong to you, and you'll never destroy Time. You might be able to silence his voice but his soul will never disappear." Wild said appealing not to the willpower of their leader but to the hubris of the dark. "Give it up, you'll never have the satisfaction you want."

Eternal grumbled how voice low and rocky. "A damn light making sense."

In a second Time had fallen to the floor and Eternal was scooting away looking up at them disgusted.

Another scream behind them alerted Wild. Hyrule had cast his spell and Four had screamed. 

"That hurt." Four said signing along. "Wait. My voice."

Four touched his hand to his throat cautiously. He started Hyrule in the eyes. "How did you?"

"It's a powerful spell." Hyrule shrugged giving no other answer. Weariness was evident in his shoulders and body but Hyrules face didn't betray it. 

"Now it's time Four, you need to separate from Shadow." Wild instructed sparring a look at the other heroes, many were beginning to regain consciousness. 

"I don't want to lose him again." Four muttered. 

"You're not losing him." Hyrule urged. "You'll be able to see him face to face again. And talk to him again."

"But we can't protect him out there. Like this we know he's safe. Safe from the other darks." Four whimpered appearing for once as young as his height made him appear.

Wild nealt down and looked Four in the eyes. "You'll never be able to protect everyone, I know that lesson too well. Shadow deserves to be his own person, you lost and found him once before, you can do it again." 

Wild thought if the ethereal spirits he had found and the princess he helped save. "Don't give up on him because of fear."

Four breathed out and looked at him. "I'm sorry Shadow."

In a moment Four and Shadow sat facing each other. And before Wild knew it Four had split into his four selves. The red one was in the act of hugging Shadow. Green looked up at Wild. "We just need to be us for a little while. Do whatever you need to."

Wild nodded at his split friend. By now only Ravio was the lone party though Wild wasn't surprised. Legend struggled to sit up and the rabbit man rushed to his side.

"Ravio?" Legend questioned looking at the purple cloaked man. 

“Yeah, its me.” To Wild’s surprise the rabbit hooded man pulled back his hood revealing a face almost identical to Legend’s only with black hair and blue eyes. Though Legend’s eyes had returned to both being blue and the green streaks had faded from his hair. 

“Glad you’re here. Where’s the other?” Legend slurred the other as he sat up. Wild imagined Legend would be pretty disoriented, they had been calling him Legend for weeks but he hadn’t really been himself at all. 

“He’s still waiting.”

“No I’m not. It’s time bunny.”

“Not here.”

“What if there’s not another chance.”

“Fine.”

Ravio very quickly had a two sided conversation with himself. After he finished he just sighed out and much like all the heroes had a copy of Ravio emerged. The copy was dressed in a dark purple tunic with a matching cape like cover of what appeared to be rabbit skins.

“Nice to meet you, Curse.” Legend said finally fully awake. “For real this time.”

Wild watched as Legend turned suddenly as though remembering something important to look by his other side and found Acidic gone, melted into the shadows before his light could even notice. 

Wild surveyed the room. Sky, Wind, Warriors, Twilight, Hyrule and he seemed to be doing the best. Conqueror had disappeared almost immediately after separating from Warriors and Stygian seemed to have done this same. Savage still looked quite stunned sitting in the same place his eyes transfixed across the room.

Noticing the darks gaze Wild followed it back across the room and found it feel on Eternal, the dark was on his feet and seemed to be surveying them as well.

“Shameful. Multiple opportunities to destroy the lights and yet all of these other so called darks run away.” Eternal sneered. 

Twilight who was still the closest as he attended to Time who seemed to be awake but weak, stood. “You can’t take on all of us alone you know that. Run back to the dark world before we shatter you.”

Twilight was deathly serious, perhaps more so than Wild had ever seen him. Quickly Wild crossed the room and found his attention drawn to someone else stalking around the other side, Noble.

“Big words from Time’s mutt. Care to test that theory?”

 Eternal advanced on Twilight and it was as though Wild and Noble shared a single mind as they both yelled “Urbosa.” Lightning rained from above and shot straight out hitting Eternal though the dark tried to run it hit in nano seconds before he could even move a muscle. 

“Get in line whelps.” Callous strode forward carrying himself with a cocky air off arrogance as the lightning subsided. 

Twilight quickly back peddled pulling Time back with him till her get near Ravio and the dark, Curse. 

“Can you take them, shadow travel back to Legends house. They aren’t safe here.” Twilight asked. Curse nodded quickly and Twilight stood up. “Get them there safe or my next hunt will be for you Rabbit.”

Wild watched as Eternal considered Callous. Callous pulled something from his belt to show Eternal. “I didn’t want to give away my trump card back at camp, but after having that pathetic shadow steal it for me its a shame to let this perfect opportunity go to waste.”

Eternal pulled the mirror from his waist and crushed it. “I knew you’d reveal yourself eventually. So you pick now when I’m ‘weak’. Do it then if you have the guts.”

Eternal’s face was aloof without even a trace of fear at the idea of his own death.

“Today a titan falls and a new age begins.” Callous took the mirror and with as much force as he could slammed it against the stone floor. The sound of shattering filled the room as their eyes turned to Eternal, even Curse paused half out of the shadows as he carried away Wind and Tempest. 

The effect was immediate, it was like a snap as Eternal fell to the floor, dead. His mirror was shattered and as Callous ground it under his heel he ensured Eternal would stay like that. Callous gestured around the room meeting the eyes of the darks that remained. 

Finally he locked eyes with Shadow was standing beside a now reformed Four both of whom wore grim expressions. 

“You played your part well, little Maverick. Getting the mirror for me was only step one. Using Veran to weaken the others would have been a great touch but when plans change I must change with them. Enjoy your rest heroes. His death is only the first. That’s a promise.” With a laugh Callous disappeared at the shadows swirled around him. 

Wild found himself unnerved by the dark. Eternal had always seemed like the worst of the worst, the villain behind it all. And yet Callous had taken his life without even using his sword or his powers. He did it all through deception and manipulation, Shadow had told them what happened when he stole Eternal’s mirror. To think all of that, all of the things they’d suffered while merged had been the planning of one man. It was almost amazing. 

“What now?” Noble asked from across the room as he seemed to be examining Eternal’s body. 

“You could come with us.” Wild offered. “With Callous running around you never know what may happen.” 

“I’m going alone. I handled Eternal and I can deal with Callous too.” Savage said from across the room. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Wait Savage.” Noble called seeing Savage was making to leave. He walked forward quickly pulling out the gold feather. The object that had graced the back of their mirror and that Wild had dreamt of.

Savage looked between the feather and Noble and it was as though an entire conversation passed between them in an instant. “You remembered.”

“I always do.”

“We can talk about this later Kit.” Savage looked back at his light as though waiting for something.

“If you ever need it, either of you, we’ll be here to help. Find us or go to Malon.” Twilight said as he exchanged a nod with his dark. Savage spared a single glance back at his dead mentor and turned back to Noble before the two of them disappeared, brothers reunited at last.

Wild and Twilight finally both turned their attention back, only Shadow, Four and the corpses of two fallen enemies remained. 

“Lets go home.” Shadow squeaked as he held out a hand.

[theateared]

It’s Fine.  I Can Wait. ❜

Summary:  Certain things make Moxie a little less angry.

    “You’re being moody again.”

    Since Edgar had returned from hunting, Moxie hadn’t spared him a word.  His place behind the bar was begrudging, back remaining to him as he scrubbed the surface with more force than necessary.  Edgar briefly considered telling him to watch for scratch marks but promptly decided that it didn’t matter.  To hell with it.  People are drunk here anyway.  They’re not going to notice an imperfection that small.

