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aidanchaser · 1 year

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Boulangérella - Chapter Two

Table of Contents beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer, and @aubsenroute

Chapter Two Ladybug

The small golden bell on the door of the bakery jingled its high-pitched, pleasant song. Its job was to alert the Dupain-Cheng family to a customer, but it was not a customer who rushed into the shop, panting as if she had just run a circle around the entire city.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng set her bag down on the small bench by the window of the shop and hurried into the kitchen. “Maman! Papa!” she called. “Maman!”

She found her parents where she expected them: cleaning up from a long day and preparing the ingredients for tomorrow’s breads and pastries.

“How did the delivery go?” Sabine Cheng asked with a raised eyebrow. It had been Marinette’s first delivery to the palace, and she was nervous for her daughter. Marinette was not especially light on her feet, but they had Marinette doing the deliveries more and more these days. She needed the income to pay for her apprenticeship in the tailor’s guild if she truly wanted to leave the bakery.

“Oh—er I did trip and lose a whole set,” Marinette said sheepishly, and tugged at one of her pigtails. She frowned and looked down at her hand, now sticky with strawberry filling. Tentatively, she licked it. “But it’s fine, I had the backup batch ready to go,” she added quickly when she saw her parents’ worried faces.

“We’re glad you’re all right,” Tom Dupain said. He was a tall man, nearly twice as tall as his wife and daughter, with broad shoulders built from a lifetime of lifting sacks of flour and kneading lumps of dough. “But you should be more careful. If you had spilled a set in front of King Gabriel, he could have had you banned from the palace for life.”

Marinette decided not to tell her father that she had in fact spilled all the desserts in front of the king and instead skipped to the more important news. “The duchess asked me to tell you—er I mean, she told the king—or, I mean she asked the king and she asked me—” Marinette noticed the worried looks in her parents’ eyes and she hastily said, “The duchess is throwing a ball and she wants us to provide the desserts.”

“Oh my,” Sabine said. “A ball. We haven’t had a ball… well, I suppose it’s been since Queen Emilie hosted one. She always ordered with us. It’s nice of the duchess to ask for our help again. When is the ball, Marinette?”

“Er—in one month.”

Tom spluttered and his large, bushy mustache spilled out a cloud of flour as he did. “One month? That’s about how long it will take to fill a supply order and we won’t have much time to prepare… Is this a small ball, perhaps, just for the royal family?”

Marinette bit down on her lip. “Oh… no. In fact, everyone in the city is invited. Or at least the Duchess said, ‘all the eligible maidens,’ are invited.”

Sabine sat down on a barrel of molasses with a hard bump. “My goodness. That’s a lot of dessert.”

Tom scanned the supplies they had on hand. “Did she tell you what she wants us to make?”

“She said to surprise her, and she can approve the menu first thing tomorrow.”

“Well,” Sabine began slowly, “I suppose we had better start planning. We can place an order first thing in the morning. We’ll of course need to establish a quote—Oh, Marinette, will you be able to handle all of this?”

“Sure,” Marinette agreed readily. “I can help. Just tell me what to do!”

“The tailor’s guild will be swamped,” Tom said. “You’ll be burning the candle at both ends, Marinette. We know how unraveled you can get when you’re stressed.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Sabine wiped her hands on her apron and eyed Marinette, who was still streaked with flour from her fall. “Perhaps we ought to hire an extra hand to help out. Is Alya still looking for work?”

Marinette pursed her lips, trying to remember the last conversation she had had with Alya about work. Alya had written a play for a local acting troupe, but it had not done well. Alya had said it was too “avant-garde” for the masses, but would be popular in about twenty to thirty years. Marinette had politely agreed.

“I think she’s available. It’s not too late; I’ll just go ask her.”

“Please do,” Sabine said. “Oh, let’s put a basket together for her family before you go.”

“And Marinette,” Tom said with a warning in his voice, “be careful. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“Of course not!” Marinette promised.

Her father sighed heavily. He did not think Marinette was a liar in any way, but he rarely believed her anymore when she promised to be on time or available to help. In this last year, she had grown increasingly scatter-brained. She had always been clumsy, but now she was constantly getting lost in the very city she had grown up in. He did not think the problem was with her apprenticeship in the tailor’s guild—she had been doing that for several years now, and was nearly a journeyman—but something had changed in the last year. He often wondered if it had something to do with a boy, but he had not seen any boys hanging around the shop vying for Marinette’s time and attention, and he could not imagine Marinette would keep such a secret from them, or that she was capable of keeping such a secret. Marinette had never been a particularly adept liar.

Unfortunately, there was nothing Tom could do to help Marinette except to keep a close eye on her. He put a half-dozen biscuits in the basket Sabine handed to him, and Sabine added a set of cookies. Tom carefully wrapped the pink napkin around the warm, fresh pastries and handed it to Marinette to give to the Césaire family.

“I’ll be back soon!” Marinette promised.

She hurried out the door before remembering her bag. She rushed back inside, dropped a cookie into her bag, then grabbed it and headed back out into the night.

Her father’s worries about Marinette were well-founded, unfortunately. Not about a suitor, but it was true that Marinette had become more and more absentminded in the past year, forgetting appointments and deadlines in ways she had not before. Still, she was not quite as scatter-brained as her parents feared. And she never truly got lost.

Marinette knew this city as no one else did. She had run its streets since she was a little girl, first helping her parents deliver pastries, then delivering finished fabrics, dresses, and suits for the tailor’s guild. And now, in the last year, she had begun to learn the city from a new angle—its rooftops.

Marinette, however, did not take any rooftops on her way to Alya’s. It was not far, and it was not terribly late yet. Shop windows were still lit and a few people waved to Marinette as she passed. If people did not know her for her parents’ bakery, they knew her for her kindness. She often stopped to help a cart caught on a loose stone, or a child whose cat had gotten stuck on a rooftop. Yes, Marinette was clumsy, scatter-brained, and forgetful, but she was also kind to everyone who came across her path.

She arrived at the Césaire’s home just a few moments later and knocked on the door before walking straight in. She was always welcome in Alya’s home, and knocking was just a show of courtesy.

“Hello!” she called. “It’s Marinette!”

She was greeted by a loud chorus from the apartment above the restaurant. The deep voice of Alya’s father, the singsong voice of Alya’s mother, the high-pitched squeals of Alya’s younger twin sisters, the low melody of Alya’s older sister, and of course Alya herself were all familiar tones to Marinette.

There was a new tone in the chorused greeting, however; it was not exactly unfamiliar, but it did not belong to one of the Césaire’s. As Marinette reached the apartment above, she found Nino Lahiffe seated at the table with the Césaire family.

Before she could ask how the family was doing, the twins swarmed Marinette and wrapped their arms around her knees.

“Oh! She brought food!” one of them shouted.

“Sweets!” the other echoed, reaching up for Marinette’s basket.

Marinette lifted the basket up out of their reach and handed it to their mother, Marlena Césaire. Marlena greeted Marinette with a kiss on her cheek.

“Welcome, Marinette. We have just finished eating. Shall I get something for you? There’s plenty more.”

Marinette’s stomach grumbled, and she realized she had not eaten anything since before her trip to the palace. She had walked—and run—quite a bit since then. “Yes, please, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

Soon, Marinette was seated at the table with her best friend eating what she believed to be the best food in the city. Marlena’s cooking was hard to compete with. The only reason she was not the palace chef—she had been asked several times—was because she wanted to stay close to her family. She had no desire to be at the beck and call of someone else’s family when her own daughters demanded so much of her attention.

“What brings you here tonight, Marinette?” asked Otis, Alya’s father.

“Oh,” Marinette hastily swallowed the stew Marlena had given her, “well, Maman and Papa were wondering if Alya wanted to help out at the bakery for the next month or so. They just got a big order for the palace, and they’ll need some extra hands, especially since I’ll be busy working for the guild, and—”

“What’s going on at the palace?” interrupted Nora, the oldest of the four sisters. She worked as a palace guard, and was usually the first to know if something was going on in the city, since the palace was often the hotbed of local gossip. “I haven’t heard anything from the other guards.”

“Oh, Duchess Amelie decided this while I was there serving dessert because—”

“You served dessert at the palace?” Alya asked in shock. “Did you actually serve the duchess?”

“Yes, the duchess and the king and the princes too and—”

“You met the princes?” Nino interrupted. “What are they like?”

“Oh, um Prince Adrien was very nice…” Marinette’s face grew hot, and she knew she was turning red. “And Prince Félix—well, he didn’t say much. I don’t know.”

A wicked sort of grin split Alya’s face. “Prince Adrien was nice, was he?”

“I want to meet the princes!” Ella and Etta, the youngest twins, chorused at once.

“Why don’t we let Marinette finish her story?” Marlena suggested. “What is it you were saying about an order from the palace?”

“Oh, right. Duchess Amelie wants to throw a ball.”

“No way,” said Nora. “If there was a ball, I would know about it.”

“She sort of decided it right then and there,” said Marinette. “She was talking about marriage and convinced King Gabriel to hold a ball so that Prince Adrien could find a bride.”

Alya pursed her lips. “Hasn’t Prince Adrien been engaged to Chloé Bourgeois since like, before he was born?”

Nino grinned and elbowed her. “You always know everything that’s going on with the royals.”

“I don’t like secrets.” Alya tossed her head and her reddish-brown hair cascaded down her back. “I make it my business to know everyone’s business.”

Marinette, for once, had more knowledge than Alya, and she was eager to share it. “Duchess Amelie said that Adrien should choose his wife, and that was the whole reason for the ball, so that Adrien could pick from any eligible girl in the kingdom.”

The entire family stared at her.

“Any girl?” Nino squeaked.

Alya rolled her eyes. “Babe, I’m not going to go to some prince’s ball so he can line up all the pretty girls and pick out the cutest one.” She took Nino’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Besides, I’m not eligible anymore. I’m promised.”

Nino blushed and a very silly grin split his face. He kissed Alya on the cheek.

“Ew!” protested the twins.

“Oh?” Alya raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s gross?” She made a show of very sloppy kissing noises, all pressed against Nino’s cheek.

Ella and Etta shrieked and hid under the table.

Marinette stuck her head down and grinned at them. “I thought you two said you wanted to meet the princes. What would you do if one of the princes tried to kiss you?”

“I would say ‘No, thank you,’” said Etta.

“I would tell him that’s gross!” said Ella.

“That’s right, girls,” Nora said, and pulled her younger sisters out from under the table. “No prince kissing for you.”

Marinette hit her head against the table as she struggled to sit back up. She rubbed the bump ruefully.

“What about you, Marinette?” Alya asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“What would you do if one of the princes tried to kiss you?”

Marinette laughed too high and too quickly. “What are you talking about, Alya? I wouldn’t—they wouldn’t—”

“You said Adrien’s nice,” Nino prompted. “What makes him so nice?”

Marinette buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Don’t embarrass her,” Otis scolded. “You know how shy Marinette can be around boys. Remember how she was with you, Nino?”

“She was only half as bad as Nino was,” Alya laughed. “You two were the weirdest couple when we were kids. You stared at each other’s hands like they were going to bite.”

None of this helped Marinette’s embarrassment. And, honestly, none of it mattered. Marinette would never see the princes again—she certainly wouldn’t be serving any more dishes at the palace herself after that royal embarrassment. And there was no way she was going to the ball. She would be busy hemming dresses or baking treats or running along the city’s rooftops, making sure everyone was safe.

“Oh, we’re just teasing, Marinette.” Alya nudged her in the ribs. “Anyway, you were saying your parents wanted me to help out at the bakery?”

“Yeah.” Marinette pulled her hands away from her face, setting aside her embarrassment. “If you’re not doing anything, that is.”

Alya hummed and looked at Nino. “What do you think? It might take us a while to get our new thing off the ground.”

“We’ll need clients first,” Nino agreed.

“What are you talking about?” Marinette asked.

“Nino and I are going to start up an investigation business. People pay us to find their stuff, or anything they’re missing, or even people they’re missing. Nino has a lot of connections, and we’re both good at getting information out of people. We thought we could put it to good use. But it’ll take us a while to get going. Do you think there’s work for both of us at the bakery? We could both work there for a bit, and let people know about what we’re doing, too.”

“Oh, maybe,” Marinette said. “I’m sure my parents would love to have Nino, if they can afford it.”

“I don’t like this job plan of yours,” Nora said in a warning voice. “It sounds like you could run into some dangerous people.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Alya rolled her eyes. “Besides, I’ll have Nino to protect me.”

Nora looked disdainfully at Nino’s thin frame, buried in a blue tunic that was just a little too big for him. “Just leave the helping people stuff to Ladybug, little sis. She’s the real hero.”

Alya did not take her sister’s criticism to heart. She merely rolled her eyes, and Nino jutted his chin out, but he did not argue with Nora. She was easily twice his size and had put him in a chokehold too many times to count.

“I actually thought we might work with Ladybug,” Alya said. “She could help us if we needed it, and we could get her information she might not have otherwise. It’d be a good partnership.”

“We just don’t exactly know how to ask her,” Nino said. “She’s hard to find, since no one knows who she really is.”

“Er—no one can, right?” Marinette said. “It’s important that her identity stay secret so that she can keep protecting the city from Hawk Moth’s curses. If Hawk Moth knew who she was, he could target people that she cared about.”

“I could take down Hawk Moth,” Nora said, slamming one fist on the table. “If he ever showed his face, I’d have him pinned in an instant.”

“I’m sure you would, sweetheart,” Marlena said, and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

“I certainly would not mind a chance to tear him apart myself,” Otis grunted.

“If anyone is going to stop Hawk Moth for good, it’ll be Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Alya said confidently. She, Nora, Nino, and her father all had, like many others in the city, been victims of Hawk Moth’s curses before. And, like many others in the city, they had been rescued by Ladybug. Her magic was more powerful than his, Alya was convinced, and she trusted her city’s hero to save them every time.

“Chat Noir is a wanted criminal,” Nora said. “If I saw him on the street, I’d arrest him and collect the bounty.”

Nino, though he did not like to challenge Alya’s much-older-and-much-bigger sister, managed, “Really? I’d buy him a drink. He’s a hero just like Ladybug. It’ll be both of them together that take down Hawk Moth.”

“He’s a thief—”

“He’s never stolen from us,” Alya pointed out. “He only has that bounty because the wealthy like to complain when they misplace a brooch or a painting.”

Perhaps sensing that a conversation about the ethics of thievery and vigilantism was not the best evening conversation for toddlers, Marlena announced, “Bed time for the little ones.” And though the young twins protested, Marlena and Otis each picked one up and took them to bed.

“I should probably go, too,” Marinette said, and got to her feet. “Thank you for the meal Monsieur et Madame Césaire,” she called after Alya’s parents.

“Nino and I will walk you down,” Alya said hastily and Marinette groaned. She knew that Alya only wanted to press her for each and every detail of her trip to the palace.

About thirty minutes later, Marinette was still standing in the doorway and Alya was laughing so hard that she had to lean against the wall for support. Nino, at least, had the courtesy to look stricken.

“You could have been banished from the palace forever,” he said.

“I know,” Marinette said into her hands. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s pretty bad,” Alya wiped the tears from her cheeks. “What did you call Prince Adrien? His Royal Fineness?”

“Something like that,” Marinette mumbled, and Alya broke out into another fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Alya gasped between giggles, “I love you so much, girl, but you’re really bad when you like a boy.”

“I don’t like Prince Adrien—”

“You have a crush on His Royal Fineness!” Alya protested. “Admit it.”

“How can I? I don’t even know him.”

“Doesn’t always work like that,” Nino said sympathetically. “Sometimes you just fall for someone.”

“It’s like destiny,” Alya said. “It just happens.”

Marinette shook her head. She might have a destiny, but it certainly did not involve marrying a prince.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she said, eager to be done with this conversation.

“Bright and early,” Nino promised.

“Dark and early,” Marinette corrected. “The baking mostly happens before the sun comes up.”

Nino frowned at this news, but Alya grinned. “We’ll be there,” she said, and kissed Marinette’s cheek. “Have a safe walk home!”

“I will,” Marinette promised, but that wasn’t entirely truthful. Marinette would not be walking home, and she might not be safe, either.

As soon as she was out of sight of the Césaire’s home, Marinette ducked into an alleyway and opened up her satchel.

The cookie she had dropped inside had been reduced to mere crumbs and a small ladybug crawled up the side of the bag and into Marinette’s hand.

“Hi, Tikki,” Marinette whispered. “Ready to work?”

The ladybug grew in size until it was large enough to cover Marinette’s palm, and its shape changed, too. Its head became twice the size of its body, and its wings extended out from their shell. The black of the ladybug disappeared into the red, and soon Tikki was staring at Marinette with bright purple eyes and a warm smile.

“I’m always ready, Marinette,” she chirped in a high voice.

Marinette grinned back. “Tikki, spots on!”

Marinette had found Tikki in the Forest of Fay just over a year ago, or, more accurately, Tikki had found her.

When Queen Emilie had fallen asleep and the Duchess’ husband had disappeared, Marinette’s master had said that he needed a very specific flower to create a unique dye for the Duchess’ mourning attire, and he had sent Marinette out to get it. The flower was not grown by florists nor herbalists, for it could not survive in captivity. How the flower knew the difference between a pot, a garden, and a wide, uncultivated space was beyond Marinette’s scope of knowledge. She knew flour, not flowers. So when her master had told her that the flower only grew in the Forest of the Fay, Marinette had valiantly fought off her fears of curses and sought the flower out.

But Marinette had not learned the paths of the forest as she had learned the roads of the city and she had soon gotten lost. It was just days after the winter solstice, and the shadows had grown long and dark quickly. She had found a few blossoms, deep violet, and she expected they would make for a rich color suitable for a royal gown, but that would mean nothing if she could not find her way back. Perhaps her Master had been wrong to send her; perhaps she had been wrong to go.

Just as she was beginning to despair that she would never find her way home, a ladybug had landed on the back of her hand. It had flitted off to a tree, then returned to Marinette, then flown back to the tree. It had taken a few more tries for Marinette to understand that, for some bizarre reason, this ladybug was asking her to follow it. Nervously, Marinette had followed the bug as it flitted from tree to tree until they had reached the edge of the woods, where the ladybug had begun to shift into a strange red creature with small wings and a large head. Marinette had shrieked and tried to climb the nearest tree to get away.

“Careful!” the creature had said in its high voice. “You’ll fall!”

And Marinette had fallen, right out of the tree and onto the ground, landing on her arm. She heard the crack and she had one moment to wonder if that crack had been her bone before the pain set in.

“Oh! Ow!” She had shrieked and curled in on herself, clutching her broken arm to her chest. It hurt, but she had been glad it was not her hands. If she had lost the use of her fingers, she would never have been able to sew again.

“Oh, this is my fault,” the strange creature had said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I forget how easily frightened some humans can be.”

Marinette had hardly heard her through the pain, but she managed to squeak, “I’ll be okay.”

“I can help,” the creature had promised. “Let me help, please. I promise I won’t ask for much—just some sugar, perhaps?”

And Marinette had agreed.

Pain and sickness were no longer things that Marinette worried about. She had been given the gifts of creation and luck in a pair of earrings in exchange for sweets.

Ladybug soared over the rooftops of the city. Marinette had been serving as Ladybug for over a year—named for the favored form of the fay who had chosen her and for the red and black spots that decorated her dress. Well, it was not a dress, exactly, at least not a complete one.

A red mask marked in black spots covered her eyes to hide her identity, and long red ribbons trailed from her dark, curled pigtails. Her chemise was black, tied tight at the collar, and covered by a red dress detailed in gold and red ribbons. The sleeves were slashed at the shoulder and elbow, revealing the black chemise underneath.

The fabric and ribbons were far finer than any she might have owned as a baker’s daughter, and it glittered with the magic that had woven it. It might have been appropriate for a ball if her legs were not entirely exposed. The chemise covered hardly half of her thighs, and the dress over it split at the waist into a back shaped like the wings of beetle she was styled after. But her legs and the red tights that cloaked them were left visible to the night. It was not especially appropriate for a woman, but it allowed her to move easily across the rooftops and, should the situation call for it, move quickly in a fight.

Ladybug hoped that there would not be a fight tonight, but as she ran, she caught a flicker of light reflecting off of something quick and silver. She hopped from one tiled rooftop to the next, in search of the silver flash.

She found it—or rather him—dropping down from the rooftops of the closely-knit city shops and apartments and approaching the gates of one of the manors on the edge of town.

“Naughty Chat Noir,” she chided as he scaled the manor’s gates.

He froze, hands still around the gates’ iron bars but feet only halfway up. He finished his climb with a quick scramble and, once safely perched on the edge of the wall, turned to look at Ladybug.

Like Ladybug, Chat Noir wore a mask. He also wore a black jerkin and tights, styled with silver ribbons rather than gold, and at his waist he carried a silver baton, fastened to a long leather belt that dangled like a cat’s tail. His hands and feet, too, were tipped in silver, pointed in the shape of a cat’s claws, which made it far too easy for him to scale sheer walls and slip into the homes of the city’s wealthiest.

He leaned back and lounged lazily on the manor wall. His reflective green cat eyes glittered in the moonlight, and his blonde hair was tousled from his run across the rooftops. But his black cat’s ears were unruffled, perched perfectly on top of his head. He had let Ladybug feel them once, and they felt no different from the leather of his belt—decorative, really—but she was certain that she had seen them twitch towards sound on more than one occasion, like a real cat’s ears.

“Looks like you caught me, my lady.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I suppose you’ll just have to take me in.”

“Have you stolen anything yet?” she asked.

Chat Noir sighed. “No, but Lady Rossi has a lot of lovely pendants. I’m sure she wouldn’t even notice if I borrowed just one. And really, it’s her fault for leaving her house empty nine months out of the year.”

“Give it up and get over here,” she smiled. “We have work to do, you know.”

Chat Noir stood, but he hesitated. His long belt swished behind him and though Ladybug knew it was just the wind, it was easy to imagine he was like a real cat, swishing his tail before he pounced.

Then he jumped—into the yard of the manor.

Ladybug sighed. She and Chat Noir were heroes of the city, defenders against Hawk Moth’s curses and protectors of the vulnerable. They were supposed to wield their magic not for their own gain, but on behalf of the people. Her trickster partner, however, often forgot that.

Before Ladybug could jump down and go after him, however, a series of loud barks filled the night, and suddenly Chat Noir was back up on the wall and leaping for the safety of Ladybug’s rooftop. He misjudged the jump and the edge of the roof caught him in the stomach. With a loud wheeze, he pulled himself up to stand beside her.

“Why are the Rossis’ hunting dogs here?” he asked ruefully, and examined the edge of his lengthy leather belt. “They nearly got my tail.”

Ladybug tipped her head and listened to the dog barks. It was odd; the Rossis rarely spent the winter in the city. They traveled often, and usually only returned for the king’s annual summer hunt in the Forest of the Fay. She wondered what had called the family back to the city in the beginning of winter.

“If you keep using your gift to be a thief,” Ladybug said, “you’ll just have to suffer the consequences.”

“What about you, my lady?”

“What about me?”

“You’re a thief, too.”

Ladybug spluttered and her face grew hot with indignation. “I am not a thief!”

“But you’ve stolen my heart.”

He grinned a wide Cheshire grin and Ladybug could not help but laugh.

She hid her joy, though, by leaping onto a neighboring rooftop, following her familiar patrol around the edge of the palace, and Chat Noir followed.

“You’re particularly out of sorts tonight, buginette,” he said.

“Buginette?” she quirked an eyebrow. “You’re the one in rare form, chaton.”

“I’m not quite at the top of my game,” he agreed, careful to time this as he leapt on top of a chimney before jumping back down to keep pace with her. “I should have seen the dogs.”

“And what would we have done if you had been bitten and one of Hawk Moth’s monsters had shown up?”

“My lady, I would defend you to my last breath, bites and breaks be damned.”

Ladybug skidded to a stop just before reaching the palace wall. Chat Noir perched beside her.

As irritating and inconvenient as his thievery could be, he was as loyal as any friend that Marinette had. He had stood with Ladybug, bites and breaks be damned, and helped her defend the city from Hawk Moth’s monsters. She would have died several times over this past year without him at her side.

