Imagine Cal getting to Koboh and immediately getting a sunburn cuz he's ginger and doesn't spend much time outside in the sun (especially planets with more intense sunlight)

It's like. No freckles because of Bracca making him soooo pasty. And yeah a planet or two here and there with some sun, giving him freckles but gosh man sometimes you look paler than Merrin. Koboh is the first planet that's he's spent one, more than a couple days on and two, spent more than a couple days on while *outside.* By the time he makes it to the saloon from the Mantis on day 1, the man's already peeling.

𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙞- 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: an idea pops into colts head after fucking your brains out the night before, craving you again.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: smut! vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, fem! reader, semi public sex, cursing, overstimulation

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: smut/nsfw

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: colt grice, reader insert

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: you asked, i provide. after getting so much great feedback from you all about part one (view here), i decided, hey, let’s make a part two! also, thank you so much for 95 followers, it means so so so much to me 😩 also, hey, look! i’m using proper capitalization when i write now!!

DISCLAIMER: cant believe that i even have to clarify this, but IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM DO I HAVE AN OPINION ON GABI. people will probably come for my throat if i even say that i like or dislike her, so i’m neutral to her.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the morning was... awkward, to say the least. Eventually, you all began to laugh it off. Porco would crack the occasional joke about it (when Falco and Gabi weren’t near).

After breakfast, you ran back up to your room to change, grabbing that white bikini that you washed and folded last night. You smirked at your memories from yesterday, how Colt admired you looking so very attractive. His hazel eyes would constantly be on you, unwavering.

After slipping it on and tying the straps, you made a quick stop in the bathroom, Colt at the sink furiously brushing his teeth. You can see his eyes widen in the mirror, looking at your figure.

He quickly spits out the toothpaste and wipes his mouth. “Wow, you’re lookin... awfully lovely today”, he says, kissing your lips. You take in the minty breath breathing down your chin.

“Colt, not now...” you say, pulling your lips from his. “The door is open, We can’t do this now, plus we have plans for the day.”

Colt pouts, frowning at your words. “Fine. But I’m expecting affection tonight”, he says, walking out of the bathroom. You smile, and continue to get ready to get back on the beach.

It looked like Pieck, Porco, Reiner, Colt, Gabi and Falco had gotten out early, since they were all sprawled out on different parts of the beach. Pieck was dipping her dainty feet in the water, while Gabi and Falco aggressively splashed each other with the water from the lake.

Pieck turned around to see you walk down to the beach, greeting you with a warm smile. “Hello, y/n!” She says, stepping out of the water that washed upon her feet. “Just getting used to this water. I don’t know the last time I’ve gone swimming, but I figured that I should try.”

You stand next to her, and dip your foot into the water. A shiver ran down your back, feeling that the water was slightly colder than yesterday. “I cant blame you. I’m more of a sunbathing person myself.” You look around, and see the men in their same old spot, floating in the water in their tubes. Pieck lays down on a nearby towel, and puts a pair of sunglasses on her face, blocking the burning sunlight that washed upon you all.

“Come, sit”, she says. “The sunlight feels wonderful.”

You sit down beside her, also putting on your own pair of shades to save your eyes from the sunlight. You wonder how Pieck never manages to tan and always keeps her pale, nearly lifeless complexion.

Back over by the guys, Reiner and Porco were still teasing Colt about the noise from last night. Colt pretended not to care, but deep down he was semi embarrassed about the situation.

“Well, if you want to really switch things up, you should try a new position or something, maybe add a vibrator”, Porco says. “I think girls like that.”

Reiner let’s out a laugh. “Porco, how would you know? You’ve never gotten an ounce of pussy in your life.”

Porco snaps, splashing Reiner with a wave of water. “At least I get into meaningful relationships and don’t just settle for one night stands, Reiner.” Colt sighs, as the two continue their bickering. He looks down by the shore, seeing you and Pieck laying on the beach. How could he possibly be this lucky to have a girl like you as his girlfriend?

Wait. Hang on. Colt had an idea pop into his head. If he wanted to get laid again, he probably shouldn’t do it inside the house, hence the thin walls. He had seen some porn of people fucking on a beach, and always wanted to try it, and added it to his bucket list. What better time to do it then now?

Colt began to think of you slipping off that bikini like you had done last night, untying the straps, revealing your dazzling body. He could feel himself getting hard, and covered his crotch. If he was going to follow through with this plan, he was going to have to do it at night, after everyone had gone to bed to take away the risk of getting caught or being heard (again).

As soon as night came, you cleaned up the dishes after dinner and went upstairs to the bathroom. On the sink was a note, in colts messy handwriting.

𝒴/𝒩,

𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃.

𝒳𝑜𝓍𝑜, 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝓉

Shit, you think to yourself. Sundown was forever ago. I should get down to the beach before Colt thinks I ditched him or something.

You don’t even bother to change into normal clothes, and go back down there in the white bikini Colt adored seeing you in, you couldn’t go wrong in wearing that.

You make your way down to the beach, the starlit sky twinkling in the distance, the moon hovering over the lake reflecting white waves. Colt is down on the beach, a large towel laid out, on his phone.

You walk towards him feeling the sand crunch beneath your feet, and his eyes immediately look up to you, wide with excitement.

“Y/N!” He says. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming or you didn’t see the note.”

“I wouldn’t forget about you Colt”, you say, sitting beside him. “Never ever.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you kiss his lips, tasting like just a bit of alcohol.

You pull away, Colts smile slowly fading away at the fact that you stopped kissing him. “Colt, baby, have you been drinking?”

“Fine, maybe a little”, he said. “But I paced myself this time to the point where I won’t get hammered, I did it for you.”

You smiled. “I’m proud of you!” That smile didn’t last long, feeling the right corner of your mouth rise forming a smirk. “And good boys get rewarded.”

You see Colts cheeks get red, flushing as you move your head down to his crotch, still covered in fabric. He lets out a breathy moan when you gently tug at his elastic waistband with your mouth. You stop for a minute, trying to remember why you were down here in the first place.

“Hey, wait, why did you ask me to come down here in the first place?”

Colt grins, and pulls out a bottle of lube from his pocket. “Well, I wanted to switch things up. I thought the beach would be a nice place to... you know. But keep doing what you’re doing please, baby.”

You continue your quest to tug down Colts swim trunks, but getting impatient and moving your hand up to the waistband and tugging it down with a singular motion. His cock sprang out, slapping against his stomach, already half hard. Your hand gripped his length gently, thumb rubbing the tip as he slowly began to grow increasingly hard under your touch. He let out a gasp at your movements. Your hand traveled down father, slowly jacking him off as he looked down upon you, hazel eyes filled with desire as you pumped him.

“Just like that, babe...” Colt said, voice cracking. He whimpered, voice high because of the stimulation you were providing him. “Oh... oh god... please, you’re doing so good baby.”

Your heat throbbed at his praises. This only encouraged you to go quicker, his eyes starting to roll into the back of his head. You cupped his balls, eliciting another whimper or moan, possibly a combination of the two.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum-“ Colt is cut off by his sudden orgasm, covering your hand in his hot seed.

“Normally, i would stop and make you beg, but you’ve been a good boy tonight. I wanna make you feel good.” Colt is panting underneath you, still sensitive from his last orgasm. His cock grows hard again. He gives you a weak smile as he lays down on the towel.

“What’s the matter?” You ask. “You’re not tired already are you? You’re still hard.”

“B-baby...” Colt whispers. “C-can you ride me? Pretty please?” Your heat grows hotter than before at the idea. You fiddle with the straps of your bikini, and undo the knot in the back, making the top portion fall off easily. You slip off the bottom half, and sit on Colts lap.

Just to tease him, you kiss him on his lips, grinding your hips against his. Seeing him so vulnerable, so sensitive made you incredibly turned on. His eyes were squinted, his cheeks (and cock) red. His dick was throbbing even though he just came, and beads of sweat rolled off of his body. You thoroughly enjoyed the sight.

You grabbed hold of his cock once again, and guided it to your entrance, teasing the tip around your hole. Once you had enough of all this teasing, you skipped it in, not needing that bottle of lube since your walls were coated in your arousal already.

“Fuck- so... tight...” Colt mumbles.

You grind your hips against his cock, feeling it move in and out inside you. Colt contributes to the movement, thrusting his hips up to penetrate you deeper than you thought possible. Colt wasn’t incredibly endowed, maybe six inches, but you were shocked at how good he could use it.

His dick began to rub onto that one spongy spot inside of you, the one that drove you crazy. “Colt! Aah! R-Right there!”

Colt appreciated the praise, and was thankful that you two were away from the house for tonight. His pace picked up, continuously hitting your sweet spot with all his might.

Before you knew it, you had creamed around his cock, feeling the wave of your orgasm crash down upon you. Colt, not done yet, was still thrusting into you.

With a loud groan, Colt thrusted into you sloppily one final time, and released himself into you. Now was a time that you were grateful to be on the pill, feeling his warm seed coat your walls was one of the best sensations you could possibly experience.

Out of breath, you lay on colts bare chest, completely fucked out. Cum was still dripping down from your cunt to your inner thigh, which you most definitely did not hate. Colt kissed your neck, his kisses messily leaving a bit of saliva on your neck.

“You’re- you’re amazing, y/n.” He kisses you again, this time right on your lips. You were too tired to even respond. You just shut your eyes, feeling Colts heartbeat against your ear.

Eventually, Colt carried you into the house as if you were a sleeping baby, while being careful not to wake anyone else up. He placed your body on the bed, and laid beside you, careful to tuck you into the covers while doing the same to himself. Wrapping himself around you, he snuggled into you, even more grateful tonight than ever that he was your boyfriend.

scarred leash [1] - m.l

words: 5.9k 

warnings: alcohol, discussions of self harm 

prologue: scarred leash (prologue) 

Things had happened quickly after that. Moving in was entirely too painless, so easy that I expected a natural disaster to sweep the capital to punish me. But it hadn’t, nothing happened. No natural disaster or police showing up at the house to haul me back to my home town, in fact things actually got better. After my first night in my new flat with my new roommate, I awoke to the realisation that my job interview was in three hours. And even weeks after, I remembered the interview vividly. Each time I began my commute to work, my mind hauled back each detail of the meeting, every word I had muttered that grey morning. My own mind critiquing itself endlessly as I boarded the subway and found myself staring up at the larger than life building that I now worked in.

After an awkwardly uneventful interview, I waited two weeks for a phone call from the stock company. It had been painful, like staring at a splinter knowing that you would have to pull it out. I needed an answer, even if it was bad news. I spent days on the sofa with Rose, biting away at my nails, watching my mobile for any activity. Until finally, late on a Tuesday, the call came. I expected it to be a let-down, for a sorrowful older man to let me know that I was too young, too inexperienced for the job but in some sort of backward event, it hadn’t been unfortunate news. Instead the male voice on the other end told me that I had been given the place, that I had the proper equipment to handle it, that I had the job. My stomach had filled with bubbles, and nerves and so much excitement I could barely contain myself.

Each day on the train, on the courtyard of the business park, I try to remind myself of that phone call. When I feel the doubt begin to crawl over my skin like a litter of ants, I recall that I was able to do this job, that in fact, I was particularly overqualified as the man had put it. I could do this, I had been doing this for nearly a month now. Though somewhere, I still felt incapable, or subdued in some way. As if I would be pulled from this reality altogether and placed back in my more familial, dull setting. I’d tried not to think of home whatsoever, but thoughts sometimes seeped in, leaking through in the memories of home that I cherished. Each thought that dribbled through brought a sick feeling to my stomach and reminded me that I would always carry some of my old, pained tendencies.

I had only cut myself a few times since leaving home and by now the wounds that I did inflict were shallow and harmless. Luckily I had an abundance of long sleeves to cover them and so, no one was any the wiser. Aside Rose, who had figured it out within a few days of my arrival. I felt exposed to her in a way I only ever had with my mother or grandmother, something about sharing the same living space. Though it was peaceful with Rose, a sweet vulnerability that felt equal. It was my second day that she confessed her dreaded “secret” to me. Whilst sitting together on the sofa, I had seen the edge of the stuffing in her bra and though it was obvious I had seen, I felt too afraid to mention it. Later, after an awkward silence, Rose explained that she was born as a boy. I’m not sure I ever would have known, she seemed as feminine as I was, maybe even a little more but I could tell that me knowing made her feel better. I nodded along as she explained how she had known that she was different, how her parents didn’t approve but thankfully, her distant uncle had. That night, she flooded out all her emotions onto me and however overwhelmed I felt, I understood.

Something about having a roommate made me feel better around people, more enthusiastic, confident. Rose had told me that going in assertive was much better than appearing timid and allowing yourself to be torn to shreds. That advice seemed to help in my work place that was male dominated and barely had anyone younger than twenty-five. It was imperative that I remained level headed and completely in control of my work in the office and I had been able to keep up with that in my first few weeks. Each day keeping to a strict schedule and finishing the admin work that was piled on my desk stall when I arrived in the morning. As I threw my bag down that day, it was no different, in fact, the pile was even larger.

Most of my days were full of work and busyness and through that busyness, I had barely gotten to know any of my co-workers. Not that I minded entirely as most of them were old enough to be my parents and over half of them happened to be senior men. Though I barely had time to dwindle on that fact, my head crammed with statistics and data that needed to be typed up and handed back to my boss in time for him to pass it onto his bosses. It was tedious work, adding up logistical stocks and predicting sales for the coming weeks and yet it took up hours. By the time I had typed and printed the needed papers, I had only a couple hours left of work that no doubt, would be filled by another task my boss would set. As I huffed to myself, I watched a co-worker walk through the aisle that separated some of the stalls. The muffled steps that crunched over the dull carpet, the rubbing of suit trousers that travelled to me in waves. Out of trepidation and a desperate need not to interact with my heavy-handed boss, I called out to the person as their face came into view.

