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an-absolute-travesty · 4 years ago

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Secret Santa fic!

Heya @all-eternity it was me all along! I hope you enjoy this :) very much looking foward to actually being able to follow you after this without looking sketchy lmao

Also shoutout to my lovely beta reader @keepersandqueens as if I don’t talk about Salas enough here lol

Warnings: underage drinking, drinking in general, hangover, drugs/medication mention (not abused, basic over the counter stuff dw), mentions of vomit (not described)

Pairings: Kam, background marelinh, ex titz

About: Kam coffee shop college au

Word count: 5,205

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added or removed): @cadence-talle @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlyvacksen @percabetn @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42 @rainbowtay-11 @callas-starkflower-stew @impostertamsong @appalyneinstitute1 @stars-and-splendor @anna-without-an-e @mistythegenderqueermess @we-have-no-bananas-today @we-wont-dissapear @jadenightthewriter

Tam stumbled into his first 8 am class, anxiety making his heart feel like it was pounding out of his chest and stomach doing backflips.

If he could survive bouncing between foster homes, a short stint at juvie, and worst of all high school, he could survive college.

Well he thought he could until he saw a familiar person right next to the only available chair in the room.

God fucking damn it.

"Hey Bangs Boy!" Keefe waved him down, causing a scene. Tam had no option but to sit beside him, both because of the lack of chairs and the fact that everyone was now staring at him.

Not a great start.

"What a coincidence! I notice you still haven't taken my suggestions on your hair, I'm telling ya' you'd get all the girls and or guys and nonbinary pals with a man bun." Keefe looked smug at the fact he'd be able to taunt Tam for another semester, minimum. Tam was already making a mental note to check when he could swap out of classes.

"Keefe, if I knew you were going here I would've just gotten myself back in jail, oh wait, you were the one who got me in there in the first place." Tam shot him a look, praying that he'd suddenly develop superpowers and shoot lasers from his eyes.

"Hey, just because I came up with the idea...and helped with some of the execution, doesn't mean I'm responsible for you trashing your parents house. Besides, you were only in there for like 3 days max before you got out," Keefe said, shrugging as if 3 days in jail was no biggie.

"Most peaceful 3 days of my life," Tam sneered, turning back to the front of the room as the professor walked in.

"Good morning class!" the prof turned to the white board, writing his name. "I am Dr. Harding," he tapped it for emphasis.

The class was silent.

"And you say good mor..."

"Good morning Dr. Harding," The class said in unison, they all sounded tired and bored.

This wasn't going to be fun.

~*~

"Grande ice vanilla latte for...Hen-are-y?"

The man shot Keefe a look as he grabbed his coffee.

"Henry." He dropped a tip in the jar, fifty cents. How generous.

He had come in before, and never left good tips. Keefe made it a game to pronounce the names of anyone who wasn't a college student and left bad tips wrong, no matter how much they came in. It was a wonder he hadn't been fired yet.

As he turned preparing another drink, the bell at the top of the door rang. He ignored it at first until he heard a quiet, "Fuck," come from behind.

"Bangs boy!"

"Why are you here?"

"I work here obviously," Keefe walked up to the counter. "Now, what'll it be?"

Tam sighed. "Iced caramel macchiato with two extra shots of espresso."

"Size?"

"Venti."

Keefe whistled thinking about how much caffeine that was as he wrote down "Bangs Boy" on the cup.

"Alright, that'll be 5.75, may I ask why the insane amount of coffee? I believe I remember you saying caffeine makes you anxious in high school."

"Yes, but it also helps me focus, and I have a quiz tomorrow I haven't studied for."

"Fair enough," Keefe said, going to prepare the drink. "It'll be ready in five."

Tam nodded, walking off to the side and scrolling on his phone. Keefe made the drink, occasionally sneaking looks over at Tam. He didn't seem to notice, thank God.

Soon after, they finished the transaction.

"See you at class," Keefe said, he was trying to be genuine, but it came across more taunting.

Tam grimaced, muttered "Thanks for the coffee," and walked out the door.

~*~

The class fell silent as a disheveled Dr. Harding walked in, a pack of gatorade in one hand and bottle of tylenol in the other. He popped one as he sat down.

"Hello class it seems today I have the worst headache imaginable, just give me about 5 minutes of silence and we will go over your assignments."

Keefe leaned over to Tam's desk.

"Well, we know what he got into last night," he whispered. "Heard the bar on the corner of 5th was giving out two for ones for professors."

"Isn't that place run by the alumni?"

"Exactly. Gotta thank Alvar tomorrow, Fitz said it was his idea."

"Wait Fitz goes here too? Why did I not-"

"Boys!" Dr. Harding practically yelled. "I am tired of the racket." He put his face in his hands where his elbows rested on the desk, bald spot showing to the world.

"We were whispering!" Keefe made a 'what the hell' sort of gesture. Tam glared at him, hoping he could communicate 'I will kill you myself if you say another word' with just his eyes.

"Sencen, do I look like I care?"

Keefe winced a bit at the use of his last name. That was something Tam could understand.

"Look, boys," Dr. Harding stood up and turned to the chalkboard, writing something down. "If you all like talking so much, you'll love this next project."

He walked to the side, revealing the board, that read '10 page essay, due the 25th'

"With the person next to you, you'll be writing a 10 page essay on um...the importance of keeping your oil changed in your car. You'll then present it to the class. It's worth 25 points."

A student raised their hand.

"Luka?"

"Sir, I thought this was a psychology course?"

"It is. You are all excused."

With that, he left the room with his tylenol and gatorade in his arms. The students glared at Keefe and Tam as they all got up, muttering amongst themselves about the pure bullshittery of it all.

"So..." Keefe said, slowly standing. "Does the library tomorrow at 3 work? I have work until then, so it can't be any earlier."

"Yeah, sure." Tam promptly walked out of the classroom as fast as possible, he didn't know why but his anxiety was spiking. He tried to tell himself it was just because he was a useless gay that didn't know jackshit about cars, yeah, surely that was it.

Just a useless gay.

~*~

Tam waited at a table in the library, it was 3:05, Keefe was late.

He didn't know what else he expected from him, he always seemed to do stuff like this. At the same time, Tam didn't have the energy to be particularly mad at him. This was going to be the stupidest essay ever written in the history of man, might as well put it off.

The library door slammed open, and in came Keefe. He balanced a large stack of papers and books along with four drinks. He stumbled over to Tam and practically threw them down on the table.

"Sorry I'm late, I thought it would be nice to, like, get you a coffee, but I didn't know how much caffeine you wanted, so I got one decaf caramel macchiato, one normal, and one with an extra shot, and also hot chocolate for me."

He sat down in the chair by Tam, as if getting three different coffees for someone you were forced to do a project with was totally normal.

"Um...thanks, I-I can pay you back-"

"Don't worry about it." Keefe turned to him and smiled, bright and friendly. Tam was frozen. "Okay, now it's car time." Keefe turned back to the desk.

"Yeah."

They were silent for a while as they researched, Keefe going through his piles of papers and books and Tam on his laptop like any sane person would.

Tam finally worked up the nerve to talk.

"So um...this is out of nowhere, but I think you mentioned Fitz went here?"

"Oh, yeah." Keefe put down the absurdly large textbook that was set up in front of him. "He's my roommate, he uh thought it would be best not to tell you after everything, I guess."

"That's fine," Tam shrugged like he didn't care. "I'm over it."

He was, really. They only dated like 2 weeks, sure it ended with a...pretty big fight after Fitz claimed he wouldn't be able to date someone who had gone to jail and Tam reminded him it was his best friend that got him in there in the first place, but he was still over it. There was still something bothering him, nothing to do with Fitz himself but...something. He just couldn't put his finger on what.

"Alright, I'll take your word." Keefe shrugged, setting his giant book back up in front of him.

Tam felt the need to start talking again, but didn't. They were mostly silent for the next 40 minutes or so, just researching and the occasional word exchanged between them.

Keefe checked his phone.

"Shit," He got up. "Work emergency, I gotta go. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah that works."

"Chill, see ya' later."

"Bye."

Keefe waved (with a wide grin Tam would've called idiotic in high school) as he went out the door.

Tam found himself with a smile on his own face, he quickly stopped, hoping no one saw.

~*~

Keefe hurried into work, pulling his apron on as he saw the absurdly long line and a panicked Marella frantically making coffees behind the counter. She sighed with relief when she saw him.

"Thank God," She said as he stepped behind the counter with her. "There was a scheduling error, Forkle's useless at that stuff."

Mr. Forkle, their well-meaning but often mistaken manager, was out of town at the moment. The fate of the Starbucks rested on two college kids, what could go wrong.

And so they went, Keefe taking orders and Marella fulfilling them until there were no more to serve.

Marella, quite literally, threw in a towel she had wiped her face with. Promptly going to the back, presumably for her break. Keefe followed her.

"Alright, I think you can probably go back to whatever you were doing before this now if you'd like," said Marella, inspecting the small braids in her hair in the nearest shiny surface.

"Nah I was just doing a project with Tam for Harding's stupid class, he's probably left by now, I might as well rack up some overtime."

Marella turned back at him, clearly caught off guard at the name.

"Tam? As in my-girlfriend's-brother Tam? As in you-had-a-massive-crush-on-in-highschool Tam? As in dated-Fitz Tam? As in you-got-him-in-jail-"

"Yes! Yes! Why does everyone remind me of that, it was one time."

"When you get someone in jail, people tend to remember," Marella went silent for a second, thinking, before looking Keefe in the eye. "Wow, that must be awkward as hell, I mean seriously, if I were you I'd straight up file a restraining order just to avoid him. Maybe move to another country. I hear Estonia is lovely this time of year."

"Eh, it's not as bad as it seems. I mean it was awful at first, mostly because I tried to resume right where we left it on the taunting front, but I think it's ok now."

"Hm. Well good luck with that," Marella turned back to go to the front, but Keefe grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Uh, actually I need your advice on something. It has to do with Tam."

"Shoot."

"Well I was thinking of maybe, I don't know, asking him out or something? Look, yeah, it's an awful idea but is it 'he never wants to talk to me again' awful or 'he attempts to strangle me' awful?"

Marella looked him up and down, eyes uncomfortably cold, as usual.

"I mean, no hetero, but despite your annoying qualities you're a decent looking guy. Plus Tam's, like, super anxious according to Linh, so maybe he'll be too awkward to say no. You can probably squeeze at least one date in there."

"Wow, thanks Mare," Keefe mumbled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, I try. Also don't call me Mare."

"Alright Ella!" Keefe called as the front door's bell rang, signalling a new customer. Marella went off to take care of it, unable to respond she growled back at him.

~*~

Tap tap tap tap tap.

Tam glared from across the table.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

Keefe looked up, muttered a simple "Fidgety" and went right back to it, tapping his pen against the table. Tam said nothing more.

Keefe had been quiet for this entire meeting, something highly unusual for him.

"Ok, seriously dude, what's up? I haven't seen you this quiet literally ever."

He only seemed to get more fidgety at this question, his bouncing leg shaking the library table.

"I...um..." he looked down, running a hand through his hair "I have a test I need to cram for and no one to study with and keep me accountable. Y'know, ADHD issues."

Tam didn't overthink for once in his life but the moment the sentence was out of his mouth he regretted it.

"I have a test too, maybe we could study together?"

Keefe smiled his annoyingly charming smile.

"Sounds good."

"Good."

Tam quickly looked back down at his computer, trying to look like he was still doing car research when in actuality he was processing he just actively offered to spend more time with Keefe Sencen.

If Linh found out about this he'd never live it down.

He didn't think he cared.

~*~

Dr. Harding walked through the classroom door, clearly much less hungover than his last appearance.

The students waited, would they get an apology? Any sort of remorse?

"Alright, who wants to read first?"

Apparently not.

Keefe raised his hand with too much confidence for what their essay looked like. Tam gave him a confused look. He had his scheming face on, never good.

"Mr. Sencen!" Keefe winced at the use of his last name by the doctor. "What an amazing start, it's only appropriate. One of you boys come up and present."

Tam gave Keefe a look of 'do you want me to do it?' Keefe just smiled and got up from his chair. This would either be really good or really, really bad. Tam was all too familiar with the scheme face.

"Doc, I did depart from the source material a bit here, hope you don't mind. And I use 'I' because Tam had no involvement in this, he deserves full points for his essay."

Keefe cleared his throat, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"Doctor Harding deserves to get fired: an essay. (And it's only been a week!) Paragraph one, his drinking problem-"

"Sencen! Back to your seat now. I will see you after class, or I will not see you in my next class, understand?"

Keefe gave a thumbs up as he sat back on his chair with a thud.

A few minutes later, in the middle of another student's essay, he passed Tam a note with his loopy handwriting.

"The amount of comebacks I had for 'see me after class' is absurd but if I get kicked out there's no way Elwin is helping me pay tuition a second time."

Tam tried not to smile, certainly failing, as he wrote his response.

"Yeah I think the time you talked back to Miss Cadence she wanted to expel you. Lucky Principal Alina had a thing for pseudo-dad Alden."

"Oh God I haven't talked to him in a whiiiiiile."

"?"

"You haven't heard? Yeah, he sorta found out like ALL his kids were ell gee bee tees and freaked out. Della found herself a new gf though!"

"Sounds like a lovely extra punch in the gut for a queerphobe."

"Yep. Honestly I recommend looking through his Facebook sometime. Just a million rants about how the gays destroy everything, great entertainment."

"Duly noted."

At that point it seemed like the doctor started to take notice of their note passing, and they stopped quickly. Tam wouldn't be surprised if he did the whole high school read in front of the class thing with the way he had been acting so far.

Tam was 100% sure tenure was the only thing keeping this guy's job intact. Apparently being a drunk asshole wasn't near enough to get a person out of their position. He tried to ignore the professor's annoyingly smug face for the rest of the class.

~*~

Keefe sat in his usual spot at the library, Tam sitting across from him, his brown eyes dancing across the textbook page and lips mumbling along the words. He didn't have much to do, often finding himself just staring at Tam, quickly looking away if he seemed to notice.

Eventually he sighed, sitting back.

"Ugh, this test is in a week and I have so much other crap to do, I'll never get this all memorized by Friday."

Keefe silently thanked his brain for managing to get around the having to study thing. Yay, photographic memory!

"Oh, uh, well I'm free to study more tomorrow if that would help? We could do, like, flashcards or something."

Tam seemed to repress a smile. He did that a lot. Keefe always noticed.

"That's okay, I'm sure you have better things to do. The Starbucks is always pretty packed."

"Eh, sometimes you have to get away from Marella. She's mean to me."

"Not just you, once she told me if I ever made fun of Linh's cat's name again she'd make me cut off my own bangs."

Keefe nodded sagely. "The shorter you are the closer to hell. That's why you're worse than her."

"Hey!"

Tam flicked a stray rubber band at Keefe.

"I'm at least 2 inches taller than Marella...we measured."

Keefe thought up about 12 inappropriate jokes he couldn't make before flicking the rubber band back.

"Two inches only counts in roller coasters, none of which you can ride."

Tam stuck his tongue out before returning to his studies. Unlike Tam, Keefe didn't hide his smile.

~*~

Tam strolled into the Starbucks that Friday morning, no longer surprised to see Keefe working the counter. He could barely hold still in line as he thought about the amount of cramming he'd have to do in the next few hours.

When he reached the counter, Keefe said nothing, just busily worked making a drink.

He stuck it right out at Tam.

"One venti iced caramel macchiato with 2 extra shots of espresso because you have a test today in political science and still haven't studied everything and also a muffin because you probably haven't eaten today. On the house. Good luck with the studying."

Tam froze.

"I- um- th-thaks. Y-you too...sport."

Oh, you fucking idiot.

He quickly scurried out of the Starbucks with drink and muffin in hand. Wow, he had screwed that up.

But...

Keefe...

He...

He remembered his order and that he had a test and that he forgot to eat when he was stressed holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit-

Okay, deep breaths Tam, you got this. You can totally handle a frustratingly cute guy showing care for you this is fine...

Not fine, not fine, gotta tell Linh.

He called Linh with no forewarning. Despite the fact that she was currently across the country at a different university, and it was about 3 am for her, she picked up. He barely let her get out a groggy "Hello?" before explaining everything. She only seemed to think a moment before responding.

"Hm. Well it's good to know that college is going good for you. Do you need advice or comfort?"

"Yes."

"Well, first of all, everything's gonna be okay. And I know that doesn't help much but just try to remember we're eighteen, and it's not the end of the world. Second of all, try to ask him out or something. It doesn't have to be framed as a date, like Marella and I got together on a walk in the park, seriously it can be anything."

"Thanks Linh."

"No problem, also can you hug Marella for me?"

"If she doesn't try to kill me first, yes."

"Nice. Okay go do what you gotta do, also don't wake me up at 3 am again or else I'll sic Purryfins on you, I had just gone to bed."

With that she hung up and Tam continued on his way, still trying to not completely freak out.

~*~

Keefe stared blankly as Tam walked right out of the door. Marella appeared by his arm.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Well, he called me 'sport'."

Marella inhaled through her teeth.

"Yikes. Comfort, advice, or distraction?"

"Distraction, please." Keefe replied, absent-mindedly preparing a cup for the next customer.

"Uh, well I meant to ask you what ended up happening with that ass of a teacher, but I got a bit distracted at your attempt to woo Tam-"

"Hey I said distraction not reminder. But basically I just got a slap on the wrist because, and I quote, 'Your father is Cassius Sencen! He wrote half the books we use in this class, I'm sure he can straighten you out!'"

"There's absolutely nothing papa Sencen could do to make you straight, I'm pretty sure he tried that, and it obviously didn't work."

"He actually tried a few times and it most definitely did not. Lucky he doesn't have my number anymore or else I assure you he'd keep trying."

Marella laughed.

"Well, moving on from grade A assholes, I'm supposed to tell you there's a party tonight. I'll have to send you the address later, I have it on my phone though, I am told there's gonna be booze, so I'm going."

"Eh, I'll probably go. Just to get my mind off everything."

"Thata boy." She lifted her phone. "And my shifts over in three, two, one, and I am out of here! See ya' tonight Hunkyhair."

"That's Lord Hunkyhair to you."

She just rolled her eyes and clocked out, leaving Keefe to deal with both the customers and his own thoughts.

~*~

Tam sat in his dorm room alone, constantly refreshing his grades for the possibility that his 70-year-old professor would post the test results at 1:30 am.

His roommate was gone for the weekend, actually he was gone most of the time. Tam didn't think they'd even had a full conversation before.

He jumped as his phone began to ring, a call from Keefe of all people. He hesitantly picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Tam! Tam Tam Tam Tam Tam" Keefe's slurred speech was too loud for a phone call, Tam held his phone a bit away from his ear. "...fuck wait why did I call you..."

There was a long pause, neither said anything.

"Oh yeah! I needed to tell you something...but uh I uhm I forgot what it was."

"Keefe, where are you?"

"At a paaaaaarty, well, actually just outside a party because it was hot in there, but now it's cold out here so uh yeah."

Tam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, send me the address, I'm coming to pick you up. Wait right there and don't move."

"Okie dokie."

Tam heard a thud sort of sound and the rustling of grass from the other line before Keefe hung up and soon after got a message of his location.

After 20 minutes of walking in the cold, Tam came up to what seemed to be a frat house with Keefe sitting on the lawn in criss-cross, patiently waiting in short sleeves and basketball shorts, way too little clothing for the weather. His ruddy face smiled as he saw Tam approach.

"Tam! I remembered what I was going to tell you." He stood up, face falling right after. "Oh no wait I forgot again. Ooh! You need a drink."

Keefe grabbed Tam's hand, pulling him towards the house. Tam stayed in place.

"Hey, let's get you home dude."

Keefe pouted.

"I don't wannaaaa."

He slouched down, pulling on Tam's arm like a child having a tantrum.

Tam pulled him back up to his feet.

"C'mon, if you go to your dorm without fuss I'll buy you ice cream tomorrow."

Keefe seemed much more ok with going along with Tam with the ice cream deal. He pulled off his own coat and placed it around the very drunk boy, he didn't complain.

Keefe began humming some annoying song from the early 2000s that was playing from the house earlier as they walked back in the direction of the dorms.

Suddenly, Tam remembered something.

Fitz was Keefe's roommate.

Shit.

"Hey uh do you think Fitz is at your dorm?"

Keefe nodded confidently.

"Yep! Said he was gon' study. Wouldn't come to the party because of his 'reputation' or whatever."

Around reputation he did exaggerated finger quotes, nearly knocking Tam's jacket off his shoulders.

"Hm...in that case let's go to my dorm, ok?"

Keefe shrugged, apparently willing to go along with most things in his current state. Thank goodness Linh had made Tam bring extra pillows and blankets to college, he could sleep on the floor and just hope Keefe didn't get sick on him in the night.

It was ridiculously hard to lead Keefe back to his dorm. He tried to pull down his pants halfway there and Tam almost had to carry him up the stairs but soon enough they got there. He sighed with relief as he led his inebriated friend into the room.

"Okay, you can stay here for the night. I'll sleep on the floor."

Keefe plopped himself down on Tam's bed laying flat for only a moment before sitting up with a snap and a look of realization in his eyes.

"OOH! I remember what I was gonna tell you again!"

"Oh?" Tam said playing along, expecting him to forget again.

He patted the spot next to him on the bed, Tam continued to play along, sitting next to him.

"So Marella said that I should just tell you this, and it worked for her, so I'm gonna. And uh and you have to promise to listen 'cause I'm not sayin' it again."

At this point Keefe grabbed his face with both hands, staring right in Tam's eyes and squishing his cheeks.

"You're listening right?"

Tam nodded, mostly to shake Keefe's hands off his face.

"Okay."

Keefe took in an over dramatic breath as if he was preparing to preform in the Olympics before getting another grin on his face.

