#today is a great war spiral if you couldn’t tell

[dutchdread]

No offense bro, but why are you always so protective of Cloud? No disrespect to you or anything but I've heard quite a bit of different opinions and theories on Cloud myself and I do agree with the people who say that he takes Tifa for granted. Going through trauma in the past is not really an excuse for his behavior. He also does act like he's the only one who has suffered in his life. Do you have other reason to defend him other than the fact that you "relate" to him? Just wondering.

Sorry for the late reply, my life has basically left no room for hobbies these past months. Your question is hard to reply to because I am not sure what you mean when you say I am protective of him. I guess you mean I defend his actions? Specifically in ACC? Firstly let me state that there is a difference between being a good character and being a nice character, there is also a difference between agreeing with someones actions, or just understanding them. Personally, I never really liked Cloud, especially not when I was younger. A lot of my defense of Cloud doesn't come from me personally liking him, but from me thinking he's a good character. I also think Snape is a good character, but I don't like his actions, and I don't defend them, although I still understand them to a certain degree. I should also say that as I started to understand Clouds character more, I also started liking HIM a bit more, although I still don't like the things he did, and would very likely not be friends with him. But I do understand why he did what he did and cannot be too critical of him because of that. You've probably heard that before you judge someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That's great advice, if you want to judge someone, you should imagine what it would be like to be them, however, I've noticed that too often when people try to walk a mile in someone elses shoes, they refuse to take their own shoes off first. They don't think "what would it be like to be him", they think "what would I do in that position". But Cloud is not you, and you cannot judge him by how you would act, you've not gone through the same things he has, your thought patterns aren't the same etc. This matters because too often I see people judging Clouds actions in ACC, and establishing his motivations by saying things that boil down to "If I were in his position, I would only do those actions if I loved Aerith/didn't love Tifa/whatever". But they're not Cloud, and they're not understanding how Cloud thinks, and that it's different from how THEY think. But like you said, I do see some recognizable elements of myself in Cloud, which is why I do understand his actions, and why I feel relatively certain in defending them, because I see them coming from a good place. It's common for me to react to things in a way that others find counter-intuitive. Let me give you an example, my brother once was mad at me because I had not told him my girlfriend of several years and I had broken up while I did tell a random stranger at the pub. He said that he felt like he wasn't important to me if I told a random stranger but not him. The truth was the exact opposite, I love my brother, and could not bear to face him for some reason, as I told him: "if not caring enough was the problem, then I wouldn't have told a random stranger". I see people exhibit that same lack of understanding when discussing Clouds actions, where they feel like his actions must be the sign of him just being a bad person, or not caring. But ask yourself what is more likely, that Square-enix wants their hero to be a bad person, or that you simply are misunderstanding the character? I understand why people don't get Cloud, Cloud suffers from obvious mental health issues, and mental health issues simply are not something that the general public understands, even today. Not only that, but Cloud went through the most insane series of traumatic events anyone could ever imagine. He had an alien parasite in him, saw his entire town murdered before his eyes, then saw Zack murdered in front of his eyes, then saw Aerith murdered in front of his eyes, and just when he started living a peaceful life he is forced to watch his child succumb to sickness in front of his eyes, and then he finds he himself is dying. All this on the psyche of a man who had had a fear of failure ever since he was a child, spent most of his life essentially in war, and had a severe identity crisis as well. Do you think you can honestly judge him by going "that's not what I would have done"? Would that not be incredibly

presumptuous? Have you suffered from depression as a result of severe post-war PTSD and a lifelong feeling of inadequacy combined with a fear of failure and the belief that many of your loved ones died because you failed and were inadequate? Because that's the context in which you have to view Cloud when watching Advent Children. Saying "Going through trauma in the past is not really an excuse for his behavior" is just incredibly short-sighted, your behavior is determined by who you are, and who you are is determined by what you go through in the past. You can't expect a broken child to become a well-adjusted adult when being a well-adjusted adult is the result of having a normal childhood.

I also don't want to cause offense, but this really is a mindset you should change, because this mindset is one of the most pervasive and damaging ones in our society, it's the one that probably bothers me most when I hear it because it makes zero sense. It's like breaking a robots self-repair unit, and then being angry at it on the grounds that the self-repair unit should have fixed it. It's also very insensitive in general, it's the equivalent of saying "why are you depressed, just stop being depressed", people don't choose to be depressed, people don't choose to have a fear of failure. People don't choose their emotions, they're just there. They can be influenced by behavior over time, sure, but behavior is equally influenced by who you are and your emotions, which, as mentioned before, is determined for a large part by your past. People don't just "snap out of it". They fight and fight and fight, and sometimes they win and break out of the spiral, and sometimes they lose and it breaks them.

FFVII, and especially Advent children, is all about that struggle, and during those struggles you will have high-points, and low-points. FFVII shows all of those. It shows Cloud trying, it shows Cloud wanting, it shows Cloud failing, but it also, ultimately, shows Cloud prevailing. Judging Cloud for not breaking out of the spiral by the time of Advent children, when he was mentally only barely 18 years old, and when he started at the worst place anyone could ever imagine, is just not reasonable. It's the modern day equivalent of "let them eat cake", something that can only be said from the place of privilege of not knowing what the struggles of the people you're critiquing are actually like. So having that out of the way, lets look at Clouds actions from the perspective of Cloud. Cloud is a young boy, and he's in love with the girl next door, he wants to get her to notice him. One day said girl walks up a mountain and he follows, she falls off a bridge and ends in a coma. Cloud followed her because he's in love with her, and he gets the blame from the adults. Cloud internalizes this, and its important to imagine what this must be like for a child, to have the adults all tell him it's his fault that the person he loves ended up hurt. "your fault", "your fault". Afterwards Cloud starts thinking Tifa hates him and starts acting out. I think this is a good moment to point out btw that this child has no father figure. This is the start of his feelings of failure and inadequacy, he blames himself for not being able to protect Tifa, failure number 1, he thinks that if he were strong, he'd be able to protect her, he thinks that if he were like Sephiroth, then even Tifa would have to notice him. Now until this time Cloud is not an asshole, he's a bit of a rebellious kid yes, but notice that he's not a bad kid as much as he's a kid who wants to protect someone, has no direction, and is acting out. So Cloud thinks he's not good enough, but he leaves town confident that he'll become good enough, and even makes a promise to Tifa. All this follows logically from what we know about Cloud, and tells us a lot about how deeply seated these feelings are. Becoming Soldier wasn't a small thing, not some small passion project that he just came up with one day, it's the result of the things that happened in his childhood and he left everything behind make it so. He told the girl he loved, he promised, he boasted. And then he failed. Failure number 2. He comes back to Nibleheim and can't bear to look Tifa in the eye and admit that he couldn't do it, that he's a failure. His entire life so far has revolved around this and he wasn't good enough. So here we have Cloud, not in a great mindset, thinking he's a failure, and what happens? His entire town is murdered by the person he admired, someone he worked with. His Mother is killed, and Tifa, the girl he PROMISED to protect, gets slashed open so badly that apparently she needed to have her ribcage reinforced with metal. I think we can all agree that this by itself would be enough to potentially scar a person for life. (Cloud, not Tifa XD) So what's next for the boy who left town in order to become a hero? Well, he gets captured and experimented on for 4 years, during which his mind and sense of identity is bombarded with memories and knowledge of the lifestream in the form of mako, muddying up his thoughts. Cloud already had a weak sense of self as a result of his childhood, it's why he failed to enter Soldier and now this distaste for who he is makes him extra susceptible to Jenovas influence. The next thing Cloud sees, (he didn't consciously experience the 4 years of mind-fuckery) is his best friend getting killed trying to protect him, because Cloud wasn't strong enough. Failure #3. At this point, in Clouds mind the list of people dead because he could not protect them, because he's a failure, include his mother, his entire town, his best friend, and as far as he knows, the girl he loves. This is his life. His mind is broken, he hates himself, he doesn't want to be himself,

he has a mind-altering parasite inside of him trying to adjust his identity and Clouds just goes "I reject this reality and constitute my own". And why wouldn't he? Why wouldn't he want to live in a fantasy world where he wasn't a failure, where he made it into soldier, where he was cool and successful and not a disappointing failure? Zack tells him to be his living legacy and Cloud goes with it, then he runs into Tifa, Jenova adjusts Cloud further based on Tifas memories of them and rejoined with the girl for whom he joined Soldier Cloud is unconsciously all too willing to play the part. FFVII starts and it doesn't take long for the cracks in his fake persona to show, he meets Aerith, and becomes her bodyguard. He gets to be the hero he always wanted to be. But then, even as "Cloud strife, soldier first class", Cloud is still a failure, the plate still drops, killing thousands, he gives Sephiroth the black materia, he beats up Aerith, and ultimately, fails to save her as well. Tifa was the First Failure, and Aerith was the Final Failure. Even as a soldier, Cloud still couldn't save anyone, he loses even more faith in himself, he doesn't know who he is, he doesn't trust himself, and then when he also loses Tifas trust in who he is, he just breaks and gives over to Jenova/Sephiroth. Even Hojo calls him a failure. Cloud feels like a nobody. Now mentally weakened, under the influence of jenova cells, he gives Sephiroth the black materia AGAIN, and meteor is summoned. Another entry on the long list of moments Cloud can look back on in shame later on in life. He falls into the lifestream and again his psyche is under attack. We know what happens afterwards, Tifa finds him, cares for him, and saves him through his feelings for her. Cloud realizes who he is, realizes he's weak, and goes after Sephiroth without lying to himself. In the end he defeats Sephiroth mentally and is supposedly rid of his direct influence.

But that doesn't mean that this mentally 17 year old is now fine, we should remember these events when analyzing ACC. Cloud has been in constant fighting/war/peril ever since he left home as a child, and is now a traumatized 17 year old in a 21 year olds body. Novels and other materials give us an insight into how Cloud thinks during these times, and how he thinks about himself. We hear him say that he's going to live because that's the only way he can atone for his sins. He talks about wanting to change, and about believing he can change because he now has Tifa. He's a man (boy) who just exited war, and wants to be positive, but is still clearly blaming himself. We see that this initially goes well, we are told that Cloud experiences peace and happiness that he's never experienced before. We're also told about the things that make it go badly, when he has to deliver flowers to the ancient city for instance. While Cloud regained the sense of who he was the belief that he wasn't good enough, that he was a failure, was never solved, if anything it was put on hold until he got his memories back, and now he is forced to deal with it.

While he is no longer directly manipulated by Sephiroth he's still suffering from PTSD and, most notably, survivors guilt. He blames himself for the deaths of Zack and Aerith in particular, and starts visiting the church. Now most people might think it's natural to avoid places that make you feel bad about yourself, but that's not how a depressed person thinks, Cloud thinks he deserves to feel badly he WANTS to punish himself, he WANTS to feel bad. He's ashamed of the moments where he's carefree and laughing with Tifa. Why should he get to be happy when Aerith and Zack are dead because of him? He shouldn't be happy, he should be in pain, he should remember them, not doing so would be an insult to their memories, he must never forget how he failed them! That's how Cloud is thinking. We know of course that this is non-sense, Aerith and Zack wouldn't want this, if anything it's this mindset that is tarnishing the memories of Aerith and Zack, but that's not how a mentally unwell person thinks. Cloud wants to atone, and thinks he finds salvation in Denzel, whom he finds at Aeriths church. He thinks that by saving this life, he can, in some way, make up for all the death he caused. Tifa has a similar belief when she finds out Denzels parents died in the plate crash. And when Denzel joins the family, and Cloud has path towards redemption in his mind, things start getting better again. Because this is the cause of the problems Cloud is having in ACC. When Nojima says:

first off, there’s the premise that things won’t go well between Tifa and Cloud, and that even without Geostigma or Sephiroth this might be the same

This is the conflict he's talking about, he's not saying "Tifa and Cloud are incompatible, it has nothing to do with Sephiroth", he's saying "if Sephiroth didn't show up during Advent children, Cloud and Tifa would still be having problems because Cloud is going through survivors guilt."

But the good times don't last, Denzel has Geostigma and Cloud cannot find a cure, Denzel....is going to die. Cloud, has failed again. Not only that, but Cloud catches Geostigma....Cloud is going to die. And THIS is why Cloud leaves in Advent children. And you have to look at this as Cloud. Cloud said he was going to live to atone for his sins, but instead he's going to die. He won't atone for his sins, even worse, he's going to leave Tifa and Marlene behind. He failed again. He couldn't protect Denzel, he potentially brought an infectious disease into their house as well. Literally all Cloud can think about is that literally everything he's ever tried has ended in failure, everyone he's ever tried to protect, he's failed at. Do you understand how easy it would be for a person like this to fall into the trap of thinking "I deserve to die", "I don't want Tifa and Marlene to see me die", "Tifa and Marlene are better off without me anyway", "they'd be happier if I weren't here". Etc. Now we know this is nonsense, but come on, how many instances have you heard of depressed people genuinely believing that their loved ones would be happier and better off if they just didn't exist? However, throughout the movie, Zack, Tifa, and Aerith, all confront Cloud, and urge him to not give up. Cloud eventually does try again, and ultimately finds redemption not by being stuck in the past, but by letting the past rest and be beautiful (a lesson Cleriths unfortunately never learned). "I never blamed you you know, not once" "I want to be forgiven. By who?" "Isn't it about time you did the forgiving?" In the end, Cloud moves on, and therefore, so do Zack and Aerith. Aerith and Zack walk into the light, Cloud plants flowers on Zacks grave, and lets Zacks buster sword rest in Aeriths church, now no longer rusting, but shining. Instead of the past being a negative reminder, Cloud lets the past be beautiful. Cloud was doing Aerith and Zack a disservice by remembering them the way he did, because it was ruining his life, it wasn't a good thing, but it did come from a good place, from a good man whose ashamed of not being good enough. Yes, it harmed Tifa, people going through these things often do hurt those around them, but it's not because they're bad people, or even weak, but because people are imperfect and Cloud has gone through hell, both internally, and externally. Are his actions really that weird or deplorable? "He didn't even go save the kids!" Yes, he's hesitant about saving the kids, why shouldn't he be? Everyone Cloud tried to protect or save, ended up maimed or worse, or as Cloud puts it: "I can't even save myself". "He left Tifa alone!" Yes, he thinks he's going to waste away and die, can you blame him for not wanting to put Tifa through that and for thinking she'd be better off without him? "He drinks!" Wouldn't you?! Who wouldn't want to forget that stuff? But in the end, He's only gone for about a week, he never intended to harm Tifa, he never physically harmed Tifa or cheated on her, his entire life revolved around wanting to be better for Tifa and blaming himself when he wasn't good enough, how is it reasonable to say this man takes Tifa for granted when the fact that he thinks he has to BE BETTER in order to be worthy of being with her has been a constant throughout his entire life and story? He DOESN'T take Tifa for granted, that's why he's beating himself up, that's why he leaves, not because he thinks he's better than her, or that he'll always have her, or that she'll follow him like a dog, or something like that. But because of the opposite, because he thinks HE is not good enough, that SHE would be better of without him. Saying Cloud takes Tifa for granted, is honestly, simply, wrong. It's 180 degrees the opposite of what is happening in FFVII, the biggest constant in Clouds life, is that he doesn't take Tifa for granted, and I don't understand how anyone could argue otherwise.

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 2

[NSFW]

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Part 1:

MINORS

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, wet dreams, mature themes, implied intercourse, swearing, UP TO CHAPTER 16 SPOILERS

Author’s Note:

You already know what I’m about to say 😅 I am very sorry for the delay. Work’s a doozy and I get stressed easy but.. I hope these are worth the wait!! Please enjoy ❤️

- DevildomDoofus

💖Asmodeus:

This day was rather an exhausting one for Asmodeus. Not enough people groveled at his feet as they normally did, he had a multitude of wardrobe malfunctions, and he just couldn’t quite get his hair to stay in place after he struggled for hours, earlier that morning, to get it just the way he imagined. On top of all of that, you were so busy keeping his brothers out of your hair that you couldn’t quite make enough room in your schedule for him. No, he didn’t blame you in the least, it was just frustrating because, on days like this, you were his sanctuary. You meant the world and more to him and whenever he was feeling out of it, you were right there to remind him just how amazing he really was. However, today.... he was meant to take care of himself.

No matter! He had a backup ‘chin up, Asmo’ kit waiting for him when he returned to the House of Lamentation and he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, get in the way. Once inside the house, he made a beeline for his room, put a Do Not Disturb sign on his door, and shut himself away with a click of the lock to ensure that he was certainly NOT going to be disturbed. He stripped himself all the way down to bare skin, dipped into his bathroom, and turned the knobs of his bathtub to the temperature that he enjoyed most. Then, he turned the radio to one of his favorite music stations, dimmed the lights, and lit a handful of scented candles before he finally slid down into the tub and sank low enough so that the bubbles tickled his nose. His eyelids felt too heavy to hold up any longer so he let them close as he let out a breath that he felt as if he had carried it all day. The heated water eroded the tension in his muscles and the sound of bubbles popping and music playing in the distance kept his mind from drifting too far down into a spiral. A waft of his favorite scented candle crept up to his nose and from its serene aroma, as well as the effects of the other combined therapeutic items, he was finally able to shrug away all remaining traces of the stress in his mind and body.

After his much needed bath and his before-bed beauty ritual, Asmo slips between the satin sheets of his bed and before too long, drifts peacefully into slumber.

As the Avatar of Lust, his dreams were no different than his life living with his sin; the adoring crowds, the self-idolization, manipulation, and, it goes without saying, the sex. Not much changes in the dreamworld when you’re practically living it in your waking world. However, this particular dream was unlike any he’s ever had before, and it was all because of you.

In this dream, he was a prince renowned for his looks, for his charms, and, of course, for his riches. But he had grown apart from that lifestyle and such a reputation was a tiresome thing, as it made it rather difficult in finding a proper romance partner that wasn’t after him for his looks or money. He wanted someone that loved and wanted him for who he was deep down. That is why he snuck away to a masquerade ball in disguise, in hopes of finding said partner. He spent a majority of the night talking with some people, dancing with others, and trying his damndest to find his future spouse but to no avail. He began to give up hope and with such a loss comes his indulgence of his sin, in which he finds the nearest and worthiest soul to charm, slip them away from prying eyes, and do whatever each of them pleased.

That is, until one peculiar stranger approached him, gently extended their hand, and asked him without words for a dance. He tilted his head in question, a bit hesitant, as so few ever dared to approach him first. They were either far too intimidated or in awe of him that they waited until he approached them.

The stranger smiled beneath the mask, their eyes giving it away, and they dipped their torso low in a respectful bow, so that they may communicate that they truly mean no harm, while keeping their hand extended in invitation. Asmodeus’ lips give way to a pleased smile and he gingerly takes the stranger’s hand as they lead the way to the dance floor. For hours upon hours, song after beautiful song, they whirled and spun in perfect unison as the crowd surrounding them gave way to their joyous dances. The chemistry was unmatched and Asmodeus was overjoyed, as he felt he had finally found his one, true partner. He simply had to know who they were.

Before the next song could play, he took their hand and lead them into an empty hallway where they may share their identities without nosey onlookers. Once out of sight, he brought his fingers up to the mask that concealed the strangers face and looked into their eyes in question, hoping that they permit him to do away with it. The stranger nods and Asmo proceeds, pulling the mask ever so slowly from their face and suddenly, Asmo’s mouth flies open with a gasp and he drops the mask to the floor. It was you.

“MC...?!” He pries his own mask away and looks at you in the same way an artist looks at their own masterpiece after years of hard work. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around you, tightly. You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around him and smiling from ear to ear. He parts from you only to cup your face in his hands and in a whisper he says, “I’ve searched for you for so long.” You smile warmly at him with a twinkle in your eye, replying “I’ve been looking for you too,” and he can longer restrain himself. He crashes his lips flush against yours in a desperate and hungry kiss. He‘s reluctant to let either of you breathe as he‘s pressing himself against you further, closing the distance between your back and the nearest wall. “I’ve searched for you,” he pants between kisses, “for so damn long.” He moves down to your neck, letting his teeth graze the skin before he sinks them down and licks the bite. The noises that you emitted due to his actions made his knees weak. With his lips close to your ear, he practically whines, “Please, may I have you?” You grab him by the collar, tug him back to look you in the eyes and with a hunger of your very own, you commanded, “Take me, Asmodeus. I am yours.”

He sweeps you off of your feet and into his cradling arms, carrying you to the nearest empty room to give you everything that you desired. With the door shut and locked behind you, he was back onto your lips in a matter of seconds, only this time, he was much more patient. He had finally found you, someone he was going to love far greater than he loved himself, and here you were in all of your unbridled glory, asking for him and him alone. Not for his money, not for his looks nor reputation... you wanted him for who he was and he could feel that as he danced with you, in the way that you kissed him, and would soon feel as your bodies became one. And by Diavolo, he was going to take his sweet time getting there. He paced himself, slowly stripping you of all of your clothing as well as all of his own, and kissed every inch of skin he uncovered of yours, starting from your neck and all the way down to the tops of your feet. He praised you as he went, not letting a moment go by without him practically singing your name and the glory that came with it. He snaked his way back up your body and, for the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning, made love to you in the most beautiful ways, eliciting your sweet melodies of pleasure that he shan’t ever forget for as long as he lives.

