Someone in the tags of my last Xero post (you know who you are) talked about the similarities between a doodle and Hollow so naturally I couldn’t stop thinking about Xero and Hollow.

I love the idea that Xero was a loved and respected knight. The idea he saw Hollow as a child and knew, knew, this was a child. And Hollow so, so young, feeling guilt about even letting this knight show kindness and love to them - when they were meant to be hollow (oh but they couldn’t be)

Do you think they felt guilty? When they overheard Xero raise his voice at the King, quickly hushed, because he dared suggest Hollow was a child? When they started seeing this knight less and less, scared that their father was furious at him? When suddenly this knight was executed, for betraying the king? Was it their fault? Should they have never allowed him to be himself, ran to avoid indulging in the tiny moments of someone looking at them as a person? Did they even know Xero was falling to the infection? Would that make it feel worse?

They were both victims of an infection, bound by gods with their own desires. No one wins in a gods game.

That Woman Over There - Chapter 11

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: teen, for some strong language and physicality

Word count: 4013

Warnings: some sexuality

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

They listened to pop songs and held hands on the way back. Sophie B. Hawkins moaned about wanting to be someone’s lover.

“This song was so naughty back in the day,” she said, giggling.

“It’s naughty now,” he said, kissing her hand.

“I never heard anything quite like it,” she said. “Olivia thought it was too saucy, but it grew on her.”

“I’m sure it did,” he said. “When did you know you were attracted to women?”

She gave him a long look, wondering whether it would spoil the mood. She didn’t want think about anyone else but him. But she also wanted to be honest.

“Since forever. Since I wondered why my heart raced a bit too much when I spent time with a girl friend in elementary school. But it also happened with a boy or two, so I didn’t think it was strange until later.”

“When later?” he asked. He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand was warm and firm in hers.

“Middle school maybe. It was a difficult time, like I’ve said before,” she said.

“Was Olivia your first?” he said.

“You are frank,” she said.

“I’m John,” he said. “And you don’t have to answer.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I kinda adored her from the first time she was introduced in my English class. When I found out her exchange family lived a few houses down, I made sure to be on my stoop just in case she walked by, and soon I realized she walked by lot. She did a lot of solitary exploring before me.” He snorted. “Shut up,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please continue.”

“Anyway, eventually, I brought my boombox out to blast sexy tunes when she walked by. She just looked irritated. But I finally got the courage to talk to her before it got too cold to sit on the stoop. And I’m so happy I did.”

“When did you have your first boyfriend?” he asked they turned into his driveway. He ran around to open her door.

“That story’s a bit more complicated,” she said. He opened the door. His house was dark and smelled of sandalwood. It was inviting. He flipped on the kitchen light and walked to his liquor cabinet. “I’ve also got limoncello, tequila, and a whole bottle of crème de menthe that someone inexplicably brought to my divorce party.”

“Eww. I despise mint in food and drink. I’ll stick with vodka.”

“So you’ve never had a mint julep while watching the Kentucky Derby with your posh art friends?” he said, pouring her a couple fingers over an ice cube.

“My life isn’t the plot of Pretty Woman,” she said, taking the drink. “For more reasons than one.”

“That was just polo in the film. I’m talking about horse racing,” he said, and winked at her. “You are very pretty though, and very much a woman.” He grabbed her hips and helped her onto the counter. She looked at his empty hands.

“You gonna have a drink?” she said.

“Wine,” he said, and went to pour himself some red into a tumbler.

“You were at complicated earlier,” he said, walking back. He leaned close beside her.

“Yeah. I didn’t really get along with my college roommate,” she said. “But we were both queer and weird, so they stuck us together.”

“What did you study at uni?” he asked.

“Biology,” she said.

“Really? I don’t know why I assumed you went to art school,” he said. “Did you like it?”

“I love science. It’s how I became a flower artist. We had to do a semester of horticulture - you know, plant biology. And I fell in love. The rare and delicate beauty of nature is the highest art.”

“And you don’t feel a bit guilty for using so many flowers for your installations?”

“Says the chop-happy woodsman,” she said. “Do you feel guilty for using wood to make your pieces?”

“They’re hardly art,” he said bashfully. “I make furniture, and the occasional cabinet.”

“They’re beautiful, and far more long lasting,” she said, and took a burning sip of liquor.

“Thanks,” he said. “But, do you?”

“Sometimes,” she conceded. “Ella’s comment just rubbed salt on the wound. But my work has inspired many benefactors to open conservatories and community gardens, and to donate to ecological causes. It balances out, I think.”

“We can’t help but to want to consume beauty,” he said, giving her a hungry look. “It’s in our nature as humans.” He moved so his hips were between her knees. “But if we give as much as we take, it’s okay, right?”

