#uhh so thus is what its like to have barely any sleep

[dollnightfall]

Shitpist

[heoneyology]

simply human | l.jy

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday for halloween so uhh happy late halloween look at me I’m trying to write again! it’s not spooky so I guess posting it today isn’t a huge deal, still fits the season... based loosely on this story idea.

Word Count: 6866

Genre: catboy!juyeon, warlock!juyeon, fluff, lightly implied romance

Pairing: reader (gender neutral) x lee juyeon (the boyz)

Warnings: mentions of magic though nothing used... uhh... very slowly paced is a warning as well (like there’s barely any juyeon wtf was I doing???), also I have a habit of trailing things off at the end of my writings and leaving things to the reader’s imagination after sorry :’))

Summary: Lee Juyeon is possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in town—his looks being favored by everyone who lays their eyes on him—but he has one thing working against him: He’s a warlock. In the city, those who practice magic are just thought of as normal, everyday people. But in smaller towns, they’re thought of as bad luck and archaic. It’s a bias that you’ll never quite understand, and thus you watch the handsome boy who visits the coffee shop you work at daily, admiring him from afar. You’d never have guessed he was leading a quiet double life...

A deep sigh falls past your lips, one that seems to come straight from the depths of your chest—maybe even deeper. It holds something that words can’t quite express; stresses, longing, and a confusion you aren’t sure how to work past. Next to you, the black cat who is just an arm’s length away stirs. It peeps one eye open as your breath travels through the blades of grass, passing through before ghosting over the cat’s fur. It tickles, and felines don’t much like things that tickle.

You’d been watching the cat this entire time, so when it cracks a single amber eye open to fixate on you, you suck in the breath you’d just let out, freezing in place. Waiting, wondering. Had you somehow deterred away your latest friend and most recent confidant?

“Sorry,” you whisper to the cat, wondering if that will somehow remedy the situation.

The cat’s ears flicker in response, and that single amber eye closes.

You’d dealt with many cats before that. For many, as soon as you even so much as had your fingertips graze their fur the wrong way, they’d go scurrying off. Some even liked to lash out. This cat, however, was a curious little fellow—you were fairly certain it was a fellow—it liked to lay just out of your reach, near you, whenever you came to sit underneath the maple tree in the warm afternoons; on days when the sun was just peaking at its highest before dipping down below the horizon. Now that autumn was in full force, days were growing shorter and the warmth which you sought by the sun and the maple—a space to think freely and escape your worries—was also growing shorter as the chill of the oncoming winter began to set in earlier and earlier each day.

The cat seemed to have the same idea as you, seeking out the tree for afternoon naps and letting you rant your heart away. Somehow, it almost seemed as if the feline was listening to you—but not just listening, understanding, as well. The little black feline would fix you with a gaze that was so deep and knowing, you sometimes felt as if you were oversharing. Whenever the cat met your eyes, you could feel your heart seize up in your chest; the idea of the creature somehow understanding what you were saying causing you to panic and double back, wondering if your thoughts were safe with the little cat.

But the comfort the cat brought was something that couldn’t be matched by the company of your friends and family. It was nice to have someone to just talk to and listen, someone that didn’t reply all the time. Even if that someone wasn’t exactly a human. Even if that someone happened to have some human-like personality traits that left you wondering. Cats were intelligent, though, so you never found yourself questioning it too much.

After some time, you push yourself up into a sitting position from where you lay on your side in the grass, letting out another long sigh. This time, your breath doesn’t even so much as reach the cat. However, your presence shifting causes the small animal to stir, letting out a ‘mrrmph’ and stretching out of the ball it had been curled into, rolling over onto its side. The cat lazily blinks up at you, before licking a paw and swiping it over its face, repeating the action and grooming itself.

“This is why my mom told me not to move away to a small town like this. She called me a romantic for trying to follow my dreams—be a writer, live in a cozy space unknown to the world and basically off the grid.” Instead of sighing, you scoff this time. “Little did she know I’d actually become a romantic and fall in love with someone who doesn’t even know I exist… or maybe she did know. Moms seem to somehow know everything…”

You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. “I can’t believe I spilled that all over him this morning—I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow.”

Before one emotion can even settle, you’re letting out another groan and falling back into the grass again. You hit the ground with a slight thud. Next to you, the cat startles in surprise, but doesn’t move.

“I have to be up for seven… I have to open the shop… ugh I hate opening shifts, that’s too early. We saw what happened today! I didn’t even get enough sleep and then that disaster unfolded!”

From next to you, the cat watches as you work through your turmoil of thoughts and emotions for the third time since coming to the maple tree. Before one can settle, another begins, and so your distraught cycle repeats itself yet again. The cat had already heard the story, about how you’d gotten next to no sleep last night—finally finding a strike of muse and mistakenly staying up until almost four in the morning to write the wave out—and had to open the coffee shop at which you work at seven on the dot that same morning. Your crush, the one and only Lee Juyeon—a noteworthy bachelor in town whose presence wasn’t very welcomed, though his looks were practically revered—had entered the shop. Amidst your foggy, sleep-deprived state, you’d clumsily perfected his order, then proceeded to spill it down the front of his clothes.

It was a minor mishap. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it wasn’t something that one should trouble themselves over this much. Although, of course, one had to consider the fact that Juyeon being dashingly handsome, with strong features and a soft smile; as well as being your crush, were added factors that had to be considered in the equation.

The cat still found it ridiculous, as cats often do of human matters.

You push yourself into a sitting position again, with a bit more determination in your shoulders this time. The cat barely pauses its grooming session as you turn to address it, despite not needing to. “I need to go. I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Despite knowing that the outcome will be futile, you reach out slowly and attempt to stroke the cat with the back of your hand, as a final goodbye before the two of you meet again. But this time, the cat reacts to your proximity—instantaneously cutting its grooming session short by jumping to its feet and away from you. The feline cuts you a look, giving itself a shake, before it trots off.

It had been two weeks now, so you had been hopeful something had changed between you and the cat. But, cats were fickle creatures, and although your feline friend proved to be a good confidant and equally welcomed your silent company—that’s all it wanted at the moment, was some company. A part of you wondered if something kept the cat from being friendlier, even after you’d proven you weren’t going to push or rush any affection received, such as a trauma or unpleasant experience. You weren’t too certain that was the case, though, considering the cat wasn’t wary or scared—just indifferent.

“Get home safe,” is your last goodbye to the cat, spoken into the emptiness around you which is only broken up by the evening breeze whistling through the autumn leaves.

—

Thankfully, you get enough sleep that night. When you get home, the tiredness hits you like a giant wave, and there’s not even an ounce of temptation to continue your writing as there had been the night before. When the next day arrives, you’re much more bright-eyed and alert. Opening the coffee shop goes smooth, as does the passing of the first few customers you have.

After the first hour of being open, like clockwork, Juyeon walks through the door of the little cafe at eight. And, like clockwork, your coworker lets out a grunt under their breath and nudges you with their elbow.

“Can you take over the cash register?”

You frown, studying them, then glancing back at Juyeon as he slowly nears the counter. A few guests cut him unfriendly looks, others stare in awe. You should be used to this, by now, but you aren’t. Growing up in the city, you hadn’t realized what kind of bias there would be in smaller, more rural areas for Juyeon’s kind—as those around here called it. He practiced magic, which in the city was a common occurrence. Being so populated, it was easy to pass someone by and not really know whether they were a witch or a warlock. They were just simply human.

But here, it was like some sort of blight. Where witches and warlocks were far and few between, it was misunderstood, and thus not welcomed. People didn’t like change, or that which they didn’t understand.

If only people could be more like cats—indifferent to those things that surrounded them which caused no harm, despite how different it might be.

Your coworker hadn’t waited for your answer, disappearing, and you have no choice but to take over the cash register. Despite the repeated normalcy of this specific situation, it’s still something you really don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Juyeon stops in front of the counter and studies the menu above, just as you step forward and wish him a good morning. He glances down at you, gives a small smile, and then glances back up at the menu. He’s been here enough times since you’d moved to town that you know he’ll order the same thing he gets every day. For some reason, though, he still likes to idle a bit and study the menu. Maybe because there’s seasonal flavors to consider trying, despite always defaulting to the comfort pick. Or maybe he’s buffering his mind for the day—a sentiment you felt you could relate to.

“Can I get my usual?” Juyeon asks, pulling his eyes away from the menu with another smile.

You return his smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Although you try to stay calm, you can hear your heart beating much too loudly in your chest, replaying the events from the day before in your head. You try not to outwardly cringe as the scene from yesterday replays itself in your mind; then try further to shut the memories out, though not visibly show your internal struggle—choosing to focus instead on the fact that despite not being weary-eyed that morning, your hand is shaking as you lift it to the register to punch in Juyeon’s order, and you need to make it stop.

It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the regular customer, though you aren’t aware that he even does notice until you’re serving him his coffee. Your coworker has conveniently cooped themselves up in the back to clean and stock. That leaves you left alone to prepare Juyeon’s drink, and you’re grateful there isn’t a rush at that moment.

When you step up to the counter to call out his name and hand over the drink, you’re straining your arm to keep your hand from shaking too badly—paranoid over a repeat from yesterday. As he takes his drink with a smile and a thank you, his fingers brush over yours. You glance up in surprise at him, wondering if he even noticed the skin contact.

Meeting his gaze, you’re aware that he is, in fact, aware of what has happened. He softens his smile—if that’s even possible. His sharp features are always the softest when he comes in during the mornings and hands out smiles to the people around him. Despite the stark contrast of how the townsfolk treat Juyeon in comparison to how he treats them, you’ve never once seen the smile on his face falter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about yesterday,” he states kindly. “Accidents happen. Stop shaking so badly out of nerves, or you’ll really end up spilling my coffee again.”

A flush immediately over takes your face, and you pull your hand back like the snap of a rubber band—luckily Juyeon already has hold of his drink, or it would have come crashing down to the counter below.

“S-s-s-sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, I’m only joking. Like I said, accidents happen, and clothes can be washed,” Juyeon chuckles. You swear the sound makes your heart seize up in your chest—but it’s a different kind of seize than the feeling your secret cat makes you feel. This feeling is one that makes time seem to stop moving itself; his soft laugh something akin to a toll bell—not quite high pitched enough to be a bell, but not deep enough to be something else.

“Although if you spilled drink on me two days in a row, I’d probably need you to join me for coffee at some point in order to make up for all the dry cleaning,” the joke falls from Juyeon’s lips with ease—and you can only stare at him in surprise as he offers you one last smile and makes his way to a corner of the coffee shop near the window, as he does every day.

Did… he just flirt?

You shake your head at the absurdity of the thought, though the rest of your work day is spent in a trance. Even when there is a callout halfway through your shift, just a few hours away before your freedom from work—you barely react. It’s just a hiccup, even if it means you’ll be working five hours extra. Juyeon’s words idly trail through your mind, enough to keep you in a daze. Luckily, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, nothing is spilled or broken that day and you make it through the shift safely; save for a few moments of tripping over your own two feet.

When closing time rolls around, you finally start to feel all the work of the day and your clumsiness in those same two feet. You’re practically dragging yourself over the threshold when you close up the coffee shop, locking the door behind you. When you turn to begin down the street for home and the comfort of your warm bed—you almost trip over your own two feet yet again.

Except, this time, it’s not by your own fault that you almost trip. Underfoot, the darkness of the night moves just as you stumble to catch yourself, and you startle in surprise. But then, a familiar pair of amber eyes turn and meet yours—and as your eyes adjust to the blackness, you recognize the outline of a little black cat.

“Kitty?” You wonder, surprise lacing your voice. The cat, as if replying, lets out something akin to a meow and an indignant sigh, as if to ask, How dare you trip over me?

The indignant meow-sigh-huff combo makes you smile, letting out a small laugh under your breath. Yes, it’s definitely your cat friend. But why is the cat so far from the fields at the outskirts of town, away from the maple tree? How did it wander so far? You’d always assumed the cat to be a farm cat, since you’d never seen it among the streets like this—which had you worry the feline may have wandered too far from home to find its way back. At night, nonetheless.

Crouching down, you reach out a hand to the cat, back of your hand facing the feline. “What are you doing all the way in town like this, kitty?”

As per usual, the cat backs away from your hand with a little jump, before scurrying off into the night. You let out a sigh, watching it meld with the shadows, before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Okay, fine. I thought we were friends, but whatever. Just try and assist me in breaking my neck and then leave the scene of the almost-crime.” You give your head a shake, before turning away from the coffee shop and making your way home.

The evening is colder than it has been in the past few nights. As you walk, you snuggle down a little deeper into your coat, surprised by the chill. It’s sharp enough to cut against more sensitive places of your body—like your nose, ears, and cheeks—but not quite deeply cutting in the way that the cold of winter is. This chill doesn’t seep into the depths of your bones and create an ache. It’s just cold enough to make you want to curl up on your couch with a cup of warm tea before bed, but still admire how there’s a warmth to the season overall despite the weather.

It doesn’t take long before a black flash cuts across in front of you. You slow your steps slightly, having set a brisk pace to simply get yourself home quicker, so you weren’t out at night for too long. Your shadowy friend darting back and forth is enough to keep you from walking too fast, though, worried you might trip and fall, and ultimately hurt yourself or the cat. But as you pick your pace up again, the black feline settles into a trot alongside you, weaving close to the walls of the buildings which you walk next to.

“Are you walking me home?” You muse to the cat. “Feel guilty for almost tripping me in the dark?”

You know the cat can’t understand your humor, and likely doesn’t have a conscience enough to feel guilty about such a thing, but it feels nice to talk to someone as you walk. Again—you seek comfort in the feline companion for the fact that you can voice your thoughts aloud, without expecting a reply. It’s also nice to have company on your walk home. Despite the small town being safe, and the streetlamps lighting the way, walking alone at night was an uncomfortable event. Having grown up in the city, you’d been taught to never wander the streets alone at night. It was strange to do so here.

“Lee Juyeon, the warlock that I’ve told you about, came in to work again today. I didn’t spill his order all over him today,”  you smile, glancing at the little black shadow that meanders next to you. “You should be proud of me.”

Slowing your pace, you come to a halt. “Do you ever wonder why people treat him differently?” You ask the cat. For a moment, you think, before sighing, “Wait, you probably don’t even know. You’re a cat, after all. How would you realize that he’s being treated differently just because he can practice magic. Heck, you probably don’t even know who Juyeon is.”

Or, maybe the cat did, considering you’d seen Juyeon feed the neighborhood strays outside the coffee shop before.

The thought has you pulling your eyes back to your cat companion. Ahead of you, the animal pulls itself away from the wall and sidles its way into the center of the street. It keeps walking, which prompts you to resume your pace in order to catch up to the cat.

“Anyway, he does magic. A warlock. In the city, witches and warlocks are common. Magic is a lot more accepted where I come from, even though there are rules and restrictions to practicing in order to keep non-magic users safe. Maybe that’s why rural areas and small towns don’t like it, there’s no one to really keep watch and create rules,” you sigh, then wonder why the heck you’re explaining this to a cat. “But still, he’s just simply a human. My coworker doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Isn’t that ridiculous…?”

Much like you do under the maple tree, you ramble to the cat as though it were any other day. It feels kind of nice to have the cat’s company and be able to walk home with someone, even if that someone weren’t quite human. Though you might appear strange to anyone else who might see you chatting into the darkness, you aren’t alone that night—a comfort which you appreciate not only because it’s dark, but also after such a long and grueling day. It allows you to keep your mind away from the dreadful thoughts you might have. Talking to the cat had also become a routine, and though you hadn’t been able to dwell much on the idea of missing out on the almost-daily routine thanks to how busy the coffee shop had gotten in the afternoon, you realize now what it means.

As you near the corner of your street, the cat slows down just ahead of you, sensing a change in your demeanor. Your stomach growls just as you’re about to round the corner the cat is stopped at, causing you to glance down in surprise. Then, you glance at the feline, before lifting your gaze up to glance over your shoulder. Just across the street, lighting up the entire corner—something you’d always been grateful for, living alone—sits a little 24-Hour corner shop. You have food at home that you can heat up quickly, but you remember that your cat friend has wandered into town from the farms, and possibly hasn’t eaten. There’s probably an abundance of mice to catch, if the cat were to look well enough, but you feel guilty after realizing how far the animal had followed you.

And, unfortunately, it wasn’t likely with your current track record that the cat would want to join you inside for the night.

“Wait here,” you instruct the cat, not even sure if it’ll listen. You dart across the street and push your way into the warmth of the little corner shop. The attendant startles in surprise at your entrance, having not expected a customer so late on a fairly chilly night, most likely.

“Do you have cat food?” You ask, and the bleary-eyed boy behind the counter points off in a corner of the shop. You follow his direction to the aisle he points out, wandering down and eyeing the shelves lined with canned and bagged food and treats for all different kinds of pets. You pick out a can of shrimp flavored canned food, remembering that the cat you’d grown up with at home had enjoyed shrimp-flavored things, before heading back to the front of the store to pay for it.

Surprisingly enough, the black cat is there waiting for you as you exit the store—still across the street. You smile, as you near, watching as the cat’s tail tip flicks where it's curled on the ground, rustling a leaf just within reach. Each time its tail does so, causing the leaf to move, the silly little cat swipes at the leaf—and its own tail. And each time, the cat looks offended as it pulls its paw back.

“I have food,” you announce your presence to the cat, so as not to startle it too much out of its little game. As you near, you pull open the can lid, bending down and setting the can on the ground. Knowing the cat will run if you extend your hand, you slowly inch the can forward with your finger tips, watching as the cat slowly inches itself back on its butt in surprise. When your hand returns to yourself, the cat stares at the opened can of food, before bending over just enough to strain its neck to reach out and sniff.

With a sharp flick of its tail, it huffs and turns, trotting off into the darkness.

Your jaw falls open in surprise. “Wow! Rude! That was two dollars!”

Frowning, you glance back at the can of food, then up again where the cat disappeared into the night. Either the cat was extremely spoiled and wasn’t actually a farm cat as you’d thought, feasting on mice—or the animal just wasn’t hungry. Somehow you doubted the latter, as it seemed like quite a journey from the edge of town to your place for a little four-legged creature. Surely any animal would be just a bit hungry after wandering around for hours, right?

Straightening yourself up, you call out into the darkness, “I’m leaving this here, then—in case you change your mind!” But your words are met with silence, and there isn’t even the breeze of the autumn wind whistling through the trees to fill the void of the night.

Parting ways with the darkness and its feline voidling, you finally round the corner and head the last few feet up the street to the warmth of your home.

—

When you wake the next morning, there’s not an immediate rush through your morning. You don’t work until a bit later in the afternoon. This means you’re able to sleep in, enjoy the warmth and comfort of your bed and burrow yourself further down under the duvet as the morning light streams through the curtains, casting even more warmth over you as it filters through the glass window. When it comes time to finally pull yourself out of bed, you shower and brush your teeth, brew a pot of coffee for yourself, and set to work at your laptop for a couple hours to get some writing out.

It’s at this time that a repeated rapping catches your attention, and when you glance up from your laptop—pulling your eyes away from the white light of the screen and squinting—you’re surprised to see a black shadow at your window, two amber eyes peering through a frame of the glass intently.

“What the—? Kitty?”

Hearing your voice, the cat stands up from crouching on the sill, butting its body against the window and letting out a loud meow. You’re fairly certain this is the first time the cat has answered you in such a blatantly obvious tone, which has you excitedly pushing yourself to your feet and rushing over to the window. In the entire time it takes you to cross your bedroom to the window, the cat continues to meow, pacing back and forth along the sill and butting itself against the glass. The cat’s tail curls, waving about languidly.

“Good morning,” you greet, pulling the window up and open for your friend. “What are you doing here? Did you sleep outside on the street last night?”

With more room on the window sill, the cat sits, pointedly fixating its gaze on you. Curiously, you present the back of your hand to the cat, holding it up between the two of you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to the creature, but that doesn’t mean you’re quite out of the woods just yet.