‘Mark,’ I said quite loudly, the first time his name had passed through my lips. It caught him off guard, his doe eyes widening as he turned to me. His face peeking over the walls of my desk stall, his arms cradling the velvet shield and he peered at me, waiting.

I’d only interacted with him once before, on my first day in the office. Another one of my co-workers, an older woman had introduced me to everyone on the fifth floor, she had made a point of mentioning that there was one other person around my age, only one. She whisked me up and down the aisles, pointing to unremarkable faces in the blurred crowd of the workspace, expecting me to remember facts she listed off about the faces. I did my best but after a while, everyone faded into one. Except someone who was entirely different.  

Mark sat on the end of the aisle, four stalls away from where I would eventually work. The woman guiding me around motioned over to him as we reached his desk, her stature leaning against the wall of the stall and leaving me to awkwardly stand beside her. He only looked up as the woman began talking, her voice coarse as it surrounded the office, though as I looked to Mark, sound became muffled. I was taken back by how young he looked, how, familiar yet different. His features were delicate, soft, oddly shaped and yet confidently beautiful. Golden skin and ivory hair shining in the harsh office lighting, and as his eyes gleamed up at me, my chest burnt. My eyes kept tracing over his features, trying to grasp what is was that had enabled me so, enamoured, but I couldn’t understand it. The woman continued to ramble away, Mark glancing between me and her as he politely smiled. I waited until the woman went quiet, and as she finally told me the name of the boy, I listened.

‘And this, is Mark.’ She said, her voice silencing after his name. I smiled at him, lips pulled tight as I tried my best to appear gallant, my mind ablaze.

‘Hi,’ he mumbled, his voice low, deeper than I would have imagined his gentle face to own. He also owned a different accent to anyone else in the office, though I was unsure it was American, Canadian, or some kind of European. I continued smiling helplessly until I realised that I too should introduce myself.

‘Oh, I’m Ellie, hi.’ I reached my hand out, my fingers shaking slightly before Mark clasp them between his. A pulse ran through my stomach, his tanned skin contrasting over my dull complexion, his slender fingers consuming mine. It seemed to go on too long and after a while, the woman beside me choked out a cough and Mark let my hand drop back to my side.

‘Looks like Mark isn’t the baby of the office anymore then.’ Another male voiced called out from down the column of desks, a stifled chuckle following from the woman. Mark merely smiled and peered down, slightly embarrassed but somehow pleased, though I was unsure why.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He mumbled as he stared at the ground.

‘Only just.’ The woman added as another identical chuckle came from the man who originally spoke. Mark glanced up, his lips still pulled into a smile, his eyes softer than before and fixated entirely on me.

‘How old are you then?’

‘Um, nineteen.’ I almost stammered, his gaze thick and palpable through its warmth.

‘Ah, yeah, just a couple years younger. You get used to the babying, its actually kinda nice sometimes.’ He spoke, his accent strong yet still hard to place.

‘Not gonna baby you anymore though, we have a new office kid.’ The woman chuckled as she began to walk away from Mark’s desk. My chest began burning again, I didn’t want to leave my spot, I didn’t want to leave the conversation with Mark.

She continued walking, leaving me no choice but to follow. My footsteps slow and purposeful as Mark called out to me once more.

‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise, I’ll, see you around.’ I muttered back to him, his eyes still following me as I turned to wander through the aisle away from him.

Though we hadn’t interacted since then, there was no anxiety that came from calling out to Mark in the quiet chaos of the office. There were no worries about whether he would be rude, or merely ignore me for I’d never seen him be anything but cordial. As he leant against the stall wall, he smiled, button like cheeks balling up until the grin met his eyes. My stomach churned as I became hyper aware that I still hadn’t spoken.

‘Oh, could you pass these papers onto Gregory,’ I muttered, lifting the stack of printer paper from the table, extending my hand over to Mark. They were heavy, thick with ink and logistical mumble, and yet Mark hitched a hand above the velvet wall and took them from me with no problems. I’d expected him to be a little weaker than he actually was, due to how thin and gangly his frame seemed underneath his casual suit. Although, I needed to understand that appearances were sometimes deceiving.

‘Sure,’ Mark mumbled in return, glancing down to the papers and grinning to himself as he stepped forward. His figure looming in front of my eyes, my papers pressing to his chest as he caught my gaze once more. ‘You scared of him?’ He asked.

I chuckled in defence, ‘No, I um, a little. It’s not that he makes me uncomfortable, its just the whole boss thing, kinda scares me.’

‘It’s cool, I was like that my first few months. You get used to it.’ Mark nodded as he spoke, the coil of anxiety in my stomach loosening until I could barely feel it anymore. His low voice eased something out in me I hadn’t felt in such a long time.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem,’ he said, beginning to wander from my desk and toward the office that housed our boss. ‘And Ellie,’ he called back.

‘Yeah.’

‘This,’ he motioned to the papers, ‘is really good.’

‘Thanks.’ I grinned, my lips parting as my goofy smile pummelled through my mouth. Mark smiled in return and began to wander off again, disappearing through the door of the office until I could no longer see him.

Work had concluded for the day and I was entirely prepared to lie down on the sofa with Rose and watch whatever movies she suggested. However, after my long journey home from the skyscraper I worked in, I noticed a car parked outside our house. And as I unlocked the door and began wandering up the stairs, I could hear faint snippets of conversation and giggles. Through heavy, tired breathes I lifted my body up the stairs and opened the door to see Rose with a friend. She was smiling like I’d never seen her do so before, her eyes alighted by the company of this person, this man. I could see why, he was gorgeous and as they turned to greet me I could see his face a little better. It was kind, his features sharp and striking but his smile warm. I ambled over to the two people and placed myself in the sofa chair across from them, grinning as I did so.

‘Hi,’ the man said, almost standing up as he reached to shake my hand.

‘Hey.’

‘This is Andy,’ Rose muttered from her place on the couch, smiling widely as she nearly leaned into his side. I could see the obvious infatuation scrawled across her face while the two interacted, as she spoke.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’ I said politely, pulling my work jacket from my back and tugging my long sleeves back into their place. Strands of my pulled back hair dripping across my forehead, my head shaking to rearrange my bangs.

‘Likewise, Rose has told me so much about you.’ He muttered in a fraudulent tone, not that I minded as it was a rather sweet lie. I doubted Rose had said anything about me, beyond that I lived here. Roommates weren’t something you mentioned when trying to sleep with someone, even I knew that. I stifled a chuckle and merely decided to nod along to his lie.

‘So, me and Andy were planning to go to this club tonight, and I figured, maybe you should come along?’ Rose asked carefully, never directly handing it to me as a question and I knew why. I had been living in London for around a month now and I hadn’t explored anything other than work and home. Rose had been trying to pry me from the house on some nights, attempting to drag me along to late night raves that she enjoyed but I couldn’t muster the courage. I figured she’d give up, especially on nights like this when I was visibly tired but the fact that she was still trying brought out a confidence in me. Though my stomach twisted, I nodded.

‘Sure, when?’

‘Well, if you get dressed, we can go.’ Rose muttered happily, her smile pressing up into her eyes.

‘Oh, right, yeah.’ I smiled at Andy, wordlessly excusing myself to prepare for the night ahead. My feet trudging against the wooden floor as I pulled myself into my bedroom. I waited for a moment before sitting down, feet outstretching until they almost met the opposing wall. I heaved heavy breathes and began rooting for something to wear, anything that wasn’t work clothes. The breezy material of the shirt felt uncomfortable and though it was beautiful, I felt too open in it. I continued huffing to myself as I pulled on some jeans and hid my arms underneath a thick jacket. When Rose had told me to get ready, I hadn’t understood if she meant look good or merely change my outfit. As I inched my way back into the living room, afraid I would interrupt an intimate moment, Rose gleamed over at me. Smiling while she inspected my figure and stood up, hauling Andy along with her.

‘Come on then.’ Rose ordered the two people who joined her, my body trailing behind the couple as we left the apartment.

It felt different being out on the London streets after work, when the sky had faltered entirely black and stars lit up the roads along with the street lights. I listened as laughter poured out of bars and open windows, and the warmth of the night brightened with every step. I should’ve allowed Rose to convince me out a long time ago, I’d never felt so home, so alive. I found myself grinning as I followed behind Rose and Andy, watching as he held her hand in his. Fingers sweeping over the back of her palm, cooing her as they almost skipped through the streets. A deep warmth came to my chest, not jealousy or want but thankfulness, that someone was caring for Rose in that way. That she was happy with someone.

We continued along the road for a while, twisting as the streets curved and led us far from our home. My feet began to ache in the heels I had foolishly chosen to wear but thankfully, Rose stopped soon after the pain began. Her body halted outside a club, light seeping from the outside door along with strings of music and chatter. I felt nervous once more, my arms wrapping around my chest and I passively followed Rose and Andy. I worried that I wouldn’t be allowed in due to my anxious expression or the looming baby fat that lingered on my cheeks. I shuffled closer to Rose, almost grabbing onto her like a scared baby did to its mother. She chuckled, leaning behind herself and taking me by the hand.

‘C’mon dumpling.’ She mumbled to soothe me and as the three of us passed the security guard and hauled ourselves into the club, it began to work.

I had never been in a pub let alone a club, like a proper grown up one. I expected to see people passed out, sprawled over couches, bags of drugs scattered across the floor, men fighting in the corner. Though I soon realised, it wasn’t as explicit as my mother had warned me, in fact, the atmosphere was more akin to a school disco. As I watched the floor and pushed myself further into the club, I became more comfortable. Rose still held my hand, Andy walking beside us as she hauled me onto the dance floor. It was difficult to move at first, awkward as their were so many sweaty bodies pushing together, skin touching accidentally. I worried I would bump someone and be attacked though that thought calmed when Rose began dancing along to the techno music. Her hips swaying, arms knocking people who didn’t seem to care one fragment. Andy leant in and whispered something, a mumble about grabbing drinks before he disappeared through the crowd.

Rose took a hold of my other hand, lifting my arms as she swung them back and forth to the beat of the music. I giggled, following her movements, my cheeks aching from the wide grin. Through the guide of Rose, I began to let my body sway to the sound filling the club, my eyes closing and feet tapping against the floor. I couldn’t dance, I had never been able to but in this packed club where the music danced as though it were alive, it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing did; not work, not my hometown, not my mother, nothing except being free. For the first time in a very long time, I felt good about myself, I felt like I was glowing, shining on the inside.

I heard my own giggles glimmer into the air, my eyes opening as my body continued to move. I watched Rose move, her figure gliding beautifully as she became lost in the atmosphere. We danced a little more until Andy waved us over to the bar, Rose pulling me through the crowds until we reached him. He stood by three drinks in small glasses, one of them empty as I supposed he had already had his own. Rose grinned at him and grabbed one of the glasses, heaping the clear fluid down her throat in a single pained gulp. My stomach tingled from the mere sight of the liquid, but I knew drinking was part in parcel with clubs. My shaky fingers grasped the little container and my lips cradled it. The alcohol spewing down my throat as I careened my head back. It burnt, like cutting myself did, in a familiar, kind way, it was good, and my stomach began to churn.

‘Could I have another?’ I asked, my eyes flitting between the couple. Andy chuckled and nodded, leaning over to order the drink from the bartender. We waited a moment before three more drinks lined the bar, and this time I was the first to reach for mine. I sipped it slowly, allowing the burn to simmer out in my throat, spreading over the internal flesh. I groaned as I placed the glass back on the table, my lips wet from the fluid, cheeks flushed from the sudden wash of alcohol in my blood. I felt an urge to request another but figured it was best to let the two I’d already consumed settle.

‘First time drinking?’ Andy asked.

‘Uh-huh, I’ve never been in a club either, I, I love it. This is so great, thank you, Rose.’ I mumbled, leaning over and pulling my roommate into an awkward half hug.

‘It’s fine sweetie, you want to try a different drink, maybe something slightly, nicer?’ She proposed.

‘Okay.’ I grinned, watching as Rose leant over the bar and shouted over to the muscly bartender.

‘Two double sex on the beaches, please.’ She smiled; her lips outstretched perfectly as the bartender began to blush. I chuckled to myself, Andy placing his palm flat against her back. I felt my mouth widen as I stifled another chuckle down my throat, my hands flat on the bar and I pulled myself to sit on a stool. After a moment, two larger glasses were placed on the bar near us, a darker liquid filling the cups. It looked like any other fizzy drink I had seen and so, I lifted it from the table and began drinking. A wave of bitterness hit my tongue, scorching its way down my throat and sitting, still hot, in my tummy. I visibly winced and I continued to sip.

‘Slowly.’ Rose laughed, taking a sip from her own drink and allowing Andy to have some. I tried to do as she said but it didn’t seem as filling that way though I understood some people drank for the taste. I kept the straw in my mouth, continuously sipping as Rose grew bored of her drink rather quickly. Dipping her head nearer Andy, placing her forehead in the crook of his neck. I watched the two cuddle for a while before it seemed they were both ready to go back to dancing. Me, however, I was too entranced by the foreign warmth that bubbled in my stomach, a pleasurable dizziness coming over my head. The more I drank, the better it felt.

‘We’re going to go dance, you coming?’ Rose asked abruptly, her voice low and coarse.

‘No, I’m okay, I’ll come over in a minute.’ I muttered as the couple began wandering from me and my place at the bar. Their figures dipping between the crowd before they dissipated from my view altogether, leaving me entirely alone, sipping my drink as the music drowned out everything else. My feet tapped to the beat still, dipping against the metal frame of the chair, my throat stiff and aching from the heat of the alcohol.

As I continued to inhale the liquid through the thinness of the straw, I came to realise a few moments later than I’d drunk the entirety of it. I sighed to myself before my eyes loomed over the drink that Rose had abandoned, still sitting with me. I tried to locate the couple on the dance floor, but I couldn’t see them through the piles of people. My fingers tapped upon the bar for a second before I grasped the other glass as I had done with my own. This time gulping the fluid rather quickly and feeling as my stomach churned angrily in response.