But she was off tonight, as he had pointed out. With the ball just a month away, it would be hard for her to make time to be Ladybug, to make time for Chat Noir. She was afraid to tell him, afraid of how it might hurt both of them.

Chat Noir’s playful green eyes softened as he took in Ladybug’s slumped shoulders and the pensive curve of her red lips. He twisted his silver ring, studded with green stones in the shape of a cat’s paw, once around his black-gloved finger. She wondered what it was that had him out of sorts tonight.

“Did you know that we’ve nearly reached the one-year anniversary of our partnership?” he asked.

“Er—I hadn’t realized. I’m not sure if it feels longer or shorter.” She searched for the answer that would encourage him best. “Part of me feels like we’ve always been doing this.”

He smiled, but his usual humor was lacking, as if he perhaps already knew what she was going to tell him, that their nights like this would be limited for a while. “It feels like it’s been forever,” he agreed, and pushed himself to his feet. “If you’d like a bouquet to celebrate, I know the castle gardens have a lovely bloom of hellebore every winter.”

“Do not steal from the castle gardens,” she laughed. “I can’t help you if the king takes your head.”

“The king would never. You and I are heroes.”

“Most of the time.”

“I cannot speak to what you do without your mask on,” Chat Noir shrugged. “What must you get up to when I’m not here to keep you in line?”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed and he grinned with pride.

Chat Noir loved Ladybug. He had said it a thousand different ways in word and deed, but none of it seemed to matter to her. She simply did not love him back, and there was nothing he could do about it. He did not think he had fallen in love with her at first sight—not the very first sight, at least, when she had caught him slipping out of the Bourgeois manor with a pair of wedding rings.

It wasn’t that Chat Noir needed to steal. When he took off his mask, he had more money than he knew what to do with. Really, he simply needed to prove to himself that he could. He needed to know that he truly had the freedom to move in and out of someone else’s house undisturbed. He had told this to Ladybug, but she had rolled her eyes and simply demanded he return the pair of rings he had lifted from the Bourgeois family. He had done so, but he had known it didn’t matter. André and Audrey Bourgeois never wore their wedding rings anyway.

He had never told Ladybug the second reason he liked slipping in and out of homes, partly because it was embarrassing but partly because he did not think she would believe him. One of Chat Noir’s favorite things to do when casing a home or slipping into it unseen was to simply observe the way people lived. He did not want to know where they kept their valuables, not really. He wanted to know what they valued and what their routines were and how they lived their lives.

But more than anything else, more than thieving or heroing, he liked sitting on a rooftop with Ladybug, listening to the sounds of the city around them and watching people go about their day. He liked observing people. It allowed him to imagine that one day, maybe, he could be a part of it. Maybe even be a part of it with Ladybug.

Someday he might tell Ladybug about that dream, but he was afraid it was too close to the truth of who he was, and she had made him promise never to tell her his real identity, just as she had sworn never to tell him her identity. It was necessary to keep their loved ones safe from Hawk Moth. Chat Noir did not think Hawk Moth could hurt his family, but he had agreed all the same. He would agree to anything that Ladybug asked of him.

Well, almost anything. It really was hard to stop stealing. He had an impulse for chaos that was not entirely his own, and it had to be fed somehow.

He wondered how she would take the news that just one month from now, he would have to give up his contract with his fay, that this past year was all he had to give her. He meant it when he had said bites and breaks be damned, but he did not see how he could keep up this life and the future that loomed before him.

As Ladybug and Chat Noir sat on a rooftop, taking in the lights of the palace, they did not know that in the center of the city, a heart was breaking.

But Hawk Moth knew. When he stood in the hidden loft he had built to avoid prying eyes and activated the magic of his own fay companion, he could sift through the emotions of each person within the city.

It sounded like the sort of power that might overwhelm a lesser man, but he had no trouble wading through the feelings of thousands. It was not much different from the weight of bearing a kingdom. For the most part, the people’s emotions were mundane, nothing more than a gentle river in the height of summer and easy to navigate. But every so often there was a tug, a dramatic pull to something all-consuming, a surge in the river’s flow. Hawk Moth was careful not to let that current pull him under. He held fast to his own grief as an anchor and watched the currents, waiting for the right one.

His gift of transmission allowed him to grant magical abilities to those in heightened states of emotions. When he had first found the creature, it had spoken of courageous soldiers turned to heroes and of panicked parents granted the strength they needed to rescue their children, but Hawk Moth had found a more effective use for this creature and its gift. He could turn agony and anger into abominations.

So he waded past currents of courage and jolts of joy in search of swells of sorrow to manipulate for his own mission.

His fingers tapped the lavender butterfly broach at his throat as he felt agony rise from a familiar place.

Xavier Ramier was a man prone to strong emotions, though it was not always sorrow that swelled from him. Monsieur Ramier took pride in his pigeons, felt extreme joy when a new chick hatched and nearly burst with courage when he entered his birds into competitions each summer. But he was also easily overcome with heartbreak when a bird passed on, or a snide judge critiqued the sheen of his new brood, or, as it happened tonight, a few rowdy teenagers got it in their heads to throw rotten eggs at his coop.

With the power of his fay, Hawk Moth cupped an ivory butterfly in his hands and whispered his dark incantation. The creature, now filled with his power and colored in deep violet, took off through the open window of the loft in search of the indignation that it could add its strength to.

#ml fairy tale au #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ladynoir #fun fact i wanted to write ladynoir more like PV ladynoir and the first draft of it she was a little more antagonistic towards him #but then when the drama starts the emotional gut punches were hard to make land when she had been so rude to him at first #so i had to soften their relationship #i literally went through the same process the creators had to go through

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herpronuonsarefemslash · 2 years

Text

The Boxing Day Disaster - Teaser

Tidied up, edited, and expanded on the AO3 version before adding some new chapters

Find the rest at https://www.patreon.com/posts/62196348

-----

“I don’t see why we have to host...” Vernon huffs.

“It’s Christmas, dear.”

By sacred tradition, every year, someone hosts Dursleys for Christmas. Her family was no different, so they just combined the lists. With only themselves, Marge, and three first cousins on her side whom they don’t get on with at all, the rotation always comes round quicker than she’d like.

And Harry, for some godforsaken reason, keeps trying to mend fences. Something about his therapist’s advice and forgiving being easier. Petunia isn’t so sure she deserves it. Harry could have left her to die three or four times. He could have left her, Vernon and Dudley to death, to torture, or the teeth of some creature that even wizards have nightmares about. Not only did he not take revenge–Harry didn’t abandon them, even though she spent sixteen years giving him reasons to do just that.

Six-year rotations.

When Dudley set up with Hailey, that bought them time. Theoretically, it was Lily’s turn to host, meaning Harry offered. Of course she’d rather go to see Dudley, she’d told Harry in her letter. When Harry married Gabrielle several years later, it solidified his spot in the rotation. The Evanses couldn’t get enough of Gabby and Harry, and his second cousins climbed all over themselves to babysit those strange little girls of his. Between Gabby and her sister (who Petunia’d heard married another of Harry’s school friends) there are seven children and not a son in the bunch except Dudley’s little Archie.

Three summers ago, her dentist told her to see an oral surgeon. Something about a lump. Tests, biopsies, crying herself weak while Vernon hovered nearby. Never a deft hand with women, her Vernon. Women or feelings in general.

Cancer.

Cancer in a lump not much larger than a pea and at the time, fully contained in a knob on her jaw just barely past the point where the jaw hooks into the skull. Two centimeters from her brain. Treatable, they said. It wasn’t one of the hopeless sorts of cancer, but it wasn’t one of the sorts they snip out quick as you please either.

She pulled some strings with someone at the hospital to get the best they had.

Petunia found herself on an exam table while a Dr. Granger poked and prodded at the lump, fixed her dark eyes on the X-Rays so hard Petunia thought they might burn through, and then announced that a just cleared three- hour radiation treatment was the best bet. The treatment had better odds of cleanly killing it and was something you only did once, followed by a brief chemotherapy regimen.

She talked it over with Vernon and scheduled the appointment. The name Granger kept smacking around in her head and making her jumpy, but she wasn’t sure why.

Harry called up not that long after. Told him that he’d heard from Hermione (which explains the Granger) and Cho (apparently, the hospital administrator and wife of the oncologist) that she was sick. That’s all he’d been told. Sick. More than they should have told him. But nothing that anyone walking past her on the street wouldn’t have sussed out from her thinness and the hat she wore when almost all her hair fell out.

She told Harry. He said he would have wanted to have been there for her. On his mother’s behalf, at the very least. Mentioned that he and Dudley are getting on much better now that they’re both dads.

Dudley was the only one besides Harry to grow up, she sometimes thinks.

-----

Hermione’s fingers tiptoe through the fold-out maps as the clerk tortures an already badly-creased copy of the newspaper. He’s a round man of sixty-something, with a neatly trimmed mustache and madcap, bushy eyebrows. The owner of the place, she suspects, going by the fact it’s not a chain as well as the shabbiness of the cardboard stands for the snacks and knick-knacks.

They needed a ladies’ room, and for some unknowable reason, Fleur wanted to stop at a petrol station. Hermione is faced with picking out snacks that will appeal to a literal faerie princess while staring at a rack of the sort of sugary lunacy her mum and dad had taught her to fear as a little girl.

They really have no business being here.

Fleur’s ridiculous car doesn’t seem to run out of anything, or get foggy windows, or lose one iota of traction in sleet.

Her feathers have stayed out the entire drive her pupils reflect in the rearview. The reaction time and eyesight that’s brought them from the Highlands to lower England in four hours rather than six is that of an eagle.

Hermione’s got a hunch that the comforting charm on the seat leather would represent a breakthrough in ergonomic research, if a Muggle orthopedic surgeon could replicate it. She can climb in with aching shoulders and climb out feeling like she went to a spa.

Simone is staying at Hogwarts with some new friends, at least through Christmas morning. Much to Fleur’s horror, and Hermione’s delight, their youngest was sorted into the newly minted House Weasley. None of the houses are exactly what they were before. That’s the entire point.

Yet House Weasley is the descendant of House Gryffindor, and Ginny Weasley had calibrated Fleur’s fear of thirteen-year-old Gryffindors.

-----

Gabrielle is the best thing that ever happened to him. She’s whole in the places that he’s cracked, which makes them perfect together.

She’s a veela, though, and veela enjoy being mothers but most of the time, one or two children is all they can get from a human father, especially a pure or half-blood wizard. So when their oldest was followed up by identical triplets, Harry noticed a distinct and frightening gleam in Gabrielle’s eyes. Word must have spread, because when they visited the enclave the next winter, he could feel dozens of blue eyes following him everywhere, and Gabby’s hand gripped his so tight he’s still surprised he didn’t need any Skele-Gro potions.

If he doesn’t watch it, he’ll be tied to the bed and they’ll have a quidditch team to raise by the time Lily’s out of school.

He’s stood here a long time now, staring at a powder-purple BMW panel van with tinted windows. They got it off a delivery service. Gabby insisted that some particular thing about the way the car’s frame works was important ‘for safety’ and he got the sense this was something she learned in her Beauxbatons classes about survival. If driving what amounts to a brick standing on end keeps them or their daughters safe, then that’s what they need to do.

The Chosen One not only drives a minivan, he drives a minivan that his wife retrofitted from a company car and gave him as a birthday present. If only Sybil Trelawney knew how loopy her prophecy would get at the other end.

-----

Hailey calls out, her voice ringing up and down the hall. Excalibur isn’t in his doggy bed, but it’s clean and fur- free. So Dudley came home a while ago, if he had time to wash it.

She lets her bag drop to the basket by the door as she passes. It’s stuffed with student papers from her upperclassmen and needs to be graded by New Year. She’d rather not look at it. One of them wouldn’t know a boson from his own bollocks and worse, she’s pretty sure he thinks he can ‘boost’ his grade by getting in her pants.

“Duds? Prim? Archie?”

“Mummy!” Archie hollers from somewhere upstairs. “Come quick!”

She scrambles up the stairs and finds Archie standing in the doorway to his sister’s bedroom, pulling back on Excalibur’s harness with all his might as the sheepdog-ish mutt barks and snaps at something in Prim’s room.

Before she can reach the door, her little girl shrieks and something throws Hailey against the wall.

-----

Lily snorts from her hiding space in the farthest, hardest-to-see seat in the back.

“Should I have brought my fighting-dark-wizards shoes?”

Gabi slips one of her heels off and dangles it on a finger.

“You are veela, little ones. Fight evil in style.”

Lily folds her freckled arms and flicks lint off her favorite shirt: A silk shirt in a decadent shade of plum that her mother picked out, but worn thin at the collar and cuffs because she is her father’s daughter. She stares right back.

“I’ll stick with my jeans and trainers, thanks. Easier to run away in.”

Harry smirks into the rearview.

“That’s my girl.”

-----

Hailey tucks her ears between her knees and forces herself to breathe.

It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. The episode third year at uni was worse. I have Dudley to help now. Just because I’m seeing things now doesn’t mean it’s gotten that much worse. Right?

“Right.”

She looks up and finds herself face to face with a man with garish glasses right out of the least fashionable parts of the 1970s, a tangle of black hair, and the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. He’s wearing a tweed jacket over flannel and he’s got a knobby stick tucked behind one ear. He holds a small bottle of something, a small, gilded, stained glass bottle of something under her nose. Does he just rob thrift stores for a living?

“Take whatever you want,” she croaks. “Take me if you want. Just don’t hurt my kids.” He squeezes his eyes shut and flops down against the opposite wall, puffing at his hair.

“Merlin, Hailey. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help Primrose. And you. Dudley never mentioned having a cousin?”

“You’re Harry?”

“I’m not what you were expecting?”

“I’m losing my mind, aren’t I?”

Harry huffs.

“If you’re losing it, then I never had it and I’d rather that weren’t the case. Grab a blanket, yeah? I’ll bring Prim to you.”

“Prim’s not ho-SHIT!”

That would explain how a weasel ended up wearing her clothes.

“Yeah. Transforming into her beast as a first bit of accidental magic...she’ll be a cracking witch. But it’s scarier for mum.”

#topsyverse #boxing day disaster #fleurmione #fleur x hermione #harry x gabrielle #fleur delacour #gabrielle delacour #harry potter #teasers

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kintatsujo · 3 years

Text

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part FOURTEEN

You’ll see why this one took a while in just a second, I did that thing where I drew a whole ass scene again

Content warning for fantasy religions based loosely on Christian schisms

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

So while Link is getting acclimated to Castle life and getting hugs from Marla and Tonbo (and also getting unofficially adopted by the royal family) Astramorus flies back to the Sky Temple with his loftwing.

And he has a lot of time to think while he’s doing it; I don’t know how fast a loftwing flies but even so it would have taken some hours on Hera’s back and you don’t have anything to do up there but think about why you got blasted through a wall by a god-queen. So he gets back and he’s feeling pretty fucking subdued when he hands Hera off to the Sky Temple commune’s gardener/bird caretaker, Maurice.

[Image description: Astramorus, looking tired and still missing his hat, his hair a mess, is standing opposite a short and round mustached man with bushy eyebrows dressed in the same priestly robes, except that this man has his sleeves shortened to his elbows and is wearing thick gloves. This man is holding Hera the loftwing by a lead, while she makes a particularly vacant happy face. “NAYRU’S EYES, man, WHAT HAPPENED?” Astramorus gives a very small smile, and after a pause, answers, “TURBULENCE.” The man harrumphs skeptically, then says, “Well, LORD SERENUMBRA from the LORULEAN ORTHODOXY showed up three days ago and he’s been giving me ADVICE ON MY TOMATOES, so turbulence or OTHERWISE I’d appreciate you DISTRACTING HIM before I commit some WEEDING.” Astramorus smiles. “Ah,” he says in understanding. “Yes, thank you for your PATIENCE, Maurice.” End ID.]

A note on Maurice, originally I was going to make him look like Gaepora OR Rauru and then Ice suggested basing him on Maurice-Belle’s-Dad and I liked that, so I blended the ideas a bit.

I think I’ve mentioned that Lorule and Hyrule have different takes on the Hylia religion, haven’t I?

Basically since this Lorule is just the country south of Hyrule instead of a dark-mirror-universe world, Invid suggested that part of the idea might be that Lorule insists that Hyrule is wrong about which country the Golden Goddesses left the world from, and that the Triforce belongs there instead. I kind of played with that a little further, and so now part of the thing is that their royal line is actually also descended from Hylia directly, except that at some point a sister broke off from (one or the other of) the royal family, founding the Hilda line versus the Zelda line.

And real quick here’s the Hilda of this story, which I promise is relevant:

[Image Description: Sketches of a tall, black haired woman with pale skin and blue eyes and extremely long pointed ears, dressed in a cape and dress of purple, dark blue, red and gold. She wears a blue and green belt trimmed with gold and black gloves, and a diadem featuring a red gemstone and golden spread wings. There is an inverted Triforce symbol on her sash. She is also wearing black lipstick and red blush and eyeshadow. A sketch to the side shows her making a decidedly less dignified expression with the note “All the finery and rouge is a desperate attempt to fool you into thinking Hilda is in her twenties but she’s only actually seventeen, same as Link.” Another sketch shows her next to an old man with round glasses and priestly robes different to the Hyrulean priests, who only comes up to her chest. She has her hands on her hips and is ranting at him. A note reads, “Hilda TOL.” End ID.]

Anyway the thing is that currently, the two churches are relatively peaceable with one another, they have joint gatherings to quibble about tradition and who should be allowed to have what sacred treasures and who has to bring the roast boar next time, and that is how a very young novice Astramorus ended up as friends with the man he would eventually match in equivalent rank, Lord Serenumbra. Who gets a nice picture equivalent piece to Astra’s introduction because of symmetry:

[Image Description: The same short priest from the picture with Hilda. He has white loosely curly hair, circular gold glasses, a hat similar to Astramorus’s but in red, a dark red robe over a black underdress, both trimmed in gold, and is wearing a heavy golden neck piece with an inverted Triforce and golden wings framing a blue disc. To the side are various comic panels; in the first, he has taken an extremely young Astramorus’s hand and is saying, “Let me be the first to CONGRATULATE you, my friend!” In the second, he’s spread his arms wide while approaching Astramorus and Catena, Link’s mother. “Let me be the first to CONGRATULATE YOU, my friends!” he’s saying, and Catena laughs, giving Astramorus a rough side hug that lifts him off his feet despite her only coming to his chest, while Astramorus gives her a gooey smile. “TOO LATE,” she says, “I told my mum first,” and laughs. In the last panel, Astramorus has collapsed limp into a chair at a dining room table, his hair in his eyes, his face wet with tears, propping his head on one arm as Serenumbra pats his shoulder from behind the chair. “Let me be the first to say,” Serenumbra says, “How DEEPLY SORRY I am, my friend.” End ID.]

This is awful but that’s currently my favorite picture of Astramorus.

Serenumbra’s design is based on the priest and philosopher from ALttP and Link Between Worlds; the philosopher’s robes were red so I sorta priestified them. The blue disc in the center of his neck piece represents the Moon Pearl from ALttP, which was actually red in the game but blue in some of the promotional materiel, and the blue was a nicer contrast. The Moon Pearl was mostly important because it let Link run around in his human form in the Dark World but I always liked it because it was sort of weird and mysterious. In Four Swords Adventures there’s actually a LOT of moon pearls and they let you make portals between the worlds. There isn’t going to be a lot of world hopping in this AU, I just thought it was interesting context.

Anyway here’s two old friends having a conversation, image description and a little more commentary plus some bonus poking at Astramorus at the end:

[Image Descriptions: Astramorus is entering a room with a rounded door and a coat rack on the wall. “Seren?” he calls. “ASTRAMORUS, are you QUITE all right?” Serenumbra answers. He is sitting at a round table in the center of the room; there are two dining chairs, one of which he is sitting in, and opposite of him is a comfortable looking rocking chair. “I came because I heard about your SON, have you still not found him?” Astramorus, looking deeply pained, straightens some of his hair with one hand. “I found him,” he says. He settles into the rocking chair with a long creak. Serenumbra is clearly shocked by his demeanor. “Astra,” he says, concern clear in his face, “What HAPPENED?” Astramorus stares at the ceiling while looking like death warmed over. There is a panel fading from light to dark to indicate the passage of time, then we see that Serenumbra has a hand to his mouth in thought. “So the queen refuses to see the DANGER here,” he says. Astramorus has folded his hands together. “She’s right about my SON, though,” he answers. Serenumbra is quick to defend Astramorus to himself: “Well- he’s such a SOFT BOY, you wanted him PREPARED,” he begins, but Astramorus stops him. “I pushed him too hard, too SOON, and with too little CARE.” Astramorus lifts his hands and grins painfully, continuing, “WHAT was I DOING, trying to teach him how to FIGHT when all I knew was an ADULT’S routine?” He puts a hand to his chin, still smiling. “I must be the STUPIDEST MAN ALIVE.” “Astra,” Serenumbra begins again, and Astramorus interrupts again. “My wife used to tell me I WORRIED too much, did I ever mention that?” He asks. His face turns solemn. “It was even one of the LAST THINGS she said to me,” he says. We get a glimpse of young Astramorus and Catena together backlit by the sun; she’s wearing a blue version of the classical Link costume with a sword strapped to her back and plate armor on her shoulders, he’s wearing his priestly robes and hat. She’s reached up to grab his face, grinning, while he’s put his hands on hers. “And then she died,” Astramorus says. He sits up, animate once more. “What else could I DO but worry?!” he demands. “You’ve studied the legends, same as I-” he subsides again- “That mark on Link’s hand may as well be a DEATH SENTENCE.” He puts a hand on his face. “And I’ve so THOROUGHLY FAILED him that now I’ve put the Royal Family in danger TOO.” Serenumbra puts a hand to his chin, thoughtfully. “WELL, you never KNOW,” he says, “Princess HILDA is more of an age with Link, maybe the Triforce of Wisdom will arise in the LORULEAN line this time.” Astramorus laughs. “That doesn’t change the SITUATION, Seren,” quietly adding “But also KEEP DREAMING.” He then puts his hand to his mouth. “How do I even BEGIN to atone?” Astramorus asks. “Ahh, old friend,” Serenumbra answers, soothingly. “If only Catena were still WITH us, she’d know how to ease the boy’s burden. Why-she’d face down GANON HIMSELF if it came to that!” Astramorus makes an intense face, as if he’s been suddenly burdened. Serenumbra stands and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Get some REST, dear friend, you still look TERRIBLE,” he says with a smile. Astramorus is wringing his hands, staring forward. End ID.]

DUMBASS BRAINCELLS ENGAGED.

I didn’t expect “Got pegged by his wife so hard that the mere invocation of her name knocked him back to his senses after over eleven years of fucking shitty behavior towards their son” to be on the bingo card for this character when I started this project either, but this is Draft 0.5 so anything can happen XD

Astramorus is so layered now what the fuck!

[Image Description: Serenumbra, face full of concern, asks, “Astra, what HAPPENED?” Astramorus stares at the ceiling like death warmed over. Behind him are the words “HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND.” End ID.]

[Image Description: Serenumbra, face full of concern, asks, “Astra, what HAPPENED?” Astramorus stares at the ceiling like death warmed over. Behind him are the words “WELL FIRST OF ALL I FUCKING DIED.” End ID.]

[Image Description: Serenumbra, face full of concern, asks, “Astra, what HAPPENED?” Astramorus stares at the ceiling like death warmed over. Behind him are the words “...my wife made this chair.” End ID.]

Catena got into carving as a hobby during long trips but she started making furniture while dealing with nesting urges while pregnant, so imagine this little tank of a woman assembling a rocking chair for her tol noodle husband while ranting about her weird cravings.

#my art #au august #loz #loz au #Loz au: the courage of running away

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paranetics · 4 years

Note

hiya could you do a kiadam for 17. and 22.? if your not too busy. thanks !!

17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

He’s completely minding his own business, being friendly with his physics textbook, all pressed up against the end of the bookshelf in the library, successfully having a love affair with headache-inducing math equations, when Mira ambushes him.

“Hiya,” she says, suddenly right in his face.

“Aisghls!” he gurgles, in a completely manly way, thank you. She sits back on her heels and laughs at him, loud and mocking. He scowls at her.