Just as he was beginning to whisk you away to his very own castle to marry you, he wakes up. He whips his head around and you were nowhere to be seen, nor was he taking you to his castle to wed you. It was simply him alone in his room. He huffs out of frustration that it was all just a dream... but then he smiles widely with a giggle, bringing a pillow up to cover his reddening cheeks because the dream was unlike anything he’s ever dreamt before, or ever experienced in real life for that matter. And that experience was love. Not lust, romanticization, idolization, or a sorcerer looking for a pact. It was pure love. He simply had to tell you about this dream. He texts you to “come over right away! It’s an emergency! Be sure to come alone. ❤️”

Once you’re there, he sets the both of you down onto his bed, where he usually talked things over with you, snuggles up close to you and relays everything that happened in the dream... EVERYTHING. He didn’t leave out a single detail. To say that your cheeks could melt steel by the end of his storytelling, was an understatement. For the next few days, Asmodeus was like a barnacle on a boat. He never left your side and couldn’t stand being away from you for too long. He also was a little more protective of you against his brothers or anyone else that wanted your attention. He wasn’t having it. For now and maybe perhaps forever, you were Asmo’s, like the masquerade partner you were in his dreams.

❤️Beelzebub:

As a demon, and living in the Devildom, you just don’t really get to have many ‘good’ days considering the whole ‘sin’ thing and fighting in The Great War and then falling because of it and all that jazz. However, today was an exception for dear Beelzebub. He had eaten his favorite meals all day, was lucky enough to spend an exceptional amount of time with you and Belphegor throughout the day, won a championship game of Fangol (devildom football) against the toughest opposing team, and finally had enough remaining energy to celebrate his big win with a surprise house party involving one of his absolute, all-time favorite meals catered by you and Barbatos... human world cheeseburgers. And it wasn’t even his birthday! He’d have to mention this to his brothers to coerce them into doing some like this for when his special day came around but.. ya know... bigger. Oh! And don’t forget Belphegor’s favorite foods too.

The party lasted for hours on end as each brother spent an extended period of time congratulating him on his victory in between moments of him shoveling the food into his mouth, singing his praises for every move and tactic he used in the game that kept them at the edge of their seats, and hyping him up for the next game to follow in which they were confident in him bringing them another victory. Eventually, everyone’s batteries especially Lucifer’s had run out and the time for celebration had come to a close.

Lucifer sent the elder brothers and yourself to your rooms as he stayed behind to help Barbatos clean, as well as monitor Beelzebub while he finished scarfing down the last scraps of food and downing the final glasses of Demonus. “You played well today, Beelzebub,” Lucifer praised, as he cleared away the empty dishes surrounding Beel and the slumbering twin that rested on his shoulder. “I’m quite proud of you.” He paused for breath. “Then again,” he quipped, “I expected no less from you.” Beelzebub tried his best to flash his dimpled smile with his cheeks puffy with food before swallowing it whole, followed by an audible gulp, and chuckled. “Thank you, Lucifer. That means a lot to me.” Lucifer returned the smile, shifted some dishes from one hand to another in order to use the free one to ruffle a bit of Beel’s hair before he stepped away. By now, Belphegor shifted against his brother and mumbled incoherently. Fortunately, Beelzebub spoke Sloth and knew it was finally time to call it a day and take his twin to bed. He grabbed a final cheeseburger and stuffed it between his teeth, squatted low enough to allow Belphegor to climb sluggishly onto his back like a koala, and started towards their room with a light skip in his step. “What a day,” he thought to himself on repeat, all while tucking his brother in and getting ready for bed himself. As he turned the lights out and finally laid down, he gazed up at the ceiling with a dimpled grin on his face and let his thoughts venture towards you before finally closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Of course, they always did ever since you held his hand to help him fall asleep way back when. And since you couldn’t always be there every single night to help him fall asleep again, he had to think of you as an alternative.

When it comes to his resting, unconscious mind, Beelzebub has four different reoccurring dreams.

He’s living an absolute carefree life with his entire family (including his late sister), not bound by sin or Diavolo, and experiencing paradise in its truest form with the ones he loves

It’s an everlasting, all-you-can-eat, buffet, catered by Barbatos, Luke, and you (with your human world cheeseburgers)

He’s reliving the terror of having to watch his sister get struck down and die. Sometimes he loses Belphegor and/or you too, and, if he’s really unlucky that night, he loses absolutely everyone he’s closest to. His sister, his brothers, you, Luke, Simeon...

Some fortunate or unfortunate combination of any of the above.

However, Lady Fortune continued to smile upon dear, sweet Beelzebub and tonight, he was going to experience a dream unlike any he’s had before.

It commenced with you and him taking a trip to the human world so that you could show him a few of your favorite eateries, restaurants, cafes, bakeries, and the like. Of course, Belphegor came along and was lingering close by, window shopping at furniture stores as they usually had the best products for maximum comfort. You first took them to a coffee shop and showed them all the delicious things they could buy. It took some major convincing (and elbow grease and the help of a twin demon) to pull Beelzebub away from the glass, encasing the baked goods, to keep him from drooling on it. Next, you ventured to a nearby ‘ma-and-pa’ bakery where the goods were stocked to the edge of the shelves with various handmade loafs, muffins, cupcakes and cakes, cookies, croissants. You name it, you smell it, and it was there. With stars in his eyes and zero restraint, Beelzebub slapped his wallet onto the counter and pleaded for as much of their inventory as the shop owner allowed. You two left the bakery with both arms carrying bags up to your elbows and giant grins on your faces. After breezing by a number of other food joints, you finally came to the crowning moment that you’ve been dying to show Beelzebub. The local candy shop. His eyes grew to the size of the sun and his mouth swung open as he gawked at the wonderland of hypnotizing colors and towering walls covered in sweets just beyond the window. Belphegor sighed, shook his head with a smirk and mumbled, “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He took the bags you two were carrying and sat on a nearby bench. Seeing Beelzebub unable to contain his excitement, you nodded to Belphie, took a firm hold of Beel’s hand with a big grin, and led him in.

You started off by showing him the taffy puller where the employees kept watch over the machine as it looped the taffy over and under. Then, you brought him over to the cotton candy machine as an employee was twirling the little ball of fluff into an adorable bunny. Finally, you brought him to the wall of candy where you could grab a bag of whichever size you prefered and stuff it to the brim with goodies. Of course, you handed him a couple of the largest bags they had available and off he went in search of a multitude of sweets. You, yourself grabbed a medium sized bag. When he returned to you, his bags were bloated and almost spilling out over the top but Beel simply couldn’t help himself. They all seemed so delicious. What you didn’t know is that he had a little surprise for you whenever you two left the shop.

Once the three of you returned to the House of Lamentation, Belphegor lazily saluted and headed off to the attic, whereas you and Beelzebub had some major snacking to do.

Sitting in the floor of his room, you took your time sharing sweets amongst each other and complimenting their sugary goodness... until he sealed his bags up, slid them away, and scooted closer to you. You eyed him in curiosity, unsure of his wellbeing considering he stopped eating so suddenly. “MC, I wanted to thank you for today and wanted you to know how much it meant to me...” He inches closer, knees touching yours. “...so, I got you something.” He held up a couple of boxes of Pocky, each in a different flavor. “Pick one.” You tapped on the box with your favorite flavor, and he set aside the remaining ones. Pulling out one of the sticks, he hovers the tip of it just outside the immediate reach of your lips. “Say ahh,” he requested, demonstrating by opening his own mouth. Your lips parted with an ‘ahh’ and he tucks one end of the Pocky stick between his teeth and placed the other end in your mouth. As your cheeks heat up and you look back and forth between his eyes in question, you spot a smirk making its way to his face and he takes a swift bite of the Pocky to keep you focused on him rather than letting go and backing away. You attempt to mirror his act by taking a trembling nibble of the Pocky, inching yourself closer to him, to his lips. He takes a bigger bite than before, rapidly closing the distance between you two. Before long, you’re but a mere half an inch apart and you shut your eyes as you consider just letting go before things could go any further. With the Pocky still between his teeth, he chuckles lowly and “look at me,” he demands. As your eyes open to meet his, he smirks and bites off the last bit of Pocky, lifts a hand up and cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, flavorful kiss. His tongue slithers past your lips and chases after the taste of the Pocky that still lingered in your mouth. Meanwhile, he’s lowering you down onto your back and shifts in a way to keep you pinned beneath him. Your whimpers and moans keep stirring the flames inside of him, engulfing every other thought that isn’t you and this newfound hunger for something oh so sweet. He slinks down your body and strips you of your clothes as he goes, leaving little bruises and bite marks in the bits of flesh he uncovers. “I could just swallow you whole...” He reaches a hand down between your legs, swipes a bit of yourself onto his fingertips and drags his tongue along it, savoring the taste of you. “Fuck MC...”

Before he could do as he very much pleased, the intense growl of his empty stomach startled him awake. He is an absolute blushing MESS and the sheets of his bed have somehow become uncomfortable for his lower half. He looks over at his brother, hoping that he’s still asleep. Thankfully, the sound of a gentle snore confirmed it and Beelzebub tiptoed into the bathroom to cool down.

The following weeks, Beelzebub had a hard time avoiding you, bearing in mind that you were a big eater similar to him, and like him, wherever there was food or snacks, you were there too. It’s one of the reasons he used to feel so comfortable around you. However, the very reason for one of his comforts was the same reason it was harder in more ways than one for him to keep his cool around you because he couldn’t quite that sinfully amazing dream out of his head. You unknowingly made things more difficult whenever you offered him a handful of candy as his stomach growled around you. It brought that cherry red blush back to his entire face and he would make an excuse to go back to his room... and you could never figure out why. Was it the flavor? The gesture itself? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? You got around to asking Belphegor and with a shrug of his shoulders, he replied “maybe he had a dream where he ate candy off of your body?” Your cheeks heated up at the thought and you tried to laugh it off, dismissing the idea. Still... just the thought of it kept you up many, many nights. If only such a thing would come true...

💜Belphegor:

Lucifer was NOT giving him a break. How could he expect The Avatar of Sloth to handle so many responsibilities that go against his very nature? Like waking up in general to go to school, staying awake during classes, completing assignments, kitchen duty, attending whatever event Diavolo was hosting simply because Lucifer said so... I mean, it was all TOO much. It was the same situation as if one were to ask Beelzebub to stop eating, or Satan to stop reading, or any of the other brothers to just toss their sins and means of survival into the trash and pretend they don’t have them, all for some goofy prince who decided it was ‘perfectly fine’ to bring different realm dwellers down into the devildom to be buddy-buddy, like there wasn’t a huge, gaping scar diving them all in the first place. Then again... two of them aren’t all that bad. Simeon is an old ‘friend of the family’ and MC... Well? MC is Lilith MC. And they were the warm light at the end of this bleak, never ending tunnel. The thin shred of hope in the world. And he was going to show them how much they meant to him in the best way that he knew how, while also giving Lucifer a headache in the process.

Belphegor plops down beside you at the large desk you two shared before the class could start. He glances around, noticing that the assigned teacher hadn’t shown up yet nor were any of the other classmates, and it was the perfect time to put his plan into action. He hooks his foot around one of the legs of your chairs and slides you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear without much effort. “Let’s ditch this shit hole.” You could feel the smirk against the lobe of your ear and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. With a heavy sigh, you glared at him and could tell from the twinkle in his caverns of amethyst that it was going to be an uphill battle to change his mind. “C’mon, goody two shoes. We won’t be gone long.” A blatant lie. “Belphegor, you know as well as I do that I can’t do that.” You were trying your best to stand firm, undeterred by his attempts at coercing you in hopes that his laziness would make its grand appearance and he’d give up. But not this time. This time, Belphegor had something he wanted to do for you and he wasn’t about to give up. “MC...,” he places a warm hand on your upper thigh, giving it a light squeeze as he leans in to the skin just below your ear with his lips grazing it, “what’s the matter? Afraid Lucifer will find out and tear you a new one?” He shifted his free hand to the bottom of your chair and jerks it around for your body to face his direction, his lips now very close to your own. He brings the hand from the chair up to your face and holds your chin snug between his index and thumb. Your face heats up enough that it could melt lava and your body tenses. You hear him chuckle lowly to himself, amused by how worked up you become from his actions. “What if he’s too busy nagging me to pay any attention to you? Hm? Worst comes to worst, we can just knock it up to you being ignorant of my...,” he pauses, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip while stealing a glance at them, then looks back up to you, “advances... and he lets you off the hook? What do you say to that, MC?” Your mind was empty and his hands on your body were making it difficult to even comprehend his proposal. You could only think of the low rumble of his voice and whatever the hell it was saying was probably going to come back to bite you in the ass later. However, something about the way he said it, the way he teased you in a such a way to get what he wanted... it was hard saying no.

You slowly nod your head, and the hands that once pinned you in place from the gentlest of touches released you a little too quickly. “Great!” he chirped in victory, standing up from his chair and offering his hand to you. You shot him another glare and reluctantly took his hand with an annoyed squeeze to his fingers. “Not for long. Promise?” He giggled, scooping you up into his arms bridal style. “No. Now act sick until we get to the attic. Don’t want anyone thinking there’s nothing wrong with you and you don’t need a day off.” You crossed your arms in a huff, feeling humiliatingly duped. But the way he was holding you made you feel a little bit better about it all, taking into account how much he truly cared for you and teasing you was just his cheeky way of showing it, while also getting whatever it is he wanted. With that in mind, you curled into his embrace and fully indulged in his scheme, letting out a few test trial, fake coughs and thought of something that distressed you to get the tears going... mostly for the runny nose and puffy eye effect. “Careful. Too great a performance and they’ll be badgering Diavolo to revive you in exchange for their soul.” You reeled back with your outermost arm and sent a heavy blow to his chest. “Kidding,” he laughed. “...sort of.”

Once you two make it behind the door of the attic with a quick turn of the lock, he sets you back down onto your feet and stretches his arms out followed by an audible yawn. “You almost had Mammon shift into his demon form over you. Great job.” he quipped. “Yeah, and I hated every second of it. Can we just nap already? All the crying and fake coughing tuckered me out,” you retorted. “Sure, I’ll grab our favorite blankets,” he said, ducking away to go get them. “And I’ll get the pillows and stuffed creatures.”

You separated for a moment to gather the necessities, tossed them onto the bed, and then huddled up to snuggle close beneath the mountain of comfort. You hooked a leg over his waist and he slid one between your legs, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and he draped one of his over your side, nuzzling his face into your chest. “‘night MC... and thank you.” he mumbled. You placed a chaste kiss to the top of his head and replied, “You’re welcome, Belphie. Sleep tight.” “You too.” And with your bids of sweet sayonara, you drift off into a deep slumber, one that only clinging to The Avatar of Sloth could provide.

One of the perks of being said Avatar of Sloth is that he can visit other people’s dreams, especially if he shares a strong connection with the host. Whenever you shared naps together, he’d sneak his way into your dream world and your mind was like a shared secret hideout because it was the only place you two could be alone for extended periods of time. It was also your own wonderland because he could make ANYthing happen. You wanted to fly amongst the stars? He’d take your hands and lift you both into the atmosphere. You wanted to become your favorite human world creature? He’d snap his fingers and away you two would scurry off. Whatever it was that you wished, he could make it happen within your unconscious mind. However, this go around, Belphie had a wish of his very own and one that he hoped you would grant.

Once he snuck into your dreams, he soon spotted you laid back peacefully upon a cloud, reaching your hand up to rearrange the stars in different shapes and patterns. He noticed you had made one of him and yourself, holding hands. The smile that crept onto his face was impossible to hide, no matter how hard he tried to come off as cold or indifferent. “Always knew you had an artistic streak in you.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, sitting up and clutching your chest. “That was fast,” you breathed. “A warning would be nice.”

“Why? I wouldn’t be able to get such a cute reaction out of you if I did.” He floated towards you and hoisted himself up to his place beside you on the cloud. “How charming,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own, earning yourself a light chortle from him. “So,” you continued, “what shall we do this time? Sail some open seas as pirates? Rob a bank as outlaws in the old west? Or maybe-.” He places a hand over your mouth and shakes his head with his shoulders jumping in light laughter. “You seem to forget who I am, silly. I say we continue from where you left off before you were so rudely interrupted, hm?” He lays back onto the cloud and pulls you down next to him. Then, he takes your hand by the wrist and lifts it back up to the stars and starts moving your fingers in different motions so that you’re creating various works of art as you had been before. Getting the picture, you giggle and continue moving your fingers to shape the stars with him watching you in adoration... but he’d never tell you he did so. At some point you make a cow and point it out to him, laughing at your own joke referring to him in his demon form. “See? The resemblance is astounding!” He smirks, sitting up and looking down at you. “Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone hinting towards a playful threat. “Yeah!” you swat at him.

That was your mistake.

He grips your wrist with one hand and rolls over top of you, taking your other hand and pinning both of them above your head. He trails his free hand from your face, down your side and rests it on your hip, keeping you in place beneath him. Your skin twitches under his gentle touch and your face heats up again as your breath becomes hitched in your throat. “N-not fair...” you whined, squirming and trying your best to get the upper hand. He shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Still forgetting who I am, MC?” He leans down towards your ear, his lips grazing the lobe. He practically growls in your ear, “I don’t play fair.” His gripping on you tightens as he moves lower to sink his teeth down onto your neck, earning him a soft whimper, one that spurs him on further. He snakes his hand from your hip beneath your shirt and runs it up and down your sides as he moves his lips to yours, giving them a bite every so often while occasionally slipping in his tongue. For the rest of the dream he is having his way with you and making your wildest fantasies become reality.. as much as your dreamworld allowed.

When he wakes, he opens his eyes to an empty spot beside him where you normally laid. He sits up, scratching his head and finding a new sense of uncomfortableness beneath the blankets, particularly at his groin. He searches the room for you but you’re nowhere in sight. “MC?” You pop your head around the corner of the bathroom doorway, weariness still in your eyes. “hmmm, yes Belphie?” As you switch off the light and shuffle back to the bed, slipping back underneath the blankets, he’s eyeing you in suspicion. “When did you wake up?” He asks, a gravel to his voice from such a deep slumber. “Well, as you were watching me paint with stars, my body woke me up because I had to use the bathroom...” you paused a moment in thought. “Did I miss something in dreamworld?” He ponders your statement for a second, unsure of how to respond. What it be so bad if he was just honest and told you what happened between him and.. what was supposed to be you? “Yes, you did.” he smirked, “You painted a cow and said it looked like me.” “Haha, classic MC,” you quipped about yourself.

The remainder of your time playing hooky, you were the big spoon and his excuse was that it was more comfortable this way now. Unfazed, you snuggled up behind him and snaked your arm under his to place your hand against his chest. Only this time, he couldn’t sleep. Him. Mr. Sandman. Couldn’t sleep. His mind was reeling, constantly going over the way your body moved against his, how your voice and sounds were like lewd melodies to his ears, and the way you made him feel on another level... it kept him and his lower half up for as long as you were snuggled close to him and had your hand so close to his heart. However, the memory of the dream would last for eternity.

[sonoftatooine]

Whumptober 2021

DAY 4: ‘TRUST FALL’ - TAKEN HOSTAGE

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Wilhuff Tarkin, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Bail Organa (mentioned), Obi-Wan Kenobi (mentioned)

Summary: Rebel AU - Instead of falling to the Dark Side, Anakin resists Palpatine’s manipulations, but not without consequences. With Padmé dead, he flees Coruscant, raising their two children in the fledgling Rebel Alliance. However, Palpatine has not forgotten about them. Several years later, Anakin is presented with an ultimatum - give himself up to the Empire or he’ll never see Luke and Leia again.

***

"Anakin Skywalker."

The voice of Moff Wilhuff Tarkin crackled with static as it was played through the holoprojector Anakin had cradled in his hand, his glitching image another flicker of light against the deep blue of hyperspace beyond the viewport of the ship that he had...borrowed without permission from the hangar of the new rebel base that they had set up less than a week past. By now, the message was as familiar to him as those blue lights outside; he had played and replayed it so many times. Every inflection of that smug voice, every minute change in expression on that gaunt face. But no matter the pain it caused him, he couldn't stop himself from watching it over and over, as if this time it would be...it would be—

He didn't know what it would be.

"The Emperor demands your presence," Tarkin continued. Anakin had to fight the urge to clench his durasteel hand into a fist, to crush the holoprojector into dust, as he had once on Kiros when confronted with the presence of the Zygerrian slaver on the planet. "For too long, you have evaded capture. I'm afraid that ends today."

The image jumped and stuttered as two small figures were pulled into the frame. A sob caught in Anakin's throat. Luke and Leia, their small wrists trapped in Force suppressing cuffs. Luke's eyes were full of tears, Leia's full of fury. But no matter how fierce her glare, he could tell she was terrified. They were both terrified.

"You have three standard days to come to the Mustafar system," Tarkin said, thin lips twisting into a small, cruelly satisfied smile. "Alone, unarmed. If you wish your children to remain unharmed, you will comply. Fail to do so in any regard, and you shall never see them again."

Beside him, the tears in Luke's eyes began to spill out onto his round cheeks as he frantically shook his head. Some of Leia's fear began to melt through her mask of anger, dark eyes widening in alarm as she opened her mouth to scream.

"No, Daddy, no! Don't—"

A snarl from Tarkin and the recording cut off. With a sharp clatter, the holoprojector fell to the floor as Anakin bent over with a wounded cry, burying his face in his hands.

It was his fault. All his fault. When their last base was attacked, his thoughts had only been to get them out, get them away to safety. Bail had had them go with Antilles to the rendezvous point, but Anakin had chosen to stay, to fight, to hold back the troopers long enough to allow them to escape. But in the end, it had done nothing to protect them. Luke and Leia had never arrived there. Antilles had been killed, and his children had been taken. Taken because he hadn't been there to protect them. Because he always made the wrong choice, failed the people he loved most. His mother, Padmé, and now...

And now, Luke and Leia—his precious children that he couldn't lose, not like he had lost their mother—were in the hands of the Empire, and there was only one thing he could do to save them.