I continued sitting by myself, soothing the drink into my mouth and watching over the dense crowd of people. By now, I probably should have joined my friends, but I didn’t want to interrupt the fun they were having together and so, I sat motionless. Every minute that passed was full of certainty that I was going to move but I never did until I was approached by another girl. Her frame passed over from the other side of the bar, short figure coming into view as she stood before me. At first, I expected her to ask if we had met before, that she had merely mistaken me for an old friend. Instead, she merely smiled, grinning until her sweet smile grew gummy. Her short hair barely touched her shoulders, dark eyes still somehow bright in the deep mellow of the club. And though I didn’t know her, I felt myself smile in response to hers.

‘Do you want to dance?’ She asked, leaning in to shout nearer my ear though I could hear her perfectly well. My smile grew with her question, my heart beating violently, and I called back in response.

‘Sure.’

Her eyes grew smaller as her smile widened, her hand reaching out and grabbing mine as she pulled me from the bar. I wondered if this was usual in clubs like this, people making friends, dancing with strangers. I wondered if perhaps she still thought I was a friend, that this was still an accident. Her flushed cheeks brightened underneath the strobe lights, our bodies pushing onto the dance floor as she guided me through the crowd. Her fingers intertwined with mine, the cool complexion of her skin shining even though my vision was clouded from alcohol.

She danced first. Lifting my hand up with hers as she placed her other palm on the crook of my waist. I felt shivers run down my spine, her pull tugging me in closer until our chests touched. She swayed her head to the tune of the music while I began to do the same, keeping my eyes open so I could watch her dance. I could feel her heartbeat through the connection of our chests, I could taste her breath on my tongue. She let go of my hand and placed her now free hand with her other on my waist, her thigh between my legs. I could feel her near me, so close that it burnt to breathe. My empty hands clasp onto her shoulders, holding them as we danced in sync, our bodies moulding into one. I felt myself linger into her, my longer hair brushing against her cheeks as she dipped her head near my neck. Every gasp she exhaled felt like razors on my skin, so palpable that I could see them like the shapes of daggers. My heartbeat sped up as she glanced up at me, her shorter frame standing below mine. A hand lifted from my waist, flat palm gliding out over my jaw before she pulled my mouth onto hers.

I had never kissed a girl before, in fact, I had only ever kissed two people, both boys who I had known. This was entirely different, not only was she a girl, she was a complete stranger. Though I worried about it later, in the moment, I was too caught up in the kiss. How she felt, how she tasted, how soft her hold on my cheek was. My stomach grew tight as she continued to kiss me, her tongue parting my lips and exploring my mouth. Darting around until she had felt every inch of private skin and soaked up the fragments of my drink that were left behind. It was only after we had run out of breath that she pulled back. I watched her blushed expression, lips moist from the kiss, though I figured my expression was more desperate, shocked, needy, flushed.

‘I’m Ellie.’ I mumbled loudly before realising that might have been the wrong thing to do. I didn’t know whether people would introduce themselves after kissing in a club or if they merely forgot about each other entirely the day after.

She chuckled, soothing my waist with her thumb before she finally spoke. ‘I’m Katy.’ And then she leaned in again and pressed her lips against mine. Her thigh flexing between my legs until I could feel her near my heat, my chest burning. I felt nervous, like a schoolgirl seeing their crush wander the hallways though I knew nothing about her. Katy lifted her hand and tucked stray hairs behind my ears, her mouth drifting off my lips, pecking small kisses on my jaw and neck. She travelled over every accessible piece of skin before returning to my lips and staying there for a while. 

I could have gone home with Katy, I could have invited her back to the flat but instead, I said goodbye and left with Rose and Andy. We didn’t exchange phone numbers or anything, I merely left, and she merely disappeared like she had never really been there. But I knew she had been and that was enough. Beside, Rose had told me that I was far too drunk to go anywhere with anyone with that in mind. So I let Andy and Rose haul me back to the flat, my feet burning from the pain they were in, my lips still swollen from the kiss. My limbs felt weak, turned to jelly from the liquid I had consumed, liquid that suddenly seemed to take effect. I mumbled all the way home, uttering incoherent words to myself until I was back in the shelter of my flat.

Andy, who had been supporting my weight all the way home handed my droopy figure over to Rose. Her knees nearly buckled underneath my body, her arm underneath my armpit, her grip awkward and painful.

‘You can go to my room,’ Rose mumbled toward Andy and though I was almost blackout drunk, I knew what she meant instantly. ‘I’ll just put Lindsey Lohan to bed and then I’ll be right in.’

I groaned in response to her words while Andy merely chuckled and proceeded to follow them. His footsteps muffled and figure disappearing into the other bedroom as Rose lead me into my own. She placed my tired form down on my bed, grip disappearing from my body while she pulled the heels from my feet. I almost moaned in relief when the shoes hit the ground, Rose giggling as she pulled a blanket atop my body. Wrapping it around me to make sure I wouldn’t be cold and placing my figure in a way I wouldn’t find uncomfortable. I felt more cared for in that moment that I had with my own mother over the course of nineteen years.

‘Thank you.’ I drunkenly mumbled, my eyes already closed, sleep beginning to consume me.

‘You’re welcome, sleep well chicken.’ She said in return, leaning over my body to place a kiss on my forehead. I felt her lips press to my skin and then disappear altogether, her presence leaking from the room like the light of a candle. Though by then, my mind had fogged over into unconsciousness and I couldn’t see anything but darkening sleep.  

The next noise I heard was swaddled from me, hidden behind the wall that separated the two bedrooms belonging to the flat. And then another similar noise sept in and it became clearer what that noise was. My aching eyes fluttered open, cold, icy orbs searching the room before I recalled being placed in there. More noises followed, my body sitting up as the sleep shook itself from my muscles. My balled fists came up to my eyes to rub the tiredness from them, my vision growing clearer as I looked around and realised it was still night. I huffed to myself, I had work tomorrow and now I had to sleep through the groans flowing from Rose and Andy. I waited for a while, hoping that they would finish and fall asleep as I was wanting to do but instead, it seemed they merely continued on and on. I burrowed my head beneath my pillow, plugged my ears with my fingers but nothing seemed to muffle it into obscurity. In fact, it appeared the more I tried to ignore it, the louder it became.

My exasperated groans joined in on the harmony of moaning and eventually it became so loud, it was near deafening. I found myself listening, head perking up from the safety of my pillow, ear nearing the wall. Rose still sounded entirely feminine, though most of the noise was coming from Andy who let out what almost sounded like growls. The more I listened, the more I was reminded of the nights I spent at home, watching those images on my phone. Watching foreign bodies make love until they appeared no more than living carcasses. I felt sick. My stomach tense, almost making me retch. I tossed myself over my bed and dug through a draw, pulling a blade I had hidden from Rose and myself. I hadn’t used it before, in fact, I had only bought it recently just in case I needed to and that night, I needed to.

I felt my eyes scrunch up at the noises, my throat burning, chest on fire from how nauseous I felt. With my eyes still closed, I pushed my blade down onto the inside of my forearm. Pushing down until it hurt a little too much and then moving onto to a different spot and continuing the pattern. It didn’t seem to help, not even the pain did. The more I pushed down on my skin, the worse I felt and that had never happened before. I began panicking, perhaps I had done it so much I was now immune. I wasn’t sure how I would find relief in anything but doing that, I couldn’t possibly mix this sort of thing with sex. Not only did I not have the energy to cut myself every time I felt like getting off, it felt wrong, gross to mix self-harm and pleasure like that. I bevelled the blade down on my skin once more to ensure that I was correct and low and beyond, it seemed I was. It didn’t feel good, it just burnt and stung like a deep wound was supposed to.

Through stifled breathes, I threw the blade back into the drawer and laid back down on my bed. I watched the shapes carved into the ceiling, my head dizzy from lingering alcohol and the fresh cuts dancing over my forearm. The only thing to keep me company was the moans that continuously poured through the paper-thin wall, other than that, I was completely alone. Tears began to drip down my temples where Rose had kissed, choked breaths exhaling from my lips, where Katy had kissed. I felt that had been ruined now, that kissing anyone would be tainted by that thing that was missing, the pain that I would need to enjoy it.

Fallout Meme!

I saw this on @courierspikeee and I noticed one of the tags was anyone who thought ED-E was the goodest boy, and i am 100% in that camp, so I hope nobody minds if I do this ;) Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same.

1. What is your name?

"Doctor Wanda Thompson, of the Institute!” She laughs “oh, don’t give me that look”

2. How old are you?

"well that’s what we call a ‘complication’ . In reality I’m somewhere around 245? Give or take a few years. Being flash frozen really does a number on your sense of time”

3. What do you look like?

"Me? Oh, you know...curly brown hair, tan complexion, I’ve gotten a little softer as I’ve gotten older, more curves than in my youth.” She rubs her hand “I’ve also gotten some radiation burns during the course of my research. My hands, particularly, and a bit over my lip” She laughs “I like to think I look like a proper scientist, as well as a mother”

4. Where are you from? Where do you live now?

Wanda thinks for a moment, a small smile on her lips that catches on her scar, turning it a little lopsided “I was born on the cape. Over by Hyannis.” She pauses “I moved to Boston after that, to attend the Institute.” She shakes her head “i still live in Boston. just...under it, I suppose”

5. What was your childhood like?

“Wonderful” She laughs, and claps her hands together with a jovial grin “Simply wonderful! I spent more days than I could count out there on the sandy beaches, collecting samples of sea critters and studying them in their natural habitats” She leans on her hand , smiling “I can still smell the salt in the air, when I really think about it”

6. What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

“The Institute” She says without missing a beat “I’m their Director after all.” She waves her gloved fingers dismissively "I took the liberty of changing our standards and practices away from Playing God and into actually helping someone for a change.” “As for allies...well. I met this nice man who claims to have been a courier once. Rules Vegas now, he says. We hit it off fairly well.. and heavens... I suppose there’s the woman who took over Pittsburgh from those slavers...”

7. Tell me about your best friend.

“Nick? He’s fantastic” She points “I’ve never met a finer detective in my life. Even if he refuses to let me help mend his synthskin. Stubborn old bastard”

8. Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

“My husband. He died when we were all frozen, but...there were some strange circumstances involving Institute tech that helped us find one another through the barrier of life and death” She pauses, and frowns slightly “ah. And we had a son. but he turned out to be...well. We don’t like to talk about him”

9. What about a partner or partners?

“Curie! My beloved!” She hugs herself with an ear to ear smile “the cutest robot I’ve ever met in my entire life. I helped her get a body, you know. And for the longest time it was just me and her in the wasteland! Now Thomas, Curie and I all intermingle in a lovely little poly amorous triangle”

10. Who are your enemies, and why?

“oh hoho...” She covers her mouth “Bandits. The Gunners. the Enclave. The Brotherhood of Steel. Covenant. Rogue Institute Personnel..Honestly I’m probably forgetting a few”

11. Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

“They call me the Bane of Steel for a reason” She smiles,  though there’s something almost vicious in it “When they tried to ‘help’ the Commonwealth by killing anything they wished and hoarding tech...” She mimes shooting into the sky “My one regret is that I didn’t keep their airship. Oh well”

12. What about The Enclave?

“HAH!” she laughs out loud, clapping her hands together again “Terrible! The worst idea I’ve ever heard! America fell, you old loons, rebuild it as something new instead of rehashing the same mistakes all over again”

13. How do you feel about Super Mutants?

“Fascinating creatures. I only wish I could meet the ones from the early West Coast. They’re a real testament to the FEV. If only they’d stop trying to fill me with holes long enough for a proper interview..”

14. What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

“oh...” she sighed “the time my friends and I destroyed the BoS?” She shrugs slightly “I went up into their blimp, and walked right up to that pompous ass who called himself their leader, before vaporizing him. I did manage to preserve his coat” She smiles slightly “Then we had to fight our way out of a sea of trained soldiers to get back to the ground and organize the destruction of their funny little blimp”

15. Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

“Heavens yes, and I wish I hadn’t. They’re too gorgeous to kill!”

16. Do you like fighting?

“not really” She folds her fingers together with a sad look in her eyes “It’s always sad to have to harm someone or something. And to take a life is always a weight on the soul” She closes her eyes “but to fix the world, you have to survive...”

17. What’s your weapon of choice?

“Energy Weapons” She says with a bright smile “nothing like holding a buzzing laser rifle in your hands and feeling the raw INNOVATION that went into it” She shook her head “i also have a serrated revolutionary war sword I hooked a battery onto that i’m fond of”

18. How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

“Intelligence” She said , holding up her hand “with a side helping of Charisma. You need to have a keen mind in the field of science. To analyze, theorize and know how to convince others to put those theories into practice...” She tapped her head “that’s the key to changing the world”

19. Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

“I’ve always hated Vault Tec. They invited me to join their little experiment, but I declined in favor of continuing my research into radiation and mutation. And then the damned bastards froze me!”

20. How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

“I wrote several studies on the effects of radiation exposure on the human body! hah, so I have some ideas on how to prevent it. Some lead lining in the clothes, lots of Rad-x and Radaway transfusions....building decontamination arches over all my doors. The usual stuff”

21. What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

“I love those funny little geckos” She smiled “They’re just so precious!”

22. What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

“Cazadors” She frowned “i knew the idiot who made them back in the day. Hated him then. Damned fool made a flying plague”

23. How do you feel about robots?

“I ADORE robots” She says with almost girlish glee “I’ve always found them so interesting! While I’m a biologist by trade, I’ve always appreciated the sheer science of a robot. That glowing chrome...that hydraulic power...” She looks like she’s going to go on about this for a distressingly long time.