Her braces are blue now, matching the streaks in her hair. She looks nice, he decides, all neon green and blue. The loudness of her wardrobe suits her -- she’d be strange to him if she ever tried to tone it down.

“Oh, man, you should’ve seen your face.”

“Fuck you,” Kai snaps, smoothing out the pages of his book. “I am busy learning how to destroy the AP Phys exam. Stop being a distraction.”

She pouts at him. “Come on, you're seriously not still mad at me about the ceramic pig.”

“I’m always going to be mad at you about the ceramic pig,” he says primly. Then he sighs, unable to resist. “What’s up?”

Her smile turns bright, and his heart does that familiar little stutter. Kai has always, always loved her. Sure, she’s Adam’s best friend and has inclinations more Reeve-based, but there’s always going to be something about her that just catches him in the right spot. He’s over it now, and he has erm, other areas of interest, but she’ll always be special.

“Nessa’s having a party--”

“Ugh,” Kai interrupts.

“--with alcohol--”

“Double ugh.”

“And cute boys will be there,” Mira wheedles, whipping out her best puppy-eyes.

“I don’t care,” Kai says, shuffling away from her and looking back at his textbook. The particles will... he reads.

“Adam will be there,” she tries. Obvious trump card. Goddammit.

He cuts his eyes toward her, calculating. She’s grinning, triumphant, confident that she’s got him. He groans internally, because it’s either that he goes to this party and enjoys at least twelve percent of it, or Mira and Adam will wake him up from a dead sleep sometime in the AM, drunk and needy.

Part of his resistance is a lie, he always likes parties. He doesn’t like Vanessa, but she’s Reeve’s friend, and by proxy, Mira’s friend. He can pretend to like her for one night, especially if he gets to hang out with people. What can he say, extroversion. It’s a disease.

It’s just, recently, there’s been this trend. It’s like he’s been cursed.

Kai pretends to think about it.

“Fine,” he grits out.

“Yay!” Mira says, standing up and doing a little celebratory wiggle. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and unlocks it. “I’ll add you to the group text. Also, I want Reeve to drive me so you’re taking Adam alone okay bye.”

“Huh,” Kai says as she speed-walks away from him. “What? Hey!”

But she’s gone, vaguely eucalyptus-scented-shampoo left in her wake. Alone? With Adam? Fuck.

His phone buzzes.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

mirakat added humantorchkai to the group

abeaverdam: Oh he’s coming?

lochnessa: Damn I didn’t know he left his house anymore

mirakat: ya i cornered his ass in th library

mirakat: hes a total slut 4 skool

mirakat: kais my bitch tho lol so ya hes comin

mirakat: dam hes drivin u

abeaverdam: Is that ok kai?

humantorchkai: yeah

humantorchkai: when?

lochnessa: Friday.

Kai’s late to first period on Wednesday, which Reeve notices, and bugs him about for ten minutes straight. He rolls in twenty minutes after the bell, wearing the clothes he left on his bedroom floor, all rumpled up and disorganized, and without a note. He drops into his seat and makes it approximately two minutes before Reeve leans over, into his space, and starts the interrogation.

“Oh my God,” Kai says to the ceiling. “For the last time, my alarm didn’t go off.”

“My Spidey-senses tell me you’re a liar,” Reeve says, and seriously, what does Mira see in this complete dork? He’s so nosy.

Kai drags his gaze from the ceiling to stare at him. “I think your janky-ass ‘spider-sense’ needs a psych eval.”

Reeve crosses his arms and sniffs at him. “Rude. I thought we were friends.”

“We are--” Kai scrubs his hands through his hair violently, frustrated. He catches the smirk on Reeve’s face. “Hey! That doesn’t work on me anymore. I’ve evolved.”

The smirk doesn’t leave Reeve’s face.

The truth is, Kai’s late because he had a nightmare. Or a wet dream. Depends on your definition of either thing. It’s been reoccurring pretty consistently, and Kai always wakes up from it breathing hard, adrenaline in his veins, and a hard-on. Today just happened to be shittier, and he couldn’t get back to sleep right away, so he overslept when his alarm went off.

It’s pretty much the worst, been happening for almost a month, and Kai is slowly losing his mind. But. whatever, the important part is this: he’s with Adam, and Adam kisses him. They could be in space, or in a submarine, or whatever Kai’s subconscious feels like cooking up. They could be anything, pirates, elven rebel warriors, it doesn't matter. In every dream, Kai’s with Adam, and at some point Adam leans over, the smell of Hennessy whiskey on his breath, and kisses Kai.

It’s why Kai’s been so rigid lately, avoiding his friends and refusing to go to parties, because of what happened Last Time he’d gone.

Mad Libs! Fill in the blanks, Sherlock.

He’s so totally, totally, totally screwed. And no one is allowed to know, not even Reeve, who knows Adam’s a flirty drunk and that Kai’s pathetic, and hasn’t even told anyone any of Kai’s other secrets, because this? This is world-ending levels of FUCK.

So, when the bell rings, Kai basically sprints out the door to avoid Reeve.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

speedyskeet: should i bring da weed

reever: ohhh shiiiit hell yeah

lochnessa: No LSD though

speedyskeet: :O

speedyskeet: um ok MOM

reever: wtf ness

reever: psychedelic rights!!!

speedyskeet: let me get us fkd up!!

mirakat: wait didnt we hav 2 call an ambulance 4 coop last time u brought more than weed to a party

mirakat: or was tht a different school

speedyskeet: .........

speedyskeet: ok so im assuming edibles and my bong right

Kai takes his lunch to Mr Tucker’s room.

Mr Tucker is the APUS history teacher for the senior class, and he is the only non-STEM teacher that Kai likes. Mira is also his favorite student, so he lets them eat lunch in his room. It’s better than fighting for a spot in the crowded cafeteria, and Kai likes hiding from the rest of the student body.

Adam, Reeve, and Mira are sitting at one of the table groups when Kai walks in with his plate of chicken nuggets, Vanessa and Skeet nowhere to be seen. They’re probably getting high in the parking lot.

Mr Tucker is scrolling through youtube, his computer desktop displayed on the projector screen.

“Why’d you look up Nyan cat?” Kai asks, tilting his head as he watches Mr Tucker scroll.

“It’s stuck in his head,” Mira pipes up, helpfully.

Mr Tucker grunts confirmation and apparently selects the version he likes. Reeve groans when it starts playing, slumping forward over his tuna salad. Mr Tucker picks up his normal vegetable-based salad, his bushy mustache wiggling in that way that means he’s smiling.

Kai sits next to Reeve, across from Adam. Mistake, Kai realizes too late. Big mistake. Because now they have to make eye contact, and Kai’s belly catches fire at the memory of drunkAdamhe’sKISSINGMESOMEONEHELP when he looks down at his plate of chicken nuggets. It’ll be obvious on his face in a few moments, he’s never been able to fight off a blush well, and then there’s going to be Questions. Capital-Q Questions.

But Reeve’s talking about, like, whatever drama majors talk about, and when Kai chances a peek up, Adam’s not looking at him. So.

Kai can’t help it, okay? He’s creepy. Sue him. No wait, that’s not-- ugh.

Kai studies the contours of Adam’s face while he’s not looking. His high cheekbones and his sharp chin. His heavy eyebrows that are shaped perfectly (”Ugh, you’re so fucking gross,” Reeve had said when Kai had voiced this thought aloud. “His eyebrows? I think you need to ask him out. Get it out of your system.”) and his eyes are that warm shade of brown, almost gold, soft and kind.

His hair is longer now, and errant curls flop over his forehead and around his ears. Kai watches the long line of Adam’s throat when he tilts his head back from the force of laughing at something Reeve said. Kai’s transfixed by the inviting stretch of dark skin, entertaining a thought of leaning over and just biting down so it’s not his fault he doesn’t see it coming when Reeve violently jabs him in the rib.

Kai jumps. “Ah! What the fuck?”

“Language,” Mr Tucker says in the toneless inflection of someone who doesn’t really care but responds on reflex. He’s now scrolling through Seasame Street videos.

Reeve shrugs, unrepentant. “You were gone there, dude.”

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, eyebrows raised in polite curiosity. “Planet Zenon gone.”

Kai ducks his head. “I’m, uh, stressed about AP physics?” he tries.

“Uh-huh,” Reeve says, “and are you asking us to confirm that for you?”

“Leave him alone,” Mira interrupts mildly. “Only, like, a hundred people a year get above a three on that exam.”

“Wow, how is that class still funded?” Adam asks.

“Elitism?” Mira guesses. “Maybe it’s like, a torture thing. Like, a test within a test.”

“What,” Reeve says, “like, if you pass you can become a super-secret spy?”

“Or I can, like, do another Chernobyl. Or I’m allowed secret access to government secrets. Ooh, maybe they’ll tell me the moon is a projection into the sky.” Kai says, warming to this idea.

“Then how would they explain waves?” Reeve asks.

“Uh, giant wave pool,” Kai answers.

“Hot take: the world is in a giant wave pool,” Mira grins at him.

Adam blinks almost in slow-motion, the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks, a smile growing on his face, and Kai is once again caught like a fly in honey. Just like that, all the saliva is gone from Kai’s mouth, and he’s completely lost the thread of whatever’s happening around him.

Okay, so, recap: totally, totally, totally screwed.

adam: U sure you’re ok driving me?

kai: dam i swear its fine

kai: i’d say something if it was a problem

kai: my parents have been trying to kick me out basically every weekend, this’ll make them so fucking happy

adam: Lol

adam: [A stock photo of two white parents sitting on a beach towel in a tropical location, smiling adoringly at each other. In the blurry background, a toddler with similar skin color and hair is being attacked by a seagull.]

“There is a PROBLEM!” Kai announces, flopping heavily onto his bed, tossing an arm dramatically over his forehead. Mira doesn’t even look up at him.

“Hm?” she says from the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She’s looking more at her iPad than at him.

“Oh my God,” Kai groans. “You don’t even care. I’m nothing to you. You enjoy my suffering.”

“Die white man,” Mira says tonelessly. “I’m trying to beat my old high score in Tetris. What’s your damage.”

“I have nothing to wear on Friday,” Kai moans, pained.

“What? Why do you even care? Your regular clothes are fine.”

“Oh my God, Mira! It’s a party,” Kai breathes the word like its holy, a precious thing nestled in the crook of his tongue, not to be defiled by people who wear school clothes to special events. “And I want to get hit on.”

“I’ll hit on you,” Mira promises. The iPad makes a wah-wah-wah sound. She sighs, setting it aside and looking up at him, expression thoroughly unamused, clearly blaming him for her high-score loss.

“I did not do that,” Kai says. The blood’s started rushing to his head, so he sits up and blinks away the black spots as they dance in front of his vision. “I just wanna be hot,” he whines.

“Okay, so, wear that stupid blue button-up with the tigers on it, and the black skinny jeans. It brings out your eyes,” she elaborates. “And tucked-in button-ups are hot on dudes. Oh, and--”

“If you’re gonna Queer Eye me, I swear to God,” Kai complains.

“Will you just... I was gonna say you should wear a tiny bit of eyeliner. It’s like, accentuating your features or some shit.”

“Why should I trust you?” Kai asks playfully. “I’ve never seen you go anywhere near a make-up in my life.”

Mira shrugs. “I saw it on Instagram. Anyways, Reeve said I have ‘good bone structure’, what does that even mean?”

“That he’s an idiot and I can’t believe you’re into him?” Kai ventures. Mira glares at him, so Kai leans back on the bed, rolling his eyes up to the bedroom ceiling at the glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars that have been there since he was seven. “Okay, okay. He was probably trying to compliment you, but since he’s a robot sent by aliens to infiltrate the earth he did it in a really bizarre way.”

Mira perks up. “You think?”

“He said ‘good’.”

“What should I say back?”

“Erm, that you’ll have his babies?”

Mira throws one of her glittery highlighter pens at him. It bounces off the center of his forehead and onto his lap. He laughs, picking it up and tossing it back.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe say that you like his bones, too.”

Mira takes out her phone.

adam: [A picture of a pina colada sitting on a kitchen counter in a pool of sunlight.]

adam: Winky face

kai: you could just like, use the emoji keyboard instead of typing it out

adam: Don’t make me frowny face

Kai spends fifteen minutes messing with his hair in the mirror. He gels it sticking up, twists his mouth critically at his reflection, and wets his hands to wipe it out. Nothing’s working for him today. It’s just one of those things, his clothes seem to hang off him awkwardly, and nothing looks right.

He makes a sound of frustration, and his mom pokes her head into the bathroom.

“Oh,” she says. “I thought you were going to a party?”

“Mom,” he growls. “I’m getting ready!”

“Hm.”

She pushes the door all the way open, surveys him from head to toe, and reaches over to run a hand through his hair, leaving parts sticking up in her wake. Kai looks in the mirror. Now, instead of awkward ‘trying-too-hard’, he looks artfully tousled. He unbuttons two top buttons of his tiger shirt, and messes with the collar to make it look like someone had grabbed it and reeled him in for a kiss. He grins at himself.

“That’s better, I think,” she says.

“Thanks Mom,” he says, shuffling past her and out to the hallway.

“Limit yourself to three drinks!” she calls as he stuffs his feet into old converse. “If you get too intoxicated to drive, spend the night! Just text! Don’t forget to wear condoms and--”

Kai shuts the door in her face.

His car is a silver Prius, owned five times prior to him. The interior always smells a little bit like shamrock shake and in the winter requires a prayer and three engine turnovers to start. Kai loves it.

He pulls up to Adam’s street and texts without looking that he’s close. He parks in the street, and jogs up to Adam’s front door. He raps his knuckles on Adam’s door, the red one with caterpillar decals, and a blue handprint on the doorknob.

Adam throws open the door. “Gimme a sec, gotta grab my jacket.”

He’s wearing a white shirt and Kai’s favorite jeans of his (do Not judge him, okay, liking your crush’s ass is basically a given and is no longer considered a sin under the New Testament, so really Kai’s not weird for liking this pair of Adam’s jeans because it accentuates his butt.), the ones with rips in the thigh and at both knees, because Adam lives reckless and dies reckless.

He jams his feet into vans and grabs the heavy olive jacket off the coatrack and follows Kai out to the Prius.

“You look nice,” Adam says, offhand. Kai feels how hot his face immediately gets and hopes it isn’t ugly, sometimes his blushes look like a rash.

“Thanks,” he says, rubbing his neck, right hand fumbling for his keys.

They slide into their seats, and Kai is hit with the violent-sense memory of Hennesy whiskey, and dark streetlamps, and Adam’s soft voice and brown puppy-dog eyes imploring Kai, look at me. Look at me, please. And. And.

His phone buzzes.

“Oh, Vanessa wants us to pick up some soda,” Kai says through the rock in his throat.

“Ooh, ooh. Cherry 7-Up, Jarritos Lime, uh like, a ton of Mountain Dew... and Coke! We’ll need Coke,” Adam rambles as Kai pulls away from the street and heads toward the local general store.

mira: WHERE

mira: R

mira: U

mira: 2

mira: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kai frowns at his phone. They’re in the check-out line, waiting for their turn with about three tons of soda on the conveyer. Kai’s got a fifty dollar bill from his parents, because they’re stupidly open-minded, but he’s still gonna make Vanessa pay him back. Adam’s inspecting the tabloids, making comments about all of the covers and whatever he thinks about them.

kai: WE’RE

kai: FUCKING

(Not sent !) kai: GETTING

(Not sent !) kai: DRINKS

mira: FUHDUK WHATTTT!!!?????????

Kai groans.

The party’s already alive by the time Adam and Kai get there, music thrumming against the walls of the house, the glass panes of the windows shaking with the vibrations. Weighed down by plastic bags full of drinks, and a little bit anxious, Kai fumbles with the door handle three times until Adam reaches over him and opens it.

The crowd is huge. He didn’t even know that Vanessa and Skeet knew this many people. There’s a wall of heat that hits them when they step inside, the difference between the inside and outside must be a solid ten degrees. Most people are crammed in the living room, near the speakers, where a sort of impromptu dancefloor has evolved. There are plenty of people lining the hallways, sitting on the stairs, and spilling over into the other places of the house.

Vanessa has changed the lightbulbs to fuschia, cobalt, and teal colors, so the house looks almost like a club from a TV show. There’s this haze over everything - and, yep, definitely Skeet’s weed - that makes it seem smoky and mysterious. Adam kicks the door shut behind them as they begin to navigate the crowd.

Skeet’s leaning against one of the walls, talking to a tiny girl with piercings and too much eyeliner. She tosses her head, her hair flying up like a halo for a moment, luminescent in the multicolored lights of the house, and leans closer to Skeet. She’s holding a red solo cup, Skeet’s holding weed, and Kai’s arms are starting to hurt from all the soda.

“So, your, like, real name is Skeet? What kind of name is that? I mean, like, who does that to their kid?” she’s asking, valley girl accent and everything, even twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Skeet shrugs, unbothered. “My parents are hippies.” he spots them, then, and lifts his joint in a get over here gesture. Kai and Adam shove some people to stand in front of him. He grins. “Oh, dudes, nice. You got drinks. I wasn’t sure if you would, since Mira told us that you, uh, made a pit stop.” he waggles his eyebrows.

Kai groans, flushing.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam says, lifting up his bags. “for drinks? Hello?”

Skeet leers, grin stretching bigger. Kai scowls. He’s going to eat her one day, all Hannibal-Lecter style.

“Where is Mira, anyway?” he cuts in before Skeet says anything weird. “Where should we put the drinks?”

“Oh, just, you know,” Skeet makes a vague gesture with his hand that doesn’t really mean anything. “I think I saw her in the kitchen?”

“Thanks,” Kai mutters, shoving through the crowd and deeper into the house.

Mira and Vanessa are leaning against the sink, Reeve’s standing at the counter, completely covered in bottles of alcohol, thumb and forefinger at his chin like he’s surveying fine art.

“Oh! You made it! I hate vodka without coke,” Mira says, striding forward and grabbing the bags from Adam.

Kai followers her back to the counter, and shoves the receipt into Vanessa’s limp hands without looking at her. Together, Kai and Mira start to set up the drink line, stacking up all the empty red cups at the edge of the counter as they try to make sure all the soda and alcohol are equally accessible. How Skeet even gets this stuff... he shudders to think.

Kai waits until Adam and Reeve have wandered out of earshot to lean into Mira’s space. Vanessa had vacated the premise the moment it looked like any physical work would be happening, so he doesn’t worry about her particular brand of nosiness. He takes his phone out of his pocket and tilts the screen so she can see it.

“My texts didn’t send,” he tells her in a low voice. “We weren’t actually, you know.” he flushes violently.

Mira shoots him a grin. “No, I guessed that something had happened. It was just funny. You look nice.”

He smiles at her, genuinely, which means his gums are probably showing. She looks nice too, in her little black dress with a flared skirt and combat boots. The neon green streaks in her hair glow in the weird light of the house.

“I like your outfit,” he says. The din in the background is starting to grow. More people have probably showed up.

She nods at his jeans. “Cuffed jeans. The true mark of a bisexual.”

Kai nods very seriously. “I can’t leave my house without announcing every aspect of my sexuality to the entire world.”

Adam’s talking to a group of people at the other end of the kitchen, his smile is blindly white in the pink light, skin pitched a shade darker, a stark difference against the glow of his white shirt. Staring, unable to look away, Kai steals Mira’s cup and takes a swig. It’s straight vodka, so Kai coughs immediately when it hits his tongue.

Mira laughs at him.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

speedyskeet: do any of u know anyone named travis montery

mirakat: no

lochnessa: No

abeaverdam: Nope!

humantorchkai: no

reever: nah

speedyskeet: fucking L lmao

speedyskeet: im kicking this fool out then

Kai’s wandering around, pleasantly buzzed from two Cherry 7-Ups with a tiny bit of vodka, looking for any familiar face. Mira and Reeve had abandoned him pretty much straight away, he’d left Adam alone in the kitchen, and he’s actively avoiding Vanessa.

He stumbles around, moving his shoulders a bit in time with the music, his body gone languid and loose from the heat and the alcohol and the atmosphere.

His phone beeps at him again. He really hopes it's not Skeet checking with them before he bounces a guy again. It’s just Mira, he sees, when he’s fumbled his phone out of his back pocket. He has to squint to read in the pink light amid the thrumming bodies of people all around him.

Eventually, he escapes the crowd and heads down the stairs to the “game room” and finds another living room, with a soft white carpet and a couch in front of a big flatscreen. There’s a group of about a dozen kids, plus Kai’s friends, sitting on the carpet in a circle by the couch, with a beer bottle laying on a Monopoly game board. Kai blinks, the lights here aren’t fun colors, and everyone in the circle raises their arms and cheers when they see him.

He walks over to them. Mira grabs his arm and begins to drag him onto the carpet beside her. The group begins to chant.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

Oh, no fuck, Kai thinks, beginning to resist Mira’s grip on his arm. His drink is sloshing about, and Kai holds it away from his shirt and pants as he tries to reverse his crouch and pull his arm back. Skeet reaches up and confiscates the cup, downing the rest of it in one go.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

But he’s buzzed and his coordination is spotty, so when Adam reaches out with his hand and spins the beer bottle, Mira tugs once, hard, and Kai crashes onto the carpet, and the bottle spins,

and spins,

and spins.

And points the neck straight at Kai’s disheveled spot in the circle.

So, let’s revisit that cursed theory, shall we?

Kai looks at Adam, and Adam looks at him. He’s got that dopey half-smile on his face, and his pupils are blown wide, iris a thin gold ring around them. Kai knows when Adam’s drunk, or blackout, and he’s tipsy right now, just like Kai. And... oh no. But the kids in the circle are jeering, giggling delightedly.

“Uh,” Kai says.

Adam licks his lips, and Kai tracks the movement of his tongue helplessly. His eyes are moving on Kai’s face, like he’s cataloging everything, like he can’t keep them still. Kai’s mouth is very, very dry, and he misses having the cup in his hand.

“So, uh,” he says, and the tension buzzes even harder. “Is this, like, a kissing thing?”

Skeet grabs him by the arms and manhandles him up. Reeve and Vanessa grab Adam and start frogmarching them down the short hall toward some rooms and closed doors.

“No,” Skeet says, “This is more like a seven minutes in heaven thing.”

“Wait,” Kai says. Skeet reaches past him and opens a door. “Wait.” Skeet pushes him in, and Adam follows behind. “Wait.” The door clicks shut, then there's a clunk, then the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door.

Kai tries the knob, but it's locked. He jiggles it, but his muscles won’t cooperate and yank hard enough. Adam could probably break it open, but Kai has the vague thought of Vanessa’s parents and property damage, and underage drinking.

“Guys!” Adam yells. He pounds on the door with his fist. “Guys! This isn’t funny!”

But they don’t answer.

Evil. Mental note: make sure your friends aren’t evil next time.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Kai sighs, giving up on the door.

They’ll just have to wait out the seven-minute sentence. It’s simultaneously worse and so much better than the alternative. This way, Adam won’t have to kiss Kai if he doesn’t want to. But also: he won’t have to kiss Kai if he doesn’t want to. It’s a testament to how drunk all of them really are.

Kai turns, presses his back against the door, and slides down it, pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his hands around his shins, and resting his cheek on his knee. He surveys the room. It’s small and dark, Kai doesn’t have the wherewithal to search for the light switch, but from what Kai can see it looks like a guest room no one ever uses and has accumulated with old junk. There’s a tiny window at the opposite wall that leads up to the lawn. Adam groans and drops onto the ground beside Kai.

The night is clear the moonlight is touching the window and peeking into the room. Adam’s shirt is glowing against his skin from the moonlight, his eyes a bright point in the semi-dark of the room. Kai locks eyes with Adam, and the tension from earlier crops back up tenfold.

This situation is... stupidly pointed. Kai’s pretty sure Reeve is the only person in the world who knows Kai thinks Adam is kinda hot, but he’d also have to be massively stupid to ignore the strain in their friend group lately.

Adam’s looking at him the way he does right before he reaches out to touch Kai’s hair, or brush his fingers against Kai’s freckles, or leans over to kiss Kai’s cheek. He’s looking at Kai like a hungry man, like he’s about to make the stupidest decision of his life and never look back. Kai can feel the pull of that look drawing him in, the temptation to run his hands against Adam’s chest, touching his shoulders or his mouth.