It takes everything within you, though, to hold back the gasp of surprise when the cat leans forward just a bit to sniff you, cold nose pressing against the back of your hand and whiskers grazing across your skin.

“Can I pet you?” You wonder, turning your hand over slowly and reaching behind the cat—but, as fickle as ever, the cat lets out another meow and turns before you can even so much as put your hand onto its fur, dropping down from the window sill. The most touch you get from the interaction is its tail swiping your arm as it turns and jumps down—which, honestly, still leaves you grinning after the cat.

“Wait there again,” you instruct the cat, closing the window. Not waiting for an answer from the feline, who seems a bit chatty that morning, you make your way out of your bedroom—pausing momentarily to grab your coffee mug—before heading to the kitchen. You wonder if the cat is hungry, mentally noting you don’t have cat food, which is why you had bought it last night, before reminding yourself that it didn’t seem to like the canned food anyway.

Fish? No, you’d have to go to the market for that. If you ate fish, you typically cooked it immediately rather than let it sit in your freezer. What else could cats eat? “Chicken…?” You wonder aloud, opening your fridge and eyeing the leftover container of some grilled chicken you’d had the night before.

“It’s a bird, cats like bird meat.” Giving yourself a small shrug, you pull the container from the fridge and open it. It takes a few moments to shred it down to something a bit more manageable to chew with your fingers, before you pop it in the microwave to nuke it a bit. You didn’t mind cold chicken, but assuming the cat had spent the night outside, you figure a little warmth in its belly would be nice.

As though sensing your intentions, when you open the front door, the black cat is sitting expectantly on the porch, staring up at the door. Its tail swipes across the wood deck lazily, seemingly unbothered by having had to wait.

“It’s not much, since I don’t really know what to feed a cat that’s okay and I don’t keep cat food… not that you appreciated it last night…” You scoff, before setting down the container on the porch in front of the cat. “But here’s some breakfast for you. Or brunch now, I suppose.”

This food smells much more interesting than the canned cat food, and the feline doesn’t hesitate to step forward and crouch down in front of the leftover container, immediately gobbling up the grilled chicken you’d shredded. You smile, watching with relief as the animal eats. You really weren’t sure at this point if the cat was a farmcat after all, a stray, or simply a spoiled wanderer—but not knowing where the animal had been overnight, and seeing it eat now after refusing food last night put your mind at ease.

You watch the cat eat in silence, making yourself comfortable and sitting back against the doorframe of your open front door. Every now and again, you sip your coffee, glance up at the street and off into the distance where you can see the rolling hills of the countryside, before looking back down at the cat. When your feline friend finishes its meal, it lays back on your porch, grooming itself in content—then moving off to a warm patch of sun and curling into a ball on your deck. Deciding you don’t want to waste this precious moment, you clean up the container before grabbing your laptop, and setting up shop on the deck for a few more hours before work, writing alongside the silent company of your tiny visitor.

“Okay, I have to go to work,” you announce after a few hours have passed, not entirely sure why you’re detailing this to the cat. If it really was a stray, it would probably remove itself from your company whenever. Or, you’d return home after work to it having disappeared again. The thought made you wistful—maybe even a bit sad. This had been the first you’d ever had the cat’s extended company and attention for, and you were growing quite used to it.

To your surprise, when it actually is time to leave for work, the cat begins to follow you after you’ve closed and locked up your little house. You let out an amused half smile, watching as the cat follows alongside you. “What, are you my chauffeur now?”

The walk to work that day is infinitely more amusing than all the other times you’d walked the same path. You don’t have much to ramble to your companion about that day, though you do mention that you wonder if Juyeon will pop in at the coffee shop in the afternoon. Typically, he was a morning coffee person, but you’d seen him stop by in the evenings once in a while. Instead of talking as you walk, though, you watch as the cat darts ahead of you every once in a while—chasing a stray leaf on the breeze and pouncing after it down the street until it lies motionless on the ground. Sometimes, the cat lags behind, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder to see what curiosities it's getting itself into—jumping on a fence to tease a dog, sniffing around at certain things on the path, or slinking down close to the ground and acting as if it’s hunting nothing in particular, before darting ten feet ahead of you at a run and waiting for you to catch up.

“Don’t stay out here for too long tonight,” you warn the cat, pausing outside the coffee shop. “This street gets busy on weekends, someone might not see you…” You didn’t want to imagine the poor cat getting lost in the crowd. The coffee shop was in the center of a small village shopping square, and on weekend evenings it filled up with families and others sharing date nights and evening events together. You frown, wondering if the cat will listen, before giving the animal a small little wave and heading inside.

When you set to work, you can’t help but find yourself glancing out the window periodically—taking mental stock of the cat through your shift. Each time you go to clean a table, you peer out the window and see the cat either peering right back in at your, or napping somewhere nearby. Every time you call out someone’s order, you push yourself onto your tiptoes to glance over the customer’s shoulder as they near, mentally noting every spot the little black shape outside moves to. If a new customer enters the shop, you greet them and take their order, and before the transaction finishes you ask in a quiet voice if there’s a cat outside still—relieved when a customer confirms they’d seen one lounging about.

Halfway through your shift, your cat friend disappears from the view of the window, and a small panic sets in. You notice as you’re taking an order for a couple of guests, two people who can’t seem to settle on their decision and keep talking over each other as they tell you what they want. They aren’t the type of people to inquire about the cat outside, especially since it seems as though they’ve popped into the coffee shop for an afternoon pick-me-up to help settle some of their irritation. Yet as you speak with them, and punch in their order, you can’t help your eyes darting off to the side now and again to try and peek around them and out the window.

“Can you take over the register for a bit?” You ask of your coworker almost as soon as the two chatty, indecisive guests walk away. You don’t wait for them to reply—considering they always drop the same on you without warning. It’s rare of you to return the “favor,” but you don’t feel guilty doing so.

As you move around the counter, you grab a tray and a cleaning rag in order to clean some tables, eyes never leaving the window as you do so.

“Was that your cat? The one outside?” Your coworker asks, scoffing. “Should take better care of it.”

You scowl, eyes snapping back to your coworker, who shrinks in surprise at the ferocity of your gaze. “No it’s not. It’s a stray that followed me, and I’m worried.” As you turn away from them, you grumble under your breath, “You have a nasty habit of assuming the worst of people.”

As you near the window, searching for the black furry shadow outside, your eyes are so fixated you barely register the door of the shop opening and the lackluster greeting being called out by your coworker. In fact, you’re so out of it that, as you move, you practically stumble straight into a wall of body that had just entered the shop. You stumble back in surprise, realizing that you’ve almost walked straight into a customer, glancing up to apologize—and blanching when you realize it’s Juyeon.

“S-sorry!”

Juyeon smiles in greeting. “It’s fine,” he answers, before glancing over his shoulder outside, then back down at you. “Are you okay?”

“I— yeah… I just—” You frown. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. What can I get for you today?” Sparing one last glance at the window, you move back toward the counter, eyeing your coworker as they move away and disappear, refusing as always to take the young warlock’s order.

“Can I sit at the bartop today?” Juyeon asks, trailing after you. You glance over your shoulder at him in surprise, before nodding.

“Let me take your order and then you can take a seat.”

“I’d like a mochachino today.”

You punch in the order, looking at him in surprise. “Chocolate?”

Juyeon smiles that soft smile that always seems to leave you winded and out of breath. “Craving something sweet, but I’ve got some work to do, so I need something that will keep me awake, too.”

You nod, letting out a hum of understanding from the back of your throat. When you read the total off to him, Juyeon pays the appropriate amount, and you wave him to the bartop just to the left of the cash register. His presence at the bartop is almost certain to keep your coworker from ever returning to the front of house, so you silently hope that no sudden rush comes through the cafe as you set to work making his drink.

“Why did you seem so distracted when I came in earlier?” Juyeon asks, tone of voice idle. You glance over your shoulder, away from the espresso machine, in surprise when he speaks. Had he always been this chatty? Although, to be fair, Juyeon always came in during the morning rushes and you never had a chance to actually talk to him.

You aren’t sure what really catches you by surprise—the fact that he’s making conversation with you, or the fact that his deep voice has caused your heart to begin a rapid and stuttering beat in your chest. Yet, somehow, despite your nervousness to be talking to a young man you’d always admired from your own little corner of the coffee shop, and how he gazed out the window and watched the world in silent content and admiration, and offered up sweet and soft smiles to everyone around him—his voice also fills you with a warmth that’s almost soothing. Like the familiar smell of the coffee grounds that waft through the shop daily, then later cling to the strands of your hair when you get home. It feels familiar.

“Are you really okay?” He asks, prompting again.

“I’m fine. I was just worried… there was a cat outside. It followed me to and from work yesterday and today, and now that it’s getting busy I’m wondering where it went off to and if it’s okay. I feel responsible even though it might be a stray that just followed me for its own amusement,” you explain as you work.

When you finish Juyeon’s order, you turn and set it on the counter in front of him. He smiles, as always, and takes it with a polite and soft thank you, before leveling you with his gaze.

When his eyes land on you, almost instantly you feel your heart seize up in your chest. You’ve never been this close to Juyeon before—never actually gotten a good look at him up close. His features from afar are stunning; he’s handsome in a very simple way that’s easy on the eyes. But up close, it’s almost as if he’s crafted from marble. You’ve never had a chance to admire his sharp features; study the lines of his jaw and his high-placed cheekbones, notice the square shape of his earlobes, or admire his long and straight nose or the way his lips curl upward slightly at the corners.

“Cats are street smart, you know. I’m sure your little stray friend is fine. They probably know these streets better than the both of us,” Juyeon replies, “And luckily for them, people in this town are a little kinder to stray cats than other types of strays.”

It’s then that you meet his gaze, catching on to a deeper implication of his words—studying his almond-shaped brown eyes and taking note of the curious amber flecks that hit the warm yellow light of the cafe just right.

“No way,” you breathe out.

Juyeon smiles—and this time, his smile isn’t the usual soft and kind one, but one that pushes his cheeks up in a way that causes his eyes to smile along with the rest of his face. He seems much too amused by the realization setting across your face, followed by a flush that follows soon after. You’d ranted and rambled about Lee Juyeon to Lee Juyeon—albeit not the human one.

You’d heard that some witches and warlocks could shapeshift, and that others had familiars. Never once in your life did you think you’d somehow be on the receiving end of that gift. Of course, it made sense, considering the treatment around town that Juyeon often received—that he’d either hide in another form or test the honesty of those he interacted with in a different form.

Juyeon lifts his coffee cup to his lips, smiling over the rim. “Can I walk you home tonight? Perhaps this time not as a cat? I’d love to hear you regale one of your lavish tales of me.”

[the-cosmic-blogger]

So.. I heard about this coffee shop au by @doodledrawsthings for A Hat in Time. So I decided to write for it. And when I finished, I looked to see the lore much more deeply and uhh... it doesn't really really fit but here it is anyway!

(////////////////)

Coffee Shop AU

The First Time

There's always a first time for everything. Your first word. Your first tooth. Your first steps. But some first times come later in life, and are.. not what you expect. 

It was a warm evening in Subcon, where a quaint little coffee shop had been built. MJ was taking stock of inventory, and Luka was running his hand through his brown hair, waiting behind the counter for any more customers. It was getting dark though, the warmth slowly fading on the outside and a chilling darkness starting to befall the town.

The bespectacled man glanced over at the currently absentminded brunet, and called, "Luka. I don't think anymore customers are coming. Clo already went home."

Luka sighed, his mind having been on something else. He felt a little tense for some reason. A reason he hardly could recall. Nonetheless, he replied, "Might as well close up shop then, MJ. I'll get Hattie and put her to bed." 

He proceeded to scratch his wrist heavily, a grimace on his face. The other noticed and frowned. "Is something wrong?"

The man began sweating a bit, trying to control the scratching now. "N..nothing."

MJ came closer and placed a hand on his forehead, only to pull it away abruptly. "Oh god you're hot. Listen, the second you put Harriet to bed, you take yourself to bed too. Maybe make some soup."

Luka soon nodded and came out from behind the counter. He looked like he'd seen better days. And the itching moved to his back, so his hand instinctively moved there. He bit his lip. "O..okay. I'll do that.."

MJ nodded, a warm smile in those eyes. "Take care of yourself, Luka."

"You do the same," the brunet managed to smile back.

============

Later that evening, the shop was closed and MJ had gone home. But as for Hattie and Luka, well - they lived in this homely establishment. Behind the break room was their home, and while it was a bit small, the two made it work. 

"Alright, kiddo! it's time for bed!" Luka announced as he opened the door to the living space. He was sweaty, and pale. And he kept itching. 

Hattie, sitting on the couch watching television, moaned slightly, as six year olds often did when told it was time for bed. Luka came over and turned the TV off. She looked up at her father, about to protest, but saw how he looked. With that smile, tender though it was, there was also pain. So her protests died on her tongue. "Dad, you okay?"

The man took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded, still smiling down at her with those loving brown eyes. "Yeah, kiddo. I think I might have caught an allergy from one of the customers.." Luka explained, as he paced the floor to his kid. "Should go away with some nice soup though.."

"It better.." the child jumped onto the couch and booped his nose. "I dun want daddy sick."

Luka laughed as he picked her up and twirled her around, only to end up feeling much worse. Like vomit rising in his throat. He covered his mouth as he held her with one arm and and painfully gulped down the offending fluid. "O..okay.. not doing that again.." he heaved.

"You sure it's just an allergy, dad?" she asked, and he nodded. He took a breath. 

"Let's just.. get you to bed.." he replied, taking her to her room. 

All sorts of things spun in Harriet's mind. She really should help him. He was getting sweat all on her clothes. It probably wouldn't be right to ask him to read a bedtime story with him so sickly. 

Luka's mind was spinning as well. In a more metaphorical, physical sense. It was getting harder to walk. And he was wondering why this was happening and what. 

Soon, he opened the door, and in the center pushed up against the wall was her bed. Toys and plushies of all sorts decorated the floor and books on witchcraft and other things were neatly tidied away in the bookcase.

He placed Harriet down, and tucked her in, afterwards scratching at his neck. He could've sworn he felt a tiny bit of fur, and thus pulled up his collar. Harriet looked up at him with such worry, and silence. She soon decided to ask, "How was the shop?"

"It wasn't too bad, kiddo.." he smiled, and soon kissed her forehead. Before he frowned slightly with thought. "Hm.. usually the first words that come out of your mouth is 'bedtime story please!'" he mimicked her voice the best he could, which was almost too perfect, and the girl laughed as Luka booped her nose. "Why the sudden change, Hattie?"

"You seem tired," she replied. 

"Ohh..! I see how it is," the smile turned sly, but deep down he very much appreciated the break. He crossed his arms. "Think I can't handle a little bedtime story! well I'll show you…" He proceeded to search for a book.

"Dad, really, it's okay. I can go without tonight," she sat up and watched him, brow furrowed. 

Luka wasn't letting up, but he kneeled and the pain shot up through his stomach. "..ghh!" Harriet was about to get up, blue eyes wide, when he raised a hand towards her. Taking a few deep breaths, he shook his head of the dizziness. "I'm.. d..don't worry, kiddo.. I'll just.. go make some soup like MJ said.."

The child nodded, biting her lip, as he got up and headed out of the room, closing the door. Hattie got comfortable then, or as comfy as she could after that, and tried her best to go to sleep.

===========

A few agonizing minutes later, some chicken soup was shakily poured into a bowl, and Luka licked his dry lips. He'd eat on the couch, he decided, and then head to bed. So he lumbered his way there, and sat down, beginning to eat. 

His hand wasn't steady at all, and he almost dropped the spoon a few times. Nothing would stop him from finishing. 

Nothing except a sharp pain in the hand he'd been using to eat. He gasped with a wince, and just about dropped the bowl. It felt like he couldn't feel it anymore. And then they stretched and melted into claws, two-fingered, purple claws. 

Luka's eyes widened, pupils pinpricks, a louder gasp escaping his lips. The bowl was sent tumbling off his lap, spilling its contents everywhere. 

"N..no.." he whispered with horror as he stared at it. He thought he was free. And then his other hand began to change…

=========

Harriet had been about to fall asleep when she heard the clatter in the living room. She opened her eyes, and rubbed at them. Pained moans soon echoed through the house, and her eyes went wide open at that. 

What if her dad fell and couldn't get back up he was such in pain!?

She had to help. Just like he helped her. So, decision made, Harriet shuffled out of bed, and rushed to the door and threw it open.

========

Purple was almost all he could see of his skin now, and he soon heard the telltale opening of a door. His eyes widened and he turned his back towards the incoming child. He didn't want her to see him like this. Luka hugged himself, tightening the grip as his transformation started to rip his now stained clothing. 

"DAD!" he heard from behind him, as little footsteps rushed along the floor. They stopped though, and he could tell she was looking at him with horror.

She gulped, eyes wide, frozen to the floor. "D..dad?!" she called, horrified and.. scared out of her mind, tears falling. She wanted to run but couldn't move.

He groaned as he felt more like sludge with each passing minute. The purple, fluffy man turned to face her then, revealing his changed face. Oval eyes a bright, glowing gold, large fangs growing from his mouth, which was also glowing and golden. And it was goopy, slime connected his top and bottom lips.

Harriet gasped then, covering her mouth as she stepped back minutely. There was a bit of sorrow in the creature's eyes when she did that, but the horror was insurmountable. 

Her father.. was a monster.. and and…

"H...Hattiee…? p..pleaaase…" he spoke with a barely comprehensive sloppy and gurgling slur, slithering out of his ruined clothes and reaching a claw out to her. 

And that's when she ran, back to her bedroom, screaming and crying with fear. The door opened and then slammed shut, and Luka winced and soon whined, his eyes heavy with sorrow. He lay down then, not wanting to scare her further by running - slithering? - after her. Golden tears dripped from his eyes, and his form soon solidified into the being known as Snatcher. "...I'm.. sorry, kiddo… I'm a monster…"

(///////////////)

Sorry I had to end it there. It's three in the morning. But it's a pretty decent ending and considering it's not actually canon I don't really see a need to continue it.

Maybe I could. As an AU of an AU. I dunno but yeah. Have this bad fella. Hope you enjoy!

[the-second-circle-ffxiv]

Cocoa and marshmallows

Iris cursed under her breath, as she made her way through the snowy streets of Ishgard towards Silke’s apartment. The midday was knocking on the door, as the women had finally left the Blacksoul manor. Silke had a day-off, true... but if she had left her apartment already, there would be no way Iris and Eva could find her from the city of size that Ishgard was.

The library, Jeweled Crozier, Second Circle... too many chances. Too many places to go looking from. All Iris could do was hope her friend had slept long, and was still at home. High stiletto heels knocked merrily against the stony walkway, as the two arrived to the apartment building. Silke’s small, lowly flat was located up on the third floor. “...The heckin’ stairs tend to be slippery at dis time o’ a day, Cinnabun... So watch yer heckin’ steps. I’m not gonna catch ya, if yer to fall and break yer neck, just sayin’.”

Iris looked up at a narrow stairway, leading up on the outer wall of the building, and with a sigh, she gathered up her long, black dress, and started making her way up, Eva following just couple of steps behind her. The morning had been warm, and the ice on the stairs had melted away, making their climb that much easier, and in no time, the two arrived onto Silke’s door.

Iris listened for a moment, trying to hear if anyone was home. The walls were like paper around here anyway, but she couldn’t pick up any noises. A lonely dog was barking somewhere in the distance. The voice was too deep to come out of Silke’s little puppy, Laurence. Giving a quick side-glance towards Eva, Iris knocked onto the door.

“‘Ey! Silkee! Blackbird, yer ‘ome?! It’s mi! Open tha door, mi ass is freezin’ ‘ere!! Silkeee! Darlin’!”

Silke flinched awake when she heard knocking on the door. “It wasn't me I swear!” she yelped stupidly, before realizing she had just been dreaming and she was in fact in her own apartment, alone. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midday. Cursing silently, Silke flung her blanket aside, stepped into her moogle slippers which had been waiting next to her bed and was already about to dash towards the door. Then she remembered she was wearing only tiny panties and black, short nightgown, which barely reached her buttocks and was made of some thin fabric that showed more than she would've wanted to.