24. How many caps do you have on you right now?

“More than enough to fix the Commonwealth”

25. Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

"Nuka Cola is absolute swill” She sniffs “ I’m a Sunset Sarsaparilla girl, myself. and just a little side note from one of my studies: Nuka Cola can melt a crab. A whole crab. Just saying!

26. Do you do chems?

“Mentats, Sometimes. I hate the damned things, but damn were they useful during particularly long and stressful studies”

27. Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

“All the time. I remember it in all it’s glory...in all it’s faults. It was a flawed society built upon fear...but it was also peaceful, and comfortable... a place full of friends I’ll never see again...” She bites her lip gently “...I’ll help the Wasteland become something better... the Old World without it’s flaws..”

28. What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

“Everything. I would have spoken up about the ethical issues I saw in the Institute before the war even began. I would have found another way to survive that wasn’t Vault Tec and it’s Trap. The ...the synth project maybe. I don’t know. I can’t dwell on this question too long without regretting almost everything I’ve done prior to my choice to change the Institute and fix the wasteland”

29. What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

“Which leads us into this.. hah. When my son passed away, he left the Institute to me. in my hands. He trusted I’d keep us on the course he chose...but he was wrong. The Synths were an exercise in needless cruelty. A species created, given sentience and then called slaves and tools. I ...reorganized...the head committee, and demanded a stop to the hunting and production of synths. No more bodysnatching. no more ‘property retrieval’ . No more. There were those who fought me...and there were those who tried to remove me. But I’m stronger than I seem.” She smiled grimly “I got them to see things my way eventually. And with that, the Institute’s copious resources could be turned outward...and used to help the Commonwealth at large”

30. What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world? ”I want...” She looks into the middle distance for a moment in thought “A world where we can all live in peaceful co-existence. Ghouls. Synths. Super Mutants, humans, true robots, and anyone else in that great wide world...I want a world where we can all work towards a mutual understanding and betterment of this wonderful Second Chance we’ve all been given”  And now for the tagging <3 @queenofblackcrows @spookdoggy @corpsewyrm @ all those who think Curie is a sweetheart @ all fallout fans who may see this? idk <3

Like the Storybooks

Co-written with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon

FFN and AO3

Chapter 3

Marlene tried, in vain, to shake off the prickling feeling at the back of her neck that came with the suspicion she was being followed.

But that morning, as Marlene walked with Lady Emmeline towards breakfast, she was sure someone was trailing them.

She didn't care for this, not in the least bit. Marlene had spent the better part of her life doing exactly as she pleased. Her parents loved her and she was of very little political use growing up. Now she was so politically relevant James brought her here for her safety, and she was keenly aware of what the implications of that were. She made a mental note to carry her mother's knife with her.

Finally, Marlene couldn't take it anymore and she spun around and stood still, staring down the corridor. This was ridiculous! She refused to be toyed with this way.

“My Lady?” Emmeline looked at her curiously. Lady Emmeline, her lady in waiting, was a lovely black haired woman, one of Lily's Ladies originally, and Marlene took to her right away. She was sharp, with a keen eye, and Marlene had already decided the Lady was invaluable.

Marlene tried to think straight, to push away the complicated web of emotion that spun knots around itself and all her present thoughts. She supposed that was the nature of going from a beloved daughter of two healthy parents to an orphan in a matter of days. Then there was the matter of being uprooted from her home and placed at court for the sake of politics. There were more people here than Marlene had ever seen gracing the halls of her childhood home, but still, she felt so alone that sometimes the cracks in the mask she wore felt more like giant cavernous weak spots that anyone, friend or foe, might be able to see.

Breathe.

“I do believe, Lady Emmeline, that I heard footsteps.” Marlene proclaimed loudly and clearly, not bothering to look at Emmeline as she spoke.

Emmeline, bright girl she was, seemed to catch on and turned to speak down the corridor. “Should we go and see if they'd like to accompany us?”

Marlene went to answer when a man nearly as tall as Sir Sirius from the day before casually turned the corner.

“Good morning, Ladies,” he nodded as he walked towards them.

“Good morning, Sir,” Marlene nodded. He had dark brown hair and a tan complexion. He would have looked warm, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made Marlene turn cold.

“I am Bartemius, Viscount Crouch, son and heir to the Earl of Contumelia.” His eyes moved up and down her form and Marlene straightened. Outranking people had never really mattered before, learning the order of precedence was merely a game she played with her mother growing up. At that very moment, however, Marlene felt it necessary to use her rank to her full advantage. She was not required to introduce herself.

“Lord Crouch,” she said his name as if it were a type of pestilence before taking Emmeline's arm. “If you'll excuse us.”

She turned heel, pulling Lady Emmeline along with her, and walked pointedly and quickly away, but she couldn’t shake the skin crawling sensation of Lord Crouch’s stare until they turned the corner.

Unfortunately, they turned right into Lord Lockhart.

“Your Grace!” He bowed deeply before smiling up at her. “You outshine the sun today and every day.”

Marlene huffed, she just wanted breakfast!

“Good morning, Lord Lockhart,” she pulled Emmeline past him and Marlene barely restrained herself from stomping in his foot when he turned the follow her.

“Allow me the pleasure of escorting you to breakfast, your Grace,” he moved to take her arm and Marlene pointedly pulled Emmeline with her as she sidestepped his attempt.

“If you must,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

“I must,” he nodded as he walked alongside them. Marlene could scream.

He only just opened his mouth to let more unwanted words out into the unsuspecting air, when two men approached them, bringing with them a temporary ceasefire in Lord Lockhart’s frontal assault upon Princess Marlene’s nerves.

“Lord Lockhart,” one of them nodded, “we see you've had a chance to meet her Grace, do introduce us.” He didn't even look at her.

“Of course,” Lockhart smiled the smile Marlene had referred to as the courtiers’ smile as a child. This was an expression that a noble lord or lady might put on when they felt a burning compulsion to be contrary but still had to conduct themselves politely. She'd perfected the art, except no one could tell when she wore it now as it was the only one she wore. The two people who knew the difference were cold in the ground. Marlene steeled her will and buried that thought deeper for the moment, turning her attention to Lockhart as he introduced the pair of idiots.

“Your Grace, may I present Lord Wilhelm and Lord Maybry?” Lord Lockhart’s ill regard for the two gentlemen was immediately apparent, as he'd given her no indication of what titles they held or really who they were at all aside from their surnames.

“Charmed,” Marlene nodded before pulling Emmeline past them. If she could eat she could sort this out in her head instead of losing her composure.

Then the beautiful, wonderful, Lady Emmeline came to her rescue.

“Are you looking forward to breaking your fast with their Majesties this morning, M’Lady?”

Of course! She was granted an audience with the King, but none of these jesters had been invited!

“I quite am,” Marlene gave Emmeline's arm a grateful squeeze. Then they were at the Royal quarters and she turned to the three unwanted courtiers following them.

“If you'll excuse me, I've been given invitation to break fast with their Majesties.” She noticed a flicker of brown hair near the end of the corridor but ignored it as she turned and pulled Emmeline into the room behind her before letting the door slam.

She wrapped Emmeline in a hug. “You are the best and brightest lady and I owe you a great deal for that.”

“It was my pleasure, M’Lady.” Emmeline was stiff and Marlene chuckled at how proper Emmeline was around her cousin and his wife. Marlene had known James when he was still playing fairies in the gardens with her. It would be a real struggle for her to show him the level of respect and deference that he was entitled to as anointed King.

“Still slamming doors?” James groaned. “Marly you've been here less than two days and I'm already sure I'll be replacing every door in this castle.”

Marlene turned to see James and Lily and Sir Sirius seated at the table. “If you'd produce an heir I'd not have reason to slam doors in unwelcome courtiers’ faces. They're multiplying!” She fell into her chair and pressed her palm to her forehead. “Lockhart is bad enough on his own, but I had one trailing along behind me in the shadows first thing, and then two idiots who didn't even bother to look at me when they demanded Lockhart introduce them to me! James this is absolutely ridiculous! Can't you tell them all you're promising me to someone? Preferably someone who doesn’t actually exist? Or someone who's looking for a Lady in appearances only?”

Sir Sirius coughed a laugh at her last comment and Marlene looked up, only to be met by the laughter in his eyes. She'd never seen such eyes before. They were grey like a stormy sky when thunder rolls through it. Grey eyes; like the rain pelting the glass and iron of her window in her childhood bedroom. Those grey eyes pulled her in with such a force that she barely managed to conceal her jump of surprise at James’ voice. She made a show of readjusting in her chair. Her first impression had been right; Sir Sirius was the best looking man she'd ever seen.

“Marly, they'd see right through that, and given the state of things it wouldn't be a wise thing to do politically.”

Marlene turned sharply, “What do you mean, given the state of things?”

James sighed, “It's nothing to alarm you. There are some nobles getting ideas of grandeur. I don't want to promise you to someone and have the Court start panicking or acting rashly in any direction. Now is not the time to make waves.”

“That was vague,” Marlene raised her eyebrows at him. It was hard to adjust to James as her King and not her ten-year-old best friend.

“It doesn't really concern you,” Sir Sirius commented lightly.

Marlene eyed him, “Like it or not, until Her Majesty gives us a healthy prince or princess, I am the only heir this kingdom has. I'd argue that makes it very much my business.”

“Marly, it isn't anything to be worried about.” James cut in. “And Sirius please don't antagonize my cousin, really she's as bad as you.”

Sir Sirius smirked, “Doubtful.”

James looked out the window and sighed. “We'd best be off, Sirius.” He leaned over and kissed Queen Lily, pulling away reluctantly.

“Please don't eat any of the members of Court, Marly.” James chuckled as he and Sirius walked out the door.

Marlene shook her head, “Where does he come off?”

“Well,” the Queen laughed, “you've known James forever so I'd imagine you’re referring to Sir Sirius?”

“I'm sure he's a decent fellow, for James to keep him so close, and all. Remind me, how did he and James meet?”

“Sirius is his cousin on his mother’s side. I understand he is an illegitimate son of the late Queen’s brother.” Lily picked up her goblet and brought it to her lips.

Marlene stared at her. Whoever this man was, he was no cousin to James. Their Majesties had been insistent that she and James have a close relationship. Her father had always been close to his older brother, and even when she was about eleven and Marlene and her mother were no longer allowed to travel because of the robbers, her father came to court consistently to help advise his King and brother. Family was incredibly important to the Royal couple, and she knew them well enough that a simple circumstance of birth would not change that Sirius would have been family. She would have at the least known of his existence. Besides all that, James had often called her his best and only cousin growing up in an attempt to tease her. She was only the best because there was no competition.

All things considered, Marlene thought it highly unlikely that James had another cousin in Sir Sirius.

But that was all unimportant at the moment seeing as Marlene had suitors trailing her in the shadows and suitors who strutted like peacocks and suitors seemingly coming out of the cracks of the castle’s stone walls. She pressed her palm to her forehead, “Lily I don’t know what to do, I just want to be left alone! The quality I appreciate most in my cousin’s most trusted Knight is that he doesn't appear to have the slightest interest in me.”

Lily grabbed Marlene's hand and gave it a squeeze, “Spend today with me. That will help to keep the suitors at bay for the moment.”

“I could kiss you!” Marlene squeezed Lily's hand and took a moment to just appreciate that for today she was safe.

Stray Cat - chapter twenty-one

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2828 Warnings: Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut Summary: Phil Lester believes that if he does good things then good things will happen to him, so on one of the worst days of his life he invites a rain-soaked Neko boy named Dan into his home. Phil has never met a Neko before and he knows nothing about the dark system that has molded Dan. Dan is part of a repressed population with few rights, and as Phil gets to know him he can’t understand why – Dan is the most amazing person he has ever met. —

At 8:55AM, Phil was pacing before the door Neko House. The blinds were now drawn back and a receptionist was tracking Phil’s movements as he walked back and forth, staring longingly into the window. She got up, seemingly out of annoyance, and unlocked the front door. He followed her back to the front desk.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked through her teeth.

He passed her the bill of sale. “I’m here about this Neko. He shouldn’t have been sold to you. Can I speak to someone about this please?”

She tapped her red-painted fingertips on her desk as she read. Finally, she decided to be helpful and she picked up her phone. “Reg, I have someone here asking about a Neko we recently bought. Can you talk to him?” Phil couldn’t hear what Reg said, but a moment later the woman hung up. She gave Phil a smile that was so phony he thought it might crack. “Reg is sending someone to escort you to his office. Feel free to take a seat while you wait.”

Phil glanced at the plush sofas and magazines in the waiting area, but he had no desire to rest there – he couldn’t imagine that Dan was resting comfortably in a similar place right now. Before Phil could walk far from the receptionist’s desk, a man entered the room. He had a ruddy complexion and his eyes searched the room until he found Phil, so this must be the man who was sent to bring him to Reg.

The man extended a hand to him. “Hello there, I’m Shaw. If you’ll just follow me?”

After they shook hands, Phil followed the ruddy-faced man. They walked down several hallways of what appeared to be a normal office building where people were just settling into their desks with their morning coffee. They came to an office where Shaw knocked briefly before opening the door. Shaw announced, “Man to see you.”

Phil allowed himself to be escorted to the desk of a man with ginger hair that was going silver at the temples. The man rose from his desk and shook Phil’s hand with another phony smile. Phil was getting tired of these smiles. He wanted to see a smile with dimples and freckles that was accompanied by sparkling brown eyes with laughter in them. He wanted Dan, but this was the only way to get him back, so he returned the man’s smile and shook his hand. “Hi, call me Reg. I hear that you are here about a Neko we bought?”

“Yes, hello. I’m Phil.” He handed Reg the bill of sale. “I’m here about this Neko.”

Reg looked at the paperwork and then glanced at the ruddy-faced man who was leaving the office. “Shaw, you bought this one. Would you sit with us while we discuss this?”

As they settled into the chairs across from Reg’s desk, Phil remembered what Linda had said about Dan’s sale: I just didn’t picture that it would be so… awful. He was scared. What had Shaw done to Dan? It took all of Phil’s self-control to stop himself from openly glaring at Shaw.