So Kai does the only thing he can think of.

“What did you think of that new Hey Arthur episode?”

Adam blinks at him. “Uh. You mean that kids show?”

Kai bites his lip and nods vigorously.

Totally. Totally. Totally screwed.

reeb: [A video of Mira on the dancefloor among a huge throng of teens. The song in the background is completely drowned out by people attempting to sing along drunkenly. She’s grinding against Vanessa, who’s wearing Skeet’s sunglasses and drinking a mimosa with a cocktail umbrella in it.]

(Not sent !) kai: let us out of here!!! its been like 15 mins!!!! guys!!! dam’s phone is dead!!!!!

(Not sent !) kai: goddamn it COME GET US

(Not sent !) kai: NOTHING IS SENDING!!

reeb: lol wya we cant find dam either

(Not sent !) kai: YOU LEFT US IN THE BASEMENT

“Ugh,” Kai says, flopping back down onto the pillows beside Adam. At some point during their imprisonment slash debate on the ethics of twenty-three seasons of the same children’s cartoon, they’d moved from the floor to the twin bed. “I’m pretty sure they forgot about us.”

“Well, it’s been like thirty minutes. And they’re drunk.”

Kai’s starting to sober up. He has to pee, and his mouth tastes like cherry coughdrops. He stands up on the bed, bouncing a bit on the mattress. He reaches up and touches the seam of the window and the sill.

“What are you doing?” Adam asks, trepidation in his voice.

“Uh, escaping?” Kai says.

Kai presses his foot onto the upside down elliptical that’s propped precariously against an old wardrobe. He puts some of his weight on it, testing. Satisfied that it won’t give, Kai lifts himself up onto it, closer to the window, and pushes against the glass pane. The window opens out suddenly, making Kai wobble. The wardrobe groans.

“Careful!” Adam barks.

Kai glances back at Adam, his worried eyes watching Kai from the bed, sitting up on his knees in a half crouch. Kai sticks his head out the narrow window, then his shoulders, and manages to drag himself up and out.

He turns back around and offers his hand to Adam.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll help you out.”

Adam climbs up onto the elliptical like Kai had, reaches his right hand to Kai’s left and uses his left to leverage himself closer to the window. The wardrobe and the elliptical make that sound again, like they’re scraping together.

“Hurry!” Kai says, afraid of the whole makeshift apparatus falling apart. Adam’s left palm slaps against Kai’s right and Kai pulls.

The elliptical falls over as Kai yanks Adam up, a great big crash resounding in the room they just escaped. Kai’s momentum and Adam’s weight makes Kai step back once, then twice, then his footing goes and he sprawls onto his back, Adam on top of him, in one big undignified heap.

Adam looks down at him. He looks more sober, too, like he hasn’t had much to drink. Kai should really be pushing Adam off of him. Or trying to sit up. But his hands are on Adam’s waist, and Adam’s looking at Kai’s face like he can’t quite look at anything else, and Kai cannot, for the life of him, break this moment.

Adam’s hands are on either side of Kai’s face, boxing him in. His breath puffs against Kai’s mouth over and over as he breathes shallowly. His eyes flick all over Kai’s face, and Kai’s thinking kiss me, please so hard he’s pretty sure NASA catches the brainwaves.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” he says, voice soft and vulnerable, like Kai has the power to hurt him with whatever Kai says next.

Kai’s hands tighten on Adam’s waist. He’s thought about this a lot. Like, a stupid amount. Who doesn’t daydream about confessing to your crush? But Kai cannot dredge up any words to say. He’s dry, completely dry, and he can only think about how good Adam’s weight feels on him. He dips his eyes to Adam’s mouth and thinks This is where I kiss him, right? and Adam’s eyes slide shut as he leans in, towards Kai, and Kai loses his mind.

The backdoor opens, the sounds of the party spilling out into the night air, pink light washing over them. Adam scrambles off Kai so fast that he’s pretty sure he breaks the world record for speed, and stands up.

Kai props himself onto his elbows and squints at the silhouette in the doorway.

“Vanessa?”

“Oh my God, there you guys are!” she leans back into the house to yell, “Guys! I found Adam and Kai! They were fucking around in the backyard!”

“Hey!” Adam snaps indignantly. “You locked us in the basement! We had to escape!”

Vanessa rolls her eyes at them.

adam: hey uh

adam: sorry about what i said when i was drunk lol

adam: i didn’t mean it

Kai turns his phone off and stuffs it into his bag, frustrated. He hadn’t meant to not talk to Adam all weekend, he’d just needed to think things through, and then his dad had asked him to help paint the deck, and he’d had to finish up some code for robotics and time had kinda slipped away from him without really meaning to.

He hadn’t meant to ignore everyone else, either, but they weren’t in a Situation with Kai on Friday night, and he’s not in love with them, and they didn’t seem to mind so much.

Kai had spent all weekend staring at the texts, in between being too busy to answer them, but he can’t figure out what to say back. He’d gotten them Saturday morning after the party, probably because he hadn’t stuck around long enough to be left alone with Adam again.

Kai had left because.

Well, because.

Because he feels played.

Is that it? He can’t tell. He just feels so hollow about it. Adam doesn’t mean to, Kai knows that, but it still feels like he’s being led on. Adam has kissed him once while black out and almost kissed him while tipsy and flirts pretty outrageously, and it’s all too much for Kai’s head, which is designed for building robots and lying to his English teachers.

So at lunch, instead of going to Mr Tucker’s room, he lets Freddie from Calc drag him to the auditorium to help build the drama department’s Spring play set.

He’s not avoiding anyone. He’s just... helping his friends.

Fuck.

reeb: ok i give

reeb: wtf is going on

kai: ?

reeb: don’t “?” me mfer

reeb: adam is sulking n shit and u’ve been sorta MIA

kai: i’ve been busy, sorry

kai: i am the captain of a team u know. its not personal. i’ll hang out with you guys soon

reeb: spidey sense says there is something u are not telling me

kai: i really do think your spidey sense is actually overactive bladder syndrome

reeb: [An image of the caveman spongebob meme.]

He’s in the library, sitting in his favorite spot nestled in the bookshelves, brow furrowed over The Great Gatsby, his English journal, the notes Hannah lent him, and the Sparknotes page for the novel, surrounded by every color highlighter and pen, just trying to get his homework done, when Adam ambushes him.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, out of nowhere.

Kai jumps, sending his highlighters and books flying. Adam is standing above him, eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed. He looks a little bit light a superhero, all righteous indignation at injustice, his muscles buldging slightly. You’re dead. Goodbye. his brain supplies.

“Holy shit,” he says, gathering his stuff back up slowly. “You scared me.”

Adam’s eyes soften. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Kai shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

The silence hangs there as Kai avoids his gaze, reshuffling Hannah’s notes back into their correct order. He’s lost his page in the book, so he opens it to the middle and starts looking for the correct page number. There’s no sound in this corner of the library except for Kai’s over-loud breathing and the turning of pages.

Go away go away go away, Kai prays, wanting the world to end so he won’t ever have to face this moment. He thinks about the echo of Adam’s voice in his memory, Kai, look at me, the feeling of Adam’s weight in his lap, the ache Kai feels when he looks at Adam, and wishes that he could just stand up and run.

Adam clears his throat. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says again, only this time it comes out more like a question.

Kai keeps his face as blank as possible, schools it into something politely curious unlike the shattered glass mosaic he feels like. “Am I?”

Adam rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says haltingly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have... come on to you like that. It was inappropriate, and we were both drunk. And I didn’t mean it.”

Kai looks at him for a long moment. He can feel it, a rock on his chest, crushing him. He feels the ball in his throat, the hot prickle against the backs of his eyelids. “I know,” he says eventually. His voice comes out steady, even though he feels like he’s falling apart.

“So... we’re cool?”

Kai forces himself to nod. “Okay.”

“Really? Because I still feel like I fucked up somewhere here.” Adam takes his hands out of his pockets to open them, palms up, like he’s pleading. “Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

And it’s now or never. As much as Kai abhors the idea of talking about his feelings in the school library at 4 PM, as much as he wants to just lie through his teeth and stitch this all back up into one big internal bag of FUCK and pretend like nothing happened, he’d be leaving Adam hanging, and Kai’s not a dick.

He takes a deep breath. Then another one. He tries to channel his internal Reeve, but decides against it because Reeve’s kinda an asshole.

“I just... wish you did,” Kai says eventually. If he wasn’t himself, he’d slap him. Adam stares at Kai like he’d just spoken another language, like he’d just spat out part of a puzzle to piece together.

“Wish I did... what?” he asks slowly.

“Mean it,” Kai grits out, the words dragged from him. He feels ridiculous. This is stupid.

“Mean...?” Adam says, like he’s stupid. Kai scowls at him.

“Do you remember the St Eve’s party?”

Adam shrugs, looking helpless and confused.

“I drove you home that party. I drive you home every party. And every time we’re alone, you say that you like me, that you want me to go inside with you, that you think about me all the time,” Kai’s stomach is churning and Adam looks like he’s about to faint.

“I didn’t...”

Kai can’t hear him say it again. “And I know that you’re just drunk, and that’s just what you’re like when you’re drunk, but I just... I just wanted it to be true so bad. Part of me kept driving you home because I wanted you to be like that with me, part of me just wanted to pretend. But then you kissed me, and I just...” Kai makes a helpless gesture with his hands.

Adam licks his lips. He’s breathing a bit hard.

“...Fell apart,” Kai finishes.

Adam’s looking at him, wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look, pure panic. Kai’s fucked it up, ruined their friendship, destroyed their friend-group, and will probably be unable to look anyone in the eye for a very long time.

Adam didn’t want to hear this. Kai should’ve just lied, shut it all up and let himself wither up inside. He should’ve avoided Adam harder, or refrained from falling in love with him in the first place. He should’ve just dated Jesse when she’d asked and made himself get over Adam.

“How long?”

Kai blinks. “Huh?”

“How long have you wanted...?” he shrugs.

Ah. The million dollar question.

“Officially? Middle of junior year. If I’m honest with myself? Probably since middle school.”

Adam’s mouth opens and closes nonsensically. Kai asks God to strike him down, just so this can end, just so Kai can go back to trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Gatsby and Jay, just so Adam will stop looking at him like that, like Kai’s killed his puppy.

Adam drops to his knees in front of Kai.

“Okay. Since freshman year. And I’m a liar. I did mean it. I kept thinking, you know, maybe you’d like me back, because I could see you looking, but I just couldn’t make myself say anything. And I meant it. I mean it. I do. I want to kiss you.”

Kai swallows. He’s feeling that dangerous thing again, like there are snakes in his chest, or his feelings are in a bucket that’s about to overflow.

“Okay,” he squeaks out.

Adam leans down and fits their mouths together. It’s chaste, and Kai’s lips are a little bit chapped, and he didn’t close his eyes, but when Adam pulls back Kai smiles so hard his mouth hurts.

And he leans up to kiss Adam, insistent, insistent, tasting Adam without Hennessy whiskey (and he does taste fantastic), and something electric happens to Kai’s spine when their tongues touch. He feels like he’s going to burn up, burst into stars, create a fissure in the earth that goes down to the core, or all three at once.

Adam licks along the roof of Kai’s mouth and yeah - that’s the one thing he’d like to never, ever, ever forget.

He’s about to be totally, totally, totally screwed.

Group: dandilyin hoes MFERsssss!! skeet DONT CHANGE CHAT NAME

mirakat: omfg

mirakat: k & a suckin face in library

mirakat: [A blurry creeper picture of Kai pressed against the bookshelves, Adam leaning over him. Their silhouettes are blacked out against the sunlight streaming in through the window, so they almost look like one body. It’s taken at an angle and half of a wooden shelf is in frame.]

speedyskeet: arent they in this GC too

lochnessa: Lmfaaooooooo

speedyskeet: they r gonna see this.....

reever: WTF ADAM’S INTO KAI???

reever: ?????

lochnessa: What planet do you live on

speedyskeet: fuckin jesus christ reeb

locknessa: Literally no one knew KAI was into Adam. EVERYONE KNEW ADAM WAS INTO KAI

reever: WHY AM I THE LAST ONE TO KNOW STUFF

mirakat: s2g i tld u this whn we were @ fortescue’s u nvr listen 2 me

“I hate them all,” Kai announces.

Adam looks up at him from where his head is pillowed on Kai’s thighs, Pride and Prejudice held aloft.

“Don’t worry, I set all their ringtones to Maroon 5.”

send me a ship + a prompt and i’ll write you a drabble!

#The Hollow #My writing #answer #kaidam

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justformyself2 · 3 years

Text

Notting Hill ³

Hi guys!!. I'm back, not by popular demand hehe. Well, at least I'm not showing up empty-handed. Hope you enjoy it and if you did please let me know. Yes, it gives me motivation.

This is my participation on my friend’s @lullabieswrappedinlies Rom-Com writing challenge (go check her out, she is so damn creative and amazing). This story is based on the movie Notting Hill and will be added to my MASTERLIST.

"You don't want to talk about it?"

The 'narrow eye move' does not affect people such as Alexis, who remains leaned on the counter, gazing at you from above for the past ten minutes.

She huffed low and kept going. "It's okay if you want to talk about it."

"Alexis... I just want to take care of my store. I want to sit here till it's time to receive Agnes and five more women who will try to make me do coffee runs for them and then, hopefully, or not, I will sell a book or two before Kirk comes in to try to steal something, then I want to close, go home, lay down on my bed and think about the fact that I might go broke somewhere in the next three months."

"Kirk is at it again? Shit, I thought he fled after trying to steal from the stalls."

"He let the beard and hair grow a lot, lost weight, most people still don't know is him, yet, but I'm on it."

Her eyebrows raised and rested.

"Well, if you can prepare for the thieves you can definitely prepare for when-."

You take a long audible breath, rearranging the bills scattered, which made Alexis retrieve for a moment.

"He is not coming. He can be an asshole, but he is not as audacious as Kyle."

There was a hint of confidence flourishing inside your chest, although Alexis's persistence kept accelerating.

"He is famous, that makes you gain some audacity, thinking that it will allure people into doing what you want. I'm just saying, I'm here for you."

"Well, thanks. Did you talked to Kyle yet?"

"Fuck no! He can rot in hell for all I care about. That night was a disaster! The son of a bitch suddenly showing up."

You watch her squeeze her left thumb inside the other palm, harshly, before you shove the pile of bills under the glittery paperweight.

"Did he suddenly realized he wanted to be a father after ten years?"

She lets out a bitter chuckle.

"Appear at my front door with the most ridiculous, bushy mustache, like he just came out of a seventies porno." She huffs aggressively, archiving the blended expression of disgusted and angry.

"I couldn't even recognize him."

"Well, it's been years." You reminisce. " Did you really thought you could avoid it? At some point-."

An, almost discreet, movement next to the shelves interrupts the conversation.

The tired creak of the wooden floor exposed Nova, purposely or not. Judging by the posture shown seemed calculated. She had both hands inside the red apron, combined with a hint of annoyance spread on her features, very clearly portraited.

Alexis is dynamic, remaining natural regarding what her daughter could have listened to.

"Hey baby, are you ready to go?"

Nova sighs and her shoulders go down.

"No mom, I just arrived. What are you doing here?"

"I work next door, Nova."

"Still."

"Well, actually I wanted to take you all to eat something."

Cold lie, easy to spot, mainly because it was a fact that your sister hates to eat out, and that was why your niece's gaze, filled with doubt, was shot in your direction.

It didn't take a lifetime to recognize the type of moves, of which, Alexis would appeal for damage control. She needed to reassure her daughter, keep her on her side.

"She should have told him to go back the same path he came, but no, she just let him in." It was the following thing Nova said to you after arriving from school today, dropping her pink backpack into the ground behind the counter, followed by "I feel like she will accept him back at some point."

There was no remark on exactly when the pendulum of your niece's feelings towards Kyle became so stuck on the pure hatred side, although expected to happen at some point.

The complicated questions completely stopped at the thirteen. Alexis couldn't decide between relief or disbelief till browsing the history bar on the laptop while innocently- as she said- tried to find the recipe for cannolis and instead found Kyle's Facebook page, where he was incredibly active. There were photos, places, friends, trips, a lot of women, one of them Carly Raymond, his highschool sweetheart, who still had a perm.

There was nothing else for Nova to be curious about, and it is not your niece's fault technology was way easier to navigate for information than your sister was.

Alexis reacted cold, in the way you wouldn't expect, not actually trying to salvage the situation because a part of her would never forgive Kyle, the same part that wished Nova did the same.

"Was I supposed to lie to her? Make it worse, make her doubt me too? What he did is hateful, can I blame her? I was the one who always told me he would break her heart no matter what. He didn't even have to come here to do it, and do you think he is ashamed of all that crap online? Traveling, living his life around the world but not being able to come to see her, choosing this 'lifestyle' over here?"

"I know a good, quiet place, that opened down the street."

You ignited, but Nova kept the skeptical stare.

"Sounds great, come on Nov, get this apron off."

"Ok. We will have to talk at some point anyway."

You watch Nova give up, untying the apron behind her back, approaching the counter in slow steps, and leaving it there.

"That's my girl."

"Wait, I have to take something first."

Alexis watches her search inside her backpack as you got up from the chair, taking your sky blue Weichen wristband.

'Closed for lunch' in pink Sans Serif font as Nova made, was hanged on the inside of the glass door before you locked.

"Sorry for the inconvenience", advised to be added on by your niece was revoked by you since no one, not even Agnes would have felt inconvenienced by the closing. You still had the, sometimes, foolish hope of the weekends, when the streets would be fuller than now.

Leading the pace you could only hear Alexis's voice behind your back before you could spot the large Navy blue plaque of Ledbury restaurant and its crowded sidewalk, right next to Walmer Castle pub.

"Guys" You called. "There it is." You pointed front, towards the other side of the street, stopping on the sidewalk as the cars accelerated on the green light.

Turning around you capture your niece's smile as your sister whispered something in her ear. On Nova's hand, there was the same Smithsonian Magazine from this morning.

You forgot to tell Alexis about the way she sounded, reading on the drive to school an extended report about how brains are wired to capture and respond to emotions.

She held the magazine, folded in one hand while eating a Dairy Milk with the other, and in a very 'Alexis' tone discoursed: "Basically is just our brain responding to our way of thinking, even when we anticipate something in our minds. We don't even have to see it."

Your sister still whispered something towards Nova's ear, but the smile placed there died down as she looked, eyes wide, ping-ponging between you and something else that appeared to be amidst the crowd, standing on the other side. She pokes Alexis's arm with emergency.

Spreading as easy as the people starting to move again around you, the same tension, mirrored on their faces, irradiated on the pitch of your stomach right when sister's eyes went cold.

"Excuse-me." You hear, close to your right ear, remaining standing still.

"Oh, my God!" Another voice, a woman's voice as you can now notice as Alexis leaves Nova's side to grab your arm.

The woman's voice sounded alarmed and so does the beats of your heart as more people start murmuring.

"I can't believe it is him."

"Oh! Lord, it is Mike Levine."

Cars started to honk as the crossing street became fuller, and the crowd starting to form began to work as a magnet of more curiosity and obstacles, but Alexis's arm stood strong over your shoulders, navigating and crossing you to the other side.

You wished her arms were stronger than the temptation you blamed for making your back swerve.

There was a moment of not knowing what to expect till you came to realize expectations grew in a matter of seconds. There must be was a reason to want to look back at Mike Levine, surrounded by strangers all over, ungratefully creating an illusion of a time that didn't seem to pass.

He was still the same as you came to see once or twice in a free subscription magazine, but he wasn't plastic anymore.

#RomComWC #RCWC #John Krasinski #john krasinskixreader #john krasinski imagine #original story #mine #notthing hill #IMAGINE #fanfiction #fanfic #interative imagine

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ninjakasuga · 4 years

Text

Sonal Celebration Week Year 2

Here’s my next submission! @boundforfreedomsonsal Taking place after a certain infamous issue of the comics, but in this ‘universe’ a certain ‘slap’ never happened. Never, ever, ever, ever screw that noise! For the rest of the prompts, I’m going to use my ‘Reunion’ fic as the base for this take of the Archie-verse in that Sonic and Sally got together after Endgame. So unless I state otherwise all my submissions will have some sort of interconnectivity for readers to enjoy!

Double Date:

“Unck really decked out this place into a full friggin’ restaurant while I was gone in space didn’t he?”

At the quip stating the obvious, from across the table Knuckles and Julie-Su, both busy with their own meals; fried steak in gravy, with a side of various veggies, and a double burger with fries respectively; merely nod and continue eating. Not that either Echidna was unwilling to engage in small talk, they were just that hungry!

Chuckling at the two, for being engrossed in their meals, but truly not begrudging them, Sonic gave his Uncle’s restaurant another quick look around. The place had been a walk-up, and sit down at a counter to eat and go joint; now it was a full-on eatery with indoor dining and looked nice. Not fancy-fancy, but it was clean and well kept. He was glad in a way, his Uncle kept busy while he was tracking across the galaxy to get home. So much had changed, both at home and across the planet with Eggman pretty much trying and in some cases, succeeding in reclaiming territories the original Robotnik held and then lost after his defeat.

Realizing he was dwelling on stuff that he should focus on another day; Sonic shook his head to clear it, and the hedgehog had not just finished the gesture when he found a delicious chili-dog hovering near his face. Smiling, he craned his head to his side. “I can feed myself Sal, I still got one arm I can use.”

The lovely squirrel-munk holding said object of deliciousness, merely smiled back in a manner that made Sonic’s heart melt. “You do, but…” Her free hand snaked into his uninjured hand (the other was in a sling) and held it firmly. “You can’t feed yourself while I’m bogarting your remaining appendage.” After a brief beat, her expression turns to that of a sly grin he was all-too-familiar with. “Also I’m not letting go, so let me indulge you sweetie.”

Shrugging in defeat, Sonic opened his maw, and bite down on the offered chili-dog. Chewing and swallowing the bite in quick order. Then going for another bite, and rinse and repeat until it was gone. After licking his lips, he made a moan of delight as his taste-buds delighted in the morsel he just polished off. “Mmmm-hmmm!! By the Almighty I missed food from home!”

Seeing an opportunity for a playful jab, Knuckles swallowed his own bite, a roguish grin on his face. “Gee, a whole year in space, and he just missed the food from home. I guess Sally and the rest of us are chop-liver.”

Unable to help herself, Julie joined in, setting her half-eaten burger on her plate and clutched her chest as if wounded. “Oh woe, we mourned and cried over his seeming demise and he only cares for chili-dogs upon his return!! Sally, you should break up with him, or just break him. Make for a helluva show after dinner.” The tease in her voice was thick, and the ‘ham’ piled on as the pink-furred echidna ran with the joke and enjoying herself immensely.

Narrowing his eyes as the two echidnas start to laugh together, Sonic rolled his eyes again and exhaled an exasperated breath. “Why did we invite you two to double date again?” Looking to his left side, he feigned a hurt expression, seeing Sally was trying to hold back her giggling by covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I see how it is, fine maybe I will just take this plate of chili-dogs and be by my lonesome!”

Snorting, Sally reached up with her hand not holding his and cups his face tenderly. “S-sorry, but I needed that laugh. Forgive me?” She pleads softly, batting her eyelashes in a cutesy manner that Sonic only had seen Sally use back when they were kids and wanted her way. Darn it, it still worked on him!

“Well, eh I’m in a forgiving mood, plus I missed you too much.” He replied back, moving his arm not in a sling from where she held it between them on the seat and snaked it around her waist to pull her closer. Once close enough the two share a quick kiss, followed by a nose-to-nose nuzzle, ending with the two smiling at the other as they stare into one another’s eyes.

Any further playful quips died on Knuckles and Julie’s mouths as they both simply smiled and let the two have the moment. Briefly, their gazes met, and not unlike the pair across the table; they each slid a hand into the others’ and squeezed back. Considering they both dealt with their own ‘death and separation’ situation a year ago just before Sonic was thought to have died; they could deeply empathize with the need to reconnect.