The garment actually belonged to Lareine, or Iris, who had left it behind sometime. Silke had ended up wearing the thing after deciding to be effective and washing all of her laundry at once, before noticing she had mashed her both own nightgowns into washings and thus didn't have anything to wear during the night. Luckily her pink morning gown with brash turquoise carbuncle patterns hadn't been among the laundry, so she grabbed it from the sofa and wrapped it around her while hurrying towards the door. Her long, straight, ash black hair was messy but she couldn't have cared less. The damn thing was so thick and slippery it was a mission impossible to try and keep it braided during the night. She was equally indifferent about her dark circles. If someone hadn't seen dark circles by now then it was about bloody time.

“I'm poor and I'm not buying anything!” she announced at the same moment she flung the door open. A wide smile spread on Iris’ black lips as her friend opened the door, wearing her silly carbuncle morning gown and the fluffy moogle slippers. Even when not trying to, Silke looked dashing in Iris’ eyes. The mess of a black hair, like that of a demon from eastern tales just enhanced the effect.

“...And Im not sellin’ anythin’, mi star on da night sky!” She stepped up to the woman, wrapping her arms tightly around her, giving her a squeeze, and breathing in the familiar scent of ink and gunpowder... the scent of home.

“...Fockin’ ‘ell, I was afraid ya ‘ad left da buildin’ already! I missed ya, gal!” Iris released her friend, quickly fixing her round glasses, which the hug had tipped on the side, which together with her messy locks, made Silke look bit like she had just survived an explosion. “...I just ‘ave to tell ya everythin’! Ya wont believe whut’s ‘appenin’ back at tha manor... A major shitestorm. I guess... uhh... someone finally dropped a match onto the fockin’ barrel o’ gunpowder dats been sittin’ casually between Grumpy and Lucy... Oh...”

Iris stepped aside, giving some space to Eva, still standing behind her on the narrow stairway. “...Dis is... Evangelin’! I stumbled upon ‘er in tha church, ya know... She was comin’ to look for a goddess, and she found mi instead! Which... in tha end is not too far as a heckin’ outcome, or whut do ya dink? Aniway, we are kinda ‘avin’ a deal... Guess Grumpy is hirin’ her, so she can pay mi for company... ‘Er gal left ‘er to fock ‘round wid sum random lad somewhere, so I’m kinda ‘elpin’ ‘er to fock dat said gal outta ‘er head!”

Then she turned back to Evangeline. “Cinnabun, dis is Silke! Mi heckin’ fallen angel... Isn’t she just dashin’?” A sly smirk played on Iris’ lips, as she glanced towards Eva, before quickly moving her attention back to the viera at the door. “...Ya ‘ave dat tea of yer’s still, darlin’? Guess who’s been almost heckin’ sober for a month!” Iris was chattering up a storm. Though Evangeline hadn’t known her for long, she knew that this had to be unusual for the sarcastic, abrasive woman she had just met a few days ago.  Around everyone else Iris painted over herself a veneer of prickly indifference that kept most, if not all, at arm’s length.  Even Arsene, who she seemed to be most accustomed to, or at least the most comfortable with, was still held at quite the distance. This though... this was different. Evangeline couldn’t hope to compare to this. Iris was beaming, ecstatic to see this woman... a jumble of words exiting her mouth at neck-breaking speed.

She was almost tripping over her words trying to tell Silke anything and everything she possibly could. Somewhat dazed, Evangeline inspected Silke as Iris spoke, half-tuning out what the slight viera was saying. The woman in the doorway was undeniably adorable. She was clearly frazzled, having probably just woken up to the sound of someone at her door. She seemed bookish, from a combination of her round glasses which sat slightly askew on her nose, her frame, and what Eva could see of her dwelling... which seemed to be crammed wall-to-wall with literature.

This was about to be a long conversation... a visit between Iris, the woman who had Eva wrapped around her finger, and Silke, the woman with whom Iris seemed to be very much in love. At the thought of the word ‘love’ the little green monster struck at Evangeline’s stomach. Its spines were particularly sharp today... Eva didn’t know how much of this she could take. She tried to hide her pensive expression with a smile, waving slightly to Silke as Iris mentioned her name. Evangeline watched with mounting horror as Iris kept talking, though... explaining not only everything that had happened after the incident at the church, but also mentioning what exactly had happened during the incident... namely the carnal encounter the two of them had shared, and the fact that Eva was paying for Iris’ company. She supposed it had been foolish to hope that Iris wouldn’t delight in telling every living soul of their arrangement, but it was still painfully embarrassing. She looked at the ground, her face hot to the point that she thought she might be pressing it against an oven. She could barely extract words, but managed to anyways.

“G-good morning... p-pleased to make your acquaintance”, Evangeline was able to squeak, and accompanied it with a modest curtsy, hands gripping tightly at the skirts of her dress. She was unable to bring herself to meet eyes with Silke, instead choosing to inspect the steps upon which she was standing, waiting for her to laugh... or respond... somehow. Iris let out such a sudden flood of words that at first, Silke, who was still half asleep, couldn't do anything but stare her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. She clumsily patted Iris' back while she hugged her.

“Me? Nooo...”, Silke gave a laugh. “If I, for once, get to sleep late, then hells yeah that's what I'm gonna do. I wonder whose voidspawn's ingenious idea it was that everyone should get up while it's still dark? Purely idiotic, if you ask me. Messes up our natural circadian rhythm and probably causes a whole lot of heart attacks and such, geez...”

When Iris started to talk about the drama between Varg and Lucian, Silke couldn't help but lick her lips greedily. She was usually allergic to drama, but that certain one was like straight from some really bad soap opera. Silke had never truly understood people who were too interested in others' business and loved to gossip, but because of this one case she had perhaps started to understand them on some level.

Silke let out a frustrated sound. “You must tell me immediately if something happens, Iris”, she pleaded. “I'm having lots of exams coming up and I'm very very busy, but I'm still willing to halve my cramming time if it means I can witness the outcome. Make your way into my school if you have to, aight? Rather early, so we can grab some popcorn.”

When it was time for Iris' introduction of Evangeline, and description of what they had been doing together, Silke felt an unpleasant sting of jealousy. She had been so absorbed by the delicious news Iris had brought, that she hadn't paid much attention to the other viera until now. Evangeline seemed like complete opposite – at least externally – to Silke. She seemed somewhat older, her body was toned and her face radiated health. Her dark skin and flaming hair reminded Silke of a torch or pyre.

'And the most important thing, she wants to fock', a little voice in Silke's mind reminded.

Its goal had probably been to upset her, but instead of pushing it away like usual, Silke just let it linger there, agreeing with it. Indeed, this woman was able to give Iris what I can't, she thought to herself.

What in the world was going on in Iris' mind, though? Why was she telling her this? Silke was aware of Iris' occupation, but still this wasn't the kind of information one just blurted loudly around like that. Silke both hated and loved her imagination, which was able to paint pictures, like works of art rich in detail in her mind. It helped tremendously with studying. Though, in situations like this it burned some truly unwanted images on her retinas forever. Besides, now her neighbors knew as well. The other two could see very pale pink splotches appearing on her cheeks before they vanished almost instantly.

“That's... interesting?” Silke noted and nodded politely at Evangline, trying to shoo away the mental image while looking at her. Immediately Silke rebuked herself. Who the heck said 'interesting' after someone had been just describing in detail about their intercourse? Well... herself, apparently.

“I mean, um... nice”, she corrected, smiling – while hoping it didn't look too much like a grimace - and slapping her hands together. “I'm glad to hear you're having a good time with each other.”

Silke rebuked herself again. 'Nice' sounded even more awkward.

“Um... yes, I have tea”, she answered Iris, while stepping aside so that the other two could enter. “And cocoa too. Come in, come in. I want to hear more.” 'Oh. My. Gods', she thought. “Like, IN GENERAL.” Silke was acting weirdly, Iris thought to herself, as she stepped past her friend, letting her hand brush against Silke’s rear as she entered the house. Well, Silke was the type who usually acted weirdly, but this? Even for Silke, this would be considered weird. Iris had noticed the slight blush rising on her friend’s pale cheeks, yet fading away as quickly as it had appeared, like a dream you suddenly wake up from. Had it even been there?

Silke did blush, but in the end, it was very rare for the woman. Such thing sometimes occurred when Silke was angry and confused... or wanted to take something cute home. But right now? This was different. Was... Silke jealous? Silke? Jealous of her?

Well, if the situation was so, it was just as Iris had planned it in the first place! But why did she feel a sting in her heart? Like someone was pushing an icicle through it.

Pale viera walked up to the sofa, and threw herself down onto it, next to Laurence who rose his head, giving a quick glance at her, before curling up once again. Iris gave the dog a gentle rub behind his little orange ear. The shiba seemed like he had mostly forgiven what Iris had done back in the day, but still had some mistrust towards her.

“Ohh, cocoa would be just frickin’ lovely...”, she was about to add if Silke could top it with a sliver of rum, but realized it was not the best idea, after she had just told her friend about the month sober... Or well, sober was maybe not the right word to describe it, as Iris still drank. A month without drinking herself under the table, maybe?

All in all, Iris knew Silke never had alcohol at home. The ghostly viera had a bad habit to grab a bottle under stress, and that’s what Silke definitely had with her studies... Stress.

Iris followed Eva, as her companion walked in after her. Keeping her eyes locked onto woman, she gave a quick, meaningful nod towards the armchair, with a blue carbuncle plushie laying on its armrest. The icicle was digging its way into her heart, and having Eva sit down next to her on the sofa, would bring on the hammer, that would smash the icicle right through.

“...Its a fockin’ all out war back dere at tha manor soon, I tell ya...”, Iris started, crossing her legs, while still giving some affection to the shiba inu. The soft fur of the dog helped to ease her nerves a bit.

Keeping her eyes locked on Silke, working on her small kitchen of a kind, Iris went through everything that had happened. From Lucian finding her and Eva from the church, to their arrival into the manor, and from Varg possibly hiring Eva, to Arsene bringing in the hitman couple to guard the property.

“It’s a heckin’ powder keg back dere, sweetie... Dat ding only needs a fockin’ spark, and it’s gonna blow up, wipin’ tha city off tha map.” Iris’ black lips curled up into a devilish grin. “I’ll make sure to keep ya informed of every heckin’ turn, Blackbird... Because dis shite will end up to tha fireworks of a fockin’ lifetime, I tell ya... Blacksoul is pissed off like a heckin’ hog in a heat. Lucy’s gonna eat ‘is meals wid ‘is arsehole for a good while, if he’s to shows his fockin’ smug face in tha manor..” Evangeline ascended the stairs behind Iris, still trying to avert her eyes from Silke, who seemed to have ignored at least some of the comments entirely. She seemed so very different from Eva had thought she would be... in a lot of ways, Evangeline had pictured that Silke would be... much like Iris. Another rough-around-the-edges, prickly dancer that would have loved the opportunity to have a laugh with Iris over Eva’s embarrassment. Not someone who, for every intent and purpose, appeared to be a scholar.

And yet here they were, wandering into the home of someone who probably possessed more intelligence in her little finger than Evangeline had in her whole body. That was... an odd feeling... was she intimidated? Was this the sort of thing that Iris truly wanted? Scholarly discussions? Perhaps that was why Evangeline was so thoroughly bound to the often referred to position ‘second fiddle.’ What an odd sensation... she wasn’t used to feeling like this. Intimidation came in the form of combat prowess, no?  Eva hadn’t felt intimidated by anyone in years... Even Andreas, the man who had swept Solenna away, hadn’t intimidated her. Over seven fulms tall... strong as an ox... but Eva had been sure that she could have placed his face squarely in the dirt had he come to fight her. This, though... this was different.

Eva entered the room, taking a seat in the armchair at Iris’ behest. Silke certainly liked... what were these things called... the little green aether pups that she had heard some of the other soldiers in her regiment discussing on occasion. Eva did think they were rather cute... but they must be difficult to hug, given that they weren’t... solid? Or were they? Evangeline looked to Silke again, standing there... damnably adorable still, in her half-awake state. She seemed to be waiting for something.

“Oh... um... tea, if you don’t mind. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

She managed keeping her best straight face. Her eyes drifted across the bookshelves, packed with literature, with knowledge. Knowledge that Evangeline couldn’t hope to touch... not in a thousand years. She enjoyed reading her history books... but that was another thing entirely. It was just stories of battles and who won them and why. It wasn’t... whatever this was.

Study of aether...of magic, perhaps? That would explain the near ubiquitous presence of carbuncles throughout the apartment. Evangeline’s mind fell back through time for a moment though... to Iris in the church. Mentioning magic. Almost spitting as she did. She seemed so displeased by the practice at the time... so why would Silke be studying magic? Perhaps this was something different... chemistry... biology... who could guess?

“Wh-what is it... that you study, if you don’t mind me asking?” Stuttering again... damn. Why was this woman so intimidating?

Evangeline could hardly stand it, feeling this way. Stammering and stuttering around Iris was one thing... Eva had thought her a special case. She clenched her fists, looking around the room again to try and distract herself when... she saw… A puppy. An adorable little... Evangeline didn’t know the name of the breed... but it had a cute little pointed nose and triangular ears and orange fuzzy fur and it was laying next to Iris and it completely derailed Eva’s train of thought. She looked at it for a moment, sitting there and enjoying scritches from Iris, before blurting out the first thing that came back to her mind.

“C-can I pet your dog?”

Silke shivered slightly when Iris' hand touched her butt. The hells was she first bragging about her intercourses with Evangeline and then right after touching Silke's arse? Sure, Silke and Iris weren't in a relationship and Iris was free to do whatever and with whoever she wanted. Silke had already – bitterly – accepted it. But the thing that baffled her right now was that Iris just had to rub it in. Why? Silke couldn't even imagine being capable of doing something like that to the people she cared about the most. Silke had been having an impression there hadn't been any bad blood left between herself and Iris. Had she been wrong the whole time?

For a fleeting moment Silke felt an urge to yell 'You know what? Fock it!' and kick Iris out again. Maybe even speed up her departure with some carefully aimed lightning bolts. She got a hold of herself almost right away, though. She could never become a revered archmage if she behaved like some wretched punk or let her feelings get a grasp of her.

"Hot cocoa and tea - coming right up!" Silke announced after closing the door and turning around, smiling widely this time. The gesture was forced, perhaps, but at least she felt it wasn't as stiff as it had been earlier. She was getting good at this. Perhaps she should've become an actress instead. "I have whipped cream and marshmallows to put into cocoa, and milk and sugar for tea. Which one do you guys prefer, or would you rather drink your stuff completely without?"

"I'll take frickin' both, sweetheart!" Iris answered. "Like a heckin' mountain o' whipcream... and couple o' marshmallows... Whut ever ya wanna stick onto it, go for it."

"Milk and honey if you have it... or, um... milk and sugar if you don't. Thank you...", Evangeline scratched her jawline reservedly, immediately regretting requesting honey. It was a common food in Gridania, but probably was more of a delicacy in Ishgard.

At least Evangeline seemed like a civilized case, Silke thought. The dark viera didn't seem to enjoy the situation as much as Iris did, which meant she probably hadn't even known about Silke – or Iris' occupation for that matter – before she had agreed to... whatever they had going on right now. Silke had heard the saying 'opposites attract', but had never truly understood it. She still didn't. Silke had had many relationships with very different people than herself and all of them had ended into a catastrophe.

Silke filled a pot with fresh water and threw some firewood into the stove. A bright flame appeared from thin air just above her fingertip, and Silke blew it into the stove, igniting the firewood. While waiting for the water to boil she was digging her messy cabinet and trying to find the damn whipped cream and marshmallows. Meantime, Iris was explaining in more detail what had occurred lately. When Iris started to talk about the incident in the old church, something happened that felt like gods themselves would've decided to spit in Silke's face just for laughs.

She had found some godsdamned huge jar of jam from the cabinet, lifted it with her other hand, and noticed the marshmallows behind it. Keeping an eye on the water, listening to Iris repeating things Silke wouldn't have wanted to hear about, and trying to reach the marshmallow package from the cabinet that looked like an aftermath of some imperial mana bomb, had apparently been too much for her concentration to bear. Her grip slipped and the jar crashed into the sink, making a noise that was probably heard at the other side of the block of flats.

"Shiteberries!" she blurted with passion. "It's all good, no biggie!" she yelled towards the living room. "I've got it under control!"

The jar had broken into three huge chunks. Luckily there didn't seem to be any shards in the jam. 'I must save it!' was Silke's first thought after recovering from the worst wave of annoyance. 'One does not simply throw away food. No, no.'

"Black magic and summoning!" Silke yelled towards the living room again over the sound of boiling water, while grabbing an empty jar and starting to spoon the jam from the sink into it. "And pet ahead, if he lets you, miss Evangeline! He tends to be suspicious towards strangers and warms up slowly!"

Lucian had always given Silke the creeps. That was the main reason she liked to make fun of him. The things one feared tended to lose their power if one was able to make jokes of them. Despite Silke holding up her cheerful facade, and simultaneously containing her rage, a tiny glimmer of genuine amusement dug its way through it all while a mental image of the highborn elezen eating his meal with his arse had formed in Silke's mind. She bit her lip so that she wouldn't have laughed aloud.

"Thanks. Now I can't unsee that one either", she mumbled while spooning and having a race against time: how much jam could she save before it was all dripped down the sewer? “Isn’t she just a fockin’ dashiest piece o’ ass ya ‘ave ever seen?” Iris laid back onto the sofa, legs crossed and one hand rubbing Laurence’s neck. “If the gods are real, dey were fockin’ horny as a rat when dey made dat gal. And I bet dats why dey made her a heckin’ bookworm in tha first place. To keep ‘er all for demselves! Selfish fockers...”

Silke was still acting weird though, and it drove Iris crazy. She knew her friend well enough to tell when something was amiss, and now there definitely was something. Silke’s smile had been forced... faked even. It was the smile Silke had on her lips, when she was in a very unpleasant situation, and just wanted to get through it fast. Eva also, had started to act weird after entering the apartment. What was wrong with everyone today?

Deep inside, Iris noticed she started to regret bringing the two into the same room in the first place. What had started as a perfect plan in her head, had suddenly turned into a weird dream, where she was locked into an apartment with two beautiful women, who she... for different reasons cared for? Yet those women were but a couple of meatsuits, which some creature had possessed.

Iris wanted to wake up. Though, if she had truly been in a dream, a loud crash echoing from the kitchen at the halfway of her story would have waken her up.

“Yer okai back dere, Blackbird?!” Iris shouted towards the kitchen, after hearing Silke’s loud curse, startling Laurence from his sleep in the process. "It's all good, no biggie!" answered Silke’s voice almost instantly.

Iris gave a quick glance towards Evangeline, rising her brow with a shrug, and finished the story, finally getting up to the point where they had left the manor. Silke was still in the kitchen. The sound of a boiling water had rose to company the weird sound of scraping metal on metal. It seemed like Silke had no intention on moving the pot off the flames though.

“Fockin ‘ell, I’ll go see whut the fock is ‘appenin’ back dere... Dats not like ‘er... at all.”

Iris stepped past Evangeline, brushing her cheek with the back of her finger while going, and headed into a kitchen. The sight before her eyes made Iris’ jaw drop for a moment. Silke, scraping jam out of the sink like her life depended on it, and a teapot, boiling over on the stove, sending steaming hot water down on the flames with an angry hissing that sounded like a pit of snakes.

“What tha fock, Silke?!” Iris finally blurted out, as she got back her voice all of the sudden. She rushed to the stove, moving the pot off the flames, but while doing so, her hand slipped on the handle, sending the lid flying off and spilling boiling hot water onto her arm. “Shiteclippers! Fockin’ ghhh...”, her curse turned into a shriek, but she still somehow managed to place the pot onto the table.