He plucked the glass from her hand and leaned in for a kiss. She melted into him, wriggling out to wrap her legs around him. Despite the fact they were now completely alone, his kisses were unhurried. He rubbed her back, hugged her tight as he did it. She felt surrounded by warmth.

He broke it and took a sip of wine. “Your roommate was queer and weird,” he said.

She pulled up his shirt and touched the silky skin of his waist.

“Right. He had this bicurious friend he messed around with sometimes - a nerdy, sweet type - and one day, during a party, someone suggested spin the bottle -”

“-Good times,” he said.

“And on my turn, the bottle stopped on him.”

“What’s complicated about that?” he asked.

“We kissed, and it was nice. Really nice. Eye-openingly nice.”

“So? You got together?”

“My roommate, who had sworn that they were just friends with benefits, suddenly realized that he had feelings for him, and it was gay dramatic mess. The end.”

“So you broke up to give your roommate the warm fuzzies?” he said, scratching his head. He wasn’t a bigot, but the way people could just mix and match it fascinated him. He felt boringly straight in comparison, but he was trying.

“It was really strange. The whole thing. I knew I liked men, but it was the first time I, uh…” color actually rose on her cheeks.

“You are insufferably lovely,” he said, and kissed her. Her hands turned to fists on his shirt as his mouth traveled down the line of her jaw and to her neck. Her skin was faintly salty, and it made his mouth water for more. The soft pressure of her breasts against him made his hands move up her sides to touch-

She grabbed his wrists. “Wait,” she said. Her breath was quick, and she looked luminous in the gold light.

“What are your middle and last names?” she said, out of nowhere.

“Full name is John William Helm,” he said. He noticed that she didn’t move his hands, but held them on her ribcage, where he could feel her heart. “Yours?”

“Encarnacion Colombe Blanche de Carballo-Finet,” she said. “Your birthday?”

“That’s a nice mouthful. I’m a fall baby. Born 22 November, 1975.”

“I was born on the Feast of Epiphany. January 6, 1980.”

He smiled. “No wonder your name is Encarnacion!”

She let go of his wrists, and his hands dropped to her thighs.

“Yeah,”’ she said. She kissed the tip of his nose, and caressed his freckled cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, John Helm, née Novembre vingt-deux, mille-neuf-cent soixante-quinze, ” she said. She kissed him softly, sipping his wine-flavored breath. His hands remained on her thighs, but they caressed, then squeezed. Heat radiated from her center and made her toes curl. She had not made love since Ella, despite a few failed dates after the relationship was over. Her thighs twitched against his hips. She pulled him closer. He licked the tender inside of her lip this time, and she parted them, eager to feel it. It slid in her mouth and lightly flicked hers. She kissed him hungrily, massaging it with hers. Arousal rose from her belly up her spine. It was getting harder to control her breathing. His hands traveled up her thighs, his fingers barely grazing her skin. Her legs opened, but he did not go further. She had sucked all the wine from him, so now he just tasted like himself. He was delicious. She whimpered and shifted forward again, pulling his shirt up higher to caress his back. Her fingers settled a scar near his spine. He looked at her. She froze.

“It’s from the last surgery,” he said. “It changed my life.” He guided her hand to another, smaller scar on his ribcage. “The endoscope went in through this one.”

She rubbed the pad of her thumb against the raised skin. It was soft and shiny.

He kissed her forehead gently, but she pulled in him for a passionate kiss. She was desperate now, and her short nails dug into the tender flesh of his waist. His lips moved back to her neck and down, to her clavicle. Again, he licked the salt from her skin. He squeezed her upper thighs. Arousal trickled between her legs. His tongue brushed the hollow of her neck. She grabbed his belt, and felt her way to his belt buckle. When she brushed the tented front of his jeans, he moaned so sweetly she moaned back … but she stopped.

“What’s your favorite color, John?” she said. Her voice was going hoarse with arousal.

She licked her prickle-sore lips in a way that made it hard for him to think. “Um… red. No, purple, I think. Yeah, purple.” Her hand had not moved from where it was. He throbbed against her palm.

“I’ve always loved yellow, daffodil yellow, though I rarely wear it. I don’t have the coloring,” she said. She wanted to rub, but instead she looked at him hungrily.

“That’s bollocks. You’re gorgeous. Wear what you want,” he said, and tried to kiss her again.

She put her hand on his chest and caressed. “What about your favorite food?”

“Steak and mushy peas,” he said. “With lots of butter.” He traced her lips, and whimpered when she lightly licked his fingertip. Her thighs tightened around his hips.

“I love arepas rellenas. It’s this Venezuelan corn cake thing. Especially with chicken and avocado,” she said, and kissed him. Her hands raked his neatly combed hair into a spiky tangle that she loved. She moved his mouth back down to her neck. His teeth grazed her skin, and her nipples hardened so quickly it hurt. She wanted to feel his mouth on them. And on the hot flesh of her inner thighs, moving upward-

“Favorite band?” she moaned. His mouth paused on the swell of her breast.