When you had a second (or in Sally and Sonic’s case third), chance to be with your loved one after thinking they were gone; you took it. This was something both couples at the table understood to the core.

“Hey, Jules?” “Hmm?” She looked over at Knuckles, finding his purple eyes staring gently into her own.

“Love ya,” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. Simple, and direct but it was very Knuckles to the core.

Which to Julie, meant worlds, her own face turning a darker shade of pink. “Love you too… but you made a mistake.”

This made him blink, as well as worry he goofed somehow. “I did?”

“Yeah, you should’ve kissed me here.” Sliding closer, and her arms around his neck Julie fastened her lips to his, kissing her boyfriend deeply, uncaring of the public setting.

Both Sally and Sonic stare at their friends boldly making out and slowly turned to look at one another.

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinking Sal?” The blue hedgehog inquired with one of his usual, cocky, devil-may-care, smiles.

“If your thought is ‘I need to make out with my girlfriend and show up Knuckles and Julie-Su’, then yes, yes I am in full agreement.” She replied playfully, eyes sparkling with want, if not need for such a thing. Scooting closer, Sally carefully angled herself, while making sure she didn’t disturb his arm in the sling. “I love you Sonic, welcome home.” “Glad to be home, and love you too Sal, now c’mere.” Leaning in, Sonic finished closing the distance and the two happily kissed, and like their friends across the table, not caring too much if they disturbed any patrons in the restaurant.

Luckily for the two couples, at this mid-evening hour, and the fact all of Knothole had celebrated Sonic’s return earlier, most of the city was winding down if not asleep. Save for one or two people drinking coffee in the corner booths, only two others in the place paid them any mind.

As the plate with her sandwich was laid before her, followed by a refill of her tea, Rosie Woodchuck glanced one last time at the booth near the windows by the door; rolled her eyes, and smiled. “A bit improper making out so boldly in public, but ah, young love, and it’s so nice to see the Princess smiling again.” Turning back to the hedgehog with greying fur over the counter, her eyes looked into his, her smile widening as she noticed his gaze was on the two couples as well. “Seeing you smiling again is also a welcome change.”

Chuck chuckled, his mustache twitching as he returned his attention to Rosie. “Just happy to see my dear Sonny-boy again. I swear these kids are already making me grey early.”

Rosie idly touched her own greying locks before picking up her sandwich to take a bite. After she chewed and swallowed, she spoke again. Her voice soft, with a touch of forlorn but also with purpose. “I’ll take being grey as long as they’re alive and happy.”

“Likewise,” He nodded firmly, then looked around the diner doing a final head-count since closing time was within the next thirty to forty-five minutes. Eyeing the couples and then Rosie again, Chuck waggled his bushy eyebrows as a cheeky smile crossed his face. “I’m surprised you haven’t ‘ahemed’ at them for such impropriety.”

“I’m going to let it slide tonight, but next time I will.” The former royal nanny and all-around caregiver replied with her own wicked smile. “Sometimes, it’s alright to let young love be… bold. It’s not like I wasn’t young once myself.”

Hearing that Chuck couldn’t help himself. “So even prim and proper Rosie made out with boys?”

“As I said I was young once.” She stated with a slightly saucy smile.

“You’re not old yet Rosie, you’re still a knockout.”

“Flatterer.” She snored, but she sent him an appreciative glance and reached over the counter to touch his hand resting on it. “Still, thank you, Charles it’s nice to hear that.”

“I can tell you much more later tonight if you wish.” He added in a polite if sly manner.

A sparkle lit in Rosie’s eyes. “Is that a promise?”

Lifting her hand, Chuck placed a gentlemanly kiss upon the top of her hand. “If the lady wishes.”

A light blush at the smooth but very welcomed gesture, made Rosie feel tingly. “I think, perhaps after you close up, you escort me to my home, and we can enjoy some ‘proper’ quality time out of the public eye.”

Now with the same sparkle in his eyes, Chuck smiled warmly at Rosie as he kissed her hand again. “It’s a date.” Author’s Notes: I had fun with this one, especially Chuck and Rosie’s dialogue at the end. May not have had as much Sonic and Sally focus, but the story just flowed to me.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sally Acorn #Sonsal #Sonally #Archie-Sonic #romance #Knuckles the Echidna #Julie-Su #Rosie Woodchuck #Uncle Chuck #Fun

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blackbodhisattva · 3 years

Text

Partners

Chapter Three

Rating: soft M

Characters: Jotopa Kaid, Toby

Warnings/Tags: mutual pining intensifies even more, clone culture, talk of being abandoned, force fuckery

Summary: Anakin Skywalker calls up his friend and fellow Knight Jotopa Kaid to go "on a little mission" with clone captain Toby and basically ruins their lives.

Word Count: about 6k

Chapter One, Chapter Two

---Mission Continues---

First day of officer training, and he was a wreck. Of his batch, only himself and Pyro were selected for commissions. The rest, Joker, Checkmate, Lucky, Kit, Snow, Blue, all showing exceptional promise, had gone into their own specialized training regiments. Toby (still then called Worrier) and Pyro also had their specializations, but heaped on top was the added burden of command.

The young man Jotopa watched did not think he was cut out for the job.

This was a memory of a dream. A dream of a memory. She remembered it as vividly as she had then and was as helpless to stop herself from sinking into him as she had been then. Jotopa did not recognize this exact instance, but there were so many; it would have been impossible to remember them all.

Worrier at this age was long and lanky, his limbs this side of gangly as muscles began to fill in the spaces between his stretch-marked skin and bones. His hair was regulation cut, a wisp of beard and mustache attempting to play around his jaw and lip at this late hour. The day must have been a particularly stressful one: the honey brown of his eyes was hooded and downcast, an expression she learned to recognize as anxiety and unhappiness. A shock of sympathy rushed through her, and not for the first time, she wished for the ability to pull the young man into her arms, to comfort and soothe.

His younger brother Pyro had an arm draped around his hunched shoulders, soulful dark eyes tired and pinched with worry. They leaned into each other, their curly heads touching, one drawing strength from the other and sending it back just as effortlessly as breathing.

“It’ll be alright, ori’vod. We’ll be alright. Don’t worry. You can do this: I know you can,” Pyro was murmuring soothingly, a familiar refrain that had taken on the cadence of a lullaby and often lulled Jotopa to sleep when she was wakeful. Worrier’s mouth twisted, head dipping before he shrugged out of his brother’s embrace. Pyro’s shock lanced through him, crackling across his skin like a bolt from a training blaster to the chest. Worrier grimaced, tugged Pyro down to lay side by side on his bunk.

“You’re right, vod’ika, of course y’are. I can do this.” He said, forcing levity and assurance in his voice when he felt none, when there was none. He couldn’t do this, not under his own strength, but for Pyro, he would.

Jotopa slowly opened her eyes, the ever-present sound of rain still ringing in her ears even as the cacophony of the rainforest raced to replace it. She breathed out, slowly, deeply, took stock of her surroundings. Cassios-7. Beneath the starboard wing of her powerless ship in the makeshift camp set up by clone Captain Toby. A bedroll surrounded by netting infested with bugs. Most of note, the man curled around her, face nestled in the space between her shoulder and the back of her neck, not quite snoring. She swallowed and decided to focus on the pair of fox-like creatures moving across the tree line opposite her. She thought they must be going for the stream hidden not six paces into the dense thicket. Four days ago, she and the man who had his muscled arm draped across her middle found it as they had scouted out the immediate area around their ship and camp. She truly had not pegged him for a cuddler, and every night since the first morning she awoke cradled in his arms, she was somehow more surprised than the night preceding.

Her lips twitched up as she remembered the exasperation that flickered over his handsome face and through his Force signature when she told him she could sense the water was safe to drink. He had squatted down, the sunlight dappling attractively over his bare shoulders, and pulled out the water sampling kit. Eyebrow raised in unabashed challenge, he had asked if she didn’t mind if he double-checked, and she didn’t think she did the best job of concealing her immense amusement as she agreed that it was best he do so.

Hard to believe he was the same person from her dreams. Jotopa pulled her upper lip into her mouth, worried it with her teeth as a frown knit the space between her eyebrows. It didn’t make sense, she thought as she absently ran her palm up the captain’s warm forearm, eyes still carefully following the fox duo. The pair were a sleek sapphire, their tails bushy, their undercoats a lush emerald. Though not as long-limbed as Loth cats, something about the way they moved, about the glint around those dainty ink-black paws, convinced Jotopa that they were several orders of magnitude more dangerous. Her captain was much the same, Jotopa concluded as, with a deft leap, one of the agile blue and green foxes snatched a bird out of the sky.

With a sigh of regret, she slipped out of the warm shelter of his arms and stood to stretch. Her eyes were drawn to the sleeping man at her feet, sweeping her eyes over him briefly as she thought about the day ahead. Though the past four days had seen them very busy, Jotopa couldn’t help but feel slightly impatient. The jungle was dense, and both she and her captain well knew the dangers of setting off without having a game plan or without having any navigational methods or bearings to help them should they get lost. She thought she was doing a good job of keeping her desire to leave the confines of the camp to herself. It couldn’t be said that she did not enjoy Toby’s company. The opposite was true: she enjoyed his company too much. Watching him as he went about his self-appointed duties, the play of light and movement of muscle beneath his sweat-slicked skin quickly established itself as her favorite hobby. Jotopa did her best not to indulge, but his smiles often drew her helplessly in, little gifts he gave generously, and she was addicted to the way his eyes lit in surprise and pleasure when she did something he supposed out of the ordinary.

But all of that fueled her conviction that they leave this place as soon as possible, so when she could tear her eyes from him, she found herself pacing the edges of the tree line, waiting for her captain to finish his preparations. The coil of tension that burned hot in her navel each time Toby set eyes on her form turned into a restless energy that she was eager to put to use in the jungle. If she were able, Jotopa would gather every atom of frustration into her legs and leap over the treetops and directly to the top of the spire. But she would wait for him. She would wait for him to be ready.

As all their usual navigation methods were unavailable, they were forced to fall back on more primitive means. It was something they were both well versed in, and even luckier for them both, that Captain Toby, being a scout, was especially suited. Jotopa smiled at the sleeping clone captain, let herself admire his plush lips framed by beard stubble, the broad set of his shoulders, and the groove of muscles cut into his abdomen in the predawn light. Just visible above where the waistband of his blacks slung low across his hips, she could just barely make out streaking bands of stretch marks, the dark trail of hair that had its origin at his belly button, and she clenched her fingers to dispel the desire to reach down and touch them. There were things to do, and she needed to do them before he caught her gawking at him.

Jotopa silently slipped out of the netting, noting as she did that the foxes were gone, and the only evidence of their presence was the bloody remains of their breakfast just barely visible in the tall grass. A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head and made for the center of the clearing, where it was quickly becoming her habit to perform her morning stretching and katas before Captain Toby woke.

Face turned towards the sun, Jotopa spread her arms wide and simply listened to the world around her for a long moment. Master D’Aleric always said that a Jedi’s first duty was to the Force and that no Jedi worth his or her salt was ever remiss in taking the first minutes of the day in grounding themselves as deeply as they could in its presence. Jotopa took his lessons to heart, and for her, on Cassios-7, that meant greeting the sun as it crested the horizon and began to peek between the tangle of tree trunks shyly.

The sunlight was warm on already warm skin as she slowly dropped her arms. On her shoulders, her leather vest sat uncomfortably, and Jotopa, tired and irritated already from wearing it in the unrelenting heat and fearing to chafe if she continued, shed it with little thought. Feeling much cooler without the stifling weight of her vest, Jotopa quickly fell into her first form and, mind clear, allowed herself to think about the dream she’d had.

For nearly half her life, her dreams and idle imaginings had been haunted by images and scenes of a life for which she had no reference but of which she was sure was real. Worrier and his brothers were sometimes more real to her than the memories of her fellow younglings in the creche. When sadness threatened, when self-doubt tapped at her ragged shields with poison-tipped claws, she was as likely to ground herself by humming batch songs and snatches of cadence she picked up in her dreams as she was the songs of her covert or the techniques taught to her by Master D’Aleric. Without ever having spoken to him, he saved her life more times than he could ever know.

But it was one thing to know, in a distant way, that you were connected to someone. It was alright when the longing to see him face to face was an ache in her chest that she knew could never be satisfied. How could she fulfill that desire when she knew nothing of him besides his name and number, besides the fact that he was one unforgettable face lost among a sea of identical faces? It was an impossible dream. And it was safe. The longing she felt. The desire that grew with the long years, her feelings and regard for a man she was so certain she would never, ever in her lifetime meet. A Sentinel could not afford to dwell on what could never be, and Jotopa strove to be the best in her generation. The darkness was growing, and even though every dream, every glimpse of his face filled her with light, she couldn’t afford to falter, not when there was so much work left undone.

Jotopa grappled with the shock of Worrier as she often saw him in her dreams and Toby as he was now. The reality of it. The way everything about him was even more overwhelming than in her dreams. For so long, she had only known him by the name his fellow cadets had given him. It burned, it clawed at her insides when the Council disseminated the alert, and she was finally able to provide a proper label for her honey-eyed Worrier: clone trooper. Slave soldier. Born to die in service to the Republic. And the Jedi were the ones chosen to lead them to their deaths. It grated. It grated in a way, Jotopa couldn’t wholly attribute to her morals.

Often, she wanted to reach out for him and stopped herself. Since the war began, she dreamed of him less. His mind was often out of her reach, and she hated how much that worried her. But worse was the crippling relief every time she felt his mind return from whatever deep levels of unconsciousness from which it had been trapped and reach out towards her. It wasn’t fair, but then, she thought as she swiftly moved from the easier katas and into the more intensive forms, life didn’t promise fairness. Her fault for getting attached to a man she wholly couldn’t have. That he was safe was important. That she had an opportunity to spend time with him, to admi- (study, she corrected herself hastily, sternly, cursing when her concentration broke, and she flubbed her backflip).

She landed as gracefully as she could and rubbed her temples in irritation. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and seconds later, the sounds of Toby shifting as he woke reached her. Jotopa sucked her teeth, stomping off towards the tree line. She needed a stick to run through her katas. That would help her concentrate, she decided firmly. And worst-case scenario, she could beat herself to death with it.

—

A week back in the welcoming bosom of the Jedi Temple was enough to convince Jotopa that she did not belong here anymore. The man who called himself her Master was kind enough to show her to their old suite of rooms. He’d maintained them all these years, and the fact that he one day intended to come to collect her like a suit left overlong at the dry cleaner’s hung heavy in every breath of recycled air she pulled into her lungs.

The young woman that the young cadet, once known as Worrier but now called Toby, watched was a stranger in her own home. This was a familiar dream. A well-trod memory. The dimensions of these rooms were as familiar to him as his sleeping tube on Kamino. He thought she must often think of it, like picking at a scab until it formed a scar that she in turn was unable to leave off.

Sometimes, she remembered her room best, the moment she walked in and saw that everything had been left just as it was when she left it years ago. She would touch the desk, run a nail-bitten finger through the fine layer of dust, a thick feeling rising in her throat and hurting her so much the echo of it resonated in his skin and bones when he woke. At times, she would linger in the kitchen; eyes fixed on objects he didn’t know the purpose of.

But today was different. Today, she went down the road less traveled. Today, she spoke to her Master.

D’Aleric was always on the couch, waiting for her. The Chiss Jedi Master was friendly, kind, and compassionate. Tousled, close-cropped hair. Warm, bone-crushing hugs that never failed to make her feel safe and wanted. Robes that smelled of home. That was the Master D’Aleric young Kadijah knew. That was the Master D’Aleric who sat waiting patiently for Jotopa Kaid. When they alighted upon her, his crimson eyes were sympathetic, as if she had disappointed him somehow, and it galled Toby every time that it seemed as if she agreed with the assessment. If he were able, he would gather her up and protect her from the honeyed poison of her Master’s soft gaze.

“Come sit, my dear. Let us review the basics.”

Pack rubbing a blister on his naked back and feeling more vulnerable than he had since the first time he jumped, with nothing but his blacks and a breather clamped between clenched teeth, into the raging Kaminoan sea, Toby followed Jotopa as she slowly picked a path through the dense jungle.

If Joker could see him now, even he, who never heard a joke that could crack the impenetrable fortress of his face, would be doubled over in laughter at his predicament. Many were the nights that Pyro and Checkmate crawled into his tube, the three of them passing snippets of bawdy one-liners they’d picked up from other batches and squads between each other, weaving them into ridiculous stories and jokes that made even Snow pause, and there was hardly anything that could put him off his dinner.

How many times had Joker told the three of them, and him especially, that if they spent less time karking around, maybe they’d know the regs frontways and backways like he did, eh?

Well, tell a guy something enough, and it finally gets through his thick head. His batchers would be proud. Four days had come and gone since their arrival on Cassios-7, and Toby had not spent the time idle. Since his hardy little Jetii woke the day after their crash landing, he made it his business to learn the immediate area around them like the back of his hand. It was vital for him to have an excellent working knowledge of his surroundings. With so many unknowns about their circumstances and with so much of their equipment currently inoperable, his Knight would be depending on him to know what to do and where to go at all times.

So it was with surprise and no small amount of pleasure when on the second full day of their stranding, she joined him in familiarizing herself with the lay of the land. She was skilled, nearly as proficient as he was in many tasks. The little beauty could count paces and subtly make landmarks with the best of his vode, better than some. The thought didn’t rankle. There was a familiarity about her actions that he couldn’t quite figure out, something about her besides her staggering beauty that drew him up short time and again. But that was fine. Patience was instilled in him by the finest trainers in the galaxy. Sooner or later, it would come to him. What was bothersome was her casual dependence, her easy confidence in the Force, and if he caught himself challenging her assumptions here and there just to see her dark eyes narrow or the quick upturn of her plush lips, well, that was his business.

Knight Kaid. Jotopa. She wanted him to call her Jotopa. Jotopa. Jotopa.

Jotopa was a ball of impatient energy. It became clear to him early on that she was content with a more rudimentary setup than he was. Though he supposed with a derisive snort, if he had some mystical power to depend upon, he would be too. Given how much she seemed to enjoy pressing him on more trivial matters, Toby expected a struggle when he cautiously broached the subject of pausing for a few days in their camp. But she surprised him again, looking up at him with an earnest expression in her lovely brown eyes, listening to his argument with a focus that made his skin feel hot, and then agreeing so readily he later questioned why he even brought it up. The way she looked at him when she said she trusted him to know when it was time to go still made his heart thud painfully in his chest. Despite the resolution he made then and there to stay as far away from her as possible, Toby nevertheless found himself gravitating to her side by the time the sun was setting.

Despite herself, by the third day, she was pacing the bounds of the camp, her eyes scanning the sky, her hands on her shapely hips, head tilted towards the barely visible Temple spire as if she could summon the artifact to her side through sheer will alone. Toby spent many unproductive hours hidden away in high vantage points watching her. Jotopa was up even earlier than he was, but he often woke in time to watch her doing her stretches and her exercises. He would lay, sleepy and still, and admire the graceful movements of her body, so much different than any Jetiise he had ever seen before. Later in the day, he would contrast her early morning serenity with the way she delicately balanced on the balls of her feet, looking like she would sprint off into the jungle at any moment. It was a curious thing that the only reason she did not was that he asked it of her.

But regardless of how much different she was from other Jetiise, despite how she made him feel things he wasn’t supposed to be feeling, Toby figured she was still just a Jetii. He knew how to deal with those.

Joker would most definitely be laughing his ass off at his big brother Worrier right now.

In his defense, she caught him off guard: hers were the first pair of breasts he had ever seen (not that the fact made him any less certain they were the most perfect and well-formed in the entire galaxy). And it was morning. He hadn’t even had his ration bar yet, for Prime’s sake! It wasn’t like he’d never seen breasts before; he’d gotten the same thorough sex education and anatomy flash training as every other cadet. And even if he didn’t spend nearly all of his conscious hours on missions, he was sure he wouldn't spend his time as some of his vode did, trawling the clone intranet looking at all the illegal porn there was available; there were always more entertaining things to do than that. But even if he had, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight of her practically half-naked. He’d gawked at her like a dumb shiny, not sure what he should look at more: those parted full lips, her breasts in that ridiculous mesh top, those abs, those toned abs, or the alluring flare of her hips, aware in a profound way that the true answer was that he shouldn’t look at any of it.

Hard not to remember the way her dark areolas had tightened into tight little buds the longer he stared at her, thrusting so enticingly through her top that even now, his mouth watered. He was absolutely, miserably sure her skin was the softest thing he would never be allowed to touch and try as he might; Toby couldn’t figure where this conviction came from. At some point, she licked her lips (a move he followed with incredible attention) and asked him what his plans were for the day. He mentally thanked her for being precise. Maker only knew what might have come out of his mouth if she had been a little vaguer. Instead, through the rush of blood heading towards his groin, he’d told her that he was ready to make an attempt on the Temple. A lie, that. But one he would take to his grave.

If he thought about it, Toby knew he could easily recall innumerable situations that were much worse than this. Trekking through the jungle half-naked with only a knife to defend himself didn’t even touch his top twenty shitlist. Was it hot as fuck? Yes, even in halfsies, he was sweating his balls off, and even though every glimpse of her skin did nothing but reroute precious blood from his brain, Toby knew shedding the leather vest was the wiser decision. Was it noisy? Yes, loud as fuck, but it was nothing compared to 79’s when the Wolfpack rolled in fresh from a victory or in the Guard barracks that time Hound got ahold of contraband whiskey. And none of it so loud as cannons firing. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being without blasters and rifle, but Toby wouldn’t count himself an ARC trooper of any worth if he couldn’t adapt to that little handicap. Oh, and the biggest kicker: had he worked with worse Jetiise before? That was a resounding fuck, yes. He might have only known Jotopa Kaid for four and a half days, but in that time, she’d shown herself to have more honor, compassion, and grit than any Jetiise he’d ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on.

Just ahead of him, she stopped and crouched beside the trunk of a tree whose outstretched branches drooped with long, wispy vines. Carefully, Toby settled in next to her. The trees surrounding them created a thick canopy that obscured the sky, and the occasional shafts of light that pierced the quiet gloom were of indeterminate quality and impossible to tell time with. Among the trees, the air was hot and still, and at first, he wondered why his Jetii decided to break at this tree, but then he felt the slightest hint of a breeze cooling the sweat on his skin and picked up the faint movement of the draping vines. In the low light, their matching grins shone.

“I thought I sensed this break in the trees about a kilometer back, but I wanted to confirm,” she whispered. Toby tilted his head.

“How could you sense a change like that, sir?” He asked, curious despite himself. Though her expression remained the same, Toby was suddenly convinced she was self-conscious. She laughed softly, shrugging.

“The density of the Living Force changes in a clearing. It doesn’t empty, of course, because a clearing isn’t devoid of life, but it’s a different quality, you could say.” She cut her eyes away, cupped her elbows in her hands. “It was a hunch, anyway.”

Carefully, Toby parted the curtain of vines. “It was a good hunch, Jo,” he said as he looked out onto the clearing, taking note of the position of the sun and estimating that it was mid-morning. “The spire looks even closer from here.” At her indrawn breath, he looked back at her, only to find her staring at him open-mouthed.

“Sir? Are you alright?” He asked even as he shifted his position to check her for injuries. It hadn’t sounded like a noise of pain, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure, especially when they had limited medical supplies. She gently caught his hands in hers, halting his inspection.

“I’m alright, Toby,” she said, making a face. Toby cocked his head, eyebrows furrowing at this entirely new expression. A tendril of worry curled in his stomach, and he quickly reviewed their conversation, trying to locate his error so he could improve and she would smile at him again.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked when he drew a blank, and he tried to keep the anxiety out of his tone, choosing instead to stroke the pad of one thumb across the palm of her hand. Her’s were much softer than his by far, but even still, he felt the gun calluses on her fingers, felt the way work had toughened the skin. He didn’t need to take his gloves off for that: she often touched him on his arm and shoulder enough to sear her touch into his memory.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said vehemently, wresting one hand from him so she could rest it on his chest above his heart. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. You surprised me, is all.” The knot in his stomach loosened, a lazy warmth spreading through his chest at her touch.