Her arm was on fire, and the pale white skin had started to gain pinkish tint and couple of blisters where the water had hit. “Silke, whut the ‘ell is wrong wid ya, sweetheart?! Ya did not get ani water on ya, did ya?!” With the heat still radiating up on her arm, like thousand little needles, Iris took a grip of Silke’s shoulders, turning the woman around, and wrapping arms around her.

With Silke’s affirmation, Evangeline slowly approached the cute little dog and extended her hand to him, hoping he would be okay with her lightly scratching behind his ear. She was as gentle as she could be, carefully extending her digits towards his nose, when a loud crash from the kitchen caused her to start, feeling like she jumped almost a yalm into the air.  Her heart rate picked up and she looked around, hoping for something weapon-adjacent to be present in the room somewhere.  She settled on the poker by the fireplace, reaching for it slowly, when Iris shouted back to her, seemingly unperturbed by what could’ve been the shattering of a window.

“It’s all good, no biggie!” Silke’s voice sounded off from the kitchen.

Evangeline relaxed slightly, a bit less worried of an intruder now. She wondered how Iris could be so blase-faire about the whole deal, given that she seemed to have more than a few people that would happily see her dead. Iris finished her story regardless, wrapping it up and muttering, “Fockin ‘ell, I’ll go see whut the fock is ‘appenin’ back dere...  Dats not like ‘er..at all.”

As she walked past Evangeline, heading towards the kitchen, she brushed the dark skinned viera’s cheek as she passed, causing her heart rate to quicken once more. Evangeline sighed and went to turn her attention back to the dog, when she heard further exclamations from the kitchen, followed by a shriek from Iris. Before Eva could think about what she was doing, she was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, poker in hand, just in time to see Iris throw her arms around Silke.

The pot on the table filled with still-bubbling water and the splash on the ground told the story of what had happened, though. Though Evangeline’s emotions battled in her mind, coming to a head in the face of the two women embracing, it was as if someone had flipped the switch in her head, finally, that said ‘high pressure situation’.

Her emotions dulled, and the world grew grey around her, as her body took over. She took the pot, placing it on a potholder with ease, to ensure that the table wouldn’t burn. Placing the poker in the corner, she moved to Iris, who she assumed was the most injured. Stepping around the two, Evangeline assessed for injuries, quickly noticing the blisters rising on Iris’ forearm and asked: “Silke, do you know how to dress a wound?”

"The hells would I know? Do I look like some damn white mage?" Silke cried out, sounding both frustrated and shocked, but still clearly more of the former.

“Right... very well. I know little of burns, but I will go find someone who does. Run cold water over the burn, and I’ll go find an apothecary for proper bandages and whatever else we need. There is one near here, isn’t there?”

Evangeline stepped back from the two. She didn’t touch Iris. She didn’t touch either of them. It wasn’t like Iris wanted her here, anyways... this was all she could do. Perhaps she could be useful, and the two could be left to themselves. At Silke’s response, she turned and walked from the room, out the door and into the chilly Ishgardian air. Silke twitched slightly when Iris hugged her, but she still wrapped her arms timidly around her, shocked that Iris had just gotten boiling water on her. Silke wasn't squeezing like Iris did, though. The heck was she getting all close and personal so suddenly?

"What's wrong you ask, princess?" Silke repeated, slightly aghast. "Everything was just fine before you came and started throwing the pot around! I accidentally dropped some godsdamned jar, which appeared to be heavier than it first seemed, into the sink. I would've taken care of the pot in a moment! ...And... no, I didn't get any water on me", she added a bit more calmly, when they let go of each other.

Then Evangeline, too, arrived into the kitchen. These two dumbasses were like some damn knights trying to save a damsel in distress, Silke thought sourly. While Evangeline was examining Iris' burns, Silke stared at the two, gritting her teeth. There she was again, with her older and more mature companion, who - without a doubt - already had some renowned career behind her.

Silke took a quick glance at herself; her carbuncle morning gown and moogle slippers. Were they the reasons everyone insisted treating her like a child? Because she liked cute things? Or was it something in herself? Something about her behavior, perhaps? Her absent-mindedness? The farther she got with her studies the more sceptical people seemed to be about her fending. First Asagi, then Silke's school'mates', and now even Iris.

When Evangeline asked did Silke know anything about taking care of wounds, she couldn't help but cry out: "The hells would I know? Do I look like some damn white mage?"

She could put a bandage on paper cut but that was pretty much it. The yell had already left her lips before Silke remembered she had just made herself a promise to be more sophisticated and controlled. Before she got her mouth open again, Evangeline was already on her way and had stepped outside.

Silke stared at the door for a while. At least Evangeline had had a good reason to go, but it also annoyed Silke, that every single time, when she and Iris were spending time with other people than each other, Asagi or Arsene – which was very rare – sooner or later their company vanished somewhere, leaving Silke and Iris alone. Why, why did it always happen? Of course Silke enjoyed spending time with Iris, but she was also craving other friends. She didn't want to be depending on only one person. Yet it was either her or Iris - or worse, both of them - who managed to drive away other people. As Eva had left the building, Iris looked at the blisters on her aching arm, and walked up to the sink. What was left of the jam, was now lazily making its way down the hole. It was unlikely that cold water would do any good at this point, but Iris opened the tap anyway, letting the ice cold water run for a while, washing away the jam, before sticking her arm under it, grimacing.

“Yeah, guess I heckin’ overreacted. The damn pot was throwin’ water around like a frickin’ volcano, and I freaked out, as I thought it boild over onto ya...” Iris  looked at her arm, still holding it under the running water. It was not looking pretty, but could have been worse. Maybe it could heal without leaving a scar.

“Just look at mi, Blackbird. I keep destroyin’ thin’s, no matter whut I do. For fock’s sake, I hated mi mother, for being a damn useless wreck she was. And now? Shite. Its almost like tha heckin’ apple surely wont fall far from da tree...”, she gave a quick glance towards her friend, before closing the tap, and carefully drying her onto a towel. “...I’m heckin’ joyful yer alright though. Dink we could still make dat cocoa?” Iris walked up to the pot, peeking inside it, and coming to the conclusion it was still half-full of water. Maybe it would do for three smaller cups.

The burning pain on the arm started to return soon after she had dried it up, but, biting hardly onto her lip, she more or less successfully hided the fact from Silke. “Sssshite...”, viera hissed under her breath, feeling like someone had been spanking her arm with a bunch of nettles for an hour straight.

Years back, when she was still living on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, the guards had caught her from pickpocketing, and rolled her in a huge bush of nettle for it. The feeling on her arm, brought the old memory to life in her head.

“...W..Whut ya gonna drink, Blackbird? Tea maybe? C... Could s...share a cocoa wid ya too... Ya know whut dey ‘ave in dose fancy heckin’ restaurants... Dose straws dat go whirly around each other, and ya can share a drink all heckin’ romantically and shite. We could get one of dose. ‘Aight?”

This was one of those moments Silke found herself once again wondering: how the hells did Iris do it? At one moment she was all sweet and thoughtful, then a couple of minutes later a complete arsehat. And then a moment later sweet again, and so on. Or perhaps the most important question was: why? And which one was the real one?

"I'd rather drink all of my cocoa by myself", Silke explained after a short pause, with a hint of formality in her voice. "I should probably start drinking from a barrel or something anyway, since regular mugs or glasses seem to contain way too little for my tastes."

“Well...”, Iris shrugged, knocking the pot with her fingernail. “Dis thin’ is ‘alf empty, so wont fill a barrel wid dis, but... We should all still get a heckin’ mugful...”

Iris’ voice lacked the energy it had a moment ago, suddenly sounding rather tired. Her gaze traveled in the room, from the door, to the flames still dancing on the stove, and to a carbuncle clock, hanging on the wall. She could not look Silke in the eyes. She very well knew she had once again let down the woman she loved. And that love burned in her chest, hotter than the flames on the stove... harder to ignore than the burning sensation on her arm. Yet why was it she could only bring misery into Silke’s life? Time after time after time.

“...I’m gonna find dat whipcream and candies, if ya mix tha cocoa, okai..?” she finally sighed, moving up to the cabinet, starting to go through the foodstuff Silke had stored. Soon she pulled out a small back of marshmallows, waving it in the air, in front of Silke’s eyes. “Lookie-look whut I found! Lets just stack a mad pile of dese onto tha whipcream! It will be fockin’ beautiful... Like a heckin’ tiny snow castle... ‘Aight?”

*** Evangeline walked briskly down the steps, her goal clear in her mind. A chill sat in the air, the same that seemed to sit permanently in Ishgard, regardless of the time of year.  Eva could see her breath, just barely, a vaporous cloud that was constantly being remade and dispersed as she exhaled and strode through it. She wore a wry smile, unsure of what exactly she should be feeling right now. She had time to walk, time to herself, time with her own thoughts. Though this, to her, felt like a punishment worse than death, perhaps she could straighten this whole thing out in her head.  Find out where she stood.  What she should do next.

Very well... let’s look at the facts, she thought, releasing a sigh inwardly.

Fact: Iris and I just met.  We have formed an odd sort of arrangement that has her spending time with me for compensation.

Fact: Iris and I slept together. I enjoyed it and she seemed to enjoy it. Evangeline moved slightly out of the way, angling her body to the side so that she could fit between a merchant’s stand and a heavyset man that was moving in the other direction.

Fact: I pulled Iris from a breakdown. She seems to struggle with another personality of some kind. She seemed expectant that I would leave after finding that out. I did not. Also, she fell asleep in my arms. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing she usually does. She wiped her nose. It must surely be red at this point, with how chilly it was outside.

Fact: She has shown some level of interest in me. She dreaded stating this next one to herself.

Fact: I have... fallen for Iris. Against my better judgement in every way. She has a pull over me that I haven’t truly experienced before, and I can’t fight it.

F-fact... Iris... I-Iris is in l-love... with S-Silke.

That thought was what did it. That was the one that set the tears flowing. Eva kept walking, her goal still clear in her mind, but with tears pouring down her cheeks. How had she done this to herself... jumped straight from one failing relationship into another one. She had left Solenna... sweet, wonderful Solenna...for this? A pale, thin viera woman... so thin that she seemed malnourished... who could barely manage to give her the time of day if she asked?

And on top of all of that... she was so clearly in love with Silke. The woman was all over her! Iris did nothing but praise Silke... her perfect little angel. The apple of her eye. This begged the question, though... why weren’t the two of them together? Was it Iris? Her refusal to be tied down? Or was there something about Silke that Evangeline didn’t know…? There’s no way...no way Iris wouldn’t have said something.  She must have confessed her feelings to Silke.

Evangeline turned a corner, tears still stinging at her face. She wiped at her nose again, and then her eyes, wiping them first and then rubbing at them, hoping that she didn’t look to be too much of a mess. She sniffled, and continued walking, seeing the Apothecary’s sign in the distance. Perhaps she should just excuse herself, and return to the manor. Maybe the two of them wanted time alone.

But... if that was the case, why had Iris invited her? She had seemed fairly eager to bring Eva along... despite her outburst in the bathroom. It was just... so damnably confusing. Did Iris want her?  Did Iris not want her? Was she a substitute for Silke? Or was she something different?

All of these questions went unanswered, though, as Evangeline stepped through the door to the Apothecary. She must have looked quite the sight, 6 fulms, 2 ilms of musclebound viera, ducking under the doorway to keep room enough for her ears as she did. Flushed from the cold, tears clinging to her cheeks... not something you would normally see on the streets of Ishgard. She stepped up to the shopkeeper, clearing her throat.

“G-good morning…”, she sniffled again, wiping at her nose. “Do you have anything that would help with a burn?  And some clean bandages?”

The merchant, a rather young looking miqo'te man, took a moment to first absorb the sight of Evangeline, and then another to process what she was asking for.

“Uhm... er.. .y-yes. The aloe lotion, over in the corner on the second highest shelf. And we have bandages right here at the counter. Just... apply the lotion, it should help with the pain. Wrap it in bandages, and change them every four hours. You’ll probably want to reapply the lotion when you change them.”

Evangeline nodded in thanks, and efficiently collected her goods, paying for them with gil from a small pouch she kept tied around her waist.  She took her leave, waving at the young man, who looked as if he wanted to say something as she was leaving, but decided not to.

She exited the shop, back into the cold air. It was starting to feel a bit more punishing, and Eva could see a few snowflakes starting to dot the sky in the distance. She would be back soon. She almost wanted to drop off the bandages and then leave, but... maybe she should stay a little bit. See how things played out. Maybe she could get a little bit more understanding of the situation... because she refused to let go of Iris without being sure she wasn’t wanted. She kept moving forward, upset, angry, sad, and tired...but a bit more determined than she had been a few minutes ago.

***

Silke gave Iris a small nod, before grabbing a pouch of cocoa powder and starting to spoon it into the cups. She was working near the small kitchen window, glancing at the gray inner court every now and then, and her back turned to Iris.

Overall Silke saw herself as a positive person. She didn't truly hate anything, although she often joked about it. Hate was such a powerful word. But if someone had asked her to point just one thing she could say she truly hated, it would've been mixed signals, messing with her. Most people tended to mess with her in one way or another, and at least with her inner circle Silke wanted to feel safe enough to lower her defenses. Keeping them up constantly was tiring and it ate her from the inside.

'It was supposed to be over', she thought. 'We had our misunderstandings and arguments, we overcame them and we were just fine. Why did she have to continue it? She could've done her thing with Evangeline, heck, even bring her here. But why rub it in? I'm too tired for this shite.'

When Iris found the marshmallows and said they'd make the cocoa toppings like a snow castle, Silke felt tears trying to come out. Stubbornly she pushed them back while biting her lip, before glancing at Iris over her shoulder, smiling and agreeing lightly:

"Sounds fancy. Just the thought of it makes me almost feel our blood vessels blocking up." She turned around and started to stir the drinks. "But still, oh, so delicious. Why must everything unhealthy be so delicious?"

Silke glanced outside again, towards the gray sky. After the exams of this month were over, the students could choose a place to go study more how things worked in practice. So far they had been mostly studying theory of all general subjects, and only doing some smaller and safer experiments while their teachers had been watching them closely. Now was the time for action, and the beginning of specialized studies. Silke was about to dive into the studies of a battle mage and destructive alchemy. She pondered to herself which post could possibly be the farthest one away from Ishgard. “Why? Because tha world is a heckin’ unfair place, Blackbird”, Iris said. “In a damn perfect world, we would be livin’ in a frickin’ castle somewhere in tha mountains. ‘Ave a damn barrel o’ cocoa, a bath’ouse and a fockin’ basement full o’ blastin’ powder and booze to play wid.”

Iris rolled a single marshmallow between her fingers, squeezing it down, and watching it  slowly buff back up, as she loosened her grip. “...Yet ‘ere we are. In a fockin’ apartment flat, in a city filled with damn arseplucks who dont get us. Like fockin’ birds in a cage...”, she flipped the candy into her mouth, turning to Silke, who was still working with her cocoa mix.

Silke was so beautiful. In her own, rather curious way, she was stunning. After a while, Iris caught herself staring at her friend, the marshmallow still lingering on her tongue. Viera shook her head, picking up another candy from the bag, and reaching it towards Silke, holding it an inch away from woman’s lips. Silke’s spoon stopped moving, and she placed it down on the table. Carefully, she took the candy from Iris, holding it for a moment, and placing it into her mouth.

Oh, how much Iris had hoped for the woman to pick the candy from her fingers, using her lips. She had almost seen it happening in her mind, but then again... Silke would never do such a thing. What was she even thinking? Most likely nothing. The tears were burning her eyes, almost masking away the burning sensation on her arm, but she kept them in, flipping another candy into her mouth. She missed though, the soft candy hitting her on the cheek, and falling onto the table.

“...I’m workin’ mi fockin’ ass off to make sum cash. It’s... gonna take some time, as yer sissie has cut mi shifts to ‘alf lately, but... I’m gettin’ dere, Silke... And... And when I ‘ave got sum savin’s, I thought I could... Ya know... Get sum own place sumwhere, and I thought...” A sound of door opening interrupted Iris in the middle of the sentence, and she hissed a curse under her breath. “...We are in tha fockin’ kitchen, Evangelin’!” she shouted towards the doorway, her long, sickly fingers gripping the bag of marshmallows spasmodically. Evangeline slid the door open, a paper bag of medical supplies clutched in her hand. She had tried to wipe at her eyes and her nose as much as possible, and though she had cleared them both (or so she thought) she could only assume that her smudged eyeliner and her most likely running mascara would display that she had been crying. She supposed that she would deal with that when the time came-for now, at least, she wanted to focus on the task at hand. Iris’ arm needed to be bandaged... she must be in incredible pain right now. Eva’s feelings could wait.

She startled at the sound of Iris’ shout. She seemed upset... which stood to reason with a burned arm. Eva stepped briskly into the kitchen, noting the two vieras seemed to be casually conversing. Iris must have an impressive pain tolerance... ran through her head as she saw how Iris was standing. When she met Iris’ eyes, though, she was a bit taken aback by the other woman’s expression.

Had Eva done something wrong? Offended her somehow? She shook her head, trying to clear out the stray thoughts. That would be a question for later…

Evangeline moved to the sink, excusing herself as she moved past Silke, and washed her hands. Water, soap, water, towel. She picked up the bag from the side of the sink, wandering over to Iris and removing a roll of bandages, a roll of medical tape, and a small metal container from the bag. She gestured to Iris to show her arm.

“We need to put this cream on your arm. It will calm the burn and lessen the pain. Then we wrap it in this bandage, and change it every four hours until it’s not causing you as much pain. Would you like to sit down so I can get it wrapped up?”  Evangeline looked at Iris and gave the brightest smile she could muster. “I’m fine, Evangelin’! It’s just a heckin’ small burn... Will... ‘eal on its own by the damn mornin’...”, Iris looked at her burned arm, which was visibly shaking, like dead leaves in a breeze. She felt the burn, like it was creeping into her bones. On top of that, the arm had started to ache, sending arrows of pain up towards elbow, and down to her fingers, still holding onto the bag of marshmallows.

“...Fockin’ ‘ell, fine! Do whut ya wish... But change every fourth ‘our, ya say? Ya ‘ear dat, Silke? Yer gonna come over to sleep wid mi, and change mi bandages, and kiss da pain awai, hm?” Iris took one more candy out of the bag, before placing the back on the table, right next to Silke, and making her way to a tiny dinner table, which was loaded with books on a dangerously unsteady pile. Viera sat down onto the chair, placing her elbow onto the table, so her arm was hanging on air. “...Do ya mind, if I smoke, darlin?” Why in the seven hells does she keep talking about 'us', Silke thought, stirring the cocoas even more furiously, although the powder had dissolved into the drinks ages ago. Iris was truly hopeless. Silke had explained to her in words of one syllable why it just wouldn't work, and how it would only cause them both more pain. And despite it all here they were again. Should she draw some godsdamned diagram about it next? It probably wouldn't work either. Iris' skull was apparently too thick for receiving information.

Silke felt, oddly enough, somewhat relieved when she heard the door in the hallway and realized Evangeline had returned. At least now she wouldn't have to listen to all this sweet talk, which made Silke remember all the good moments she and Iris had had together, and which were now like acid poured into her reopened wounds. She grabbed the whipped cream container from the table and squeezed so much cream into every mug, that the cocoas ended up looking like soft ice served in mugs.

Meanwhile Evangeline was tending Iris, Silke took one of the mugs and sat on the other side of the table, opposite the two others. She was observing them closely, while poking her spoon into the cream, taking a full load of hot cocoa and cream, poked it into her mouth, into the cream again and so on. Silke noticed Evangeline's reddish eyes. She had probably been crying. Silke had had somewhat mixed feelings towards her, but right now she was mainly feeling sorry for her. Iris was probably just playing with them both.

Silke couldn't help but frown at Iris' comment. For a moment she froze to stare at her in disbelief. 'Are you focking kidding me?!' she was tempted to ask, and to slam her mug onto the table with full force to give her words some more spice. Then she noticed the mug was one of her favorites: a pink one, that had two black eyes, a snout and a little pigtail on the other side of it. She quickly let go of it, and yanked her shaking hand into her lap.