"I really like you."

"You really like me?"

He nodded mumbling "mhm".

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I like you. Like, like like you."

"Like...as a friend?"

"I said I wasn't gonna repeat myself. As a booooyfriend." At this point Keefe fell back on the bed, looking at the ceiling. Tam's cheeks were burning.

"How long have you liked me like that?"

"Mmmm..." Keefe seemed to ponder for a moment, "Prolly high school."

"Oh um...good to know. You should get some rest. I'll be down here if you need me."

"Alrighty."

Tam shut off the lights and Keefe started snoring quick. Tam could only stare up in the darkness, unable to sleep.

~*~

Keefe woke up that morning in a room he didn't recognize to a killer headache and dead phone.

He turned to the side, seeing a pile of blankets and pillows with a large gatorade, bottle of tylenol, and a note next to it. Suddenly last nights memories came flooding back.

Oh, shit.

He scrambled out of bed, headache and nausea hitting him harder as he stood up.

Despite the fact his head was spinning, he picked up the note from the ground and read it.

Hey, meet me at the reservoir around 6, we need to talk -Tam

F. U. C. K.

Had he really said all that stuff last night? Surely it was a dream, right?

Oh God.

He gathered his few belongings, plus the things to help the hangover, and left the dorms as fast as possible. Only having to stop once along the way to throw up in one of the campus trash cans, hopefully no one would notice.

Keefe didn't have anything to do and he really didn't want to face Fitz so he went about his day in last nights clothing. Then again, it was a college campus. Someone walking around with rumpled clothes carrying a gatorade probably wasn't that big of a deal for most people. By 5:30 he sat impatiently in the empty park where the reservoir was located, it was colder closer to the water.

Just as promised, at 6 o'clock he saw Tam approaching on the horizon.

~*~

Tam was damn near a panic attack as he walked around the park attempting to find Keefe. Eventually he found him, sitting on a bench still in his clothes from last night, face once again ruddy from the cold. He sat next to him wordlessly.

"So," Keefe started.

"So," Tam replied, looking down at his lap.

"Tam I-" Keefe turned to face him. "I'm sorry about everything last night, I probably just made everything super awkward. Not to mention it's a giant violation of the friend code to even have a crush on your best friend's ex-"

"Yeah, about that."

"What?"

"You're gonna maybe kill me for this but uh," Tam pulled on his bangs. "I sorta talked to Fitz about it, I figured you wouldn't and apparently I was right. He said he was okay with it as long as we were ok with it."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Tam sighed, "Perhaps."

Keefe once again wore that shit-eating grin of his.

"Can I hear you say it?"

"Why don't you have to say it?"

"Already said it last night! Your turn now. Why did you take care of me while I was drunk?"

Keefe stared at Tam excitedly waiting for the answer. Tam sighed.

"Because I love you, little shit."

"Ooh you said it-"

Tam smashed his lips against Keefe's, both quickly melting into it. After only a moment they pulled away.

"Agh, you taste like gatorade and vomit."

"Well you taste like salt so really what's worse."

"Definitely the vomit."

Despite this, Tam leaned back in. This kiss was a moment longer than the last, and when Tam pulled away Keefe chased it.

"Ok, look I'm sorry but you look like shit Keefe you have to go change." Tam removed his jacket, throwing it around Keefe once again and helping him up from the bench. Keefe laughed.

"Yeah, you're right. Ooh now that we're a thing you need a new nickname!"

"I do?"

"You do, how about 'Bangs Boyf' ooh or maybe you can be my 'provoked partner' or my 'snappy spouse' my 'agitated accomplice' perhaps."

"Do you just have these ready and prepared for any situation?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

"You aren't Houdini, you're an 18-year-old boy that currently reeks of frat party."

"Eh that's basically the same thing. I've seen some 18-year-olds at frat parties preform tricks Houdini could never dream of."

Tam sighed dramatically. "It's a good thing you're pretty, you know."

"Hey!" Keefe jokingly shoved him.

For the first time Tam's smile wasn't repressed.

#hope you like this elliot!#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kam #keefe sencen #tam song #kotlc fic #scheduled to post at 9 am and ill reblog once i get back to my phone because ill be doing x-mas stuff

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

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The last chapter of the Jrumbot story, but look out for some bonus stuff coming in the future.

Rustic House Club

True froze when she saw them just standing there. Sense was holding Grifter close to him by the waist while holding some sort of new redstone weapon in his other hand. Meanwhile his husband had TNT in one hand and a spawn egg in the other.

“Hello True. I don’t think weapons will be helping you out here then, hmm?” Sense spoke up, making her grip the handle of her axe harder. “If you want to make this easy on yourself, you can just step down and let me take over. Or…”

“Not a fat fucking chance. If you two are in power, there won’t be anything left within a few days.”

“Oh please, we can probably leave some land intact.”

True growled back at Sense. “Why don’t you just fuck back to season four and rule there?”

“Because then we still have to live with the fact that you still have Gri’s replacement here.” Sense spoke, pulling his hand away from Grifter to put it on his own hip. “And you know he’s still angry about that.”

True looked over at Grifter who was playing with his TNT. She flinched every time it spun between his fingers, expecting an explosion every time. “Obviously we’ll start by kicking him out. Then we can do a little… renovating around here. I mean, who built this place anyway?”

True threw her axe at Grifter before running at him. Sense pointed his weapon at her, firing some sort of laser at her leg. It went right through her armor, making her scream as she collapsed to the floor. She tried to get up, but Grifter put a foot on her side, not giving her the chance to move. The pressure was light enough that she probably could, but it likely was only done that was to try and goad her into making an attempt.

Sense moved closer to Grifter, playing with a tuft of hair and kissing his cheek before looking back down at True. “Now, is the throne mine? Or will we have to do more?”

The empress stared up at the pair for a few moments before letting her head fall to the ground. “Fine… you win, bitch. At least give me a chance to tell Whiskey first.”

“Very well.” And Sense holstered his weapon, watching the message True typed out and sent, making sure the receiver was listed as WaltzWare. “Alright them. Get out of my castle or we’ll finish you off.”

When Grifter’s foot pulled away from her chest, True immediately got to her feet and ran away limping. The pair watched her go, making sure she wasn’t coming back. Then, once Grifter was absolutely sure, he put the items away and wiped his cheek. “Did you have to kiss me?!”

“Sells the part sweetheart.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” Grian huffed. “Now anyway, I get the TNT, but why the mob egg? What would it have spawned?”

“An aerwhale. Largest mob in hels since we don’t have a dragon here. Might even be bigger than a dragon now that I think about it. Either way, spawning it in here would create massive damage. And just having a spawn egg is something to flaunt about here. EX did his best to ban them back in season two. Only four people can really get them anymore and I snagged this off of one of them.”

“Oh really? I’m guessing Evil X is one of them.” Grian said as he started to walk back to where they had left Mumbo.

“Yes. Since he’s admin, he gets that privilege. True also does as empress, but I guess that will be me soon enough.”

“I suppose so. And the others?”

“People EX trusts not to destroy the place. Prof gets that opportunity even though he and EX have a sort of love hate relationship.” Before Grian could ask, Sense answered the question. “Prof is essentially the resident hero of the server, so he stops EX just about every time he’s got some scheme for Hermitcraft. Otherwise they hang out.”

Grian nodded. “Alright. And the last one?”

“Your kid of course. Not really from Hels and is nice to EX, so no surprise there.”

Grian stopped walking. “How would you kn- He’s only been- Sense, how long has my kid been here?!”

“Since the tail end of season three.”

Grian’s eyes widened. “And we’re in season five now! Did you use some sort of time machine?! Where did you get it?! What did you do to Jrum?!”

This time Sense froze. “Wait, Jrum? That little robot that needed a charger? That’s who you’re looking for?”

“Yes! Of course him! Who else would I be looking for?!”

“NPG!”

Time felt like it stopped for Grian. He wasn’t sure if he was hearing things. NPG? NPC Grian, NPG? His first robotic creation? But he was gone! He had been left in Evo. He hadn’t gone through all the portals, so before the world was closed, he would have been in the Down Side Up. But then Grian remembered. The error message. Someone who had been in that world as well as Grian’s single world. But there had only been two versions of helscraft listed. So was it someone else? “You said he joined in your season three. How?”

“No clue. He popped in out of nowhere and EX had to mess with his entire system to fix whatever issue was linked with it. That didn’t get fixed up until the next season.”

Then that would explain it. It was NPG, and he had been the one coming into Hermitcraft. And he had been the one to kidnap Jrum. Why? Was it to pull Grian to the server and put him into a situation like this? Punish him for his bad judgement in the past? Fine. That was perfect as long as he got Jrum back.

“Er, are you two okay?” Mumbo’s voice spoke up as he peeked around a corner. “I heard yelling between you and no one else, so I assumed it was just you two arguing. Is everything alright?”

“I… yeah. Everything’s fine…”

“Are you sure Grian? You don’t sound-”

“I’m fine! Let’s just go find Jrum and go home.”

“Lookit! I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” Jrum cheered as he was able to glide in the air, the special elytra Prof had made working well.

“Yes! It is very good!” NPG agreed.

“The only problem is it doesn’t seem balanced right. I keep having to tilt the other way.”

“Alright, then we’ll just need to tell that to Prof! How about until then we go looking for Grian?”

“Okay!”

From there, NPG led Jrum to the world’s main island. He pointed out a few of the rustic houses that were built there as well as the ones that used to be there, but various helsmits had destroyed. They even stopped down by one that NPG was especially proud of, which Jrum was happy to see, though it also made him sad.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t this a good rustic house?”

“Y-yeah! It is!” Jrum stuttered out. “It’s just… I kept building what you told me, but only because you told me how. No matter what I do, I just can’t figure it out!”

NPG rubbed his chin. “Hmm, well, while I hate suggesting it, it could be that you can’t build rustic houses, but some other style.”

Jrum shook his head. “No! I can’t do that stuff either. I tried. I just… I can’t build! And I hate it because everyone else can! It’s just not fair! Daddy can build even though he’s good at redstone and Dad is the best builder of all time! Why can’t I build anything?” Jrum sat on the ground and curled up, NPG sitting down next to him to give him a hug.

“Well, I suppose it could be due to your origins. I am aware that there is some good to styles other than rustic, as rustic houses would not be considered rustic if there were only ever rustic builds. That being said, I have found I am unable to do much when it is not with a rustic house. That is due to my programming. You may have a similar situation.”

Jrum curled up more. “Why? Why would I get made that way?”

“Why did I get made the way I was? Jrum, we are built. The people who built us are not perfect. Even with normal people, they can’t do everything. I’m sure if you tell your parents, they can try to change some things, but even if you cannot build well, that is perfectly fine.”

Jrum was quiet for a few moments, thinking it over before hugging NPG back. “O-Okay. I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does. Now. Let us go find Grian. My guess is he is right over where that new death machine is.”

“The what?” Jrum looked around, then saw something on the castle which had not been there before they landed. “When did that get there?”

“My assumption is it is a creation of Sense since he likely believes Grian is actually Grifter. Meeting with him should clear some things up.”

“Um, okay.” And Jrum got up off the ground to head over to the castle with his brother.

“Why are you building this? What are you even building?” Grian asked as Sense was under some new build, putting together the redstone for it.

“Well, once everyone is aware you’re not who they think you are, they won’t hesitate to try and remove me from the throne again. I’m making this as a show of power to make sure they won’t attempt anything.”

Mumbo got on the ground to look at the redstone. “What the devil is all this? None of it makes sense! Even for me!”

“Well then I suppose I’m the better redstoner.” Sense smirked. “You’re used to all your own redstone mumbo jumbo, meanwhile all this makes perfect sense to me.”

“...Are you serious. Did you really just- You know what, never mind. Mumbo, I’m just going to sit over here until we can go.” And Grian sat down on the ground to wait.

Sense worked a bit more before he slid out from beneath the creation. “That should do it. Now we should find something to test it with.” Sense then peered through a scope that was on top of the weapon and he moved it around, trying to find a good target. “Oh, that’s perfect! I can get rid of that fucking imposter once and for all.”

“What do you mean imposter?” Mumbo asked as Grian jumped up from where he was sitting.

“No! No you cannot fire at him! He’s probably got Jrum with him!”

“Wait, who’s got Jrum?”

“NPC Grian!”

“He’s alive?”

“Yes! Now don’t you dare fire that weapon at him.”

Sense rolled his eyes. “Oh alright fine.” Then he slammed a hand down on a button. “Oh, whoops. My mistake.”

“No!” Grian yelled and Mumbo jumped at the weapon, slamming his shoulder against it to change the angle just before it could fire, having the laser that fired from it miss its target. Mumbo breathed a sigh or relief before he was lifted up off his feet by his tie. Sense had grabbed it and was now slowly tightening it, starting to choke Mumbo.

“How dare you do that! I was going to help you two, but I suppose if you’re trying to stop me, I’ll have to do the same to you.” He continued to choke Mumbo as Grian ran to stop the helsmit, but before the avian could get too close, Sense pulled a remote out of his pocket and pressed a button. A net seemed to appear out of nowhere and wrap around Grian, making him fall to the ground.

“H-How…?” Grian started to ask, but Sense quickly answered him.

“Oh please, the genius part of evil genius is in there for a reason. Did you honestly think that I didn’t know you weren’t Grifter from the start? You have parrot wings, those of a scarlet macaw to be exact. Grifter is a Magpie avian. The difference in wings is extremely obvious.”

“Ugh, you knew I wasn’t him when you kissed me and all that?”

“Of course. I didn’t know what you were up to at the time however, so I took precautions and put that safari net under your shirt when I was feeling up your chest. I’ve never really gotten the chance to test it with a hybrid before, but the results aren’t too surprising.” With that, Sense looked back through the scope. “Now, where has he gone?”

There was a thunk from above and Sense looked away from the scope to see NPG standing on top of his weapons. “Hello Sense! That is a nice new weapon. What does it do?”

The helsmit cursed. “It’s supposed to destroy you and send your metallic guts flying. Though right now I wouldn’t mind something a bit more bloody.”

“NPC Grian!” Grian yelled out, making the robot look at him.

“Oh! Hello Grian! It has been a long time since I have seen you last!”

“Yeah, hi. Is Jrum with you?”

“Ummmm, no?” NPG replied, making Sense sigh.

“Great, I don’t need anyone else messing things up.” The helsmit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I guess we’re doing it the hard way then.”

“The hard way?” NPG asked as Sense dropped Mumbo to the ground, leaving him gasping for air. The robot moved to check on the redstoner, but the moment he had his back turned, Sense hit him over the head with some sort of weapon, and NPG fell to the ground unconscious.

“”Now, let’s see if we can’t kill three birds with one death ray before the fourth comes to play, hmm?” Sense asked no one in particular as he tied Mumbo up and then dragged him and Grian against the wall of the balcony, then moving NPG between them. Grian and Mumbo both struggled in their ropes, trying to escape or get a hold of any useful items they had on themselves. Meanwhile Sense had started moving the death ray back and tilting it down to point directly at the trio. “Just think, after this EX will have to be so scared he’ll have to let Grifter into season five!”

Grian and Mumbo could only stare in horror as the end of the weapon started to glow, charging up to fire at them. They had no clue if they could even respawn here, and based on what Sense had said, they likely couldn’t

“Now then, goodbye!” Sense smiled and hit the button.

And nothing happened.

“What?!” Sense yelled as he slammed the button again and again. “Why isn’t it working?!”

“Um, because I broke it?” A voice came from under the machine before poking their monitor head out from under it.

“How did you break it?! It was meant to be impossible to break unless you knew what you were doing! And no one does!”

“Well you had it in an odd place, but your pulse clock was easy enough to break. That being said, I saw how the line continued into what looks to be a strength gate which paired with other pulse clocks. From that I was able to disable the strength gate and then go on to break the RS NOR latch as well as the rapid pulser.”

“Are you telling me you could understand everything in there?” Sense asked, completely dumbfounded.

“Well yeah. It’s overly complicated, but based on the function, I can see why.” Jrum briefly poked his head back in. “Though based on everything here, a RS NAND latch could have worked better, though that might also need a T flip-flop added in.”

“Here, can you show me?” Sense asked, getting under the machine as well.

“Yeah, if you go right here, I’ve already done some editing.”

“Oh really. Wait, this part doesn’t look like it will help power the machine. It looks more like-” There was a large clang from inside and Jrum came out from the inside of the machine while giggling. “Release me from this trap right now!”

“Nope!” Jrum answered, going over to his dads and untying them. Once the two of them were free, Jrum was attacked with hugs from the both of them.

“Oh Jrum I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Yeah! It was a little scary here at first, but then NPG let me stay with him and took care of me! He even helped me get these special elytra!” And Jrum pulled away from the hug to turn around and show off the wing pack Prof had built. “It’s not perfect yet, but NPG said he can probably tweak it now that I’ve tried it.”

At the robot’s name, Grian looked over at him to check him over and then sighed in relief. “Okay, it just looked like the knock to his head just jostled his power source slightly and cut it off. I’m sure if we just turn him back on, he’ll be fine.”

Grian pressed a button on NPG and his eyes lit up as he powered on. “Oh! Hello Grian! You seem to be untied now.”

“Yeah, how are you doing?”

“Perfectly fine! I even have a new idea for a rustic house!”

This time Grian hugged NPG. “I can’t believe you’re alive. I thought you were gone for good when Evo disappeared.”

“That was not the case. Even after the evolution world was destroyed by the Watchers, the Hels world for it remained intact.”

“Wait, the Down Side Up was a hels world?”

“Correct! All normal worlds have a hels counterpart! They can vary greatly and no two systems are alike, such as how Down Side Up had a standard overworld and nether whereas here our overworld resembles the nether and instead of the nether we have access to the aether like some other mostly normal worlds have.”

“I don’t fully understand that, but I don’t really care because I’m just so happy to see you alive! How on earth were you getting to Hermitcraft?”

“Badtimes has made a place called the cursed village which features a large magical crystal. I love to visit because of the rustic builds that make up the place and one day I heard someone unfamiliar there.”

Grian nodded. “I see. In our world Scar has a magical village with a large magic crystal of it’s own. My guess is the two are in the same location and the crystals linked up, letting you two hear each other. But that doesn’t explain you actually getting into Hermitcraft.”

“Oh! Xannes had mentioned you guys had a place called the upside down and I was able to convince the code of the Down Side Up that your upside down was a part of it, so I went through there.”

“I- That’s possible?!”

“Apparently so!”

Mumbo cleared his throat to get the attention of Grian and NPG. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about, but we really sure find Xisuma to get back home.”

“Right. NPC Grian, do you have any ideas where he could be?”

NPG nodded. “Yes, though I would ask for you to call me NPG. Makes me sound like more of my own person.”

“Right, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine! Anyway, your admin is likely to be at one of Xannes’ bases since he’s told me before how he messed with files so that if his brother ever joined the world, he would spawn in a trap!”

“He what?”

“Wait Evil X is named Xannes?”

“Yes, that is his name.” NPG answered Mumbo first before looking back at Grian. “Do not worry. It is not the worst that could be done. He was planning to enact a plan using that mechanic for when all of you went on to your season eight world, but Prof forced him to put it away.”

“What exactly was he going to do?” Grian asked before quickly adding on, “I’m sure Xisuma will want to know if he does manage to use that plan.”

“Oh! I see! Well, his plan was to randomize your spawns on your new world as well as disable your chat functions. From what I could tell, he couldn’t disable death and advancement messages, but most of you would likely be caught in death loops with no way to contact help.”

“Oh, that sounds horrible.”

“Yes! Which is exactly why Prof stopped his plans. And I doubt Xannes will use them because of a very good point that was brought up.”

“And what was that?” Mumbo hesitantly asked, making NPG look over at him.

“Well, Xannes is just upset that his brother seems to have a perfect server life while he himself got the short end of the stick as a clone.”

“Wait are they clones or brothers?”

“They are both!” But yes, even though Xannes is upset, there is still one thing about Hermitcraft he would never want to destroy.”

“And what’s that?” Grian asked, but NPG shook his head.

“I am sorry, but that is not my secret to share. Prof and I are the only ones he’s told since we are his friends!”

“Right, anyway, let’s go pick up Xisuma.”

“Stop messing with that! You’ll break it!” Xannes rolled his eyes as Xisuma complained.

“We have the same helmet brother. I’m not going to break it. I’m just trying to access your data on Hermitcraft to unban me and put myself on the whitelist.”

Xisuma struggled to escape again. “You can’t do that! Hermitcraft is supposed to be a safe place for the hermits. I can’t have you destroy it.”

“Well, you don’t have to let me. I can let myself over there just fine.” He uses a screwdriver to pop open a panel. “Ah, there we go.”

“Oh! What are you doing Xannes?”

The helscraft admin paused his work again at the new voice. “Go away NPG. I’m busy.”

“Well can you stop being busy? I need some help from Xisuma.”

“Why him?”

“Oh, well he came here with some hermits because I brought Jrum here and they came looking for him and now they want to go home.”

Xannes looked up from what he was doing to face NPG, seeing the two hermits and robot behind him. “Oh please. I’m sure I could send them back just as well as he could. Especially with his helmet.”

“Okay! Then can you do that?” NPG asked. Were it anyone else, Xannes would expect some malicious intent or sarcasm, but he knew NPG was always extremely sincere.

“Alright fine.” He replied after a pause. “On one condition. I’m only sending them back, not you.”

“Oh that’s fine, I wasn’t planning on going back anyway.”

That caught Grian off guard. “Wait, you’re not? Why?”

“Even though you have been in multiple worlds in the past, you consider Hermitcraft your home, correct?”

“Yeah, which is why I want you to come with us. It could be your home too. It’s really dangerous here and… I’ve missed you.”