Reg looked up from the paperwork. “Okay, it says here that we purchased a young male Neko yesterday afternoon from a Ms. Linda Masters. This is the original bill of sale that we made out to her. What are your concerns?”

“Dan wasn’t hers to sell. He was living with me. Linda is my ex-girlfriend and she had no right to do this. I’ve talked to her, and if you call her she will corroborate all of this. Please, I got the money from her.” He put the paper bag on the desk. “It’s all there. Check it. Please, just take your money back and let Dan go.”

Reg looked at the bag and then back to Phil. He shook his head. “We don’t sell Nekos for the same amount that we purchase them for. If you want him, you’re going to have to pay the standard price.”

Phil stared at him in disbelief. “But… he’s been here for less than a day. Just undo the sale. I don’t want to buy him, just take him back. The sale wasn’t legal!”

Reg arched an eyebrow. “And just how did you come to own this Neko? Was that legal?” The man watched the blood drain from Phil’s face without comment. He picked up a file on his desk and opened it. “Yes, he’s only been here for a day, but we have already found out some interesting things about him. We don’t normally check for microchips, but he matched the description of a Neko that was reported missing a few weeks ago, and the microchip matched.”

Phil fisted his hands to stop them from shaking. Oh God, where was Dan now?

Reg hadn’t looked up yet from the contents of the folder. “So, we knew where he came from, but the person who reported him as missing hadn’t offered a reward. You can imagine our annoyance. Not only would there be no profit from this purchase, but we were also about to be out £10,000.” He glanced at Shaw with a shake of his head before looking at Phil. “So, this would have been a very bad investment, had we contacted the person who reported him missing and returned him.”

Phil let out a breath. “You still have him? He’s here?”

Reg nodded and shut the folder. “So, don’t accuse me of being disingenuous when I offer to sell him back to you. Yes, I’m making a bit of a profit, but legally I should just return him to his proper owner. Would you rather buy him from me?”

Phil nodded. “How much?”

“£20,000.”

Phil’s jaw dropped. The paper bag only held half of what he needed. “I… don’t have it. I mean, I don’t have it right now. But I’ll get it!”

Reg shrugged. “I suggest you hurry. We’re going to be listing him on our website any day now and he’s cute so I’m expecting a lot of interest. Technically, we’re running the risk that his original owner will see the listing on our website and claim him. I’d much rather sell him to a paying customer like you, so get the money soon if you want him.”

“Can’t you hold off on making the listing?”

Reg shook his head. “I don’t really see the point since you say you don’t have the money. His owner could be searching shelters like mine, so I want to get him out of here as quickly as possible.”

Phil swallowed heavily past a lump in his throat. He might never see Dan again… then he had a thought. “Could I visit him before I leave?”

Shaw led Phil down a flight of stairs to a different part of the building. It no longer looked like an office – it resembled a jail. The walls were bricks painted a pale yellow and they started passing rooms the size of closets that had actual barred cell doors. The occupants of the cells had no privacy from the people who walked by, and Phil only glanced into the first couple cells where the Nekos sat cowering on beds. He flushed and looked away, unsure why he was embarrassed. Perhaps it was because he hated walking in this role – just another potential owner coming to look at the stock for sale. This building disgusted him.

As he passed another cell, looking pointedly away, a woman grabbed his sleeve. Her long nails dug in and refused to let go as he tried to step away. “Um, excuse me?” he said.

She pressed her face against the bars, which weren’t wide enough to fit her whole head. She tugged on Phil’s shirt to pull him a step closer. She had long blond hair, but her ears were a light shade of brown. He wondered if it was natural or if she dyed her hair. “If you buy me, I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you well, you won’t regret it. Just get me out of here.”

“No, thank you. Please let go?” He felt sick.

“Shove off, Nancy,” Shaw said, placing a hand on her wrist. She recoiled from his touch and walked back into the shadows in her cell. Shaw turned to Phil. “Your boy is a couple cells down that way.”

Phil’s heart leapt. He jogged a bit further down the hallway, looking left and right into cells, but it was too dark to see who was inside (the only lights were in the hallway, not in the cells). Irrational panic set in, making him think that maybe Dan had already been sold, so he shouted, “Dan? Are you here?”

Someone moved in the cell to his left, flinging himself so fast against the bars on the cell that Phil jumped in surprise. The Neko inside was wearing white scrubs and his brown curly hair was wild, so it took Phil a second to recognize Dan, but he knew the large hand with the tanned skin that reached for him. Then Phil tackled the cell door that separated them with the same enthusiasm, as if they could part the iron if they pressed their bodies hard enough.

Dan’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him as close as possible, and Phil was stroking Dan’s neck and his hair. Phil was torn between kissing Dan and looking at him, but he decided on the latter and checked his face for signs of harm. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, so he could tell that the Neko had been crying recently. He asked, “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

Dan shook his head. “No, I’ve just been here. In this cell. Phil, how did you find me?”

“Linda. I saw on my phone that she had called, and you’d talked to her. I confronted her and she confessed to everything. Dan, I’m—”

Dan cut him off, “I’m so sorry. I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have trusted her. I let her lure me out of the house. This is all my fault.”

“Dan, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Phil tried to hold him closer.

He shook his head and tears started rolling down his cheeks. “No, it’s not. I’m… they’re going to… It’s over, Phil. I’m going to be sold to someone. That’s why you’re here, right? To say goodbye?”

Tears burned in Phil’s eyes. He hadn’t come to say goodbye, but it might be true. If he didn’t get the money before Dan was listed on the website, then this might be the last time they spoke. Phil was an optimist, but it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel right now. He had to be strong for Dan though, so he held the tears in and shook his head. “No, I’m…” his voice was choked and he had to clear his throat before going on. “I’m not here to say goodbye. I’m here to tell you that you’re coming home.”

“Now?” Dan’s eyes widened. He looked at the bars between them as if he was expecting them to vanish at any moment.

Phil winced at the desperate hope that he had sparked in Dan. “No, Kitten, not yet. I need to get the…”

Dan sighed and finished Phil’s sentence, “Money. You need to get the money, right? No, Phil, you can’t do this. I know I’m expensive and you don’t have the money. Please.”

“Please what? Let you go? No. No! I’m saving you and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, so just deal with it.”

Dan leaned his forehead against the bars and closed his eyes. “Okay. I guess I will just deal with it because I can’t fathom the alternative. I’m so scared, Phil.”

Phil moved his fingers in what he hoped were soothing circles on the back of Dan’s neck. “I know. I’m scared too, and I’m not even the one in the cell. I can’t lose you. I can’t picture my life without you.”

Dan gave him a sad smile. “Come on, you’ve only known me for about two weeks, right? You could just go back to the life you had before you found me in the rain.”

Phil shook his head. “No. I think we both know that it’s too late for me.”

Dan narrowed his eyes. “We do? No, what are you talking about?”

Phil bit his lip and hesitated. He wanted to say this in their home when they were happy and safe, but realistically he knew there was a chance that time would never come. If this really was the last time he saw Dan, he had to tell him. “I can’t go back to my life before I knew you. I already love you. I have for a while now. I love you.”

Dan pressed harder against the bars. “I do, too. I love you so much. You believe me, right? I was worried about what you were thinking, since that last night we had together. You know I love you, don’t you?”

Phil nodded. “Yes, please don’t worry about that night. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Phil leaned in, and it was awkward with the bars between them, but they were able to brush lips. Dan tasted like salt, and Phil realized that the taste was from the tears drying on his skin. Phil’s vision was blurry with his own tears when he pulled away, and he reached under his glasses to rub his eyes and then his nose. “Sorry, I’m like a faucet. Ugh, gross.”

Dan gave a slight laugh. “I don’t mind.”

A sound of a throat clearing made them both jump. Dan still had both of his arms wrapped around him, but Phil turned to see that Shaw had been standing in the hall the whole time. Phil blushed since he had assumed that Shaw left, but he would have still done everything the same knowing that Shaw was there; Dan was more important.

Dan saw who was standing there and started trembling, so Phil tightened the one arm that he still had wrapped around the Neko. “What is it?” he asked Shaw.

Shaw looked at his watch. “I was supposed to escort you here and then escort you out of here. I’ve given you enough time. I have things to do, so can you wrap this up?”

“What? Got an appointment to buy another teenager?” Phil snapped.

“Phil,” Dan whined in warning.

Shaw’s ruddy face darkened a shade, and Phil took a calming breath. He said, “I’m sorry. What I meant to say is if you’re busy, maybe you can take us somewhere? There must be rooms around here. Couldn’t you leave us there, so that we can talk for a while? Please?”

Shaw shook his head. “There’s no room. This isn’t a social club. Reg made an exception for you with this one visit. We don’t usually let people down here until there’s been a credit check first.”

His grip tightened on Dan. He had been hoping that he could come back if it took a while to get the money. This could be it. If he didn’t get the money, then this was the last time he would ever see him.

Dan gave a hiccupping sob, and Phil turned his attention back to him. Dan shook his head as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Just give me a second. I can get control of myself. If this doesn’t go well and this is the last time you see me, I don’t want to look like a mess.”

Phil reached up to touch the cheeks that were blotchy from crying. “You look beautiful. And you’re going to see me again. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Dan nodded, his face still in Phil’s palm. “Even if I have to run away from whoever buys me – I’ve done it before – I’ll come back to you.”

“Don’t worry about that. It won’t come to that. I’m going to come for you. I love you.”

Shaw appeared at Phil’s side, silently urging them apart.

“I love you, too.” Dan said as he drew his arms back into the cell.

“I love you,” Phil said again and he withdrew his arms. He looked into the tiny cell where he was leaving Dan. There was a bed in the corner with a thin sheet, and he knew the bed was too small for Dan to stretch out on it. A toilet was exposed in the corner and a plate of food was untouched on the floor. This was like a jail sentence that Dan had done nothing to deserve. How could Phil leave him here? He wanted to break down the bars and free him, but he was powerless. He could do nothing but walk away, his feet dragging on the floor with every step.