"I'm not going anywhere", she announced in a steady voice. "I have places to be tomorrow morning. And I doubt you need me to tend you, Iris. I'm sure your other hand is working just fine, and you can do it yourself." She scooped a couple of spoonfuls of whipped cream into her mouth, before adding: "No smoking allowed indoors, they say. The stench gets absorbed into the structures. And if they'll find something to complain about this apartment when I'm about to move, guess who gets to pay the expenses?" “Fine... No smokin’ indoors...”, Iris stuffed the pack of cigarettes back into her pocket with her free hand.

She glanced towards Eva, seeing woman’s red eyes and smeared eyeliner. Of course Eva had been crying. ‘What else I do these days than make people cry?’ Iris thought to herself.

Her gaze traveled from Eva to Silke, sitting on the other side of the table with her pink piggie-mug. Her dearest friend. The girl she loved... the only girl she had ever truly loved... sat there, so distant. Acting almost like she did not even know Iris anymore. There was no snow castle of mashmallows on her mountain of whipcream... And that’s when the storm that had been raging inside Iris broke the dam. She coiled forward on the bench, as the tears started running down freely on her pale cheeks. Dripping onto the burn, like a salty summer rain. Evangeline had been doing rather impressively at holding herself together, she had thought. As she applied the cream very gently to Iris’ arm, she quietly listened to the other two talk. Iris doing her level best to whisper sweet nothings to Silke with a megaphone, and Silke seeming... cold. She sounded even less inclined to put up with Iris than when they had walked in the door.

Iris put away her cigarettes at Silke’s behest, and, with a quick glance around the room, seemed to finally give way to the tension that had been building in her this whole time. She huddled over and burst into tears. Evangeline looked up, shaken by the sudden change in mood, and turned her eyes to Silke, ‘what do I do?’ written across her face.

Silke’s eyes, at first, were locked on Iris, seeming shocked by the outburst. They glazed over with sadness for just a moment... so quickly that Evangeline would have missed it, had she not been searching desperately for an answer on the viera’s bespectacled face. The sadness faded, though, as quickly as it had come. She retained control of herself, and took another drink of cocoa, faster now than she had before.

“Ahh...I-Iris…”, Evangeline said, unsure of how to handle the situation given her companion’s preferences. Iris had specifically said that she didn’t want to be hugged. She didn’t want that kind of relationship with Eva. Evangeline wanted nothing more than to take the woman in her arms and be there for her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Iris wanted... Iris wanted companionship without the relationship. Because the relationship she wanted eluded her, somehow.

For some reason, her and Silke didn’t work. Eva didn’t know what it was, but there seemed to be a mountain of hurt between the two. She didn’t know what could be done to fix things for these two... and... she hated to admit it to herself... but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fix this. It felt horrible, and selfish to think of. She wanted Iris to be happy. But she wanted Iris to be happy with her. Wanted Iris to fall into her arms. Wanted Iris to come home to her. Maybe Iris didn’t love her now... but maybe she would. Someday. Maybe... maybe it was best to go with the safest option here.

“Iris?  C-can... can I touch you?” Eva hoped desperately that she would be able to embrace the woman. That she wouldn’t run. That she wouldn’t disappear. She couldn’t just sit here in silence, though. Silke didn’t seem inclined to do anything about this. Eva looked at Silke again, wondering if her temperament had changed. As she did, Silke finished her cocoa, stood up, and walked out of the room. While Silke marched into the living room, she cursed from the bottom of her heart they were all in her place. Normally she would just leave situations like this, but where could she go now that she was already at home? She couldn't fall apart while there were guests around. She was so tired of crying. She felt she had cried for at least ten or more people lately.

Laurence was still sleeping on the sofa. Silke was tempted to hug him, but she decided to skip that as well. She knew if she hugged something right now, she couldn't probably hold it in anymore.

Silke had been waiting for the damn dinner so much. It was supposed to have been a new beginning for them all. If Asagi and Varg could've just started behaving like normal, functional adults around each other, it would've made everyone else's life easier. Now Silke was no longer certain did she even want to go. If Evangeline lived in the estate nowadays, no doubt she'd attend the dinner, too. And Asagi had announced Ainu, who had just arrived to Ishgard, would join them as well. Silke thought it was a terrible idea. The lalafell was a focking sociopath. And Asagi was delusional if she thought she could cure her with motherly love and care. That case was beyond help.

And if Iris thought she'd make Silke's heart melt by crying, she couldn't have been more wrong. Silke kept repeating 'self care' like a manta in her mind, hugging herself and squeezing her arms with her nails, while looking outside from the window, although there was absolutely nothing interesting there. Iris was just like the rest of them. For a moment Silke had hoped she would've been wrong, but it was all the same shite in the end, just wrapped in a slightly different package. “Don’t touch mi!” Iris screeched through her tears, while cradling herself back and forth on the chair. “Don’t ya fockin’ touch mi! W-We had a d-deal, is it so frickin’ ‘ard to u-understand?!”

Still, somewhere deep in her heart, Iris wanted Evangeline to hold her. She wanted Silke to hold her. The woman she had once been, on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, would have given anything in the world, to have someone to wrap arms around her, telling her everything would be alright. That the morning would come, after the stormy night, and it would be beautiful.

Yet that woman was trapped, deep below the layers of fear, hatred and agony. From the corner of her eyes, Iris had seen Silke emptying her cup of cocoa, and walking out of the room. The sight was the executioner, wearing a dirty, black hood, and pulling the lever, which finally dropped the heavy blade down, splitting Iris’ heart in two.

“I... I just w-wanted to build... a heckin’ castle...”, her voice was barely audible. “Wanted to build a damn castle for... for us to l-live in...” Iris got up, her head feeling dizzy.

It was like time in the room had suddenly stopped onto its tracks. The spring inside the clock had broken, freezing the pointers on the same dead moment for ever and ever. She made her way to the cup of cocoa, still resting on the counter. Her long, pale fingers, reached into the bag, picking up a single marshmallow, and placing it on the huge mountain of whipped cream. After looking at it for a while, she reached for another, and another, carefully piling them on the mountain, with her shaking hand.

“...A-And dis is where dey lived...”, she muttered, while balancing the candy onto drink. “...A h-heckin’ beautiful castle, on a mountains... dat rose above t-tha forest, like clouds... Damn lucky bastards... A poet and ‘er muse. I-I bet ya ‘ave never seen such beautiful woman...” Iris paused for a moment, to wipe away tears that were running free over her cheeks, like small, salty rivulets.

“...Yet da poet had a s-secret... ‘Er words were poison. Drippin’ from ‘er mouth, every time she opened it to weave words. Why? ...Because tha poet was... a frickin’ monster... A creature, which was in love wid tha gal, and ‘ad taken a form o’ a poet to be wid ‘er... Yet tha mask on ‘er face did not keep tha poison from drippin’... And all tha words tha poet weaved for dat gal? Dey just tainted ‘er. Made ‘er sick... And when da gal finally withered awai? Tha castle on clouds came crashin’ down, buryin’ tha monster alive...”

As Iris stopped, the pile of marshmallows on the whipped cream had grown into an unstable little mountain on its own. She picked up a spoon, her hand shaking, and scooped up most of the whipped cream and candies. “...Fockin’ crashin’ down...” She placed the spoonful into her mouth, and the sweet taste mixed with the saltiness of her own tears. Evangeline sat, listening to Iris weave her story.  A fairy tale... Eva wondered if this was some sort of response to trauma. Iris’ other self seemed to be lost in a dreamland, so fully steeped in fantasy that she couldn’t recognize any part of reality. This... this seemed to be Iris teetering on the edge. Wavering between reality and fantasy. Because... because she couldn’t bear... to lose Silke. Damnable, adorable Silke.

After a few minutes, Iris’ story ended, the monster that represented her crushed under a mountain of rubble. Evangeline stood up, hoping that she could figure out how to handle this one. Hoping that she could pull Iris from the edge, and not hurl her off of it unintentionally. She took a step forward... and then another. She felt as if her shoes were lined with lead. She reached up, placing a trembling hand on Iris’ shoulder almost instinctively, her mind ceding to her body once again. Iris winced as Eva touched her shoulder, but didn’t seem to react any other way, still poking at the cocoa with her spoon, eyes fixed on the horizon, where dark clouds were gathering.

“Iris…”, Evangeline said quietly. “I may not be much... but I’m not going anywhere. I know I’m not h-her... but I am yours. I’m right here... by your side. And you’re... you’re right here with me. I couldn’t i-imagine how you’re feeling right now... but I’ll stay with you through it. I’m not running away. I...I don’t want to restrict you... or keep you... I just want to be with you…”, she trailed off, biting her lip.

Gods this was difficult. Finding words... she felt like she was just repeating things she had already said. “I-I like you. A lot.” She blurted out. “You’re att... att…”,  her mouth couldn’t find the word, caught in her throat as it was. “Att… attrraactive to me for a lot of reasons. Y-you’re strong...and p-perseverant... you’re beautiful… but I want you to be free, still.”

The tears were welling up in her eyes now... wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t hold them back any more. She thought briefly of offering to talk to Silke... but she was feeling a little too selfish to do that right now. Maybe if Iris asked her... “I want to touch you... to hold you... b-because I think it might help... but I don’t want you to feel trapped…”, she said, her breath catching in her lungs as she did. “C-can you let me? I’ll let go... I’ll let go the moment you ask me to.” Silke heard the other two talking something in the kitchen, and as time passed, she became more and more convinced she either had to get rid of them, or she had to get out. She glanced once again at Laurence sleeping on the couch.

That's right. She hadn't taken him out yet. A perfect excuse. She hurried to her closet and rummaged through it, trying to find some clothes that hadn't been amongst the laundry. The fancy dress Iris had given her was there, but right now Silke would've rather walked out naked than worn it. There were also both of her party dresses. They were all black, but the other one was long and fancy, and didn't have sleeves. Silke had planned to wear it during the dinner. The other one was festive as well, but compared to the first one, way more casual. Its hem reached her knees, it had tight, long puff sleeves, and it didn't reveal as much. That would do, she thought.

Silke quickly changed into it, hoping the other two wouldn't surprise her meanwhile. They didn't. They seemed to have much to talk about.

Simultaneously Silke took off her tiny panties and revealing nightgown. She had used them only for one night, so they hadn't gotten dirty yet. She'd return them to Iris before they left. Silke didn't have to go out without pants, since she also managed to find some old leggings that had gotten short for her. She didn't mind. Nobody would notice their length while she was wearing her high heeled, leathery thighboots.

Silke combed her hair hastily and tied the long, thick ponytail on her crown. Her bangs were somewhat messy, but she didn't bother to do anything to them. Meanwhile looking at herself from mirror she pondered maybe she could go to store too. That would prolong her trip to the city, and Iris and Evangeline would've hopefully focked off by then. Though, Silke was too tired to see too much effort for her make-up. She took a black eyeliner and drew even darker circles on the ones already existing. She painted her lips dark pink, so that she wouldn't look like a corpse.

"Laurence? Are you awake, boy?" she asked in a tired voice, while crouching next to the sofa, gently petting the sleepy dog. Iris heard Eva’s words, but it was like they were coming from somewhere, really far away, behind a veil of fog, even though she knew the woman was standing right behind her. Y-You are not well... s-something is wrong... Iris shook her head, trying to make the voice go away... It didn’t.

I... I want my knight... my knight in a shining armor, where is he? I have... I have lost my knight!

“Shut up!!”

T-The castle, it’s... its crumbling. What is happening..? Help me... please...

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

Iris closed her eyes tightly, fingers on her temples, long, clawlike nails, digging in and drawing blood. She took a step back, walking into Evangeline, and leaning back against the woman’s chest.

Evangeline tensed up for a moment. The other woman was struggling, that much was obvious. Eva hoped that she could calm her down. She was digging her nails into her forehead again. Without even thinking about it, Evangeline gently placed her arms around Iris, not holding her back, or restricting her movement, but cuddling up against Iris' lithe frame.

"Iris... Iris you're here with me, okay? It's just you, Iris. Just you and me. You are Iris, nobody else. It's going to be okay... everything is going to be okay. Listen to the sound of my voice... follow me back..."

“...All I wanted to do, is fockin’ build a castle... L-Look at dat!” Iris waved her hands towards Evangeline’s mug, still resting on the counter, untouched. “Dere is no fockin’ castle... W-Where is my knight? I... I want my... I want mi Silke... Cinnabun? I’m.. I’m so...”

Iris felt the arms that were wrapped around her, like a cradle, everything else was hidden behind the deep fog in her head. What was this place? Who was she? And who’s arms were these? She did not really care anymore.

She felt numb, and when the fog finally parted, she was standing on a shore. A shore of white sand, like ground bones reached as far as the eye can see on her both sides. And in front of her? There was a ocean. A black ocean from where the calms waves rolled in to shore, to caress it like a lover’s fingers for just a moment, before falling back into the embrace of the ocean.

Iris took one step... and another. Her eyes caught the arm, where the burn had been only a moment ago. Yet now? There was nothing. The burn was gone, same with the pain it had brought. Tilting her head, Iris poked the skin couple of times, then pinching it between her fingers, and pullin. No pain. Nothing. She kept walking.

The black waves were calling her with a voice she knew, but could not place to who it belonged to. She stepped into water, walking on, until it reached almost to her knees, when she heard another voice from behind her, and turned around. On the waterline, veiled by the fog, she saw three figures. A Three pairs of long ears.

A tall warrior, a woman with long, ghostly hair, and a sickly, corpse-like woman, standing between them. The panic washed over her... she had to walk back, what was she doing? Yet, when she tried to move her legs, they felt like something was holding them from the bottom of the ocean.

Oh gods... You sound like a vulture... They are my favourite birds...

It’s going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay...

S-Something is not right...

The panic washed over Iris, and she jerked her leg again, but instead of getting it free, she lost her balance, falling back into the embrace of deep black. Iris gasped in Evangeline’s embrace, opening her eyes.

Her burned arm looked horrible. Like someone had been ripping out skin from the burned area. She sighed deeply, moving her fingers on top of the burn, and mumbling words under her breath. A faint light, mix of black and shades of purple started dancing around her fingertips, slowly sewing shut the worst of the damage, even though the arm still looked burned and blistered.

“Seven hells, how did this happen?" Iris’ eyes were closed. She seemed stuck... wrapped in a dreamlike state, twitching involuntarily as if she were sleeping. Evangeline’s heart rate rose, as fear gripped at her, clawing at her arms, her legs... she held Iris, still as gently as if her arms were wrapped around the finest glass vase the world had ever seen.

How was Iris suddenly so precious to her? Why did she feel the need to protect her? Some people had baggage...but Iris had wagonfulls. Cities filled with baggage. The smart move would be to walk away from this mess. To set Iris gently down and leave this place... run far away from Ishgard and never return. Maybe she could win Solenna back.

She barely entertained the thought, though, looking at Iris’ face. Pained and thin, weak and scared. Beautiful, pitiful, and now...alone. Eva could leave her no more than she could leave her own legs behind.  She would just have to figure something out.

As Iris opened her eyes, gasping for breath as if she had been drowning, Evangeline’s heart leapt from her chest, relief pouring through her veins. She was about to say something... to thank the twelve that Iris was back... but she watched as Iris sighed and healed her arm.

”Seven hells, how did this happen?” ...What? That... that wasn’t Iris’ voice. Iris couldn’t heal herself. This was wrong. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the other, either. The one who called herself ‘Lareine’ didn’t speak like that.

Evangeline felt herself tense up again, her relief pulled out of her body like air from a drowned person’s lungs. Still keeping her arms gently around the body of Iris, she whispered quietly to the not-Iris:

“In response to your question... you spilled boiling water on your arm. It was burned, and I was caring for it. I have a question of my own, though, if you don’t mind... what is your name?” ‘Burned my arm..?’ the pale viera thought to herself, as her eyes caught Evangeline’s arms, still wrapped around her. ‘Must have been wild evening’.

She had no idea where she was. Nothing in this place seemed in any way familiar to her. She had no memory of burning her arm with boiling water... and the whole idea sounded so foolish in her head. And on top of everything. Who the hell was this woman, embracing her, and tending to her injury? The burn would leave a scar by now... Why did she not tend it with magic herself it in the first place?

Maybe this was all just a twisted dream, and she would wake up sooner or later. The not-Iris reached out towards the counter, picking up the cup of cocoa, and brought it on her lips, taking a sip.

“Well, considering the fact you are asking for my name, I guess you are not my mate... So my second guess would be... One-night stand? Either way, I would be grateful, if you removed your arms from me. As much as this looks like some ending scene on a romance novel, with whole kitchen and hot cocoa... Having a complete stranger just hanging on your ass is rather... obtrusive.”

Placing down her cup, the viera studied the arms that were holding her. Strong... hardy... the woman was either a soldier, or maybe a smith. A farmhand was unlikely, considering the overall cleanliness or the arms and nails. ‘Must be a soldier of some sort’.

“The name is Irene... Irene d’Espair... and I guess this is a pleasure. For now.” The other two could hear a silent snapping against the floor, before Laurence appeared from the living room, stretching and yawning, and wearing a red leather collar, decorated with silver colored, heart shaped staples. A black leather leash had been tied to the collar, and soon Silke appeared from the living room after the dog, holding the other end of the leash, and her high heeled boots snapping the floor as well, though more loudly.

"Guys?" she said, smiling warmly with her narrow lips that resembled a rosebud. However, her turquoise eyes were faded like a corpse's, and devoid of any emotion. "I just remembered the last time I took Laurence out was yesterday evening. I need to go. And I'm going to fetch some groceries too, so don't bother waiting for me. This is going to take a while." Irene turned her head towards the voice, as much as she could with Evangeline’s arms around her. The woman was so tall, Irene could barely peek over her shoulder, but when she did, she saw another viera woman on the doorway. Now this was... curious? How many people were there, calling this lousy hole ‘a home’?

The newcomer was a complete opposite to the viera holding her. Pale skin... straight hair pulled up on a thick ponytail, and dead eyes behind those round glasses smeared with black. The overall impression of the woman was apathetic, even with the beautiful dress and red-painted lips. A junkie most likely... and by the looks of it... a prostitute.

“Well... good morning to you too...” Irene said. At this point, Silke's expectations of the other two and especially Iris had sunken so deep one would've needed a shovel... or no, a digger, to dig them back up to daylight. However, this was the new low. This was the peak of insolence. First Iris had the nerve to strut here, bragging about her fock partner, and now she was behaving like Silke would've interrupted their affectionate moment in her own kitchen.

Instead of giving the lingerie to Iris, Silke squeezed them into her leash free fist and hurled them onto the floor, next to their feet.

"Oh for fock's sake!" she could no longer remain polite. "You two damsels better drag your asses out of my place before I return if you value those pretty faces of yours!"

With that, she flung the door open, marched out with the excited shiba, and slammed the door shut behind her with such power that it made the windows jingle. Irene stared at the viera’s sudden outburst, wincing, as the door was slammed shut. Her gaze traveled from the door to the rather slutty lingerie on the floor, and up to Evangeline. “Your wife, I presume?” Evangeline removed her arms the moment it was requested. She was almost immediately overwhelmed by just how much everything had come crashing down in just the last few minutes. Crying... heartbreak... she could deal with that, and take it in stride. Maybe. For now.

But she had thought...she had thought there were only two of them. What in Halone’s name was she supposed to do now…? She could only hope that what worked last time would work again. As Silke left in a huff, Eva called out to her, hoping she would stop, but she was already well on her way down the stairs, the sound of the door slamming most likely preventing Silke from hearing her regardless.

“Wait, Silke! She’s not…”, she trailed off, realizing how fruitless it was to say ‘not Iris’ given that Silke was long gone already. She was upset... not just upset, but fuming. Evangeline hoped she could do something... but for fuck’s sake if this wasn’t more important right now, she didn’t know what was.

Evangeline was taken aback at not-Iris’ statement, wondering how those dots in particular had decided to connect in her mind.  She blushed slightly, mumbling: “N-no...she’s...she’s your best friend.  You brought me here to introduce me to her.”  She shook her head slowly.