“That’s the thing. This is my home now. And It is not as dangerous as it seems. I have gotten used to living here and have made friends. I know my staying here will not help the fact that you will miss me, but perhaps we can meet more frequently at the respective village crystals and at least converse with one another.”

Grian looked sad for a moment, but then agreed. “I guess that does sound nice. Speaking of, did you help teach Jrum how to build rustic houses?”

“Indeed, though he seems to be more replicating my instructions than actually building. I believe his programming is not formatted for actually building.”

“He did do well with that redstone earlier.” Mumbo spoke up. “Even I couldn’t quite understand it all, but he has an eye for redstone mechanics to the point where he might like to meet those from Scicraft.”

At this point, Xisuma joined the conversation. “While I am very glad you all haven’t had too much of a bad day, I believe I am still tied up while my brother tries to hack into Hermitcraft yet again.”

Grian and Mumbo jumped into action to help their admin out and quickly untied him by cutting the ropes. Once he was standing, Xisuma rubbed his wrists where the rope had chafed him before grabbing his helmet, earning a ‘hey!’ from Xannas.

“Oh, before you guys go, could I make one request of you Xisuma?” the admin nodded, though a little reluctantly, and then NPG leaned in to whisper to him. X listened, and then started nodding.

“I believe that can be done, as long as you promise that he won’t cause too much destruction.”

“Well, I would also suggest allowing Prof too, but one of us has to stay to make sure that there’s something to come home to, especially with Sense being emperor now.”

“He’s wHAT?!” Xannes yelled, putting his helmet on. “Oh bloody fucking hell. How did he manage that.”

“Hey Xisuma! How about we leave now!” Grian quickly said, leaving both admins confused for a moment before they understood.

“I believe we can Grian.”

“Oh no! Don’t you dare leave with them! I swear if Sense ends up-”

NPG cut Xannes off. “Bye guys! I hope to talk to some of you soon!”

“Bye NPG!” Jrum waved, and then Xisuma took them back to Hermitcraft.

#hermitcraft #jrumbot #grian #mumbo jumbo #helscraft #avian!Grian #npg #npc grian #hels!Mumbo #hels!grian #hels!False #xisumavoid #evil xisuma #My writing

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inviouswriting · 4 years ago

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Critical Engagement AU- Repurposed.

Au - Critical Engagement. This is my own idea. I am also protective AF over this one.

Warnings: Death and dismemberment. Mild assault, nothing happens to Kivera besides being touched. but the former warnings there. Read with discretion. Science experimentation, You know the good stuff.

“Are you sure she fell? Godsdamn you fools!, I needed her alive! She was the one target you were not suppose to let be killed!” A barely breathing body was lain before Misija’s feet, she glances down in annoyed somber. A very worthy opponent, took a misdirected fire. Kivera was grasping for threads to keep her grounded. She was dying.

“We are sorry, the behemoth was too much for her.” The Roe kneels to look over the fallen dancer, lifting the lock of hair that was caking in blood. A beautiful face, her eyes dimming in spirit.

“Well, we have use of her still if we manage to save her.” Curious one of the legions glances to Misija.

“Pardon? You want us to save her?” This earns the roe looking up from her spot.

“I have use for her. Send her for repurposement. I need her alive. And have the scientists do something about her tail.” She reaches with a knife to cut the remainder of it off. It had only been holding on by a bit of fur and skin.

Kivera’s vision was darkening, the last glance she recalls is a hand touching the side of her face.

“All will be better in time. Go to sleep. I should be there when you wake up again.” At this Kivera closes her eyes, blissful darkness takes her, and all she knows is a pleasant warmth running through her body. Like she was swimming, her breathing hard at times, anytime she opened her eyes she was greeted to darkness.

Her memories seemed to fade from her, like they were blacking out. Or simply never happening to her. Kivera barely understood the reasoning behind it, maybe it was her mind’s way of dealing with the trauma she endured of her near death.

A white light greets Kivera as she focuses her eyes. She felt like a long sleepless dream had lifted. Fog and blur in her eyes. She tries to move only to find a circular contraption around her torso. Neurolinks, she vaguely remembers Twintania had them around it. Her attempt to move was met with a shock through her system clear into her head. She shrinks down, and away from the edge of the device around her.

A familiar face comes into her view, Misija. Yet Kivera barely recognizes her, registering that this was a safe person. Kivera resigns herself to the surface of the table.

“There we are, see? I did tell you I would see you again when you awoke.” Kivera felt relief through her, she couldn’t raise a hand except to the outside of the ring. Her hands searching the device only to feel a hand over the top of hers.

“This stays on for now. It will come off soon.” Short and to the point. Misija didn’t need to over explain to someone who didn’t need long explanations. She knows the creature is not much for conversation anyway.

“We need you awake for this next process. It will be painful.” Kivera glances confused, that is till a few men in robes approached and help flip her to her stomach. The neurolink being hooked underneath the table. To keep the miqo further in place.

It is here she registers the fact she is unclothed. A cloth placed across her hips just below where her tail use to be. Something that was missing when she awoke. A man kneels in front of Kivera at eye level. She flattens her ears at his looking closer to her face.

“Seems the eye transplant was a success. The basilisks are useful in one way at least.” He shines a light in Kivera’s eyes getting her to focus on it. He ignores her reaction of discomfort.

“Let’s prepare the wings then. This should run smooth, she is a prime candidate. Are you sure you want to oversee this?” The man turns to Misija.

“I will stay here. Make sure to turn up the restraint. She will fight it.” Misija grips the outreached hand. Feeling nails dig into her gloved hand at the incision made in Kivera’s back. They could not numb her as the nerve endings had to be right. So when the first resounding scream emits when they open up her back. They knew they found the areas they needed to work on.

The scientists drown out the pained screams and sobs as they reshape her bone structure on her back. Cutting and fusing to the wings they were using. The ziz proving to be a good candidate for transplanting to miqo’te flesh.

While the team working on her back fuse the wings in place, testing their movement, she feels searing heat where her tail was. Kivera’s mind gone to shock and numb. All her focus was on the slightly bloodied glove her nails dug into.

She blacks out only poked or prodded when nerve endings were tested. Misija kneels in front of Kivera taking her hand from hers to grace the sides of the miqo’s face. Giving her something soothing to focus on over all the maddening pain she felt.

“Just a little longer, and the first phase will be done. We’ve only gotten one wing.” After this Kivera’s mind goes blank, slipping back into that blissful warm darkness she felt. She was woken after some time to repeat the process on the other side of her back. Kivera’s voice screamed hoarse until she could only whisper or whimper from the sensation. She noticed Misija not there this time, she had stepped out for something.

It was some time after the last wing was put in place. She felt something rubbing her side. Fingers along her hip, fingertips. She registers them, they were male, they had callouses, from the work they do. Kivera is paralyzed from the neurolink around her ramped up to keep her in place.

She rouses further when that hand dips along her legs feeling smooth skin. She felt a disgusting anger pool within her.

“Such a perfect being... it’s unfair... exquisite color, tis a shame she is being used this way, they should have just healed her enough for the masters.” Kivera understood those words, she grits her teeth hard enough for her fangs to dig into her tongue. She feels the hand move higher, and something in her awakens. The scientist touching her is met with a foot in the side of his head.

Kivera howls as she strains against the neurolink but the pain it emitted was nothing like having her back torn open. Her spine left alone enough for her to move and pounce on the room.

She tears each member to shreds, leaving none of them to walk out alive. She catches a glimpse in a reflective surface the darkness she had been slipping in and out of is due to a mask on her face. Alien to her, but she left it on if it provided that darkness she found solace in.

The blood and gore she leaves around the room. Kivera sits in the middle of a single spot untouched. Curled in on herself.

“It... hurts.... it... hurts...” The sound of the alarms overhead did nothing to ease the headache Kivera had, making her curl in on herself more. The discarded remains of the team of five scattered. One impaled on a laser, the main instigator that touched her, was strewn up on a wall with a sword ran through and eviscerated from chest to groin. Two others were lucky and only had their heads removed, and the last one was impaled by her tail, she had yet to pull him off it.

Misija had only been gone for half an hour, when she returned, she did not expect the carnage of the room. She took in the image of the man who had assaulted Kivera, she knew him to not keep his hands to himself. She knew what triggered this massacre.

Misija steps slowly and quietly towards Kivera, being met with pained eyes glaring at her. Her eyes soften, even as Misija kneels in front of her to cup her face.

“You’re safe now.” Tone is firm yet Kivera finds it calming.

“Touched.... me...” She growls out under her breath. Misija followed her eyes to the man embedded on the wall.

“I apologize. I should not have left you. I won’t again.” A group of soldiers run in, and Misija sees their shocked expressions.

“Let’s get her back onto the table, summon the women team, we still have to close her back.” She commands them, and the few soldiers look at her confused.

“We should be killing her! She’s a monster.”

“Correct, she IS a monster now. They got what they earned for forgetting that. Now, get that team. We cannot lose her to infections or risk deformities.” The order sharper, they do not defy her. Misija does her own work to calm Kivera.

Kivera is helped back onto the table with the broken neurolink, Misija noting how it was split. The team that was summoned made their distaste for the room noted. Others cleaning up the room while the women work to close the popped incisions and look over Kivera for disruptions to the bone structure. Nothing ill done, they inspect her, no violations. Soon Kivera is greeted back to darkness.

When she awakens, she is dressed in clothes finally, her back ached as she felt the weight of the wings on it. Where her tail was, she moves the new one with ease, the chain clinking together as she looks at her containment sphere. A new neurolink fitted on her.

“You are awake. Good. It seems to be a success.” Kivera snaps her attention towards Misija, her tail perked up. She raises her hands as far as the neurolink lets her.

“No pain.” Kivera’s voice had a clip to it.

“Good. You will soon be ready for tests. A little longer to heal, and soon for motor skills. Can you move your wings?” Kivera is confused to the wings. She looks over her shoulder and sees dark black, they had been reangled to look angelic, yet dark feathers adorn them.

Kivera focuses to move the new appendages but only raises them. She shakes her head.

“In time you’ll get to use them properly. Moving them is all I need. Transplant is a success. Your survival of the surgery was pending on it. You did well.” Kivera absorbs the praise. She feels a warmth in her again, then quietly walks around her enclosure. Close to the wall Misija is at. Her face, Kivera finds it less offending than others she has seen.

Misija is so much taller than her, that when she steps into the cage, Kivera feels a sense wash over her and steps back.

“Afraid now? After killing five of our scientists? Though your hands are much more stained in blood than you would remember. I’m not to be feared here, just trusted.” Kivera remembers the room, and turns her head with a scoff.

“Not apologizing.” She says sharp, her eyes lower and her irises flash red.

“Not making you. You did nothing wrong.” Misija closes the gap between them, she notes how the new neurolink isn’t needed in the enclosure. She removes it off Kivera, knowing she won’t attack her now.

Kivera feels relief wash through her. Not being shocked every second by the device.

“See? I am to be trusted. I won’t touch you like they did.” Kivera keeps her spot in the middle, but keeps her eyes on Misija. Her demeanor relaxed, but guard held up. Even the tail was poised at her hip.

“Why are you nice to me?” Kivera asks, stepping back as the roe steps forward.

“Why? I will tell you at a later time. When I’ve earned your trust more.” Kivera is bought with that for now, till she gives her trust. Her tail rests at her leg. An arm offered to her to raise her up to eye level.

“What are you doing?” Kivera flattens her ears, Misija takes a look at her face looking for imperfections or scars from the incident.

“Looking at your eyes.” Kivera narrows them.

“Liar.” Misija fully looks at her eyes now. Seeing the shift in color.

“I am checking for marks that should have healed by now. Sharp one aren’t you. How did you know I lied?”

“Your eyes were not on mine.”

“And observant. You’ll be good soon then.” She starts to lower her down, the aura around Kivera shifts with her as the neurolink is raised over her head.

“Don’t want it!” She shrinks back.

“It has to go back on. It will come off again next time I visit. I can’t have you killing any more of my scientists.”

“They’ll keep their hands off then.”

“They’re all women, so yes.”

“No men?”

“Safer for them, and you. The women here know the aftermath you left. They will not approach you without my presence.” This quells Kivera, and she allows the device put back in place. To her annoyance, she raises a hand to her face to touch it.

“Ah, one more thing before I leave you here.” Misija pulls out a few things, paint for eyes and lips. Kivera looks at it then to Misija. She sees her dust on a purple color.

“Close your eyes.” Kivera does, and she wrinkles her nose at the smell of the paint close to her, touching over her eyes on the lids at the corners. She feels the same with her lips.

“There, the color suits you. I knew purple would fit nicely.” Kivera opens her eyes and is greeted close to Misija’s face. A glimmer of a smirk on her face as she tilts Kivera’s to the side to admire her. She was so far from her former self it admired her the resilience of her very spirit seemed to defy death itself.

She hopes from here out, Kivera proves to be a promising weapon, while able to unlock the memories still. She needs her alive, and what better way to achieve her own goal than having the famed being on their side. Misija helps lift her up again, letting the soft blue and green light shine on her adding to her unique features.

“All good now? I have work to do, I shall visit you soon.” Misija lets the being linger on her arm raising her up off her feet a good two or three. Kivera has no problem holding on and lowers her eyes at being left alone again.

“You will visit again.” She repeats the words back.

“Yes, I will be bringing you food. Your first meal after all that intravenous stuff.” Kivera perks up more at the idea of real food. Misija notes the change in her expression.

“Hmm?”

“What is this feeling?” Kivera feels something foreign to her, a sensation through her like that blissful darkness.

“What is it that you feel?” Misija humors herself, keeping her raised.

“Something warm. Yet I am not asleep.” Kivera rests a hand to her chest.

“You are happy. You are feeling happiness.” Misija is astonished that the experiments had wiped her recognition of sensations and their meanings.

“Happy?” Kivera tilts her head to the side.

“A good feeling. Means there is no lasting effects that damaged your psyche, like the others.” Misija muses aloud.

“Others?” Kivera follows Misija’s eyes as she tilts her head admiring the confused expressions. Like someone who has never known happiness in her life.

“Not important. I must be going now, I keep my word, I’ll be back. Promise.” Kivera is lowered to the ground afterwards and to resume her time wandering in the small confines of the enclosure. She sees Misija leave and after her leave the door to the cage is back up.

Kivera leans against one of the walls finding a comfortable spot as the gravity in her sphere is turned off to let her be suspended. She curls to herself as she thinks the words over.

“I was happy.”

#Kivera Siverstein #critical engagement au #misija #misija votyasch #tw assault #tw blood and gore mentioned #let me start by screaming #I LOVE THIS! I NEED MORE OF MY OWN STORY!#I can't wait to write more of this!#I love the dynamic that is in Misija by herself... I hope I conveyed that well in here #one sided ship for Kivera x Misija #eventual Kivera and Shuri #I haven't gone dark writing in YEARS!#Besides you know Thancred getting his ass handed to himself #anyway enjoy!

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nekojitachan · 5 years ago

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How to Steal a Million pt2

So, here’s another part of this story, no clue how many more (at least a few?). More Foxes appear! Yay!

Uhm, lots of bantering, very mild violence, some swearing, think that’s about it? Oh, and obvious some dubious life choices/actions here.

*******

“I mean, can you believe it?” Neil asked as he tugged on his bangs while seated on a stack of new tires in the middle of Matt’s garage while his friend worked on the Ferrari. “He keeps cackling about the damn postcards and ticket revenue and… and he’s insane!”

“Uhm, you know that those are your genes, right?” Matt’s deep voice drifted out from underneath the sports car, followed by a yelp when Neil gave his right calf a kick. “Hey! Not funny,” he complained as he scooted out from beneath the car, frowning face smeared with grease in a couple of spots and ridiculous hair covered by a bright orange bandana (also smeared with grease).

“Huh, I was thinking much the same thing,” Neil muttered as he glared at his friend. “You’re supposed to be commiserating with me, not insulting me!”

“Okay.” Matt took a deep breath as he sat up on the floor dolly thing and dabbed at the mess on his left cheek. “You’re upset that Stuart isn’t selling one of his fakes for once? I don’t get it.”

“He’s basically parading around a fake in front of thousands of people!” Neil hissed as he waved his arms about, upset that Matt wasn’t following. “What if they realize it’s not the real thing?”

“But Stuart’s really good at what he does,” Matt argued as he looked about for something.

“He’s a forger and a thief.”

“Says the guy who showed up earlier with a stolen Ferrari – I don’t think you have the strongest argument here, Red.” When Neil’s glare went up a notch, Matt held up his hands in a placating manner. “Hey, not throwing any stones, but you can toss me the rachet wrench near your left foot – you know, the thing that makes the ‘rrrrch, rrrch’ sound when you turn it?”

“I know what a rachet wrench is by now,” Neil mumbled as he picked up the thing and tossed it (lightly) at his friend. “And I stole the damn car because I’ll most likely need the money for when Stuart and I flee the country in a rush sometime within the next week – which I shouldn’t have to explain myself to the person who’s currently modifying it so it can be sold to some crime lord with an ego problem.”

“Victor’s a decent guy for a crime lord, and I don’t want to hear any bitching from a Hatford,” Matt threw back at him. “’Oooh, look who’s slumming right now’,” he called out in a high-pitched voice as his head waggled from side to side. “’Let me break out the tea and crumpets and lots of sharp knives’.”

“You’re an ass,” Neil laughed as he got up to tug the bandanna down his friend’s face, as well as to muss up his gravity-defying hair; it was then that Dan, Matt’s girlfriend, walked in on them.

“What did I tell you?” she called out as Matt wrapped his damn gorilla arms around Neil’s hips. “If you’re finally going to make a move on the boy, wait until I’m here to join in.”

“Eh?” Neil blinked at that odd statement while Matt laughed and, after giving him a smack on the ass, pushed him away so he could stand up and go give Dan a kiss – carefully, since she was dressed for a ‘day’ of work, in a fitted pant suit that hid the holstered gun and various knives on her person, as befitted her job as a well-regarded bodyguard. “How was work?”

“Horrible. I was half-tempted to shoot the whiny bastard myself, no wonder his company’s paying people to keep him alive.” Dan rolled her eyes as she unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the white shirt beneath it (and the leather straps of her holster). “Just had to keep focusing on the paycheck.”

“That’s what I love about you, always thinking ahead,” Matt said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Should get a nice cut from this latest job, too. Then you can take a break from assholes for a while and work on your charity cases.”

“Yeah, Renee’s already got a couple names lined up for me.” A pleased smile lit up Dan’s face, wiping away the exhaustion and bitterness from before and highlighting a beauty she rarely enhanced with makeup. “Can’t wait for a nice vacation from the bastards.”

“Well, you do live with Matt,” Neil teased, and laughed when the tall freak attempted to kick back at him.

“Such a troublemaker,” Dan remarked as she came over to tousle his hair. “And did you bring this in? I thought you were more into cons with Allison and some B&E these days, not back to stealing cars.”

“He’s convinced that Stuart’s finally done something stupid enough to bring the police down on them,” Matt explained as he sat down on the dolly. “I’m not gonna complain since I get to work on this beauty, earn some money and get in Victor’s good books.”

At Dan’s curious look, Neil sighed. “He got it in his head to allow our copy, the fake copy, of the Cellini Venus to go on display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.”

“What?” Dan’s dark eyes went wide and she ran her hands over her dark brown, short curls in a sign of frustration. “There was a lot of activity around the museum today, them preparing for a big event that the asshole complained about having to miss because of some other commitment.”

“Yeah, they’re having a party tonight to kick off the collection, something like that.” Neil returned to the stack of tires and pulled his right knee to his chest as he thought about the whole mess. “Usually Stuart’s sensible about things,” he thought about that statement and sighed, “somewhat sensible, but all he’s babbling about now is postcards and cuts and other nonsense. I’m ready to throttle him.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Dan gave a gentle stroke to his hair. “If you need to crash anywhere, you know you can stay with us.”

“Thanks.” He grimaced a little as he thought about the whole mess. “I hope he gets whatever this is out of his system without us getting into too much trouble. It’s gonna suck if we have to avoid Paris from now on.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Dan assured him. “You always tend to think the worst, too.”

Maybe because he was used to things going pear-shaped on him? Though to be honest, usually his family or his friends came through for him in the end. “Yeah, well, I remember a few close calls like the Saini con-“

“Aw, but some people would give almost anything to spend half a night trapped beneath a desk with Allison!” Matt declared from beneath the Ferrari.

“-or the Friedrich incident,” Neil finished with a scowl.

“I still don’t know how you and Renee managed to hide all those knives on your bodies and not rattle when you walked,” Dan confessed with a wince.

“We were just grateful that you did,” Matt called out.

“Well, is it too much to hope that this exhibition will end without me being stuck in a small space or knives being involved?” Neil asked as he stared at Dan with a hopeful look, only to feel the emotion die when she gazed back with pity. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but knowing your uncle and your luck? Get out the whetstone and be thankful you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Fuck,” Neil repeated as he reconsidered his stance on not drinking.

*******

Andrew fought the urge to tug at his bowtie for the eighth time that night and reminded himself that in another twenty-three minutes he could leave the boring as hell party; at that point, he’d already gathered enough information on how the place’s security worked, especially around a crowd.

He wasn’t that impressed with the Kleber-Lafayette Museum. Then again, he wasn’t impressed with much in life.

He ignored the interested look some woman dressed in a sparkling gold cocktail dress gave him as he snatched a glass of passible champagne from a tray full of them, and noted the unimpressed one he received from another young woman wearing an expensive as fuck Dior gown which had just been on the runway a week ago. It took his brain a moment to supply a name – Allison Reynolds, disowned heiress but still rich bitch extraordinaire, determined to live by her own rules and somehow able to get by in society despite that fact. Andrew raised his glass to her and was surprised when she arched an elegant eyebrow and raised her own in return.