“Not a band. Paul McCartney,” he said. “You?” His warm breath on her skin made her shiver.

“Depeche Mode. I’m a sucker for New Wave,” she said. His mouth dipped lower, then he raised his head.

“Ever seen them in concert?” he said.

“Four times,” she said. “They give great show.”

“So I heard,” he said. He brushed his fingers against her hard nipples through her shirt. She held his hand there, encouraging him to squeeze. They kissed again, but now his hands fondled her breasts restlessly. She guided his hand underneath her shirt, and he pulled down the fabric of her bra to cup her silky flesh. When he dared to tug on her nipple, she arched and cried out. Her arousal roared between her legs. His other hand moved up her inner thigh, past the hem of her skirt-

“I want-” 

His phone rang in his pocket. It was a rock song she didn’t quite recognize.

“Fuck!” he said, pulled it out of his pocket. A woman’s name and face flashed on the screen before he swiped the call into voicemail. The woman was young, and beautiful. And the photo was a selfie, much like the one he took on their date earlier. “Sorry about that. Where were we?” He said, putting the phone on the counter. It vibrated with a text that flashed on the screen.

Busy? 💋💦💦💦😈

“Oops. Let me just-” he fumbled to turn the phone off. Her heart dropped in slow motion. As much as she wanted him, she had never been a one-night stand kind of woman. She didn’t want to be selfie woman #26. There was still a lot she didn’t know about him. And she couldn’t risk another despair in her life right now. She didn’t mind complicated, but messy was too much to bear.

He caressed her, but the urgency was gone. He felt it seep out of her when Kelsie texted. Kelsie, who he hadn’t seen nor heard from in months. It was her who had taken that selfie while they had breakfast and saved it on his phone. She hadn’t phoned in so long he forget to delete it. Why was it that all this shit happened now? Those women coming into his house, Mrs Mulligan, and Kelsie. He bet if Connie was a boozehall pickup job, no one would bother him, as they hadn’t for most of his goddamned life. He exhaled his frustration, but he was also tired of apologizing.

She touched his lower lip, but when he dipped his head to kiss, she moved away.

“I think I should go,” she said, and slid off the counter. “It’s late.” She rubbed her lower belly. She was so swollen she ached.

“That was a friend. A really old, distant friend,” he said.

“You don’t have to give me explanations, John. We just met four days ago. You don’t owe me anything.” she said. She opened the back door. When he saw the flash of her holo trainers, his chest ached with emotion.

“It was three days ago. And what if I want to?” he said, and walked to her.

“Want what?” she said. Why did she sound so tired? She wanted to cry, and she didn’t know why. Cry hard, under the shower, where no one would hear and ask her questions that she was afraid to answer truthfully.

“You. To owe you. Explanations. Respect. Affection. All of it.” He was breathless.

“It’s just your blood talking,” she said. Her eyes dropped to the front of his pants, where there was still a bulge.

“I’m a grown man, not some silly uni boy. I can think while hard,” he said. “And I mean it.”

“Don’t you think this is moving a bit fast?” she said. She ripped the words from her fragile, bruised psyche, because she did not want to say them out loud. But they were true.

“It’s moving at the speed it wants to move,” he said, and took her hand. He put it over his heart. Its beating vibrated against her fingertips. He leaned in. “The way you kissed me. I’ve never-”

She moved her hand away. “I think I need some time to get my thoughts together.  Could you give me that?”

He nodded, but the look in his eyes made her want to wrestle him to the grass and cover him with kisses. She wanted to stay with him. But she was afraid she would spill over, onto his sheets, and then into his hollow places like shadow. She wanted to, so bad it made her tremble. But what did that even mean?

“If that’s what you want,” he said, and kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. I had a wonderful time tonight, though. Memorable.” She turned before he saw her weakness, crossed the hedge, and entered Liv’s kitchen. She closed the door quietly, and leaned against it. She tried to control her breathing, but her sighs soon became sobs. She slid down against the door and buried her face in her hands.

Why was she acting like such a baby? Wasn’t she a woman? She could sleep with him, have a nice time, and move on like most adults do every day. Why couldn’t she do it? She sniffled into her forearms. The ghost of sandalwood, of him, made her lip quiver. She had an idea why she felt so strange, but she couldn’t form it into a linear, conscious thought. It was too big, and unwieldy. Barely controllable as it was.

She thought it started at the park, with the full moon, and the piano music. But it went back before that. With the braid, and the pub, the aloe. It might’ve been his stories. Or his patience. Or his sweet smile. Or the fact she wanted to confess everything to him like she would had he been a priest. Why did she feel he would absolve her, and stay?