“More to the point…”  Eva looked into not-Iris’ eyes. Once again... it was so alien. So not Iris. The spark, the flame that sat beneath the lakes of purple was unusual. There wasn’t a hint of Iris left.

“Iris... are you there? Can you hear me? Come back to me...please…”, she pleaded, hoping desperately that it would work. She was afraid of what would happen... Iris had left because of Silke. Evangeline wasn’t enough. Just like she had always been... not enough. Insufficient. Irene kept her purple eyes nailed onto the viera infront of her. This situation was absurd. Quite intriguing, but absurd... ‘This woman is mad as a cuckoo clock’, she thought to herself, while following the other’s pleas, calling for someone named ‘Iris’. Oh, how she wanted to open this lady’s head, just to see what was going on inside it... And if this was Irene’s dream... would the red-head even mind a little poking around her brain? Such an intriguing case...

“Wait, wait, wait...”, Irene said finally, her voice calm, like a surface of a lake after a storm had ended. “...First of all... I dont know who this ‘Iris’ is... I also have no idea who the woman who just walked out was. I have never seen her before. What I think, girl, is that you are going through a mild case of psychosis... most likely triggered by your wife, finding us together. My name is Irene... And I have never been here before. Honestly? I still believe this is some mindless dream, but in case its not... I’m willing to help you out... If I can, that is.”

A weird smile played on Irene’s lips. A smile that did not reach the eyes. The eyes were cold, and lifeless, except the small foxfire looming behind the purple pools. She placed her hand, or Iris’ hand onto Evangeline’s shoulder. “I think we should go, before your loved one returns. Seeing her now, might just mess your little head even more than it already is.” Iris’ eyes didn’t change. She didn’t wake up... or gain control... like she had before. Usually Iris was desperate to fight to the surface. She had such a strong will. Which meant... which meant this time... she didn’t want to come back. Eva wasn’t enough. She was never enough. She was never what anyone wanted.

Her breath came fast and ragged, such that she was almost hyperventilating. Trying desperately to contain herself, she listened to the not-Iris speak. Offer to ‘help’ her. Flash her a lifeless, lightless smile. A not-Iris smile. Evangeline couldn’t help herself anymore, and burst into tears. Sobbing into her hands, she was able to squeak:

“Y-yeess... w-we should g-go…”

Nodding her head slowly, she gasped for breath, trying to see the other woman through the tears. Maybe this was the best way to do things... she couldn’t let the not-Iris get away from her. Maybe she could get her back to house Blacksoul, and seek help from its lord, or at least Arsene.

“I... I have a place... a p-place we can go…,” she whispered between whimpers. “J-just give me a moment t-to... com-compose myself…” Irene reached for her small incredient pouch, but it was not there... Thinking about it further, these were not even her clothes. The style was rather decent, so she could have very well picked them, but... it was not what she would usually wear. Quickly she went through the pockets of a jacket she had over the long black dress, but the only thing she could find was a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. No sign of her pouch.

She had hoped to give the weeping woman something to calm her nerves, but it was no use. ‘What happened to me anyway? Something does not sum up...’ The pale viera ended up to offer the pack of smokes towards Eva.

“These are yours? ...Wait a moment.” Irene lit a cigarette, drawing from it deep, and muttering words, her eyes closed. The words were barely audible, and did not sound like any language Evangeline understood.

Smoke was running over her lips with the words, and soon it gained a very faint glow. Irene leaned towards Eva, blowing the glowing smoke right into her mouth.

Evangeline was struggling to think straight. She didn't have much control over herself... her emotions were too much to contain right now. So intense were her feelings that she barely even noticed Irene take a drag of a cigarette and blow a lungfull of oddly colored smoke into her mouth. Her breath halted, and she immediately felt her lungs constrict, unfamiliar with the new sensation she was experiencing. Instinctively, though, she took a deep breath in, accepting the strange smoke into her body without realizing it.

Immediately, she felt a strange calm wash over her, as if her fears and worries had been constrained to a place just below the surface of her mind.  She could still feel them beating at her, trying to break down the door, but they were restrained for now. She shook her head, and wiped her eyes.

"Whaat... what was that? What did you just do...? And how did you do it? Iris didn't have... she didn't have any magic."

“I still dont know who this ‘Iris’ is, who you keep talking about, but I have few tricks up my sleeve”, Irene reminded. “Just try to stay calm. The effect is rather light, especially as I did not have my own incredients. But at least you are breathing again. Thats good.”

Irene picked up the mug of cocoa, and emptied it, before finishing the smoke. The cold, dead smile was still lingering on her lips, as she threw the pack of cigarettes to Eva, and walked past the woman, and towards the door, Silke had slammed shut only a moment earlier.

“Dont cry for your girl... She will come back to you, if its meant to be. Now shall we?” she nodded towards the door. “You have not told me your name yet.” Evangeline caught the cigarette pack. She felt falsely calm. It was such an alien feeling to her. That she should be so heartbroken and at the same time so controlled in the face of it was highly unusual. Her thoughts moved through her mind, tasting it and testing it as one would test a cut in one’s mouth, touching it with their tongue to see if it hurt. So enthralled was she with her sudden state of being that she almost forgot to answer the not-Iris’ question.

“Hello... my name is Evangeline. Evangeline Cross. Thank you... for whatever that was. As it seems that I have failed, and that we may be together for a time, perhaps I could do my best to furnish you with some information. Let’s... let’s walk and talk, shall we?”

Eva wandered towards the door, already starting to feel the despair creep back into her heart. She needed help... she needed Silke. She needed Silke to help her get Iris back. The viera was certainly gone for now, but perhaps Evangeline could return on another day. She would find a way to bring Iris back to her... she had to. She just hoped that it would be soon.

Eva opened the door, letting in a draft of dry, cold air. She motioned for the not-Iris to exit the building ahead of her, and stepped through the doorway behind her, shutting it behind her with a soft click.

With @lareine-kira​ & @evangeline-cross​ :3c

[chrismerle]

August 11 - Whump

It's not really a surprise when the floor gives out beneath them. The ruins are held up by cobwebs and the dreams of sleepless bureaucrats, and they've passed by numerous holes in the floor already. And maybe a pair of elves isn't enough to cause a collapse, but when one of those elves in a Grey Warden and thus naturally causes all darkspawn in the area to flock towards him like a small, fleshy beacon, then that is considerably more weight.

When they land on the next floor down, amidst rubble and debris and ankle-deep water, only a few of the darkspawn fell with them, and the rest don't seem particularly keen on following them down.

Darrick kicks a genlock off and slams his dagger through its chin. A few feet to his left, he can hear Zevran dealing with the hurlock and the shriek. Which is good, because Darrick is distracted a moment later by something rather more pressing.

"Uhh...Zev?"

Looking a bit like a ruffled, soggy cat, Zevran looks at him, and goes very pale as his gaze is drawn, almost magnetically, to the arrow shaft sticking out of Darrick's midsection.

"Don' freak out."

"I am doing no such thing," Zevran answers tightly, sloshing his way over. He makes it to Darrick's side in time to catch his wrist before he can grab the shaft. "Don't do that. We would both prefer if your insides stayed there."

"Um." Darrick shifts carefully, unable to fully sit still even then. Zevran eyes the injury for a moment, dithering, even if he would never refer to it as such. Finally, he shrugs off his pack and begins rummaging through it, until he pulls out a roll of bandaging. He drops to his knees at Darrick's side, and Darrick holds his breath and nearly bites a hole in his mouth as Zevran stabilizes the arrow with the bandaging.

After that, there's no real choice but to get to his feet and keep moving. But first, Zevran catches him by the arm and then cups his face in both hands.

"You stay behind me. You running into trouble like this is the last thing we need, yes?"

"What if you get in over yer head?" Darrick protests, as if he has all faith of it happening. Zevran rolls his eyes and grabs a darkspawn bow off the ground. Likely the same one that had put a hole in Darrick. Grumbling still, Darrick takes it.

***

At first, things work out well enough. Their going is slow, and Darrick pauses every so often to lean on a wall, swearing violently all the while. But they don't run into the bulk of the darkspawn in the ruins, and those they do encounter are dealt with. Even if the bow isn't Darrick's preferred weapon, he does still know how to handle one.

And of course, he can't resist a bit of showing off, and throws his mother's dagger at the Hurlock readying to club Zevran over the back of the head. Zevran turns in time to watch its impact.

Darrick's knife lands blade-first between the hurlock's eyes, and Zevran catches it by the handle just as the body begins to topple, leaving the knife in his hand. He turns, blade slamming into a shriek's temple, and with a jerk, he wrenches it free, tugging the shriek's body into a genlock's path. The genlock crashes to the ground, and before it can get back up, Darrick's shot an arrow into the back of its neck.

Just a few shrieks left, and they'll hopefully be home free.

But there are still only two of them fighting their way along, and nothing ever truly goes their way. Darrick is aiming between shots when a piece of debris whipped up by the fight pings off the arrow shaft. Gasping in agony, he stumbles, and a shriek takes the opening.

The world seems to slow down as the shriek wraps a hand around the arrow shaft, and as it rips the arrow back. It comes away with a jerk, scraps of fabric and bits of meat clinging to it, and blood is soaking Darrick's tunic and his leathers in what seems to be an instant. His mouth drops open, but he doesn't quite manage a sound.

And then he stabs forward with the arrow he had been aiming, impaling it through the shriek's throat. Almost simultaneously, the shriek topples backwards and Darrick stumbles against the nearest wall, bow clattering to the floor.

The ruins seem impossibly quiet then. Everything goes still.

There is

a lot

of blood on the floor.

With that observation out of the way, Darrick begins slipping down the wall, one arm curled around his midsection.

"No no no, don't you dare..." Zevran's voice fades into semi-coherent muttering as he catches Darrick by the elbows.

The world sways as Zevran hoists him off the ground, and

They're outside. Darrick doesn't remember getting there, but he's not keen on questioning it just then, as Zevran loads him onto Garnet's saddle. The dracolisk shifts from talon to talon, but doesn't fuss as Belle is tied to his saddle. The mare snorts in distress, but

There is...a town? It seems small, but he isn't sure. He's screaming as a surgeon's blunt fingers dig broken bits of the arrow head out of his guts. Zevran's weight is bearing him down against a table, and someone else is pinning his legs. Zevran is talking to him, head bowed towards his ear, voice a constant semi-soothing stream, but the words

The world is hazy. He shudders, cold as winter, and Zevran holds him closer. Zevran is arguing with someone, but words aren't really happening just then. His teeth chatter. His stomach hurts clear through to his spine. He squirms fitfully and manages to lean to the side just in time to vomit down the side of the bed and across the floor. A hand strokes his ha

Elfroot. Everything tastes and smells like elfroot. He fucking hates

There's the crisp-cool wash of healing magic, and he takes a breath, and he doesn't know where he is or how long he's been there but it feels like it has to be the first deep breath he's taken in at least an age. Beside him, there's a sigh, and a tired, "Figlio d'un cane, sarai la mia morte."

He goes back to sleep.

***

It's a proper bed, which is surprising. Darrick is fairly sure he hasn't slept on one since the last time he was in Denerim. He takes a moment to appreciate it. The bed is soft. The blanket is warm. Presumably the body spooned against his back is Zevran, and the death grip around his chest would seem to support that.

Darrick bumps his head back, tapping his crown against Zevran's chin. "I smell," he states plainly. "Really bad."

"Mn," Zevran grunts in agreement. "I was not allowed to move you until the mage said so. She will be in soon."

"...Mage?"

"Mmhm. An apostate. Apparently very reluctant to come at first, but she did not want to be the one to let the Hero of Ferelden die."

Finally, Darrick rolls from his side onto his back. Zevran deigns to move just enough to lean his chin on Darrick's shoulder.

"...How long've we been here?" Darrick asks eventually, staring up at the ceiling.

"A little over a week," Zevran answers, partially muffled. "You have been...asleep," he phrases the word as if he's being very charitable, "for much of it."

Darrick wants to be surprised, but if nothing else, he definitely feels like he's barely moved in a week. He kicks the blanket off--Zevran immediately steals it--and lifts his head as he hoists his shirt up.

"...Huh."

It's scarred over already, courtesy of magic. It's not an attractive scar, rough and ropey and visibly indented, for all that it's scarcely bigger than a silver.

"Dare?"

"Yeah?"

"You are going to make me go grey."

"You'll still be pretty," Darrick assures him, and levers himself up onto his elbows. "The mage can find me in the bath," he decides, and then hefts himself out of bed before any protest can be fully formed. Behind him, Zevran groans, but nonetheless Darrick can hear footsteps following him from the room.

[drawings-and-nightmares]

Tales of Bullshit; By Kid Blink

Author/Writer/Whatever: Dreams

Word Count: 1078 Words

Editing: Uh???....What's editing-

Person Who Helped With The Title: @orollyitsracetrackhiggins (Check them out-)

Warning: Just dumbassery in general, mentions of panic attacks and other mental health issues

This is all based off of the Cryptid Crew shit, so don't @ me. Not every story arc in that RP is mentioned, but who knows, maybe I'll make another one of these. Anyways, onto the story!

Blink stared up at the bunk above him. Man. This place was a dump. He scratched at the area underneath his eyepatch. The light was dim here, and nothing seemed to shine through anything. Tossing and turning didn't help tire him out, and neither did staring at random objects, apparently. Was he even supposed to sleep? Oh right...he wasn't. How long had he been here?...A day? A month? A year?

He was being ridiculous and dramatic as always though, it had only been a week or two. Coming to foster care was...weird though. It didn't help that it was the middle of winter though, I mean, most snake children and/or reptiles hated the cold with a burning passion. It was one of the things that could kill him pretty easily, especially since the place didn't seem to have anything equipped to deal with him. I mean, it was expected, but inconvenient, to say the least.

Now that lead him to this. A tiredness set in his bones, but he had to stay awake. If he fell asleep now, he might be frozen in the morning. Insomnia at least helped him to stay awake, but after a week(or was it two?) he was on the verge of passing out. Why hadn't they fixed this heat problem after a week?...Did they just not care?...Well, it was fair. Nobody wanted a venomous snake child, I suppose.

Haha. Now I guess you could say he was...blinking away tears?...Eh. Not his best. Blink turned over again, sighing softly. It'd all be ok in the morning. He could forget this in the morning. If he forgot, it never happened. He just had to forget, just, god, please let him forget. Alright Blink, distractions...distractions...uh...this mattress was soft. Soft was...good. Soft...sleepy….Sleep…

____________________________________________________________________

Being a snake...child...thing, was weird. You were both nocturnal, but not. You could survive your venom, but not. You could eat a whole raw chicken, but not. You could...actually, he couldn't survive the cold in both forms. Weird. Anyways, the biology differed a lot, and of course it lead to a lot of...confusion, to say the least. Maybe he was just coming up with an excuse to eat raw chicken, but nobody could confirm that for sure.

Anyways. Everything was just...exhausting and boring. Both in school, and outside of school. Sleep at night didn't matter much, and besides, skipping class to sleep as a snake was the shit. Sure, maybe nobody else thought it was the best thing for his education and wellbeing, but when has he ever cared about that? Ok, maybe once or twice, but he was getting off topic.

It didn't help that people didn't really...like people like him. Even though powers were totally sick, some people were just...scared or something? Eh, it beats him. Some of his friends and other people at school were worried, but it's not like the government could just decide to outlaw an entire group of people, right? The very notion was ridiculous as hell. And stupid.

So there. Worries didn't matter, and nothing about the times before school mattered either. Ok, maybe it wasn't healthy to forget everything and push it down completely, but it worked. It worked well, and everything was perfectly peachy. Right now, he had his friends, and he had a place to stay. That was all that mattered. He was ok, he was fine, and everything would stay that way.

____________________________________________________________________

Well. He was wrong. Looks like a the government and school were gone and shitty now. Great. Canada was fucking freezing, yet, he had to be there. Fantastic. No use of complaining though, it was the best he had. Besides, it'd annoy the others if he complained, and they were all already on edge. New people, new place to say, new threats...There was barely any time to relax between it all. But they were fine, it was ok. Everything would be ok. He had to help the others first, he could just forget whenever he wanted.

Forgetting was easy and simple. Granted, usually it ended up with him passing out in the bathroom with little to no recollection of the bad thing until his next panic attack, but still. It was better than nothing. Ok, maybe Spot and Finch and Smalls and uh...literally everyone else was right about it technically not being the healthiest thing in the world, and thus, they tried to stop him. However, they just didn't...understand. Well, maybe Finch did. Who knows with them and their amazing wings and awesomeness and….damnit, he was being sappy again.

Having a crush alongside with forgetting things was...weird. You had to constantly question whether you were imagining them doing something, or if that was just some memory you had forgotten and then suddenly remembered. It was just like that sometimes, I guess. But luckily for him, he totally did not have a crush. Nope. No feelings here. Besides, Finch probably despised him because...birds?...Snakes?..Not really a good mix, if we’re being honest. Ugghhh. Why was life just kind of like that sometimes? He just wanted to grab Finch and cling onto them and...Godamnit, now his snake instincts were acting up.

Aaaannnyyywaaaaayyys. Canada. 0/10. Would not go again. At least they were staying at Katherine’s, so there was a heater at least? And it was warmer there than it was outside. Alright. Life was kinda decent in Canada….Maybe. It still had its many downsides, but he was just being completely and utterly biased as fuck. You win some, you lose some. Or uh...you win some in the genetic lottery, and you lose a lot in it. Yaaay. How amazingly and utterly fun. Actually, he kinda lost a lot in the genetic lottery, if he was being honest. Sure, being a snake was cool, but being a tree snake who needed constant warmth? Not cool.

Uhh. Was there anything else to really add?? He cooked for everyone a few times, Race hated him, but then again, Race hated everyone. Well, except for Spot, but that's another story. The other new kid Mike was cool, he could cook too. Other than that though? Nope. Not really much else going on. Who knew, maybe that would change. I mean, it's not like the government would find them or anything, right?

…..Right?...

//Tag List\\

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins @amostauspiciousmanner @guys-are-nice-once-or-twice @sure-as-a-star @umbrenotozier

[chajangmyeon-blog]

like sweet vanilla [chapter one]

pairing: peter parker x neighbor!oc word count: 1.2K summary: “So either you’re Spider-Man, and you’re going to tell me why the hell you’re in my room,” she started, as she was approaching him with a glare “or you’re a creep and I’m going to throw this, and you, out the window and cal—“ or; Peter seriously needs to rest more if he wants his secret identity to stay secret.

a/n: hello all! this is my first time posting here, and I just wanted to share the first chapter of my peter x oc fic, like sweet vanilla. it’s really just a very light-hearted fic with a filipino oc (: honestly, it could very much be a reader fic, but I need to write a name lol. the whole thing will be posted on fanfiction & ao3, so if you want to keep reading, links to my account are in my bio (I am jjajangmyeon on both). there are currently 8 chapters up already!

He was exhausted.

The city seemed to be quieter lately, his days filled with more old ladies needing directions rather than bank robberies or muggings. The quiet in the city wasn’t equating to any calm in his life though. School was ramping up, May was getting more paranoid (and stricter), and it was becoming more difficult to maintain all the relationships in his life. On top of that, he’d had the great idea that he should do some actual work at his “Stark Internship.”

It wasn’t going to bring him down, because even if life was trying its best to hand his ass to him, he was still putting up a pretty damn good fight. His situation at the moment, however, was that of a teenage boy running off of four hours of sleep, a full day at school, an evening at his internship, and four hours of patrolling.

Thus, the current exhaustion. And the relief that swept through his body when he realized he’d actually managed to get himself to his apartment without passing out mid-swing.

He slipped the window of his room open, and perched himself on it, facing his sleepy neighborhood. He closed his eyes, pushed his mask up the slightest amount, and let the cold air rush over him with the hopes that it would help wake him up a bit. It was already 2 in the morning, and he still needed to finish his Physics assignment that was due in less than seven hours.

“I… think you’ve got the wrong room?” Called out a tentative voice from behind him.