    Still no response, he thought to himself as he watched his packmate busy himself with meaningless tasks.  He flitted around the counter like a fly, cleaning already-washed surfaces, moving things slightly to the side, skirting around tables as if he’d kick up enough dust to warrant wiping them down for a second time.  The Alpha barely held back a chuckle of amusement, tall form hunched over the counter as his cheek nestled into his palm.

    “Moxie.  I know you’re upset,”   he tried again, voice light, almost sing-song, as if it was being carried by a breeze.   “Are you going to speak on your own terms or should I pry until you snap?  Because you will snap.  Like an itty-bitty twig.  Tck!  Just like that.”

    Briefly, his friend’s shoulders squared, though his back remained to him.  Edgar smirked, head tilting against his palm.

    “It’s fine.  I can wait.”

    All at once, the hunter whipped around and flung his rag in the Alpha’s direction. Edgar watched with an aloof smile as the material gathered air, fluttering to the ground some distance away from the counter.  His eyes shifted from the spot it had fallen to Moxie’s face as his hands slammed against the solid oak that formed the bar-top.

    “I’m PISSED OFF, Edgar--”

    “Mhm.”

    “-- this fuckin’ bullshit, livin’ here in Huron--  even if it’s only temporary, I feel like a goddamn CIRCUS ACT!”   Although he was angry, he had the sense not to bare his teeth at the other lye.  The last thing he needed was to provoke his leader.  Quickly, he reared back, before he could make a mistake that he wouldn’t be able to rectify.   “Don’t you feel STUPID?  We’re dancin’ round these motherfuckers like fuckin’--  ballerinas, or some shit!  It’s really gettin’ on my NERVES!”   His arms extended high above his head as if he was about to scream, though all he did was stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before continuing on, leaning close.  His voice dropped to a low, raspy rumble.   “Do you know how many fights I’ve had to not have just to stay doin’ this shitty job that nobody wants to fuckin’ do?  This shit’s embarrassin’, Edgar.  Y’hear me?  Embarrassin’.  We’re fuckin’.  Lyes.  There’s no reason we should be pussy-footin’ like this.”

    “Hm.”   Though he hated to admit it, he harboured some similar frustration.  However, the one thing he had above most of his kind was his brain.  In general, lyes were an aggressive specie; they would rather fight to the death for something than work out an arrangement.  Naturally, a lot of weight fell on an Alpha’s ability to defend their creed members from harm.  The way Edgar saw it, it was better to minimise threats than it was to craft plans to combat them. With less enemies to deal with, the creed’s safety naturally increased.

    Slowly, Edgar stood up straight, turning around and locating an all-too-familiar bottle of whiskey.  He may as well have renamed it at this point -  Moxie’s Kryptonite.

    “Tell me something,”   he said levelly as he began to pour his frustrated friend a drink. Despite the serving regulations, Edgar filled the glass until the liquid sat just shy of the brim. Putting it down gracefully, he turned back around to look at him.   “How long have we been friends now?”

    Moxie huffed, a hand wrapping unceremoniously around his drink, bringing it close to his lips.   “Too fuckin’ long...”   he muttered before downing the contents of his glass.  Only when it was empty did he continue:   “I don’t know.  Centuries, probably.”

    “And in all that time, how many times have I done something that has put my creed in jeopardy?”

    “...”   Whether one liked him or not, Edgar was a respectable leader.  In fact, Moxie would hazard a guess and say that he was the best he could have wound up with.  In his previous creed, his Alpha had been a flight risk.  Though his strength was impressive-- he had once killed a band of six rival hunters single-handedly-- he’d been nothing short of a moron.  His foolhardy ways had cost a lot of his own their lives.  It didn’t help that his means of compensation was mating with those that remained in exchange for their silence.  Edgar, on the other hand, was different.  Not only did he possess a great deal of power, the way his mind worked was unheard of in their community.  To him, he resembled a renowned chess player - a renowned chess player with a body count.   “...’s not like I can say...”   he finished lamely.

    “Yes.  I suspected as much,”   Edgar replied, re-filling his glass.   “And so with that in mind, I would implore you to have a little more faith in me.”   His hand wrapped around the stool tucked beneath the counter, drawing it close enough to sit on.  Slightly more comfortably, he once again leaned on his elbow, head cocked slightly to the side as he stared at the other.  In a patient tone:   “Rest assured, there is a reason for every decision I make.  It pays to be  CLEVER  in this day and age, not a barbarian.  This truce with Huron serves a practical function.  While it continues to do so, these people are not our enemy.”

    Less enemies, less trouble.  That was the way the wild worked.  He doubted many understood that, though he suspected he was only privy to such a thought because he had existed in a different way before this.  Had the No-Mans been all he knew, he likely would have striven for brute strength and nothing more.

    Moxie sighed softly.   “I dunno, boss.  What happened to all the fun we used to have? Tearin’ out throats, takin’ names later?”

    “Don’t talk about the glory days as if they’ve long passed, friend,”   Edgar tutted, reaching forward to pat his arm.   “We’ll have our fun, just in the proper way, at the proper time.  Like gentlemen.  Understand?”

    Sullenly, Moxie nodded his head.

    “Do cheer up,”   the Alpha continued, rising from his seat.   “I have a surprise for you.”

    He watched the other lye’s head incline, normally squinted eyes round with curiosity.  After a moment of silence:   “You know I hate surprises.  What is it?”

    “Ah-ah-ahh!”   Edgar all but sang, ever-present smile splitting into a fully-fledged grin.  He whipped around the bar like a falcon, taloned fingers resting atop Moxie’s shoulders and pulling him up to his feet.   “This was the reason I came looking for you.  It would be senseless to give it away just like that.  Put on your dancing shoes.”

    “My what?”

    He didn’t get the chance to ask anything else as Edgar pushed him along.

                                                                     _____

    “... the fuck am I lookin’ at?”   Moxie asked, eyes squinting hard at the foreign object.  It was tall, and he wondered briefly how he had missed it.  Edgar must have had it moved to the tavern that day while he’d been out hunting for food.  It stood in the corner, arched shape casting an ominous shadow onto the ground.  Pronounced decals lined its edges, a peculiar blend of red, yellow and green, and when Edgar shifted forwards to press one of the many buttons, it made a noise.  Moxie’s ears stood straight up, as if startled.

    “This, my friend, is a jukebox,”   Edgar said, gesturing for the hunter to come closer.  He did so hesitantly, eyes moving across the new object with distrustful fascination.   “It plays music.”   Gently, he pressed another button, the screen lighting up.  The song selection jumped straight to titles that began with L in accordance to what Edgar had selected.   “I figured we could use some ambience for this place.  Nothing livens a scene up quite like music.”

    Moxie watched with a hint of interest.  Edgar knows which buttons to press already…  I have to learn too.   “So what, y’thought a bunch’a noise would help soothe my headaches?”

    “Oh, come.  Don’t be so sour!  I know you love music!”

    It was a strange truth, but a truth nonetheless.  Lyes didn’t often have access to things like that.  There was no such thing as ‘art’ when you came from the wild.  The closest thing you could get to that was a fresh corpse.  Nevertheless, he had heard guitars in the woods before. Ambitious campers or Edgar’s weird friend, he wasn’t sure,  but the point was that he enjoyed the sound.  Though he hadn’t been vocal about it, he knew that his Alpha was likely to notice. He often did, for reasons that escaped him.

    What do you care?  You’re the one with the power.

    “Choose a song!  Any song?  Let’s dance the night away!”

