the moon is bright enough (LUNCH CLUB) DISCONTINUED

the sun drowns in a sea of blue

magical powers au! magical powers au!

co-posted on ao3 under the same title.

please note that this is a work of fiction. if any of the people featured in this story feels uncomfortable, i will take this down!

there will be no shipping here. just bros being bros and getting into messes they can't fix, and so create even larger messes to cancel it all out.

-=-

So maybe it wasn't the best idea, Schlatt muses to himself. Maybe he should've gone a bit less.. dramatic. Less showy.

To his left, he hears Connor mutter, "Yeah, you stupid idiot," but chooses to ignore it. Creepy mind-reading little shit.

Instead, he kneels down and examines the damage. To be fair, he didn't expect anyone to get in his way. It's not entirely his fault Charlie (that's his name, right?) got blasted twenty metres by a beam of light. God. It sounds even more absurd when he thinks it.

Trying to get back on track, Schlatt runs his hand down Charlie's arm, examining for injury. He ducks his head, listening for a pulse. Bingo. Charlie's still alive, thank goodness. He doesn't seem badly hurt, and even if he was, Ty would have him sorted. Besides, with all his tech knowledge, Charlie would be a valuable asset to their team. As if reading his mind, which he almost certainly was, Connor murmurs a, "I'll go get him," and Schlatt listens to his footsteps fade away.

Once he's gone, Schlatt sighs. It's slow and heavy, enough for his whole body to tremble from hooves to wing-tips. He really didn't want to hurt anyone, but when he thinks of the light bursting through his body, cracking the earth below him, sending the poor boy flying. He thinks of how it looked, how it turned out, how they all ran–

He's a monster.

They were right.

His fingers twist around his horns. A sob in his throat threatens to spill.

"Schlatt?"

Fuck, they're already back? Schlatt wipes his eyes, composes himself. He steadies his breathing. He stands on wobbly legs and wipes the dust from his fur. Show no weakness. None at all.

When he speaks, it's almost as if he hadn't been crying at all. "Yes, Ty?"

Ty tilts up onto his toes, then back down again. Up and down. Up and down. "You needed me?"

Not so soon. "Yes. Heal him for me, will you?" He backs away and stands beside Connor. A pink glow emits from Ty's palms and surrounds Charlie's body. Charlie inhales sharply, and the glow seems to rush into his lungs. Then it all stops.

Schlatt feels strangely proud, watching Ty work. Who knew a winged faun, a business partner, and an intern would become this close? Like a family, he thinks, and Connor punches him in the ribs.

With Charlie, they could become stronger. Then they'd show the world.

They'd show them that they aren't freaks. They aren't strange.

They are more powerful than the humans could ever hope to be.

"Let's get him back to the base," Connor's voice is quiet and eases him out of his thoughts. It's a good idea.

Schlatt scoops up Charlie's limp body and stretches out his wings. "There's a spare room, isn't there?" He asks.

Connor sighs. "Yes. We've lived there for years and you still don't know?" He exchanges an exasperated glance with Ty, who bites back a grin.

"Watch your tone, Connor," Schlatt says, but he can't stop his smile. "I'll see you there."

Then he flaps his wings once, twice, and takes off.

It's beautiful in the sky. Sometimes, when he's feeling down, he likes to fly up as high as he can and watch the oranges and reds of the sun bleed into black. Then the stars remind him to hustle, and he flies back down. There's rarely a day's rest in the life of a mystic businessman.

As he flies higher and higher, swooping through the clouds with the joy of a three-year-old.

His first thought is, Charlie would love it if he was awake.

His second is, I don't even know the guy.

The journey takes less than five minutes, and soon he finds himself nearing the ground, white fur billowing out in the wind as he tucks himself in for a more streamlined shape, arms aching whenever he adjusts his hold on Charlie. A familiar scene stares up at him and he descends.

It looks like any other meadow, all lush and green and blossoming with flowers. In the near distance, a good ten or so minute walk away, is a river swollen with fish. Then directly to his right is a forest. It's more than a half-hour drive from their base to the nearest town and besides, no one goes out into the wilderness now.

They're all scared of the magic ones.

Schlatt lands with as much grace as an elephant attempting to do ballet. Flushed and breathing heavily, he staggers through the top secret doorway (which is actually just a hole hidden behind a bush) and sighs with relief at the sound of marbled floor beneath his hooves.

"Techno?" He calls. "Can you – fuck, I'm so out of breath – can you get Charlie to one of the spare rooms?"

There's a reluctant grunt, then a pink-haired man appears down the hallway. He examines Schlatt with narrowed eyes, then takes the crumpled body into his own arms. "What did you do now, Schlatt?" He asks, clearly used to this.

"I, uh," Schlatt toys with the tip of his horns. "I may have blasted him with a beam of light. By accident, of course."

Technoblade stares at him and Schlatt shrinks under it. "Hm. Of course." His eyes narrow further, then whisks back around and heads back down the hall.

Schlatt sighs for what feels like the millionth time and drags himself to his own room, next door to Connor's and across from Ty's. It'll be a few minutes before the pair arrive. If he's a good friend, he should return and walk back with them. But self-care is knowing when you're about to collapse, and then knowing that you should get some fucking sleep in before you get a heart attack or something.

He's had enough drama for one day, and the peace of his bedroom is inviting. His hoodie is a bit of a struggle to get off with his horns in the way. He really should start investing in the zip-up ones. He glances around the room, then grabs his brush and combs down all the fur sticking up in weird directions. The transition from skin to fur is still one he's enchanted by. It's so strange. Like a beard, but on your body.

When he's done, he slips into the bed, the mauve bedsheets lulling him into the state between sleep and consciousness. It's the most relaxed he's been in weeks.

He really should know that it won't last.

It never does.