#&shes like 'you just told me you used to go hiking down ravines after work at night alone&that you rode on the hood of your car while your

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 31: Flowers

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

It's time for the CHOICE. You reminisce, finally get the truth of that big memory. Maybe getting a little bit closer to Kung Lao. There's a storm coming and it's time to get ready.

A/N: Wow, the choice is here! I told you it was a weird normal choice haha. I hope you guys enjoy, this has been a blast. Each choice WILL be different enough that the story is still worth reading on both ends. They will have dramatic differences, honestly. Thank you guys so much for reading. This has been such fun.

Schedule change: The Oncoming Storm will diverge into two separate stories here- Firestorm and Lightning. Lightning updates on Monday and Firestorm on Friday. I have a few new stories in the works too so this will give me more time to plan and write. It's only one less day posting, honestly.

Part 30 Lightning Part 1 (Kung Lao) Firestorm Part 1 (Liu Kang) Volcanic Charge Part 1 (Both) Chapter Index

You tried to rest, you really did, but you were having a hard time being alone with only your thoughts for company. For some time, you sat at your desk and tried to read but you couldn’t focus on the notes. Plus, you had terrible handwriting. Liu Kang had been right. You wound up, instead, playing with the flower that rested nearby. You decided you’d cherish it a little bit longer before finding a way to press it and keep it preserved.

Sitting still was torture so you decided to take a walk. A short walk. You didn’t even bother putting on your shoes to try and discourage from going too far. Twisting the stem of the flower in your hand, you walked until you realized you’d gone much further than intended. Oh well. You weren’t pushing yourself too hard. You’d needed a change of scenery and fresh air, that was all. You found a balcony nearby and took a seat near the edge so you could watch the world across the ravine.

It was beautiful.

You twisted the flower between your fingers, admiring the purple petals. It was a small and frail thing. Small but also a sweet reminder of things long past. Those memories were so far from you now in your adult life that it was more like remembering pages from a book rather than scenes from your own history. The story, as distant as it was, was still precious to you.

Memory was a funny thing.

You’d replayed that day over and over in your mind for years after it had happened.

Your grandma had a love-hate relationship with Kung Lao at the time. She’d loved that you had a friend but had hated that the boy had been so rebellious. Your grandma had said things like ‘when you married that boy’. Once, on her deathbed, grandma had asked if you were still with Kung Lao. You’d told her yes because it had made grandma happy.

Your grandmother had always called you sensitive because of your visions, you supposed. You always had the distinct feeling that she’d known more about what was happening to you than anyone else had.

Back then the word sensitive had felt like an insult.

As an adult, you understood that it just wasn’t that simple. Grandma had always loved you even as sensitive as you were. Your mother and father had never been able to look you in the eye after it had begun. You had no doubt that they loved you, but it had been different. At nine years old that had been a lot to process. You would probably benefit from therapy but the monks in Raiden’s Temple were such gossips you were certain you’d have to outsource.

The flower spun above your fingers, and you held your other hand around it to protect it from the wind.

You were out of breath as you chased Kung Lao up the hillside through the thick and overgrown brush between the trees. He was almost constantly just far enough away from you that you couldn’t seem to catch up. Your legs were wobbly, fingers going numb, lips tingling.

Yesterday had been a mess.

You’d fallen in the kitchen while having a fit and had hit the back of your head on the counter. Grandma had taken care of you, but you’d still felt sick that morning. Then Kung Lao had wanted to see you. You’d fought with grandma about it. You begged and pled. After having such a bad day you’d only wanted to spend time with Kung Lao and feel normal.

But then Kung Lao had been funny all day.

He was even a little mean. You wondered what you had done wrong.

“Keep up, weirdo!” He’d called back to you teasingly and you nearly stopped in your tracks. He had never once before called you any of the awful names that the other kids in town had called you. To hear the insult from his lips was jarring, so much so that you thought you’d heard him wrong or imagined it.

“I need a minute! You have to slow down!” You called to him while you caught your breath. You leaned against the tree nearest you and gasped. Your heart felt like it was going to burst, and your mouth kept filling with sick spit. You were uncomfortable. Grandma had made you promise to take it easy. You were going to get in so much trouble if grandma found out that you were running through the woods that far from home.

Kung Lao reappeared through the trees, and he was smiling but still not himself. “What? Are you weak, Y/N? Gonna fall over? Can’t even make it up a little hill?”

“You’re being a jerk.” You coughed and his expression changed, but only briefly. He then turned away from you.

“Keep up, weirdo!”

“Don’t call me that!” The names stung. He’d never hinted that he’d believed those things about you so why was he saying them now? He’d been adamantly against the other kids giving you a hard time because you were different. Now there he was doing the same. Something was wrong but you didn’t understand what. Kung Lao was always difficult to understand when he was acting funny. He kept secrets.

You ran to catch up with him, stumbled over a loose stone, and then fell. You caught yourself in the dirt but hit hard. Your palms scraped against the ground and so did your knees. You sat there panicked and not breathing. Not because it’d hurt. You’d gotten good at handling pain over the past year. It was because you were bleeding and that had become a problem. When you bled, you just kept bleeding instead of healing. You were going to be in so, so much trouble when you got back to Grandma’s.

“You’re too slow, weirdo!”

Your eyes filled with tears.

This had to be a bad dream. Kung Lao would never treat you like this. You got up and watched the blood drip over your torn tights and then ran back through the trees toward your grandma’s farm. You didn’t want to hear those horrible words in his voice anymore. You’d had enough. Everywhere you went they called you terrible names or looked at you like you didn’t belong.

The only place that you had ever felt like you belonged was with Kung Lao and today he had made you feel like everyone else had.

An alien.

A freak.

The farm came into view and so you stopped at the tree line. If you went back, then grandma was going to be upset with you. She wouldn’t yell but she would be disappointed which was worse. Then you wouldn’t be allowed to watch television. It would be just you and the studies left behind by the tutor that came during the week to help you keep up with your education.

You took off your shoes and your tights, then replaced your shoes before using the tights to wipe the blood from your knees and your palms. The blood was quickly replaced. You leaned against one of the trees, hiding behind the bushes in a place where you had often snuck away to read or hide from your family.

The last time that you’d fallen, you’d skinned your elbow and it had gotten terribly infected. You’d been sick for weeks. Your parents had been so upset that you’d felt like you’d broken a rule just because you’d fallen on the way to the doctor. They’d reassured you that it was an accident but the disappointment that radiated from them when they looked at you spoke differently.

Grandma had never once blamed you for the things you couldn’t control. But this had been in your control. You knew that Kung Lao had been pushing you too hard, but you also hadn’t told him how sick you had been that morning and the night before. This was your fault. You should have told him that you weren’t up to the task of hiking wherever he had been dragging you. He’d said it had been a beautiful surprise.

The trip had been a surprise, alright, but not in the way that you had hoped it would be. It felt like a nightmare.

You hadn’t meant to fall! You’d been winded and now your hands and knees were scraped, and you’d be in trouble. Your tights were ruined too. Grandma had threatened to wrap you up in a bubble wrap before sending you off to play with ‘that boy’ and now you wondered if you’d ever be allowed outside to play with him again.

He’d called you names.

For the first time ever.

He’d called you those awful names that the other kids called you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks, your nose was plugged up and you sniffled, burying your face in your arms as you pulled your knees closer to your chest. You cried. You didn’t cry much those days, not anymore. When you’d first gotten sick, you’d cried all the time. Now you reserved your tears for hiding in your closet where no one would see. Your dad would get angry when you cried, something you’d never wanted.

Now you hid your tears.

Footsteps crunched on the grass and leaves beside you, and you wiped your eyes furiously to hide your tears but you was too stuffed up to do it well. Kung Lao sat next to you in silence, arms folded against his knees, watching you. You sniffled and frowned, trying to look mad but you weren’t sure it was actually working.

“We better get you cleaned up or you’re going to get in trouble again.” Kung Lao poked the side of your knee, and you scooted an inch away from him. He scooted with you.

“I don’t need your help.” You held your destroyed tights over your bloody knees to keep them from dipping down your leg. The scrapes weren’t that bad, they just seemed to bleed more than everyone else’s scrapes did.

“Well, it’s my fault.”

“Just leave me alone, Kung Lao.” You tried to shoo him away and he tried to pull the tights away from your knees so that he could take a look. “Stop it.”

He pouted and crossed his legs, hands at his ankles as he rocked forward and then back, letting his hands catch him as he leaned back. “I’m sorry.”

“Go away.”

“I know that those names are mean. I wasn’t thinking. You never react to them when anyone calls you them. They don’t seem to bother you.” He shrugged, looking off to the side as if embarrassed. You relaxed a little bit. “I don’t think I realized how mean it was until I saw how hurt you were just now.”

You sniffled.

“I’m dumb sometimes.” He slumped his shoulders. “You always act so strong. I didn’t think it’d hurt.”

You were used to being called mean names by others but coming from him it had hurt. You were only strong when you heard those names because their opinion of you hadn’t mattered. Kung Lao’s did.

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You sighed. Kung Lao jumped to his feet.

“I’ll go get some bandages!”

“Okay.” You wouldn’t fight him. He ran off, presumably to climb through your bedroom window and get the bandages that were kept on your side table. You wiped your eyes and willed away your upset. Kung Lao often acted before he thought. At least he’d apologized even if it had still hurt your feelings. You were, admittedly, sensitive after the night you’d had.

It didn’t take him long to return. Together you cleaned the scrapes with the little wipes that your grandma had bought and then Kung Lao placed little sticky bandages on your knees. It was sloppy and not how you would have done it, but it was sweet of him to try. Together you wrapped your palms with gauze and he did a much better job with that.

“Grandma is probably going to notice.”

“I don’t know. Your grandma doesn’t see very well. She doesn’t even notice when I’m in your room half the time.”

“Yeah, even so, mom’s going to notice when she visits tomorrow.” He wasn’t wrong. Grandma didn’t have the best eyes. Even with her glasses she struggled to read instructions and usually asked you to do it. But your mom noticed when you had so much as a loose thread on your dress or if your hair was even a little messy.

“You can blame it on me.” Kung Lao grinned. “That way you won’t get in trouble.”

“Mom already doesn’t like you.”

“What? Why not?”

“She thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“I could see that.” Kung Lao laughed.

“I won’t be allowed to see you anymore if I blame it on you. I’d rather just get into trouble for falling.” You picked up your tights. You’d get in trouble for that too. Your mom would go on and on about how money didn’t grow on trees. You’d never liked tights anyway. Besides that, your parents never seemed to be happy with you anymore anyway. What was a little extra trouble?

Kung Lao stood and offered you his hand. You took it and got to your feet. Together you made your way the short distance back to the farmhouse. A fence surrounded the old field behind it that your grandma hadn’t tended to in years. It was overgrown with weeds mostly now.

“When are you going to be allowed to go back home?”

“When I’m better.” That was what your parents had said every time you asked.

“You should just lie and say that you’re better then! Then we can play in town. This is a long walk for me.”

You laughed and climbed beneath the gap in the fence. You had wasted most of the afternoon and if you didn’t get back inside before dark then you were going to get in trouble for that too. You were pretty sure that you were already going to get in trouble. You weren’t a good liar. Every time you tried, you stuttered and got nervous and wound up giving yourself away so you didn’t really try anymore. Except for when it came to lying about if you were okay or not. You’d gotten good at pretending that you weren’t upset when you were.

“I have to go home, Kung Lao.” You waved to him and turned away.

“Wait, Y/N!” He called to you. You hurried back to the fence that he was leaning against, arms folded.

“What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered purple flower. Then he offered it to you, averting his eyes and looking shy for maybe the first time you’d ever seen. You stared at the flower in surprise. You’d seen that kind of flower before, but they were mostly red or white. You’d never see it purple before.

“It’s why I wanted you to follow me.” He shrugged and his cheeks were redder than you’d noticed before. Maybe from their afternoon of sunshine or maybe because he was embarrassed. Why was he embarrassed? “I found them the other day and they reminded me of you. I wanted you to see them. Then I was a jerk and you ran away instead so… I brought one back for you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Had he been mean because he’d been embarrassed to do something so sweet? You didn’t know what any of it meant but it was cute to see him acting this way. He was usually so confident.

“You’re terrible.” Was what you went with. He laughed. “Making fun of me just to do something sweet.”

“Yeah, I am pretty terrible.” He beamed, back to his old self just like that. You took the flower from him and twisted the stem between your fingers. It was crumpled up from being in his pocket but it was still special and beautiful. You decided that you’d hide it. Your grandma wouldn’t let you keep it after it died, and you wanted to keep it forever.

“Thank you, Kung Lao.” You smiled and then used the fence to lean up to his height and give him a kiss on the cheek like you’d seen girls do in movies. You’d never done that before to anyone but your mom, sister, and grandma. His face turned beat red and you took a step back, holding the flower close to your chest. He grinned from ear to ear. “I have to go! Goodbye, Kung Lao!”

“Consider lying so that you can come back to town!” He shouted after you and you laughed before returning to your grandma’s house.

You twisted the stem of the flower in your hand just as you had done as a child. There had been so much of that day that you’d forgotten. It wasn’t like you sat in the memory all the time. That next day your mom had come to visit and had brought the terrible news that Kung Lao had died.

You’d been heartbroken, or that was the word that your grandma had used to defend you when your mom had told you to grow up. You hadn’t understood the notion of heartbreak at that age.

That had been what it was though. Heartbreak. Grandma had known your heart better than you ever had.

After that you’d refused to date for a long time. When you turned sixteen your mother had begun to set you up with boys from town or from neighboring towns. You’d fought with your mom about it every time and had reluctantly gone on the dates but had made it clear you weren’t interested. Your mom had told you that Kung Lao was dead and your idea of him was going to keep all other men out of your life. You’d never become a wife or a mother at that rate. You’d fought that wasn’t true or fair to accuse you of. But in the same breath you’d sabotaged every relationship you’d ever had. Your mom hadn’t been completely wrong.

You had ruined every chance at marriage that you’d had until you and your mother had become so estranged that by the time that she’d died you had barely spoken. Your father had stopped talking to you long before then outside of pleasantries around the holidays and only because your sister forced him to be polite.

Every relationship that you’d had outside of your mother’s meddling had ended with you being unable to commit. You’d never liked the idea of becoming a housewife and that was what most men that you met had wanted. You probably hadn’t given them the proper chance to prove that you’d be more than that either, though. Your older sister had settled down with a nice man from the neighboring town and had a daughter. This had continued her long running streak of being the family favorite.

You were okay with that.

Your sister had never been mean to you. In fact, she had only ever defended you. You hoped that she was doing okay. You’d been close. It had probably crushed her to think that you had died.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You turned very suddenly at the sound of Kung Lao’s voice, eyes wide and panicked. It was jarring to hear the voice of another person after being so lost in your memories.

“I’ve been standing here for like five minutes. You didn’t notice?” He was leaning against the wall of the entryway to the balcony. You felt your heart slamming in your chest. He was alive and that was still wild to you sometimes. You tried to hide the flower like a moron, like you hadn’t been mooning over your memories of him. It was too late for that. Kung Lao sat next to you. “I broke into your room when no one answered. Sorry.” He grinned and it was that same grin that a much younger him had worn after you’d kissed his cheek. “You were gone so I checked the infirmary, and you weren’t there either. That one monk, your friend, said that she’d left you earlier in the day and wasn’t your keeper. I don’t think she likes me much.”

“Chen.” You offered him her name. “I heard that you were very annoying while I was unconscious so that’s probably why she was snippy at you.”

“Well, you were unconscious for three days and I wanted to see you even if you couldn’t respond to me.” He puffed up his cheeks and pouted as he turned his gaze. You smiled and looked back down on the flower that you had hidden just beneath the hanfu you’d put on.

“Thank you for checking in on me so much. It’s sweet.”

“It’s not sweet. Purely selfish.”

“It’s sweet.” You repeated.

Kung Lao pulled the cloth away from where you’d hidden the flower and carefully took the stem from your fingertips. As you had suspected, there had been no point in hiding it.

“Wilting, huh?” He turned it over in his hands.

“Yeah, that’s what flowers do.” You shrugged and watched the ravine as he studied the flower. “Their beauty fades.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kung Lao rested it in his palm carefully, as if worried that he would crush it. You sat silently watching the ravine. “I would fill your room with flowers if it meant that you would be okay.”

You looked to him in surprise and then at the wilted flower in his palm. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears, and you fought them.

“I like having just the one.” You smiled. He cocked a curious eyebrow. “It makes it special. Only one. And the memory of the other.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He offered you the flower and you took it carefully. “Do you remember that day?”

“Every second of it.”

“You were my first kiss.” He grinned.

“Well, technically it was only a kiss on the cheek, Lao.”

“It counted. To me it counted.” He looked too proud of it to argue with him. How could you? It was incredibly sweet. You gently nudged him. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice a bit more serious, a rare thing that you both treasured and feared.

“Yeah. I’m sore and tired.” You averted your gaze.

“And…?”

“A little scared.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, that was terrifying, and you almost murdered us.” He considered and you snapped your head to him in alarm. He was smiling, even if there was still sadness behind his eyes. “Watching you struggle with this is all too familiar. I’m just glad that you’re okay now. Feeling more determined than ever.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Kung Lao stood and offered his hand and you felt your heart skip a beat. This really was far too familiar. “Come eat with me. You haven’t had real food in days.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Three days, Y/N!”

“I was unconscious and on an IV.”

“Come eat with me anyway. Maybe Liu will join us!” Kung Lao took your hand and you reluctantly let him and got to your feet. You avoided his eyes as they studied you. “Liu’s fine, Y/N. It’s just a scrape.”

“I was covered in blood, but whatever you say.” You tucked the flower within the folds of your hanfu. “We can go get food but I’m not hungry.”

“Let’s go.” He held your hand for a time as you walked but after a few minutes he seemed to become aware that he was holding it and let go. Then he shoved his hands instead in his pockets. Your feet were sore without your shoes, and you were tired by the time you made it downstairs to the dining area. He helped you grab a plate filled with food and you found a spot across from each other at one of the long tables. You mostly poked around at your food. Kung Lao filled the silence, as he often did, telling you stories about shenanigans that he and Liu Kang had gotten into as teenagers. He spoke so animatedly that you would have smiled no matter what kind of story he was telling you.

You poked at the eggroll on your plate with your chopstick and then pushed a few vegetables aside. Nothing looked appetizing and your stomach was sour.

“You’re not eating.” He pointed to you with his chopsticks, mouth full.