One thing which the rest of the Rebel Alliance had deemed unacceptable. Most of them had been sympathetic, of course. Bail had been very kind and understanding after they had received the transmission, even as he had rushed to put himself between Anakin and the door to stop his mad dash to the hangar, no thoughts in his head beyond the need to get to his children, couldn't let them get hurt no matter what the cost. "Anakin," he'd pleaded with him, large hands pressing down on his shoulders to hold him back, and for one horrible moment it had struck him that, despite his size, it would have been so easy to just...swat him aside—this man who dared stand between him and the only option he had of keeping his children safe— "Anakin, please. I know you want to protect Luke and Leia, but giving yourself up to the Empire isn't the answer. That won't help anyone, least of all them." Obi-Wan had tried too, but he hadn't been any help. "You are the Chosen One, Anakin," he'd said. "We cannot risk you falling into the hands of the Sith. We will get your children back, but you mustn't allow your fear for them to cloud your judgement."

Obi-Wan didn't understand. He was hardly about to forget that he was the karking Chosen One when it was the very reason Palpatine had targeted his children—the man who had befriended him and manipulated him for thirteen years in order to shackle his power to him, who had taken Luke and Leia for the same end. As if he could possibly have forgotten what it was he wanted from him, when the memories of it still haunted his nightmares. His cajoling in the blood red office in the Senate Dome morphing into snarling threats as the Jedi Temple burnt around them, and then Padmé—oh Padmé—her life force slipping through his fingers like sand and there was nothing he could do—

But none of that mattered. Not now. Not when it was his children's lives on the line. He wouldn't risk defying him this time. He couldn't.

They'd tried. They'd tried to find a way to free Luke and Leia without giving into the Empire's ultimatum. But what could they do? They had no idea where Tarkin was keeping them, and if he caught the slightest wind that Anakin had not come alone to Mustafar, Force knew what would happen. He couldn't risk that. Though he was no longer naive enough to expect Tarkin to simply let them go if he caved to the demands (he steadfastly ignored the small part of him that always felt that if he had taken up Palpatine's offer, if he hadn't angered him with his refusal, that he might have let—he might have let Padmé—), perhaps he could find a way to escape afterwards. He would find his children and then they would all get away. But he couldn't let Luke and Leia suffer because of him. Couldn't let them be killed or-or spirited away and twisted by the Sith into something terrible because their father had refused to act.

He wouldn't make the wrong choice this time.

He hoped that nobody back at the base had noticed he was missing yet. He had left well past dark, slipping past the people on the night watch and away with ease. As far as Obi-Wan and Bail and everyone else were concerned, he was holed up in his room, not sleeping, not eating, and torturing himself over and over with that kriffing recording. With luck that he wasn't strictly supposed to believe in, they wouldn't go trying to talk to him too soon. If they found out he was gone, if they figured out where he was going and decided to go after him, Tarkin could take that as an attempt to breach the terms of the Empire's ultimatum, and what would happen to Luke and Leia then?

He was brought sharply out of his spiralling thoughts as his ship's console beeped at him. Blinking, he raised his head from his hands. The ship was coming out of hyperspace. Oh Force. Oh Force. He felt sick, deep in his stomach. His hands shook. For a moment, overwhelming fear seized him. The fear he had felt in the Council Chambers of the Jedi Temple all those years ago as he stared into the vicious yellow eyes of a man he had thought was his friend. Fear of everything he could do to him, and worse, to everybody he cared about. He could barely breathe. But he couldn't let himself get trapped in that fear. He had to do this. He had to—

The blue lights dissipated as the ship reverted to realspace, revealing the fiery image of Mustafar on the other side of the viewport before him. Anakin's hands trembled violently as he grasped the ship's controls—so hard that they creaked alarmingly under his mechanical fingers. For Luke and Leia. For Luke and Leia. He could do it for Luke and Leia—

He angled the ship towards the planet, and started the descent down towards the surface.

When he had come here to save the Force sensitive children kidnapped by Cad Bane during the Clone War, he had decided that, if there was a planet in the Galaxy that rivalled Tatooine in awfulness, it was Mustafar. The roaring boom of constant eruptions reverberated as fiercely in the Force as it did in his ears as he manoeuvred the ship to land on the platform adjacent to a shielded facility similar to the one he remembered from the last time he had been to the planet. Reaching out with the his Force senses, he searched for Luke and Leia and found...nothing. He swallowed. He hadn't really expected them to be here—too much of a risk that he would simply kill Tarkin, take them and go. Instead, what he sensed were echoes of fear and death, and a familiar presence that he had hoped never to cross paths with again.

Tarkin was waiting for him.

"General Skywalker." After so many times watching the holorecording over and over again, it was odd hearing his that crisp, clipped voice without static or interference. Anakin levelled the man with the fiercest glower he could muster as he stepped out of the ship. "Good evening."

"Tarkin" Anakin snarled through gritted teeth. It was all he could force out without succumbing to the urge to lash out, to let the terrible power within him that the Emperor so coveted reach out and destroy his servant in the blink of an eye. He would deserve it. Would deserve it for taking his children, for daring to threaten them— But his children were the very reason he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk them. With a great effort, he bridled in his rage.

Tarkin smiled—that thin, pallid twist of the lips that he recognised from the twilight days of the Republic. The burning red light of the lava glinting in his steely eyes made him think of the first time they'd met. Lola Sayu. The Citadel mission. Ahsoka had saved his life then. Briefly, Anakin wondered if it would have been better for all of them if the man had died there and then.

"I knew that you would come." The Force sent a flare of warning through him, and he suddenly became aware of the clanking of plastisteel armour as, at a wordless order from the man in front of him, stormtroopers surrounded him, blasters pointed at his back. "The Emperor has predicted your every move."

Tarkin's tone was unbearably smug. Despite Anakin's silence, despite his rage, the smile never left the man's face. The shadows in the deep hollows of his cheeks and eyes made him look even more gaunt than usual. Like a grinning skull, here to taunt him with his fate.

"And now... Now, there is no escape. For you or your children.”

[its-kall-the-clown]

Submitted by @twitchyglitchy: don't know if you meant submit as in send something to submit or to just wait for the askbox to open back up but when you get the time perhaps #41 with fatherly Sun Wukong and MK?

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Sorry, I was opening up the inbox again but then I walked away to get a snack, and then three people submitted this way. So sorry! XD

I think this could be considered the unofficial prequel to THIS and THIS Explains how MK got sick

prompt list

Blurred Lines

Rated: G

Wukong held out his hand a few drops of rain starting to fall against the palm of his paw. He looks up with a frown, the sky's overhead grey with the promise of rain. Judging by how dark the clouds have become in such a short time looks like they were in for a downpour.

He opens his mouth to tell MK their training was over for the day but found he was having to dodge a staff hurtling towards him. Apparently, the kid had not noticed the rain yet or was looking to take advantage of how distracted he was for an easy win.

He smirks shifting to one foot easily, completely dodging the attack, MK expected the blow to land and found when it didn't his balance was off. That was something they really needed stonework on, his balance. It's like MK was compensating for missing weight in his body, he wonders if maybe if MK grew a tail that problem would magically resolve itself.

MK topless forward onto his face and rolls a few feet, till he's laying on his back with a groan.

Monkey king saunters over to the boy a few more drops of rain hitting his fur as he walks.

"Good job today, I think we need to work on your balance though." He offers a hand out to MK who smacks it away and stands up on his own with a grunt. That.. .was unusual. The boy always had a pretty good attitude even when he lost. Never a sore loser when they sparred.

"Again." MK grunts our whipping his nose off on his sleeve with a determined look. The sky above them rumbles with a warning and Wukong's face twists down in a frown. Something was brewing and it wasn't just the storm.

"Let's call it a night kid. It's gonna rain soon." A few more drops fall against his fur and face and MK shakes his head back and forth, droplets flying from his hair. No way the kid didn't notice.

"No we can train a bit longer, rain never killed anyone." He smiles, already taking a challenging stance. Wukong crosses his arms over his chest and feels a tail-flick behind him.

"Not a chance. We're done for today."

MK lets out a sigh and leans against his staff side-eyeing him.

"Hmmm...never thought the great monkey king was afraid of a little water." MK smirks and Wukong stiffens under the jab. His fur bristled under his insulted pride and he smirks back at MK with his tail swishing behind him annoyedly.

"Fine. Smartass. We can keep training but don't come crying to me when the heavens open up." His eyebrow twitches, taking up a defensive stance ready for whatever the boy would throw at him.

Almost as if on cue, the sky opens up and it's a downpour. He opens his mouth to tell MK they couldn't train in this but MK is rushing forward with a war cry on his lips Wukong barely has any time to react dodging and blocking a flurry of blows.

"Mk stop! It's pouring!" He tries to reason with MK who only steps forward into a strike, Wukong barely has time to grab the staff, halting it from bashing his face in. He didn't want to do this, he always goes easy on MK so they could slowly build up to his level, but at this point, the boy wouldn't listen to reason.

He grabs the staff and digs his heel into the ear and shifts his weight. He flips MK over his body slamming them hard into the earth..he hears MK let out a gasp of pain and he worries he's actually hurt the boy.

"Kid oh my gosh! Are you ok-" he reaches for MK who looks stunned on his back looking up at the sky with wide eyes, water dripping down his face and mixing with the earth.

"You have been...holding back on me" MK whispers out his face scrunching up in what could only be described as pain and betrayal. He sits up with anger on his face

"You don't even use all your strength on me??!!!" He yells at Wukong who's now getting a turn to be stunned.

"Well...of course not bud. I don't want to hurt you." He looks soaked to the bone now shivering, his hair hangs limp while his clothes stick to his body.

"That's not fair!!! How can I get stronger if you aren't even trying to train me!" He yells shivering again. Even Wukong could feel the rain soaking his fur and making his clothes heavier.

"Come on MK….I'm doing my best to train you."

Wrong choice of words.

MK's face becomes vacant and broken. Tears now pouring down his cheeks and mixing with the rain.

"What, so you're saying it's MY fault?? That I'm u-untrainable??!" He yells, gripping his hair and tugs.

"That you're doing your best because it's so hard to train me? Cause I'm a failure??" Thunder cracks after a flash of light only serves to illuminate the look of betrayal carved into MKs face.

"Kid stop!" He grabs the boy by his shoulders trying to stop him from spiraling.

"You're doing AMAZING. Your progressing faster than I did at your age. But you GOT to keep in mind that it takes time to get where I'm at." MK sniffs his lip warbling and Wukong grabs his hands to squeeze it reassuringly.

They are shaking like a leaf and are ice cold in his grip.

“Your hands are so cold!" He rubs them together between his paws trying to warm them up. He brings the hands to his mouth breathing hot air into them. It seemed content productive with them standing in the rain.

"Come on. Let's get you inside and dried off, you will catch your death out here." MK nods numbly and Wukong leads him indoors to his stone house where a few monkeys have already holed themselves up for the storm. They chitter and shrieks of concern from the monkeys greet his ears as they fret over both their king and their quote-unquote 'brother'.

Wukong ushers MK to his bathroom where he throws a towel over Their head and tries to absorb all the water that his mop of a head consumed. MK just stands limp allowing him to dry his hair. It's concerning that he hasn't even let out a squeak since they came inside.

"MK…." He pulls the towel away to look at their face. Indoors now, out of the pelting rain, it's so much harder for MK to hide his tears. His cheeks are puffed out and his eyes are red as a constant stream drips down his face and chin adding to the puddle on the floor steadily.

“I just want to do better….be strong like you.” MK’s eyes flit to wukong guilty before looking away to his soaked shoes. It shoves a wedge between Wukongs ribs painfully and presses upward threatening to separate ribs from the flesh.

"Look at me." Wukong titles his chin up forcing Expresso's eyes to look at him.

"You're doing amazing. I want you to know that. Every day you surprise me who how much you have learned. " He explains and he sees the boy's chest hitch slightly another batch of tears joining his.

"I'm very proud of how far you have come." He smiles at the boy whose lip warbles again. A sopping wet body slaps into his as ML throws his arms around his chest and buries his face into his wet clothes. At first, Wukong has no idea how to react, his arms hovering over the wet form but when MK squeezes him tighter he is prompted to wrap his own arms around the boy. He runs his fingers through the wet locks and tries to warm them up with his body. Subconsciously hai tail finds MK's ankle and wraps around it as if he was trying to get every possible grip he could on the boy. He lets out a soothing purr on his chest as if he's coddling his own child instead of his successor.

At this point how could you tell the difference?

The line has been slowly blurred over time like rain against sidewalk chalk to the point he had no idea where he stood on which side.

At this point he couldn't be bothered to care. Which terrified him.

He pulls away eventually but his tail remains around MK's ankle.

"You should head home, you need to change out of your wet clothes so you don't catch a cold. Okay?" He asked, offering a lazy smile to MK who seemed marginally better and lips quirked with a shy smile.

"Okay. Can we still train again tomorrow?" They asked sheepishly and Wukong ruffles the top of his head

"Sure can bud! Bring your A-game because you moved up a level tonight and it's gonna be a bit harder." He smirks again and his words only seem to encourage. MK smiles brightly now, eyes shining with the promise of more difficult training.

"Can't wait!" He beams pulling away already and shakes like a dog adding more excess water to his bathroom floor.

"Okay okay, that's enough. Get on outta here. And take care of yourself."

MK salutes as he backs away from his mentor..

"Sure thing!"

Wukong walks him to the door his tail only letting go of the boy's ankle when he finally is driving away on his noodle cart. He waves to the boy something warm newly sprouted in his chest. The line between mentor and father figure blurring a little more

[writingsweetroll]

**Summary: Louis has worries for his one year old, and Clementine soothes them by opening up about her own issues.**

Louis tried his best to not toss and turn, he really hated these beds. They were so springy, you do anything on it, so much as lay a hand on the mattress and it would make a springy noise. The noise wouldn’t annoy him as much if Clementine wasn’t laying beside him, he quickly found out she was a very light sleeper. It broke his heart that she wasn’t born a light sleeper, she just adapted to being one due to all of the trauma she faced. He wanted to make sure she got as much sleep as she could- so tossing and turning would definitely awaken her and that was the last thing he wanted.

So, he lay stiff as a board. Looking above to the mattress above him. He anxiously counted the number of bars holding the bed above him, distracting his mind to the best of his abilities. Because every time he couldn’t sleep at night, his mind went to dark places. *You have no idea what you’re doing.* He would think. That main thought spiraled out of control to other thoughts. But, that one main thought started from the time he was child, to now. It adapted to whatever situation he was in. As a child, ‘You have no idea what you’re doing’ related to the spelling bee, now, it is related to parenting his one year old daughter.

He grabbed the chair next to the desk, and placed it near the bed. He sat on it and watched her sleep soundly. A warm feeling was felt in his chest, unknowingly smiling ear to ear. He examined her features, and the midnight moon shone upon her face. She mainly had Louis’ features, his freckles, skin color, and eye shape. But, her lashes were full and her eyes were as golden as Clementines, her hair was also kinky just like Clementines. She was a perfect mix between the two.

*You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?*

Louis furrowed his brows as the thought entered his mind. No matter how many baby books he read, or conversations with Clementine he had about how to raise a baby into childhood, his mind was never satisfied with himself.

*To put your girlfriend through so much pain during her pregnancy, so selfish to bring a kid into this world, you’re a monster.*

That wasn’t true. Louis knew it. It wasn’t a mindless decision or an accident, it was multiple conversations and respectful debates about when or if they should start a family. After weeks, they decided together that they wanted a family, and they had enough resources to do so. And the pregnancy went better than expected, minor pain here and there, and the delivery had no scares. Thankfully, whenever Louis would remember this, it seemed as if thoughts grew quieter, and instead he imagined a world where the apocalypse wasn’t here. He wondered what her parents would think of him, or Lee, even Kenny. He didn’t know much about them, but he knew enough to know she cared deeply for them.

Suddenly, his daughter sniffled, causing him to go into panic mode. He calmed himself down once she went back to her normal state. It was spring, and it was just allergies but he was still terrified of her getting sick. Louis sighed, slouching against the chair now.

Although Louis truly thought he didn’t know what he was doing, he knew one thing. He’ll never be like his parents. His father, manipulative and a gas-lighter. His mother ignored it and was just focused on her public image instead.

*“Chin up, baby.” His mother whispered down to him. “Play your little piano and smile.”*

*His mother’s tone was sweet, and caring. But Louis wasn’t stupid. He knew his family milked his skills during fancy business parties like these ones. But, he played the piano nonetheless, because this was the only time he could truly feel like he had an audience that enjoyed his talent, his dream.*

*“My son! Ladies and gentlemen!” Louis’ father widened his arms towards Louis playing the piano. Families of prestigious wealth clapped for him. In this moment it was bitter sweet, should he feel happy that people enjoyed his music, or should he feel angry that his parents only supported him if it benefited them? Louis brushed off the confusing feelings and instead put his emotions into his music, making it authentic and oddly charming.*

*“Beautiful, Mandisa.” A woman patted his mothers shoulder. “You’ve raised a wonderful son.”*

Louis slightly groaned in irritation. ‘*They raised a horrible kid.’* Louis thought to himself. Now that he was older, he realized that he shouldn’t have beat himself up as much as he did when he was 17. Guilt had always occupied his mind when he thought about what he did, how he broke up his parents. But in reality, they raised him like that. They raised him to think of yourself first, not others. Survival of the fittest.

*“Please, I have a family William!”*

*Louis sat on the couch with his mother, they were just chatting when they heard the commotion coming from the office room. His father opened the door and held his hand out. “You’re not needed anymore, Mark.”*

*“I-I’m not needed?! Are you serious!? I helped you start this business, what the fuck man?!”*

*“But- Mark. You seem to forget. People like me. People like my beautiful ‘exotic’ wife, people love my son. What do you have Mark? A regular housewife, who’s pregnant and unattractive? A son who doesn’t excel in school? He doesn’t even have a talent to show off. You’re dragging me down. You understand, don’t you?”*

*“Excuse me?! The fuck did you-” Mark gulped as a security guard walked up behind him. “Fine.” Mark muttered.*

*The guard escorted the man out. Louis’ father looked at Louis with a smile, as if he didn’t just ruin someone’s life. “See son,” he started. “-sometimes, we have to make the hard decisions to get what we desire. It’s just business. Nothing personal.”*

Business came first, passion and feelings came last. That way of life ruined his childhood. He believed from a young age hurting others to get what he wanted was ok.

He gently stroked Willows head, *‘I’ll never teach you that.’* He thought to himself. No matter what, he’ll always make sure she knew it was ok to express herself, to talk about her feelings. He wanted her to know that no matter the situation, she was loved and *accepted.*

“I promise.” He whispered. “I promise I’ll give you a better life than mine.”

Suddenly, he felt slender arms wrap around his neck, a semi-heavy weight on his shoulders. He smiled, hearing Clementine mumble something out of exhaustion.

“What was that, darling?” Louis asked, holding her forearm.

“You’re doing great.” She yawned. “You don’t have to keep worrying Louis. You love her and that’s—“

“The bare minimum, Clem.” Louis cut her off.

“-not really. Not anymore.” Clementine said sadly. “Even back then, dads used to run out on their kids, unable to either provide a stable life or love. You could’ve ran out so many times, so many opportunities and you didn’t.”

“Why would I ever do that?” Louis replied, almost offended.

“I’ve seen it happen before. Of course I knew you wouldn’t but…there’s always that lingering exit you can take, and the urge is probably there for you-“

“Clementine.” Louis said sternly, waking her up a little. “I would *never* do that. Do you really think that?”

Clementine stayed quiet. In reality, no. Of course she knew Louis would never leave. It was just her inner insecurities popping out, she’d hidden it for years but it came out eventually. The *constant* fear that she would be alone again lingered in her mind. Louis noticed her silence and sighed. He got off his chair, and then hugged her tightly.

“Isn’t it crazy?” Louis chuckled.

“What?”

“How we only started dating a month into knowing each other.” Louis started, caressing her arm a bit. “Now, we’re in a family together. Clementine, I didn’t fight a war with you, fell for you in the middle of it, wrote songs about you, spent literally almost every second with you for the past 4 years to just leave.” Louis reassured.

“But now we have a kid.”

“Even more of a reason to stay. I mean *who* can actually say they have a kid with the most beautiful, bad-ass woman of the apocalypse world? Only me! I’d be a fool to run from that.” Louis joked.

She shook her head, a big smile on her face. Louis kissed the top of her head, pushing her slightly towards the bed, there he dropped her on it. She got into a comfortable position, and Louis lay next to her.

“I was serious.” Clementine broke the silence. “When I said you’re doing great. It’s not only the love you have for her Louis. You don’t even go to sleep before she does. Even though I tell you I got it. You care deeply for her and that *is* enough.”

Louis sighed, twiddling his fingers with one another, only staring at the bars above him. “I know. Thanks. Sometimes it just feels like I’m not enough, even before Willow.”

“Louis…” Clementine muttered sadly. The thought of him degrading himself saddened her. She sat up, grabbing his curious glance. Clementine took off her oversized sweater, a tank-top underneath. There was enough moon-light to see the faint, pink branded mark on her arm. She slid her fingers over it slightly, a grimace appearing on her face.

“You finally gonna reveal the meaning behind that?” Louis chuckled, over the years, she’d always refuse. ‘*The past doesn’t matter.’* She’d say.

Although he was joking, she wasn’t.

“I got this when I was 13.” Clementine started.

Louis shifted himself upwards, a frown shown on his face as he eyed the scar.

“I only did it to make sure AJ was safe. But, then he got ripped apart from me in the same group. After that, I had nothing more to lose. And when you have nothing to lose…you do scary, stupid things. I was horrible, Louis. I wasn’t the same person you know today.”

Louis nodded, taking in her words to the best of his ability. Trying not to react negatively in anyway.