Cupcakes - Harry’s 37th Birthday - Drarrmony

Based on this post  

~~~

Draco checked the recipe again, feeling foolish and proud of himself at the same time as he carefully mixed the cake batter. There was a small weight resting against one of his calves, accompanied by a persistent tugging, that he was only half paying attention to. Still, he made quick work of mixing the ingredients together enough for a toddler to take over.

“Papa, I help!” was being chanted in time with the tugging, making him sigh when he finally spared a glance downward. His bland, impatient brow did nothing to deter the eager, wide-eyed, and pleading look he was getting from his still baby-faced firstborn.

“I did say you’d be allowed to stir,” he told the boy dryly. “Are you ready to help me?”

Scorpius beamed at him. “Yessy yessy yessy yessy!”

Draco hid a sigh as he reached down to scoop the three-year-old up and balance him on his hip, ignoring the chuckle from behind him. “Stir slowly, alright? We don’t want to accidentally knock the bowl down or spill any batter, do we?”

Shaking his head in agreement with all the seriousness a toddler could muster, Scorpius carefully began stirring the batter to the best of his ability.

“Mum, are you actually doing your part over there or are you just giggling your little arse off?” Draco sneered, regretting the words long before a tiny hand with nails in dire need of trimming came up to pinch his nose hard enough to make his eyes water. “Scorpius!”

“Bad word, Papa,” Scorpius said with a sharp look he’d somehow already picked up from his mother. He leaned up to kiss the pink marks he’d left of his father’s nose in apology, but offered no other signs of remorse.

“My part is finished,” Hermione said from the island, amusement lacing her tone. “Icing has been in the fridge for a bit now. You were too focused on cracking eggs without magic to notice me get up, I imagine?”

“Quiet, witch,” he mumbled, earning another frown from Scorpius.

“Papa, be nice,” he said, heaving a great sigh. “Gum-ppy head.”

Draco discreetly rolled his eyes.

“Papa is a grumpy head today, isn’t he?” Hermione agreed. “Maybe he slept poorly. Maybe he’s nervous about how Daddy’s cupcakes will turn out?”

Scorpius pondered her suggestion for less than a moment before he’d released the stirring spoon in favor of giving Draco the hardest hug he could manage. “Daddy wuvs cuh-cakes, Papa.”

“Oh for the love of,” Draco hissed, glaring over his shoulder at Hermione, who snorted.

“I’m not nervous, but thank you, love,” he forced himself to say, kissing the unruly mess of platinum curls resting against his shoulder. “Is the batter ready?”

He ended up giving it a few more proper stirs, with Scorpius helping by holding the bowl still, before letting Scorpius ‘help’ him pour the batter into a cupcake tin. Scorpius obligingly joined his mother when it came time to put the tin in the oven, wisely staying away from the potential danger.

“Papa cawe-ful?” he asked.

“Papa was very careful,” Draco assured him, an assurance he repeated a while later when the cakes were finished baking.

Draco cheated on the next step by using charms to both remove the cupcakes from the tin and cool them enough to be iced. Feeling spiteful as Hermione continued to sometimes chuckle at him for reasons unknown, he also used magic to ice all but two of the cupcakes, leaving them for Scorpius to try his hand at decorating.

At the last minute, he charmed the gold-icing words “Happy Birthday” to read “Potter Stinks” on one of the cupcakes and made the rest say “Old Git” to make himself feel better. Hermione’s immediate snickering ruined the effect.

“Why’d you do this if you’re going to be so fussy about it?” she asked him.

Draco glared at her. “Just because I’m making him cupcakes for his birthday does not mean I need to be nice about it.”

“You cannot possibly still be annoyed that Cassie’s first word was Dada instead of Papa.”

“That has absolutely nothing to do with this. He just doesn’t deserve that kind of effort from me.”

“Scorpius said Mama first and you didn’t care,” she reminded him

“Little boys are allowed to prefer their mothers. I can forgive him for something I also did when I was small.”

“But because Cassiopeia said her other father’s name first, it’s a turf war?”

Draco glared at her, the expression leaving his face in an instant when a familiar gurgly giggle reached them. The birthday boy himself was still smiling tiredly when he entered the room with their six-month-old against his chest and his face unusually shiny.

“Why are you covered in drool?” Draco asked, mildly offended that Harry seemed almost entirely unbothered by his slobber covered face.

“Because Daddy’s baby girl woke him up with birthday kisses,” answered Harry, wandlessly summoning a towel from the fresh stack beside the sink. He wiped the drool from his mouth, cheek, and forehead before giving Cassie an affectionate, gentle, kiss to her hair as he sat across from Hermione. “My sweet girl.”

Scorpius giggled as Draco scowled, suddenly more than happy to plate the bloody birthday cupcake and deliver it, not bothering to set it down gently enough to keep it from clattering. Harry’s surprised glance made his scowl twist into a bitter smile.

“Happy bloody birthday, Potter,” he snapped, stalking out of the room without another word.  

Harry blinked and moved his gaze from the now empty doorway to his wife. “Is he still mad about her first word?”

“He might be a bit jealous that he didn’t one up you on this, yes,” she said.

Harry nodded, trying not to smile. “Ironic.”

“Why’s that?” Hermione asked, smiling as Scorpius padded over to his sister and sweetly kissed her cheek in greeting. Harry ruffled his curls with a small grin.

“Well,” said Harry, gently lifting Cassie under her arms and bringing her to eye level. “Cassie, where’s Papa?”

Cassie’s fist, that she had been contentedly teething on since they entered the room, left her mouth with a small pop. “Papa?” she said.

Hermione started to giggled uncontrollably into her hand, trying to muffle the sound as Scorpius glanced between them, terribly confused.

“Whas funnie?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry. “It’s kind of a grown up joke, kiddo. Sorry.”

Scorpius shrugged, only mildly put out by being unable to enjoy the joke, and went back to trying to keep his sister’s attention. “Cassie know two words now,” he said, his voice full of pride.

“Cleverest infant of her age, isn’t she?” Harry agreed, making Hermione roll her eyes.

“Go cheer up our husband, you prat. We ought’ve to know he’d be bitter today,” she said.

Harry stood, giving Scorpius another pat on the head and a wink. “We’ll be back,” he said, sparing one last glance at the “Potter Stinks” cupcake Draco had put before him. On impulse, he swiped a finger against the green icing and offered it to Cassie as they went in search of Draco.

They found him in the library, glaring at the peacocks on the grounds with his arms crossed over his chest and bright overcast light reflecting off his hair. The same hair their children had somehow acquired in spite of genetic dominances, in spite of the potion that had allowed all three of them to have equal genetic responsibility for their children. A potion that should have made Harry and Hermione’s dark hair overrule the famous Malfoy blonde. Instead, Scorpius inherited Hermione’s curls and the unnatural stubbornness Harry had never learned to tame, as well as his mother’s freckles and cleverness, and Harry often took credit for his budding skills on his training broom. Draco’s genes had won out on the complexion, coloring, and eyes in their son, but as far as they could currently tell, he’d only won out with Cassie’s hair color so far.

Her skin was a few shades lighter than Hermione’s, due to the paleness of both her fathers, but it was still delightfully golden and she’d tan instead of burning as Draco tended to, Harry was certain. She shared Scorpius’ smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, shared their mother’s curls and smile, but had surprised them with her multicolored eyes.

Much to Draco’s annoyance, he hadn’t won there either. Her right eye was the color of whiskey and honey, her left, Harry’s jade green. Even though Draco outwardly complained about the green one, Harry knew better than to think he was actually annoyed that it wasn’t grey.

Granted, Cassie was so very small. Harry had faith that she’d start to show more evidence of Draco as she grew. If nothing else, she’d likely be just as spoiled at Draco had been growing up.

“We found him,” Harry said to Cassie.

“Go away,” said Draco. “Eat your bloody cupcake, Potter.”

“Potter-Malfoy and I’ll thank you to remember that.”

Draco shot him a glare. “What do you want.”

Harry grinned. “I have a present for you.”

“It’s not my birthday. You’re a bit late for that.”

“Oh it’s not from me,” said Harry. “It’s a late present from Cassie.”

Draco slowly raised a brow. “I swear to all that is good a sacred, if you hand her to me and she’s got a dirty nappy, I’ll throw it at you, birthday or not.”

Harry rolled his eyes and gently tapped Cassie’s cheek to get her attention. “Hey, sweet one, who’s that?”

She followed the finger he’d pointed at Draco and smiled when she saw him. “Papa,” she said softly.

Harry did his best not to laugh at Draco’s stunned expression and didn’t know how long they stood there before his husband remembered how to talk.

“When did she…?”

“Do you think I stopped trying to teach her how to say ‘Papa’ and ‘Mama’ just because she figured my name out?” he said. “I did try to make sure she said your name first, you know. I suppose ‘Dada’ was easier to say.”

Draco gave Cassie a small smile. “What’s my name?” he asked her.

“Papa.”

Harry shook his head and passed her to Draco, snorting when she was rewarded with tickles and kisses for her cleverness. He kissed Draco on the cheek before ducking away.

“She’s all yours. I’m gonna go eat my cupcake and spend some time with our son,” he said as he headed for the door. “Oh, and by the way? Her nappy’s wet.”

“Only wet?” was the growl that followed him out of the room and Harry chuckled. She was, but he chose to let Draco have a moment of annoyed panic as payback for the writing on his cupcakes.

When a folded up nappy hit him in the back later that morning, Harry laughed until he cried and almost choked on a mouthful of icing in the process. Hermione shook her head as she vanished it to the trash can, shooting a very familiar look at Draco.

“What if that hadn’t been closed properly?” she asked him. “Or worse, filthy?”

Draco sniffed, unconcerned, and continued to cuddle Cassiopeia to his chest, offering her a cupcake to lick icing from as he sat down beside Scorpius at the island.

He was hardly bothered when both his children and shirt were stained green by the time they finished the treat. He was, however, annoyed when Harry thanked him for the cupcakes.

“Shut up already, Potter.”

He hissed when sharp nails dug into the back of his hand.

“No’ nice,” said Scorpius.

“Sorry, love,” Draco said automatically, but he stared at Hermione, telepathically channeling blame in her direction.

She hid a smile by sipping her tea and affectionately ran her fingers through Scorpius’ hair without a word.

~~~

Based on this post 

i can’t believe i’m doing this

@potato-fan-girl managed to convince me to post my writing?? why do i let you talk me in to these things i hate u

ps @taylor-tut i finally wrote the thing

sick boy lance and some fluff under the cut

Lance held his head in his hands as it pounded, eyes squeezed shut while the alarm blared in his ears. He knew he should be getting up, getting his armor on, but he was having a hard time even keeping his eyes open with the headache he was sporting, let alone get up and actually move. After a few more rings of the alarm he finally managed to get himself up from his sheets and onto unsteady legs, tugging his armor on as quickly as he could while his body protested. He’d only been on his feet for a few minutes, yet every muscle in him ached for rest and relaxation, begged him to just lay back down.

‘No, I have to go down to the deck.’ He reminds himself, tugging on his helmet before sliding open his door and getting himself down to where the others were waiting for his presence in a half jogging manner. He only slowed once the rest of the team came into view, the lights bright in his eyes and making him wince in pain. “Nice of you to finally join us, sleeping beauty.” Keith snickers, earning a reprimanding glare from Shiro before they turned back to Allura to get the necessary information as to why the alarm went off. “Indeed. Lance, that was much too slow. Had that been an actual alarm, there would be some serious issues.”

“Lo siento, princessa.” He murmurs, feeling the way his brain seemed to throb behind his eyes with each word he spoke and sound he heard. “I have a really bad, uh.. Quiznak, what’s the word…” He felt his mind blanking as he tried to search for the proper term, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before it finally came to him. “Headache, right, that’s it. My head hurts.”

He noticed Hunk and Shiro giving him looks of concern at the short lapse in memory, to which he returned a weak smile. More than anything he wanted to just go lay down and sleep it off, but he was sure he wasn’t the only person who’d had a headache before on this ship, so he elected to just push through it and get whatever they were doing done.

Allura didn’t pay any mind to the moment of forgetfulness, however, and merely nodded in response to his apology. “Alright, well.. Don’t let it happen again, it’s much less than okay.” She warns before turning to address the entirety of the group. “Today I’m sending you on a small and short practice mission. I’ve set up numerous bots down on the uninhabited planet below. You’ll be treating it like prison break mission, and trying to get all of the bots in the cage free without too much damage. Every prisoner who gets injured or dies in your hands is one punishment or penalty activity.” She explains carefully, pulling up what seemed to be satellite images– or rather, a video feed of the floating hunk of dirt where they would be practicing. “I’ll be watching you all from above, however I will not interfere unless absolutely necessary. I’m sure you all can handle a few bots each, yes?”

Each word Allura spoke felt like a stab to Lance’s head, each syllable twisting the knife around and making the pain worsen. By the time she had finished her explanation his headache had turned into a full blown migraine, pounding against the inside of his skull. No amount of caffeine would help at this point, though he didn’t have time to down a few cups of coffee anyways, or the means to use any of his normal methods. ‘Luckily it’s only a headache,’ He thought to himself as the group headed down to the hangars. 'If it was anything more, I don’t think I would be able to handle it.’

Perhaps he spoke too soon.

—

As they flew out in some sort of formation Lance could feel each twist and turn in the pit of his stomach, nausea bubbling up as it seemed to do flips every time his lion did. A small, acidic burp escaped him, burning the back of his throat and making his already weak stomach feel even weaker. The little he had eaten before they headed out and the dinner from the night before seemed to be threatening to come up all at once, forcing him to slow a bit as they were coming in to land on the planet.

“Hey Lance, you okay buddy?” Hunk’s voice came through the comm, clearly laced with concern for his friend as he saw the way the Cuban’s normally sun kissed face seemed to pale, and yet flush all at once. “You don’t look so good. Maybe you should head back to the castle?” He suggested after a momentary pause, only growing more concerned with Lance’s slow response time.

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine.” Lance waved the suggestion to return to the Castle off almost immediately once Hunk’s words had registered in his aching head, giving him a smile through the screen as they landed. “It’s just my head, I can deal with it.” It wasn’t a total lie, per se– though it wasn’t just his head, he could handle it just fine. He didn’t want to bother anyone with whining about feeling bad or anything, and a headache wasn’t anything to act childishly over! 'WWKD, what would Keith do?… He’d probably just work through it, right? Hell, he’d probably feel better after a workout since all he ever does is fight and train.’ Lance gently snickers to himself at this thought as he grabs his bayard and heads out of Blue to meet the others on the ground, managing to not upheave the entirety of his stomach onto the compact dirt beneath his feet.

“Alright. The cage seems to be in the center of that crudely built base.” Shiro explains once the team had gathered around him, bayards in hand and scowls on their faces for having to go on such a dumb mission. No one expressed this annoyance, however, and opted instead to just listen to Shiro’s spiel of the plan.

Lance, however, could barely focus on the task at hand while his heartbeat seemed to thrum wildly in his skull, blood rushing against his ears while his temples throbbed. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily as he bit back a groan of pain, trying his hardest to just focus, focus, focus–

“–nce? Lance, buddy?” Pidge’s voice rang through his muddled thoughts as clear as a bell, drawing him out of his mind. His fists released from their clenched forms, nails having been dug into his palms to try and quell some of the other pains in his body. “Hi, yeah, sorry, I’m listening.” He managed to rasp out, the words feeling like they clawed their way out of his throat. Since when had his voice gotten that bad?

Shiro shared a concerned glance with Keith and made note that Lance hadn’t tried to give himself any excuses for the zoned out expression he had been sporting just moments before. He then also took note of Lance’s features, paler than his usual tanned complexion, seemingly dull instead of warm, and his eyes had a glassy look to them. This was all extremely worrying, but Lance had only complained of a headache, so he assumed he was just overreacting like a mom. Then Shiro heard Lance’s voice and felt his worry return tenfold.

Lance, on the other hand, seemed to brush off the scratchiness of his voice and just laugh about it, clearing his throat after a moment. “Well, alright. Then me, Keith and Pidge will head in. You two hang back and pick off bots from a distance.” Shiro nods, heading to the makeshift bot base stealthily with the green and red paladins in pursuit. Lance merely nodded and allowed his bayard to form in his hand, feeling the hefty weight of the weapon tug against his arm. Hunk eyed the tanned boy cautiously as he set himself in a good position to take shots at the now swarming bots.

“Good job, paladins.” Allura hisses sarcastically in their ears, watching from above. “You’ve already tripped the alarm and alerted them. This was supposed to be a stealth mission.” Lance simply rolled his eyes at this, which then caused a sudden dizzy spell to come over him, legs going weak and forcing him to cling gently to the rock he stood by. “Lance, are you feeling okay?” Hunk asks, concern clear on his face along with his nervousness.

Lance turned his head to speak but shut his mouth when dark spots began to swirl in his vision, head swimming as he tried to force out a response. He felt his weapon slip from his fingers and clatter to the ground as he stumbled slightly against the rock, only increasing Hunk’s alarm. “Lance? Lance, buddy, talk to me..! Are you alright? What do you need?”

The Cuban felt extremely woozy as he stood on trembling legs, grip on the rock loosening as he realized he wouldn’t be able to make it through this without passing out in some capacity. He took a few shaky steps from the rock to prevent himself from hitting it before turning back to Hunk, a weak smile on his face– or was it a grimace? He couldn’t really tell.

“I don’t feel so good.. I’m really… Mareado…” He managed to choke out to his best friend before his gorgeous blue eyes rolled back into white and his body fell limp to the dirt, black overtaking his sight. The last thing he heard was Hunk calling out for him to stay awake before he completely passed out.