    “I ain’t dancin’.  Especially not with you,”   Moxie huffed, though a hand had already stuck out to toggle with the arrow keys.  He recognised none of the titles, selecting one at random, seeming to jump slightly when the device began to make noise.  Despite being told what it did, it still surprised him to be so close to something so loud.   “Woah.”

    “Grand, isn’t it?”   Edgar exclaimed, spinning in a circle as if inviting him into his personal space.  The hunter scoffed, moving away, though his tail began to sway without his say-so. While he couldn’t see him, Edgar gave him a puzzled kind of smile;  the sort that expressed a deep confusion despite its contentment.  Truthfully, he didn’t understand why Moxie was so standoffish.  He likely had his reasons, but he had no clue what they were.  He felt as if there was a tragic sort of distance between them, one filled with a daunting vacancy that lingered long after a stale goodbye.

    Why do you refuse to have a good time?  Why do you only let pleasure visit you in small, controlled doses?  Why are your claws drawn around somebody who has sworn to protect you?

    He watched as Moxie trudged back behind the bar, half expecting him to begin working again. However, all he did was slump against it, tail swinging from side to side like a macabre metronome;  jagged point catching the lamp-light, glinting like an age-old dagger.  This was as calm as he could get.

    “... decent investment,”   he allowed, hard stare fixed on the wall.  The last thing he wanted to do was feed an Alpha’s ego.  In his experience, the more you did that, the harder you fell when it inevitably shot to their head.  They abused their power almost as easily as they fucked  -  without reason, without warning, and wholly in their best interests.   “It’ll drown out these lousy drunkards’ voices a little.”

    “That it will, my friend!”   He was already busy flipping through tracks on his own accord, grin now eager, genuinely invested.  If there was one thing he would always have room for, it was music.  From the moment he’d decided that a tavern was the establishment that worked most in favour with his desires, he’d known at some point that he would invest in a player of some sort.  Failing that, he would have talked to his talented musician friend about playing live on certain nights.

    Perhaps I should still do that.  Murr would probably be over the moon about it anyway.  It would give him another distraction  -  and me a source of pleasure.  Everybody wins.

    So focused with the jukebox, he missed the slacken of Moxie’s jaw;  the way he nuzzled his cheek into his palm, ears bent in the direction of the sound as his Alpha flitted through song previews, tail swish-swish-swishing like a reed behind his head.  A rare tranquillity had befallen him, one that only visited people in their dreams.

    You’re a weird Alpha, he thought to himself, watching Edgar’s face light up as he found a ragtime track that seemed to resonate with him.  It’s almost as if you care about us.

[whatthewalt]

The Haunted Mansion (2003)

From the studio that gave us Pirates of the Carribean, a multi-movie franchise based on one of their theme park attractions that made all of the moneys, comes another big budget movie based on a theme park attraction. The Haunted Mansion traps a young family in a… you know… haunted mansion. Family friendly spooky hijinks ensue.

Nostalgia Alert

I had not previously seen this movie. I was a fully grown adult when this film was released and everything about it screamed stay away. It had been at least 10 years since star Eddie Murphy had been in a movie I had enjoyed. The posters made the movie feel tacky and looked like it was trying so hard and not quite hitting the mark. Did I misjudge The Haunted Mansion? 

Showtime!

Not at all. This movie is a steaming pile of garbage. At multiple points in the movie I wanted to switch this off and physically destroy any device that had been tainted by this monstrosity. If you had told me that this script had been sitting in a draw at Disney since the 1970s, I would have believed you. If this movie had been made in the 1970s, I would be more willing to overcome its serious flaws. But this was made in 2003 and everyone involved should have known better. 

We begin with G-Rated Eddie Murphy as one half of a husband-wife real estate team. Which could be interesting, except we are never shown Mrs Eddie Murphy (I refuse to remember any of the character names) doing anything real estate-y. The closest we get is her wearing a headset in the car while driving. We then spend the rest of the movie watching her complain that Eddie Murphy spends too much time at work and neglects the family. Why isn’t she out there looking for clients? Why isn’t she the one getting people to sign on the bottom line? What does she actually contribute to this company? You get the feeling that the film really wants her to be a stay at home mother but needs her photo on the company pamphlets in order to make the plot work. If it wasn’t for Mrs Eddie Murphy being angry at her husband for single-handedly keeping their business alive, she would be completely devoid of personality. And she’s not the only one. Eddie Murphy’s son is scared of spiders. Eddie Murphy’s daughter is sassy. Mr Murphy himself at least gets two dimensions: he is a neglectful father AND he can’t stop talking about real estate. Does any of that make you want to invest in these characters? No, it does not. 

In order to show us how bad a husband and father Eddie Murphy is, the movie has him drag his family along to visit a property that, if he manages to sell it, set his family and business up for life. No one, not even his supposed business partner/wife seem to recognise this and spend the whole time complaining. Turns out the place is full of ghosts and random events that seem to happen for no reason. You know what I would do if my family got stranded in a creepy old mansion? I would make sure I knew where my wife and kids were at all times. I would not let them go wandering. I would at the very least wonder where they are. Mrs Eddie Murphy is the worst when it comes to this. She spends most of the movie hanging out with creepy ghost guy and never once thinks to check on her kids. Or her husband. Or wonder why there are at least four people living in this mansion and not one room has been cleaned in over a century.

I really hope that this movie was shown in 3D in the cinemas. The opening credit sequence alone is full of objects whoosing across the screen and into your face. It was so intense that I was suffering from motion sickness while sitting still on the lounge. It was so distracting that I could barely make out the important back story going on. Until, whoah! Is that a guy hanging from a noose? In PG rated family movie. Hard Pass. Needless to say, I’m glad I didn’t have that dangling dead guy projected into my eyes in 3D. And it doesn’t stop with the opening credits. No opportunity to thrust an object at the viewer is left untaken. That may play for an amusement park ride, but that’s not what I signed up for. 

I’d try and talk more about the plot, but there’s nothing here worth talking about. Stuff happens because there’s 90 minutes to fill. Looks like Mrs Eddie Murphy is the reincarnation of spooky dead guy’s beloved. Sure, why not. But no mention of why this rich dude was engaged to a woman of colour in an era where that would have been a significant deal? Is that why Terrence Stamp killed her? No apologies for the spoiler, I really don’t want you to watch this movie because I have too much respect for you to make you endure this. Was her death racially motivated? We don’t know because the movie is too toothless to even discuss it. But really, if you hire General Zod as your butler, you have to expect something to go wrong. 

Why were the staff cursed to live as ghosts in the mansion along with their master? Did the mansion only have three staff for a place that size? Why could the Murphy’s see the ghosts when the ghosts believed humans couldn’t see them? Why was there a crystal ball with a ghost gypsy in the house? How did she get there and what was she doing? Why did a fire demon come out of nowhere to eat Terrence Stamp? Why did the Murphy’s take the singing statues with them on holidays? So many questions. And I honestly don’t care what the answers are. 

Watching this movie, I kept thinking that with just one change I might have actually enjoyed this movie. If Mr and Mrs Murphy had been replaced by Joel and Sheila, married real estate agents from Santa Clarita Diet. A couple that love and understand each other. Who are both passionate about their work. Who have each other’s back no matter what. I’m not saying you should whitewash this film. But what if Mrs Eddie Murphy was the main character? What if she was the one who would go to any length to find the dream home for her client? What if she and her husband bounced off each other, going manic for the renovation possibilities of the mansion? What if the romantic tension between husband and wife was so strong that you felt sorry for Lord Goth Ghost Guy for even trying to make a move on her because he clearly didn’t stand a chance. Give that woman a personality! Give her agency! Give her something to do in this movie other than nagging and crying! 