“Connie?” a soft voice called from the living room. Alex walked into the kitchen, with Monty cradled in her arms.

She stood up quickly and wiped her eyes.

“Hey, Alex. Monty having a late night bottle?” she said. She reached out to turn on the light.

“Keep it off,” Alex said. “Monty was fussy earlier, and we came downstairs not to bother Liv.”

“Oh,” Connie said. How long had she been there? Surely enough to hear her come in.

“Rad kicks,” Alex said, putting the boy down on the sofa and rubbing his belly. He twitched with the sweet sleep on the innocent.

“Thanks. I split my heel like an asshole after dinner. They were a gift from John.”

“Good ol’ John,” she said. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah. It was really nice,” she said, smiling.

“It was my idea, you know,” she said. She wedged a pillow by the baby so he wouldn’t roll off the sofa and walked back to the kitchen.

“It was?” Connie whispered, following her. She opened the fridge and foraged in the leftover party snacks. Her face looked eerie lit by the bone-white light.

“Oh yah,” she said, chewing a bit of salami. “He felt really bad about the boozehounds, and he wanted to show you he wasn’t a twat. He was desperate. It was sweet.”

“He told you about that?” she said.

“He tells me a lot of things,” she said, popping a cube of swiss into her mouth. “And ever since you came to visit, it’s been mostly about you,” she said. “You know, pumping me for information and that.”

“Ah,” she said.

“Obviously, I told him that I didn’t know much except what Olivia mentioned…” she crunched on a baby carrot and closed the fridge. “... but if she loves you, you have to be a top bird.”

“Why does he even care?” she said, then rolled her eyes. She didn’t mean to sound so callous.

“Why does anyone care about anything? I dunno. Ask him.”

She felt like she made Alex upset.

“I think I’m gonna take a quick shower, and go to sleep.” She walked away.

“John’s not what he seems,” Alex said. Connie stopped. “I know he looks a bit like a typical dudebro jerk, but he was kind to me, during one of the hardest, most confusing times of my life. And trust me, I wasn’t kind to him. I used him.”

Connie kicked the shoes off.

“I was so fucking angry at Olivia. I know she loved me, but sometimes it felt like she didn’t listen to me, preferring her own perspective about what I thought. I know now that it was just my own insecurity making me feel that way, but that’s how I felt, then. That she was way too good for the likes of me.”

Connie sat down again.

“She wanted a whole life together, when I didn’t even know what I really wanted to do with mine.” Alex sighed. “I never got to meet Mara, but John was around, being obnoxious and creepy and offering us herbs and to cook us dinner and shit.”

“I see,” Connie said.

“I didn’t grow up in a neighborhood like this. I didn’t realize until later that it’s just what neighbors do. Anyway, Olivia was moving fast. I was already basically living here - way better than squatting with my mate or staying with mum - but I wasn’t there yet. I wasn’t fully ready to do the cohabitation thing. Then she mentioned babies. It scared the shit outta me,” Alex said, and wheezed a chuckle. “I could barely dress and feed myself, and she wanted a kid too? It was frightening. So I told her. But she still went off and inseminated on her own.”

Connie squirmed in her chair.

“I was so scared. Yeah, I’m sure she told you I was furious, but it was the fear that made me go into temporary insanity. I didn’t have a steady job. I couldn’t take care of myself. How could I take care of a little baby, and Olivia? I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. So I did what I always used to do when I was overwhelmed. I went into self-destruct mode. And John was right in my path.” She pointed at the window. His kitchen light was still on.

“He didn’t need to do what he did. And maybe I shouldn’t have let him. But I was terrified. I never showed Olivia, because she was already so miserable. But he saw, and he was so good to me, Connie. And I know it wasn’t only because of the baby. He’s just that sweet. He was lonely, and full of love, and he wanted to lavish it on someone. He doesn’t like to show it, but Mara left him in tatters. Selfish, heartless cunt.”

Connie sighed, but remained silent.

“I don’t blame him for wanting to have a bit of fun after the divorce, but he’s not the lothario he paints himself to be. He’s more emotional than some of my ex-girlfriends,” she chuckled. “He really gets stuck in when he’s besotted.”

“So it happens a lot?” Connie asked. Her tone was neutral.

“You’re the first,” she said casually. Connie’s eyes stung.

“He told you about the boozehounds. Does that kind of thing happen often with him?”

She snorted. “Fuck no. And Liv and I saw it, through the window. He says you were a proper terror with a cricket bat, though. Good on you.”

She lay her head in her arms.

Alex drank from a bottle of water.“Why were you crying earlier?”

“I don’t even know,” Connie said. It was half true.

“But the date went well?”