After another lap of the main room (and another careful survey of the party’s attendees), Andrew stopped at his partner’s side; Kevin had undone his tie, but it had been a bit of a rough night once his old ‘friend’ had shown up. Andrew noted that there was a glass of water in Kevin’s scarred left hand and not alcohol, which meant that his friend had recovered from the shock. “Five more minutes.”

Kevin’s handsome face twisted with annoyance. “Some people enjoy being surrounded by works of art,” he said, voice rich with reproach. “The Kleber-Lafayette has quite the collection of-“

“Don’t care,” Andrew sang out as he rocked back and forth on his toes. “Seen one splattering of pastels, seen ‘em all.”

As he’d counted on, Kevin’s face grew flushed with anger. “You’re a disgrace to the profession,” he gritted out as he pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his right hand.

“No I’m not, I’m the best at what I do,” Andrew reminded his partner. “And three minutes, now.”

Instead of arguing, Kevin merely shook his head and finished his water, then set the empty glass aside on the nearby small table before motioning for them to leave (one minute early, such a reprieve). They were quiet as they escaped from the boring party, at least until they reached the Jaguar F-type Andrew was renting during their stay in Paris.

He removed the jacket to his tux and the damn tie before he slid behind wheel, relieved to be done acting ‘proper’ for the night. “It’s not the worse job we’ve had, but it’s not the best, either. They seem to have somewhat paid attention to us when we gave them the security review.”

“Somewhat,” Kevin muttered as he jerked his left hand through his hair. “When are they going to learn that it’s better to spend the money on everything we recommend? Whining about extra lasers doesn’t matter if someone walks off with a Monet and their insurance fees skyrocket as a result.”

“Not our fault if they don’t listen to us,” Andrew reminded him. “Speaking about artwork, I’m going to be busy tonight.” When Kevin glanced at him, he gave a shrug as he fished out his pack of cigarettes from the center console. “Something’s bothering me about that Venus statue.”

“The Cellini one?”

“Yeah.” Andrew frowned as he lit the cigarette. “I don’t like how Josten just so happens to find all these amazing pieces of artwork, which end up in private collections and so avoid any real tests.”

“But he signed the papers which allow the statue to be tested for insurance purposes,” Kevin reminded him.

“Hmm.” It would be a big scandal if the statue was found out to be fake, though, so Andrew would rather know sooner rather than later and warn the museum if there was going to be a scandal (and earn a bonus as a result). “I wonder if he knows that, considering all the documents he signed. Anyway, we’re here, he’s here, I want to take a look at his house since I’ve always been suspicious about his collection.”

“You’re suspicious about everyone,” Kevin muttered as he slumped down in the passenger seat. “I still remember what you did to the poor woman whose job it was to clean your hotel room in Barcelona.”

“Because she didn’t obey the ‘do not disturb’ sign, and don’t change the subject,” Andrew argued. “Was I right about Zhang?” He waited for his partner to nod. “What about Bambey? Riopert? Zimmerman? Abe? I can go on all night.”

“Whatever, just don’t get caught, the French police aren’t happy with you after the whole Devine case,” Kevin just had to remind him.

“Yes, but I was right about that one, too,” Andrew said as he flicked ash out the window. It was quiet in the car as he drove them back to the hotel for a couple of minutes. “So what did the bastard say to you, hmm?” He’d seen Moriyama talk to Kevin from across the room, but the bastard had moved on before he could reach his friend’s side.

“Just… a snide comment or two about me ‘slumming’, that of course I was only there for work and about me tending to a mess someone made as if I was the cleaning staff,” Kevin admitted as his jaw tightened in anger. “Enough to remind me of how much I hate him.”

Nothing new, in other words; Riko Moriyama was still the spoiled, sociopathic bastard he’d always been, but Kevin had moved on enough to no longer let him tear him down. “He’s nothing without his uncle’s name and money. Not even his own brother wants anything to do with him.”

“Yeah.” Being reminded of Riko’s many issues always made Kevin happy. “Oh, he seemed obsessed with the Cellini, now that I remember. Kept staring at it and asking the museum staff about it.”

Something to keep in mind in case Riko proved to be trouble, which usually was the case. “Probably saw a new shiny he wants.”

“Yeah.” As if not wanting to talk about the bastard any longer (understandable), Kevin changed the subject to a couple of potential clients he’d met during the evening, whom he planned to follow up with during the next several days. Andrew grunted in agreement since it would keep the man busy – that and Kevin always did better at that sort of thing than him.

Once back at the hotel, they went their separate ways; Andrew imagined that Kevin would call it a night since he’d be up early in the morning to hit the workout room, while he changed into a more suitable outfit for sneaking about and double-checked the address he had for one Stuart Josten. Then it was back out for some ‘fun’.

*******

Neil was in bed attempting to read a book which Renee had lent him on ‘living kindly’ (she tried, she really did, but somehow he doubted that he’d manage a similar conversion like hers) when an alert on his phone went off to inform him that someone had tripped a silent alarm he’d installed near one of the house’s windows. For a moment he debated calling Davis, who was out with Stuart at that awful party, to come back and take care of the problem, but it had been very frustrating couple of days so he figured why not deal with things himself and then call the man to clean up the mess? Plan (more or less) in mind, he reached for the gun in the nightstand before he decided on the knife beneath his pillow instead (less noise) then slipped out of bed dressed in a dark grey t-shirt and boxer-briefs. His phone showed that the opened window had been downstairs, so he snuck down the staircase, where there were faint sounds in the main sitting room.

It was dark, but Neil’s night vision was good and enough ambient light came through the windows for him to make out a short shape dressed in dark clothes doing something to the new Van Gogh forgery hanging on the one wall. As quietly as he could manage, Neil snuck up behind the thief, and almost was within reach when the man (?) took the painting down and turned around.

Neil had the impression of pale skin and hazel eyes gone wide in surprise before the artwork was dropped and the man (definitely a man) launched himself forward; Neil raised his arms to block and got the knife up as he was knocked onto the floor.

“Mr. Josten, I presume,” the asshole said as Neil struggled to regain his breath from the impact and a heavy asshole laid out on top of him, the knife held back a hair’s breadth from said asshole’s neck.

“Yes, nice to meet you, larcenous asshole,” Neil replied as he tried to close that tiny gap, but said asshole was strong.

“Such harsh words.” Larcenous Asshole’s voice was deep and, judging from his accent, he was an American.

“Well, you did break into my house and try to steal a painting. I’m merely calling a spade a spade.”

Larcenous Asshole clicked his tongue as if annoyed, his gaze never once roaming from Neil’s face despite the knife. “I was only taking one painting. You have so many, chances were good you wouldn’t even have missed it.”

“Right, a priceless piece of art like that, we’d never have noticed.” Neil swore that those almost golden eyes narrowed the slightest bit at his comment. “What was I thinking?”

“Like I said, you have so many,” Larcenous Asshole drawled. “And it’s not as if you’re really going to do anything about it, a rich fop of a boy like you.”

“Well, by that reckoning, I’m sure there’s so many other larcenous assholes out there, who’ll notice if I rid the world of one, hmm?” Neil gave the man his father’s grin as he put a bit more effort into moving his right hand, and was rewarded when the knife touched bare skin.

He was also rewarded by seeing another flash of surprise on the otherwise impassive face above him as Larcenous Asshole jerked back away from the knife; Neil used the distraction to bring up his right knee to land a blow which at least hit the man in the very upper thigh if not in the intended target and so gave him enough room to wiggle free.

Both of them scrambled onto their feet, Larcenous Asshole with a bit less grace and a lot of wincing, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when his ‘guest’ pulled a knife of his own. “Aw, is playtime over?”

Larcenous Asshole scowled at him, the look slight but definitely there (Neil was used to people giving him dirty looks). “You cut me and tried to knee me in the balls. What type of society fop are you?” he demanded to know as he fingered where the knife had (barely) cut into his neck.

“A society fop who knows how to defend himself and his home. What type of Larcenous Asshole are you if you can’t take a little abuse, hmm?” Neil asked as he fought the urge to flip the knife (well, flip or throw, one of the two – wait, L.A. was standing on the 16th century Persian, so go with ‘flip’ until the bastard moved somewhere better for bloodstains).

“I break into spoiled rich people’s homes, I don’t expect much of a struggle. Also, bleeding,” L.A hissed through clenched teeth.

“You say that as if it’s my problem. Well, actually, take a few steps to the right just in case I cut a little deeper than I thought, won’t you? That rug is priceless.” Neil made a shooing motion with his left hand.

“You are fucked up, which is saying something coming from me,” L.A. declared as he risked a glance at the blood on his fingertips. “Also, I’m thinking that you’re not going to call the cops or else you’d be on the phone already, and I’m not sure you want me dead despite the lovely threats otherwise. So are we going to flirt all night or is there a point to this?”

Dammit… he may be an asshole, but the guy wasn’t stupid; Neil couldn’t call the cops, not when the house was filled with forgeries, and he was hesitant to kill him outright when he wasn’t sure if the man belonged to a syndicate which might cause the Hatfords trouble in the future – there was something about L.A which made Neil think he wasn’t an amateur off the streets. Torn over what to do, Neil eyed him up and down a couple of times before he sighed.

“I’m not flirting,” he insisted, and when L.A. opened his mouth, flipped the knife into a throwing position. “Now, this can either end up in your eye or I can put it away, which do you prefer?”

L.A. gave him a narrow look for a couple of seconds before he huffed. “Away,” he said, deep voice tinged with something that might be respect as he waited for Neil to lower his weapon before he did the same. “Spare a band-aid before I leave?”

Neil considered the question for a moment before he motioned the thief to follow him to the kitchen. “Come on, can’t have you walking around all bloody and raise suspicion.” He wouldn’t risk the police noticing the man and then have them knocking on his door once the story about their little ‘adventure’ got out.

L.A. walked beside him (over an arm’s length away), careful attention paid to his surroundings on the way to the kitchen; he kept glancing at the various artworks on the wall as if making note of them, and then at the various items in the kitchen. Neil remained focused on the thief in return as he went to the one cupboard which stored the smaller medical kit, which he placed on the table (still out of arm’s reach). “There. I imagine an asshole like you is used to patching himself up after people try to kill him.”

The man’s eyes narrowed again, the only sign that the jab might have struck home. “Can we keep personalities out of this conversation? I think maybe you wouldn’t care to have yours brought up.”

“What? I’m an angel, ask my friends,” Neil announced as he tapped his knife on top of the table.

“Are you friends homicidal, too?” L.A. scoffed.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, no dead bodies around here. At least, not yet. Let me know if you’re willing to change that before I waste any bandages on you, hmm.” Neil motioned to the kit.

Now the look turned contemplative before L.A. pulled the kit toward him. “Sorry, don’t plan on dying tonight. Bad enough I won’t have a nice painting to fence as it is.”

“You can always try the Dhedins’ down the street, I hear they’ve an amazing collection of Degas.” Neil offered a version of his Uncle Will’s smile as he propped up his chin on his left hand.

“How thoughtful of you,” L.A. replied in a rather dry manner which belied his words while he opened the kit and took to poking around in it. “I think I’ll call it a night after nearly having my throat slit.”

“Quitter.”

The thief grunted as he tore open a disinfectant wipe then dabbed at the cut on his throat, which barely bled anymore. “I can honestly say that this night didn’t go as I thought it would.”

“I guess that tends to happen when you’re a Larcenous Asshole.”

“Andrew.”

“Hmm? No, I’m Neil.” Had the man hit his head at some point during their struggle? Was he on drugs? Usually Neil was good at spotting those things.

L.A. sighed as he used another wipe to clean up the blood. “My name is ‘Andrew’. I’m tired of you calling me that.”

“Why, it’s what you are. You steal things and you’re an asshole, hence Larcenous Asshole. If you want, I can call you ‘Kleptomaniacal Bastard’ instead.” Neil put up with being called a ‘smart-ass’ and ‘British demon’ and ‘spawn of hell’ all the time – it was ‘sweetie’ and ‘cutie-pie’ that got on his nerves, but he liked Dan and Allison and the others so he didn’t say anything.

That and knowing his friends, they’d come up with something worse.

For some reason, L.A. looked to be in pain even though he’d already put a bandage on his neck. “I’m beginning to wish I’d let you stab me.”

“Not here in the kitchen, these tiles are from the 18th century.” Neil shrugged when L.A. took to gazing at him as if he was insane. “What, I’m not going to sit through yet another lecture from my uncle about respecting antiques.” Not after he’d used the one Damascus blade to help Davis deal with an intruder who thought to make a name for himself taking out a Hatford.

L.A. muttered something about lunatics while he ran his gloved hands over the black cap covering his head, which dislodged it enough to reveal short blond hair. “All right, I’ve reached my limit of insanity for the night. Consider me suitably punished and that I’m now reconsidering my wicked ways.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

Neil was given a flat look as L.A. rose to his feet (he was pleased to note that the thief was shorter than him, a rare thing to discover, though he possessed a much stockier build). “Isn’t it past your bedtime, kid?”

That comment earned the bastard a rude gesture.

Neil followed L.A. back to the main room, where the man picked up a small leather bag filled with the tools he’d used to circumvent the alarm on the window (but not the one he’d missed on the lower wall) and whatever else he needed on the job. “Any problem with me going out the front door?”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be a novel experience for you,” Neil said as he pulled the door open. “Be sure to savor it.”

That time he was the one given a rude gesture.

“The Dhedins’ house is the white one with the black columns and the black and gold fence,” he called out as L.A. stomped through the door. “Be sure to pet the mastiffs for me, they love getting their ears rubbed.”

He was given the finger again. Huh, after he was nice enough to warn about the puppies, too.

Some people, you just couldn’t please them.

*******

Andrew groaned when he heard the barrage of knocking on his hotel door; at first he attempted to ignore it, except it refused to stop. Throwing the sheets aside, he stomped to the door and, after undoing the various locks, yanked it open to glare at his partner. “I have no qualms about killing you, Day,” he growled.

“Not enough sharp objects here to do it justice,” Kevin said without fear as he stepped inside; only the fact that he shoved a waxed paper bag bearing the name of the nearby bakery saved him, lack of enough sharp objects or not. “After all these years, you want to savor my death.”

There was some truth to that statement; Andrew had known Kevin for several years, ever since his first year in university, which he and his brother had only gotten into thanks to a ‘charity’ scholarship program run by Kevin’s father. It had been at the end of the first semester when Kevin had shown up on the man’s doorstep, broken and bloody due to what Riko Moriyama had done to him.

Andrew hadn’t been able to get rid of the pest since then.

“So, did you find out anything about Josten’s… what the hell?” Now that Kevin had opened the drapes and turned to face Andrew, he caught sight of the bandage on his throat. “What happened?”

“One Neil Josten,” Andrew explained as he fetched a caffeine drink out of the room’s fridge to go along with his chocolate croissant. “Let me tell you, those tabloid stories about Stuart’s nephew being some shy, meek kid who doesn’t like public outings? I wanna know just how stupid those morons are who wrote them, because there was nothing shy or awkward about that ‘kid’ last night.” Or much of a ‘kid’ at all, either.

“Wait, his nephew was home? I thought the house was supposed to be empty.” Kevin sank down on the bed when Andrew shook his head before having about half of the can of sugary coffee. “Shit, how did you get out of there? Are you in trouble?”

“Funny story, that.” Andrew’s flat tone made it obvious that it wasn’t funny at all. “Josten surprised me before I could do more than a preliminary check on one of the paintings, him and a nice, shiny knife.” Kevin’s eyes widened at that, probably as much about the weapon as for the fact that someone had snuck up on Andrew. “We had a bit of a pissing contest, but it became clear that he wasn’t going to call the cops so we backed off before it went too far. He thinks I’m a thief, but he let me go.” Andrew gave Kevin an intent look after that statement. “I might not have gotten any hard proof last night, but tell me, why would he have done that unless he didn’t want the cops to check out his place, hmm?”

“That… is rather suspicious. But I’m more concerned over the fact that he tried to cut your throat.”

Andrew waved that aside then tossed a piece of croissant into his mouth. “Tried, but didn’t.” A lot of people had tried to take Andrew down, but very few interested him as much as Josten did. No, there was something about the nonchalant way the young man had handled an intruder, had coped with the violence and been able to throw about quips at the same time, the mix of violence and intelligence and ‘go ahead, just try to fuck with me’ attitude that Josten radiated….

“While you’re out doing some work, find out about Josten for me,” he told Kevin.

“And what are you going to be doing?” Kevin asked as he stood up, already dressed for a day of impressing (bs’ing) people despite it not even being noon.

“Looking into his uncle and some other things.”

For a moment, it appeared as if Kevin wanted to ask if Riko was one of those ‘other things’ before he seemed to think better of it; he knew that Andrew wouldn’t let the prick fuck with him anymore. While Andrew doubted that Riko was in Paris because of them, he still would make sure that the man stayed as far away from Kevin as possible.

“Just make sure your work involves more than checking out new bakeries,” Kevin chided as he headed for the door. “Oh, and try to get some exercise for once. I’m going to tell Betsy and Aaron if I find out you spent the day holed up in some café with your laptop.”

Andrew gave him the finger before he shoved the rest of the croissant into his mouth.

*******

First part can be found here

Also, I think I’ll be posting one of the owed ‘you guessed right’ fics later tonight, too....

#nekojitachan fics #nekojitachanfics #how to steal a million fic #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #matt boyd #kevin day #dan wilds #oooh the flirting #snark #lots of snark #neil and his mouth #andrew's in trouble already

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shadowsflame-ffxiv · 4 years ago

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Umbra Mortis (Pt.1)

“Zane RUN!”

He didn’t mind the tone Rukh used, it didn’t bother him that the Hrothgar sounded like he wanted to throttle him. It had been accompanied by the staggering behemoth of the Magitek armor, and the accompanied high pitched whine that he had grown used to in his years.

Seven Seconds.

He had seven seconds until the armor powered up it’s main laser cannon. Time enough to bolt, to sprint ahead and get to the side to...he saw Kast, Kast who had been pinned to the jungle floor, Kast who had been shot multiple times. His heart clenched, the decision made somewhere between second five and six.

The blond Keeper hit the ground and rolled, black and blue two-toned eyes stared into his own green and grey, and Zane felt a pang of guilt, of sorrow. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to tell him he loved him. He had a million things he wanted to say...

“Mama! MAMA!” Zane snapped awake, shrieking and pulling at his blankets, the last thing in his mind the heat of the laser cannon as it collided with him, the stench of burning leather mingled with flesh, the pain in his body and then nothing.

“Shanna? Oh, Shan, what happened?!” The soft lilting voice full of concern soothed his sobs, and he looked helplessly at the blonde Seeker in his doorway, despair radiating off his form.

“Mama..mama there was a boy and he...I got hurted. I got hurt real bad and he was so sad mama, the Crystal cried. Mama..” he whimpered and curled up in her lap, small tail twitching as he cuddled into her chest, trying to get his emotions under control.

“Shan, it’s okay...it was a nightmare, you’re safe, you’re home and you’re here at my heart.” She said softly, rocking his toddler body as she rubbed his back.

Zane wanted to correct her, that wasn’t his name, he didn’t understand...but as he looked at his small hands, he just wrapped his pudgy arms around her neck and soaked in her warmth. This woman was familiar, somewhere in his mind he knew. Mama, she was his mother...he was home. “Shan guess what? Your Papa is coming today!”

Zane looked up into her soft blue eyes, her honey blonde hair framing her face in frizzy curls. Images of a man, with bright red hair and an easy smile, with eyes like his own, green like a verdant field of grass, with scars across his lip and nose, and rough hands. “Papa?” he asked softly.

“Mmhmm, you better get ready.” she smiled mischievously at him, and another memory came unbidden.

Zane smiled back, sniffling one last time before he nodded. “Okay Mama.”

She put him down, and he went to wash himself from the basin, scrubbing tears from his face and fussing with his dark hair to get it just so. Then he put on his shirt and shorts, frowning when he couldn’t quite figure out one armhole. He went to her in the kitchen, pouting at his uncooperative clothing, and she laughed softly. It was a beautiful sound, like the bells in Ishgard on a clear day, and he found he wanted her to do it forever. They had a breakfast of dried meats and scrambled eggs, Zane fidgeting on his chair, small legs kicking idly with a weird excitement as he watched the front door.

“Go Shan, go on! He’s coming!” His mother said suddenly, and he quickly leapt off the chair, feet carrying him even though he felt half in a daze, quickly hiding in the closet by the door, crouching down to keep hidden.

There was a knock and then the door opened, and the Miqo’te from Zane’s memory came through, his leather duster hitting just at their dirt floor. The male was burly but in an agile fighting kind of way, his short red hair had beads hanging in leather decorations down the right side of his face. The Miqo’te turned and held out his arms for the blonde, pulling her in to kiss her, and to keep his back to the closet. “Shayna, I’ve missed you. And where’s my little cub?” he looked around curiously in the kitchen. “Has he run away to finally become a feral kit in the forest?” he teased. “That surely is where he’s gone, Veth.” Shayna laughed. “He’s around somewhere I’m sure. Have you already been to see Lara? How are Ohna and Rehna?” The crimson haired Miqo’te nodded. “I have, they’ve gotten so big! I think they’re ready for their first Hunt. I want to call a tribe meeting, and have them go out on the next full moon at the end of the month.” Veth seemed focused on the conversation, but his tail gave him away, twitching in anticipation, and he couldn’t hold back the grin to Shayna when he heard a soft swish of feet on the dirt floor. Veth gasped, letting out a good cry of pain when teeth sank into his thigh and twenty-five pounds of four-year-old collided with him, falling to the ground and letting his son scramble over him, proud as Zane hit multiple weak points with little blunt nails while they scrapped. It took him a bit to actually catch the boy, but finally he wrapped the wriggling child in his arms and laughed. “Do you yield, Little Sun?” “Never! The Oh Tribe never suddenders!” Zane said strongly.