“I surprised you?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. She smiled, all teasing eyes and bright teeth, and the anxious knot dissolved completely. When she moved to slide past him and enter the clearing, he let her.

“You often do, Captain. It’s part of why I like you so much.” She threw over her shoulder, and Toby rolled his eyes, glad neither that she nor his batch brothers could see his dopey grin.

---

By late afternoon, Jotopa decided that either they were lost or something was afoot. The spire that seemed so close in the meadow at mid-morning break was not closer for all their walking. Several times over the hours, she or Toby would stop and carefully climb to the top of a tree and regain their bearings, assure themselves they had not gotten lost or were going in circles. Each time they confirmed the same facts: they were on the correct heading, and the Temple looked to be no more than a kilometer or two away.

And yet, the sun was beginning to tilt downwards, and they were no closer to the Temple than they were that morning.

Honestly, she should have noticed sooner. Any other mission, any other time, Jotopa knew she would have, but ever since her encounter with Toby in camp before they set off, her concentration had been...scattered.

A more mature Jedi would have already brushed the incident off. The entire thing wouldn’t have even been rated as being anything of note. What did it matter, someone like Master D’Aleric or Master Lidan would have reasoned, that her clone trooper was attracted to her? The galaxy was teeming with life and full of possibilities. Was she so immature as to think that she was immune to being looked at, and was she so weak that she couldn’t simply shrug it off, release what discomfort she might feel from his interest into the Force, and focus her attention on the task at hand? She was a Sentinel, a Jedi who lived among the people and the shadows and brought light to them. Discomfort was as much a part of her day-to-day as eating and drinking.

It was only that his interest didn’t make her uncomfortable. It scared her, but only because she had convinced herself that what she felt was internal and limited to her own foolishness. So to be frozen on the spot, heart in her throat, while he looked at her with an expression that was so nakedly hungry, she would have known exactly what he wanted even if his Force signature wasn’t a billowing swirl of desire and frustration. It made thinking difficult. Certainly, Jotopa didn’t think she could be faulted for that, but even so, she was supposed to be better than this. She expected better of herself than this.

With a soft sigh, the young Sentinel looked out of the corner of her eye at her companion. The armor he had worn when departing the Resolute reminded her in many ways of the armor members of her covert wore, and she supposed that made sense. He and all his vode were clones of the Mandalorian Jango Fett, and the irony of that was not lost to her. His pauldron, helmet, and chest plates had bolstered his aura of lethality. Looking at him now, with only his vambraces and gauntlets on, the calm, watchful expression on his face as they picked their way through the undergrowth, the careful way he marked trees as they went, Jotopa decided he looked more dangerous and more natural, like this.

When they broke through a tangle of trees and found themselves in a small copse, Jotopa called for a break.

“We’re not going in circles, but we’re not making any progress,” Toby said, getting straight to the point as he rummaged through their pack and tossed her water and a ration bar. Jotopa smiled around her swig of water. There was a tree, larger than all the others and twice as wide, its bark peeling in long grey strips, whose roots pushed out of the rich black soil and created a small depression of moss and leaves. Jotopa dropped her hands to her belt, intending to use her kama as a makeshift blanket. Behind her, Toby made a choked noise.

“A-Ah, let me,” he said, and in a few practiced motions, his kama was drawn from his hips and draped across the depression. Jotopa blinked.

“Oh. Thank you.” She said, gingerly sitting. His kama was made of pliable synth leather, the black painted with thick blue stripes. There were faint scratches in the material and what she recognized as blaster burns that had been lovingly cleaned and repaired. In the Force, the kama sang with his signature. Jotopa smiled softly and looked up to where Toby had taken a seat on a root to her left.

“So,” Toby started, rolling his water bottle between his hands, a pensive look on his sweaty face, “how is it that we’ve been walking through this jungle all day, and we’re no closer to the temple than when we started?”

Jotopa shrugged.

“It’s probably some Force osik. It usually is, in my experience.” She said casually, reaching out to pluck a large pink blossom and study it. It was large, requiring two hands to hold it, the petals rich and shot through with deep blue veins. The stamens pulsed purple in the dappled light above. Toby made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. She thought it might have been a mix of disbelief and irritation. Jotops hid her smile behind the flower.

“Sir, you don’t even know what that,” he pulled in a deep breath and seemed to reevaluate himself. When he continued, his tone was more level but no less skeptical, “Force osik, huh? An astute observation.”

“Hmm, I know. It’s almost like we’re on a planet steeped in Force energy, and our mission was to retrieve a powerful artifact of unknown power.” She said dryly.

“Point taken,” he said with a chuckle, and she ducked her head, unwilling to let him see how much his laugh affected her. It wasn’t fair how much she liked him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

“Where did you learn Mando’a?” He eventually asked in a tentative tone. Jotopa smiled down at the flower in her lap, stroked the soft petals between her fingers.

“My mother taught me. I’m a foundling.” She said and felt his confusion roll over her skin even before he voiced his question.

“A foundling? But,” he trailed off at her self-deprecating laugh, and she did not see the frown on his face, lost as she now was in her memories.

“It’s a little confusing, I know. When I was thirteen, my Master traded me for intel. It was the right thing to do: he saved an entire village of children with what he learned. I was given to a Mandalorian who adopted me, and I threw myself completely into that life. Until my Master returned for me three or so years later.”

The copse was still amongst the shrieking of the birds. Jotopa could hear him shifting, feel his confusion and an undercurrent of some emotion that ran too fast for her to grasp or understand.

“He gave you away, and you went back with him. Why?” His incredulous, angry tone made her laugh. The answer was so obvious.

“The Force, of course. It told me that if I became a Jedi, I would find something extraordinary.”

He furrowed his brow.

“Did you?” She looked up at him, smiled softly.

“Yes. I did.”

He huffed, feeling his face heat at her earnest expression. When she looked at him like that, he was never sure what to do, and it didn’t help that her story was too much like his dreams for comfort. Bad enough that it made his blood simmer in his dreams; in person, he was nearly boiling with rage. It didn’t take a genius to see how much it hurt to be traded away like that, like something that didn’t matter, and even if she excused it or said that it was the right thing to do, Toby knew in his guts, she was wrong. She deserved better than that.

“Well, whatever it was you found, I hope it was worth it to you, Jo,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and offering to help her stand with the other. She took it with a grateful smile, and he pulled her up effortlessly.

“I think we should head back to camp. What do you think?” She asked. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and considered a moment before nodding.

“Think so. If we’re lucky, we won’t encounter any night predators.” He said pessimistically, and she laughed.

“Looking on the bright side, I see. On the way back, would you mind telling me a little about yourself, please?” She asked, holding her arms out for the pack. He shot her an affronted look and shouldered it. Slightly put out, she checked their position and headed in the direction of the camp.

Grimacing, Toby walked behind her in silence for several minutes. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she could carry the weight, far from it, but it was just a small pack. He was used to carrying much heavier loads, and he hadn’t scratched the reserves of his stamina yet. Though she wasn’t making a big deal out of it, he could tell by the set of her shoulders and the way the air around her seemed a little dimmer that she was still upset, and that wasn’t something he wanted.

“I was in the Coruscant Guard before being assigned to General Skywalker,” he said, squinting up at the trees ahead. Her interest, of a different flavor than usual, lighter but still good, still very good, tingled over his skin. His mouth twitched up.

“Oh? What was that like?” She asked, and he didn’t know why he was surprised by how genuine the question was. It tied his tongue into knots.

“Ahh. Noisy.” He said, vastly understating the hell that was Guard service, and she giggled, which was something he liked very much. They walked in companionable silence for some distance.

“What about Anakin? Does he treat you well?” She asked just as they broke through the trees and entered their camp. The question drew Toby up short, and instead, he commented on what great time they made: the sun was still out.

“So it is. Chalk that up to more Force osik, huh?” Jotopa said teasingly. Toby nodded distractedly and let her pull him by the hand into camp.

#sw fic #sw oc #swtcw fanfic #clone trooper oc #jedi oc #star wars oc #black woman oc

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leathersandsours · 4 years

Text

Doctor’s Note

“Well, it looks like these sessions are going well!”

In the main examination room a small group was gathered. Morgan was sitting on a nearby chair as his only child sat on the examination bed flanked by a mage and the doctor, Howard Patchingo.

Howard was the local doctor; but he also doubled as a vet for pinatas. It was a strange business model, but it was one that was kept in the family for decades now. “I’d say another month or so of this and you’ll be all right.” he explained, writing something down on his clipboard. “You should thank Miss Magnolia for lending us her shapeshifter’s magic.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” Hal instantly chirped, sending her a wide, toothy grin. She smiled back gently.

The mage’s hands were glowing a soft lavender as he held them near Hal, the gesture similar to warming her hands at a campfire. She was an older woman with a few streaks of white in her curly dusky grey-purple hair.

“This is a permanent solution, isn’t it?” Morgan spoke up from his seat. “We won’t have to worry about a relapse or problems with his development?”

The old doc gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder, bushy mustache twitching with his smile. “Nope! He’ll grow up to be a healthy young man.”

Morgan sighed as Hal beamed at the news. “That’s good...” he sounded relieved.

“If I may ask....” Magnolia spoke up. She withdrew her hands as her magic faded from view. “What made you decide to go through such a drastic method at so young of an age? What if something went wrong?”

The young boy shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, glancing at his father. Morgan walked over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Well, we always knew somethin’ wasn’t quite right and once we realized it... Ya couldn’t just leave it be, y’anno?”

Magnolia nodded. Even if she didn’t understand, she could at least respect their choice. She was getting paid to work alongside the Doc after all. Things like this always paid a lot if done correctly. It made her wonder how a gardener family like the McShovels were able to afford it.... Family inheritance maybe?

“Magic is so cool,” Hal piped up, “I can’t wait until I get mine!”

“Oh, that’s right! Your eighth birthday is coming up, huh?” Howard tussled the boy’s hair much to his indignity. “You’ll create your first mask any day now.”

“Yep, I’m sure he’ll have great skills in the magic crafts.” Morgan was proud of his son no matter what.

While the adults talked things over such as the final few sessions and any side affects, Halcyon hopped down from his seat to wonder around the room. There were charts of different medicines and body parts hung up all over the wall. He paused to stare at one about female anatomy before making a face and marching on by.

He approached a table that was nestled in one corner. There were some boring, decades old magazines stacked on it as well as some young children’s books. What caught his interest was the plastic replicate of a torso including all the gory organs shoved inside of it. Gruesome... cool! He grinned to himself as he pulled out a kidney and examined it. Didn’t Papa say that Mr Arfur was missing one of his and that’s why he only served dairy at the Inn? Adults were so weird....

“Ugh... Are they not done talking?” A sudden new voice interrupted his musings, making him desperately shove the plastic organ back into the torso-- which only served to make them all fall out. After a moment of scrambling to put them back in place, Hal turned to face whoever had startled him.

It was a boy, probably a few years older than him. He had short long hair that had straight bangs. His eyes were pale blue and bored looking as he glared into the room. He was half hidden by the door as he peeked around the door frame. He glanced from Dr Howard to Morgan before noticing Hal staring at him.

“What do you want?” he snapped, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“Uh... Nothing? What are you doing here?” Hal questioned back, a little off put by the boy’s rudeness.

“Waitin’ for dad to stop talking so I can talk to him.” he replied, “Oh, hey. You’re that weird kid, right? That’s why that mage is here, yeah?”

Hal bristled defensively. He was not weird! “She’s here to help me!” he shot back, turning to face him. “What’s your name, anyway?” Rude kid. He added silently.

“Conner. Conner Patchingo,” he puffed out his chest, “Howard Patchingo’s my dad and when I grow up I’m gonna be a doctor just like him!”

Halcyon couldn’t help but snort at his parading. “You got a lotta growing to do then.” he teased. Despite the boy being older, he was around the same height as the seven year old Hal.

“Hey! I’m ten years old! You got it?!”

“Conner!” the stern bark of Howard made the boy shrink, clinging to the door frame. “What did I tell you about interrupting my work?”

“N-Not to do it unless it’s an e-emergency...” he mumbled, “but it is, I swear! Fannie ran off with Leafos again without permission!” Conner puffed out his cheeks in a pout as his father sighed.

“Conner... Your mother should be home tonight. Can you go get home ready for her return?” he approached and knelt down in front of the boy, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll scold Fannie when she comes back, alright?”

Reluctantly, Conner nodded, his gaze on his shoes. Hal watched on silently, feeling a twinge of pity for him. He was glad his dad wasn’t busy with work all the time. He could relate to having an absent mother too, but he supposed it was different when you actually knew and loved her. He watched as the older boy left, almost seeming to drag his feet.

“.... Sons, am I right?” Howard chuckled half-heartedly, meeting the concerned gaze of Morgan. The older man nodded and rested a hand on Hal’s head. “Well, I best let you lot go. I can’t be keeping Magnolia from her studies more than I already do, after all!”

“True. Well, I’ll be seeing you later, Hal-- Halcyon.” she flashed him a smile before leaving.

Morgan lead the way as the pair left. He glanced down at his son who looked lost in thought. “... You know, you could visit town more often and hang out with the kids,” he said after a moment, “You must get lonely sometimes.”

Hal blinked as if coming out of a daydream and looked up at him in surprise. After a moment he smiled, “Nah, it’s okay! I like hanging out with you and the pinatas!” he replied cheerfully, “Plus that Conner kid was mean! I bet all the city slicker kids are!”

The old man chuckled at his disgruntled expression and shook his head. Oh, kids....

#viva pinata #young hal #dr patchingo #halcyon mcshovel #morgan mcshovel #conner patchingo #howard patchingo #info #history #backstory #i pull these titles out my ass #also i just realized i named patch's dad after howard the giraffe #you remember that shit?#why did schools make you go into a dark van with a giraffe to teach you about drugs

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tpo-akemi · 5 years

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Chapter 2: Reflection

There is a reason why people say the dead haunt you forever. The situation I am in is the perfect example for it.

Sam. The friend I thought I lost a decade ago, was now standing right in front of me. There wasn’t anything to debate, it was him. The devilish gleam in his dark eyes gave it right away. It’s hard to forget the eyes that ruined your life.

Back in high school, he was always the adventurous teenager that people liked, whether they were male, female, classmates, parents or teachers. He was a magnet that attracted people naturally, so it was normal for me to get close to him. One thing that people didn’t know about his life was the negative connotation to his adventurous spirit. He always liked to try new things, which got him into trouble. Bit by bit, his adventures walked the thin line of law and morality. Trespassing, destruction of property, and finally, drugs. Nobody beside his mother knew about his dark side, since she was the one using everything in her power to cover up her son’s mistakes. Unfortunately, the drugs came into his life at a time when I was at my biggest low, so he offered to help in his own way. He was the reason I became addicted. The highs were the only thing keeping me from sinking even lower mentally at that time and Sam was the only friend I had. He pulled me down under the water with him, but the problem is that you can only hold your breath for a few seconds.

It was a cold winter night, just three days after my birthday passed, when my mother and I were woken up by loud knocking. It was Sam’s mother, shaking uncontrollably, sobbing so much that I feared she was going to lose all water in her body, and screaming “He is gone! He is gone!” We called the police, but it was too late. Sam’s death certificate said that he had died from a cocaine overdose, but it was all lies, because here he is right now, standing alive and well in front of me.

Sam pulled his mask down without a word and turned to the other members. “Today’s meeting will be postponed. We will meet tomorrow at the same time. Also, Mark, call one of your men to take out the trash.” He pointed his opened palm in the direction of Johnny’s dead body.

“Yes, Master Max.” A rather short man answered to the request from the 6th seat on the left from Sam’s chair. His voice was deep, not something you would expect from someone with such a small figure. He was dressed in a camouflage jacket, buttoned up only so a little sliver of his black shirt from underneath could be seen. On his head was a white mask covered in small white doll hands. Right after he answered he stood up from his seat and gave a deep bow from the waist down before returning back to his chair.

With that, Sam turned on his heel back towards the door he came from and said “Everyone is dismissed.” In union, everybody stood up, bowed and chanted “Power to Simon.”

I watched as the room emptied out slowly, one by one member leaving the conference room. Looks like there was an order in which the members left the room, probably to lower the risk of them finding out who their members are. When the last one left the room, I took a step towards the exit, but was immediately stopped by Sam’s hand wrapping around my forearm. I stopped in my tracks and turned towards him.

“Tomorrow after the meeting, you will be coming with me to my office for some additional interrogation. It’s nothing special, I just want to collect all the necessary information before you begin taking on your role.” He explained and let go of my forearm when he realized I wasn’t going anywhere and had my full attention.

“No problem. There isn’t much to say about my life anyway.” I answered. “Should I make a CV?” I added the joke at the end.

At that Sam took off his mask again, showing the amusement on his face with a smirk and a low chuckle. There was that devilish gleam in his eyes again. God, how I wish I could wipe it off. That way I could at least have some revenge after he ruined my life with drugs.

“There will be no need for a CV Chris. Just make sure you tidy up a bit. You will be showing me your face, and I am a sucker for good first impressions.” He added.

If I didn’t have the mask on, he could easily see the color disappear from my face. I will have to show him how I look like tomorrow. There is no chance of him not recognizing me. Even a decade later, my face structure and hair haven’t changed one bit. The only thing different are the bags under my eyes and the level of messiness of my hair. Who knows what he will do if he finds out that one of his members knows who he really is and his backstory? I gulped down the large lump in my throat and with a slightly shaky voice said that it was not a problem. A pleased smile appeared on his face, showing that he was happy with my answer. Just like with the other members, he turned on his heel and started walking to his own exit.

“You will be getting your official mask tomorrow too, so hold on to that one for one more day. When you exit the building, head right and you’ll find a parking lot . A black car with a chauffeur will be waiting for you and will drive you back home.” He added as he was ascending the stairs. I gave a noise of confirmation that I understood him and headed towards the exit. I could see Sam staring at me from across the room, waiting for me to leave so he could leave too. I took the hint and got out and went down the dimly lit hallway, alone this time.

As promised, there was a black Honda waiting in the parking lot next to the building. My mask was already off so I wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from people passing by. The main street of the city was always busy. Whether it was people heading home from shifts at work, or teenagers going out to clubs, there was always someone roaming the streets at night. I reached out and opened the car door and quickly entered the car. There was a tall man behind the wheel, the top of his head almost hitting the ceiling of the car. His age was clearly visible on his face, you could see that the wrinkles on his face were there for a while. His hair was jet black with a shine from the gray hairs that started to appear. His eyes had a stern, yet kind glare and above them were a pair of bushy eyebrows that matched his equally bushy mustache.

“Excuse me sir, I believe you are in the wrong car. This is not a taxi, I am a paid chauffeur for someone.” Said the man calmly while turning to face me from his seat. His voice matched his appearance, it was deep and smooth, giving of an aura of safety around him.

“I presume you were Johnny’s driver?” I questioned.

“And I presume that by the tone in your voice and by your question that he is dead.” He replied. I didn’t say anything and after a few seconds he let out a deep sigh and shifted in his seat to face the wheel in front of him.

“Thought so. He was always getting in trouble with Master Max. I knew his sarcastic remarks would one day cross the line.” He added and shook his head. “Where to, Sir?”

“You will leave me at the bottom of the hill where the main church is.” I answered.

“Unfortunately Sir, that won’t be happening. My duty is to drive you home safe from the meeting, leaving you anywhere that isn’t the front of your house is out of question.” He explained.

“Then drive me to Liberty Quarter, the house number is 14.” I unwillingly complied.

The ride was quiet, the only noise coming from the subtle rumbling of the car engine. If the small bumps in the road weren’t rocking the car, I would have fallen asleep. I folded my arm at the elbow and leaned it against the closed window and put my head on top. The traffic lights would periodically splash a little light in the car so the interior would be visible for a few seconds. It was a decent looking car with black leather seats.

The thoughts in my head wandered to all the things Sam said. I will be showing him my face tomorrow and all will end. Sam will find out that his new member knows who he is and will shoot me dead. For some reason it doesn’t bother me. Maybe this shit show of a life will probably be over and I’ll get some peace. No, I can’t think like that, survival instinct Chris, activate it. I have to find a way to make myself unrecognizable to Sam. From what I remember, Sam had a very short fuse when we were teenagers, so there is a high probability of it still being prominent even ten years later. So somehow making an excuse to not take off my mask may make him become angry and shoot me anyway. There will definitely be a weapon for self-defense in that office. I will have to comply to everything he says. Maybe I could make some cuts and bruises on my face? I would need help for that, but the guys around my neighborhood can’t be trusted. Give them a finger and they’ll take the whole arm. I’d be dead in two minutes. I will have to find a way to do it myself. But how? Maybe…

“We are here Sir. I wish you a pleasant evening and night.” The driver broke the silence along with my chain of thoughts. I shook my head as an attempt to get back into reality quicker.

“Yeah, thank you for the ride. Hope you have a nice night too…uhm…”

“…Harrison.” He finished my sentence.

“Harrison, right. Your name really suits you. I’m Chris.” I mumbled.

The tall man shifted in his seat and faced me. He extended his hand and between his bony fingers was a little card. I took it and examined it. There was a series of numbers and underneath was a name. Harrison Duncan.

“This is my phone number, so you can call me when you want me to drive you somewhere, but keep it Simon related. I am not a free taxi. Call me 15 minutes before you need to leave for a meeting and I will be waiting in front of your house and take you to the place you need to be at.” He explained while pointing at me like he is scolding a child. I had to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes at him.

“No problem Harrison. My next meeting is tomorrow at the same time as this one. Can you wait for me here at 21:45? I think 15 minutes will be enough to get back to the building for Simon meetings.” I said.

“That works too.” Harrison added, ending his sentence with a chuckle as to show that he is amused with my answer.

After wishing him good night, I left the car and went towards my house. It could barely be called a house, but it was all I got. Harrison drove off after he saw that I got in my house. I turned on the lights and saw the familiar interior of my living room. Or maybe it is best to call it my bedroom. The room was small, just enough space to put in everything a person needed to live. On the left was a couch with a bundled up blanket on it and a pillow leaning on one of the armrests. Around it was random junk, from empty baggies to ramen cups filled with water and cigarette buds. Opposing the couch was a small TV, outdated and barely working. Left of the couch was a bar stand that divided the living room and kitchen, also covered in useless junk. The kitchen was also standard. Unlike the living room floor that was lined all the way around with a stained gray carpet, the kitchen had a tile floor. In the middle there was a small table, next to it a fridge, alongside with some work surface. Passing the fridge, a bathroom can be found and inside a washing machine, toilet, a dirty tub and a sink with a mirror above it. This dirty place was what I called home.

I sighed deeply and took off my jacket before throwing myself on the couch. I contemplated on if I should change into sleepwear before dosing off, but my body and mind had too much stress this day that they really needed some rest. I took the blanket from underneath me and covered myself with it and was off like a light.

Unfortunately, my slumber was short lived. I woke up screaming from a nightmare. The light was still turned on and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brightness of it. I didn’t remember what the nightmare was about, but I know it had to do something with Sam and death. I glanced at the clock above the TV. It was 4 AM. I continued staring at it while I concentrated on steadying my breathing. When I felt my heart rate slow down I closed my eyes and sagged into the couch with a sigh that quickly turned into a grunt. I raised my hands and covered my face, completely closing myself off from the rest of the world.

I can’t do this. I’m not ready for this kind of pressure. I will slip up at some point I’ll be as good as dead. The thought that the day I slip up is very likely tomorrow, actually today now that midnight passed, alone is making my heartbeat rise quickly. I need to find a way to calm down.

I got up and rushed to the bathroom as quickly as my still half asleep body would let me. Turning on the faucet, I tried to cool down with splashing my face a few times, but to no avail. I can’t wash away my features, I can only make them clearer by getting off the dirt from my face. Can I take them off? Before even questioning my thought process, I started clawing at my cheeks and pulling down my skin as if I was trying to rip it off like a mask. I grunted at the slight sting my fingernails made on my cheeks, my frustration only growing bigger realizing that it isn’t working. I finally came back to my senses and stopped. Splashing my face one last time, I turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel to dry off my face. What I saw in the mirror was a face of a madman. Streaks of redness went down from my eyes down to my jaw, yet I could still recognize the pale man in front of the mirror. No doubt about it. It was me. The jet black, dry hair and the round, foggy, hazel eyes that were staring right back at me. I could still see that it was me, and that means Sam will too. I was not out of danger yet. I need to think of something else. C’mon Chris, think, think! Then an idea popped into my head.