“After I got AJ back—I only had *him.* If anyone ever—and I mean, *anyone* tried anything to hurt or kill him, I wouldn’t hold back. Yes I love AJ. I really do, but that feeling of hopelessness for your own self is so damaging.” Clementine opened up. After a brief moment of silence she continued. “I didn’t have hope for my own life, only for his. I didn’t mind if I got bit, as long as he was safe, I didn’t care. Not because I was sad or anything but because I just felt like this world wasn't for me. When I was a kid, I loved to be social, playful even. I've changed so much, I was forced to. I used to be innocent. Now, I'm finally getting some sort of my old self back."

Clementine grabbed Louis’ hand and squeezed it slightly. “You saved me.” She said, her tone hoarse. Louis squeezed back on her hand.

"I'm glad to be of service." He smiled at her. “I love you.”

She smiled, and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Louis.”

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 10: Storge I

SFW Version Here

Summary: There is some discussion of Kabbhalic lore in the beginning but this chapter and the next focuses mainly on the parental relationships Julius and Aika present. They certainly feel their age.

Notes:

- Ive split another massive chapter in half sighhhh. This is 5279 words and I’ve written 7.3k already but I still haven’t reached the ending I wanted so I just split it.


- I know Yami and William haven’t made an appearance yet but they will. This chapter will shed some light on how Julius and Marx’s relationship and how proud he is that Marx grew up from an antsy young boy in his squad to a dependable young man by his side.
-There’s like 2-3 sentences where its NSFW but besides that, nothing much sorry folks ajskjlk

Tagging: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare​

Aika observed the dirty grimoire with one part apprehension and one part excitement. It was the first time she encountered a devil-possessed item without any supervision. A weg magic user that had come to Spade Nation War College as a guest speaker to her class had shown her how to recognize and deal with Devils. They were often best left alone in their sealed states whether they were friendly or not unless you wanted to make a pact. Though Aika’s curiosity was piqued, she had no interest in any other Devil except for one specific one, but he wasn’t heeding her calls or summons so she had lost any interest in becoming a host, especially considering the downsides.

There was no doubt there was a devil in there. She could feel the familiar mana from the Underworld. Aika cracked open the spine and stared in shock at the familiar writing. It was the same runic scripture from her own grimoire. She flipped through pages, skimming them. They all spoke of multiple different swords. Now, she had lightly studied grimoire magic over the years for fun because she found it fascinating how the countries in the Four Suits continent determined their borders purely based on the symbol on the grimoires. So she knew the basics such as checking the grimoire to see if anyone’s mana was connected to it and it wasn’t. This means that she could keep it and study it. If she took off her gloves, she could even make contact with the devil if she wanted to, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Aika looked up at her protégés as they stared warily at the book in her hand.

“What are your thoughts on this grimoire? What is so unusual and exciting about it?” She asked testingly. They needed to discern what it was from their own knowledge.

“Well, according to Clover Kingdom mythos,” Ellie began. “The three leaves symbolize hope, faith, and love. In the fourth leaf, a formation which occurred 500 years ago with the first Wizard King’s grimoire, contains luck. But according to legend,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “In the fifth leaf, there is a demon.”

“Do you think there is a demon in this grimoire?” Aika asked lightly.

Evan shivered before he answered, “There is definitely a devil in it. It reeks of the Underworld.”

She snapped the book shut and squinted at the anti-bird. Still strange how it was still here.

“Yes, you are right there is a devil in here,” she confirmed. They all tensed.

“What should we do? Should we kill it?” Jayce asked, his voice slightly shaking.

“No,” Aika shook her head and she crossed her legs again. “You don’t kill devils unless absolutely necessary.” She opened her backpack and stuck the grimoire carefully in it, willing it to be placed on top of her research table in her not-so-little study space in her loft.

“What?! Why?!”

“Because the very existence of devils obscures most of God’s Light and allows reality to exist. Killing them is counter-intuitive. You only kill them when they are unshackled and out in the human realm. This devil is very neatly sealed in this grimoire so no worries,” Aika explained as she smiled demurely. Their panic was quite amusing, especially when they are noticeably frustrated with her nonchalant attitude.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” Ellie asked carefully.

“Very.” She put the tea set away. “Now, if that is all, you may stand at ease.”

Their shoulders slackened and Ellie slinked over to her side and sat down next to her with a sigh.

“I can’t believe we are still brushing over the devil,” she murmured as she rested her head on Aika’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. When I have recovered, I will make sure the devil is safe before I take you guys to interact with it.” She carefully patted Ellie’s mass of white curls.

Evan sat in the armchair to her right as Jayce picked up a book from the stacks around them and flipped through it.

“I’m in no hurry to talk to a devil, ” he began as he absentmindedly traced the pages in the book. He snapped it shut with a wicked grin. “But I do want to know everything about you and the Wizard King.”

They all rolled their eyes at his theatrics. Aika shifted in her seat, quickly categorizing information that she was willing to share and details that were better left to herself. She found that this method was better than completely shutting herself out from people as per her first instinct.

“What exactly do you want to know about the Wizard King and I?” She asked as she wrapped her arm around Ellie. “There’s a lot to know.”

“Ooooooh,” Jayce plopped down in front of her like a kid at storytime and gave her his brightest smile. “How did you two meet? How did you get so close? ” He winked. Even Evan, who was usually understanding of Aika’s reluctance to share information, leaned forward as she braced herself to tell them the barest details at the very least.

She told them about her first encounter with him that night and the captain’s meeting and the assassination attempt at her home.

The three listened to her story and watched in great interest as Aika grew more and more animated, an easy smile gracing her face and a twinkle in her eye as she spoke of the Wizard King. It was fascinating to see their boss grow less and less reserved as time went by and what little time she had spent with the King had sped the process up. The more she smiled, the younger she seemed, happier, more carefree, and very undoubtedly in love.

Aika grew more somber when she talked of today. They knew of her condition and how it was dangerous to spend too much time around her. It was why they valued the time they spent with her so much. It saddened them to hear about how she had to reject him so many times when she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“But if it truly doesn’t affect him…” Aika’s gaze fell to the side. “Then I may have a chance.”

At love. She left unsaid, but they knew. They knew her well.

“There’s always an exception,” Ellie whispered soberly. “And if his words are to be believed, then he may be it.”

They all stayed quietly for a moment, and as if to herald the end of the storytime, Evan, Ellie and Jayce’s stomachs growled in unison.

Aika was the first to laugh. A tinkling kind of sound like windchimes swaying in the summer wind. They quickly joined in after the momentary shock, a sort of happiness bubbling in their chests to see her smile so freely after all these years.

“I’ve made flat bread and curry for dinner. Would you two like so—”

“Yes!”

Aika chuckled and opened her backpack. Ellie dove headfirst without warning and Jayce soon followed. She carefully helped Evan step into it as the anti-bird perched on top of him again. As he disappeared into the void, Aika set her backpack down next to the sofa in an innocuous spot. Satisfied, she climbed in and closed the flap above her. Light brighter than the study flooded her vision. She kept her loft well-lit and tidy for the most part so she was fine having guests today. Aika heard a faint “wheeee” as Jayce slid down the pole to get to the bottom floor.

When you walk further into the living room that first greets you, there was a L-shaped railing that overlooked a spacious opening to the bottom floor. There was a break in the railing for a spiral staircase and a pole which Jayce had always loved to use.

The anti-bird she had allowed into her home flitted around, exploring the open kitchen to her right and the rooms in the hallway adjacent to the railing. Evan and Ellie were already setting up plates and utensils on the table in the dining area.

Aika walked past them with a tired smile and quickly heated up curry and bread with the firestone on hand and a touch of her Time magic. She placed them carefully on the table just as Jayce launched himself into his seat. It may be rather late in the night, but he was still full of boundless energy.

Ellie helped serve the food and Aika muttered a small prayer before they dug in.

“There was something off about the Wizard King, wasn’t there?” Ellie remarked innocuously. Aika looked at her curiously. She motioned her to elaborate as she spooned some curry.

“I stood where you two were, er, standing and the remnants of your mana felt like they were the same yet completely different.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a heartbeat, if that information means anything to you.”

“He’s not the undead. He certainly has a lot of mana,” Evan added.

“Is that why you are pursuing him while still keeping him at an arm’s length, Miss?” Jayce asked suddenly. They all looked at him in shock. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “You could never resist a mystery after all.”

Aika stared at him evenly and his gaze never wavered from hers. Anger initially shot through her at his words but she held her tongue. She couldn’t be mad at him for discerning part of the truth. She was known for her lack of patience but she had lately been trying to better herself and she asked for the three infront of her to help her in this. Ellie and Evan were patient with her when she lost her temper while Jayce was the only one with the courage to test her, keep her on her toes so she wouldn’t one day explode.

“That’s not completely true,” she finally answered. Julius’ smile replayed in her head and she felt a lot calmer, a little happy even.

“I do genuinely like him.” She looked down at her plate. Her breath stuttered when she remembered his laugh, his eyes, the way his soft hair threaded between her fingers. Aika couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face.

“I must admit, he is the only one that makes me laugh and smile like that.”

“And what are we for doing all that too? Chopped liver?” Jayce snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly. She rolled her eyes at that.

“You guys make me smile in a way mother smiles when her children do stupid things,” she quickly retorted. “Or when they make her proud—”

“You think of us as your children?” Ellie interrupted breathlessly.

Aika gaped at her for a moment. She had accidentally let it slip hadn’t she? It’s been too long since she had to be so careful and alert and she was losing practice. And she was especially close with these three so her guard was completely down.

She hesitated before she answered, “Well, yes—” Ellie hugged her arm tight and Jayce was suddenly behind her, arms wrapped around her neck. Evan stayed put in his spot but his shoulders were hunched as he smiled shyly at the plate in front of him, a pleased blush high on his tanned cheek.

“We’re glad you think so.”

Aika stiffened at the sudden touch. Did they really want to be that close to her? Then it hit her. Of course they thought of her as a mother. They were orphans, she had rescued them from their various dangerous situations, taught them valuable lessons, protected them, gave them means to better themselves.

Oh.

She relaxed in their hold. She had more than one child, didn’t she? “I—” I love you guys. She wanted to say, but the words were lodged in her throat. She had a severe aversion to that particular sentiment. It saddened her that she couldn’t comfortably say the words she wanted to say.

Jayce slinked back into his seat and they continued eating.

“If he makes you happy in a way nobody else does,” Evan spoke first, changing the subject for her sake. “Be as careful as you want to be before you get together.”

Ellie hummed in agreement with him. “But you also have to make it clear that while you are keeping him at an arm’s length, that you still like him, or he would take your distance as disinterest.”

“We want you to be happy, but we just hope you just don’t get hurt like last time.” Aika smiled gratefully at all three of them. They were no longer children. They were wise beyond their years and people she could depend on.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely and cleared her throat with a blush as they giggled.

They thanked her for the food and helped wash the dishes before they all climbed out, ready to turn in for the night.

Ellie, Evan and Jayce wrapped Aika in a group hug, coaxing a joyful laugh out of her.

“Good night!” They exclaimed in unison before they shut the door to study behind them.

When they left, Aika grinned and buried her face in her hands. Her whole family died when she was just sixteen and she had wandered this plane of existence for decades, making friends along the way but they all had their own lives. She forcefully planted her feet in Clover Kingdom to protect it but along the way, she had found a family again. Her uncle, aunt, her daughter, whatever Arthur meant to her, Ellie, Evan and Jayce.

She felt an indescribable giddiness as she activated her Mana Hands spell to rearrange the stacks of books around her back into their places on the shelves. This was what she was looking for all these years. She didn’t even need Julius. This was all that she needed. –

Julius closed the door behind him and shifted the painting back into place so it was covered. He leaned his head against the canvas as he exhaled.

There was an unmistakable force pulling them towards each other every single time. First, that night, then the Captain’s meeting, that moment on the battlefield, then today again.

What in the world was wrong with him? Never in his life had he felt so lost. His whole life that he only ever needed magic and the power to do good in this world but what was this squeezing sensation in his chest?

“One month,” she said. One whole month. He thought about the way her eyes lit up at the Captain’s meeting, the palpable relief when she realized there were no hard feelings, the intent way she looked at him when she slipped off her blindfold.

Julius pressed his hand to his mouth as a blush suffused through his cheeks.

Oh, he was down bad.

He had always kept these sorts of interactions at an arms-length. One-offs were fine but what was so different about her? He just became Wizard King yet she consumed his thoughts. He was supposed to be thinking about the future of his kingdom not—

‘She held you like no other.’ His voice whispered in his head. ‘You have always protected others but you felt warmth and safety for the first time in the crook of her neck and her tight embrace.’ No one had ever dared to hug him and touch him like that. No one had ever kissed him so sweetly, and with that same mouth called him a “good boy” and made him see stars.

His hand clawed at the painting behind him as he pressed his legs together.

Julius let out a breathy laugh.

This was not the time.

He stared at the voluminous stack of papers on his new desk. His desk as Wizard King. He felt the crushing weight of that title again for the second time that day. He walked up to it, his fingers lightly tracing the edges as he stepped onto the side where he had rarely ever been.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He looked around the corner less office, cold and empty in every way. There was no fireplace, only torches that lined the walls.

Why was the room so big anyways? It should have a few couches at the very least to have comfortable conversations over tea instead of the vast barrier that the desk was sure to put up.

Julius turned around and faced the view he used to envy as a Captain. The giant, arched windows looked out over the Clover Kingdom from its highest peak. The sun had set hours ago but the bright, purple glow of the wisteria trees at the base of the tower was both exhilarating and calming.

He took a deep breath and faced his desk. He ought to finish at least one stack of papers. He filled up the fountain pen with ink and sat down heavily. Julius began with the paper on the top. It was a report from the Crimson Lion Kings.

Well, that piqued his curiosity.

He had always dealt with his own squad’s affairs and some collaborative missions with other squads but he didn’t know the specifics of the internal affairs in each squad.

The report wasn’t from Leonardo, it was in fact from his son and the new captain, Fuegoleon. From the lengthy conversation he had with the Vermillion during the banquet, he could tell that he was a hardworking, young man who was eager to do his job. He also inferred from their talk that he didn’t particularly care for anyone’s class or background unlike his father so he had high hopes for the Crimson Lions to set a good example for the rest of the squads. The most recent reports were all about how the battlefield was being cleaned up and about the dead. He genuinely focused on his work for half an hour before slowing down.

He was so tired. So much had happened today and the words in front of him began to look like scribbles. Perhaps he shouldn’t have exhausted himself so much…

A knock sounded on his door, jolting him from his thoughts.

Julius cleared his throat and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Marx, Lord Julius,” he called out, a little surprised he was actually in there.

“Come in.”

Marx stepped into the room, eyes alert as he examined the big office. When his eyes landed on Julius, they softened, happy that he seemed to be working.

“Are you working, sir?” He asked as he moved closer.

“Yes, Marx.” He smiled lightly. “May I help you with something?”

“No, sir,” He shifted his new cloak. “I was just making sure you were working, sir, and offer my congratulations once again.”

Julius set his quill down as he sat up straighter.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve worked so hard to get here and I am so grateful you chose me of all people to be your advisor, sir.”

A smile grew on Julius’s face as he regarded the young man in front of him. He was only 20 years old and Julius had only known him for the last 5 but he had a special place in his heart. He may not be a superb fighter but Julius saw his value in other places. He took Marx into his squad for his brilliant memory magic, his work ethic, and his unique ability to be the only person who could stand up to him and keep him in line. And now, he couldn’t think of a better person to make sure he didn’t stray his path.

“Of course, Marx. I know you will be the one to make sure I do my job right,” He added with a laugh.

Outside of family, Marx was one of the handful of people who was truly close to him and could stand up to him. Even as a 15-year-old magic knight, whenever Marx would find him trying to sneak away, he never hesitated to berate his captain and made sure he worked. With time, Julius had come to see that he was also a hard worker and was one of the few people who could successfully curb his propensity to slack off. If it wasn’t for Marx, he would’ve neglected his paperwork all together.

Yet, there was one more person who began to worm his way into his heart.

“Though, I have to say, there is one more person who you may see often as you work whom you haven’t met yet.”

“Sir?”

“She is a private consultant who used to work for the previous Wizard King and she had offered to work for me as well,” Julius explained as he laced his hands together.

“She?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. That was an unexpected remark. “Yes, Marx. She’s a woman. I hope you don’t have any issues with that.”

He threw his hands up as he shook his head. “No, sir. That’s not the issue. I just never heard of any women in particular that could be a consultant for the Wizard King.”

Julius laughed, slightly relieved that Marx wasn’t that kind of a person.

“You wouldn’t know her. She likes her privacy and used to only work in the shadows,” he explained as he cast his eyes down.

Marx observed his melancholic demeanor. Why does speaking of her make him feel so down?

“What’s her name, sir?” Julius’s eyes flicked up. “Her name?” He steeled himself for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. “It’s Aika Tolliver.”

His eyes immediately widened in recognition.

“M-Madam Tolliver?”

Julius cocked his head at him. Madam?

“Yes? Do you know her?”

“Yes, my older brother used to be the head of communications in her company.” His voice wavered as he clenched his fists. “He was recently promoted to president. But why would she be a consultant to the Wizard King?!”

Julius was taken aback by all that he had just told him. Marx spoke very rarely of his estranged brother, Karl, and he never knew that Aika knew him. And what exactly does he mean why she was a consultant to him?

“What do you mean by that, Marx?”

“Sir, she has a bad reputation for using forbidden magic,” He whispered urgently.

Julius stared at him blankly.

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes. A Wizard King sometimes needs a licensed forbidden-magic user to deal with some unsavory things. She is also an amazing strategist and has experience in warfare for reasons I am still unaware. ” He added quietly as he picked at his quill. “We’ve talked for hours about a lot of things.” A lot of things indeed. “And I know she will be crucial in the future.”

Marx was about to object again but quieted at the stern look Julius gave him. He sighed as he clenched his fists by his sides, his light blue hair tickling his cheeks as he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“I will try to keep an open mind, sir.”

“Thank you, Marx.” He looked down at the papers, his smile falling. “I will see if I could introduce you tomorrow. I’m assuming you haven’t met her properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that’s settled.”

He stood there quietly as he watched Julius sign a paper with a flourish. Marx knew the man a lot better than most people and he knew that Julius would be ecstatic that he was finally the Wizard King and maybe even goof off a bit but right now, he was much too somber.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Julius looked up, surprised he was still here. He was far too lost in his thoughts. He opened his mouth and stopped. Marx didn’t need to know about Aika. He rubbed the back of his head as he forced his best natural laugh.

“Yeah, of course I’m fine, Marx! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you would usually be more excited on finally achieving your ambitions and…you wouldn’t be working…”

…He’s right.

“Well, I have simply realized the weight of my new title and I suppose that is what is making me more serious.” That technically wasn’t a lie. Julius mentally patted himself on the back for that.

Marx grinned, a giddy sort of feeling washing over him.

“Does this mean you will finally be serious about your paperwork, sir?!”

That was not what he meant.

“Wait, no!” Marx’s expression fell. “I mean yes! Of course I will do my paperwork!” His advisor’s face could not look any more disappointed. He quickly needed to change the subject before he got lectured again. “Speaking of paperwork, I think I will feel motivated to do it if I’m in a better setting like a study, you know? There’s a Wizard King’s study and it’s desk is longer and faces the windows so I would have an amazing view to keep me energized. And I would also be surrounded by a lot of books and I would feel so studious and motivated!” 

That seemed to have caught Marx’s attention. He had never heard of study. “I would like to show it to you tomorrow and we could both explore it. Does that sound good?”

“But sir, you have to tour the squad bases and then you have to hold your first meeting with all the Captains—”

“We will explore the study after that, okay?”

“But then, there’s a lot of paperwork that—”

“Marx,” Julius addressed him patiently as he held his gaze. “Taking breaks is important, you know?”

“And all you want to take are breaks, sir,” Marx replied with an imperceptible roll of his eyes.

Julius laughed.

“I promise I will be productive!” – Aika threw her crimson cloak on, a cloak she had worn since her days with Mereoleona. She quickly examined her trousers for any odd wrinkles and stacked the needed papers for a meeting she had in 20 minutes.

She felt much, much better after speaking to Ellie, Evan and Jayce and Julius seemed like the type to be more casual about such things and not let them get in the way of work. She was rather worried it might because her Uncle told her that Julius gets distracted easily. She couldn’t meet up with him and talk today because she would be occupied, especially since she accepted Lord Silva’s invitation for tea.

Aika reached for her communicator to call for Ellie, but she tensed and quickly pointed her daggers at the person who teleported into the study.

“Mom!”

Her shoulders slackened and a tired smile softened her face as she dropped to crouch. Aika enveloped Holly in a tight hug as she giggled. She loved how her daughter smelled like roses and apples, though they smell the same. She pulled back and pressed light kisses on her cheeks and smiled indulgently.

“Hello, Holly. You are here to spend time at the CLK base right?”

“Yeah! Uncle Fueggy said I could play with the lions and I thought I should congratulate him for becoming captain too! I made biscuits and wore my crimson cloak.” She spun on her heel, showing it off.

“That’s really nice of you dear.” Holly led her mother to the sofas and motioned her to sit down. “Did you make any for me?” She murmured, amused as Holly climbed into her lap and made her wrap her arms around her tiny frame.

“I hoped to give you the leftovers if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine but what if there are no leftovers,” Aika asked, fake hurt lacing her voice.

“I have a plan to make sure there’s leftovers. Don’t worry, Mom,” Holly grinned and sighed contentedly into her mother’s chest. Aika looked down at her curiously, gently rubbing her hair.

“May I know what the plan is?”

“You really want to know?”

Aika let out a short laugh. Only her children could ever sass her like this and get away with it and she must admit, it was very refreshing.

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“Okay, so if Uncle Fueggy didn’t like them too much, you will have some left over. Obviously. But if he liked them and wanted to keep them, and give them to his squad or something, I’ll be like ‘I was going to save some for my mom, but oh well. I’m glad you liked them.’ And then he would feel really guilty and leave some anyways,” she finished with a proud smile.