Was It Any Good?

Can I say anything nice about this movie? Let me think… There were some scenes with Wallace Shawn that were almost entertaining. There’s a 1 minute scene where ghosts did ghost things that was ok. But really, don’t bother watching The Haunted Mansion. There are better ways to kill 90 minutes and countless brain cells.

[zdbztumble]

“Kingdom Hearts II revisited” Part III

I had meant to cover the first pass on all the Disney worlds in one post, but this game is just too long, and I have too many notes. For now we’ll just go over everything up to and including Disney Castle/Timeless River. Maybe the second pass can fit into one post.

Going back to KH II after KH III, you notice certain things that would probably have been taken for granted before. One example is how little talk there is about the “world order.” That’s something that’s existed as a concept since the first game, but it isn’t a big deal in the early part of the series. Outside of King Triton knowing about the Keyblade, our heroes never breech it, and there isn’t an excessive amount of pressure to maintain it - unique looks for certain worlds, and line or two is about all the first game spends on the subject. That pattern holds true for the second game. Granted, most of the worlds in KH II are worlds either used or alluded to in KH I, involving numerous characters who are well aware by now about other worlds. But as of this writing, I’ve played through the first pass on Port Royal, which has no such ties, and the closest thing to a mention of the world order is Sora and friends remarking how different the world looks to the others when they first show up. That’s it. If anything, they’re too blase about it in Port Royal, but I’ll come back to that another day.

The point is - the “world order” just wasn’t a major issue in the early games of this series, nor did it need to be. It certainly didn’t need to turn into a one-note running gag of Donald berating Sora for disregarding the world order, especially when Sora - in the limited time given to the subject in these early games - is fairly mindful of it.

And that’s another thing that changed in the time between KH II and III - who’s the butt of the jokes made about the mission. KH III is loaded with characters chastising, critiquing, demeaning, mocking, and castigating Sora, and having been thoroughly retconned into a shonen doofus, Sora unfortunately gives them some justifiable cause (though I would argue it’s still excessive.) But in this game, the butt of the jokes is Donald. And while there is some teasing involved, most of it is without commentary, and comes from Donald doing the same shtick he’s known for in the mainline Disney canon - being hot-tempered, greedy, impulsive, boastful until challenged, or desperate to avoid trouble with Daisy. This works so much better as a source of comic relief. Donald is a character specifically designed to end up with egg on his face, and since he’s not the protagonist, using him as a go-to for comedy doesn’t undermine the credibility of the hero.

Now, onto the Disney worlds themselves...

KH II has been criticized for the way it handles the Disney worlds. It’s been charged that they’re nothing but filler, that this is where the trend of stiff re-tellings of the movie plots began, that Sora is irrelevant in them. At least for these first four, I can’t say I agree on any of those points.

To start with the “filler” charge - look again at Yen Sid’s briefing. He gives Sora a pretty straightforward assessment: the Heartless are back, and there’s also Organization XIII. Looking at the first three Disney worlds, we have one where the Heartless ally with the resident Disney villain, one where a member of Organization XIII is up to something, and one where both the Heartless (in service to Pete, and by extension Maleficent) and Organization XIII are active, demonstrating that they’re at odds, along with the local villain. That flows pretty organically from what Yen Sid tells Sora. It’s such a smooth move from that talk to the Disney worlds, in fact, that it only reinforces my feeling from last time that Hollow Bastion should have been saved for later. You don’t have the interstitial cutscenes of villain plotting that gave KH I a sense of a continuous story; things are more episodic here. But that’s not a bad thing, and it doesn’t mean that any of these worlds are “just” filler - they do logically follow from preceding set-up.

The idea that the worlds do noting but recap the movies is a charge only relevant to one of these first four worlds, the Land of Dragons. And I will admit that, compared to the few KH I levels that did adapt the movie plots rather than create their own, the story content here is closer to the film. But that, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing, provided it’s done correctly. And I would argue that it is done correctly in this game, at least for the Land of Dragons. While the plot holds true to the back half of Mulan, it’s abridged, with appropriate adjustments made to the remaining material to make major character turns and stake escalations work - and to allow the movie material to be in service to the larger KH story. Mushu having been a Summon in KH I gives a great springboard into the action, moments for interplay between the KH characters and the movie characters are well-chosen (Donald picking a fight with the three soldiers comes to mind, though I question Sora’s involvement; similar scenes in later worlds show him being more sensible), and most importantly - the changes mean that Sora is relevant. 

To keep using the Land of Dragons as an example: in that world, it’s now Sora who suggests the way for “Ping” to prove “himself” in the army. He and Mulan make several key decisions together. And the final boss battle has Sora fighting alongside Mulan against the actual villain of the world, not some random Heartless conjured out of nowhere to keep Sora busy while plot keeps rolling without him. The same pattern holds for the Beast’s Castle and Olympus. That the protagonist should matter to the story, and be involved at the point of action in each world of a video game, should be a no-brainer, but this is another example of KH II wonderfully executing a basic idea that later games somehow managed to completely botch.

I have no issues with the pacing of the story material in these worlds either. I have a huge problem with the pacing of something in between these worlds - but we’ll get back to that. If any of them get a little rocky, it’s Olympus - with the three sets of villains running around, things get a little scattershot, which results in things like Auron’s reveal being rather rushed. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing - multiple villains jockeying for their own agendas would leave things rather scattershot. Giving Sora another hint towards Roxas’s identity is a good touch in that world too. I must say, though - Demyx is dumb. Like, really dumb. If you take Organization XIII to be more effective as a unit than as individuals, as I do, then Demyx as the first unmasked boss makes his level of cartoonish idiocy more palatable, and I suppose it fits the tone of the Hercules movie. But he is just so dumb.

Some great little gags and character quirks litter the first four Disney worlds. There’s the re-write of how Mulan gets exposed via Mushu’s big mouth, the fake-out with the wardrobe refusing to tell the Beast’s backstory, Donald being astounded by the talking objects (whereas Sora takes it in stride - remember that the next time you see him getting so worked up over a talking snowman in KH III), Queen Minnie being an absolute badass, and Shang saving the emperor in a way that I think is more impressive than the actual film. And I love that the joint action commands make it easier to finish boss fights while working together with Disney characters.

But if I can start to critique the gameplay now, I would say that things being too easy is a problem with KH II. The “hallway” complaint about the world design is an apt one, making the maps rather bland to navigate despite being pretty to look at. There’s also the problem of special tasks not offering the variety and challenge one might like from them. Lighting the lanterns in Beast’s Castle is a great example. That’s a puzzle, with a literal ticking clock. It could have been a fun bit of gameplay, very different from the usual Heartless battles...if the lanterns were in any way difficult to find, or spaced out to really push the clock to the limit. Instead, it’s such an easy exercise that I have to wonder why they even bothered putting it in. (I will say, though, that Beast’s Castle’s first pass offers up a wonderfully creative boss that does present a decent challenge - moreso in its first stage than its second, but still a fun fight.)

On the other hand, I think the AI for battle partners took a step back with this game. Now, my experience with the KH AI has never matched up to common opinion, so I’m not claiming this as an objective problem with the game. All I can tell you is that, customized properly, Donald in KH I has always been a reliable battle partner for me, while Donald in KH II spams spells and wastes items no matter how I work his settings.

And there are few things about the gameplay that just irk me. The lack of logic behind why some party members drop out at given points is one (really, why would “Ping” not help you fight the swarm on the mountain?) and the changes to magic are another. I love to use magic in these games, but something about it here just isn’t as satisfying. Fire as a close-range defensive spell is just wrong.