“It was amazing. He is amazing.”

“When why are you in this kitchen talking to me?”

Connie shrugged, but her eyes filled with tears.

“Olivia and I slept together on the first date,” she said. “We spent hours together - dinner, a movie, then a bar - and I let it go on for her sake, since I already knew I wanted her since we first spoke on the phone. She was irresistible, with her nervous giggle and her constant apologizing. Ugh. So hot.”

Connie chuckled and wiped her eyes. It sounded very familiar.

“I wanted her, but I let her approach me. And she did. The chemistry was there, and I don’t regret a moment. There is no designated time for love. You can’t mark a date on the calendar for it. It either is, or is not.”

“Okay, Yoda,” Connie said.

“Bugger that little green fuck,” she said, smiling. “But you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.”

“Listen, I don’t want to get into your business. But I have to say it, because I love him. John went from being the bane of our lives into my absolute best mate ever. He is a very, very good man. A beautiful soul. And any woman would be lucky to have him. My only fear is he’ll set his heart on the wrong one again. He seems to be a bit of a masochist.”

Her words hit home. Connie rose to wash her overheated face in the sink. Alex’s chair scraped on the tile.

“I’m gonna take the little one up to bed,” she said. She stopped at the kitchen door.

“He’s a good man. I would stake my soul on it,” she said. She walked to the stairs, Monty in her arms. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispered, and disappeared into the darkness.

Next Chapter

You give it all but I want more- Lellinger fic (1,9 k)

So I have written another Lellinger fanfic (i know, again) because i just couldn’t help myself. After the first one I know you are right beside me I had a couple of ideas in my head so I just mashed them all up into one fanfic. That’s also why this thing is kinda long and i wanted to post it somewhere else because it would look messy here on tumblr, but all the fanfiction sites are kinda confusing, so I decided to post it here. To be honest I’m not that happy with it as I was with the first one, but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway. Also i still feel kinda awkward writing stuff like this, but i also enjoyed it so much i just couldn’t stop. Okay, enough of me talking, here you go :)