Peter froze before shoving his mask down and turning his upper body so quickly that he almost fell on the bed behind him. He didn’t even need to scan the room for a second to see that it definitely was not his room.

Instead of his bunk bed, a single twin bed was sitting below him. The only light in the room was coming from haphazardly arranged string lights that ran all over. All of the walls were covered in posters and photos, and one photo by the door even happened to have him in it. In fact, not only was this not his room, he knows this room even though he hasn’t stepped foot in it for years now.

Of course, of all the windows I could open by mistake, the one that I had to choose belongs to someone that actually knows me!

Sitting at the desk across the room was his neighbor. Not just a neighbor, but Emmeline, the daughter of May’s coworker. And not just Emmeline, the daughter of May’s coworker, but, Emmy, someone he used to play with when he was younger and still sees around regularly. My freaking luck!  

“Well, I don’t have my glasses on, but I’m pretty sure you’re wearing a red-and-blue unitard...” She was looking at him through squinted, and slightly unfocused eyes, while reaching around for something under her desk. Peter could see that her face was marked with indentations from the spirals of her notebook in front of her. Okay, she seems pretty out of it, maybe I can just hop ba—

Peter startled at the sight in front of him, because Emmy was now holding the handle of an instrument case and positioned ready to swing at him. “So either you’re Spider-Man, and you’re going to tell me why the hell you’re in my room,” she started, as she was approaching him with a glare “or you’re a creep and I’m going to throw this,  and you, out the window and cal—“  

He caught her arm mid-swing, and would have been looking at her with wide-eyes if he didn’t have the mask on. How can she even reach this far over the bed? She’s barely over five feet tall! Despite happening to have superpowers, even Peter didn’t feel like falling from a building at 2 in the morning. Karen was saying something to him, but he wasn’t processing it. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his body, his heart pumping faster and faster.  

Peter you don’t —“I’m Spider-Man!” He squeaked out. —have the voice modifier on .

Shit! Why why why why?! This is not happening.

Emmy was squinting at him even harder now. She moved to kneel on the bed completely and grabbed his jaw, using her hand that was still holding her instrument, with a force that probably would have had anyone else falling into the room.

“That voice. You sound really familiar…” Emmy shoved her face closer to him, looking at him so intently that he wouldn’t be surprised if she could will his mask away with her stare. He’d forgotten over time how scary she could be.   I’ll go ahead and switch the modifier on for you, it doesn’t look like you’re getting out of this easily.

“Oh really?” Peter said, relaxing slightly as he heard his now modified voice come out. “Probably just a coincidence.”

“Hmm…” Emmy was still looking at him like she was looking through him, but she dropped her hand off his face and shifted backwards. “Whatever, I guess. You still haven’t explained why you’re here in my room though.”

“You see— well, I was… I was… investigating!! I’m looking for… something. Yes, I’m just looking for something and um. Well, it’s a classified… operation?” Emmy did not look impressed at all. “And I just, I got your room— I ended up in your room on accident! Did you know they don’t put numbers on the outside of apartment buildings?” Great going Peter, if your voice didn’t give you away, then your rambling freaking did!!!!

Emmy didn’t respond. She was just staring at him again, the squinted glare making its way back onto her face.

God, this isn’t going to get any better. I just need to get out of here. “I’m sorry for waking you up and scaring you, I’ll get out of your hair now and find, uhh, the thing I’m supposed to investigate!”

Peter gave her a small wave and quickly made his way out of the room. He decided against going straight to his room after looking back mid-swing and seeing Emmy peeking out her window. He ended up going around the neighborhood for another half-hour before making it back to his building (this time, making sure he was entering the right room first).

After taking a quick shower, he threw himself face-first onto his bed to recharge for a bit before tackling his homework. Feeling his phone vibrate somewhere on his bed, he reached around lazily, trying to find the phone without opening his eyes or moving more than his arm. It’s probably just Ned talking about whatever show he’s bingeing on Netflix anyway.

Finally finding his phone, he rolled onto his back and pulled it up to his face, blearily looking at the preview of the message on his lock screen, before dropping it immediately onto his face. I’m just really tired. I’m sure that’s not what I saw.

Peter sat up and rubbed at his eyes before picking his phone back up and opening the full message before really looking at it.

“Fuck. My. Life.”

Emmy Cruz (2:54AM): Good night Peter! (: I hope you made it into the right room and found whatever that “something,” was!

title and chapter title comes from 'sweety,' by gfriend (여자친구), which I listened to while writing this

[junhuiste]

[ junhui - a sweet sting ]

⌦ fluff, very faint nsfw themes, secret admirer!reader, high school!junhui, some “godammnit i’m a fool!”s dusted throughout, and a surprise hollywood guest visit from your fav jolly holiday ho ho hoe

⌦ junhui was simply an ethereal being and you wanted to let him know (ur boi  is slightly cocky in this one but don’t worry, the word grease doesn’t exist in this fic unless it’s to describe a juicy burger)

⌦ words: 2701

It wasn’t the fact that your teacher babbled about Tuesday’s test and you couldn’t conspire any speculation about what she said, nor was it the fact that you were on the brink of dozing off and that you sat right smack in the front of the class where the teacher could give you a side-eye.

No, it wasn’t any of that, and it was never any of that since this subject was one you had such a tenacious grip on that you knew like the back of your hand. Inexplicably enough, you should have been taking a mental note of next week’s test as school was a priority for you, but in lieu of that, it was the ruffling through the hair, the affable giggle, and the suave, almost slick tone of voice a certain someone had that was it for you.

To see someone carry themselves in such a manner left you jaw-slacked constantly, and this, to put it  frankly, your hand at night, as you lied in bed atop cotton-polyester, took this thought to an extreme extent, as it trailed down your hips, leaving you whimpering out of pure guilt and desperation, and in a puddle of shamed, soaked underwear. It was never fair–to witness Adonis’ reincarnation, such pulchritude in its sheer form, but you had to hinder yourself from acting upon these measly thoughts of yours.

Wen Junhui was the absolute, outright, most–“Y/N? Did you not get enough sleep last night? I know you guys are leaving this school  in half a year and don’t have much fuel left to power through this year, but please, stay with the program,” your teacher’s words rattled you, yet still went in one ear and out the other, “all of you, please get at least 6 hours of sleep, because I know 9 hours isn’t realistic for you guys anymore.”

A searing spring of mild distress coiled around you tightly, seizing your body in the warm atmosphere of humiliation. Internally sighing, you turned around as your classmates were groaning “Ugh, same!” because you were at the peak of relativity, just to capture a fragment of a glimpse of the criminal who invaded your thoughts every class period.

Nothing but a blank look of boredom was sprawled across his face–the face that undid your every train of thought and had you run over from blatant admiration. You didn’t really intend to occupy his gaze for an unadorned, yet heightened 3 seconds, but when Wen Junhui looked at anyone, he looked at them.

“I get you. I’m tired as hell too and I really don’t have enough energy to carry on through the damn year, but trust me, we’re all dying, and we can get through this together,” the lackadaisical curve bestowed upon such a magnificent portrait flashed at you, and out with his words came a silky yet mellow resonance.

Was it possible to want to touch someone’s voice, to actually hold their voice in your hands? Yes, because you wanted nothing more than to twiddle your thumbs over the texture of Junhui’s voice. Every interaction you had from him, though there were barely any in your repertoire, turned you into a jumbled mess of the alphabet. You couldn’t comprehend what actually happened in the last 5 seconds but you were pretty sure that every ounce of your being had melted away and dripped into your thoughts, through the cracks of Jun’s palms.

“Uhh, thanks for reassurance?” You barely managed to squeak out before turning back around, as if you were the last morsel of toothpaste and Junhui’s reaction was an idly squeezing hand.

Wen Junhui spoke to you. Yes, he did, as in vibrations caused by molecules and the energy in his throat were directed towards you. This didn’t send you to the moon and back, but it fired you at the fastest speed possible to all planets in the Milky Way NASA discovered, including Pluto.

It wasn’t that you floated around school and camouflaged into the surface of the locker that you barely talked to Jun, not really, but when given the chance by some gracious deity up there to encounter him in some way, you shied away, which was followed by a mental slap to your frontal lobe.

It wasn’t that easy, however, to just approach someone as beloved around the school as Jun, and it was never that easy for someone that didn’t really demand for his attention. That kid was bolting through the school daily, so who cared about eggshells? He crushed them. Even getting a glimpse of him outside of school was nonexistent, as he had some sort of martial arts practice, or something of that branch, and you’d heard around from senior buzzing that he was apparently a good dancer too, so there would be no way for you to ever catch him.

Sigh. What the hell were you doing with some frivolous little crush on Junhui? It wasn’t like you were at the most somewhat dismayed when you watched some girl pull Jun by his collar to sneak a kiss at him, and it certainly wasn’t like you were kind of crestfallen when you saw another girl wrap her arms around him in his car, no, maybe to some extent, but never heartbroken. 

How downright ludicrous would it be for you to swell up with these feelings over something as trivial as a crush?

And fuck, oh fucking hell did you loathe that word, and every time it clouded your thoughts you wanted to groan in resentment.

Freshman year, when you spilled the beans to your circle of friends about how you felt about this boy, the only word you’d ever retained from the pep talk they gave you.

“Y/N you’re so cute, aw! You’re out here with a little crush!”

“So, does Jun know about this crush of yours?”

“Are you really going to tell him about your crush?”

“Oh boy, I swear to god if this kid crushes that frail heart of yours he’ll never see the light of day again.”

Such a foolish word with its steady grasp on you. It just seemed to ruin you through its fingers, watching your downfall, you crumbling to your core in the palm of its hand. Poor you, letting yourself get destroyed single-handedly by nothing more than a puny little 5 letter word. It was utterly tragic, and you didn’t really do anything about it, but there was just something tugging at you from inside, somewhere, but you didn’t know where, and any kind of concurrence you had with that boy, it just dragged you into its toxic hell of embarrassment.

For the rest of the period, you stayed with whatever dignity you had left clutched to your chest, alongside the half-eaten candy bar you had on your desk in case of a breakdown later.

Junhui’s eyes weren’t even trying to catch you in its line of sight in the slightest bit, nope, none of that, but that thought lingered in the corner of your mind throughout the lesson, thus you couldn’t even curl yourself into a ball, but more so crammed your flushed being into a messy mingle of entangled limbs.

“Hey!” you whipped your head around faster than the tiniest ounce of unease could knock you over.

Thank fuck; it was nothing more than student body trying to get you to buy candy cane grams.

You didn’t want to be rude to the students who actually tried at school, whether that be by making friends or attempting at the ugliest mayhem of a math problem, so you hastened your steps towards the boy in the middle with the widest grin you’d ever seen.

“...and then just sign off with your name and we’ll deliver it to them tomorrow in class!” the student in the middle, who you recalled as Seokmin...who also ran around the school, exclaimed.

“Um, thanks, but I think I might just buy one tomorrow, I don’t think I have enough mon–” “Hey, Y/N! Thought you were having lunch with us today?” your friend, Yeri, cut you off, in which it was something you both did to each other that pushed your buttons, but today she saved you from seeming a tad bit coarse. And you didn’t want to come off that way to someone as amiable and genial as Lee Seokmin.

“Yeri, do you want to buy a candy cane gram here from student body?” Seokmin asked.

Your friend pondered for what seemed like a second in an hour, and rapid beams of affection radiated a little too strongly.

“Um, I don’t think there’s anyone–wait, actually...Wonwoo! Oh my god! He’s the cutest person ever, just the way his nose scrunches and his voice–fucking Jeon Wonwoo!” the way her pupils glimmered at some flashback she was probably trying to recall in class of Wonwoo doing his thing or something like that, it was one you’ve seen before.

One you’ve known all too well, one you’ve experienced yourself before, but not for Jeon Wonwoo, but for another 6 foot tall hunk who never seemed to be around.

“Jesus, Yeri! I knew you liked Wonwoo but not to the point you’ve noticed frivolous habits of his!” “Shut the hell up, Y/N, you’ve marveled at Wen Junhui for 4 years. Seokmin, Y/N will take a candy cane gram, thank you.” You couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t like you noticed his seasonal hair color changes, as this time of year you’d expected it to be black like it had been last year, but you were taken aback with a pleasant auburn surprise.

You didn’t hate his copper look, but rather thought about it too much to the point where you wanted your hands to be the one to dishevel it, your face to be buried in it when he hugged you, man, when would you learn to shut the fuck up?

“‘Dear Junhui, you’re the x to my y,” Yeri started, “and I might be shy, but you look like a goddamn snack all throughout the clock, I wouldn’t mind it if we get cockblocked?’ I don’t know, say something sappy, or you’ll scribble all over the paper.”

I wouldn’t mind if we get cockblocked? You began to wonder what kind of crack they’d been selling at school these days, and how the fuck Yeri had gotten her hands on it.

“Whatever, I’ll leave it short and sweet. Oh! And I’ll leave it anonymous, so he doesn’t know it’s from me,” you wailed.

An ample amount of reality had been inflicted upon you in what was an explicit and stinging 2 seconds you had to think, but you’d just realized that Junhui probably, no, definitely, received dozens of these every year, and it hurt to try and grapple onto sensibility like that.

You’d both part ways within months, never going to bat an eye at each other, and it certainly wasn’t like you’ve made actual actual eye contact in the past, but instead of parting ways with Wen Junhui, he’d jaunt contentedly into his future, while you trudged, trying your best to forget about who ⅕ of your attention went to in high school.

Another slap in the face. 

Maybe that’s why you were sending him a candy cane gram (but Yeri totally shoved the cutely decorated paper in your face, you’d argue): Junhui was a sweet boy, and all you’d ever seen him as was a candy-coated type of person, but it left a mild, abiding prick in your mouth as you had danced and made a deal with Satan, whose middle name was Get Your Fucking Shit Together.

Yeri shrugged as she knew you’d try to outargue her and have a neighborly sort of quarrel if she ever inquired to know your reasons for your anonymity. Plus, the line grew a little bit as you had both been standing there for the past 12 minutes trying to conceive a mushy message about two aforementioned losers, whom had both never left your minds. And, she didn’t want to miss out on her sandwich, especially because she prepared it herself this morning!

“Thanks Seokmin!” you both slap your small papers on the sad, rickety, practically busted school plastic table, provoking the ugliest creak that in turn, startled a mess of raven hair into next week.

“OhmyLordhaveanicedaythankyouforsupportingStudentBody!” a poor Lee Seokmin tried to string together a cohesive, buoyant sentence without having his left buttcheek slide off the chair.

It was Wednesday.

Maybe it was Hump Day, sure. Maybe it was the day student body announced that they were distributing the candy cane grams during 4th period. Maybe it was the day where you could’ve been your normal, muddled self, but in actuality, was it the day where you’d get noticed by a Junhui?

Whatever up there was working its powers, you expressed your gratitude towards in a sigh of relief, as you had already taken the test for this class. Tuesday had been promoted to being your beloved day of the week, your prized child that set up high expectations for younger children, but none could ever really live up to Tuesday. It was Wednesday today, however, as no one in all of existence had lived to experience Tuesday twice.

Muah, you cradled Tuesday in your mind, not only had you not given Junhui any sliver of attention, but you also fucking aced that test. Tuesday was a godsend.

“Ho ho ho, fellow children of Stats 3rd Period! You know, I really don’t know why my elves in the student body insisted on still handing these treats out, because you’re all naughty in my eyes, but whatever! A nice one is a nice one!” The whole class chuckled for a good few minutes as Choi Seungcheol, all clad in a red, velvet Santa suit (and was it mentioned Seungcheol took his role too seriously and got too attached to his fake white wig and the sad little beard he took pride in?), tossed his mighty big, matching red bag full of candy cane grams into the air.

“Seungcheol, please just hand them out.” your teacher flashed an all too well known demeanor of disapproval towards the boy who probably won a $10 bet with Jeonghan for wearing the costume.

Santa Seungcheol paraded to Junhui, and dropped 6 candy cane grams individually on his desk, each one clattering uncomfortably atop the splintered desk.

“Ya know, I thought they’d all be from Minghao and Wonwoo trying to troll you again, but uh, congrats?” Santa simpered to his friend.

“Well, they are somethin’. Tell Jeonghan I said ‘hi’, will ya?” Jun quipped back to a sighing, supposedly jolly bearded man who grunted in return.

You’d almost swung your head around back too suspiciously to snag nothing more than a persistent glimpse at Junhui, who omitted any sort of scrutiny he had from reading asinine love notes to him.

Junhui beared nothing but a carbon copied look at every note that flashed leisurely before him. And then, it almost happened too quickly, but you’d ingrained it in your memory in slow motion.

Getting similar kinds of notes every time with different phone numbers everytime the student body distributed holiday grams was simply a routine for Wen Junhui, he’s read all sorts of notes.

You diverted any absorption from today’s lesson to Junhui curiously raising an eyebrow at the very last candy cane gram he’d received for today. He pouted his lips (well to anyone else it was just a pout, but to you, it was cute, ha, duh), and you watched as he seemed the slightest bit perplexed at this last note, which you’d so badly wished you could snatch for yourself to see if it was yours or not.

The rest Junhui had stuffed lazily into his jeans’ pocket, yet you noticed–but you should really turn back around to the front, though–the very last slip of striped red and white received different treatment, and was placed into the front pocket of his flannel instead.

You tucked away any sense of false hope you had garnered once Santa Seungcheol stepped into the room, as you were probably stuffed in denim instead of flannel. 

⌦ a/n: i typed half of this in the school library goddamnit,, but uh,,,this is going to have a shorter part 2, but i’m 1/16 done with my soonyoung fic that i actually started b4 this

[ambiengrey]

I’m Listening

Warnings: this is an (abandoned) WIP. Completely incomplete. Written in 2014. Uhh, also, bad language :/

Prologue

“I’m taking you to the cave.”

“No, not the cave. I’d rather just die here.”

“I’m not letting you die. But, if not the cave, then where?”

“Just…well, where do you live? Because I know it’s not the manor.”

“…”

“What? You don’t like me knowing where you set up camp?”

“It’s pretty permanent. So no. Why don’t I just take you to your place?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on – I have to take you somewhere! I bet you have ‘digs’ all over this neighbourhood, and a few over. You’ll probably move before I can tell the Bat where you are, anyway. Not that I would, but if that’s what you’re worried about—”

“That’s…not it.”

“Then what?”

“Just take me to your place, alright?”

“Not unless you tell me why I can’t take you to yours. If Bats isn’t the problem—”

“And here I thought you weren’t gonna let me die here.”

“I won’t if you just tell me what I want to know.”

“I’m not doing that. So I guess I’m on my own.”

“You can barely move. Or stand—sit back down!”

“Argh—”

“My place is not exactly close. Or equipped half as well as the cave. But at the rate you’re going I guess any equipment is better than nothing? I don’t doubt your place has at least that much. But mostly, I honestly don’t trust you. So I need a really good reason to let you through my door—”

“Because! Because I… I don’t strictly…have a place…”

“You – what? You…don’t have anywhere to stay? You don’t stay anywhere? So, what? You live…on the street…?”

“Talk about it later, Timmy, I’m bleeding to my death here. Come on.”

“…Fine. But we’re discussing this.”

“Come on. Don’t fall asleep.”

“It wouldn’t be sleep so much as a fucking coma…”

“Stay out of it either way – I don’t want to have to take you to a hospital.”

“No hospitals, kid—”

“What did I just say? I know.”

“Just…reiterating.”

“The obvious.”

“I’m half dead here, kid – cut me some slack…I’m not all there.”

“I scoff at that first, but I can’t really argue with the second…”

Chapter

Dick would be lying if he said watching Bruce speed the Batmobile almost impossibly fast into the Cave and parking it with a halt of screeching, smoking tyres in its designated spot, hadn’t half-scared the life out of him in a way he hadn't been since he was Robin.