“Oh?” You didn’t think that he’d been paying attention. “I did say several times that I wasn’t hungry.”

“You should eat.” He spoke between bites. “And you shouldn’t worry so much. It’s going to be okay.” He picked up the eggroll from your plate and took a bite out of it with a grin. “If you aren’t going to eat it, then I am.”

“Hey!” You swatted at his hand with your chopsticks, and he stole a mushroom from your plate before eating it with a smirk. A few other monks came to join you but sat tables away from you to avoid conversation. You ignored them but could feel them looking at you every so often before conversing. Chen hadn’t been kidding. This really was far too familiar. You ignored them and you chatted casually before Kung Lao walked you back to your room.

He looked like he wanted to say something before he left but instead, he gave you a hug and promised to see you the next day.

Days past and while you hadn’t see Liu Kang even once since you’d woken up you were getting used to seeing Kung Lao and spending most of your days with him. Even so, you were worried about Liu Kang. Kung Lao had reassured you that he was just busy but you couldn’t help it. Your brain was mean.

On the fourth day after you had woken up, the temple was buzzing with excitement. The remnants of a strong typhoon would be hitting around nightfall. It would go on for a few days. You spent much of that day helping the monks prepare for the big storm. By nighttime you were all to be safely inside because of the lightning and the rain.

In the infirmary, you helped put away the last of the extra supplies they’d gotten with word of the storm. Then you helped the monks that were near the main entrance to the temple, making sure that everything was put away and secure. It felt good to be of use and while every so often someone would whisper about you, they were also kind to you.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as evening approached. It sent chills down your spine. This would be the first storm you’d seen since coming to Raiden’s Temple. It would be a doozy.

You loved what most people would consider gloomy weather. Maybe it was because so many people disliked it that you were happy to see it. No matter the reason, you were excited. You’d been drawn to bad weather like a moth to every light it came across.

Back home you would sit on the patio of your dojo and watch the rain and listen to the thunder until the lightning got too close and dangerous. You missed that.

You should have probably found a safe place to watch the storm from but the view from the front of the temple would be unbeatable. After a few days rest you were feeling more yourself and decided that watching the storm would be a treat.

Now you just had to decide where to watch it from.

The front of the temple? (Liu Kang)

Or somewhere safer inside? (Kung Lao)

You run into Chen (Both)

[sweatergirlsposts]

Imagine Being Jacob’s Imprint and Him Taking You To The Cullen Party

Title: Bite Your Tongue 

Pairing: Jacob Black x Fem!Reader

Request By: @lolabunny2008​

(A/N: I changed the personality of the reader to come across as more a confrontational badass, I hope you guys like it)

Four words, party at the Cullens. Jacob, your boyfriend, invited you come along to the graduation party at the Cullens to introduce you to Bella. You were pumped because this was the first true party that you had been to since moving from Las Vegas. 

When you lived in Vegas it was non stop partying every other night, but that was until you had your little incident. You don’t like to reflect upon what happened that night but what’s done was done. Seeing the troubling behavior you had in Vegas, your mother decided that it was time to move away and start anew in the small town of Fork. No big parties and no big city, it was all greenery and a quiet town.   

You tried to leave many times in the first few weeks of being there, but none were successful. Tried driving to Seattle to catch a plane, didn’t work. You tried leaving by bus, didn’t work. You tried hitchhiking, Chief Police Swan had to come pick you up after your mom called. 

A lot of times your anger would get the best of you in the arguments after your attempts to leave and it wasn’t pretty. Your mom could only think of one thing that she could do to prevent you from getting in anymore trouble with her and prevent you from getting in trouble with the police. Anger management classes. 

‘To hell with those’ you’d think when the idea was mentioned. You weren’t gonna bother with some stupid class that teaches you to be mindless and obedient. 

The classes would start at around five in the afternoon, giving enough time to get home from school and go back. When your mother had dropped you off for the class at the high school, you waited for her to leave the area so you could sneak off. With nothing to do for an hour and a half you had decided that you would go take a trek through the forest. 

The hike had taken you quite a bit of a distance toward the northern ridges, where the mountain streams would be, in the thirty minutes you had been in the forest. 

You had taken a break by the bankside of a small ravine when you noticed movement behind your form a couple meters away. You turned around to find a mountain lion watching your form in the grass. One thing you did learn in school back home in Las Vegas was you could do one of two things when coming face- to-face with a mountain lion. One, make yourself look as big as possible to look intimidating or two, run as fast as you could.

Being the bad bitch you are, you never stood down from a fight, even if it was against a mother fucking man eating mountain lion. You spread your arms and started cursing at it, trying to make yourself like a bear to the predator. The lion cowered from what you assumed to be your stance and constant cursing, but turns out there was something much larger and scarier to the mountain lion that stood behind you. 

Jacob had found you wandering around the forest. You stood on the Cullen side while he stood on the Quileute’s. He didn’t see your face but just followed your form feeling a strong tug dragging him along. At a lower part of ravine you had stopped and Jacob eyed you from the other side wondering why you were out by yourself at around this time. Predators would be out at this hour hunting for their next meal with the cover of the falling sun to hide them. 

Jacob saw the mountain lion that was stalking you from it’s place in the grass. You had turned around to see it eyeing you for it’s next meal. Jacob had to do something, he couldn’t let you get hurt, but that would mean revealing himself to you in this form and entering the Cullen’s territory. 

He did what he felt was right. Jumping to the other side of the ravine, to your unbeknownst, he stood behind you intimidating the mountain lion. The mountain lion, who became submissive to the presence behind you, ran away with the tail between it’s legs. 

You were so proud of yourself for five seconds because you scared off a mountain lion, until you could feel a bigger presence behind you. Of course already being in a defensive mode you did what you would’ve done to the mountain lion or anyone that would try and attack you, you threw your fist. 

Jacob did not expect this. He expected that you at least turn, scream, and run away, but not throw your whole fist like you are Mike Tyson in a fight. As you threw your deadly hook, Jacob couldn’t help himself but admire your face for the first time when you twisted around. And that was when he felt it. 

The pull of his gravity no longer attached to the earth but now to you, his imprint that was going to land a punch to his muzzle. You were so beautifully poised in your movement to defend yourself, how could he not admire your reflexes as he felt himself fall further in love with you. He was so used to being the defender and not the defended, it was a nice change to see that you could protect yourself unlike others he knew. 

That was how your first meeting with him went two months ago. Now in present times, Jacob wanted to introduce you to Bella at the Cullen graduation party. Agreeing to go, Jacob also brought along Quil and Embry. They had become good friends of yours, despite you getting them into some of your shenanigans and sometimes getting them in trouble with Sam. 

Pulling up to the party on Jacobs bike with Embry and Quil on their own, you admired the exterior of the property but it wasn’t like anything you hadn’t seen in Vegas. The houses, including you old house, were a little more extravagant in Vegas.  

Jacob helped you off the bike and gave you a full once over.

“Don’t you look sexy, you trying to impress someone (Y/N)?” Jacob joked before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Nah babe, if anything you friend should be trying to impress me after what she did to you,” you noted facing the house. 

Jacob had told you about Bella coming over and using him as emotional support when her boyfriend had dumped her, and when she had heard that she had a chance of getting him back she had dumped Jacob like a hot piece of shit. You thought it wasn’t right, if anything you thought that she should've been honest with her intentions instead of dragging Jacob along. You were furious that this girl treated your man like this and wanted to give her a piece of your mind but Jacob told you not to. 

Jacob had been helping you control your anger like he does when he doesn’t want to turn. You guys would meet up in the forest every time your mother would drop you off for anger management classes and would practice plus steal a couple kisses here and there. 

Jacob turned you back around to him to look in your eyes, “I know you aren’t particularly fond of Bella but can you try to be, please for me? We’re on their land we have to be at least,” Jacob paused before finding the right word, “polite”

“Fine,” you bite your tongue holding back from saying “as long as she is”.   

“Thar’s my girl,” Jacob kisses your temple before holding your waist with one arm and leading you inside, as Embry and Quil trail behind.  

You guys walked into the lively party, you recognize most of the people as peers of yours from school. The vibe of the party felt relaxed and joyful but not thrilling like the parties back home, but this wasn’t back home so it would have to do. 

After climbing the stairs to the main part of the party, Jacob looked around to find a familiar face amongst the crowd, Bella’s face you assumed. Finally noticing her on the opposite side of the party, where most people were chilling and not on the dance floor, Jacob guided you over. 

Bella walked over to Jacob, Embry, Quil, and you looking lost at the party. 

“Jacob, hi,” Bella said going in for the hug to which he reciprocated removing the arm around your waist. Jacob placed his arm back around you.

“Hey Bells, congrats on graduating” 

“Yeah thanks, glad it’s over,” Bella expressed awkwardly looking around. You guess she was looking for her boyfriend but to also avoid the tension of them being in close proximity. 

To end the awkward air Jacob spoke up again, “Bella this is (Y/N), my imprint and girlfriend”

“Sup,” and you nodded your chin up. This was something you usually did instead of nodding your head down. You liked establishing that you didn’t bow to no one.

“So you stuck with Jakey over here,” Bella tried to joke not knowing how to interact with you.

“And you’re stuck with the stiff,” you sarcastically joked back but it coming across as slightly defensive. Jacob squeezed your side to remind you about your promise before coming in. 

“(Y/N) just moved here a couple months back from Vegas,” Jacob cut in, “I saved her from a mountain lion when I was out on patrol”

“So she knows about you?”

“Actually she knows about more than just us,” Jacob uttered looking down.

 That’s right, Jacob had told you not only about Sam’s pack but he had to tell you about the Cullen’s because you lived in Forks and not on the reserve. The treaty made it hard sometimes to watch you but you go to the reserve most of the time so he could protect you and more. 

“You told her about them?!” Bella spoke under her breath annoyed that Jacob told you about the Cullens, “Jacob, what the hell? That’s not your place to tell her about that.”   

“What, is there something wrong with that?” you piped into the conversation, “Jacob just wants to protect me. I’m not sorry he told me, especially if I’m going to stay in his life” 

You went there. If Bella was going to chastise, manipulate, and try to control Jacob like she did when her boyfriend left, you weren’t going to let it happen.

“It is just as much his secret as it is yours and your boyfriends family. Don’t try and call him out for doing something he thought was right. Especially if it concerns the one’s he loves. You’re no longer one of the only humans apart of this and in danger. Now excuse me I’m going to go find a drink,” you turned Jacob’s head towards yours and planted a kiss on his lips. You could feel his lips turn from tight-lipped to a smile under yours.

Breaking from the kiss, you turned on your heel you went to try and find a decent drink in the house. 

“Wow didn’t expect that,” Bella breathed out, running her hands through her hair, after being slapped with that reality check.  

“Yeah sorry about that, she means well but she’s a little firey. She just wants to make sure that I’m protected as well. You’ll like her when she warms up to you,” Jacob told Bella still smiling about the fact that you only chewed her out at your lowest level of anger.

It could’ve been a lot worse but Jacob knew that you were trying to bite your tongue. You had good intentions but the way they came across wasn’t always the most pleasant way. 

After Alice had her vision at the party and they discussed about the Newborns coming to Forks, Jacob, yourself, Embry, and Quil enjoyed the rest of the party. 

As the night came to a close so did the party, but something did ponder on your mind. You might have been a little harsh with meeting Bella at the beginning of the party and it did make your chest fill with guilt. You could’ve been nicer but something needed to be said, just at least not like that.

As you walked out of the house party with Jacob, hand-in-hand, Bella had come out to wave a quick goodbye. Bella stood on the porch steps when she called out to you guys. 

“Jacob!” the boy in question turned around to see her standing on the porch,”I’ll see you tomorrow at the thingy” 

Jacob nodded, “See ya then Bells”

You let go of Jacob’s hand before leaning over to him and whispering in his ear, “Give me a minute, you can start up the bike”

Jacob looked between Bella and you before understanding what you were about to do, “Don’t punch her please”

“I won’t babe, promise,” you winked before walking back over to the porch.

You observed how Bella visibly tensed up at your approach like she was ready to either cower away or square up to fight. She stuffed her hands into her pockets after wiping them on her black leggings.  

“I want to apologize, which is something I don’t usually do, about the way I came off,” you paused before continuing,”But I was just saying what had to be said. Im’ma be brutally honest and tell you what you did awhile ago to Jake was horrible. However, I’m willing to put everything about tonight and before in the past, alright?” you remarked more with assurance than as an actual question.

“Yeah that sounds good. It was nice meeting you,” Bella took her hand from her right pocket and offered to shake it as a peace offering. You shook it trying to be polite about the situation before walking back over to Jacob on the bike.

Your handsome boyfriend passed you your helmet, before kissing you on the cheek.

“I’m proud of you,” he gleamed as appreciation that you were good for the most part and then apologizing.

“So proud that I get a reward when I get home,” you muttered into his ear biting your lip seductively.

“Maybe,” he teased and then kissed you passionately on the lips. You loved when Jacob would give you kisses like this in the woods like no one was there watching. 

“Get a room!” Embry yelled over to you two. Him and Quil waited on their bikes, that are already to go, waiting for you two.

He broke away to put on his helmet and you did the same. Jake waved over to Bella before revving the engine and skidding out the driveway with Quil and Embry in tow.

You couldn’t wait until you got back and see what your reward is.

MASTERLIST

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

FabFiveFeb 2021 - Scott Tracy

Boat

Inspired by these cute videos.

https://youtu.be/To7L2-FwI-w

https://youtu.be/86ArPLUUI2g

Some prompts...And a certain tug… :3

(fluff for @willow-salix and @gumnut-logic )

-0-0-0-

It was a straight-forward rescue. Some poor woman was stuck at the bottom of the ravine during hiking and couldn't get out. But here's the catch, she had a 4 year old kid with her. Now that is a job for Scott.

When he landed, he managed to find the woman stuck in the raven. She turned out to be fine, except for the broken leg. The place she was in was cramped and almost dangerous, so it was a job for Virgil and Gordon.

But the problem was… the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Cobalt eyes darted everywhere around the inside of the ravine and around it. His heart rate felt like rode on a rollercoaster. It went up… Then fell down when he saw the tiny figure wandering curiously towards Thunderbird One.

"Hey there sweetie!" Scott called as he approached him. The color of auburn meets the color of cobalt. The little one continued walking, although a bit slower, while keeping eye contact with curiosity. It gave Scott some time to examine him: he looked very fine, although obviously worried for his mother. There was a small bruise on his left elbow (Scott had to investigate the kid further if there was any serious injury, despite looking okay). He wore no shoes… and he was holding a weird looking boat the size of a small salmon...

"Come'ere." He carefully grabbed the kid in his hands and began walking towards Thunderbird One. "You're gonna step on something! You're gonna step on something!" He playfully lifted the kid up and down with every repeat, causing the little one giggling hysterically with delight. He laughed along with him.

Some time later, Scott sat on his pilot seat letting the kid sit on his lap and play with his boat while they waited for Thunderbird Two to arrive. After some examining and some patching, the little one turned out to be okay.

Scott then took a look at the boat toy. It is a tugboat, more specifically a switcher (if it weren't for Gordon bashing him with boat facts that one time). Its varnish consists of yellow, its hooter of red and white with blue lines. And it had a face… a young, cheeky looking human face. And it wore a blue cap. The commander of IR concluded it's a character of some sort. Most likely from an old cartoon of the last century. Geez, some people still watch those kinds of stuff today?

"Who is your little friend?" He asked.

"Ten Cents! His name is Ten Cents!" The four year old boy exclaimed excitedly.

"Ten Cents?" That's an interesting name for a character, Scott thought.

"He's from Tugs! He's maw favorite! So daddy made ‘im for me!" The kid happily explained, showing off his toy to the commander. "I promise him I take him to the river, but mommy fall down a hole…" His face dropped at the last sentence. He was near to tearing up as he held his little tug boat closer to him. It broke Scott’s heart seeing him like this

"Don't worry, sweetie. Virgil and Gordon gonna get your momma out of there, okay? Then once momma's leg get fixed, you can take your little friend to the river again." Scott reassured him softly with a wide smile. It's a shame that the boy's fun had been ruined by an accident.

"Are they going use a tug?" Asked the little innocent pup.

"Yep. A giant, flying, green tug!" Scott grinned as he exaggerated with his hands. The kid giggled, as he told his little "friend" that the "giant, flying green tug" is going to save his mom. Kids being so innocent and imaginative warms the commander's heart, even if they can be tiresome sometimes.

Speaking of which, the little boy began asking questions. He asked about Thunderbird One. He asked about the controls and how they work. He even asked about his equipment and how they work! Scott answered them all, simple and straightforward so the kid developing the brain can digest the info nicely.

Then… the cheeky little bugger! He decided to mess with Scott's coms. His tiny hand reached out to his baldric and pressed to coms as he imitated the sounds of a hooter. The pilot managed to take his hand away, but overall was not mad at him. Kid's a smart ass for his age!

"Hey Scott, is your coms going off?" The commander laughed when he heard Virgil's confused voice.

"Uh, yeah. Kid's doing fine. He just sounded the hooter..." He reassured him jokingly. Then he heard what it sounds like a very loud snort.

"Very funny..." Virgil quipped mockly. Both Scott and the kid laughed.

The rescue may be straight-forward, but it was one of the best rescues Scott ever had. It was the same for the little soul that was cuddling in his arms, playing with his tugboat switcher named Ten Cents...

[ejzah]

A/N: Here’s the third part of the car crash fic, which originated from a prompt I received and snowballed out of control. Enjoy!

***

“Deeks!” Kensi shouted, nearly losing her balance herself as she tried to run after him. One moment he’d been muttering under his breath behind her and the next she’d heard a loud shout and he was rolling past her. She was too far away to do anything and watched in horror as he rolled all the way to the bottom. He came to a stop after what seemed like an unbearably long amount of time, face down, unmoving.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, moving as fast as she could with mud and wet leaves slipping beneath her feet. When she reached him, she dropped to her knees, carefully turning him over.

He must have hit his head on something, maybe one of the rocks that littered the ground, because one side of his head was coated in blood. She pushed a handful of bloody, mud-coated hair away from the side of his head, revealing a gash just below his hairline.

“Baby?” He was so still, but she could feel the slight movement of his chest moving which reassured her slightly. “C’mon, baby,” she murmured, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. A quick check confirmed he was breathing and his pulse was fairly even. He grimaced, but didn’t open his eyes. It was still a good sign though.

“Baby, open your eyes. C’mon only one of us is allowed to have a concussion at a time.” This time he groaned and his eyes twitched. “Deeks, can you hear me?”