“Surrenders.” Shayna corrected airily as she watched them wrestle.

“Mm, then you give me no choice!” Veth snickered as he began to tickle the boy mercilessly, holding him tightly to not let him squirm away. “Yield!”

Zane pouted but finally stopped squirming. “Fine, I sud-..surrender.” he whined, and then squealed as Veth peppered his face in little kisses.

“Ew! Papa stop!” he huffed, escaping as his father let him go, wiping off his face and glowering at the older miqo’te.

Veth chuckled, getting up and scooping the boy into his lap as he sat at the table, giving him a little toy he’d brought along to keep him entertained. He smiled as Shayna brought him coffee, sipping it thankfully.

“Shan had another bad dream last night.” She said finally, sighing as she watched their son play. “Thev I’m getting worried, even our Seers weren’t having dreams like this so young.”

Thev brushed Zane’s hair from his face, frowning as he studied him, looking deep into green eyes that matched his own.

“I think we should bring him to see my father. He might have more knowledge than even our Seers, as they’re still young by other Tribe standards.” he said finally.

“What if they want to take him? I don’t want to lose him.” Shayna fretted.

Thev grinned, this time feral. “They won’t. I’ll protect my progeny with blood and fang until not a one would stand against me. You have my word as Nunh. Still, it would help to know more.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the squirming boy who had finally gotten bored of his toy. “Mama? May I go outside please?”

Shayna nodded “Go on, stay in the yard and as far as the tree line.” She recited, and waited until her son recited it back to let him run off out the door. Zane ran outside, standing still and stretching his little arms over his head, turning his face up and smiling as the sun beat down on him, warming his skin. Bare calloused feet lead a path across cracked desert ground as he scurried this way and that, chasing small lizards and bugs into the trees, but always keeping his yard and house in sight.

He had followed a horned beetle up a tree to a place where the trunk went mostly horizontal, when the bug suddenly froze, and he blinked in confusion at it. He poked it, trying to get it to move, but it was hunkered down. He had the sudden urge to do exactly as the beetle was doing, a weird palpitation of danger hitting him, something was here and it was wrong. The dark haired youth looked up, green eyes widening when he saw a pair of slate grey eyes staring down at him, barely twenty feet from him in the same tree. There was a weird crackle around him, as if he had magic hiding him, but somehow Zane could see him.

The fact the man was a hoor, he thought that’s what his mama said, registered before he suddenly launched himself back as the man tried to grab him, and Zane’s reflexes managed to catch himself so when he hit the ground, he was bolting. He heard the figure hit the ground and Zane forced himself faster...how had he got so far into the trees? Why was he so far away?

Suddenly with a muffled cry he was tackled, everything that was light becoming darkness as the figure forced him under, no light entered around the monster that had caught him, all he could smell was gun oil and all he could feel was treated leather. Until he became aware of another sensation, a dagger against his throat, tracing gently along his cheek at the tip.

“I wondered who might volunteer first.”

A deep voice filled his trembling ears, and Zane growled as he did exactly what his father had taught him.

A surprised hiss and the removal of the blade against his neck came when Zane sank his sharp fangs deep into the arm by his face. He didn’t stop to think about anything, bolting again as the man rolled off of him. He thought he could make it, he could do it he could get help.

That thought was ended as a dagger slammed into his leg at his thigh, making him cry out and fall. The monster grabbed him, picking him up and grey met green again, anger on the man’s face palpable.

“That was stupid, boy. I was going to kill you quickly, but now..”

Zane didn’t realize it was strange he could understand him, he didn’t know he shouldn’t be able to understand the high Garlean the man was speaking.

“My Papa will kill you, nothing is stupid if it meant I got away!” He replied with as much of a snarl as he could, tears running down his cheeks from fear and pain.

Everything seemed to stop, the man’s eyes widening. “You...understand me.” he said, head cocking to the side in curiosity.

“W..What?” Zane blinked through his tears, staring at him in confusion.

“How, in a tribe of savage beasts, how do you understand me? Is Her reach truly this far?” The man was rambling, grip tightening on Zane’s arms and it made the boy whimper.

“S-Stop...Stop please.” He begged.

“A Sign...this is a sign.” He continued to ramble, a sudden terrifying grin sliding across his face. “You will be Mine.”

“Let me go. LET ME GO!” Zane kicked and squirmed, but he couldn’t stop the man from pulling his arms behind him, binding him with rope and shoving a cloth gag into his mouth.

“Be silent boy. I am going to let you decide. Your family, your friends, and your life..for me. Be Mine. Whatever I want you to be, and they live.” The dark voice whispered, his mind fuzzing, the world suddenly shifting and seeming to shatter.

Suddenly, he wasn’t a little boy, he was himself, not a child but as he was supposed to be, still bound, still gagged, staring at Melachi who gazed down at him with terrible grey eyes, sightless but full of rage. His forehead had a jagged hole, which slowly dripped blood.

“Choose..they will die, Zane. Come with me...or they die..”

He could smell the burning, the rancid odor of flesh in fire, and when he looked behind Melachi he could see the Vanguard. The building crackled in a blaze, and he could see figures. His mind supplied who was where, they were all there, dead, burning...he screamed against his gag, screamed as pain flared in his body and his back felt like it was on fire. “Choose Zane...you have to Choose...”

“MAMA! Mama!” Shan screamed, twisting in his sheets as he sobbed violently.

“Shan?! Shan oh my little sun and soul, shh.” His mother’s touch and voice soothed away the night terrors, and he buried his little face into her shoulder as she pulled him into her lap.

“They died Mama...they died and the Crystal...she was crying. I had to choose...Mama I don’t want to go away..” He sniffled as she soothed him.

I don’t want to leave...

#TW: blood #TW: death #TW: child harm #The edge before the end #Ready Steady Draw! arc

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drtvachathane · 4 years ago

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8 Important Facts You Should Know About Hair Transplantation

Hair loss in young men and ladies are getting increasingly common if unattended becomes baldness subsequently. Baldness is more related to men due to genetic factors combined with stressed lives, and it progresses pretty fast among men between the ages 20 to 30.

It is important to know that Hair Transplant in Thane is that the only permanent solution to baldness; it's a procedure involves extracting live root bearing hair follicles from the rear & sides of the top and implanting them on to the recipient area.

Facts You Should Know About Hair Transplantation

1) Hair Transplant in Thane West procedures is carried with your own hair- the transplanted hair grows automatically with no other external medical need or special maintenance. You can still cut trim and wash it.

2) There are different techniques that are used for hair transplantation – most common ones being FUT or a strip method and FUE.

The FUT is practiced widely thanks to its cost effectiveness; though it leaves a scar behind this will be effectively camouflaged by the hair surgeon by means of a “Trichophytic closure”. With this type of closure hair grows along the scar line thus covering it up.

FUE is non scalpel or no suture technique which is suggested for those that would really like to take care of very short hair.

3) Hair transplantation doesn't leave your hair with a head filled with dense hair. Results will vary consistent with the sort of hair, extent of baldness and therefore the amount of hair available within the donor area and other quite any specific individual variables.

4) Nowadays procedure like Laser Hair Removal in Thane, Hair Transplantation, is simply a single day care procedure; there's no need for any stay during a hospital for an equivalent .

5) Hair transplant treatment is a permanent solution for baldness; it's your own hair which is “distributed during a specific pattern across your scalp by means of a surgery in 1 or 2 sessions .

6) Not all cases of baldness are often rectified via a hair transplant. Your hair physician will necessarily got to be qualified enough to identity the extent of damage and counsel you to take up an appropriate treatment.

7) In some cases, as per the discretion of the hair physician, there can be body hair transplantation even be carried out; that is hair grafts are often removed from various areas like beard ,chest wall legs, etc and they are accordingly planted onto the scalp.

8) The hair transplant cost is most typically calculated with respect to the number hair grafts that are transplanted. A graft of hair usually contains about 1 to five strands of hair.

Advantages of Hair Transplant

Improved Appearance

People that seek out a hair transplant procedure will tell you it's because their baldness makes them feel disappointed with the way they appear. This type of procedure will fill in those balding areas with hair which will grow naturally. This may help them feel more confident and attractive.

A Permanent Remedy

Some topical treatments and even few holistic methods can offer some help with issues such as thinning hair. A hair transplant procedure offers hope for people who suffer from balding patches and severe hair loss and may be a more reliable and permanent solution.

Low maintenance

There is another advantage of having a hair transplant procedure. It doesn’t just require minimal maintenance after surgery on the affected areas. This is often because the transplanted hair literally works like regular hair. There are not any special chemicals or shampoos needed to possess or maintain hair density. It’s important to notice that the procedure is a one-time process. For Hair Transplantaion or Laser Hair Removal Treatment in Thane you should visit Dr. Tvacha

Does away with balding

For men or women with hair loss, the sole thanks to finally say goodbye to baldness is with a hair transplant. This is often because once a hair transplant is completed , the affected areas will never have hair which will fall out. You won’t have receding hairlines or bald patches anymore. Statistics show that hair transplant procedures have a really high success rate.

Cost savings

While many hair restoration procedures tend to be a bit costly, hair transplant surgery isn't like that. this is often because unlike other solutions, this process are often a one-time procedure. you'll not need to continually need to spend money on additional trips to ascertain a doctor.

If you are looking for hair transplantation, laser hair removal or other skin related treatment, visit Dr Tvacha. They are one of the best Skin Specialist in Thane West

#Laser Hair Removal in Thane #Hair Transplant in Thane #Hair Transplant in Thane West #Laser Hair Removal Treatment in Thane #Skin Specialist in Thane West

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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Betting on the Bullseye (19/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Sometimes I look at the summary of this story and am just kind of like...that is not at all what this story is about anymore. But hey, it’s what the original prompt was about, so it works! Anyways, happy Tuesday! I hope you all have a great week!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @notoriouscs

“What’s the weather going to be like today?”

“Look it up on your phone.”

“I am shaving my legs right now. Don’t exactly have access to my phone.”

She keeps running her razor over her calf, trying to make sure she’s not going to end up with a nasty cut that’ll just get irritated by the salt water, when Killian pops his head in the shower, a giant smile covering his entire face while his eyes trace up and down her body. It makes a quick shiver run down her spine until she remembers that she’s still got to shave her entire left leg. He is not stopping her from getting this done.

“What are you doing?”

“Choosing to look at you while I’m talking instead of yelling over the spray of the water.” “I think you are just choosing to look at me because I’m naked.”

He winks, running his tongue over his bottom lip in what has to be the most exaggerated motion she’s ever seen. “Exactly.”

“I’m literally going to be wearing as little as possible all day long. I think you’ll get your viewing of skin without a problem.” “Yes, but in front of my family. I can’t ravish you there.” “And you’re not going to ravish me now.” She waves her razor in his face, and he backs up a bit, laughing at her silent threat. He totally shouldn’t be laughing at her silent threat. It wasn’t even really a threat. She just wants to have smooth legs. He should want her to have smooth legs too. It feels better that way even if it’s so damn annoying to shave.

“Got it, got it,” he sighs, resting his hip against the wet stone. “I was just going to tell you that it’s going to be seventy-five today with a nice breeze. There are maybe going to be a few clouds, but it’ll mostly be a sunny day.” “Thank you, Al Roker.” She leans forward and pats his cheek before quickly kissing him. “Now let me shave in peace, and I’ll let you help pick out which bikini I wear today.”

“You are a kind woman who I very much love.” He waggles his brows, moving them across his forehead before he grabs onto her wrist and kisses her tattoo in the way that she’s grown so fond of over the past few months. It always makes her stomach do some kind of weird twist before everything rights itself. Then he’s ducking his head away and closing the shower door behind him.

“Weirdo,” she mumbles under her breath while continuing to shave. Smooth legs. She’s going to have smooth legs for today.

Along with her invention for drying hair without getting overheated, she’s also got to figure out something for hair removal. She knows there’s shaving, waxing, and laser hair removal or whatever, but there’s just got to be something less time consuming, less painful, and less expensive.

Obviously, her plan needs a lot of work.

After she finally finishes shaving and rinsing her conditioner out of her hair, she turns the water off and gets out of the shower, patting herself down with the towel she had hanging over the door. She felt like death all day yesterday, the drinks at Killian’s premiere hitting her a little harder than she thought they would, but she feels fine today. Good, even. Okay, she’s really excited to get to spend the day out on the ocean with Killian and his family.

Six months ago, that thought would have terrified her, but now, she honestly can’t think of a better way to spend the day. She’s really grown to like getting to go out on the Jolly (even if she does still think that Killian is absolutely ridiculous in naming his boat that) and letting the salt water of the ocean get in her eyes no matter what she does to shield herself from it. Seriously, her sunglasses do nothing for her out there.

She loves it.

Her suitcase is open on the floor of the bathroom, having never moved from when she dragged it upstairs on Friday, and at the top of all of her clothes is the bright coral bikini that Ruby made her pack. It’s pretty much nothing, and it figures that Killian would pick it out. She should have just known. He’s a man after all. And she did tell him he could pick it out.

She’s totally going to get him to wear the blue trunks he has the hug his thighs and ass really tightly when they get wet.

What’s fair is fair after all.

“Babe,” she calls out after she’s changed, throwing on her jean shorts and tank top and braiding her hair while it dries. He doesn’t call back, so she leaves the bathroom, calling for him until she figures that he’s downstairs and can’t hear her. “KJ,” she says as she bounds down the stairs and runs into the kitchen, hearing his speaker playing music and following it, “if I have to wear the skimpy orange one than you have to wear the blue ones. It shows off your ass, and I – oh.”

Standing in the kitchen is Killian’s entire family, all of them staring at her with different amused expressions littering their faces. She definitely should just never assume that she and Killian are home alone. Like, ever. She just said something about his ass. In front of his family.

At least she’s wearing clothes and not showing off her actual ass. That’s already happened once. She at least had a Christmas sweater on…that might have made it worse. That definitely made it worse.

“Oh my God, you’re Emma,” Anna calls out, practically scrambling off of her stool until she’s attacked with a hug by Anna, her arms so tight around her that she can’t breathe for a second. Seriously. She can’t breathe. “I’m so excited to meet you.”

“I’m excited to meet you too,” she laughs, looking over Anna’s shoulder to see Killian shrugging from where he’s standing next to the fridge, a cooler on the counter next to him. “I kind of thought it was never going to happen.”

“I know,” Anna squeals, releasing Emma from her hug only to place her hands on Emma’s shoulder where she intently stares at her. Like, really stares. It’s kind of weird and a little bit intense. “You’re just as pretty in person as you are in the pictures.”

“Um thanks?” she laughs, feeling the blush rise on her cheeks. “You are too.”

“Oi, Anna,” Liam calls out while he slathers Aiden down in what she assumed is his sunscreen, “leave the girl alone. I know for a fact that she doesn’t like to be ambushed in this kitchen.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Killian teases, winking at her from across the room. He’s right. She doesn’t mind when it’s him. It’s the other people that she doesn’t like. Well, she likes them, but she doesn’t like them scaring the shit out of her in the kitchen. “Just yesterday – ”

“Nope,” Kris starts, holding his hand up. “I love you all, but I am not listening to this. I’m Kris, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She gives him a small wave before walking across the room, hugging Elsa and squeezing Aiden’s hand along the way, until she’s standing next to Killian and pressing up on her toes so she can whisper in his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me your family was here?”

“They’re early,” he sighs, his breath hot against her skin, and it doesn’t help with how keyed up she is despite telling Killian no to sex earlier. She was serious about wanting to get her legs shaved. “Because I’d really like to hear all about how you think my arse looks in the blue trunks, and I’d like to see you in the coral bikini.”

“You should have left them outside then.”

“Liam has a key.”

She rolls her eyes. “Good point.” She falls back on her feet and turns to everyone else. “So you guys ready to go?”

-/-

“Hot damn,” Elsa whistles as Emma takes her shirt off once Killian has the boat settled out on the water at a nice resting place. “You have me reconsidering my theory that I really don’t need to be working out.”

“Oh God,” she groans, crossing her arms over her chest to try to make herself smaller. She’s proud of her body and knows Elsa’s just being nice, but it doesn’t mean she’s the biggest fan of everyone looking at her. And everyone is definitely looking at her. Can’t a large bird fly by or something to distract everyone? Maybe a shark swimming by would be good too. “You look great. Seriously. I have a very small social life and a boyfriend who lives nowhere near me. It’s either eat or go to the gym.”

“I like to go to the gym so that I can eat,” Anna adds in as she grabs a beer out of the cooler. “I bake far too much not to, and I’m on my feet most of the time so it helps. But yeah, Elsa is right. Hot damn.” She shakes her head back and forth, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth and pulling her sunglasses down to cover her eyes. She doesn’t even know what to say back to that, but as she’s learned in the past hour, Anna will fill in any awkward gaps. “How does the long-distance thing work? I mean, I’m pretty sure Kris and I have never spent more than a week apart, and you guys basically spend…all of your time apart.”

“Anna,” Elsa sighs, shooting her a sympathetic glance, “I’m sure Emma and Killian don’t really want to talk about that.”

She doesn’t. It’s really damn hard, and all she wants to do today is enjoy being here. She wants to enjoy today and the way the sun is beating down on her skin while she gets a tan drinking beer and spending the day with Killian. She can’t think about what it’s like having to go home because it hurts too damn much sometimes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just curious.” “You’re curious about a lot of things, babe,” Kris adds in, “which is great. It’s what makes you so wonderful and one of the reasons why I love you.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Killian begins, moving out of the shielded area where he’s been doing whatever technical thing he does when they’re anchored. She’s not really sure. She hasn’t gotten the chance to actually learn a lot about boating. “Why is it that I am mercilessly teased when I so much as tell Emma that she looks nice today, but you all can be cheesy as hell?”

“Because you’re the youngest,” nearly every person on the boat yells in one way or another.

“And I will get gray hair after every single one of you,” he huffs, plopping down on the seat next to her so that his shorts pull up his thighs as his muscles flex. “Bloody arseholes.”

“Poor baby,” she mock sighs, not even able to hide the smile that’s tugging on her lips as she runs her hands through his hair. “Are the big kids on the playground teasing you?”

He rolls his eyes, before he’s pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes leaning over her and grabbing her water bottle before he takes a sip. “I am going to kick you all off of this damn boat except for the sleeping baby down below.”

“How are you going to do that little brother? I think you’ll probably be the first person in the water.”

“Shove off.”

“Play nice,” she laughs, realizing that there’s actually some tension in Killian’s jaw and that he’s holding onto her knee a little too tightly. She’s not sure when exactly he actually got frustrated, but he is. “You okay, KJ?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, even as she sees his jaw tick again, the set as straight as she’s ever seen, “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

She studies him for a minute, wishing that he didn’t have his sunglasses on at this exact moment so she could see the blue in his eyes. They’d probably look really nice with the ocean all around them. “Okay, so I was thinking…” she begins to distract him, wrapping her arm around his waist and sliding her hand under the hem of the button down he still hasn’t taken off. He has rolled the sleeves up, which is hotter than it has any right to be, but he hasn’t taken it off. “I was thinking that we play some music, eat our lunch, and then we get into the water. But, like, just for a little while because I’m still not entirely convinced that I’m not going to get a limb eaten by a shark.”

“That is not going to happen.”

“It could. You never know. I could also get stung by a jellyfish, attacked by a dolphin, and I hear whales aren’t necessarily friendly. Then again, we are invading their home, and I feel like maybe we deserve it.”

“So when Liam is having to pee on your leg because you’ve been stung by a jellyfish, you want me to tell you that you deserved it?”

“Why the bloody hell am I the one peeing on her leg?” Liam laughs, his cheeks already tinted in red from the sun. “I mean, no offense, love, I just feel like we don’t have the type of relationship where I can pee on your leg and we come back from that.”

“This is true. It’s going to have to be you, babe. Or Elsa and Anna.”

“Wait. You just met Anna today. That’s not a great first impression. Also, what makes you think we can come back from that, Swan?”

“I’d do it,” Anna adds in.

“Me too.”

“Women aren’t hung up on quite the same things as you guys are,” Elsa sighs, standing up from her seat and stretching her arms. “You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.”

“I’m honestly just offended that my own boyfriend won’t pee on my leg to help my jellyfish sting.”

“Oh my God,” Killian groans, reaching up and running his hand through his hair, “this has gotten ridiculous. Darling, if I need to pee on your leg, I will.”

She pats his stomach. “That’s all I ask.”

The day passes slowly, nearly everything happening leisurely. Anna talks more than anyone she’s ever met, and it’s so damn entertaining that she absolutely hates that she hasn’t gotten to know her before. The water stays calm, and no one else seems to pass them, so Killian lets the music play loudly after Liam gets Aiden from below deck. They have him in the smallest of life jackets, the name Jones monogrammed against the back, and for a brief moment, she has this want deep in her belly for her to have something like that one day too. She doesn’t let it last long, though. She can’t. It’s a little too overwhelming for her today, and she wants the lightness of the day to continue.

While everyone else moves around, the bow becoming a bit too small for them, she leans back on the cushions, letting the sun lull her into a sense of comfort, making her sleepy while Killian stretches out on his stomach beside her, head rested on his forearms. She twists over onto her stomach as well, ignoring the moment that her skin hits metal, until she can run her fingers over Killian’s back, tracing the muscles there without bothering to look. She’s got the ocean stretched out in front of her. She can look at Killian’s back anytime.

She knows the dips and curves of it well enough anyhow.

“Have you applied lotion recently?”

Killian twists his head to the side and opens his uncovered eyes, the blue somehow even better than the blue of the ocean. Something seems genetically unfair there, but she’s not going to complain when she gets to benefit from it. “About an hour ago. You?”