But those are, if not exactly nitpicks, relatively minor complaints. The game is still fun to play, after all. There are larger issues - story issues - within these first few Disney worlds.

To start with the smallest one - my problems with Sora’s character remain. He is, for the most part, attentive to duty and a competent, charismatic presence for the other characters to follow, as he was in KH I and CoM. But every now and again, the signs of what’s to come crop up. I mentioned him joining Donald in the brawl in the Land of Dragons already, but it’s more a problem of attitude - just how lighthearted and casual he can be toward his latest adventure. I grant you that, at this point in the game, nothing except possibly Maleficent’s infiltration of Disney Castle would indicate to Sora that the stakes are anywhere near as high as they were last time. And his greatest lapses into this attitude happen in Olympus and Disney Castle, two worlds based around comic Disney titles. But with hindsight, it’s hard not to watch those moments and cringe, because of what they led to. Sora in this game is oddly split, with one-and-a-half feet still back with who he was initially, and half a foot over the line to shonen doofus, and the dichotomy is very strange to see play out.

The big pacing issue I mentioned before is caused by our old friend Winnie the Pooh. The first game may have compelled you to at least start on his storybook, but in nowhere as obtrusive a manner as is done here. To be forcibly yanked from the world traveling, just as a nice flow is going, is maddening. Chances are good that many players (me among them) would have happily played the storybook minigames even if they were optional, so there was no need for this. KH II having the Heartless attempting to steal the book gives a better motivation to jump into it than KH III’s effort, but that isn’t saying much. And it doesn’t help that, at the end of the day, collecting the torn pages is a retread of the first game’s plot for Pooh. There is a clear variation on the theme, with the goal being to restore Pooh’s memory. I’ll even give them some credit for, perhaps inadvertently, giving Pooh a thematic connection to what Sora went through in CoM. But the end result is the same - find pages, find the characters within the pages, play the minigame. Given that repetitive nature to the book’s set-up, and its intrusive drag on the greater plot, I have to say that I think Pooh should have been retired after the first game - something I don’t say with any great fondness, as I love Pooh’s world in KH I.

I also love the way Belle and the Beast are used in KH I, and still question their presence in this game. That is based on one very basic problem, one that has plagued Disney in every attempt they’ve made to do something with the animated Beauty and the Beast since the original film: it’s not a story meant for prequels, sequels, or midquels.

It’s the midquel that Disney has tried multiple times, and by its nature, Beauty and the Beast just can’t support them. The Beast can only generate conflict with Belle by remaining beastly for so long in that setting before it undermines the believability of his shift, and romantic tension can’t exist between him and Belle any earlier than it does in the original film without undermining the ticking clock of the rose. The midquels Disney made ignore both these issues, and turn Belle into a much more gentle and passive character than she was in the original movie - someone more like a counselor or social worker for the Beast than a prisoner-turned-friend, and someone actively trying to “fix” him, an unpleasant spectacle in more ways than one.

Pretty much the only way to effectively tell another story with Belle and the Beast is what KH I did - take those two characters out of their own story, with all its internal logic and constraints, and use them in someone else’s. Fans of Beauty and the Beast can bring their attachment to those characters to KH I without the baggage of the plot, and no more is done with those characters except what is needed for Sora���s story. It let two of the best Disney heroes be a part of this fantastic crossover experiment, and it didn’t betray anything that fans loved about their personalities or the integrity of their film’s story.

KH II is a different story. I can appreciate that, with Kingdom Hearts creating alternate versions of every Disney world brought into its orbit, I can’t hold the story material in Beast’s Castle to the same standard as I would those horrendous midquels. We aren’t told that Belle is any kind of prisoner, for one thing, and the timeline may be very different. But the enchanted objects are all here. The ballroom and the west wing are all present. The backstory of the Beast is the same. And the rose - and its rules - are the same. The level of romantic tension shown between Belle and the Beast by the end of the first pass on their world just doesn’t jive with that ticking clock.

I was prepared to say a lot about the Beast’s behavior in this world too, but playing through it again - I do get what they were going for. His demonstration of cleverness, taking preemptive action to protect his friends in case Xaldin proved as devious as he seemed and corrupted the Beast, is well laid-out. The wording of the dialogue undermines the content of his scenes. But...that dialogue is really bad out of context. And Belle, as she is in all those midquels, is much too passive here compared to the film.

However, the biggest problem I had with any of these first four worlds on a story level was the Timeless River.

Not Disney Castle proper - that’s all amazing stuff. If one could have guessed that there would be Heartless battles there when it finally became a world, I don’t think it was as easy to guess that it would be an immediate issue, or that Maleficent herself would strike at the center of the world. It’s a wonderful bit of story and world-building, all of that.

But the Timeless River is another instance where I can see a trend getting worse, and in this case it’s the trend of pointless mystery. There is absolutely no in-world reason for Merlin not to tell Sora that he’ll be going into the past. Not telling him only leads to misunderstandings and wasted time once Sora gets there. The only reason Merlin doesn’t say anything is because, if he did, the gimmick of finding out that they’re in the past via those windows into Pete’s mind wouldn’t work. But it’s so obvious that they’re in the past, so early in the stage, that it strains credulity that Sora and the others can’t figure it out. If Sora remaining ignorant of his ties to Roxas is an example of denying a protagonist knowledge the player has done right, this is an example of that concept done very, very wrong. This series’ love affair with pointless “mystery” without any internal logic only strengthened with time, but it’s more painfully felt here for me, because the Timeless River is a wonderful idea for a stage and is loaded with charm. I couldn’t give a shit about a lot of the cryptic mumbo-jumbo surrounding Organization XIII’s members in this or future titles, but to saddle a beautiful Disney world with this kind of crap really gets under my skin.

One mystery that I would like an answer to, though: why is the Gummi route leading to Olympus the one themed after a ghost pirate ship?

[damijon-supersons]

Little Kisses - a Damijon fluff story

Hi, I hope you enjoy this. It’s probably one of the best Damijon fluff fanfics I’ve ever done. I just wanted to do a fic on the idea that Jon gives Damian these little kisses on the cheek and it’s normal for them. And 4k words later...i managed to make it work lmao.

Damian didn’t notice it at first.

He was so used to being partners with someone who wasn’t fazed by blood or a grisly crime scene. After all, the Bat family members were trained to be efficient detectives. During a case, Batman kept his emotions compartmentalized as if it was just another gadget he could stow away in his infinitely spacious utility belt. He taught all his heirs the same, so Damian, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Cass, and Steph, even Duke Thomas learned that same brand of stoicism. Even Dick Grayson, who was the closest as anyone in the family was to being an actually happy person, could stand to hold off his comedic quips until after the investigation.

Damian was so used to having a partner who could stop feeling when they had to, and that was why he never noticed Jon. He was so used to Jon being the sunshine boy, always smiling, and cheerful, and optimistic to a fault. Jon was the grin to Damian’s frown, the sun to his shadow. It was what had endeared him to Jon, not that he’d ever admitted it. And it was also why he never noticed the tiny little ways that Jon was definitely not okay.

That night, they’d just rescued a child who was nearly killed along with her mother by an apparently psychopathic jilted lover. The girl was six, and was in shock. Damian had escorted emergency services to drop the mother off at the local hospital where she ultimately passed away. Jon stayed to assist social services and police. When Damian returned, the girl was gone, but Jon was still standing in the dingy apartment, staring at the blood spatter that had dried on the wooden floorboards.

It was only just then, at that moment, that Damian noticed the inherent wrongness that Jon radiated.