“Lance? Lance?! Stay awake, buddy, you can’t sleep right now. Hey, come on, wake up.. Lance, th-this isn’t funny…” He kneeled down to try and rouse the boy, his shaking and moving of his limp shoulders seeming to do nothing. By this point he was scared, really scared, and he quickly got onto the comms. “Uh, guys? Something’s wrong with Lance– I-I can’t– He won’t wake up, I don’t–”

Shiro heard Hunk’s panicked rambling in his ear and felt his heart drop in his chest, fear taking over as he mentally punched himself for letting the mission continue as it had when Lance was so clearly ill. He shouldn’t have ignored the signs like that, and just told Allura that they couldn’t do the mission, but… Lance seemed okay, and he seemed to want to push himself through whatever he was suffering.

“Hunk, stay calm, what happened?” He replies after a moment, unable to prevent the shake in his words as he starts to run back out to them with the 'prisoner’ bots and the other paladins in tow. “Did he get hit or anything?”

There was a moment of radio silence before Hunk came crackling back on, voice still sounding panicked, though less so, finally responding to the black paladin’s question. “N-No, he seems to be fine..” He mumbles into his comm as he carefully cradles Lance closer to his body in the most protective way possible.

“Alright, just hold on, we’ll be there soon.” Shiro orders, appearing a few minutes later with a worried Pidge and Keith in tow. “How is he? Has he woken up at all?” He questions, kneeling down on the other side of the still unconscious boy and carefully pulling off his helmet. Shiro hisses as his fingers brush against the back of his neck, feeling heat coming off of him in waves. “No, not at all. He’s been out since he dropped.”

Lance’s face was flush with heat, sweat beading up on his forehead while his body trembled with shivers, causing his features to contort slightly in discomfort, which only heightened Shiro’s concern. Quietly he pressed his hand back against his neck, brows knitting together. “He’s on fire.. His fever is really bad. We gotta get him back to the Castle. Allura,” He calls out to the Altean who was stationed above them, just watching silently. “Lance is sick. We’re coming back up.”

“Alright, I’ll let Coran know. We’ll prepare him some medicine. What are his symptoms?” She questions as Shiro carefully scoops Lance into his arms and brings him into the Black lion while Red and Yellow carry Blue back to the Castle ship. Shiro waited until he had the Cuban settled in his lap and he was on the way before replying. “He’s feverish, he seems to have a sore throat, and–”

As if on cue Lance began to cough wetly, bringing himself back to consciousness as he tried to loosen whatever was trapped in his lungs. “Shiro..? Did we free them?” He croaks, earning a sympathetic look from Shiro and a small smile. “Of course. And we couldn’t have done it without you.” He murmurs in response to Lance’s question, gently patting his back and frowning at the heat. How had he gotten this bad without anyone noticing?

As soon as they all landed in their hangars Shiro helped Lance out, one arm around his waist to support his weight while the other’s arm lay around his shoulders. He managed to help him stagger to the makeshift living room and lay him down on the couch while the team gathered pillows and blankets. “Shiro….” He murmurs, looking up at the older paladin with a weak smile. “I feel like shit.”

Shiro smiles gently at this and shakes his head a bit, patting his head as the others finally return and they start gathering on the couch with Lance, snuggling up to him beneath blankets and turning on a movie. “We’ll make sure to get you feeling like your old self soon, don’t you worry.”

“Feel better soon, okay?” Pidge chimes from next to him, looking up at him and tilting her head a little. “And next time don’t try to train while sick, you idiot! You worried us all!”

“Gracias, guys… You’re the best.”

In which the Scholar Dines In

(Artwork: Tan Abstraction, or Cross-section of Genius. Oil on canvas. © The Scholar, Mar 2017)

Consider the ignominy, dear admirers, of being forced to prepare one’s own supper. Is it not unimaginable? Is it not horrific to behold? Does it not cause tremors in one’s extremities and blemishes in one’s complexion? I have been forced not only to face the thought of such an injustice, but to encounter the very thing head on. My poor, dear old mother used to call me a “trooper,” and as nauseatingly pedestrian as the appellation is, I daresay I have lived up to its full connotation on this dark day. My mother will be proud to hear of it in the next installation of my triweekly epistle.

Like any self-respecting man of my social and intellectual station, I have my meals prepared by my manservant Chip. In the occasional event that Chip should be indisposed to my alimentation, I am wont to explore the few culinary wonders and many blunders of the neighborhood surrounding my dwelling. For the first time today, however, a confluence of outrageous circumstances whirled into a veritable hurricane of dire fortune, locking me into only one possibility: I had either to suffer death at the hands of cruel hunger, every pang drawing me closer to the grave, or I had to cook.

I do not exaggerate when I say that no other option existed. Chip has been absent with some sort of ailment of which I am unfamiliar, one that he called “march madness.” I was sure to grant him whatever time off necessary to make a full recovery, for my mind is far too valuable to risk losing to a contagious mania. Being home without an attendant, I, as I stated before, thought to proceed to a nearby eatery, but I had only the day prior twisted my left ankle savagely against a wayward pebble that lay in my path upon the walkway before my apartment. I have begun the process of suing the city for the terrifying physical and mental anguish I have suffered as a result of that lapse in public sanitation, but in the meantime the dolorous event has rendered walking even to the end of my own block a prohibitive affair.

My options, therefore, were few. One might suggest that I order in, but I have had more than enough negative experience in that regard. Chip has attempted to endear those services to me in the past, but the establishments in my vicinity ostensibly offering delivery of victuals do so with such a measure of incompetence that I cannot bear to let them leave my threshold without a thorough verbal thrashing. Once I received an approximation to a pizza in a box whose lid had sunken into the very foodstuff, rendering the entirety of the already unappetizing tomato-based mess inedible. On another occasion, a container of soy sauce had leaked over the interior of the bag in which my fried rice resided; the rice taunted me through an inaccessible film of spilled condiment. On numerous occasions I have scolded the deliverers for their tardiness, and for allowing my foodstuffs to become cold, congealed, and indigestible. Suffice it to say that services no longer willingly deliver food to my home, nor would I desire them to do so.

I thought, instead, that I would breach my regular routine and enjoy a bowl of cereal with milk, a pleasure that I generally reserve for breakfast, snacks, and nightcap. However, neither nightcap nor supper was cereal destined to be, for Chip in his temporary madness had failed to keep my refrigerator stocked with milk. My mouth watered for the sweet indulgence of oat and marshmallow, but in my infirm state I could do no more than wish.

Instead, I had to make do with what ingredients I could muster from the pantry. This was unexplored territory for your humble expositor. Versed as I am in the culinary arts, it is purely in the abstract, suitable for the enjoyment and criticism of others’ comestible creations. I know what it is to sauté, but I myself have never before been forced to condescend to the act. I do not wish to diminish the talent of chefs the world over for whom cooking is an art, but they surely must admit it is an inferior one; for no dish has ever sat upon a museum pedestal, and no plate has ever bookended a philosophical movement. Moreover, the word art as applied in the kitchen can only be accurate at the very most advanced levels of the trade. For the rest of the world it is an unspeakable burden, peasants’ work masquerading as daily necessity.

I couldn’t be content allowing my work to fall into such a category. If art the work could be, however transient and second-class, then art it must be. I sought no recipe, for what art has ever followed formula? I simply arrayed my canvas with a cooking pot and assembled my palette of ingredients.

I discovered at that moment that Chip had neglected more than just the purchase of milk. My paltry pantry sat largely empty. Therein I found some salt, flour, sugar, oil, and baking powder, and little else, and in the refrigerator sat a measly dozen eggs and carton of buttermilk--hardly the makings of any proper foodstuff. It would be a miracle if I did not starve even with these items at hand. However, I have surprised myself before, and I resolved that I would surprise myself this night. I would have to.

I began to experiment. The buttermilk proved to be exceedingly sour, no doubt spoiled by Chip’s neglect. I threw it out and thought up a suitable scolding for my negligent manservant’s eventual return. I thought then to try my hand at a few hard boiled eggs, but it seems there is more skill involved in their production than I ever realized. The eggs, cracked into the boiling water, simply fragmented into the rolling fluid to produce a translucent flecked soup, the sight of which would have made me lose whatever appetite I had in less desperate circumstances. As it stood, I tasted the mess and nearly became ill.

My next endeavors were similarly fruitless and taxing to my constitution, as I scalded my hands upon hot oil and nearly suffocated in smoke from an ill-fated attempt at unleavened bread. I was bruised, burned, and beaten, and it was clear that the approach I thought cautious would not be my friend this night.

Something snapped in my mind. I do not know if it arose from hunger-induced delirium, or from frustration at my failures, or from a touch of Chip’s madness, but I lost all inhibition. No longer did I care what went into my repast. I mixed ingredients with complete abandon, combining flour and eggs like some kind of madman. I even withdrew the carton of buttermilk from the trash and included it in the frenzy. The result was a putrid slime, the thought of which causes my now-sane knees to buckle, which I in my momentarily maniacal state poured into the hot oil that had previously burned me.

What drove this serendipitous act, I wonder? What led my hands in their work? I can only assume that the angels of culinary mercy had smiled upon my wretched efforts and had taken charge of my fortune, for it is impossible to understand how such a positively unpalatable ooze could amalgamate into sustenance, and yet such occurred. The goop, in fat and heat, turned out to be some sort of batter or dough that, in the hot pan, fried into a flat, round piece of bready substance not unlike cake. I thought to develop some sort of French nomenclature for the stuff, but in honor of its humble origins in my low moment I decided to give it a more practical name: “pan bread”. Wondering as I did at my latent genius, I gave the pan bread a taste.

Alas, my creation was salty as the Dead Sea! Clearly in my mania I had underestimated the potency of the fundamental seasoning. Undeterred, I began offsetting the salt in the unholy batter by adding proportionally more of the remaining ingredients (I did not become so mad during that moment of abandon as to fail to keep meticulous track of the components of the mess). What resulted was, I hazard to guess, gallons of batter.

So I set to work. I began to see something of the enjoyment that those simple folk of culinary persuasion must find in their craft, as pan bread after pan bread emerged more perfect than the last, more golden brown, more succulent to behold. Hours passed with me staring, watching as these circular loaves formed in my little pan.

Only as I arrived at the dregs of the batter did I realize what volume of pan bread I had just made. I let out a peep of fright as I surveyed the numerous pieces of food around me. They sat stacked sometimes two or three high, covering both the kitchenette counter and the dining table. I took a moment to count them in astonishment, but in my hungered state I failed to even number through a stack before collapsing, light-headed on the floor. I only with difficulty succeeded in reaching a trembling hand into the mass of pan breads to withdraw one. It was overdone, so I labored then to withdraw another. This one would have to do, in spite of its awkward oblong shape, and I set to work recovering my strength.

The pan bread was warm and sweet, and in my famished state there, lying on the floor of my kitchenette, I scarfed it handily and marveled once again at my wondrous capabilities. Oh world, you cannot begin to understand what it is like to be as prodigious as I. I mused that the little cake would perhaps pass muster as an entrée in the finest restaurant, and if I ever were to deign to such menial labor, it could make me a fortune. Indeed, I have withheld the precise details of the recipe just in case.

Lifting myself off of the floor, I proceeded to draw a bath, adding Epsom salts with one hand and munching on another pan bread with the other. I was almost sad that I would not soon have another opportunity to prepare my own nourishment, but to allow the act to become regular is to allow myself to enter the lower classes. I may as well plunge toilets for a living.