The mirror.

Smash your head into the mirror. It will leave you with bruises and cuts all over you face.

I looked away from my reflection and started pacing around the little bathroom. Is it really worth it? I am genuinely debating if I should smash my head into glass just for the sake of being mutilated. I don’t have anything to treat my wounds if I do go through with it, so there is a possibility of my dying from losing too much blood. But dying after Sam finds out who I am has a 100% chance of ending with me dying. I have to pick the less of two evils.

I stopped in front of the sink again and braced my hands on its sides. I took another glance in the mirror. I was met with an undetermined glare, and with that I knew I was going to chicken out.

“Focus!” I yelled at myself and glanced down at the drain and shook my head. I took a few deep breaths as I tried to make my thoughts shut up. I needed an empty head if I wanted to do this. I started tapping my fingers into the side of the sink, listening to the pleasing clinks of the stone. Clink, clink, clink. Suddenly, it was as if I heard him. The chuckle. That same low chuckle I heard just a few hours ago. Was Sam here? Is he mocking me? Does he think I’m weak? I lifted my head and in the reflection of the mirror I didn’t see myself. My face was swapped with a man in his late twenties, with black eyes and ashy blonde hair. I tapped the sink again.

Chuckle.

Without thinking, I let out an animalistic roar and smashed the mirror with my forehead. It broke on impact and some of the pieces fell into the sink below. Not that I cared. I finally attacked Sam. There he is, I see him stumbling, clearly surprised I actually had the balls to attack him. Serves him right. First he ruins my life, then he makes fun of me? He is looking for a death wish acting like that. I head-butted the mirror again and saw him fall back, but so did I. I wasn’t going to lose this fight this easily. I quickly got up and hit the mirror again, the amount of blood on the glass shards slowly getting larger with every try of an offense. At some point Sam turned into me, but at that point I was too gone to actually care. I got the momentum I needed and I wasn’t planning on losing it anytime soon. My body had different plans. I only got in a couple of more head-butts before my vision blurred from the mix of blood loss and multiple concussions. I tripped over my own feet and fell, hitting the area around my left cheekbone on the edge of the bathtub in the process.

I whined in pain when I finally hit the ground. I could feel the blood trickling down the sides of my face as I lied on the cold bathroom floor. The ringing in my ears was almost unbearable and the pressure in my head only made it worse. My breathing was shaky and no amount of air in my lungs, no matter how much of a deep breath I took. My heart was going a mile a minute, trying to pump blood to make up for the lost blood. My fingers shook and chills went down my spine every few seconds. My eyes were closed so the blood from the wound on my forehead wouldn’t get into them. I don’t know how long I stayed in that position, trying to slowly calm my whole system down. Slowly, my breathing got back to normal along with my heartbeat, and my shakiness and shivers went away. I slowly brought up my hands to wipe away the blood that was threatening to get in my eyes and got myself up into a sitting position.

“So...that happened.” I told myself as I rose from the floor slowly. I could finally see the aftermath. There was blood almost everywhere, a small pool of it on the floor where my head laid, on the walls around the mirror, the mirror itself and in the sink. This will be a bitch to clean up. Then I finally took a look at myself in the mirror, or what was left of it. In one of the shards I saw the reflection of an idiot. There was dried up blood all over my forehead and cheeks, cuts from the glass all over my nose and chin and I noticed a purple eye forming under my left eye. It probably came from the hit against the tub. Even if she tried, my own mother wouldn’t recognize me, which meant my job was done successfully. I reached out and opened the drawer under the sink in hopes of finding something that will actually help me clean my wounds a little bit. Lo and behold, an almost empty pack of anti-bacterial wet wipes was at the bottom of the drawer, along with some duck-tape. I carefully cleaned my wounds, one by one, using one wipe to clean it, and using another as a band aid, securing it with duck-tape to my face. After finishing the treatment, I took a few gulps of water before leaving the bloody bathroom. It is too early for chores; I’ll clean everything up in the morning. My steps were still shaky from the blood loss, but holding on to the wall and nearby furniture, I managed to shuffle up to the couch. I sank into my seat and threw my head back slowly and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before finally sinking back into my pillow and covering myself with the old blanket. This round of sleeping there were no nightmares.

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aquaquadrant · 6 years

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Exiled AU - Part 3

heyyy so yall remember a certain exiled au by @ghosta-r that i wrote some stuff for a while back?? the last one i wrote is here, and there you’ll find links to the first drabble and all the art that inspired them.

well!! it’s high time i checked back in with my exiled boi!! without further ado, please read on and enjoy the next part, and remember that comments and reblogs are my lifeblood. - Aqua

The sun was setting.

With it went the warmth of the day, shadows eating up all the light. The buildings in front of Varian had a sinister look to them now, adding to the anxiety already building in his chest. All throughout the day, he’d debated his coming here. He knew nothing about this town, the people…

But he had nowhere else to go. True to the guard’s word, there had been nothing else along the road leading away from the kingdom. Just wilderness. He’d had a lot of time, during his trek, to think about his way forward from here; where he should go, and what he should do when he got there. The idea of just… settling in a town, finding work, starting over… it made him nauseous. But ultimately it had boiled down to one point.

Why not?

He’d been judged worthy of living, for reasons that were beyond him, and cast out from the only place he’d ever known. He might as well follow the guard’s suggestion. This seemed as good a place as any, and he still had enough sense to know that traveling in unfamiliar land at night should be avoided whenever possible.

Which was why Varian forced his feet forward, into town. There was a large building in the center of the square, a wooden sign declaring them open. He came to a stop right in front of it, hesitating.

Behind the door, he could hear the muffled clamor of voices. Warm light flooded out from beneath, flickering with shadows. Despite himself, Varian’s heartbeat quickened. Human interaction. Right. He could do that. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the handle and pulled.

Varian stepped inside. The noise automatically increased tenfold. Everywhere he looked, people laughed and talked loudly and drank, the musty smell of mead hanging in the air. He realized, absently, that this was a tavern, not an inn (as if he had enough coin for a room, anyways).

A few people glanced in his direction, but most were too drunk to notice or care. Varian kept his head down and walked to the bar, leaning his staff against the counter and climbing up on a stool too tall for him.

A portly man in an apron sidled over, raising a pair of thick eyebrows at him.

“Well, hello there!” he greeted Varian. “I’m afraid there’s not much on the menu for you, my boy.” The corners of his bushy mustache turned up in a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Work.” Varian winced at the harshness of his voice. “I’m, uh, looking for work. Sir.”

The barkeep gave him a curious look. “Well, I’m not hiring at the moment, but I know a guy who was looking to take on some extra help. Hey, Jon!” he called towards a round table in the corner of the room, where a couple men were engaged in conversation. “Jon!”

A redheaded man with a short beard glanced over, raising a hand in acknowledgement. After a parting word to his companion, he made his way to them, sidestepping oblivious revelers in his path.

“I think I’ve found someone who can help you out,” the barkeep said, patting the man on the shoulder. He nodded at Varian before excusing himself to deal with another customer.

The man turned to Varian, sliding onto the stool next to him. “That so? Well, hey there, I’m Jonathan.” He looked to be in his late twenties, muscular and broad-shouldered. The hand he held out expectantly was thickly calloused. “What’s your name, son?”

Varian just barely stopped himself from flinching at the word. “… Varian,” he said, shaking Jonathan’s hand hesitantly.

“Varian.” Jonathan took in his appearance, lifting an eyebrow. “From out of town, are you? What brings you here?”

“I’m trying to find work, sir.” It was an obvious deflection; Varian couldn’t exactly get into the details of his situation. Thankfully, Jonathan let it pass.

“So I hear,” he said kindly. “Well, I’m a carpenter by trade. Own a shop just down the marketplace. But my wife, Alice, is pregnant with our second, and I don’t want her working too hard. Truth be told, we could use some help picking up the slack, around the house and in the shop. Sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes, sir.” Varian kept his eyes just shy of the Jonathan’s gaze. The thought of looking him straight in the eye didn’t sit right.

“Great! When can you start?” Jonathan asked.

“Right away, sir,” Varian said. Idly, he realized that if Jonathan wasn’t ready for him yet, he’d be spending the night on the street. Or in the outlying forest. Either way, not good prospects.

“Fantastic.” Jonathan stood, and Varian hastened to follow suit. “We’ll get you settled in tonight; you can meet the girls, see where you’ll be staying, and I’ll take you by the shop first thing tomorrow morning.”

Varian nodded, grabbing his staff and following Jonathan out of the tavern. Well, that’d been a fortunate stroke of luck. Now, he just had to make sure he didn’t mess it up.

The streets were a hair darker than before, but not empty anymore as fellow tavern patrons headed home for the evening. Jonathan and Varian took a path away from the main square, until the road turned to dirt and the buildings became more homely. The one Jonathan stopped in front of was a modest two-story, the wooden foundations sturdy and plain.

He rapped on the door twice before letting himself in, as a way to announce his presence. Varian hesitated only for a moment before following.

The entrance led right into a cramped kitchen, a polished wooden dining table in the middle of the room flanked by four matching chairs. Two doors on one wall, and the bottom of a staircase on the other side, leading upstairs. The floors were wooden, and the walls were painted a soft yellow. There was a coat rack by the door that Varian leaned his staff against, for lack of a better place to put it.

A woman glanced over from the cast-iron stove, strands of strawberry-blonde hair escaping from a messy bun and hanging in her rounded face. Light brown eyes filled with warmth as her gaze fell on them, a glimmer of curiosity when she noticed Varian.

“Well, hello dear!” She leaned into the kiss Jonathan pressed to her cheek, resting her hand on her round stomach. “Who’s your little friend?”

“Remember how we were looking for someone to stay with us and help out, Alice?” Jonathan introduced Varian with a wave of his hand. “This here’s Varian.”

“Hello, ma’am,” Varian said quietly.

Alice smiled brightly at him. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart! You’re just in time for supper. Bathroom’s through there if you want to take those gloves off and wash up.”

Varian blanched, automatically curling his hands to his chest. His gloves had already been taken from him once before- metal shackles pressed against his bare skin, hands small and cold and vulnerable- but you’ll get them back this time, don’t panic, don’t panic-

“Or, if you’d prefer to leave them on that’s fine, too.” Alice’s smile had become slightly strained, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

Varian swallowed, ducking his head against the scrutiny of both adults. Get a grip- he didn’t want them thinking something was wrong with him. Shaking his head quickly, he turned to the washroom, slipping through the door without a word.

Taking a steadying breath, Varian tugged his gloves off and shoved them into his coat pocket. There. No problem. He turned to the wash basin and grabbed the lever sticking out of the wall, working the pump to fill the basin with water. It was a simple system, likely drawing water up from some underground well. The water was cold, with a metallic scent. A blueprint flashed across his mind’s eye- his design for an automatic water heating system. He quickly pushed it away, burying the emotions it brought up deep in his chest.

Varian made use of the bar of soap that was set out, scrubbing his hands thoroughly, and was mildly surprised at the color the water turned. He hadn’t realized the prison had been so filthy. Drying his hands on a ratty towel, he pulled the stopper out and watched the dirty water drain away.

Okay. No more freak-outs. The last thing Varian wanted was questions- he didn’t know if he would be able to lie his way out of an explanation, and that would likely land him in more even trouble in the long-run. But he had no idea how they’d react if they knew why he was there; he doubted they’d want an exiled criminal living with them.

Forcing any traces of worry from his expression, Varian pushed the door open.

Jonathan and Alice were talking in low tones, but they looked up when Varian entered. That did nothing to reassure him, but he tried not to let it show. Before the potentially awkward silence had a chance to settle, there were footsteps from above, thudding lightly down the stairs.

“Daddy!” A young girl hopped off the last step and ran up to Jonathan, hugging his leg. She looked to be about three years old, her bright orange hair done in pigtails.

“Hey, there’s my little sunshine!” Jonathan lifted the girl up, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Cate, this is Varian. He’s going to be staying with us, and helping your mommy and daddy around the house. Go on, say hello,” he encouraged her.

Suddenly shy, Cate peeked at Varian, half her face hidden in her father’s shoulder. “Hi,” she said softly.

An unidentifiable emotion gripped Varian’s heart. He raised his hand and gave her a little wave.

“Alright,” Alice clapped her hands together, “I’ve got food that needs to be eaten. Go ahead and have a seat there, Varian, and we’ll get you a plate dished up.”

Varian hesitated. They… wanted him to eat with them? At the dinner table? He’d assumed he’d be taking his meals in his room…

The family settled down to eat, Cate sitting in the chair between her parents. A couple of pillows had been placed on the seat, to help the toddler reach over the top of the table.

The sight was an unexpected punch to the gut. Varian had been a small kid- was still small- and growing up, he’d had a hard time fitting all his dad’s big furniture. It wasn’t so much the case now, but he had vivid memories of Dad setting him down onto a stack of pillows so he could reach the table, their little table set for two-

Varian abruptly realized he was still standing, and quickly took the empty chair. He accepted the plate they put in front of him with a mumbled thank you, his mind spinning at the amount of food on it. He doubted he’d be able to finish it all; he hadn’t been eating well as of late, too concerned with his plans to free Dad, and his stomach had suffered for it, shrinking in size. He didn’t have much of an appetite, either, not after what’d happened.

He hated to waste food, hated the thought that this family was wasting it on him, but he couldn’t eat more than a few bites. As the family talked and ate, Varian picked at his plate, pushing the food around and hoping no one would notice.

In fact, he was so keen on not being noticed that it took him a moment to realize Cate had called his name. He looked up in surprise at the toddler.

“S- sorry, what was that?”

Cate pointed a small finger at something behind him. “What’s it got colors for?” she asked.

Varian glanced over his shoulder; his staff, with its brightly colored vials. “Uh, it’s for seeing in the dark,” he replied quietly.

Cate nodded seriously, a bit of gravy dribbling down her chin. “I’m scared’a the dark, too. That’s why I sleep in my mommy and daddy’s bed when the moon’s gone.”

“I’m…” Varian almost explained that he wasn’t afraid of the dark, but quickly realized there was no point in debating with a three-year-old. “That’s good,” he said simply, lowering his gaze again.

The rest of the meal passed without anyone attempting to make conversation with Varian, which he was grateful for. Varian stood as soon as everyone was done, automatically going to gather up all the dirty dishes. Alice beat him to it, though, giving him an amused smile.

“Oh, nonsense, you just got here,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll take care of them tonight.”

Varian pulled his hands back, flushing. “Sorry, ma’am.”

An unreadable emotion flashed across Alice’s face. “No need to apologize,” she said gently. “Jon, dear, why don’t you get Varian settled in his room?” she suggested, carrying the stacked plates over to the sink.

Jonathan nodded, rising to his feet. “Right this way, son.” He opened up the door beside the washroom, stepping back to let Varian peek inside.

The room was probably even smaller than his cell had been, but without the stone floors and metal bars, it felt cozy instead of claustrophobic. It looked like its former function was a storeroom- there were still a couple of barrels shoved in the corner. A bed took up most of the floorspace, the only other furniture a small bedside table with a built-in cupboard.

“I’m sorry it’s not much,” Jonathan apologized, scratching the back of his head. “I’m going to have to build an add-on in a couple years, when the baby gets too old to share Cate’s room, but for now this is all the room we’ve got.”

Varian dipped his head appreciatively. “It’s fine. Thank you.” More than fine, considering his only alternative would be sleeping outside. But Jonathan didn’t need to know that.

“Good.” Jonathan seemed relieved. “Well, if Cate doesn’t wake you tomorrow with all her running around, I’ll come get you, and after breakfast we’ll head to the shop. You get some rest now.”

“Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

The door closed, Jonathan’s footsteps fading away and up the stairs.

Varian exhaled shakily. Bending over, he pulled his boots off and placed them at the foot of the bed. He slipped off his satchel, coat, and goggles, tucking them into the bedside cabinet, but not before retrieving his gloves from his coat pocket.

He didn’t always sleep with his gloves on; usually it was a matter of falling asleep at his workbench, too focused on a project to get to bed. But now, the thought of being without them distressed him. He tugged them on without another thought and climbed under the covers, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

Okay. So he’d found himself a place to stay, and a way to get food. Not bad in a day’s work. Now, he just had to make sure he didn’t do anything to screw it up. Don’t do anything to make them suspicious, or give them a reason to kick him out.

No problem.

A/N: heads up, this won’t be a full-length story. i’ve got about two or three more drabbles planned for this au, just to catch up to the timeline of the first one where varian’s living in that cabin, and then that’ll be it (i’ll prob transfer them to my A03 at that point, too). at least, unless i get inspired again :3 lemme know what you think! - Aqua

#tangled the series #tts #exiled au #my writing #exiled!varian au

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 6 years

Text

Resource Management, pt24

Word Count: 1897 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

It was probably stupid to go home, not knowing if Garrett was going to want me back. I couldn’t see him needing me, but he was crazy enough to want to kill me, and it gave me pause. But I wanted clean clothes, and a shower, and something to eat. I wanted the comfort of my own home. I wanted to hold my passport in my hand, and know that if the world stayed completely upside down, I could escape home, into the forests of northern BC, and not worry about anyone coming after me. Of course, once again, I had no way into my apartment. Fortunately, once again, my super was a champ about letting me in. This time, however, he had more to say about my job.

“Did you even know, Annie? Sometimes the grunts don’t know,” he muttered.

“I had no idea, Bob.” It was true. I still didn’t have the details, but I’d known there was a HYDRA infiltration. But we’d never had the chance to figure out how deeply it went. Cecelia Banks was a genius.

“The grunts never know.” He patted me on the shoulder and pushed my door open.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“What are you going to do now?” He asked.

“Good question. I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You let me know if you need anything, sweetie. You’re a good tenant, and good people,” he rested his hand on my arm.

“Thanks, Bob.” I closed my door and went directly to the bathroom. I started running the tub, hot, and full of Epsom salts and bubbles, and poured myself a full tumbler of whiskey. I stripped down and dropped my clothes in the hamper before padding back to the tub, glass in hand. I slipped under the bubbles and sighed. I wasn’t able to let go of everything, but I released a fair amount of tension just letting the heat soak into me. I leaned my head against the tub surround and closed my eyes.

I must have nodded off. I heard a knock on my door, and realized my water had gone cold. I slipped out of the tub and into my bathrobe. I crept to the door as quietly as I could and peered out the peephole. There was no one there, at least, no one I could see. There was no way I was opening the door. I stepped away and went to get dressed.

I made myself a peanut butter sandwich and flopped down to turn on CNN. I wanted to know what all was going on. I kept the volume low, and heard a knock on my door again. This time I ignored it. I heard the door unlatch and open and dropped to the floor in front of my couch.

“Annie, it’s Bob. I have something for you,” he called. I crawled around the living room and came up behind my cracked open door. I peered through the peephole again to make sure he was alone. He was.

“Let me open the door, Bob.” I shut it and unlatched the chain to pull the door open. Bob stepped in, his grey work coat pulled closed. He pulled a gun and holster out and handed it to me.

“This is my service revolver, honey. I’ve been glued to the TV since that first flying ship came down. You need it more than I do.” He dug in his pockets and pulled out a couple of box of bullets.

“Bob, I can’t –“

“Way I see it, kiddo, you have to. You’re not the kind of girl to not be some kind of important. And if you aren’t with the terrorists, it means they’ll be looking for you. My money says you probably have some secrets tucked in your brain that someone would kill to keep quiet. Take the gun. You’re from the Midwest somewhere, right?” He interrupted.

“I’m from western Canada –“

“I’m pretty sure I have your mom’s address in St. Louis on your lease. I’ll forward anything important to you there,” he cut me off again with a wink. “You should really think about going home for a visit until this blows over.”

He shuffled back out the door and disappeared down the hallway. I felt sick. He’d worked for one of the agencies for years, and if he thought I should run, he was probably right. I went to start packing. I pulled out my backpack and carefully picked the stitching out of the big maple leaf badge. I only packed a couple of days worth of clothes, as I had lost my purse in the safe house somewhere, so had only the cash that was stuffed in the mason jar in the back of my baking cupboard to get me anywhere. And considering I’d already raided it once recently, there wasn’t much left. I changed into the same cargo pants and sweatshirt I’d worn the last time I’d be ‘on the run’, hoping for similar luck. It was a moment of weakness, but I really wanted Phil to sweep in and save the day. I wasn’t usually a Disney princess, but this time I really wanted to be rescued.

I grabbed a few things that I couldn’t live without, just in case I wouldn’t be coming back, and tucked them away in an inner pocket in my bag. I slipped my laptop into the padded back panel and zipped it closed. I took a final look around my apartment, mentally saying goodbye to my books. Everything else was replaceable, but the books would be a loss if I couldn’t return. I opened my desk to dig around for my passport, and couldn’t find it. I opened the next drawer and moved the papers in it around, but it wasn’t there either. I double checked the first drawer again and checked my night table. No passport. I knew it hadn’t been in my purse, I’d only used to it to replace the ID that had gone up in the first attack on the Triskelion, and clearly remembered putting it back in my desk. I pulled every single item out of both drawers, but my passport was gone. The small envelope that I kept my Canadian ID in was also missing. Someone was trying to trap me in the USA.

My heart started racing again. I had about forty bucks in cash and no identification. It was going to make a border crossing difficult. I could hear voices in the hall, and what sounded like the crackle of a radio. It stopped right outside my door. I slid everything back into my desk and peered out the peephole. A couple of guys carrying guns in black tactical gear were gesturing to one another. I backed away from the door and headed to the kitchen window. I looked out, but didn’t see anyone watching the window. Whoever they were, like Garrett, they were underestimating me. I slid my window open and hopped onto the fire escape. I climbed down to the alley and walked away from my building as calmly as I could. When I was sure I was clear, I sped up and didn’t look back until I was on the metro on the way toward the bus station.

It was dark in New York City when I got off the bus. I’d bought the ticket for the busiest place I could think of, where I had the best chance of blending into the crowd. It wasn’t until I was halfway there that I thought that I might be able to track down Tony Stark at the Avengers Tower.

I walked into the lobby of the building and approached the security desk.

“Can I help you?” The security guard was old, and his shoulders stooped forward a little. His silver hair was brushed straight back, and he had a big bushy mustache that reminded me of my granddad. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I need to see Mr. Stark.”

“It’s 10:30,” he put me off.

“If I know Tony, that means he should just be cranking the stereo in the lab,” I nodded. If he was here, I thought. The guard raised his eyebrows and looked down at the computer screen. He typed something in.

“He would have left a name if he was expecting anyone. There’s no list for tonight.” He shook his head.

“If you could just call up to him?” I implored.

“If you know Mr. Stark, like you say you do, you know he doesn’t like being bothered when he’s working,” the guard typed something else into the computer.

“I do know that,” I said, “but this is kind of an emergency.”

A tall redhead walked off the elevator towards us, talking on the phone.

“No, I’m telling you, this is a total mess. A building was literally destroyed by a helicarrier with one of our new proprietary engines in it, and I’m going to be doing damage control for days about why you have terrorists using your tech. So no, Tony, I am not coming back upstairs,” she sounded flustered, and the hair, coupled with the conversation, made me realize she was Pepper Potts. I wanted to reach out and grab her, but she looked over and saw me standing there and stopped.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Potts, I told her –“

“Who are you?” She interrupted the security guard. Tony was still on the other end of the phone, I could see the timer on the screen counting up airtime.

“Anna Ellis.” If I said it louder than I needed to, it was because I saw that the call was still live. Potts jerked her head away from the phone and glared at me.

“How do I know you’re Anna Ellis?” She demanded.

“Please, Ms. Potts. I don’t have any ID and I have three dollars and ninety-six cents left. I have nowhere else to go.” I wanted to sit down and cry.

“But how do I know you’re who you say you are?” She put the phone down on the counter between us and hit the speaker button. Tony didn’t say a word.

“Tony brought a bunch of art into my office a few weeks ago,” I started.

“Too easy.” They said it in unison.