He was woken up by a sound of loud coughing that interrupted his deep sleep. He turned around on his bed, pulled the covers over his head and sunk back into his pillow, desperately hoping the sound would stop. It was only seconds later, when he heard the terrible sound again, this time deeper and more hollow. Even though he needed more sleep, he couldn’t relax anymore as his best friend was obviously in a bad state right on the other side of the room. The coughing was getting more intense and while he was getting slightly annoyed, he also felt the need to make Andi feel better. He climbed out from under the covers, shivering at the cold air that hit his skin when he left the bed. He pulled the sleeves from his pajamas over his hands to keep them warm. With three short steps he was next to the other’s bed, walking silently and trying not to wake him up. He slightly pushed away the covers to make space for himself and then carefully sat down, still concentrated on keeping his moves quiet. He couldn’t help but sigh when he looked down and saw the furrowed expression on Andreas’ face that was normally peaceful and was now covered in tiny drops of sweat. He was mumbling lightly and constantly moving his head, trying to find the right position. Stephan didn’t like seeing him like that and just the thought of his best friend being in pain horrified him. He lifted his hand and slowly brushed the hair that fell onto Andi’s eyes away, gently stroking his forehead. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, thinking if he should wake him up and give him some medicine or leave him sleeping. Just as he decided sleep was more important and tried to silently go back to his own bed, Andreas hazily opened his eyes. It seemed like his eyelids were heavy as he had to gather all his energy to keep them open and say a muted “Hi,” with a horribly raspy voice. Stephan stopped in his tracks, turned his head around and gave Andi a quick »Hi,« in return. He sat down on the bed again, this time not daring to stroke his friend’s hair because it just seemed awkward. Instead he put them in his lap, nervously playing with his fingers while looking at his bare feet. “You were coughing, but I figured it would be better if you got more sleep so I didn’t wake you up,” he explained, followed by a loud cough that escaped And’s throat again. As if feeling guilty, he covered his eyes with his palms and exhaled a slow “Sorry if I woke you up.” At that, Stephan grabbed his hands and pulled them from his eyes, not bearing to see him feel bad about something he couldn’t change. “Don’t you dare being sorry, I would have probably wake up anyway.” Andi nodded at that, still quite unsure of what to say. He closed his eyes again, and if Stephan started staring at his friend, it was definitely just to make sure he was okay. With still closed eyes, a question formed on his mind. “What time is it?” It was only now that Stephan realized he hadn’t even checked the time. He slowly got up and pulled his phone out of the jeans that were lying next to the bed. “It’s almost five,” he replied, still whispering even though they were both awake. Without any words he sat down on Andi’s bed again, this time a little bit closer and with his move he unconsciously pulled the covers from under the other’s chin. They exposed his bare shoulders that were now trembling, goose bumps appearing all over his arms. “You know, there’s a reason we wear pajamas. Especially if it’s winter.” Andi rolled his eyes at that, repeating his usual answer like he does every time Stephan points out that sleeping shirtless is not good for his health. “It’s far more comfortable, you should try it.” Stephan wasn’t in the mood for bickering. Instead he ignored his friend’s comment and pushed his palm onto the other’s burning forehead. He felt the warmth beneath his fingers, signaling that his teammate most definitely was sick. His thought was confirmed as Andi coughed again, skewing his face at the pain in his throat. “You are so hot,” Stephan mouthed, unintentionally stroking the hair back with his hand, his fingers tangling into the messy strands. “I know that,” Andi replied with a mischievous grin, looking up at the other with gleaming eyes. Stephan quickly realized how wrong that sounded and tore his gaze away. An unusual redness was spreading from his neck to his cheeks and he could only hope the blush wasn’t visible due to the darkness. “I’m serious though, you definitely caught a cold,” he continued, hoping his voice wouldn’t give his sudden nervousness away. “I must have got it from the Austrians, literally everyone on the team got sick,” Andi replied, the playfulness from before disappearing from his voice. Stephan signed at that and looked at his hands, which were now resting in his lap, scared to do any other move with them that would make this situation even more embarrassing. He kept his gaze fixed at the floor, beams of sun slowly making their way through the windows into the room. “You do spend quite some time with them lately, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” he finally mouthed, the sound of his words completely candid. Andreas was slightly taken aback at that, not knowing what Stephan meant with his statement, but guilt slowly crept into his head. “Don’t tell me you are jealous, huh?” He decided a light hearted tone would make the atmosphere brighter again, even though he didn’t know when it became so tense. As soon as he said that, a pathetic laugh escaped the other’s mouth. Despite the action, he replied with visible disappointment, annoyed that his friend didn’t spend so much time with him anymore. “I’m not jealous, why would I be?” He tried to brush it off, end the already unpleasant conversation and got up from the bed. Andi’s bed suddenly felt way too big and empty, and as he watched Stephan climb into his own bed again, he wondered what put him in a bad mood. They both stayed silent for what felt like hours, no one daring to say a word. While desperately staring at the celling and keeping his coughing as quiet as possible, Andi felt the tension growing thicker. Without thinking about it twice, he stated his thoughts that would hopefully make the suspension go away and start a new conversation. “I hope it won’t be windy today, it would be nice to jump far again,” he said, hopeful for his friend’s reply. Just when he thought Stephan fell asleep, a determined voice came from his side of the room. “You do know I won’t let you out of your bed today, right?” Andreas was surprised at the answer, and when he started to argue back, he knew he had no point. Nevertheless he wanted to compete, and just because Stephan thought he couldn’t that didn’t mean he would just give up. After a couple of failed tries of convincing him he is healthy, he turned on his side and covered himself all the way up to his chin. He was annoyed at him and wanted to be alone, but on the other hand he was dreading for their jovial conversation that he missed so much to come back. “I can take care of myself, though,” was all he said, coughing a couple of times and wincing in pain. “Oh, shut up, let me take care of you for once,” the sentence was meant to be said as a joke, but it sounded way too genuine. Andi didn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice that someone cared. He sighed and buried his head deeper into his pillow, the tickling in his throat preventing him from saying anything embarrassing. He listened to Stephan’s light steps as he moved across the hotel room, pulling off his pajamas and dressing himself in jeans and a green sweatshirt. He searched for his beanie and when he didn’t find it, a purple piece of fabric caught his eye. He pulled Andi’s Milka hat from under the bag, thinking about the risks he would have taken if he put it on. He had always liked it though, and because he didn’t bother to keep looking for his, he put it on. Just as he was about to leave the hotel room, a hummed laugh was heard from the nearest bed. “You know you can’t wear that out, do you? It’s not even your sponsor,” Andi commented, sounding harsher than he actually meant to. He would never admit it, but the purple looked good on him, and he gave himself a mental note to force him into wearing it more often. The thought of Stephan in his beanie made his stomach twist in a weird way, but he blamed it on the cold. “Ugh, I’m sure they won’t even notice,” was all that the other replied, doubt written all over his voice. With that he silently closed the door, leaving a grinning Andi behind. ~ He was falling asleep when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him only slightly in fear of jolting him. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the brightness and looking up to his friend that was holding a cup of tea. He smiled at the sight, bringing his hands from under the covers and wrapping his fingers around the warm handle. “Thank you,” he managed with a raspy voice, only now realizing how bad he actually felt. He took a couple of sips, fully aware of Stephan’s eyes on him. “No problem. I promised to take care of you, remember?” With a one hand he pulled at the purple beanie and put it in Andreas’ lap. “They said it suits you better, so I guess I’ll have to try harder to find mine,” he continued with a subtle laugh, now patting down the messed up hair. Andi didn’t say anything, still concentrated on the hot liquid that was making its way down his throat. It did soothe the pain a little bit, but he could still feel a round of choughs that were building up in him. After a while Stephan stood up and started packing his things for the competition. He felt a wave of disappointment at that, remembering that he won’t be able to compete. Andi left a deep sigh, drawing the other’s attention. “I know you are annoyed, but health is more important and you could only make yourself feel worse if you go,” Stephan replied, immediately knowing how important the attendance was to him.  He nodded at that, not wanting to argue back again. By now he realized Stephan wanted only the best for him and if that meant agreeing with staying in bed, he didn’t mind. He watched as his teammate gave the last look around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and lastly his pair of eyes landed on Andi’s. “I’ll be right back,” he said with his concerning voice and closed the door behind him. Andreas smiled again, and even though he now realized the feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with his sickness, nobody had to know.