Aika pursed her lips, tamping down the laughter bubbling in her chest. Holly caught this and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Is something wrong, Mom?”

“No…” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Have you simply thought of maybe just giving me one biscuit to taste or maybe simply telling Fuegoleon to save some for me?”

“What.”

“Yes, I mean it doesn’t have to be that convoluted because Fuegoleon is polite and wouldn’t say no to that and even simpler, giving me one biscuit now would be the simplest solution,” she explained with a laugh.

“Oh.” Holly buried her face in the crook of her neck in embarrassment. “You’re right.”

Aika laughed quietly as she rubbed Holly’s back. No one could make her feel as young and light as her daughter could and she absolutely loved her for it.

Holly peeked at the window between her mother’s arms to check the time. The moment she saw or felt the sun, she could instantly tell what the time was. But she let her jaw fall slightly when she saw an anti-bird perched on the lap. She had never seen one so close.

“Mom, is that a…” She pointed at the bird. Aika followed her gaze and found that the little bird from last night still here.

“Yes, that’s an anti-bird, but it also seems to be an anomaly.”

“Oh, you mean it doesn’t run away from us like other anti-birds?”

“I mean that bird is still avoiding me but seems perfectly fine with others.”

“Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to study how an anti-bird reacts to magic then?”

“What? No! It’s an anomaly so it doesn’t behave like other birds so it’s useless to study it, Holly”

“What about studying the anti-bird for its biology through the possession technique?”

The possession technique is a forbidden magic spell used in the study of animals to possess them and view how the world was from their perspective including the five senses and what instincts activate in any given situation etc. Possession magic only works on other species so a human cannot possess another human unless an attribute explicitly allows that. 

People have tried to use a possession spell on an anti-bird before but like the North and South repel each other, anti-birds have shown to dodge magic at abnormal speeds when magic was thrown at them even in containment. The ongoing theory was that anti-birds actually feel some measure of pain, most probably a lot, the presence of or when in contact with magic.

“An anti-bird’s biology was already studied by people with less magic and it’s no different than a normal bird’s. You don’t have to worry about it—”

The door leading from the Wizard King’s office clicked open. Aika paused as her heart skipped a few beats when she glimpsed the blond hair before the door revealed to the Wizard King in all his glory. She could never get used to that strange yet commanding-looking cloak he wore.

Julius met her gaze and they were lost for words for a few moments. Last night seemed like a fever dream compared to the clarity brought by the daylight. His eyes flickered down to Holly who broke the silence. “Good Morning, Julius!”

Notes: Holly actually plays a bigger role than intended👀👀

[elizabethemerald]

Water Heals; Chap 4

AO3

Today was another of Katara’s visits. Azula felt like she was getting better at telling the days apart, and keeping track of the weeks as they passed. Katara had said that she would bring a guest this week. It would be the first time she had seen someone other than Katara, her brother, or the staff since she was admitted to the hospital. Azula had promised to be on her very best behaviour. 

She smiled her own private smile when the door to her room opened to show Katara, though she kept her face otherwise schooled. As a princess of the Fire Nation she wouldn’t let herself show all of her real emotions to outsiders like Katara’s guest. 

Behind Katara entered her brother, Sokka. Katara has talked quite a lot about her brother and what he had gotten up to recently. It would be interesting to meet him face to face, and for once, not on the other side of a conflict. 

It certainly seemed like peace was suiting him well. Sokka still had the build of a swordsman, though now he was really hitting his growth spurt, he was going to be tall, possibly even taller than Zuko. He had a slightly nervous air about him, though he was masking it well. He smiled a wide, easy smile upon seeing Azula. Her spine stiffened for a moment, fearing he was smiling because of her bonds. Before she could snap at his insolence he clapped Katara on the shoulder and took a seat. Perhaps he was just in a jovial mood?

Katara took the seat next to her brother, returning his smile. Azula felt a hint of color rise in her cheeks. Katara’s smile never failed to bring some warmth to her face, and set Salmonflies fluttering in her stomach. For some reason Sokka’s smile widened, his earlier nervousness dissipating. 

“So Azula!” He said. Azula was suspicious of his friendliness, but she supposed Katara had brought him along first for a reason. “Katara’s told me a lot about her visits with you. How have you been liking them?”

Katara had side eyed him at this question, but Azula felt their mutual companion was a safe enough conversation topic. 

“Her visits continue to be the highlight of my time here. Even at my most dower Katara’s smile brightens my day.” Azula said stiffly, as if she were giving a report to the war council. Her eyes flicked to Katara, and she couldn't help but notice a faint blush dusting Katara’s cheeks, her eyes down cast as she fiddled with her hair. She decided to quickly change the subject, not trusting Sokka not to stray too near sensitive topics. “And how about yourself? Katara has kept me informed on some of the inventions you have made.”

“Oh she has!” Sokka immediately pulled a sketch book out of his satchel. Azula leaned forward as close as she could to look at his drawings. Some of the sketches seemed almost infantile in quality, but as she was able to parse the information she could see he was trying to figure out a way to trap a fire bender’s lightning, so it could be used to power other inventions. “You see, if I can make this work we can create other things that could wildly improve life for the people of the world. I’m just trying to find some way to replicate the lake of Chi a fire bender uses to control and redirect lightning. Though its really hard to get a hold of some lightning to test my theories.”

“It should not be that hard to get.” Azula said with a smirk. “Would you like a free sample?”

Before he could respond Azula took a deep breath, pulling on her own lake of Chi and spat out a flash of lightning. Sokka jumped back with a yelp as the lightning flashed wildly around the room. Without the use of her hands to control and direct the lightning, she didn’t have any where near the control she usually did. She released the rest of her breath as a short pant of blue flame. Lightning bending was far harder than fire bending without hands. 

Katara jumped up, water flying to her hand from the pitcher in the room. Azula couldn’t help her flinch, still battling the fear that Katara was going to turn against her one day and try to kill her. Instead of forming a whip the water around her hands glowed with a strange light. Azula watched, her eyes wide in awe, as Katara used the water to heal any slight mark Sokka may have received. 

“That was rude Azula!” Katara said. Azula couldn’t help but feel a rush of guilt. She had promised Katara she would be on her best behaviour. She couldn’t stand the idea that Katara would take this as a sign to stop visiting her. 

“I’m sorry Katara.” Azula said, her eyes down cast. 

Katara was about to reply in her usual huff, but Sokka, now settled from his surprise, spoke. 

“You know Azula, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize to literally anyone. I didn’t think you knew how to.” HIs words, heavy with sarcasm were at least a game Azula knew how to play. 

“I prefer to reserve my apologies for those who mean the most to me. Not water tribe peasants like yourself.” Azula said, putting her nose up in mock disdain, though she met Katara’s gaze, attempting a small joke based on their first conversation. Katara’s smile showed that the joke had landed, and again there was a dusting of a blush across her cheeks. “Though I guess since the war’s over, I should make right with those I can. Is there anything I should apologize to you for?”

“Suki.” 

With that single name, Azula felt her hard won control slipping. The leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. She had taken great pleasure in ensuring she was imprisoned and in making sure her incarceration was as unpleasant as possible. 

“Do you know what happened to her?” Azula asked, her voice sounding lifeless and mechanical even in her own ears. All she could remember was defeating Suki and shipping her off. 

“Yeah, me and Zuko broke her out of the Boiling Rock.” Sokka said. His voice sounded like it was coming from a cave. 

The Boiling Rock. The start of her fall. She had tried to kill her brother again there. Mai and Ty Lee had turned against her there. Not only had they shown their true colors but she had shown hers as well, first by trying to kill them, then by having them arrested. From there she had known that there was no one she could trust. Eventually everyone would betray her. And she deserved it. She was a monster after all. 

Azula was fading fast, her grasp on the moment slipping as her mind spiraled into the memories of her many failures. She was only distantly aware of a rapid yet hushed conversation between Sokka and Katara. They were probably discussing how to punish her for imprisoning Suki. 

“Did Katara ever tell you about the time I drank cactus juice?” Sokka said. The surprise of the strange sentence shook Azula from her dark spiral. 

“Isn’t cactus juice…” She was trying to focus her brain on the bizarre statement. 

“Hallucinogenic?” Sokka laughed. His laugh was loud. Different than Katara’s soft laugh. “Oh yeah it is. I spent a few hours absolutely out of my mind. I remember seeing a giant mushroom that I was sure was going to be my friend.”

Azula felt a crooked, broken smile creep up her face at the idea. 

“Or there was the time Toph trapped me in a hole in the ground. It felt like I was stuck there for hours. I promised to give up sarcasm and eating meat if I was able to get out. That didn’t last very long.” He said sarcastically. 

Her broken smile crept higher on her face, feeling less broken and more natural. 

“How about the story when me and Katara got sick, I spent the entire time thinking I was an earthbender! Then guess what the cure was?” He didn’t wait for Azula to guess instead continuing on excitedly. “Sucking on frozen frogs! Aang had to go fetch them while we were resting in our sleeping bags!”

Azula could see Katara’s own smile creeping higher on her face as her brother brought back some pleasant memories from their time traveling the world during the war. Azula could feel her own smile grow, a soft huff coming from her nose at the thought of Katara with a frozen frog on her face. 

“Oh or the time we tried to convince those guards that I was an earthbender!” Katara said. 

“That was a good one! Especially because that one guard thought that Momo was the earthbender! Not the brightest guard.”

“Can’t forget the whole adventure in the secret tunnel! I thought you would have a handprint on your forehead from facepalming for a week!”

Azula let out a short bark of a laugh. She felt more herself, like her mind was back in her body where it belonged and less like she was going to start sobbing. 

“It seems traveling with the Avatar wasn’t all hard work and battles.” Azula said. Her voice still sounded a little flat, but it was coming back to her regular tone. 

“It was a lot of work. And there were some things that are going to be in my nightmares for years.” Sokka said, his tone more serious than it had been since he arrived. “But that doesn’t mean it was all bad. Aang’s a fun loving guy. He wouldn’t let us stay to serious for to long.”

“When we first met him, he immediately wanted to go penguin sledding!” Katara said, her smile now her usual full faced and spirit-blessed smile. 

The conversation continued, Sokka carrying most of it, for the next hour or so. By the end Azula was exhausted from the social interaction, but she was happy. Sokka had caused her first genuine laugh in what felt like months, though she couldn’t tell exactly how long it had been. Katara had also seemed to enjoy having her brother there. She fell into good hearted bickering so easily with him, her smile brightening up the entire room, causing even more Salmonflies to buzz wildly in her stomach and a warm feeling to fill her chest. 

When it was finally time for Sokka and Katara to leave for the day, Azula stopped him. He stood at the door, Katara behind him in the hall looking over his shoulder. It took Azula a few moments to gather her words and force them out. 

“Sokka… I’m sorry.” The words felt painful as she pushed them out past the lump in her throat. She wanted to apologize for everything. For the harm she had caused during the war, for the harm her people had caused, even for throwing lightning at him just today, but she couldn’t get all those words. He seemed to understand the enormity of what she apologizing for and gave her a solemn nod. “Please tell Suki...I’m…”

“I will.” He nodded again, that same seriousness from earlier in his voice. 

With that the two Water Tribe siblings left. Azula was exhausted. Her body drained like she had fought for the entire afternoon. However her mind felt like it was fully active. They had given her much to think about. 

She had been inclined to dismiss Sokka, as a non bender, and as an oaf, he was never the same threat that Katara was. However he had clearly earned his place among the Avatar’s closest. He was cleverer than she had ever given him credit for, and he had the ability, almost uncannily, to switch between lighthearted and serious at a moment’s notice. She would have to think more about him. About his ease in forgiving her. About his inventions and ideas. 

Thinking of Sokka was significantly harder considering something else occupied her mind. Katara’s smile. Katara had seen her slipping, had noticed her reaction to the mention of Suki and the Boiling Rock. She had encouraged her brother to joke to offset the tension and help ground her back in her body. Katara had seen her, and seen through her, and some how still visited again and again, and still smiled and laughed with her, not at her, but with her. It was a lot to think about all at once. 

[danger-xylophones]

In the Quiet Part 2 (Fives x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: Angst (because it’s Fives so of course), anxiety, my take on Post-War Fives, my methods for calming down from a panic attack, makeup, family talk, nudity (for like half a second), swearing

Notes: You don’t have to read part 1 to get this but I would appreciate it.

<- Previous

...................................................................

“Do we have to go?” It’s the fourth time he’s asked that damn question today. With an explosive sigh, you lower the eyeliner stylus you had raised to your eyelid till your hand taps against the counter. Sending a disgruntled grimace at your reflection, you answer the antsy man waiting impatiently outside the refresher. 

“Yes, Fives, we do.” You answer in a measured tone, you don’t mean to be snippy but the former ARC trooper has been testing your patience all day by seeking out ways to avoid attending the late night talk show appearance you’d scheduled months ago. In all fairness, he didn’t have to go - you’d been the one to promise an appearance still believing Fives to have passed on. It was something your lawyer, attorney, and pr manager had suggested you do in order to further normalize the integration of clones into society as citizens and decorated war vets. Who better to have do that than the lover of ARC Trooper Fives - the doctor that (with help) exposed the sinister plot unwittingly programmed into the clones in the wake of her lover’s presumed death? To be honest, you felt dirty doing this. It felt like you were treating the avoidance of a tragedy as a publicity stunt - and you weren’t the only one to think this if the raging articles and forums dedicated to slowing your progress down were any indication. Still, if this was the best way to showcase how human the men of the Grand Army of the Republic are then you would do what you had to. Besides, Chancellor Amidala couldn’t do it all by herself despite the backing of the Jedi and a handful of beloved senators. She needed the public on her side too. “I know you don’t like it but it’s the best thing we can do for you and your brothers right now.” 

The integration of the clones was slow going - an uphill struggle from the very start. But, around a year after Fives’s supposed demise on a day you thought would haunt you forever, Captain Rex strolled in with the one thing in the whole galaxy you’d ever longed for: Fives. Alive and looking relatively like himself again and standing in the entryway of your shared home with Kix and a medical droid from Kamino named AZ3. He’d faked his death, as he explained to you later that night, in order to ensure Palpatine lost suspicion of you and Rex, giving you and the captain enough time to discover the truth about the inhibitor chips for yourself. To hide he’d had to keep his hair short and a modified patch meant to mimic skin had been placed over his iconic ‘5′ tattoo to keep his identity obscured. But the worst thing of all (in your opinion) - he had to shave his goatee. From there, with the help of Kix, he’d been reintegrated into the GAR in the 104th as a shiny named Hydan. For months, he hid among the ranks of the 104th the only person aware of who he was being Kix until the day came where Sidious was discovered, the chips were deactivated, and Chancellor Amidala had been instated by a nearly unanimous vote. Only when it was deemed safe enough, did Kix contact Rex and explain what happened who then reunited you and Fives. 

Now, you were an hour and a half away from making your first public appearance as a couple. Fives’s hair wasn’t quite to the length you were familiar with nor was his goatee (it was about as faint as it was the first time you met him after the first battle for Kamino) but now his retouched tattoo shown proudly on the side of his head and the name Hydan had been cast aside. 

“I get that,” Fives huffed as he rounded the doorway and met your gaze in the mirror - a grumpy frown furrowing his brow and pulling his face down, “but I don’t understand why we have to go. I thought Rex did fine in his interview.” He huffed again and leaned heavily against the doorframe with crossed arms. Despite how annoying he was trying to be you couldn’t help but grin at him and rake your eyes over his reflection. Fives was dressed in a pristine, pressed white dress uniform with medals affixed to his breast that glinted in the bright light of the ‘fresher. The insignia for the 501st was pressed into the corner of his high collar on one side, on the other the sign for an ARC trooper. Decorating the shoulders of his uniform were golden pads meant to mimic the pauldrons worn by most ARC troopers. Finally, two golden stripes on either wrist to symbolically pay homage to every fallen soldier.

You snorted his statement, returning your attention to the mirror to finish up your neglected eye. “Babe, he was as stiff as a board and simultaneously more fidgety than a newly deployed shiny.” 

“He still got his point across didn’t he? All this,” he caught your attention by loosely gesturing to the uniform, “is pointless. I mean - don’t get me wrong, doll, you look beautiful but I’d prefer to have you all dressed up for a date not some dumb talk show in front of the whole galaxy.” You didn’t immediately acknowledge the compliment he tossed at you - your focus was too drawn to the sentiment he had just expressed. 

“Fives,” you sighed and turned away from the mirror to face the man, “what’s this really about?” Fives shifted on his feet suddenly uncomfortable under your concerned but scrutinizing gaze. There was a long pause where neither of you said anything and Fives couldn’t even meet your eyes. You were the first to make a move, stepping forward carefully till the man was witihin arms reach. “Fives,” you said again, reaching a hand out to rest on his forearm, “baby,” you ducked your head to meet his gaze, “talk to me.” 

He could never resist when you called him ‘baby’. It was one weakness Fives wasn’t even aware he had, the slightest chink in his armor that you always managed to find. And he knew that you knew what it did to him. With a nearly frustrated sigh both at the situation and at his inability to control what he was feeling, he tried to let you see what was going on in his head. “It’s just...” he began before trailing off. Why couldn’t he let you in? You were trying to be there for him and he was just...clamming up. Why? You were always so open with him. You didn’t shut him out - you never had. You’d always bared your soul to him whenever he asked, you’d always trusted him with the most fragile aspects of who you were. So, why couldn’t he tell you? What was wrong with him? It wasn’t even a big deal, he knew that, he knew he was just being stubborn and annoying and you were probably fed up with his attitude - gods, what if you were fed up with him too? What if you were just asking him what he was feeling out of habit? What if you didn’t lo-? 

“Fives!” You called out in alarm. “Fives, baby, take a deep breath.” You quickly lowered your voice after snapping him out of his downward spiral. The former ARC trooper looked up at you, soft chestnut brown eyes blown wide in panic. His breathing had picked up speed, resembling shallow pants instead. Your heart broke. But you had to focus to be able to help him. Carefully, you took a deep, slightly exaggerated breath and released it while gesturing for him to copy you. He did though his breathing was still shallow and shaky. “Good, Fives. One more time.” You took another breath, a little deeper than the last one and Fives tried to mimic you. 

“Shit-Shit- I-I’m sorry, cyare!” He suddenly broke, tears starting to form at the bottom of his eyes. “I-I should have it together, I-I sh-shouldn’t be acting like this!” 

“Fives, baby, it’s okay...” you were floundering, you could feel it. “Can...can I touch you?” 

Fives looked at you like a startled loth-cat kitten but opened his arms all the same. “Please...” he breathed out and that was all it took for you to step forward and wrap your arms around him. His arms locked around you like a vice and you could now feel the violent tremors that ran through him. 

“Baby, what you are feeling is scary and overwhelming...” you began quietly, “but I need you to know that it is okay to feel like this. There is nothing wrong with you,” you let one hand smooth up and down his back, “I still love you, and if you need to let it all out, I am here to help.” His grip tightened around you, so tight that it almost hurt, but you made no complaint and instead lifted yourself up enough to press a kiss to his neck. “What do you need right now, cyare?” 

“I-I-I don’t know...” 

“It’s okay to not know.” You whispered back. A silence fell between you, only broken by the occasional hiccupping breath that would slip from your boyfriend. With each one, you’d just continue to rub his back and calmly press feather-light pecks to wherever you could. You were vaguely aware of time passing, the approach of the catalyst for this latest attack ever-present and looming above you like the shadow of some great monolith, but you paid it no mind. Fives was more important. When a substantial amount of time had passed between hiccups, you gently pulled back just enough to grasp Fives’s forearms but to also rest your forehead against his chest, knowing that he didn’t like to be looked at while he was crying. “Fives...” you whispered to him and waited for an acknowledging hum. “Do you want to try your breathing exercise again?” The tightening of his grip and the feeling of his head dropping onto yours was your only answer. “Okay. In five, hold five, out five. Ready?” You gave him a few seconds before starting to count, slow and steady. You kept a sharp ear out for his breathing, monitoring it for signs of improvement or decline as he breathed in, held his breath, and then released it. You quietly joined him on the third cycle, relying on your internal metronome to keep the relaxed pace. 

The two of you stayed like that for another five or six cycles before Fives finally lifted his head, his breathing practically back to normal. “’m sorry, cyare.” He muttered under his breath with a poorly concealed sniffle. 

“Hush, none of that now, Fives.” You shushed him with a soft smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. He immediately leaned into the touch. “It happens, sweetheart, there’s no need to feel ashamed.” You continued to sooth as your thumb gently ran across his cheekbone. 

Fives’s eyes softened at you as the residual panic began to fade. “It’s just,...” he started again but took a deep breath this time before pushing on, “when I came back, I-I wanted it to be the end of all this; of the war and the chips and the GAR. I just want to settle down with you, move somewhere people can’t find and just not have to worry about anything...” Fives’s gaze fell to the floor as his hand carefully glided up the arm that was holding his face till he could gently pull it away to weave his fingers through yours, “maybe even start a family...” Your mouth fell open slightly at that - the two of you had discussed what you wanted your lives to look like after the war, it was how you ended up calling him your fiance prior to his ‘death’ but most talk halted at marriage. Fives’s eyes flicked up to your face again to dart over your features, taking in the shocked expression now residing there. But he seemed to misinterpret it. “I-I know it’s stupid...”

“No, it’s not. Nothing you just said was stupid.” You reassured immediately. “I want that, Fives. I want that life with you.” A soft, fluttery feeling seemed to engulf your chest, growing and dimming like a soft mood light with every breath. It was nice and warm and lovely and you prayed that Fives felt it too. Going by the shy grin stretching over his lips - he most certainly did. 