“Same. Just don’t want you getting a sunburn or cancer or something.”

“Thanks, love.” He leans forward and quickly slants his lips over hers before moving to rest his hands on his forearms again. “What’s everyone else doing?”

“I believe they’re all eating in the shade.”

“You’re not even looking. How do you know that?”

“Wait for it,” she laughs, digging her nail into his back until he lets out a guttural groan that shoots straight to her core.

“I’m waiting to get to take you back home. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to be waiting for.”

“Jones,” Anna shrieks, immediately running over to them until she’s standing above them with an empty bag, “where the hell are my salt and vinegar chips?”

“Emma ate them all yesterday.”

“Hey,” she gasps, slapping his back, “why are you going to just sell me out like that?”

“Because you were about to do the same to me.”

“I was not.”

“You so were.”

“Who cares? I just want the chips,” Anna whines, plopping down next to them. “There’s only crumbs in here.”

“I’ll send you, like, a million bags of chips when we get back,” she promises Anna, kissing in between Killian’s shoulder blades before they both sit up. “I may have eaten them all when I was hungover yesterday.”

“You’re lucky I like you. I don’t play about my chips.”

“You could always just throw her to the sharks if you’re really mad at her,” Killian teases, and she immediately reaches over to slap his back again. Maybe she shouldn’t be so playfully violent…that’s probably not the best trait. But he also just said Anna could sacrifice her to, you know, die. “Bloody hell, you know I don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, he’d be lost without you, lass,” Liam shouts from across the boat, and she can feel her entire stomach rumble with laughter as all of Killian’s family begins to tease him.

He huffs behind her until his chin rests on her shoulder, nuzzling into her skin, his scruff prickling against her until gooseflesh rises over her arms and her legs. She leans back into his touch while his arms wrap around her waist, fingers splaying across her bare stomach.

It feels damn good.

“I love you, KJ,” she whispers, kissing his cheek when she can practically feel his irritation as his family continues to talk.

“I love you too, darling,” he says softly before yelling out, “and I hate all of you except for Aiden and possibly Kris. I don’t know. It depends on the hour.”

-/-

“Oooh, I love this song,” she gasps as she turns the radio’s volume up and lets the sounds of Hozier’s voice fill Killian’s car while he drives them back to his house.

She’s exhausted, the sun having drained out all of the energy out of her as they day stretched out into night, but she’s getting little bursts of energy as she scrolls through her phone. She didn’t have any signal all day, so she’s catching up on everything she missed online before she gets into the massive amount of texts that are still popping in. Ruby must be drunk texting. It happens all the time, and then she gets strings of every thought that Ruby has ever had. Usually there’s some interesting things in there, but it can wait for right now.

When Killian pulls into the garage, she leaves her phone in her bag, letting it fall with all of her junk, as she helps him carry the cooler inside. It’s still got a bunch of drinks inside, so it’s heavy as hell and her arms are feeling weak by the time they get it into kitchen. She really is tired.

“You’ve burned on your cheeks, love,” Killian sighs, walking over to her and swiping his thumbs across her cheeks, his thumbs rough against the skin. “I can also see more freckles.”

“Really? Because I applied lotion about ten different times. I felt like that was all I did.”

“It’s because you’re so fair.”

“Ugh, I know. I’ve known that my entire life.” She leans her cheek into, letting her eyes flutter closed. “I’m going to go shower. You want to join me?”

“Why is that even a question?”

“It was rhetorical.”

She’s in no way a fan of shower sex. There are too many accidents that can happen even with Killian’s stone shower, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy getting to take a relaxing shower that’s full of teasing with Killian as she arranges suds over his beard much to his annoyance. Maybe she really is deliriously tired or maybe it was just a good day. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care as she stumbles out of the shower with Killian until they fall into bed and absolutely defeat the purpose of them getting clean.

It’s totally worth it as Killian’s lips move over her nipples, teasing her and making her skin tingle in a way that the sun never could, and it’s even more worth it as he continues to move against her, working her up while working his way down her body.

Yeah, definitely worth it.

Afterward, when she’s sated and there’s a pink on her cheeks that has nothing to do with her sunburn, she crawls out of bed, much to Killian’s protest as his hand reaches for her, fingers grazing the skin of her inner thigh. She’s kind of cold, the air conditioning in his house not helping the chill that’s coming from her skin, she so she pulls on some leggings and a t-shirt before brushing through her tangled, still damp hair. It’s an absolute mess, and she really can’t leave it like this or she’ll have to shave her head.

That would be tragic.

“Babe?” she calls out, twisting a towel around her hair to dry it.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where I left my phone?” She walks back into the bedroom where Killian’s stripping the comforter and sheets off. They’re honestly probably damp, and she’s glad that he’s doing that.

“I don’t. Hell, I don’t even know where my phone is.”

She groans, pulling her towel away from her hair and tossing it into his laundry pile. “I’m going to go downstairs and check through my bag for it. I’ll look for yours too while you put those in the dryer.”

He nods as she walks away, quickly running down the stairs and searching through the living room for her bag only to find nothing. She goes through the entryway and the kitchen before she decides to check Killian’s car. Sure enough, it’s sitting on the floorboard with Killian’s sitting on the center console, and she grabs them both before heading inside and settling down onto the couch in the living room.

She’s got notifications filling her screen behind the time telling her that it’s far past midnight. Where the hell did today go?

Ruby: Sunday fun day.

Ruby: Seriously. I’ve had a lot of mimosas. By myself because Marg is boring and pregnant and David is not drinking in solidarity.

Ruby: It’s times like these when I miss you. And when I realize I need more friends.

Ruby: OMG. We have to try the new bakery down the street from the office. I meant to tell you earlier, but I forgot.

David: Can you return my call?

“What call?” she mumbles to herself only to continue to scroll through the messages, thankful that she’s sitting down for what she reads next.

David: Ems, Mary Margaret is in labor.

David: We’re waiting at the hospital right now.

Ruby: Holy shit, Marg is having Brody right now.

Ruby: She’s freaking out because she’s early. I’m freaking out because I’ve had far too much to drink today.

David: Everything is fine. I don’t know why you’re not near your phone, but don’t freak out when you get these messages, okay? MM and the baby are fine.

If her heart could beat out of her chest with her still alive, that’s exactly what would be happening right now. She can’t breathe. There’s something lodged in her throat that’s stopping her from breathing. Mary Margaret can’t be having her baby. That’s not supposed to happen for three more weeks. That’s why she let herself come out here for four days and why Killian was going to come to her the next few weekends. She is supposed to be at the hospital with Mary Margaret. They had a whole plan. She was supposed to be with them. She was going to watch Leo.

Oh shit. Who’s watching Leo? Ruby’s drunk. Ruby can’t watch Leo.

Quickly, she presses David’s contact name and listens to the rings, just waiting for him to answer. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. You have to pick up the phone.”

“Hello?”

“David, oh my God. What’s happening? Is Mary Margaret okay? Is the baby okay? Are you okay? Is someone watching Leo? Oh shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I missed your calls and your texts and oh my God.”

“Emma, breathe,” David calmly says into the phone, which only really makes her breathe more heavily. “Everything is fine. The doctors say Mary Margaret and Brody are both fine, that he’ll be okay when he’s born from what they can tell. She’s not too early or anything. She’s barely early at all. And Leo is at home with a sitter.”

“I was supposed to be his sitter. I was supposed to be with him.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known she’d be early.” “But I should be there.” She gets up from the couch, already walking upstairs planning on packing her bags to go home. “I’m going to go back my bag right now and change my flight. How long until she delivers do you think?”

“Emma, that’s ridiculous. You can’t get a flight out of there right now. It’s nearly three in the morning here.”

“I’ve got to go,” she tells him, hanging up the phone as her mind runs all over the place as she tries to calculate how long it’ll take to get there. There shouldn’t be any traffic, but she needs a flight. How much is it going to cost her to change to another flight?

In the back of her mind, she knows that she’s being crazy, that it doesn’t matter if she leaves right now or in the morning because there’s no way in hell that she’s going to make it in time for Brody to be born or to watch Leo when they’re already at the hospital. But she’s supposed to be there. This is her family, whether it’s blood or not, and she’s supposed to be there for the big things like this. She starts throwing all of her clothes back into her suitcase, not caring that they’ll get wrinkled, and is zipping up her bag when she hears Killian’s voice.

“Swan, what are you doing?”

She looks up at him as she zips her suitcase. She looks at the way that he’s got his arms crossed over his chest, his muscles bulging a bit with the position, and she looks at the way that his sweatpants hang low on his hips, giving her a glimpse of the trail of hair and the v-shaped muscles that she’s grown so fond of. No, that she loves. She loves him and the way that his eyes are always so beautiful, loves the way that his hair flops over his forehead no matter how he styles it, and she loves the way that he’s always got a smile on his face when he’s looking at her. She loves how he makes her laugh, how he listens to her ramble about the stupidest things, and how he listens, actually listens, to her when she’s telling him something she’s not truly comfortable sharing.

She loves him.

But right now she is absolutely furious at him.

No, right now she’s furious with herself.

She has no idea who she’s furious with.

“I’m going home,” she mumbles, standing from the ground and slipping sandals onto her feet.

“I’m sorry. You’re what now?”

“I’m going home. I have to go home.”

“Emma,” he cautions, coming over to her and placing his hands on her shoulder, squeezing enough that she stops and can see the confusion in his eyes, the uneasiness in his smile, “what are you talking about? Your flight is at noon tomorrow. It’s midnight. We have hours left.”

“I need to go. Mary Margaret is having her baby, and I’m supposed to be there.”

“She’ll understand if you’re not.”

“No,” she groans, backing away from his touch while her mind begins to spiral. She needs it to stop, but she can’t. She can’t make it stop no matter how hard she tries. She’s trying. She really is. “I need to go. I cannot miss this. That is my family, and I’ve missed so much lately. I’ve missed all of these major moments, not to mention all of the little ones, and I need to go home. I don’t need to fucking be here.”

She can feel Killian’s eyes on her, but she has to look away. She can’t look at him, can’t look at the blue or the way that his lips aren’t pressed into a smile. “Darling, there aren’t going to be any flights. It’s late.”

“I still have to go home.”

“Swan, your flight is tomorrow. You’ll be there tomorrow.”

“At, like, midnight. I’ll be home at midnight. I’m going to miss everything.” “You’ll be there after he’s born, after they’ve had time with him.”

“You don’t get it,” she cries, wiping down the tears that are falling on her cheeks while she makes a feeble attempt to regulate her breathing. She stopped breathing, didn’t she? How did she stop breathing? “I’m missing it, Killian. My best friend having a baby, and nothing will change whether I’m there or not, but it’s not just this. It’s everything. If we keep doing this, how much of my life am I going to miss? How much are you going to miss because we’re always on a damn plane or all the way across the country?”

“Emma – ” he cautions, stepping closer to her only for her to back away, to take a step back for every step that he takes forward.

One step forward. Two steps back.

“No, I’m right. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m right.”

“So what do you want?” Killian sighs, an edge of anger seeping into his voice that she hears over the pounding in her head and the thump of her heart against her ribcage.

“I want to go home.”

“That’s not exactly an option right now. So why don’t we just go downstairs and watch TV? You’ll get on your plane in the morning, and you’ll be there as fast as you can.”

“I can’t do this,” she sighs, feeling her breath even out as her chest stops heaving and her face cools down. Her entire body cools down really, the frantic episode that she just went through stopping while she stares down Killian and stares down what her entire future is going to look like. “I can’t do this.” “What can’t you do?”

“This,” she says calmly, pointing between the two of them. “I can’t live with this actual, physical distance between us. I can’t…oh God,” she sobs, covering her mouth with her hands while tears well in her eyes again, everything that she’s been holding down for months coming to the surface. “I can’t do this.”

“Emma,” he pleads, and she has to ignore the brokenness in his voice. “Love, no, don’t go down that road. We’re fine. Please don’t do this.”

#betting on the bullseye #captain swan #cs fic #cs ff

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mysticmikalla · 6 years ago

Text

Time’s Tracing

I’m so, SO excited to share with you guys my full piece for @saeranzine !! Being part of this project was such an honor, I met so many great people and learned so many things. I’ll never forget how close we got, all the inside jokes, Fluff’s riddles, Paulina’s brothers, Saeyonic, Shrekran and, of course, SO much budget elixir! Honestly, thank you mods for organizing this amazing project and thank you to all the contributors who helped make it a big family!

But anyway, without further ado, here’s the actual fic😅I hope you like it!

***

Saeran had always tried to pay attention to people’s eyes. It was an old saying he had heard once, that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and he always made sure to observe them when someone spoke. Those glassy surfaces could unravel intentions, contradicting lying lips and baring themselves true. They told stories better than words ever could.

But as he held your hand in his, tracing all the lines and details he’d come to know so well, he couldn’t help but think the saying to be untrue. Your eyes were closed now, but he could still read you through the palm of your hand as if it were his favorite book. A thousand times he had done this, and a thousand different details and buried memories he’d discovered.

“We’ll find him.” You sat beside him as his fingers furiously typed, eyes glued to the screen as if afraid that even a blink might make him miss a crucial detail. “I can see how worried you are.”

He stopped typing, leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes, his mind barely being able to keep up with itself. The familiar black and green of the screen now had critical roles in not only his life, but yours and that of his own brother’s. He couldn’t recall the last time his twin occupied his mind with worried thoughts instead of venomous ones.

“It feels strange,” He admitted after a long moment of trying to string his thoughts together. “Not even a day ago I could barely even say his name, and now…” He looked down at his hands, remembering how much smaller they were last time they held Saeyoung’s, “Now he’s all I can think about.”

“We’ll find him.” You repeated, attempting to give him a warm smile even though his eyes were fixated on his hands.

“I couldn’t find him before.” He pointed out, a frown shadowing his features.

Reaching for his hands, you admired how much larger and slender they were compared to yours as you cupped them, “But you’re not alone now. You’ve got me, you’ve got us.”

His eyes darted from your joined hands to your eyes. He wondered if Ray had felt the same rising warmth and almost childlike wonder as you ran your thumb over his knuckle. He wondered if anyone had ever felt the way he was feeling right now, something too great for flower breeds or syllables to ever convey.

“You are not alone, Saeran.”

It had quite possibly been one of the most stressful nights of Saeran’s life up until then. Not the hellish nights he spent with his mother nor the painful hours the elixir spent destroying his body from the inside even came close to how he felt trying to protect you and locate his missing brother. But, he realized, it would have truly been a nightmare without you there, constantly by his side and reminding him time and time again of those five words.

He ran his hand along your wrist, softly as if not trying to wake you up. He stopped at the base of your thumb, where black ink contrasted against your pale skin in the shape of a small sun. His lips tugged upwards as he remembered how hard you squeezed his hand as the needle met your skin, your eyes screwed shut.

The pain erupting from the base of your thumb meant that it was now too late to back out. You had never really wanted a tattoo before, fear of regretting it later being greater than your desire to get one. But something about having a reminder of this day, the first trip you took together, made you doubt any sort of future regrets. The memory of how his eyes lit up when he saw the waves gently bathing the shore, his toes wiggling and burying themselves in the sand was something you wanted imprinted on your skin forever.

“It feels so permanent.” You commented, bringing your newly inked skin closer to your eyes so you could examine it. Saeran glanced at it as well, getting used to yet another new detail of you.

Permanent. It had been a word so foreign to him, he often wondered what it meant. It had been thrown around a lot in his life, but nothing had been, nothing had ever felt eternal. Nothing had actually felt like forever to him. He knew that the world was an ever-changing place, promises of forever meaning nothing since nobody could predict the future. The Sun would eventually swallow the Earth and the Universe would collapse in itself, so nothing was truly everlasting. Not the company of his brother, not the Paradise he once believed to be eternal and not the tattoo that once poisoned his skin as a cruel reminder of his past mistakes. Hell, not even his own hair color stayed the same.

But looking at you lying next to him, specks of sand dotting your chocolate hair and eyes now amber with the rays of sunset, he began to understand.

“That’s why they call it a permanent tattoo.” He remarked with a grin on his lips.

You gave him a soft chuckle, nudging his side with your elbow, “I know that.”

You turned to lie on your side, facing him. Bringing up your hand to caress his arms, you wondered out loud whether he had felt the same about his own tattoo. The laser had gotten rid of most of the black swirls and lines on his skin, but you could still tell it had once been there. To him, the marks that were just a tone lighter than the rest of him were nothing but a bitter reminder of his mistakes, of the painful past he tried daily to forget.

But to you, it was a sign of progression, how far he had gotten and how much he was able to overcome.

“I don’t think I gave it much thought,” he admitted, brushing a few strands of hair from your eyes, then resting his hand on your cheek, “Nothing felt real back then… it was as if there was no consequence to what I did.”

Your fingers continued to trace the white lines, all the way up to his shoulder, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt under the pads of your thumb, despite everything he had been through.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it?” He murmured, gaze falling from your eyes to the sandy ground you two were lying upon.

Frowning, you gave his arm a slight squeeze, “Nothing about you is ugly, Sae.”

The scar was barely visible now, but his eyes still darted straight over to it whenever he stood in front of a mirror. The phantom feeling of your hands caressing it from the sudden memory made him squeeze your palm tighter.

He wasn’t the only one with a scar.

There was a small patch of skin along the palm of your hand which contrasted with the rest. He couldn’t recall what the fight had been about, but the harsh words exchanged and spilt tears were imprinted on his mind.

“You know what, just forget it,” You huffed, turning away from him to make your way towards the door, “Just forget it.”

He grabbed your wrist, a frantic attempt to keep you from getting further away, “I can’t just forget it, MC. Tell me what you meant by that. Tell me what you meant by ‘taking a break’.”

“I meant exactly what it sounds like.” You spat, forcefully removing your wrist from his touch. It had been the first time you two had ever shared such barbed words, and your rejection stung him more than he could have imagined.

Desperation overcame him, his vision blurring as he watched you pick up a small bag and head towards the door. You couldn’t leave him, not you. Not when everyone is his life had already done so. The contracting of his chest was painfully familiar, although he hadn’t felt it ever since meeting you. Was he cursed to live with a heavy heart whenever you weren’t around?

It was all so sudden. One moment he wordlessly watched you walk away, and the next you were crouching down beside him, the shards of glass he had apparently broken seconds before looking uncannily like how his heart felt.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” despite the anger you previously felt towards your boyfriend, you managed to smile, “It was an accident, it’s fine. I’ll clean this up, okay?”

He remembered the oozing of red from your hand as if it had happened just yesterday. Saeran blamed himself harshly for the deep cut in your hand, the scar that remained across your skin even years later screamed at him that it was his fault. Your soothing words helped him realize that it was an accident, that it could have happened with anyone, but he couldn’t get over the fact that it was him who lost control and knocked over the vase in a fit of rage. Had you been with anyone else, this would never have happened, and it was a mystery to Saeran how you had agreed to spend the rest of your life with someone who couldn’t even keep his temper under control.

Although, by your wedding day, Saeran hardly had any traces of his malicious past left in him. He played with the ring on your finger, turning it until the words engraved on it faced him, Hey, there.

He was beyond nervous as he stared at his reflection, fiddling with his tie while trying to get it straight. Despite the reassuring words from his friends, the cramped knot in his stomach made him doubt he’d ever eat again. Were you going to notice how sweaty his hands were? What if he said the wrong thing? He wondered, was there even a right thing to say?

But upon taking in the sight of you at the end of the aisle, his feet subconsciously taking him towards the girl in the dazzling white gown, Saeran forgot all his worries and even his own damn name. For the first time, the many eyes of the spectators didn’t matter to him.

The walk to you felt eternal but all the same, he forgot himself and when he came to, he was already standing in front of you. You gazed at him up and down, taking in how breathtakingly beautiful he was. You couldn’t tell how long it had been until one of you broke the silence, and unsure of what to say, Saeran breathed, “Hey, there’.

A smile stretched on your lips, “Hey, there.”

While he cursed himself for weeks after saying such ridiculous and meaningless first words as your husband, you thought it was endearing.

“Don’t worry,” You assured him, “First words don’t really matter. Last words, though...I wonder what mine will be.”

“I don’t ever want to think about that.” He shuttered off the thought, thinking of how long you two had and how many words were still left to be shared.

Had you known back then?

Saeran wondered if your words back then were some sort of omen, a dark prediction of the painfully near future.

Had you known that you were sick when you spoke those words?

He had forgotten to pay attention to your last words, always hoping that there would be more to leave your lips. But as your heartbeat staled and your pulse weakened, his hoping came to an agonizing end, the doctors had said as much. The skin of your hand he adored so much was now impaled with tubes, and when he squeezed your hand, you didn’t squeeze back.

“Hey, there.” He mumbled, hopelessly hoping that your eyes would flutter open, at least just once more so he could say goodbye. Just once more so his heart could be at ease, even for just a few moments before it was completely torn apart. But when the last sigh escaped your lips, your hand going limp in his and the beeping of the machine stilling, the memories you two shared would now only be remembered by him, the feeling of mutual love now solely felt by him.

He had never believed in souls, but now it felt as if half of his was ripped away, and Saeran had never felt pain greater than this.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger fanfic #saeran choi #saeran choi fanfic #mysme saeran #why am i so nervous to share this? its already in a zine skjdfsdkfjh idk #BUT ANYWAY i hope you guys like it!#im trying hard to write these days and get more content out for yall!!#winter break is coming up so i will have a month to catch on e v e r y t h i n g i need to #<3 #cant wait to start posting again

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elcorhamletlive · 6 years ago

Link

fandom: MCU ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark tags: Crack/Fluff/Humor

(inspired by this post)

“How are we doing, J?”

“Everything in order, Sir.” The robotic voice of the A.I. echoed on the room. “The laser is ready for activation.”