“What happened?” Dick had demanded, already halfway out of his seat in front of the computer, but of course Bats didn’t reply at once. They had a show-and-tell relationship after all – Dick would tell him things (such as, ‘you’re an idiot’) and Bruce would reply with some display or another (such as, ‘yes, I am’ in the procedure of doing something idiotic). True to form, thus, Bruce had jumped from the vehicle without a word and had swiftly rounded the large black machine just as stoically to the passenger side, its automatic door already opening for him.

Dick had, at this point, already left the console, crossing the Cave to the car at a run, thinking the worst – Red Robin had been out there as well, after all. Only, a motorcycle had grumbled in the distance suddenly, down the same cavern the Batmobile had come from, and Dick had paused, uncertain. At the same time his younger brother roared into the Cave, black cape flaring in his wake, Batman emerged from the other side of the Batmobile, carrying someone Dick had not been expecting in the least – Jason.

His signature red hood was missing, though an equally crimson mask covered his eyes, which were, despite the white eye-lenses giving no outward sign, decidedly closed – he wouldn’t be letting Bruce carry him if they were open and he were conscious, for one thing, and he was completely limp, and bleeding, for another. With the leather jacket he almost always wore absent – and the holsters usually round his thighs, Dick had noticed, as well – the dark grey armour covering his torso was revealed to be badly broken, and what Dick could make out of the field-gauze layered against his right side was soaked through with blood, not an inch of white left.

“What. Happened?” Dick had repeated, belatedly realising he’d snapped at Batman using Nightwing’s voice. He couldn’t regret it though, since it was likely the only reason he’d finally received a semblance of an answer.

“I don’t know,” Batman’s reply had been curt, and gruff, and he’d shoved past Dick, who’d been halfway up the ramp towards him, and carried on in a silent march towards Alfred – the old butler having wheeled in a gurney from the medical area in a way that suggested he’d been radioed beforehand and Dick had felt more out of the loop than before.

Batman had visibly hesitated, tightening his hold on Jason almost imperceptibly before relinquishing and allowing him to be carted off back to the Med Bay, though Batman followed hastily – a towering statue of foreboding darkness, quivering with a desperate kind of worry and a menacing sort of rage that only came from the deepest crevices of Bruce’s being and only surfaced in full-force when one of his sons’ – or daughter’s – lives were on the line. It spoke of justifiable vengeance against whoever was responsible for his children’s latest bout of pain – a pain Dick knew Bruce always shared in, if not physically.

Dick had stood halfway up the ramp to the Batmobile’s parking space, watching his adoptive father take determined strides in the wake of his bleeding younger brother, and Dick’s heart had ached and twisted and felt confused – he’d been upstairs with Damian, the boy nursing an awful cold, petulant and despondent about being grounded for it, and Dick had been trying his best to make him feel better. He’d only come down to the cave because Dami had finally nodded off to sleep.

Seeing Alfred’s haste in bringing the gurney around and Batman’s possessive hold, Dick had felt torn and guilty at not having been there to receive the call Alfred must have taken by himself, leaving him uninformed and unable to lend a hand.

Stricken, he’d all but forgotten about Tim until the boy had poked him in the arm, and, startled, Dick had spun around. “What happened?” he’d repeated for the third time in as many minutes, without thinking, before he felt the same wave of dread that had accosted his insides at the first sight of the Batmobile. “Are you okay?” he’d demanded to know before Tim had done more than open his mouth to reply to the first question, grabbing the teen by his shoulders. “You’re not hurt at all?” Tim hadn’t looked hurt, at least, but they were each of them adept at hiding injuries, stubborn idiots (himself, regrettably, included).

“I’m fine,” Tim had said, and cut in before Dick could ask again. “It’s just—” he’d glanced beyond Dick’s shoulder at the hallway extending from the main area of the cave, leading off to the Med Bay. “It’s only Jason.”

Dick had wanted to repeat himself one more time, but he could tell that he didn’t need to. With a sigh Tim had tugged off his mask, briefly rubbing at his temple in a way that had made Dick think he must’ve had a headache, before he started, “I found him. In an alley. He was roughed-up pretty bad, his armour cut through, with a knife, it looked like. But, considering, it must’ve been one heck of a blade,” Dick had dropped his hands from Tim’s shoulders, and, looking tired, the younger boy had rounded his older brother and wandered off to the computer console. Dick had followed solemnly in his wake, sparing the hallway a passing glance.

“He’d already lost a lot of blood, and…it was a mess,” Tim had continued, setting down his mask and looking like he wanted nothing more than to drop down onto the chair and go to sleep right there. “But he was conscious,” Tim had added, quickly, turning round to Dick, as if he’d realised how bad his explanation had started sounding. “When I found him. And he was bantering and being an ass and everything,” Dick couldn’t have helped but smile slightly at that. “I half-dragged him along, because he insisted I just take him to my place for a proper patching-up, but I could tell he was going to need more than that, and really I was just buying time,” by which Dick had figured Tim meant he’d activated his emergency tracker at once when he’d come across Jason, and Batman had been on his way the moment he did.

[eleteo125]

Day 2 & 3: Reunion + Battle Wounds

I merged the two... It just kinda happened. Also this is late so will the others, but I will make one for those. 

Keith took deep breaths to ease the ever growing pain from his rather large wound across his stomach. He was now in his lion, safely heading back to the castleship. He didn’t bother anyone about his wound. No point in worrying them if he could get in one of the healing pods himself. He was hoping that none of them could hear him breathing heavily through the comms.

Speaking of which, Allura’s face appeared in one of the screens in his lion. He quickly tried to compose himself, struggling a bit with his large wound. It’s like he can feel it ooze out with his every move. “Hello Keith, how are you?” she greeted

“Completely fine, princess. Just a minor injury.” He said as he looked down on the large gash on his stomach. He bit his tongue, trying not to hiss in pain.

Allura’s face then twisted to a mix of worry and concern. “A-are you sure it’s just a minor injury? We could prepare a healing pod.” She offered

Keith just shook his head “Like I said, Allura. It’s just a minor injury. Nothing too serious. You don’t have to worry about it.” He said his voice cracking a bit in his last sentence. A jolt of pain came to him when he was speaking. He then bit at his tongue again to prevent any noise from coming out.

“Keith, you’re making it hard for me to believe you with that pale face of yours.” Allura definitely doesn’t sound convinced. He has to try harder. He doesn’t want to worry them, especially Allura. She’s got a lot in her mind already.

Keith felt himself lax for a bit as he felt the pain decreased. He carefully let out a sigh of relief before giving Allura a soft smile “Don’t worry, Allura. Just got really tired.” He insisted. Allura’s gaze may have softened, but he can tell that she’s not buying it. The princess can be pretty stubborn at times so he just decided to not convince her even further as it may only raise her suspicions.

“Just get here as fast as you can, alright?”

“Alright.” He agreed before turning the transmission off. “You heard the princess, Red. Time to head off.” He told his lion taking hold of the controls. And as he looked up, his vision started to blur and his breath started to shorten. He tried to do deep breathing again, but it was proven useless since his breathing started to spasm. Keith leaned back on the seat. His body started to feel heavy and not long after, his eyelids started feel heavy too. Keith groaned as he felt it ooze out of him again. At first the feeling made him cringe, but later on he’s starting to feel numb about it. He can feel it coming out, but he didn’t feel any pain. Keith pressed his hand on the wound. Red growled becoming aware of her paladin’s condition.

“…red,” he said weakly. His eyes closed for maybe a few minutes, sleep almost succeeding to overcome him. He forced himself to wake up and continued whatever he was about to say “…take us home.” He practically whispered before finally passing out. The Red Lion roared, blasting off towards the castleship. Keith remained unconscious, not waking up despite the noise of the lion’s blasters. Not even when Allura was screaming at him through the comms.

Allura had contacted Keith once again. She had this nagging feeling that something is wrong. At first she didn’t know what it was, but when she remembered Keith’s strange behaviour, her heart dropped. She contacted the lion, heart pounding with worry. With every ring she can feel her breath hitch getting more anxious by the second. The call was accepted but what she saw on the other side didn’t make things better. Her hands flew up to her mouth as she stared at the red paladin.

He was even paler than before. And the way he was slumped on his seat shows that he’s not just taking a nap. Allura was too stunned to react. Her eyes were wide and her breathing started to spasm. What’s wrong with him isn’t just a minor thing. “Allura?” Coran called to her trying to know how she’s doing after he noticed Keith. Coran saying her name was enough to break her out of her trance “Keith!” she shouted “WAKE UP!! You have to wake up!!!”

“Whoa, what’s with the screaming?” Lance asked as he walked in with the others

“Where’s Keith?” Shiro asked when he noticed him not around

Coran and Allura turned their attention to the other paladins. As they moved, their bodies weren’t covering the screen anymore, thus revealing Keith’s image. Everyone gasped in shock whilst Shiro just stared at the screen in horror. “Where is he?” Shiro asked his voice full with anger that it sent chills to everyone. Pidge noticed the tears that are starting to form in the corner of Allura’s eyes. “Allura?”

Allura’s eyes hardened “Coran, get a pod ready.”

“Right away, princess!” he replied before dashing off.

Allura began to track the red lion, eyes carefully scanning the screens. “There! He’s not that far.” Hunk said as he entered the coordinates. Allura thanked him before running to the red lion’s hangar and everyone followed suit. When the others got to the hangar, they saw Allura standing near the entrance waiting eagerly.

All of them stumbled a bit at the castle’s sudden stop. Not long after, they saw the red lion in the distance. It felt like an eternity for Allura as the lion slowly lowered her head and opening its mouth. Everyone rushed in eager to see their friend’s condition. And it’s safe to say that what they saw isn’t very pleasing. Now that Keith’s lower half is seen, everyone can’t help but feel uncomfortable. His armor on his lower half was stained red. It took Hunk’s gagging noise to snap everyone back to reality. Shiro immediately scooped Keith up in his arms and headed to the pods. Everyone was on his heels. Allura ran past him to get to the pods first.

“Coran is it ready?”

“Just waiting for someone to step in, princess.” When Coran looked up from the screens, he was baffled when she’s the only one he saw. He took a quick look around but still saw no one. “Uhh…”

“On their way.” She said as she read Coran’s expression. And as if on cue, Shiro rushed in.

Coran jumped in surprise with Shiro’s sudden appearance. Shiro rushed to the opened pod and tried to put Keith in it, but he struggled with his weight and not wanting to worsen his wound. Allura was quick to help him; holding up Keith’s other side. With a grunt, the two carefully pushed up Keith’s body into the pod which was instantly closed once he was in. Coran typed away at the control panel keeping track of Keith’s condition. Coran’s brows furrowed as if something was wrong. Allura was about to ask what’s wrong but was cut off by the other three entering the room panting.

The three sighed in relief when they saw Keith inside a pod. Pidge walked up to Coran and asked “So, how is he doing?

“Not too good and not too bad either.”

“Well, I’d say it would lean more to the bad side, ‘cause it’s gotta be pretty bad if you don’t have enough time to remove his armor.” Lance pointed out

Coran’s eyes widened then looked at Keith and he, indeed, is still in his armor. “Quiznak! So that’s what the problem was! We have to remove his armor for him to heal properly.”

“Coran, open up the pod.” Allura ordered “We’ll get the armor off of him as fast as we can. Everyone, I’m going to need your help to make this quick.” The other paladins walked up to the pod waiting for it to open. Everyone caught Keith and carefully laid him down. Everyone started to take off his armor. Allura pressed a wet cloth on the wound trying to clean it. As she does so, she heard someone hiss in pain. Everyone paused to look at Keith who’s slowly gaining consciousness.

He looked around, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Where – Where am I?” he barely whispered but it was enough for everyone around him to hear. Allura gently shushed him “Don’t worry, Keith. You’re home.” She whispered to him. “Allura?” the princess gave him a soft smile “You’re going to be fine.” Keith grunted in pain which startled her greatly. She looked at his wound and saw Hunk trying to remove his belt. “…My bad.” Allura turned her attention back to Keith and cupped his cheek, running her thumb across it. Keith took hold of her wrist and leaned in her touch. Keith’s heavy breathing made Allura worry even more.

It didn’t take long to remove Keith’s armor, and before they knew it they were watching his eyes close inside the pod. Allura rested her forehead on the pod and whispered to herself “He’s going to be fine.” Coran placed a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention. “Do not worry, princess. He’d be up and about in a few vargas.”

“I should’ve known how stubborn he can be. I should’ve known that he was lying when he said it was only a ‘minor injury’.” Allura looked back at Keith “I don’t want to see you like that ever again.”

When Keith woke up, he felt well rested. He felt like he can take down a galra fleet single-handedly. But despite his full energy, he found comfort in his bed and decided to continue to lie down. His bed. He was back in the castleship. “Good job, Red.” He said aloud even though the lion can’t hear him. Keith touched his stomach to see the condition of his wound. He was expecting pain but was surprised when he felt nothing. There was nothing. No wound, not even a scar. He threw off his covers to take a look. There was nothing. He traced his stomach on where the wound was supposed to be. Had it all been a dream? It couldn’t be. It was too real.

“Good to see you awake.” Keith turned his head towards the person who spoke

“Allura.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked sitting down beside him on his bed.

“Great actually.” He scooted over making room for her.

“That’s a relief.” She said shifting closer to Keith. He was about to say something but was cut off by Allura’s arms wrapping around him. “We were so worried,” Ah, so it did happen. Allura tightened her hug. “I was so worried.” She pulled back “It’s nice to see you again.” She let go of him and took his hand “That mission took way longer than it should have.”

Keith looked down at their joined hands and felt a small blush crept up to his voice. And without thinking, he traced circles on the back of her hand. He liked the warmth and comfort her hand provides. Allura brought her other hand on his encasing it. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Just a little run in with a soldier.” Allura knew that he’s not telling the truth, but she decided to just drop it since he didn’t want to talk about it. There was silence between them for a while, but it’s nothing awkward. They were just enjoying each other’s company.

Allura laid down on his bed and settled herself in. Keith looked at her slightly surprised, but laid down beside her. The two of them looked at the ceiling, getting lost in thought. Keith closed his eyes, relaxing his body. Keith opened his eyes when he felt weight on his chest. He looked down and saw Allura sprawled across his chest. Keith wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in. Allura then snuggled her face ion the crook of his neck and giving a sigh of relief. When was the last time they did this? It felt like forever. She was right; the mission did take longer than it should have. 

[brawla]

What was his childhood like with his brothers and a single mother, and how did he come out to them? Was he well received? How does it affect all his relationships in life, given the time period?

GH okay i can talk in depth about this so its going under a cut. warnin for talk abt dysphoria, blasphemy (only kind of vaguely referred to), vague implications of nonphysical abuse and potential misgendering/transphobia/etc

so like… he was born a fraternal twin which wasnt so shocking to the family dynamic bc there was already a pair of twins But after having a total of 9 kids and One of them being born biologically female you kinda fixate on that yknow? so. elliot was most definitely Pegged to be the odd one out from the start but he kinda never really was. he played in the same way that his brothers played and loved getting dirty and being a general nuisance and he was, in essence, already One Of The Boys by like age 4. i should note also his oldest brother is 10 years older and most of them have like a ½ y age difference

inserting this bit right here to clarify the dog incident happened when he was 6 and four of them were playing in a dry canal n there were wild dogs hiding in the underpass (and up until then hed only known dogs as nice creatures) so he goes to pet em yadda yadda arms and legs get fucked up real bad. forearms are still wicked sensitive and scarred up but his knees recovered merely because he ran. they didnt have money for hospital bills so he was kinda useless for a while though

so anyway. despite her child obviously being a “““tomboy”““ she still attempted to force him into frilly dresses and do his hair all nice and when he was Really young he didnt super care but eventually noticed the difference in how his mom allowed his brothers to behave vs how she allowed him to behave and it upset him??? and granted this was more when he was like 8 or 9 and it was less “elli go play” and more “elli help me with dinner” even though she often didnt include anybody else in that request. so he starts cutting his own hair and disobeying openly and gets kinda mean because of it (thus his inclusion in being a Town Terror with the other brothers) uhh

they fought a Lot as kids bc margaret wasnt the Best at keeping them in line especially when shed get more concerned with sleeping with other men/going out for the nice bc once chase (oldest) was old enough to technically be in charge shed just kinda Leave sometimes an pray they didnt set the house on fire. because of that it was “im trapped in a house with all my brothers lets wrestle and scream until the neighbors call the cops on us because somebody might be dying” but at the end of the day they still had that Sibling Bond that rose above anything else

moving back onto the Trans Narrative: he realizes somethings up mid/end of middle school and hes not sure how to put it into words but he doesnt Feel Good anymore. doesnt like hearing his deadname or being the singular “girl” of the family. his twin, owen, is like, his first Go To for comfort and owen doesnt know either but he doesnt really Care. one time he tries to tell his mom but she waves him off and tells him never to bring it up again and… he Doesnt. goes through his first couple years of high school horrifically depressed and just barely passing year to year if Even passing until the very beginning of junior year he just Stops going. owen and some of the more fraternal of his brothers, when older, are kinda the only thing that keeps him grounded and ultimately he feels Useless ages 16 to 18

spy is his first contact bc he knows his mom who kinda just laments about how useless this kid who used to be so excited to play baseball with his brothers and run around and race freely is all of the sudden, please make him stop. and spys reluctant but also Guilty and has him flown out to nm for various hit and run jobs and elliot doesnt really realize what hes been thrust into at first but it gets to a point where doing Anything (even Crime) feels so good he doesnt care. inducted officially into the team when hes 19 or 20 and also has his name legally changed within that time period (jeremy is his “formal” name his mom insisted upon when he informed her this was a thing that was happening and she couldnt do anything about it, but if addressed by his actual name hed much rather hear elliot except in Official or as previously stated, formal, settings). voila The Scout is born

he technically comes out to the family when hes like 18/19 and already living out of home and he comes back to visit for a gathering where a lot of people are there includin some of his brothers’ dads. and nobody really knows what to do (mom im trans and also stronger than you so dont try any shit) bc most of them are religious and all of the boys were raised christian even if they were just going to church for the sake of going to church. and like… over time they adapt… margaret pulls the whole “this is all my fault my babys going to hell” thing for a while and makes it about her and some of his brothers do the same (william, the second oldest and michael, one of the other twins are the only two who are like “absolutely not youre disowned never speak to me again” and disallow their kids from seeing him EVEN THOUGH his nieces and nephews love him the Most) but eventually they kinda Get It. and dont Agree with it but cant bear to just leave their baby brother behind. so. its like. they fuck up the pronouns a lot but still Vaguely try. he doesnt talk to them a lot and wishes honestly hed never said anything and just moved out and lived stealth (hes stealth in tfi). he sends money home bc despite all his mom did and said to him bc deep down he still cares but. yknow. he avoids them if he can

SORRY THAT GOT LONG onto other tidbits

he never did baseball in school but played recreationally with the boys every time he got the opportunity to but he did run track when he got to eighth grade/high school and was really fantastic at it. hed run and began exercising initially as a way to beat his brothers but his mom makes some off-handed comment about how its good hes finally doing that, he could bear to lose somea that chub, nobody likes a fat girl (hes 12!) and is like Ah. and hes less self conscious about his weight now bc hes accepted the fact most of his weight is muscle and hes naturally curvy partly bc hes pretty and partly bc hes a runner. hes very very secure in himself and his identity even if he cant just tell people hes trans

he probably wouldve continued religiously if he hadnt been told by multiple sources that the “behaviors” he engaged in would upset god and get him banished to hell for life so he stopped going to church when he moved. of course, god only confirming he was his gift to the earth made him (silently) rub it in his familys face and he stopped uhh. believing in what was taught at churches simply bc he was convinced hed met god and proved all of them wrong? anyway

at the age and place he is he tends not to make lasting relationships with many people, at least romantically, because hes positive one of these days hell move to a place people dont know him and hell have had surgery and suddenly fit in with the cis and be able to settle down then. god knows he has the money for it; but for where hes at he tends not to care, not to tell anybody, n probably hasnt uhhh yknow Bonked for several years which is whatever he lives. He Lives. i think thats all i have to say on this IM SO SORRY but. this ask is very important to me