The fragile moment was shattered by a loud chirp emanating from the ‘fresher as your alarm started to go off. You had one hour before you had to leave. With an overdramatic eye roll that pulled a quiet chuckle from the still fragile man you separated from him and walked into the refresher to turn off the alarm. Just as you were turning on your heel to face Fives again you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - full face of makeup minus one incomplete eye, hair still half-heartedly shoved away from your face, and you still in your lounge wear. It was enough to make you laugh. “I’m a bit of a mess, aren’t I?” You hummed. 

“Yeah,” Fives hummed back as he appeared in the mirror behind you. You didn’t have time to be offended though as Fives was already draping an arm around your shoulders. “But you’re a beautiful one.” 

With a scoff, you slapped his chest with the back of your hand while Fives tittered at your reaction. A moment later he pressed an affectionate kiss to your temple. You smiled to yourself as you finally got to finish your makeup. “Could you go get my dress? It’s still in the bag in the closet.” You sent Fives a look in the mirror as your reached for all the products you’d need to style your hair. He made a hum-like sound in the back of his throat and glided out of the refresher, significantly lighter on his feet compared to how he’d been all day. But there was still a heaviness in him, an invisible weight on his shoulders as he slipped from view. You frowned. Maybe he should stay here in the apartment - out of sight. Where he felt safe.

“Cyare?” He quietly called and your shook your head before meeting his concerned gaze in the mirror. Fives was leaning around the doorway with a garment bag slung over his shoulder. One eyebrow was raised at you. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, Fives, just...thinking.” He tilted his head at you but you waved him off in favor of gently taking the garment bag from him and moving to put the dress on. Fives let out a low whistle after you pulled your top off and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him though the smile never left your face as you moved to the sweats you’d had on. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me get that thing on?” You asked, gesturing to the dress with your head as you kicked off the lounge wear and moved for the hoop. Fives muttered something you didn’t catch before helping you into the blue and white, sweetheart neckline mermaid dress. 

He pulled back and held you by the shoulders to look over your entire image. “Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” He smiled at you, wide enough for those crinkles you loved to appear at the corners of his eyes. “Think I better go so nobody tries anything.” 

Your face fell so suddenly it startled you. “Fives, I take it back. If you don’t want to go, you do not have to.” Your hands came up to smooth over his chest as your gaze fell to the floor. “I realize it’s a lot and not everyone is for us so if you’re more comfortable staying-” 

He said your name causing your attention to snap to him immediately. His eyes were soft as he focused on you, lips drawn into a thin line, while his hands squeezed your shoulders. “Cyare...no. I want to do this. For my brothers, for you. And if sitting on an obnoxiously long couch in an uncomfortable outfit talking to some wackjob who won’t shut up for two seconds or stop prying is the way to go, then it’s the way to go.” Despite the situation a little giggle slipped from you at Fives’s still evident disdain for talkshow hosts shown through. He smiled at you again before pulling you into a warm embrace with a long sigh. “I’m sorry for all this.” 

“Fives-” You began in a warning tone.

“No, let me finish.” He squeezed you closer. “I’m sorry for all of this - for tricking you, for lying, for forcing you into the limelight, and for being so damn stubborn. You deserve better.” He sighed again and pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours, keeping his eyes closed as he did so. “I want to be better. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass since I came back and you’re a saint for dealing with me and all this shit I dragged you into and made you deal with. It should’ve been my shit to deal with and...I bolted - faked my death and made you ‘n Rex deal with everything that came after.” He opened his eyes and finally met your gaze, and in the golden depths were smoldering embers of a lifetime of pain - injuries yet to heal. “I’m so sorry, ner kar’ta.” He whispered. 

“Fives,” you began by sliding one of your hands along his arm till you could grasp at his wrist and pull his hand off of your waist to intertwine your fingers with his, “you didn’t drag me into anything. I knew that I was signing up to face the unknown the first time I kissed you.” Carefully you brought your intertwined hands to your face to kiss along his knuckles. “Secondly, think about what would have happened if you hadn’t disappeared. Fives,” You met his eyes, your own burning with severity, “I would have lost you for real.” His grip tightened on your hand but he kept quiet. Not wanting to dwell, you moved right along. “Thirdly, you gave Rex and I a chance to stop Sidious, to stop the massacre of thousands of Jedi. We were able to stop a tyrant because of you. Your sacrifice saved the galaxy, Fives. That isn’t ‘shit’. You’re a hero, cyare. Finally,” your free hand snaked its way up to cup his cheek, “I could never ask you to be better because you’re already so damn good to me. You’re incredible, Fives.” Your thumb stroked his cheek as you took a moment to just appreciate the man in front of you. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” And with that, you pushed yourself up to seal your lips against his. Fives melted against you, hand releasing yours in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist again while his other cupped the back of your neck to keep you in place. The hand you had against his cheek moved back to tug at his hair. The other that was once held by Fives crept around his shoulders so you could use it to pull him closer. You stayed locked together for a moment more, barely separating to catch your breaths before you were pressing soft, whispering kisses to each others lips. Each one, though light in nature, felt heavy in meaning which made your heart speed and head feel airy. 

You only separated for real when your alarm went off next to you - thirty minutes before you had to be at the studio. Without slipping from Fives’s arms, you reached over to turn the alarm off. The air was charged now, buzzing with a foreign energy you weren’t used to. “C’mon,” Fives eventually whispered, “let’s go greet the galaxy.”

Taglist: 

@apocalypticwafflekitten / @pinkiemme / @cherryxcyarika / @justalittlecloud / @and-claudia 

[gloomybabygirl]

also hi sorry i’m back skdjdjjd could i please be added to your permanent tag list? also maybe if it’s not too much trouble may i request a fic with poe and an overwhelmed empath reader 🥺🥺 i’m so sorry i keep botherin i hope you have a great day :”)

A/N: hi Sunny! don’t you ever apologize for leaving an ask, they make my day!! you’re 100% on my tags list now babe :) I’m sorry this took so long, I’ve been insanely busy with school but I had a conversation with my boyfriend tonight and this prompt really hit home today and i got carried away oops. I hope you enjoy sweet girl!! 

Warnings: angst angst angst. fluff at the end don’t worry. bad writing!

Word Count: 1k 

Summary: Poe comforts you

You couldn’t tell how long you’d been crying. Your eyes were so bleary from the tears that you could barley see the details on your own hands. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes to dry them and try to stop a fresh wave of tears. 

Fighting in a war was difficult, to say the least. Especially for an empath like you. Seeing the people around you fight, cry, struggle, die was overwhealming. Most days you could handle it, especially because of how easily Poe could take your mind off of things. But today, he was gone doing observation routes and you were left completely alone. Usually, you could handle the empathy you felt for everyone. It could be a lot to take at some times, sure. But nothing you weren’t able to breathe through. 

Today was different though. Not only was your emotional support pilot gone, so was your emotional support droid. There had been a squadron that returned that moring from a mission where they lost people. Good people. People who fought selflessly to save innocent people from loosing their lives. Seeing their faces during the debrief was heart wrenching. You spent all of your time that moring comforting the fighters and it took all of your energy to stay brave for them. But that all fell apart the second you were behind closed doors.

Oh Maker, here comes a fresh wave of tears. 

You took a deep, shuddering breath in. As soon as you shut the door behind you, you fell to your knees in the middle of the room and broke down. Ugly, messy, gut wrenching sobs filling the empty room. You couldn’t get the poor people’s faces out of your head. Coming back from a mission with a piece of them missing was something you couldn’t shake from your memory. 

You began to spiral from there. What if you lost people close to you? Rey? Finn? Poe? They were always making risky, life threatening decisions for the cause. You don’t think you could handle loosing them. Especially Poe. 

Gods, what would you do without him? 

Another tsunami of salty, wet tears came crashing down on you, making you nauseous. You laid your face in your hands and rested your forehead on the floor, knees bent under your stomach. And that was how Poe found you. Collapsed on the floor with your shoulders shaking, the room filled with the sound of your heartbreak. 

You felt a small sense of relief just hearing the door open. 

“Princess?” The concern in his voice made your stomach lurch. You didn’t want to worry him further. He already had the whole Resistance crew to look after. 

“What’s wrong my love, are you okay?” He was crouched down next to you now, coaxing your head up with a gentle hand. 

As soon as he looked into your eyes, shimmering with tears, he felt his heart shatter for you. You looked so… broken. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. He carefully grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap so your back was pressed to his warm, solid chest. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving small, sweet kisses there. He didn’t speak until he felt your breathing calm down considerably. 

“What is it that’s overwhelming you today?” He asked quietly. 

“I saw the Red Squadron come back from their mission. We lost so many good people.” He let out a breath of understanding and exasperation against your neck, but let you continue. He knew once you started talking, everything that was bothering you would come spilling out. “It took all my energy to not break down in front of them and as soon as I came back here, I shattered. And then of course, I started spiraling and thinking about how awful it is that we’re losing so many people and how I would be a wreck if I lost Rey or Finn or you. It would kill me.” 

You drew in a shaky breath. Poe was still holding you tightly to him, anchoring you to reality with his firm, loving grasp.

You continued, the flood gates opening. “Then I started freaking out more. Wondering what would happen if we lost the war, if I was separated from you. Or if you got captured. Or if we do win? You’ll be so busy rebuilding the republic, I don’t want you to have the burden of also taking care of me. I don’t want to be a distraction for you. I-” Poe cut you off with gentle, quiet shushing sounds. 

“Okay, I see where you started to spiral. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to comfort you and help you through all of your feelings and the feelings you took on from seeing people hurting today. Can we do some breathing?” You nodded, sniffling. 

Poe led you through a breathing exercise you were both familiar with, as he often did it with you when you were having an empath episode. 

“Good job, Princess. Now let me reassure you on some things.” He brushed some stray hair out of your face and pulled you even tighter to him, wanting to give you a feeling of stability and security. “We don’t know what the war will lead to. There are so many ways things could work out, I won’t lie to you about that. Look at me.” 

You turned slightly to look up at the sweet man. 

“I need you to trust that I will take care of you no matter what.” 

“Promise?” You whisper. 

“Promise.” He confirmed, holding out his pinky. You intertwined your pinky with his, then touched the tips of your thumbs together. You moved your hands to form a heart with each of your hands making up half of it. Then you both broke the heart, and placed the pieces in your shirts for safe keeping. A little promise ritual the two of you have had forever. 

“I’ll always be there to make sure you’re okay and take care of you.” He kissed you softly on the lips, gently moving you so he could stand and lead you to your bed. You crawled in next you him, once again allowing him to wrap you in his arms and hold you in a cocoon of protection. 

“Get some rest, Princess. I’ve got you.”

taglist (currently open!): @softly-sad @clumsy-writing-rdb

[moiraineswife]

His Father’s Eyes - A Kholin Family Fic

RHYTHM OF WAR SPOILERS 

GO AWAY IF YOU DON’T WANT RHYHTM OF WAR SPOILERS

THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. GET OUT OF HERE.

Title: His Father’s Eyes

Summary:  Set in the middle of Rhythm of War: Dalinar has a late-running meeting so Wit suggests that he and Jasnah can watch Gavinor for a few hours. Jasnah is very awkward and unsure around her baby nephew because this woman will look into the face of god and spit cheerfully, but if you confront her with a toddler she will crumble. Wit encourages her to bond with him and it gets incredibly soft and emotional.

Teaser: ‘Gavinor solemnly picked up his little blue-clad soldier doll, the same one he’d had when Elhokar had rescued him from Aeseudan and the Palace of Kholinar, and walked steadily towards her. 

Irrationally, she found herself sitting up straighter in her chair, gripping its arms, bracing herself. As if this was a chasmfiend hauling itself from a black pit on the Shattered Plains, advancing menacingly upon her, mandibles clacking, not her toddler aged nephew. Ridiculous. And yet. 

He stared up at her with big, green eyes. Her father’s eyes. Her brother’s eyes. Both now gone. Dead. In part because of her failures. Now Gavinor looked at her with them, and the fear that she would fail him, too, assaulted her in a wave so strong and unexpected, it was almost overwhelming.’

Link: ao3

Commission Link: Have me write other cosmere characters

Jasnah allowed herself a moment to pause her work. She had been going without pause for several hours now, and she could tell it was starting to have a negative impact on her. Reviewing troop casualty reports from the latest battle was a grim task indeed.

Letting her mind wander, she glanced to the opposite side of the tent where Wit was entertaining little Gavinor. 

It was...Nice, she allowed, to take her mind off the cost of this war they were fighting, to remind herself who they were fighting it for. She felt partially responsible for every one of the deaths listed before her. 

Not only did she, irrationally, wonder if there was more she could have done to support them on the battlefield. She had sent them. She was their Queen. In Alethkar that meant she was also their ultimate military leader. She had ordered them to die for her, and her cause. And they had.

It was a worthy cause. Not fighting would lead to all of their deaths. To the destruction or domination of their entire world by the oppressive power of hatred. But it was still hard to read those numbers. To know their fear. To feel their blood upon her hands.

Gavinor reminded her why she was doing this. Not just for her family, but for all of the children on Roshar. She would win this war for them, for their futures, for the chance at peace for them that still lived. Its heart fluttering, lungs filled with blood, wheezing. But still. There was a chance. 

Dalinar typically kept Gavinor with him. He had taken very seriously to being more involved in the little boy’s life, which Jasnah approved of, in general. However, he’d had a meeting with the army generals today, who had wanted his perspective on today’s assault, as he’d been the one of the two of them on the field. 

He’d asked Jasnah if she wanted to spend a few hours with her nephew. Wit had jumped in to agree on her behalf. He claimed afterwards, in response to her cool glare, thought it would be ‘good for her’. Maybe it was. All the same, she wouldn’t have allowed it to continue without his assurance that he would stay with her. 

Jasnah loved Gavinor. As the last good thing she had left of her little brother, and in his own right as her nephew. He was her family. That meant there was nothing she would not do for him. But he was still very young, and she had never been entirely comfortable around small children. 

They seemed so...Strange. So alien. They felt unpredictable to her, unknowable, irrational. That unsettled her more than she would ever openly admit.

An adult you could ask questions, you could track patterns and learn to read their emotions, their moods, their personality. You could predict their future behaviours based on observation of their past. They were far easier for her to understand and respond to. 

Children were precisely the opposite. And they seemed so...Fragile. Not simply physically. It was so easy to say the wrong thing, to cause unintended distress. They were as changeable and flighty as the seasons. Happy and content one moment, screaming with some unknowable torment the next. She hated the sound of their crying. It cut through her, and it made it very difficult to focus on anything else. 

Wit, meanwhile, was so natural with Gavinor, it was as though he’d been made for this purpose. 

This being, so ancient and alien in so many ways, seemed able to do so easily things that seemed impossible to her. The ease with which he seemed to communicate, and connect with other people. How he seemed to instantly understand them. 

His long life experience no doubt assisted with this, but she knew it was more than that. This was who he was, who he had always been. He had not needed that experience to know how to do this.

He had used another form of Investiture he called Awakening to bring her nephew’s little Kholin doll to life. It now walked around, allowing Gavinor to chase it, hugging him when he caught up to it. 

The child had been quite upset at first that his little soldier would not pick up a sword or fight. All it did was hug him, and play with him. She’d caught Wit’s eye when this had first come to light and an understanding had passed between them. A gratitude she had not been able to put into words. 

Jasnah understood her Uncle’s desire to have Gavinor with him, and why that meant he had brought him here, despite it being a warzone. He was trying so hard to avoid making the mistakes he personally had made before that he was ignoring the others they were making. 

She didn’t know a great deal about children. Though she had done as much research as her current schedule would allow. But she did not think encouraging a five year old’s preoccupation with violence and revenge was a healthy thing. 

She would be damned if she allowed her brother’s only son to be drawn into continuing the same cycle of pointless, painful revenge that had killed him. 

Whatever else Elhokar might have wanted for Gavinor, it would never be that. 

They had talked, a little, before she had left the Plains for her research. On quiet evenings alone in his palace complex save flamespren dancing in the hearth. She wished, sometimes, she’d made time for more of those. 

They had spoken together about the revenge against the Listeners for what they had done to their father. It had been a complex thing within Elhokar, though it had never been a driving force for her. 

Emotion was a difficult thing for both of them, but in different ways. Jasnah often felt that she didn’t have enough input. That everyone around her got so much more from the world around them than she did. That in turn made their own responses so much stronger, and more consuming than it had ever felt for her.

Elhokar...Elhokar had gotten far too much input. 

Jasnah loved their Uncle Dalinar. And she had loved their father in his own right. She knew they had both tried their best for him. But they had never allowed Elhokar to be his own person. Every decision he made. Every path that he took. Every feeling he had. Every thought that entered his mind was subject not only to his own will, but to theirs. 

It was not enough for Elhokar to do what he’d thought was right. He also had to do what he thought his father, and Dalinar, would think was right. Their approval and judgement had always seemed to have more weight in his mind than his own.

Declaring war on the Listeners had, in part, been a reaction of grief and pain at losing his father. But he’d confessed to her, in private, and under the strictest oath of confidence, that he had also partially done it because he felt it was what was expected of him. 

The Alethi were a warlike people. It was how they dealt with almost everything. This was something Jasnah was working, with Wit’s help, to change. The foundation of a people’s society being violence and conflict could never lead to stability or longevity. The formation of their own storming unified kingdom had only come because of war against their own. 

It would be unthinkable, then, that the Alethi would not go to war with the Listeners in retribution. It was not enough to execute those who had ordered Gavilar’s assassination. It was not enough to exile them from their lands. It was not enough. It was not enough. It was never enough. That was the problem. 

Everyone expected Elhokar to declare war, and so he had. 

They all expected him to relentlessly pursue vengeance for his father, and so he had. 

Anything less, anything other, might have implied that he didn’t care, and he couldn’t have that. 

Some had suggested that of Jasnah, when she’d left the Plains to pursue her research. Foolishness. But she had felt able to do what she thought was right. Elhokar...Elhokar had always been forced to do what he thought others felt was right. 

Her heart ached for her brother in that moment. She did not often think of him. There was so much to do. So much else to focus on. Something she did deliberately, perhaps, to avoid this second grief and failure that now haunted her. But when she did…

She still remembered him as the child he had been. Eager, and earnest, and so desperate to please everyone. To do good. To live up to his father’s name expectations. 

That had never been possible. And that had been the true tragedy of her brother’s life: it had always been doomed. He had spent so much time chasing that impossible dream, trying to attain a thing that he had been destined to fail at before he’d ever begun. 

Sighing, she stopped her thoughts as they began to spiral down into a pool of grief. Instead, she focused on Wit and Gavinor. 

He had used Lightweaving to create a whole scene for him to play in. Something gentle, and calm. Dalinar wouldn’t have approved, likely, but it made Jasnah smile a little. 

There was thick green grass that did not pull away and hide when the little boy ran through it. Gavinor was giggling, chasing small round, furry creatures with too large ears that kept popping in and out of holes in the ground. 

Every now and then he hurtled past Wit and made some request of him to add something else to the scene, and Wit would bow and comply, weaving the boy’s imaginations into life around him.

Gavinor had started referring to him as ‘Uncle Wit’. Which was as endearing as it was concerning. 

As if sensing this thought, Wit glanced up suddenly and caught her watching them. 

He smiled, rather slyly, and she immediately felt a flicker of concern. He allowed the illusion to fade, and she frowned at him, though Gavinor didn’t seem upset. 

She watched as Wit crouched down and whispered something in the boy’s ear, smiling encouragingly. Then he lounged against the desk behind him and folded his arms, watching, smirking. 

Gavinor solemnly picked up his little blue-clad soldier doll, the same one he’d had when Elhokar had rescued him from Aeseudan and the Palace of Kholinar, and walked steadily towards her. 

Irrationally, she found herself sitting up straighter in her chair, gripping its arms, bracing herself. As if this was a chasmfiend hauling itself from a black pit on the Shattered Plains, advancing menacingly upon her, mandibles clacking, not her toddler aged nephew. Ridiculous. And yet. 

He stared up at her with big, green eyes. Her father’s eyes. Her brother’s eyes. Both now gone. Dead. In part because of her failures. Now Gavinor looked at her with them, and the fear that she would fail him, too, assaulted her in a wave so strong and unexpected, it was almost overwhelming. 

Fortunately, she was well-practiced at controlling herself, and gave nothing away. Not that the little boy seemed to pick up on, anyway. Wit, standing in his corner, cocked his head slightly at her. But uncharacteristically he said nothing.

Without saying a word, Gavinor handed his little doll towards her. Cautiously, she took it, and held it in her lap, tracing her fingers over the stitching on the buttons. The top one was coming loose. He could pull that free and choke on it. She would need to speak to his nurses and ensure that they took the time to repair it for him before-

Gavinor tugged gently at her havah, trying to get her attention. She forced a smile, looking at him instead of the doll, and said, in what she hoped was a warm, friendly voice appropriate for a young child, “Thank you, Gavinor.” 

Wit, the insufferable bastard, was being of no help whatsoever. He was still lounging at the back of the tent, watching, as if he were at some sort of play. 

She glared pointedly at him, but he glanced down at the desk at the exact moment she looked up and pretended to be busy rearranging his papers, so apparently did not see. Storms. She was going to kill him. She- 

Gavinor tugged again, gentle, but insistent, on the edge of her havah and she looked back down at him. He seemed...Expectant? 

Stormfather, why was this so difficult? 

A part of her wanted to call Wit over, to ask him to deal with Gavinor instead. Though she very much doubted he would deign to hear her command. But looking down into those eyes, she couldn’t. She couldn’t just give him away, pass him off on someone else. Make him feel less wanted, and more alone, than he already did.

This was awkward. It was uncomfortable. It was hard. It felt storming impossible at times. But this was her nephew. Her brother’s son. Her family. 