Jon was almost cross-eyed, staring at the chalk outline CSI had drawn. It was shaped like a doughy body with limp arms and legs splayed in ways that living limbs would never dare attempt. To Damian, it was just another artifact of the scene. But to Jon, it looked as if it was a mesmerizing void. His stare was blank and at the same time frustrated, searching for something non-existent. Damian snapped his fingers twice—no answer. He put a hand on Jon’s face and the latter finally turned to look at him. Damian found himself staring at the haunted face of his best friend, an expression of incomprehension at the face of loss so glaringly out of place on his usually bright face.

“Jon?” Damian asked carefully. He bit back whatever jibe he’d had in store for Jon because the boy’s face unnerved him.

Jon blinked, and his face contorted in an effort to wipe away the expression he’d had.

“What happened on your end?”

“There was nothing more we could do,” Damian replied, looking away. “But we saved the girl, and that’s something to be proud of.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” As Jon said it, a shadow crossed his face, and he didn’t sound like he actually believed what he was saying.

“We’re done here for now. We can visit the girl later. Check up on her every few days. It should help,” Damian offered. What he’d really wanted to say was, ‘It should help you,” but he kept that last part to himself.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed. “We’ll do that.” He gave Damian a faint smile. It almost fooled Damian into thinking Jon was all right.

After he and Jon parted ways that night, Damian spent a long time alone on top of a random rooftop in Metropolis. He sat against the steel struts of a water tank, and the full moon was just at the right angle to place a shadow beside him. In the distorted light, his silhouette looked infinitely miserable—the shade of a broken boy. His hair gel had lost enough of its hold to distort the shape of his hair on the shadow as well—it made the shape look like Jon, and Damian could almost see his friend’s blank stricken eyes staring back at him from the blackness. They’d have been deep blue, but not the peaceful ponds they once were, rather, they were the blue of bottomless oceans that would drown you.

They’d handled hard cases before. Scenes of heinous crimes. Accidents. He and Jon had acted as first responders more than once. They weren’t able to save everyone they’d tried to help. And it wasn’t just those who’d lost their lives, it was also those who’d lost life’s meaning. Through it all, Damian thought Jon was able to keep up with his detachment. All of them were just cases to Damian. Just people to help and save—objectives. It was only now, after having seen Jon’s face, that Damian realized Jon was absorbing something entirely different. To Jon, they were people whose lives were broken and he sympathized with them, shared in their sorrow, and he’d been taking all of that hurt in—all of that loss. How many cases had they taken on like that? How many times had Jon kept it all inside?

Damian saw Jon properly for the first time that night. He’d seen how still Jon had stood, stiff as if straining to keep his heartache in, fearing that the tiniest movement would spill the horror on his face. Damian heard all the words Jon never said, how he barely breathed, every breath was guilt pumping into his lungs. His cheeks had been glistening with the trail of invisible tears that he didn’t let drop, the dread freezing his eyes in perpetual disbelief.  Jon tried to hide it all, but utterly failed because the absence of his warmth, of his vibrant presence, was the antithesis to what made Jon…himself.

All this time. Whenever a hard case like that came up, he was like that. I thought he was trying to be serious like how I taught him—like I wanted him to be. I was so proud. That’s why I couldn’t see, all this time.

Damian couldn’t see the scared and grieving child Jon tried to hide behind his cape.

But now that he did, he was determined to do something about it.

**

“I thought we didn’t have patrol today?” Jon said as he landed softly on the grass.

Damian had invited him over the next day, but he had no plans to go on a patrol. For one thing, Damian had called Jon to Wayne Manor—specifically, to its spacious manicured gardens. It was also the middle of the afternoon, half a dozen hours before their usual time to prowl the streets.

“I didn’t invite you for that,” Damian replied as he bid Jon to sit beside him. Jon walked over and plopped down on the ground, and both boys found themselves leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree.

“What do you have in mind then? Video games?” Jon ventured.

“No,” Damian replied. He sounded distracted, as if he was trying to think of a particularly long sentence that he’d wanted to say.

He was staring up at the clouds, his hands idly caressing blades of grass. His eyes were thoughtful if a bit melancholy, and you could tell only because he���d left off his Robin mask. He was dressed in his hero uniform, but without his mask and his usually aloof demeanor, he was less like the vigilante that he was and more of a child wearing clothes much too heavy and bright for him to bear.

“Well whatever we’re doing, why not in our headquarters? Or, you know, inside your house?” Jon jerked a thumb in the direction of the manor. At least we have chairs over there...”

“I thought this was better,” Damian said languidly. “Weather’s clear—there’s a slight breeze. We can breathe….it’s perfect for talking.”

Jon gave him a funny look. “You sound like you’re suddenly going to ask me to talk about our feelings.”

“I want to talk about our feelings,” Damian said without skipping a beat.

To say that Jon was surprised would be an understatement. His jaw was open halfway as if he couldn’t decide if he was going to laugh or gawk at Damian. He rose on his haunches and eyed his friend with mock suspicion.

“Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?” Jon demanded playfully.

“Your outfit still looks ridiculous and ripped jeans are shameful and unbecoming for a proper hero,” Damian stated plainly.

Jon giggled briefly then settled back to leaning on the tree. “Yep, still Damian. So, feelings…”

“I want to talk about yesterday.”

“Oh…” Jon said softly. His cheer evaporated, and his face fell. His eyes focused on the patch of grass between his splayed legs.

“Jon,” Damian began, carefully choosing his words, “I know you’ve been hiding it all this time—what you feel when we have cases like that. You’re holding back all the pain.”

Jon looked away, and for a moment Damian thought he would leave and fly away. He instinctively grabbed Jon’s arm.

“I thought you’d be annoyed at me for being emotional,” Jon murmured, ashamed that he’d needed to say it.  

“No, I—” Damian began but Jon continued like he didn’t hear him.

“I know we’re heroes, and people look up to us. If we start crying, then how can they be brave and stand back up again?” Jon’s words sounded hollow. He’d recited them because he knew they were true, but not because he believed them. Or rather, he believed, but he knew he couldn’t follow them himself.

“It’s human to feel,” Damian countered. “Being a hero doesn’t take that away from you.”

“She asked me when her mom was coming back, and I couldn’t say anything at all,” Jon said throatily. “How could I even answer that?”

Damian felt the utter helplessness in Jon’s voice. There was still hesitation, a dam that Jon didn’t want to break. He was still holding it in. Damian didn’t have an answer either, not for the girl, at least. But at least for Jon, he knew something that would help.

“It’s just us, now. You can say what you need to. If you need to cry…that’s okay, too.”

He stared at his knees, hoping that avoiding eye contact would afford Jon some privacy. Damian always felt like crying was an intimately private thing, a state where you were most vulnerable than at any other time of your life. Whenever someone cried he’d had the urge to look away. Only then, it was because he’d wanted to distance himself from that vulnerability. Now, with Jon, he wanted to be part of it, but was afraid he was intruding upon something that was much too personal. Being naked or sleeping would have been less vulnerable and personal than it was to cry.

At first, there was silence. Then Damian heard Jon’s breathing hitch. Jon sniffed, wet and audible. He’d thought Jon would cry like a child, loud and bawling, furiously determined to let the world know and share in their sadness. Instead…Jon wept silently, the tears streaking down his smooth cheeks and his breathing and sniffing the only obvious signs of his sorrow.

It was a dignified kind of crying. Solemn, and deeply regretful. It was not a child’s wail of displeasure, rather, it was a prayer, a wish that this quiet grief was consolation enough for the ones Jon didn’t get to save. His soundless tears were offerings to those that passed, to those whose lives had been rent, a desperate plea to make amends for all the horrors Jon could not stop from happening.