“The Starry Night was fake, but the Sunflowers were real. The hideous art deco Iron Man print was the real focal point of the room though,” I continued. Potts shook her head, still not convinced.

“He added pages to my Thor scrapbook that wound up having some sort of computer chip embed in them that allowed him to hack the SHIELD servers and discover Agent Coulson was still alive,” I concluded. I had nothing else. Potts went pale.

“Phil Coulson?” She shrieked, “Tony, Phil is alive and you didn’t tell me?” If she’d been able to beat him through the phone, I think she would have. The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out, then stepped back in. Potts spun around and stalked toward the mirrored doors, practically glowing red with rage.

“Pepper –“

“Oh no you –“

“Pepper, Annie needs me alive if I’m going to help her.” He cut her off and darted around her, pocketing the phone. I was so relieved on seeing him that I slumped down against the security desk and started to cry.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fanfic with OFC #Phil Coulson x OFC

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ericjuneau · 7 years

Text

Reprise (Chapter 36) [Frozen/Tangled/The Little Mermaid]

CHAPTER 36: Castle Panic

"Is my outrage apparent? Is it getting through to you?" Ansel yelled. He paced back and forth in front of the crackling fireplace. His five top lieutenants sat on the couch, a comfortable place for getting chewed out.

"Sir, they knew the castle better than us. They've lived here all their lives," said Erlend, the eldest. He had handlebar mustache and bushy white eyebrows.

"That's no excuse, Erlend," Ansel snapped. "Two girls snuck in and took our most valuable prisoner. If not for one slip-up they would have escaped without difficulty."

"We've had to staff the jail with our own men, who are spread thin as it is. We can't trust anyone from Arendelle. They won't help imprison their neighbors."

"The prison is the most important room in the castle," Ansel said. "Think of the information we've lost. And what they've gained."

"They were right in front of you too, sir," said Officer Ingrid. "They were in the same room, serving your food, and you didn't notice them."

Ansel clenched his fist, ready to slap his lieutenant. But stopped himself.

"I think we're missing the more important thing here," the youngest of them said. "The ice queen is back. And she wants the castle."

"Honestly, Lucia, she's not as much of a worry as you think." Ansel dismissed her argument with his hand. "I've been preparing for her return since day one. Plus, her behavior's become irrational. Maniacal, even."

"I'm not sure that's to our advantage," said Erlend. "If a mad dog fights a sane dog, it's the sane dog who gets its ear bitten off."

"A wise maxim. But allow me to counter with another--power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely. Humans weren't meant to have magic such as hers. I knew there would come a day where it would degrade her mind. Not to mention an individual can't contend with a well-trained army. But the resistance... they are many."

"And they could be gaining many more," Lucia said, "Maybe that's why they infiltrated the castle."

"Exactly my thoughts. This strike may mean they finally feel confident enough to engage us. At least in the cowardly way that terrorists do," Ansel said. "Which is why we need to find out who's helping them. No rebellion succeeds unto themselves. They need companions in the town. Those that can supply food, shelter, resources. Smugglers and sympathetic ears."

"I'm sure there's no shortage of them," Erlend said.

Ansel pounded one fist into his hand. "And thus we must bear down harder. Enact a curfew. Order our soldiers to patrol the streets day and night, so that our presence is known."

"We already have police monitoring the town."

"Double it," Ansel said. "And start demonstrations. Show them what happens when we are defied. Do you understand my meaning?"

The lieutenants nodded.

"If we need more soldiers, get them from Corona. Send them a message. Tell them it's a lot worse here than we thought. We'll need more than just navy. And close out the harbor. No one comes in and out without a thorough inspection."

"Are we looking for contraband or refugees?" Lucia asked.

"Both," Ansel answered. "We'll need to register everyone in town. Fetch the latest census and cross-reference it. I want to know the names and dwellings of everyone within the kingdom."

Lucia raised her hand. "Sir, this is a lot for the citizens to handle. I thought we wanted to make our integration unobtrusive. To get them used to the new regime."

"I'm not letting everything fall into disorder because of a handful of idealistic doves. We have to strike before they gain too much momentum to fail. I want action. Do you understand? If the resistance is not destroyed within a week, I will find others who can."

The lieutenants remained silent as the firelight danced in Ansel's eyes. In the awkward pause, discordant, muffled commotion rose up.

"Does anyone else hear that?" Lucia asked.

Ansel cocked his head to the side. Music? A gathering crowd?

"Sounds like it's coming from the west wing," Erlend said.

Ansel left the parlor and headed that direction. His lieutenants followed, not daring to move faster.

He climbed up the steps to the westmost tower. There stood a guard in a cabasset looked through the window with a telescope. He handed it to Ansel when he came up the spiral staircase.

"My god, they've started," Ansel said.

A large assemblage of people roamed around on the grassy bluff next to the water. To Ansel's eyes, it seemed half the kingdom. Many toted food, tables, musical instruments, as if they were planning to stay a while.

"They've been gathering over the past few hours, sir," the guard said.

Ansel handed back the telescope. "Well, call it in! Don't you know a riot when you see one?"

"But sir, it's... not a riot. None of them have weapons. No one's hurting anyone."

"Dunderheaded fool. How can you not notice the resistance's work? Do you think everyone in the village just magically got together to celebrate right in front of my castle? It's a clear act of defiance."

"Even if that's so," said Erlend, "we can't make them disperse. What excuse do we give if they're not hurting anyone? What kind of demons would we look like then?" The lieutenants murmured agreement. "It would just add more wind to the resistance's sails," Erlend added.

Ansel folded his arms. "You're right. Let them have their fun. But send our military police to monitor. Take positions on all sides. But under no circumstances are they to attack anyone or provoke an attack."

"I'll send the order for our city foreman to pull troops from other posts and redirect them," said Erlend.

"Good... no, wait, no! That's what she wants us to do." He turned to the window. "Clever try, Elsa. But I'm smarter than you think."

"Sir?" Lucia asked.

"They want us to divert our troops from the city. We send them all to one place and thin the herd elsewhere, letting them do... whatever it is they plan to do. Either a raid or surprise attack on our boats or an escape. Pull guards from the castle instead. Only use one quarter of the soldiers in the village. The rest should be from the palace. Make sure they know not to act, just react."

Erlend left to send out the order. Ansel did not take the telescope from his eyes for hours, not until his men arrived.

They filed in, taking positions around the encampment. Although they held spears and emblem-blazoned tower shields, they stayed relaxed. The citizens didn't appear to care about their presence, except an occasional boo.

"Come on Elsa, I'm waiting."

"Sir, we've been up here for hours. There are other duties to attend to," Lieutenant Viktor said.

"I'm anticipating an attack."

"Won't we be notified when it begins?"

"Hmph." Ansel gave the telescope back to his tower guard.

The lieutenants stepped aside to let Ansel pass down the stairs. Only in the hallway did the emptiness of the castle became noticeable. They never realized how many of the staff were guards. "Are you sure they know they are to be explicit in announcing their presence as protection, not aggression?"

"I did, sir," Erlend said.

"But sir," Lucia said. "Won't they get unruly anyway? They'll gain courage by their numbers. Someone's going to throw a rock or get startled by mistake. And that's going to create a riot."

"I'm counting on it," Ansel said. "But I will tell them I gave orders not to strike unless provoked."

"But you're provoking them."

"It's still not my fault. They'll cause their own undoing. It's a surety. I tell you, I have little guilt doing this. But keep in mind this is an act of defiance. Meant to distract us from-"

There was a guttural thunderclap, as if lightning had struck the wall.

"What was that?" Lucia asked. "Explosion?"

"No smoke or fire."

Another reverberating growl. The dull echo came from the other side of the castle.

"If it was a siege, someone would ring the alarm," Viktor said.

"Maybe there's no one to ring the alarm," Erlend said.

Ansel twisted his mouth. Palace guards were still stationed on all key watchtowers and entry points. Nonetheless, he was concerned enough to start heading toward the east wall.

The soldiers on the east parapet--those that hadn't been ordered down to the city--marched back and forth. Walking kept them awake and eyes sharp. However, they could have been sleeping and still heard the tremendous crash against the wall below.

By the time they reached the site, whatever had made the noise had gone. There was no smoking mark of a cannon ball or explosive powder. Just rocks and water below.

In the distance, they heard a sharp twang. A boulder flew out of the streets, streaking toward them like a meteor. It banged against the wall, peeled off and plummeted.

"Rocks?" a guard said.

"Must be the resistance," his partner said.

"Idiots. They'll never penetrate the castle that way."

"Still an attack. We've got to sound the alarm."

The first guard spent a moment untying the bugle from his belt. Another boulder launched, this one sailing right for them. They were about to step out of the way when the rock grew arms and legs.

"Banzai!" it yelled.

The guards froze in surprise. The boulder-man thrust his feet out, and they both careened over the parapet.

Suddenly, dozens of boulders sailed out from the village mass. Mid-flight they turned into little troll men in clothes of moss. Some passed into the castle. Some rolled onto the parapet.

One landed, rolled in a tight circle, and sprang upright in front of the second guard. He readied his spear.

"Hiyaaa!" The guard thrust forward, aiming for the monster's gut. The troll stood there as the metal tip glanced off, bending to a forty-five degree angle.

The guard examined it. He turned back to the troll.

It was slightly smiling, humming a little. Then gnashed its teeth and crooked its fingers. "Rawr!"

The second guard yipped and fell off the parapet, landing on top of the first guard. The troll jumped down with them, and motioned for his companions to follow.

By this time, the commotion had alerted soldiers on the other walls. They stopped when they saw the rocks flying. Some smacked against the upper wall and slid into the castle. One fell short and landed on the parapet. It spun in place and stood up, holding something behind its back.

The two pikemen raised their spears. "The trolls from the valley. It's an invasion."

"Don't let them through," the other called.

The troll brought out the thing behind his back. It was a cake, with pink frosting.

"What th'?"

"Happy birthday," the troll said.

The guards stood confused. The troll tossed the cake at them--a friendly lob as if handing it off to hold. The guard caught it with both hands, dropping his spear. Before they could ask what was going on, the troll scampered away.

"What is-"

Tiny snowmen, no more than a foot high, climbed over the top of the wall. There seemed to be no end to them. They poured in like rats escaping a flood--and jumped on the guard with the cake.

"Aiyee!" The cake flew from his hand. Half landed on the guard beside him.

"Uh-oh."

That was all he got out before the little snowmen scaled him too.

At the east wing's outer wall, Ansel set eyes on the second floor parapet, preparing to ascend. A boulder crashed through the first floor window. Stained glass rained like confetti.

The boulder rolled another foot, then stopped dead.

"Come on, guys. More cake in here!" the troll said.

Dozens of little snowmen gushed through the open window like popped corn. They spread out, looking awestruck with their beady eyes and goofy smiles

"The snow queen," Erlend gasped in a whisper.

The snowmen scurried over tables, knocked over armor, chewed on rugs, whatever mayhem they could cause. Ansel was speechless.

"We don't have enough men for this," Lucia shouted.

Erlend turned back to Ansel. "Sir, I suggest we fall back to the throne room."

"Yes... yes, I agree." Ansel regained himself. "We prepared for this. The instruments we need are there. To defeat the snow queen."

"Aye, sir," Erlend said. "Take formation."

He drew out his rapier, followed in unison by the others. Ansel's defenders formed a diamond around him. Erlend grabbed the signal horn off one of the fallen guards and put it to his lips. An echoing blast filled the castle.

"That's our cue," Anna said. If the town square wasn't so empty, they might not have heard it. But here, facing the straightest, most direct route to the castle, it was quite clear.

"Everybody ready?" Kristoff jostled the reins. Elsa, Anna, and Flynn nodded solemnly (with Olaf squeezed in-between their legs). In the front seat, Ariel leveled her trident. Rapunzel held her frying pan to her chest, ready to swing.

"Hit it!" Rapunzel called.

Kristoff whipped the reins. "Yahh!"

Sven launched forward, straining against the harness. The heavy sled dragged forward, building momentum. Once the reindeer had his grip, Elsa stood up in the sleigh. She aimed her hand at the road.

A spray of ice emitted, coating the cobblestones before them. The smooth, slick path eased Sven's burden and soon they were driving like an avalanche.

"All right, Elsa!" Anna said. "This is the best sled course yet, eh?"

Elsa ignored her.

"There they are!" someone shouted.

Elsa whipped her head around. Patrols were racing horses behind them, readying crossbows.

"Fools. Don't they know the power they're dealing with?"

With her other hand, Elsa flicked her wrist. A barricade of blue icicles sprang up between them and their pursuers. One barely managed to turn his horse before being impaled.

"Almost to the bridge," Kristoff called out over Sven's hoof beats.

The gates wrenched off their hinges hadn't been repaired, but new guards stood watch in the gatehouse. Those in the towers had already begun loosing arrows. In the back, Anna, Olaf, and Flynn ducked under a blanket. The arrows landed short, embedding in the ice path, and snapped off as the sleigh ran over them.

Ariel aimed her trident. The weapon hummed with energy, then shot a bright beam at the base of one guard tower. The rock crumbled like a sand castle meeting the tide.

Men in the tower shouted as the soldiers underneath scrambled out of the way. Arrows from the second tower narrowly struck Sven's hoof. He whinnied, but kept pace. They dashed under the first tower as it crashed against the second.

Soldiers manning the walkway to the castle saw the sled was not stopping, thanks to the inertia of the ice. Several scattered away. Ones that didn't, Ariel shot at their feet. The resounding blast propelled them into the air in different directions, but out of their way.

But there still remained soldiers holding swords and shields, ready to cut them down as they passed. Two were ready to skewer Sven with their partisans. Ariel took them out their weapons, then ducked as Rapunzel stood up.

"Batter up," she said. The impact of cast iron against sterling brass made an ear-shattering clang.

Behind them, the guards made a half-hearted effort to stand up. The sled was moving too fast to catch them now. Kristoff grinned at the tall double doors ahead.

"Okay, Elsa, slow us down," Kristoff said.

Nothing happened. The steady stream of ice magic continued smoothing out the road.

"Elsa! Stop with the ice," Kristoff said. "Slow down!"

"No," she said.

"Elsa, we need to stop!" Anna said. Elsa ignored her. Kristoff yanked back the reins but it was no use.

The front of the sleigh bumped against Sven's tail. He frantically galloped forward, lest the unstoppable sled crush him. The twin doors loomed closer.

"Elsa! No!" Kristoff closed his eyes and shirked away.

Elsa snapped her wrist. A small ramp grew at the edge of the ice road. The sled launched into the air. Sven bellowed at the sensation of weightlessness. The sleigh began to twist in midair.

At the last second, Ariel blasted her trident. The doors glowed and bowed in just before they made impact.

Splinters of door flew everywhere. The airborne sleigh barrel-rolled, twisting Sven's reins. It bounced once before landing on its side, still sliding across the hall floor, then slammed against the upper floor pavilion upside-down.

Kristoff crawled out. "Buddy? Are you all right?"

He held the reindeer's muzzle in his gloved hands while the others struggled out. Sven's eyes rolled asynchronously. But he was breathing.

"Is he okay?" Anna asked.

Kristoff stood tall in front of Elsa. He slammed his knit cap on the floor. "What the hell was that?"

"It was necessary," Elsa said.

"No, it wasn't. You could have killed him. You could have killed us."

"It's just an animal," Elsa said.

"Just an animal?" Kristoff started forward, as if he were about to fight.

Anna jumped between them. "Guys, we're all okay. No one's hurt."

"We'll talk about it after we overthrow the government," Rapunzel said. The six of them stood together. "We've got a mission and no time to waste."

Elsa said in a low tone, "Six of us against a castle full of guards. Do you think we're all getting out of this alive?"

Rapunzel gave her a look, but said nothing.

Anna pulled at Kristoff's shoulder. "We have to go."

"No, I'm not leaving him."

"I can stay with him!" Olaf shouted. "We'll have lots of fun. We can play cards. And I'll keep him safe."

Anna took Kristoff by the hand and pulled him away.

Rapunzel and Ariel took the lead, heading into the center hall. Flynn and Anna took the middle. They paused at each junction to look for patrols.

The castle was nearly empty. Halfway through and they'd been able to avoid everyone. Rapunzel dashed around corners while Ariel covered her with the trident.

"Look!" Rapunzel pointed.

Someone was sprinting away through one of the castle's arches. Even in the brief glimpse, she knew Ansel's blue uniform and distinctive shoulder pads.

"There he is!" Anna shouted. She started to run after him.

Ariel barred her with her arm. "No. We can cut him off through the servant's quarters."

She turned a right angle and ran parallel to Ansel's path.

"Where's he going? He's heading further into the castle," Flynn said.

"I bet he's heading to the throne room. It's the innermost room, the heart of the palace," Ariel said.

"Why? That's no place to make a stand--he'd be trapped there," Rapunzel said.

"Unless he knows something we don't," Kristoff said.

Ariel shrugged. "Either way, we need to stop him before he gets there."

They flew through the empty service rooms and bounded into the castle's main hallway. Though wide enough for a carriage to plow through, it appeared to be empty.

"Behind you!" Anna shouted.

Two guards were heading toward them. Ariel dropped to one knee and fired at the furthest guard. He flew back against the wall, armor clanking.

The other reached for his sword as he ran. Rapunzel stutter-stepped and bashed him in the head. His helmet spun with an echoing clang. The guard stumbled as if he'd lost his footing, then fell unconscious.

Anna pointed her finger. Everyone turned.

Ansel careened around a corner, then halted. His five lieutenants also skidded to a stop.

"So here we are." Ansel scowled.

"Ansel. This is your last chance," Rapunzel said.

"You have a lot of confidence. Me and my most elite against... whoever you managed to scrape from the gutter."

"Hey, I'm technically a prince now." Flynn pointed to himself with his dagger.

Ansel withdrew his sword. "It's time to end this."

"Ansel of Corona." Elsa pushed ahead of everyone. "You have no power that can compare to mine. And this time there will be no forgiveness for you. Only escape. Either through exile or death. Take heed-"

A ping sounded in the corridor as Elsa's head knocked back. A small trickle of blood ran down her head.

The smallest female soldier held out a slingshot, sling dangling, eyes still on her target.

Elsa staggered to the side. She caught herself, then her eyes rolled up and she fell over, unconscious.

"Ariel, look out!"

One of the officers, an old man with a handlebar mustache, unleashed a whip. It coiled around the trident. He yanked it out of her hands so hard it flew to the ceiling and landed between them. The man dragged it closer.

Ariel ran for it.

Ansel's soldiers ran for her.

Both sides rushed towards each other.

Ariel dove to the carpet, but missed by her fingertips.

Flynn rolled forward. He grabbed the whip and readied to slice it with his dagger. But another soldier kicked him in the face, knocking him away.

"Good one, Lucia. Morten, protect Erlend. Ingrid and Viktor, to the fray."

Flynn rubbed his jaw as he glared at Lucia. Lucia withdrew her sword. The two of them clashed chest to chest, their blades vibrating with tension. Lucia pushed him off and swiped at his head. Flynn ducked. They engaged in a fencing duel--sword versus dagger.

"Get away from him!" Rapunzel ran forward, frying pan held high. She was suddenly yanked back.

Morten held a mittful of blond hair wrapped around his fingers, a sadistic grin on his face.

"Hey, bad form," Flynn said, glancing over while holding his dagger defensively.

Rapunzel got on hands and knees to stand up. Morten yanked again, then laughed at her humiliation.

Rapunzel glowered. She heaved her head forward. What Morten didn't know was how strong her neck muscles were from carrying ten pounds of hair for twenty years. His barrel body carried his momentum toward her.

As Rapunzel stood up, she clocked him under the chin. He shook it off, then withdrew his own military issue saber.

Rapunzel backed up to Flynn, parrying and thrusting with her pan.

"The couple that fights together..." Flynn said.

"Stays alive together?" Rapunzel replied.

With the gap that opened up in the fray, Anna ran to her sister and collapsed by her side. She wiped the blood off her face. "Elsa? Elsa, wake up. We could use your help right now. Psycho or not."

Anna's head darted back and forth, looking out for anyone coming her way. She held her hand to her trembling mouth, silently praying for her friends.

Ariel engaged in a tug-of-war with Erlend for the trident. She held the end with the three tines. It allowed a superior grip, but she had to be careful not to stab herself with her own weapon. Nor could she shoot it.

"What is this thing? Why do you desire it so?" Erlend asked.

Ariel wrenched as hard as she could. He was just trying to distract her, to throw her off balance. She wouldn't allow it.

"Why does a girl as slight as you use this weapon? You'd be better off with a bow or a short sword."

Through gritted teeth, she uttered, "When you rule the ocean, you can use whatever weapon you want."

She punctuated the last word with a sharp torque. The trident flew out of both their hands and clattered against the wall. They both sprang for it, but Kristoff crossed in front of them. He was retreating from Ingrid and Viktor.

"Two against one. Not fair!" Kristoff said.

He backed into a suit of armor, collapsing it and himself to the floor. Kristoff threw the disassembled pieces of costume at them.

Viktor and Ingrid snickered. They drew forward, swords pointed at Kristoff.

Ariel turned back to Erlend. He was going for the trident. She had a split second decision to make. And she made it.

She picked up the thrown helmet and jammed it backwards onto Ingrid's head. Ariel pulled out her legs. Ingrid crashed to the floor, knocking herself out with the helmet impact.

Viktor turned and swung. Ariel leaned and rolled onto her back. The sword sliced horizontally into open air.

Ariel kicked her powerful legs into his gut. Leather armor or not, the wind was knocked out of him. He staggered back and fell on Kristoff.

Kristoff wrapped his meaty arm around Viktor's neck and locked it with the other. Viktor gurgled, his tongue hanging out, as the sleeper hold took effect. In a few seconds, he fell limp as a noodle.

"Whoa," Ariel said.

"I grew up with boulders for siblings. I learned a few tricks." Kristoff pointed behind her. "Watch out!"

Erlend held up the trident. "So let's see how this works, hm?" The trident began to hum.

Though only the king of the seas could use its full power, anyone could shoot lightning. Ariel flashed back to all the times others had used the trident or tried to steal it.

She squinched her eyes shut and prepared for the hit. As the hum reached crescendo, she had one last ironic thought: now she'd know what being blasted felt like.

"Er-erg-erg-erg-erg-erg-erg-erg..." Erlend vibrated as tendrils of golden electricity danced over his body. He stiffened, unable to release the trident.

The power stopped. Erlend fell into a heap. The trident clattered on the ground.

Ariel snatched it up before anyone else had a chance to. "Thanks, Daddy," she whispered.

Ansel skirted around the slicing swords, heading towards the door. Everyone was too engaged in battle to notice what he was up to. Everyone except Anna, who stood up as he sprinted past.

"Hey," she shouted.

Elsa stirred. "Ow... what happened?" She gritted her teeth. "That troll knocked me out again."

"No, it was one of Ansel's soldiers. He-"

"Ansel," she murmured. She stood as if she had never fallen. "Where is he? Where did..."

"He went that way." Anna pointed to the door, where a leg just vanished from the frame.

Elsa growled. "No. You will not get away, Ansel. Not EVER."

All the warmth in the air disappeared, sucked out. A thick white frost spread from the point where Elsa's feet touched the floor, spreading wall-to-wall. The castle walls blanched.

"What is-?" Morten asked.

The ice grew like vines, coating the hall from top to bottom. It crackled as it sprawled under Morten's boots. He tried to step away, but they became stuck fast. The same thing happened to Flynn. Lucia stumbled back and tripped.

The sounds of clashing swords died away. "What's happening?" Kristoff said.

Ingrid lay on her back like a turtle, held by her helmet and tunic. Rapunzel stayed bent at an awkward angle, her hair glued to the ground.

"This is the ice queen's doing," Lucia said. "She's taking back her castle."

"I can't... I can't get myself free," Flynn said. He couldn't even untie his shoelaces. "Elsa? Elsa!"

She was gone.

"Ariel, can you use the trident?" Rapunzel asked, forced to lean back and look at the ceiling.

Though in an awkward position, Ariel jabbed the tines into the ice chunks around her feet. "I don't have much choice."

#Ariel #Elsa #Rapunzel #Tangled #Frozen #The Little Mermaid #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #Disney #princess #Disney princess #crossover #Reprise

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