She was not as some people whispered. She was not a heartless monster. A thing that was more creature than human. A being that did not feel, did not care, could not love.

 She had difficulty connecting to people. But she wanted to. Storms but she did. Most of the time. She cared, and she loved, and she tried. In her own way, a way most didn’t see or understand. But that had become enough for her, now.

Biting her lip, she looked down at the doll in her lap, then stood him on his little booted feet. 

“He’s very nice, Gavinor,” she said, a little stiffly, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. 

He nodded solemnly, “It’s my daddy,” he told her, very seriously. 

Jasnah nodded back, which seemed the right thing to do, “I see that,” she told him, though she didn’t. 

Gavinor studied her face for a moment, as though it was a book with text he could almost translate, but not quite. He wasn’t sure what he saw. Some cold, distant person he was supposed to call ‘aunt’ and love because they told him she was family?

Then he said, very matter-of-factly, “You look a lot like my daddy.” 

Something caught in her chest at that, it was so unexpected. But she just nodded and said, “Yes. He was my brother.” 

“I know that,” the boy answered, in a tone that implied she was stupid. 

She found herself smiling, “Of course you do.” 

“Grampa says that he was brave,” Gavinor informed her, “He says daddy was a hero.” 

“He was,” Jasnah agreed, and meant it this time. 

To his little boy, he had been. And that would have been what mattered most to Elhokar. To him. Not the pressures exerted by others. But deep down. In his heart. Being a hero to this little boy would be more important to him than anything else he had ever done. It would eclipse his perceived failures entirely. 

Gavinor scrunched his face up in an expression she struggled to place. Was he upset thinking about his father? About that terrible day in Kholinar when that bastard bridgeman had murdered her little brother in front of his young son? 

Then, slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his hands towards her, looking expectant again. 

Oh Storms. 

He looked as though he wanted her to pick him up, to hold him, perhaps to offer him comfort, as Navani had probably done for him countless times before. 

Jasnah couldn’t do that. She couldn’t be what this little boy needed. She wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t even Wit, or Dalinar. They would have found some way to reach out, to soothe him. 

She was not them. She was cold, and distant, and sterile. She was the last thing this child needed. She would only disappoint him, leave him worse than he had been before, confused, as well as upset.

She looked at Wit for assistance but he just inclined his head and gestured for her to proceed.

Storm him. He was probably right, but storm him. She wasn’t ready for this. She couldn’t do it.

“Jasnah,” Ivory observed, helpfully, voice so soft only she could hear him, “I believe that the small human you are related to would like you to pick him up.” 

 Storms. Even Ivory was better at this than she was. She resisted the impulse to bury her face in her hands in answer.

Carefully, hesitant, certain she would somehow do this wrong, she put her hands under Gavinor’s outstretched arms and lifted him up. 

He sat quite happily on her lap, so that was something, but continued to watch her with those impenetrable green eyes. Eyes that had seen too much for his age. 

“Grampa says you’re Radiant,” Gavinor told her, little hands picking with vague interest at the embroidery on her havah. 

“I am,” she confirmed, with half a glance at Wit in a desperate plea for help. But he just continued his idle lounging from a distance. 

She might actually kill him. 

It would be both instructive, giving her an insight into how he returned after he died, which he’d implied he could do. It would also be an excellent remedy for her fury towards him. A scenario with no downsides whatsoever. That made a delightful change for her of late.

“Do you have a friend spren?” Gavinor asked her, distracting her from her wistful fantasies about how, precisely, she would like to brutally murder her partner. 

‘Friend-spren’ was what Gavinor referred to the Radiant spren as. Children, from a young age, came to understand regular spren as features of the landscape. It had taken a little extra explaining on Navani’s part to help him understand Radiant spren. He had some...Unfortunate experiences with more intelligent spren who were always around. 

“I do,” she told him, “His name is Ivory.” 

“Can I see him?” the boy asked, a little bounce of eagerness in him, which was good to see. 

Her mother said he was too solemn, for his age. Even Jasnah, with her limited experience or instincts towards children, could grasp that fact.

She hesitated, “He can be quite...Nervous sometimes,” she said cautiously. 

Gavinor’s face fell at once, and her heart plummeted at the sight, “Is he afraid of me?” 

“No, no,” Jasnah said, scrambling to fix her mistake, “He just likes to be careful,” she tried to explain. 

Gavinor nodded, as if that made sense. Which was strangely heartbreaking. 

“He-” Jasnah began, but she broke off as movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Ivory had grown to a visible size on her shoulder. He liked to ride on the inside of her collar, usually, which allowed him to be invisible to most, but close enough to speak with her as needed. Very practical. 

Now he stood, around the height of her hand, clearly visible to the little boy, whose face lit up at the sight of him. 

“He’s very pointy,” he observed, after contemplating him for a long moment.

This was a rather shrewd observation, though he might not know it. ‘Pointy’ described Ivory rather well, in her estimation. 

He reached out, then, surprisingly, stopped himself, and looked at her, “Can I touch him?” he asked. 

“That is not for me to say,” she said. When he frowned, confused, she added, “You would need to ask Ivory.” 

He considered this, then addressed her shoulder, “Can I touch you?” he asked, eagerly. 

Ivory sniffed, “You may, young relation,” he said, at last. 

That surprised her. Making himself visible was already a large allowance on Ivory’s part. She had expected him to refuse this latest request, but felt a rush of gratitude at him for allowing it.

The little boy frowned at this, however, “My name’s Gavinor,” he said, a little indignantly. Jasnah smiled. 

“Gavinor,” Ivory agreed, stiffly. Then he said, “Hold out your hands.” 

She loved him for the effort he was making in this. For her. She could sense his discomfort at being seen, even in this relatively private setting. But he did it for her, for her family, which he knew was of the utmost importance to her.

Gavinor glanced at Jasnah, who nodded, which seemed to encourage him, for he cautiously did as he was told. 

Ivory walked briskly down her arm and then onto the little boy’s outstretched palms. 

“I can’t feel him,” Gavinor said, looking disappointed. 

“That is because I exist largely in the Cognitive Realm, young Gavinor,” Ivory informed him in his clipped voice. “I have very little presence in this Realm, despite my bond to your aunt.” 

Gavinor blinked at this, then looked at Jasnah, who suddenly became very overwhelmed by the thought of having to try and explain Realmatic Theory to a five year old. 

Fortunately, at that moment, Wit decided to make himself of use, finally, and glided over, squatting down so he was on Gavinor’s eye level. 

“Ivory is a spren, remember,” he told the boy, “He has his own spren world where he stays. That’s why you can’t feel him. You can see him because your aunt Jasnah lets him be here talking to you a little bit.” 

Gavinor scrunched up his face, trying to understand this, “Like the bunnies?” he finally said, looking at Wit for reassurance. 

Wit laughed lightly, “A little like the bunnies, yes.” 

Jasnah made a mental note to ask Wit what on Roshar a ‘bunny’ was once Gavinor had been safely returned to Dalinar’s care. In the meantime, the arm Gavinor was leaning against was starting to feel numb, and she really had to get back to those troop reports, and- 

To her consternation, Gavinor yawned and settled down against her. Amusingly, he coaxed Ivory off of his hands back onto her shoulder first, as if he was a cremling. Ivory complied with characteristic dignity

“Aunt Jasnah?” Gavinor said, sounding sleepy. 

“Yes, Gavinor?” 

“You’re gonna stop the bad things, right? Like, like what was at home,” his lip trembled slightly, and he grabbed at her havah’s embroidery again before saying, “So they don’t hurt anyone else?” 

There was still innocence in those eyes of his. For all seen before their time. There was still the belief, the hope, that someone else would be able to put it all right for him again. 

She had sworn herself to this task years ago. Had taken the burden of protecting Roshar and its people onto herself. It was why she had bonded Ivory. It was why she had done so much, sacrificed so much, given so much all this time. 

In this moment, looking into those eyes, she felt that burden grow all the heavier. She was the person Gavinor looked to to make everything right in his world again. She would do that for him. She had to do that for him. Or else die attempting it. 

She tried to smile for him, and awkwardly patted his head as she said, “I’m going to do my best, Gavinor.” 

He nodded, apparently approving of this answer, then, without further ado, he closed his eyes and snuggled into her. One hand held tight to his Kholin doll, the other held a bunched up clump of her havah. 

She widened her eyes significantly at Wit and gestured wordlessly at this rapidly developing situation which was not something that could continue, of course. 

Wit nodded reassuringly and moved away. She hoped he might return with Gavinor’s nurse but instead, infuriatingly, he just came back with a blanket which he tucked around the two of them. 

“Wit,” she hissed, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the child, “I can’t. I-” 

“I do believe he’s already asleep, my dear, and so technically you already are,” Wit replied, sounding entirely too amused by this. 

“Wit,” she growled, threateningly, though with a sleeping child nestled against her, she was not entirely sure what she was threatening him with.

She stared down at the little boy cuddled against her, and couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong. 

How could he find comfort in her? How could he feel safe enough to sleep in her arms? How could he trust her when she did not even trust herself? 

“This is a good thing, Jasnah,” Wit said, quietly, “Dalinar will be here to pick him up in an hour or so. It will not kill you to let him stay here and be held by you for that length of time.” 

“This isn’t about me,” she whispered back, glaring. 

Usually he always understood, always knew, so she did not have to struggle to try and put her emotions into words. This was something which had endeared her to him very quickly, yet now... 

How could he not see the problem here? How could he not understand that this little boy was setting her up to be something that she could not be? He was going to look for things from her that she didn’t know how to give him. Things she had never known how to give anyone.

“I know,” Wit said, his voice gentle, “But perhaps you’re better at this than you think you are.” 

“I think he’s just desperate,” Jasnah muttered. 

“That’s rather harsh, dear one,” Wit commented lightly, “He is only five after all. And an orphan.” 

“He is not an orphan,” Jasnah replied fiercely, resting a hand protectively on Gavinor’s back, “He still has his family.” 

“Yes,” Wit said, quietly, “He does. I think he knows that. I think he may even know it better than you.” 

“I still have work that needs to be done tonight,” Jasnah said, trying to be cold, and practical, trying to force Wit to take this child away from her, to show him why she could not be what he wanted. 

Wit only gave her a soft smile and rested his hand on her back, “The dead shall wait, Jasnah,” he told her quietly, “The numbers will not change. Nor will the status of the war, or the analysis you will be draw from it all. They cannot be what you need right now.” 

“And what do I need?” she asked, tone caught between frustration and curiosity. 

“Life, Jasnah,” Wit said, quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, “You need to be here for the life that is happening around you right now, that will continue to happen around you, as you spend time buried in things that have not been, missing it.” 

She swallowed, recognising that he was right. She took a deep breath, then settled into the chair, allowing herself to slouch into a more comfortable position. Reaching down, she took Wit’s hand and gave it a small squeeze in silent gratitude. 

She knew now that he had set up this whole appointment with Gavinor for her. To give her this moment, this much needed reminder amidst this flood of blood, and violence, and death, that life was still there. Like new vines pushing up between the splayed fingers of fallen corpses on a battlefield. Unseen. Unnoticed, amidst the grief. But still there. And worth pausing to take note of.

“Could you fetch a cushion for me, please?” she asked, quietly, “I would like to make Gavinor more comfortable before his Uncle comes to collect him.” 

Wit smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, leaving to do as she’d asked, a mixture of pride and smugness on his sharp features.

***

A/N: First of all I have no idea how children work. I am Jasnah when it comes to small humans. If this is not how they do I apologise. I am a hopeless gay who tried my best. 

Secondly: this was supposed to be short and fluffy. It failed on both counts but I’m kind of okay with that tbh. It’s criminal we’ve had legitimately no Jasnah and Elhokar content whatsoever - not even after he died. So I PRODUCED this content. And finally: Jasnah being low empathy is SUPER important to me and it was a lot of fun to explore that in this. Okay Taryn out. Pls throw comments at me. I’m a thirsty comment slut. 

[evilbeanghost]

Snapetober

Participation #7: Day 15 “Stay With Me” (Moonstone fix-it part 2 of 2) - read on A03

(Read PART 1 - Abandoned first)

This is the AU fix-it ending - I call it “happy-sad” instead of the SAD SAD SAD of the original.

Thanks again to @ailec-12​ because she helped A LOT (and not just with this)

If you want to see Moonstone’s little furry face it’s HERE.

——————————————————————————————

In the end, Sirius was told that he had indeed saved the other's life that day. He couldn't stop thinking about how much time it would have taken the world to find Snape's corpse if it hadn't been for him. He would be dead if Sirius had not taken it upon himself to go demand some tea and light banter that first day some months ago – and how unlikely that had been anyway? Sirius could taste the words he would have said at Snape's funeral just there on his tongue, bitter and salty: fucking unhygienic bastard.

Now all that was needed was for the other man to bloody wake up already, just so Sirius could tell him what a bastard he was to his face instead of imagining himself spitting insults at his coffin. And it wasn't too much to ask after having already waited for six days now, anxiously being told that "no, he couldn't see Mister Snape", "no, only family", "no, he has not woken up yet", "sorry, I can't really tell you more". He was going to make something explode really soon. He knew that Snape didn't have any family anyway, these hospital people were just a bunch of buffoons in coats at this point. 

"Sirius?", someone said behind him, startling him out of his spiraling rage. Spinning on himself, Sirius was soon faced by a very confused Harry. 

"Harry? Is everyone alright?"

They were in a hospital after all.

"Oh. Yes, yes! It's not… everyone at home is well. Are you ok Sirius, what are you doing here?" Harry was searching his face anxiously.

"Oh, good. You had me worried here. Me? Well… as you see, I'm trying not to be thrown back in Azkaban for fucking murder. That's all," Sirius deadpanned, letting some of his frustration go in a surge of dark humor. 

The look Harry gave him was not amused. Sirius, too worried and tired to pretend anymore, decided to come clean:

"I'm here to see Snape… but those bloody hospital idiots won't let me see him even if I'm the one who took him here in the first place, can you believe that?", explained Sirius, all his frustration showing up in his tensed voice.

"What? You're the one who brought Severus here?"

"Who else? It's my fucking destiny apparently."

Harry laughed wholeheartedly at that, after all, he had been the one asking Sirius to take Snape to St Mungo the first time, the sly mongrel. But Harry was not going to let it go with so little information it seemed: 

"Now, I want all the details Sirius, you won't get away with this one, you and Snape…, it's too good for me not to ask: what were you two doing together?"

And Sirius, seeing the amusement in his godson's eyes, so like James when he was being mischievous like that, didn't hesitate before telling him everything, all the tea and talks and weird companionship of the last months. He felt better the more he shared too.

Harry seemed to lit up along his tale and Sirius wondered, once again, why he cared so much about Snape anyway? It was just how Harry was, it seemed.

"So, are you friends now then?" asked Harry when Sirius was finished, smiling at him like it was a very good thing indeed.

"I'm not sure… I don't hate him anymore… I can let you have that," replied Sirius defensively.

"Good!" was Harry's answer, and he still looked very amused with it all the little bastard, "Snape's sleeping right now, but he woke up a little earlier today. If you want, I can talk them into letting you see him tomorrow?"

"You were with him?" asked Sirius, astonished.

"Indeed," confirmed Harry.

"'Only family' my fucking dirty arse!" exclaimed Sirius, furious again.

"Sirius!" scolded Harry, looking around them in alarm.

"Sorry,"mumbled Sirius, "you have to admit that they're dirty liars though —"

"—I told them not to let anyone in his room… I… I am his emergency contact – don't ask – and as soon as I knew he was in the hospital again I tried to make sure that he would be safe here. You know how it is… you were there the last time some twats decided to make him pay for whatever," finished Harry, a kind of unexpected darkness oozing from his tone, making Sirius remember why Harry had secured his respected status even now, years after the end of the war. 

Choosing to let the matter drop then, Sirius took Harry's arm and dragged him toward the cafeteria, intent on distracting him now.

"So, how's my namesake, my pride, our future? and his little siblings?"

"Please, don't mention your school days again with James, Sirius, you won't believe the letter Minerva sent me yesterday, as soon as I read it, I knew it had something to do with you, it's not funny and I wanted to talk to you about that!" scolded Harry immediately.

"Oh, don't get all fatherly on me, you know that boy just need some more… should we say "fun"…? male representation in his poor life!", replied Sirius, as always highly amused by Harry's father persona. Sirius still remembered fondly the teenager who had asked him for dating advices when he was trying to make things right with Ginny just after the war, and he would never be able to not make fun of his godson, it was how their relationship was. He wouldn't change it for anything, Harry, and his family, was the most precious thing in his life after all. He wondered briefly if Snape knew about Albus' names?

"Oh that's how it will be?" replied Harry. "I will let you explain your idea of "fun male figure" to Ginny then, should I?"

"I'm fucked, aren't I", asked Sirius, more seriously.

"She's going to give you the lecture of the year I'm afraid", replied Harry, amused again.

"Well, I guess I deserved this one", concluded Sirius, he was a good-sport after all.

"Oh, about Snape", interrupted Harry, looking somewhat embarrassed, "you don't happen to know where Moonstone is then? It's his cat… he was awake for like fifteen minutes earlier and he kept asking for it apparently".

"She's at the flat", answered Sirius, blushing a little and trying to avoid Harry's gaze. There was a little silence after that… and then Harry roared with laughter.

"Oh my! not friends indeed," he concluded, highly amused.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It was with some apprehension that Sirius waited for Harry in the hospital's lobby the next day. Harry's smile when he eventually made it grated on Sirius' nerves a little. Why was the thought of him wanting to visit Snape so amusing anyway? 

Harry didn't say anything though and left the room rather quickly after having greeted Snape in a formal yet warm manner that left Sirius wondering once again about their relationship. He knew Harry had been more or less Snape's only contact for years… well, before Sirius had decided to act crazy and insinuate himself in the git's life too of course.

Snape looked terrible but still better than the last time Sirius had seen him, to Sirius' great relief. It was a little awkward after Harry's departure at first. They looked at each other somewhat sheepishly. Sirius couldn't think of anything to say now that he was actually in the damn room. In the end, Snape was the first one to try to say something, in a grumpy tone that made Sirius smile despite himself:

"I guess I should thank you Black… apparently you saved my life or so I was told anyway…" he said, stubbornly staring at his hands where they were grasping at the sheets anxiously.

"I guess you should indeed. And you owe me so much cat's food at this point already that all I can see in your future now is bankruptcy really," replied Sirius, their usual banter coming back to him now that the awkwardness had dissipated.

"She's with you?" replied Snape at once, relief heavy in his voice. "I wondered about that… I… thank you." And this time he sounded way more grateful than before. 

"You're welcome Snape. You? Honestly it was a gamble, but the little furry thing? No way, she's too cute!"

"For once, I completely agree with you Black," Snape deadpanned before adding as an afterthought. "Brace yourself for the end of the world, I guess."

After that, despite Snape's prolonged stay at the hospital, Sirius resumed his visiting on their previous schedule. The tea wasn't as good and the purring was not included anymore, but they quickly fell back into their previous weird brand of insult-based camaraderie. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Severus was waiting anxiously for Potter, knowing already what this was about and dreading it. He had known it was coming but had voluntarily tried not to let his thoughts touch the topic, even with a very long metaphorical stick. He was not having this conversation.

The Healer had told him a few days after he had woken up that they wouldn't discharge him before he had found a "solution to his living situation" as they had put it meekly. Apparently he was now officially an invalid and not fit to live alone anymore. He still had the little booklet they had given him with all the horrible homes he could choose from to die in. He was not going to die in a home.

They didn't even accept pets in any of them, he had looked. This was not going to happen. He was ready to just end it all, right here and right now. They all thought he was some kind of coward, they didn't know whom they were talking about He had lied to fucking Voldemort's face and he was not going to die in a home, it was final. And Moonstone was with Black, it was ok… she was ok.

And he had thought for so long that he had no pride left… Well, apparently he still had limits. Hard limits at that.

A soft knock on the door made him turn his head. Potter entered without a word, closing the door and then approaching the bed.

"Hello Severus, how are you doing today?" he said softly, apprehension written all over his face.

"Cut the crap Potter. I know why you're here, you know why you're here. My answer is no and believe me it's final," replied Severus, cutting short any tentative at chitchat. 

Potter looked at him intensely then, before sighing and saying with so much care it hurt:

"You know you can't go on like before Severus. You need help. I'm sorry."

"Please, get out of my room," replied Severus, closing his eyes. He wasn't going to cry, not in front of Harry Potter, not when James's son sounded so much like his mother with his caring, and his soft tones, and his demanding that Severus just be reasonable now. It was fucking painful and it made such old scars hurt that it was surely a fucking time machine.

And when Harry sighed deeply, and then turned around and left the room with the heavy silence of regrets, it didn't feel like a victory.

The tears escaped then. Severus was alone again after all, he could be as pathetic as he wanted, no one was around to see anyway. There was no one.

He stayed like that, in an untidy fetal position, vaguely folded on his side, crying like a baby for the first time in a long time. He was too exhausted to stop himself, to keep it all inside. He couldn't stop and it wasn't even lifting any weight from him. He was being crushed on his hospital bed. This time, he absolutely knew that he couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't. Today was the day he needed it to stop.

Potter liked to repeat that Severus had helped save the world. Why was the world out to get him at every corner then? Didn't he pay enough already? He knew he should be angry about that, but really, he just wanted it to stop, please stop, everything needed to stop right now.

"Severus?"

Severus jumped outside of his own skin, his heart leaping painfully in his chest. Black was looking at him with a frown and a very worried expression on his face. He was on the side of his bed, at touching distance… and Severus had not heard him enter the room at all.

"What's happened? Talk to me please you fucking git, you're scaring me!" asked Sirius frantically.