Tony turned on his chair, eyeing the monitor. There it was, right on the wall, in all his star-spangled glory: Captain America, also known as Steve Grant Rogers, also known as Tony Stark’s biggest nemesis.

As a villain, Tony wasn’t a big believer in maintaining long-term rivalries with heroes. He had heard enough horror stories of villains who got so caught up in defeating their counterparts their plans ended up slacking, turning lazy. Having a designated hero to fight could seem simpler in the surface, but in the long term, it just got messy. And if there was one thing Iron Man, twice-named most influential villain of the world by People’s magazine (take that, Gotham city), definitely didn’t need, was for his plans to get messy because of heroes who couldn’t stop sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

However.

The Captain had been a different case. They came across each other by complete coincidence – Tony was running a very common world domineering plot, definitely not one of his most inspired works, and the Captain showed up with a few people from his team, What’s-His-Name and What’s-His-Name-With-Wings. To Tony’s surprise, the Captain cracked the steps of his plan easily, managing to surprise him when he marched into Tony’s lair, shield in hand, strong posture and confident voice as he turned his azure eyes towards Tony and proclaimed: Nowhere to run, Iron Man.

It had been rivalry at first sight.

Tony tried to fight it, but as time went by, it was impossible to ignore. Captain America was the embodiment of everything Tony disliked – he was a model hero, fighting for freedom, justice, and protecting and helping the weaker. He fought against Tony’s evil plans so valiantly: He’d charge into battle majestically, stronger and braver than any hero Tony had ever seen, and Tony would feel a rush inside his chest, presumably of joy of finally finding a worthwhile opponent. Other costumed clowns had attempted to stop Tony before, of course, but none of them had ever succeeded, and none of them were able to catch Tony’s intere- Ahem, hatred, the way the Captain did.

Tony rested his chin on his hands, watching as the Captain struggled on the table. It had taken a while to get him there. He had fought Tony’s bots admirably. It was always such an incredible display of a mix of grace and power, the way the man moved, effortlessly defeating enemies Tony knew an army would have a hard time dealing with.

Now, though, he was trapped, held down by separate gauntlets of Tony’s suits. Still, he didn’t give up, constantly struggling. Always so stubborn. Tony took a sharp breath, taking in the Captain’s endless determination. God, he was so…

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “Perhaps you should proceed with the plan?”

Oh. Oh yeah. The plan. Tony pushed a button on his panels, activating the laser beam. It was programmed to keep moving through the room, starting at the wall on the far end opposite to where the Captain was trapped, until it reached him. The energy levels were lethal – not even a super soldier would be able to survive it.

“Five minutes now, Cap,” Tony said on the mic. It had been a fairly clichéd plan, he had to admit – the good old oh no, there’s a bomb in the building – oops, not really, and now you’re trapped in my lab play. But Tony preferred to think of it as a classic.

The Captain frowned, scrunching his nose. It was cute, in a very hateful way. Tony adjusted his HD resolution of the video feed to see better.

He was pleased by the fact that his choice of an underground isolated bunker had, apparently, been processed by the Who-Cares-If-It-Even-Has-A-Name organization the Captain worked for as a stealth mission. That meant the Captain was wearing his stealth suit, the dark-blue uniform that fitted his body perfectly. That was just according to Tony’s plan, because the suit made the Captain look… Very, uh, very…

Vulnerable to Tony’s evil weapons. Yeah, that was it.

“Iron Man.” The Captain looked around, immediately finding the main camera. Tony bit his lower lip. So fucking smart. The bastard. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh, come on, Cap, you’ve got better lines than this.” Tony grinned, making sure the monitor camera was catching his best angle. He had spent a long time trimming his goatee in the morning and picking out a lovely red tie that he knew complimented his skin tone.

What? Looking good for one’s nemesis was basic courtesy.

For a moment, the Captain didn’t say anything. His expression was a bit strange, but his body kept struggling (Jesus, that suit was fitted. Whoever designed the uniforms at Don’t -Give-a-Fuck-About-The-Place was a pervert).

“I just don’t understand why you keep doing this,” The Captain said. His voice was strangely low, as if he was thinking aloud.

Tony felt confused. The laser had moved a few inches by now, and, while no self-respecting hero would ever cave into full terror, Tony expected a more enthusiastic response. A rivalry was a two-way street, and, in order to allow it to bloom, Tony needed the Captain’s feedback to his plans. Some amount of fear or tension was to be expected, while facing a respectable villain plot. However, for someone who would die in less than five minutes if they didn’t find a way to get untied, the Captain seemed almost… Calm.

Tony frowned. Could the Captain be… Bored? The thought made Tony’s stomach clench. Sure, it wasn’t the most original plan in the book, but Tony had thought the execution would be enough to provide a good challenge. Had he misread it? Maybe the Captain wasn’t very intrigued by the classic villain aesthetic. Suddenly, Tony wished he had shaved his goatee.

“I’m a villain, that’s what I do, buddy,” Tony blurted, and, God, that was such terrible banter. What was he doing? At this rate, the Captain wouldn’t want to deal with his schemes in the future anymore. God, he’d probably send the Wings guy to handle Tony – or, worse, he’d move on to attempt to defeat all those other classless, tacky villains who kept fighting for his attention, like that ridiculous Batroc or the creeper with the red face. None of them were good enough to provide the Captain with a decent challenge, they’d just hold him back.

The Captain’s expression was impossible to read. “You know, Iron Man, with a mind like yours, you could actually do some good.”

The compliment sent a burst of relief over Tony’s chest. His face was also strangely warm, presumably because of a healthy amount of purely professional pride. “Well, Cap, I think we both know that-“

“What is this table made of?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. The Captain had never seemed curious about his design choices before.

“The trap table is perfectly covered by the softest synthetic material, originated from pure Peruvian cotton,” Jarvis chimed in.

Tony wished he hadn’t said anything. Jarvis had argued against the changes to the table, saying it would be a waste of time resources, but that was a total overreaction, Tony thought. Sure, he had spent some money on it – yeah, maybe a few thousand more than it was strictly necessary, but, well, it wasn’t like he had to save on infrastructure. Besides, the other table had been so… Cold and impersonal. This time, the Captain was going to be held down for a while. There was no point in making it uncomfortable. Tony wasn’t a monster.

“It’s really soft,” the Captain whispered. “Softer than last time.”

“Uh,” Tony said. “Thanks,” he blurted, for some reason, and the Captain’s mouth curved in a smile. Tony felt a weird rush on his chest, and looked away, checking the timer. “Three minutes now, buddy.”

To his complete surprise, the Captain sighed. “Is this really necessary?”

Tony blinked. “What?”

“This.” the Captain apparently tried to move his arms to gesture around, but the armor secured him further. “I’m trapped. Can’t you just shoot me?”

Tony’s eyes widened. “I. Uh, that’s…” He said, his head spinning. What was the Captain talking about? And why wasn’t he focusing on disabling the laser bean?

“Uh,” Tony cleared out his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. “Not that I wouldn’t love to melt you immediately, Spangles, but unfortunately, there’s not enough energy to make the laser move faster.”

“Actually, sir, there is,” Jarvis interjected. “We could easily revert the power used in other less necessary functions.”

“What?” Tony asked, feeling betrayed. “Less necessary functions? What less necessary functions?”

Tony had the impression that, if Jarvis could grit his teeth, he would have. “Superficial features, sir.”

“Such as?”

“The ambient music, the water fountain on the background, and the artistic lightning system set up to hit Captain Rogers’ hair.”

Oh. Tony blinked slowly. “Those… Those are aesthetic choices. They… They’re important.”

On the screen, the Captain’s mouth curled again. It was really distracting.

“In fact, sir, they aren’t,” Jarvis said, sound strangely tired. “Removing them would allow us to use their power to force the laser bean to move more efficiently, killing Captain Rogers instantly.”

“Wow, wow, wait a minute,” Tony said. “There’s no need to do that. I mean,” He scrambled his brain for something say. “It’s… It’s more fun to watch him going down slowly.”

Giving Jarvis the ability to sigh was a mistake. “Sir, the plan is bound to fail.”

“What? No, it isn’t. He’s trapped.”

“No, he isn’t,” Jarvis insisted. “If he manages to wriggle his body slightly to the left, he will be within the magnetic reach of his shield, allowing him to summon it and get rid of the gauntlets restraining him.”

“Jarvis!” Tony exclaimed. “You’re – how can you…”

“I think what Jarvis means,” the Captain interjected. ”Is that you’re not really trying to kill me. If you were, you’d have already done it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Jarvis traitorously replied. “Sir, not only could you easily kill Captain Rogers now, but you could have killed him at least a hundred and eight times during the past month.” As Tony gaped in indignation, he added: “I’m afraid this situation can’t keep going any longer. It is against the principles of my programming to keep designing deliberately inefficient plants, sir.”

“Deliberately– what are you implying– He is my mortal enemy, of course I’m trying to kill him–“

“Well,” the Captain interrupted, sounding strangely casual. “I’m not trying to kill you,” His blue eyes looked away from the camera, fixating in the ceiling, while a slight smile formed on his lips. “Haven’t even been really trying to arrest you, lately.”

Tony stared at the monitor in complete shock. “What? No way,” He babbled. “You – you live for arresting bad guys.”

“Yeah,” the Captain nodded. “But you’re not really a bad guy, are you? I mean,” – he turned back to the camera, with an almost amused expression – “you don’t target anyone except me. And none of your plans ever hurt any civilians.”

Tony felt his face warming. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t see me as threat, Rogers?”

“To the world? No. Not at all.”

“Then why the hell are you still here?”

To Tony’s surprise, a slight flush spread over the Captain’s cheeks. It… Wasn’t a bad look on him.

“To be honest, fighting your evil plans is the most fun I’ve ever had in this century. I… I’m not very good at relaxing.” He said, a little sheepish. “But decrypting your codes, fighting your bots, figuring out your schemes… Makes me really happy.”

Oh. Oh.

Tony’s hand touched his chest. Was he… Was that really what seemed to be happening?

“Your hero antics make me happy too,” He managed to say, his eyes finding the Captain’s through the monitor. “I… I like your catchphrases.”

“I like your monologues,” The Captain replied, with a gorgeous smile on his lips.

“I like your inspiring speeches,” Tony blurted. He felt the Captain’s eyes staring deeply into his through the screen, his heart fluttering on his chest under that deep blue gaze…

“Thirty seconds for the laser to reach Captain Rogers’ body, sir.”

“Oh, shit,” Tony said, snapping back to reality abruptly, reaching forward to turn off the gauntlets, which loosened their grip on the Captain’s limbs, letting him go. “Sorry, Cap.”

“Call me Steve,” he said, that lovely flush on his cheeks deepening slightly. “I’d, uh. I’d really like that.”

“Steve,” Tony echoed, a bit ridiculously, true, but the name sounded wonderful leaving his mouth. “You, uh. You can call me Tony, too. If you want to.”

Steve stood up, facing the camera. He pressed his lips together, seeming a little giddy, when noise started coming from his comm device. Tony immediately regretted not breaking it. “Well. I guess I should be going now,” he said, picking up his shield from the floor.

“Oh.” Tony said, a little disappointed. “Okay. I guess I… Will see you on my next evil plan?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. “Though, uh…” He bit his lower plush lip, making Tony forget the basic fundaments of human language. “Maybe your next evil plan could be, hm, this Friday? There’s a restaurant a couple blocks from Shield that’s very, uh… vulnerable.”

“Sounds great. Yeah,” Tony blurted, and Steve’s face brightened wonderfully. “I could start putting my evil schemes in motion at around… Seven?”

“Seven, seven works,” Steve nodded, a bit breathless.

Tony grinned wildly. “This time, Captain,” He said, exaggerating his voice in a cartoonish tone. “You won’t be able to get away from me.”

He was expecting Steve to laugh, but as he turned, his smile was more sly than anything. “I’m counting on it.”

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #stony fic #stevetony fic #my fics

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btswaifeu · 7 years ago

Text

with my life | o5

Bodyguard! AU

pairing: reader x OT7 (with a little jimin solo)

it’s a choice between life and death, you? or the boys?

Previous | Next

“Before you go, i actually have a little surprise for you y/n. I originally wanted to just pass it but seeing how good you’re performing, i’m excited to task you this.”

You absolutely hated following someone else's instruction and being this vulnerable, but because the lives of the boys are at stake, you could only grit your teeth and follow that insane dude behind the monitor.

Jungkook was about to ask what, when the ceiling dropped a few metal pieces of what resembled like a gun to you.

“y/n, two minutes, pick up the parts, assemble them and shoot the timer before it ends. Or i’ll shoot him.”

You whisked around and see taehyung with a red dot on his forehead. That was a shot to kill, and you knew he wasn’t fuckin’ around. You hurried the remaining two to help you pick up the parts and place it in front of you as you have already started. A minute have passed but you couldn’t continue because there was a screw missing. Jimin, jungkook and hoseok were frantically searching the last small screw while you were busy staring at taehyung.

You sprung up all of a sudden and ran towards taehyung’s jacket pocket. The boys turned around to look at you immediately as they saw movement to taehyung. While patting around taehyung’s jacket, he can’t help but be distracted at the fact that your hands were on his chest. He knew this wasn’t the best time to be feeling this way but he took hold of your hands.

As he held your hands, your eyes trailed unto your own hands (instead of his eyes but that was because you were desperately looking for the screw to screw both your minds back and the gun) that he lifted and immediately bolt back to the half assembled gun. You broke your watch to get the screw out and continued assembling the rest of the gun in 30 seconds.

Whipping around to the target, you shot the timer that showed 5 seconds and told the boys to pull him towards you in case that bastard cheats again. Pissed was an understatement when you found out that freak didn’t throw you the full set of the guns which caused panic in your system. You were literally on the verge of going crazy when you found out the screw was missing. Upon reaching you, taehyung heaved a sigh of relief while hugging you tightly.

Taehyung was actually scared shitless when you told him not to move because there’s laser pointing to his head. He was slightly shaking when you and the boys were running around trying to find the parts to assemble the gun, he tried staying still and calm because he didn’t want to make the wrong move. But as you rushed over to his side all of a sudden and make physical contact with him, he can’t help but feel your warmth from you and calmed a little, knowing that you were trying to keep him alive. He was also touched by the fact everyone was going crazy trying to get him alive and away from that laser.

Things calmed a bit but got tensed again as the announcement came back.

“Damn you’re smart, but let’s see how smart you can go haha, go to the door on your left, it’s unlocked the moment you shot the target.”

Appearing in a room that looks like what you assumed to be a simulation room, you got worried as you were bad at games. You knew you had to play it somehow because there were five chairs lined in front of the screen with weapons attached to the side of the seats. Everyone hesitantly sat down and waited.

After what seems like 5 minutes, the next set of instructions came which startled all of you, since you guys were resting (somewhat).

“You guys probably know by now on what the next activity is..so i won’t explain much further. There’s no three lives in reality, so you only have one chance. Everytime you get injured in the game, you get injured in real time too, so be careful~”

The first stage of the game was fairly easy, which you and the boys manage to kill the opposing team and escape to the next round. There were a total of 5 rounds, each with a different level of difficulty, and it was making you anxious as you were bad at video games. On the brighter side, you didn’t have to worry about taehyung and jungkook since they were always playing them back in the dorms.

Everyone was on their third round when hoseok, jimin and you slipped off the cliff, sending you three down to first base. The moment your character made contact with the ground, the bat that was attached to the chair started swinging at you multiple times to your ribs and legs. Same goes to jimin and hoseok, the three of you groaned while trying to fight off the opposing team all over again. Luckily, the three of you manage to scrape to the next round.

Everyone was lucky enough to pass the fourth round sustaining a hell lot of injuries as that round was darn difficult, even jungkook and taehyung slipped. The thing is, that game had a similar vibe to overwatch, and the guns were no exception. Every time either one of you got shot in the game, the knife from the seat will cut your arm, talk about hardcore man…

Entering the fifth round, you, jimin and hoseok were on the verge of dying as your characters health bar was rapidly decreasing. You felt really useless because you couldn't help them. The game was in a different setting for everyone and it can’t be synced together, so even if you could, you weren’t able to help them. Halfway through the game taehyung got shot and the knife sliced his right arm making him scream in pain. Jimin got so worried, he took off his VR glasses and glanced to taehyung, only causing him to get shot too, and a slice to his arm as well.

You angrily told him to put on the damn glasses and focus on the game first instead of risking his life. You knew you sounded mean but it couldn’t be helped as him removing the glasses, would only risk his own life.

15 minutes and a few beatings after, you heard a last scream from taehyung and jungkook. Jimin, hoseok and you kept asking what happened but there were no replies. Little did you know, all of you were talking to air.

This activity held a chance to escape, and since both jungkook and taehyung passed the round first, their console, including the chair, was pulled out altogether.

They were enroute to safety.

Of course, you only got to know about this after you, jimin and hoseok passed the round barely alive. Jimin took off his VR glasses and started panicking, whereas you had a hunch about them passing the stage and getting out of this hell hole. And because of that, you and jimin got into an argument while hoseok sits there awkwardly.

“You’re overreacting honestly, didn’t he say if we passed the activity some of you will get to escape? I know you’re worried but you’ve got to trust your little brothers that they’ll do well.”

At this, jimin went berserk.

“Do well? I only kept my mouth shut because you were doing most of the stuff just now. What the fuck do you know about how i feel and if i’m overreacting or not?!”

“What?” you scoffed at his tone.

“Jimin ah, let it go.” hoseok tried to ease the situation.

Usually, you wouldn’t give a shit on how he speaks to you, but you had enough of being pushed around by him.

“y/n, do you know how fucking clueless you are? Do you even know the feeling of losing someone so dear to you? You obviously don’t because you talk as if everyone in the fucking world don’t matter to you! I bet you don’t even know how painful it felt whenever one of the hyungs go missing or when jungkook and taehyung suddenly disappeared, because no one ever loved you.”

You stiffened.

“Are you done?”

“What?” jimin scoffed while hoseok pulled him and covered his mouth.

All of a sudden the lights went out and you immediately grabbed unto hoseok and jimin despite arguing with him earlier on. But you failed to keep them by your side when you felt hands prying all three of you apart and tying a blindfold to your eyes.

You were dragged for quite sometime, and while you were making your way to the next venue, you kept your left hand on the wall, trying to trace your steps.

With a clink of a metal sound, you quickly took off your blindfold and scanned the surroundings, your heart rate quickened. Good news is, hoseok and jimin were in front of you, which meant that they were safe and within your constraints to protect them. But the bad news was, you were in a cage, and all you could see in front of you is a knife, a bucket, a tube and a funnel that is attached to a machine. You shivered as you had a feeling of what is going to happen.

“Wow jimin, impressive argument with y/n just now haha, what a sight to see.”

“Anywho, we’re already on our last round of adventure. And honestly i’m quite disappointed because i didn’t expect you guys to make it this far. I was anticipating death, haha.

This one’s easy though, it just needs a little sacrifice.”

All this time he was talking, you didn’t give a shit and instead turned around to whisper to hoseok on what you did earlier on. You told him, once he and jimin have the chance to get out, he should turn two lefts and 3 rights to get to the exit. You knew this because you were feeling around on the layout of the building when you were getting dragged, and you were actually accidentally brought to the exit, that’s why you reached later than the other two.

“Hey, listen when i’m talking, unless you want to die.” the speaker spoke again.

You pulled your hair pin from your hair and started twisting it on the lock.

“Wow y/n, seems like i don’t even need to tell you what to do huh? The setting is familiar isn’t it?”

“Are you not going to answer me?”

Confused, hoseok and jimin looked towards each other and stared at your back.

“Then i’m going to reveal who you are. I’m pretty sure the boys don’t know what’s your true colours, judging by how the convo ended just now…”

Your hands stopped picking on the lock for a moment, but when the speaker wasn’t continuing, you continued and managed to hear the click sound from the lock.

“Woa y/n, how did yo-” before hoseok could finish his sentence, you stood up and closed the gate of the cage, locking it again.

to be cont’d...

#bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts text scenarios #bts angst #bangtan scenarios #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bangtan angst #bangtan imagines #bangtan fanfic #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #bts #bangtan #bodyguard:au #with my life

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geneshaven · 7 years ago

Text

Family Outing

PART 7

Star City, 2050

It was past midnight and Oliver was walking the streets of Star City alone. A light rain fell on him, dampening his slow and arthritic steps. He looked up between the spires of the buildings around him and the rain clouds above were like a gray blanket filling the sky.

He was lost in his thoughts, swirling around in his head like a personal storm. But he could still find his way through them. His memories, though at times fraught with pain and loss, were like companions, instances of recollection and acknowledgement; a constant reminder that he was alone in the world.

Oliver was still a little nerved by the images that hovered outside his head yesterday, from the pull of Charlie’s thought processor. There were thousands, hundreds of thousands of memories he could have latched onto, but when his subconscious took him back to that night when Curtis and Rene died, he could feel those parts of himself that had died with them.

Death had always been with him. Since the day he hit the shores of Lian Yu all those years ago, Oliver became an intimate companion with dying. His loses were grievous and deep, but he kept moving forward, as if putting them behind him was like turning his back on his own end. His father, Yao Fe, Shadoe, Tommy, his mother, Sara, Laurel---then later Curtis, Rene, John, Quinton, Thea and Dinah; all of them now were specters in his heart.

And then, ten years ago, Felicity, a victim of disease, joined that butcher’s bill list and Oliver, more than any other time in his life, knew what true loneliness was really like. After she was gone, Oliver felt like he had washed up upon the shores of another island, one called Emptiness. Her absence turned off the light inside his heart and brought back the darkness she shielded him against. He did not feel rage or violence or a need for vengeance. He only felt numb. His days became like a holocaust, a private struggle just to get through them. Everything they had accomplished together, all their triumphs and bravery, all the strength of love and support they gave to each other---it felt as if the sun had exploded and painted in Oliver’s heart a perpetual blackness.