The Great ATOG Reread; Grey part 1

And after almost a week, and after rereading Lodestones, I am back with Grey.

Chapter 1

And holy shit, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Chapter one is the breakdown of the team. You kind of got to meet everyone and how they feel about our heros- and oh, how much you regret supporting Kurt’s choice to join the team.

As he bangs the door open he hears Psyche mutter, "Sidekicks." It doesn't slam even half satisfyingly enough.

It also introduces one of Blaine’s main problems in this story. This story is a heavy load of miscommunication and lack of self-confidence. Both of them will have to face some obstacles (mostly mental) on. their. own. 

I remember first reading this and I had a lot of trouble reading Grey, mostly because of Incendiary and Psyche’s bullying. Yeah, they might try to excuse their behaviour, but it’s bullying. No kidding. Incendiary is just butt-hurt she got caught and Psyche can’t handle not being Agent Sylvester’s HBIC anymore.

Luckily, others tolerate him.

Cheer Girl seems to like him, with little enough reason to - most people who've been haunted never want to see him again. But she seems perfectly happy being around the Ghost, sits next to him and doesn't mind his occasionally visible flinch, talks to him and doesn't mind his stunted, nervy replies; followed him once holding the end of his cloak up as they walked like a bride's veil and said, "Isn't this hard to shower in?" and the Ghost looked back, looked, for a fraction of a second, like he might laugh.

It also shows the contrast between the Ghost and Phalanx. Phalanx has so much hope for this team to work out, the Ghosts doesn’t like them because they can’t get to know him.

And gosh, these women use every little thing just to hurt the Ghost. Ladies, get a life.

You know who else needs to get a life? Fucking Rachel. I remember writing during my ATOG reread that Rachel’s naivity and innocence can get her killed. That, and her reluctance to listen to sanity. She’s finally okay with supers, but yet, she still thinks Kurt is selfish for basically protecting her.

Chapter 2

Rachel screams through her hand, "She wants to meet you!" Blaine says, "Does this make it okay for us to sneak into the concert using your powers?" Kurt says, just quietly, "She's terrified." They stop. They stare at him. And then they stare at Mercedes Jones. Fixed, hollow smile. Hands pressed so tight into fists that they look painful. Panic, like the host might be holding a machine gun, behind her eyes. Kurt knows terror when he sees it. Kurt knows terror.

Mercedes Jones.

Actual superstar.

Oh, and Phalanx is kind of dying? Jeez, how many times do they almost die? All kidding aside, this shit was terrifying. A giant snake monster (fucking Brody from all glee characters) is killing him, and he will be semi-paralysed for longer than a day.

And I'll do it again, he thinks, closing his eyes in weary knowledge of himself. I'll do it every time, just in the hope that this time it will help. Because if I'd only known to try to comfort the monsters way back then instead of just being afraid of them, everything might be different; all you can ever do is try . . . . . . Phalanx is going to kill me.

I always say that the Ghost is the rational one, but honestly, I don’t even know anymore.

Speaking of rational thinking, at this point, Blaine can’t. He goes into full panic mode when he thinks he’s lost his powers. That shit was even scarier than him almost dying.

Chapter 3

We’re no longer playing around. Chapter 1 was about introducing the team, chapter 2 was about getting back to action.

And now we’re done with the (re)introduction. Now, shit is going down.

And Blaine understands before he really understands what Cooper's asking them. It takes a couple of seconds to sink in, and then the sickness reaches up from the ground, takes him by the knees and pulls him down. He sits on the floor, nauseous with shock, still hanging off the door handle with one hand, because his brother just asked him if he got drunk and attacked his boyfriend, and Blaine's head is too heavy to cope.

Can you blame Cooper? Not really. Cooper and Kurt were right. It was actually kind of amazing Cooper asked Blaine, but yeah, it’s awful. Why?