Instead of answering, he rolled to the side and threw up. Kensi quickly move behind him and rubbed his back through spasms, offering comforting words that were mostly nonsense while making sure he didn’t choke. When he finally stopped gagging, he collapsed onto his back,

“Deeks, can you talk?” she asked and he held up a shaking hand, breathing slowly and deeply through his nose. Holding back the torrent of questions and concerns running through her head, she waited for him to gain control. After a few minutes, he slowly opened his eyes, the skin around them pinched in pain.

“I think I’m ok,” he mumbled, reaching clumsily for Kensi’s hand. She squeezed it automatically, her finger brushing his wrist to check his pulse.

“You threw up. That’s not a good sign,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but at least this time I’m awake.” He managed the barest hint of a smirk and Kensi bent down to kiss his forehead, brushing back his muddy, blood soaked hair. “And, I hope you notice that I didn’t tease you about having amnesia,” he added.

Kensi chuckled wetly and kissed him again. If he was joking, that was always a good sign. Pressing her lips to neck, she whispered,

“You are such an idiot.” Deeks smiled again, his gaze a little distant as he clasped her hand to his chest. They sat for a few minutes, until a soft rain started. At first it was just a few drops, but it quickly increased and Kensi knew they’d be soaked in no time. “Can you sit up?”

“Yeah.” Using her hand for support, he managed to sit up without too much difficulty and then slowly got to his feet. He swayed a little and she wrapped one arm around his back while he settled one of his over her shoulders.

Kensi was reminded of her own injuries as she worked to support both their weights, but didn’t say anything. Even though her head still ached, she didn’t think it was nearly as bad as Deeks’ concussion.

“Remind me where we’re going,” Deeks said, looking down at his feet as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

“That house over there,” she answered, gesturing ahead of them. Deeks looked up and squinted.

“You mean the big, blurry brown thing?” Kensi stopped and glanced up at him.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He made a face.

“Everything kind of looks like an impressionist paining,” he said, breathing heavily as he fought to remain upright.

“Ok, adding impaired vision to the list of symptoms,” Kensi said with forced lightness.

“And a slight case of vertigo.” She wasn’t sure if Deeks was joking or not this time, but tightened her arm around his waist just in case. The last thing they needed was him falling and hitting his head again.

After another 10 minutes, they finally reached a long gravel driveway which led to the house. They were both soaked and stumbling more than walking when Deeks abruptly let go of Kensi’s hand and gasped out,

“I need to sit down.” He tumbled to the ground, heedless of the gravel and muddy puddles of water. Though at this point, they were so wet and dirty, she supposed it didn’t really matter.

“It’s just a little bit longer, babe,” she told him, crouching down next to him. He had one arm loosely draped across his bent knees and braced his forehead against it.

“Just got dizzy,” he mumbled. Before she could respond, she heard the sound of crunching gravel and stood up quickly, reaching for her gun. A few moments later, a woman appeared around the bend and ran towards them. Deciding she didn’t look particularly dangerous, Kensi tucked her weapon away before she noticed.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” The woman asked. She had a large black umbrella in one hand and wore what looked like hastily donned boots and a raincoat, dark brown hair sticking out of the hood. Her jeans were sticking out of the tops of her boots and the laces weren’t tied. “I saw you climbing down the ravine and then I saw him fall and I rushed over as quickly as I could. What are you doing out here anyway? It safe to hike around here even in good weather.”

“My name’s Kensi and this is my partner, Marty,” Kensi introduced them, gesturing to Deeks who gave a half hearted wave. He looked thoroughly miserable. “We’re with NCIS, it’s a federal agency, and we crashed into a downed pole.”

“Oh my god.” The woman repeated. “I’m Valerie by the way. Valerie Harper.”

“Like the actress?” Deeks asked unexpectedly. “She played Rhoda Morgenstern. I always liked her more than Mary. She was funnier.” Valerie looked puzzled and Kensi said,

“He has a concussion.”

“Oh. Well, you better come with me. You can come inside and get warm and maybe I can patch you up. We have a pretty impressive first aid kit since the closest hospital is pretty far away.”

“That would be great, thanks. And maybe we can borrow your phone. Our cells were damaged in the crash and we need to call our team and get Deeks, Marty, to a hospital,” Kensi said.

“Normally I would say of course, but the storm took our electric out and we never get great cell service down here,” Valerie explained apologetically.

“I know it’s a huge imposition, but could you maybe drive us into town then?” Valerie shook her head, lips pressed together.

“My husband has the truck. He should be home in a couple hours though.”

“Wow, this day just keeps getting better and better,” Deeks muttered, pushing himself to his feet and stumbling again. Valerie rushed to grab his arm and steady him.

“We should get you inside, poor thing,” she said, eyes roving over Deeks’ litany of injuries. “Both of you,” she added, nodding at Kensi. Kensi held back a smirk as Deeks, injured, dazed and covered in mud, still managed to charm Valerie without even trying.

She had a feeling he would be well taken care of. Shaking her head, she jogged a few steps to catch up and looped her hand through Deeks’ other arm.

***

A/N: Chapter four shall be forthcoming.

[griff-man]

Okay, so this is just how I feel the 7th episode of Star Wars could be improved. If you all enjoy it I'll do the others in the Disney Trilogy. And I am open to constructive criticism and discussion, this is all in good fun.

So first of all, I want to say I think the actors did a decent job with what they were given, it was the writing that needed work and the cast shouldn't have been dogged like they were. Most of the Force Awakens can actually be salvaged with just a few scene changes, especially towards the end. And though it should be obvious by the title, and you probably already saw it let me say SPOILER WARNING.

So the beginning of the movie goes as is and the first change I would make is when Kylo Ren is informed of Finn, Rey, and BBs escape from Jakku. Instead of throwing a hissy fit and destroying that computer, he uses his light saber to cut off both of the officers arms after he was told that a girl helped Finn and BB escape. He then lifts the officer with the force and says "what girl", the officer replies "we don't know yet", and Kylo uses the force to snap his neck so that the officer's head is completely turned around. He then yells at another officer to find out what happened and to have this mess cleaned up. The scene then transitions to the Millennium Falcon as it did originally. This scene change makes Kylo Ren's character seem more like an actual threat rather then a whiney child, and I think it makes him much more intimidating. After all, he is supposed to be one of the big bad guys of this trilogy.

The next scene change takes place at Maz's bar, when Finn admits to Rey that he was a Storm trooper and then leaves to join those cargo pilots. Rey would still have those visions, and Maz would still give her speech, but toward the end of it Maz would then make a remark to Rey along the lines of "don't worry, he would return when she needed him, and he'll know when that is". A subtle remark, but important for later. Then we have all those planets destroyed, and the the first order invades like before. The only difference is that when Finn starts fighting the "Traitor" Storm trooper, he's not so easily beaten and actually is pretty decent with the light saber making the storm trooper stagger back and go on the defensive a time or two. So he's not an expert but someone who obviously has potential, as if holding the weapon felt natural. He still needs to get saved by Han and Chewy, but its not so one sided. The fight continues like in the movie, but instead of just seeing Kylo kidnapp Rey, Finn gets this look, like he can feel something is wrong, and looks around. That is when he see's Kylo leave with Rey, and we see him run after them and shout her name.

We then skip ahead to Rey's interrogation by Kylo Ren. The big change here is he doesn't remove his helmet. If we're expected to take him as a true Sith Lord, we cant have him so easily persuaded to show his face. That comes later. And everything sort of plays out the same with Rey resisting and escaping with the force (except she doesn't get the storm trooper's blaster) up until we get to Kylo discovering her escape. Instead of destroying the room with his light saber he uses the force while screaming in rage, like the whole room crumples up like like a wad of paper around him while all the computers short circuit and explode. The Storm Troopers turning the corner still see the destruction and turn right around. Once again everything plays like in the movie, with the exception of Finn giving Rey the Light Saber since he has a blaster and she's unarmed. Then we get to when Han is confronting Kylo Ren on that walkway. Han would still tell him to remove the helmet, and he does. This is when we finally see his face and it makes his face reveal much more dramatic. The scene plays out, but now when Kylo kills Han we see his eyes turn that yellowish red color of the Sith. This is to signify that he's no longer conflicted in his beliefs and fully devoted to the Dark Side. Rey still shouts no, and Chewy still shoots Kylo only he's more notably wounded when he's hit.

This time, when the confrontation with Kylo against Rey and Finn happens Rey is the one with the light saber. Finn would be the one force pushed into a tree by Kylo and Rey would activate the saber and charge into battle. Kylo's dialog about the light saber being his would be the same. So Rey and Kylo are dueling and Rey isn't as good as Finn was, but due to Kylo's injury she's holding her own for the most part but is still at a clear disadvantage. We then get to the part where Kylo has her pinned against the tree and is using his saber exhaust port to cut into her. She suddenly uses the force to push him away and make some distance, surprising herself in the process, while Finn starts waking up. Kylo gets right back into the battle and Rey gets that hit in on his arm, right before he's able to knock her saber out of her grasp by twirling thier sabers. This action knocks Rey to the ground, and Kylo approaches her with his Saber raised ready to end it. That's when Finn raises his arm and shouts out "NOOOO". You see, Rey and Finn's saber was knocked in the opposite direction of Finn, with Kylo and Rey in-between. We already saw the force awaken in Rey, well now we see it awaken in Finn as the saber flys towards him, activating as it passes Kylo. Only his training and reflexes keep him from loosing his head, instead it grazes his face cutting off part of his lower jaw and scarring up part of his face. The Saber goes in to Finn's hands, who looks at it amazed. Rey looks at him with a sort of surprised "you too" look. But now Kylo is really mad, and goes for Finn. The fight is back on, but Rey is backing him up with Finn's forgotten blaster. Despite the team up, and Kylo being injured the fight is still evenly matched with Kylo having a slight advantage. This is to show his obvious greater skill with the force given his years of training. Like, its obvious if you really look that if he was uninjured from Chewy in the start and then from Finn and Rey's attacks, he would be absolutely dominating the two of them.

Then Kylo gets an advantage over Finn, slicing his back and throwing him to the ground on his now injured back. He then has him on the ground with his light saber at his throat, boot holding down his hand with the saber in it. He looks at Rey and says the line about being her teacher in the ways of the force. Rey, like in the movie, realizes she could possibly use the force again, and uses it to push Kylo off of Finn and to bring the saber to her. We have the clash between the two of them. She manages to cut off his hand (instead of cutting his face like in the movie, since Finn already did), and pushes him back into a tree with the force. The big ravine opens between them again, only its much bigger so Kylo couldn't force jump it, even if he was still fighting fit. They look at each other, Kylo's face mangled and bleeding as his eyes burn with hatred. Rey with a look that's determined but just a bit nervous. She then runs back to Finn and grabs him, both getting off the planet just like in the movie, as everything else that was going on took place the same way. Kylo meanwhile looks at his bleeding nub, and though you can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't want to, we see him start to head back to base so he can escape.

We get back to the Rebel base, Finn is injured but awake, and R2D2 has revealed the location of Luke Skywalker with BB's help. Since Finn was shown to also be force sensitive he of course goes with Rey and Chewbacca to find Luke. They get to the planet that was on the map, and hike up the mountain where Luke is. Finn is using a crutch and Rey's helping him since he is still slightly injured, but on the mend. They get almost to the top of the mountain, on to a plateau but Luke isn't just staring off into the horizon. Instead they find him meditating with his legs crossed, floating 5 feet in the air with the force, his back to the mountain under a cliff and eyes closed. Finn and Rey slowly approach, as Luke slowly lowers until he is sitting on the ground. Then, he opens his eyes, and Rey pulls out the light saber and holds it out toward him. The camera zooms out. The classic star wars music plays the whole time like in the movie.

Finally, we transition to Hux seated behind a Storm trooper who is piloting a craft like the one Kylo had at the beginning of the movie toward where ever Snoke is. In the back, behind a closed door we see Kylo Ren being treated by a human doctor and a med droid while in some kind of healing pod. He seems unconscience, and the camera zooms onto his mutilated face. Suddenly, we hear the deep voice of Darth Vader say "you have much yet to learn" in side Kylo's head, and his fiery red eyes snap open. Then credits.

Whooa, that took a while to write. Especially since I was watching the Force Awakens again at the same time. So that is how I'd improve Episode 7, and I know that only a few scenes were changed, but that's because I still mostly liked the movie. It's the next two that needed MAJOR overhauling, but I needed to adjust this one for the changes in the Last Jedi to happen. And I know that Snoke and Kylo aren't exactly Sith in this trilogy, but instead another type of Dark Force users, but I used Sith for a reason. Sorry if you guys expected everything written out like a screen play or a story, but I'm just not that good a writer. I have these big general ideas, but am really not good at the small details and dialog. Nor am I good at art, which is too bad caused I'd love to see these scenes drawn out. So tell me what you think, did you enjoy it? What changes would you make? Should I go ahead and share my ideas for the Last Jedi?

[fallingin-like]

november 21

push to talk by @alexjosten​ [requested by @nikothespoonklepto]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a delightfully engaging fic based on the game firewatch that follows neil as he spends a summer as a fire lookout, isolated except for radio communication with andrew, a fire lookout in the adjacent sector of the park. this is such an intense, fun, beautiful, and humorous fic.

i remember enjoying this so much as it came out, eagerly awaiting each new chapter. you drew me in so easily and deeply that i watched a whole playthrough of this game. i can fully appreciate how well you were able to translate the plot, gameplay, interactions between characters, and the stunning visuals so so seamlessly and have it aftg so well.

some parts that stood out to me:

”dusk settles on the trees like clay powder, dusting the evergreens with a red tint” woah this is such a gorgeous way of starting off this fic.

”the moon extends her helping hand to guide him out into a clearing. here, neil can see. but also, he can be seen” i love these descriptions, and our introduction to neil. 

”he ignores his sleeping bag and the strict instructions to camp at nightfall and continue during the day” ah yes, Neil I Do What I Want Josten strikes again, with little regard for what people tell him to do

”if he’s not careful, the black dirt beneath his feet could bleed crimson. the exact combination of colours he came out here to avoid” this is stunning. i am immediately drawn into this fic, wanting to know what or who exactly neil is running from, and where he’s going

”buttermilk rays whisk the shadows of leaves into a dance on the forest floor beneath his feet” !! buttermilk?? somehow that works so so well

”the irony of calling it that in his head isn’t lost on him, and he vows to avoid that comparison again” what a subtle detail, but so telling! i am pretty bad with reading tags a lot of the time, so this was a great introduction to raven!neil

”it’s as exposing as it is freeing. he can’t feel trapped when he can see for miles every way he turns” wow it’s still so early in the fic, but you’ve already done an exceptional job at justifying neil choosing to come here, to escape.

foxtrot tower is such a cute name! i love that it’s not something directly taken from the books, this name seems to fit this au so well. i know that you likely had the game as reference for the tower, but i really liked the way you describe it, you were able to establish the same tone that exists in the game, but you did it through words instead of visuals and audio, something that really impresses me

”glad to hear you’re literate enough to have read the dossier” ohmygoodness ANDREW

”andrew’s tone is playful. neil thinks it might even be flirtatious, but he doesn’t care enough right now to find out” as much as i enjoy oblivious!neil, i appreciate that this version of neil is more aware, he seems more in tune with things around him. it fits better with this story, with the isolation and only communication being through the radio

”the sky slips into a more comfortable pink, the sun laying down to rest amongst the mountains” am i ever going to get over your descriptions of the environment? i don’t think so

of course neil goes for a run, basically right after doing a super intense two day hike in one day

”andrew sounds agitated” I LOVE THIS

oh dang, neil’s panic is so sudden, i’m so immersed that i immediately felt nervous too

”it’s our job to watch the horizon, neil. it’s not my fault you’re on mine” oh this is so good

”neil doesn’t believe in coincidences. he believes in traps and ill intentions, because that’s all his life has been until now”  it’s honestly amazing how quickly the atmosphere of this fic has turned to something a little bit darker, kind of scary. we know neil as a runner, but the idea of someone finding him so soon and trying to lure him out? gives me chills

“he doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he struggles to press the push-to-talk button” PUSH TO TALK I AM SO FOND OF FICS THAT INCLUDE THE TITLE OF THE FIC IN THEIR FIC. also shaky hands are my kryptonite

”he also takes the cleaver from the kitchen counter” NEIL I- I AM SPEECHLESS

”a small sensible part of his brain tries to convince him that there are much easier ways to kill him than leading him out in the middle of nowhere, in a forest that he told nobody from his past life that he would be living in, where he uses a new name that nobody knows” !! good to hear that neil has a sensible part of his brain LOL

”but underestimating his enemies and their taste for dramatics would be a mistake” neil of all people does have a good reason for being paranoid. i love that you have this separated as a different paragraph, i read it differently because of it and i think that it adds more gravity to the sentence

”there, he finds a lipstick-red tent, zipper teeth yawning open to reveal two pink sleeping bag tongues” the imagery!!! incredible

”he feels like a walking timebomb” yeah i am definitely nervous for neil

”’girls don’t do it for you?’ andrew’s curiosity has a hopeful slant” OHMYGOODNESS ANDREW

”andrew’s voice is a firm, solid reassurance” bless andrew

”neil never thought he’d be relieved to meet someone who didn’t like exy” i also never thought that. neil you are a changed man

ooh the backstory to the fireworks is so good! i was also thinking it was a little out of character, but this is the perfect reason that renee would let it slide!

”the stars are withering in the purpling sky” i could cry because i love your writing so much

A MAN I AM FREAKING OUT. WHO IS HE

the easygoing banter between andrew and neil is so great, their conversation is interesting and flows really well

”he’s almost home” it amazes me and really shows something about this version of neil that he’s so quick to call this tower his home

”i know i needed to do this, but i am not sure i am ready to be so alone” woah break my heart why don’t you? this hits really close to home,, how dare you make me feel emotions

”i usually take a more straightforward approach” andrew never lies, but this is the truest thing he has ever said

”they’ll probably never meet, because neil intends on spending the rest of his summer without meeting another soul, andrew included” hmmm why do i have the sneaking suspicion that this will not be the case?