And Damian heard it all, the plea, the prayer, the vow, as Jon sobbed beside him. He felt like he should do something other than sit, and definitely something other than gawk. He had so little experience dealing with such an intimate moment that he knew anything he said would betray him. There were no words. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Jon.

The gesture felt so natural, so right, that Damian wasn’t at all surprised when Jon leaned over and rested his head on Damian’s shoulder. Damian felt the warm mass of his friend’s head pushing down on him, the tears dripping hot and wet. He chalked it up to reflex when he’d grabbed the hem of his cape and wiped Jon’s eyes with it. It was a simple thing, to dry someone’s tears, and yet the sentiment echoed in the somber silence, one that wrapped both boys in an invisible veil of warmth.

“What’s on your mind?” Damian asked after a while.

Jon sniffed deeply and wiped his nose with Damian’s cape. “It’s…all so wrong. I feel this kind of sadness that I can’t even understand. It’s sad, they’re sad, I’m sad. That girl just lost her mom…what if I lost my mom? What about the other moms out there that we don’t see? Just thinking about it makes me choke up.”

“You know we can only save so many,” Damian replied gently.

“I know,” Jon said, somewhat forcefully. His tone was combative, but he only seemed to be quarreling with himself. “It’s stupid for me to feel this way.”

“It’s not stupid,” Damian chided him. “You have the right to your sadness. I’m not here to judge you. I’m not here to tell you to get over it. I’m here to tell you it’s okay to feel what you feel.”

“Doesn’t it bother you, too?” Jon asked after another big sniff.

“I’ve been trained not to,” Damian replied simply. “You’re more in tune with your emotions. That’s why you’re the people person between the two of us.”

That Damian would even admit to any shortcoming was quite a huge deal. Jon just realized Damian was actually complimenting him. He responded by further burying his face in Damian’s shoulder.  

Jon’s tears continued to fall, and in those few seconds of silence, Damian felt the urge to do something more. He couldn’t back out of the intimacy he and Jon shared now. He could only embrace it. This feeling of altruism was so unfamiliar to him that it swept him up in its tide. He wanted to help Jon. He needed to.

“What does your mom do to make you feel better?” Damian asked after a while.

Jon looked up at him with moist eyes. “Well, my mom lets me kiss her cheek. It always made me feel better.”

“How does kissing your mom make you feel better?” Damian asked in genuine confusion. He always thought a child kissing a parent was a form of bribery on the child’s part, that children always actually hated having to kiss adults but only did so to curry favor—they feigned subservience to get presents.

“Kissing is…warm,” Jon explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If I kiss her, I can feel her there, I know she’s there. It’s like I know someone else knows what I’m feeling, and that…cheers me up, I guess.”

“Would you…” Damian began, taking great care to parse his words correctly, and at the same time get over the absurdity of his suggestion, “Would you like to kiss my cheek? I’m not your mother, obviously. But I mean, if it will help you feel better…”

Jon gave Damian an unfathomable expression. His tears had ceased and his brows were neither furrowed nor arched, but in an odd middle ground that seemed to convey every emotion at once. Damian was internally preparing to stiffen, a defensive reaction to what was almost certain rejection. Jon was going to call him out for giving such a weird proposition. It was weird, wasn’t it? Offering a kiss as a remedy for sadness? But then at the same time, Damian argued with himself that it wasn’t weird at all—this was just a way for him to make Jon feel better.

If Damian thought about it, the really weird thing was that he’d even go to such lengths just for Jon. It was so unlike him. Being friends with Jon was peculiar in that he constantly found himself doing things he’d never normally do without question. It didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense because it was for Jon. And because it was for Jon, it felt right. Was that such a weird thing to believe?

Apparently, Jon shared none of these doubts because he leaned in and pressed his lips against Damian’s firm cheek.

It was a child’s kiss—Jon’s lips were puckered and still as they flattened against Damian’s skin. He lingered for just a second and a half, with conscious effort to apply suction, so that his lips parted from Damian with a subtle yet audible pop. The contradicting heat of the contact and the coolness of Jon’s wet lips was all Damian could think about and he didn’t notice his hand coming up to touch the spot where Jon had kissed him until his fingers were already there.

“Do you…feel any better?” Damian asked softly, fingers still on his cheek.

Jon looked up at him. His eyes were still red and moist, but he wore a small but infinitely grateful smile. Damian could already see the tiniest bit of sunshine return to the boy’s face.

“A lot better, thanks, D.”

“No problem, J.”

Jon settled his head back down Damian’s shoulder. He lay there until his breathing relaxed and slowed to a drowsy hum. Damian himself felt exhausted by the whole emotional ordeal and couldn’t help but recline even further so that Jon’s head supported his own. They lay there in the garden, lightly dozing off against that oak tree and leaning on each other for an hour or two. The furtive photographs that Bruce Wayne took of the peacefully sleeping boys when he’d discovered them later became some of Bat family’s most treasured possessions.

**

Neither Damian nor Jon explicitly worded any agreement. It was just one of the many peculiarities of friendships among boys like them that new statutes would be entered in the abstract constitution of their relationship without prior discussion, and both would adhere to this new decree as if it had been there all this time. So from that day on, and in the months that followed, whenever Jon had been stricken with a troubling roil of sadness, Damian would offer his cheek for another little kiss. Jon happily accepted, of course. But in time, it wasn’t just Jon’s spirits that were lifted with every peck—Damian would also get a brief jolt of euphoria that he never found the words for.

The kisses became more frequent as the days wore on. Jon kissed Damian in good times and bad, his happiness now valid criteria to press his soft lips against Damian’s smooth cheeks. When Jon kissed him, Damian had taken to holding Jon’s hand afterward. Jon had adapted immediately, clutching Damian’s hand and lacing his fingers between Damian’s, as if the added heat of their joined hands amplified an invisible pulse of power that served to steady them both.

In truth, there was no reason for the gesture at all. But the boys’ friendship was hardly concerned with rhyme or reason at all anymore—if they both liked it, then it was added to the many little nuances of their bond. They both had their own secret language of gestures and movements, of glances and touches, and hands and kisses that weaved the tight unseen knots of their brotherhood.

The young boy’s excitement soon became another reason for an uplifting peck—Jon once successfully performed a complicated maneuver with Damian, and in his exhilaration, he’d given his friend a kiss. By this time, it was all so natural to Damian that he’d expected it—even wanted it. And the barest inklings of something urgent began prodding his mind. What if he wanted to kiss Jon back?

Damian lost that chance when Jon had inexplicably disappeared one day. The only response Jon’s dad offered was vague and unhelpful at best—Jon was in space to find himself. Back on Earth, Damian felt like he’d lost part of himself. He unconsciously touched his cheek, feeling for that spot where he’d always feel the warmly cool peck of a boy’s kiss. His fingers only touched bare skin that day. There was nothing to touch for months on end.

**

The next time Jon stepped foot on Earth, freshly returned from his cosmic journey of self-discovery, he’d expected a triumphant return. At the very least, he’d expected Damian to be there to greet him. He’d sorely missed his best friend for all of that time, and couldn’t wait to regale Damian with all the fantastic adventures he’d been through.  

Instead, Jon found a distressing lack of Damian in his welcoming committee. He felt numb as parents peppered him with hugs and kisses. Why wouldn’t Damian be there for him? Jon felt upset and extremely dismayed. He felt a strong urge to kiss Damian’s cheek, as he always did when he’d felt sadness like this. But of course, Damian wasn’t there, and his lips were tingling with unfulfilled anticipation.