Fantasy Friday: Chaos of Knowledge, Chapter 2

Twenty years later... The crowd moved out of the way of the man running through them. Nearly every person in Adorea knew about the Vulpine Bandit who seemed to show up once a week or so. He was a slender gentleman and moved easily around the crowd. His blonde hair moved behind him quickly as e he looked back at the man chasing after him with a large knife as he was screaming obscenities. "Get back here you thief," The stout man demanded as the weapon was swinging wildly in the air. The man frowned turning back to his path as a pair of guards turned the corner having heard the commotion taking place ahead at the end of the street. The thief stumbled as he was forced to slow himself down to avoid the pair of bronzed spears suddenly thrust in his direction. Stumbling on the cobblestone the thief ended up sliding between the guards barely managing to avoid the sharpened points. Catching his footing a few feet behind them he was at full sprint again. It wasn't meant to get this loud and he should have been in and out in a few moments. Not having no less than three men after his head. Muttering curses under his breath his bare feet hit the stone ground hard as he moved through the city. He knew he should have waited a few hours longer before heading in, but it would have been gone at that point. Looking down at the catch he smiled brightly, the mask was pristine, and he hoped it would keep its luster after this fight ended. Carved from copper it was the perfect reflection of a fox. The man he had just stolen it from meant to use it fir decoration among others similar. But he knew better, this was worth something more than just decoration. If all went well this would be part of his new ensemble, he was tired of being forced to hide his face behind a scarf and this mask for him perfect. As he ran past the center of the city he knew that the guards would be pulling more men into the search for him. As he turned the corner he was taken by the collar and his hood removed as he was thrown against the wall. The pair of vulpine ears unfolded from beneath as they turned quickly to face the man who had just assaulted him. He raised his sword quickly to the shorter man looking him hard in the eyes. But the hand against his face was hotter than he would have expected and knew the spell was prepared to brand his face if he even tried to use his weapon. "Quiet," The caster demanded shoving his hand over the thief's mouth. The heavy sound of boots ran by as he saw the men running by lead by a man quickly casting some kind of spell before them. As they disappeared the hand removed from the thief's mouth he smiled. "Sampson." He said quickly lowering the blade. "I could have made it without your help." He said as the sword was replaced in its scabbard and Nomas started towards the street. Sampson frowned pulling off his hood revealing the long black hair that hung down to his neck. A small golden crown adorned his head as he lowered his hand letting the heat radiate off of it. "No, you didn't Nomas. You know that if you get caught outside the people will start to speak. It is bad enough people know there is a thief out and about, but if they hear it is you... They'd be at the gate demanding your head." He said pulling his sibling back. "And where did you get that ridiculous thing?" He demanded with a scoff. Nomas laughed pulling the copper mask out from his cloak and offering it towards Sampson. "It's a prop," Nomas said with a smile flashing. "Keep the guards from seeing my face, thought it would preserve my anonymity." He said with a shrug. "If a guard was chasing me down one day and the next he was protecting me then he would turn me in for sure." He said with a wide smile. Nomas had nearly the same complexion as his father, a constant light tan despite the fact that little light made it through the canopy of large trees above the city. Sampson stood a moment with Nomas smiling innocently towards his slightly older brother. "Come on. And keep the mask hidden. We can't let them think I am working with you." Sampson said grabbing Nomas by the shoulder and pressing him into the street as it was starting to crowd again. It was slightly after noon and the sun was cracking its way into the large square they walked by. "You're lucky I was there. What would you have done if I hadn't known where you were planning on running?" He asked with a scowl. "I would've been fine," He promised with a frown. "Have I been caught yet?" "Before. That's the key, all it takes is you being seen once and you'll be on the chopping block within the hour." He scowled as he pressed Nomas towards the large castle in the center of the city. "You're doing this too often, I got to tell mom." Nomas stopped suddenly in his tracks. "You can't tell her." e said with panic in his voice. Most people Nomas felt he could deal with, but his mother was nothing to shake a stick at. She was quick as a whip and could hit twice and hard, "You know she's already trying to keep me in the castle as long as possible. If she finds out about... this." He said motioning towards himself. "I'll be ruined for sure." Sampson frowned forcing him to start moving again. "You should have thought harder about that before heading out here." He said pulling him through the courtyard again. "She's the only person who you listen to, and if I keep her out of this..." He sighed rubbing his temples as Nomas said with a frown. "You'll be out here again." He said looking at Nomas. They approached the large gate ahead, the signal that they were heading from the lower city to the richer center city. It was a large stone archway guarded by a group of men. Several runes glowed brightly on it meant to ward off anyone that wasn't meant to be there. The guards wore matching uniforms casually reading through papers allowing peasants and traders to do work in the higher district. The passing through was easy to notice as the surge of magic ran through them making the hair on Nomas' neck stand on end and the smell of electricity force its way into his lungs. The ground suddenly went from the quiet crunching of stepping on gravel to that of the quiet pattering of stone that lined the road. The guards didn't even take a second glance at Sampson, they knew he was the prince and any kind of spell to mimic him would have been dissolved by the wards they passed through. Nomas didn't even have to look to know what was around him. He knew the area too well. Bakeries he had ordered from, libraries he browsed, stores he had walked through a thousand times. Even the poorest families living here were well known among the city and had large amounts of money at their disposal. He knew that the road they walked lead right to the center fo the city and into the castle he and his brother were raised in. Sampson's face was hard today and Nomas cocked his head slightly trying to figure out what had happened to him, normally he was quiet when he found Nomas, subtle and kind about it, but today he was angry and ready to burst with anger. "What happened?" Nomas asked turning around to face his sibling. "I'm fine," Sampson said losing away with a frown. He was hiding something, and he knew it had to be big. "Sampson." Nomas pressed with a frown. "You know that you can talk to me without having any kind of problem. I have never spoken about anything you wanted me to keep hidden. You know that." That statement made him take a deep breath followed by a sigh. Lifting his left arm slowly Nomas saw the problem quite quickly. Most if his arm was covered in burns covering his forearm. "Lost control of my magic earlier. Mom already took a look at it and thinks I should be more careful and won't let me cast without her around for a while, at least until I can take the proper precautions." He explained with a sigh. Nomas knew exactly what he was talking about. Most of Sampson's arms were covered in tattooed runes running up and down them, meant to aid in the focusing of his magic, but clearly, a spell had backfired. "But you're alright though, right Sam?" Sam, it had always been one of Nomas' favorite things to call his sibling, mostly because it bothered him. A nod was his only reply, something was solemn and angry about his reaction though as if Nomas questioning was making him more bitter. "Sam?" "I said I'm fine." He snapped looking suddenly at him with his blue eyes flaring with anger. "I told her it was nothing but she won't let me do any of my work until I can cast my basic wards without failing. Do you know how hard that is? Five spells I need to cast perfectly, in order, with all of the movements and incantations for all of them without making a mistake." Nomas nodded slightly as he looked up at the beams of light shining through. "You did it before didn't you? It can't be that hard to do again. I'll even come help if you need it." "What do you know?" He asked with a frown. "All you need to do is swing a sword around. You don't know anything about casting a spell." Nomas' hand went by instinct to the sword on his side. A fine longsword he had wielded since he was old enough to carry it. Sampson was right, Nomas had never shown the affinity for casting spells like his brother had. Unlike nearly half of people who could do basic things like moving a pencil across a table or make a flag move, Nomas seemed to have no ability for anything magic. Rather he strove to be a warrior rather than a man of royal stature. While both were called prince in the title, Nomas was born second. He had little chance to usurp in brother even if he wanted to. Nomas looked away with a frown. "I know when you need help, Sampson. Even if you aren't asking for it." He said keeping his gaze from his brother's outburst. Sampson's face suddenly softened, setting his good hand on Nomas' shoulder he smiled. "You know that I trust you, but this is something that you would not be able to help with. It is something that would take you a lifetime to understand, even I struggle with this even with all my schooling under mother." "My work is the same." Nomas shot back. "You and I have followed different paths, but we travel them together. I know nothing of magic, I admit that. But you know nothing about swordplay, but despite that fact, we are brothers. We will always be together, No matter the distance." He said with a frown. "You know that." Sampson just laughed slightly. "Stop acting like you're so philosophical. You know you will run out of brain power." He said pressing his brother forward through the last gate to the castle. "Mom'll be pissed if we don't get back quickly." He said pressing the both of them passed the guards. There were more here, like always, and they were better armed than those who protected the guard upper-class people in the city. Nomas pulled away now and hurried ahead passed his brother as they approached the gate. "Then let's hurry." He said with a smile. "I'd rather not deal with her yelling at me for being out and being late." He said with a smile as he ran past a few people coming towards the main hall. "Plus she might be busy with other stuff and we'll avoid her for the moment." *** Her calmness scared Nomas more than anything. She sat across from him reading through some kind of report with a firm frown planted on her face. She spoke little and that was what made Nomas know there was something worse coming. Adjusting her papers she looked up at Nomas with her dark blue eyes locking with his. They always seemed to pierce Nomas soul, "You were chased in broad daylight by the blacksmith." She said with a scowl, Nomas wasn't sure if this was meant to be a statement or a question so he simply nodded. "That is rather bold compared to your other... escapades." She said pausing a moment as she tried to find the proper word. "Explain to me again why you were out." "I was bored," Nomas answered quickly looking own at his feet. "There wasn't much going on here in regards to training so I went out looking for something to do." He said with a shrug. "Something to do?" She asked with a frown. "You think there is nothing for us to do here?" Viola asked with a frown. "Your brother nearly destroyed his arm and burnt the castle down. And you would have been nowhere to be accounted for. We would have been fighting our way through a crumbling building looking for a man who wasn't even in the same part of the city because he needed something to do." She said as her quill scratched along the table. "Your boredom could have cost us lives. Let alone if you were found out there." "But I wasn't," Nomas said taking a step forward with his gaze returning to his mother again. The room was small, nothing more than a study his mother used for herself. It only had one window behind her desk and the walls were covered to the ceiling with tall bookshelves made of dark oak wood matching the desk. The desk was in the center of the room, nearly as long as Nomas was tall, and was stacked high with paper across nearly the whole surface. "But you could have." The queen shouted suddenly as she stood in anger. Several books flew off their shelves and crashed upon the floor. "That's the point that keeps escaping you. Just because nothing happened doesn't mean it couldn't have." She said with the rune on her left arm glowing a light green. "You know that if something happens you and Sampson are not ready for such a burden. Even if you were expected to carry it together." Nomas nodded looking down quickly. While it was not often that his mother scolded him, being outside was something that he refused to press back on. Nomas never understood why though, his tail was nothing more than a natural occurrence, something he had no control over. Why was he forced to hide something he had no way of changing? "I understand that." Nomas managed as he looked to her again. "You know I don't do well in confined spaces. You said yourself that dad suffered from the same thing." "You're not your father." She snapped again as the quill was ripped suddenly in half and the ceiling rattled loudly. "Your father damaged many people in his presence here. Including you and I. Don't act like this is something to be taken lightly. He is a man who should be hunted down for his sins, and you are nothing more than a child of circumstances." She said before dropping into her seat as she sunk her head into her hands. "Go, there is nothing more I wish to say at the moment." She said with a frown motioning him from her room. Nomas turned away quickly as he hurried towards the door, just outside Sampson came up offering him a smile. "That went better than normal." He said with a sigh as he leaned against the wall. "She didn't even punish you." The other shook his head though. "That's what worried me the most. You and I haven't had any kind of punishment recently. You think it's because were coming of age?" He asked with a frown. The age of Twenty was an important transition around Adorea. It was considered the age of adulthood. Apprentices were severed from their masters. Children allowed to leave their families. Pages advanced to knights. And Nomas and Sampson would be allowed to be leaders. "I don't know." He said with a sigh. "I would imagine she would be cracking down on us at this point. Making sure everything is going right and we are going to be ready." Sampson laughed slightly standing again. "Come on, I'm sure you're fine," Sampson said with a shrug. "We should get out to the courtyard. I want to show you the new spell I was working on. You know, the one." He said showing the still wrapped arm. "I got it right, even with the misfire." Nomas shook his head. "You know mom will kill you if you do it again. She is angry enough with you throwing it off the first time. If she caught you." Sampson paused a moment realizing the irony he was being hammered against. "She won't." He said with a smile. "I've already got the guards the leave the area," Sampson said with a smirk. "You know I'm not a fool. 'Preparation is half of everything'." He said waving his hand a few times. "'That's what separates us from animals'. That's what mom always says." Nomas shook his head with a laugh, sometimes it was hard to deny Sampson's enthusiasm, and his skill. "Okay then 'Master Wizard'. Show me what you can do then." He said with a smirk as they started walking down to the large courtyard outside of the castle. A small forge adorned the far corner but it was currently empty. Sampson frowned grabbing the large book from his bag as he jogged quickly towards the center. "You'll want to stand back. Once I get it up and moving I can't stop it suddenly. It takes a while to die back down." He said as he began flipping through the pages. Nomas could see the scribblings and diagrams that he had written in making and adjusting spells. He smiled. He brother had always been quite a scholar. Though he had trouble getting his thoughts together, once he did though, he was one of the most powerful sorcerers in all of Adorea. Being the son of Viola, after all, both of them were born some of the most powerful casters in the land. Nomas himself though, he hadn't gained the gift of manipulating the stream. Casting a spell required a person to take in large amounts of the stream, a natural flowing energy a caster focused into an incantation or enchantment. People in passing called it mana and all forms of magic revolved around controlling and manifesting it. It was hard for someone to begin casting a spell and even then it nearly no one could do anything more than starting a fire or gathering a jug full of water. Nomas did know a bit about how it was done. Sampson stood in the center of the courtyard as he removed his shirt. The scars were for more severe than he had thought originally. Most of his back was burnt up in his last attempt, a side effect on losing grasp on mana. Any mana he had called forth was ripped violently from the user's body often times leaving burns, scars, cut, bruises, and the like from the sudden burst of energy. Sampson struck a heavy stance, low to the ground. An earthen spell was all Nomas could surmise about the way he stood. Normally a spell using the ground required an Earthen base or material like a stone, While something avian would need light footing or something light like a feather. HE smiled watching his brother as he began the second art of the spell. Normally this would have a verbal component about it such as a chant or a focus but Sampson and his mother had a unique way of casting their spells. The runes across Sampson's body glowed with a dull brown color as small pebbles around the area began to lift off the ground. Nomas nodded, Earth, just as he thought. The ground moved slowly around Sampson as the spells advanced. It went from a solid state beginning to slowly liquefy and shift wildly around him. Lifting and dropping in a slow mechanical movement Sampson began to command it with his movements. It divided and dipped and rose as Sampson moved around, his arms swaying to an unknown beat and the ground moving as he did. After a few moments, the ground focused in a single area and began to lift into the air as a long cylinder lifted almost ten feet into the air. It moved slowly before beginning to form a face into the side. The face was scaled, and angry looking. A dragon? Sampson was more creative than that. Bit sometimes he just didn't try. Nomas shook his head with a smile as he looked at him forming it better, slowly forming the neck and body carved into the ground. It slowly began to take shape and Nomas began to smile again watching it all come together. But as Sampson was finishing up the last of the second wing before nearly the entire thing exploded outward leaving a large crater with a smoldering rock in the center. Both boys moved back in a panicked movement as Nomas went to cover his brother. "What was going on?" He asked with a frown. "Did you do something wrong?" He asked with a frown watching the stone smoldering and burning the ground around it. "I didn't do this." He said loudly looking at it and then towards the city. "What am I supposed to..." His voice fell short as another crash just outside the courtyard. The pair frowned looking at one another before they were both sprinting towards the door. Sampson threw it open as Nomas drew his blade. The four-foot blade dancing in his hand as they charged out looking at the second rock burning loudly before them. "What did you do Sampson?" He asked with a frown. "If mom sees this she's going to kill us both." He said looking to his brother who was starting to panic. "That wasn't me." He said pointing out towards the city. there were at least another dozen of them elsewhere in the city and several more coming quickly from the trees, "Oh, my word." The brother muttered in amazement as he looked to Nomas. "We're under attack." He said turning a heel back towards the castle. Nomas was shocked as he blinked a few times. "We need to warn mom."