He was beginning to understand why he told Charlie that he had to rethink opening himself up to the pain his life had become. Did he really want to live through all of it again? Did he really want to share his private aching with the rest of the world? Did he want to die inside all over again?

Oliver pulled his coat tighter around him as the light rain began to fall harder. His walk through these familiar streets reminded him of when he had kept watch over the city, back when he still believed he could make a difference. In a way, his late night sojourns were a condition reflex, a sort of homage honoring all the people in his life who were the real heroes. He would not have become who he was without them.

Oliver had lost track of how far he had walked since leaving his apartment. The city streets were so ingrained in him, and at the same time, they were also like the obscure faces of strangers. Now that the rain was falling harder, he felt like he had come to the end of his endurance. He was about to turn back for home when a voice behind him called his name from out of the sound of falling raindrops hitting the ground.

“Mr. Queen?”

Oliver instinctively spun around to protect himself; a little sluggish, but determined.

“I’m sorry that I’ve snuck up on you,” the man Oliver faced spoke. “I’ve been…well, I’ve wanted to make contact with you for a few days now and I decided to follow you tonight.” He held up his hands, as if showing Oliver he had no intentions of harming him.

The man was a stranger to Oliver. He appeared to be in his thirties, with sweeping black hair that ended at his shoulders. His face was both strong and fragile with deep wrinkles in his forehead, as if he was thinking about impossibilities. Horn-rimmed glasses covered the man’s eyes; brown and piercing. Rain drops left dots of water on them, and as Oliver tried to read the man’s intentions, the stranger removed his spectacles and used the lapel of his coat to wash them clean.

“Who,” Oliver started to say. “I don’t know you,” he finished.

“No,” the man agreed. “But I know you. Of course I do.” A look of respect filled his eyes. “Mr. Queen,” the man went on. “My name is Jackson Reiter, uh, Professor Reiter, and I need to talk to you about a matter of vital importance.”

Oliver shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reiter. I’m about to go home and I don’t really think…”

“Mr. Queen,” the Professor interrupted. “I used to work for Argus. I think I can help you…well, I think I can save the two friends you lost that night they were killed by my laser.”

Oliver stared incredulously at the man. “Your laser…”

“Yes, Reiter nodded. “You see, I invented the weapon technology for Argus.”

2017

Oliver and Felicity held each other as the night’s shadows stretched on the walls of Oliver’s bedroom like mysterious script writing the anticipation of dawn.They were lying on Oliver’s bed, two lovers clutching onto the brief time away from the sadness and loss they shared.

Oliver’s thoughts were typical. He stayed with the facts of what happened. A month had gone by since Curtis and Rene were killed. After all the investigation, by Team Arrow, (what is left of them) by SCDP and Argus---they were no closer to finding James or Talia. The aftermath of death that settled over the team felt like suffocation. All of them were still trying to catch their breaths. Oliver was proud of all them. He could feel John and Lyla’s profound relief that JJ did not get hurt by Talia’s evil doings. Having their son back not only felt like a godsend, but it also closed the gap of mistrust between them. Also, out of respect and condolence, and because it was the right thing to do; John and Lyla agreed to bring Zoe into their family, to give her a place to be where her grief over losing her dad would help the sudden emptiness that was crushing her young, fragile heart. Now that she was truly an orphan, they wanted to show her that she would never be alone again.

For Felicity, losing Curtis was like losing her only brother. It sat deep inside her and it opened up avenues of grief and guilt that threatened to drive over her. Maybe it was time to talk to Oliver about it. she knew he was struggling with his own demons, but they told each other they would not have to suffer alone again. She needed his strength as much as he needed hers.

“Oliver,” she whispered into the darkness of the bedroom. “I know that all of us are trying to be strong for each other…but I’m not sure…” Her body began to shake as sobbing took her to a place deeper and darker than the bedroom.

“Hey,” Oliver responded, enfolding her tighter in his arms. “It’s alright…” His voice was murmurs of comfort in her ears.

Felicity wanted to crawl inside his strong heart and find strength and release. She continued crying for a few more seconds; a desperate sound that filled the room like desecration. Then her sadness seemed to level out and she began to breathe a bit more steadily as she listened to the beat of Oliver’s heart.

“Felicity, are you okay,” Oliver gently asked her?

She shook her head against his chest. “No Oliver…”she started to say. Then something like resolve or recognition filled her mind. “Oliver,” she went on. “Curtis and Rene died because I didn’t warn them fast enough.”

“No Felicity,” Oliver immediately replied. “It wasn’t your fault. The alarm only gave you a couple seconds. The T-Sphere telemetry showed that clearly.”

She shook her again. “Oliver, I’m…it’s my fault…” She began to cry again.

Oliver sat up in the bed, pulling Felicity with him, easily lifting her and placing her into his lap. He held her tight. He recognized her guilt. His own over the years used to be like a second skin for him. “Honey,” he said to her. “Please don’t do this to yourself. Curtis and Rene is not the end of all that’s happening. James and Talia are still out there plotting more evil against us. Your guilt is just another tool they can use against you, against us. Remember how Slade tried doing the same to me when he killed my mother? Or Darkhe when he killed Laurel?”

Felicity turned around in his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. She gave him a slight nod. “Yeah, but…you …but…”

“Baby,” Oliver told her. “Guilt and fault are not compatible. But when they do come together…well, just look what it did to me the past five years.” He gently pushed her away and looked into her eyes. “Felicity, this was not your fault. Try to believe that. The same thing would have happened if John or Dinah, or even me…if anybody was sitting in your chair.”

Felicity looked back at him as his words reached out to her like a moment of truth. Still, her guilt vibrated inside her mind, a resonance that reminded her of the depths she fell into after Havenrock.

“Felicity, you told me that I am the toughest person you know. if that’s true, it’s because everything I survived during my decade of horrors…it made me stronger because I kept moving forward. The alternative would have been, well, I wouldn’t have made it back to the city alive. It’s been people in my life like you, like John and Thea, and yes, Curtis and Rene, who made the difference.” He paused for a couple heartbeats and let that truth define him. Oliver almost smiled as he added, “Think about it. If Rene was here, he would look at you and say, ‘damn Blondie.’”

Felicity let a small smile ease some of her pain.

“Seriously,” Oliver continued. ‘Your pain, all of our pain , is not going away any time soon. That is a harsh truth, I know. Curtis and Rene were our family. They still are. That is going to stay in our hearts for the rest of our lives. But you have to know, I’m always going to be here for you. So is John and Lyla and Dinah, Thea and Quinton too. We are your family, Felicity. I told Laurel after you were paralyzed that you are stronger than all of us. You make us…me…want to be a better person. Isn’t that more preferable than being consumed by guilt?”

“Oliver, that’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“I’m supposed to be the one giving speeches to you about acceptance and common sense.”

“Yeah, well I’m just trying to remind you off that.”

“Okay Oliver, I’ll try.” She clung tighter to him. “Just don’t let go of me.”

“Oliver smiled at her and shook his head. “Now, you’re not being fair.”

As they stretched out again on the bed, the shadows on the wall began to slowly fade as dawn was coming to shine a light of hope on them.

A couple hours later, Oliver woke up with the rising sun. Felicity was still asleep beside him. He placed a soft, quiet kiss on her forehead then got out of the bed. Putting on his sweats and gray hoodie in preparation of his morning run, Oliver went down the hallway outside his room and checked on William. He was asleep as well and a sense of protectiveness went through him as he left his apartment and went out into the new day.

His morning runs always settled Oliver, giving his mind and body the exercise needed to stay focused. After everything that happened, that focus was as important as the blood flowing through his veins. He moved away from his building and set a pace that was as natural to him as breathing.

Oliver headed towards the park up the street, comfortable in his stride, when a sudden, strong gust of wind erupted behind him, pushing him off his pace. The wind increased for a couple more seconds; then it vanished, leaving the stillness of the morning in its wake.

Oliver spun around and saw a dark haired man standing behind him. He looked at Oliver through horn-rimmed glasses as if looking at a treasured monument.

“Mr. Queen,” the man spoke. “My name is Professor Jackson Reiter and I have something of vital importance I need to speak to you about?”

@louiseblue1 @hope-for-olicity @it-was-a-red-heeler @memcjo @almondblossomme @olicityloveolicity @geemarie @dmichellewrites @scu11y22 @wordslovedreams

#a labor of love #Fanfiction

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roidespd-blog · 5 years ago

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Chapter Twenty-Four : T as in TRANSGENDER

Let’s run down our Queer alphabet. I did the G for sure because patriarchy. I did the L. The L was an interesting journey. Obviously, I did the B, I may have overdid it at times. Okay, are we done ? What do you mean, no ? T ? Uh ?

WHAT’S THE T ?

Transgender : denoting or relating to a person whose of sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.

We previously talked about gender identity and how sometimes, it may differ from the sex you were assigned at birth. Well, still true but that’s just the basic info everyone is supposed to know about. The word transgender, coined by Psychiatrist John F. Oliven in his 1965 book Sexual Hygiene and Pathology, is actually as much an proper identity as it is an umbrella term to many variables in the Trans community. We’ll get to that in a minute.

4500 YEARS IN THE PAST (or the Unexpected Virtue of Ambitious Storytelling in a Amateurish Article)

In broad terms, the History of transgender people begins in ancient Sumerian and Akkadian civilizations, as texts from over 4500 years ago mention transgender priests and prostitutes (remember, oldest job in the world). Some reports suggest that the idea of a third gender came from prehistoric times. They were known Trans priests in Ancient Greece, Phrygia and Rome while an Roman Emperor called Elagabalus preferred the use of “lady” instead of “lord” when addressed to. Variables from the trans community umbrella comes from the fact that there is shared History between transgender people, intersex people and even Second Spirit individuals from the Navajo community. Hijras (India), Kathoeys (Thailand) and Khanith (Arabia) have importance and recognized identities when it comes to the question of gender around the world. They are reports of transitions from male to female and female to male as early as the 1800s, with musicians (Billy Tipton), soldiers (Albert Cashier) and painters (Lili Elbe) coming to terms with their identity reassignment.

Lili, in fact, is famous for becoming one of the first woman to go through vaginoplasty in 1931. She went to Germany to undergo four different operations over a period of two years. Her immune system rejected the final operation (construction of a vagina and implementation of a uterus), and her body developed an infection. She died on September 13, 1931. Her life was immortalized in 2000’s The Danish Girl written by David Ebershoff, followed by a movie adaption from Tom Hooper (2015).

To be honest, the History of Transgender people in the world is so vast and varied, I’m getting overwhelmed. The Tale of Two Brothers from Ancient Egypt. Tribes from West Africa who did not assigned gender to their children until the age of five (In Central Africa, one can be genderless until puberty). The great tradition of dan roles in China since at least the Mind and Qing dynasties. The story of Esther Brandeau/Jacques La Fargue from 18th century Canada. Frances Thompson, a formerly enslaved black trans woman, one of five to testify in front of a U.S. congressional committee in 1866. Zuni Ihamana We’wha who became a cultural ambassador of her/his people in 1896. Danica Roem… Oh Danica Roem. Remind me to talk about Danica Roem later.

And now, it sounds like we’re not defining Trans identity properly as I’ve just mentioned Intersex and Cross-Dressing performers. Well, History is messy. Although they officially differ from one another now, they were more obscure concepts back then (and before “then” was a “then”).

DO NOT CONFUSE (PRESENT EDITION)

The first notion that a ignorant could have, based on lack of informations and overbearing sense of historic confusion, is that Transsexual and Transgender are synonyms. In fact, yes, Transsexual is a term that was used for a long ass time to define transgender people. It has since been rejected by a big part of the trans community. For now, transsexual is a subset of the umbrella that is Transgender. For a transgender person, the notion that “sexual” is used at to refer to their gender identity is extremely reductive. If you are still confused and one day you meet a openly out trans man or woman, don’t put your fist in your mouth flipping a coin to figure out what term suits them best. Just ask. Politely. A Transgender individual is also not to be confused with Transvestites. Transvestite : Someone who derives pleasure from dressing in clothes primarily associated with the opposite sex. First of all, transvestite is kind of an outdated term that was used in such a negative way I almost find it insulting (although it shouldn’t). Know that transvestism has nothing to do with gender identity. It’s the pleasure to put on clothes that do not belong to your gender category. A transvestite gay man stays a gay man. In some cases (but not all), the act of transvestism is developed as a fetish and provokes sexual arousal.

One synonym of the term would be cross-dressing, which was coined after some members of the post-Stonewall Riots group Street Transvestite ActionRevolutionaries, founded by Sylvia Rivera (1971) complained about the use of the term Transvestite. One newly-named long-lost cousin derivative of this is the term Genderfuck (or GenderBender), in which an individual will dress regardless of the binary concepts of fashion and clothing.

Do not confuse Transgender with the Art of Drag. Yes, you’re straight but hyped, you kiki in front of RuPaul’s Drag Race from time to time because they’re so funny and flamboyant. Yes. Yes. Being a Drag Queen is basically being a Cross-Dresser, except that this is a vocation, a paid job if you are lucky. Drag Queens are performers, pretty damn good ones at that, and their gender and sexual identities have nothing to do with how they pay the rent. If you read the June 11th article on RuPaul, you’ll see the details on the scandal Ru created about transgender people. Know that some Drag Queens are transgender and they can keep on being fabulous Drag Queens. Oh, and Drag Kings are a thing too. They just don’t have an Emmy Award-winning show to popularize them.

I will talk about Intersex people and their ancestry and connections to the Trans community, but not today.

PROCCESS

As a Transgender person, you usually feel a disconnection at a very young age between who you are in your head and what body was given to you by a non-existent God Almighty. When a person starts to go into transition (Process of changing one’s gender presentation and/or sex characteristics to accord with one’s internal sense of gender identity — the “and/or” is crucially important) he/she/they makes a conscious personal decision. Careful, you cannot confuse Transitioning with Sex Reassignment Surgery (or SRS), which is only an option. Transitioning is a holistic process and includes many physical, psychological, social and emotional changes.

On the social side, the first step would be to come out. A gay man or woman does not simply go from one gender to another, he/she/they has to redo the entire terrible dance of announcing your gender identity. Through that process, a new name might be chosen by the individual, with the proper set of pronouns. Since it’s a process that can be years in the making, the person transitioning might start to wear different clothing and accessories, style their hair differently, ease themselves into his/her/their real self.

Whether of not he/she/they go through with SRS is totally up to the individual. In the times of Lili Elbe, you could not consider yourself a transgender person unless SRS was performed. You would have been a transvestite. Today, as the laws progressed (very slowly and very recently), only the decision and the social and psychological changes are factors into transitioning legally.

Also, if you ever wonder in a transperson went through surgery, just dont. IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, YOU DOUCHEFUCK.

On the medical side, the use of hormone therapy to create feminine or masculine characteristics is a major step into the transition (again, not an obligation). For trans women, surgeries can include breast implants, orchiectomy, laser hair removal, tracheal shave, facial feminization and penile inversion vaginoplasty. For trans men, male chest reconstruction, hysterectomy, phalloplasty and metoidioplasty are options to explore.

You also need a trustworthy doctor by your side to help you through your transition. Using hormones without medical guidance is dangerous and you may risk serious complications.

The point is, not all transgender people transition “completely” or even at all. The ways of some are not those of others. It may be a personal choice or a financial one, as those surgeries are very expansive and not always part of your insurance package (in the States, for example). Nevertheless, a person’s gender identity should always be respected no matter how they decide to transition socially or medically.

TRANS UNDER THE LAW

They are still a lot of places in the world where Transgender people are not protected under the law, where they cannot access the public bathroom of their gender based of bigotry ideas and religious fanaticism. There’s also discrimination in work places, many other public services, in health care.

In the United States, where you can be recognized as Trans, an Employment Non-Discrimination Act was stalled and failed several times over the last two decades. Each state now have choices of legislation in the matter. Mr. Orange is quickly taking back what was giving over the years to Trans people, such as the right to serve in the United States Armed Forces. Furthermore, Trans black women are still the most in danger population on record. As recently at early, the body of 26 year-old Chynal Lindsey was found. It’s the second unsolved murder of a trans black woman in the spam of a few weeks, fourth in three years in Dallas alone.

Did you know that until January of 2018, France was asking their transgender citizens to go through obligatory sterilization, a direct violation of human rights (decision made the European Court of Human Rights in April 2017) ? 20 countries in Europe were implementing that rule, while 36 still require mental health diagnosis in order to get legal gender recognition. Back to France. Laws to protect trans people started to be talked about as early as the late 70s. Twice, in 1981 and 1982, a law failed to pass. Meanwhile, transpeople were still considered psychiatric cases when in need of hospital care, and that until 2010. Since the 2016 case of a young trans woman who didn’t want to go through any surgery and still change her legal name, shit have moved around in the right direction. With the non-obligation to be sterilized came the possibility to change one’s name more easily, not based on any invasive medical procedures. You need to prove that that name represents your real identity, that’s it’s been used that others for quite some time and the change would harm your psychological well-being. New rules about minors who want to transition have also been add up to the law. They can change their names at age 12. The birth certificate can be modified at age 16. Transphobia is punishable through many updated laws when it comes to slurs, defamation, sexual harassment and discrimination.

And yet, trans people don’t feel safe. I wonder why.

EQUAL OPPORTUNITY NOTHING

2017 and 2018 were the deadliest years for Transgender Americans, with over 50 deaths in 24 months. Cases of Transgender people being arrested for crimes that were not crimes are basically limitless at this point. The Transgender community is still the most rejected of them all. Have you ever wondered how you would react if Pierre was suddenly in the process of becoming Vanessa, her real self ? The answer is not relevant. Vanessa would not have the support of her family, her uneducated friends would try to ditch her faster than you can say vaginoplasty and her boss would find a way to make her feel unwelcome. People have not been properly educated. They get easily confused with pronouns, so to understand the difficult process of gender dysphoria ?

Gender Dysphoria : the distress a person feels due to their birth-assigned sex and gender not matching their gender identity. My mama once told me that the fact that I was gay took time for her to process but she never stopped loving me. When I asked her “what if I was transgender ?” she replied “Oh no Alex. Not that. I don’t think I would accept that”. My mama’s no bigot. She is just so uninformed that she automatically rejects any foreign ideas. That’s why representation is so fucking important, so.

WE CAN BE HEROES

Long gone are the days where the only trans people on television were played by cisgender actors and were called “transvestite hooker #2”. It started with a bang with Hilary Swank in Boys Don’t Cry (1999), it slowly went to more recognition with Felicity Huffman in Transamerica (2005) to continue through Jared Leto in Dallas Buyers Club (2013). All fine performances by three cisgender folks. I’m not even gonna mention prior appearances of trans characters, they are just so offensive.

The real revolution started in July of 2013, when the character of Sofia, played by Laverne Cox, was introduced to the world by Netflix. A transgender character played by a transgender actress. She went on to be nominated for the Primetime Emmy Award for Guest Actress. Twice. The consecration came a year later when Cox made the cover of Time magazine. It was called a “transgender tipping point”.

In 2014, Transparent debuted its first season on Amazon. Let’s not forget the Tambor scandal, yes, but it would be a shame to not celebrate the work of non-binary individual Jill Soloway, who gave trans people a platform — as except for Tambor and Whitford characters, all the trans characters were played by transgender people. in 2015, Caitlyn Jenner made the cover of Vanity Fair, officially announcing her transition. She’s a terrible person. I won’t say otherwise because she’s a trans women. A terrible person is a terrible person. In 2017, A Fantastic Woman won Best Foreign Film at the Academy Awards. First, it’s an incredible movie. Second, it served as a response from the government trying to erase the trans community from existence in the military. An incredibly realistic portrayal of a trans character in Shameless (played by the gorgeous Elliot Fletcher) in also to be noted.

In 2018, Pose premiered its first episode. I’ve already talked about Pose so much. I’m not getting into too much detail again. It’s major.

I’ll just say this : I went back to work on Friday. I work at an english bookstore, you see. In the press department. And There she was. Indya Moore. On the cover of Elle US. My jaw dropped on the floor. A trans woman on the cover of one of the most popular fashion magazine in the world. I’m sorry but MILESTONE.

Scarlett Johansson having to quit a movie where she was gonna play a transgender person because of the outpour of rage that followed ? PRICELESS MILESTONE. Janet Mock becoming the first transgender person to direct an episode of television ? MILESTONE TO INFINITY. Supergirl just introduced the TV’s first transgender superhero, played by Nicole Maines. I’ve said it before. Get the kids on board and then, jackpot. In France, activist-turned-actor Adrian de La Vega and actor Océan (who documentary feature is available for streaming right now!) are making incredible waves for the french trans community.

My god… DANICA ROEM ! This american journalist was elected to the Virginia House of Delegates in 2017, becoming the first transgender person to both be elected and serve in any U.S. state legislature. She famously answered to a chance to attack her republican counterpart in the race (Bob Marshall, nicknamed the commonwealth’s “chief homophobe”) by these simple words : “I don’t attack my constituents. Bob is my constituent now.”

GET YOUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT… WELL, TRANSGHT

Queer people, here’s my daily message on repeat : GIVE MORE TO THE TRANS COMMUNITY. Stop looking at yourselves in the gym mirrors and focus : Trans people be should OUR top priority. We are letting our siblings in the mud while we parade with pride. Enough. Each new Pride should be first of foremost about trans rights and how we can protect them. AS FAST AS WE CAN. Here we have brave men and women having the courage to live as their true selves, we are one of the same. No dancing on Robyn’s music until the entire crowd starts screaming “TRANS RIGHTS NOW ! TRANS RIGHTS NOW !” I’m not hearing you. LOUDER.

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