To say that Dick Grayson dragged Jon by the collar was an understatement. When Jon visited Wayne Manor a few days later, Dick had appraised Jon in a manner that reminded him of this one fairytale with the farmer who owned a goose that laid golden eggs. In this case, Dick was the farmer and Jon was the goose that was about to solve everyone’s problems.

“Finally, you’re back!” Dick exclaimed. He hugged Jon briefly in a tight suffocating embrace only eldest siblings could ever inflict on younger people. “Help us Jonathan Kentobi, you’re our only hope!”

Jon guffawed heartily. Very few could claim to be better than Dick Grayson at making cringe-worthy puns that transcended older brother territory into full-on geeky uncle. Jon had to wipe away tears of laughter from his eyes as Dick put a hand on his back and guided him inside. He’d always loved the Wayne Manor. He’d come by often to have sleepovers with Damian, and more than any other place in the world, the huge mansion had so much character. It was not the decadent ornaments or imported furniture, however—it was the people who lived in it. All of the evidence that Bruce Wayne and his adopted children had ever walked these halls.

“I missed this place,” Jon remarked absentmindedly. He studied a few framed pages of a notebook with sketches of people on it. It was Damian’s earliest works, sketched in boredom on random stationary supplies when during the first few weeks he’d arrived at Gotham years ago.

Dick followed Jon’s gaze. “He misses you too, you know,” Dick said softly.

“I thought he might be mad at me…or something,” Jon said as he shuffled his feet.

“Well…” Dick began, his hand stroking the back of his head, “…you’re not wrong, but when has he ever been happy with something? That’s how we all like our Damian, broody and stirred on the rocks.”

“I like my Damian with smiles and kisses, thanks,” Jon almost said. Instead, he just nodded. He didn’t particularly think his kissing arrangement with Damian was something to hide, but there was a feeling in his gut that wanted it to be a secret, or at least…wanted to believe it was a secret that only he and Damian shared.  

“Though, actually,” Dick continued, “He’s been at Bruce levels of brooding for a while now, and that’s how I figured he misses you. You have an effect on him. I think you’ll be able to help.”

“What…what effect?” Jon asked timidly. His cheeks grew hot under Dick’s knowing look.

“An effect that I want you to keep on…effecting…on him. That’s a word, right?” Dick said thoughtfully as he lightly shoved Jon out of a large glass door. “Go on then. There’s a lonely boy there who needs his best friend.”

Jon found himself back at the garden courtyard where he had first kissed Damian’s cheek, where kissing became part and parcel of their intricate relationship. He heard the crisp swish of something cutting through the otherwise tranquil air. There was a slice, and then another, and then the sound of something disturbing what sounded like a bushel of leaves. Jon walked on in, noticing how the topiary shaped like various animals had gashes and chopped off sections that made it seem that they’d been hunted down by someone wielding a vegan steak knife.

Damian was at the far end of the garden practicing his swordplay. He paused briefly when his eyes met Jon, and for a moment, his mask of concentration slipped. The moment passed, however, and he continued to attack the air in front of him as if he’d not just seen Jon standing there after being gone for months.

Jon was hoping for something dramatic—perhaps Damian would have thrown his sword to the floor and run up to him and…well something. He was hoping for a Damian that was overcome with excitement for his return. Then again, Damian doing absolutely none of that and pretending he didn’t exist was well within his more realistic expectations. He pouted and came closer to Damian.

“So, uh, I wanted you to know I’m back,” Jon began. “I mean, yeah, no duh, you can see me. Er...I mean, I brought cake. It’s not space cake, just regular cake, it’s in the kitchen with Alfred. Wanna have some?”

Damian sparred with the air a few more times before he deigned to respond.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Damian said icily. His voice was a venomous dagger, and the way it sounded like he was accusing Jon of a hundred unsaid wrongs stung the younger boy deeply. Damian might as well have added that he didn’t care if Jon came back or not.

Jon bit his lip as he stepped closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he said as sincerely as he could.

He walked closer still, prompting Damian to shout, “Get away from my training space! You’ll cut yourself.” He slashed the air in Jon’s direction threateningly.

Jon wasn’t the least bit perturbed. His time in space had helped him grow in so many ways. And since much of the time, he was thinking of Damian, he’d grown in how he considered the temperaments of his older yet still shorter friend. That, and how he felt for Damian, and how Damian must feel for him.

Jon approached Damian until he was close enough that Damian could’ve cut him with the sword while standing still.

“Well, too bad, because a half-alien is gonna invade your training space,” Jon said defiantly.

In response, Damian snapped his arm to point the sword right at Jon’s chest.

Both boys stood still for a few seconds in that pose—Jon standing boldly against the tip of Damian’s sword aimed right at his heart. In truth, there was no real danger in the scene. Jon’s Kryptonian invulnerability made him harder than the sword’s steel. Damian could no sooner stab him than he could a mountain. But what mattered was if Damian wanted to in the first place.

Jon stepped forward, and Damian pulled the sword back just a little, inches away from Jon’s shirt. Jon stepped forward again, and Damian pulled the sword back again. Both of them stared each other down with unflinching eyes. Jon walked forward until he was right in front of Damian, the sword having retreated to the point where Damian just dropped it to the floor.

Jon loosely took Damian’s hands into his own. He was heartened by the familiar sensation of Damian’s skin, the small rough patches where callouses had formed. It thrilled him to touch the shape of Damian’s slender fingers and to feel the heat of his palm. Damian didn’t resist, which Jon took as a good sign.

“I’m sorry, D,” Jon said again, his eyes meeting Damian’s glare. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I missed you. All that time I was in space, I wished I could tell you the things I saw and the things I learned. I wanted to share with you everything that happened. I wanted to know what you thought, and what you’d say. I missed you a lot.”

Jon felt the tension in Damian’s palms disappear. It was as if the tightly wound spring that held Damian’s indignation together finally snapped. Muscles relaxed. Damian’s shoulders sagged. Damian looked away, unable to hold eye contact—that or he was overwhelmed by the surge of honesty. Damian’s face was a storm of restrained emotions. He was frowning, his teeth were gritted and his mouth was a thin line. Jon could sense the battle that Damian was waging within himself at that moment—a battle of emotions against the utter unfamiliarity of experiencing them this intensely.

“I thought,” Damian began with an infinitely soft and vulnerable voice, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

It was the same thing he’d growled at Jon from before, but now his voice was anxious and light as a feather. The ice had evaporated, the venom gone. The words were an unrealized terror that Damian still wasn’t sure had already abated. The hurt was scrawled across his face in stark invisible lines almost brighter than blood.

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Jon said just as softly.

He gripped Damian’s hands tighter and thought of the only way he knew to ease his friend’s misery.

“Damian, do you want to kiss me?”

Damian held Jon’s gaze once more, and then nodded.

But before Jon could turn to offer his cheek, Damian had already found his mark—he pressed his lips firmly against Jon’s own.

At first, Jon felt a thousand variations of surprise and shock. He’d never thought Damian would ever—it was a kiss, a real kiss! On his lips! He would be lying if he said he’d never imagined it, but he’d never thought Damian had ever wanted to.  But then any doubt was pushed aside as he was swept up in the sheer emotion behind the thing, the unique urgency of the pressure, the heat of it, the tender texture of Damian’s lips...they all made sense. They had always been leading up to this moment. They were talking about a thousand things without saying anything at all—a silent language of kisses.

They had started with a little kiss. It was a little kiss that became a thousand little ones that led to this moment of warmth, and affection, and honesty. A thousand little kisses became two…just two. Two kisses, from two boys, given in one moment that would last a lifetime.