Severus couldn't articulate the deep pain of feeling like the world had abandoned him, while simultaneously feeling like he deserved it but just couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I saw Harry in the corridor, he told me he had been in your room, did he upset you?" asked Sirius, looking lost.

And Severus just kept sobbing quietly. 

He could feel Sirius moving around, before he heard the door open and close, and he was alone once again. His sobbing returned with a vengeance and he lost himself in the profound sadness he was feeling. He stayed like that for some time, drowning in his own tears. But it needed to stop.

He knew already that only two common potions would be sufficient. Two potions which were in the drawer next to his bed. Two harmless potions as long as they were not mixed. And in his weakened state…

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sirius was running back to Severus's room. He couldn't believe that the stubborn moron had known for weeks that he was not going to be able to live alone anymore and hadn't told Sirius despite the time they had spent together since then. Stupid prideful git.

Harry hadn't seemed to know but Sirius knew with absolute certitude what Severus was going to do next. He knew it like he knew what he would do himself. He ran like his own life depended on it, not paying attention to the angry people yelling at him for shoving them around in the hospital corridor. 

He violently banged the door of the room open and was nearly hit back in the face by it as it rebounded on the wall. Luckily, the noise had been enough to startle the man on the bed, stopping the little harmless-looking bottle he was grasping in his hand mid-air, half-way towards his mouth. Another one was already lying on his lap, directly on the white sheet; empty.

"You fucking greasy moron!" exclaimed Sirius while jumping on top of Severus without care and battling the potion out of his hand. 

"What the fuck Black!"

"No, you don't. You're not doing it, you hear me you dumb creep!" repeated Sirius frantically before looking at Snape and seeing that the man was shaking, his whole body vibrating with deep tremors. "What did you drink? ANSWER ME, damn you!"

"I… It's ok Black," said Snape in his broken voice, "the first one is harmless without the second one. It's the mix that's…" he sighed. " I didn't drink any of the second one."

Severus looked suddenly defeated and frail. He was just sitting there, on his hospital bed, dark shadows under his reddened eyes, hands trembling, painfully thin and looking haunted and hopeless. And Sirius could see it now, of course they were fucking friends, it was crazy but it also made sense, it just made sense.

"Stay with me", he blurted out without thinking.

"What?"

"Stay with me Severus," repeated Sirius, more firmly now, it just made so much sense, "I have a big empty flat, I feel alone all the time and I would like for you to stay with me. Your fucking cat is already there anyway…" he tried to lighten the mood, smiling impishly at the sick man.

"You love that cat Black."

"Yes, I do. And if you promise to take a shower now and then – because you fucking stink sometimes mate – I'm sure Moonstone will be happy with my new flatmate, she knows him already after all."

"You think you're funny, don't you? But let me tell you Black: you're not funny, you've never been funny.", replied Snape, his voice regaining some of his lost bite.

"Oh, I'm not funny? I'm sure you're just trying to show me your ugly teeth then every time you laugh at my funny jokes, right?"

"Arse."

"Git."

Sirius saw the other's hands relaxing a little, their grasp on the sheets getting a little looser, and he knew then that the danger had passed, he knew they will be alright now. 

"Be good then Snape, I'm going to tell Moonstone the good news and then I will be back tomorrow to take you home, okay?"

"Don't give her too much to eat", replied Snape in his lectury-voice, "she's got a delicate stomach, she needs just the right amount of freshly cooked meat or fish —"

"— she's been eating dry cat food for weeks now, she's never been better," answered Sirius,  laughing already at Snape's devastated expression.

"WHAT?"

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Severus complained about Sirius being late before Sirius had even entered his room the next day. His stuff was already packed but it was just because he was a very tidy person apparently. Sirius took him home as promised, smirking at the git's acerbic comments all the way from the hospital. 

Severus complained about everything once they arrived too: the room was too bright, Moonstone looked like she had lost weight, the flat was too big, the sofa too soft and the kitchen too modern. Among other things.

It didn't take them long before they found a new rhythm together: friendly insults and delicious meals becoming the landmarks between happy flatmates. The dry cat food had disappeared somehow in the first few days of their new arrangement, and Severus made sure that Moonstone was presented with freshly made meals everyday – even if he had to force Sirius to prepare them when he was having a bad day himself.

Every day, Severus complained about the food, about Sirius being too noisy, about Sirius keeping Moonstone in his room to punish Severus when he needed to cuddle his own damn cat. About Sirius in general. He complained about the weather too, about the neighbourhood – which Sirius found a little astonishing considering – about Sirius' cooking and Sirius not cooking enough. 

Sirius endured it all with a fond smile. He knew now that it all meant 'thank you' in Severus's weird language…

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

In the end, Severus didn't die in a home. He died in his bed, in his home, with his moronic flatmate holding his hand and their cat purring on his chest. It was more peaceful than his life had been for the most part, and it left him with no regrets. 

Sirius kept his promise and insulted him copiously in the very long eulogy he gave at his friend's funeral. 

[xplrvibes]

A Small Gift

A.N. Hello! I, once again, cannot figure out the read more option, so I apologize for that. Hope you like it!

submitted by @kraken45

(xplrvibes note: omg, this is amazing!  I love this so so much and it just really put a smile on my face and actually made me feel so much better!  it really hit the spot!  the characterization of both boys and their relationship, and Jake’s relationships with them as well, was so perfect! (special shout out for throwing cryptocurrency in there lol)  anyway, everyone read this and give @kraken45 all the kudos! thank you so so so much and ily you for this!)

Colby had just had a really fucking bad day. A bad week, honestly. He couldn’t really pinpoint why. Couldn’t pinpoint when the bad started and when he’d gotten so grumpy. It seemed to kind of melt into his natural state of being this week. And here he is. He’s been sitting in bed for the past three hours, desperately trying to work up the motivation to do anything. He already felt like a failure. He’d slept through his own merch drop, which he had been really excited for. The merch was sick and it was a drop he was really proud of, but he could not get himself to care. He was scaring himself. Why was his mind doing this to him? He was on track to have the best year of his life. Why did he feel like absolute shit for literally no reason? 

He wasn’t the only one to notice either. Jake had promptly told him to “fuck off until he got his head out of his ass” when he’d snapped yesterday. To be fair, he had deserved it. He was being short with the people who didn’t do anything wrong other than exist in the same space as him. That’s why he was holing up at the moment. He didn’t want to snap again. The last thing he wanted was to bother people and bring them down with him. His friends were too good for that. He, however, probably deserved this. He was sure he had done something wrong at some point in time and this was karma coming back to bite him in the ass. Honestly, it very well could have been karma from the killing best friend prank video again. While he and Sam had agreed on it, he had no idea how badly Sam would be affected. He had felt horrible ever since. 

Stop it. He thought to himself. I cannot go down this again. 

Whenever he was alone, he had a tendency to fall into a pit of self-deprecation that took days to climb out of. He would sit and stew and go over the things he’d done wrong in his life and just beat the proverbial shit out of himself until something shook him out of it. That something was usually Sam, but he was away with Kat this weekend. Which, good. Sam and Kat needed an awesome weekend away. There should be nothing stopping them. Colby refused to allow himself to be that thing. Ever, for anyone. Colby needed to learn to be able to pick himself up. He was in his mid-20’s. He should be better than this. Sam wasn’t his mom, and damn it, his mom shouldn’t even be responsible for this. He should be able to be an adult without someone forcing him to be. He felt useless. He felt dependent. He felt alone. How does one feel dependent and alone at the same time? Don’t ask Colby. That’s a fact he can’t figure out either, but it’s how he feels. 

Wringing his fingers together in a nervous tick, he decides to text Jake and apologize for snapping. He really didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It just seemed like he managed to, no matter the circumstance. No wonder he went up in his room all the time. He knew most of the people in his life just tolerated him. They weren’t affected in the slightest whenever he would leave, and he knew that. That’s why he always did. He needed to be alone and no one wanted to be around him, so he left. 

Colby sighs loudly and sinks farther down into his sheets. He closed his eyes and willed himself to find motivation. He’d already let Sam and the label down once today, he needed to not do it again. He willed his legs to move. They didn’t. He willed any feeling that wasn’t this drowning sensation. He pressed his hands against his eyes, hoping the metal chill of his rings would make him feel. It didn’t. All it did was frustrate him. He wanted to cry, but he knew he wouldn’t. Tears never came when he needed them to. He just laid there, stuck in the never-ending spiral of attempting to force a feeling until he got angry he wasn’t feeling it until a series of dings rang through on his phone. 

He sighed again. Just as he’d expected, his manager was ripping into him for not being on time for his merch drop. She said the expected, but then dropped a bombshell at the end and called him unreliable. That stung. He’d always prided himself on being the one to always come through for people. His friends could count on him to hype them up and support them, through thick and thin. He was a rock. He was reliable. Apparently not. He typed out an apology, though he was having a hard time getting his hands to cooperate with his brain. He wanted to tell her he knew. She should just represent Sam and convince him to go solo. He knew he was holding him back. Life would be so much better, for everyone, if he could either get his shit together or get out of the way. His hands trembled as he typed and deleted and retyped and finally just settled on “I’m sorry.” 

She wasn’t going to like that, he was well aware, but there was nothing else he could do. She wasn’t there to listen to his sob story of how he couldn’t get his brain to understand how fucking priviledged he was. She was there to help him sell merch and he was supposed to announce it. He didn’t do it. Well, technically, he did do it, but not the right way. None of the fans cared. He’d been promoting all week and they knew the second Sam dropped something, he would too. But that didn’t make him feel any better. It was just another example of how he relied on Sam to carry him through. Maybe he was unreliable, but Sam made him think he was. 

He really was lucky. Sam was everything he wasn’t, and better at the things he was. Sam was smart, Colby was not. Sam was quick-witted, Colby was not. Sam could maintain a healthy relationship, Colby could not. Any amount of kindness or comedic ability or anything like that Colby had, Sam had it too. Colby could not understand why Sam wanted him around some days. He knew Sam wouldn’t be where he was without Colby, but now that he was here, Colby wondered how much more Sam could do on his own. He wouldn’t have to drag Colby around all of the time and hold him accountable. 

Any other day, Colby would know all of these thoughts were absolute bullshit. He and Sam were friends and that’s what made their content connect with people. Their bond was evident and was in no way one-sided, Sam had told him that plenty of times. There were ample videos on Sam’s personal channel that stated this as fact. Logically, Colby knew that. That didn’t stop these intrusive thoughts from pushing him farther into his sheets.

He felt like he was at war with his own head and he could only play defense. Any sound or word said to him was a hit for the offense and there was nothing he could do about it. Which is why that would be the exact moment two separate texts would ping across his phone screen at the same time. One was from Jake and the other from Sam. Great. Two people he absolutely did not want to interact with right now. He could not handle one more passive-aggressive message that was likely in Jake’s text or expression of disappointment that was likely in Sam’s because the damn offense didn’t need any more ammunition. He gave them enough as it was, so he did the only logical thing and tossed his phone to the other side of his bed and put his pillow over his head. 

Exhaustion rammed into him like a train. He felt stupid, once again, as he had done literally nothing all day. There was no reason to be tired. But, fighting crusade against one’s own amygdala can take it out of someone, so he decided to cut himself some slack and go back to sleep. 

About two hours had passed, which Colby had spent in a restless, anxiety-ridden half-sleep where any slight change in temperature would force him to either curl up or chuck the sheets in a haphazard fashion. He had just reentered his lucid state when a blaring ring brought him fully back into reality. He audibly groaned into his pillow and reached for the phone. His ecstasy in receiving yet another phone call about his missed drop from management was understandably low at best, but he looked at his phone and was surprised to see Sam’s name and picture displayed instead, indicating he wanted to FaceTime. Colby weighed his options. He, in no way, wanted to see Sam right now. Or rather, he didn’t want Sam to see him. Sam knew his habits and these days spent in the anxiety cavern weren’t new, so he would know something was up. On the other hand, if Colby didn’t answer, he would know Colby was either hiding something or sleeping…

Colby hoped he would think he was sleeping as he let the call time out. He felt bad for ignoring Sam, but he’d rather ignore him than worry him while he was out with his girlfriend for some much deserved alone time. Colby wondered what he wanted.

Well, dumbass, if you would have answered you would know. His inner voices were bullying him again. Colby just shook his head and shoved it back between his pillows. He sat there for about ten minutes or so, pressing the fabric into his head, willing himself to go back to sleep so he didn’t have to deal with this reality until that obnoxious ringing shrieked out again. 

“What the fuck?” Colby asked out loud, refusing to look at the phone’s image and declining. He was in even worse shape than a few minutes ago, somehow, and he was not in the mood to talk to anyone. Sam never called twice, so Colby wasn’t concerned it was him and anyone else was not on his priority list at the moment. He went one step further and turned the phone off. Any conversation anyone was going to have with him right now would be unproductive, so he refused to have any. Colby decided sleeping obviously wasn’t working, so he sat up to make a move for the shower. 

He stretched his stiff limbs and slowly rose, his back cracking with every inch higher he stood. Damn, he felt old. He slowly made his way to his dresser and decided old XPLR joggers and a hoodie was good enough. It took an unprecedented amount of time to get those things out of the drawer. Colby felt like he was wading through molasses and any form of movement was met with some invisible resistance that he couldn’t seem to break. In no world should someone as healthy as him get winded from picking out clothes, but that’s what happened. 

Fuck, I need to go outside. He thought to himself. This room could not be helping his mental state, so a walk was the only form of action he could think to take. 

After my shower. He thought again. His actions were interrupted by a small sound on the other side of his room. His head whipped around far too quickly for someone who had no water in their system, and as his eyes refocused and reoriented, he wondered if he’d even actually heard the sound at all. It was so small and tentative he thought he’d made it up. He didn’t hear anything for a solid ten seconds, so he made his way into his bathroom to gather the things he needed to shower. He closed his bathroom door slightly behind him and started looking for his shampoo. His other bottle had just run out, so his head was under the sink when he swore he heard another sound out in his main room. He stopped moving again, listening. There was silence again. Colby swore he was going crazy. He then heard what he recognized as knocking become more frantic as Jake called his name and tried to open his door. He must’ve forgotten to lock it because two seconds later, Jake was bounding into the room at the same time Colby was reentering and they nearly collided. 

“What the fuck, Colby? Are you okay?’ Jake asked, concerned, grabbing Colby’s shoulders and shifting him around to get a good look at Colby’s face.

“Yeah…? Why wouldn’t I be?” Colby questioned back, genuinely confused. Jake gave him a hard look. 

“Why haven’t you come out at all today? Why have you been ignoring calls and texts and shit? You’ve been acting weird all week.” Jake shook Colby lightly, trying to force him to look him in the face. Colby turned his head to the side instead. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I… I don’t really know what’s going on. I’ve felt fucking weird all week, but it’s just been bad the past two days. I felt bad for yelling at you yesterday, so I figured it’d be better if I just stayed away until I figured out what my problem was. I haven’t been able to do that, yet.” Colby chuckled dryly, Jake obviously finding no humor in the words. Jake still didn’t let Colby’s  shoulders go, opting to squeeze them tight instead.

“Brother, you’re all good. We all act up sometimes. I said that in the text you didn’t read,” Colby turned away, embarrassed. Jake shook him again, a sign to look up. Colby did this time. 

“Listen, dude, we’ve all got shit days. We just wanted to make sure there was nothing immediately wrong.”

“We?” Colby asked. Jake rolled his eyes, moving his hands to Colby’s upper arms.

“Sam called me panicking for the last five minutes. He noticed you promoted the merch late and then dropped off Earth for several hours and didn’t answer when he called like four times and was declined three times. And when I told him you weren’t answering me either, he thought you’d had a heart attack or some shit. I told him like 12 times you were fine, but you know how fucking momma bear he gets over you.” Colby cringed slightly. In trying to avoid causing Sam stress, he’d accidentally caused him a hell of a lot more. Colby did know about the random protective hair Sam had for him, he just tended to forget about it as Sam was more aloof than Colby was. Colby was very upfront about his emotions and it’s never been hard to know what he’s feeling, but Sam had always been more neutral. He hid his true feelings well from everyone else, but Colby knew his ticks. 

For example, Colby knew when Sam’s left hand was on his hip and he was leaning on something with his right, he was pissed, even if his voice was level. He knew that a glance to the left at some dude making eyes at Kat was pure jealousy, even with a smile on his face. He knew that if Sam grazed his hand lightly on Colby’s shoulder after he’d just done something dangerous, it meant to never do that shit again, even if he was laughing. Sam was often subtle in his displays of emotion, but that didn’t make those feelings any less real. Which is why Sam actually making Jake go check on him was more concerning. He must’ve really freaked him out. Colby should have known. 

“Damn it. I was trying to do the exact opposite.” Jake tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, nodding lightly.

“I know, but that shit didn’t work. Call him real quick and tell him your heart’s still pumping. He’ll chill once he knows you’re not dead or actively dying. Then shower because you smell like shit and then play smash with me. I’ve wanted to play all day but you’ve been busy making yourself into soup apparently. Then if you’re lucky, that’s not the only smashing you’ll get tonight.” Jake winked and smacked his ass lightly as he ran out of Colby’s door. Colby cringed and laughed, forever amused by his friend’s ability to make anything sexual. 

Colby lifted his arm and sniffed, wondering if it was really that bad. The room instantly spinning was a good enough answer. He made his way into his room and switched his phone on, dreading the texts and calls he’d receive once it came back on. Sure enough, there were 3 unread messages and three missed calls from Sam. He quickly went to the messages and sent Sam a quick explanation of what happened. Well, he basically said he’d been sleepy all day and turned the phone off in an attempt to go back to sleep, which wasn’t untrue, but not the full truth either. He just wanted Sam to forget about him for the weekend and have fun. Sam did not take the bait. 

“Alright sure,” Sam’s reply read, “you can say that. Listen, brother, I know you’ve been in a weird funk the past few days. That’s why I got so worried when you didn’t answer. I know nothing was happening, really, but you’ve probably been stuck in your own head all week. I fucking hate when you get stuck there and try and get out alone. You’re a strong person, but you can only see things the way your brain will let you. And lemme tell you, that fucker is lying sometimes. I have no clue what’s going on up there, but lemme say this, you’re fine. People like you. People wanna help you when your days are shit. Don’t isolate yourself. Go downstairs and play smash with Jake, he’s been bitching all day. Also shower, you probably smell like ass.” 

Colby cracked a little smile at that. They really did spend too much time together. Another text came in before he could respond.

“Also I swear to God if you try to sit there and say sorry 12000 times I will knock your teeth out through this phone. Just stfu in advance. Threat stands if you ever ignore me again.” Colby laughed out loud this time, as he read over his unsent reply that started with “I’m sorry…” These two really needed to spend more time apart. Or maybe less, if today was any indication of how things would go if they were separated for more than a day. 

Colby replied, “Okay, okay, I got you. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. (Not sorry) but I’m gonna shower and kick Jake’s ass. Nothing will clear a funk quicker than that. Thanks a lot, brother. Really not sure where I’d be without you, so love and appreciate you like always. Snc v the world brother. Now ignore me for the next three days and have fun!! Seeya monday bitch!”

“Cut the mushy shit brother, I ain’t a little bitch like you. I will be happily ignoring your existence until then.” Sam replied, but quickly added “i’m just kidding ily2, please fucking text me if you need something for the love of god. Snc v tw” with a gif of a koala sending a virtual hug attached. 

Colby hearted the gif and sad reacted to the first message as he chuckled to himself and headed towards the shower. Sam knew just what to say, just like always. After he had showered, Colby went downstairs and played at least thirty more rounds of Smash than he’d intended to, and since he and Jake were him and Jake, the loser ended up doing punishments. That’s how he’d ended up with a spatula-shaped bruise on his asscheek and nearly choked to death on his water as he watched Jake Naruto-run into the Traphouse inflatable dog and fully disappear. He hadn’t felt this light all week. He felt like himself again. Thank god. Who knew all he would need is a video game and a text? The rest of the night went about as one could expect with ½ of the Trap boys getting drunk off of White Claws and wine, so one could just describe it as a night of wonderful TikTok content.

As the weekend progressed, Colby felt his motivation return. He reposted plenty of merch orders, which were not affected by his sleeping in, and got a ton of work done. He was actually neck deep in an article about cryptocurrency when Sam’s Tesla pulled into the driveway. Colby didn’t noticed as he continued to read about this strange new currency, when his door flung open and he jumped ten feet out of his chair. 

“Sam, you dick!” He shouted as Sam doubled over, laughing hysterically. “How fucking rude. I haven’t seen you for four days and the first thing you want to do is kill me?” Sam walked over to his desk, still laughing. He wiped a tear from one eye and wrapped his other arm around Colby’s shoulders, bending it and putting Colby into a weak headlock.

“Nah, brother, there are way more interesting ways if I wanted to do that.” Colby snorted, looking up at him in fake offense while trying to pull his arm down.

“I should have known all of those nice words were fake. You just wanted my guard down, you bitch.” Colby joked back as Sam tightened his arm, messing up Colby’s hair with his other hand. 

“You finally fucking caught on, good for you.” Sam patronized as Colby tried to slap his hand out of his hair when Sam suddenly stopped and wrapped both his arms around Colby’s shoulders. “Don’t ever shut me out again. I will break down those damn walls with a sledgehammer if I have to. I fucking love you brother, don’t forget that.” Sam punctuated his statement with a tight squeeze of his arms while Colby smiled wide, leaning his head into Sam’s shoulder. Colby knew his friends had him, through good days and bad. He just needed a reminder sometimes. 

“I love you too, Sam. Expect the exact same.” Colby stated, looking him in the eyes and patting his arms. Sam nodded and squeezed him one last time before letting go and ruffling Colby’s hair again with both hands, completely annihilating any styling that was left after the first assault. He turned on a heel and ran out his door.

“Sam! You ass!”