”neil’s not sure what grindr is but his face heats up all the same” this sentence is a MOOD (except i do know what grindr is)

”andrew’s response is sharp like a blade. ‘why? because one of the girls called you scarface?’ neil feels himself flinch” hhh i am secretly a very big fan of scenes that include neil’s scars, so you got me here

”andrew keeps neil company on the hour hike up to the north of his sector, but his usual commentary seems a bit strained today” uhH what’s going on, i’m getting scared

DID ANDREW BRING NEIL OVER JUST SO HE CAN SEE WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE? 

ohmygoodness, neil leaving andrew pictures and a sweatshirt? so so so cute

”he imagines the fear they felt when they saw him holding it wasn’t too unlike the fear that used to paralyse him when his father, or lola, would threaten him back home” woah this is good

i would bet that allison was the one to write that letter haha i can imagine that renee is likely kind of shaken by the incident, otherwise she might not have let allison leave it behind

andrew is such a good companion for neil, calming him both by his presence and by logically explaining what could have happened to the tent. he’s an anchor

”he feels like the cleaver he had attempted to defend himself with on his first day now carries a foreboding aura” YEAH I’M GETTING PRETTY NERVOUS TOO

WAIT NATHAN IS DEAD? THANK GOODNESS

woah so interesting to learn about neil’s backstory and his reason for not going pro “his offers to join pro teams curled up like dead leaves in a fire” dang, referencing both his burns and his new job? so good

ANDREW MINYARD IMITATING A VALLEY GIRL I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE PLEASE

oo that subtle way of mentioning andrew’s memory

i am so emotional, andrew is just so so good. makes me feel all the feelings ;-;

”andrew sounds like a bristled up cat tail” CUTE!!

i am dying to know what is going on in andrew’s head, during this conversation, when he left his tower to see neil, and really, just throughout this whole fic

woah i really like the way that you had neil describe his asexuality. it’s something that i recognize in myself and i like the way that you handled it.

 >:C 

them drawing each other?? peak cute. i want that to happen to me (have someone who doesn’t know what i look like try and draw me)

”neil waits for him to say more. he doesn’t. oh. that’s why. ‘heh’” LOLOL

you know what, i actually,,, only recognized the name draco malfoy LOL

ANDREW PRETENDING THAT HE DOESN’T ACTUALLY KNOW AARON OH MY GOODNESS. I CANNOT BELIEVE HE PRETENDED TO GET HIS NAME WRONG. “i look like him. but hotter and better dressed” ANDREW HOW GOOD TO YOU DRESS YOU LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOREST. this whole section is hilarious and really helps lighten the tone and keep things playful

”’why would i wear that?’ andrew’s response is too quick and defensive” *unintelligible screaming*

ANDREW DRAWING NEIL IN TINY RUNNING SHORTS. THIS! MAN! I CAN’T HANDLE HIM

”neil gets into the routine of falling asleep next to his radio, talking to andrew deep into the night, far past his ability to keep his eyes open. they take turns drifting off mid conversation…” this is the softest thing ever

”considering neil’s job is to prevent forest fires, there’s a certain irony in how beautiful the park is when painted the colours of flames” oh (like a good oh)

ANDREW REJECTING NEIL REALLY JUST BROKE MY HEART WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO ME

”his heart tumbles from his chest and falls to the bottom of the ravine. he doesn’t understand why it was so close to the railings of his ribcage in the first place” this is so so beautiful even though it’s describing something so sad. makes me feel achy

drunk andrew. how is it that you, alexjosten, seem to know everything that i love in a fic?

”neil’s cabin floods with light. how real is neil josten without nathaniel wesninski filling his shell? with a snap, it’s gone.” uh this is so incredible, i love how you split everything up into its own paragraph, their conversation so similar to the storm. ugh i can’t get enough

”still, neil feels the change: the undeniable part of him where his branches have been torn asunder and his bark has been scorched away to expose his core” every time i think that this sentence is the best, and every time you blow me away again. i can’t describe how this sentence makes me feel

the scene of neil rescuing allison and renee fills me with adrenaline, it’s so intense

having the girls recognize neil was like being trapped in a nightmare, there was nothing i could do but read on and see how it ends. dajsflks. but also i really hope that neil got back his jacket and sweater lol

WHAT IN THE WORLD NEIL HAVING TO PLAY A GAME ON CODEINE, RIKO TRYING TO KILL NEIL ON TV, THIS IS SO INTENSE. also, i love what you’ve done with this

dang, how does andrew know kevin?

andrew’s gifts for neil are so cute. i am here just freaking out!!!!

A PUFFBALL DANDELION 

“you sweet, sheltered city child” oh my goodness adorable

”you’re going to go nuts when i tell you what a caterpillar turns into” ANDREW

THE BEAR. THE JUMP

honestly, i’m a little surprised that neil wasn’t supplied with bear spray

”’andrew, i don’t think they’re coming for me.’ ‘of course they’re not.’ neil’s heart sinks. ‘they’re not?’ ‘i am’” KFAJSDFJPOJAFD THIS GLORIOUS INTERACTION WILL FOREVER BE WITH ME

THEM TRAVELLING AND EVERYTHING WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE BECAUSE OF THE DARK. ALSO ANDREW BEING SUPER BUFF AND PICKING NEIL UP NO BIG DEAL

”we had your face on a dart board in the break room” AHHHH

”the only consolation is it smells of the andrew who just walked two hours to rescue him from the side of a cliff, and then spent another two hours carrying him here” i don’t even know what to say

wait andrew knew who neil was the whole time oh my goodness

THE GAME IS ANIMAL CROSSING. this is now and forevermore considered canon! 

ANDREW DROPPING THE GAME HE’S SO TIRED. ANDREW MY BABY

ANDREW’S DRAWING OF NEIL

”half of andrew’s sandwich is in his mouth, and he kind of looks like a hamster” adorable!

okay okay jean and jeremy being the two trading letters? so so good.

THE ENDING WITH ANDREW TELLING STORIES ABOUT NEIL BEING DEAD

the last chapter was amazing, i loved the way that you wrote the interactions between andrew and neil, they fit so well together. i also appreciate that you deviated from the game and had them meet! it is infinitely more satisfying. this was such an easy fic to read, everything felt right. i love your characterization of both of them. to have andrew treat neil the way that he did, knowing who neil was? amazing

also, can i just say that the moodboards that you include at the beginning of each chapter are amazing? they really helped with establishing the tone of the fic.

this fic is so intense, i was constantly amazed by how i was so fully immersed in it. everything that neil felt, i felt. your descriptions were gorgeous and i could not get enough of them. there were so many small details, sentences that were pure gems, that rereading this was just as, if not more, enjoyable than the first time. i really cannot put to words how much i loved reading this. thank you so so much for writing it!

[snokoms]

Under the Sea

alright alright alrigh. like promised, the extra big chapter. i hope you guys like it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310579/chapters/51127240

“Beacon Hills sheriff’s department, how can I help you?”

 “Uhm well. I was hiking, and it looks like something slipped of the road? It could be a car.”

 “Alright, Ms. Can you tell me your name and where you are?”

 “My name is Alexi Hills. I’m about six miles from Beacon Hills on the main road. I’m currently standing next to a broken tree and I think I see something down there.”

 “Alright thank you, were sending a unit your way. Please stay on the line.”

 “Thank you.”

 “I need a unit to the main road. About six miles outside Beacon Hills. Possible car accident.”

“We’re on it��

   It took about 15 minutes before Alexi saw the car coming her way. When a man and a woman stepped out, she quickly walked towards them.

 “Are you Alexi Hills?” The man asked.

 “Yes, it’s right over here.” Turning around she led the deputies to what she believed was a crash site.

 “I noticed it when I was walking.”

 “Why were you walking here all the way out here?”

 “Well, I was supposed to get a lift home from a college friend, but she decided last minute to spend the break with her boyfriend. She had a pretty nasty fight with her mom. So, I took the bus and I’m hitchhiking the last part because my first ride got delayed making me mis my transfer. I don’t have the money for a motel and the bus only goes 2 times a day.”

 “Alright. Thank you. This is where you think you saw something?”

 “Yes. Over there. Something doesn’t seem right about those trees."

 “Okay, we will take a look. If you could give us your contact info in case we have anymore questions, that would be great. After that you’re free to go.” While Parrish finished up with the girl, deputy Clarke started searching for the safest way to get down the ravine. Parrish took one look at it before suggesting picking up some climbing equipment.

   30 minutes later they’re back at the side of the road and Parrish is halfway to the ground.

 “I think it’s a car.”

 “It’s definitely a car. Looks like a blue jeep. I can’t read the brand or license plate from here.”

 “A blue jeep you say?”

 “Yeah, why? You know someone who drives one?”

 “The sheriff’s son.” That gives Parrish a small shock. The sheriff had a son? Sure, he wasn’t stationed in Beacon Hills for long. Just over three months in fact. And he had seen the pictures in the office with a woman and a small child. However, you could see that they were some pretty old pictures. Especially since he knew that the woman was out of the picture. Had been for quite some time. He thought the child had been too.

   “This is deputy Clarke, can I get another unit out here. We found the car.”

   By the time the other unit arrives the male deputy has confirmed that the car was empty and is in fact the car his colleague thought it was. He has also spotted something that looked like blood. The car itself, however, was empty. No sign of the owner or a struggle. Well, apart from the struggle it must have taken to get out of the wreck. It’s a miracle the boy had survived a fall like that.

 It's hours later and all they had found is the blood spoor that ended by a lake. Well, more like it ended by a tree and then one of the k9 dogs tracked it to the lake. That’s where it stopped. Nothing on the shorelines for the next 5 miles.

 Right now, they’re starting up for a search party and something feels wrong about the situation to Parrish. He isn’t sure what. Maybe the way the blood just went missing, considering the amount of blood it is a miracle the boy made it this far. He walks back to where the trail suddenly took a turn and starts looking around again. One of the deputy’s starts walking toward him.

 “We’re about to start the search party, what do you got?”

 “Something about this whole thing doesn’t feel right to me.”

 “Well the blood looks pretty old, even though no one reported him missing.”

 “Yeah, what’s up with that? How come no one noticed he was gone? How come his dad, the sheriff, didn’t notice.” He mumbled the last part, but the deputy still heard him.

 “I don’t know, maybe he thought the kid at a sleepover with his friends or something.” Hmm, that sounded plausible enough.

 “Furthermore, why did he suddenly change course? He had been walking along the ravine for 8 miles before he went into the woods. There isn’t even something within 30 miles near that lake, 50 if you don’t count Beacon Hills, and then it is only a gas station. I checked, okay? It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.”

 “Look, I get that this is one of your first big cases but,” Before Anderson can continue, he is interrupted.

 “I served in the military Anderson; I know when something isn’t right. This feels like Iraq all over again.” Taken aback the other man takes a breath. Alright. The newbie had a point. It didn’t feel right. And considering the shit that went bumping in the night in his town. That said a lot.

 “Alright. So, talk me through it.”

 “Well. He walked all the way here, right? Like he was trying to find a way up. Which would make sense if he didn’t know the area. Just keep walking until you find something." Parrish looks around himself before taking a couple steps back.

 “He was wounded and looking at the blood and the state the car was in. It wasn’t a small cut. So why go into the woods? Were the ground is even more uneven. You said he was a clumsy teen, right? So, wouldn’t he then try to stay on an even road to prevent further damage. Maybe he stopped here for a while. Maybe take a nap? He must have been exhausted after walking such a distance. Where….” He walked around in circles for a while before pointing to a thick tree.

 “Maybe under there?” He carefully walks the thought-out path. It makes sense. Upon getting closer, Parrish notices a patch of darker ground between the roots. Taking out an evidence packet he puts some in there. If it really is blood, they will find out soon enough.

 Anderson is looking thoughtful at the newbie. It makes sense. It had been a pretty big distance to walk after a car crash. Considering the concussion the sheriff’s son probably had, it was a wonder there wasn’t more blood on the floor from where he had fallen.

 “So, then what? He goes to sleep, wakes up and decides to walk the other way?”

 “No, no that doesn’t make sense.” As he walks further onto the path, the man starts carefully examining everything he sees. About 3 meters from the provisional bed he decides to climb one of the trees to get a better look at the surrounding aria, getting a raised eyebrow from the older officer. Parrish gives it no mind, who says Stiles didn’t climb one himself (however unlikely) or someone else was watching the boy. When he is at the top, he hears his radio crack.

 “Parrish, Anderson, you ready. The party is heading out.”

 “Just a moment sir. We’re at part of trail right know. Parrish might be on to something.”

 “Alright, I’ll see you when you’re ready.” He hears his colleague reply.

 Upon looking down, he notices something strange in the tree Stiles slept under. He quickly goes down only to climb in the other.

 “You got something there?”

 “It looks like a broken branch. Well, a couple broken branches actually. I think there might be some

blood on here. Can’t say for sure though.” Filling another evidence bag with a bit of the wood he climbs down and heads for the tree closest in the direction of the lake, climbing that one as well.

After a couple more trees he finds another one with broken branches. It connects to the other if you jump right.

 After finding them on the third tree he walks back to Anderson.

 “Something has been going through these trees. Maybe something took him. From the amount of blood between the car and here I don’t think he’s in any state to safely travel these trees like Tarzan.”

 “No, no he isn’t.” Anderson says laughing quietly. When Parrish looks at him, he elaborates.

 “When Stiles was little, he tried to climb the highest tree behind his house one time. Said he wanted to jump out and be like Spiderman. He broke his arm.” The newest deputy can’t help but smile when he hears the story.

 “You keep up with the trees. I’m going to get some flags so we can see if it goes all the way to the lake. If you’re right, something might just be really wrong with these woods.”

Shaking his head Anderson starts walking back to where the search party is stationed. Hoping to find some flags there.

   ---

   By the time he gets back Parrish has marked some of the trees with small rock formations or sticks. He quickly starts to exchange them for the flags. Noting that they do indeed lead back to the lake.

 Halfway there he finds Parrish looking somber between the trees.

 “I found more of what looks like blood on some of the trees. Noticeable less than on the ground though. So, either the wounds have dried or whoever has taken him found a way to staunch the bleeding.”

Or what. They both think with a slight fear.

 In silence they walk all the way towards the lake. Checking the trees there as well. That’s where the others find them. With grave voices they explain that even though they found the path that was taken from the ravine to the lake. They didn’t find anything around the water.

 The trail went dry there (well it went wet but that just sounds strange).

   ----

   That’s when Melissa had called her son. Hoping that the jeep was just stolen, and her second son was safe and well. The result however had been disappointing. She had noticed Stiles had been around less and less lately. But her son having to think about the last time he spoke to him had shocked her deeply. Especially when she thought about last month when he visited her at the hospital to bring dinner.

 She had noticed he had become quieter but had blamed the supernatural drama the kids had gotten involved with. When she told her fellow colleagues, she heard rounds of concern from everyone. They all liked the kid who had been bringing them all kinds of food since his mom had been hospitalized.

 After three days the labs results came back. It was definitely Stiles blood.

 Two days later they still hadn’t found anything more. The connecting counties where contacted and on the lookout.

      Everyone was waiting and hoping for good news.

 Everyone was fearing that this was the day their Stiles had gotten himself into something he couldn’t get out of.

 No one liked to think of the path that thought took.

 Dark clouds were hanging over the already violent little town.

[lemonadegarden]

For the birthday prompts! Jason realizes Damian is more vulnerable than he pretends to be. Jason then discovers that he has more protective older brother instincts than he thought he did.

Jason squinted, looking at the high peaks in the distance. In the dying light of the sun, they were bathed in a deep pinkish hue. He sighed, hiking his rucksack up his back by a few inches.

“We’re too far off. We’ll have to set up camp for the night,” he said.

Damian scowled. “I told you we would have made faster progress if you had let me pick the route.”

Jason turned to look at Damian, an incredulous expression on his face. “You wanted to scale a cliff face. If I’d let you do that, your Dad would never let me hear the end of it.”

Damian shook his head. He was in one of those bright orange puffer down jackets, which combined with his height (or lack thereof,)  made him look approximately like he had the proportions of a beach ball. An angry, orange beach ball. But, you know, still deadly.

“I’ve been trained in rock climbing since the age of three,” Damian said. “I would never do something as stupid as fall.”

“Hey, I believe you,” Jason said, “and I’d never pass up the opportunity to throw you down a cliff face, believe me. But your Dad might not feel the same way.”

Damian scowled again. “Father would never have to know.”

“Kid, Bruce knows everything. He’s probably got a tracker on that stupid jacket of yours.”

Damian looked at his jacket, narrowing his eyes. “He wouldn’t.”

“He absolutely would,” Jason grinned. “C’mon, you like cliffs, right? I think we can find a cool place to pitch the tent.”

Bruce was the one who’d sent them on the mission, was the thing.

He’d called Jason into the cave after Patrol one night, and handed him a file.

“The oxy Batgirl found in Burnside. I traced it back to a distributor working out of Mexico and Florida, and then further back to the original lab in West Colombia. It’s in the mountains. Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.”

“You want me to go check it out,” Jason said.

“I want you to take Damian with you,” Bruce said.

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. “Damian? I barely know him.”

Bruce was looking down at the file, like he was thinking of what to say. “He’s a good kid,” he said, finally. “He’s hard to get used to, initially,and a little… volatile, but he’s a good kid. Good fighter.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you tell everyone about me,” Jason joked, and Bruce’s face took on a pained expression.

Things between him and Bruce were still…  delicate. They hadn’t had any fights in a while, and he’d even come over for Christmas two months back. Things were going okay. They moved around each other carefully, like they were walking on thin sheets of ice and waiting to hear it crack.

What Jason had said just now had definitely been a misstep. A crack in the ice.

Jason bit his lip. Shit.

“He just wants to belong,” Bruce said, quietly. “He only gets along with me and Dick. Tim is– well. They don’t gel together. I was hoping you could… spend some time with him. He’d like you.”

“I don’t know, Bruce,” Jason said, slowly, “maybe I’m not the right kind of influence for him.”

Bruce was still studying the file keenly. Actually, he was pretty much looking anywhere except for at Jason.

“He wants to be part of the family. He just doesn’t let people in on it,” Bruce said.

Jason had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about Damian.

So he took Damian with him. And now they were camping right next to a cliff face.

Jason rolled out their sleeping bags. Damian was sitting almost at the very edge of the cliff. His back was to Jason, so he couldn’t see his face.

“I hope you don’t roll around in your sleep,” Jason joked. They weren’t actually camped that close to the cliff, but Damian visibly stiffened anyway.

“I’m not an idiot,” he snapped.

Jason frowned. “I didn’t even say that.”

“Whatever,” Damian said, getting up and dusting himself off. “I’m going to go look for wood for the fire.”

He stalked off.

Jason sighed, and went back to setting up camp. “Talking to you is fucking work,” he muttered.