Because Blaine almost killed someone once. Blaine is very aware of the fact that he’s perfectly able of killing someone.

And because of that, he sure as fuck has the ability to abuse his boyfriend. And yeah, writing it down like that makes me realise how fucked up this is. Blaine. Can. Kill. Someone. Even. Kurt.

Their relationship is based on mutual trust, and they know they won’t hurt each other, but Blaine’s afraid. He’s been low key afraid of himself ever since he found out that he UHM ALMOST KILLED SOMEONE?

Is that the only heavy shit? Oh hell no.

I think the tricky thing with Grey is that this story starts to mess with your head. As a reader, at one point you see the Ghost, Phalanx, Kurt, and Blaine as four different people. I don’t talk about Kurt when the Ghost has his mask on. Even in writing you notice. The moment they put on the mask, they’re no longer Kurt and Blaine.

They’re joking about this, but as a reader you know that this will kill them.

Almost literally.

"Blaine," Kurt says, like he really needs to cut him off, "Blaine - please, think about this. Kids? How the hell could we bring kids into our lives?"

Here’s Blaine’s second problem. He’s slowly realsing that the choices he’s made in the past might not be the choices he wants. He... well... can you say he starts to long for a ‘normal’ life? 

Idiot, not to realise that Blaine would want children. Of course Blaine would, Blaine would be the best father in the world, and Blaine isn't Kurt, Blaine didn't spend years thinking he would never have any kind of normal relationship, Blaine assumes normality. He still does, Blaine's the one who wants them to take the night off to see a movie when Kurt feels guilty and anxious and desperate for telling him that he can't, he took the last night off so they could catch up on sleep and he can't, can't leave people alone like that again -

Sure, he loves being Phalanx? But what about being Blaine? What about family, and date nights, and fucking class?

He starts to see himself with, I guess, two personalities. He’s either Blaine, or Phalanx. There’s no in between, and except for Kurt, no one knows. Not even Cooper. That’s why it hits Blaine. He knows Cooper was right to ask him about the bruises around Kurt’s neck, but Cooper doesn’t fucking know that he can be Phalanx and that he’s capable of doing that.

Chapter 4

Oh Mr. Conti! Oh no!

The Ghost feels like he’s failed people he sees as family. The entire family thing is so messed up, especially since Phalanx admitting he wants kids starts to fuck with his head?

They can’t.

They really can’t.

And not because they’re gay af and that shit, because oh wow, adoption and surrogates exist, but because... how could they do that? Every night could be their last. What if they don’t come home one day?

But this is a terrifying thing to ask, because what Kurt's asking is if he's enough, and whatever he tells himself and the world, whatever he says and acts out with his head held high, is he really supposed to believe that himself? His whole life long he's striven for perfection because he's always found himself inadequate, and now he's supposed to ask Blaine how much of Kurt's failing he's willing to put up with, forever?

They’re strong. Jesus Christ, these two love each other no wonder Incendiary wants to puke because shit son, they are huge saps. But are they strong enough? As a reader who, I assume, has read Grey before, you know they are. But they don’t.

The Ghost squeezes the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. He says, "Those two insults are a contradiction in terms." and they disappear.

Homophobia hits Phalanx more than the Ghost. In my week of absence (aka not reading this) I spent a lot of time thinking about them. Their superpowers are caused by emotional trauma. For the Ghost, it’s sexual intimidation. Again, assuming you’ve read both stories (IF NOT WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???), you know he uses his powers not only to save people, but also to cope. 

For Phalanx, it’s a mix of violence and homophobia. He ha shields to protect other people from it, but words cannot be shielded (unless a person is d/Deaf/HoH). In the beginning, the Ghost got really upset every time Phalanx fucking dropped a victim for their homophobic language. ‘Oh, you don’t want help because I’m a f*****? Cool, have a nice evening, I hope you bleed to death.’

The Ghost used to condemn these actions, but I think that at this point they’ve both realised that this is Phalanx’s way of coping. He does not need to be exposed to homophobia. Then why sould he stay?

This kid was once again another wake-up call. They save people, but sometimes, not for long term. The Ghost saved this kid, he believed in this kid, and now he will rot away in a prison cell.

This also leads to the return of...

He holds his hand, and says because he knows it, "We'd give our kids a good chance. Saving the world one person at a time, right?"

Really, why can’t Phalanx understand that they. can’t?

Kurt feels like he’s suffocating. Phalanx really doesn’t see. Blaine fucking Anderson doesn’t see. And BAM that leads to Kurt’s major problem in this fic (we’ve already seen two of Blaine’s):

Because he just ghosted. In front of Cooper. Without planning to or wanting to. And he hasn't done that since he was a teenager.