They ate dinner sitting in the thin grass, while watching the sunset. At least, Jason watched it. Damian frowned at some dirt, while stabbing idly at his stew.

“The view’s nice, huh? I heard that the mountains meet the ocean here. Imagine that. Mountains on a beach.” Jason said. The sun had painted the sky in brilliant streaks of pink and crimson, and the snowy peaks in the distance seemed to almost glow.

“I don’t care,” Damian said.

Jason raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Bruce had not been kidding when he’d said that. Damian was hard to get used to.

They ate in silence for a while.

Damian poked at his stew some more, frowning.

“This is terrible,” he said.

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve let me grill you some sausages instead. Stew is the best vegetarian thing I could do,” Jason said, stuffing some sausage in his mouth.

“I hate it,” Damian declared. “I don’t want any of it.”

“Fine,” Jason said, getting up. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to fucking eat it.” he said, snatching up Damian’s bowl of stew. He emptied its contents into the fire, which roared up for a brief second. “You don’t have to eat dinner at all.”

Damian’s eyes went wide for a second, almost as though he was scared. Which made Jason realise that he was almost twice as big as the kid, and he was looming over him with a fire roaring in the back, and he probably looked

Jason frowned. He thought for a second about his own father, and what he’d done to Jason. It had been shit exactly like this.

So he drew back, ready to apologize, when Damian began to scowl again. He got to his feet quickly. “I hate you,” he said, darkly, and stalked off, towards the tent.

Jason sat back down, and sighed. He started eating his sausages again.

Okay. So maybe he’d lost his shit a little bit then. But could you blame him, really? The kid had been an asshole to him ever since they’d started the hike. He’d tried to play nice. It wasn’t his fault that the kid was being insufferable.

Jason frowned to himself. That sounded a lot like a justification, even to himself.

He watched the last of the sunset and then put out the fire. He went into the tent after a while, and Damian was already out, curled up his sleeping bag. Jason switched off the electric lantern, took off his jacket and sweater, and climbed into his own sleeping bag.  

He stared at the roof of the tent. Maybe it was him, and not Damian. Maybe he was the one that wasn’t good at family stuff.

He was the one that just couldn’t belong.

He heard the crying in the middle of the night, and it woke him up slowly at first, and then quickly all at once.

“What’s wrong?” he said, blinking hard, trying to see Damian in the dark.

A sniffle. No answer.

“Damian,” Jason said. He was freaking out. This was Damian. Damian didn’t cry.

A silence, and a muffled sound of cloth being brushed against skin, and suddenly there was a blast of cold air. Damian had zipped open the door of the tent.

“Hey, where are you–” The tent was zipped back up. Damian had left.

Jason blinked a few more times, trying to process things. Then he climbed out of his own sleeping bag, and went after Damian.

Damian was sitting where he’d been sitting earlier, at the very edge of the cliff. It was pitch dark.

“Damian, I can’t see a thing. You need to stay away from that edge,” Jason said, very carefully. He tried to remember what Bruce would say to him when he’d had nightmares. He couldn’t remember.

“I want you to throw me down this cliff,” Damian said.

Jason hesitated. “What?” he said.

“I want you to throw me off this cliff,” Damian said again, very matter of factly. “It’s not very high, and I could take the hit without getting injured too badly.”

Jason scrubbed at his face. He came and sat down next to Damian. There was a little sliver of moonlight illuminating his face. Damian’s face was serene. He wasn’t crying anymore, though there were still tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Okay. Is there anything I need to know about here?” Jason said.

Damian was looking at the bottom of the cliff. “My mother,” he said slowly, “she had these training exercises. They’d throw you off a cliff and you’d have to scale it back up. You must be familiar with them.”

Jason looked down to the bottom of the cliff. And then all of a sudden, it hit him.

He looked at Damian, who was staring at his hands.

Shit.

“You’re scared of the mountains.” Jason said quietly. “Does Bruce know?”

“I’m not scared,” Damian snapped. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Yeah? Then how come you want me to push you off a goddamn mountain?” Jason said. He wasn’t gentle or warm, like Dick. If someone snapped at him, he was going to snap right back. Damian glared at him. “I’m not scared. I’m just… uncomfortable. It’s a problem I need to get over. Something I have to conquer. Like Father did, with the bats. If you push me off and I tuck and roll, I can get off with maybe just a sprained ankle. A bruised rib, at most.”

Jason looked down at the sheer drop. Looked like six hundred feet, minimum. Maybe more. He couldn’t see too well in the dark. “You’re going to break every fucking bone in your body.”

“Are you doubting my ability to–”

“Jesus Christ, kid, why does everything I say have to be a personal insult against your abilities as a fighter? Batman could get pushed off this cliff and he’d break every bone in his goddamn body. If you do this the only thing you’re going to conquer is a six square foot area at the bottom of that ravine, full of smashed Damian bits. There’s a fine line between brave and stupid. Even I know that. Now let’s get away from the edge before we break our necks, okay? I’m going back into the tent, and you should probably come too. It’s cold as balls out here.”

Damian looked stunned into silence.

“Are you coming or what?” Jason said, getting up.

After a brief hesitation, Damian stood up too, and followed him into the tent.  

Jason zipped up the flap.

“Get into your sleeping bag,” he said.

Damian got into his bag, and Jason zipped it up halfway, so he could at least get a little warm. Jason sat next to it.  

“I’m going to tell you something. You’re going to listen to me, okay? And you’re not going tell Bruce about it.” Jason said.

Damian looked up. Jason could see that he’d caught his interest.

“After I– you know. After. I was in the League,  training with Talia. And Talia, she had a network of spies. She’d make me work with them, sometimes. Most of them were these incredible assassins, capable of any sort of disguise. They could blend in anywhere, talk any language, adapt to anything. I watched them work for a long time, and I watched them slit people’s throats, and interrogate people, and torture them, and mutilate the friends and families of their targets.”

Damian was watching him, his eyes intent.

Jason leaned a little closer. “And then I came back to Gotham. And Gotham, it’s a big city right? We’ve got what, seven million people living here? There’s people everywhere. The roads and pavements and parks are crawling with them. Like insects. So I started to think that those spies were following me around. Everywhere I went, someone was watching me. Following me. Their eyes on my back. It was– I don’t even know. It was insane. My heart was pounding all the time, and this one time I yelled at a stranger on the road to leave me the fuck alone, for once. Almost beat him up. I started carrying my gun everywhere. I carried a grenade with me once, on the bus, with my finger on the pin the whole time. I told myself it was just in case of an emergency. I stopped going to crowded places. Then after a while, I stopped going out at all. I just sat at home, staring at the door, waiting for someone to come in and murder me.”

“And then what?” Damian whispered.

Jason smoothed a small section of the sleeping bag with an idle hand. He could feel Damian’s thin shoulders under it. The kid was still so small.  “And then one day Dick barged into my apartment. I’d missed the last three dinners Alfred had invited me to, in the manor. Dick thought it was because I’d been fighting with Bruce again, so he wanted to come over and yell at me, I guess. Then he saw me. He left and came back forty five minutes later, with Leslie.”

They were still in the dark. Both he and Damian had forgotten to switch the electric lantern back on, Jason realised.  

“It was hard, Damian. It was really hard. She put me on medication, and then I had to do some counselling, which was maybe the most uncomfortable thing ever, and there was a whole support group thing, but look at me now, huh? I’m in a mountain range in Colombia. And I’m not even sweating.” Jason grinned.

“That’s because it’s so cold,” Damian said, and Jason laughed.

“Well. Yeah. But I feel fine, is the thing. I feel good. I just needed some help. And that was okay.”

Damian was silent for a while.

“I’m hungry,” he said, finally. “You threw my dinner into the fire.”

Jason shook his head. “I thought we were having a moment, here.”

“We can have a moment after I’ve eaten,” Damian said, and Jason smiled a little.

“I’ll look for some trail mix, demonspawn,” he said, ruffling Damian’s hair. Damian batted the hand away, but only half-heartedly.

Baby steps.

By early morning the next day, they’d made it halfway up to the lab. They were on a winding dirt trail, with a few inches of snow on each side, when they stopped.

“Hey, Damian,” Jason said, looking at the map, “wanna see something cool?”

“What for?” Damian said. He was wearing the bright orange jacket again.

Jason shook his head. “There’s just no pleasing you, is there,” he said.  “Come on, keep walking. You’re gonna see it in a sec.”

Damian shrugged, and they kept walking. Fifteen minutes later, he stopped.

“That’s the ocean,” he said. Far off, several peaks beyond them, near the horizon, there was an unmistakable glisten of water. A line of silver before the sky started.

“Yeah,” Jason said.  

Damian just kept looking. “The mountains meet the ocean.” He said.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jason said. The sun was just beginning to come up, and the clouds looked like they were on fire. The whole sky was beginning to lighten into dawn.

They stood there for a long moment, looking at where the mountains met the ocean, and Damian leaned closer, towards Jason.

Jason put an arm around him.

“You’ve gotta tell your Dad,” he said quietly. “He worries about you a lot, you know.”

“I know,” Damian said.  

A silence. The sun was rising, inch by inch.

“You always call him my father,” Damian said, suddenly, “but he’s yours too.”

Jason looked at him. “What?”

Damian blushed. “Father. He’s your dad too.”

Jason tilted his head, thinking. “Yeah. You’re right, I guess. It’s just that he hadn’t been, for a long while.”

“He can’t just stop being your dad.” Damian said,  stubborn.

“No,” Jason said, feeling the wind ruffle through his hair. “I guess not.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Alright. He’s my dad too.”

Damian nodded, like he’d won an argument or something. It made Jason smile, a little. Maybe they were the volatile ones. The hard to like ones. The ones that had trouble belonging. But they could still look out for each other.

They could still at least do that.

He hiked his rucksack up his back by a few inches.  

“C’mon, squirt. Let’s go. At this rate, we won’t reach the labs till next year.”

Damian grinned at that.

They walked on.

[lostinfic]

2. Indonesia, summer (cont’d)

Summary: She writes for magazines about luxurious resorts in exotic places and five-star hotels in glamorous cities. He’s photographed devastated war zones, refugee camps and child soldiers. For both of them travel is an escape, but he’s had enough of this grim reality, and she’s had enough of this disconnected fantasy. Perhaps together they can find something in between, something real, and stop running from themselves. Each season, a new destination and a chance to grow closer.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature~ish (for now) Word count: 2.6k

Prologue  |  Chap. 1  |  Ao3  

The sun had sunk halfway down the Indian ocean. On the beach, the hotel staff were retrieving lounge chairs and parasols for the night. Only a few couples lingered on the shore. The distant echo of conversation and clanking dishes came from the terraces of the hotel’s restaurants.

Sun-heated sand slipped into Hannah’s sandals and splashed against her calves. She removed her shoes and walked in shallow water instead.

Hardy walked fast, ahead of her, as if ashamed to be seen with her, but he still sporadically checked on her over his shoulder. “Watch out, there’s a crab.”

They didn’t exchange more than a few words. She didn’t peg him as the small talk kind anyway, so she didn’t make an effort. He scanned the beach, eyes narrowed, serious dimples in his cheeks. He kept his hands poised on the camera hanging around his neck. This was no romantic stroll. They were colleagues, out on the prowl, chasing a scoop— and she loved it.

They were looking for that bunker-like structure Hannah had seen in the background of her selfie, from the sailboat excursion. Despite declaring she could guide him there, she had only a vague idea of where it might be located. Hardy had a real, old-school compass to guide them westward, but darkness would make it harder to find.

The main structure of the resort faded into impressionist patches of light. They still passed by smaller buildings— private villas, storage, kayak rental kiosk— but they were fewer and farther in between.

“I think it’s on the other side of that,” Hannah said. She pointed at a rock formation ahead. It was much taller than a human, came form inland and dipped into the sea, essentially blocking the whole width of the beach. She was no geologist, but it looked like volcanic rock to her, like fat rolls of lava descended from the center of the island. At low tide, barnacles and sea grapes clung to its side. A line of orange buoys extended from it, far into the sea to mark out the end of the resort’s beach.

By the time they reached the rock, only the full moon illuminated their path. Hardy shined a tiny LED flashlight over its surface.

Hannah thought she could skirt around it in the water and cross over the buoys. Hardy wasn’t too keen on trudging through water and opted to hike over the rock instead. Hannah walked farther into the sea. It was deeper than she’d anticipated. She was in up to mid-thighs before even reaching the buoys. She retreated and climbed behind Hardy. Her sandals slid over the slimy rock. He offered his hand. She held on to it tightly as he hauled her up on top of the rock formation.

“Wow!”

In the bay, on the other side, the shore sparkled with thousands of tiny electric-blue dots, like something out of a science-fiction movie. The ebb and flow of the water stirred and alighted them. Everything else around was dark.

Hannah grinned, in all her trips, she’d never seen anything like it.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Bioluminescent plankton,” Hardy supplied.

They climbed down the other side, his hand at her elbow in case she slipped.

“D’you think I can touch it?”

He shrugged. “It’s always in the water, you just don’t usually see it.”

She kicked off her sandals once more and tiptoed into the sea. She giggled like a child, each step generated more blue dots.

“It lights up when it’s agitated,” Hardy explained. “There must be some strong current around here.”

Hannah kicked the water, propelling a luminous arc of plankton in the air. She heard the camera shutter, and glanced at Hardy over her shoulder.

“Perv,” she joked.

He chuckled, and she wished she could see his smile.

“Why is it only on this side—eeww!”

Something slimy covered her ankle. Panicked, she kicked it off but lost balance. Hardy caught her in the nick of time. She grasped his shoulders until she was steady again, and then they hopped out of the water.

“Thanks,” she said out of breath, heart still hammering. His arms remained around her. “Christ, what was that?”

Hardy shone his torchlight on the water. There was a squid, dead, decomposing even. The flashlight revealed more dead fish floating on the surface. Hannah shivered with disgust and hid her face against Hardy’s shoulder.

“We must be close to something,” he said. “Bioluminescence can indicate harmful algae in the water.”

“You could have said before.”

“You alright?” He aimed the light at her legs.

“I’m fine.”

Truth be told, all she wanted now was to go back to her room and take a shower. But, remembering Duncan’s grating “stick to what you’re good at” comment, she persevered. A sigh puffed up her cheeks, and she took off after Hardy.

“Did you come here specifically to investigate?” she asked him.

“Aye. A former colleague called me. You?”

“I’m working but I wasn’t sent here for this. I’m writing a piece on the resort for Elite Travelers.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Thought you said you’re a journalist.”

“I am a journalist.”

He scoffed. “That’s a liberal use of the word.”

Hannah gaped in outrage. How dare he? Before she could reply, he started walking again, faster.

“And who do you work for?”

“Depends.”

“Don’t give out everything, it’s embarrassing,” she said sarcastically.

“This is freelance work.”

“But who have you worked for before? Name one if you’re so much better than me.”

“The Broadchurch Echo… The New York Times.”

“Alright, well, it doesn’t matter, I want to expose this sham as much as you.”

“No.” He stopped walking, and she nearly bumped into him. “This is my job, my life, you’re just—“

“My readers will care.”

“Your readers?” he all but squeaked. “They’re the problem.”

“I’m trying to learn here, okay?”

“You gotta do more than that.”

“I just— Urgh! I don’t want to get too involved, people start expecting things from you and I can’t— I can’t do that.”

They started walking again. She thought he’d dropped the subject, but ten minutes later, he asked: “Who pays for your stay here? And the article you’re writing. Who’s paying you?”

“What? The magazine, of course.”

“Right, who’s paying them?”

“Do I really need to explain this to you? Subscriptions, advertisement…”

“The owners of the resort? The local government?”

“No, it’s not like that,” she replied.

“How can you be sure, uh? This, your magazine, your article, it’s nothing more than propaganda.”

God, that man was infuriating. But he had sowed doubt in her mind. Was that why Duncan didn’t want her to cover ecotourism? What if she was just a tool?

She breathed audibly out of her nose and stalked past Hardy. “I’m gonna find that bloody bunker,” she muttered.

Not long after, they saw the bunker-like building in the distance, inland. An industrial spotlight hung above its metal door. It cast an artificial white light over its surroundings. Flies and moths buzzed around it. There was one security camera too, and they tried to stay out of its scope.

“Out-bloody-standing,” Hardy whispered. He clapped her too hard on the shoulder. “You found it.” He raised his camera and took several pictures.

It was still almost ten feet away and then bushes blocked the path. As they approached, a sound of water, distinct from the waves, grew louder. There was some kind of river behind the vegetation. She rose on her tiptoes, to look over the narrow hedge. She couldn’t quite see the river and she realized this was because it was at the bottom of a ravine. The water was maybe twelve feet below, between steep walls of rock and soil. It created a natural moat around the building. There seemed to be no way around it, and the rest of the building was protected by an electric fence.

“What now? We can’t get any closer,” she said.

“Yes, we can.”

She watched, aghast, as he waded through the bushes to the ravine. What was he doing? It was too wide to jump over. He crouched on the edge. His foot slipped and rocks tumbled below with a delayed echo.

“You’re not thinking of climbing down, are you?” He didn’t answer. “Hardy?”

Hannah cursed under her breath and trudged through the thorny bushes. She shivered at the thought of all the creepy crawlies in there. When she joined him, he was testing the strength of a branch to rappel down the ravine.

“You’ll kill yourself,” she said.

“If that’s what it takes.”

They stared at each other, his eyes defiant. The color drain from her face.

“What?”

“Maybe if a white man dies people will finally care about what’s happening here.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. “Oh no, you’re not doing this to me.” Hardy was in a too precarious position to resist her tug, but Hannah expected him to fight back. So she pulled with all her strength and weight, and they stumbled backwards. Her foot caught in a root. They fell to the ground, Hardy landed on top of her. His camera knocked her on the jaw.

“OW!”

His eyes widened. “Sorry.” He touched her jaw lightly, and it struck her how a man so careless with himself, could be so gentle with her. Their eyes met, and she became very aware of his body covering hers.

“Berhenti! Berhenti!” yelled a security guard, running towards them. Their argument must have alerted him.

“Bollocks.”

They stood up.

The man’s cap flew off his head as he ran faster. They could outrun him for sure, but Hardy didn’t budge. The security guard was a middle-age Indonesian man with small sticky-out ears. Upon noticing they were not locals, he switched to English. “Stop! You cannot be here. Forbidden. You come with me.”

Arms crossed, Hardy towered over him. “What are you hiding, uh? Who are you protecting?”

“You come with me.” He grabbed a walkie-talkie from his utility belt, to call for back-up perhaps. He had a stun gun too.

“They’re destroying your island, your birthplace,” Hardy continued. “Report us to your management and this will go on. But we can help change this situation that’s—”

“Look, we were not doing anything wrong,” Hannah intervened before Hardy got them in trouble. She looped her arm through his. “Just wandering, exploring. It’s such a romantic place, we got carried away…”

She fluttered her eyelashes at Hardy, but he made no attempt at playing along. The security guard lowered his walkie-talkie.

“I understand it’s important that we don’t come here. I’m sure there’s a good reason, it looks dangerous. Really, it’s our fault, we shouldn’t be trespassing.”

Hardy finally looked at her, appalled by her apologies. Hannah continued, taking on a honeyed voice and offering her nicest smile.

“We don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss. I mean, you would, wouldn’t you? Be in trouble that is, if your boss knew we’d wandered all the way here by accident.”

It took a moment for Hannah’s words to sink in, after a few blinks, the security guard’s blank stare turned into a smile.

“Yes, yes. Okay. You leave, I”— he mimed zipping and locking his mouth— “no trouble for you. Thank you for me, okay?”

She nudged Hardy. “Give him some money.”

“I’m not participating in corruption.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She had a few Rupiahs folded in her phone case, and she handed them all to the man. “Can you show us the way back? I think we got a little lost. Thank you, you’re very kind.”

The security guard escorted them back to the lobby. The concierge noticed them arriving together, but the guard lied and said he’d found them lost. It reassured Hannah that he wouldn’t talk. Under no suspicion, she would be free to continue investigating. If only Hardy hadn’t gotten on his high horse, they could already have proof of the resort’s scam.

As they walked towards the south wing of the hotel, Hannah kept glancing at him expectantly.

“Wha’?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me for saving your arse?” she said.

“Sorry? Saving my arse! He could’ve helped us more if you hadn’t bribed him. If I’d had time to convince him—”

“Not with the way you were talking to him. You’re just so fucking condescending.”

He crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

“So the hotel’s not very good for the environment. Is it really worth risking your life for?” Hannah asked.

He huffed impatiently and took her aside. He told her everything he knew: the foreign investors, the Navy evicting families, the corruption, the threats to his journalist friend, the destruction of mangroves and fields. It was so much bigger than she’d imagined. Overwhelmingly so. He told her about the Tirrand family. How the father tried to protect his farm and received five bullets to the chest. In front of his own daughter. Hannah thought of that little girl with the fierce eyes, dauntless now that she’d already seen the worst possible thing.

Hannah felt suddenly very cold. She cared about what had happened. And then she didn’t. She turned her gaze towards the window and the starlit sea.

“It would be a shame not to share such beauty with the world,” she said in a voice that seemed to come from outside herself. “I don’t like how it happened, but why should they keep this island to themselves?”

“What are you on about?”

“I’m just saying, what’s done is done,” she continued without looking at him. “They can’t go back, the resort’s built, might as well make the best of it.”

She was aware of the strain in her cheeks as she smiled.

“You need some rest,” he said.

What a pretentious wanker, she hoped to never see him again.

______

Chapter 3: Singapore

[randomedrstuff]

Take Two! With Emilie de Ravin

The actress and LA mama on motherhood, her second pregnancy & strong roles for women

By Caitlin Wolper

Emilie de Ravin wasn’t the first to know she was pregnant again—her 2.5-year-old daughter Vera told her. Vera also was the first to predict that the baby was a boy, and, as time would tell, she was right. De Ravin—an LA mom and actress known for her notable and critically-acclaimed primetime TV roles on “Roswell,” “Lost,” and “Once Upon A Time”—will welcome her first son and second child with fiancé Eric Bilitch in a couple of months. 

However, her pregnancy is a bit different the second time around. When she was pregnant with Vera, de Ravin recalls, she didn’t yet have a child, so she didn’t have to factor in needs besides her own. Her current pregnancy has thrown her a brand-new challenge: Managing a toddler while also managing her prenatal wellness. “I still had time to myself [during my first pregnancy]. I still had: ‘Oh, I can find a new prenatal yoga class,’ or ‘I can go for a nice walk’ and really take that time to nourish and take care of [my] body and mind,” she explains. “The struggle during this pregnancy is finding time to do that.” She already swears by DockATot and Nuna’s car seat, and adds she’s excited to try out the SNOO by Happiest Baby with her child-to-come. When de Ravin can fit in some “me time” and prenatal yoga between caring for Vera and acting, she feels “a massive difference, especially mentally.” That said, de Ravin won’t let pregnancy slow her down—she was on a project that wrapped when she was at 16 weeks: “There was a lot of ‘Oh, I think I should wear the flowy dress for this’ by the end of that job,” she laughs. She and Bilitch—who’s also in the entertainment industry—often travel for work and take Vera along with them, whether it’s Vancouver, Europe, or Atlanta. Vera’s also traveled to her mother’s home, Australia, among many other global destinations. Even though her family is LA-based right now, de Ravin feels she isn’t necessarily raising Vera in LA (especially before she enters the school system), what with all their travel—but she says Vera loves traveling with the family, and it often plays a role in her dress-up and games of pretend.

“Every time she dresses up and gets her little bag together, I’m like: ‘Where are you going?’ and she says: ‘Oh, I’m going to Paris, I’m going to climb the Eiffel Tower,’” de Ravin laughs, adding that the family recently took a trip there. “She’s moving to Paris, apparently. Sometimes we, in these stories, get to go; sometimes she’s going on her own.” Though de Ravin can’t predict if her daughter will choose to act, Vera definitely loves dress-up and dance (“I think I’m asked every day if we’re going to ballet.”). When de Ravin was packing before a move, she let Vera stand on the dining room table to help. “That became her little stage and she was singing ‘I’m a little teapot’ in her red tutu,” she laughs. “She’s definitely got that side to her.” Her mother is clearly a model for this theatrical behavior. De Ravin started her career-defining role on the late-90s teen sci-fi drama “Roswell” at only 18 years old, playing alien-human hybrid Tess Harding. Only a couple years later, she appeared as Claire on the popular and critically-acclaimed TV series “Lost,” which follows an increasingly harrowing and complex tale of airplane crash survivors stranded on an island, and recently celebrated its 14th anniversary of the premiere. “‘Lost’ was an experience that changed my life in so many ways,” she says. “Not just my life; I feel like it changed the platform for TV. There wasn’t ever a show like that, especially on network TV. It really broke every side of the box and burst through.” She spent six years filming the show, and got very close to the cast and crew as a result. “That’s a long time to spend with the same people being the same character in the same set with the same crew,” she reflects. “And then, that’s just sort of gone.” She spent seven years as Belle (as in the protagonist princess of “Beauty and the Beast”) on ABC’s long-running “Once Upon A Time,” a role that she recently wrapped. The show, which combines modern life and fairy-tale to create a brand new story, is one she’s found appeals to all ages, and often brings families together in front of their TV. There’s a commonality in all the roles de Ravin takes: She looks for characters somewhat unlike herself that both challenge her and carry “a positive reinforcement of what to do, what not to do: Something that people can learn from and grow from.” She adds: “I don’t want to play the same character over and over again, just wearing a different outfit or with different color hair; [otherwise] I might as well stay on the same job for 50 years.” De Ravin craves the challenge of playing complex characters dissimilar to herself, and the research it requires. And with the range of different personalities and character circumstances she’s taken on over the course of her acting career, the rewards she’s reaped from her hard work and diligent research are clear.

“For me keep a character fresh, therefore to keep the viewer interested in watching and engaged in watching what I’m doing, [I need] something that is challenging, something that I can learn from,” she says. “Whether it’s anything from a different talent the character has, or an accent, or a belief system—something I have to dip into the knowledge pool and really learn and do some research for—[I have to] open up my mind and my heart to new things and new experiences. I find that the more open you are and the more hungry you are for knowledge in life in general, whether it’s acting or anything else, then the more giving you can be and the more interesting of a character I can develop from that.” With Belle and “Once Upon A Time” as a whole, one of her greatest challenges was portraying a famous, pre-existing character but still imbuing her with complexity that didn’t stray from her personality and story. “I’ve got all these children that are watching her, wanting to be like their favorite character; let’s give her something…an extra strength to her, an extra positivity to her,” de Ravin says. “Also, [show them that] everyone makes mistakes, and there is no perfection; there is no perfect princess or perfect life or perfect world. Everything’s messy, and that’s not a bad thing.” That’s the type of life lesson de Ravin hopes her kids would get from her acting work as well. “I would like them to be hopefully more inspired by things that I can teach them as a parent as opposed to through my work, but at the same time, there are things that are appropriate life lessons, whether it be conflict or love or whatever, [that] can be taught through film and TV: It’s a very prominent part of growing up now, or just our world in general,” she says. “A child sits down and watches something and it makes a much bigger impact than it does on us…They’re just this massive, magical little sponge.” That’s another reason she takes on challenging roles: She wants to play strong, realistic women, roles she’s starting to see more often. “It’s not just what I pursue or what I would like to pursue,” she says. “It’s also what’s being presented is changing a lot too, in at least what I have seen.” She adds that in the future, she does want her children to understand that as much as she loves her job, it’s still work, and hard work at that. “I love what I do, I’m very lucky and blessed to be able to still be working in this industry—it’s a tough one, and it’s a strange one, it’s a crazy one. But it’s work, and as much fun as it is, it’s a job like everyone else has,” she says. She then adds with a laugh: “They can learn about the craziness of it later. Keep it more in the fun part for now.”

After she has her son, de Ravin figures she’ll go back to work—not right away, but likely in 2019. Of course, it’s all up in the air for now, as is the nature of entertainment. “You never know what projects are going to be around [in the future]. Is it something that I’m going to be into? Is it something they want me for?” de Ravin says. But luckily, she adds, she does work in the sort of industry where she can bring her kids along for the ride (before they’re “properly” in school—Vera currently attends a half-day pre-school). “There’s such flexibility when they’re little… It’s a place that you can share with your children: If you’re working on location and it’s somewhere cool, they can come hang out and watch and travel with you,” de Ravin says. “It’s not like I’m going to close myself in an office all day and I’m not allowed to bring to my children, so that really is a huge bonus.” She starts to say that, all the same, she loves to be home with “her” (Vera) and amends it to “them,” including her baby-to-come. “It’s going to be a big change; whatever happens will happen,” she says. “I didn’t know how I was going to do it with Vera, and that all worked out really nicely.” She’s on a break from work as she waits for her son’s arrival, and has been passing the time with Vera, who’s excited to have a baby brother. Vera’s also keeping her mom busy, between reading together (“She memorizes me or Eric reading [books] to her and then she’ll sit down and sort of read them herself in this animated voice, playing it out.”) and helping out in the kitchen from her stool: “I think she enjoys the tasting process,” de Ravin laughs. They also pursue outdoor activities together as a family, something both de Ravin and Bilitch believe to be an enormously important facet of early childhood. “She loves swimming, she likes going swimming together… I always try and find some activities with her, like little family farms or veggie farms or the beach or going for a walk, going for a hike, just exploring; even just being out in our garden and gardening together and looking over all the flowers—and then she’ll find the ants,” de Ravin says. “That reminds me of me, just loving, when I was as little as this, the tiny things outside that you find, whether it’s a tiny little part of a seed or figuring out where this came from, or where does that insect live, and all the tiny wonders. [It’s] super soothing and calming, too, doing that with her. It really puts life and everything else that’s going on in the world into perspective.”

[cateringisalie]

Driving Lesson

Written for the prompt from @effortlesslyuncool: Prompt: Aeris teaching Yuffie and Tifa to drive. Yuffie being more interested in fine tuning the radio than shifting gears smoothly; Aeris losing her ever loving shit with Yuffie not grasping financial consequences of frying the clutch. And because I am gay trash - token cliché moment where Tifa experiences complete loss of executive function when Aeris reaches under the hood/bonnet and begins replacing a radiator hose herself

(Also on Ao3 & Fanfiction.net)

Close to an hour after Cloud, Barret and Nanaki vanished off on Bugenhagen’s mysterious mission, Aeris grew restless. Technically the canyon offered a number of activities; talk with the Elders, sample more cocktails in the bar, study in the library, but none of those appealed. Perhaps they could simply enjoy more downtime and a break from their journey. Aeris settled back onto her hands. The blue sky spread wide above her. Nope. Needed to do something. One of the canyon's mechanics wandered past the Cosmo Candle. Ah. "Since the buggy’s fixed, either of you want to learn how to drive?”

Yuffie shot to her feet with a whoop. “Finally.” Less enthusiasm from Tifa. “Not sure I’m up to it.” Likely inferring Aeris’s mad-cap fleeing the Shinra building. Tifa had clung white-knuckled to the dashboard and squads of motorcycle riding Shinra infantry harried them on all sides. Plausibly enough to put anyone off driving. “I was thinking more moving forward and steering,” Aeris said. She grinned at Yuffie’s fallen expression. “Maybe the rest some other times. But you don't have to. It'd just be nice to have someone else driving so it’s not always me and Cloud.” “I feel I should, but-“ Tifa broke off when Aeris laid her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be right with you.” A glance to Yuffie. “And we are taking this slow.” Another whine from the ninja and Tifa still not convinced. "Cait? How about you?" The mechanical moogle sat silently nearby. Aeris waved her hand up and down in front of both the cat and moogle portions. Nothing. "Guess it's just us." Tida and Yuffie trailed after her when she clambered down to the ravine below the settlement. The Cosmo Canyon techs promised the engine would last until at least Nibleheim if they continued in the same direction. The town's name best not uttered much of late; neither Cloud nor Tifa liked hearing it. Maybe the driving lesson would distract Tifa from her hometown's proximity. The buggy’s interior still reeked; inevitable give the cramped, little ventilation and long hours crossing the desert. Sadly the air conditioner still did not work. Damned thing remained inoperable - no change there sadly. Tifa wrinkled her nose. “Forgot how bad it was in here.” Aeris settled into the passenger seat and rolled down the window. Heat rolled in and she frowned. Not the desired result. Driving should generate some breeze least. “If we keep the windows down, it should be bearable.” And maybe they could get a few of those scented things people dangled from the rear-view mirrors. Or a truckload of flowers. “Okay; who’s first?” Despite a raised eyebrow in Tifa's direction, Yuffie pushed past her and dropped into the driver’s seat instead. She wrenched the ignition, one hand fumbling for the built-in stereo, her foot stomping the accelerator to the floor. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” “What?” Yuffie wrenched the radio's dial picking up little but the hiss of distant stars, accelerator still flat against the floor. “Stupid thing.” “The canyon isn’t going to help reception.” Tifa wisely strapped in one of the seats behind them. Good plan; Aeris pulled her own seatbelt around her. “Yuffie, stop,” Aeris said force. “Music is not the important part. You have to put the car in gear first.” “Gear? Oh. Is that when it goes-“ Yuffie made a filmic approximation of the noise of an engine in a film when it up-shifted. “Yes,” Aeris replied weakly. Perhaps her and Cloud doing the driving would be best. “But it’s not solely about going faster. You have to start off on the lowest gear and go up to the highest.” “I get it.” Yuffie strained against the shifter, her foot again pressing on the accelerator. “C’mon.” “Stop!” Aeris yelled. Yuffie glared at her. “You are going to wreck the clutch like that. Please, let me talk you through it.” Yuffie huffed, folded her arms and stared out the windshield. Tifa shot Aeris an encouraging smile; Aeris started from first principles and introduced Yuffie to the clutch pedal. Twice. Plus the brake and indicators for good measure. Yuffie stopped staring ahead and soon hung on Aeris’s every word. Good. She started the buggy up exactly as instructed when Aeris talked her through the steps, put it in gear, checked the various mirrors - plus the blind spot - and set the vehicle moving forward at a snail’s pace. Behind her the squeak of a leather seat indicated Tifa getting tenser. Aeris told Yuffie off when she clicked the radio back on; still nothing but white noise from the speakers. Yuffie clutched at the wheel, shifting the gears up to go a little faster. The hiss from the radio became annoying. Aeris reached to turn it off- A burst of something music-like erupted from the speakers. Yuffie’s focus went straight to it, her foot pressing down on the accelerator again, the keening of the engine building. “Yuffie,” Aeris said in exasperation. No response. The keening grew louder, the burst of music coming in pulses as Yuffie tried to pin down the right frequency. “Right.” She snapped the radio off and aimed her foot squarely at the brake. “You’ve got the basics; now it's Tifa’s turn.” Yuffie muttered and vacated the seat with reluctance. A nervous Tifa asked Aeris to repeat all her previous instructions in full. A far more diligent student than the ninja and she listened from the start. She got right up to starting the buggy when Aeris stopped her. A new concern. “Before we get you driving, maybe we should check the engine? It’s hot out here and we don’t want to break down a few miles down the road and need to walk.” Too many dodgy mechanics back in Midgar; easy to make a quick check. The sun hung low in the sky but the air remained sweltering. At least they had not travelled far from the ladder up to the plateau. Well within walking distance. Aeris popped the bonnet of the buggy and a wave of heat swept across her, sweat beading on her brow. “Phew!” She tugged at her neckline and leant over into the inferno. Quick check of the various engine components and at least only one concern. “I don’t like the look of that radiator hose.” She pointed down to the relevant part of the engine. “Easy fix though.” Spare components in the buggy, including a new hose. “This one’s an easy fix.” She leant over the engine, hiking one leg up on and onto the buggy’s body to get close enough. A pause and she hiked her skirt higher. Better. “One of the hose ends is dodgy.” Aeris plugged the new hose in place of the old. “Maybe I should go over some of the other easy fixes later.” Aeris straightened up and trailed off. “I-“ Tifa stuttered, glanced away and clamped her mouth shut, her face bright red. Yuffie doubled over laughing. “Are you okay?” Aeris shifted her dress on her shoulders and fanned her face. Tifa shot a mortified look at Yuffie and darted past Aeris. She took a glance - far too quick - at the engine and rushed to the door. “Thanks for showing-“ Tifa stopped when Yuffie laughed harder. “Can we leave her?” Aeris pursed her lips. “Tempting. Okay; let's do it." Tifa flushed again but ducked into the buggy. Yuffie reacted faster than expected and managed to scramble in on Aeris's heels. Shame. Tifa gripped the steering wheel tight. “Ready to try again?” Tifa nodded and ran through the relevant steps. Aeris pulled down the visor and checked the mirror. No oil splatter on her face. A faint sheen lay on her exposed skin, hair slightly damp. Nothing on her clothes; she had avoided brushing against the engine. What had fazed Tifa so? She shook her head and again tugged at her neckline. Still warm; she tugged her skirt away from her legs and removed her jacket. Yuffie continued to cackle about something hilarious.

[pajamaplants]

Michael: 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 14, 16, 19. // Ian: 2, 16, 19. // Charley: 4, 5. // Dahlia: 10, 11. // Rosie: 1, 8. // Bia: 9 (specifically her interactions with Ian before vs. after their breakup). // This is a lot so you don't have to do long descriptions but yeah! Love you lots

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters......... lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

He’d had trouble falling asleep, and now the forest was on fire. Michael had only wanted to go back to the lake shore for a bit, and sit by the waves to settle his racing thoughts, but he’d gotten lost on his way there and wandered down a too dark trail. Narrow flashlight beam the only light a head of him, he prayed he was going the right direction back to his family’s campsite. It was dark and freezing and Michael’s eight year old limbs were getting sore, when suddenly he smelled the thick smoke of burning wood in the breeze. A campfire, he thought. Good, he must be getting close. But as Michael traveled closer a hazy fog surrounded him and the nearby trees, his flashlight beam illuminating the smoke. He saw light ahead, fire glowing through the trees, but no wait, this was much too much flame to be a campfire. Michael stopped walking and watched bright clumps of fire crackling in the underbrush. This is really bad, his tired mind registered. Nervously he tried to move down wind away from the fire, coughing as he went, but the fire grew faster than Michael could walk. He hurried through he underbrush now, chest feeling heavy and head dizzy from inhaling smoke. Suddenly Michael had run himself into a rocky cliff face, the fire sparkling dangerously at his back. What do I do? he panicked. I don’t want to die, please. Michael moved around the rocks until he saw a natural crevice traveling back into the earth. Was that a cave? Fire could burn wood, he reasoned. But probably not stone. He crawled in between the rocks, shining his flashlight as he entered to check it was uninhabited, and saw it went back a few feet. The air in here was clear of smoke and much easier to breathe. Crouching in a small cave wasn’t ideal, but it was better than burning to death. Outside Michael saw the wildfire grow in intensity slowly. As it crawled along bark and dry leaves, a soothing crackling noise came from the charred forest. Tucked safely in his cave, Michael watched, cinders in the air reflecting on spellbound eyes. The blaze passed him by and devoured entire trees, cracking apart branches. Somehow now Michael felt less afraid; the air was warm, the fire’s glow bathing the opening of the cave in a lulling orange gleam. Eventually, Michael fell asleep lying curled in place on the rocks, the wildfire’s presence helping him find sleep better in a cave than back in a sleeping bag in a dark tent. In the morning he awoke, crawled out into the ashy remains damp with smoke, and traveled by the morning light through the destroyed forest until he found a path back to his family.

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

Every night his cat played a game with Josh, a one in which Josh always ended up losing as yet again Cannelle settled innocently on Josh’s chest or kneaded her way to resting on his legs and he felt too bad to disturb her. “Well, once she’s comfortable, what am I supposed to do?” Josh told him once. Now in bed trying to fall asleep, Michael rolled over, and with a lurch his heart beat rose sharply in distress, realizing there was his cat, lying in the same space as his space. The left side of the bed, that had once been Josh’s. The left side that Michael still some how always managed to sleep to the right of, despite the bed being his alone now. Michael pulled his blankets up. “Cannelle, c’mere, c’mon girl.” he called. He’s not there, I’m so sorry, and you can’t understand why, I’m sorry. He apologized silently to the cat. She blinked her brown eyes, then rose, tail in the air, and settled down under the tent of the comforter Michael kept open for her. He stoked her fur for something, anything, to latch on to other than the buzzing ache that settled into his muscles. The first week is the hardest, he’d been told. That’s a lie, he thought. It doesn’t really get easier. Michael counted her exhales, inhales, exhale, inhale, exhales; until his eyes finally closed and he slept.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a... physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But... I shouldn’t be able to... why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac, Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look... good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But...” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But... Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of... more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “... I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian's shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs.  They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding.  “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him... here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her...” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.  

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “... We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious... I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Dahlia was an early riser, and like clockwork every morning she went to her chair on the front porch and smoked under the morning sun. But this spring morning she waited to receive her brother visiting for Passover, and this morning’s cigarette was interrupted by the arrival of Michael and his boyfriend Josh with suitcases in tow. She ran down the steps to hug her brother, and then shook Josh’s hand, thinking he somehow wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that she had any big expectations but she wanted only the best for her brother. She thought he was ordinary but handsome, with a wide friendly smile, crooked at the edges. He looked eager but nervous as Dahlia introduced herself. “So you’re the mysterious Canadian man my brother’s been dating huh? Good to finally meet you. I hope you’ve been keeping him out of trouble.” Josh laughed, a bright pleasant sound. “I’m studying criminal justice actually, if anyone will be keeping him on the straight and narrow it’s me.” His accent was noticeable and musical, and Dahlia saw Michael’s eyes shining as he glanced over at Josh. Her brother looked proud and happy she realized, happier and younger looking than when she’d last seen him. “Good, well we have some lovely matzo brei mom made on the stove, you’re welcome to it for breakfast.” “Thank god, I’m starving,” said Josh. “We left too early to have breakfast and nothing at the airport sounded good.” Josh left to go bring their luggage inside, and Michael stayed out on the porch with his sister. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Dahlia remarked. “What makes you say that?” Michael wondered. Dahlia offered him her cigarette and he took it. “You’ve got a love glow about you.” “I do not have a ‘love glow’,” he grumbled, blowing smoke through his nose. She laughed and took the cigarette back. “No, but seriously, you look really happy with him, not like with anyone else before. Seems like the real deal.” “Maybe. I hope so. I want mom and dad to like him.” He’s serious with this guy, Dahlia mused. Her brother caring about his parents opinions? That was a first. “I’m happy you’re home, Mike. And I wouldn’t worry about what mom thinks at least,” she said, peering into the doorway. “Look at her, she’s already fussing over him in there getting him enough on his plate.” Michael chuckled. “Better get in there and rescue him before he’s overfed.”

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. "Even if... I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I... I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for... y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters……… lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

He’d had trouble falling asleep, and now the forest was on fire. Michael had only wanted to go back to the lake shore for a bit, and sit by the waves to settle his racing thoughts, but he’d gotten lost on his way there and wandered down a too dark trail. Narrow flashlight beam the only light a head of him, he prayed he was going the right direction back to his family’s campsite. It was dark and freezing and Michael’s eight year old limbs were getting sore, when suddenly he smelled the thick smoke of burning wood in the breeze. A campfire, he thought. Good, he must be getting close. But as Michael traveled closer a hazy fog surrounded him and the nearby trees, his flashlight beam illuminating the smoke. He saw light ahead, fire glowing through the trees, but no wait, this was much too much flame to be a campfire. Michael stopped walking and watched bright clumps of fire crackling in the underbrush. This is really bad, his tired mind registered. Nervously he tried to move down wind away from the fire, coughing as he went, but the fire grew faster than Michael could walk. He hurried through he underbrush now, chest feeling heavy and head dizzy from inhaling smoke. Suddenly Michael had run himself into a rocky cliff face, the fire sparkling dangerously at his back. What do I do? he panicked. I don’t want to die, please. Michael moved around the rocks until he saw a natural crevice traveling back into the earth. Was that a cave? Fire could burn wood, he reasoned. But probably not stone. He crawled in between the rocks, shining his flashlight as he entered to check it was uninhabited, and saw it went back a few feet. The air in here was clear of smoke and much easier to breathe. Crouching in a small cave wasn’t ideal, but it was better than burning to death. Outside Michael saw the wildfire grow in intensity slowly. As it crawled along bark and dry leaves, a soothing crackling noise came from the charred forest. Tucked safely in his cave, Michael watched, cinders in the air reflecting on spellbound eyes. The blaze passed him by and devoured entire trees, cracking apart branches. Somehow now Michael felt less afraid; the air was warm, the fire’s glow bathing the opening of the cave in a lulling orange gleam. Eventually, Michael fell asleep lying curled in place on the rocks, the wildfire’s presence helping him find sleep better in a cave than back in a sleeping bag in a dark tent. In the morning he awoke, crawled out into the ashy remains damp with smoke, and traveled by the morning light through the destroyed forest until he found a path back to his family.

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

Every night his cat played a game with Josh, a one in which Josh always ended up losing as yet again Cannelle settled innocently on Josh’s chest or kneaded her way to resting on his legs and he felt too bad to disturb her. “Well, once she’s comfortable, what am I supposed to do?” Josh told him once. Now in bed trying to fall asleep, Michael rolled over, and with a lurch his heart beat rose sharply in distress, realizing there was his cat, lying in the same space as his space. The left side of the bed, that had once been Josh’s. The left side that Michael still some how always managed to sleep to the right of, despite the bed being his alone now. Michael pulled his blankets up. “Cannelle, c’mere, c’mon girl.” he called. He’s not there, I’m so sorry, and you can’t understand why, I’m sorry. He apologized silently to the cat. She blinked her brown eyes, then rose, tail in the air, and settled down under the tent of the comforter Michael kept open for her. He stoked her fur for something, anything, to latch on to other than the buzzing ache that settled into his muscles. The first week is the hardest, he’d been told. That’s a lie, he thought. It doesn’t really get easier. Michael counted her exhales, inhales, exhale, inhale, exhales; until his eyes finally closed and he slept.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a… physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But… I shouldn’t be able to… why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac,” Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look… good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But…” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But… Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of… more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “… I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian’s shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs.  They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding.  “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him… here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her…” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.  

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “… We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious… I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Dahlia was an early riser, and like clockwork every morning she went to her chair on the front porch and smoked under the morning sun. But this spring morning she waited to receive her brother visiting for Passover, and this morning’s cigarette was interrupted by the arrival of Michael and his boyfriend Josh with suitcases in tow. She ran down the steps to hug her brother, and then shook Josh’s hand, thinking he somehow wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that she had any big expectations but she wanted only the best for her brother. She thought he was ordinary but handsome, with a wide friendly smile, crooked at the edges. He looked eager but nervous as Dahlia introduced herself. “So you’re the mysterious Canadian man my brother’s been dating huh? Good to finally meet you. I hope you’ve been keeping him out of trouble.” Josh laughed, a bright pleasant sound. “I’m studying criminal justice actually, if anyone will be keeping him on the straight and narrow it’s me.” His accent was noticeable and musical, and Dahlia saw Michael’s eyes shining as he glanced over at Josh. Her brother looked proud and happy she realized, happier and younger looking than when she’d last seen him. “Good, well we have some lovely matzo brei mom made on the stove, you’re welcome to it for breakfast.” “Thank god, I’m starving,” said Josh. “We left too early to have breakfast and nothing at the airport sounded good.” Josh left to go bring their luggage inside, and Michael stayed out on the porch with his sister. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Dahlia remarked. “What makes you say that?” Michael wondered. Dahlia offered him her cigarette and he took it. “You’ve got a love glow about you.” “I do not have a ‘love glow’,” he grumbled, blowing smoke through his nose. She laughed and took the cigarette back. “No, but seriously, you look really happy with him, not like with anyone else before. Seems like the real deal.” “Maybe. I hope so. I want mom and dad to like him.” He’s serious with this guy, Dahlia mused. Her brother caring about his parents opinions? That was a first. “I’m happy you’re home, Mike. And I wouldn’t worry about what mom thinks at least,” she said, peering into the doorway. “Look at her, she’s already fussing over him in there getting him enough on his plate.” Michael chuckled. “Better get in there and rescue him before he’s overfed.”

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. “Even if… I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I… I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for… y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 10

I know these chapters aren’t as long as I’d like them to be, but I do try to get them out in some decent time frame! Thank you to everyone who has left feedback or comments in previous chapters! The next few chapters are going to be a lot of fun! - Fun for me to write, not so much fun for my characters... oops.

Chapter 1      Previous Chapter      Next Chapter

***

“It started out as a normal day. Hot. A little muggy, which was nice. Found another oogin creeper crawling around outside my sleeping bunk. Mean little things, but hey, made for a quick morning meal. Flargin’ thing nearly stung me before I got it down. Another day in paradise, I guess.

“But anyway, as I was saying, day seven hundred forty-one started out quite unremarkably regular. Then I saw the lights in the sky. I’d noticed them some time ago, as stated in previous entries, but they never really moved much, they were just… there. Until early this morning. Their movements were strange though, hard to make out. I knew it had to be something very high up in the atmosphere to look that distorted. Then stuff started falling, and I realized whatever was moving up there was from far beyond the planet’s atmosphere. From what I was able to salvage from the first three crash sites, it looks like the Galactic Confederation’s not having a very good time.”

The remainder of the recording was filled up with a mix of chuckling and clicking, which was replaced near the end with heavy, labored breathing. The bug-like alien scuttled down the steep incline, slipping the recording device into a pack on its back which had been growing heavier and heavier with each visit to a crash site.

Most of the debris burned or broke up in the atmosphere, completely disintegrating long before it reached the surface. A few things, bits of fighter clippers, chunks of engine frames, etc. but without a doubt, the prized find so far had been the ion core, still in its casing mind you! It was worse for wear, sure, but with a little bit of touch up and care… well. Who knows?

Maybe I’ll finally be able to get off this blast-drub rock.

In any case, the ion core had earned a very special spot in the pack - safe and secure as its new owner scurried quickly down the steep ravine towards the newest site.

Large foliage hung over the path, attempting to block the way, but it was quickly cut down by thin but sharp insect-like forearms. This new site was going to be good - it didn’t look like it had broken apart like the others - whatever had crashed could still be in good condition indeed!

The trail, if one could call it a trail- more of a route that run-off water takes after rain, became very steep and rocky. Scuttling legs were soon struggling to find purchase and were slipping and sliding. It became less of a hike down the slope and more of a fall-while-you-reach-from-tree-to-tree-to-break-said-fall down the slope. This was going to be a miserable hike back up to camp later.

It had better be worth it.

***

It seemed normal out here. Hot. A little muggy, which was awful. But it was breathable. Oh! It was breathable. Thank goodness.

“Okay, you were right about the atmosphere, but I’m still ticked and you’re still an idiot.” Wenona had been very hesitant about leaving the pod. This was an alien world, afterall! Who knows what kind of hell was waiting out there. They knew very little about it other than what they could see out the port window and what they could make heads or tails of from the pod’s readouts. Jeb had said it was habitable, and it sure looked that way - there was a lot of vegetation out there. The thing was, this was an alien planet, not Earth. Who’s to say these plants weren’t pumping out cyanide or some weird gas instead of oxygen?

Mike had gone off on how it had to be oxygen - because of how the sky looked, because of a reading on the console (a reading which was still in an alien language, which she had pointed out), and a bunch of other reasons. He had made some good points, but this was their lives on the line here, and his argument had a lot of assumptions sprinkled through it.

What’s more, Jebannuck still hadn’t woken up. They’d unfastened him after landing and laid him on the floor so he’d be more comfortable. Wenona had found some basic first aid supplies in one of the storage bays above the harnesses and had been able to clean and bandage him up. He was bleeding from his head injury - dark, gray/purpley blood was already starting to dry on his face. It didn’t look as bad once she cleaned him up. Head injuries were like that. She was mostly worried about any concussion when he hit, and also his shoulder, which looked like it’d been cut open in the explosion. The wound stretched around the top of his left arm, over his shoulder and around and down his back. They cleaned it up the best they could and tried to position him in a way that he would be comfortable.

Wenona insisted that they wait until Jeb was feeling better before they went out. Or at least wait until he woke up.

Yeah, that worked out well.

Thankfully, the captain had indeed sent them to a habitable planet. Or at least, the atmosphere didn’t immediately kill them. Still, that didn’t make Mike’s smug grin any less annoying.

“See, I told you.” somehow Mikes stupid smile got even bigger as he spun in the small clearing they had landed in. “Totally safe. They wouldn’t have sent us down here if the planet was dangerous.” “You mean more dangerous than the freakin’ war zone they sent us out of? Kind of hard to top that, Mike.”

Mike’s grin morphed into a frown as Wenona’s tone seemed to finally reach him. He folded his arms across his chest and furrowed his eyebrows, “Yeah? And who knows how long that’s going to last up there? We don’t know how long we’ll be here - we would have had to have left the pod eventually. We need to figure out where we are and what resources are nearby.”

That was a good point. Which was even more infuriating.

“Eventually. We would have had to have left the pod eventually. That doesn’t mean ‘Hey Mike, how about five minutes after we land, you jump out and put us all in danger from who knows what could be lurking around on a lousy alien planet!’”

Mike spread his arms to gesture at the clearing around them, “Maybe not, but look around. We’re fine, aren’t we?” “You didn’t know that before! You just act, you always just act without thinking! Whatever impulse flashes into your mind, you just go!”

“If I remember, me doing just that is one of the reasons we’re still alive - you’ve never had an issue with that before!”

“This is different - we weren’t fighting for our lives,” Wenona’s voice rang through the clearing, echoing back slightly. “There’s a time and a place, and you need to grow up and figure that out!”

Mike uncrossed his arms and took a step back. “Grow up? I should grow up?” He looked like he’d been slapped in the face. After a moment, he opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, tightly. Instead, he turned around and began walking toward the other end of the clearing.

“Where are you going?” Wenona yelled after him.

“Like I said,” he hollered back gruffly, “we need to find out what resources are nearby.”

He disappeared amongst the bright greens, yellows and purples of the trees. Wenona watched him go, still fuming. She stomped a few steps back to the pod door. There was a rounded object on the ground nearby, it looked like it must be made of a chunk of rotting wood. It was a weird shape to just find lying around, but it looked like it make for a good thing to kick. She really needed to kick something.

She took a lunge at it, wound up her leg, and… it exploded into a puff of spores. Poof! Her foot continued through where it had been, the momentum from her kick causing her to lose her balance and she fell in the now-settling cloud of spores and dust. She lay there for a moment before she covering her face with her hands to help muffle a scream.

Once getting that out of her system, she slammed her fists on the ground on either side of her. Her right hand landed in a growing pile of the spores. A sharp pain shot through her hand and up her arm. With a swear, she rolled over and scrambled to her feet. After pulling down her sleeve, she was able to cover up her hand as she squeezed - the pressure seemed to help alleviate the pain a little bit. Stupid alien tree ball!

“I freakin’ hate space, I hate this planet, I hate this forest, I wanna go home,” she muttered to herself over and over like an angry mantra as she walked back towards the pod. She hoped there was something in the first aid kits that would help.

***

“Well. Alright then. This is odd.” The object that had fallen from the sky had indeed been whole and intact. That what had been hoped for, and that’s where the expectations ended.

Upon arrival, it was apparent that this particular find could go two ways. One, the pod was empty, it had maybe been deployed accidentally in the madness, or perhaps had been blown loose under heavy fire. Two, the pod had someone aboard, or multiple someones, and were, no doubt, scanning the area. If it was option two, her current hiding spot would be discovered in a matter of time. Stay or go?

It was a risk, but after the long hike down she wasn’t about to give up and leave so easily.

“Wait it out. Wait it out”,” she whispered under her breath, fidgeting with a short makeshift blade that had been pulled out of the pack upon arrival.

To her extreme surprise, the pod opened after a short while and a strange, bipedal alien walked out. It appeared to be wearing a Galactic Confederation uniform. Another one followed it soon after. This one was slightly smaller and the fur on top of its head was longer and darker. They appeared to be of the same species, but it was a species that she was unfamiliar with. They were… oddly cute? They had no tails, no wings, and yet there they stood, there they walked around on only two straight legs. Their mouths? Well, what she thought they were their mouths were long and wide across the front of their heads. One, the second alien, opened its “mouth.” Large white teeth could be seen as it started making a variety of humming and chirping sounds. It was speaking to the other alien.

Whatever language they were speaking to each other in was apparently not included in her translator chip’s software. However, she didn’t need to know what they were saying to know the tone of the conversation.

From looks alone, she hadn’t expected that such creatures could get so loud. Or look so angry while being so loud. Between their soft looking skin and roundish faces, their anger almost seemed amusing, like an angry pet glahrkut. They didn’t appear to have any natural weapons or defenses, but all the same, there was something about them that made her feel glad to be hidden away in the trees. Something… she couldn’t quite put her antenna on why.

Ponderings were cut short as the first alien turned and started stomping towards her. She glanced up at the trees around her. Krag, too tall, and while carrying the loaded pack, there was no way she’d make it up there without being seen. If she made it at all.

“I’ll be fine,” she thought, “if I don’t move, it can’t see me with all the surrounding foliage. Unless it walks right into me. In which case,” she slowly pulled out the makeshift blade from the pack again, “this thing’s gonna learn real quick to not cross a montauk.”

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[queenie435]

Saturday,

I woke up early and without a word to the vampire I left the house. I was heading to a close friends home of mine. He invited me to stay for the rest of the weekend after hearing about my difficult evening the previous night.

Something heavy on my shoulders it seened, I reluctantly made the hour drive. More than anything I wanted to be a hermit that day. Lay around and wallow in my self pity. Allow some rebuttal maybe. If anything though, I've learned to keep moving on those days. Fight back..

Within a half hour on the road I was already feeling somewhat better. Energy returning where I thought was none.

We planned for a hike that afternoon and I dropped my son off at Grandpas before we started.

The woods as always were beautiful. Suprisingly warm. Sunshine swept through the ravines. Looking up, smiling as it Twinkled through the tree branches at us. Signs of spring were popping up all around us as we pushed into the forest.

I love nature. I pray each time I go that she still loves me.

In certain spots we'd sit quietly for long periods of time. I loved it that my friend refrained from asking me anything more than if I was thirsty from time to time.

We just walked, walked about for most of the afternoon.

Along the way He showed me a couple new crystals he had recently picked up. One stuck out to me. It was a beautiful piece, A crystal quartz tower. Almost flawless but a few small clouds in the center.

I held onto it for most of the hike.

As we grounded, Gaia revealed some extra gifts to us that afternoon. Some Dryad saddles, ramps and fiddle heads that paired nicely with our grilled chicken that evening for dinner.

His wife went to bed early and we quietly talked in his sun room/fireplace room for a long while. One white candle dimly lit the room between us.

As we talked, I couldnt help but notice the return of that heavy unsettling feeling. To the pit of my chest. Uneasy, unsettled, energy stuck. Then flash memories of the verbal argument the night before with my girlfriend would sneak up like a cold knife in the side. I'd wince at the pain.

I was so sharp and hurtful with my tongue. We've been together for years. I've never spoken that way ti her.

Dissapointed in myself for losing my control. The control I kept so well, so fortified I thought for years now. A strength I took pride in. To prideful in my strengths I thought... Always a harsh lesson.

As the pressure built, I lost track of my friends conversation. He tends to enjoy himself talking anyways.

I needed to take a trip inside to investigate what it was that was crushing me so harshly. Grinding away at one side of my skull slowly it felt. Depositing negative thoughts and feelings. Sapping my energy.

As I attempted to feel for what it was, take time to let it kill me if it needed to. I naturally reached into my pocket for a crystal to hold. To help me work.

My left hand felt around, I was happy for that moment to remember the quartz tower my friend let me hold for the hike.

Now, as I raised it to the candle light. Tower pointing up, I let the candle light dance to me through the flat sides. I found a side that gave me goosebumps

as I gazed. A bliss washed over me almost instantly.

Through the clarity of the quartz, slowly appearing, etheric golden wheels like cogs started forming inside. Like if you were opening up and peering into the innards of the swiss watchmakers finest watch. I was amazed! My mind was clear again! So clear, so blissful.

Surprised, I broke my concentration. Put the crystal back into my lap and slowly the bliss faded. My friend still talking quietly to himself stopped mid-sentence.

He asked me "Wtf was that?? I asked him to explain, what??.

I knew He felt the bliss too. But wanted to hear him say it.

He said he's never felt so good.

I asked him to watch quietly.

I repeated the crystal gaze.

The golden gears started to appear again.

Bliss washed over us both. This time, I sat for over an hour transfixed on the beauty revealing itself to me through the crystal. The crystaline shield around us now slowly increasing in size. My friend, I didn't realize at first, but He started channeling to me with his eyes closed. Telling me the size and design of the shield from a birds eye view. The architecture was crystalline mixed with Roman/Greek esque pillars. I saw it inside the crystal, he saw it around us. Beautiful he kept saying, try to push it larger.

After some time passed, my energy increasing with the strength of the shield. He told me that there were shadow entities trying to peer in from just beyond the shield. Slender men he described them. Tall, they'd stretch taller and taller to peer in. He knew they couldn't get in, nor see us clearly. They would slink down and are circling us he would say amused.

I broke concentration to take a peak out into the backyard. A tall shadow went zipping across the back deck, very quickly, went about 50 ft and dissapears through the back wall of the garage. Things inside the garage actuallycrashed loud enough to wake his two dogs. They ran growling at the garage door. Barked a few times. then rushed in to see check on us, Hair on their backs raised high.

He looked to me with eyes of amazement.

I went back into shield gaze.

Best to not think too much I've learned.

I must have held the shield up for another two hours, effortlessly really. My pleasure. My friend and I enjoyed the bliss. The clear mind, the NOW. I love it so, and get tastes of it not nearly enough. I Long for it as I get dragged back down. Sometimes pondering on if I made mistakes. If I'd ever get there again.

In it, I know diffrent. Someday I'll be fully 5d. We all will.

I had to use the restroom, so told friend I was breaking concentration.

As I spoke, I moved from my statue state.

3 aura green fairies flew off my head. Like little tiny butterflies dissapearing off into the room.

Purple, gold, pink pixel dust trailed behind them. I asked him if he saw, he slowly nodded and eyes wide told me at that moment I had huge whisps of green aura flowing under each eye. Like wings on my cheek bones. Said I was a wizard! Lol, I laughed. I wish it to be true someday I thought.

My friend wanted to go have a smoke in the garage.

I thought it not the wisest plan, But, I try to remind myself I'm not dead yet for some damn reason!

As we were getting up, and don't ask me why, but I pointed the tip of the crystal tower at the candle flame. The candle flame, It was incased in glass.

We both watched in amazment as the flame seemed to be getting sliced by some sort of energy flowing like a laser beam through the crystal point.

It was turning the flame red and then blue and even green! Very pronounced slicing through the candle flame. Making the candle flicker hard! Almost extinguished the flame at times. Amazing! Boggled our minds!

We forgot about everything else, heading out to smoke, we laughed while trying with the English words that seem to ever fail me, as to what we just saw.

Naturally it's gotten easier to press into our ever expanding box of beliefs. But somedays.. Wow!

Making it now into the garage, my friend points to a dark corner.

He says "it's there."

I look and sure enough the shadows, they are moving, dripping black darkness.

Poor attempt at hiding I thought.

It's no fear or lose big in these games I remind myself. So I bow my head briefly to it. My friend says hello to it. And we smoke.

It was sitting there, so I lit a Nag champa incense that was half burned.

I clutched a black tourmaline in my pocket.

The cigarette seemed to be taking to long. I felt the urge to get back to the comfort of the candle room.

I walked back towards the door to inside, then thought it bad form to leave my friend mid smoke. As I turned back around.

My friend seemed dazed. I asked him calmly to follow me inside. Though, by the look in his eyes, I knew He wasn't the friend I walked out here with.

I asked him again calmly, "lets head inside Dan, feel the safety of the crystals again."

"It's cozy in there, no?"

He's staring off now, then he says in a weird voice.

"Hold on, I'm just getting acquainted with this body. It feels realllly niccce. *laughs creepily*

but not really creepy, he felt gentle to me. He seemed sincere. Idk how to explain it. He looked like he was trying to figure out how to operate the body for the first time. He was impressed with it. He wanted to stay in the garage.

So I toyed with him on the light switch. Little bursts of light and periods of darkness while telling him to follow my voice to safety. He was laughing enjoying the light show. He listened to me finally. He Put the incense out and followed me back to the fireplace room. I had him sit close to me. I pulled back out the tower and went back into the shield gaze. It's notable that The shield went up so powerfully this time I could actually see it clear as day. Refracting the candle light . prism the light into colors. Immediately I was relieved, and he snapped out of it.

I didn't tell him what happened in the garage.

I held the shield until mornings light. When the beautiful sunshine came at last it felt like I could rest..

I've kept a close eye on my friend. He seems fine. He said he's felt the best since our interesting night.

Interesting night indeed.

[justanoutlawfic]

Resurrected: The Last Night

Anny on Twitter prompted: Could you write Regina’s last night with Robin and the kids before she left?

Feel free to submit prompts for this verse or ask me/the characters questions about it!

Also on AO3

3 Years Ago

 When someone a person love dies, it’s normal to think about their final moments with them. If it was a spouse, did they share one final kiss? If it was a family member, were their last words “I love you”? Often times, there are no romantic, epic final words or moments. Mostly, just an ordinary, every day conversation. At worst, maybe spouses went to bed angry or a child shouted “I hate you!” before their parent left for the store, never to return.

 Regina didn’t want that for her final night.

 She knew the plan, she and Jefferson had discussed it at length. It was due to storm the next day. Her car would veer off the road and go into a ravine. Jefferson knew some people that could make sure that it could be reported that her body was IDed without Robin having to see it. He’d be convinced to have a closed casket. Life would go on.

 Without her in it.

 Regina wanted to back out several times at first. They had a nice dinner, she made her lasagna that they all loved with apple turnovers for dessert. Between work and caring for three kids, she hadn’t had time to do it since before Margot was born, but she wanted to give it to them.

 She let Henry and Roland pick out a movie to watch. They all cuddled up on the couch while Willy Wonka played on the screen. Margot was nestled in her arms, reaching for the necklace that was around her neck. Robin had given it to her for their third anniversary. It was simple, a silver feather hanging from a matching chain but she loved it. On their third date, they went hiking and she had hated every minute of it. He had given her a feather he found, since there were no flowers around. It became a symbol of their relationship. At their wedding, there had been feathers in the bridesmaids’ bouquets and the groomsmen’s boutonnieres.

 A part of Regina wondered if she should bring it with her or leave it for Margot. She didn’t know when she’d be able to come back, if ever. She wanted her daughter to have it, she’d leave it in her jewelry box and hope that Robin knew to give it to her someday.

 “You like that necklace, don’t you, Maggie?” Regina asked softly.

Robin chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. “I think she’s 10 months old and thinks it’s shiny.”

“Either way, I want her to have it someday.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“It’s a special part of us. Maybe it can be a part of her.”

“Regina, are you okay?”

She forced a smile as she looked into his eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the future is all.”

“Let’s focus on the present.” He kissed her and she snuggled deeper into him, listening to the ramblings of Gene Wilder.

 After the movie, it was bedtime for the kids. Regina wanted to protest, say they could stay up just a little later…but she knew that’d be too suspicious. She allowed Robin to take Margot for bath time and she lead the boys upstairs, helping Roland get ready for bed. She had washed his favorite Star Wars pajamas, so they were nice and warm as he slid into them.

 “Mama,” he said as she pulled the covers up over him. “We’re going to the zoo next week at school.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Can you chaperone?”

Regina bit her lip. Normally, she shuffled work to make sure she could chaperone these things, but she didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep. “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Why not?”

“I just…I’m working on a case,” she lied. “But maybe Daddy can take you,”

“Okay. Will you read me a story?”

“Of course, my little knight.”

 She grabbed “On The Night You Were Born” and began to read it to him. Roland curled up in her side and she felt her breath catch as she got to the end. It was getting later, she still had to tend to Henry. She didn’t want the moment to end. Couldn’t she just freeze time and read to Roland? His birthday was in just a month. She had begged Jefferson to let her stay so she could spend one last one with him, but he told her that Zelena would step in if they didn’t do it soon.

 God, she hated that woman. Another part of her hated herself. If she had just let things go after she lost the case, if she hadn’t been so stubborn to avenge Neal Gold’s death, then maybe she wouldn’t be in this situation.

 Once the book was over, she pressed a kiss to her son’s curls and realized he was asleep. “I love you Rolo,” she whispered.

 She headed down the hall to Henry’s room, he was reading his own book. Regina realized that her oldest son was close to being a pre-teen. She was going to miss puberty and his teen years. Some parents might be envious of that, but this was her first baby. She had watched him grow. Deep down, she knew that Robin would never lean on him more than needed, but he’d still grow up fast. Both she and her husband had lost a parent long before they should’ve and it had an effect on them. She had been Henry’s age when Cora died and she always promised she’d do what she could to not do that to any of her children.

 Oh, how stupid that promise had been.

 “It’s time for bed, sweetheart,” she said.

Henry groaned, but put a marker in his book. “Alright.”

She walked closer and pulled up the blankets. “Do you want me to read to you a bit?”

He rolled his eyes slightly. “I’m not a baby like Roland or Margot, I don’t need that stuff.”

 Any other night, she would’ve rolled her eyes in return. That particular one, however, it made her want to cry. It wasn’t as if he knew, but she didn’t want him to have any regrets.

 “You’ll always be my baby,” she reminded him, instead. “I love you so much, remember that.”

“I love you too, Mom. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She kissed his forehead. “I have to leave early tomorrow, so have a good day.”

“You too.”

 He rolled over in bed, shutting his eyes. She knew the minute she left, his booklight would be on and he’d be reading again. She’d let him do it, unlike all the other nights she’d sneak the light out with her. She saw his tiny smile as she left the room, almost as if he knew that she was giving her blessing to give him a little bit more time.

 Knowing she would say goodbye to her daughter last, she went downstairs and cleaned up the living room and kitchen. She answered some e-mails, debating whether or not to call her father. No, he’d be suspicious the minute he heard her voice.

 Eventually, she went upstairs to her room. She found Robin coming out of the bathroom, in his pajamas and looking exhausted. She walked over to him and kissed him passionately. He smiled within the kiss and wrapped his arms around her.

 “I love this,” he whispered, when they pulled away for air. “But I’ve got to drop Henry off at school for a project early tomorrow. Rain check?”

 Regina bit her lip, she needed one last night with him, just as badly as he would wish they have. Yet, she didn’t want to pressure him. She didn’t want to fight that night.

 “Sure.”

 They climbed under the covers and he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her collarbone. God, Regina loved those kisses. Anyone could give a peck on the lips, but kisses elsewhere were just so overrated. She was going to miss them.

 “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you too.”

 She knew Robin could move on. She wanted him to. She didn’t want him to spend the rest of his life mourning and grieving. She wasn’t sure if she ever would find someone new, but she hoped he wouldn’t be lonely. Maybe her kids would gain a new mother figure. As much as it hurt, she needed them to be happy. She needed them to move on. It was the only way she’d ever be able to live with herself.

 Regina didn’t sleep that night. Robin was snoring softly not long after they curled up in each other’s arms, but her mind was swirling. She’d go to her office and do a bit of work in the morning. Once it was storming enough, she’d start driving to grab lunch. She’d meet up with Jefferson, who would arrange for her car to go overboard. One of his friends would arrange for her to head to his private airport, where her entire look could change.

 Regina Locksley-Mills would be dead. Roni Ramirez would live on in Seattle, Washington. No family, no friends. Just a bartender who needed a fresh start.

 Eventually, her alarm clock went off and she smashed the button. She wormed herself out of Robin’s grasp and got ready before turning to her husband. Since she got up, in her sleep he had sprawled out, taking up half the bed. God, she was going to miss him. She gently kissed his lips, which made him mumble something before falling back asleep, not even opening his eyes.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered as soon as she knew that he wouldn’t hear it. “I am so sorry.”

 She headed to the nursery where Margot slept soundly. She ran her fingers through her hair. Robin, Roland and Henry would remember her. They’d have the good times in their heads. For Margot, she’d be a legend, a story. She’d have pictures, but she’d never know the love that Regina felt her.

 She lifted the sleeping baby into her arms and rested her forehead against hers. She inhaled her sweet baby smell, reminding herself how lucky she was that she was by far their easiest baby. Slept through the night by 6 months, wasn’t even waking up then. Her stomach moved up and down to show she still breathed, but outside that, she wasn’t even moving.

 “I love you, Peanut. And I am so sorry, Mommy’s so sorry.”

 Sliding her back down into the crib, Regina walked out of the room and found a family portrait that hung on the wall. It had been taken a little after Margot was born, their annual photoshoot. They were all in suits, even the baby. Everyone was smiling from ear to ear, Margot hadn’t even put up much of a fuss. It was how she wanted to remember her family. Pure, sweet.

 Regina walked down the stairs and set up the coffee so all Robin would have to do was turn on the machine. She put dry cereal in the bowls so Henry and Roland would just have to add the milk. She even fixed a bottle for Margot and made sure her breakfast was out.

 Soon, there was nothing left to do but walk out the door for the last time. Regina’s car would pull down Mifflin Street one final time.

 She wouldn’t return for another 3 years.